In Praise of Beauty

Sofia is a friend from Madeira; a friend I happen to miss a lot.

I may even miss her much more than I should.

We chat a lot on FB. She is funny, bubbly, adorable and...extremely beautiful.

Up until recently Sofia had no idea how I felt about her. She didn't know I miss her more than I should. Why should she? It's not as if I was in a hurry to announce my feelings. 

After all, Sofia belongs to a different world. A world  I can only dream about but never dwell within. A world of different generations.

I do allow my mind to wander, from time to time, and often imagine her in my life. Foolish and futile, of course. After all my life's journey is more than halfway through; hers is merely starting.

And what if she were to fall for me?  How would I feel?  I can't even begin to contemplate the idea.

How I wish I could turn back the hands of time. And belong to her world.

I adore her. She is so alluring, charming and radiant and a joy to be with.

We are friends - and that's all we'll ever be.

Friends.

I write these words with sorrow in my heart.  Reality is often painful.

But reality is where I exist. And reality is also where inconceivable dreams are crushed and implausible  hopes dashed.

But inconceivable dreams and implausible hopes are, at times, all one has.

:(

Do You Know Know Who Gives Most to Charity?

According to statistics widely available, the three biggest individual donors to charity are:

Bill Gates (co-founder of Microsoft)

Warren Buffett (Investor and CEO - Berkshire Hathaway)

Ingvar Kamprad (founder of Ikea)

Nonetheless, misinformation from religious groups would have you believe the rich and powerful never give to charity -a fact as unjust as it is false. The old bible saying  "Easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for the rich to get to heaven" is about as factual as the rest of the book itself.

Philanthropy, like moral values, have long since been hijacked by religion in the false pretence that only godliness motivates people to care for others.

Utter nonsense.

In fact the opposite appears to be true. I have never heard of the Vatican wealth being used to feed the poor, heal the sick or offer assistance to refugees. I'm referring to the Vatican in this instance, not to the  maverick priests who are generous and follow their own agenda. 

Feel free to comment and correct me if I'm wrong. I won't hold my breath in anticipation.

Atheists and agnostics, such as the three men mentioned above, give not for divine compensation or for fear of divine retribution, but because they want to. 

And that, in my view, is the only honourable way to give.

The worlds biggest charities are also secular -UNICEF, WHO and UNHCR.  If you check any of the lists available, for example  Wiki's , you will find religious institutions play only a minor role, despite their tremendous  wealth. 

No surprise, I hear you say

And the following picture describes what I believe in - the way I am - the way I chose to be.  And it is just as easy without god as a false motivational factor.

...and one who is proud to have escaped society's indoctrination attempts.

:)

Bob The Builder? Nothing Compared To These

I have often written about the obsession some people have with the absurd idea that alien or divine intervention must have taken place in order to enable humans to build ancient constructions such as the Great Pyramids, Aztec and Inca cities, Stonehenge and many more.

The usual pro-intervention argument is based on ignorance or pseudo-science and most definitely on a lack of knowledge of the natural world.

Let's look at some of Nature's marvellous constructions that would rank the Great Pyramids effort alongside a child's Lego house, in terms of difficulty and endeavour.

I'll start with the remarkable architecture of a simple sea sponge, the Venus Flower Basket.

This incredible construction made of silica (natural glass) filaments, is a geometric and structural master-piece. Made by simple marine life-forms without the aid of a single tool, it is a work of art medieval humans could never emulate.

Incredibly strong filaments, entwined in a most regular and intricate fashion, produce a strong and beautiful structure unparalleled in nature.

A man-made glass or aluminium tube of similar proportions would have only 1/100th of the stiffness of the Flower Basket. Mother Nature demonstrates how less intelligent creatures can create structures far more impressive than any early human endeavour.

Let's move on to Nature's pattern artists, the spiders.

Some spider web strands are stronger weight for weight, than steel. No tools, no rulers and no mathematics are required by these amazing creatures to produce these works of geometric art. Just natural ability and a sac full of viscous fluid are necessary to build a habitat and hunting ground that can withstand rain, wind and scorching desert heat.

