“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard: March 16, 2003

Saturday, March 22, 2003

So, we're at war then? Didn't we just do this a few years ago? Guess we didn't do it enough. Anyway, I, being the Maverick that I am, have taken a bold stance on this war. That stance? Total indiference. That's right people. I DON'T GIVE A FUCK! Not one damn iota of interest save for these: #1 - I think it's fucking hillarious that journalists are getting killed, and #2 - I want to see these anti-war, holier-than-thou, fucks DIE. Yes, I am advocating the physical harm of anyone carrying a sign that says "No blood for oil" or any of the other peripherally-relevant slogans these fucking pinheads have come up with. Bunch of whining fucking maggots are upset that they missed out on the 60's so now they protest something they have absolutely no grasp on. Kill them, kill them, KILL THEM. Videotape killing them and send it to me (contact me via e-mail for mailing instructions). Kill them and and start riots. Burn cities to the ground. I'm talking blood and guts and veins in your teeth people. Let me know when it starts. The VCR I snagged in LA '92 is almost worn out.

I'm Ford W. Maverick, and I'll see you in hell.

Monday, March 17, 2003

Ahh, St. Patrick's day. The day set aside to celebrate the Ireland, it's patron Saint, and rampant alcoholism. But what do we really know about St. Patrick the man?
St. Patrick is one of Christianity's most widely known figures. But even so, his life remains somewhat of a mystery. It is known that St. Patrick was born in Britain to wealthy parents near the end of the fourth century. That's right, the patron saint of Ireland is a rich British man. Someone that a great many modern day Irishmen would gladly blow up. No one knows his birth or death date. March 17th 460 A.D. is traditionally considered to be one of the two, but there is no documentation for this. Although his father was a Christian deacon, it has been suggested that he probably took on the role because of tax incentives and there is no evidence that Patrick came from a particularly religious family.
At the age of sixteen, Patrick was taken prisoner by a group of Irish raiders who were attacking his family's estate. They transported him to Ireland where he spent six years in captivity. (There is some dispute over where this captivity took place. Although many believe he was taken to live in Mount Slemish in County Antrim, it is more likely that he was held in County Mayo near Killala.) After more than 6 years of working there as a shepherd (place obligitory sheep-fucking joke here)he had a vision that told him to leave so he escaped walking some 200 miles to the irish coast where another vision told him to return to teach christianity to the irish, setting the stage for years of animosity and death in the name of religion as Christianity, without apology, allways does. Further proof that voices in the head are usually bad for someone.
15 yrs later he was ordained a priest. Not necessarily the first missionary to Ireland, Patrick predates the Roman Catholic Church, and was considered a ``saint'' before the Roman church created its canon, or list, of saints and added him to it. Having allready destroyed much of the native history of the country allready, he wiped his ass with thier artwork by superimposing a sun, a powerful Irish symbol, and Celtic artwork onto the Christian cross to create what is now known as the Celtic cross. This is an old Christian trick to make veneration of the symbol seem more natural to the Irish. At least he had the decency to not put the cross on pints of Guinnes. That would have been going too far. (Hey, I'm part Irish, I can say that. Fuck off.) It is fitting that he is a high profile saint as sainthood is another old christian trick to convert those of panthiestic religions. Saints are basicly 'subordinate gods' filling the roles of the Roman pantheon.
And just to shoot down the last shred of dignity behind this man, allow me to point out that there were never snakes, nor any other reptiles, in Ireland for Patrick to chase out. Suck on that.
I'm Ford W. Maverick, and I'll see you in hell.

Hot shit people! After a couple days of server problems Terribly Wrong is back up, so go there right now. My articles "Need Another Seven Astronauts" and "Gays and Monsters" are in there as well as the debut of Maverick Rabbit. And keep your eyes on the merchandise page as I may have some of my stuff on there soon. I'll be back in a few with some words on St. Patricks day.