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Pope Resigns

By BiBottomBoy, in The Beer Bar

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AdamSmith Grand Master

AdamSmith

Posted
Posted

Personally, I have always favored Gregorian chants and anything more modern than that baffles me.

Best regards,

RA1

Gregorian chance -- exactly how the Pope ought to be chosen! Would eliminate all that tedious balloting, the risk of being locked in and then having the roof torn off by irate laity tired of waiting, etc., etc.

In fact, with today's wired world, the Cardinals wouldn't even have to drag cassock to Rome -- they could sit at some electronic-poker-like prie-dieu, each comfortably ensconced in his own diocese, then simultaneously punch their respective buttons and immediately see which one of them comes up 3-Popes.

FourAces, what do you think?

:angel:

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caeron Veteran

caeron

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One solution to this problem of oral traditions and written records ( I found it realistic that it has happened) is for the Holy Spirit be amongst the believers and guides them. If a spirit guides the soul of believers then many misunderstandings and wrong interpretation of the Bible could be avoided. And with that faith I believe the purest form of Jesus's teaching can be preserved and unaltered.

I believe one's spirit is presented through various acitivies, for example art , writing, discusion, invention, experiment and etc.. Through these creative actives we get close to truth and learn better about ourselves. To me Jesus opened up that possibility to every one and if you believe in him you have power to move mountains. More or less we have achieve that level.

What I'm saying is that religion has important part in our lives and still do whether we like it or not. Because some bigots use religion to discriminate us, we should not reject religion. I believe we all have in us spirit of justice, compassion and Iove as Jesus did. As he strived to wake people up and lead people to a better society, I hope we can start a movement that does the same. Our first step doesn't have to be big... One small thing at a time...

No disrespect intended, but I can't believe in the magical man in the sky. As a philospher, I can respect jesus, or at least the words ascribed to him. But I reject religion because it's pure superstitious hooey.

Why not believe buddhism, and that we all reincarnate. Or Hinduism? Or Shamanism? Or believe in Apollo and Zeus?

The idea of believing in Zeus now seems pretty damn silly, but yet God doesn't? I just don't get that at all. They're just the same thing.

There is zero evidence of the divine that I can tell. People believe because they want to believe. It is far more comforting to think that God's hand is on the tiller and all will be right in the end. It is scary to believe that when we die, that's just the end.

But wishing something were true doesn't make it true. I wish I were a billionaire who would live forever. I'm not, and I won't.

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AdamSmith Grand Master

AdamSmith

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caeron, you know, if you read hitoall's post above closely, I think he is preaching a gospel of individual interior spirituality and, by hopeful extension, social justice that is pretty close to what many (I among them) believe was the original message of the historical Jesus. No man-in-the-sky that I can discern in hito's post.

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Guest hitoallusa

Guest hitoallusa

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The Prophecy of Popes

http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prophecy_of_the_Popes

I think it was forged to elect a certain pope in the past but I think the Catholic Church will face a serious challenge in the future for sure... It is the same thing with the Prophecy of Fatima... If the Virgin Mary wanted to give a prophecy then why didn't she appear directly in front of a priest, not to speak of a Pope. The controversy over the prophecies in the Catholic Church is also silly...

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AdamSmith Grand Master

AdamSmith

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Not in the least... :D

profit.jpg

kehlog.jpg

1933 - 1927

Man will never penetrate outer space.

- Albran, August 1942

Man will never penetrate outer space without a rocket.

- Albran, August 1962


"HIS POWER came from some great reservoir of distilled water,

else it could not have been so transparent yet liquid, so

apparently lacking sophistication while at the same time

actually lacking sophistication. So tasteless, yet wet."

- CLIVE RODNEY FARK

KEHLOG ALBRAN was a lifelong member of the Diner's Club and did much
of his most creative writing there. His style was that of a man with
a much larger brain. Born in Brest-Litovsk, much of his earlier work
was published in his native dialect, in which language he is still
greatly revered. In an area embracing several hectares in that city,
he is still looked upon as a demi-god. His drawings and paintings have
been exhibited in Quito, Ecuador. His artistic and literary style
have been compared by Chester Gould to the work of Ernest Bushmiller
and by Bushmiller to the work of Gould. Upon moving to America, his
great desires were to write in his adopted language, English, to make
a million dollars, and to retire from pseudo-philosophy so that he
might open a chain of laundromats. It is the world's loss that he never
succeeded in writing in English.


During much of Albran's lifetime, he was widely thought to be dead.
This confusion was the result of the trance-like state Albran affected
at public appearances. Conversely, as one might expect of so mystical a
figure, after his death many of his followers continued to believe him
still alive. Various schools or sects ultimately developed: the Albran
Lives School, the Albran Never Lived School and the Two Albrans Faction.


