Saint Thomas help me, I am getting as big as a cupboard. I lost track of counting calories. I lay in bed all day read Aristotle and eat. But isn't this the best way to become similar with my supa-dupa favourite saint of all times, the allmighty Thomas Aquinas?? (God I love him) Although, this is the time, Saint Thomas, to tell you something: the principle of individuation is not matter. Definitely not prime matter. Maybe Aristotle didn't even think there was prime matter!!!! There... I said it. There is no way back now, but the truth is sometimes more important than agreeing with our patron saint. (By the way did I tell you, that had I been born a boy I would have been baptised Thomas? Or Peter, but that's fine, I like Peter. The one I don't like is that awful epileptic Paul... Noone likes Paul, all that jibber-jabber about love.. nonsense.) Anyway I am porking out but keeping as chaste as ever: I am not leaving the house so there is no temptations, except for the well developed marble chest of my faithful Aristotle.
What is more, today I got this chicken dish for free, because I made a scene in the MATCH (Which is as we all know, the purgatory of those housewives who commited adultery in thought! With men, yuck!). Anyway I taught those harlots who is the master of this valley of death, they bowed in fear and obedience in behold of my sacred anger and served me this froze microwaveable ambrozia, which I am having at 7:13 am with a beer.
Thursday, 29 December 2011
Wednesday, 5 October 2011
Disappointed in internet-dating...
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20100322233250AAeFAW7
I have contacted him already: I sent him an 8 page letter written on pergamen, a copy of my treatise "10 things I hate about being human", and a whip which might contain some dead tissues and blood belonging to my humble self.
In response to what he demanded pictures of me in my hermit gown with no underwear. Honestly, my friends were right, you cannot trust anyone on the internet nowadays. He just set up this whole scam so that he can get a free copy of my treatise! He is clearly trying to scare me away so that he can keep the whip too.
I will keep you updated...
I have contacted him already: I sent him an 8 page letter written on pergamen, a copy of my treatise "10 things I hate about being human", and a whip which might contain some dead tissues and blood belonging to my humble self.
In response to what he demanded pictures of me in my hermit gown with no underwear. Honestly, my friends were right, you cannot trust anyone on the internet nowadays. He just set up this whole scam so that he can get a free copy of my treatise! He is clearly trying to scare me away so that he can keep the whip too.
I will keep you updated...
Thursday, 8 September 2011
The Church wants no scrubs, you silly heretics! - R'n'b and orthodoxy.
"[...] a certain female viper from the Cainite sect, who recently spent some time here, carried off a good number with her exceptionally pestilential doctrine, making a particular point of demolishing baptism. Evidently in this according to nature: for vipers and asps as a rule, and even basilisks, frequent dry and waterless places. But we, being little fishes, as Jesus Christ is our great Fish, begin our life in the water, and only while we abide in the water are we safe and sound. Thus it was that that portent of a woman, who had no right to teach even correctly, knew very well how to kill the little fishes by taking them out of the water." (Tertullianus : De Baptismo I.1)
Hands off you heretic woman! The Boy is mine! Tertullian was clearly the best when it came to paint a picture of those silly heretics.Who does that Cainite woman think she is? "This liberal doxy must be impaled on the member of a particularly large stallion!" as my friend Ignatius J. reilly would say.
Oh, heretics!
Guys, you are the laughing stock of the Catholic universe, noone listens to you, except for your fellow heretic ani! Filthy and slimy, you try to seduce the holy body of the church but she is spitting her myrrh-flavoured chewing gum on you! This is what this song is about:
"I don't want no scrub a scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me,hanging out the passenger side of his best friend's ride trying to holler at me"
Hands off you heretic woman! The Boy is mine! Tertullian was clearly the best when it came to paint a picture of those silly heretics.Who does that Cainite woman think she is? "This liberal doxy must be impaled on the member of a particularly large stallion!" as my friend Ignatius J. reilly would say.
Oh, heretics!
