Pastafarian Parables

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Pastafarian Parables

Postby Edd on Thu Sep 04, 2008 12:45 pm

First Letter From Edd to the Forum Members

One day a man entered a strip joint and sat at a back table. Verily, he did order his minimum of drinks, which numbered two. He sat, expressionless, staring at the strippers, without tipping, without beckoning them over. And, yea, did the strippers avoid him and call him ‘creepy.’

All night, the creepy patron did sit and stare. The strippers whispered amongst themselves about the body parts he most likely concealeth in a freezer.

But, lo, one stripper did become intoxicated and became much too physical with all the customers. Her coworkers did liken her unto a prostitute and were embarrassed on her behalf. She danced provocatively, yet clumsily, eliciting not tips but pity.



Behold, On this day I issue a challenge to unrepentant lurkers: Be not like the creepy patron, staring without participating. Lurk until you have become familiar with these forums, then participate. But do not become like the drunken stripper; remember to post with civility, consideration of others, and make a sincere attempt to verify your contribution is intelligible and interesting and not repetitive.

Respect the seriousness of the serious threads and the silliness of the humorous threads, for is not The Flying Spaghetti Monster composed of many noodly appendages, each as omniscient and omnipotent as the next? So it is with the forums.

May The FSM guide your hands over your keyboard while protecting it from beverages.

RAmen
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby Henriksson on Thu Sep 04, 2008 4:03 pm

Whenever I get to a new forum I either become a creepy patron or a clumsy stripper, seldom anything in between. Thanks for your wisdom, enlightened one.
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby Edd on Wed Sep 10, 2008 1:13 pm

Second Letter From Edd to the Forum Members


One day an elderly couple gathered their four children, two sons and two daughters, together for a serious discussion. When all were present they asked, ‘What are your views regarding the afterlife, religion, or spirituality in general?’

Now, it was known that the couple was in the process of drawing up their Last Will and Testament. Over the years, their wealth had grown to an envious amount. The children felt that their inheritance might be influenced by their responses.

But they were strong, independent thinkers and they all knew that their parents respected honesty, so each child resolved to speak the truth, no matter what the consequences.

The eldest son spoke up first: ‘Mother, Father, I have never hidden my feelings on this matter; I proudly consider myself an atheist. All observable evidence supports the idea of a universe capable of running itself without the benefit of a guiding or creative hand. And every god that I have ever heard of seems more likely to be wishful thinking, fable, or myth. When supportable evidence is presented that indicates otherwise, I will reconsider my position, but until then, I will look to science to answer all my questions and solve all my problems.’

The oldest daughter responded next: ‘I respect my brother’s opinion but I cannot commit to such an inflexible attitude. I agree that no evidence can be shown to prove a god’s existence but no evidence can be shown proving a god’s non-existence, either. Without proof, reasonable doubt must prevail. The world is full of many wondrous things in an arguably infinite amount of space; to say with conviction that something cannot exist is indicative of hubris.’


Without responding, the parents looked to the next son. ‘I have not been shy in regard to my faith, either,’ he laughed. ‘Anyone who would like to hear how I decided that the path I have chosen is the true path to enlightenment I will gladly regale. Come to me with an open mind and the truth shall reveal itself to you. Worry not about insulting me, my conviction is based upon a power higher than anything of this world.’

All eyes turned to the youngest daughter. She sighed, took a deep breath and drew herself up, as if expecting an attack. ‘Mother and Father, I love you very much, but you ask a question I find difficult to answer. My beliefs are of a personal and private nature; so much so that it is painful to bring myself to express them, even to you. I beg you, judge me by my actions, not my motives. Do I not endeavor to help others and not harm them? Am I not compassionate? Have you found me to be cruel in any way? What difference does it make what thoughts lie in my mind if my behavior is commendable? Any views I have should be considered as valid as the others, no matter what they are. Leave me out of your will if you must, but that is my final response.’

