Sunday mornings at Casa de Rude Pundit are quiet affairs, generally consisting of the brewing of a large pot of coffee, the disposing of a stray condom or two, the placing of the half-empty Chopin vodka bottle back into the freezer, and the grabbing of a bowl of Cap'N Crunch before jumping onto the couch to catch one damn Sunday morning talk show or another. Yesterday was no different, tuning into Tim "Behold My Glorious Pumpkinhead" Russert and his splendiferous Meet the Press. Still half-asleep, still waiting for the caffeine and processed sugar to kick in, the Rude Pundit heard former CIA agent Gary Schroen say this about the hunt for the 9/11 masterminds: "He did ask that once we got bin Laden and killed him, that we send his head back in a cardboard box on dry ice so that he could take it down and show the president."
reprinted from The Rude Pundit
"I was just going to cross the street but I remembered I should buy the carrots" He spoke rapidly, "So I stopped by that guy who sells vegetables and just as I was buying them- a big BOOM and a car exploded and the one next to it began to burn... If I hadn't stopped for the carrots..." The cousin began waving his arms around in the air and I leaned back to avoid one in the face.
My aunt gasped, stopping in the living room, "The carrots saved you!" She cried out, holding a hand to her heart. My cousin looked at her incredulously and the color slowly began to return to his face. "Carrots." He murmured, throwing himself down on the sofa and grabbing one of the cushions, "Carrots saved me."
reprinted from Riverbend
It all comes down to “proving a negative.” Logically speaking, you can’t. As I’ve noted before, if I asserted that the universe was created by a gigantic, multidimensional lobster, you wouldn’t be able to prove me wrong. Even if you produced a handsomely-bound billion-year-old tome entitled “How I Did It, by God Himself” which featured a dust-jacket photo of the bearded, white-haired Deity in a contemplative pose and several flattering blurbs from other celestial beings (like “This guy really did it - Vishnu,” and “Makes me wish I’d written it - a real page-turner! - Lucifer”), even then I could ask you to prove that this “God” fella wasn’t Himself created by a gigantic multidimensional lobster, and we’d be back to square one.
reprinted from Adam Felber's blog Fanatical Apathy