I was cursed DO'H! blessed with a ridiculously text book case of Cancerian astrological qualities. Anything you've ever heard or read about Cancers = ME. I've shared before that I am a religious zealot when it comes to reading my horoscope. I'm like, the Church of Jesus Christ of Ladder Day Saints, if they believed in horoscopes and not Jesus. Ok, so I'm less like The CJCLDS and maybe more like a Pagan or something, but the fact remains that it's not what or who you have faith in, it's just that you have faith. So, with that in mind, may I share with you, my Gospel of the day - my horribly fantastic horoscope:

The boundaries between friendship and romance could be blurred today as Neptune dissolves your 8th House of Intimacy. You are eager to be in a fun-filled social setting now, placing you in close proximity with people you like. Tread carefully, for your emotional needs can lure you into tricky waters.

Had I only READ my horoscope beforehand, I probably never would have responded to that damn text which in turn has given me enough to chew on for the next two days that I'll barely have to eat.

God save the queen her fascist regime
It made you a moron a potential h bomb !

God save the queen she aint no human being
There is no future in englands dreaming

Dont be told what you want dont be told what you need
Theres no future no future no future for you

God save the queen we mean it man (God save window leen)
We love our queen God saves (God save... human beings)

God save the queen cos tourists are money
And our figurehead is not what she seems
Oh God save history God save your mad parade
Oh lord God have mercy all crimes are paid

When theres no future how can there be sin
Were the flowers in the dustbin
Were the poison in your human machine
Were the future your future

God save the queen we mean it man
There is no future in englands dreaming

No future for you no future for me
No future no future for you

Formulaire à joindre pour toute candidature...

You can also buy some “revolutionary” May '68 gadget in Paul Smith boutiques, like candles, key cases, pocket notebooks, et cetera. According to me, this is the negation of the spirit of a season that, for better or worse, changed the world. But this is the spirit of ours times, where often the rebels eat caviar and drink champagne.

Apparently she has two birthdays a year, greedy bastard! I wonder what that makes her in Dog years?

Still not to let the opportunity to show my respect of our great maniacal Monarchial institution i invite you to be upstanding and click on this patriotic link 'Me Luds, Laydees Hand Gentlemin, Please be Upstanding for Er Right Royal Highniss the Queen.'

God Save The Queen is licensed under a Creative Commons Reconocimiento-No comercial 2.5 Perú License.

Probablemente sea lo que pasará cuando finalmente Alan Gabriel Ludwig y la señorita Lourdes finalmente se fusionen en una masa amorfa y conservadora. Para variar, lo único que chorreará será mondongo.

Un poquito basado en esto.

The worst aspect of this temporary hirsute-holocaust, in addition to looking like a huge Murray Mint, is that I can feel air. It’s like having a piss outdoors when the wind suddenly licks around ones member and it feels inordinately cold because it’s an unfamiliar state of affairs purely because one doesn’t walk about in the great outdoors with ones cock exposed to the elements, not on St. Georges Day anyway (we’ll come back to him). My face has become sensitive like a vast helmet (as in ‘cock end’, not ‘crash’) if someone calls across the road I can feel their breath on my shorn skin, every pore of my face is aroused by the mildest whiff of a waft, perhaps from under a door, or the tiny beating wing of a yellowhammer, yonder, under the gathering storm clouds of complacency, yeah.

The weather yesterday was the first warm day we’ve had in this country since that odd day at the end of the British Superbike season last October. Of course as soon as there is so much as a hint of heat every fat white underclass wanker in Christendom strips down to their fucking pants and takes it on themselves to wander, slowly, through public places. Tooting yesterday looked like a chessboard, burkha vs. blubber.

Doubtless these flabby tosspots are the same types that bedeck their grotty houses with the cross of St. George, or ‘I am a racist’ flags. (Some) people moan on and fucking on about how we should celebrate St George’s day like the Irish do St. Patrick’s and what have you, but it would be impossible to do this without the whole fucking thing being completely overtaken by bullet headed men getting completely inebriated before singing ‘send the buggers back’ and beating the fucking shit out of each other and whomsoever happened to pass by.

