For most of my life, I was never in the camp that believed my life was predetermined by an all-powerful celestial deity capable of smiting me at any given moment. It’s not like my lifestyle would land me at the pearly gates anyway, but I also doubt God would make me a natural-born shoplifting savant. But lately I’ve had a lot of family and acquaintances busting my balls, and they are trying to hold me accountable for several incidents where police intervention was required.
Fortunately, a concept was revealed to me by what must be divine intervention because I just realized that I can get away with whatever I want so long as I attribute it all to “God’s plan”.
Don’t believe me? Look at all the megachurch pastors who get caught misappropriating funds and cheating on their spouses with constituents. It’s all “the holy spirit was testing my marriage with these sex workers” this, or “the lord commanded me to use church funds to buy a plane” that. If they can do heinous shit like that and claim it was predestination, then surely it means I can justify catfishing men into buying me luxury items so long as I believe God already lined it up.
Case in point: I’m still not welcome in any of my family’s homes until I apologize for smashing up my sister’s wedding cake because it wasn’t the flavor I wanted. At the time it was a selfish move but after considerable thought and reflection, I realized that it was just the path God put me on that resulted in me ruining her big day and then stabbing a caterer in the leg with a pen. They’ve yet to accept my reasoning, but I’m sure they will eventually once they surrender themselves to a higher power.
Seriously, try it! I’ve used it for a whole bunch of other stuff, like opening credit cards in dead people’s names and tricking friends into being my Herbalife downline. We’ve all seen countless people credit God for everyday life happenings when they get what they want, so with that logic anyone can be a sociopath so long as the lord our shepherd wills it. I just wish my parole officer felt the same!
And if all that doesn’t work, you can always fall back on blaming Satan. That dude is always willing to take one for the team.
Sorry to any “Hymns” truthers out there, but one of these has to rank last. This one is the clear winner of the categorically worst. It’s not the most inferior piece of music you’ve ever heard. It’s just that when you’re listening to it you’re reminded that you could be spending your time with other more satisfying Bloc Party releases that made you fall in love with them in the first place. Life is too short to listen to a band’s sixth-best album.
“Alpha Games” may be their latest full-length album but, perhaps surprisingly, it contains some legitimate classics from the band. All you have to do to identify them is listen to more than the 10 seconds of each track that you did when you first perused this album. How dare you skim a Bloc Party album. Show some damn respect.
With Bloc Party’s fourth official release, we see the band evolve yet again, despite some fans’ desire to keep them in a little box that just has the year “2005” written on it. The album still contains energetic and eloquent songs like they always do, but this release also gets heavier at times with songs like “Kettling,” “We Are Not Good People,” and “So He Begins to Lie.” At this point, it’s almost like Bloc Party is showing off how much they can evolve in a single lifetime. Stop making us all feel bad for not changing our ways or trying new things in decades.
If we were ranking Bloc Party album covers by horniness, this one would easily win. Unfortunately, we’re judging on musicianship here. With “Intimacy,” Bloc Party seemed to have combined the raw energy of “Silent Alarm” with the technological advances of “A Weekend in the City.” The result is a nice compromise of what Bloc Party fans want (more “Silent Alarm”) and what Bloc Party actually wants (I have no idea. Something with electronics maybe?). Either way, this one is more enjoyable than what some curmudgeons might have you believe.
The further you dig into Bloc Party’s discography, the more you realize their B-side game is one of the strongest in music history. And one of the greatest parts about “A Weekend in the City” is the tracks they recorded that didn’t even make the cut. It’s almost like the band has a terrible gauge of which of their songs actually belong on the main album. Finally, we figured out something Bloc Party is bad at and a weakness in their process.
Good lord no. Beard or no beard any threesome involving First Officer Riker would be a nightmare. Best case scenario he rebukes your advances and reminds you “On this ship we do sex by the book!” Worse case, he’s all horned up and agrees. You walk into his quarters and he greets you in a silk robe that is way, way too short, even for sex. Riker is definitely the kind of guy who serves raw oysters to people he’s about to fuck, so there’s that to deal with. Then when you think he’s finally going to get down to business, out comes the “seductive” jazz trombone. How this lame hack ever wound up with Deanna Troi we’ll never know, but don’t make her mistake!
Well, first off, we’re pretty sure Wesley is underage during the entire run of TNG, so that’s a hard no. Even if he wasn’t though, he would still be a bit too uh, you know… Wesleyish. This character basically existed as a way for Gene Roddenberry to insert himself into Star Trek, do you really want to let him insert himself into your relationship? A quick Google search into Roddenberry’s personal life and attitude towards women will tell you no, hell no you do not.
You don’t want your first threeway to be with a know-it-all, especially one who cuts your hair.
Anyone who can’t see the basic humanity in Data is not emotionally equipped for healthy group sex.
Sex with any Klingon carries certain risks, both due to their temperament and, probably, their anatomy. You’ve seen their foreheads, imagine what they’re working with down there! Add to that the fact that Gowron is a politician through and through, with, presumably, the deviant appetites of the elite, the rewards here are just not worth the risks.
She slept with Riker despite being the only character to adequately hate them, and while both parties suffered memory loss at the time, you just can’t trust those instincts.
Reginald acts out self-aggrandizing sexual fantasies with copies of his co-workers on the holodeck, and that’s just the part of his depravity they allowed on television in the early ’90s. You don’t want to know how far Reg’s rabbit hole goes.
Half Klingon, half human, all woman. Talk about a total K.I.L.F. K’Ehleyr identifies more with her human side and tries hard to keep those explosive klingon tendancies in check, until she finds herself in a combat situation or, presumably, the bedroom.
The main difference between Romulans and Vulcans is that Romulans fucking FUCK. None of that life of quiet meditation and mate every seven years nonsense. While undoubtedly a skilled cocksman, Tomalak can be duplicitous and deceitful. Don’t just take his word that he’s tested and had a vasectomy in college.
Geordi is the kind of guy who would talk a big game leading up to the threesome but at the end of the day, he’s a try-hard clingy mess who has no idea what he’s doing romantically. Get a few more at-bats under your belt and we’ll talk, okay Geordie? No, holodeck girls don’t count.
Well, he did win Counselor Troi over, so he must be doing something right in the bedroom. Then again, so did Riker. As a Klingon raised by Russian humans, Worf is out of place wherever he goes, and even the most basic emotional situations can make him flush with awkwardness. Get a few Romulan ales in him and he might be fun, but the breakfast would be excruciating.
While presumably equipped with the same sexual functionality and flawless mechanical stroke as his brother Data, Lore’s unstable emotional matrix makes him a selfish lover.
Miles is a great guy and probably a fine lover, but we have a hard time believing that the most Irish man in space is open-minded toward things like group sex.
