A Christmas thought: We all know that Mary was a virgin when she was super-naturally knocked up with the son of God. However, I don't think her status at the time of Jesus' birth was ever discussed in the bible, at least not in King James' version. So, was Mary still a virgin as Jesus was on his way to the manger?
As is frequently mentioned in popular culture, and definitely true in my personal experiences, pregnant women have a special glow. You'd imagine that if you were carrying the spawn of God, that your glow would probably jump from a soft white 60 watt all the way up to something that could guide ships safely into port on a foggy night. It hard to believe that Joseph would be able to keep his hands, among other body parts, off of Mary.
Also from personal experience, a pregnant woman's hormones will cause all sorts of changes in behavior. One of those changes might be a marked increase in sexual appetite. If the emotional state of a woman carrying a normal child can be reminiscent of Sybil, than you have to imagine the emotional state of a woman carrying the child of the creator of the universe would be quite a bit more explosive. Mary may well have been as eager to go as a sorority girl fueled on
Jägermeister, rufinol, and repeated viewings of the pottery wheel scene in Ghost.
So, we've got Joseph's interest, and Mary's interest, now add to that sex without fear of pregnancy. You'd have to imagine that would be quite a concern for Mary and Joseph in this situation. I mean if I were Joseph, and my wife could be made "with child" without even having sex, I probably wouldn't want to blow her a kiss from across a room for fear of knocking her up. But if she is pregnant already, there probably isn't much you could do to make her "with-er child."
If we still refer her to as the "Virgin Mary" then I'd like to be referred to as the "Virgin MG." And I'll expect my kids to introduce me to their friends that way. Merry Christmas.
You didn't know the name of Miss USA until The Rosie and the The Donald started flapping their jowels about her.
That isn't the picture one usually sees in news stories about this brouhaha. Seems she has been a little raucous, drinking in bars and maybe a table dance or two. Behavior unbecoming the reigning Miss USA, who definitely isn't to be confused with the more demure Miss America, who was crowned on public access TV. Miss USA the contest has taken the lower road, basically it's degenerated into a pure T&A display. It makes no bones about it and that is why it has ovetaken the older pageant in terms of popularity and ratings.
Hello, she is a 21 year old girl. What would you expect her to do in NY, sew booties? And I love the whole innocent Kentucky gal seduced by the Big Apple thing. She comes from a state with the highest per capita abuse of OxyContin around. She knew her way around a drug den long before alighting at LaGuardia.
Miss USA gets to compete for the presumptuously named Miss Universe title. The hottest gal in the whole damn universe, right here on planet Earth. How about that? Except one thing, she is always some obscurely ethnic looking chick from India or Indonesia or Puerto Rico. This is the prettiest gal bar none? I don't think so.
The whole concept of beauty contests strikes me as so outdated. Okay strut the stage in your evening gowns. Then the unlikely high heels n' swimsuit ensemble (bikini for USA one piece for America.) And lastly, the lap dance competition!
Always with the shoes and swimsuit. From car mag covers to men's magazines, you see it. Models trying to act like it's totally normal to be dressed in such a ridiculous getup.
But it better than nude. Nothing is more boring than stark naked. It leaves nothing to the imagination and thus stifles it. There may even be a Miss Nude USA. But if there is you can bet nobody tunes in. And the contestants are probably sows, like the people you see in nudist colonies. The wrong people are always getting naked or wearing thongs at the beach. Nothing like ass dental floss disappearing into the crack of a Rosie look-alike.
I suppose one could liken the difference between the two contestants as the difference between the wholesome tasteful nudity of Playboy to the beaver shots in Hustler. Two sides of the same sexy coin.
Sexist. The word is sexist not sexy.
So now, predictably, for Tara Conner it's off to rehab just like Lindsey Lohan, who hasn't had a drink in two days. 21 is too young for rehab. 21 is time to enjoy the drinking, drugging and bathroom stall debauchery. Rehab is the thing you do when you're 45 going on deathbed, when 12 drinks just puts you to sleep in the recliner. Rehab time.
It's very common for laymen to confuse scizophrenia with multiple personality disorder. Lesser known Davies brother of Kinks fame Dave Davies, in fact, once released an album called You're Never Alone with a Schizophrenic. But there is a difference. Schizos have wild mood swings too. At times they can function and even hold menial jobs and seem relatively lucid. At other times they descend into a quagmire of auditory hallucinations and deep-seated (if well-founded) paranoia. So depending on when one encounters the schizo, he can seem a very different person. But he is still the same person. Whereas the MPD sufferer has numerous facets he can show you. It's a temporal difference but a huge distinction.
MPD sufferers can blame their alter egos for all manner of heinous misdeeds whereas schizos have only themselves to blame.
And schizos are often seen muttering to themselves or even carrying on spirited debates with themselves. With the advent of those earphone wireless phones, one can make sport of trying to tell the crazy dangerous people from those who are just getting the grocery list from their shrew of a wife. Whereas communicaion betweeen multiple personalities is verboten. Half the time they don't even know about each other. Locally one guy who got charged with murder was aided by a therapist/attorney who uncovered one of his alter egos. To wit a demonic dog to pin the rap on. Too bad Son of Sam thought that one up years before. He is now some convict's bitch, bent over a dingy toilet.
