Coyote playing with a ball

Kooky Lucy Frost (24)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (24)"
   
   Lucy's Serbian, immigrant Pap was @ the barber again, his inner OCD always prepped to get the silver fox tamed--a domesticated dog is cool, even Saint John the Eagle would admit this, for they don't eat dead bodies off the crosses, and an Orthodox Jew like Joseph of Arimathea made sure Christ was gently taken down, wrapped in spice, and properly buried.
   Anyway, Lucy was home alone save Cleveland's constant pester, following her pacing feet, out of adoration--Lucy was the Sun to him, that daystar of life.
   So, the doorbell chimed.  It had a funky dinga-donga, like a 70's era Carter Show.  Lucy told Cleveland to sit and stay--the obedient hound submitted to her loving instruction, not a rebuke; moreover, she pulled her dirty-blonde back in a lime-green ponytail stretchy-thing and answered the door without looking through the peep hole; furthermore, as she opened the door, the blonde angel lady from the grocery market was standing there, armed with facial protection; specifically, mirror shades, like motorcycle cops used to wear in the 70's to intimidate their pullovers.  Lucy was astonished, yet knew emerald-green eyes were cloaked beneath her own reflection, yet the golden flax of the woman's hair was beyond the platinum glimmer of champagne, so wheat-like, and verily Notre Dame gold-like.
  The woman said:  "My name is Alva.  You can read me, but I can read you better."
   Lucy felt no intimidation or threat, calmly responding:  "What's this about?"
   Alva responded:  "You are partially one of us.  Yet you attempted to merge, wanting in life, yet wanting is a waste; on the flip side, doing and being is pure sublimity.  That man Conor is of our folk too, halfway, as are you."
   Lucy pushed her cupcake cleavage out like a little Schwarzenegger, boldly probing:  "Well, what should I do?"
   Alva smiled toothy pearls:  "Don't gel.  Keep the blood as pure as you can.  Mate with Conor.  Your eggs are still able, even though you are approaching menopause.  So, don't pause.  Make your own tribe, and we will be guarding."
   Lucy became a bit frustrated:  "What the heck is this all about?"
   Alva stated:  "Remember when you were an adolescent and nobody understood you, saying you were making all your problems up--we knew you weren't.  But your problems are your shield, though let it down for Conor, for he deserves entrance, and you deserve offspring.  We need all the help we can get.  Later, no gator."
   The tall, blonde chick departed, as if into nowhere.  Lucy bit her lip, blew her blonde out of her face, and her forest-green eyes went on an imaginative safari for the seed of Conor.  Why the holy hell freaking not?  She was getting long in the tooth as it was.   

Reagan's ALIEN speech to UN

Kooky Lucy Frost (23)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (23)"
   
   Kooky Lucy was back in her house, chatting it up with Pap in an almost manic state about how she had kissed Conor on the asphalt ballet of the suburban sprawl, but no tongue, just a mere peck--the first time she'd kissed a guy in over 13 years.  Too, she said he didn't taste like rancorous adultery, but was minty fresh.  And she rambled on about this without the slightest of a radish's blush.  
   Pap was cracked up, ignited his coffin nail with the spark of sulfur, and exhaled his happiness, being merry for a flaky grandchild, her never realizing her awesome beauty, as if innately protecting it due to an act of persevering for the perfect guy.  Pap knew of Conor.  Some bad seeds in the neighborhood had called the guy a gimp, a skeletal freak, him having hyperactivity of the Basal ganglia or some technical shit that gave him funky motor skills due to playing football in high school @ the position of free safety, having taken many head on collisions from larger, though slower guys--the damn Irish were crazy, Pap's internal Serb thought, but he knew Conor was no drunk, just a guy that lived with his parental units, kinda like Lucy, having a mild job as a janitor for the Catholic Church, paying his taxes, and taking no shit, as the Irish don't give a damn about what people think, but only of what God thinks, and as the Burgundy of the situation metaphysically goes--a just war is honorable, just control your power.
   Thus, Pap told Lucy:  "Interesting that after Twain penned his Saint Joan of Arc book, saying he never gave a damn about writing anything else, the Western Rite offered her Beatification; next, made her a Saint a decade later.  She fought though was of God, and you too Lucy have to fight.  You are incarnate, and a true old school guy will always look after you, especially if they have the intangible steel of a hardcore spirit.  And I know of Conor--he is a loner like yourself, nearing fifty, and would treat you as a delicious dame through all the dastardly deeds of this modernized world gone screwed by more machines than spirit.  He sings from the heart, and I think you should pursue your interest."
   Lucy was like:  "I do really like him Pap.  Even though we're of the Eastern Rite."
   Pap blew a smoke ring:  "Our Priests just get to have facial hair and have sex; otherwise, no significant difference."  
   Lucy chuckled, and Cleveland howled happily, somehow knowing . . .

