It's Sunday night and I'm getting ready to go to the Alpha Privative First Church of Atheistic Indulgence. It's the first day of services and I want to tell you readers that I'm pumped up and ready to holler.
The "pastors" are Tom Foolerie and his lovely wife, Folly. At my request, and for the chance to make it into my devotional, he sent me the bulletin for me to share with you.
We start with our signature song,"Imagine" by John Lennon. Then we go right into "With a Little Luck" by Paul McCartney.
That is followed by "Hakuna Matata" from The Lion King. Next on the list is "Jumping Jack Flash" then "The Theme from Rawhide" and finishing off with "Born This Way" by Lady Gaga.
We all drink whiskey or bourbon while Pastor Tom Foolerie takes the podium and lectures on "The Gifts That Evolution Brings". That is his "sermon" for the week. Folly takes the podium after he steps down and does an interpretive dance number that demonstrates primordial soup to human being in less than twenty minutes. Amazing stuff.
Then we break into small groups and plan crimes of passion.
There will be a square dance and a buffet while an overhead projector shows slides of Madalyn Murray O'Hair's X-rays.
We all join hands at the end of the service and sing "Livin' La Vita Loca".
It promises to be an interesting evening for those who will attend. A door prize will be offered each week. This week the door prize will be an atheistic card deck (there is no King of Hearts) and a chance to talk to Richard Dawkins on Skype.
We offer free ministry licences to any atheist who asks.
That's the way we roll here at the Alpha Privative First Church of Atheistic Indulgence. Not being there is also okay because it symbolizes non-existence.
If you come...bring money. We need to build a vomitorium.
I have been a stamp collector for over thirty years. I came across your blog just a few days ago and noticed a photo of Corky Velveeta. I knew I had seen his image before and checked my U.S. stamps. Sure enough, this photo of my 1939 New York World's Fair has a certain shape you might find interesting. Thought I would send it to you. I don't need any reward money for this because I am very wealthy and own most of downtown L.A.
Feel free to use this letter and photo in your blog.
Many have asked me recently, "How come you haven't written about the Viking cult leader, Olaf Norris?" Well, to be honest, he just seemed to drop out of the public eye in 2008.
My cracked research team in Sugarland, Texas did some investigation and came up with the following information:
Olaf Klak, who changed his last name to Norris (because it sounds like Norse), was once the leader of a cult known as "The Striking and Biking Hiking Vikings". His group of sixty five wore horned helmets and Viking underoos and would frequently be seen eating apricot cream cheese danishs while hiking through city civic centers.
His teachings led many members to live in the crevices of Mount Rushmore. Each member had to be baptized in the icy waters of a public swimming pool and hung upside down to dry for at least ten minutes. Olaf taught that climate change was of the devil and that daylight savings time was a ploy to confuse Scandinavian lands and parts of Greenland.
When Olaf was arrested for littering and sentenced to die on Skull Island, Ed Young came to his rescue. After talking with Olaf and paying for his release, Ed convinced Olaf to abandon his cult group and help build a parking garage for his new airplanes.
Today, Olaf Norris works for Ed Young Inner-tainment Enterprises Construction Company where he pulls in a six-figure salary each year.
This just in...Olaf Norris passed away yesterday and, as requested by his wife, was set on fire, along with his ABBA CD's, on a pyre that was set adrift at Galveston beach. Ed Young gave a hip-hop message that angered almost everyone who attended. He escaped on his private jet before former cult members could catch him.
Yet another pathetic, preposterous page to ponder.
(note - this is Faye's seventh husband's funeral...not the fifth who was eaten by a bear.)
In the reception line at my husband's funeral, I privately prided myself for remaining dry-eyed. I graciously greeted the guests and thanked them for having come, so perfectly poised that people remarked, "My, you're taking this well."
"Well," I would tell them, "he WAS JUST A CARBON BASED UNIT THAT HAD HIS ELECTRICAL IMPULSES SMASHED OUT BY A TWO TON ROCK!.....HELLO!"
