Charlie's Rule #9:

If they swing, make 'em miss. If they flee, make 'em run somewhere worse. But if they just stand there, pull the rug out from under 'em.

My last rant was about being classy.

This rant? Food.

I love food. I always have and, in all likelihood, always will. I blame the combination of my Italian blood and being raised on good food.

So, why is this a rant? Because people don't know what good food is in my area. My most recent was a little Mexican restaurant with a dancing, well-dressed burro on the sign, whose name I haven't bothered to remember. All I remember was the "Authentic Mexican Food". The building is an old KFC that shut it's doors in recent years, and it does nothing to reflect it's change in customer clientele. One would think, though, that the money not spent on making the place beautiful would instead be spent on making delicious food. And so I tried their food.

And it was fucking awful. Their meat was boiled. BOILED. With onions and cilantro. COPIOUS amounts of onions and cilantro. Cilantro can be delicious, but when used in excess you won't be able to taste your food, and couple that with something like onions, it's bad news. And the meat that was boiled? Not trimmed. At all. It was essentially low-quality stew meat, with massive amounts of fat, enfolded in a soggy, store-bought tortilla. I threw out the majority of the burrito, and it took four hours to get the taste of onion and cilantro out of my mouth.

The price? One crap-tacular burrito was over six dollars. With a drink it came to nearly eight dollars. Was it worth it? Not in the least, especially when one considers there is a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant on my street, who make burritos from scratch, with home-made tortillas, for no more than two dollars, and they are superb.

And then you have things like Olive Garden, and Taverna. Italian and Greek food, respectively. Now, these restaurants are much better than the first I'd mentioned; they have both the atmosphere and the food. Now, it's not world-shattering in quality, but the price reflects the quality more reasonably than the Dancing-Burro "Authentic Mexican Restaurant". More expensive does mean better quality, as well as generous portions. You will get literal platefuls of what you ordered, and you you won't leave hungry. In fact, you will leave feeling fat and happy, which is beneficial for maintaining repeat customers. Another blessing is the likelihood you will have leftovers. Nothing beats not having to cook the next day when you have a tasty lunch ready made.

The price? The average plate of food usually ranges between ten and twenty-five dollars, depending on how expensive your tastes are. Me personally? I'm a 12-15$ patron, myself, so I get to have a taste of class without demolishing the bank. And that means a Tour of Italy or an Gyro with Beef and Lamb, both of which will make your taste buds dance. But, this is an 'every now-and-again' set of restaurants. Tasty, and you can go maybe once a month for good food.

A step up from Taverna and Olive Garden would be a restaurant such a Henry's Pub, an Irish-oriented restaurant that caters towards the higher end. Now, if you grew up wit ha 'meat and potatos' kind of diet, don't be frightened, that seems to be the majority of what they serve. However, it's not just stew beef and scalloped potatoes. They make mashed potatoes and perfectly grilled steak and charge you 15-20$ a plate, and though the portions aren't ridiculous, they are filling. But the food is prepared so well, and the service so good, and the atmosphere of "Settled back class" makes you feel like if you pay twenty bucks a plate for their food means you're taking THEM for a ride.

The price? More reserved for a "once every couple of months" or for a special occasion, like a holiday of sorts. It's leaning towards "budget breakers" but you won't leave dissatisfied with the cost because the pleasure of the experience, the ambient quality of the restaurant makes you feel like a high-roller who decided to schmooze with the middle-class. I'd suggest going here and bringing two or eight friends, it will most certainly be an enjoyable experience.

And finally, we have 'Upper Class', and I'm talking 4th St. Chophouse. Here, you go in expecting to get rolled. You ENJOY getting rolled. And with just reason, when I experienced the Chophouse, I order the Filet Mignon. It has got to be the best steak I ever consumed, ever. And this is coming from someone who is not altogether fond of steak (bizarre, though that may be). Indeed, the meat was tender, juicy, and super flavorful. And when that was coupled with a house drink that included strawberries that is good enough to sin for, one can understand that the bill comes out close to $100 for two people, with two alcoholic drinks.

The price? This is a once-a-year scenario, probably for some special occasion (maybe an anniversary or your birthday, who cares?), but this is a scenario where if you're the man and buying, you deserve a blowjob after this. If you're a woman, probably jewelry is in your future. But the place radiates class, the chefs are top notch, and the serving staff is diligent and cheerful. And the food, of course, is filling and worth every penny.