Some of these complex webs take a spider just a few hours to build.

Now onto Termite Mounds.

These relatives of the common ant use saliva and earth to produce tiny amounts of mud in their mouths which are then used to construct structures that can reach 10 metres high.

How's that for a sky-scraper built without tools?

The interior of these termite mounds are incredibly well constructed and extremely complex. Tunnels and chimneys and even underground gardens used to grow fungus for food.

All this and much much more, without divine intervention or alien guidance.

Nature rules and creates many wonders, given time and the right conditions. It does not requires any man-made imaginary deity or creator to steal it's thunder.

Roache: The Cockroach

Coronation Street's actor Bill Roache has said in an interview that children who are sexually abused may bring it upon themselves.

The eyes say it all

The 80 year old B celebrity actor with the sinister eyes and creepy smile claimed the child victims are being punished for what they may have done in previous lives.

It's bad enough to realise the senile old git believes in previous lives and reincarnation, but for him to try and shift the blame to the victims is utterly scandalous.

It is the kind of message that should never be broadcast as it trivialises the hideousness of child abuse.

I always thought Roache - aka Ken Barlow - seemed a bit strange, but now I realise his dodgy expression was that of someone with something to hide

Bill Roache's part time job at Manchester Airport

Deja Poo...

...is the feeling you get when you've heard that crap before.

Note to readers: Got that saying a couple of days ago from Facepoop. Had to use it.

Deja Poo is the feeling I'll get when the dubious men-in-frocks at the Vatican SinCity choose their new trouble-shooter. Elected on behalf of, but not by, god. And all because god must be far too busy to carry out the tedious interviewing necessary to appoint his new henchman.

Busy.

Busy resting. Six days work in a 5 billion-year life and god's hasn't rested enough.  I'll apply for his job should he ever consider retiring like Benny Pope.

For political and PR reasons the enclave are bound to elect someone from Africa - the only part of the world where the Catholic vote is increasing. Says a lot for the quality of life and conditions in the dark continent.

One thing we know for certain already; the new pope will be ultra-conservative, unshakable in his opposition to the ordination of women, against abortion, against gay relationships (unless they happen in the secrecy of the sacristy, preferably between  priests, but alter boys and girls will be taken (unintended pun) into consideration) and he'll be approaching 80 years old.

And then the RC (arsey - again no pun intended) church will keep moving on (sideways) into their past/our future, until such a time as the majority of people see sense and clear those parasites off of society's hard skulls.

The only way Deja Poo can be averted is if the church surprises us all with a voting stipulation such as "Apply only if you were castrated in infancy" or "Only asexual eunuchs need apply" or better still "Only female candidates will be considered". That, however, is as likely to happen as the second coming.

The second coming!

How odd that Christians wait for the 'second' coming even though there was never a 'first' coming!

It's akin to the mathematical oddity seen in young men who, after a night of sex with the girl they've been chasing for ages, wake up groggy and spent, and ask themselves "was that 2 or 3 shags?" The answer, of course, is always 4 - regardless.

If only humanity always learnt from past mistakes, Deja Poo would be a phenomenon consigned to the dustbin of history, just as religion should be.

:)

100 Words: When the people I love fall in love with people I love

Having a large group of friends in a small town - as I do - means that often someone is falling in or out of love, at times within the group. The dynamics change constantly.

Most of time it is heart-warming to see people I love falling in love with people I love. Some problems can arise when a couple fall out and one doesn't know how to appease both parties.

But in one particular occasion, that heart-warming feeling gave way to heart-ache when, someone I cared for  more than I realised, fell in love with someone other than me. The perceived rejection stirred up hidden  emotions and made me question how solid a friendship can be when tainted with romantic undertones.

The price one has to pay to have friends of the opposite sex!

