Henry Rollins: A Love Letter To Ann Coulter

Henry Rollins on the other hand...
"Come on Anne...You fucking psycho...Lets do this!"
LOL!!!

This needs to be said:

Hearing Anne Coulter speak infuriates me; Much more than Bill O'Reilly (which says quite a bit). I don't know how somebody can be so ignorant and arrogant. Look her up on youtube or something and tell me if I'm just crazy.

Response to:

I love the ending of this video...

"My wish is to ride the tempest, tame the waves,

kill the sharks. I will not resign myself..."

-Trieu Thi Trinh

"There is no use in trying," said Alice. "One can't believe impossible things." "I dare say you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

-Lewis Carroll "Alice in Wonderland"

"All men dream; but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible."

-T.E. Lawrence "The Seven Pillars of Wisdom"

A History of Evil

I like that this video points out how subjective the word 'evil' can be.

I just woke up from a dream. I was standing on top of a hill above a river. Across the river was the downtown of a big city (kinda looked like downtown Edmonton from river valley, but way bigger). The sky was clear with a few misty clouds scattered around. The air was cool with a slighty warm breeze blowing up from the river. The grass and the trees were thick and green. All the stars shone as bright as the lights on a christmas tree in the glowing twilight horizon. Each sparkled a different color from every corner of the spectrum. The sky itself shone an odd reddish-purple color. Which was strange considering there were no clouds to make it so; As though a nebula was blooming right above our heads. There was a song playing just out of earshot. I could just barely make out the tune; It was God Only Knows by the Beach Boys. It was the most beautiful sight and feeling I had ever experienced in any dreamscape I've conjured. I spent my time fumbling for my camera rather than taking it in. I ran around in a frenzy trying to get a perfect shot. Slowly the sky began to fill with clouds and the song was coming to an end. The breeze was growing cold and I had yet to take my picture. Before I knew it, it was dark and had begun to rain. I had missed my opportunity and sat there with a blank roll of film in my hand. I had spent my time trying to make everything perfect to remember. In doing so I missed out on breathtaking beauty. Upon awakening, I realized I wouldn't have been able to bring my pictures out of the dream with me anyway; So I struggled to bring back the memories of that evening. To get it down on paper so that I may remember everytime I look at it.

Let me explain...I thought it was a joke.

I'm an atheist (if you haven't figured it out yet). It took me a while to actually come out and say I was an atheist, but I've been skeptical ever since I was a kid. Ever since I saw my aunts and uncles putting gifts under the tree when our families would stay at my grandparents' farm for christmas. They, then, persisted for years to tell me that it was Santa Claus. It made me feel grown up, knowing the truth. I'd go along with it and tell the other kids it was Santa Claus, even though I knew it wasn't. For years I assumed the Jesus story was of the same stock. It made me feel good to know the truth. That everyone else was out of the loop. I found even the adults were believing these stories. It took me a while to realize this. My mother would always be so excited when I came home to tell her I learned something new. She and my Grandparents always taught me that knowledge was very important. So I learned. I learned about theories and laws; Facts and Fictions. I kept learning and found that with the more I learned there was even less and less room for those stories all the adults believed. I soon had no reason for believing them myself. When I started to realize how devoted everyone else was, I thought I'd just play along too. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to talk about my beliefs at the risk of being shunned and stoned (and not in the good way). I'm still pretty sure not a single relative know of this little secret of mine. I drop hints here and there, you know, to test the waters; But, alas, not single fellow atheist in my bloodline. It gets kinda lonely. Back to my mom-wanting-me-to-know-stuff thing. It gets a little confusing here, in that She's one of the most religious people I know; yet it seems like she set me up to be an atheist from the start. She even cried when I stopped going to sunday school. From outside that little box called religion, you can see that the pursuit of knowledge doesn't get Jesus very excited. Ignorance is bliss in many ways, I guess. What I'm getting at is this: How can completely logical, rational people believe in a god? I've got an opinion. I think it's because we've had this idea shoved in our face for so long (centuries, maybe even millenia), that it's just accepted without question; Also, most people are way too stubborn and proud to believe that they're gullible enough to be lied to on that scale. And I know most religous people who see this will shake their heads and not even consider any of these ideas. But if you disagree go ahead and leave a comment telling me how wrong I am about everything. Perhaps you'll even get me to repent. But as I understand it, heretics and bastards have no place in heaven, anyway. So Fuck You!

I was just going to copy and paste this BastardFairies blog (and give credit, of course), but most of the comments supplement the message perfectly. I especially like all the comments left by the folks named Times and Fates and Cryptess. Here's a link to it, enjoy.

I had a dream a few years ago. The whole thing is pretty vague - something of war and death. The ending, though, is fresh in my memory. I was laying on the floor wrapped in my blanket in a house on top of a hill. The house was surrounded by several others just like it. Tall, old-fashion, victorian style houses. This house in particular - my home - was virtually unscathed by the battle; save for a huge chunk of the roof and south wall missing, leaving a gaping hole in the attic where I lay. From this hole in the attic you could look out over the rest of the city. A scene of a relentless attack. The winter midnight landscape glowed with the burning remnants of a once thriving community. The air outside was heavy with the smell of death and destruction, but did not penetrate the borders of these walls. Only the heat. The warm, soothing flames. I lay on the attic floor in silence. It was the most comforting dream I can remember. When I awoke wrapped in my blanket, I felt like a child wrapped snuggly in his mother's arms.