17 November 2017

The Sin of Judge Roy Moore

16 November 2017: Two more women have come forward to accuse Roy Moore of sexual assault. They join a growing list of women who have alleged sexual misconduct by Moore, a former judge seeking to fill the Alabama Senate seat vacated by the US attorney general, Jeff Sessions. The controversy has roiled the Senate race one month before the state’s special election, with top Republicans in Washington calling on the embattled candidate to drop out of the race. The scandal began when the Washington Post reported that Leigh Corfman said that when she was 14 in 1979, Moore kissed and touched her and made her touch his crotch. Beverly Young Nelson then came forward to claim Moore physically attacked her in a car when she was 16, grabbing her breasts and trying to force her head down on to his crotch. A Washington Post report published late on Wednesday detailed the accounts of Becky Gray and Gena Richardson, who in the late 1970s worked at the same mall from which Moore was rumored to have been banned after local talk that he had been bothering young women there. Moore’s campaign did not address the new allegations, but has vehemently denied the claims made by his other accusers, and told TV talking head Sean Hannity 'I don't ever remember dating any girl without permission from her mother.'  Mr. Moore has long courted controversy, making incendiary comments about gays, Islam and race, and portraying himself as a defender of Christianity under siege in America.

Nobody has yet claimed Roy Moore forced his adult cock into unwilling jail-bait pussy, or pried open barely legal thighs to commit unsolicited cunnilingus--no, the allegations seem to top out at the level of *mall creeper.*  Moore was a thirty-something nerd loitering in the malls of Gadsden, Alabama, pestering junior high and high school girls.  In today's malls, with today's technologies, Moore probably would have been snatching up-skirt shots of teen snatch with a cell phone, but back in his day, Moore had to actually try to *sweet talk* Dixie Lolitas into car rides and movie dates where he could then fumble his way through his awkward molestations:

From The Life and Times of Judge Roy Moore:
Roy picked her up around the corner from her house in Gadsden, drove her about 30 minutes to his home in the woods, told her how pretty she was and kissed her. On a second visit, she says, he took off her shirt and pants and removed his clothes. He touched her over her bra and underpants, she says, and guided her hand to touch him over his underwear.

Moore denies these amateurish sex crimes, which probably ended with him shifting uncomfortably in his own sticky underpants, but in these cases of *they said/he said,* the single biggest proof of Moore's guilt may be his own marriage certificate. At age 38, Moore married a 24 year old, thus offering concrete evidence the thirty-something Moore did, indeed, have a taste for the young stuff.

Not to dismiss the anguish the mall creeper caused his victims, but in the Grand Cosmic Scheme, Moore has a bigger sin choking his soul. . .

Moore is, at best, a self-proclaimed Christian, and views his political ministry as sanctioned by God. This is why Moore will not confess his mall creeping ways. Moore sees himself as the victim, persecuted as Jesus said His followers would.

Sin is missing the mark God sets for us. And Roy Moore as self-proclaimed Christian has missed the mark much more badly in presenting the gospel of Jesus Christ than he ever did when groping at a little girl's panties.

Jesus said "My Kingdom is not of this world." The ways of the Kingdom and the ways of the world are in opposition. Jesus came to call people out of the world and into His Kingdom, but Roy Moore tries to drag Jesus from the Kingdom into the world. His political platform is nothing but the heresy of dominionism. In fact, Moore is the kind of bewitcher Paul warns about in Galatians. Roy Moore, dragging his 10 Commandments wherever he goes, would put the stony heart of the law back into Christianity and have men justified by the law rather than the faith of Christ. And that's a damnable heresy:

But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed. As we said before, so say I now again, If any man preach any other gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed.


When we look upon Roy Moore we see one who loves the praise of man more than the praise of God. Moore uses his false doctrine to seduce brain-dead Christians into giving him a seat of authority in the world.

Roy Moore can't do a God damn thing for the Kingdom from the U.S. Senate. . .anybody who believes Christianity can be advanced through legislation is a fool, and doesn't know the first thing about Christian doctrine. The Law that Roy Moore drags around was set aside by Jesus and replaced by the Sermon on the Mount. The Law that Roy Moore drags around was a dead stone that could be circumvented by the wicked midrash halacha. Indeed, when Roy Moore acquits himself of girl molesting, he sounds like nothing so much as a talmudic rabbi:

I don't remember ever dating any girl without the permission of her mother. . .

So even if Roy Moore did finger-fuck a fourteen-year-old or two, he asked mom first, so. . .it's all good.

But that kind of legal pussy hair-splitting can't be excused if one follows the Sermon on the Mount, which convicts man to his innermost heart:

Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: but I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.


That's why Jesus didn't come to save Israel from Rome, and it's why Jesus doesn't give a good God damn about saving the USA from whatever Roy Moore thinks it needs saving from. Jesus' mission, and it remains the church's mission, is to call repentant sinners into His Kingdom.

It is not the church's mission to call Jesus Law-Giver into the World, for if righteousness comes by the Law, then Jesus died for nothing.

Is Roy Moore a con man using his false gospel to fleece baby Christians, or just an idiot self-proclaimed Christian so blinded by dominionism he's lost his way? Unknown. But what is known is that Moore's Senate campaign and his desire to call Christ into the world is an act of vanity that should scandalize Christians, and the fact that no church leader has called for Moore to be delivered to Satan for the destruction of his flesh tells us the church is as pathetic in its mission as Moore was in his finger-fucking.

07 November 2017

Stranger Things, Season 2


Stranger Things, Season 2: There's such a huge drop-off from Season 1 to Season 2, I now wonder if Season 1 was actually any good?  Maybe if I went back and watched Season 1 again, I wouldn't overlook the things that bothered me about it (Winona Ryder's screeching acting, the mostly ugly cast, including the repulsively anorexic chick who played Nancy, the deliberately overly abstruse story meant to hide the fact even the writers didn't know what the Hell any of it meant)?  Was Season 1 really a decent spooky paranoid cosmic mystery unraveled by a mostly-amusing gang of nerdy D&D kids and loser adults?

