Wednesday, March 30, 2016
het betrof de volgende onderwerpen
de big bang van de evolutietheorie
hier is de link LUCA the big bang of evolution 27/01/2016
de cyclische gang van zaken in het heelal, tegenover de eenmalige unieke big bang
hier is de link der zyklische Werdegang 16/12/2015
de gedachte dat de hersenen, of de menselijke geest, of de mens zelf, als computer kunnen worden beschouwd
hier is de link ik ben geen informatiesysteem 25/05/2015
Except that you are on the wrong side.
It's not about physics. It's about psyche.
It's about the soul.
Yes, I must admit, Jehovah has brains.
The business which he is perpetrating here - and which I'm happily to join, but not in an evil manner - is his own discovery and steady system building. His industriousness and his dedication are beyond doubt.
We had that quarrel, he built the fence, and then he got some visitors. I found out what he was doing, showed some visitors to my place ... in short, you know what happened. Jehovah became angry, yes, for I the Lord your God am a jealous God.
But he's also a "good" business man.
So, shortly after these troubles he came to the fence and invited me for a meeting. At his place.
Well, I didn't trust him, but I liked the idea of having a chat with my old companion, so I suggested on the river, in the boat.
» Okay, I'll come and pick you up.
» No, each one in his own boat.
He agreed. And there we were, on the river, not in the night but in broad daylight. A bit uneasy, like a divorced couple that meets after a long time of distantiation.
» Long time no seen.
» Better late than never.
» Listen, I don't like you to intermingle with my business.
» I like the company.
» But the discovery, the idea ... it's all mine.
» You don't own these creatures, do you.
» As a matter of fact, yes!
And he explained.
» I admit, I felt a bit lonely, after building that fence. Also useless. I thought: there must be more than me and you. I started to explore the surroundings. And I discovered this river. I crossed it. And I learnt about these creatures and their world. And of their temporary existence, the difference between their marbles and their envelope - being united with their marbles, or drifting at the sea of times, waiting to be reunited. And I decided to take advantage.
He paused for a few minutes, as if he had to think about his next move which, I was pretty sure, he already had considered at length.
» Listen, you leave my guests in peace and now and then I will ask a visitor to go to your place.
» Aha, like a monopolist hey, you take the better part and I'm palmed off with the left-overs.
» Not the left-overs. There are those who do not listen to me.
» After the voice test or before?
I liked the conversation, I heard some interesting things.
After he had found the place, he had made himself a landing. The few people who lived there he had scared to death and chased away. But he had learnt them about heaven - and, after I had interrupted his business, also of hell, with the fires, the narrow gate, and the easy road and the wide gate that leads to hell's destruction, that kind of nonsense.
It's here where we enter your idea of Intelligent Design. The word is: whispering, or whisperer. The Holy Ghost is whispering to your soul. Jehovah, inventing his holy spirit, so he hadn't to tell you these stories himself.
And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.
It is written down by Lucas .. if you believe it ... the story of that peculiar Pentecost, the first one following the crucifying of Jesus, that Jewish rabbi, that got a bit of the track. Not like journalism, the day when it happens, no, some fifty(50!) years later ... if you like to buy that kind of talk.
And my neighor found people, willingly to write down what they felt was true. There it started, all those made up stories about good and evil, the theory, the consequences, the apocalyptic writing. The most prominent of your whisperers being Paul, that crackpot. (He was here a few times. I spoke with him. Always apologizing for being mistaken. I can tell stories about that man ... wowee.)
» There are those who refuse to listen to me. I will not land them safe on Canaan's side.
» Land them safe?! Haven't you noticed the difference between your praising zombies and my gay site. They love it at my place.
I was amused and at the same time angry. I admired this great work of invention, his invention. You could say: Jehovah had reinvented himself. And I had taken advantage.
But the concurrent depicting of my world as the world of the wicked, the world of stench and fire and chains - me, being the monarch of malebolge under whose black survey little men do kneel with awful fear ...
Thanks you very much, I said, and I rowed slowly away.
If I were you, I would be more attentive to UFO's. I've learnt through those who come to my place, what UFO means to you. And I can relate the dating of some of these stories to certain periods that I noticed the absence of my neighbor Jehovah ...
to those who on his proffered mercy trod
no more a Saviour, but avenging God
So, beware of UFO's.
Well, you know my advice: you shouldn't consider the hellish ventures, no, as I always say: go for it!
This is the fourth of a series of impressions of the dwellings of Jehovah and Satan
For the first impression follow the link how to tell you're in heaven
Monday, March 28, 2016
lontana la croce
di Pasqua noi nemmeno parliamo
Cristo si è fermato ai porti dei cieli
non è l’annunciazione
qui si mostra la vita
Thursday, June 4, 2015
(I considered to tell you something about the beginning of times, but that can wait.)
There are a lot of misunderstandings about these places here, but don't have illusions. There is not such a thing as heavenly sex. And if you are going for Jehovah, you can forget the whole concept, be sure about that. In my place there are some rudimentary remains of the thing.