Guys, you are the laughing stock of the Catholic universe, noone listens to you, except for your fellow heretic ani! Filthy and slimy, you try to seduce the holy body of the church but she is spitting her myrrh-flavoured chewing gum on you! This is what this song is about:
"I don't want no scrub a scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me,hanging out the passenger side of his best friend's ride trying to holler at me"
Obviously these words refer to the damned gnostic Valentinus, "Hangin out the passenger's side of his best friend's ride" refers to the time he was a bishop, i.e. riding the "car" (or rather chariot) of ecclesial service, and using his position to "holler at me" where me stands for the innocent, but corruptable virgin body of the Church that he was trying to savour with his lecherous tongue and rotting teeth.
Thursday, 1 September 2011
Blasphemer of the month I. : Denis Diderot
Dearest Readers,
Here is my new monthly series after the highly successful "Quote of the Day, Saint of the week" series."Blasphemer of the month" will cover the best known enemies of the Church, ones, whose daily bread was earned by their incoherent diatribes about Catholicism. You, uneducated American protestant readers, probably think that the worst thing that has happened to Christianity was Richard Dawkins. While that awful man is probably a self-proclaimed university Don Juan who has "hot sex" with "liberated young women" in his office, and I want to kick him in his genitalia, I think that worst things have befallen on the Church than his ridiculous attacks. (I will still write a blog entry on him, though)
Denis Diderot (1713-1784)
I hate Denis Diderot fro several reasons: 1) He was a Frenchman. 2) He was a "philosopher" of the enlightment 3) He had a lot of sex, 4) He had no moral standards, 5) He thought women liked sex (ew!).
Now, as to Diderot the "philosopher", he is not of much consequence. He was not a big atheist, like Holbach or Helvetius, he was more of an enemy of an institutionalized Church, who tried to answer questions of upmost importance by babbling about nature and whatnot.
Now, this is a note to all you amateur philosophers: „Nature” is not an expression that you can just use at your leisure referring to those vague ideas you have about some naked woman sitting in a garden surrounded by fat kids. „Nature” and „natural” should be defined before one uses them and should be handled with care. Diderot (who probably hasn’t read anything but some Locke and his enlightment-cronies' scribblings) knew nothing about Nature. What is even worse, his ethics and casuistry attempted to substitute divine secrets with rational speculation. Oh, human presumptuousness! I don’t mind some rational speculations myself, but as we know philosophy should never aspire to be anything more than the maidservant of theology
Diderot's ridiculous work accumulated in writing erotic novels about lesbian nuns and talking vaginae. I think this is all that has to be said. Obviously, we know that none of those two things exist, but in the fantasy of this sad, old, senile pervert, who was thinking about the talking vaginae of nublie fifteen year-olds, while wearing a velvet gown and eating some moldy croissants.
Here is my new monthly series after the highly successful "Quote of the Day, Saint of the week" series."Blasphemer of the month" will cover the best known enemies of the Church, ones, whose daily bread was earned by their incoherent diatribes about Catholicism. You, uneducated American protestant readers, probably think that the worst thing that has happened to Christianity was Richard Dawkins. While that awful man is probably a self-proclaimed university Don Juan who has "hot sex" with "liberated young women" in his office, and I want to kick him in his genitalia, I think that worst things have befallen on the Church than his ridiculous attacks. (I will still write a blog entry on him, though)
Denis Diderot (1713-1784)
I hate Denis Diderot fro several reasons: 1) He was a Frenchman. 2) He was a "philosopher" of the enlightment 3) He had a lot of sex, 4) He had no moral standards, 5) He thought women liked sex (ew!).
Now, as to Diderot the "philosopher", he is not of much consequence. He was not a big atheist, like Holbach or Helvetius, he was more of an enemy of an institutionalized Church, who tried to answer questions of upmost importance by babbling about nature and whatnot.
Now, this is a note to all you amateur philosophers: „Nature” is not an expression that you can just use at your leisure referring to those vague ideas you have about some naked woman sitting in a garden surrounded by fat kids. „Nature” and „natural” should be defined before one uses them and should be handled with care. Diderot (who probably hasn’t read anything but some Locke and his enlightment-cronies' scribblings) knew nothing about Nature. What is even worse, his ethics and casuistry attempted to substitute divine secrets with rational speculation. Oh, human presumptuousness! I don’t mind some rational speculations myself, but as we know philosophy should never aspire to be anything more than the maidservant of theology
Diderot's ridiculous work accumulated in writing erotic novels about lesbian nuns and talking vaginae. I think this is all that has to be said. Obviously, we know that none of those two things exist, but in the fantasy of this sad, old, senile pervert, who was thinking about the talking vaginae of nublie fifteen year-olds, while wearing a velvet gown and eating some moldy croissants.