The main problem with Season 2?  There is no mystery for the nerdy kids/loser adults/ugly cast to figure out, it's the Upside Down Redux, and since we already know, more-or-less, all we're ever gonna know about the Upside Down, the writers have nine hours to fill before Eleven concentrates real hard for the two nostril nose bleed required to close the dimensional gate between the UD and Hawkins, Indiana.  

And that's a long nine hours, believe me. . .

With no mystery to tease, the writers try to fill the episodes with humor (the negro nerdy boy Lucas now has a wise-cracking little sister, think Wanda Sykes as an 8-year-old), new characters (a Jewy-iooking gOOfball conspiracy theorist, a Jewy-looking new Hawkins Lab doctor, played by a bloated-almost-beyond-recognition [if, like me, you haven't seen him since Aliens] Paul Reiser, a fat schlub boyfriend for Winona Ryder and Billy and Max, two angry new-kids-on-the-block step siblings from an über-dysfunctional family {in fact, the 'what's with this family?' question is the only real mystery of ST2}), a lame subplot (Eleven finds Eight, another Hawkins Lab experiment girl, and joins her laughably un-punk punk gang just long enough to learn about hair gel and eye shadow before realizing she's more Jack-and-Diane than Sid-and-Nancy), lame product placement (Three Musketeers and more of Season One's Eggos) and sex, lots of sex (though, thankfully, given the ugly cast, it's off-screen sex).  

And some of the sex is a little creepy.  In one uncomfortable scene, the Jewy-looking conspiracy theorist seems more Harvey Weinstein than Sherman Skolnick as he practically demands that anorexic Nancy and pasty-faced Jonathan fuck right in front of him.  And there's a troubling stink of pedophilia to the Hopper - Eleven relationship, as the unkempt cop baits Eleven with her cherished Eggos, then locks her away in a cabin in the woods to watch TV all day, before returning at night to play an unhealthy-looking game of house with her. 

Almost as disturbing is the interracial tween romance between negro Lucas and new-girl-on-the-block Max.  1984 redneck Indiana hardly seems a breeding ground for tween race mixing, so one must wonder why the writers decided to shove this mud couple in the audience's face?  In fact, one of the charms of Season 1, in our hyper-sexualized American culture, was how unsexualized the nerdy D&D kids were.  Now in Season 2, they all seem to have pussy fever (except the terminally faggy Will, who spends most of the season being raped in an Exorcist-like possession by the Upside Down's Dark Shadow. . .speaking of which, after 13 seasons of Supernatural's much-copied demon's black smoke jet-streaming in and out of the mouths of the possessed, can't horror shows and movies find a new way to depict possession?).  And Mike is so blue-balled over Eleven, he acts like a girl on the rag as he brattily wet dreams his way through the 7 or 8 episodes until they are reunited. 

The only tit-ill-ating scene that isn't off-putting is also one of the few comic interludes that actually works, when Mike's sexually frustrated mom has her sexy time (romance novel in candle-lit bubble bath) interrupted by new-boy-on-the-block Billy, a normally-roid-raging imitation Leif Garrett who manages to control his temper just long enough to honey-trap some info out of the dripping wet milf.

No mystery, unpleasant character development, ill-fitting subplots: unforunately, Stranger Things Season 2 is an Upside Down version of Season 1.

28 September 2017

Football Follies


29 September 2017, GREEN BAY - A request by Green Bay Packers players for fans to join them in a show of unity during the national anthem before their game Thursday apparently did little to calm the debate.

Packers fans on Wednesday continued to blast the NFL, the team and players for what they perceive as showing disrespect for the nation, the flag, the military or the national anthem by sitting, kneeling, remaining in the locker room or locking arms during the national anthem. Supporters say players are peacefully exercising their free speech rights on the best stage available. 


"I am so ashamed of and appalled by the ignorance of any NFL player who would dare disgrace our Stars and Stripes or the memory of hundreds of thousands of fallen U.S. heroes who paid with their lives so that we may live free," said Steven Tiefenthaler, a native of Brookfield who now lives in San Antonio. Tiefenthaler is a Packers shareholder and 20-year U.S. Air Force veteran.

What is this football/anthem nonsense really all about?

Why are some of the masses rebelling against one of the great opiates of the masses?

Isn't it strange that the sheeple snap from their trance when a handful of footballers refuse the ritual hymn?

Why are they so troubled they can no longer enjoy their favorite pastime?

Why do they take it so personally?

Quite simply, those who are troubled by the disturbance to the anthem ritual are human zeroes.  Their souls long ago dissolved by materialism and narcotics, they accepted the Mark of the Beast.

Their God told them to take no thought for what they should eat or drink, or how they should clothe themselves.  Their God told them not to store treasure on earth.  

But they told God to go to Hell, and listened to the lying wonders of the Beast, and sought paradise on earth, through crude materialism.  

Their right hands and foreheads are occupied continually with worship of the Beast, seeking continually to live as the Beast demands, buying and selling, buying and selling, all their life energy devoted to building personal storehouses on earth. 

Their God promised a mansion in eternity, but the human zeroes could not see past six hundred threescore and six. . . 

Empty and Godless, they shed their true identity. . .

Now these zeroes must identify themselves. . .

In the land of the football scandal, some miliions and millions identify themselves as Americans.  

Can you imagine that?  A creature of wonder, a biological miracle in an incomprehensibly vast universe, crowned with consciousness, yet it limits itself to a name on a street sign. 

An American.

A creature designed out of time abstracts itself to some pretense that has barely existed for two hundred years. . .

In the football land, America is the power which allows the human zero to buy and sell, America is the power which animates the human zero, and if some being refuses to worship any image of the American Beast, then an anger to death will be provoked.  

The Great Image Of The Beast has commanded:

Get that son of a bitch off the field right now. Out! He’s fired!

Quite simply, a fair percentage of the sheeple are so far gone, so *American,* their identity so wholly given over to the Beast, their lives so spiritually cut off from true man and True God, they see the inconsequence of not participating in the ritual hymn as blasphemy. . .