Because it’s very hard to separate the St.Georges Cross with right-wing thuggery, for the time being at least, we’ll just have to accept that we’re not mature enough to have national St Georges Day celebrations, yet…

But there is a solution, a way to claim back the St. George flag for all the decent tolerant English citizens, of which I’m one.

Marketing.

St. George was a Greek speaking Turk, he’s also the patron saint Aragon, Canada, Catalonia, China, Ethiopia, Georgia, Greece, Montenegro, Palestine, Portugal, Russia, and Serbia. Lets tell all those flag waving cunts who crawl out their tax-paid for houses to moan in Ladbrokes, MacDonalds, Weatherspoons etc., about immigration, how it’s their English right to indulge in all-day St. George inspired piss-ups, that their patron saint was a wog… Then the rest of us can enjoy a nice day off with moral impunity.

My ex girlfriend who was Japanese thought this was our national anthem, if only.

I'm not surprised by the results of this survey. In effect, the name Jack is right for a surgeon, but also for a drummer, but also for a trucker..But, there are names that, for their oddity or ugliness, can only ruin a person's life. For example, what did Cher smoke when she called her daughter Chastity? The Latins was used to say “Nomen Omen”: your destiny is in your name. The meaning of my name is “lame”. No comments, please.

God Save the Queen

Considerada en el reino unido un ataque a la corona motivo a que no se les permitiera tocar en territorios de la gran Bretaña, asi que en algunas ocasiones llegaron a tocar en barcos, para así no invadir el territorio

Anarchy in the UK

Fue la canción que fijo su postura anarkista, hoy en día aparece incluso en videojuegos, aunque dudo mucho que aquel haya sido el espíritu original de esa rola.

My way

Un cover de la canción de Frank Sinatra que no podía dejar de poner porque me encanta, la canción es cantada por el polémico Sid Vicious, segundo bajista de la banda, no por la banda completa.

multumesc lui adrian georgescu (vezi blogroll), pentru ca la el pe blog am vazut faza.

Adieu, dear London black cab! We'll miss you very much. Join the unforgettable Routemaster bus and Gilbert Scott's red telephone box. Rest in Peace. Amen.

Photo by Patrick Mayon

Salvaram o mundo nas guerras. Deram-nos Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley, Keats. Ensinaram-nos o Liberalismo. Redigiram a Magna Carta. A lista de feitos notáveis do povo inglês é longa, talvez a maior deste lado de cá do mundo. Nada disso, naturalmente, compara-se à invenção do futebol. Na guerra, não estavam sós. Shakespeare e demais poetas sempre serão restritos. O Liberalismo não foi devidamente aprendido ou fracassou por completo, a depender do ponto de vista. A Magna Carta sequer sabemos o que vem a ser. O inglês nunca foi tão universal quando no momento em que inventou o futebol - num jogo grotesco em que corre-se atrás duma bola uma nação atingiu o seu ápice, teve a certeza de que o seu legado jamais seria superado.

Mas não nos enganemos: o futebol inglês sempre foi sinônimo de ruindade. Peladas tenebrosas, violentíssimas, quase um rúgbi quando visto por nós - nós, explico: os líricos da bola, gente criada na base de Garrinchas, Romários, Zicos e da Guias. Tempo corrido e agora, ao fim da década 00, a Inglaterra tem o melhor futebol do planeta. Naturalmente o número de ingleses diminuiu dentro de campo, mas pouco importa: ninguém resiste imune às tradições locais - o futebol de Cristiano Ronaldo ou de Fabregas é extremamente inglês.

Explico-me: o futebol inglês, atualmente, é veloz e contundente. Há algum tempo eu lia as crônicas futebolísticas de Nelson Rodrigues e, toda vez em que ele exaltava o poder de "penetração" de certas figuras, perguntava-me o que isso viria a ser. O futebol brasileiro atual, sabemos, é fraco (sim, sei que é o único que temos e ainda me divirto horrores com ele, mas não vamos nos iludir): não há um ímpeto que possamos classificar como poder de penetração - com toda a conotação homoerótica que o termo vem a ganhar dentro de um campo de futebol.

