Californ-aye-ay!

I just LOOOVE David Cross

Today's Pearls Before Swine

Damn, I loves dis guy and the Zeebas.
(clicky piccy makey biggie.)

me in a nutshell

If I only had a nickel for every time I heard this in my life...
"you dick! But you are right."
From my good friend James...
Diplomacy, tact and grace evade me yet.
When will I learn, the truth isn't all that funny to other people, even though it makes me shake with giggling?
I recently learned of Lucretius, for whom I am guessing Lucrezia Borgia must have been named.
Strangely inappropriate, yet compelling in an Italian way.
He predated the alleged Jesus Christ by fifty or so years, yet seemed to have a comprehensive understanding of quantum physics.
He tends to be lumped with the Stoics, (FTFA, "The ancient Stoics are often misunderstood because the terms they used pertained to different concepts in the past than they do today. The word stoic has come to mean unemotional or indifferent to pain, because Stoic ethics taught freedom from passion by following reason. But the Stoics did not seek to extinguish emotions, only to avoid emotional troubles by developing clear judgment and inner calm through diligent practice of logic, reflection, and concentration.")
His poem, On the Nature of the Universe (Things) is FUCKING AWE-INSPIRING.
CHECK IT OUT!
Full text translation here.
My favorite bit has got to be this excerpt:

I have shown how atoms are the beginnings of all things, how they differ because of their diverse shapes, how of their own accord they fly through space, impelled by everlasting motion, and how each individual thing can be created out of them. Next, I must turn to the nature of the mind and the soul, and drive away the archaic fear of a world beyond the grave. This fear can utterly confound the life of man to its very root, clouding all things with the blackness of death, and leaving no pleasure pure and unalloyed.

True, men often declare that disease and a life of disgrace are more to be feared than the pit of death. And they may say that they know the soul is made of blood—or else of wind, if by chance their whim so wills it—and therefore that they have no need at all of our philosophy. Yet, you may be sure that this is nothing but idle boasting to win praise, and not their true belief. These same men, exiled from their country and banished far from the sight of their countrymen, stained with some foul crime, beset with disease heralding approaching death, keep going all the same. To whatever situation they come in their misery, in spite all their talk, they sacrifice to the dead, slaughter black cattle, and lay out offerings to the gods of the dead. In their bitter plight, they far more keenly turn their hearts to religion.

That is why it is more fitting to judge the quality of a man when he is in doubt and danger, and to observe his manner in adversity; for then at last an honest cry is wrung from the bottom of his heart: the mask is torn off, and the truth stands exposed.

Guilty Pleasure

Like we didn't see this coming

Chickens ... home ... roost

Old by web standards

Still a classic, this makes me feel so... everything.