Tag Archives: religion

I Tweet Therefore I Am

This started as a letter to my sister, then i realised i hadn’t blogged for ages (since the Trumpocalypse began in 2016!), and sis is time-poor, so it’s here instead. Sis has more net-savvy than this might imply, but it turned into a gonzo guide for anyone attempting Twitter.

My advice to her was to first, get a new email, one you can use for all your twitter stuff, memberships to various sites, and a place to be spammed where you won’t lose your phone bill among Twitter updates and news subscriptions. Sis said sure, she was setting up a Twitter handle, and asked if that was correct terminology.

My Reply…

Omg, not sure… *losing net credibility by the moment* i think handle’s ok.

Also you have 2 names on twitter – the @name which is your handle with an @ in front of it, which appears on the web as in my case www.twitter.com/stinginthetail.

Then there’s your name. Queen NomNomDePlume is mine. (It’s a long story, but you’ll see many Aussies on Twitter still protesting exPrime Minister’s Tony Abbott’s restoration of knighthoods by calling themselves HRH, Majesty, or something similar.)

I was calling myself Sheila, which was a joke because I’m a woman, and sheila is slang for woman. NomNomDePlume replaced Smith. Nom = eating or food (i’m nomming the noms).

Sheila Smith was a nom-de-plume (alias), but many people thought it was my real name, so I changed it. I don’t mind being called Queenie (or even NomNom), when I was in the band they called me Queen of Darkness, Queenie for short (due to my inability to suffer fools, not from any gothic tendencies), so it’s like old times.

Lots of ppl change names often, others use their real names and don’t. I prefer not to use my real name, though i do always remember that if a law enforcement agency wanted to, it would be very easy to trace me, so try to avoid silliness like death threats, no matter how annoyed i am with the government/trolls.

Word of warning – all the abbreviations can get mystifying. Most are common on net, and you can always Google. Google’s got quite good at figuring out all kinds of questions (you can now just ask “what’s a libtard?” and Wikipedia’s become an authority.

Things I might tweet about or ReTweet (in approximate alphabetical order, World first, then Australia)… Continue reading


First, suck up to the pope….

Darn, here we are in February, and i’ve been slacking on the blog. Actually, i wrote some posts, but the PMT quotient was too high, they take off paint at ten paces – anyone actually reading them would have their eyeballs exploded, and that’s not what we’re about. It’s not my fault, i caught thrush from being on antibiotics, and it makes a girl cranky.

So, what’s happening? Well, the thrush seems to be clearing, and The Thing’s reached 88,000+ words, which means only about 22,000 to go. I’m trying to make sure the first part is good before i wrap up the end. Currently, i’ve done my usual trick of putting a capable person into a situation where he managed quite well. Damn! No fun unless he’s having problems.

Aside from still being sure he’s gay, that is, but i figure there’s enough young men who read fantasy sci fi who that will resonate for, so his angst over that can stay. After all, I was never going to get the Mormon Church stamp of approval that the Twilight books got. (Yeah, how bad would that be? Mormon Church can’t find anything in your books about vampires that contradict their made-up bible? Though my books aren’t about vampires. Maybe that’s the trick – bloodsucking churches like books about bloodsuckers.)

Come to think of it, maybe i should go do a Bono? No, no, not put on pastel sunglasses and then put out the same album every year for the next twenty, or go live in Ireland because artists didn’t pay ANY income tax on royalties there (and you thought all those celebs lived there cos it’s a cool place? Oh come on! The scheme ran from 1969, but was recently capped at quarter of a million Euro per year) – i mean go suck up to the pope and get him to give up some of the church’s wealth.

Wait, Bono never actually managed that, did he? He just sucked up to the old dead pope for nothing – while he was alive, obviously – but old JP – the P was for Pervert – went back into his bedroom, thinking about all the hot black chicks in Africa doing it without condoms. Risking AID’s, unwanted children, and other disease, all because some wrinkled old toad who got off on whipping himself said so.

They were doing it bare because he said condoms were the work of the devil and that good Catholics would be driven from the church if they dared to even think about them. That’s what excommunication means – and yes, using a condom is reason enough for the Church to drive you out. I’m so glad i turned renegade Catholic before i became sexually active.

The pope then forced himself not to masturbate over the hot black chicks, by getting his rocks off with a belt-thrashing. Making it up? Me? I think not – they’ve just admitted it, Pope John Paul the Bent (the one who died not long ago) used to keep a belt in his wardrobe to beat those urges out. Or off. Some people actually orgasm from pain – makes you wonder.

Still, if i could get Pope Benny to back my book, it would be good PR. He’s got a taste for Prada and couture, maybe i could put some in the book. Repressed gayness whilst fathering broods of children will be huge in the Vatican, that part will be easy. Of course, the women are all very in charge of their own lives, and i’ve made a huge mistake: contraception is easy and available to all. *sigh*

See, i’m screwed,  people in charge of their own lives who don’t kowtow to God’s representatives on Earth – Pope Benny won’t go for it. Not unless i get rid of the strong women and the contraception. And even then, i bet the moment i say all i want is one papal ring, enough to flog to pay for the printing costs, Pope Benny will probably get huffy.

After all, the church didn’t make all that money by giving it to the poor!

Writing is just fraught with problems.

He likes it!

He likes it!

(pic via http://captions.illmeyer.com/)

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com

Did i ever pretend to be normal?

The voices outside-my-head have decided to do a post. I’m high enough to not care, and Her Majesty is busy carving her initials in the throne, so they think they can fit a word in edgeways.


I did mention I’m not all here, being part-cat – I was raised by Siamese cats, which of course, means i’m not like normal girls. The nurture-versus-nature debate has no idea what that war does inside my head.

Outside my head, the voices are nice, and never tell me to hurt anyone – quite the opposite, they do a lot of “Stop, that will hurt someone badly for no good reason.” I know you’re just a person like me, no matter that I am convinced i’m the centre of the universe.

However, inside me there’s a Siamese, looking inscrutable and totally Zen, saying “We will play with it before We kill it. Yesss?” In moments of stress, the urge to lash out before anything bad happens sometimes overwhelms me.


i did warn you

I know, i know – i sound quite mad. I have no idea why they wouldn’t give me a certificate of insanity – they laughed and said i was the sanest person they knew. With this mind? What is wrong with psychologists?

Who – in the name of all that’s dusted with pixie dust – do they hang out with? Scientologists? My belief system is way more crazy-than-thou, (and i’m apparently competitive over it), with heaps of contradictions that even i can see.

I’ve reached a point where I don’t care. It works for me. I’m not hurting anyone – quite the opposite. I’m not trying to indoctrinate you, this is My Church, and frankly, my worship is a private thing, my covenant with the gods is my own.


Siamese consider themselves (like every cat, but more so), just visiting from The Wild, while taking advantage of everything humans can offer in way of comfort.

I too hold contradictory notions, my pantheon has no trouble with worshipping Science while i dabble in the Occult, believe in Reincarnation, and some kind of Universal Spirit which might be God or more probably – gods. I also sometimes look at it all from a purely scientific viewpoint – I know that it doesn’t matter.

What do you mean, Deathbringers a funny name for a cat?

Ah, a mortal - greetings - you have brought tribute?

I also quite like the idea of being a deity myself, (seriously, i’m much better at managing the lives of others than i am with my own, like most gods), though cult followers are disconcerting, as i get paranoid when people are behind me.

However, someone saying, hey, i really like what you’re doing, is exactly like injecting happiness, so don’t stop, those who get the urge.

Whatever i believe, i live my life as if it was the last one. It’s what you’re supposed to do. Enjoy it. It doesn’t mean partying crazily every night or fucking as many people as you can, or making as much money as you can – none of those things by themselves bring joy.

Enjoy simply means, have joy with it. To quote Monty Python…

Life’s a piece of shit,
When you look at it.
Life’s a laugh and death’s a joke it’s true.
You’ll see it’s all a show.
Keep ’em laughing as you go.
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.

Always look on the bright side of life.
Always look on the right side of life.

Yes, i’m the Queen of Darkness – of course i enjoy black humour. The voices want to know how we ended up singing Monty Python songs.

Do i need a reason?


Thus endeth the lesson.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

Take it like a man, son…

Rosellas (a small local parrot) look like God (or the lumpen-angel in charge of small birds for Australasia) thought budgies weren’t bright enough, so daubed their heads and chest with red, then decided the rest of the spectrum of their feathers had to be ramped up – bring on the electric yellow and acid green, oh yeah, baby!

How many shades of blue can i use? And let’s put a white spot near their eyes, to make them really stand out. I’ve got some red left over, it can go under the tail. Oh yes!

The black speckles on their backs, let’s make them out of a kind of black velour, that makes them look like they’re part-velvet painting. What was God on when he invented the Eastern Rosella? Whatever it was, it made something pretty.

Eastern Rosella  - Wikipedia Commons Image

Eastern Rosella - Wikipedia Commons Image

The reference is a joke – God, contrary to the edicts of the morally-corrupt minority, has a sense of humour, and i’m sure will not mind – seriously, please don’t pray for me any more, or i’ll have used up my prayers when i really need one.

Talking to God does not imply the owner of this blog completely believes in God, Satan, Heaven, Hell, etc etc, blah blah…. except in States where such a lottery is illegal. It’s just not as funny if i say “What was evolution thinking about?”

Especially because some ornithologist  – who happens to be passing this blog post, probably accidentally, looking for rosellas. The weird ornithologist says they evolved like that mostly for sexual reasons. And we’re back there again.

It’s mating season outside the window.  I feel like a parrot pervert, watching parrots make out. They’re so cute, and loving. And colourful. Rosellas are a minority, most of them are lorikeets, which are like a rainbow exploded.


from OzJulian at Flickr

Down on the lake’s beach, a kind of Australian robin, with a speckled red breast, skim around insect-catching over the shallows . If you get close, like robins in the northern hemisphere, they come to see what you’re up to, hovering like honeyeaters at head-height.

Serene and so pretty, and the wankers who decided to run round the lakes several times on their hovercraft over the weekend were not welcome. I bet they think they’re so freaking green.

They were leaving a decent bow wave, only a metre or two from the shore, (that’s shore erosion right there), and were charging through shallows, in an area that’s a haven for birds and fish, usually never entered by boats (unless they run aground, in which case it’s great to watch.

We’re not being mean, just watching – anyone in serious trouble, we’d help, but the deepest part in front is only waist deep, they can walk to shore. It’s also full of diving birds, there for the fish that get trapped in the pools as the tide goes out.

Apparently hovercraft are driven only by complete wankers don’t have to obey normal regs, like keeping to the watercraft channels or speed limits, and they have petrol engines making enough noise to wake the freaking dead.

Though Mr Whatsit only grunted, because he had his earplugs in, it being the weekend, and round here they like to celebrate the weekend with Powertool Party Saturday, which nearly always ends up going into Mower Mardi Gras Sunday.

Once again, the longing for a decent sniper rifle overwhelms me. Put Kalashnikov in as a search word at the top of the page, and you’ll see how many times i was also longing for just a weapon, damn it! I curse Australia’s nambypamby gun laws, that mean i can’t just shoot people going past because they annoy me.

They wouldn’t do this to me in Texas! The Queen of Darkness would be allowed her Kalashnikov in a choice of colours. Of course, in the USA you need weapons to protect yourself from everyone else who also has weapons. I don’t actually want to be where everyone else has weapons,  I’m just looking for a clean kill, and am too lazy to learn to use a bow.


Anyway, aside from that, this is my first ever “Poor Bastard of the Week Award.”  Logan Campbell, a New Zealand martial artist, who’s an Olympian in Taekwondo, has turned to prostitution to support his career, saying he’s tired of his parents supporting him – it cost them over 100k to send him to the last Olympics.

He competed in Beijing, did very well, (lost against the guy who won bronze, and was in top 16) and is preparing for London in 2011. He’s started a gentlemen’s escort service – legal in NZ – and you’d think well, that’s enough, isn’t it? Nobody goes into prostitution without thinking about it hard. But no.

“Taekwondo New Zealand (TNZ) was unenthusiastic about the move, saying it would be taken into account when considering him for international selection.

“Selection takes into account not just performance but also the athlete’s ability to serve as an example to the youth of the country,” TNZ funding manager John Scholfield told the newspaper.” Quote from Australian Broadcasting Corporation.

Read it and weep. There he is, trying to be a man, starting a legal business and he’s now being judged as not fit to be around children. They say ‘an example’ but we all know what Mr Scholfield means. It’s well-known that all sex workers are dangerous paedophiles, usually armed with axes  and bags of sweets, so this is a good thing.

(I couldn’t find a pic of a prostitute with an axe, but i looked for one.)

Wait, the voices outside-my-head say that this is not true! Apparently, most sex workers do it just as a freaking job! Phew! They aren’t actually sexually abusive to children! OMG.

Someone should tell Taekwondo New Zealand – who were happy to hang this guy out to dry and let him find his own funding – that not relying on his parents to pay for his life choices is actually a fine example for young people.

I’m not sure who’s in control of this post – it’s not me, i’m too drugged and overloaded with hormones to know which way is up. I’ve had two periods in just under three weeks. I thought i was both stressed and sick, (getting over the never-ending gastric flu and waiting until we can move house), but now i realise i’ve been also struggling under a hormone overload.

Lovely. And you wonder why i want a gun? Pfft. Of course it would be safe. I’m very safety-conscious. Besides, i wouldn’t be shooting at anyone, just suggesting targets, Mr Whatsit’s already a crack shot, makes sense to use him. Maybe we won’t have to kill them. If we wing a few, the others will try harder.

In the absence of guns, i’ll have to blow a giant raspberry across the Tasman to NZ, to John Scholfield and the rest of the nice people at Taekwondo New Zealand. I was going to make poor Logan Campbell some kind of prize, but fuck it, he’s making more than i am – 150k savings a year? Nice one, son. Even if it is only NZ dollars.

So, he’s making a good living, but he’s probably destroyed his chance of selection on the team, despite being able to be fitter, more prepared, less stressed, and more able to capitalise on his Olympic experience in Beijing. And they won’t pick him because he’s a man-whore. So, everyone together,  “You poor bastard!”

Interesting thought: a woman in same boat would also be denied a place on a team unless from somewhere very enlightened like maybe Denmark. It’s  not just New Zealand which gives mixed messages to its citizens. Legal but frowned upon.

Glad i don’t have kids to explain the hypocrisy to, because as an adult, all i can think of is well, don’t ever think that if you work in the sex industry you’re going to be able to tell most people what you do, and not be judged as less for it.

It’s not fair, or right, but it’s sure how it is.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

i fell apart during the night…

…and woke with an apparently broken thumb or some kind of awful tendon problem. I couldn’t figure out how i could do it without waking up, but it was as bad as when i broke my foot (which  i both heard and felt when it happened and it didn’t sneak up on me while i was asleep). It kept getting worse, until that night i staggered out of bed, crying (like a girl, Mr Whatsit said), that my thumb was fucking killing me.

I upped my painkillers and I kept it strapped up tight all the next day – we were of course, in the middle of a three-day weekend – and resigned myself to a wrist and hand in plaster for a month or so.

If i accidentally moved it, the pain was actually “cry out loud even if you were in public and trying to be cool” – yep, severe pain. I did indeed, as Mr Whatsit is alleging, squeal like a girl.

Not just the thumb, but the first two fingers too, shooting up into my elbow and shoulder, though i could feel was probably tendon in my thumb. I didn’ t know what i’d done, but i figured as i didn’t know if was new or old injury (i have too many to remember), i didn’t want to ice it,so just compression bandaged and splinted it. (I happened to have a splinted wrist support, i didn’t whittle one from a handy pine tree. One-handed, that would have been a trip.)

I also found some marijuana butter in the freezer, left over from the obligatory xmas bikkies. It was tricky, but i mixed it with some chocolate in the top half of a double boiler, got it into an ice-block mould, and then put it in the fridge once it started to cool off.

So despite my disability, i was high enough to be Zen about almost anything. I did make a few tweets that in hindsight i considered possibly embarrassing, but i figure my followers are reasonably thick-skinned. I try to remember the NSFW thing (Not Safe For Work – has nudity or some other aspect a boss might object to).

But the weird thing, from ‘broken’ on Saturday, my thumb is by Monday afternoon, massively better. I credit my followers’ good wishes for my recovery – or to at least them praying that i would  stop whining about the damn thumb – with my miraculous healing. The Instant Zen Chocolate Blocks™ helped, too. (I lay around reading detective novels, not using thumb.)

It’s still very sore, but compared to the weekend, it’s amazing. I’m telling you so you understand that we’re doing the Catholic thing, and amassing proof of miracles. Yo, cos i’m a deity, and we have to have proof. Like on the TV. Gil Grissom in CSI wouldn’t take no miracle on face value. No, he’d try the Instant Zen Chocolate Blocks™… or if he didn’t, he should have.

Here in the Church of the Queen of Darkness® we’re pleased the first miracle that proves i might be the Antichrist is documented, although the miracle’s not complete – thumb still hurts. *looks at readers* Well? Pray harder!

Wait – that’s completely a joke, and knowing how much the Universe loves to fuck with my head, i’m going to rescind the order now, before someone prays, God gets pissed off at the unnecessary prayer, and my arm falls off in sudden rare form of instant god-leprosy.

Thumb does hurt. So going to stop typing. Before i get too heretical even for Baby Jebus who forgives all and rains down jelly babies in rainbow colours upon the world.

Man, you have to try the Instant Zen Chocolate Blocks™.

Yeah, voices-outside-my-head are in complete control. I don’t even know my own name.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

have you heard about the word?

I don’t like evangelists. What is it with some people, thinking they have a personal hotline to God that nobody else has? One thing i know about religion – you don’t need an intermediary. If you want God, he/she is right there – that made in their image stuff pays off – they’re a part of you.

To save time – because spiritual exploration does take time, no matter what the born-agains tell you – I suggest you worship me. It’s easy, just read my blog, and my tweet stream – we’re quits. You get the Access All Areas pass to the Kingdom of Darkness.

Oh – and i do not want your soul, (unless i need to sell it to Satan for drugs – I’ll take a raincheck, ta), nor do i need you to be a true disciple. Following me on Twitter is fine – real life, I get paranoid when people are behind me.  Ok, ok, more paranoid.

If i ever get a book published, you need to either buy it, or rave to your mates about how good i am. Both if you can manage it. The rest of it, well, you need to understand you might as well be nice to people. Being hated, no matter how much politicians and lawyers promote it as cool, just isn’t that much fun.

Being nice won’t stop people from being nasty, in fact, you may on occasion need to thump someone (at least figuratively) – but it does mean you won’t have trouble sleeping at night. Salvation and a cure for insomnia – this is how it should be. Value-added worship. Seems to me to be a decent way to run a religion.

Actually, the above is pretty close to my belief system. There are times when you need to stand up to bullies and dictators. There are other times when you need to ignore them, run away, or keep your head down.

It can be better to ignore people – this is one of my favourite net functions. If only we had a Block or Ignore function in real life – aside, obviously, from a court order. I figure fucktarditis might be catching – and it messes with my sense of Zen. If i don’t see fucktards, they can’t annoy me.

When i was eleven, i found out i hadn’t been baptised. I was horrified, as all the Christian religions said that was important. My parents were Church of England and Roman Catholic (Irish branch). I’d gone my own way in primary school, and attended either Scripture class. So i knew that if i’d died before they got around to christening me, i would go to Hell. Christianity is filled with holes in the doctrines, but this never made sense to me. Sending babies to Hell? What kind of forgiving, loving God was this?

After all, let’s take the basic tenet of ALL Christian religions – and God did sacrifice his only begotten son. Jesus died so that our sins were forgiven, and his Coming was the end of Original Sin. Basic, right?

Original Sin was passed down to us by Adam and Eve. God hexed them for wanting to know things  – the Old Testament God was a vengeful bastard who guarded his internet with razor wire. Adam set up a proxy to avoid God’s Giant Net Filter, admittedly, at Eve’s insistence, after someone Tweeted her a link. God got totally miffed and took away their WiFi. And their Wii’s.

Meantime, they were freaked out about being naked, probably from overdosing on God’s drug stash (not as good as Satan’s), and Internet Porn. This was Original Sin. We were all marked – until Jesus died on the cross.  As we were told over and over, the New Testament changed the human contract with God.

No longer were we born sinners. Halle-fucking-lullah. God had morphed, he was now Kind New Testament God With Added Baby Jebus And Wait, There’s More! Now comes complete with Holy Spirit too! If so, how the fuck did unbaptised babies get damned? They hadn’t said they believed. But they don’t say it, i said, the babies can’t talk. Ah, but it covers them until they do. Yeah, right.

This was not the only flaw. Thou shalt not worship graven images, said a commandment – God is Love, said the priests – yet the Catholic churches were full of Christ statues, the bleeding, tormented God of a cult of pain and suffering, and of course, his poor Mum, a late addition. The Trinity was hard enough to understand as far as the “One God To Rule Them All” thing went, but adding Mary made it a nonsense.

Don’t worry about oppression in this life, the Church told me, about fighting for your rights, or about bosses, politicians, and churches lining their own pockets at the expense of workers, electorates, and parishioners – the Afterlife will be better. You’ll be in Paradise. Give us your tiny earnings in the meantime, and the Church will do Good Works. Like buying gold cups to serve communion wine in.

Hmm – and you don’t get that it’s a rort? Designed to keep you pliant and obedient? *shrugs* This is it, people – you’re in-body. This is as good as it gets. Doesn’t matter if you think this is your only life, or one of many – enjoy, for fuck’s sake. Don’t stay with your hated partner for the sake of the children, don’t do the job you hate, in fact, avoid hate, it will poison you and everything you touch. (It’s alright to hate fucktards, because everyone is a fucktard at least some of the time.)

After hitting the fast track – to being claimed by the Church – at about 13 I was supposed to go to my First Confession. No freaking way, i decided – i wasn’t prepared to lie while under oath to God, besides, I was not convinced of God’s existence.

No man was going to hear my sins. You see, even thinking – about anything they call a sin –  becomes a sin in organised religions. They want to torment you with guilt, it’s a good way of controlling you.

As i told Pastor Fred (who’s trying to redeem us sinners, in the comments on the pope porn post), i’m allergic to organised religions. That covers Catholicism and all the schism faiths. That’s you, Pastor Fred, just another Christian offshoot – which is just another offshoot of Judaism, like Islam. It’s the same as every other kind where someone sets themselves up as holier than the rest. Especially those with a caste system.

Frankly, Pastor Fred didn’t stand a chance. Aha, he thought, an embittered Papist, ripe for conversion. Sorry to disappoint, but i’ve made my own religion, and I’m quite happy with God.  Pastor Fred is unabashed, he’s praying for  Nick Hodge, a friendly atheist he found in the comments.

As for Wicca – another organised religion – they at least recognise the Solitary. Wiccans love labels – i still remember the happy sigh as a Wiccan figured out what to label me.

The Solitary doesn’t need to hang out in congregations, or work to get their next badge, but goes their own road. To quote Mel Brook’s Blazing Saddles, “We don’t need no stinking badges!” I’m not Wiccan, by any stretch –  i don’t accept Wiccan belief, practice, or ranks.

Though Wicca is almost as funny as the modern Druids, with their Oak Leaf Second Class bollocks. Some of the herbal knowledge is useful, (the rituals are probably as authentic as the ones in Charmed), but I don’t like cliques, clubs, or people telling me what to think, so Wicca is out. I also don’t believe in their pantheon.

I am not an Atheist – atheism often sounds like organised religion territory – all the shouting about not believing and how strongly they don’t believe.

I don’t care what you believe, but trying to convert me is pointless. I’m happy in real life to talk about religions – if you’re capable of listening, of learning, and of discussing, instead of screeching like a banshee that your Way is the Only Truth. We don’t have to share the same beliefs – i’m happy, if you are, that’s great.

As for the evangelists – if the nuns and priests, with two thousand years of indoctrinating the faithful, couldn’t shake my belief that their God was something evil – when i was just a child – do you honestly think some born-again who doesn’t know history  and thinks the Bible is the actual Word of God is going to do it? Oh, don’t make me laugh!

At around 13, i chose not to be part of the Church. I knew in their eyes this damned me to Hell, but i’d already broken several commandments, so i was damned already. (Using the name of God in vain, um, disrespecting my parents, and… um… oh, coveting – i’d  coveted big time. Mortal sins, go to Hell – Confession won’t help a mortal sin, you’re damned.)

I’d learned to hold my parents and my teachers in contempt, (most) religious leaders too, and i’d also learned that anyone who tried to judge me was likely to be a bigger sinner than i could hope to be. Especially nuns. They were bitter, unloving, vindictive, insincere, the works.

Gosh, what an interesting place this blog is. For me, at any rate, i hope you lot are still enjoying yourselves. So here i am, the most religious person you probably know. I genuinely try to be kind to my fellows, to worship God every day, in letting the joy of being-in-body, and the glory of the world fill me. I meditate, I pray, and of course, i light my votive candles.

I’m also extremely sceptical, do not believe in the Bible, and have read enough of the recent translations of Revelations to know the Rapturists are talking out of their respective arseholes. I understand that it is quite possible i’m lighting candles in a Godless, purposeless darkness. In my perceptions, with what i’ve seen and experienced, i don’t believe that.

I don’t need fellow-worshippers and i don’t need a formal religion. I love talking to genuine scholars of matters religious, whose methods aren’t stymied by their faith. I’ve been studying religions for nearly 40 years. People like Pastor Fred are on a hiding to nothing. Which is why i do so enjoy telling them i’m the Antichrist.

The whole point of the Queen of Darkness is that she is kind to people, unlike most Christians, so – if they’re on the side of Light, then I’m the Queen of Darkness. Yes, i get cranky, yes, i do tend to call a fucktard a fucktard – but being blunt, and speaking the truth, does not preclude being nice to other people. Or even to myself.

If you’re interested in finding your own spiritual path, @GGW_Bach has an excellent starter article on Seven Powerful Ways to Develop Your Spirituality. I’d recommend all seven he mentions.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

some evil for the weekend, sir?

Let’s see, i do believe i promised sex and religion. Possibly not combined, but hey, there’s a reason all us nice rejected-Catholic girls fantasise about priests. (I’m not lapsed – leaving the Church was a deliberate decision of rejection on my part.) What do you mean, you don’t fantasise about priests? Not even the pastor? You’re missing some primo fantasy material.

I’ve seen some interesting pornos featuring nuns too. Not to mention all those movies where repressed female sexuality smouldered at repressed male sexuality. Anything with nuns in. Like that John Holmes porn movie with the nuns.

Actually, he was the unsexiest bloke – around 11 inches of penis, and the acting abilities of a stick insect. They made 70’s porn stars look good in that movie with Burt Reynolds and Mark Wahlberg. In his porno movies, John Holmes made Lurch in the Addams Family look like Cleo Magazine’s Bachelor of the Year. And he never got fully hard *yawn* so they were always trying to ‘stuff a softy’. (It’s a technique for achieving penetrative sex with a semi-flaccid penis. Don’t ask how i know these things. Thinking about it, am pretty sure i read it in the sealed section of a woman’s mag.)

Anyway, so to me, the only thing hotter than doing the priest (in religious scenarios) is possibly doing the pope. Not the current pope, obviously – or the last one* shudders and makes sign of cross against Nazi-vampire-Benedict-JohnPaul-narcoleptic-sex* – i am not into evil turtlemen. Though if you are, hey, i won’t judge you – power does things to people’s bits. I want to do fantasy-pope – one of the depraved medieval ones, maybe. Ideally in front of the entire College of Cardinals. Do note, in real life, i have no desire to achieve this – ta all the same.

Popesex beats being nailed to a cross, seriously. You need a helper for crucifixion, it’s not a solo sport. Some people do it without nails, and use chains instead. I’m not into crucifixion, obviously – I’m the Antichrist. Crucifixion’s a very Roman Empire fantasy. Lots of men with hard thighs and breastplates. And short swords. What a disappointment.

There are crucifixion porn stories on the net – but then there is every kind of porn story you’ve never imagined on the net. The net porn industry is not constrained by little things like ‘physical impossibility‘ or ‘impossible without lube‘. If it “will cause permanent damage” that’s okay too. Or even ‘fatal‘.

A lot of people think internet porn is real life, just because someone says “this really happened”. ‘Ecological disaster‘ is alright too. There was one where hundreds of baby octopus died. (I’ve read things I can’t unread, that’s all i’m going to say. )

Apropos of nothing (or “i can’t figure a way to segue neatly into this, so i’m just telling you”) : Since doing that post on using Twitter (and mentioning that i’ve never deleted a Tweet), i’ve done so many typos i can hardly believe it. I nearly deleted 4 posts they were so bad. Thought i’d mention that in case anyone thinks i’m MsTwitterPerfect, or that i think i am.

I forgot to mention – the way to do those neat short URL’s on Twitter (or anywhere else) is to go to TinyURL and it’s free. Or Google “URL shorteners” – there’s lots. I use another site – bit.ly – when i post my evil missives (blog posts) on Twitter – i can see at a glance how many people clicked on that URL, or if it got sent on and used in other places on the net.

As i said, I’d like to focus on religion and porn, but Mr Whatsit is watching Saturday TV and has ended up on a fashion program on the Lifestyle Channel. I think he’s waiting for Grand Designs.  “Glorified coathangers!” he’s shouting at the screen. And he keeps screaming in revulsion as skinny girls stagger in weird undulations down a catwalk. “My God! Clothes don’t look right on them!” Ahh, neat segue, Mr Whatsit.

So, religion, “opiate of the masses”? or is that football? Personally, i think it’s all just a distraction – sex too – if you’re obsessed with those, you won’t be thinking about how badly your country is being governed, or the numbers of poor going without basic healthcare while the christian church, a bloated monstrosity, is the richest entity on the planet.

Because obviously, if you did consider it, you’d be sick over how awfully unfair it all is, and unable to wank over the idea of kneeling under the priest’s lecturn and… “OMG she’s ANOREXIC!”

Yes, thanks, Mr Whatsit, completely broke my thread there. I realised that i promised politics and world domination, as well as religion and sex. Well, i did mention politics. So one to go.

World domination is simple, really – I’m the Antichrist, the Queen of Darkness – vote me for World Ruler. Any opposition will be Disappeared. I don’t intend to wipe them out.  They’ll be at church or the pub, searching for internet porn, and betting on the footy, just like they are now – wasting time getting het up about things that don’t matter.

There *wipes brow* more politics, more religion,
and perhaps a soupçon of egotistical rant.

Is it just me, or is it warm in here?

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

oh, isn’t that typical?

Here we are, swine flu apocalypse, me wondering if hiding under my bed is the sensible option, and the Rapturists saying this is teh End of Dayz. Or maybe  it was the Lolcats who said it. (There’s a Lolspeak Bible.) Lots of people are going to be wiped out, just a few tattered survivors living in caves, being bothered by the Antichrist.

Of course – Armageddon is happening just as a nice thing happened. Well, two nice things, so i’m pretty much overwhelmed. Some of you may remember me pinning your ears back, over what i thought of plagiarists, after someone nicked a blog post. I was quite annoyed.

However *drumroll* Google has taken down the stolen post *sounds of cheering* and another person’s post he stole – but not the whole blog *sigh* but it’s good news overall *polite applause*.

The other nice thing was that the Mumbrella website (all about Aussie media and marketing), that i mentioned in my last post, featured a quote and link to my blog on their page, under Opinion. Look! That’s me! In the purplish square. I was gobsmacked. And very, very pleased.

i got a mention!

i got a mention!

Spooky thing (non- apocalypse related): while i was working on the post, i got a notification of a new Follower on Twitter – and it turned out to be @Mumbrella.

I followed them back and then warned about the post referencing them, in case i’d accidentally been offensive. I’d rather they complained to me, you see. So i expected them to read it, but the link was a lovely surprise.

The world ending right after that – and just as Google did my bidding – is the pits. I can’t die now, ffs. Don’ t you understand? If Google follows my orders, I may actually be the Antichrist and the Queen of Darkness.This could be my big break!

I could spit! What’s the use of me being queen if you’re all dead? Or if i am? If there’s a God, he’s a freaking tease and this is why i decided to be the Queen of Darkness. Ahem. I nearly stamped my feet real-time then.

Mr Whatsit saw my mention (which sounds like a strange euphemism). I had to show him before the world ended. He came back later, reminded me that i’d been linked, and that i was nearly famous. I got a little glow. One day, maybe i’ll be blasé over mentions, but for now i’m happy-dancing.

When the remnant survivors of the apocalypse come out of their caves, (no, i hadn’t forgotten they were in there), maybe they’ll find some of my Tweets and a blog post, with links to bits of my work that sound like they’d be good – and i’ll be like one of those Greek writers we know about because other people say they’re cool.

Of course, if i make it to the caves, i might be able to start again. I can cook and do weird sexual things, which may ensure my survival. Oh – if you’re really worried about the Rapture, the friendly folk at Post-Rapture Post will help out. They promise to deliver your smug, nagging letters to your friends and relatives who haven’t been sucked up in God’s Giant Vacuum Cleaner with the Faulty Suction (for an explanation of the Rapture, read my post Sex Sells).

I’m betting I’ll be left behind, what with my predilections for heresy and sex. We will be forsaken by Ceiling Cat, dealing with boils – or it may have been furballs – and the Antichrist, which may be me. *sweet smile* I figure it’s no use denying it, because the Antichrist would deny it.

There’s also a new Messiah. Like the old one didn’t cause enough trouble. Be nice to each other, he said – lol – alien concept or what? No wonder they nailed him to a tree. Today, Jesus would be on Twitter, saying “Follow me, i am the Way” and people would be going “i bet you’re a bot”. I’ll probably be sarcastic, and tease him with “find God, ask  me how!” or “make $$$ out of suckers who believe they are the cheese makers”.

He won’t get the Monty Python’s Life of Brian reference, of course – we’ll need to sit him down, make him watch that, and all the awful movies like Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ. And the one where John Wayne is a centurion – The Robe? And Jesus Christ Superstar.

He’ll be so creeped out, he’ll forget about the Apocalypse – and this will be my opportunity to move into the power void. Ha! Now would be a good time to follow me on Twitter – there will be those who got in Before Apocalypse, and those who came After. You know which ones will get the Hello Kitty Kalashnikovs.

On Twitter, people seem to be fluctuating between genuine hysteria and hysterical laughter over the swine flu apocalypse – probably normal, actually. Here’s a page with a list of symptoms so you can tell the difference between the flu and a cold. I’m getting a bit annoyed over the people with head colds saying they’re probably going to die – hence the link.

I’m doubly annoyed, as i had a shot for flu, but it’s the wrong freaking kind. Now i’m just a person who had a dead arm for four days from the shot, got woken up by the pain every time i rolled over in the night, (my immune system is overactive), was still bruised two weeks later (i’m delicate, ok?), and now, I might die anyway. So don’t complain to me about your freaking head cold. Ahem.

The last post was a reasonably coherent one, now here i am, wittering on about vacuum cleaners in the sky and making my mark before the world ends. Point is, (somewhere in the wittering, there is a point) i’m used to getting my hopes up – i’ve been in lots of bands, and other group endeavours from businesses to drama groups.

My happiness is not dependent on worldly success. Which is lucky, or i’d be completely freaking miserable, all the time. From promising beginnings, i’ve made it as far as “epic fail” – but things could be heaps worse – i found happiness along the way.

Sometime in amongst the strange things, i found Zen, and though i have my bad days, i am basically content. I was like this before i met Mr Whatsit – my state of mind is not dependent on others, on love, health, wealth, or good things happening in an unending stream – life isn’t like that. However, I do enjoy the good stuff.

I’m loving my victory over the plagiarist via Google, and my mention.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

i blame my parents…

plenty of handy roping points, but the ears are going to tickle

plenty of handy roping points, but the ears are going to tickle

The lovely Tea tells me the next big thing is furniture porn. A move onwards from toaster insertions, though of course, you will need a rope to tie to the leg of the chair or table. Or lampstand. The handy thing about toasters was that they came with a cord so you didn’t lose them.

Nothing worse than a coffee table gone rogue internally. Especially if you can’t remember how many bits of furniture were in the house when you started. Beginners want to start small.  For instance, the sheep chair is one for the advanced user. The novice should start with something that doesn’t need a 44 gallon drum of lube, a winch, and a greasegun to hand. Something more streamlined.

chair insertion FAIL

chair insertion FAIL

A word about safety. Have a safecall – this is someone who, if you don’t contact them inside a certain time frame will rescue you or call the fire brigade. The woman on the right learned the hard way after spending 3 days trapped in an Octopus Chair insertion gone horribly wrong.

If a neighbour passing hadn’t heard her screaming, she might have been there until her husband returned from a conference four days later.

for the beginner

for the beginner

Better to begin your career in furniture porn with something like the red chair on the right   – yes, it’s really a chair.  Naturally, it’s up to you as to whether to employ assistants to man the ropes.

A lot of people get off on the mostly amateur furniture porn available, saying that the weird camera angles, occasional feet obscuring the action, and in the case of the late great Tonya Bigones, the sight of a woman trying to insert a grand piano, is the best part.

It’s spawned a host of imitators, and even the beginning of the professional furniture porn industry.

There’s still room for the enthusiastic amateur, and sites like RateMyToasterInsertion also have areas for the furniture connoisseur. Surprisingly, a lot of stuff ends up on YouTube, purely because the censors don’t think it’s real. Of course, the BDSM aficionados are in on the act, as in the peg chair below.

thats gotta hurt!
that’s gotta hurt!

There’s even been a small number of suicides by bolster cushion, at least, they’ve been classified suicides, but some people are saying auto-erotic-strangulation-via-bolster cushion is too hard, these people must have had assistance.

However, we’re all about playing safe. You will need good rope, an anchor point to tie it to, latex gloves, extra-large furniture condoms, and at least your own bodyweight in water-based lube. (I hear that silicon lube is considered excellent, but as it does contain silicon, i don’t really want it in my body.)