The parents exchanged a shocked look. ‘Leave you out of our will?!’ they exclaimed. ‘We were merely curious! Our will is already complete. You will all get an equal share of the estate, regardless of your views. We love you all equally. Silly children, we only want you to feel comfortable discussing any and all topics with us.’


Verily the elderly couple had much of the FSM within them, for they understood that each of their children felt strongly concerning their respective viewpoints and not one was deserving of punishment or disregard. When the sad day arrived and each heir received their one fifth share of their parents’ estate, they felt proud to carry on the legacy of tolerance and respect.

(And yes, the four children each received one fifth of the inheritance; the remaining portion was split amongst the household pets. Unfortunately, the parents shared another trait of the FSM and were frequently intoxicated.)

May you identify more with the parents of this parable than one of the children (except for the ‘frequently intoxicated’ part).

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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby Edd on Wed Sep 24, 2008 12:57 pm

First Letter From Edd to the Slackers


One day, the Great Pirate Solomon summoned his two sons and set them a challenge.

‘I require 10, 000 cubits of pasta, brought from the farthest, most inaccessible port in China. Whosoever provideth the pasta first will be rewarded with one of my finest asses.’

Now, the Pirate Solomon was heralded far and wide as a breeder of amazing pack animals. Each of his donkeys was worth its weight in gold and could carry enough dry pasta to feed an army. It was rumored that twin donkeys had been born recently, however, that could carry ten times the weight of the next strongest animal and were so intelligent that training them took little effort.

The two brothers rushed to the shipyard to set sail.

The first son did a quick inspection of his ship and set forth almost immediately even though he had several leaks calling for attention. ‘I dare not spend time and money on repairs,’ thought the pirate prince. ‘A quick coating of pitch will do the job.’

He launched with a raggedy crew comprised of as many loiterers from the docks as he could bribe with a promise of easy money and began to take on water almost instantly. He and his men bailed to no avail and had to return after only a few hours.

Meanwhile, the other son was patching up his ship with superior materials while he waited for the men he had invited along on his expedition. When the eldest returned he was gladdened to see that his brother had not yet put out to sea. Reluctantly and hurriedly he managed to get his ship in adequate shape for his voyage pausing only to shanghai more men to man the oars just as his brother unfurled his sails.

The bandit brothers sailed for weeks; first one would be in the lead, then the other. The eldest had rowers to supplement the wind, but many had to be put to work bailing water and mending the leaks that continued to appear due to his rushed and shoddy work. And his sails were in pitiful shape compared to the younger brother’s. In the end, the bedraggled boat pulled into the Chinese harbor only half a day ahead of the other.

With as much haste as he could manage, the eldest pirate acquired the necessary pasta. He stole what he could but was forced to sell some of his men into slavery to purchase the rest (there had been talk of mutiny, in any case). Tired, hungry, and running from Chinese guards, the eldest set out on his return trip just as his brother’s boat appeared over the horizon. He laughed to himself and tried to cheer up his crew: ‘Before long, men, I shall posses one of my father’s greatest treasures and you will be rewarded handsomely!’

While the first ship creeped its way homeward despite the best efforts of the first mate to drive the rowers to superhuman lengths, the second son docked and began negotiations with the Chinese Keepers of the Pasta.



Many days later, a messenger ran up to the Great Pirate Solomon crying, ‘My lord, your son has returned!’

‘Escort him here so that I may reward him.’

‘And your other son, sire? His ship has been spotted also.’

‘Ah. Bring them both before me and my two prize animals, as well.’

And so it was that both sons of the infamous pirate Solomon were presented to their father; one dirty, unkempt, and wild-eyed, the other, calm, confident, and standing tall. ‘Have you both brought the consecrated carbohydrates?’ asked their father. The sons stood aside so that he might view the mounds of spaghetti, tortellini, fettuccine, fusilli, and ziti that had been piled behind them.

The stacks of foodstuffs were as different as the brothers. One was clean, neat, and easily over 10,000 cubits with such an aroma many in the room would have sworn it was fresh even knowing that it had been brought from China. The other was rotting, full of insects, and much less. ‘Who was the first to arrive?’ asked the Great Pirate Solomon, giving a disgusted look as a rat ran out of the smaller pile.

