Charming Middle American country gentleman who lives with his family in a nice big house/church and preaches hatred of gays, lesbians, bisexuals, liberals, most of America and pretty much most of the planet. For some esoteric reason only his relatives want to stay in the church, and you have to be a member to marry a member, which keeps their straight teeth fluoridated and their fingers on their banjos. Fred has at least one 69 session with Satan every night, and hopes that if he does it well enough long enough he'll get his soul back. Ya gadda have faith.
That's Fred Phelps. No liberals, no gays, not a shred of what the uninformed call basic human decency, just Fred. Yeeeeee-haaay boah!
This is Fred Phelps speaking. Rumours that Saddam Hussein stole away my significant other are totally unfounded.
This is Fred Phelps speaking. Rumours that Saddam Hussein stole away my significant other are totally unfounded.
by Fearman November 26, 2007
Get the Fred Phelpsmug. 1. Slang for heroin.
2. Slang for a sexually attractive woman. Possible echo of whore.
3. An artificial frame of one kind or another, such as a clothes horse (used to hang clothes to dry) or a pommel horse (a sturdier structure used in gymnastics).
4. Slang for sex (a horse's body often seems to closely echo human sexual features, only considerably souped up; the shapely rump, the tapering legs, the long straight hair in the tail, the phallic head and neck, the often well-defined muscles ...,).
5. An animal that, whatever about looking erotic, would be a lot more pleasant if it were genetically engineered not to be so flipping neurotic, and maybe to smell like oranges, or perhaps fresh mint, rather than shit and stale sweat.
2. Slang for a sexually attractive woman. Possible echo of whore.
3. An artificial frame of one kind or another, such as a clothes horse (used to hang clothes to dry) or a pommel horse (a sturdier structure used in gymnastics).
4. Slang for sex (a horse's body often seems to closely echo human sexual features, only considerably souped up; the shapely rump, the tapering legs, the long straight hair in the tail, the phallic head and neck, the often well-defined muscles ...,).
5. An animal that, whatever about looking erotic, would be a lot more pleasant if it were genetically engineered not to be so flipping neurotic, and maybe to smell like oranges, or perhaps fresh mint, rather than shit and stale sweat.
I want to mainline me some horse.
Is Lily a horse or is she just a filly?
He's not yet that good on the pommel horse.
I want some horse with Jenny tonight.
Bring the horses down to the green shed, there is hay for them there.
Is Lily a horse or is she just a filly?
He's not yet that good on the pommel horse.
I want some horse with Jenny tonight.
Bring the horses down to the green shed, there is hay for them there.
by Fearman March 06, 2008
Get the horsemug. Fallacious argument trotted out by religious believers, particularly in the Judeo-Christian tradition, in favour of belief in divinity. The argument goes as follows: you may either believe in God or not, and he may or may not actually exist. If you believe in him, it is irrelevant if he doesn't exist (and by extension there is no afterlife), while if he does you are offered a place in the light eternal. If you don't believe in him, then if you are right it is irrelevant to your metaphysical fate and if you are wrong you will go to Hell. Therefore you might as well believe in him ... what do you have to lose?
Leaving aside the pettiness the argument ascribes to a supposedly all-loving and all-powerful God who has supposedly gifted us with some of the finest intellects on the planet, the problem with the argument is that it ignores the fact that a life lived in the firm belief in a supernatural entity is likely to be different from one lived in the acceptance that there is no such being. Belief in God seldom comes on its own, but as part of the package offered by a formal religion. As such, it frequently involves the acceptance of taboos and fears that have nothing to do with the rational or the physical world, and that are liable to crush any hope that many people may have for happiness it what may well be the only life they will ever know. Arguably it is shameful to give over what are likely the finest minds to have evolved in billions of years of life on Earth to such malarkey. Furthermore, there is of course the small matter expounded by that great religious thinker, Homer J. Simpson, in the well-known Simpson Rebuttal.
Leaving aside the pettiness the argument ascribes to a supposedly all-loving and all-powerful God who has supposedly gifted us with some of the finest intellects on the planet, the problem with the argument is that it ignores the fact that a life lived in the firm belief in a supernatural entity is likely to be different from one lived in the acceptance that there is no such being. Belief in God seldom comes on its own, but as part of the package offered by a formal religion. As such, it frequently involves the acceptance of taboos and fears that have nothing to do with the rational or the physical world, and that are liable to crush any hope that many people may have for happiness it what may well be the only life they will ever know. Arguably it is shameful to give over what are likely the finest minds to have evolved in billions of years of life on Earth to such malarkey. Furthermore, there is of course the small matter expounded by that great religious thinker, Homer J. Simpson, in the well-known Simpson Rebuttal.
by Fearman February 23, 2008
Get the Pascal's Wagermug. Fictitious mask company in the third instalment in the Hallowe'en franchise, "Season of the Witch" (the one without Mr. Myers). The masks are the colours of the Irish national flag (orange Jack-O-Lantern, white skull, green witch), and are made by a company in a weird all-Oirish town on the coast of California. On activation by a signal on the big night, the masks transform their (numerous) wearers' heads into so many divers creepy-crawlies. The Silver Shamrock company wins the booby prize for the most irritating television jingle ever inflicted on the world in fact or fiction; a countdown to the tune of "London Bridge is Falling Down", starting "(x) days to Hallowe'en, Hallowe'en, Hallowe'en". I had it in my head for WEEKS. The head of the company is played by an actor from Wexford, Ireland, and incidentally as far as I can tell is the only figure in the history of American horror films to pronounce Samhain correctly.
Four days left to Hallowe'en,
Hallowe'en, Hallowe'en,
Four more days to Hallowe'en,
Silver Shamrock!
Hallowe'en, Hallowe'en,
Four more days to Hallowe'en,
Silver Shamrock!
by Fearman February 10, 2008
Get the Silver Shamrockmug. Morbid irrational fear of biotechnology and/or its products. Endlessly incited by born-again hippie fundamentalists, who would prefer us all to live like Freddie Flintstone. From Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (an endlessly quoted popular reference) and the suffix -phobia.
Morning Flower is spreading her Frankenphobia around again, telling everyone genetically modified tomatoes are bad for their children.
When are these very very trendy people going to accept that Frankenphobia is soooooo yesterday?
When are these very very trendy people going to accept that Frankenphobia is soooooo yesterday?
by Fearman January 06, 2008
Get the Frankenphobiamug. Hick town or boghole in the backwoods of Ireland so dangerously rustic that you'd think some mad scientist had engineered the locals from a herd of Frisians. From H.G. Wells' Island of Dr. Moreau.
by Fearman March 04, 2008
Get the Ballymoreaumug. by Fearman February 02, 2008
Get the Venunmug.