And all may certainly conclude that God loves them, till either they despise that love or despair of his mercy.
Observation: courtship would be a very different thing if everybody in the world had to wear an old-ass baseball uniform at all times.
Hey, check out this gallery of polar bears.
It's pretty stunning. I stole it from Boing Boing. They stole it from some other guy. They're going to be extinct in like twenty minutes, you know. Is your refrigerator running? Ahhh, modern luxury. You know, we've managed to screw shit up this bad, and it only took, like, a hundred years. Because let's face it... people used to be way too stupid to screw things up this badly.
I read boring shit from the sixteenth century today in the ultra-depressing university library. Coming from a Big 10 school to a private school less than ten percent the size is weird. The campus here is actually gigantic. But in this, the first full week of classes, it was as hard to find a place to study in the library as it would have been during finals week back at the ol' State U. (The U is for "Underfunded.") One wonders if this reflects the midwestern tendency to shirk studies in favor of cheese and beer and dry-humping to r&b hits on scuffed-up dancefloors. But I think it's just a really small library, because I'm pretty sure people are into those things all over the continental 'states.
There's really nothing more depressing than reading bad early-modern literature under florescent lights. You get all these moral imperatives, like, "We shant havest fun, for lo, the devil leadest thou astray from the flock, which is, ideally, everybody being just like everybody else and nobody having any fun at all, to besmirch God's most-chaste Creation, and everything about you is evil, whereas you must give thanks to God for creating you and loving you in spite of the fact that you're a really, really wicked, awful person, whom nobody should like at all. In fact, probably nobody does." And you're sitting there reading about how anything you like is a sin in a tiny wood cubicle, vomitous gray-green light bouncing off your glasses deep into your soul, while your brain is busy trying to reject this preacher's sentence structure like it were a foreign organ.
So it'd been around for a minute, but I'd never seen it. Check out this video that Kanye West hired Zach Galifianakis to make for "Can't Tell Me Nothin." It's got Will Oldham in it. Which raises the question: who the fuck is Kanye West? Who are you?!
But it doesn't really matter why, or who, or... why?! All that matters is, Will Oldham is in a Kanye West video. Look, Will Oldham weirds the shit out of me. I like his music ok, but he looks exactly like my uncle, if my uncle was the offspring of siblings, and he were guaranteed to kill somebody with an ax for religious reasons. Plus, he might be as close to the opposite of Kanye West that you can get. So, just to shake things up, I'm all for this video.
Yeah... I'm totally phoning it in. Can you tell? THERE'S NO TIME!