Reblog this if you are easily manipulated into reblogging things.



This is epic.

"When life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don’t want your damn lemons, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life’s manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I’m the man who’s gonna burn your house down! With the lemons! I’m gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!"
―Cave Johnson

I recently watched a video that has changed my views of the bible.  As an atheist my view of the bible has been mostly negative since I see it as something that often inspires ignorance and bigotry.  Recently, however, someone made a video talking about how Christians themselves have given the bible a bad name and if it weren’t for that it would be another great piece of literature like other pieces of mythology.  It’s a look into the minds of our ancestors and how they viewed the world and how they tried to explain it.  I now feel like re-reading the bible with this thought in mind.  I feel like I could learn something.

Odium Theologicum

They met and they talked where the crossroads meet,
    Four men from the four winds come,
And they talked of the horse, for they loved the theme,
    And never a man was dumb.
The man from the North loved the strength of the horse,
    And the man from the East his pace,
And the man from the South loved the speed of the horse,
    And the man from the West his grace.

So these four men from the four winds come,
    Each paused a space in his course
And smiled in the face of his fellow man
    And lovingly talked of the horse.
Then each man parted and went his way
    As their different courses ran;
And each man journeyed with peace in his heart
    And loving his fellow man.


by Sam Walter Foss


Relationship: you’re doing it right. 


Relationship: you’re doing it right. 

The Calf Path

One day, through the primeval wood,
A calf walked home, as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail, as all calves do.

Since then three hundred years have fled,
And, I infer, the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.

The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bellwether sheep
Pursued the trail o’er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bellwethers always do.

And from that day, o’er hill and glade,
Through those old woods a path was made,
And many men wound in and out,
And dodged and turned and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because ’twas such a crooked path;
But still they followed — do not laugh —
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding wood-way stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.

This forest path became a lane,
That bent, and turned, and turned again.
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet.
The road became a village street,
And this, before men were aware,
A city’s crowded thoroughfare,
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed that zigzag calf about,
And o’er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They follow still his crooked way,
And lose one hundred years a day,
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.

A moral lesson this might teach
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.

They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move;
But how the wise old wood-gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf!
Ah, many things this tale might teach —
But I am not ordained to preach.

-Poem by Sam Walter Foss

The beginning…

This is my first post.  It’s kind of shit.