Old post of the day: Ronaldo sees something he likes (via Le Café Witteveen)

For some reason this post that I made, which got absolutely no hits when I posted it the first time, is getting rocked today. It’s over a 100 hits, and I typically get about 30 to 35 hits of an average post.

Insert giddy emoticon.

Whoever posted it to their facebook page, thank you. Obviously you have many facebook friends who want to see what caught Ronaldo’s eye that fateful day.

Ronaldo sees something he likes Animated gif. … Read More

via Le Café Witteveen

Someone almost always has it worse than you

Last Thursday was just a regular day here at Le Café Witteveen. In the morning, Tina and I woke up. We had breakfast. A cup of tea.

We made sweet, sweet love.

For you, it was Thanksgiving. For us, life as usual.

Honk.

Around 11, we packed up the car and took a road trip … to the gym. We wanted to exercise a preemptive few calories out of our bodies in anticipation for the big meal.

As we were driving, we saw a guy waiting for a bus at a bus stop. Only this guy was in an electronic wheel chair. The chair itself was reclined back so that his knees slanted upward at a 45 degree angle and his torso went backward at a 45 degree angle.

Below the kneecaps, there was nothing but air. There was no tibia. No fibula. There was no skin or muscly sinews. He had pants on that dangled below the knees. His legs had been blown off, amputated, or he was born that way.

The wheelchair was an odd one. It was kind of like that wheelchair designed by the Segway guy. It stood higher to allow him to feel taller. But it probably wasn’t that wheelchair.

Tina and I spotted him seemingly at the same time. We both frowned and said, “Look at that.”

Tina reached over, grabbed my hand and she said, “Some one always has it worse than you.”

“You’re right,” I responded.

I waited a beat and I said, “This is what pisses me off about places like The Yeshua Fog™. [Here in Chicago] We get to see people with special needs all the time. People only see the occasional bum on the side of the highway sporting a sign and hoping for loose change. We get to really see how social services help the public live a great life.”

This is a gross exaggeration, I know. But I hope you get the point. We are faced more often with people with special needs. We have an excellent infrastructure to accommodate them. We have great social services for them, and it makes me proud. Sure, our taxes are through the goddamn roof. But it’s worth it. Because people have a place to go on holidays. They have a way to get there. And get home. And that makes me proud.

Tina and I spent the next few minutes imagining what it was like to be the guy in the wheelchair. We imagined where he was going. We imagined that the bags in his chair were food he made to take to his family’s house for Thanksgiving. We imagined he got a phone call from his brother saying, “We’ll come pick you up.”

And he said, “No bother, I can take the bus.”

Proof: God loves the Steelers

This story has been making the rounds about a Buffalo Bill American footballer named Steve Johnson who dropped the winning pass in over time over the weekend. I don’t watch sports. These things don’t appeal to me.

I thought about posting it after I saw it at friendly atheist today, but I didn’t. And then I got a serendipitous email from regular reader SAW. I knew then that I had to post it. It was a sign from … the natural propensity to want to share information with each other.

In case any of you missed it, go check out the story. Here’s a screen cap of the tweet Johnson spat out to the Internets:

I will never understand the idea that god loves one team over another. Reason #3,521 for being an atheist is: if god cares so much about fucking football and professional sports in general, why doesn’t he care about kids dying in Africa of awful diseases? He cares more about touchdowns than curing screaming children?

Foobar Fubar.

That’s one reason I left Christianity. I was always searching for signs. If something bad happened, it was the devil. If something good happened, some times I’d give god thanks. More often than not, I’d pat my own back and then pat god’s at church when I boasted about it in the form of a prayer request and/or answer to prayer.

For instance, Tina’s having a hard time with a few real estate deals right now. In the past, I would have said, “The devil is trying to bring Tina down. Get back devil … in Jesus’ name … amen.”

And since these issues have been going on for almost a year, it would prove to me how powerful the devil is over Jesus.

And then I’d frown.

Thanks, SAW for the link!

 

 

 

Pope Mohammed meets Rodney Stevens; “Hell is getting a Journey song stuck in your head for the rest of the day.”

