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She turned me into a newt.
But I got better.
Magical thinking abounds.
This is super sad, but it made me think of Monty Python.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrzMhU_4m-g
Anyone who ever saw photos of the New Guinea campaign in WWII knows these people are only baby steps away from the Stone Age, so a lot of the old beliefs are going to linger.Tyrone Slothrop said...She turned me into a newt.You can reverse that by saying, "I'm not the new Harold Stassen", five times.
Now that's a rough neighborhood!
It was so helpful to have the spokesperson from Human Rights Watch put it all in the context of feminist theory and attribute it to a lack of western-style social programs.In fact, what sorcerer's device was wrapped around her head enabling her to speak to us from many miles away?
Obviously, they need better "Fire Control" legislation in Papua, New Guinea. Cheers
Nice catch, Althouse --- if burning women alive is to be termed a cultural "practice", to which we must be sensitive, all the while trying to gently nudge them into a more "civiized" (but without actually using that word, since that implies they are savages) way of life, then why not simply understand murder here as just another cultural practice? And tiptoe around naming what's actually going on?Well, in certain circumstances, we (that is, the MSM, the various professional "carers", the gun control advocates) already do. See the murder of black male teenagers by black male teenagers that happens every day. It's their Kultchah, doncha know, and to even mention the slaughter is the height of insensitivity.
I first suspected her of being a Witch by the look of her fingernails. It is as if her fingers ended in tiny cloven hooves, a style that suggests the work of the Devil.
I would watch her surreptitiously but she seemed to always know I was watching -- she'd turn and catch my sideways stare. It is obvious that the Devil told her when to Look. Obvious.
The bemused expression on the face of a Witch tells you that she knows that YOU know. It is as if tiny ants made of ice and Post-It glue are crawling down the back of your neck. You would know the feeling
I soon suspected she was sprinkling granular potions in my coffee when I was away from my desk. You could not taste the granules but I knew she has put them in there. Imperceptible is not the same as non-existent.
I would put a coaster over my coffee cup when I left my desk; when I returned it was askew by at least a millimeter. Not enough for anyone to notice except me.Devilish.
The bewitched granules only heightened my Awareness. I could hear her tiny cloven hooves on her keyboard clattering like restless sheep on Mediterranean tile.
I once stole a look into her lunch bag in the office refrigerator: she kept Possessed Vegetables trapped in tightly-sealed Tupperware bins. I did not have the Strength to look inside -- the feel of the Devil was already too strong. She would probably laugh and say it was Thai food.
Other people interacted with her obliviously; they would laugh and smile and then not make the connection that their car battery went dead just a few days later. Things like that.
For instance, John in Accounting lost his car keys. Pffft - they just disappeared, gone, not a trace. Witchcraft, pure and simple.
For several days Ellen had a small band-aid on her cheek. It wasn't until then that I knew the Witch did not like Ellen. Some spells are like a Warning Shot: the next mole will be larger still.
There are few things witchier than a Witch being witchy with another woman.
When the janitors were replacing the fluorescent lighting overhead she had no compunction walking beneath their ladder, none. And she was wearing a black dress. Sometimes the taunting was relentless.
Sometimes I would watch her eat a red apple, held lightly in her red Devil's Fingernails: mocking me. Mocking everybody. The snake was implied.
I went to the HR Office with my Concerns yet they brushed me aside, said that perhaps I was the one with the Problem. The tentacles of her sorcery had indeed spread wide.
Sorcerous Women often send messages that seem Innocent on the surface. I am looking at you, Ann.
For instance: no Gatsby post yesterday, after the previous one's Naked Calvin Klein Model Robot and penis jokes. I see the message clearly.
The 1971 Sorcery Act: Witchcraft and Law. Seldom have you put it so plainly in view.
It is as if you are daring people: I can put it right in front of your face yet you still will not see.I see; I see.
I think this post is missing a "Clyde" tag.
An insular community, real and asserted, cannot be held equally liable for their unconventional behavior. Respect "cultural" diversity.
Those Who Listen in the Walls will let you know when a Spell has been cast your way.
The Secular World tries to make Outcasts of Those Who Know Such Things.
Dogs are very perceptive to Witches. Look at their eyes in the Dog Cafe photos: they Know.
Do the Dog's Owners know that their beloved pets return carrying a Spell?
Dogs will lick their hindquarters to rid themselves of the Taste of Witchcraft: it is Instinctive.
Perhaps the Althouse Robot was once a Student who Learned Too Much. I bet Witchcraft can do that.
Ann could post a photo of the Robot and a pair of Black Gloves under the heading "Witchcraft Cafe" and still some people wouldn't Believe.
"Black Gloves" are not a sign of a Witch they would say. They might even make themselves believe it when they say it.
It is Not the Black Gloves alone: it is the Black Gloves NEXT to The Althouse Robot That Was Once a Student who Learned Too Much. Context, people.Ann is a tricky one.
Now Ann will no doubt withhold the photo so that people cannot examine the Truth.Sorcery works on many levels, like floors in a Department Store.A Department Store that sells Black Gloves.
BetaMax,Are you aware that prescriptions can be refilled?Just askin'....
On the other hand, they seem to have the cannibalism problem relatively under control
True, because they didn't serve up roast witch with fava beans and a nice Chianti.And EMD, thanks for the shout-out! :-)
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