Can I Guess Your Religion by Your Answers to These Five Questions?
You may be skeptical but I’d wager it can be done. Just answer A, B, C, D, or E below. And no none-of-the-above’s or what-have-you. That’s cheating.
A. Franz Kafka
B. Lizzie Borden
C. Gretel (but not Hansel)
D. The guy who invented the trebuchet
A. Cinder block
C. Wax warmer
D. Dyson’s sphere
E. 100-foot tall statue of Jesus
B. 2i + 1
D. The cosmological constant
A. New Brunswick
B. San Bernadino
C. One of the Maldives
D. Seven miles off the coast of Laos
E. The comforting arms of Jesus
A. The soul gravitates from darkness to light
B. The primordial soup bubbled over into trees and dinosaurs and stuff
C. Everything is an illusion of the mind including the mind itself
D. That cake isn’t going to bake itself.
Judging by your answers I’d say that you’re either a Born-again Christian or just some weirdo who likes taking quizzes. Amirite?
(from @pixelatedboat, a frequent source of comedy gold.)
Also, if you’re so inclined, you can follow me at @mutesarcasm where I post dumb jokes and repost a lot of weirdness from other, more popular twitstreams. I’d appreciate a look or two.
Read a book today.
And feed a starving author.
It’s hard to compose metaphors when you’re hungry.
Walking this dog is hard work.
Man: You’ve hardly gone three blocks.
Woman: Oh, I know. I just think everything is hard work.
Man: You think taking a nap is hard work.
Woman: It is! Do you know how hard it is for me to fall asleep?
At least that’s how I read it . . .
Via Jessica Valenti, an exchange between two five-year-olds from a British documentary series that (among many other things) concerns gender roles:
7 Punctuation Marks
33 Adjectives or Adverbs
Pinch of context
1) Sift nouns into a bowl.
2) Peel verbs and cut into wedges. Mince punctuation. Combine with nouns.
3) Place conjunctions in a paper bag. Hammer them to bits. Add to mix.
4) Melt pronouns in a greenhouse. Swirl them into the mix.
5) Pour mix into an oddly shaped pan. Sprinkle adjectives/adverbs on top.
6) Bake halfway. Ignore context. Serves whoever.
Yes, if only push-ups negated cake eating in tandem. But alas . . .
The mind goes where it wants to go,
On extemporaneous journeys and simple flights of fancy;
But right now, my mind is sleeping . . .
(I have no point.)
What makes flesh – flesh?
What else flows – like blood?
To what end – either – in a digital world?
I look at the profile I’ve concocted,
my self-rendered, global doppelganger,
and only recognize a spurious form of me
as if I’m staring at a photograph of myself
taken from an obtuse angle.
Yet I do not despair – the soul
has never been an accessible medium.