:)

A Day in the Life of Benny Pope - aged 85 and three quarters

(Note to readers: A copy of Benny Pope's diary came into my possession today and I have decided to publish an extract from 11 Feb 2013, deemed by yours truly to be of public interest. If you are easily offended, please leave this page immediately and log on to The Daily Mail for a watered-down version of this report)

Below is the relevant page of said diary in it's original format.

Translated from Vaticanish into English by:

Dr. Ivor Norfolk-Andchance  BA, PhD, DHsS, YmCA, CSi,  Aa,  RaC, UsA

"Dear Diary, what a fucking 'mare of a day! From the moment I slipped my feet into those Aladdin Ruby slippers this morning and felt something warm and squeegee between my toes, I knew it was going to be a an arse-wipe of a day. I had no intention of announcing my resignation, and wouldn't have done if it weren't for that cunt of a cat Borgia dumping in my slipper again. It's the third time this week that fucking flee-ridden shit-breath no-balls rat-fearing pussy of a puss craps in my slippers! If only I were 50 years younger I'd be able to catch that fuck-face-feline and wring his sorry neck. That bastard is defo going to cat hell.

Seriously Diary, I know I'm cursing unnecessarily but I've had it with this thankless-task of a job. I'll let some other old cunt carry the can for a change.

Talking of old cunts, I had the displeasure of meeting with some of them this afternoon, the pompous fat-assed cardinals, hovering about like vultures waiting for me to keel over. Bad enough having to listen to their sanctimonious crap for 2 hours, but the fucking arse-lickers insist on kissing my ring. Every. Fucking. Time!

What is it about priests obsessions with rings?

Then the old prick from Ireland, what's his name again?..Oh yeah, Sean...Sean something or other, came over to whisper in my ear and he fucking reeked of Jameson. Pissed as a fart he was, and twice as rank. Worst still was to come when old Turkeyneck what's-his-name from Ghana, decided to give a speech to promote his pious ass. Thinks he's gonna get my job when I throw in the towel, the sly mother-fucker. I had to ask the IT department to beam me in subtitles to my iPad just so I could understand some of what he was mumbling on about. Up and down that sorry-ass voice of his, reverberating around the hall, like a fucking elephant with a blocked nose;  bla BLA bla bla BLA BLA bla bla.

If I have anything to do with advising on my replacement I'll recommend the brazilian...Shearer, I think his name is, as in the footballer!? Why is it that all brazilians are good at footy? I reckon one of their teams of  water-tight-sealed-pussy nuns from Sao Paulo could beat the holy-shit out of the German national side. They would defo beat the Vatican football side, the fucking useless wooses in their colourful pantaloons. Anyway, shortly after that I made the announcement no one outside the church expected.

So, I've only gone and done it now. Announced my resignation and not one miserable tight-arsed cardinal objected. Not a single one, the ungrateful cocksuckers. And I appointed most of them cunts! I wish I hadn't now.

Anyway, I'd much rather go and live in Castel Gandolf than spend another minute in this gay-hornets nest.


PS. I said I was going to carry on working for the church, but I lied of course. No. Fucking. Way. Jose.

PPS. I also said I would dedicate the rest of my life to prayer. Like fuck I will. I'm through with prayer. Done more than enough praying and what have I got to show for it? Fuck all. I've got a fucking diamonte studded frock and a tall cock-shaped red hat. Wow! Ain't I a lucky boy! No more praying 'cause the boss ain't fucking listening anyway. Come to think of it, I haven't had a boss in years. Not since the University job.

PPPS. And just to rub salt into the wounds, I want my peasant flock to know that I am an atheist, and always have been. The reason I stayed in the job is that I didn't want to change profession and take a pay cut. And I was never into hard graft.

Arrivederci, suckers! Muahhahahahahahah

(...)

I, Dr I. Norfolk-Andchance, declare this translation to be accurate and error-free. Some of the slang  used may differ in meaning in certain overseas territories; tough shit, you should all speak "proper" English, you fucking language-assassin ingrates.

Dr. Ivor Norfolk-Andchance  BA, PhD, DHsS, YmCA, CSi,  Aa,  RaC, UsA 

:)