Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Fox Biddable (4)
"Fox Biddable (4)"
Healing Eagle was piloting his eggshell-white Mustang with Jenny McGee throwing back a cold one, harming no souls, as she innocently sat in the passenger seat, the icy lager in her left hand, a pair of Walgreen's bought scissors in her right--screw the open container law in Tennessee, for some laws are unjust, and made to be broken.
The Nashville lights illuminated, with neon shine mind you, a Mustang's free passage through a nocturnal city, and Jenny was cutting all her hair off, knowing she would be hated less, making herself like unto a lesbian, in aesthetics only, without metaphorically, in a sexual sense, having a flaming instinct to give it to anybody up the tailbone. She was as innocent as a dove, with a slight buzz, and Healing Eagle was well pleased with her decision to shape-shift, camouflaging her beauty with a boy's sterner countenance, in order to survive the glares of lust and envy. She would become like unto a mad monk, humiliating her own beauty, before the jealousy of serpents attempted to slither into her mind's eye. She would hide in the shadow of a modest forest, yet so enchanted by a loyal pack and family from the Otherworld.
Healing Eagle said, turning down the opera on the radio: "The Pope has the privilege of lecturing America, for he castrates himself, allegorically, yet still makes his own love--the secret of celibacy, without the pungent vice of bacterial infection, while the preacher man does carnal gymnastics with his moll-like wife screwing the openly sexual Deacon at the same time. To be as Christ, you have to live as Christ, turning your back on the world that hates you, taking the path less traveled, while the fools have treasures that rust doth destroy, not knowing, where your heart is, so is your treasure, and why not go for eternity instead of a life span that is over in the blink of an eye. Truly, the Brass Ring is God Himself, not some inflated bimbo with good tits, like the Whore of Babylon."
Jenny was like: "You have plenty of foul in your mouth for a healer and teacher."
Healing Eagle responded: "I voted for Nixon back in the day. He liked to drop the F Bomb. At least I know what I'm guilty of, and my tongue is not forked."
Jenny glimpsed her man-like reflection in the Sun visor mirror underneath the Nashville electricity; next, said: "Joan of Arc has got nothing on me now."
Healing Eagle reminded: "Don't get cocky yet. Your fight is just beginning--as of now, you are only in the state of preparation for war, like a boy scout with a molesting troop leader; indeed, always be prepared for snakes in life. And all members of the Canidae culture loathe slithering slicksters."
Sunday, February 26, 2017
Abrahamic God--He took His own medicine
"Abrahamic God--He took His own medicine"
Like a wily coyote, thieving fire from the gods, creating life and old age; plus, DEATH--in order to teach man a lesson, that he should grow more humble yet strong, having greater clarity as he keeps his eyes focused upon death, always having IT before him, knowing: he must live right, at least in old age, in order to inherit the benevolent Otherworld. And now: I thieve away from Bishop Sheen preaching in those more tame and domesticated years.
Of all the lesser gods created by the Divine Carpenter, the Master and Maker of Intelligent Design; specifically, the Abrahamic God--He took His own medicine, which was DEATH.
When we say the Litany of Saint Joseph, we pray the words: "Solace of the wretched."
Indeed, a true Prophet and Messiah are never appreciated in Their own time, yet time is totally relative. All the lesser gods, like the Hellenistic deities, were perpetually playing pranks and doing sleazy Freudian shit, well, they're just fallen angels--in my opinion. But the One, True God, came as a poor man, chaste and hated--most likely an excommunicated Rabbi, as was Spinoza, the pantheist.
Anyway, so hated, that His own people chose a murderer to be set free instead of a healer, and yet He still proclaimed: "Salvation comes from the Jews." Loving us ALL, and knowing where He came from; moreover, His heritage.
He was hunted as a child, taunted, His Father mocked by rich men, and God is not to be mocked as it is written; next, He is arrested, forgives them; then, they beat the shit out of Him, probably losing teeth, and we are saved by His stripes, as Isaiah with the burned tongue mentioned; furthermore, the Psalmist mentioning that they will pierce Your hands and feet; also, gamble for Your garments, which came to pass centuries after their mystical knowledge.
Yes, God made Himself man, and kicked the living shit out of Himself. No lesser gods endured such honesty. Only the One, True God--to know us and love us better. And He was the metaphorical Son of David, a warrior with a whip, turning over tables, and unmasking the heretical and hellish hypocrites. Good for Him. Jesus is good. Jesus is dead. Jesus is risen. Jesus is the super-symmetrical Face of God.
Fox Biddable (3)
"Fox Biddable (3)"
Jenny McGee and her beauteous bouquet of champagne blonde was at the bowling alley with Healing Eagle, them at the bar--his mouth full of Wolf mint chaw, and her throwing back an ice cold lager. She was confessing how she had become tricked by men in life, as the Fox Totem sometimes goes, and Healing Eagle presented her with a gift, a fox tooth necklace, which he got by way of finding the Vulpes vulpes roadkill, but blessed the animal with a Cherokee chant, and now due to animism, the fox tooth's energy would infuse Jenny's spirit with that of the fox, letting her know how to be super swift and aggressively agile; plus, blend into her Earthly environment without making waves that would attract larger predators. Jenny put the necklace around her neck, tossing her champagne blonde upwards in super-model fashion, and all the Nashville cooter guys gave her a carnal glance, knowing she was scrumptious prey. Next, the conversation sparked.