Last Wednesday, Pope Mohammed was at the Piggly Wiggly fondling a stack of Purdue chicken breast packages. He searched for the lowest price. Once he found it, He pulled the cellophane-wrapped parcel to his chest and started driving a fingernail underneath the price tag. He was making a little progress when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“What!?! I’m not …” blurted Pope Mohammed. He spun around and a rush of blood-colored his face pink.

Standing there was a plain-clothed civilian. Pope Mohammed gave him a once over. It was a guy with dark hair, average build, average height.

“I mean, how are you today?” Pope Mohammed prided himself on recovering quickly from situations like these.

The man furrowed his brow, looked at the chicken packaging held against Pope Mohammed’s chest and back at his face. “Hi, uh, Pope Mohammed, right?” The guy stuck out his hand. “I’m Rodney. Rodney Stevens. We haven’t actually met face to face be…”

Pope Mohammed turned away from Rodney. “I’m busy.”

Slight pause. “I can see that. I just wanted to stop. I mean, I saw you over here, and needed to tell you something … real quick.”

Pope Mohammed looked around. He heard the sounds of shopping carts squeaking by. He heard the water spray alert in produce. He heard, “21 on 8.” If he listened closely, he could hear the hum from the fluorescent lights above. He looked down and continued his task of removing the price tag from the package of chicken breasts. “Go ahead, Randy. Lay it on me.” Pope Mohammed could use the distraction technique so the meat handlers nearby wouldn’t notice him.

“It’s Rodney,” He said as he started his speech. “Pope Mohammed, I’m not like everyone else who seems to know you since the day they were born. I met you when I was older. I think I was 26.”  Pope Mohammed was biting his tongue. He switched from using his thumbnail to his middle finger nail.

“At first,” Rodney continued, “I thought your stories of the desert, of gardens, salvation, love, honesty, forgiveness … of life in the afterlife … I thought those stories were amazing. I especially liked the ideas that if I asked for something in my head, it would come true.”

Pope Mohammed was nodding his head. Rodney wondered if it was because he was listening to him or because a Journey song was playing on the speakers above them.

“But after I saw you pull the price tag off the beef stew package and put it on the sirloins, I don’t think the message you deliver and the life you live match up.”

Pope Mohammed didn’t look up. Rodney said, “I’m not comfortable knowing you anymore.” Pope Mohammed’s fingers made the cellophane squeak.

“I just came over to tell you that,” said Rodney waiting for a response. The awkward silence stretched long enough. Rodney took a step back and started to walk away.

After getting three feet, Pope Mohammed mumbled something incoherent. Rodney turned, “Did you say something?”

Pope Mohammed looked up, looked back down, and pretended to continue ripping off the sticker. “Enjoy your afterlife … of torture,” says Pope Mohammed.

And Steve Perry sings, “Don’t stop … belie-vin’…”

Via

 

 

 

Merry Christmas, everybody!

The video below is amazing. I saw another version of it over the weekend. Just listen to the audio. You don’t even have to watch. If you didn’t see the images, you’d think that you were listening to a horror film.

Don’t forget, 85% of these people believe in god.

And that’s what Christ Mass is all about … trampling people. Oh, it’s also about getting the numbers up just before closing the books in the fourth quarter.

Christians can’t blame the heathens, the atheists or the liberals for taking Christ out of Christmas. They must blame themselves first, capitalism second, and corporations third. Oh, and greed can be thrown in that scenario, too.

“So I came out as an atheist to my Catholic wife of 6 years.”

After posting this story, I found a deconversion story that was impressive. I’m posting some here. Go read the rest at reddit.com:

We’ve been married over 6 years, been living together for about 10, we have a daughter who is about to be 3.

My wife grew up in Brooklyn as a Catholic, attending catholic school, mass, etc. While she isn’t active in practicing she does occasionally go to confession and we had to attend a catholic class before we got married (not by a catholic priest BTW) and before the baby was baptized, (not my choice but what is a little water?)

I always played the lazy reluctant when it came to anything religious, not wanting to rock her boat but not wanting to suffer hours of preached insanity ether. So I always avoided church and the issue with her.

Until two nights ago.

We were bored and had recently gotten a copy of The da Vinci Code for $3 when a local blockbuster closed, so we put it on. I have always been a history buff, particularly religious history, so I was pointing out the billions of incorrect assertions and the few correct legends etc. when she stops the movie and goes right to the topic I feared.

Read on