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For Love of Tender Recondity
- snaars
- Cognoscension, MY, United States
- If it can be spoken, then it is not the true snaars. Snaars should not be mistaken for his mortal alter-ego, snaars. This earthly manifestation of snaars - or snaarsissistic prophet, if you will - is a rather unambitious thirtysomething recent college graduate with a bachelor's degree in philosophy and a minor in religious studies. A devoted husband, and father of three beautiful snaars daughters, Snaars blogs about his life, his times, his family, favorite song lyrics, nonsense, wisdom, atheism, metaphysics, science, rationality, and the snaars. Snaars likes to remove old words from the back of the cupboard, polish them up, and display them in fresh ways. Feel free to expand the horizons of discourse, because snaars has ever-unplumbed depths of mutifacetedness. And humility. (If only the world knew the perplexity of my condition, for Snaars could be so easily consumed by vanity!)
La lettre d'écarlate de l'athéisme, snaarsassiste
TCPS
UCS
Iraq war web sites
Cost of the War in Iraq
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2 comments:
I'm making the same expression as that ape in your photo. I cover my eyes and count to ten. I look again … No, it can't be, it's still there!
I like the new consciousness-raising template.
Are you in a new apartment? Are your in-laws still speaking to you? Can we look forward to several posts per day from now on?
Think about snaars do. Worry about the snaars do not.
We have moved and are settling in to the new apartment. We have too many boxes and not enough furniture.
The girls have been sick. Michelle has it the worst. We were up most of the night because she is feverish and throwing up. I am feeling fine so far.
The in-laws are speaking to us, yes. They said that they are still getting our mail, and could we please give the post office our forwarding address?
We love the new apartment. It's smaller than the house in Louisiana, but it's a lot bigger than the bedroom were living in!
The neighbors are great. One little boy about Havilah's age greeted us while we were unloading the truck. So, the kids were playing. I asked him his name and he answered, "Stephen. What's yours?"
"Mr. Snaars," I replied.
"Chk! That's weird," he says.
I like this kid already.
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