Now there are plenty of restaurants in between the ones I've mentioned, but people need to realize that "McDonalds" is NOT an "upperclass restaurant", that "Goodtimes" is not a "special occasion", and "Jack in the Box" is not a night on the town. My point is, there is real flavor in the world, but if you limit yourself to fast food and greasy crap, you will never be able to appreciate the flavors available in the world.

Or, better yet, learn to cook yourself you lazy bastards.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To seek our pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells,
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves,
And harps of gold, where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the heights,
The wind was moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread,
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale,
And men looked up with faces pale.
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire,
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon.
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled the hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains grim,
To dungeons deep and caverns dim,
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

The wind was on the withered heath,
But in the forest stirred no leaf:
There shadows lay be night or day,
And dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold,
And like a tide it roared and rolled.
The branches groaned, the forest moaned,
And leaves were laid upon the mould.

The wind went on from West to East;
All movement in the forest ceased.
But shrill and harsh across the marsh,
Its whistling voices were released.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,
The reeds were rattling—on it went.
O'er shaken pool under heavens cool,
Where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the Lonely Mountain bare,
And swept above the dragon's lair:
There black and dark lay boulders stark,
And flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight
Over the wide seas of the night.
The moon set sale upon the gale,
And stars were fanned to leaping light.

Under the Mountain dark and tall,
The King has come unto his hall!
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,
And ever so his foes shall fall!

The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong.
The heart is bold that looks on gold;
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

On silver necklaces they strung
The light of stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of harps they wrung.

The mountain throne once more is freed!
O! Wandering folk, the summons heed!
Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!
The king of friend and kin has need.

Now call we over the mountains cold,
'Come back unto the caverns old!'
Here at the gates the king awaits,
His hands are rich with gems and gold.

The king has come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall.
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,
And ever so our foes shall fall!

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away, ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall.

To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell.
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,
And whither then we cannot tell.

With foes ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,
Until at last our toil be passed,
Our journey done, our errand sped.

We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!

Our life is worthless, unless spent on freedom. Our finest poet describes it thus: “Gallum baka lilla bah”. Where to now, and to what end? We remember the Freeman. We are coterminous. There is no distance between us. No false veil of time or space may intervene. We see you still in Black Mesa. Clearly we see you in the Nihilanth’s chamber. We bear witness to the bright eternity of the Nihilanth’s demise. You leap, you fall, we see you flash between the barriers. For a brief time you joined us. You are one between the worlds. Communion of the Vortessence. And that other: a deeper mystery. No deeper than the void itself. We cannot forget those whose cords you’ve cut. Forgiveness is not ours to bestow. Unity of purpose, the shattering of common shackles, a single road we tread. Your song we sing and shall sing for eternity. No matter the consequences of this struggle. You have brought us grief and jubilation beyond measure. We are there still, in observance of your final stroke. While our own lay scattered at your feet, you severed the vortal cord that bound the Nihilanth to life, and to us. That sharp spur of hope has not dulled to this day. For once the lesser master lay defeated, we knew the greater must also fall in time. With you besides us, a talisman of victory, the day of freedom draws nigh. Your bright face obscures your darker mask. We call you sib, although your mind and meaning are a mystery to us. Far distant eyes look out through yours. Something secret steers us both: we shall not name it. We have endured these chafing bonds for eons, yet a single moment of further servitude seems intolerable. How often have we slipped our yoke, only to find it choking us again? Let this war end in either total victory or our extinction. No further compromise shall we allow. We take our stand beside you, here, upon this miserable rock. The way ahead is dark for the moment. What seems to you a sacrifice is merely, to us, an oscillation. We do not fear the interval of darkness. We are a tapestry woven of vortessence. It is the same for you if only you would see it. How many are there in you? Whose hopes and dreams do you encompass? Could you but see the eyes inside your own, he minds in your mind, you would see how much we share. We are you, Freeman. And you are us. This is more than anyone can bear, but we will persevere. We have survived worse across the ages. We shall prevail. We have lost all dear to us. Our cause seems hopeless.