Manchester United e Arsenal enfrentaram-se hoje num jogo franco, veloz, rasgante. As defesas eram perfuradas pelos passes de Fabegras e as corridas de Adebayor, pelas arrancadas de Cristiano Ronaldo - que dispara com a sutileza e a força típica dos búfalos da Ilha de Marajó - e pelos chutes secos de Rooney ou Tevez. Com a vitória, os Red Devils praticamente asseguram mais um título nacional - coisa pequena quando comparada à maior possibilidade da temporada, que é o título continental. O Arsenal, que ganhou a simpatia de todo o staff do Quem é a Bola? demonstrou imaturidade, falta de elenco e tropeçou de vez, terminando mais uma temporada sem título algum.

A revolução ocorrida no futebol inglês também tem um lado obscuro. Os investidores, a "privatização" questionável de certos times e o excesso de grana geram desconfianças naturais - sobretudo se considerarmos a paixão dos ingleses pela aposta esportiva. Mas, enquanto nenhum escândalo é comprovado, não há pecado em deliciar-se com as partidas semanais na terra de Mr. Bean. Todo o espetáculo é cercado de uma plasticidade inegável: o campo de dimensões reduzidas, a falta de separação entre palco e público, os gramados verdes, os estádios quase sempre abarrotados e, sobretudo, a velocidade e a habilidade de quem corre em campo, sempre em direção ao gol.

APRIL77 is a very cool French brand of clothing. After associating with Gibson guitars, now it renders homage to one of the best independent labels, Domino Records.

Domino Records is in my heart because I love the music that it churns out. I like the Arctic Monkeys, the Kills, the Pavement..I am waiting with trepidation Franz Ferdinand's new record. Well, after this musical soliloquy, I go back to the partnership between APRIL77 and Domino that has produced a limited edition box set containing a deluxe vinyl record with a compilation of the very best from Domino and April77's polo shirt named “Manchester”, in honour of one of the most prolific cities in the British musical scene. There are only 440 copies, but you can win one in an internet competition at VoxPop (in French). You must be fast, you have until tomorrow at midnight.

I'm not a fashion addict nor a fan who collects stars “relics”, my teen room didn't even see one poster, but I woo fortune. Tomorrow, a fashion addict or a collector could cough up a pot of money for my box set. I would be a rock star, but an accountant lives in me.

Photo by BrittneyBush

The first story is Charles Cumming's The 21 Steps, inspired by John Buchan's thriller The 39 Steps. It utilizes Google Maps and Google Earth to follow the protagonist, a young Londoner, who witnesses a murder and is obliged to smuggle a mysterious substance onto a plane. The second work is Toby Litt's Slice, based on M R James' ghost story The Haunted Dolls' House. Lisa (Slice for her friends), has moved from US to London with her parents. They live in a old house where strange and creepy things happen. Is it an haunted house? You can follow the story on Slice's and her parents' blogs or on Twitter. You can also interact with the characters.

The other authors involved in the project are Kevin Brooks, Nicci French, Matt Mason and Mohsin Hamid. In the next weeks they will submit their works. They will respectively take inspiration from Hans Christian Andersen's Fairy Tales, Émile Zola's Thérèse Raquin, Charles Dickens' Hard Times and the anonymous Tales from the 1001 Nights. For sure, there will be other good stuff on We Tell Stories.

Russel is kenneled while I am at work. He's still just a baby (10 months) and he IS a Jack Russell Terrior, and he just gets into to much shit when I leave him loose! If he were a human baby, he'd be one of the ones who licks their finger and sticks it in the electrical socket - JUST BECAUSE THEY CAN. Yeah, he's that bad.

When I got home today, the blanket and bed that I left in the kitchen for Karn were pulled through Russel's kennel bars and the bed was torn open in such a way that it mimicked autopsy footage. The bed was ripped open in the middle, and the fluffy, fleecy guts were strewn about the floor of his kennel. And then on top of it all, if that weren't ENOUGH of an insult to the Taiwanese makers of the plaid doggie bed, he then PEED on some of the fluff as well.

Thankfully, my furniture proves to be a sufficient substitution for them to lay on since they would have no choice but to Rock, Paper, Scissors for the remaining waste of money doggie bed, and without fingers, there can be no scissors...

