A man lay on his death bed when suddenly he became aware of the smell of chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs. It was his favorite cookie. Could it be…oh could it be that his loving wife had made him this last final pleasure in life? Somehow, he found the strength to rise from his bed and make it down to the kitchen. There he found chocolate chip cookies everywhere. On the table on the counter, on top of the refrigerator—everywhere. He fell to his knees, overwhelmed with gratitude. He could only crawl across the floor to the table and with what seemed like his last gasp, he reached up and his gnarled fingers curled around one of the precious, cherished chocolate chip cookies. Just then a spatula came down on his hand.
Wife: Paws off. Those are for the funeral.
Wife: Paws off. Those are for the funeral.
The god who allows children to be raped out of respect for the free will choice of the rapist, but punishes gay men for engaging in mutually consensual sex couldn't possibly be responsible for an intelligently designed universe.
I may defend your right to free speech, but i won't help you pass out flyers.
Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.
--Voltaire
Nietzsche isn't dead. How do I know he lives? He lives in my mind.
I may defend your right to free speech, but i won't help you pass out flyers.
Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.
--Voltaire
Nietzsche isn't dead. How do I know he lives? He lives in my mind.