Swimming is a confusing sport, because sometimes you do it for fun, and other times you do it to not die. And when I’m swimming, sometimes I’m not sure which one it is.
My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.
Each time I help to investigate a medium I hope she may be all that she pretends to be. What wouldn’t I give to be able to talk to my mother.
I do not say that intercommunication between the living and the dead is impossible.
So far I have never on any occasion, in all the seances I have attended, seen anything which would lead me to credit a mediumistic performance with supernatural aid, nor have I seen anything which has convinced me that it is possible to communicate with those who have passed out of this life.
It sounds rather naive, I guess, but the point is that I do believe in something beyond the material. I do believe in this machine we’re in, this body, wouldn’t be the same without the spiritual part of it, whatever that is. And people would say, “Well, that’s the brain and synapses.” Yes, but the […]
Since I was a little kid, I was like—since my dad died—I was like, “Oh, I can’t wait to have a kid.”
Our country is now a cesspool of crime. We have blood, death and suffering on a scale once unthinkable because of the Democrat Party’s effort to destroy and dismantle law enforcement all throughout America.
I want a military funeral when I die—the bugler, the flag on the casket, the ceremonial firing squad, the hallowed ground.
The vampire live on, and cannot die by mere passing of the time; he can flourish when that he can fatten on the blood of the living. Even more, we have seen amongst us that he can even grow younger; that his vital faculties grow strenuous, and seem as though they refresh themselves when his […]