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
Quote of the day, Saint of the week I.- St.Odo of Cluny!
This post is as hot and steamy as a fresh bun right out of the oven of the Cluny monastery!
"To embrace a woman is to embrace a sack of manure."
Said the sagacious St.Odo, who knew what was lying under the surface of silky white skin. Flesh, blood and LYMPHNODES!
St. Odo was a wise man, he loved the Alps and loathed human body. Here is what Mr. Ratzinger has to say about him. My only problem with medieval theologists is that they were so obsessed with not wanting to have sex with women, that they barely wrote anything about how disgusting men are. However, dearest readers, do not fear, for I know someone who has the mental capacities to write these long-awaited treatises on the repulsiveness of muscular male bodies.
Said the sagacious St.Odo, who knew what was lying under the surface of silky white skin. Flesh, blood and LYMPHNODES!
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
Modern and contemporary art, the cradle of filth, sloth and child pornography. I.
My dearest Readers,
In today's entry I am going to write about the decline we have witnessed in the fine arts since the 13th century. (No I do not like baroque at all, and I hate Ignatius of Loyola, an uneducated Spaniard (Basque!) whose whole theological system was conceived while he was suffering from a broken leg!) Even though I have never been too keen on art, as a ridiculous human attempt to imitate creation, I always held in high esteem some of the God inspired masters, whether they be pagan or Christian. (Yes, I believe that salvation is possible for virtuous pagans, on this question I side with Philo and Justin Martyr). However, what this century has to offer in the field of fine arts is neither educational nor delightful in any ways to me; this is what today's Hermit's Harangue (HH) will be tackling. But before I expand further on the subject, let me pepper the bland soup of theoretical discussion with the paprika of some of my entertaining adventures.
++++++++
You might already be informed about the multifarious adventures of the Hermit who did never refrain from looking this earthly life straight in the eye, with a steady gaze and an inert pupil. Taking up one of my several different personae--the 'cool young local E.E. chick'--I have immersed myself in the Hungarian tourist industry, and earned my daily panem et circenses by moonlighting as a hostel receptionist. One day, as I sat plucking at my leg hair (as a part of my 'cool young chick' impersonation) the doorbell rang, and I found my self face to face with two Western Wanderers. They told me that they were on a tour of self-discovery (= lust-motivated hunt for young uncorrupted E.E. girls and their respective vaginae).
The Wanderers and I chattered awhile about the touristic sights of Budapest. I regarded them with an austere glance : their mesmerizing, muscular, masculine bodies filled me with utter disgust. These decaying shells of skin and flesh contained nothing but a vile, putrescent soul greedy for consumption and fornication. One of them was an impulsive Sarrasin, while the other one a German who, belying his nation's reputation, turned out to have more decorum and a better alcohol-tolerance. Suddenly, the Sarrasin reached in his pocket and pulled out his telephone from his back pocket and asked me whether I liked modern art.
"Do you like modern art?" - He asked me. " Cos I've got some pictures of modern art on my phone!" and he showed me something what appeared to be a doodling by Picasso.
Well here is my answer, dearest readers : I FUCKING HATE MODERN ART! AND ALSO CONTEMPORARY ART! I DON'T KNOW WHICH ONE IS WORSE!
Pardon my crude and simplistic language, but I feel very strongly about these issues.
First I will start with modern art, this ungrateful infant of the 20th century, breastfed on stale blood, tubercolotic phlegm, pus and chlamydia-infected vaginal discharge. The painters of this era either could not paint or did not want to; they were just forcefully trying to express something really deep, hopefully some incestual pederastic sexual phantasies buried in their subconscious for a good reason. Or if they had no such things to express, they were hoping that people would interpret a disfigured bloody banana as the symbol of the burden of responsibility for our choices, or some other existentialist nonsense. Needless to say, there were some exceptions to this disgusting trend, but in what follows I will concentrate on two artists I particularly loathe : Picasso and Jackson Pollock.