‘I was, father!’ cried the eldest. ‘And I am here to claim my prize of your greatest donkey, as you promised.’

‘With that?’ He gestured toward the putrid pile of pasta. ‘Record-keeper, how many cubits is it?’

‘Five thousand, my lord,’ the scribe replied, reading the measurements scrawled in his notes.

‘And my other son’s offering?’

‘Twelve thousand cubits.’

‘I have decided,’ boomed the brigand. ‘You, my eldest son, have not fulfilled the requirements I set before you, so the animal goes to your brother.’

‘Do I get nothing for my efforts?!’ whined the loser as he watched his sibling lead the great beast out of the chamber and the servants packed away the pasta. ‘I spent time, money, and effort at great personal risk to bring this back!’

Visibly angry, his father stood up and proclaimed, ‘You believe you deserve recompense?! Very well. Since you have done a half-ass job, you will receive half an ass!’

The Great Pirate Solomon grabbed his ceremonial scimitar and struck his remaining donkey, cleaving it in two.

‘Now get your ass out of here! And someone clean up all this blood and guts, it’s grossing me out.’


So, remember this story when you are tempted to cut corners in your work, be it personal, occupational, or otherwise. Taking pride in your endeavors makes a world of difference and is well worth the effort.

RAmen
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby Edd on Mon Oct 13, 2008 3:43 pm

First Letter From Edd to the Partiers

On the day designated for celebration by the FSM, which is today, three wenches held parties for their respective friends and family.


The first wench obsessed over every guest’s likes and dislikes, desperately trying to ensure that everyone had the most magnificent time possible. She spent more money than she could afford and was in a constant state of panic over how the party might go. Her significant other was forced to the local pub to seek the relative peace and quiet of the afternoon brawl.

On the night of the first wench’s party, nothing went as planned. The non-vegetarians ate all the meatless hors’ d’oeuvres before the vegetarians even arrived. The band refused to play the medley of songs she requested and ended up getting drunk and hitting on her teenage nieces. She tried to compensate for the seeming lack of conversation between her guests by flitting from group to group pointing out their mutual hobbies and acquaintances, but inevitably ended up interrupting at least a few interesting discussions. In the end, everyone left well before midnight, which is the sure sign of an unsuccessful party. The first wench spent the rest of the night cleaning up, wondering what she might have done differently.


The second wench only worried about one person – her mother-in-law. The décor was done in the style of her youth, the food was all of her favorites, and there was no loud music since she had ‘delicate sensibilities.’ The hag, I mean mother-in-law, arrived early and left early, seemingly in good spirits, and the rest of the guests ordered pizza and brought out a radio to make the best of the rest of the night.

The next day, the second wench felt bad that her friends had been forced to entertain themselves but was satisfied that at least she had impressed the one she had set out to. Then, she spoke to her sister-in-law.

It seems that the old woman had immediately began criticizing everything the wench had done the moment she had walked out of her house. She complained about the food, the neighbors, the class of friends invited, the furniture, and the hostess’ outfit. The second wench broke into tears, despairing of ever pleasing the woman.


The third wench threw a party based on a theme she and her pirate decided upon. Invitations went out to all she wanted to attend and none to those she did not. She was considerate of known food allergies, but otherwise did not cater to any particular taste other than her own. Music was a selection of their favorites from their personal collection with the local kids’ garage band allowed to jam for an hour. The good grog ran out early, but they made do with what could be obtained from the neighbors’ still. When her uncle got drunk and tried to start a fight with her boss, she sent him to the guest bedroom to sleep and laughed about it with her employer.

As the third wench and her pirate said good-bye to the last guest, with the sun’s rays peaking over the horizon, she was content, knowing that the majority of her friends and family had had a good time, but more importantly, she and her pirate had enjoyed themselves the most.



To thine own self be true because even the best laid plans go awry. It is not possible to please everyone, all the time, so do not forget to include your own desires in your plans.

