I usually save things that make me laugh, and re-look at them several weeks later. If they still make me laugh -- they're a keeper!
In a message dated 6/17/00 8:29:49 PM Pacific Daylight Time, firstname.lastname@example.org writes:
Dear Dr. Laura,
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's law. I have learned a great deal from you, and I try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind him that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate. I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the specific laws and how to best follow them.
When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord (Lev. 1:9). The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. How should I deal with this?
I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as it suggests in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?
I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness (Lev. 15:19-24). The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.
Lev. 25:44 states that I may buy slaves from the nations that are around us. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans but not Canadians. Can you clarify?
I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?
A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination (Lev. 10:10), it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this?
Lev. 20:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?
I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.
The Physics of Hell
A retiring Physical Chemistry professor was setting his last exam, for a graduate course in statistical thermodynamics. Being a bit bored with it all, and with a well kept and wry sense of humor, he set a single question on the sheet:
Is Hell endothermic or exothermic? Support your answer with a proof.
He had little idea what to expect, or how to grade the results, but decided to reward any student who was able to come up with a reasonable and consistent reply to his query.
One A was awarded. Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law or some variant. The top student however wrote the following:
"First, we postulate that if souls exist, then they must have some mass. If they do, then a mole of souls can also have a mass. So, at what rate are souls moving into hell and at what rate are souls leaving?
I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for souls entering hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to hell. Since there are more than one of these religions and people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all people and all souls go to hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in hell to increase exponentially.
Now, we look at the rate of change in volume in hell. Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in hell to stay the same, the ratio of the mass of souls and volume needs to stay constant. There are two possible conditions. One, if hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter hell, then the temperature and pressure in hell will increase exponentially until all hell breaks loose. Conversely, if hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until hell freezes over, condition two.
We can solve this with the 1990 postulation of Theresa LeClair, the girl who lived across the hall from me in first year residence. Since I have still not been successful in obtaining sexual relations with her, condition two above has not been met, and thus it can be concluded that condition one is true, and hell is exothermic."
At a public South Carolina Board of Education meeting in May, 1997, board member Henry Jordan, 52, was arguing for the right of students to post the Ten Commandments in public schools when opponents told him it might offend those of other religions. According to a tape recording of the meeting obtained by the Columbia State newspaper, Jordan then said, "Screw the Buddhists, and kill the Muslims. Put that in the minutes."
Explaining his comments a few days later, Jordan said, "Both of those religions aren't really religions. They're cults, if you define a cult as someone who worships someone other than Jesus Christ."
On going to war over religion:
"You're basically killing each other to see who's got the better
An English Professor wrote the words, "woman without her man is a savage" on the blackboard and directed his students to punctuate it correctly.
The women wrote: "Woman: Without her, man is a savage."
The men wrote: "Woman, without her man, is a savage."
Top Ten Reasons Beer Is Better Than Christianity
The next two are from Jim Griffith's netfunny site.
Fed up with the way the bride invariably steals the show at her own wedding, the University at which Rob Tombes works carried in its news weekly its own unbiased account of his recent marriage here to Mary Beth Snyder:
Mr Robert Tombes, son of Dr. and Mrs. Averett S. Tombes of Fairfax, Va., became the bridegroom of Miss Mary Elizabeth Snyder today at Fairfax Presbyterian Church.
Mr. Tombes was attended by his brother Thomas Hamilton Tombes as best man. As the groom approached the altar he was the cynosure of all eyes. Blushing handsomely, he replied to the questions of the clergyman in low but firm tones. He was charmingly clad in a 3-piece suit consisting of coat, vest and pants. The coat, of some dark material, was draped handsomely about the shoulders and tastefully gathered under the arms. A touching story was current among the guests that the coat was the one worn by his father and grandfather on their wedding days. Mr. Tombes would neither affirm nor deny the truth of this sentimental touch. The vest was sleeveless and met in the front. It was gracefully fashioned with pockets and at the back was held together by a strap and buckle of the same material.