Picasso started out doing something that looked like paintings. Although his poorly surpressed pederasty was already apparent on these crayon-drawings too. (BOY with PIPE!!!)
However, he was not very good at it, so instead he proceeded to do some ridiculous doodlings, trying to suggest that men looked like cubes. Which is nothing but blasphemy, man as the most perfect creature should, if anything, look like a sphere, as that is the most perfect geometrical shape. Hello, Mr. Picasso, looks like someone has not read the Timaeus or studied some basic human anatomy
If this would not be enough this bald pacifist painted an abomination called Guernica. A scene of bestiality featuring obvious sexual symbols and blatant blasphemy.
Ugh.
Now, as to Jackson Pollock : he paints nothing but vomit. Sometimes vomit with sexual innuendo. Pornographic filthy, vomit. He is also corrupting the youth. This is NOT a galaxy! Where are the heavenly spheres?
Idiot! Son of a Babylonian harlot!
In today's entry I am going to write about the decline we have witnessed in the fine arts since the 13th century. (No I do not like baroque at all, and I hate Ignatius of Loyola, an uneducated Spaniard (Basque!) whose whole theological system was conceived while he was suffering from a broken leg!) Even though I have never been too keen on art, as a ridiculous human attempt to imitate creation, I always held in high esteem some of the God inspired masters, whether they be pagan or Christian. (Yes, I believe that salvation is possible for virtuous pagans, on this question I side with Philo and Justin Martyr). However, what this century has to offer in the field of fine arts is neither educational nor delightful in any ways to me; this is what today's Hermit's Harangue (HH) will be tackling. But before I expand further on the subject, let me pepper the bland soup of theoretical discussion with the paprika of some of my entertaining adventures.
++++++++
You might already be informed about the multifarious adventures of the Hermit who did never refrain from looking this earthly life straight in the eye, with a steady gaze and an inert pupil. Taking up one of my several different personae--the 'cool young local E.E. chick'--I have immersed myself in the Hungarian tourist industry, and earned my daily panem et circenses by moonlighting as a hostel receptionist. One day, as I sat plucking at my leg hair (as a part of my 'cool young chick' impersonation) the doorbell rang, and I found my self face to face with two Western Wanderers. They told me that they were on a tour of self-discovery (= lust-motivated hunt for young uncorrupted E.E. girls and their respective vaginae).
The Wanderers and I chattered awhile about the touristic sights of Budapest. I regarded them with an austere glance : their mesmerizing, muscular, masculine bodies filled me with utter disgust. These decaying shells of skin and flesh contained nothing but a vile, putrescent soul greedy for consumption and fornication. One of them was an impulsive Sarrasin, while the other one a German who, belying his nation's reputation, turned out to have more decorum and a better alcohol-tolerance. Suddenly, the Sarrasin reached in his pocket and pulled out his telephone from his back pocket and asked me whether I liked modern art.
"Do you like modern art?" - He asked me. " Cos I've got some pictures of modern art on my phone!" and he showed me something what appeared to be a doodling by Picasso.
Well here is my answer, dearest readers : I FUCKING HATE MODERN ART! AND ALSO CONTEMPORARY ART! I DON'T KNOW WHICH ONE IS WORSE!
Pardon my crude and simplistic language, but I feel very strongly about these issues.
First I will start with modern art, this ungrateful infant of the 20th century, breastfed on stale blood, tubercolotic phlegm, pus and chlamydia-infected vaginal discharge. The painters of this era either could not paint or did not want to; they were just forcefully trying to express something really deep, hopefully some incestual pederastic sexual phantasies buried in their subconscious for a good reason. Or if they had no such things to express, they were hoping that people would interpret a disfigured bloody banana as the symbol of the burden of responsibility for our choices, or some other existentialist nonsense. Needless to say, there were some exceptions to this disgusting trend, but in what follows I will concentrate on two artists I particularly loathe : Picasso and Jackson Pollock.
Picasso started out doing something that looked like paintings. Although his poorly surpressed pederasty was already apparent on these crayon-drawings too. (BOY with PIPE!!!)