JENNY
Yeah, I'm so easily conned. This one good-looking guy, years ago, and good-looking guys are either out to get some action or are victims of skanky women that want to dominate them; anyway, I didn't have my radar up concerning the sleazy atmosphere, having had too many vodka shots, and went home with this pretty boy. The next day my panty hamster was crawling with little bugs. I pulled one out and examined it under a magnifying glass, and it looked like a little crab--that asshole gave me crabs--I was itchy for a week before SELSUN BLUE shampoo drove them away, and to where, I don't know.
HEALING EAGLE
Always be aware as is the fox--one of its powers, giving it much potency to survive. I had a white step-mother that stole my father, and after my father passed, all I got was a damn carton of his cigarettes, and he was a Chief, having lots of greenbacks in the bank. I should've known a snake will bite one way or the other, or have read Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, where the bard lets you know a step-mother always steals from her step-son; however, I got a lawyer, and he screwed her back, now I drive a Mustang armed with many horses under the hood.
JENNY
People are garbage. Oh well, like Jack Kennedy said: "Life is not fair."
HEALING EAGLE
Too much venom, not enough love--so make sure to love yourself.
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Fox Biddable (2)
"Fox Biddable (2)"
And Healing Eagle told Jenny McGee: "And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehend it not."
The twosome were sitting on Jenny's futon in the mid-grade suburbs, always sprawling, and her Dad was drunk upstairs, watching NASCAR, giggling goofy-ways over Ricky Bobby's WONDER BREAD car, that probably produced near 600 horses.
Jenny asked Healing Eagle: "What is the light?"
Healing Eagle's crow's feet crinkled as he smiled and took a drag on his organic cigarette, making the cherry glow a brilliant blue/red. And he answered, saying: "There are four kinds of light, but the fourth is all that you need to know--the light of Christ. Once He resides within you, all is possible, and nothing is impossible, for He will become the vine, and you His branch."
Jenny did a redneck/valley girl scratch of her champagne blonde, asking: "What does this have to do with foxes?"
"Your animal guide you never choose--it chooses you. And unlike Herod, you are not a bad fox, but must proclaim--Blessed is He Who comes in the Name of the Lord. You see sister, animism is true. And Christ is the Author of Life. Everything vibrates on a certain frequency, and your fox wants you to be cunning, but only if you can balance it with kindness. Cunning alone is nastily nefarious. You must deny your awkwardness, and walk on four paws, having a better grip of the Earth. With Christ in you, no matter how small your animal guide is, you can outshine any adversary."
Jenny was like: "Is this a whole werefox thing? Like in manga?"
Healing Eagle laughed. "No, this is the essence of you, and what you can become, no matter how chaste or impoverished, knowing God will provide with other branches that produce good fruit."
Jenny giggled, not getting it, yet could feel an agility of wisdom approaching.
Next, Healing Eagle said: "Now, let us take our sorry asses to Church."
Fox Biddable (1)
"Fox Biddable (1)"
Jenny McGee was a loner approaching her fortieth year; plus, a bartender at a local beer and shots bar in Nashville. She lived with her Dad, and she had no kids; however, plenty of sexual stress.
Jenny was basically, well, a fox. Only near five foot tall, lean, tan, champagne blonde, and had Saint Raphael's garnet green eyes that were vividly vibrant; as a result, she was tricked way more than plenty. Foxes aren't always the trickster. In the Japanese language, a kitsune can be a trickster, but a zenko is a good fox; furthermore, the Native Americans knew that the Fox Totem could mean people were tricking you into doing things that you didn't want to do, and that the spirit of the wise fox should keep a sense of humor, blend in at times, and learn to maneuver around their obstacles with determined dexterity.
Guys had been tricking Jenny since she was twelve and had blossomed into pure, peaches and cream Barbie doll beauty; moreover, when she hit adulthood, it got worse. One guy offered her a ride home, and once in the car, he locked the doors automatically and showed her a sinister smile; next, took out his jubilant junk, which Jenny smacked with her metaphorical paw and escaped. Too, once a guy brought her drunk Dad home, and laid him on the couch; then, said they should fool around, for her Dad was too drunk to know what would be going on. Jenny pepper-sprayed him out the freaking door. She had some redneck in her too, and never had called a cop a day in her life, but the guys were sleazy, and the sleaze was everywhere; thus, she needed to outfox her pernicious predators that had selfishly pounced on her for protracted periods.
She began reading books on the shinobi (ninja), and learning the parables of Christ; also, bought a five inch blade and carried it in her pocket. But it wasn't until she met a Native American guy named Healing Eagle that she got the gist of who she was, and what she could become--Healing Eagle telling her the words of the visionary poet Blake: "The fox condemns the trap, not himself."
Jenny liked Healing Eagle, and he had no lust for her, being an older man, and holy teacher--it was his divine duty to make people shift into their natural forms, healing them with right flight.
Friday, February 24, 2017
Rosary: Luminous Mysteries
"Rosary: Luminous Mysteries"
When we pray the Holy Rosary, every bead is like a cannonball, especially if we get deep into the Holy Mysteries through mystical meditation. Thursdays are great, for it's the day of the Luminous Mysteries--Mysteries contemplated upon least of the week, yet still theologically imperative. Here they are:
1.) The Baptism Of The Lord--remembering God's Words: "This is My Son, in Whom I am well pleased."