>>FOR MY OWN USE<<<

http://www.apologeticspress.org/apcontent.aspx?category=9&article=1134

Did Darwin Repent?

by Bert Thompson, Ph.D.

Q.

A story often circulates that suggests Charles Darwin, on his deathbed, recanted his theory of evolution and repented of the damage that he, and it, had done. The story affirms that Darwin died believing in God and salvation through Christ. Is this true?

A.

For many years, such a story has been circulated. It frequently appears in church bulletins, almost always under the byline of one of those three famous writers of our generation: “Mr. Selected,” “Mr. Anonymous,” or “Mr. Copied.” No doubt those who propagate the story mean well. But, regardless of their good intentions, or the sincerity of their motives, they are wrong. The story surrounding Charles Darwin’s alleged repentance simply is not true. And unfortunately, it is not just this story that makes the rounds. There are other “newsworthy” items that are published—again, no doubt by well-meaning people—which are just as false. Two come to mind: (1) the story of how IBM scientists are supposed to have discovered a scientific reason for the “long day of Joshua” in the Old Testament; and (2) the account of how Madalyn Murray O’Hair allegedly threatened to have all religious broadcasting taken off the airwaves in America. Neither of these stories is any truer, nor any more founded in fact, than the story of Charles Darwin’s repentance.

The story that is told so often—and there are almost as many versions of it as there are storytellers—goes something like this. A certain friend of the Darwin family, Lady Hope, was herself a Bible believer. On occasion she found herself in the company of Mr. Darwin. One such occasion happened to be during a beautiful autumn, just a few days before his death. At that time, so the account goes, she found him reading, somewhat to her surprise, the New Testament book of Hebrews. Upon further inquiry, Darwin began to speak about how he was so very young when he formed his ideas of evolution, and how he regretted that so many people had made those ideas their religion. He then insisted that Lady Hope return to his summerhouse that afternoon, at 3:00 pm, to read from the Bible to his servants, and nearby villagers. When she asked exactly what Darwin thought she should read, he is alleged to have turned to her with an emphatic voice and said, “Read about Christ and His salvation!” Lady Hope, so says the tale, quickly spread the good news that Darwin, now on his deathbed, had become a believer in God, and a Christian.

As with all spurious dramas such as this, it is impossible to trace the origin of this story. The search hardly is made easier when time after time the story is reprinted, attributing it only to “selected,” “anonymous,” or “copied.” But on rare occasions the story, in reprinted form, actually has been attributed to an American journal published in years gone by, The Watchman Examiner. However, a search through all available issues of that publication has provided neither the original account nor any references to it. Similarly, on occasion the story is attributed, in reprinted form, to a book by Luther Townsend, The Collapse of Evolution, but that, too, has proved to be elusive. In short, each time a search is made for any kind of original documentation, it ends in the proverbial “dead end.” This alone should make the honest inquirer a bit suspicious. Were that the end of the matter, suspicions might be afforded the benefit of the doubt, and the account accepted as true. However, there are other data that, considered collectively, expose the dubious nature of the story—in any form.

First, out of a sense of fairness, let me state that there really was a “Lady Hope.” Malcolm Bowden, in his book, The Rise of the Evolution Fraud, provided documentation from Mr. L.G. Pine, former editor of Burke’s Peerage in Great Britain, of the existence of Lady Hope (1982, p. 189). And, admittedly, she lived in England at the same time as Darwin. However, the mere existence of such a woman, in proximity to Darwin, does not establish the veracity of the story under consideration. Other factors must be taken into account as well. One such factor comes from the daughter of Charles Darwin himself. Around 1842, Darwin’s wife Emma gave birth to their daughter, Henrietta. Eventually, she married an English barrister by the name of Richard Litchfield. Apparently, even before her death the story of her father’s conversion at the hands of Lady Hope had begun to circulate, because she addressed this matter in a letter written on February 23, 1922 to The Christian, a religious journal. Her comments were as follows:

I was present at his [Darwin’s—BT] deathbed. Lady Hope was not present during his last illness, or any illness. I believe he never even saw her, but in any case she had no influence over him in any department of thought and belief. He never recanted any of his scientific views, either then or earlier. We think that story of his conversion was fabricated in the USA. In most of these versions, hymn singing comes in and a summerhouse where the servants and villagers sang hymns to him. There is no such summerhouse and no servants or villagers ever sang hymns to him. The whole story has no foundation whatsoever (see Hawton, 1958, p. 4).
Some supporters of the idea of Darwin’s repentance might suggest that his daughter Henrietta would not wish the story to be known even if it were true, and therefore may have distorted, or falsely presented, the facts of the matter. While at first glance this might seem a possibility, other factors militate against such a conclusion. In order to hold to the truthfulness of this story, one would, in essence, have to call Darwin’s daughter an outright liar. Such a charge would be very difficult to sustain for several reasons. First, she was with her father at his death. But to the best of our knowledge, there is absolutely no evidence that Lady Hope ever visited Darwin toward the end of his life. Second, those closest to Darwin at the time of his death knew nothing of his alleged conversion. Third, the story of that supposed conversion did not begin until years after his death, which hardly seems likely if the story is true—and known to be so by those whose lives were intricately intertwined with Darwin’s.

Also to be considered is this: many of the “facts” of the Lady Hope story are, quite simply, wrong. For example, Darwin died April 19, 1882. But the story of Lady Hope specifically states that she visited him on a beautiful autumn afternoon. That would have left six months between her visit, and his demise. Yet evidence available to us proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that Darwin was neither bedridden nor “on his deathbed” during that six-month period. Also, the story indicates that Lady Hope came to speak, at Darwin’s request, at the summerhouse on his property. Yet as Darwin’s daughter pointed out, there was no such summerhouse. Further, the story has Darwin opining to Lady Hope that he formed his thoughts on evolution when he was but “a young man with unformed ideas.” This makes little sense, because when Darwin finally published the Origin of Species, he was 50 years old! This hardly qualifies him for being a “young man.” The Origin of Species underwent no less than six revisions from 1859 until 1872—and each one was at the hand of Darwin himself. So the suggestion that a “young man with unformed ideas” was responsible for the Origin, and the concepts contained therein, simply will not withstand intense examination.

There are many more data available that establish the conclusion that the “Lady Hope” story is false. Wilbert H. Rusch and John W. Klotz have summarized them in their excellent work on this subject, Did Charles Darwin Become a Christian? (1988). The reader is referred to that volume for an in-depth examination of those data, which are far too numerous to reproduce here.

Did Darwin repent? Did he become a believer in God, or a Christian? The answer to both questions is a resounding “no.” Creationists and Christians do themselves no favor by circulating, even if inadvertently through good intentions, stories such as these that ultimately are without foundation. When the truth finally does come out (and eventually it will!), it reflects poorly on those who propagate such falsehoods. While there are many legitimate, valuable tools in the arsenal of the Christian apologist, such stories as the one reviewed here are not among them and should be avoided at all cost. If you should see this story reappear in the future, please take occasion to share this material with those who are telling it. There is enough false material being circulated without Christians fueling the fire with more.

REFERENCES

Bowden, Malcolm (1982), The Rise of the Evolution Fraud (San Diego, CA: Christian Life Publishers).

Hawton, Hector (1958), “The Myth of Darwin’s Conversion,” The Humanist, 73:4, July.

Rusch, Wilbert H. and John W. Klotz (1988), Did Charles Darwin Become a Christian? (Norcross, GA: Creation Research Society Books).

"Faith, n. Belief without evidence in what is told by one who speaks, without knowledge, of things without parallel."
- Ambrose Bierce

"The shadow of the Undertaker
creeps across your floor.
Go lock up all your children
And paint blood upon your door.
These hills are filled with whispers —"

"The Undertaker knows no master
He drinks from any cup poured.
Just as Banshees wail their warning
That someone that same day will die
The Undertaker, he states the same
I'll be goddamned if he tells a lie"

"The Undertaker raises no hand,
But I'll fear him, just the same…
His presence pre-tells both blood and death,
Yet he shoulders
Not the blame.
Like the shadow of the vulture
Circlin' blackly overhead,
The Undertaker is drawn to death
Like a knife is drawn to red"

"No..." I admitted sheepishly. She laughed at me, but I didn't care. I was lost in her green eyes. We couldn't look away from each other, and slowly we moved our lips closer until they were less than a centimeter away from each other. Suddenly she turned away.
"I can't." She said. Choking back tears.
"What's wrong?" I said, "Was it something I did?"
"No" she whispered. "It's just... It's just..."
"What is it?" I said in the most sympathetic tone I had ever spoken in. My breath was hanging on her next words.
"I need about tree fiddy."
Now it was about that time that I realized that this girl was 8 stories tall and was a crustacean from the Paleozoic era. That god damn Loch Ness Monster had tricked me again.