Though a rationale for these conflicting factions can be attributed
to Albran's erratic behavior and lifeless appearance in public, in
private life Albran was a different person. Given to high comradeship
and practical jokes, he once commented that the Whoopie Cushion had
done more for mankind's betterment than Marx, Christ and Oral Roberts
together.


Though a man of spirit, he was also a man of the flesh. He especially
enjoyed having a thin stream of his favorite beverage (Dubonnet and
Diet-Rite) poured into his mouth by a lady friend while he lay in a
transparent Plexiglas bathtub filled with blueberry yogurt.


To the accusations that he was a whoremonger and womanizer, he
frequently replied, "Oh yeah?" Or, sometimes, "So was Rasputin!"


That he is indeed dead is now an undisputed fact, though the date of
death remains shrouded in mystery as a result of Albran's own diabolical
scheme. His glossy but perfectly preserved body was discovered months
or perhaps years later by his literary agent in the tiny, austere room
in which he spent his final years. Apparently sensing that the end
was near, Albran had hung a five gallon plastic bag of shellac on the
ceiling immediately over the chair where he spent so much of his time
watching daytime television. As his hand slipped from the arm of the
chair, it pulled a wire releasing the shellac which coated his entire
body and most of the chair to a depth exceeding a quarter of an inch in
many places. Thus, Albran contributed to his own immortality, as well as
that of the chair.


The Profit, the book


The Author is deeply indebted to Martin A. Cohen and Sheldon Shacket
for conceiving this book, writing it and drawing the pictures. Naturally,
any mistakes, errors or omissions are the Author's own.

The Author also suggests that, because the twelve original illustrations
are very difficult to understand, you don't waste your time trying.


THE crowds gathered at the foot of the Valley.

Thousands pushed their way through.

The ominous rumbling was heard for miles.



Is he down yet, a merchant selfishly cried.

Where can I see him, an old woman shrieked.

I have waited for him for over one hundred years, a withered man
murmured.

The crowd hushed in unison as a glimpse of a figure appeared in the
clouded distance.

He is here, they whispered.



He looked almost young yet his age was impossible to guess.

He was not tall, yet he had many tall ways.

As they stared, he sat upon a rock.

Quietly folding his arms, he began to speak:



I am here.

I am tired.

But I will answer your questions.

Bring me food, drink, and don't forget a little gold.

A little silver for an answer.

A drachma for a doubt, a penny for a thought.

For I am The Profit and what I have learned has cost me ten lifetimes.


What you are about to learn has cost you two dollars and fifty cents.






breaker.jpg






A man came forward from the crowd and said, May I ask now?

The Master nodded.

Master, what have you learned on the Mountain?

Everything, the Master responded.

Have you knowledge above man?

The Master's eyes slowly focused on the humbled interrogator and a
chill came over the crowd.



The Master spoke:

In the scope of the Universe, man knows little.

But in his minute wisdom, he thinks himself a god among the other
creatures of this planet.

How wrong he is can be seen by observing the uses to which man puts
his
tiny ration of intellect.

He gloats over his gold.

And lusts after material possessions.

And all the while his most precious possession slips through his
fingers like the waters of a running brook.

He lets go the one thing he cannot nor ever will be able to purchase
once it is gone, the precious possession that cannot be borrowed or
sold.



Time? Is Time the most precious possession, Master?



No, my son, the Master replied, but you're close.





breaker.jpg





A scholar then asked:

Could you advise me of a proper vocation, Master?



He then said:

Some men can earn their keep with the power of their minds.

Others must use their backs and hands.

This is the same in nature as it is with man.

Some animals acquire their food easily, such as rabbits, horses and
elephants.

Other animals must struggle for their food, like flamingos, moles,
and ants.

So you see, the nature of the vocation must fit the individual.



But I have no abilities, desires, or talents, Master, the man sobbed.




Have you thought of becoming a stockbroker? the Master queried.





breaker.jpg





Then an eccentric looking man said,

Speak to us of Art.

And he said:

It might as easily be said that man could live without Art as that
man could live without water.

Look upon the innocent scribblings of little children.

Doubt not that each of us emerged from the womb an artist.

Art is freedom.

That which is called Art, yet is made subservient to commerce is not Art.


That which is called Art, yet is made subservient to a Nation or State is
not Art.

That which is called Art, yet is hanging in the Museum of Modern Art is
not Art. That crap my six year old son could do, the Master explained.

Etc., etc., etc.

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Guest CharliePS

Guest CharliePS

Posted
Posted

Found out! Better at least a shiller than a Schuller.

(Around the same time as the above, remember another parody, not really as funny but not bad, of Jonathan Livingston Seagull? It was Jonathan Fliegel Chicken.)

Robert or Gunther? Wasn't "Jonathan Fliegel Chicken" written by Schiller?
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