Animotion - Obsession (lyrics)

Kooky Lucy Frost (22)--the honey badger

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (22)--the honey badger"
   
   Kooky Lucy Frost got up the nagging nerve to talk to Conor, as his asymmetrical walking gait cruised the sprawl of suburbia.  She left Cleveland behind, not needing interference, not even from her best pal--the holy hound that Saint Roch and Raphael knew well.  Therefore, she diligently dashed upon his presence, his buzzcut and mutlti-hued eyes gleaming gallantly over a lean build--a total ectomorph.  She said "hiya" and patiently waited for his radiant glare to respond.  He did so.
   "Lucy Frost."  He stated.  "Have I ever told you of the honey badger and my feminine intuition?"
   Lucy now knew the world was weird, like the STAR WARS cantina, but was determined to keep calm and carry a lightsaber. 
   She asked:  "Can you tell me, Conor?"
   He smiled nicotine-stained teeth, though straight and glistening, saying:  "The honey badger relies on the matriarch.  Its mother loving it so much that she exposes the baby to scorpion venom.  Plus, scorpions are pure protein; next, exposes it to snake venom.  The honey badger is a sublime zombie of supernatural nature.  It doesn't hide in a clean room, but is exposed to toxins and contagion--to make it strong.  A puff adder or cobra can strike it many times, even in the eye or mouth; still, the honey badger consumes the snake; then, it dies for two hours, but resurrects itself, as it is purified by feeding off of the negativity.  Christ said--resist not evil."
   Kooky Lucy understood:  "I should get out more, and kiss you."
   Conor handsomely smiled:  "Of course."  

Jango Fett vs. Obi-Wan Kenobi HD

Don't Drink the Kool-Aid

   
   "Don't Drink the Kool-Aid"
   
   Ya, like I was telling my last wife, and as the non-canonized Gospel of Thomas kinda/sorta totally hints @:  Be who you are!!!  Don't let them freakishly forge you into their images.  I knew a great writer once--she was great, the best, linguistically armed with foreign and archaic language skills; plus, filthy rich parents.  They would always take care of her, regardless.  Why didn't she throw her hat in the ring?  Prestige and bullshit.  People saying:  "There's no money in that."  But if you die rich; next, better learn to sell ice cream.  And I guess trash-men, welders, and janitors are just shitty people.  American Woman--stay the hell away from me, even though you wanted it.  And remember Twain's take on Confederate Generals--all given the star due to wealth and status.  Gettysburg was a slaughter of stupidity.  God Bless ALL those men--and the Civil War is no myth.  
   T.S. Eliot thought he was a fancy banker.  Fancy, fancy, fancy job.  Ezra Pound allegorically slapped him in the face, telling him that he was too important to be a banker.  And yes, a few weeks ago--the London Bridge metaphorically fell down.  
   And even though Eliot possibly put his wife in the cuckoo's nest due to a possible affair with Lord Bertrand Russell, well, I guess Britain is kinda/sorta a free country too.
   And while Pound was brought back to the States in a gorilla cage; then, locked away in an institute for the criminally insane, Eliot was getting the Noble Prize.  Curious.
   But that's the web of weird.  So, don't drink the Kool-Aid.  Be not of two minds.  

Dirty Laundry (As Made Famous by Don Henley)

Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd

   "Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd"
   
   Up North, ethnic guys like my Serbian Pap used to give each other the "business" with terms of endearment, such as:  An Irish guy is a Mick, a German guy is a Kraut, and the Pope was a Polack with a million dollar hat.  God has a sense of humor, for 70% of life on Terra's Terrain is a form of the beetle.  
   Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd, or Saint Pope John Paul the Great stood with Ronny Raygun to defeat Communism.  But he endured more--for God tests the just man and his faith; next, Justice and Peace shall kiss.
   The Mother comes before the Son--the Goose that lays the Golden Egg.  You better love the Virgin, for without Her--there would be no Jesus buddy.
   She weirdly appears on the 13th; however, She can Super-Position Herself, a term used in physics, meaning:  being in multiple places at once.  1 plus 3 = the Virgin and the Trinity, a Franciscan Friar might say.
   Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd was shot on the 13th day.  Four times.  Curious.  The pseudo-assassin fed him some Browning bullets.  You know how much negative metaphysical energy there is in a Browning?  Plenty.  But he said he couldn't get off a clear shot, for there was a woman in white standing in front of the Pontiff, so some stories go.
   After recovering, the Pope forgave the man, got his sentence reduced, and took one of the bullet shell-casings; next, he put it in the Crown of Mary that has twelve spikes, making the number 13--it seems to be Her number.  But I know:  She loves Her children everyday.
   Furthermore, it has only been a short time since his canonization, but invoke Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd, and he will point you in the direction of the Virgin Mother; next, She will point you in the direction of Christ.  

Kooky Lucy Frost (21)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (21)"
   
   Kooky Lucy Frost was dancing around the house while Pap was at the dandy barber getting his silver fox shaped.  She was listening to the theme song of THE JEFFERSONS, knowing they were singing that "beans don't burn in the kitchen; beans don't fry on the grill--took a whole lotta turning, just ta get up dat hill" or something; regardless, she was enjoying her earliest memories; next, opened the kitchen drawer to get a fork for her nicely tossed salad, and found a turkey baster--she freaked.  All she could think about was Thanksgiving and gravy.  Cousin Stevie telling her all those years ago that seminal fluid was gravy.  That a man's genitalia made dark, stinky gravy.  She threw-up a little in her mouth, began to compulsively wash her hands; next, water-boarded herself in the kitchen sink till her mouth, throat, and some lung tissue were all cleansed.  Her face was red, and her hands shaking.  After a minute of hearing her own erratic heartbeat, the phone rang, and she immediately knew there are no coincidences in life--it had to be Cousin Stevie.  She answered the land-line, for she had no cell phone as EMFs freaked her out.  It was Cousin Stevie.