So I need to say this because I'm long overdue for a 'Nekko Rant'.

Class. I'm all about class. Nothing is more empowering then dressing nice, being intelligent, and being chivalrous. Being able to hold your own in a difficult conversation takes class. Opening a door for a lady takes class (ignore the feminists saying it's chauvinistic to hold a door, their demeanor is crass and offensive). Being able to enjoy a snifter of brandy or aged bourbon on the rocks without slamming it in a shot, that takes class. Class is a lifestyle, and can turn the ugly and broken into a character people look up to for guidance and leadership. And yes, gentleman, this is directed at you, but the ladies are welcome to glean advice here as well.

Being classy is something you don't see very much these days, for one reason or another. To dress like you're on the up-and-up, that can cost a pretty penny and, let's face it, the economy is in the can. You know it is when even McDonald's isn't hiring anymore, so disregard what the news says in passing about the economy "looking better" with unemployment down by 6% or some other number that holds no real value. The problem there is they say the jobs are there, and people are getting those jobs, but those jobs are usually minimum wage and it's already been proven that two adults earning minimum wage cannot pay for rent, food, their child, healthcare, and a vehicle. Something has to go. In my opinion, the kid should, but hey, I'm not fond of them. So, people can't dress nicely these days, and by nicely I'm talking a good suit or dress, something you'd have a night on the town in. You remember the way men dressed back in the 20's all the way up through the 50's? That's classy. But nowadays a good set-up like that will run you a thousand dollars if you want quality, and who's going to bop around in a thousand dollar suit for fun? Morons, that's who. But if you skimp on the money, then quality drops and it drops fast. By the time most people hit their pay range, they're shopping Wal-Mart and...well, you don't dress to impress if you shop at Wal-Mart. You might make it work, but you won't turn any heads. The one lucky strike for our generation is the presence of Goodwill's and other similar Thrift stores. Sometimes you can get high-tone, high-end quality for cheap. And that is classy.

But aside from fashion, class comes from the mind. Treating your lady right, not hitting her, being chummy to friend and foe alike, having an education of one kind or another, that takes class. Now, you don't have to have a college degree to be classy. Oh no, you can have a street education and be classy. You could have spent years in a library and never been to a classroom and get an education. But if you are smart and clever, how you obtained those brains doesn't matter. Look at me. My GPA was around 2.7. I could probably give you advice on anything from how to engage in bare-knuckle boxing to picking and mixing a good drink to toast your class. I'm probably smarter than most college graduates, despite my opinion that college is, to be perfectly frank, a waste of time and money. I'm smart, and I try to stay classy. I'm educated. You should be too. And yes, that means putting an effort into how you write. If you right like you have a gimp hand and a lazy eye, you are sorely lacking in class. If you substitute words with numbers and singular letters, then you are sorely lacking in class. If every other word out of your mouth is a curse, well you get the picture. If you have the education, don't hide it because some low-down schmuck tries to lessen your advantage over him. Being called a nerd is the best compliment someone can give you, and any derivative thereof is merely icing on the cake. Don't hide your mind behind a facade of stupidity just to fit in, because if you have to be a numbskull to fit in then you are hanging with the wrong crowd. Be well spoken, be smart, be classy.

Another aspect of being classy, outside of being intelligent and dressing like you care, is hygiene. I know that sounds cliche, but lets face it. Who would you like to sit beside in the theater? The guy who forgot to shower this week and doesn't believe in deodorant, or the guy who showers daily, uses a light dab of cologne and brushes his teeth? Exactly. Guys, if you want to stay classy, it's pretty straight-forward. Brush your teeth, it will make your breath smell infinitely better than if you don't. Carry some breath spray if you wish. Cologne; I'm not talking Axe here, gentleman, I'm talking cologne. You don't need to break the bank to smell good, but you want a scent that is robust, but delicate. Contrary to the 'Bro' mentality, you don't need to BATHE in cologne to smell nice. One drop on your finger, dab on either side of the throat, and you're set for the night. Shampoo and conditioner are basic necessities, I'd suggest something that helps keep away dandruff if you're prone to it (dry locales beware), then some light product to smooth away any frizz in your hair if it's an issue. As well, if you have facial hair, keep it maintained. Nobody likes a neckbeard, so keep yourself trimmed. There! Easy.