Party on, dude

Ramen
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby Angel-Hair Archmage on Wed Oct 22, 2008 2:17 am

good stories we should publish in another bible of FSM, maybe the New Pastament?
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby Pesto on Fri Dec 26, 2008 4:30 pm

This stuff should definitely be included in a loose-canon wiki if one is made.
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby Edd on Sat Jan 17, 2009 1:11 pm

First Letter From Edd to the Infallible


The owner of an upscale Italian restaurant decided to implement an incentive program for his wait staff based on customer surveys. Some employees grumbled and some looked forward to the opportunity to make some extra money.

When the survey results began coming back in, the proprietor concentrated on the remarks made about his two best evening waiters who handled the most guests and the most expensive meals. At first, the comments were mixed. Each waiter received both praise and criticisms from customers. The owner called both of them into his office for a meeting.

‘One of the most common complaints was slow and inadequate attention from servers,’ he said. ‘I want both of you to work on that before I start handing out cash. If I see significant improvement, you’ll be compensated handsomely.’

The first waiter replied, ‘Yes, sir,’ and went back to work while the other stayed behind. ‘Boss,’ he said, ‘those people are crazy! I bust my ass every night filling tea and wine glasses and bread baskets and rushing to take care of their every need. You need to get after the kitchen; it’s their fault the orders aren’t ready sooner.’

‘Hmmm, you may be right. I’ll look into it, but try anyway.’

The next night, the employer called the two waiters back into his office. ‘Guys, we have a serious problem. Two customers were served the wrong dishes last night. They were both Pastafarians and those people really know their vermicelli! One ordered spaghetti with American marinara sauce and he was served angel hair with Italian marinara and the other was served ravioli instead of pierogi! Thank the FSM neither took offense at the ‘angel’ hair or was allergic to seafood. I convinced them to come back next week but, since I only spoke to them over the phone, I don’t know what they look like and they might come in incognito, so you have to be at the top of your game.’

Again, the first waiter replied, ‘Yes, boss,’ and rushed out, but the second remained.

‘You don’t really think I can’t tell the difference between those dishes even if I am rushing around from table to table, do you? Pastafarians or not, I don’t make those kind of mistakes.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said his employer. ‘Just make sure it doesn’t happen again the next few nights.’

A few days later, the proprietor was tallying surveys at his desk when he heard a crash out in the dining area. ‘Oh, no,’ he groaned as he sprinted out. When he burst out the ‘In’ door he saw his two evening waiters and a table full of guests covered in red wine and pesto. The first waiter was picking up silverware and plates while apologizing to the customers. The second was arguing with one of them, claiming that he was not at fault because someone seated at that table had spilled water, causing him to slip and fall. As the owner hurried to intervene, the waiter yelled, ‘I quit!’ and stalked out.

Much later, after closing, the first waiter went to speak to his employer. ‘Rough day, huh, Boss?’

‘Definitely. By the way, thanks for staying calm and helping out. And your surveys have improved remarkably, even though they weren’t too shabby to begin with. I’ll get your bonus to you as soon as I pay for cleaning, or possibly replacing, the clothes that were ruined tonight.’

‘No worries. My tips have gotten a lot better lately. I’ve been paying more attention to my tables and learning the subtle differences and nuances of the dishes on our menu and the customers really notice and appreciate it. Thanks for the constructive criticism.’


So remember, humility is a virtue, pleasing to the FSM and those around you. It will help you recognize the areas where you need the most work, which, in turn, will open up more opportunities for you. Hubris was the downfall of many a tragic hero and even the FSM stumbles when he’s had one too many.