I have no patience with "sweetness"....and these were fellow atheists! Stupid morons.
Then, two days later, while I was going through my former husband's belongings, I came across a small voodoo doll pincushion that looked a great deal like me. In fact, a lock of my hair was taped to it's scrawny little head! That idiot was practicing voodoo in my own home, I tells ya!
I got in my car and drove for an hour, back to the burial site where that brainless buffoon was buried and poured ten gallons of grass killer and gasoline on his "resting place". I stepped back about twenty feet and lit a Roman candle. It didn't take long for that site to erupt in billowing flames.
"Take THAT ya voodoo-practicing monkey!"
The police arrived ten minutes later and I explained to them that some Christian teenagers were defacing my husband's cemetery plot! They believed every word.
When this dies down, I'll be going back to do some more damage. Framing Christians is not a bad way to help our cause. Try it today!
A lot of you may remember the old Dick Van Dyke show on CBS. Those who watched it, loved it. It was one of the greats. You can still view entire episodes on YouTube and other places on the internet.
I found the lyrics, the other day, written by the comic genius, Morey Amsterdam. It struck me as I read them that many churches today could use these words as their theme. I can just see Joel Osteen or Ed Young Jr. walking out on stage and tripping. What a laugh that would bring to their congregations.
What do you think?
THE DICK VAN DYKE SHOW THEME SONG
(Music by Earle Hagen / Lyrics by Morey Amsterdam)
So you think that you've got troubles?
Well, trouble's a bubble,
So tell old Mr. Trouble to "Get lost!"
Why not hold your head up high and,
Stop cryin', start tryin',
And don't forget to keep your fingers crossed.
When you find the joy of livin'
Is lovin' and givin'
You'll be there when the winning dice are tossed.
A smile is just a frown that's turned upside down,
A nice, big fat check for $7,000 will be sent to Harvey Loopis for sending this cover of issue number 21 of the Corky Velveeta Comic Book. This indicates that there was a run of the series. It amazes me that Corky never mentioned this to me. One more indication of the humility and character of our much loved icon. What a guy! What a grenade!
According to Wikipedia thehigh five is a celebratory hand gesture that occurs when two people simultaneously raise one hand, about head high, and push, slide or slap the flat of their palm and hand against the palm and flat hand of their partner. The gesture is often preceded verbally by the phrase "Give me five" or "High five".
Unknown to most of the world, is the fact that John Calvin created this "signal" to secretly confirm the belief in the five points of Calvinism in the public square. Below is a painting of John Calvin high-five-ing William Farel, who is just outside the painting.
Arminians use this gesture without knowing the significance behind it.
Below is a photo of two Arminians after a successful snake-handling service.
"High five" was also used by Jonathan Edwards, A.W. Pink and Corky Velveeta.
So next time someone says, "Gimme five"...explain the origin and be on your way.
Just like the historic wrong headline in the Chicago Daily Tribune, (click here for mo info) Truman woke up the very next day to find these erroneous headlines in the morning newspaper. Well, readers, I didn't quit then and I'm not stopping now!
Eventually, of course we all stop for some reason. What do you think brings a blog to an abrupt stop? Do you know someone who had a great blog and just shelved it?
I suspect every hard-working blogger needs a few comments ever so often. Why not take the time and jot a few comments on a blog you read but seldom comment on?
My husband Link and I had prepared to backpack into the Grand Canyon for a solid year before our trip. But most of that conditioning had been with only partially filled packs and on flatter surfaces than we would encounter on the canyon trails.
On our second day of the real hike, on the Tonto Platform between the Hermit trail and the more primitive trail at Boucher Creek, we were already very tired. A couple of hours of walking didn't quite match up to eight hours a day of hard hiking.
We were plodding along the trail on the Tonto, a little after noon on the second day of the trip, when suddenly a huge brown bear leaped on Link and killed him within seconds.
I yelled at the bear and it came running towards me with an obvious intent on killing me too! I spun around and lit my flame thrower with my cigarette lighter sending a stream of fire into the bears face! The bear let out a howl and ran into the woods still in flames. I tracked the bear down and finished it off with my 45's.