Next up, jewelry. In our day and age, jewelry comes in all styles, shapes and sizes. But I'm talking nice. This is another area where skimping becomes obvious. And who are the people that skimp the most? Well, the most readily obvious are juggalos and 'gangsters'. I say gangster, but let's face it, the punks of today are no modern Al Capone.

The get-up they wear is the counter-culture to class; droopy, baggy clothes rather than smart, well-fitted clothing. Their clothing hides the body, while classy dressers have clothes that exalt in the human form. Their jewelry is gaudy costume jewelry, at best. You know what I'm talking about. Gang affiliation, covered in rhinestones or cubic zirconium, often oversized to draw your attention to it. I've noticed that many (not all, just many) seem to follow the adage "bigger is better". If you are classy, minimalism can be your friend. A ring or two, simple bands. You don't need to spell out words with them. A nice watch, standard size preferably with a nice leather strap (metal can make you sweat). It needn't be a Rolex, but it never hurts to aim higher for a good quality watch. Not a sports watch, not a digital monstrosity, get a sweet, simple analog watch. I'm fond of black or dark brown for the strap with side-stitching to increase durability, and a nice black face with gold edging, numbers optional. Subtle and sweet. Earrings, well, let's face it, in our world they are obvious and prevalent, and there is no getting around it. My advice? Get a stud (or studs). You don't need precious stones in your ears, and you don't need loops. A simple stud can be more fashionable than that giant rock that Terry the Flabby Gangstah is sporting in the corner.

And finally, we come to demeanor. Let's do another quick comparison to juggalos and gangters. Now, this is coming from my observations of them, I'm not stereotyping. I've noticed, of both groups, a tendency to be aggressive and quick to turn to violence. They glorify mind altering substances (such as drugs or alcohol), violence, brag extensively about their groups (usually with statements like "You fuck with us we'll kick your ass", "We a big family, can't mess with us, we don't give a fuck", etc.), and swear readily in lieu of decent, well-thought out statements. When they walk, their shoulders are often stooped and their eyes to the ground, with exaggerated care taken to give off an air of disinterest as well as intimidation. Now, being classy, we have a different angle to work with. People with class carry themselves better, squared shoulders, eyes straight up, head held high. They are proud of who they are. They greet you with a smile and a "Good day", and their swearing is limited. They don't give off an air of intimidation, often they give off a feeling of power. And they do have it, over themselves and their world. And, most importantly, a classy gentleman does not actively seek violence.

Now, petty name-calling and questions of manliness aside, what is the purpose of fighting? It's a brutish, petty and foolhardy display of power and domination. A classy gentleman can dominate an entire room simply by entering and being himself, being a champion of good taste and being companionable to all. By contrast, someone driven to fisticuffs only instills fear in the people around them and the only person they dominate is the person they beat bloody, and that is only if they win the fight. People with class don't need to fight unless necessary, because after all, talking down a foe is much classier than knocking his jaw loose.

Now, I've targeted gangsters and juggalos both, because they are the critical failure of class, the antithesis of social decorum. But there are people without class in every social nook and cranny; goths, geeks, jocks, rednecks, even in the groups deemed 'classy'. In fact, there are those driven to live a classy lifestyle but are snobs, rude and conniving. Just remember, these people aren't classy. They are weasels. So, if you follow my advice, you'll be considered a great person by all, and your life will be all the more rich. Because, after all, no one wants to be a juggalo or gangster deep down.

But if my wall of text is too much, and my advice beyond your grasp, just remember this simple phrase, and keep it true to your heart:

Swag is for boys. Class is for men.

Ken Kelly
224 Centennial Dr.
Kersey CO 80644


For my own personal use

"AN EARTH DAY RANT
There are a great many people who believe that global warming is a massive hoax. They believe climate change is junk science. I’ve had discussions with a few of these people and there seems to be no way to change their mind. They say, “this needs more study.”