2.) The Wedding Of Cana--Mary turns to Jesus, saying: "They have no wine."
3.) The Proclamation Of The Kingdom--being reminded to make ourselves like unto little children, trusting in our Father.
4.) The Transfiguration--Jesus is immaculately illuminated in a brilliant white shine, stating: "I have not come to destroy the Law or the Prophets, but fulfill them."
5.) The Institution Of The Eucharist--Christ saying: "This cup is the new covenant in My Blood, shed for you."
Tax Legal Marijuana, and Pay for Health Care
"Tax Legal Marijuana, and Pay for Health Care"
King David's words: "Herb for the service of man." His son Solomon and himself were importing tons of herb-derived medications. Israel has the most strains of beneficial, medical marijuana. Ask any modern Talmudic scholar about the herb.
You can't overdose; moreover, it removes plaque from the brain in patients with neurological problems, cures ulcerative colitis, oral thrush, assists in cancers, and there's no abuse, because you can only get so high. And get a real Drug Czar--one that explains how to use it without acting a fool.
The money made could fund a modern health care plan, but that would be too easy for our government. Call it a sin tax if you want.
And the only reason marijuana is considered a gateway drug is because due to it's illegality, it puts you in the atmosphere of thugs with deadly shit.
If I had medical marijuana, I could stop taking a plethora of pills daily, and evacuate my bowels on the toilet instead of pooping on newspaper like I'm a dog. Yeah, I have Lycanthropy, so what. It would cure that too.
Abe Lincoln: "Prohibition goes against everything this country stands for--it makes people criminals who are not criminals."
What's going on?
"What's going on?"
Everybody knows about the Truth, unless you're addicted to Internet porn, GAME OF BONES, and careerism. MKUltra, historical cover-ups, aliens being synonymous with angels (The Celestial Hierarchy), that literary work crafted by Dionysius the Pseudo-Aeropagite. But we're not supposed to talk about it. The adversary hates when we talk about it.
So we should continue on our path towards trans-humanism that Philip K. Dick prophesied, the EMFs further melting our brains, allegorically.
But mini-skirts and cotton candy porn only conceals so long, before the Son of Man descends from the clouds of heaven. But be cautious and know your historical texts as to what is really going on; furthermore, every spirit should be tested as the New Testament clearly explains. But do not put God to that test.
Yeah, I like Scooby-Doo, honor the Virgin Mary, and watch Westerns; plus, a little bit of country music here and there. Just pray. For this one can only be driven out by prayer, as Christ explained of the young man.
Wednesday, February 22, 2017
Virgin Mary & King David's Words
"Virgin Mary & King David's Words"
A Mirror of Justice, She is called by the Litany; moreover, Her words mirroring the words, so closely, of the bard/fighter King David, him further stating centuries before that the meek shall inherit the Earth--Psalms 37.
Here are a few words, and some new, yet others so closely related to the Psalmist:
Luke Chapter ONE:
46) And Mary said, My soul doth magnify the Lord,
47) And My spirit hath rejoiced in God My Savior.
48) For He hath regarded the low estate of His handmaiden: for, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call Me blessed.
51) He hath shewed strength with His arm; He hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
52) He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree.
53) He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich He hath sent empty away.
Monday, February 20, 2017
Joshua, Charlie Sheen, & Deepak Chopra
"Joshua, Charlie Sheen, & Deepak Chopra"
Joshua tells us to OWN IT. Saying: "And if it seem evil unto you to serve the LORD, choose you this day whom ye will serve."
Charlie Sheen owns his baggage. Admits porn sex, bigger rock smoked than rock stars, and all the rest; moreover, he still liveth.
Deepak Chopra's new book explains that we should reflect at the end of the day, looking back at all that has happened, knowing there are no coincidences; plus, not judging, just examining all that you did, the nature you saw, and meditate upon the Socratic observations of everything that did happen.
* * * *
People wear masks. Even when they sneak up upon themselves in the mirror. You should always know yourself, for as Christ said: "The Kingdom of Heaven is in your midst."
I don't "do" humans
"I don't "do" humans"
The Good Doctor, Saint Thomas Aquinas, described in his Summa Theologica, that certain members of the Celestial Hierarchy have essence, such as regular angelity. Now, what is true essence? It is, fundamentally: the basic, real, and invariable nature of a thing or its significant individual feature or features.
When you don't give a woman what she wants, hell hath no fury--they become scorned, as the cliche goes. BTW: Proust hated cliches. Invent your own.
Anyhow, creamy yeast infections and King David not entering into his concubines after they were entered into by others; plus, Saint Gabriel knowing and giving the words, more or less: "A whore is a whore is a whore." But this is not all bad, for we all have gifts, just use them properly.
And when essence comes your way, why not gel with its positive energy? Instead you walk the path of mere mortals so easily tempted and deceived, having confidence in yourselves (pride), but not the one true God. And because of Him, we too are gods, as it is written--if we allow His truth to be our power source.
Sunday, February 19, 2017
She has worked like a demon
"She has worked like a demon"
Possibly a Freudian slip, but Mr. Clinton said during the Presidential Campaign, on a televised interview mind you: "She has worked like a demon." Who am I to judge? Nevertheless, if you believe in the Bible, or as Saint Gabriel refers to it: THE BOOK, you hear Saint John the Eagle, while exiled on the island of Patmos, write in the Book of REVELATION, that the Anti-Christ will have had a mortal head wound, and we know Mrs. Clinton has had one, falling on the sink or whatever, but who am I but nobody.