I can remember my husband and I talking about the "survival of the fittest". Now he is an illustration of the losing end of that equation.
I married again a week later to some guy I met in a bar.
Ironic, isn't it? A bear took one husband...at a bar I found another. And his name is Davy Crockett, just like the historic figure who killed him a "bar" when he was only three.
We divorced a week and a half later.
Just like evolutionists and monkeys are one big family, atheists and bears have a lot in common. It's kill or be killed in this bear-eat-man world we live in.
Thanks and a $7,000 check goes to Hubna Maridian of Spokenhicken, Virginia, who discovered this illustration in an old magazine. If you think I am not giving away real money, then contact Mr. Maridian and ask him what HE thinks.
click on photo to enlarge if you really feel you have to
I suspected something afoot when I heard Benny Finney's funeral was to be held at the Harry Houdini Funeral Home in Denmark, Ohio. Knowing that the funeral director was a fan of Calvinistic Cartoons, I had him snap a photo of the coffin that was being used.
Upon further investigation I spotted this detail (see photo) showing that this coffin was once the property of David Blaine, the magician.
Something is rotten in Denmark and it ain't Benny Finney's body!
Funeral director, Fritz Langella, skyped me said that "Benny Hinn arrived and demanded that the doors be locked so that his faith could be free to work without hindrance from unbelief. He handed every funeral staff member a hundred dollar bill and told us to go buy a burger. His bodyguards were pretty mean looking so we headed on out for lunch. Benny Hinn told us that we should expect a miracle when we return."
When God calls a man, He does not repent of it. God does not, as many friends do, love one day, and hate another; or as princes, who make their subjects favourites, and afterwards throw them into prison. This is the blessedness of a saint; his condition admits of no alteration.
God's call is founded upon His decree, and His decree is immutable. Acts of grace cannot be reversed.
God blots out His people's sins, but not their names.
I'm sitting on a park bench, reading a book while the butterflies hover over a stalk of hollyhocks and then flutter to the daylilies bending on their stems. I've come to this bench as I often do on a Saturday to escape the phone and the computer and the bills that need to be paid. I even make a point of not taking a watch. It's my sort of "staycation" -- a way of getting away without going far at all.
All of a sudden my calm is interrupted by a boy, about three years old, who dashes along the path and then ducks behind a hedge.
"I'm hiding!" he calls to his mother, who's pushing an empty stroller along the path behind him.
"You can't see me! I'm imbizabul!" he yells, his blond cowlick rising over the shrubbery like a duck's tail.
Of course she can see him and so can I. The boy pops up from behind the hedge and greets his mother in a fit of giggles.
"You found me!" he exclaims in pitch high enough to break my reading glasses.
"I did!" she says, giving him a hug.
I watch them go and then get up from my bench, thinking, I'm glad I don't have any little brats to waste my atheistic time. I wonder how those two would like it if I went to their home and starting making a bunch of racket. Something always seems to break into my quite moments and mess up my day. I'm sick of these stupid birds singing around me as well!
Sometimes I wish I were in solitary confinement.
So, remember readers...if your day is interrupted by the noise of laughing morons or singing beasts, fire a couple of shots into the air and tell them to get lost!
In the first few months of working at Calvinistic Cartoons, Corky would sometimes fall down and have to wait for some kind person or persons to help him back to his feet. This photo shows a man and his son about to help Corky back up. Corky spent many a day with Sheriff Andy Taylor and Opie before setting off to another time period.
btw...it was Barney Fife who won the $7,000 from Corky. With the money, Barney bought Thelma Lou an engagement ring.
The following is a message from Eddie Eddings, owner and president of Calvinistic Cartoons:
As much as I try to avoid interrupting this blog with announcements, from time to time I feel it's my duty to inform you readers of what is happening. Britain's top share index hit a 15-month closing low on Tuesday, with banks and commodity stocks leading a broad-based sell-off, as growing doubts over Greece's ability to stave off a debt default triggered fears of financial turmoil. Now you know.