Then again we all have our macabre little quirks. Myself I use my days off to get really clean. I wash those places we often miss in the harried morning rush to scrub just the parts that stink. Such as my eyelids, behind my ears, between my toes and my taint. You know, that little strip of skin that taint ass and taint your balls or the base of your pussy? It's filthy! Feel it. Now taste your finger. Ew!
I also floss for hours, use conditioner on my hair and take a toothbrush to my tongue and the roof of my mouth. It comes out stuck with bacteria-laden gunk clinging to it like barnacles to the hull of a ship.
Try it sometime. It's pretty gross. And it is the reason nobody wants to French-kiss you anymore. Assuming they every did. Like fisting, what a sickening concept that is: Oh my darling significant other, shove your nasty tongue in my mouth so I can suck it like a dick that's just been up somebody's butt. Ugh.
If you google search "fisting" you will be led to the harrowingly sleazy netherword of the net post haste. But you wouldn't expect that if you were just seeking a bargain on a spa treatment for a gift and you used keyword "facial." Trust me, you should. And you can get trapped in there with no way out except control/alt/delete or turning the damn thing off. Bah!
There is no soap in our home. We are high class. We use body wash to remove the day's funk and grime from our torsos, heads, legs and asses. We have special body wash for our feet. It tingles when applied a dab at a time.
I am not sure when the transition from old-fashioned bar soap (Irish Spring!) to body wash began. Maybe in 2000, when my wife decided it was drying her skin. But at any rate it is here. It is called Ivory Moisturizing Body Wash fresh snow. It is for soft baby smooth skin. Or in French, Gel Hydrantat Pour Le Corps meige fraiche (with a little ^ over the i.) It is our une peau douce et soyeuse, comme celle de bebe (with an accent grave over the second e.) We have either 709 ml or 24 FL OZ LIQ. I am not sure which is the French and which is the English.
My point? Well, you know Ivory is made by Proctor and Gamble and you also know there's this little trend called globalization. P&G operates all over the world. Presumably people in countries other than France, the US and Britain do wash occasionally. How come their languages aren't included? For that matter why aren't all the langauages on there?
Maybe they use different formulas. Perhaps Germans need different chemicals to cleanse the awful stench of bratwurst and beer from their pores. Possibly Mexicans use different soaps to rid themselves of the rank burrito odor from under their arms and crotches. Same goes for Japanese and their day-old sushi stink. (What is the difference between a geisha and a whore? A geisha is Japanese.)
Maybe in Sweden and Norway, people never get dirty. It is so cold they never sweat. What about Israel? Are Jews too niggardly to spring for body wash, as Mel Gibson believes? Does P&G only market its bar version there? Iraq? Maybe you don't need to worry about getting clean there. If you're there it's just a matter of time before you're dead.
How about all the African nations that are always changing names? It is real hot there and people work hard just to survive and stave off the AIDS virus wafting around. And from what I've seen on infomercials they let flies crawl all over them. Flies are dirty. Africans need body wash.
But if they get their hands on a bottle of fresh snow/neige fraiche with the little ^ over the i, they won't be able to read the instructions. Which read: Directions for daily use in shower or bath: Squeeze a small amount of product onto wet puff. Lather and rinse. Or: Mode d'emploi our une utilization quotidienne la douce ou dans la baignoire: Deposer une petite quantite with an accent grace over the e, de gel sur une eponge with an accent grave over the second e mouillee with an accent grace over the second e. Faire mousser puis rinser.
Might as well mosey down to the filthy polluted river and drown yourself.
Alan "You can call me Al" Ja-Zeera is reporting that Osama has split with Al-K-Duh and is now out on his own sporting the rap moniker G-Hod. He has been following that Russian spy deal very closely. So have I.
Seems an outspoken critic of Vlad "The Impaler" Poo Tin bought it after ingesting an LSD-level amount of some radioactive poison. (How cool is it to have earned a nickname like The Impaler?)
Now, a lot of stuff is bad. For instance, this is bad. We can stipulate that so is this. And of course this is the absolute worst. Can you believe that Sevigney really fucked that scuzbag on film? Career suicide. Now she's gonna play a nun or something.
So anyway Poo Tin is pissed cuz this guy keeps saying that the Russian government torched some occupied apartment buildings and blamed it on Chechyens as an excuse to genocide them. Poo Tin denies the allegations as well as having offed his critic.
But everyone was saying the poison was something unique to the Russian government, so Poo Tin must have been behind it, right? Stands to reason: Silence critic with this totally lethal stuff that only you have and send a brutally clear message to anybody who might be thinking about leveling similar allegations against the new Tsar, nyeh?
It turns out that isn't true.
And that is what is piquing G-Hod's curiosity. How much do you get for $69 + S/H? How do you get it into an infidel without killing yourself? Oh that's right, it doesn't matter. You can infect 72 virgins with this stuff. What a deal?