Hey there, folks. I just want to communicate, before I get into my fancy-shmancy word jig, that the lovely and talented Erin will now officially be writing posts in my blog! Not all the time; that’d defeat the purpose. But I do like the idea of tag-teaming this thing. She’s started on a draft right now, and it looks promising. All posts coming from Erin will say “Erin’s Thoughts” in the title, as a heads-up.
Now let’s get down to the dirty and disgusting business that is chatting.
The other day, I kind of had a revelation that stunned Erin and her family. I thought: what if Einstein was made a saint (of course, it’s impossible for Jews to become saints in the Catholic religion, but whatever)?
I went home and googled “saint Einstein.”
I found something odd.
Christopher Jon Bjerknes was a “Crypto-Zionist,” apparently. Crypto-Zionists, as opposed to Crypto-Jews, are men who proclaim they are of Jewish religion, but don’t reveal their studies of Zionism, as to infiltrate social classes and ranks. C-Jews don’t even say they’re Jews. They just do as they please, joining Catholic churches and stuff. Both do this for “diaboliocal purposes.”
CeeJayBee suggested Einstein “plagiarized the Theory of Relativity.”
That’s an awfully harsh conviction on a fellow Jew!
And then, oddly enough, there’s this PDF file on a website called JewishRacism.Com that I found. It’s a manuscript by CeeJayBee, typed up by some die-hard fan of his. And it’s like… glorifying Einstein. Proclaiming he’s a saint.
…Didn’t you just say he plagiarized the Theory of Relativity? Yes. Yes, you did.
CeeJayBee is quite a freak. What’s even more curious and peculiar is that CeeJayBee doesn’t even mention “Steinstein.” There’s no point in making him a saint without having the preconceived notion to label him “Steinstein.” What a weird person!
Okay. I’m okay.
Enough ranting. I’ll segway into something that I hope doesn’t become a rant, but no promises, at all.
Today I went to my cousins’ for Easter Brunch. It was ham, and mac n’ cheese, and fruit salad, and bread. And then coconut cake.
I was talking to them about omens and mathematical ways to predict future events (arithmancy, for you Harry Potter fans. I’m one, myself), and they were all insulting me and stuff. I took the number sixteen from my phone. 2:16 was the time. “Sixteen,” I said out loud, “Is the number on Joe Montana’s jersey.” Everyone quieted.
“Joe Montana played for the 49ers. The 49ers, at their peak, were an incredible team. So incredible that in the year 1995, or the year I was born, they decided to whoop the Chargers’ asses 49-26. The difference between 49-26 is 23. And I assure you all that by the end of the day, I will see the number 23, and it will relate to this very moment.”
Needless to say, they all laughed at me. I checked my phone, but it was 2:31. Way past 23. I’d missed it.
We went home and all, and I was on facebook a little later. More recently, like 7:00 PM my time. I started up a comment conversation with two of my girl cousins: Erika (who was there today), and Sarah (who lives in Ohio, and couldn’t join us). I was being a goofy spaz, and they wanted me to butt out. So I did, but not before leaving with a “Goodbye, Erika; omens.” At that moment, I looked at my chat bar, and it read:
Whoa. Mind blown.