STEVIE
I hear ya moved in with Pap ya fruitcake.  Remember that time I got dry-humped by the Democrat dude?

   Kooky Lucy Frost hung up the phone, got on her knees and said a Hail Mary for all the polluted people.  Then, she took her anti-psychotic and laid on the couch alongside a tail-wagging Cleveland.  

Coydog?

Zany, Mercurial Ode To Saint Raphael

   "Zany, Mercurial Ode To Saint Raphael"

Bishop Sheen asks:  "Have you ever seen an angel with a beard?"
Thus, you only get into Heaven with a clean shave; hence, on cheekbones--shaving cream smeared;
Next, know that lovely and laughing Saint Raphael has a frequency around 600 THz,
Laughing at first if it hurts when you have a kidney stone and have to make a pee;
Alas, be not mad at the flux of ill,
For sickness makes Saints out of those that repent and follow His Will;
Indeed, the wavelength of love is a green light away,
If you continue to fast, mortify them senses, and without ceasing pray,
For greater love hath no man
Than to lay down his life--that is a Heavenly plan,
And my hand is a yarborough, being a perfect 8--
What you sow is what you reap--this is the meaning of futurity's fate--
If you give, you receive; moreover, death is not the mystery fella,
Life's the mystery, so let go with the purple of a perennial herb known as gentianella
And use the Source of ALL Consolation,
Don't make a sick soul's heart go quacking--
Feel with the conscience as did Tobias assisted by compulsive washing and an angel dog--
A Fool Card with Saint Raphael blurting:  "Catch the fish, for you are not a filthy hog."
So clean your feet and bury the dead,
Or burn them to ash and let the Phoenix rise instead;
Regardless, keep on trucking like Old School days,
When family was loved and not thrown into the oblivious haze
Of not having a hand to hold or a Priest for a visit,
And a dog to pet; plus, to sit outside in the summer and hear a frog go:  "Ribbit."
Nature is splendor beyond your smart phone
That you xertz information with, as you are the one truly alone.
Be like God, and know when every sparrow does fall,
And not even in your riches will you be ornamented as beautiful as a goldfinch, or be as tall
As the HIGHTOWER you need to find
In order to redesign,
Unlearning what you've learned,
For death is knocking babe, and how will you want to be treated during your turn? 
So love hope and all its wackadoodle craze,
Then marvel at Eucharistic Adoration, and escape your self-seeking maze--  
We all will need the laughter of Saint Raphael one day,
For Christ has a family, and being part of His family is the only way . . . 
  

Kooky Lucy Frost (20)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (20)"
   
   Pap and Lucy were making an apple pie, using Granny Smiths, the neuroprotection of cinnamon (one of King Solomon's favorite spices) and tobacco; plus, a hand beat and rolled crust--Cleveland diligently observing in Socratic fashion, asking himself WHY, and wondering if he would get to lick his doggy chops after eating a piece.
   Lucy loved Pap so much, him having never changed to her, as some people say older folk do, not knowing they get better with time, as a baby girl changes into a woman, or a horny teenager without religion, going to orgy-esque frat parties and privately disturbing her own hymen with phallic objects like candles or by other grotesque means when puberty pugnaciously pounces upon her corporeal cravings since religion has not armed her with the strength of the spirit; indeed, the baby girl is no longer the same person, but skanky, like a mother that does not follow the Christ, not knowing that women are not the same as men, but nowadays--big mouths seem to be catching on for females as their intuition gets sucked into the vortex of the past by time travelers thieving away their innocence, but hey, they're empowered to become non-domesticated dogs, eating dead bodies off the crosses, but the Orthodox Jews would rescue and wrap their deceased criminals in spice due to the tradition of holy burial, saving them from a canine's hungry and hellish set of carnivorous chompers, after gravity came to be realized upon the cessation of crucifixion; thus, as a witness to this, Saint John the Eagle wrote of hellish hounds not inheriting Heaven in the Book of Revelation, the only Disciple not martyred, as he took care of the Holy Mother, or so it seems so obviously axiomatic, him only being exiled upon the island of Patmos, as some stories go.      
   Lucy would always adore Pap, never letting anybody touch him, laying down her life out of love, as commanded, jumping on the grenade, but in a protracted war, for she was not small fry, but enduring the dilemma of deliverance from the demons of a disorder so uncanny and unexplained that no normal mind could fathom such a furious phantom of frustration and freakishness.  
   Pap asked:  "You wanna put candles in it when we're done?"
   Lucy with:  "Is it anybody's birthday?"
   "No."  Pap said bluntly.  "I just feel like a birthday boy today, for what's more old school than a sporting dog and a forty-something little girl, who will always be my baby."
   Lucy blushed, wrapping Pap in a warm embrace, but avoiding his dancing cherry that dangled from a smiling grip of lips.  
   

