Zone1 Zoroastrianism.

[expat500]

Don't care; most of his earliest mob was Jewish. Byzantine Christians were in control of Jerusalem at the time.

But l care. Hence my question.

 

[Innocynioc]

Arguing about religion is about as productive as dancing about architecture.

 

[zaangalewa]

DudleySmith

What's wrong with you, anti-Semite and atheist? Why do you try to laugh yourselve to death?

 

[BackAgain]

The "duality" faced by human existence is illusion. We have to live with is as if it were "fact", yet it is essentially merely a product of how our perceptions and consciousness operate. This is what makes it so hard for those such as Jesus and Buddha to communicate a transcendent message to us. Our attachment to words, and especially nouns, combined with our self-limited intellect keep us in suffering when we could be free.

If u granulate last in yer class at metaphysician school but sufficient to get yer degree, ya’ll know whut they call ya?

Yep. “Blithering.”

Of course, same goes for first in the class.

 

[BackAgain]

And remember boys and girls:

If you have a zorastro, well, kids, you’ve been up to some naughty stuff.

Admit it.

 

[CarlinAnnArbor]

The late Freddie Mercury is the most prominent member of this faith in the modern era.

The guy who died of AIDS?

 

[BackAgain]

The guy who died of AIDS?

Lol

Yeah Carl.

The gay Zoroastrian. That one.

A/k/a: the Gay Blade.

 

[irosie91]

Since when is Zoroastrianism monotheistic? Ahura Mazda is the creator god who made the spiritual and the material world. He is the most mighty Ahura. I guess Ahura is a kind of word as is used today in the word "intelligence" when we speak about ET's. He is the god of the "arya" - what has from my point of view absolutelly nothing to with hypothetic nation of people called "Aryans" - or any other nonsnense whihc we say today abiotu Aryans. Ahura Mazda is just simel the god of the "pure" of the "clean", "clear", "good". Of the people who follow the Holy Ghost. His counterpart is Angra Maynu - the destroyer. An evil character.

ok ok ----it's monotheistic enough ---the jews who were escaping the stink of islamic conquest in Iraq----fled to BOMBAY INDIA where they found refuge with the PARSEES That community in Bombay (now mumbai) still manages. In islamic Iran the Parsees are an oppressed minority

 

[zaangalewa]

Arguing about religion is about as productive as dancing about architecture.

An SS-soldier took two prisoners and gave them the order to dig a grave. After they had done so he said to one of them to lie down in the grave and he gave the other one the order to shovel up the grave. This one refused to do so. So he said to the one in the grave to leave the grave and gave the recalcitrant the order to lie down in the grave. And then he said to the other one. "Shovel up". He did do so.

I do not think this story really had happened - (but perhaps it also had happened 2000 years ago under the Romans) - nevertheless I hope I will have the inner god given strength not to be the one who buries someone alive. God might give everyone the strength to resist in people who are doing such things.

Are you really sure you are right with this comparison? It's by the way a wonderful idea to dance about architecture.

 

[zaangalewa]

ok ok ----it's monotheistic enough ---the jews who were escaping the stink of islamic conquest in Iraq----fled to BOMBAY INDIA where they found refuge with the PARSEES That community in Bombay (now mumbai) still manages. In islamic Iran the Parsees are an oppressed minority

May I ask what you like to say to me with this comparison? Specially: What means "monotheistic enough"?


(Frigg is sometimes also called Freya; "Friday" means "Friggs day")

 

[there4eyeM]

An SS-soldier took two prisoners and gave them the order to dig a grave. After they had done so he said to one of them to lie down in the grave and he gave the other one the order to shovel up the grave. This one refused to do so. So he said to the one in the grave to leave the grave and gave the recalcitrant the order to lie down in the grave. And then he said to the other one. "Shovel up". He did do so.

I do not think this story really had happened - (but perhaps it also had happened 2000 years ago under the Romans) - nevertheless I hope I will have the inner god given strength not to be the one who buries someone alive. God might give everyone the strength to resist in people who are doing such things.

Are you really sure you are right with this comparison? It's by the way a wonderful idea to dance about architecture.

Should have applied the shovel to the back of the SS's head.

 

[zaangalewa]

Should have applied the shovel to the back of the SS's head.

Sure, you're too lazy and cowardly to think about something as unpleasant as reality - but you're the ultimate superhero. Be happy in your comic world, decal.



Translation:

Another night, one of far too many
In which once again sleep will not come
And, as so often before, you are drawn against your will
Into the dark streets without a specific destination
And carelessly, as if it were a ball of paper
With your feet you push a dead pigeon in front of you
The girls stand waiting on the wall by the railway
They know you and haven't spoken to you for a long time
The man there stays deep in the shadows, pretending to read
And only dares to come out when your footsteps have faded away

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they don't hide their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offence

And in every bar at night you see on your way
Many strange men, full glasses in their hands
They don't want to lay their heads on the grease spot
Which, above every shabby hotel bed, on the wall
From the heads of many hundreds of other men
Who lay here before them and how they were condemned
To drink that the barmaid speaks a word to them
With whom they would never show themselves, not in daylight
She knows that too, without revealing it
But surely she won't let any of them into her bed

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they don't hide their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offence

And at the urinal, where the hustlers wait again
Under bushes and trees you've never seen so dark
You turn round again and avoid this garden
Because you still have an image in your mind's eye from before
The gay old man, early in the morning in the pansy patch
His head smashed in and turned on his stomach
His brains sucked up by the flowers during the night
He lay there without trousers, all skinny and exhausted
From a life of misery, like his death so grey
And his toupee still hung in the thorn bush, wet with blood and dew

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they don't hide their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offence

