Infiltrating Wicked Pyrophosphate
Friday, Mar. 23, 2007 at 8:44 a.m.
On This Day in 1997, Heaven's Gate suicides leave 39 dead, all wearing NIKE shoes.
Okay, Heaven�s Gate was founded by one Marshall Applewhite, an astronomer who decided the Hale-Bopp comet was the sign of impeding apocalypse, when he should have waited for a comet that was hurtling at the Earth. He called himself "Do" and his co-leader "Ti" (apparently Re, Mi, Fa, So and La are still on the loose somewhere). The cult wanted to achieve "Human Individual Metamorphosis" -- the transformation into an "Evolutionary Level Above Human� -- the exchange of their current physical forms for brand-new space alien bodies. But since that didn�t happen, they all checked out by mixing Nembutol and vodka.
The NIKE shoes, to me, show a deeper level of cultism that superceded anything to do with UFOs and comets, but I�m afraid that we�ll never know the true meaning behind the cult�s fetish with Air Jordans�.
Personally, I prefer New Balance�.
Anyway, the good Hubster and I are going down to the ILs house tomorrow partially to be offered a number of items from the house before the ILs make the great trek to the new property and the new (smaller) house. By no means were the ILs pack rats or even collectors (such as my mother, who has new fewer than a couple hundred David Winter� cottages ) but they have some nice things that they want to make sure that we have first dibs on. I keep teasing the Hubster that MIL loves her baby boy best.
Hubster and I both are in that kind of �blah� we get now and again when we get too steeped into a routine, and we just need a dose of �shakey-uppy� that can be as simple as going miniature golfing, or even better, spontaneous boffing. He tends toward a lower sex drive in general, and since I kind of broke him early in our relationship (when the boffing was stupidly plentiful) we have a tendency to not make bedroom bam-bam more than the national average. We do, however, have a very straightforward approach to initiating congress:
Valkyrie: When are we going to have sex?
Hubster: When would you like to?
Valkyrie: How about right now?
Hubster: Sounds good to me.
That is the long version of our initiating-congress-conversation. The usual version is this:
Valkyrie: Sex. Now.
Hubster: Okay.
You will notice, that I am usually the initiator of said congress, mostly because Hubster is actually quite shy, and I don�t respond well (usually) to touches and doe-eyes and crap like that � I am extraordinarily ticklish and touches send me screaming to the other side of the house in search of a weapon, and doe-eyes make me ask what the hell he did now. (I�m dreadfully cynical. Thank god we aren�t having kids. I would have destroyed their spirit before they could walk.)
So anyway, on a completely different subject, perhaps this guy should have at least put on a dance belt before donning his costume:
Perhaps this guy should wear more than wooden shoes and a dance belt to put out a fire:
And perhaps the Red Cross� should reconsider letting this guy be a volunteer:
