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Five Reasons Why Heathens Should Not Own Goats

Five Reasons Why Heathens Should Not Own Goats

After another exhausting day of handling baby goats, I’ve decided that any Heathen who gets goats isn’t right in the head (including myself). For this reason, I submit the Five Reasons Why Heathens Should Not Own Goats. Ready? Let’s begin… [Read More of this Premium Content, and Unlock All My Premium Content, for Just $1]

I Hate Daylight Savings Time

I Hate Daylight Savings Time

18 Questions You Should Ask Yourself — and the Rational Heathen Answers!

18 Questions You Should Ask Yourself — and the Rational Heathen Answers!

I stumbled across 18 Thought-Provoking Questions that Will Free Your Mind in 2018 and was amused by the questions so much I had to share it to my Facebook page.

This is what happens when Firefox and Pocket recommend articles for me to read.  Sadly, I am an Internet junkie–I was addicted to the Internet long before the concept of Internet addiction came into existence–and I had to read the blog with their 18 questions.  Unfortunately, I can’t take the questions–or myself–seriously, so I thought I would give you my honest (and hopefully, amusing) answers.

You may be wondering how I expect to improve myself with my bad attitude.  I really don’t.  If I wanted to improve myself, I would swear off computers for good and go live in a cave.  But I can’t, and I don’t.  Look, I’m now playing Age of Empires: Castle Siege, and trying to beat the shit out of other kingdoms.

Oh yeah…questions.  Here goes:

1. In one sentence, who are you?

Look, is this a trick question?  Now, I have The Who’s lyrics running through my brain:

I woke up in a Soho doorway
A policeman knew my name
He said you can go sleep at home tonight
If you can get up and walk away

Who Are You by The Who, written by Peter Townshend. 

Okay, I’m The Rational Heathen.  Enough said.

2. In one word, what do you live for?

10 million dollars.  Okay, that’s three words.

I kind of like: Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentation of the women.

Yeah, I kind of like that. And I know that’s 15 words.

3. What is worth the pain?

Pain?  Are you serious?  Fuck that shit.

I guess it depends on your definition of pain.  If you’re talking childbirth-pain, I opted out of that.  So, the next question of mine would be: what kind of pain are we talking about?  You mean muscle strains?  That’s pretty minor.  Are you talking broken bones?  Been there. Dog bites?  Yeah, I’ve got holes in my arms.  Accidents?  Waking up in the hospital with tubes hanging out of you is no fun.  So, what is worth that?

My point is that there is pain and there are annoying inconveniences. Pain is something that warns you to not do something stupid.  Stuff that causes annoying inconveniences can be dealt with.  So, pain is relative.

I’m not saying to not strive for lofty goals.  Hels bells, I’m one of those who have done some pretty hair-raising shit and lived, but the reality is that if you’re truly committed to a particular goal, the effort it takes will pale in comparison to the prize.  The problem is when you sacrifice yourself, your morals, and your family to achieve that goal. In other words, you shouldn’t destroy yourself over an obsession.

4.  What will you never give up on?

Chocolate.  There, I’ve said it.

This question is like the previous question.  There are things you will stick to and things you will let go of.  Be aware that some things should be given up when they’re a lost cause or an obsession.  You can’t always will things to go your way.

That is a lesson I have learned the hard way.

5. What do you always try to avoid?

Filling out forms and doing bookkeeping.  I hate it.

6. What is something you take for granted every day?


7. What do you need most right now?

Ten million dollars.  Oh, and sleep.

8. What would you immediately do differently if you knew no one would judge you?

Are we talking legal judging?  Or are we talking societal pressures here?  If it is legal judging, I know of several assholes who would get a serious smackdown.  And they deserve it.

As for societal pressures, hmmm.  I don’t give a shit what people think about me.  It’s pretty obvious.

9.  What’s something nobody could ever steal from you?

Can’t take the sky from me.

10.  Who would you like to forgive right now?

Oh, there’s a Christian thing here.  You know, I have very little forgiveness left.  Those I’ve wanted to forgive, I’ve already forgiven.  Those I have not forgiven, I won’t because I don’t trust them to behave any differently.  At the same time, I don’t stay awake thinking about what they’ve done.  They’re gone from my life.

11.  Happiness is not __________?

Getting your teeth pulled out.  Unless you are in pain from a bunch of rotten teeth.  Then, you might be happy.  Or a masochist.

12. What impact do you want to leave on the people you love?

Sounds painful.  How about a good story?

13.Life is too  short to tolerate _________?

Assholes.  And bad olive oil.  In that order.

14.   What’s something that used to scare you but no longer does?


Seriously.  Back in high school, crows used to fly at me.  Guess I pissed off Odin sometime.  Now I’ve handled birds from quail to large raptors.

15. What do you want to remember forever?

How about just remember?  Probably where I left my keys.

16.  What do you always look forward to?

Hunting season.

17.  What recently reminded you how fast time flies?

Oh, thanks for reminding me of this.  My upcoming birthday.

18. What’s something everyone should be able to say before they die?

Dinner was good.

Okay, so I’m not so deep.  Maybe you have better answers than I do.

It’s Meme Monday Madness!

It’s Meme Monday Madness!