The groom's pants were of some dark material, and were suspended from the waist, falling in a straight line almost to the floor. The severe simplicity of the garment was relieved by the right pantelet which was caught up about four inches from the floor by a Boston Brighton worn underneath, revealing just the artistic glimpse of leather, laced with string of the same color. The effect was rather chic.
Beneath the vest the groom wore blue galluses attached to the pants fore and aft and passing in a graceful curve over each shoulder. His neck was encircled with a collar characterized by a delicate sawedge, and around the collar a cravat was loosely knotted so that it rode up under his left ear with a studied effect of carelessness which marks supreme artistry in dress.
The best man's costume was essentially the same as the groom's, and as the two stood at the altar, a hush of awed admiration enveloped the audience.
As Miss Snyder led the groom from the nuptials, it was noted that she wore the conventional white veil and orange blossoms.
Top Ten Ways the Bible Would be Different if it were Written by College Students
On Religious PracticesPhotons have mass? I didn't know they were Catholic!
It's the Law!Georgia law provides that it is a misdemeanor for any citizen to attend church worship on Sunday unless he is equipped with a rifle and it is loaded.
It is contrary to Pennsylvania law to discharge a gun, cannon, revolver or other explosive weapon at a wedding.
A couple of years ago I was invited to volunteer to work with the youth programs at a large evangelical church. Because of the tight security requirements, I had to sign a release form giving permission to have a background check done on me. I also had to fill out an application form that asked a number of very personal questions. This wasn't a problem, since I had nothing to hide, until I got to the following question:
"Have you ever been [cured] of sexual immorality?"
How can you possibly answer that one the right way?
Cats, Magpies, & Mormons
I have "owned" cats for the bulk of my life - as a child, and then subsequently as a husband, and there must be only one overriding impression of their fluffy little species:
Cats are obscenely violent little animals.
Your idea of gentle harmless fun may be a game of Monopoly, or perhaps Nintendo. Or maybe even nude 'Twister' with your local firemen and their hose greasing machine. But your fluffy buddy is plotting other things while he purrs in your ear. He is banking on a night of singing, outdoor sex, killing things after toying with them for half an hour, then coming home and nudging you away from the fire. Even Josef Mengele didn't have the arrogance to come home from his butchery and lie on the oriental rug with his legs in the air.
Anyone who has had a cat that has access to the Outside, will have suffered from what I am about to describe. Coming downstairs in the morning to find your living room looking like the bloody climax to a Martin Scorcese movie where one Italian has said to another "Your mamma - she smella like a dog log."
There is very little else worse than greedily tucking into your bowl of cornflakes, then spotting mouse entrails smeared up your collection of horse brasses, half an ear on your TV remote, and a rat's ballbag on the pouffe. I have woken up to find all manner of God's creatures in my house following my installation of a cat flap.
Mice, bats, shrews, small birds, frogs, toads and a very pugnacious squirrel have all shat in terror on my Berber carpet. But it was the magpie that caused the most spectacular incident. And it chose to happen on one of the worst possible days of the month. My wife wasn't in the best of moods that morning. She was suffering from one of the deeper switchbacks in the bizarre roller coaster of woman's lunar cycle.
It was one of those few days in the month when she could have terrified even the mighty Ghengis Khan into picking up his underpants and putting them in the dirty washing basket. I had already been threatened with having my plums seen to with a cheese grater for the grievous offense of starting a new tube of toothpaste whilst there was still some left in the old one. After I had painstakingly explained that the other toothpaste caused my tongue to swell up - making every word I said sound like "Wob," - I was answered with "You're a bastard and so are all your friends."
It's worth digressing for a moment to consider this phenomenon. It is only just for that short window in the month that Man can participate in dialogues like:
"What's the matter?"
Following that would be the long conversation to the mother, who would inevitably come round and look at me over the top of her glasses, obviously thinking "I know what you do to my daughter. Her father did it to me once. There was a funny smell and a lot of washing."
