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Raging Pencils by
Mike "NOVA" Stanfill
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a great many questions today.
the purposes of arbitrarily avoiding the use of the word
"god" or, as I say it, "dog", I'm going to instead substitute
the non-gender-specific appellation "Pat" in the
following rant. )
Why would Pat build such a mammoth structure as the universe
and then leave it lifeless save for this one little planet?
Why did Pat build galaxies so far away that we'd require
telescopes to study them, yet have his minions on Earth forbid
anyone from trying?
Why did Pat instruct humans to believe
that they lived in a clockwork box where nothing ever changes
and yet constructed a unverse which clearly obeys complex
yet understandable physical
laws? Laws which consequently allowed men of science to understand
that Pat was full of beans.
Why did Pat bother creating a huge and unstable fusion furnace
to heat and warm the Earth when she/he could have achieved
the same result through the use of his/her unfathomable magic? If
nothing else this would have radically shortened the length
of the Skin Cancer telethon.
And what's the deal with the moon? Some planet's got 'em,
some don't. Some got a whole bunch of them. And don't give
me that "Pat's
an artist" crappola.
If he/she was an artist she/he would have made the moon look
like a giant pink bunny or a pot of petunias.
If we're in Pat's image then why must we both breathe and
eat since it's unclear whether he/she does either?
I'm just askin'.
If Pat really loves us then why did
he/she allow the invention
of the banjo? (Thank you, Pat, for Steve Martin,
Extra Deluxe Piscean Bonus Fabulousness
Pat loves his gay fish. You should,
Raging Pencils salutes the
Mystery Reader of
you are, thanks for
reading my crappy
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The ocean. Dick Cheney meets a polar bear.
Cheney: We didn't torture! We had no idea we'd be attacked
on 9-11! Katrina caught us unawares! We'll get Osama
bin Laden soon! We found WND's in Iraq!"
Caption: Frosty was feeling sorry for himself, wondering
what could be worse than having your whole world disappear
literally beneath your feet. And then along came good
old Dick Cheney, perched atop the rapidly fragmenting
remains of his credibility. And then he felt better.