Posted on 03/02/2007 11:04:03 AM PST by xzins
Global Warming, as we think we know it, doesn't exist. And I am not the only one trying to make people open up their eyes and see the truth. But few listen, despite the fact that I was one of the first Canadian Ph.Ds. in Climatology and I have an extensive background in climatology, especially the reconstruction of past climates and the impact of climate change on human history and the human condition. Go to link for remainder of article: http://www.canadafreepress.com/2007/global-warming020507.htm
Johann "Algore" Tetzel came to town selling eco-indulgence, carbon credits. (When a coin in the carbon pot rings, out of global warmin hell a soul does spring.)
How many carbon credits does it take to get out of global warming purgatory? (Will a snowball really have a chance in global warming hell? An iceberg? A glacier? My Kenmore IceMaker?)
Who is the modern Martin Luther of the truth that the earth has gone through many cycles or warming and cooling? (How do we make that funny?)
How many theses does it take to screw up an eco-wacko?
Where is our modern day Wittenburg door?
(Excerpt) Read more at canadafreepress.com ...
An old preacher was dying. He sent a message for his IRS agent and his Lawyer (both church members), to come to his home. When they arrived, they were ushered up to his bedroom. As they entered the room, the preacher held out his hands and motioned for them to sit on each side of the bed. The preacher grasped their hands, sighed contentedly, smiled and stared at the ceiling. For a time, no one said anything. Both the IRS agent and Lawyer were touched and flattered that the old preacher would ask them to be with him during his final moment.
They were also puzzled because the preacher had never given any indication that he particularly liked either one of them.
Finally, the Lawyer asked, "Preacher, why did you ask the two of us to come?"
The old preacher mustered up some strength, then said weakly, "Jesus died between two thieves, and that's how I want to go, too."
The imagination is quite vivid enough, thank you.
Good one. Helped me cough some more gunk loose from my chest.
Thanks.
I would hope so.
He already thinks I'm weird.
(me, not arguing)
;-)
I assume that
given the choice again of wierd and your loveable self--he'd make the same choice.
Bland is welllll so . . . . bland.
Though after 9 years my wife insisted she was ready for some dull.
So she married a co-worker that carried the head of a dead bear around in his truck looking for an ant hill to eat the gunk out.
c'est la vie.
So maybe there were more than two thieves in that room.
I've seen it.
He's no Mel Gibson.
EEEEWWWWWWWEEEEEEE!
He's told me that. ;-)
So she married a co-worker that carried the head of a dead bear around in his truck looking for an ant hill to eat the gunk out.
That's bland? You must be a hoot!
:-)
. . . A HOOT . . .
That's probably in the same galactic cluster or ball park.
According to a list of commentators.
Do you covet a list?
10th commandment, you know.
Heaven forbid!
We are the listless.
"1) What is an MIB?
2) Are we neeners?
That looks suspiciously like the beginning of a list. Please remove the offending numbers and make it one question. As keeper of the Institutes I am the ex officio parliamentarian. By the way did you notice this gem?
"Actually, I think the neener caucus changes with the winds . . .
the winds of pontification and diatribe and truth being in the eye of the beholder."
I didn't know we had a pontificate or a diatribe. When were they elected and what is their function? Has anyone defined MIB so we know if we should take offence? I have heard K yell "PDQ" a couple of times and I think I know what that means, but MIB?
Oh yeah. There's a new tagline.
Everyone has an IRS agent. The IRS agent would explain the lawyer.
;-)
Oh, dear.
This is taking on a life of it's own.
. . . . Not sure I'm up to this . . . but a valiant try must be made . . . can't let dear compadre's down.
hmmmm . . . pondering . . .
Wellllllllllllll . . . how about . . .
MIB are those who pride themselves in being PDQ to squealch anything but the party line.
They are gifted in door knocks at 0400 and at removing any hint of validity from any home or site in terms of artifacts related to the very UN-PC UFO and related stuff.
Some have postulated that the MIB are ET's too. Some think of them as merely deeper layers of HARXIST's [Gritch Shrillery's] goons and related troops.
Though their morphing hereon is likely along several other lines.
Hereon . . . MIB's are more likely initiated into the secret society of The Holy And Exalted Keepers of the Tidy Boxes. The first night of initiation reportedly involves learning to sleep in a very tiny box engineered to their form.
The 2nd 24 hours of initiation reportedly involve the careful and sanitized manufacture of precise tidy little box cookies measured with a micrometer. Truth must be the most truly truest truly TRUE truth, you know.
Beyond the above rumors . . . I'm not sure I'm prepared in an open forum to disclose what the MIB really are.
Besides, the world turns; wet birds fly at night and The Matrix mooshes.
I tend to list the larger my belly gets
Oh, dear. Stepped in it already, did I!
Welllll . . . I don't know how I could have
missed it
HARXIST hissed it
with a black mist
billowing from her orifi
Then SKerry dissed it
followed by Puhlousey who ________ in it
and offered Guillani a drink.
Whereupon that slithering slime Scuba Teddy hissed
an invite for a late night tour of New England bridges
to Ann Coulter who was way ahead of him and declined before Teddy's hisses were all hissed out.
Then there was Helen Thomas who compulsively
missed
saying an encouraging word within miles of the White House
while all the time claiming proudly that a nest of Commie black mice had caused her coiffure to list
decidedly to port.
Of course, Burtha Burpa Murtha hissed
to mostly missing microphones that HISTory would be kind to him to great GTTM by one and all.
But there is a serious _ist crisis in DC--from A _ist to Z _ist.
All the HARXIST drones are droning endlessly all the same socialist, Marxist, globalist tripe of the last 50 years and it's all just so UN_istably BORING.
So I guess the old A-_ist just isn't what it used to be when folks had class and sanity and patriotism.
Where was I . . .
Oh, slap fingers . . . no _isting, de_isting or double _isting.
Aye Aye.
ROFLOL!
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