Carole Landis Sings Personality (1946 Radio Show)

Meet The Coywolf | Nature, Trailer | PBS

Kooky Lucy Frost (19)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (19)"
   
   Kooky Lucy, back seeing the alternative psychiatrist, as always, face to face, her bottle of Purell neatly tucked into the pocket of her white bluejeans.
  
DOCTOR
So, you initially felt chemistry and positive sparks upon meeting Conor; however, after getting a whiff of his breath up your nostrils--you felt invaded?

LUCY
It wasn't like a garbage stink or anything.  It was just . . .

DOCTOR
Alien to you?

LUCY
More or less.

DOCTOR
Some people like to gel.  Others form tribes and separate, this being borders, language, and culture, as might Michael Savage say.  Maybe you need to find people like yourself.

LUCY
But he is like me.  He's kinda coyote weird, but not naughty.  Like a tame dog.  Domesticated.

DOCTOR
Anything you remember, verbally, that set you off in your past?

LUCY
Blew her dirty-blonde out of her face.  When I was 11 years old and at the Great Lakes with my teenage cousin Stevie, she said something very disturbing to me.  I was just a kid that liked STAR WARS and Spider-Man, and out of nowhere she asked me if I knew how a girl gets pregnant; next, goes onto tell me--a guy puts his pee-pee in her bum, and gravy comes out of his pee-pee, and a baby is made--I was totally freaked.  I haven't eaten gravy since.  Anything and everything about gravy disgusts me.  

DOCTOR
Thanksgiving must be a real bummer.

LUCY
I avoid it, like obese people with sweaty pits.  It's all freaking gravy to me.  Little kids with gravy coming out of their nose.  It's all gravy.

DOCTOR
G. Gordon Liddy conquered his fear of rats by killing one; then, he ate its left hindquarter, raw.

LUCY
You're saying that I should kiss Conor's gravy-making mouth?

DOCTOR
You want to, right?

LUCY
Not if he's got gravy in there.

   The Doctor actually laughed.  

5 Bad Asses In America

   
   "5 Bad Asses In America"

   I've thieved this, like a coyote, stealing fire from the gods, from the pussy of Pop-Culture; nevertheless, this is a solid approximation, though not axiomatic.
   
   1.)   Harry S. Truman--no college degree, the buck stops here, and nuclear power to save more lives than lose them.
   2.)   Hunter S. Thompson--more chemical imbalances than Johnny Depp in a hotel room, said he wanted to kill Bill Murray, road with the Hell's Angels, and loved to blow things up with shotguns and propane tanks.
   3.)   Bruce Lee--little, but the element of water was his power, submitting the best Chinese fighter to teach us Americans martial arts.  The Little Dragon, kicking your ass . . .  
   4.)   G. Gordon Liddy--a five year felon, didn't bleed Kool-Aid, master of Tiger Tai-Chi, could get a woman preggers by simply sitting next to her, and once a State Trooper pulled over his FBI Car, and as the Trooper got next to his car, G. Gordon turned on his federal siren; next, the Trooper jumped out of his skin; furthermore, G. Gordon showed him his FBI Badge, stating boldly:  "I got the big badge buddy."
   5.)   The American Coyote--one killed every sixty seconds, yet ten take its place.  Second unto the Great Spirit.  Longest hunt in recorded history, being over twenty hours; plus, when fox hunting was weak in America, the people decided to hunt the Little Wolf, and they chased a coyote for ten hours; next, upon returning home, they found the pestered coyote on their front porch, him humbly smiling at their lack of bull's eye and bullshit.
   Every dog has its day, and a good dog just might have two--Thomas Pynchon!!! 

Kooky Lucy Frost (18)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (18)"
   
   Lucy prayed the Rosary with Pap; next, with Cleveland loyally @ her heels, she exited the house in sweat gear and hit the Buffalo asphalt within the suburban sprawl of it all, the holy hound never missing a beat of her thunderous Reeboks.
   As she pushed herself around the corner, all was dandy and the Sun tasted delicious upon her skin; then, a handsome, wiry guy with a buzzcut was approaching, walking slowly, with a weird gait, and Lucy felt no threat--just electric energy; at the same time, so did Cleveland--sprinting beyond Lucy's elegant gallop, in direction of the man, up to him and kissing with licks his lowered hands. 
   Lucy took it as a sign.  Sheltie's are intuitive, and she trusted Cleveland's sense of frequency; thus, she faced the man, eye to eye, having no phobias about it.  She noticed he had green eyes, with hints of gold, blue, and a smack of brown in the middle--a window into an intense soul.  She also noticed his chiseled jawline, his dark brow, his thick, full lips, and had a sense of romance.  How freaking weird for her, as if he was not unclean.
   "Hey."  The man said.  "My name is Conor."
   Lucy, without flinching, responded:  "I'm Lucy Frost--nice to meet you, guy."   