It’s Meme Monday Madness again!

It’s Meme Monday Madness again!

It’s Meme Monday Madness!

It’s Meme Monday Madness!

Did you get your gold stars today yet?

It’s Meme Monday Madness!

It’s Meme Monday Madness!

How Skadi Works, or a Dog Story

How Skadi Works, or a Dog Story

This is a dog story.  This is also a goddess story.  This is what happens when a goddess thinks you need help.  READ MORE of my premium content for just $1
Conversation with Bob the Car Wight

Conversation with Bob the Car Wight

The other day, I stumbled onto a smallish fellow sitting on the hood of my Dodge, smoking what appeared to be hand-rolled cigarette.  His skin was bluish and he wore a stained blue jumpsuit, smudged with grease. It had a name tag which said Bob. He also wore a pink hat.

Normally if I saw someone sitting on my car and smoking, I’d be upset, but this guy was maybe a foot tall, if that.  Blue eyes squinted at me from an impossibly wrinkled face as I walked toward him.

“You’re 1000 miles late on your oil change.”  His voice sounded like gravel crunching under tires.

I halted and stared at him, taking him all in.   A car wight?  Good gods.  And a petulant one, too. Well, at least he spoke English. “Those are guidelines.  The three to five thousand miles are guidelines.”

He glared at me with some disdain. “And when was the last time you vacuumed your car? It’s not intended to haul hay.”

I frowned. “You know, it’s my car, and the goats need hay.  And anyway, you’re not supposed to be smoking, you know.”

Bob, the car wight, grimaced. “Bad habit, I know. Picked it up from my Model-T days. Mike used to keep a pack or two in the old girl and I picked up the habit.”  He glared at me. “You never buy cigarettes, you know.”

“Wait a second.  You were the car wight to a Model-T?”  I considered the little guy.  Did car wights get reincarnated when their machines were crushed and melted?  I never considered the possibilities.

He seemed to follow my train of thought. “Yeah, I hate switching brands, but that’s what you’ve got to do when the cars get crushed.  Then, you don’t have much choice when it comes to recycling.  I mean, you can hang out at the local junkyard for a while, but it gets kinda crowded with car wights, and it’s a rough neighborhood.”


“Yeah, we get a lot of trolls around there.” He looked sidelongs at me.  “You don’t think all the trolls ended up on the Internet, do you?”

“So you don’t hang around the junkyard with your car?”

“They crush them into these really flat pieces.  A lot of car wights don’t bother with them then.  So they hang out and join gangs.  They really like giving junkies and other drug users bad trips.”  He paused and took another drag on the cig. “But they have nothing to do, really.  I’d rather follow my car and see where the pieces ended up.  They recycle the metal, which often means it goes into other things. I lucked out and got a Jeep, a Chevrolet Camaro, and a Dodge.  Poor Jenny got her car recycled into a building support.  Tough luck.”

“Hmm,” I said.  “Couldn’t she just find something else?”

“I suppose, but it was the frame for a Starbucks, and she’s now wired all the time.  She doesn’t want to leave. The manager keeps accusing the employees of drinking all the coffee.”

“I can see that,” I said.  “So, why have you decided to grace me with your presence?  Certainly not to tell me about changing the oil, or to stop me from picking up a few bales of hay every few days?”

“Well, those are valid reasons,” Bob said.  “And don’t forget the cigs.  But I thought I’d show up since you’ve written two pieces about us.”

“About you?  You mean the car wights?”

“Yeah.”  He smiled impishly.  “You got it wrong.”

“What wrong?”

“Car wights.  We really don’t exist.  Just ask the recons. Their arch-heathens wouldn’t have believed in us, so therefore we can’t exist.”

“Then how do I explain you?”

He shrugged and took another drag on the cigarette.  “Hey, you claim you’re the rational one.  You tell me.”

“Good point.”  I considered the little guy. “Suppose I said I don’t believe in you?”

“Are you trying to prove a negative?”  Bob chuckled. “You could say you’re delusional, and in which case, you might be right.”  He paused.  “But no.  Try again.”

“Well, lack of evidence…”

“Absence of evidence isn’t evidence of absence.”

“But the burden of proof is on the person who asserts it as truth,” I replied.

“But you see me.  You talk to me.  That means I’m here.” Bob flicked the ash away from his cigarette.

“Hey,” I said. “You don’t need to start a fire, imaginary or not.”

“Good point,” Bob said.  “Got an ashtray?”

It was my turn to look askance at him.  “I don’t smoke.  Remember?”

“Good for you. Don’t start.  It’s a nasty habit.” He pinched the cigarette out with his fingers. “So, since you can see me, you can tell the naysayers out there that there are car wights.”

“They won’t believe me.”

He shrugged.  “I’ll talk to my buddy, Guido.”

“Guido?  A car wight named Guido?”

“Who else would hang out with a Ferrari?”

He had a point.  I had to concede that.  “What about?”

Bob’s eyes held a wicked gleam.  “Guido can talk to their wights. We have a nasty habit of causing break downs at the most inopportune times. Especially when people dis the car wights.” He paused. “Which reminds me, when are you getting the oil changed again?”

I sighed.  “Okay, I’ll make an appointment.”

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