Um, that is *clearly* two cherubim alighting upon the Sacred Sceptre (ahem), and greedily sucking up their fill of Holy Essence (double-ahem) from the Blessed Font of Sticky Goodness (triple-ahem), which they then use as digestive input to produce their Copious Effusion of Godly Flatulence, which, as you know, is how they propel themselves around the planes of existence, flitting about like little gaseous hummingbird-zeppelins, spewing gaseous (and occasional semi-liquid) propellant rearward, leaving a distinctive and odious etheric snail trail whither they go.
Hey, it's weird, but who am I to question the inscrutable ways of God?
[edit: ...and besides, who can say that they truly eff the ineffable?]
Clearly, you have a combination of sex-on-the-brain (Cherubic crazed nightmare-rabbitpelviclingus? I did NOT need that visual...) and diaper-on-the-brain. Which is better than diaper-on-your-head.
So, are you saying that pelviclingus is an aid to levitation? Somewhat akin to "thinking happy thoughts"? I'll be damned if I can ever remember thinking unhappy thoughts during...ahem.
'Course, that would change if I was ever threatened with "Puttolingus"...ugh.
Well, I point out that the one (sex on the brain) often naturally leads to the other (diaper on the brain). Case in point, my own wee little cherub (who has not yet shown signs of levitation, though his gaseous emissions, pound for pound, are, I dare say, hugely prodigious, and do seem at times to be heading in the direction of enabling vertical propulsion sufficient to achieve suborbital flight, if not low earth orbit)
Certainly, happy thoughts are all well and good (indeed), but the outgassing portion of the cherubic motivation seems somewhat more akin to "whistling a happy tune," though one not produced by the mouth, as it were. Let's see Disney take THAT one on...
And, hmm, your terminal comment reminds me of a rather awful variant on Vogon poetry... "Ode to a Lumpy Green Putti I Found In My (ahem) One Midsummer Morning" Yeesh.
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Besides, now I can't stand up.
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Sticky Goodness (triple-ahem), which they then use as digestive input to produce their Copious Effusion of Godly Flatulence, which, as you know, is how they propel themselves around the planes of existence, flitting about like little gaseous hummingbird-zeppelins, spewing gaseous (and occasional semi-liquid) propellant rearward, leaving a distinctive and odious etheric snail trail whither they go.
Hey, it's weird, but who am I to question the inscrutable ways of God?
[edit: ...and besides, who can say that they truly eff the ineffable?]
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(*boggle*)
We all begged you to get help, Rick.
Clearly, you have a combination of sex-on-the-brain (Cherubic crazed nightmare-rabbitpelviclingus? I did NOT need that visual...) and diaper-on-the-brain. Which is better than diaper-on-your-head.
So, are you saying that pelviclingus is an aid to levitation? Somewhat akin to "thinking happy thoughts"? I'll be damned if I can ever remember thinking unhappy thoughts during...ahem.
'Course, that would change if I was ever threatened with "Puttolingus"...ugh.
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Certainly, happy thoughts are all well and good (indeed), but the outgassing portion of the cherubic motivation seems somewhat more akin to "whistling a happy tune," though one not produced by the mouth, as it were. Let's see Disney take THAT one on...
And, hmm, your terminal comment reminds me of a rather awful variant on Vogon poetry... "Ode to a Lumpy Green Putti I Found In My (ahem) One Midsummer Morning" Yeesh.
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