Kooky Lucy Frost (17)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (17)"
   
   Kooky Lucy Frost jogged home with Cleveland at her levitating heels, the mental patient alive with an angel encounter, and Cleveland feeling the beat of her floating shoes, as if winged and aligned with super-symmetry ITSELF.
   Upon entering her house, Pap, as always, was sparking a cherry, and she quickly dashed to his distance, up close and personal, Cleveland wagging rapidly, and the beloved granddaughter spilled the news about the tall, blonde lady.  Pap asked:  "You're not going lesbo on me are you?  Not into eating tuna sandwiches?"
   Lucy was like:  "Pap, how gross.  Besides, the government tells women not to ever douche anymore.  Verily, the vaginal cavity in most women today is occupied by much bacteria; plus, you could find a piano up there."
   They both shared the synergy of a good laugh, raising their vibrations.  Pap then stated:  "I know your Pap shouldn't be saying such raunchy things, but I'm not dead yet."
   Lucy with:  "Pap, you're a solid Orthodox Christian, but Christ even had His joys."
   "That, He did--and still does.  He'll be back, separating the wheat from the chaff with the winnowing fork; indeed, He'll be back Lucy."  

Kooky Lucy Frost (16)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (16)"
   
   Kooky Lucy, with more "tics" than a Dalmatian @ a dog park, nervously wended her weird way into the market to get some Icelandic water and bean sprouts.  It was as if she could feel all the emotions of the shoppers, the ups and downs, the overwhelming hysteria of a mutated mankind.
   She focused on herself, who she was, and her mission--just two items; next, get the hell out of there.  She wanted to go through automatic checkout as always--less contagion; however, upon noticing a tall blonde woman, blonder than her, and with eyes emerald green, brighter than her forest green, she felt cleanliness and kinship, as if an angelic sister was there to protect her.
   She didn't wish to be golden blonde and not dirty blonde, or have emerald green eyes and not her forest green eyes, for deep down she loved herself, getting more of a hint of who she actually was.

Simon

Run!

Kooky Lucy Frost (15)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (15)"
   
   Back @ the psychiatrist's office, face to face, and unleashing tidbits of truth, for all is a comprehensible parable for the chosen.

DOCTOR
You need to read the Gospel of Thomas--not canonized, but worthy.  Make yourself a duplicate of Christ; moreover, put a man's strength in you if you are a woman, and put a woman's intuition in you if you are a man--be a paragon--like Ryan Seacrest.  

LUCY
Was that humor?

DOCTOR
Man being reasonable must laugh in the face of death, for why have drama when humor usurps the dilemma of diatribe--you picking up what I'm putting down?

LUCY
It is like Lord of the Rings out there.  I went to STARBUCKS the other day, shaking nervously, and everybody is plugged into their cell phones or has a computer attached to their face.

DOCTOR
Spirit outshines robotics.  Use your Third Eye.  Eat healthy.  Cleanse the pineal portion.  Talk to God everyday, thanking Him and loving Him for all the stress.  As G. Gordon Liddy said upon getting out of prison, quoting the mad philosopher:  WHAT DOESN'T KILL YOU MAKES YOU STRONGER.

LUCY
Yeah, and they're trying to build a Nerf world out there.  Football is not what it used to be, just ask Doug Flutie.

DOCTOR
I prefer Jim Plunkett, for you know I'm old school Miss Lucy Frost.
  
   Lucy smiled, for the first time in years.  

Sanford and Son Intro

Kooky Lucy Frost (14)--fight to the end, wussy

    
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (14)--fight to the end, wussy"
   
   Kooky Lucy was unique.  Not like the masses of the proud and self-impressed.  She was not an island unto them; on the contrary, she was a sub-continent of survival.  And she knew it, deep down, like the brats craving a cervix' blunt pain to remind them of a molesting father or molesting Internet.
   Pap greeted Lucy, along with a tail-wagging Cleveland as she entered HER house.  They exchanged pleasantries; next, Pap took a seat with her, sparked a cherry, let the purifying smoke cleanse his internal aspects, and exhaled his prayers to the celestial heavens--life is bigger than your pride, boy.
   He went on to tell her about Grandma.  How the physician of God, Saint Raphael has a sense of humor.  How Grandma was never a burden.  If a sick person becomes a burden; then, the axiom wends your way, meaning:  YOU ARE THE SICK PERSON!
   Said he wouldn't have her in a monkey-blooded nursing home, where you get bloody enemas, no love, no sacrifice, as the workers are paid to kill--Bounty Hunters for the disabled.  Unless it is Nun Nurses--the real ones, that get none, but give all.  There is beauty in ugliness.  The Greatest beauty, while those full of pride and arrogance, crafting forked-tongued fraud, do so for their own elation.
   Pap further went to say being sick is a blessing--if you repent and get your selfish act in order; on the other hand, if you blame God, or say it is too difficult, He will allow you to know that you are a bestial brat, monkey-blooded, and easily cloned.  
   "So, Grandma gave me headaches.  Why make life easy?  Hell comes easy.  Heaven doesn't."
     