Blasphemy, a sin worthy of death. . .

And some dumb American will no doubt believe he is serving his god when he kills. . .some other dumb human zero. . .some other human zero worshiping his own Beast. . .some human zero who identifies himself as a Black. . .or a Faggot. . .or whatever else they choose to deny their Father in Heaven.

28 July 2017

Equinox

The birds of the air chirping.  Landing to pull worms from the wet earth.  The rain moved on, the clouds passed.  Now a clear, warm spring day.  The birds of the air devouring their spineless prey.  After the long dark winter, once again we see the world can be a light, comfortable place. . .

Walking, walking to the park.  Passing an old woman with a little dog.  The old woman, an old bag, in all honesty, coated as if it were still winter.  How many more springs remain for this old bag?  The little dog will surely outlive the old bag.  And then what?  The dog pound?  Or the kicks of some resentful relative of the old bag?  What was it the Preacher said?

For what befalls the sons of men befalls the beasts, even one thing befalls them, as the one dies, so does the other. So a man has no preeminence over a beast.  All is vanity. . .

All is vanity. . .

Therefore, we must use the measure of discernment granted us by the Lord of All to apprehend as much Truth as possible from the world's lying vanities. . .

But today the sky is the pale blue of the Kingdom of Heaven, and the air is scented with fresh creation. . .

Walking, walking to the park.  Cars drive past, imprisoning the lost on their way through their misguided lives. . .but that is their problem.  I shake their exhaust from my feet. . .

Here come two joggers. . .middle-aged women in tights and sweatshirts. . .friends/neighbors encouraging each other in rejuvenating their clunky bodies?  Perhaps they seek to find their lives in their flesh, but as the Apostle said:

Bodily exercise has some value, but it is small compared to godliness. . .

But let the dead bury their dead. . .today the reborn earth recalls the Temple of Eden, in which the Creator placed His image.

Walking, walking to the park.  Oops!  I stop.  There, at the side of the road: a squirrel.  The remains of a squirrel.  Near its mouth a pool of raspberry-colored muck.  A bright red death on a spring day.  The muck of the squirrel, and the birds of the air chirping.

As I continue walking, walking to the park, I recall a saying of Jesus:

Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. . .

I've wondered on this many, many, many times over the years.  No saying of our Lord is more incredible, or requires more faith, considering the way life is dispatched so easily, carelessly, thoughtlessly, and in such bulk.

Our so-called *science* would tell us in the history of man 100 billion have died and returned to dust.  Imagine how many billions were aborted, or miscarried, or died in infancy. . .

Mere blips.  Blips of existence.

Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.

The mass of the dead, those mere blips of existence, and yet the very hairs of their heads all numbered. . .

When speaking of sparrows and hairs, was the Lord of All offering only a general benediction to the twelve whom He sent to the lost sheep of the House of Israel?  Or is the Heavenly Father truly there, in the raspberry-colored muck of the world? 

One answer or another only leads to more questions. . .

We see through a glass, darkly. . .

Walking, walking to the park.  I breathe the newly minted air of spring as its gentle breeze whispers in my ear, but as I near the park entrance, I hear the cries of a child.  A girl.  I see now it's a little girl.  Crying.  Crying in the parking lot.  I look around.  Nobody.  No adults.  No one.  The girl is all alone.  A little girl crying all alone in the parking lot.  No shoes.  Wearing a yellow raincoat.  Too big for her.  The coat hangs well past her knees and the sleeves extend well past her hands.

There's a path in the park that loops around a pond.  There's a bench three-quarters of the way that gives a nice, quiet view of the pond.  I go there and sit in serenity.  That's where I was headed.  But this crying little girl, all alone.

All alone, except for me, now.  I don't like this little girl, and her fate means nothing to me.  But I know I am supposed to like this little girl, and am supposed to care about her fate, so if I just keep walking to the serenity bench, I will not experience serenity as my disregard for her will trouble my thoughts.  So I will have to do something.  I will have to do something so my thoughts are not troubled.

The little girl has stopped crying.  She is staring at me.  Most people don't notice me.  I move unobserved through the world, my presence long since meaningless.  I'd forgotten what a burden it is to be looked at, and this child's stare is heavy.  Weary of it already, I sigh.  But there's no other choice, so I begin.

"Are you here by yourself?"

The little girl nods.

"Did someone bring you here?"

Another nod.

"Was it your mother?  Did your mother bring you?"

Nod.

"Do you know where she is?"

"Bitch goed!"

And she starts crying, again.

A car enters the parking lot.  A Jeep, really.  Wrangler, I believe they are called.  Two smiling young men get out.  One of them wears a red t-shirt with "Mmmm" printed in big black letters on the front.  Neither pay any heed to the crying girl or me as they make their way into the park.

"Your mother just left you here?" I ask the girl.

She nods as she wipes sadness snot from her nose.

"What a cunt," I gripe, more from the trouble the mother has caused me than for the little girl.

I pull out my cellular phone.  I really don't like talking on the phone, but there's not much else I can do.  I tap the numbers.  Almost instantly, there's an answer.

"County 911, what's your emergency?"

"Well, uh, it's not really my emergency.  I'm at Lillie Park and there's this little girl here, she's been left here alone, there's no one with her.  She's crying fairly loudly."

"How old is the child, sir?"

"How old are you?" I ask the kid.  She immediately stops crying.

"Free."

"She said 'free,' but I think she means three."

"And you're positive there's no caretaker with her?"

I sigh heavily.  

"The kid says nobody's here.  I been here 5 minutes, she's crying, nobody's come around."

"Does the child know her address?"

"Do you know where you live?" I ask the kid.

She shakes her head.

"She doesn't know."

"Ask the child her name."

"What's your name?" I ask the kid.

She says something, but I can't understand.

"What?" I ask.

She says something.  

"I can't understand what she's saying," I tell the 911 operator.  "It sounds like she said 'Tylenol,' but I doubt that's her name."  "Is your name Tylenol?" I ask the kid.  She shakes her head.  "No, her name's not Tylenol."