It's easy for me to catch gays and lesbians along the "path to heaven". If I see one, I do not need to load my boat with sweeties, or a bottle of wine. I just ask do you know what you are heading for. And if I tell them about the throne of Jehovah and his sitting in judgment over all your sins, I have an easy job. I don't know what it is, but they've told me about some rotten ideas of your church leaders.
Well, that gives my site some characteristics of the gay scene. As soon as we have crossed the river they start asking about Jacuzzi's and king size beds, and I'm happy to provide them.
But change the concept a bit, a quarter turn I would say. Think about it as something less physical, more spiritual.
I know, not all tidings are good tidings, but better to be honest with you - I hate to have frustrated people around my place.
So, what do you think about women in a place that was from the beginnings of time a he-realm and is a he-realm and always will be: Jehovah's realm. One of the concepts of his place which you got right in your mind is that you have to sing. Even if you can't sing, you have to sing. At some higher point in my country I can get a pretty good impression of Jehovah's business.
It's as easy as boring. The "judgment before his throne" consists of testing your voice. Forget all about America's Got Talent. No camera’s. No spotlights. No fancy dressings, no merry chatting. Just a simple test: either you can sing, and you earn yourself a place in the front rows – okay, there’s of course only one front row, but you get the idea - or you can't and you are moved to the last rows, so you can't spoil the show. The choir is something like a double choir - no soloists! forget also about harps or cymbals! no dancing! Every choir consists of four ... er ... regiments.
The woman's dress? Think of a nun.
And no countertenors hey. Four regiments consisting of men. Four regiments with exclusively women.
Once I overheard a dialogue between Peter and a professional singer, just arrived.
I'm glad to be in heaven. My whole life was singing.
Peter said nothing.
In my world I was a famous basso buffo.
Peter said nothing.
Where are the basses. I like to meet them.
Who do you think is the boss here?
Peter got angry.
Jehovah? Jehovah? I'll learn you Jehovah. I’ll learn you bassobuffoing.
The poor devil didn't make it to the throne. Peter kicked his ass and ordered him to the last rows of the tenors.
Now, if that isn't hell, I'm not Satan.
By the way, I don't think my place is the right place for Leonardo. He's a bit of a thinker. That's also a concept you should forget: thinking. Thinking means worrying. At my place there's absolutely no need to worry.
At this moment I'm not sure if I'll try to tempt Leonardo to my place. Better to hide my entrance when he's passing. I hope for him that he has a good voice, otherwise he'll be condemned to sing forever and forever in the last rows, that ever extending army of good-for-nothings.
This is the third of a series of impressions of the dwellings of Jehovah and Satan
For the fourth impression follow the link from the beginning of times
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Neither will I embark with Jehovah for choirs.
My battlefield is the arrogance of Jehovah.
My battlefield is the self-pity of Satan.
No, I'm not a Richard Dawkins.
Neither am I a Christopher Hitchens.
I know to value the humble believer. He is in his own right,
But it is difficult to find your way from speaking of the arrogance of Jehovah, here on this blog, to the place where it thrones: the minds and hearts of individual men.
As it is hard to find your way from speaking of the self-pity of Satan to the place where it resides: the same places.
Having said that ...
There is no God or Satan, as there is no Captain Hawkeye or Leopold Bloom, or Kurtz. They are created.
Of course I admire the creation. I particularly admire the construction of that great book of stories, the Bible: I think the consecutive writers and editors have done their utmost to put it in a consistent frame.
But please notice, they are also indebted to other cultures. Here, in my hands, I hold two books - one Stories of the See, one The Creation, with a lot of stories of diverse cultures, and there’s much similarity.
There is, in your thinking, that existential question: why.
These stories are not an answer. They are not even the beginning of an answer. The answer is in your own heart and mind (by the way: I do not believe in the difference between ratio and emotio as the determining factor; in a technical sense it is all flesh and blood).
In a certain way you could say: the why-question is there from the beginning - and so is the answer.
But I have a practical way to solve the problem of our free will: in spite of my idea of the flesh and blood, our behavior is so unpredictable, that the question: free will or not - becomes an academic one.
There's no such thing as a free lunch.
So it's your own choice how you come to the why-answer. You can make a choice for the bible, you can go to the philosophical academy (one thing I never succeed to grasp: studying philosophy, declaring yourself a philosopher and then become Pope), you can go to a cloister of Buddha (like a friend of mine).
You can build your own universe.
All can be true, all can be wrong, and there's no one to tell you.
I like to play with these stories.
I don't believe in the concepts of good and evil. Yes, there's good and evil. But not in a laid down structure. Not with a fundament. Not with right and left.
I like to question these things, to explore.
In an easy and leisurely way.
The very reason for these stories?
My way to deal with it.
This is the second of a series of impressions of the dwellings of Jehovah and Satan
For the third impression follow the link women in he-realm
Monday, May 11, 2015
Empty, yes, but sweet.
