A horse walks into a bar. The barman asks, "Why the long face?"

The three who liked to refer to themselves as The Holy Trinity sat around a table. They were God the Father, God the Son and Don.

"Wow, living forever is certainly a long time!" said God the Son.

"You're not wrong Son. It's been billions of years plus. We have always been here." added Don.

"Is it always going to be just the three of us?" asked God the Son.

"Okay, okay," said God the Father, "I have an idea that might brighten things up. We make this thing called a universe. It'll be big. Very big. Who knows, then we could make some more."

"But, God the Father, you know the future. You knew we'd come to this point which is probably brought about by boredom. You should have scheduled this for an earlier date. What will be the point of this universe?" retorted God the Son.

"I will create creatures called angles. They will be much like us. And, while I think of it, we could use more descriptive names. How about we call you Jesus, Son? I'm going to just go with God. Don, your name needs to be more exotic. Any ideas?" asked God (the Father).

"I'm going to go outside the circle here. I'm going to choose The Holy Ghost."

"I knew you'd choose that." said God.

"I'm happy to go with Jesus, but I don't like that name 'angle'. It sounds like a corner. Let's change it to 'angel'. That's more unique." said Jesus (formerly God the Son).

"I knew you were going to say that!" said God. "Okay, we'll go with those names - God, Jesus and The Holy Ghost. It's done. Now these angels will be much like us. Their boss we will call an archangel. There will be a few more archangels too, but the boss will be called Gabriel. Later on, I'm going to add another species called humans, but that's further down the track. I thought that they won't automatically get into our place but will go through a testing ground. I have a list of those who won't make it, remember that I see the future. I'll make a place called Hell for them."

But won't we need someone to keep an eye on them in Hell?" asked Jesus.

"Obviously I'd already thought of that." said God. "We need a bad angel who needs to be punished."

"Can we call him Lucifer?" chirped in The Holy Ghost.

"I knew you'd suggest that." said God. "Yes, we'll go with Lucifer, but he'll also have the nickname Satan because I like that one. I'll set up a fight with Lucifer so that we can punish him."

"Poor bugger. He doesn't know what he's getting into." said The Holy Ghost.

God moved straight on. "I'll get the universe done in a matter of days. Oh, days are what will happen on a planet I have picked out. I'm going a slightly different route with the humans - I'm going to invent sex. Half of them will be pretty much like us, except I'm giving them this thing called a cock. I'll explain how it works later. The rest of them will be different. Very different. I'm giving them a couple of things on their chest so that they can feed children. I suspect that the other half will find those fascinating. I won't put cocks on these ones."

"Both groups will need names." said Jesus.

"Obviously, I've already thought of that." retorted God. "The ones with cocks will be called men and the ones with the things on their chests will be called woe men."

"Woe men?" asked The Holy Ghost.

"Wouldn't it be better to just have one word?" asked Jesus.

God replied, "The idea is that, while the men will think they're in charge, these woe men will be the real bosses. They'll have a way of really calling the shots. Okay, okay, don't waste your breath, I know how the conversation will go. Okay, we'll go with women."

And that's how it all started.

Monday, November 4th. No Saints Day.

 Hang on, let's not forget about Saint Charles Borromeo, the bishop who lived from 1538 to 1584.

"Borrow meo, if you like."

In 1559, when his uncle, Cardinal de Medici was elected Pope Pius IV, he made Charles cardinal-deacon and administrator of the Archdiocese of Milan. This was a big break for young Charlie. A little later, working behind the scenes, Charlie deserves the credit for keeping the Council of Trent in session when at several points it was on the verge of breaking up. Charlie died of bad health at the age of 46. There is no real evidence that Saint Charlie used to offer himself up for being borrowed, but such a story was passed on aurally.

Okay, let's move on.

It's a quiet day for us here in Wainuiomata, but it's not raining, and our lawn desperately needs mowing. It's quite a big job because it's quite a big lawn. I'll aim to start closer to lunchtime.

That's it for today - I've got work to do.

Ciao.

Stupidity.

 

There are over 346 million people in the United States of America. I don't know how many people can or will vote, but that's a lot of voters, even if you write off about 100 million. It appears that, just recently, 48.5% of voters will probably vote for Trump. That's enough for him to win.

I found the thing below on the internet.

There's an old saying, "When you're dead, you don't know that you're dead but everybody else does. It's the same when you're stupid."

I know enough about Trump to know that you'd have to be stupid to vote for him. Evidently nearly half of the USA voters are going to vote for him.

Holy Shit!

Then we've got that fat North Korean leader helping Russia with their war. Also, Israel seems to be attacking lots of countries in their area.

Things are not looking good for the world.

Leave a comment if you have an opinion, but don't mention God.*

* Well, he doesn't seem to give a shit. Maybe he's just looking forward to an early judgement day. I wouldn't get too comfortable with your lot if I were you, Brother Benedict.

Good news everyone, there is no Hell.

 

This is Peter. Peter is in bed.

 PETER HAS SLEPT IN AGAIN!

The Old Girl is already in the office, but Peter is still in bed. He's probably pissed off because he may have to write a post at the kitchen table.

So much for decluttering today.

Lazy bugger.

Maybe he's thinking about where he'll live in Wellington.

He doesn't seem keen on Moera, or Wainuiomata.*

Do you think he'll finish up bringing the snooker table to Wellington? Well, he sold those crazy boots for a song.

Who knows what to expect from a lazy guy who won't get out of bed and is then grumpy when he finally gets to comment (late) on Rob's blog

* Where the girls are smarter.

It's the Moera way.

 

Hi, me again, P.Eater.

Still decluttering in Kaitaia. A bit of excitement though, I was tidying up the spare room and I found a couple of bottles of Cleanskin wine.

Made from the best pumpkins grown locally, giving this fabulous wine a definite pumpkin taste with a dirt aftertaste. The skins have been removed from the pumpkins used, as have their seeds.

                                                                                         Kaitaia Wine Shop

I was chatting with Robot about this and he gave me a few tips about Moera wine customs. The favourite wine in Moera is Cleanskin Chardon, but the locals call it 'Hardon'. They also refer to Cleanskin wine as 'Forskin'.

They sound like a humerous lot and I wonder how my few jokes will go there. Robot said something about it being better if I wear a gang patch. I'm getting a t-shirt made up that will say, "Have you got a Hardon?"

Robot thinks I will blend in well. He said he'd take me to the Presbyterian church so that I can meet some of the locals. He thought a collar and tie might go down better than my t-shirt at church. I could always get something printed on my tie. 'Forskin' maybe?

Old Misery Guts speaks out again.

 

Look closely at this lady's dress.

I think she might have soiled herself.

Robot from Moera pointed this out to me. He's a Presbyterian and doesn't go for all these silly old Catholic saints. His remark almost made me smile.

Almost.

I think that my very slight sense of humour might help people in Moera when I get there.

Still no offers for the chessboard though.

On the positive side, the bookcase is empty.