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A Year in Jail for Not Believing in God? How Kentucky is Persecuting Atheists

vegkat:

wilwheaton:

The law and its sponsor, state representative Tom Riner, have been the subject of controversy since the law first surfaced in 2006, yet the Kentucky state Supreme Court has refused to review its constitutionality, despite clearly violating the First Amendment’s separation of church and state.

Fuck everything about this, and fuck everyone who claims there’s some kind of “war on religion” in the United States. 

Signed,

An Atheist.

Cosigned. Fuck this theocratic bullshit.

Obama doesn’t have to worry about another term. He should send in the Justice League Department to straighten them out.

(I wish he could send in the Justice League. I’m sure Wonder Woman would love to kick some redneck ass.)

(via iamsuperannoying)

Source: wilwheaton

americandrink: I got off the plane around midnight and no one spoke as I crossed the dark runway to the terminal. The air was thick and hot, like wandering into a steam bath. Inside, people hugged each other and shook hands…big grins and a whoop here and there: “By God! You old bastard! Good to see you, boy! Damn good…and I mean it!” In the air-conditioned lounge I met a man from Houston who said his name was something or other — “but just call me Jimbo” — and he was here to get it on. “I’m ready for anything, by God! Anything at all. Yeah, what are you drinkin?” I ordered a Margarita with ice, but he wouldn’t hear of it: “Naw, naw…what the hell kind of drink is that for Kentucky Derby time? What’s wrong with you, boy?” He grinned and winked at the bartender. “Goddam, we gotta educate this boy. Get him some good whiskey…” The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent and Depraved Story by Hunter S. Thompson. Art by Ralph Steadman Good read to go with a mint julep or two… or three. Clearly Jimbo, who’s got to be dead by now, was not “ready for anything” if a stranger ordering a Margarita threw him for a loop.
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americandrink:

I got off the plane around midnight and no one spoke as I crossed the dark runway to the terminal. The air was thick and hot, like wandering into a steam bath. Inside, people hugged each other and shook hands…big grins and a whoop here and there: “By God! You old bastard! Good to see you, boy! Damn good…and I mean it!”

In the air-conditioned lounge I met a man from Houston who said his name was something or other — “but just call me Jimbo” — and he was here to get it on. “I’m ready for anything, by God! Anything at all. Yeah, what are you drinkin?” I ordered a Margarita with ice, but he wouldn’t hear of it: “Naw, naw…what the hell kind of drink is that for Kentucky Derby time? What’s wrong with you, boy?” He grinned and winked at the bartender. “Goddam, we gotta educate this boy. Get him some good whiskey…”

The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent and Depraved

Story by Hunter S. Thompson. Art by Ralph Steadman

Good read to go with a mint julep or two… or three.

Clearly Jimbo, who’s got to be dead by now, was not “ready for anything” if a stranger ordering a Margarita threw him for a loop.