However, he was not very good at it, so instead he proceeded to do some ridiculous doodlings, trying to suggest that men looked like cubes. Which is nothing but blasphemy, man as the most perfect creature should, if anything, look like a sphere, as that is the most perfect geometrical shape. Hello, Mr. Picasso, looks like someone has not read the Timaeus or studied some basic human anatomy
If this would not be enough this bald pacifist painted an abomination called Guernica. A scene of bestiality featuring obvious sexual symbols and blatant blasphemy.
Ugh.
Now, as to Jackson Pollock : he paints nothing but vomit. Sometimes vomit with sexual innuendo. Pornographic filthy, vomit. He is also corrupting the youth. This is NOT a galaxy! Where are the heavenly spheres?
Idiot! Son of a Babylonian harlot!
Friday, 19 August 2011
The unholy trinity has proven to be a binity. However, some scholars might consider to include atrocious pizza in this equation.(!)
"Cheap beer, communist buildings and loud, thumping, trashy pop-music constitute the unholy trinity worshipped in Eastern Europe, in pagan temples reeking of cheap Dolce and Gabbana and red Bonds.”
This is a statement, my dearest readers, that I have accepted as axiomatic, mostly because someone told me that it featured in an extinct work of the Angelic Doctor. This, proven untrue (and I haven’t found anything on the subject in my copy of Random House’s ’The basic Works of Aristotle’ either) I have decided to question nature itself, and use some empiria in order to decide upon the matter. I have done some field-work in Transylvania, where I went incognito, disguised as a „hot young chick”. (I have decided on using some deodorant to give the impression that I care about mundane vanities.)
Now, as we know: our senses can hardly ever be trusted, so I will not go into details about my journey. However, later I have watched some videoclips on YouTube, and this experience was a revelative one indeed: I have had to recant my previously professed views on EE pop-music being trashy. Even though some of these songs reek of the putrid smell of decaying flesh, and fungus infected bodily fluids, others convey a clear moral message about virtuous life and how much we should hate harlots and sluts, who are probably the carriers of children, genital warts and syphilis.
These two songs by the band Akcent, are themselves an argument for not having to limit ourselves listening to Gregorian music.
Religious Girl
This song makes a cogent case about how much more desirable it is to marry a religious girl than a slut and then impregnate her on a moonlit night of postmarital copulation. (Remember, dearest readers, sex can only serve as a means of procreation. If I was a married woman, I would think about infant bodysuits and pray to be well-impregnated.)
Kylie
This other song is about a slut, who engages in a lot of sexual activities, as well as what some people would call "dirty dancing". Kylie is desired by many men, but finally she and her genital warts are left alone in a car.
This is a statement, my dearest readers, that I have accepted as axiomatic, mostly because someone told me that it featured in an extinct work of the Angelic Doctor. This, proven untrue (and I haven’t found anything on the subject in my copy of Random House’s ’The basic Works of Aristotle’ either) I have decided to question nature itself, and use some empiria in order to decide upon the matter. I have done some field-work in Transylvania, where I went incognito, disguised as a „hot young chick”. (I have decided on using some deodorant to give the impression that I care about mundane vanities.)
Now, as we know: our senses can hardly ever be trusted, so I will not go into details about my journey. However, later I have watched some videoclips on YouTube, and this experience was a revelative one indeed: I have had to recant my previously professed views on EE pop-music being trashy. Even though some of these songs reek of the putrid smell of decaying flesh, and fungus infected bodily fluids, others convey a clear moral message about virtuous life and how much we should hate harlots and sluts, who are probably the carriers of children, genital warts and syphilis.
These two songs by the band Akcent, are themselves an argument for not having to limit ourselves listening to Gregorian music.
Religious Girl
This song makes a cogent case about how much more desirable it is to marry a religious girl than a slut and then impregnate her on a moonlit night of postmarital copulation. (Remember, dearest readers, sex can only serve as a means of procreation. If I was a married woman, I would think about infant bodysuits and pray to be well-impregnated.)
Kylie
This other song is about a slut, who engages in a lot of sexual activities, as well as what some people would call "dirty dancing". Kylie is desired by many men, but finally she and her genital warts are left alone in a car.
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