Then, you have Maxine Waters, an educated woman, publicly state that Russia has been invading Korea; moreover, another woman in contact with high education, unlike President Truman, her name being Joycelyn Elders, the former Clinton Surgeon General, say that we should teach children the proper techniques of masturbation. What the hell is going on? And at the University of Chicago, they're breaking apart a Trump pinata, teaching the children hate--not knowledge. Just Google the top 100 Universities, and see where you rank, but it's all bullshit--in my opinion.
And J. Edgar Hoover, according to the words of G. Gordon Liddy, him being mad, bad, and dangerous to know, said that Hoover had recorded a certain Civil Rights leader having sex with Caucasian women. What the hell is going on?
How many Yankee soldiers went to their deaths, and nobody cares. Lincoln was the man, even pardoning General Lee (the silver fox), and look into what day his birthday is.
We can't neglect our history, no matter how bewildering or cruel, or we are doomed to perpetually repeat it. God loves us all, but the adversary slimes and smears with murder and lies. As Christ boldly said: "Your father is the devil. The father of lies and murder." It's no man's fault, it's us being tapped into by forces unseen--so detoxify thy pineal gland, and make sure: The Lord is thy refuge.
Saturday, February 18, 2017
The Sons of Men
"The Sons of Men"
The Prophet Ezekiel saw a wheel or disc-shaped craft that landed, revealing Living Creatures with four wings and four faces--sorry for the science fiction reference, but the movie, The Chronicles of Riddick, touches upon this--in a way. And Ezekiel was one of the first to refer to himself as the son of man, which Christ used to describe Himself as well.
When you go to the grocery market or wherever, you always see a hot girl or a nice-looking guy here and there, but give me your full mind: Every few years or so, or more, you might see a man or woman that is beyond the beauty of Hollyweird, shining with the face of an angel. Someone you are in total awe of, not just a mere mortal woman with a good ass in tight jeans I'm talk'n.
On the flip side, you see the deranged and monstrous. A few years back, I was fishing @ the Little Harpeth River in the woods, and I had the windows in my car rolled down halfway for my dog to enjoy the autumn breeze; anyway, she laid down inside and took a snooze. Shortly thereafter, some bizarre-looking man stumbled out of the woods with a deranged and diabolical look in his eyes, and he began to approach me, muttering profane words. I had left my knife in the car, and he was moving closer towards my presence.
Fortunately, my dog awoke, rising through the window, and while usually meek, she began to bark and howl violently towards this essence of humanity, mad-dog drool foaming from her furious fangs; next, her paws got out of the window, and the sinister essence knowing it would be a fight, disappeared into the woods.
I dashed back inside my car, tossing my fishing pole in the backseat, grabbed my blade, locked the doors, thanked God and my dog; then, made a fast and furious exodus out of there.
Luke 16; plus, a few bread crumbs
"Luke 16; plus, a few bread crumbs"
Of course history has been manipulated and changed. In The Last Temptation of Christ flick we hear a phony Christ say God is not an Israelite, yet the true Christ clearly says in the Divine and Holy Gospels: "Salvation comes from the Jews." Philip K. Dick, after having been touched by pink energy knew many things, predicting our disfigured trans-humanism; plus, knowing God offered the Torah to many people, yet they all rejected it due to not being able to have any fun in life; next, a group of slaves in Egypt accept it, and we hear: "Let my people go."
Anyway, about Luke 16, if I quote any parts, I will use the KJV, taught to me by Southern Baptists, and while they may dismiss the Virgin and Her Angels, they love their Scripture, though missing the Apocrypha, yet they have great reverence for the Hebrew people.
So, in Luke 16, we hear of a certain rich man clothed in purple and fine linen; also, a beggar named Lazarus, him laying at the rich man's gate, covered in sores, which were licked by a dog, him sharing the rich man's crumbs with the dog. And it came to pass that the rich man died; plus, Lazarus died as well, but the beggar was carried by Angels into Abraham's Bosom, and the rich man kicked into a furious hell. The rich man begged to be with the beggar in Abraham's comfort, but Abraham told the rich man: "Remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things: but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented."
Too, Pope Francis just mentioned how false idol worship like riches, careerism, and all the jive turkey funk in life are driving people away from God, curious.
Thursday, February 16, 2017
America, the East, and Misinformation
"America, the East, and Misinformation"
Dostoyevsky and Pushkin are read as being decent men--
Pushkin adoring women's legs and long, tanned stems;
And the history of the Pyramids being forged by simple copper chisels,
Or the Ramesses 2nd Statue being constructed by the blow of an allegorical whistle,
When Crazy Horse in America took scores of years with modern technology;
Plus, Saint Helena venturing to Jerusalem to unearth the archaeological laundry,
Finding many artifacts in a mystical mall;
Also, the evident argument by many theologians that the Gospels were crafted before Saint Paul;
Also, written and hidden documents of Roman Emperors seeing the Virgin before Her birth,
Being mentioned thousands of years earlier by Prophets, Kings, and Godly men of mirth--
We are distracted by misinformation,
The news not covering Christ's tomb unearthed a few months ago by the Hebrew Nation,
Yet musical artists are covered by our mainstream media,
And trans-humanism was spoken of by Philip K. Dick before our modern encyclopedia--
It's all so bizarre yet concealed,
And as King Solomon kinda/sorta said: "We must seek them out to see the real and be healed."