"I'm going to dispatch an officer to the scene. Where in the park are you located, sir?"

"In the parking lot, at the main entrance.  Off of Platt Road."

"An officer should be there shortly."

"Do I need to stay?"

"It would be helpful if you could remain with the child until the officer arrives."

"All right," I sigh.

Now I have to wait.  Stand here and wait.

The sun shines bright.  It dries the earth.  You can hardly tell it rained earlier.  There's a worm on the sidewalk.  If it doesn't make it back to the earth, it will desiccate.  Spring.  The rebirth.  But death is never far.

The little girl is staring at me.  I look at her.  I look.  Oh, no.  Now that I am really looking at her, it appears she's not wearing anything underneath the raincoat.  Maybe, hopefully, some underwear, but I can tell from the open buttons at the top, there's nothing covering her chest.

What a ridiculous situation to be in.  Where are the cops, already?  I feel a headache coming on.

"What cunt is?"

"Huh?  Oh.  Oh.  A cunt?"

The little girl nods.  She heard me.  She heard me mutter that her mother was a cunt.  I'm not used to people paying attention to me.  Of course, she's just a kid, doesn't know I should be overlooked, doesn't know not all adults are noteworthy.

"Well, you know you have a hole between your legs, right?  All girls have that hole, did you know that?"  She nods.  "Well," I sigh, "as some girls grow up. . .as they age. . .everything around that hole, everything from the toes to the hair on the head, all the bones, the muscle, the blood, the guts, even the heart and the brain, the engines of our thoughts, of our. . .being. . .everything becomes corrupt.  Do you know what corrupt means?"  She shakes her head.

I notice a man on foot entering the park.  A bum.  He's carrying a fishing pole and an old coffee can.  Ha!  Maybe he's trying to get a free dinner out of the pond!  Fry up some tiny smallmouth bass under the overpass, wash 'em down with a forty ouncer.  Anyway, I wait until he's out of earshot, then I continue.

"So, corrupt means rotten.  Some girls grow up and turn rotten."  The little girl doesn't seem to understand.  "Like a banana," I explain.  "Have you ever seen a rotten banana?  It's bruised brown and black and it's brown and mushy inside.  Have you seen a banana like that?  A rotten banana?"  She nods.  "Well, some girls get that way.  They become bruised.  Their insides, their spirit and soul, become brown and mushy.  They're rotten.  And so one of the words grown-ups use to describe rotten girls is 'cunt.'  Does that make sense?  Do you get it?"  She nods.

I've always believed I could have been a fine teacher.

This little girl looks like she's about to cry, again.  Best to tell her the lie that keeps everyone going.  Things will be better.

"The police will be here soon.  They'll get you home and everything will be all right.  I'm sure your mother just got confused or something."

"Po-lice is cunt," the little girl says.

Well.

Well, she's a quick learner, that's for sure.

I hear one of the porta-john doors squeak open, up where the trail begins.  Out steps the fishing bum.  He looks at me looking at him. They say in Paris, France there are some charming bums.  They call them clochards.  Our bums are not charming.  Piss-stained liars, that's what our bums are.  The bum looks at the little girl.  Looks at me.  A gutter look.  Bums are like children, taking note of everything.  But their minds are diseased.  Everything processed in the trough.  The poor fish that has to swim in his belly.

But here's the squad car, finally.  Two officers get out.  One approaches me while the other gets down on one knee to talk to the little girl.  I tell my cop the story, he asks for my name, address, phone number. . .and that's it.  I can go.  I look at the little girl.  And now what for her?  Returned to her. . .returned to where she lives?  To start it all over again?  The circle.  The millstone of life.

I look at the little girl.  I wouldn't want to go back and start all over.  Growing up is a losing proposition.  The best you can do is survive, then get a job and labor for someone else's benefit. And yet, our Lord said that's exactly what we have to do, go back and start all over, again:

Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. . .

I look at the little girl.  Should I say goodbye?  But I never even said hello.  I turn around and head for the serenity bench.

15 June 2017

The 12th Dimension: Faith

The above Newsweek article contends:

"It is as if the brain reacts to a stimulus by building then razing a tower of multi-dimensional blocks, starting with rods (1D), then planks (2D), then cubes (3D), and then more complex geometries with 4D, 5D, etc. The progression of activity through the brain resembles a multi-dimensional sandcastle that materializes out of the sand and then disintegrates," he said. Henry Markram, director of Blue Brain Project, said the findings could help explain why the brain is so hard to understand. "The mathematics usually applied to study networks cannot detect the high-dimensional structures and spaces that we now see clearly,” he said. "We found a world that we had never imagined. There are tens of millions of these objects even in a small speck of the brain, up through seven dimensions. In some networks, we even found structures with up to eleven dimensions."


If true, we can thus speculate on the enigma: why one man hears the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ, and another does not.

Jesus, speaking of Himself and His followers, said:

The sheep hear His voice: and He calleth His own sheep by name, and leadeth them out. And when He putteth forth His own sheep, He goeth before them, and the sheep follow Him: for they know His voice.

Speaking to the unbelievers, Jesus said:

But ye believe not, because ye are not of My sheep, as I said unto you. My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me: and I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of My hand.

The Apostle Paul said:

Faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God. . .

and

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God. . .

So if we wish to be contemporarily scientific, we can therefore speculate the followers of the Lord Jesus Christ have been gifted  by God with brains capable of an extra dimension, a 12th dimension not built upon sand which quickly disintegrates upon hearing the gospel, but a Faith Dimension, in which the gospel takes root, forever. . .

09 June 2017

Media *Shock* Is Fake News

















Predictably, Media report *shock* at the election results in Britain. Jeremy Corbyn, who Media mercilessly mocked and slandered for the last two years, managed an almost-draw with establishment figurehead/ugly cunt Theresa May in May's stupidly called for *snap elections.*

Here's Corbyn's platform:

Investing half a trillion pounds in rebuilding Britain's industrial infrastructure, building millions of homes, making universities free, and re-nationalizing the country's railways, utilities and postal service. He proposed to pay for all that by hiking corporate tax rates from 17 to 26 percent and imposing taxes on real estate and incomes over $100,000 a year.