So scientists gather another pile of evidence. They study ecosystems, weather patterns, droughts, floods, glaciers. They study every inch of the globe and come back with charts and graphs and powerpoints showing just how real this is.

“Those scientists aren’t credible! I saw their emails!”

Some of our greatest scientific minds have looked at the data and are convinced that climate change is very real. Stephen Hawking said it was the greatest threat that man faces in the modern age.

“Well, this weather man from Pennsylvania says it’s just El Nino and volcanoes burping. Nothing to worry about.”

Stephen Hawking > your fuckin’ weather dude.

“Look at all this snow we just got!”



“Well, we didn’t do it. It’s not our fault. Greenhouse gases do not cause global warming.”

It doesn’t seem to matter that greenhouse gases make the planet Venus a balmy 900 degrees. It is much further away from the Sun than Mercury and it is significantly hotter. The CO2 traps in the heat so well that the temperature barely dips during the night. On Venus you can cook a pizza in 9 seconds. If the CO2 in Venus’ atmosphere can warm the planet that much, why is it not reasonable to assume an increase in CO2 on Earth would cause a warming effect as well?

But you can’t convince them. I get exhausted even attempting it. They hate Al Gore, so it doesn’t exist. I’m not fond of Al Gore either. That doesn’t mean he’s completely full of shit.

So I say forget global warming. Let’s talk about something that cannot be disputed.

Air pollution causes 2.4 million deaths every year. You can see the smog for yourself. How can you possibly believe that is okay to breathe? Air pollution cause more deaths than terrorists, more deaths than car accidents, more deaths than vending machines. China loses 650,000 people per year and that number is growing steadily.

The fun part is… all of the solutions proposed to stop global warming are pretty much the same as the solutions for air pollution.

So if you don’t want to believe in climate change or global warming… fine.

I don’t care anymore.

But I don’t think you can find a way to deny air pollution. If you do try to deny it, all I ask is that you head on over to downtown Bejing, take a deep breath… and go fuck yourself."

Thank you Frogman.

Once upon a midnight dreary
While I porn surfed, weak and weary
Over many strange and spurious
Site of "hot xxx galore"

While I clicked my fav'rite bookmark
Suddenly there came a warning
and my heart did fill with mourning,
Mourning for my dear amour,

"Tis not possible" I muttered
"Give me back my free hardcore"
Quoth the server
"404"

Gentlemen...ladies...stay classy...

www.rainymood.com/

endlessvideo.com/watch?v=HMnrl0tmd3k

www.freesound.org/people/reinsamba/sounds/18766/

Carry yourself with enough confidence and people don't even notice the corpses your pushing around in the grocery cart.

Because it's cute, I want that hoodie, and fuck you, that's why.

"Saving one chicken or pig is symbolic. At best."

"Atheism is the lack of a belief in a god or gods. We'll focus on monotheism here, since it's more prevalent.

We do not claim to know for certain that god does not exist, but are simply unconvinced that he does. We view god as an unfalsifiable hypothesis, much like elves or goblins.

Since god is not immediately apparent to any of our senses, evidence of him is needed if we are to give the idea of his existence any credence at all.

The primary assertion of atheism is not necessarily that "there is no god," but rather, "there is no good evidence for a god." And until evidence of a god is presented, we will be atheists.

The beauty of nature is not evidence of god, unless the ugly aspects of nature such as disease, famine, rape and death are evidence against god. Atheists view nature as lacking conscious planning, and thus see both it's beauty and it's ugliness as incidental.

The bible, the koran, someone's personal sense of god--these things are not evidence, but articles of faith. Faith is the opposite of evidence. In fact, the very definition of faith is "belief without evidence"--which is what many atheists are really against.

But even these non-evidence-based beliefs wouldn't be a problem if they didn't influence societal opinions and attitudes and negatively affect public policy and our political discourse. With that said, it should be noted that not all atheists have qualms with other people's religiosity, but many do take issue with it for the very reasons I detailed moments ago."

And they say 4chan has nothing to offer.

The celebration in which juvenile primates hunt for the colored shells of unborn dinosaur young planted by a small, furry woodland creature all in commemoration of a middle ages cult belief that 2000 years ago a zombie walked the earth.

