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A religion based on blinking away all tenets not prescribed by the constant voices in ones own head.
Get some Slack.
http://www.subgenius.com/
Quite a venerable institution as satires go. [Dog Ed, Jul 04 2001, last modified Oct 05 2004]
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Annotation:
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Um. Some tenets spring from sensory input (filtered and intrepreted internally but still generated by external events) and some come from internally-generated beliefs--them pesky voices in one's own head. Yes? So Ignorsticism seeks to destroy this dichotomy by ignoring any external evidence which would challenge an internally-generated belief. |
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Baked, because this dogma, and it's obverse, already exist: Mr. P resolutely refuses to credit anything not subject to experimental test, and his neighbor Mr. F refuses to credit anything that is challenges his internal beliefs. (Most just plain folks like thou and I fall somewhere in between.) |
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If Ignorsticism is meant satirically, you might check out the best on-line satire of Mr. F's camp that I know: the Church of the Subgenius (see link). |
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I loathe your complete and utter lack of ignorance. |
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My wife glazes when I do this. Dogged indeed. Woof! woof. |
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I see this thing is catching on. |
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As the man said... "Pull the wool over your own eyes." |
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Praise "Bob". Dobbs be praised. |
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Which leg comes comes after which? |
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While trying to find out, |
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Drowned in a nearby ditch. |
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Frustrated by the lack of recognition, Bayard made the first faked picture and caption combination in 1840. He made a photograph of himself posed as a corpse and wrote on the back of the print, "The Government, which has supported A Daguerre more than is necessary, declared itself unable to do anything for M. Bayard, and the unhappy man threw himself into the water in despair." |
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We are blessed by your sweet disregard. |
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Bus stop? Okay. Good. Got change? 25, 50, 60, damn! ... Dropped a dime. Dime on the street. Never mind, it's JUST A DIME ... toes on the curb, now, and watch the little old Chinese lady behind on your left, she's got that pushy look and two giant pink bags of hot chow fun ... bet she's got elbows like cattle prods. Get your game face on. |
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Hmmm...what? Yes, I realize that. No, that's not what he meant at all. It wasn't directed at you. Yes, we'll talk about it when we get home. |
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Cast out the Xists and the normals and the pinks! |
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