The Western Media, hardly free, controlled by fewer people than make up a National Football League team, and a propaganda distributor for the ultra-rich, always mock even these most modest economic proposals to just slightly lessen the burden of the poor. Older whites always fall for it, for they're still under the illusion/delusion they're *middle-class,* but, increasingly, Western white youth see through the propaganda and realize they are no better off than most niggers. . .hence they gravitate to *populists* like Corbyn and Sanders, even though Jez and Bern are old enough to be their grandpa.


Media claims *shock* at these election results. . .of course, Media aren't really shocked, Media's just grateful Western medicine can keep enough old fart diabetics, heart patients and alcoholics alive long enough to let *conservative capitalists* squeak through a couple more elections and squeeze the last few drops of blood money from the turnip poor.

19 May 2017

The Atomic Age

ABC, 19 May 2017: A century-old document found inside a box of unarchived records in a southern New Mexico county is shedding a little more light on the shooting death of the Old West lawman who gained fame for killing Billy the Kid.

Dated July 9, 1908, the nearly illegible handwritten coroner's jury report refers to the investigation of the death of Pat Garrett, who served as sheriff in Lincoln and Dona Ana counties before being appointed as a customs collector along the U.S.-Mexico border. Garrett died Feb. 29, 1908.

Historians have searched for years for additional official documents beyond court records and newspaper articles from the time that assigned blame for Garrett's shooting death since some have their own theories about who pulled the trigger.

Signed by several justices of the peace and coroners, the document states that Garrett was reported dead in Dona Ana County in the territory of New Mexico about five miles northeast of Las Cruces.

They found that "the deceased came to his death by gunshot wounds inflicted by one Wayne Brazel."

The document was found in November by Angelica Valenzuela, the records and filing supervisor with the county clerk's office, as part of a preservation effort that involved records spanning the last half of the 1800s through the mid-1960s.

"She knew as soon as she saw it that it was worth gold," county spokesman Jess Williams said of the signed jury report.

The guy who shot Pat Garrett was some yokel named Wayne Brazel. . .his nephew was Mac Brazel, the joker who found the *UFO* wreckage on his ranch in Roswell. That's the America one can love: Billy the Kid and Flying Saucers. What we live in today is not America. We live in AmericaLand, an electronic version. Today's Americans are like the little figures in electric football who move aimlessly in mass seizure. It must be that the wreckage ol' Mac Brazel found in 1947 was just a Predator drone from America's grim future, it found its way into the past, to Trinity, to haunt an atomic age people who used to be human enough to do their own killing.

16 May 2017

The Blacklist

Been awake for 30+ hours. . .looking through Netflix to kill time. . .came across a show called The Blacklist, a preposterous *thriller* about a super criminal who turns himself into the FBI and rats out all his former associates just so he can work with an annoying cunt of an FBI profiler. There's supposed to be some mysterious connection between the super criminal/rat and the cunt profiler, but it's probably just that she's his daughter. Of course, the show so obviously wants you to think that she's his daughter, there may be some lame *twist*--such as she's not his daughter, but the daughter of some cunt he loved or killed or killed and loved or something similarly stupid. Anyways, each episode has the super criminal/rat and the cunt catching some global terrorist or nutcase in plots that are more ludicrous than The Three Stooges You Nazty Spy! American Garbage TV at its worst.

04 May 2017

The Parable Of The Wheat And The Tare-orists


2 May 2017: Accounts from witnesses and survivors cast doubt on American suggestions that the Islamic State group was to blame for the deaths of more than 100 people taking refuge in a house hit by a U.S. airstrike earlier this year in Mosul, the deadliest single incident of the months-long campaign to retake the Iraqi city. U.S. officials said soon after the March 17 strike that investigations could find that militants forced people into the building, booby-trapped it with explosives, then lured in the strike.

None of that happened, according to seven witnesses and survivors who spoke to The Associated Press. Instead, they described a horrifying battlefield where airstrikes and artillery pound neighborhoods relentlessly, trying to root out IS militants, leveling hundreds of buildings, many with civilians inside, despite the constant flight of surveillance drones overhead. 




Under the principle no man can serve two masters, no follower of the Lord Jesus Christ can also support US military policy that tolerates *collateral damage.*


The Lord taught in His parable of the wheat and the tares when man tries to root out the children of the devil, he will invariably fail, and in the process also root out the children of God.  

Plain and simple, it's not man's job to sort out the tares from the wheat. . .both are to be left to grow until the End, and then the Lord will send His Reapers. . .no mistakes will be made.  There will be no *collateral damage.*

In the parable, the servants come to the Master and ask if they can sort out the tares. . .the Master says 'no.'

No means no. . .

Man does not have the ability, nor the right, to execute such judgment.  

Isn't is sad Americans who claim to follow Jesus utter nary a peep against the anti-Christ tactics of the US military?

But if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. . .

02 May 2017

The Po-Lice *Core Values*


1 May 2017: White police officer Roy Oliver killed a 15-year-old black boy as he was leaving a Dallas-area house party in what officials described on Monday as a shooting that did not meet police department standards. "We have a certain set of core values, and it did not meet our core values," Balch Springs Police Chief Jonathan Haber said.

The boy, Jordan Edwards, had been in a car with several other teens heading out after a party in Balch Springs, near Dallas, on Saturday night, said Lee Merritt, an attorney for the boy's family. When officers arrived at the scene around 11 p.m., police initially said in a statement, they heard gunshots and encountered a car that was backing toward them "aggressive[ly]." Edwards, who was sitting in the front seat, was shot in the head and later died.

But on Monday, after reviewing body camera footage, Haber revised this, saying that he had questions about what he saw "and what is consistent with policies and core values of the Balch Springs Police Department."


Ha ha ha ha!  I work in what is called *Law Enforcement.*  All these agencies have what they call their *Core Values.*  That's the bullshit they post on their website and pass out to Media when they invariably fuck-up.  