(And don't forget to tip your server)


RAmen
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby Almighty Doer of Stuff on Wed Jan 21, 2009 1:42 pm

AAARRRRRGGH! Edd, yer parables 'ave touched me heart an' renewed me faith! They be the best parables Oi've ever heard, much better than any o' the parables Oi've heard from me first religion! Ramen! :fsm:

If an' when we 'ave enough parables, methinks a printable book should be put together (perhaps as a PDF) wit' some fancy art around the edges and a cover, an' maybe some other useful scripture loik the Not Commandments, Suggestions, an' submitted to the Materials o' the main site. Oi'd volunteer if Oi knew how to make a PDF without payin' for some proprietary software.
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby pieces o'nine on Thu Jan 22, 2009 2:27 am

Verily, it came to pass that my eyes fell upon this thread, and lo, it was as though scales fell from them (or at least the one without the patch), and my blood was warmed, and my bowels were moved (although not in a socially embarassing way), and the words of truth writ herein took root in mine heart and blossomed, bearing much good fruit.

And yea, though I was sore afflicted by the demons of envy and covetousness at beholding the wit and wisdom of my brother, Edd, I did repent of my sin and humbled myself before his annointed teaching. And lo, it was very good.

Ramen.
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby Edd on Thu Jan 22, 2009 10:13 am

Arrgh, thank ye all for your kind praise. *blushing*

Please, feel free to add your own parables! I’ll continue to lead by example as long as the creative juices flow.
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby black bart on Thu Jan 22, 2009 10:21 am

The Parable of the Ten Wenches

And lo there came a Pirate from the West of Esher who’s name was ‘Walktheplank’ and his hair groweth not. But verily he placed a wyge upon his barren head and went forth to speak unto the people.

When many people had gathered before him they were filled with awe at his flowing locks and verily they asked for a tale to sooth their earthly woes. Then Walktheplank spoke in a voice full of pathos, some would say it was pathetic, and the many sat down and listened as one.

And lo the Pirate did tell them the Long Winded Parable of the Ten Wenches. These ten wenches went down to the docks to meet a pirate shype which had lately come to dock. Five of these wenches were foolish and five were slightly less foolish and all of the wenches were drunk and verily they fell asleep.

And as they slept upon the dock the Captain and his men did gaze down upon the wenches and the Captain spake: He that can tell me which of these wenches are the foolish ones and which are the less foolish shall have the first choice thereof. And the shype’s carpenter did say: “My captain, the first 5 wenches on the left are the foolish ones for it is a chilly windy night I have observed that they have forgotten their undies.

The Captain was true to his word and verily the shype’s carpenter did choose there of the 5 foolish wenches for he liketh what he saweth.

And at the end of this sermon the multitude did rise up and asketh Walktheplank:

What meaneth this parable? For verily we hath fallen asleep half way through.

And the Pirate rose up in great anger and smote the multitude saying: Payeth attention next time ye blaggards!
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby Almighty Doer of Stuff on Thu Jan 22, 2009 8:38 pm

Arr, well... That one ain't quite as touchin', but it is... interesting? Is the part about Walktheplank part of the parable? Otherwise I can't say I'm in any better a position than Walktheplank's audience after reading that parable... :?
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby black bart on Fri Jan 23, 2009 5:36 am

Almighty Doer of Stuff wrote:Arr, well... That one ain't quite as touchin', but it is... interesting? Is the part about Walktheplank part of the parable? Otherwise I can't say I'm in any better a position than Walktheplank's audience after reading that parable... :?


*sigh*

Give me a break. That was my first ever parable. I bet Jesus started off with completely rubbish ones. Maybe I should stick to being a Leper. :?
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Re: Pastafarian Parables

Postby Edd on Fri Jan 23, 2009 12:38 pm

black bart wrote:
Almighty Doer of Stuff wrote:Arr, well... That one ain't quite as touchin', but it is... interesting? Is the part about Walktheplank part of the parable? Otherwise I can't say I'm in any better a position than Walktheplank's audience after reading that parable... :?


*sigh*

Give me a break. That was my first ever parable. I bet Jesus started off with completely rubbish ones. Maybe I should stick to being a Leper. :?

I don't know, Bart, I thought it was pretty good. It was confusing so it must have been full of deep philosophical meaning and it it was thought provoking - mostly provoking thoughts of wenches without undies.
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