The Skunk (8)
"The Skunk (8)"
Stinky was hard at work, making the cheese dip and stuffing both hard and soft shells full of yummilicious scrumptary; next, his Priest walked in the door, and after getting the redneck flavor of MOUNTAIN DEW, which is what we call sweat on Dolly Parton''s buxom bewilderment, the holy man asked if Stinky could have a five minute break. The minimum wage Skunk asked his adolescent, pimple-faced manager, and it was agreed upon; hence, Stinky took a seat across from his Priest at a mostly clean booth; then, the conversation ignited.
PRIEST
I've heard you've been doing some underground vigilante work. What, are you Batman?
STINKY
Bless me father, for I have sinned--it has been two weeks since my last confession.
PRIEST
Okay Stinky--spill it my son.
STINKY
I found my girlfriend cheating on me. I saw her at the local SHONEY'S, laying in the all you can eat salad bar.
PRIEST
Cut the shit Stinky--you have no girlfriend; you're as asexual as a Saint, but as weird as a coyote.
STINKY
Okay--I'm cleaning up the streets. I know, blessed are the merciful, for they too shall receive mercy, but there are some bad hombres out there, and the innocent need protection. Even Saint Michael takes out the trash at times.
PRIEST
Okay, say one OUR FATHER, and do an ACT OF CONTRITION.
The Priest absolved Stinky of his sins, and the Skunk would continue to spray juicy justice.
1985 Pontiac Firebird
"1985 Pontiac Firebird"
Manufactured in various hues of sparkly colors, the Pontiac Firebird 5.0L TRANS AM is a kinda resurrection of the 1960-styled days of American Muscle, when 8-cylinders ruled the asphalt ballet, and America never did engineer Big Block Highway, though this bird is not a big block; however, still armed with plenty of punch and Phoenix-rising power. Here are some stats and specs:
305 cubic inches.
Horses: 205.
Torque (force that causes rotation): 269 lb-ft.
5 speed manual.
Quarter Mile Sprint: 15 seconds @ 87 mph.
Top Speed: 127 mph.
The Skunk (7)
"The Skunk (7)"
Stinky had pissed on a perverted thug, the non-humble hooligan not owning his closeted porn collection of BARELY LEGAL/YOUNG TAIL magazines; plus, deceiving his little sister's Asperger's (AS) as it gave the overly-gregarious goon pleasure in torturing the timid; next, the Skunk spoke of bad fruit and good fruit, of strangers to be sent away by a supposedly progressive Christ, a Savior made historically false by misinformation, and quoted the KJV, though it lacked the Apocrypha, stating: "Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there which go in thereat: Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and there be few that find it."
The Skunk threw not the first stone, but rebuked a brother as commanded, able to forgive if repentance was offered, as again was commanded, but pride thieves them from repentance, and they take days off of school for funerals, when they were never there for the deceased in times of enduring demonic duress during their days.
Stinky wasn't sanctimonious like the shape-shifting Al Gore, who upon winning the Nobel Prize got Clinton jealous, having once called Arafat on the phone, saying: "You son of a bitch--you cost me the Nobel Peace Prize."
Stinky was just in harmonious tune with the vibrant value of velocity, heading Northwards, and going to an underground war as had Saint Michael, Joan of Arc hearing his call to do the same, not out of being bloodthirsty, but because she ultimately paid attention to a cognizant conscience calling her to correct the errors of man, though fiery and wholesome, which the proud and arrogant loathe, downloading porn for persuasion, and never able to erase those images sown upon a delinquent brain pattern, unless through mortification of the senses, as was given unto King George by way of a penetrating physician.
Next, Stinky went back to TACO BELL, making some cheese dip.
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
The Skunk (6)
"The Skunk (6)"
Stinky, as commanded by his Native American heritage, always gave an ear to the mysterious underground. He knew, not to judge, but before going to sleep, remind himself of everything he had done and experienced that day, knowing no scenario of "chance" exists; moreover, to own the reflections of the day, letting them steer himself more introspective. He couldn't help but feel Blake's words thunder through him concerning the poet's favorite quote of Christ: "I came not to bring peace, but a sword."
Stinky had no intention of manifesting the Skunk Totem, thrusting his vigilante-styled actions upon the injustice and deceivers of the world--they had made him this stinky weapon; specifically, they had forged him into a living metaphor for peace and justice kissing, both of these things mentioned in Old and New Testament alike. Wax on; wax off. Can wax brilliant, can wane dim; however, waning can mean the end of negativity, while waxing can mean the beginning of entropy; however, it can be reversed when needed by a hunting pack of dog-like loyalists walking the Red Road.
So, Stinky put on the armor of God, making himself as white as snow, with the blackness around, absorbing evil, and the Skunk went out to hunt some thugs, knowing it was not their fault, them controlled and manipulated, but he would God-piss the demons out of them.
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
The Skunk (5)
"The Skunk (5)"
Stinky was in good counsel with his Christian shinobi, a master of all the defensive arts for the poor and oppressed. The shinobi reminded him of the devil using Scripture to tempt and trick the Christ, and as Stinky told his Priest yesterday: "Man lives not on bread alone, but on every word breathed from the mouth of God."