Let me tell you the real *Core Values* of the Po-Lice:

They think the costume they put on means they are Übermensch, above the piddling *civilians* they demand subservience from.  They will barely tolerate a second-look from a white, and not-at-all from a colored person.  They claim they *protect and serve,* but in reality they only push around the unfortunate dopes they pull over.  Oh, and cops would barely catch any criminals if criminals didn't drive.  And if criminals only drove on rainy nights, the jails would be empty.  The Po-Lice are too soft and lazy to pull over anybody in the rain.  The Po-Lice are also cowardly.  Despite wearing ridiculous suits of body armor and being armed with a variety of weapons, they will piss their pants, start shooting and ask questions later if:

a civilian, white or black, has anything remotely resembling a gun or knife in his hand. . .

a large black male walks toward them. . .

Half the charges the po-lice throw at black males end up getting reduced or dismissed.  If a black male says *what?,* the po-lice charge him with felony resisting and obstructing, and lock his sorry black ass up.

I know from years of experience the po-lice have only scorn for whites, and absolutely despise colored people, and think ANY killing of a black male is justified.  Trust me, the gutless Texas cop who shot Jordan Edwards is considered a hero by his po-lice *brothers.*  They're all sitting in some shitty po-lice station feeling persecuted and raging irrationally over all the *fuss* over a *dead nigger.*

{And black po-lice go along with it.  Black po-lice are the worst sell-outs, some of them even come to adopt their white masters hatred for black skin, while most of them grin and bear it, grateful for the only job they can get which will pay them the 50k - 70k they need to move away from their own people.}

All the Black Lives Matters protests in the world will never change the po-lice mindset. . .

I don't say this in any way to condone violence, but the po-lice will only change their tactics when ten or twenty of them are killed every day. . .and they will change their tactics only out of cowardice. . .they will be too terrified to continue lording it over the little men and women they think they rule.  Of course, if ten or twenty po-lice were killed every day, you'd see a mass exodus of the *men in blue.*

Believe me, whenever a po-lice is killed, even if it's a po-lice a thousand miles away, the po-lice I work with literally tremble in fear, imagining they are next.  

The entire United States po-lice forces are comprised of psychotics, dangerously out of touch with reality. . .they need to be replaced by genuine *peace officers,* human beings who want to help, and not hurt, their local communities, who have some guts and thick skin, and won't start firing wildly at their own shadow, which they think is a colored person coming after them.

Ha!  The po-lice kill hundreds of people every year, almost all of them unjustified, and yet the average Joe has no idea how unhinged and incompetent the po-lice are. They watch those dumb po-lice shows on TV and think real-life cops are, by and large, decent people working hard at a thankless job.  In reality, po-lice are lazy, gutless, racist, uninterested in community patrol, and receive tons of thanks. . .most po-lice spend their time going from one eatery to the next, stuffing their bellies with free food and drink, which they accept as their right.  They spend most of their shift looking the other way, and when they stumble by accident onto trouble, they immediately turn yellow and call for back-up, and then pull their guns.  Heaven help any poor bastard who comes their way. . .  

26 April 2017

The Church-Goers

Gender-Fluid American Church-Goer
24 April 2017, Daily Mail: The wife of schoolgirl 'kidnapper' Tad Cummins put on a brave face as she was seen for the first time since the disgraced teacher was captured and slapped with a federal child trafficking charge.  Jill Cummins decided to stay home Sunday, walking her dog and visiting friends rather than joining worshippers at the Columbia, Tennessee church where she and her husband would attend weekly services, sometimes taking along 15-year-old Elizabeth Thomas, the student Cummins is now accused of grooming for sex and abducting.

'As far as Jill was concerned their 31 year marriage was rock solid,' a friend said. 'But there's no coming back from the hurt and humiliation he's put her through. It was the ultimate betrayal.' 

The Tennessee teacher in earlier years held a series of quick-turn jobs, most lasting about a year. He was a dialysis machine technician, an office manager at a gas service, a plant employee at a sponge factory, a car salesman and, finally, a parts manager at an automotive store, before embarking on the course which would lead him to a teaching job and Elizabeth Thomas.  Cummins and the 15-year-old student spent ten days hiding at a remote hippy commune in the California wilderness where they posed as a married couple, planned to stay 'forever' and were seen 'making out' like lovers by a camp fire. Tad Cummins, 50, and missing teen Elizabeth Thomas arrived at Black Bear Ranch near Cecilville, California, two weeks ago hoping to start a new life after almost six weeks on the run. The isolated 'clothing optional' mountain community, located in Siskiyou County, has no phone signal, no internet connection and can only be accessed via a treacherous dirt road 15 miles long.

The pair told unsuspecting commune members that they were called John and Joanne, aged 44 and 24, had been married a year and had left their home state of Colorado where John worked as an EMT [Emergency Medical Technician] and a kayak instructor. But Cummins' conservative Christian beliefs, lazy work ethic and powder-keg temper soon led to conflict with commune residents and the couple's life on the run began to fall apart. And after just ten days on the ranch the pair was kicked off the property and fled to a campsite in nearby Cecilville. Two days later - after a tip off from a campsite caretaker - Cummins was taken into custody by a SWAT team who found him and Thomas holed up in an unfinished cabin next to a creek. Cummins has since been charged with aggravated kidnapping and sexual contact with a minor in Lawrence County, Tennessee, and faces up to 12 years in jail.  He also faces a federal charge of transportation of a minor across state lines with intent of having criminal sexual intercourse, which carries a minimum ten-year sentence, and further state charges in California.


April Showers, a 24-year-old transwoman from Pennsylvania, gave the couple a tour of the property when they first arrived. 'When they showed up they seemed really scared and apprehensive, his [Cummins] hands were shaking,' she said. 'But they soon settled down and he said, "This looks like home forever." They were clearly hoping to stick around for a long while.' The picturesque 80-acre community, founded in 1968 with the slogan 'free land for free people', runs off the grid and boasts several buildings, workshops and cabins, a lake, a meadow and a rope bridge over a stream. 