Fact of the matter is that, despite my tendencies to paint a melodramatic painting, I am no immediate danger to my own personal well-being, as I know that if I check out now, I am destined to relive it, only ten-fold, all over again. And by NO means am I such a glutton for punishment as to willingly walk into THAT fate. Welcome to the daily affirmation as to why I continue to just wait it out.

It was like, I suddenly woke up one day and realized that I was an ADULT. I still drive the same Honda Civic that I bought back in 1998, I still sleep in a t-shirt which once belonged to my first boyfriend and I still think that I can float by doing the same ol' shit and then I wonder why I'm where I am. It's a rude awakening when you realize that you are no longer a kid with her entire life ahead of her and suddenly, you are in the midst of the "what I do with my life today totally effects what I do with my life tomorrow" phase and CHRIIIIIST am behind on the To-Do list! It was like, the fact that I have a house already and a job and my pets and all the things that I DO have meant NOTHING, and I was watching my life fall farther and farther back from where I needed to be right now. Needless to say, examining the some-what ridiculously sad status of one's life IS rather mind-boggling, so I had a mini panic attack for about, oh, say, 2 or 3 weeks straight, and now have come out on the other end with sarcasm so thick that you could buttah yah toast wit it. Ugh, I'm beginning to shphitz, just talking about this and all...

So, I don't know, you tell me. Am I "ok"? If "ok" is when even though there are days when I'd seriously give my kingdom for a gun, I realize that there are many, many other people out there who have it worse off then me, if it is how some days its takes all of the strength that I possess to not run into our local Wegman's and just punch the hell out of some person, if it means that although there are more mornings than not lately that I STRUGGLE to get out of bed, but I STILL know that this all eventually too, shall pass; then yeah, that's me. Just call me "ok."

Recently, I find myself coming to terms with the hugest waste of time that I have ever wasted time on - LOVE. I've tried, many times, I've failed, many, MANY more times - and now, well, it's time to move on. When I dream of my future now, I don't see myself with a husband and kids, I see myself as a single 40-something living in New Zealand, far, far away from all of the heartache and painful memories of my current life. I no longer want to have kids because I feel like I am too effed in the head to EVER be a good parent. Shit, I'm surprised my dogs haven't had to go into counseling yet. Can you imagine the kind of warping I could bestow upon a mind with the consistency of playdoh? That, my friends, is the reason that I didn't follow through with teaching - I didn't want to be responsible for turning them into little neurotic me's.

I've decided that LOVE is too painful for me to be able to handle anymore. All of the back and forth and all of the UNKNOWN...You love someone, they don't love you. You love each other, but you fight all of the time. Love loses it's fantastically special appeal when you can't remember if you love THEM or if you just love the fact that you aren't alone. Love leads you on with that tiny promise of "maybe" and that is enough to leave you waiting on the edge of your seat for indefinite amounts of time. Someone loves you, but not in the "same way" that you have professed to love them...It's a despicably sorrowful entity and just not worth the fight for me anymore. Someone ALWAYS gets hurt, and 9 1/2 times out of 10 - it's me. And quite frankly, I'm damn tired of it. My friends know of my plights, and bless them, they all say "It will happen. Your time will come. It's all going to work out" ::Blah, blah, blah:: They tell me to have faith and that the universe really doesn't hate me, but I beg to differ. I mean, seriously, between financial issues, friend issues, home issues, AND all of my HEAD issues...I think that the universe is stomping on my heart for FUN at this point! My patience only allows for so much, and I'm sorry, but I've reached the end of it and I just don't have the energy to generate any more. So, this is the end of the line for me and LOVE. Love can go bother someone else, it can go break someone else's heart and it can go suck out the precious emotional energy of another who is still victim to it's luring Siren Song. But not me - my cement heart has finally set, and it's impervious to Love's advances.