The devil is a master of Scripture. People say they live by the Golden Rule, when they clearly do not. People say turn the other cheek, making the Lord into a wussy. Covering up history, putting the trident in the devil's hands, when Christ clearly explains He will separate the wheat from the chaff with the pitchfork. And Martin Luther, armed with flatulence and bologna, basing his BS on a singular verse, when in Truth--it's the entire enchilada.
"What have you learned today?" The shinobi asked Stinky.
Stinky responded with King David's mystic words: "Bless the Lord O my soul, and all that is within me--bless His Holy Name."
BTW: The words of Mary and Christ are mostly Old Testament references; moreover, the New Wine gets even bolder.
Monday, February 13, 2017
The Skunk (4)
"The Skunk (4)"
Stinky's Priest warned him about his Native American heritage, listening to some of its mysteries, and while Stinky knew that many were savages, some were pure sublimity. So, Stinky reminded the Priest what Christ said to the pathetic prince of this world: "Man lives not on bread alone, but on every word breathed from the mouth of God." Indeed, theologians argue, but mystics do not.
Stinky loved his Priest, but the dude wasn't the true Vicar of Christ; still, ya never can tell. Yes Christ saves, and so does anything that fuels you with humility, walking in fear of the Great Spiritual Mystery, only fearing God--no angel, jinn, or giant. Did the great bard/fighter and King of Israel not say that the sons of men were almost as strong as angels, and to fear nothing but God?
Stinky prayed for the Priest he loved; next, prayed for himself. Afterwards, went to do his job at TACO BELL. Too, Stinky had nothing that came before the Christ, nothing save Christ's Father.
The Skunk (3)
"The Skunk (3)"
Stinky made his way into the underground, where the shinobi did dwell, not afraid of those bullying reptiles beneath Terra's terrain, but picking them up, gallantly. There, he found his enlightened instructor, a little Japanese man, armed with a power source that was in the midst of himself. The shinobi instructor asked: "Still praying for your Priest?"
Stinky was humble, modestly stating: "I always pray for the weak or those terrorized--their pineal glands tapped into by forces unseen. Though no matter how depraved a Priest might be, as Saint Francis knew, it is wise to always salute a Priest before an angel, for he performs the act of the Transubstantiation. And my Priest does this, but has no passion for the Universe of Christ, and that love is as strong as steel."
The shinobi replied: "We are all separate Universes within the Multiverse. But we are distracted, as my people did to the samurai, knowing of the sublime angels and the fallen. Christ knew to be as cunning as a serpent, yet as innocent as a dove--without that innocence, the serpent devours you hungrily. This Gospel is beyond counterpoise, and only hearkened unto by the wise, fearing God, knowing fear of God is hatred of pride, arrogance, the forked tongue, and deceit. The molested becomes the molester, and the deceived become deceivers."
"Thank you for today's lesson." Stinky said, nodding.
Sunday, February 12, 2017
The Skunk (2)
"The Skunk (2)"
Stinky made an exotic exodus from his laboring duties at TACO BELL; specifically, flipped the bird to some rednecks giving a teenage girl some, well basically--shit. Saying stuff like: "Yo young thang, hook up with us and we gonna take you outta such mundane places--put you in the heavens."
Stinky, noticing them a mix of street thug, dirty cowboy raised in the south, and all the iniquitous rest that did pugnaciously penetrate the perimeter into Wyoming, wanting to drop their filthy bomb on his beloved locals, which were pure cowgirls and cowboys--in the sense of gelling with the freedom of the American West; moreover, he knew those dudes would follow him out to the parking lot; plus, that whatever they were carrying--it could not match his Totem of primal piss.
He loaded his metaphorical bladder, preparing his urethra to bull's eye them--his perverted and pursuing targets. It's best to upset a man; next, his arms are in the air, and he is exposed in certain sensitive areas. Stinky took aim and pissed brilliance all over them, taking them to their knees.
He knew it wasn't their fault for being such proud pricks with a bloodthirsty taste for the inviolate and innocent. They were controlled, having been monitored from birth due to their lascivious obviousness; thus, fueled by venom, like a big-mouthed woman with penis envy--she can't dick somebody, so she uses her obnoxious mouth to give it to you. They should've read the bodacious bard's: The Taming of the Shrew.
Saturday, February 11, 2017
The Skunk (1)
"The Skunk (1)"
Sam "Stinky" Tecumseh, knew how to right a wrong; moreover, knew that it was okay to raise a stink over injustice, as had his new Commander in Chief. Too, knew that respect should not be freely given, but earned, yet dignity is deserved by even the diabolically demonic and dastardly.
Stinky worked at a local TACO BELL in Wyoming, gelling with the locals, yet aware of their otherworldly vivid virtues and venomous vices. He was in the underground business of helping people. Solace of the wretched and unwanted--like Saint Joseph. Folks thinking gregarious gain and iniquitous imperialism is so totally vogue, yet what profits a man if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul--the shinobi taught the samurai this lesson.
Anyway, there was this teenage girl afflicted by belligerent bullies and she had not the steel to defend her inviolate self. Cowboy was a dirty word at first, but like all things, history is erased and replaced by the fabrications of false testimony. Though all is relative, or can be.
