Tag Archives: humor

Warning: In case of Rapture

Hello, all. I am in the process of moving to my new .com website. Please go to funnyatheist.com to read the latest blog.


Mike Hoey

If the current followers could follow the new website that would be great!


What would Jesus spread?

Yes folks it’s the commercialization of Jesus. This first became visible to me with the WWJD bracelets that popped up in gas stations and flea markets everywhere. I doubt that a single penny went to the ministry. Outside of the obvious irony is the idea that mortals could even do what Jesus would do. I am sure that we would love to feed the hungry with a basket of fish and loaves.

So I say why stop there? So many products could dominate the marketplace with the King of Jews as their pitch man. Why drink bottled water when you can drink holy bottled water? Whose face do you want to see on your angel food cake? The point is, this is capitalism and no one is cashing in. Come on man!


Coming to a church near you!

I drove by this beauty on the long way home after work this week. These type of signs and more importantly, the message within them are ubiquitous in the lawns of churches everywhere. I often chuckle while reading the clever sayings. The classic “No Jesus no peace, know Jesus know peace.” Clever indeed! Sometimes they say odd things like “What it is, is what it is, and that’s what it is.” Maybe these churches subscribe to some service that gives you these clever things to put out front. It must a lot of pressure to keep them fresh.

The sign above however, plays on fear. Reminding the reader, it’s heaven or hell for eternity. Do you really have to throw that out there to draw them inside? Lets play nicer on the signs, ok?

Open mouth, insert boot


After jump school I arrived at the 82d Airborne Division and was assigned to 2nd Brigade. After a quick orientation by the Command Sergeant Major (CSM), he asked the group if anyone could draw. Thinking that he might need a poster drawn, I raised my hand. He sent me upstairs in the brigade headquarters to the S3 shop. Upon my arrival SGM West asked me to hand draw a falcon from one that was on the front of a manual he had in his hands. I carefully drew the falcon and brought the paper back to his desk. He said “Congratulations private, you are now a draftsman for the 2nd brigade headquarters company.” What that meant to me as an infantry soldier, instead of being in the line unit, I would have a job in headquarters drawing map graphics, operation orders, and driving a hummer that carried our mobile tactical operations center (TOC).

My first big war game was at Ft Chaffe in Arkansas. We set up the TOC deep into the woods on the mock battlefield. The TOC consisted of 5 tents, each 10 feet square and were joined together to form one big area. This tent structure housed several components of the army that would serve as the control center or “brain” of the battle. After setting up the tent structure, we were told that the “war” would begin in the morning and I was to show up at the TOC at 5am in full camo.

I used the military issued camo in basic training which consisted of a large crayon-like stick encased in a metal tube. It was dark green on one end and light green on the other. We were trained to paint your face with the dark end in all the high areas on your face, and use the light green around your mouth and eye sockets. The problem was, the next morning, ten minutes before I was to report to the TOC, I had no camo. I saw Spc Mann wearing “fancy” camo earlier which consisted of multi-colored creamy camo sold in tubes at Ranger Joe’s. I told him of my dilemma and asked him if I could borrow his so that I wouldn’t be late. He agreed and told me that his kit was in the front of his hummer. Time was ticking quickly as I ran to his hummer. Sure enough, his kit was there, but all the green and brown colors were missing. Where were they? Oh my god! The only colors left was the black and the off-white. The time! I’m going to be late!

With no other options I covered my whole face with the black camo, and put the off-white around my mouth and eye sockets. I quickly ran to the TOC and entered the tent structure. A burst of laughter nearly knocked me down as the men inside nearly doubled over in pain upon seeing my look. However, there was one man who wasn’t laughing, my section sergeant, SFC Jackson. Need I mention that he is an African-American? He said “Who in the hell are you supposed to be?” Embarrassed and caught off guard, I foolishly said “Al Jolson?”

Less than thirty seconds later I found myself behind the tent structure doing push-ups until my arms exploded. The pain was incredible. By the end of the “war game” I had proven myself with my peers as another one of our leaders put me in for, and I received, the army achievement medal. Redemption!

my father’s son

My father is a great man. He is loved and respected by all who know him, myself included. He is a man of principles. Do not lie to my father.

A few years ago, I moved to Chandler, AZ for a few months to “get back on my feet”. Part of this was buying a car. With my dad’s help, I bought a 1984 300zx. It needed some work. One saturday my father and I were driving around “the valley” in his truck. We were in Apache Junction a few miles from the house when dad said, “Let’s stop in Auto Zone and get those back shocks for your car and we’ll put them on this weekend.” So we preceded to go into the store and buy the two shocks. Much to our dismay, the parts guy informed us that he only had one of the shocks in his store. Dad said, “I live in Chandler, can you call our Auto Zone and see if they have a pair there? We will pick them up on our way home.” The parts guy called the other store and informed us that the Chandler store only had one shock as well. “Hmmm? Ok, well go ahead and ring out this one and we will buy the one in Chandler.” And with that, we left the store and headed to the Auto Zone in Chandler. We arrived at the other store, gave the clerk our part number and he retrieved the shock from the back room for us. As we started to take it to the check-out counter dad asked the guy, “By the way, how many of these shocks do you have in this store?” “Let me check sir”, he replied. “We have 13 here.” With that said, I could literally see the red rise from my father’s neckline, up over his chin, across his nose, eyes and forehead, and disappear into his hairline. My father calmly said, “Go ahead and give me a second shock.”

It was a long silent ride back to the Auto Zone in Apache Junction. It wasn’t going to be pretty. I had flashbacks of grocery shopping with my Aunt Mame as she cussed out butchers for too much fat on the cuts of meat. There was going to be a “scene”, and I was going to be front row and center. When we arrived at the store, I was going to play it cool and stay in the truck when my father quickly said, “Come on!”, as if he wanted me to see the blood bath of words. We walked in, shock in hand and my father says to the first employee he sees, “I need to see the manager, Right Now!” The manager emerged from the back of the store and asked my father,”What seems to be the trouble sir?” My father explains in complete detail of the deception portrayed by one of the store’s employees, and how we drove all the way back 20 miles to return the one shock that we had bought earlier at their location. Sheepishly the manager asked my father, “Which one of our guys lied to you sir?” And there, on the last computer on the back side of the store, he sat. He was cowered down, fear in his eyes as he had just heard the exchange between his manager and my father. With his long arm raised toward him, my father said, “That son of a bitch right there!”