~ Evaporated by Ben Folds Five

What I've kept with me
And what I've thrown away
And where the hell I've ended up
On this glary random day
Were the things I've really cared about
Just left along the way
For being too pent up and proud

Woke up way too late
Feeling hungover and old
And the sun was shining bright
And I walked barefoot down the road
Started thinking about my old man
Want to get into a car and go anywhere

Here I stand, sad and free
I can't cry, I can't see
What I've done
God, what have I done

Don't you know I'm numb, man?
I can't feel a thing at all
Now it's all smiles and business these days
I'm indifferent to the loss
I have faith that there's a soul somewhere
That's leading me around
I wonder if she knows
Which way is up and which is down

I poured my heart out
I poured my heart out
It evaporated ... see?

Blind man at a canyon's edge
Of a panoramic scene
Or maybe I'm a kite that's flying high and random
Dangling a string
Or slumped over in a vacant room
Head on a stranger's knee
I'm sure back home they think I've lost my mind

Jack the Ripper is a legend, the holy grail of crime history. Who was Jack the Ripper? Maybe the serial killer par excellence was a woman, maybe a celebrated painter or even a Windsor. The theory more fascinating is that one about a Mason plot. Whatever the truth is, now the mysterious Jack is making fun of us “From Hell”.

Photo  Debs_UK 

Here is picture of what you will find at an emerging church service!

One of my sources as revealed that the emerging church is tied to the recent gay porn murder case. In the recent article the title revealed to my discernmentalist eye the connection.

"New Evidence Emerges In Gay Porn Producer Murder"

Here is a bit from the article:

"On the hard drive they found a photograph of a man... "

It goes on to state that these emerging people

"...were charged in Virginia with racketeering, conspiracy to launder money and conspiracy to receive money from the earnings of prostitution."

This is why we need to promote more War and less Love. These emergents are such vile and disgusting people that would even show up on sites like this and be promoted by "murdering gay porn producers". What is next married sex on stage instead of a sermon? Like Ingrid I give it 5 years.

You all should thank God for this site and sites like CRN's great and important research such as this article!

Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom,

I. Todyaso

Other "well researched" articles just like this one!

http://christianresearchnetwork.com/?p=2688

http://christianresearchnetwork.com/?p=199

http://christianresearchnetwork.com/?p=4573

~no matter how much you think "enough" is, it never really is. It just keeps hitting the fan

~being alone is worse then alot of people think. And it doesn't really get better, you just kinda realize that it is what it is

~a woman, who in a former life I was close to, was found dead, alone, in her apartment days after she passed

~my ex, whom in certain ways I still love, is going to have a baby in about 7 months

~moving on is harder than it seems...

~I need to go back into counseling

And I say how perverse of a Gospel is that!?! We know that the Truly Anointed Preacher/Pastor/Teacher/ of the Only True and Faithful Gospel, John MacArthur states the Kingdom is "only spiritual now and will come in the future" which is stated in the video post at CRN. Listen carefully as he carefully picks apart Brian and then sets us all straight that "the Kingdom of God is not here and now" but "in the future and only spiritual" and is all about getting people into heaven.

How dare anyone pervert the gospel and say we should live as Kingdom people here and now. These "emergents" and their sick social (we want justice) gospel that wants to feed the hungry and give water to those who thirst! They do not need clothes or food or water, they need the Gospel of the angry God of wrath who hates sinners!

 To quote MacArthur:

Men cannot understand. They cannot seek grace and salvation unless they are affected with the dread of the wrath of God that is upon them. Unless men sense they are in grave danger there’s no pressure applied to them to change.

Now, sometimes when you talk about God being a God of wrath, certain people get disturbed. And they don’t understand how God can be a God of anger and God can be a God of wrath and God can be a God of fury, a God of terror. But that’s because they don’t understand God.

Thank God men like MacArthur would never teach such a false thing as the Kingdom of God is at hand or the Kingdom of Heaven in near or worse that the Kingdom of God is within us! That all sounds like "new age" gobbledygook! 

The knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of heaven has been given to you, but not to them,

 I. Todyaso

Recommended book of the week:

This morning, I walked out the door to my garage (which, BTW, is NOT attached to my house) as I do every morning, to get into my car and go to work. Sadly, there was a flaw in that typical logic and the powers that be decided to throw me for a loop first thing in the morning. Apparently, I have superhuman strength as I BROKE MY KEY OFF IN THE LOCK. The only lock, to the only door to get into my garage. Whoo effing hoo. I fear for what the rest of this week may bring...