We have friends; on the flip side, we have enemies; next, the pussy neutrals that Dante poetically mentioned. The Swiss being neutral when the entire world was falling apart. Yet what did Great Britain's True Sergeant At Arms boldly proclaim: "Never give up." Verily, make a smelly stink for juicy justice. Like Saint Joan of Arc invocations go: "Let me do my Earthly tasks, even if it means my own death." And as Saint Francis knew: "It is in dying that we receive eternal life." But he was just a FOOL for Christ--some would say, not knowing that he fought in the Crusades, never became a Priest out of humility, threw his naked body in the thorn bushes to cure an evil erection, and tamed a wild wolf.
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
My Pap's Right Arm
"My Pap's Right Arm"
Birthed with mighty steel in Pittsburgh, my Pap, the son of a Serbian immigrant dubbed Dragan Radulovic, was talk; plus, imperative action and walk.
As Schwarzenegger said as he hung the little man over the cliff in the movie Commando: "I warn you--this is my weak arm." Pap held his boss out a second story window by his legs; furthermore, he was put on Haldol, due to his friendly nature and arctic-blue eyes of justice and peace kissing; specifically, he was bullied, yet took no shit when pushed to the maximum limit, snapping and morphing into concrete iron.
Ultimately, they took him back to work, and he was a teacher to me and loved Tesla, having many articles on the Serbian genius who did outshine Edison, though in humility, hung out with Mark Twain, and had a mustache like the dandy Proust.
Pap re-forged his name from Radulovic to Radulovich, and told the lady at the bank (I was there) that he was Russian. I asked him: "Pap, why did you say you were Russian.?" He responded: "Cause then they're afraid of you." Moreover, the Serbians are cousins to the Russians, as Clinton found out with Boris Yeltsin.
My Pap was my Saint Joseph--terror of demons, as the Litany goes. Not once did I mess with him, for he would've broke my neck. I love and adore his eternal spirit in a bold and illuminated Christ, strongly.
Saturday, February 4, 2017
Hey Chief (8)
"Hey Chief (8)"
Paul was reflecting upon his childhood; moreover, how he willfully wended his way to a somewhat accomplished adulthood as a dandy barber, and though dandy he was--he knew how to put on Solomon's sincerely sophisticated countenance concerning strength.
Paul was afflicted as a child. Tortured would be a better word. Numerous clinical psychologists, and an older sister that attempted to play the part of his absent biological father by God-smacking him into a piece of metaphorical steel. He resisted her discipline, and now knew he was woefully wrong. Strength births strength. A bully can sometimes be divine, forging a flashing sword within a well-lit soul, if that person sells their soul to Christ; however, some bullies are garbage.
Paul ultimately took his sister's advice, knowing she was only attempting to craft him strong; next, got his barber's license and sought out Christ--God's ultimate champion for humanity, remembering His Mother's words: "Do as My Son says."
Christ had no doubt, and if actually tempted--it was a wimpish and weak temptation, as He told one of the Twelve: "That was the prince of this world, but he has no power over Me." Like Jango Fett's clones, Christ did His job, perfectly.
That's why Paul was steeled now; plus, why he would not engage Max in immediate intercourse, testing every spirit as commanded. And yes, some shrinks do know the difference between mental illness and diabolical intrusion, as Paul had found a Native American psychiatrist, a former Chief mind you, that took him to Catholic Mass one day; next, let the budding barber build his foundation on the ROCK, getting baptized by water; then, his first Holy Communion, eating the true flesh of Christ.
It wasn't that the invention of therapy was nefarious, yet it explained the supernatural through the weakness of science, which constantly changes, while God does not. The bad hombres don't want people to know their leader exists, a great trick, or they're unaware themselves, pursuing a life of lascivious lusts and cruelty--they won't believe and give verbal or spiritual glory to the champion of God--the Christ.
Anyway, Paul had made up with his sister, and while she lived outside of the Arkansas perimeter, he still pen wrote her letters of appreciation, but didn't kiss too much sibling ass, having that edge, knowing not even angels deserve as much praise as the Trinity, though part of it themselves, from a certain perspective concerning the Holy Spirit Itself.
So, as Paul had tested Max's spirit--he knew she was a lady he could trust; hence, he would take an innocent shower with her, be polite and adore her; next, if futurity had scripted it--ask for her loving hand in the super-mundane act of matrimony.
Thursday, February 2, 2017
Hey Chief (7)
"Hey Chief (7)"
Beauteous Max and mild-mannered Paul enjoyed the flickering candlelight and frozen lasagna, but Paul had no wine, and they drank tap water; however, he did have ice cubes for some "splash" in his mini-fridge. EDDIE THE EAGLE was an inspiring movie about a determined dreamer and a washed-up lush resurrecting his potential. Anyway, after ejecting the DVD, Max snuggled in close to Paul and injected her tongue under his manly mustache--right into his shocked mouth. The dude kissed her back for a while; next, pushed away and explained his desire concerning the relationship.
PAUL
I do wish to engage you in intercourse; however, not this night, but I'm okay to show you myself naked, so you can see the goods.
MAX
Snorted a giggle. Do you want to see my goods? Ran a hand through her butterscotch pixie cut. I can see your Rosary over there, and your Crucifix over yonder; plus, can tell that you're an honest and nice guy. So, I can wait. But you're kinda Old Testament, huh?
PAUL
Not particularly. In fact, Christ's words are more terrifying; moreover, He gets most of his material from the Old Testament, quoting Isaiah, David, other Psalms, and all the rest. Too, He talks about the winnowing fork used to separate the wheat from the chaff, a pitchfork. And Saint John further goes onto to display that a life without repentance is not healthy, but eternally damaging to the soul.
