Heathen Club

Hm, she's not all that different from Hecate.....

But Hecate was way cooler, ruling the crossroads, maggots and wilderness on top of fertility and sex.... I'm stickin with Hecate.

Gosh and all this time I thought ISHTAR was just a bad movie.....I need to be more careful or maybe more careless...I'm confused.

ishtar is my favorite god. hecate? who the hell is that?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hecate

stolen from wa2k radio, where it was posted by bobsmithawk:

The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid term.

The answer by one student was so 'profound', that the professor shared it with his colleagues via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well:

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today.

Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:


1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Tracy during my Freshman year that, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,' and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct......leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Tracy kept shouting 'Oh my God.'


THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.

You're kidding right?

huh?

For Hecate's sake, explain what you are saying to aperson.

Joe (start at the beginning )Nation

i can't. i'm a heathen. i lack purpose or meaning in my life.

I asking you berry nicely to invent some frame of references, some flutey flights of fancy which we will then insist are absolute truths, or truthies or truthites,you pick, unwaveringly build upon pure speculation and maybe something you were told once by a really swell prophet-type personage while in a trance or a hot-tub.

If it was a hot tub it wasn't me.

Joe(the observers, those who watch us, need structure)Nation

Before I get to that, let me inaugurate the Heathen Republic by singing its official anthem:

On a summer day in the month of May a burly bum came hiking
Down a shady lane through the sugar cane, he was looking for his liking.
As he roamed along he sang a song of the land of milk and honey
Where a bum can stay for many a day, and he won't need any money

Oh the buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees near the soda water fountain,
At the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings on the Big Rock Candy Mountains

There's a lake of gin we can both jump in, and the handouts grow on bushes
In the new-mown hay we can sleep all day, and the bars all have free lunches
Where the mail train stops and there ain't no cops, and the folks are tender-hearted
Where you never change your socks and you never throw rocks,
And your hair is never parted

Oh the buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees near the soda water fountain,
At the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings on the Big Rock Candy Mountains

Oh, a farmer and his son, they were on the run, to the hay field they were bounding
Said the bum to the son, "Why don't you come to the big rock candy mountains?"
So the very next day they hiked away, the mileposts they were counting
But they never arrived at the lemonade tide, on the Big Rock Candy Mountains

Oh the buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees near the soda water fountain,
At the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings on the Big Rock Candy Mountains

One evening as the sun went down and the jungle fires were burning,
Down the track came a hobo hiking, and he said "Boys, I'm not turning."
"I'm heading for a land that's far away beside the crystal fountains;"
"So come with me, we'll go and see the Big Rock Candy Mountains."

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, there's a land that's fair and bright,
The handouts grow on bushes and you sleep out every night
Where the boxcars all are empty and the sun shines every day
On the birds and the bees and the cigarete trees,
The lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, all the cops have wooden legs
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth and the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The farmer's trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay
Oh I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall, the wind don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, you never change your socks
And little streams of alcohol come a-trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew and of whiskey too
And you can paddle all around 'em in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains the jails are made of tin,
And you can walk right out again as soon as you are in
There ain't no short-handled shovels, no axes, saws or picks,
I'm a-goin' to stay where you sleep all day
Where they hung the jerk that invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

I'll see you all this comin' fall in the Big Rock Candy Mountains!

I'm sending that to my buddies

Tex Pavell (Could be one one L) used to sing a cleaned up version of that song on his singing cowboy show; the cigarette trees became cinnamon trees.

Republic? Can't we just hang out together and decide stuff on the wing?

Joe(first rule is, please, not so many rules)Nation

Lets go to candy mountain Joooooeeeee

you must spoil every fun, joe. alright, fine. no republic. we'll continue as a loose conglomerate of accidental haphazard heathens.

first absolute truth: too much of happiness is a bad thing. remember the Happy Goat..... more to come.

aperson is a fifteen year old atheist.

i know. i was responding to joe here.

I like this title - you should use it instead of Republic:

The Loose Conglomerate of Accidental Haphazard Heathens.

very, very good.

The adventurer who is on his knees in the desert with thirst is much more likely to have lurid fantasies abour ice-cold frothing pints of beer than the lazy idle good-for-nothing leaning on the bar downing them one after another.

So also one might imagine that the closet anarchic who feels the burdens of a highly structured life weighing uopn him is the more likely to have visions of freedom and footloose promiscuity than the really free man who has learned to "swallow it whole".

Heathens were a dead loss. "Nasty,short and brutish", some famous dickhead described the heathen lifestyle.