The first I heard of the magpie incident was when I was in the shower. Being a British shower, it was dribbling a woeful trickle of tepid water slower than an infected nostril, and I had to wriggle about a bit to get the flow to cover my body. I was currently concentrating on warming my back, having budgeted for my nipples temporarily turning into hat pegs, and my once proud set of parts shriveling to those of an aging bulldog.
I heard a noise from downstairs.
Thinking it was only that another bottle of my home-brew had exploded because of cheerfully over-confident sugar usage, I didn't rush.
Now that sounded urgent. I recognized that voice. It was the voice normally reserved for a muffled "Oh God I swear I put toilet paper on that shopping list and this magazine hurts." I turned off the shower, and put on my bath robe. As I ran downstairs, I was surprised to see my two cats come hurtling into the hallway, terror written across their faces. My wife's voice was coming from the kitchen, so I opened the door and went in.
Oh dear, oh dear. The kitchen looked like it had played host to an energetic Rolling Stones party where each member of the band had brought along their pet Tasmanian Devil. The room was destroyed. Upturned plant pots, bin on its side, pans everywhere and a stack of clean, ironed washing strewn over the floor making friends with the plant pot compost.
And standing on the fridge-freezer, head cockily on one side, was the most impressive magpie that has ever lived. Magpie is, by his very nature, an arrogant bird, and this fellow was no exception. From the vicious curve of his beak to the jaunty angle of his black & white tail feathers, this chap meant business. All of a sudden I understood the whole situation. Working as a pair, the cats had thought they'd have him. Temporarily stunned by a double furry onslaught, the bird had allowed himself to be dragged into the kitchen via the cat flap. But then he'd woken up with a headache, in a bad mood and bursting to go to the toilet.
And so the fight had begun. The cats really had no chance. The damn thing looked like a nasty from a "Sinbad" movie. The only difference being that Ray Harryhausen never had the guts to animate the things that this monster did. Unless I'm mistaken, the line "Unsheathe your saber, Jason - he's shitting on the microwave!" was not in any "Sinbad" film.
Now, I had a problem. How could I tackle him? It was 8 am, I was tired, and the last thing I wanted was a magpie having an energetic squawk in my bathrobe. I decided to go into the front room for a moment to think about it. My wife was already there. But magpie had been there before her. I looked at the state of the room, and was horrified when I saw the disruption on the table. "Look at the sofa" my wife sobbed, pointing at spots of magpie lime. "Never mind the fucking sofa," I shouted, pointing at the table, "I was a cockhair away from finishing that jigsaw!"
"Those stains on that fabric will never come out even with those banned cleaning chemicals I had to buy for your athletic support!"
"Two thousand pieces and all I needed was that postman's foot!"
We looked at each other decided to take our anger out on the magpie instead. I strode manfully into the kitchen, and opened the back door. Then I picked up the mop and swung it at the bird. "Get... out... you... black & white BUGGER!"
This seemed to have the desired effect. He didn't like that at all. He gave me a look that said "I've had your cats, matey, and you're next." A very violent two minutes followed with a lot of flapping and swearing. Whilst this was going on, my wife, normally a quiet, demure woman, donned one solitary boot so she could hoof our bemused tabby around the hall.
At last I got the bird near the back door. I was a wreck. My hair had been flapped up so much I looked like a chicken. I was unshaven, my bathrobe was hanging open, I had a violent gleam in my eye, and a mop in my hands. The bird saw he was beaten. With a defiant squawk and a flap, he swooped out of the back door. Riding the victory I chased him out, whooping and shouting, "Get off my property you feathery fucker, oh shit no sorry not you, oh it's dangling out isn't it?"
Mormons choose ridiculous times to call.
Mona "5758" Marshall tells us why God never received tenure...
Both of the below are from Jim Griffith's netfunny site.
Shmulik Lieberman wrote:
"Why are the individuals who push Your agenda such flaming assholes?"
Last Updated: Sun, May 20, 2001