Star Wars / A-Team opening

Kooky Lucy Frost (13)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (13)"
   
   Lucy was face to face with her altruistic and weirdly alternative psychiatrist, him never threatened, as he had mentioned in a past visit, because he knew who he was, and would only be that singular, radiant essence.  Anyway, the bizarre conversation ignited, yet while folk claim psychiatrists to be kooks, go meet a gastroenterologist, and unless his mother had intestinal problems or so on, he'll love to offer robotic sodomy.  Here we go:

DOCTOR
Have you seen them yet, and is that why you're nervous, having terrible tics around people?

LUCY
Looked confused, but elegantly probed.  Seen who my Doctor?  Can you be more clear?

DOCTOR
My cell phone is on; thus, this will have to be a bit ambiguous, like a puzzle--it is your job, as my patient, to put together the pieces.  The tall blonde women, the shrunken goblin types wearing sunglasses and hats, or those with large foreheads?  Do these types of people freak you out?

LUCY
I'm freaked out by everybody save my dog, Pap, and you, but at this moment . . .

DOCTOR
Look around Lucy.  Watch the people--if that's what they are.  And if you ever do decide to kiss a guy, make sure he is the type of boy you dreamed of in your youth--no other.  I'm gonna write you a prescription for an anti-psychotic--think of it as a scientific exorcism.  You may experience neurological problems down the road, but fight the good fight, and persevere to the end, for you are the light and the salt of the Earth.

   Lucy crinkled her nose like in those old DOBIE GILLIS reruns.  

Better Dig Two by The Band Perry Lyrics

Kooky Lucy Frost (12)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (12)"
   
   Kooky Lucy Frost and Cleveland were in high cotton as the Boll weevils say way down below her city of Buffalo--her now loving and accepting that she lived with Pap; specifically, his charity, faith; plus, hoping against hopelessness, which meant having hope in her.  
   As she finished her jog, only having to dodge two hot guys on the asphalt ballet part of the suburban sprawl, her high anxiety demanding it, yet she was outside, not letting fear have total victory, even though she knew the whole freaking world was like the STAR WARS cantina, but calmed herself, knowing Obi-Wan Kenobi walked among the true human race.
   As she entered Pap's and her new house, Cleveland went straight for his bowl of purified water, and Lucy drank some too, but out of a bottle, of course--Pap was sitting in the den, burning a cherry, and blowing smoke rings like Gandalf the Grey.  When Cleveland and her were finished with hydration, they entered the den, both sitting on the couch, Pap smiling, and intrinsically knowing she needed more calming information.
   As a result of his fearing God, Pap said to his lovely Lucy:  "The Old Testament is weak compared to the New Testament, for Jesus kicked it up a notch.  Now, we have to follow His Laws; plus, that of His Father's.  But He speaks from the Old Testament, King David knowing to bless the Lord with all his soul, and all that is within him, which is God.  And Jesus saying that the Kingdom of Heaven is within you.  You see Lucy, there are truths outside of you.  But if you allow God and the angels and saints to dwell within, you will make many friends.  The Protestants don't understand that Jesus has a family.  A family that does the Will of God.  And that sometimes a saint or angel can help.  Jesus is the Savior, but there are those that heard His Sacred Heart; moreover, those that fed Him their blood and Holy Spirit, while He was inside Her--I'm talking the Virgin Mary:  Theotokos.  Jesus has friends, and He wants His friends to be your friends.  So, just put it all inside of you--the Holy Family, and let it dwell there with effulgent radiance."
   Lucy grinned.  It was already beginning for her.  And Cleveland licked his chops, knowing even the Orthodox Saints loved tame dogs.  

Luke Skywalker: Chewie, take care of yourself, okay? [HD] QuoteTV

Novena to the Immaculate Heart of Mary

   
   "Novena to the Immaculate Heart of Mary"
   
O Most Blessed Mother, heart of love, heart of mercy, ever listening, caring, consoling, hear our prayer.  As your children, we implore your intercession with Jesus your Son.  Receive with understanding and compassion the petitions we place before you today, especially . . . (special intention).

We are comforted in knowing your heart is ever open to those who ask for your prayer.  We trust to your gentle care and intercession, those whom we love and who are sick or lonely or hurting.  Help all of us, Holy Mother, to bear our burdens in this life until we may share eternal life and peace with God forever.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit--Amen.  

Kooky Lucy Frost (11)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (11)"
   
   Kooky Lucy Frost took the Eucharist; next, the day after, took Cleveland to the Doggy Doc, got him fixed up; then, the day after that, went to see the shrink, and was there now--in this time, concerning events outside, yet within.
   The psychiatrist, having wended his way to medical school due to the One, True God, nothing less, allowed her a few bread crumbs, but even offered her more, him wanting at least, to inherit Abraham's Bosom.
   Spoke parable-like, using metaphor but linguistic axioms, mentioning a shadow government, parasitic vampires, demons that understood Euclidean Geometry, able to go Multi-Dimensional, but reminding her of her internal crystal, to eat healthy, drink plenty of charged water, allow the Holy Ghost entrance, resist not the evil afterwards, for if it touches that 3rd Person of God--it dies.  
   Furthermore, he said we are not alone.  Newspapers, lawyers, doctors, everybody is affected, and only by allowing the Trinity inside can it be defeated, and to raise her vibrations with profound praise.
   Kooky Lucy Frost left with the Sacred Heart's beating symphony within.   