I live there with my neighbor. We have both our own space. There's enough for both of us. Every now and then we met, during a walk, and had a nice chat. But one day we had a quarrel, and Jehovah - that's the name of my neighbor - built a huge fence, a barrier, and he said: Satan - that's my name - I do not want you to tread my property anymore.
That's a long time ago, can’t even remember what the argument was about. Since then we’ve felt both a bit alone.
One day I saw others around his place, people like him and me (those days I learnt to know the word female, because he and I were ... ahem ... just he and he). So there were other people out in the dark. And not just a few, because next day he had some more visitors. And no one seemed to leave the place. They seemed to adore him.
I tried to figure out where they came from. They came always at night - through the night was the expression I heard them use. I found out that a great river, separating our realms from the rest of the universe, was crossed at night by these people. At daytime there was nothing to be seen, Jehovah had covered the entrance to "his" commons with palms and olives. But at night, when it was dark, I could hear, between the singing of the voices, the noise of the oars dipping in the water.
It was impossible to guess what he was up to, he didn't want to speak to me, so one night I crossed the river myself, and found a path leading to the place where the people embarked. Every night a few or more came along that path, heading for the place where the boat was waiting. I decided to try my share of the new company, so I made a second road, a side road, with a broad entrance in order not to be passed unnoticed, and waited for some people. I managed to tempt a few every night, with candies - sometimes I had some wine or beer with me - and so I got my portion.
Good idea of Jehovah’s! It was nice to have some people around. But when Jehovah saw it, he became furious. First he called upon his powers: lightning and thunders and these kinds of things, but I have my powers too ... anyway, he had made the fence so strong that he couldn't harm me.
But he couldn't stand the fact that I too was able to fish people, so he started to tell stories about me. Naughty stories. Nasty. He even sent his son - he had met a nice girl among his visitors and lay with her - to the other side of the river.
Again, since Son's return a long time has passed.Things got worse and now they learn: it's either his father's paradise or destruction in Satan's hell. This misbelief has grown alarming. Listen, in Wales they sing what they call a rousing song:
When I tread the verge of Jordan
Bid my anxious fears subside
Hell and Hell, and death's destruction
Land me safe on Canaan's side
Do you understand?
Now, if there's one place at earth which earns the name ‘hell’ nowadays it is Palestine, isn't it? And they're longing for that in Wales? Which by British comparison is considered the Philistia of Albion!
I decided to do some publicity. I invited some people, who were not yet ready for the Voyage au bout de la nuit to meet me in my own place, to meet reality.
But who will listen, when asked to come to Hell, as my place is generally referred to? So, I had to be a bit devious ... well, like all advertisement, isn't it ... and I invited them to "heaven", to bring them here, not by rapture but by Ascension.
It's not that devious: my place has the same qualities, just the location is a few degrees shifted (more western longitude).
And I had that tremendous idea. I asked Marlon Brando, who nowadays lives at my place, to play the role of Paul. He did. But, being a smart-ass as in his earlier days, he surrounded himself with virgins, knowing of favored promises in Paradise, while I had ordered him to be surrounded by handsome youths, to display the real purpose of Paul's traveling’s along the coasts of the Mediterranean.
My intent was: during the session Marlon Brandon would reveal his identity to convince these people of the real nature of the premises they had entered, that they were in Hell.
Well, Jehovah solved that problem for me, partly.
Seeing that I was improving my relations with our Jenseits his behavior became sociopathic. He came to the fence, shouting Now it will be Armageddon. I didn't know what he was speaking about, so I ran to my computer to look it up in Wikipedia. No need to. Before I could enter my house there was an infernal racket behind me.
I turned on my way and saw Jehovah, using all his powers, trying to knock down the fence. With might and main, and, I'm proud to say, with the help of all my fans, we managed to throw back the heavenly forces.
The place is now peaceful again. But I'm braced for the next troubles. Because again, I am the loser. My mission hasn't even started yet. Look at one of the reports in your world, to be found at Open Salon. It describes a visit to heaven and concludes with: all hell broke loose - while the man was at my place, in Hell, and the expression has to be: "all heaven broke loose".
So, no misunderstanding about that: the good lord hasn't the pains of damage control. No, it's me still having my image problem.
There's a lot of work to be done, but that's another story.
This is the first of a series of impressions of the dwellings of Jehovah and Satan
For the second impression follow the link the existential outcry
Dit is de eerste van een serie impressies over hoe hemel en hel te beschouwen.
Ze zijn geschreven, in wat nu een eeuwigheid geleden lijkt, als antwoord op een paar impressies van een Amerikaanse blogfriend op het blog Open Salon - vandaar het Engels.
Mijn blog daar is inmiddels opgeheven.
Ik heb daar toen hap snap een paar opmerkingen over gemaakt, en me voorgenomen de vraag "is het wel obsevable" uit te werken.
Inmiddels heb ik dat gedaan onder de titel klein bier
hier is de link klein bier