'We knew they were definitely having sex because we could hear them, we kind of thought she was young, even though she said she was 24. It didn't seem right. A few people said, 'wow, she's really young.' He told us he was 44, which was still a lot older than her. We were getting really weird vibes from them, they weren't integrating with the group, they were going off by themselves, they were asking for their own cabin, but we were like, 'no it's too soon'.'

April added, though, that she thought the couple seemed 'in love' - an idea that will sicken Thomas' family. 'They were constantly making out, she sat on his lap a lot,' she said. 'They were always attached to each other, they seemed genuinely in love, like lovers. It was weird to watch because he's a lot older and she's younger. 'She didn't say much, but you got the impression he was more like a doting father, rather than a dominant force.

Cummins and Thomas would sometimes stay in their attic room all day, sleeping in and having sex, the residents claim. 'They were up there for long periods,' April said. The attic room has a filthy, old double-mattress on the floor, surrounded by book shelves filled with dusty books. Cummins and Thomas rarely ventured out during the day. Commune rules suggest residents carry out a minimum of four hours work per day in order to contribute. Duties include cooking, cleaning, tending to the animals or collecting vegetables from the greenhouse – chores often carried out naked depending on the weather. But another resident, Sophia, who has lived at the commune for four years, said the couple was 'lazy'. 'If people allow it, you can make it here easy by doing very little. But everyone has to pull their weight,' she said. 'John (Cummins) didn't offer to help out, they did help with the chickens one time and did the dishes a couple of times, but they seemed lazy, they didn't want to do anything.'

Sophia, said the former health science teacher seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders – not surprising given the huge nationwide manhunt then underway to capture him and get his former student home safely. By contrast Thomas was 'having a blast' - a sign, perhaps, that Cummins had brainwashed her sufficiently to believe their trip was a long vacation. Little did she know that their journey would end with his sudden arrest and the prospect of 12 years behind bars for her kidnap. 'She was not scared at all, she seemed like she was having the time of her life, having a blast,' Sophia said.

But as the days went by the commune residents began to feel a 'negative vibe' around the couple. It was nearing their two-week check-in - a review all new arrivals go through - when all the other residents came to a consensus that they had to leave. 'John [Cummins] said they were Christians, but we made clear there is no religion at the commune, we're not about that,' said Sophia. 'They were really conservative in their views and prudish about any nudity, which is something we enjoy, and would even shower with their shorts on. 'And they were just not integrating or connecting with anyone, they had to go.'

'So I had a conversation with John [Cummins] and I told him they can't stay. He got really mad, he was growling and shouting, she said, "Calm down honey," she kept calling him honey. He was flipping out and I thought it was going to get crazy, we're out in the middle of nowhere here, anything could have happened. I managed to calm him down, but he was still angry. He said, 'You're prejudiced towards us because we're hetero [heterosexual], white Christians'. Then they left quick, they were gone.' Sophia added: 'We like to give people a shot, but if people don't fit I like to speed things up.'  Adding, in a plea to attract more suitable and interesting residents: 'We're looking for witches, queers, artists, writers, musicians, thinkers and revolutionaries, not fugitives and kidnappers.'



We are told in her time of need church-goer Jill Cummins, the betrayed wife who was kicked aside after what must have been a dreary, unsatisfying 31 years for her husband and jailbait addict Tad Cummins, stayed away from the Sunday service.

Isn't that interesting?

Hurt, abandoned, humiliated. . .Jill Cummins, in her darkest hours, stays away from church

Quite an advertisement for the faith. . .

One has to wonder: what was the point of Jill Cummins going to church all these years, if the church is of no value when she is suffering her greatest distress?

Why would a hurting church-goer hide from church?  Church, where the heavy laden are supposed to find rest.

Deep down, does she feel guilty?  Does she blame herself for her husband's pedophiliac outbreak?  

Does she look in the mirror at her glutton's body and see a gender-fluid nightmare?  A biological woman with a National Football League lineman's body? 

And did she nag Tad Cummins through his endless string of low-paying jobs, always hectoring him for more material gain?

Who knows?  All that is known for sure is Jill Cummins' husband ran away with a 15-year-old girl in an impossible sexual folly.  Even the most faultless wife would doubtless wonder over her share of the blame.  And so, perhaps, she didn't continue as a church-goer because of embarrassment and shame.  Didn't want to be seen by the other church-goers as the frumpy, dumpy wife whose 31 years of cohabitation produced a helter-skelter pedophile.  The larger point being:

The church-goer Jill Cummins didn't feel she would be comfortable in church.  So she stayed away.

American churches are notorious as the habitations of good people.  Church-goers who wear nice clothes and congratulate themselves on how much God loves them.  The truth being:

The Church today is the same as the House of Israel in Jesus' day: no place for sinners, misfits, the poor.

Stained by her husband's sin, Jill Cummins no longer qualified as a church-goer.  It may be the saving of her soul.  

Jesus wanted nothing to do with the House of Israel except to tear it down and rebuild it with Israel's lost sheep.  And Jesus wants nothing to do with today's Church of church-goers.  His mission remains ever the same:

They that are whole have no need of the physician, but they that are sick: I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. . .


The tree is judged by its fruit.  That the bruised Jill Cummins felt disqualified from the Church testifies to its rot.  May she now be blessed to hear the Call of the True Gospel of the Kingdom of God.

Tad Cummins was a church-goer, also. . until he became a jailbait-goer.  And yet he insisted, as he was being kicked out of his and his 15-year-old lover's Eden, that he was a member of the Church.

You're prejudiced towards us because we're hetero white Christians, he accused those who gave him and his 15-year-old lover sanctuary.

Spoken like a true American church-goer! 

Only the Lord Jesus Christ knows the true members of His Church. . .and yet had Tad Cummins behaved as if he were a true member, he'd probably still be on that filthy double mattress in the attic room at the Black Bear Ranch frolicking with his teenage lover.
Tad and Elizabeth spent many hours fucking on this mattress
But he was lazy, refusing to get off that filthy double mattress and do his chores.