And now for a pensive look at the thoughts of the Legions of Chaos.

"Why aren’t we killing yet? Where is the blood I was promised?
Blood! I ache for the taste of BLOOD!
Why are we out here, when we could be in the thick of slaughter?!
Yes! Enemies! We need enemies.
Blood for the Blood God. Blood for the Blood God! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!
YAY FOR THE BLOOD GOD! But we need more sacrifices! Herd the Imperial lambs to the slaughter! Bring Khorne his fill, or I’ll wring what I need from your broken bodies! More sacrifices. More death! MORE GLORIOUS CARNAGE!
The path to ruin, that is the way to Hell.
I feel the warp overtaking me…it is a good pain. Do you hear the voices too? It is as though a thousand worlds cry out in pain.
The Blood Pit overflows with the red ichor of the Imperium's finest. YOU! Find me more souls to corrupt. Take me to them, that I may render judgment! More Blood….for the BLOOD GOD! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA!
By Khorne, it will be done.
Sanity…is for the WEAK.
Come my minions, let us steal their souls.
A pox on the false emperor!
We see the target!
Yes, finally! War to stir the blood! Blood to warm the flesh! Let them come. Slaughter them to the last, and eat your fill! By the worm-eye that bleeds in all the dark places, by the wound that never heals, I summon you…Bloodthirster! From the darkest depths of the warp!
The Age of the False Emperor is over at last! None can stand before me. The forces of chaos are mine to command.
The dark powers triumph. Chaos…consume us!
Blood for the Blood God!
Skulls for the Skull Throne!
Maim, kill, burn! Maim, kill, burn! Maim, kill, burn!
FOR THE GLORY…OF CHAOS!
BLOOD! HA HA HA HA HA! BLOOOD!
I am destruction incarnate!
Kill! KILL!
They are but gnats before me…
ATTACK! Break their backs! ATTACK! Break them in half! ATTACK! Split them open!
SLAUGHTER THEM ALL!
I AM UNSTOPPABLE! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA!
KILL! KIIILL!! KIIIIILLLL!!
Forces of chaos…will be my power!
We will strip the flesh from their bones.
Your souls will be mine…
We are the destroyer! We are legion.
We will send the enemy to Hell and worse!
KILL! CRUSH! Rend them limb from limb!
Blood…blood! BLOOD! BLOOD!!
You weaklings…can no one offer me a challenge? Rah, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! My ascension is at hand…my hour of glory! I, and I alone, will be Khorne’s chosen! His favored acolyte and prime among his champions! From this world I will conquer the next, and the one after that! I will crush entire suns in the palm of my hand. I will stride down the halls of the Heathen Emperor and I will grind him and the Golden Throne of Terror between my iron fingers! The Universe will know the will of Khorne…Tremble! Quake! These are your final hours Lon Fie! My reign will turn the heavens themselves crimson! Blood for the Blood God! Let the Universe drowned in it!"

My laziness is like the number eight. When I lie down on my side, it is infinite.

A liberal muslim homosexual ACLU lawyer professor and abortion doctor was teaching a class on Karl Marx.

"Before the class begins, you must get on your knees and worship Marx and accept that he was the most highly-evolved being the world has ever known, even greater than Jesus Christ!"

At this moment, a brave, patriotic, pro-life Navy SEAL champion who had served 1500 tours of duty and understood the necessity of war and fully supported all military decisions made by the United States stood up and held up a rock.

"How old is this rock?"

The arrogant professor smirked quite Jewishly and smugly replied "4.6 billion years, you stupid Christian."

"Wrong. It's been 5,000 years since God created it. If it was 4.6 billion years old and evolution, as you say, is real... then it should be an animal now."

The professor was visibly shaken, and dropped his chalk and copy of Origin of the Species. He stormed out of the room crying those liberal crocodile tears.

The students applaued and all registered Republican that day and accepted Jesus as their lord and savior. An eagle named "Small Government" flew into the room and perched atop the American Flag and shed a tear on the chalk. The pledge of allegiance was read several times, and God himself showed up and enacted a flat tax rate across the country.

The professor lost his tenure and was fired the next day. He died of the gay plague AIDS and was tossed into the lake of fire for all eternity.

Semper Fi.










As read on 4chan. Thank you 4chan.