Философия учит нас с невозмутимостью относиться к неудачам других (Оскар Уайльд)
http://www.lviv-menestreli.lviv.ua
Дьявол красивый, сексуальный, умный мужчина - ГЕНИЙ мироздания. Ангел, который возомнил себя выше Бога из-за собственной гордыни.. ему не ведомо такое чувство как ЛЮБОВь, она не живет в нем.
Занимается тем, что сеет распри, задурманивает умы и
мешает людям познать любовь к Творцу.
... в том, когда тыкают пальцем в чужой огород, когда в своем всё прити мач то же самое. (Птиц)
Дьявол- это то, что вас искушает все время... а по прошествии времени вы говорите- как буд-то дьявол меня попутал.. Тут помогает интуиция - не попадать в сети к дьяволу.
My real name is Beelzebub, but you can call me Beelz
I love to watch Fox news and then go club some baby seals
Then I'll take a bubble bath and drink a zinfandel
Try to wash off that baby seal smell
And then I'll make a toast to me
Hey, here's to my hell...th
My name is Satan. Ah Hah!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYnPAoAQnqU
No trees were killed in sending of this message, but a large number of electrons were terribly inconvenienced.
Не безлим - ведь всё в руце Божьей. Дьявол - тварь Господня. Соответственно его "могущество" является Проявлением Воли Господа и ограничено Волей Господа. Вопрос - может ли Дьявол "грешить"? Поскольку его "действия согласно контракту с Господом" являются "богоугодной добродетелью".
Мне ещё очень нравился этот опус, написаный ЛаВеем... (Хотя давно не перечитывала, возможно сейчас заинтересовало бы что-то другое...)
Entertain Me
What is there to see if I go outside? Don't tell me. I know. I can see other people. I don't want to see other people. They look awful. The man look like slobs and the women look like men. The men have mush faces framed by long hair and the women have big noses, big jaws, big heads, and stick-like bodies. That depresses me. It's no fun to people -watch anymore because there's so little variety in types.
You say it's good to get a change of scenery. What scenery? New buildings? New cars? New freeways? New shopping malls? Go to the woods or a park? I saw a tree once. The new ones look the same, which is fine. I even remember what the
old ones look like. My memory isn't that short. But it's not worth going to see a squirrel grab a nut, or fish swimming around
in a big tank if I must put up with the ugly contemporary human pollution that accompanies each excursion. The squirrel may
enliven me and remind me of better vistas but the price in social interaction isn't worth it. If, on my way to visit the squirrel, I
encounter a single person who gains stimulation by seeing me, I feel like I have given more than I've received and I get sore.
If every time I go somewhere, I feel shortchanged. I'll buy my own fish and watch it swim. Then, I can watch the fish, the
fish can watch me, we can be friends, and nobody else interferes with the interaction, like trying to hear what the fish and I
are talking about. I won't have to get dressed a certain way to visit the fish. I needn't dress the way my pride dictates, because
who's going to see me? I needn't wear any pants. The fish doesn't care. He doesn't read the tabloids. But, If I go out to see f
fish other t han my own, I'm right back where I started: entertaining others, which is more depleting than visiting the new fish
is entertaining.
Maybe I should go to a coffee house. I find no stimulation in watching ordinary people trying to put the make on other
uninteresting people. I can fix my own cup of coffee and not have to look at or talk to other people. No matter where I go, I
stimulate others, and have been doing so all my life. It used to be I'd sometimes get stimulated back. If I looked up a pretty
girl's dress, I might see dirty underpants. No more. If I turn on the radio, I can't hear Rudy Vallee, so forget it. I can't watch
TV. It sucks out my brain. I see these poor slobs who are my age or older, and they are up on things I don't want to know
about. The young ones don't know what I'm talking about--don't know about Jack, Doc, and Reggie; or Shostakovich's First
Symphony. If I tell them, then I'm an unpaid teacher without tenure and it's a cinch they're not going to give me any credit.
They're not even g oing to call a talk show and say, "I found out something from Anton LaVey, of the Church of Satan, said
that Scotty dogs were once popular because President Roosevelt had one, and the dog's name was Fala." The caller hadn't
known that. Chances are good, the listeners didn't know that. Yet it's more valid information than some lousy creep's opinion
about what we should do with repeat offenders in homosexual rape cases.
Of course, the answer to the aforementioned is that nobody really cares about Fala. Ok. Fine. Then why should I care about
them? They would be interested if I talked about Satanism, but then I'd be entertaining and stimulating and whatever they
would pay me--which they wouldn't--would be insufficient to buy the kind of fish I'd be able to visit without my pants on, so
why bother?
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