Crisco is  not advised, it coats delicate internal tissues and can kill off the natural critters that we rely on for internal health. Never use Vaseline as a lube for the same reasons, and because it’s made from petrol byproducts and eats away at latex (like the stuff your condoms are made of).

Good Lord – (i’m allowed to say that, *shows Papal Dispensation to take His name in vain* only cost me a proof of purchase on two packs of Benedict’s Cotton Candy Flavoured Underpants and i got a coupon for a pack of Vatican Fishnet Stockings) –  I’ve accidentally included some good information in here, what a shame it’s obscured by toaster and furniture porn.

Never mind, and while i have you here, don’t forget, get your tshirt on your way out. Now in white, red, and black.

it's more fun with a friend
it’s more fun with a friend

*reads back* Okay, it’s official, i’ve gone nuts. Or i’ve reached Zen and your worldly constructs no longer trouble mah evolv-ed soul.
*looks way-more-holier-than-thou*

The Queen of Darkness thanks you for reading and
apologises for what’s probably going through your mind.

The voices-outside-my-head made me do it.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com

Sit on Kev’s face, and tell him you love him

I’m supposed to have a theme, make a commitment, and dust. *sighs* This blog is so wrong. Other people have themes. They restrict their ravings to specified subjects. They commit to blogging at set intervals, or set numbers of blogs per week. Feck, as if.

You’ll take what you’re given and be grateful for it, or face the Gleaming Instruments of Death. As they’re newly sharpened by Mr Whatsit, who’s a master metalworker, you’d better just suck it up.

Yep, the monthly hormonal overload is beginning. I know it doesn’t seem long since the last one, it’s not. Pfft, you think it’s tough reading it, I’m inside it, and Mr Whatsit has to live with it. It’s like being unconsensually drugged. I just get this weird impulsive behaviour thing happening. Like someone put LSD in my KoolAid. Still, there’s worse things they put in KoolAid.

In other news, the government’s announced they’re building a new optical fibre broadband network – they’re aiming at ‘up to 100 mbps’ which isn’t even fast. And saying it will take eight years. As was said on Twitter…

Warlach Honestly, 8 years? 100 mbs in 8 years? The rest of the world will be jacking directly into the net Matrix style by then #nbn

National Broadband Network = #nbn if you want to look up the Twitter stream on it. Makes me grumpy, i just want to vomit. Kev wants to reduce this country to a religious nutter’s paradise. *is sick on the prime minister’s shoes*

I was going to do you a badge, and the badge generator was down – omg, i had to do it by hand. Then i was too cranky to be funny. Serious – the best i came up with was this.

“when i said i had a net filter, 9/10 people though i was Chinese “

*sighs* And of course, the issue du jour is the national broadband network, so i’m not topical either. What can you say?

“Australia’s NBN – by the time we get it, everyone else will be telepathic”

“Why make the big phone company with the money pay for it, when there are stupid taxpayers around?”

“Rudd took away my nipples, but he gave me…. “

Toaster insertions are going to be verboten, there’s nothing i can do. This middleclass white girl is going to end up a criminal, purely so i can get past the filter and read my own freaking blog.

Pretty soon i’m going to be thinking, well, wtf, if i have to break the law to blog, i might as well break the law in other ways. Yes, i’m going to smuggle cheap Chinese nipples, flood the local market, and drive Aussie black market nipple producers out of business.

If i do it right, like organised crime does, i could even get about 20 years without being hassled too much by the cops, providing of course, i don’t expose people on the street to my imported nipples, and the resultant nipple wars. Must not let my nipples bash anyone to death in Sydney airport, they’d probably get miffed with me. The cops, i mean, not the nipples.

I wonder how much bribe money they will want to look the other way? (Again, i mean cops not nipples.) I better work out a rate per funbag. Oh, and then there’s the vag tax. Hadn’t you heard? Providing you keep yours in your pants, you pay the twat tax of 25% of annual income per vag (means-tested). Pants down, like to pee or something, spot fines of $100,000 and a max of 10 years gaol.

So from now on, all Australian women will pee through their undies or wear incontinence pads. Honest. Would i lie to you? Men are exempt, no todger tax, as nobody wants to look at men’s bits.

Well, remember, these people are born again Christians, they’re a bit like Queen Victoria, when told homosexuality and lesbianism were being made illegal. She said women didn’t do that kind of thing, so it was never made illegal in the UK. Rudd doesn’t know about gays, (and the words ‘anal sex” mean nothing to him), so penises and anuses will be legal in Australia, behind closed doors, of course.

Sex is completely illegal, except for procreation, so a woman over about 42 isn’t allowed to do it. You need to show proof of viable eggs and you will be filmed to make sure you aren’t enjoying yourself. You have to be 25 to start, so younger women will be offered a new government chastity belt, which from the model looks suspiciously like someone tied her legs together with string.

Drinking, smoking, and gambling are still legal (over 18) – can’t interfere with massive government revenue streams from taxing those worthy endeavours. There’s also been some talk about lowering the voting age to 16, as teenagers are even easier to lash into an emotional frenzy of stupidity than born again Christians and left wing voters are.

Welcome to Australia! *pause while the slow internet trundles along* Sunlit land of censorship… put your freaking underwear back on, lady!

lol – so i went back to Twitter, thinking i’d promote this post, and it was down. This day is perfect. Still, least i’m still laughing.

*finds Zen after drawing the Prime Minister’s face
being sat on by woman with large arse and emailing it to him*

There, he should get it by the weekend.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com