In Schmutzie’s opinion, does atheism deny the possibility of an afterlife?
You have a fifty/fifty chance with this one, as it’s a simple yes or no question. (PS. I am not all that interested in arguing for or against this particular topic, although opinions are more than welcome. If you do feel driven to tell me your thoughts on the matter, know that they will probably be posted here in the future. My brain is dead today, so I need material, and also, people say the darndest things).
Reading that over, I realize that my contest question does seem a tad bit heavy for a Monday and for something as simple as a gmail account. I could have picked something else, but this has been on my mind lately, and when I went out on Saturday night, I had a beer-induced conversation with Friday about the subject. Normally people aren’t very objective and clear thinking when things like this come up in conversation, but Friday was very down-to-earth about the whole thing. It was nice to listen to someone who’s not all worked up about it. Her panties remained unknotted.
Which makes me jump to the other thought I oftentimes have. I think people don’t get enough awards for stuff. When we were kids there were gold stars and photocopied certificates with smelly stickers and stamps that proclaimed Excellent! at the tops of assignments. As adults, all we usually get is a paycheque, and sometimes someone takes us out for supper. So, I think trophies are in order. Friday’s would be a painted and lacquered pair of panties mounted on a teacup with an engraved bit that declared:
Ms. Friday, 2004
On the way to the bus this morning, my clumsiness resulted in a scraped knuckle, a dented eyebrow, and slightly crooked glasses. Ever since I started having to catch the bus to go to work, I have kept a watchful eye on this one sign. I cut across a pay parking lot on my way to the bus, and at the edge of the parking lot where I turn onto the sidewalk there is a low sign with the proprietor’s name painted on it.
The height of the sign, while being a nuisance for clumsy pedestrians such as myself, makes sense for a parking lot. It is high enough that cars won’t get scraped by it and short enough that drivers will be able to see it clearly; it is also at head level for anyone between the heights of five-foot-two and six-feet if they happen to be standing upright. Many times, as I pass this heavy, red block of wood, I think phew, that was a narrow miss! and remind myself to be more aware of my surroundings. This morning, I would have thought the same thing if I hadn’t walked right into it with my face.
It was raining this morning, and since I left my umbrella at work last week, I had to wear my big, black raincoat. Its hood is enormous and tends to hang down over my eyes. I don’t mind that so much, because it keeps me from getting raindrops all over my glasses, and so as I was letting it droop over my eyes while I was fumbling with an increasingly wet cigarette and getting a better hold on my bag lunch BAM! I walked directly into the sign. I managed to scrape skin off both my knuckle and above my eyebrow as well as mash my glasses into my left eye and drop my lunch in the parking lot.
The mark above my eyebrow has mostly disappeared, and I have removed the offending hanging skin flap from my finger, but now I have yet another scratch on my extremely expensive left-lens-for-the-nearly-blind. I will learn to live with the new scratch, because it is a freaking $125 CDN ($95 USD or £53 GBP) for one lens. No kidding.
This sign made me very happy this morning.
Bush concedes that he can’t win the “war on terror”, but he’ll keep fighting it.
Medical tourism is gaining ground in India.
Two bombings at a religious school in Afghanistan have left 17 children and adults dead.