Emily:

Okay, I tried to post this right after shrift, but then my browser did the thing where it won't load the board anymore, so I'm a little late. Whatever.

While I was pondering this question, I thought, well, the Buddha would only need one song, or no song at all, and maybe that goes for Christ as well. But maybe in fact Jesus would want all songs, loving all of human creation. Which means, either way, that divine beings (does Buddha count as divine? how about incarnations?) wouldn't use the iProduct currently on the market, because only humans need something between all and nothing. Which is much like a system of two algebraic equations -- it can have no answers, all answers, or one answer. Humans would have one answer, but Higher Powers would be either parallel but separate lines or overlapping on all points.

Maybe I shouldn't do religion right after algebra quizzes

Aimee, in Bitches:

I am putting everything in writing. What I want done, what I don't want done, what funeral I want (none), what I want done with my remains (use every single usable part. Take it all if it can be used. Let someone else benefit and live. Let that be my legacy. Burn the rest. And if you keep my ashes to be paired with Joe's later on, keep me in a Wizard of Oz cookie jar, for Heaven's sake. Hell, keep it in the kitchen so that people reach in and grab a handful of me. It'll be a great joke. Specially for the grandkids. "You're holding Grandma! You're holding Grandma!" I forgot why I used the parentheses.)

connie neil: I've not only let that bitch Hope park in the driveway, she's turned off the engine and thinking of coming inside. I think I'll make her sit on the porch for a while, just in case.

Susan W: I totally want a teleporter. Or at least a flying car.

Topic!Cindy:

I've tried to read all the posts since I left earlier today, but all I can keep in my head is that I typed nightmare's rather than nightmares.

O my Buffistas,
I am heartily sorry for
having offended thee,
and I detest my apostrophe abuse,
because I dread the loss of plurals,
and the pains of inappropriate ownership;
but most of all because
they offend thee, my Buffistas,
Who are all foamy and
deserving of all my grammar.
I firmly resolve,
with the help of the edit function,
to confess my apostrophe abuse,
to proofread,
and to edit my post.

Tom Scola: I have this recurring fantasy of kidnapping Steven Spielberg and forcing him to make a dogme-95-compliant film at gunpoint.

Jessica: Ooooh. Need a driver?

DXMachina in Boxed Set:

Buffy has Issues. Also, people who get involved with Buffy have horrible things happen to them. Angel got shoved into a hell dimension. Spike got incinerated. Riley wound up married to Mary Sue. Shudder.

Betsy H-P in Music with an eternal truth:

A fine rant self-justifies.

In Natter:

Betsy: I could totally fight a stick. Grab it, break it over one knee, and it's paralyzed.

JohnSweden: Betsy. Nutty (in the cheetahskin gloves). Sturdy stick. Squash court.

Three persons/object enter, one person/object leaves.

WHO/WHAT SHALL IT BE?

Betsy: I roll over on my back, stick all four feet in the air, and begin panting loudly. Nutty comes over sniffs my belly, and wanders off to chase the stick.

Deena imagines Perkins reaction to visiting Deena and family:

Dear Diary;

Am here. Tried to sleep in but got sat on by a baby with saggy, soggy diapers. Cat sat on my head. It was too cold and then too hot. The house is a disaster, but I'm trying to be polite. I've told Deena that I only bathe at religious houses for Lent. I'm not stepping foot in that bathtub. Kara talks. A lot. We went to the zoo but it was cold and rainy. It's a teeny-assed zoo, anyway. Deena tried to feed me bacon. She says she forgot. Kara tried to feed me bacon off the floor. Aidan gave me a bite of his mashed banana...that he'd just mashed...by sitting on it. In that soggy diaper. Then he kicked me. I have to go. I'm hiding from Kara. She wants to play Barbie Is A Reaver again.