MAX
Yeah, Jesus can be scary. But isn't that the point?
PAUL
He was no Elmer Gantry--those who can't do, teach. He was pure light and salt.
MAX
So, how long do you wanna wait to make love?
PAUL
We'll know. Now, let's take a ride on my motorcycle. Plenty of wildlife to see, and I can go slow or fast.
MAX
Smiled. Sounds like a good start.
Hey Chief (6)
"Hey Chief (6)"
Paul was hanging out at Trevor's, informing his singular friend about the upcoming date he had with the lovely and statuesque Max. The dandy barber had already gotten a copy of Eddie the Eagle from the local Redbox machine and placed it in his saddle bags that hung over his dual action Honda 250; plus, purchased a frozen lasagna, some nice plastic plates with plastic forks and knives; also, a few candles to set a somewhat romantic atmosphere; however, being the ascetic Catholic that he was, he didn't know how he felt about laying the lascivious pipe.
As a result, he inquired upon Trevor for wisdom, but all the perverted dude offered was: "Get some."
Paul continued on about his lifelong dedication to Catholicism, and Trevor stated: "Hell, be a Christian first. Just give all the sin to Jesus--that's what he's there for."
It sounded like cheating to Paul, the entire Protestant approach, forgetting the sacrifices of Saints and Angels that would not become fallible; regardless, he considered Trevor's advice; next, placed some peach chaw between his lip and gum, voicing: "Okay my man--I hear ya. But I'll play it as my conscience tells me. As Obi-Wan told Luke--you must do what you feel is RIGHT of course."
Trevor back with: "Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster between your legs."
Paul grinned, grasping Trevor's uncouth style; nevertheless, Paul knew who he was; moreover, what he was about; plus, that the Kingdom of Heaven was in the midst of him. He would do things the right way.
Hey Chief (5)
"Hey Chief (5)"
Max and Paul had ignited a protracted conversation over her repeatedly bringing him more and more sunny-side up eggs. Paul knew never to order scrambled, for they could drop them on the floor; next, scoop them right up and you'd never know. Anyway, he kept re-ordering the eggs to talk to Max, and had gotten her name by now, and she his. Feeling the axiomatic connection the twosome had for one another, Max took her break, sitting across from Paul in the booth, and they chatted it up.
MAX
Your mustache is a paragon.
PAUL
Liked her Waffle House vocabulary. I'm a barber--it's a bit of dandyism on my part.
MAX
Yeah, you're a sharp dresser too. Most folks in these parts are all blue jeans and flannel.
PAUL
I've thought about it--I do use chaw--got some red on my neck.
MAX
We all do around here. Hell, it's Arkansas.
PAUL
That's what they keep telling me; anyway, I'm not exactly a lady's man, but you sure got some sincere beauty about you. Would you like to rent Eddie the Eagle at a Redbox and watch it with me at my trailer?
MAX
Blushed, having hoped for a date question. I'm not easy, but a guy as neatly attired as you displays merit. I'd love to hang with you Paul.
The suave synergy of the two souls exchanged numbers, and the date was set.
Hey Chief (4)
"Hey Chief (4)"
Maxine, or "Max" as she was called, worked the night-shift at a Waffle House in El Dorado, Arkansas--a modest city in the Hog Heaven State. Max was a welcoming waitress, having a butterscotch nimbus fashioned by way of a pixie cut, and was as pretty as pearls.
It was just another mundane night of county cops, miscreants, and your garden-variety vampires; however, one tall, wiry man sauntered in, and he was all mustache--a total cowboy-styled dirt squirrel or cookie duster atop his full and kissable lips--if she would have been the neurotic George from the 90's show Seinfeld, she would've blurted: "LOOK JERRY! HE'S ALL MUSTACHE!"
But she wasn't neurotic, into the paranormal, nor had any affiliation with organized religion--just a young lady attempting to get by in this sometimes cruel America. So, she gently approached him with a sparkle in her emerald-green eyes, asking: "Where would you like to sit sir?"
Paul immediately felt the electricity of mystical love pulse through his thoracic cavity, feeling like he was going to have a panic attack upon viewing such an "up close" beauty, but kept his composure cool; next, calmly said: "I'll take a booth." Then, Max elegantly turned and led him--Paul's eyes glued to her golden legs steered by Reebok sneakers.
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
Hey Chief (3)
"Hey Chief (3)"
Paul was over at Trevor's trailer, the interior decorated by pin-ups of toyland babes in pumps, doing the half-naked body stretch over fancy automobiles and crap like that, but hey--Trevor owned it; on the flip side, Paul remained a bit stoic, having held onto his dandyism, not shaving his gentleman-era mustache, though held a cold Bud in his hand; plus, had a mouthful of mint chaw, but paid no attention to Trevor's perversion with the world, just needed a friend.
So, as Trevor went on and on about this hot chick he was banging, Paul was blocking him out, pondering how psychiatrists and others attempt to hide the truth, labeling some psychotic, when of course they totally are, yet then those brilliant madmen, seeing into the Otherworld with surgical precision--even better, and knowing they're not mad, but enlightened, holding onto the enchantment that drives them, while the normal folk, like Trevor, are all about the cold six-pack and crummy cable shows, never displaying the true theology of man's mystical intercourse with the unseen, though seen by many, yet only the steeled can handle it, and Paul was about ready to write a letter to the Corinthians, allegorically.
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