YOSSARIAN

[truth]

Very cute.

[Arty50]

Ahahahahahahaha!!!!!

I really need to stop reading people's away messages. Especially people I never talk to anyway. Oh well, chances are if you're reading this, you do the same thing. From someone's away message:


"Stop telling God how big your storm is, and start telling the storm how big your God is!"


Wow. Now, due to the fact that I'm making this next part up, I was able to go back in time to a week ago when Hurricane Isabel (and that is the spelling) came rolling through. The following is a dialogue.


Pat: Umm, excuse me?
Isabel: Yes?
Pat: I hope I'm not disturbing you.
Isabel: It's alright, I was just wrenching this tree out of the ground and crashing it down on somebody's car.
Pat: Yes, well that's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.
Isabel: That wasn't your car, was it?
Pat: Oh no, I park mine in a garage.
Isabel: Because boy would my face be red.
Pat: Nope, well, not mine.
Isabel: Not that I have a face, but you know, metaphorically.
Pat: What with all the meteorological anthropomorphism.
Isabel: Big words, college boy.
Pat: So anyway, I wanted to let you know that you have to stop being a storm and blowing and destroying things.
Isabel: Really
Pat: Yes.
Isabel: Well that's quite impossible. Low pressure, warm temperature, lots of moisture. Couldn't stop if I wanted to.
Pat: But there's one thing you didn't count on.
Isabel: And that is?
Pat: My god.
Isabel: What's wrong? Oh, was that one your car?
Pat: No, my car's fine, I mean you didn't count on my god.
Isabel: Shouldn't you be capitalizing God?
Pat: True. But then again, this is a verbal conversation.
Isabel: Yes, yes, silly me.
Pat: Yeah. So anyway, you should stop being a storm.
Isabel: Because of...
Pat: The size of my God.
Isabel: Hrm...
Pat: You sound confused.
Isabel: No, it's just... don't we all have the same God?
Pat: No.
Isabel: No?
Pat: No. For instance, my God is not the God of those crazy Muslim people.
Isabel: I've actually met some Muslims. I just demolished a hummus factory. They seemed very nice.
Pat: That may be so, but would you want to sit next to one on an airplane?
Isabel: I don't think I could fit inside an airplane.
Pat: Still, you see my point.
Isabel: Fine, anyway, your God wants me to stop being a storm. Well my God wants me to turn that sliding door you're standing behind into a cloud of shards and shrapnel.
Pat: Tempered glass.
Isabel: Just the same. My God gave me sustained winds peaking at over 100 miles per hour. And a defined eye-wall 40 miles wide. What has your God given you? Besides an ideological crutch and a philosophically lazy method for feeling better than other people?
Pat: Aside from Jesus Christ, our lord and savior?
Isabel: This millenium.
Pat: Well the new season of "Friends" looks very promising.
Isabel: Enough. I have to go flood Baltimore.
Pat: Yeah, well thanks for talking with me.
Isabel: Thanks for not anthropomorphisizing me into a hateful bitch.
Pat: Anytime, Izzy. Anytime.
Isabel: I hate that nickname. (demolishes Pat's car)
Pat: I could have sworn I parked in the garage.