Termagant
Comments
Is that Hendrix in the middle on the front cover?
No, course not, it's his Dad, one R Dylan...
That seems like an awfully good trade, in my opinion. An immortal soul for immoral (and daily) sex. Excellent choice.
"Taxi"
it is a far more creative and dignified use of the watchtower than what I have employed it for in the past, though I found it to be neither strong or absorbent enough.
Fab.
Bah, I've never once had a Jehovah's Witness call, and I desperately want one to.
Someone once told me the best way to vanquish them is to say 'Ah, I was once a Jehovah's Witness too' - apparently they have to leave instantly in case you corrupt them, and I want to see if it works.
The best thing to ask 'em is "If Jesus Christ was the King of the Jews, why aren't we all Jewish?"
Then gently close the door, while their cogs go into overdrive, thinking of an answer...
waterballoons work well too
Sorry, my eyes are going. I thought it said, "a short period of sexual immortality every day."
And I thought to myself, "Sexual immortality every day? My, but that's a heck of a deal. And is she getting what she barganed for? Good on her, I say."
Of course, sexual immortality would have to be defined in some way, but I have a vague notion of what it would entail (I think).
Don't ever ask these people questins like the one about why we're not all Jewish. They've heard them all before and they'll just use them to launch into a monologue you'll never hear the end of. Just vomit on them and slam the door.
This is why I live in a flat - no one ever comes calling and you can always look out the window and check first if they do.
When we lived in Coniston, Luke used to invite them in. For a laugh.
Hilarity ensued.
Gosh, those Jehovah's Witness propaganda pamphlets are disturbing. I got one illustrating heaven (for believers, no doubt) as the part from the Bible about 'the wolf shall lie down with the lamb' (or whatever it says), except everyone was living in big American-dream houses in what looked like Vermont.
You should send that image in postcard form to this amusing (and at times poignant/harrowing) blog:
There are a group of inoffensive and seemingly amiable JWs who hang out in the square I walk through to the subway station every morning. Most days they are simply standing with a copy of Watchtower, but other days they are sitting around clearly enjoying an empassioned session of gossiping, which endears them to me regardless of other objectionable views they might hold.
My favourite mornings, mind, are the ones upon which they are (comparitively) emboldened, when they stand next to the stream of commuters saying, "Praise him? Praise him?" as though asking if anyone would like a biscuit.
Every day?
Not fair.
Still, no wonder you're knackered.