QUOTE(GlassBeadGame @ Thu 11th February 2010, 9:49pm)
QUOTE
Icke is highly critical of any ideology that serves to categorize and divide human beings, including racism, sexism, nationalism and religion. He is particularly critical of Judaism and Christianity. His criticism of the former, and his reliance on the Protocols, his questioning of the Holocaust, and his claims about Jewish involvement in the "Global Elite," have attracted the attention of Jewish groups, who fear that his talk of lizards wanting to rule the world is a smokescreen for the kind of classic antisemitic claims about Jews that have long been made by the far-right. The argument is that Icke may be antisemitic in effect, if not in intent.[64] Journalist Louis Theroux cautions against accusing Icke of antisemitism, arguing that it might not only be unfair, but may also lend a patina of seriousness to Icke's ideas.
I think it is wonderful that people from diverse, even diametrically opposed, views can collaborate together to create such a wonderful paragraph. A monument to atomized content creation. Ok, now whose turn is it for the next sentence? Or are we using those funny shaped dice to decide?
This reminds me of the apocryphal writing-class assignment, where pairs of male and female students are assigned to write a short story-- no communication between them other than to continue the other's story, paragraph by paragraph. Result:
=================
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The
chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home,
now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times,
that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep
her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she
thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So
chamomile was out of the question.
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron
now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about
than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with
whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to
Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. " Polar
orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he
could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and
blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct
hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt
one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who
had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its
pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4.
"Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel,"
Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously
excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her
youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no
newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of
innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one
lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live.
Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched
the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dimwitted wimpy
peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty
through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the
hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race.
Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships
were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the
entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their
diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere
unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine
headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam , felt the
inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie.
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My
writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.
Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic
whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. " Oh,
shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F--KING
TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads
too many Danielle Steele novels!"
A$$h@le.
B*tch!
F*** YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!!
In your dreams, Ho. Go drink some tea.
======================
TEACHER: Grade: A --I really liked this one.