The God Deletion
RJM
and twinkling eyes. He lives with his jolly wife in a big house
at the North Pole next door to his business, a toy making
factory. His workers, a bunch of elves on minimum, turn out
a load of toys throughout the year. On December 24th
each year just before midnight the old man puts all the toys
in a sack. A big sack, obviously. There are a lot of toys.
He puts the sack full of toys in his sleigh, hitches up a team
of flying reindeer and sets off from the North Pole. He
flies from house to house, landing perfectly on the rooftops
next to the chimney that all the houses have, even the
ones that don't. All the houses he lands on have children
in them, asleep. The nice portly old man gets out of his
sleigh with the sack and climbs down the chimney, with the
sack over his shoulder. Sometimes there's a glass of milk
and a plate of shortbread left out for him, which he enjoys.
He leaves toys for everyone, by name, under a special
indoor tree. He then climbs up the chimney, gets back in his
sleigh, and flies to the next house. He goes all around the
world doing this, in one night. Then he flies back to the North
Pole, and starts the whole thing all over again. Miraculous!
boots
>There's this nice portly old man with a big bushy beard
>and twinkling eyes. He lives with his jolly wife in a big house
>at the North Pole next door to his business, a toy making
>factory. His workers, a bunch of elves on minimum, turn out
>a load of toys throughout the year. On December 24th
>each year just before midnight the old man puts all the toys
>in a sack. A big sack, obviously.
Or a flexible tardis, obviously.
>There are a lot of toys.
>He puts the sack full of toys in his sleigh, hitches up a team
>of flying reindeer and sets off from the North Pole. He
>flies from house to house, landing perfectly on the rooftops
>next to the chimney that all the houses have, even the
>ones that don't. All the houses he lands on have children
>in them, asleep. The nice portly old man gets out of his
>sleigh with the sack and climbs down the chimney, with the
>sack over his shoulder. Sometimes there's a glass of milk
>and a plate of shortbread left out for him, which he enjoys.
>He leaves toys for everyone, by name, under a special
>indoor tree. He then climbs up the chimney, gets back in his
>sleigh, and flies to the next house. He goes all around the
>world doing this, in one night. Then he flies back to the North
>Pole, and starts the whole thing all over again. Miraculous!
Do you celebrate Christ-mas, RJM?
--
The sane answer, to madness, is insanity.
Ultraviolet
boots
Be prepared to dig through the horseshit to find it.
It seems clear that RJM lacks a proper appreciation for Time Lord
technology. Figures.
Cleverly done
RJM
"Ultraviolet" <viol...@newsguy.com> wrote in message
news:Xns9A03733838B63v...@64.209.0.82...
And trap?
Alan Hope
That's an uncanny coincidence. I was just posting something wot I
wrote this morning on God and Sanity Clause.
I suppose, since such a coincidence is clearly miraculous, it must
mean proof of the existence of aforesaid God. But to be on the safe
side, Robert, would you just pop out to your toolbox and see how many
bolts you have? I'll be checking my wallet for small bills.
We may be on to something here.
--
AH
http://grapes2dot0.blogspot.com
Alan Hope
>> I want a pony.
>And trap?
Nono, she's quite sincere.
--
AH
http://grapes2dot0.blogspot.com
Grande Mal
'Santa' is 'Satan' spelled inside-out. And those elves with their impish
grins...
john.ku...@sympatico.ca
Santamas! Merry Santamas to you!
RJM
"Alan Hope" <usenet....@gmail.com> wrote in message
news:gqbul3d14n5n167hk...@4ax.com...
My God! I looked in my toolbox and, you won't believe this,
no bolts, but - a brand new set of lights for my 21 speed!
Complete with instructions! The most amazing thing, though,
was the receipt I found in my wallet. From Halfords! How
miraculous is that? Since my recent near death experience on
or rather off the scooter I decided to get out my bike more
often, and on these gloomy winter nights, one needs light in the
darkness, God knows.
Oh, look, right on time here's our Mrs Mop with my elevenses.
Another miracle!