He was judgmental, scandalized by his nudist hosts.

He was contrary, refusing to mix with the eccentric pagans who fed and housed him and his child pseudo-bride.

And when he wore out his welcome and was asked to leave, he became angry and cast himself and his Walmart Lolita as victims of the Faith.
Elizabeth wears her lover's shirt at a Walmart
While his hosts acted as Good Samaritans, Cummins acted like an entitled boor, exalting himself above the pagan customs of Black Bear Ranch. He alienated those who would have accepted him into their community, and gave them no choice but to ask him to depart. Had he behaved as Paul did amongst the barbarians at Melita, he and his girl-wife could have screwed every night till the cock crowed thrice.

The plain truth:

Tad Cummins' greater sin was not the leaving of cum stains on that filthy old double mattress in the attic room of Black Bear Ranch, but the filthy staining of the Faith of Christ he left with the pagan ranchers. And in the here-and-now, it cost him his freedom. . .

Yet I am sure he would run away with his underage lover all over again. All his adult life had been spent as a goer, going here, there and everywhere, going through the motions of the dead *American Way of Life,* most of it with a dumpy wife/ball and chain around his ankle, weighing down his every half-hearted step. . but when he got his one chance, he seized it.


Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.

What else was he going to do?  Keep going to church?  Fake smiling and pretending he had found Life, when it was really just a circle of soul-jerkers?

I'm sure Tad Cummins will cherish the memory of his life on the run with his girl bed mate. . .it will sustain him through the years of incarceration, which, after all, will hardly be more dismal than what he had with his church-goer wife.  But will those memories sustain him in the here-after?  Through the unending weeping and gnashing of teeth?   

18 April 2017

The Sickness Within

17 April 2017, New York Post: A behavioral health worker randomly killed a Cleveland grandfather and posted video of the execution on Facebook. Police in Ohio urged residents in Pennsylvania, New York, Indiana and Michigan to be on the lookout for Steve Stephens, 37, who may have fled Cleveland after allegedly gunning down Robert Godwin Sr., 74.

Stephens worked for Beech Brook, a behavioral health agency headquartered in Pepper Pike serving children through mental health services, foster care and adoption, at-risk youth programs and other services. An arrest warrant was issued for the suspect, who is wanted on a charge of aggravated murder after posting the shaky video of himself confronting the elderly man — a father of nine and grandfather of 14 — holding a plastic bag.

“Found me somebody I’m going to kill,” he says, chillingly, on Easter Sunday. “I’m going to kill this guy right here. He’s an old old dude, too.”
[these are dangerous times for old negro dudes!He then asks his victim a “favor” by saying his girlfriend’s name, Joy Lane, whom Godwin said he didn’t know. “She’s the reason that this is about to happen to you,” Stephens tells Godwin, who then shields his face with the bag before being shot in the head.

Another Easter Sunday passed over, Americans living their Dream in the midst of the latest Military Media Complex barrage of fear:

Russia

North Korea

Syria, ISIS, Al Qaeda, the general Sand Nigger menace

All the noise these last weeks about the *threats* over there. . .

The Mother of All Bombs dropped. . .

Cruise missiles launched. . .

The ongoing and instigated colored people Battle Royale. . .

Ceaseless pointless war and rumors of war. . .here, there, everywhere. . .the reason for which changes so often and so frequently, the real reason is hidden and therefore must be more sinister than mere (ugly) corporatism.

Covered by this fog of fear (which generates near-unanimous consent to kill overseas), however, is the true threat to the nation:

The sickness within, as exampled by the psychotic action of the obese negro Steve Stephens.

With social media live-streaming, who can continue to pretend to see no evil or hear no evil?  Everyday the internets are filled with videos of rapes, assaults and murders.  Who can wade through the live stream of filth and not take notice of the obvious:

America is in a state of derangement.

The degree of violence should appall.  A reasonable people would take action, yet conditioned by the Military Media Complex to only recognize external threats, Americans accept with irrational indifference the threat within.

But it is not merely the number of assaults, rapes and murders in the United States that indicates American derangement (there have been more statistically violent eras in the past).  It is the collective sociopathic belief that violence is the solution to conflict, whether the conflict is internal or external, individual or national.

On the individual level, we observe the obese negro Steve Stephens, apparently internally conflicted by rejection from an obese negress (ironically) named Joy Lane.  Feeling *hurt* by Joy Lane, Steve Stephens self-medicates through violence.  With Joy Lane in his ears and in his eyes, Stephens believes he can repay her by murdering a random old negro, and blaming the murder on Lane's rejection.  There beneath the blue urban skies, Steve Stephens records the murder and broadcasts it on social media, hoping to smother Joy Lane with guilt.  He further alleviates his own pain with his newfound notoriety, and heightens the euphoria by threatening to repeat the action.

Is this learned behavior?  Or the result of his own organic defect?  Who knows?  But Steve Stephens action certainly emulates state action.  The United States feels rejected by Afghanistan, self-medicates by dropping a massive bomb to kill random coloreds, records the murders and displays them through Media, with the President reveling in the notoriety and threatening to repeat the action against other colored states.

In the ever-violent American past, there remained a healthy *peace* remnant who leavened American sociopathy. Peaceful solutions were sought.  There is no *peace movement* in present-day America.  Even in the churches, led by so-called *followers of Christ,* there are only prayers for the military.  

It is true the vast majority of Americans would condemn Steve Stephens. . .and of that vast majority, I would wager a vast majority would devil grin through a video of him being riddled with bullets in a po-lice shoot-out, or stand cheering outside prison walls as the state serves him a lethal injection.

Even though the Lord of Creation disavows the violent tactics of the Kingdom of America, Americans now accept as gospel the Satanic doctrine of violence, believing that violence is the solution to every problem, including violence.  

Jesus, the perfect reasoned intelligence, reveals the insanity of such thinking when He asks how can Satan cast out Satan?

Only a deranged people would believe it. . .