Even in the waiting room, drunken men are dozing now
Talking to themselves, always the same sentence
You too sit down at the table with that wormwood bum
He finds his warm place here every night
Fresh scars, days-old dirt almost cover
On his wrist the tattoo from prison
Slumped over on the table, like most here
His head in a pool of red wine, snot and beer
You wonder how he can sleep so bent, bent and crooked
Can still sleep and you envy him for it

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they don't hide their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offence

You sit there and gradually start to dream yourself
See yourself as a sick pigeon that barely moves
Far from the air and the sun and the tall trees
Lying down to die in the air shaft of a house
And from the dreary window holes above your grave
Sputum and stench fall down on you all the time
Noises you hear as your life force ebbs away
Of which rattling, spitting, swearing are not the worst
But high above you, you can see a bright square
A piece of heaven, a piece of hope, you're already moving your toes
Stand up, flap your wings and wake up trying to
To fight your way up to the spot that is called life for you
Which only looks like an often-used handkerchief

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they don't hide their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offence

 

[there4eyeM]

Sure, you're too lazy and cowardly to think about something as unpleasant as reality - but you're the ultimate superhero. Be happy in your comic world, decal.



Translation:

Another night, one of far too many
In which once again sleep will not come
And, as so often before, you are drawn against your will
Into the dark streets without a specific destination
And carelessly, as if it were a ball of paper
With your feet you push a dead pigeon in front of you
The girls stand waiting on the wall by the railway
They know you and haven't spoken to you for a long time
The man there stays deep in the shadows, pretending to read
And only dares to come out when your footsteps have faded away

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they don't hide their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offence

And in every bar at night you see on your way
Many strange men, full glasses in their hands
They don't want to lay their heads on the grease spot
Which, above every shabby hotel bed, on the wall
From the heads of many hundreds of other men
Who lay here before them and how they were condemned
To drink that the barmaid speaks a word to them
With whom they would never show themselves, not in daylight
She knows that too, without revealing it
But surely she won't let any of them into her bed

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they don't hide their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offence

And at the urinal, where the hustlers wait again
Under bushes and trees you've never seen so dark
You turn round again and avoid this garden
Because you still have an image in your mind's eye from before
The gay old man, early in the morning in the pansy patch
His head smashed in and turned on his stomach
His brains sucked up by the flowers during the night
He lay there without trousers, all skinny and exhausted
From a life of misery, like his death so grey
And his toupee still hung in the thorn bush, wet with blood and dew

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they don't hide their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offence

Even in the waiting room, drunken men are dozing now
Talking to themselves, always the same sentence
You too sit down at the table with that wormwood bum
He finds his warm place here every night
Fresh scars, days-old dirt almost cover
On his wrist the tattoo from prison
Slumped over on the table, like most here
His head in a pool of red wine, snot and beer
You wonder how he can sleep so bent, bent and crooked
Can still sleep and you envy him for it

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they don't hide their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offence

You sit there and gradually start to dream yourself
See yourself as a sick pigeon that barely moves
Far from the air and the sun and the tall trees
Lying down to die in the air shaft of a house
And from the dreary window holes above your grave
Sputum and stench fall down on you all the time
Noises you hear as your life force ebbs away
Of which rattling, spitting, swearing are not the worst
But high above you, you can see a bright square
A piece of heaven, a piece of hope, you're already moving your toes
Stand up, flap your wings and wake up trying to
To fight your way up to the spot that is called life for you
Which only looks like an often-used handkerchief

Some of those you meet here are like you, are alone
Some because they have no one, others want to be alone
And they don't look at you, feel their way past you
And yet they don't hide their mistrust, their fear
As if their loneliness were already an offence

It would be surprising to receive such a response until we take into account the source. From what you usually display, all your thinking is as mixed up as your English. Still, you provide comic relief to some of us here, so, "carry on", as the Brits say (it has a double-meaning in American English that you will surely not understand).

 

[DudleySmith]

But l care. Hence my question.

Why an I not getting alerts when my posts are quoted?

In any case, did anybody answer you?

 

[expat500]

Why an I not getting alerts when my posts are quoted?

In any case, did anybody answer you?

Don’t know. Don’t really care.

 

[there4eyeM]

The Jews asked Prophet Muhammad 3 questions. What were they?

Having looked for these and seeing the resulting information, your intent an asking is enigmatic. There seems to be no resolution of the matter. In any case, a genuine prophet is clearly defined in the Bible. It is not clear that those conditions are met in the originator of Islam.

 

[irosie91]

May I ask what you like to say to me with this comparison? Specially: What means "monotheistic enough"?


(Frigg is sometimes also called Freya; "Friday" means "Friggs day")

the Parsees do a kind of DUALISM. I am no expert---but I think it has to do with a "god" of evil or darkness and a "god" of good or light. AND that's about all I know. INTERESTINGLY---there was a religious argument between
jews and parsees BACK IN THE DAY. HOWEVER---today ---compared to the
situation between jews and muslims-----PARSEEES AND JEWS IS OK. uhm---notice to Iranian Parseees ---COME TO ISRAEL

 

[zaangalewa]

It would be surprising to receive such a response until we take into account the source. From what you usually display, all your thinking is as mixed up as your English. Still, you provide comic relief to some of us here, so, "carry on", as the Brits say (it has a double-meaning in American English that you will surely not understand).

If you have not any idea what you try to speak about - why do you try to do it at all? Christians normally know something about paradoxes of the own religion but atheists like you do not even like to see that they only believe not to believe.

 

[zaangalewa]

... Don’t really care. ...

 

[zaangalewa]

The Jews asked Prophet Muhammad 3 questions. What were they?

Counterquestion: Why do you not just simple say what had been this three questions and in which historical context this had been?