BlargenBlog

The Saga of Blowme Queef

The other day I wrote about shit-brained hick and country singer Toby Keith and his racist attitude. Believe it or not, I am careful before alleging racism. Some people can find it in just about anything if they’re looking for it, even when it’s not there. However, when criticizing someone with remarks such as “the only reason he is in it is because he talks, acts and carries himself as a Caucasian,” it’s racist any way you slice it. He’s not disagreeing with him over ideological differences, he’s making a point to attack him based on his race.

Conservatives and Dimbaugh fanatics will spin this in the usual fashion by claiming that it’s the “liberal” media that is being racist and protecting him. They’ll claim that because of his race, they can’t criticize him on anything without being accused of racism, completely ignoring that the offending statement by Keith was, indeed, based on race. Nor will they acknowledge that if they’d stop criticizing him racially, they wouldn’t be labeled racists. Simple, yes?

In the post I attempted to make my point on the mindset of such people by using a string of racial epithets which were crossed out. Originally among them was the n-word, but I decided to take it out: I fucking hate that word. Go ahead, say it out loud. Revolting, isn’t it?

I have seen the light!

It was an epiphany. From the great litterbox in the sky came to me a message of great urgency. The one true God, Sparkles the Ineffable Ghost Cat, known to his followers as “Ceiling Cat,” came to me in a revelation and told me to write his word. These were the commands he spoke: “Meow, meeeow mrowww reeaaaooowwrr mrow. Mrrreow meow purrrrrr.”

Using advanced methods of Felinese-to-English translation, I wrote the divinely-inspired words that will surely change the course of history: “I has created dis universe, and Happy Cat iz my profit. Blessid iz hooman who providez teh rubs. Fall not into temptation of kitty castration nor incessant masturbation, lest Basement Cat torchur ur sole forevar! Blessid are he who bringz teh fud.”

Now, I have the Holy Book of Ceiling Cat as proof of my religion.

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Ridiculous, isn’t it? What boggles my mind is how one can find this ridiculous yet find fantastical claims made in the Christian bible not to be ridiculous. What makes one more plausible than the other? The idea of an invisible guy claiming to be God has as much merit as my epiphany from the real God, Ceiling Cat:

Probably the weakest but most stubborn aspect of Christian fundamentalism is the use of the bible as evidence for what is written in the bible. Circular reasoning, no? Why do you believe in God? “It says so in the Bible.” What’s the evidence that this is true? “The Bible.”

So… the bible is the evidence that the bible is true? Snaps and dang! That gives me a free license to say whatever the hell I want, doesn’t it? Let’s try this: I am secretly controlling the minds of everyone who reads this blog. Where’s my proof? The claim itself is my proof, duh! Same reasoning, same results.

Next time someone asks me where my proof is that Ceiling Cat is real and watches us all masturbate, I’m going to point to the Holy Book of Ceiling Cat. Got a problem with that? Well you’re a hateful, intolerant bigot.

Just because…

This entry was posted on Monday, August 11th, 2008 at 1:22 pm and is filed under blargen. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.