Fat Slobs in Nashville

   
   "Fat Slobs in Nashville"
   
   Needing to always take my therapy dog in the car, and I never get out for more than fifteen minutes a day, unless to see a physician or Priest; anyway, I drove my Poor Man's Wolfhound to the grocery market to get some orange chicken and Icelandic water for the holy hound--in there for under 4 minutes, leaving the cool canine inside with windows down, and a dog's hair can act as insulation against the heat.
   When I make my exit, some fat slob of a woman has her cell phone out, examining my automobile, and hollers at me with a demonic drawl, asking if I'm the owner of the vehicle with my loyal pal inside, her informing me that I had been torturing the animal; thus, I said that I was the owner and explained the scenario; next, she starts ranting, so I told her:  "Shut your face, and stay out of my business!"
   Fat slobs and unattractive people are usually those that start trouble, due to being pissed as they're locked inside bodies that swallow plenty of aggression, calcifying their pineal gland and having no telepathic sense of what it truly means to be downtrodden.  I don't eat myself into having a cottage cheese buttocks.  I don't drink myself into black-outs or stupidity.  As Christ said:  "Get the splinter out of your own eye, before attempting to get it out of another's."  And my advice:  "Consider salads and green tea."  

The House That Built Me- Miranda Lambert lyrics

Kooky Lucy Frost (10)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (10)"
   
   Cleveland was laying at Kooky Lucy's feet as she sat upon Pap's couch feeding him doggy vitamins to lubricate his hip joints.  The omnivorous canine wasn't yet 10 years old; still, he would limp a bit here and there, and as Lucy Frost's best and only friend for the past decade, she just couldn't comprehend life without him, but had no money to take him to the Dog Doc, and Pap had already done so much for her; thus, asking him would further ignite more guilt--she had always felt guilty in life.  Guilty for being pretty, guilty for being able to make her own comic books, which she had never shown to anybody, and very guilty in not being able to make friends.
   Pap, sitting across from her in his Archie Bunker-styled chair and smoking a cigarette, as if through a great, empathetic telepathy; plus, empirical knowledge, having observed that Cleveland limped her and there, politely asked:  "You want me to make Cleveland an appointment to see a vet?"
   Lucy's forest-green eyes swirled in fear, her saying:  "Oh no Pap; he'll be fine."
   Pap was like:  "Oh come on Lucy--your best pal needs a check-up.  Don't feel guilty.  Don't ever feel guilty.  We are both family, and family are those that do the will of God.  I'm just an old, lonely man--happy to have your company, and happy to help.  People can read you Lucy, and you could read them--if you would just not resist the fear, but let Christ glow inside of you; next, your fears would be afraid of you.  Look, I'll tell you what--we go to the Orthodox Church today, take the Eucharist, and tomorrow we'll run up to the vet and get Cleveland checked out; then, we can both get haircuts."
   "Why are you doing all this for me?"  Lucy asked honestly, in her mind.
   Pap blew a smoke ring, saying:  "Because there is nobody more deserving I know than you."
   Lucy Frost blushed, never having felt so much love before, except from Cleveland, her best pal.  

Virgin Mary--Always Remembered

   
   "Virgin Mary--Always Remembered"
  
   The Inviolate Virgin said:  "For He took notice of His lowly servant girl, and now all generations shall call Me blessed."  In physics, you might call this super-positioning, which is, being in many places at once.  And how can the Queen of Heaven not do this?  If She comes to you, a Priest might say that you are not special enough, but it's always the rejected stone that becomes the true cornerstone.  She can do anything She wants as deemed by God, and God loves the underdog, the poor in spirit, the meek--those that thirst for righteousness, following His Son's Laws, and His.   Mary's Words:  "Do as My Son says."
   My favorite story I investigated took place in Ireland.  There was a Virgin Mary statue at the park and angst-ridden adolescents were fornicating, drinking, uttering profane vulgarities and so on; anyway, they claimed that after their illicit behavior, the Virgin Mary statue became animated and beat the tar out of them.  But nobody believes in anything save the dollar, a false god that many worship.
   The fake news is that fame and wealth make you great; plus, status, but the child with no arms who praises Jesus Christ seems like the cornerstone.  The true architect of constructing courage and determination in the downtrodden.  

Kooky Lucy Frost (9)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (9)"
   
   Kooky Lucy, unknown to herself, having had ice-water in her veins for years, though sometimes scorched, and running free like a frozen river melted, but always cold again, for she was blessed by being genuine, and what is holy, is protected--bless all those without the venomous vizard that is a monstrous mask--Lucy wore no vizard.
   As she jogged through Pap's suburban-sprawled neighborhood, with her best pal at her heels, she watched as the trash men were more automated, and the losers lose more jobs, though happy to work alone like a Gray Ghost during the Civil War.  We all have our part to play, and some enjoy digging ditches and working with their hands, building a fortress of corporeal steel, like a Yankee ironworker, way up high, seeking the celestial high-tower, and knowing the metaphorical South can only sustain itself on making tampons, and many women in the South still pick their own cotton today, not wanting toxic shock.
   Lucy Frost kept jogging.  Kept remembering the fibs now absent from her future.  

Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back - Trailer

Mosby--Civil War, no myth

   
   "Mosby--Civil War, no myth"
  
   They call the holocaust a myth nowadays.  The Civil War too.  Men in masks, taking down heroes during the witching hour.  Myriads of Yankee men dead, freeing people who would not fight for themselves.  We all were slaves at one point.  The Jews.  The Irish.  The Nordics.  Them blondes deep in Egypt's curse.  Let My People Go.  The people that fear me.  What is fear of God Solomon answers:  "Hatred of pride, arrogance, and the forked tongue."  But boast of God, for He forged you into existence.  The light arriveth, and the darkness comprehends it not.
   Mosby.  Sickly.  Of Virginia.  The Apple of His Mother's Eye.  Grew to be about five foot six, weighing in @ 120 or so pounds.  Got beat up at school everyday.  The next day, dressed himself, and happily got another ass whooping.  Kept coming back.  Ice water in his veins.
   Wanted to go Union.  Supported Grant during his Presidency.  But Virginia was his mother; therefore, he enlisted and worked under J.E.B. Stuart.  Hated regimentation.  Needed to be alone.  A scout.  Stuart gave him a few men.  All Mosby did was cause chaos to the Yankees.  Disturb their sleep patterns during war, which is important to fighting men.  A small act of victory, for a small man, yet grander than anything even the Silver Fox could comprehend. 
   Mosby was an anomaly.  Spent time in jail.  Carried peppered steel.  Would not submit to a giant, nor did King David.  Disturbed the giant's rest.  The Apple of His Mother's Eye.  A sick man.  A small man.  A part of history, erased.  But he liveth . . .

My Baby loves me - Lyrics

A Non-Royal Wedding

   
   "A Non-Royal Wedding"
   
    What did my pseudo-relative imply?  The cousins and aunts and uncles are all jealous.  Never talked to us after seeing our splendor.  She is a debutante after all.  Our wealth and status.  My biggest dilemma, a Tesla or a Mercedes--and your mother suffers like that?  A physician asks.
   No physical therapy for two years.  Haldol shoved down her throat.  We all gotta die sometime, they tell me.  Bleeding, phobias, bullying, pestering like:  You can't win an argument with a lawyer and all.  You're gonna die, just accept it.
    Your Dad left you an inheritance; next, no he didn't.  Forked tongue.  Reptilian.  Take the lady, of no sound mind at the time, to a Notary.  Follow the money Feds.  Follow the abuse and neglect. Follow the money Feds.  
   He's not worthy.  No dude, you're not sick.  You are.  You gotta die.  You're outta the house.  They're jealous of us.  Our wealth--our status.
   We all heard Mark Twain calling Bullshit years ago, but never listened.  
   Jesus had plenty of sex.  The Virgin is a witch.  King David is full of shit.  We hate Saint Paul. 
   Why don't they just castrate Priests?  You're not sick.  You are.  We love you.  
   Thank you Saint Joan of Arc.  Thank you Christ, for unmasking . . .

Holy Fire--stranger than fiction!

   
   "Holy Fire--stranger than fiction!"
   
   Chopra's new book on the Universe would make Jango Fett sweat under his hairy pits.  Step out of yourself--examine your past, everyday too, knowing:  there are no coincidences in life, and my family is no coincidence.  They've been feeding Mom and me mantras over and over and over.      
   "You're your own worst enemy.  You're too close to your mother.  You never did that.  The Cowboys never won the Superbowl.  You're not sick, for you just have a vivid imagination and drink lots of coffee."
   Yeah, I forgive, for they're controlled.  One of my relatives put me in the hospital twice.  My Mom said:  "Don't eat her food."  I did twice; next, hooked up to a chemo-like infusion for hours.  The other took LSD and laid in a sleep-deprivation tank; plus, numerous hits of X.  He's in the losing Illuminati now.  He ate some mushrooms in Carolina, and my other relative said he's gonna be slithering around like a reptile.  Makes sense.
   Plus, there's Barney Fife and Andy Griffith--I'm just repeating what the filthy rich relative laughingly said.  A Goober Pyle spotted some aliens, and got arrested.  Now looky here boy, you got yourself them hairy men, like Esau, the reptilians, the Nordics, and the greys who like to give colonoscopies with conscious sedation.  Too, the fish people, and boy, hairy men don't like them reptiles.
   1st Amendment Law, and I was told by an attorney that I had no 1st Amendment Rights for penning prose, which was ambiguous.  1.)  No clear and present danger.  2.)  No fighting words.  And 3.)  If it's ambiguous--it's okay. 
   But nowadays, you can pretend to kill the President and nobody cares.  Hell boy--get some Federal Marshals on it.    

Carly Pearce - Every Little Thing (lyrics)

Kooky Lucy Frost (8)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (8)"
   
   Kooky Lucy Frost and her cascading dirty-blonde, yet so golden and clean underneath; plus, her forest-green eyes and X-Factor of bizarre blood, science not even able to totally prove it, as the FDA shoots down vitamins to kill the weak--not minding the nonsense and Illuminati's iniquitous treasure trove; anyway, Lucy sat non-Freudian style across from her psychiatrist, knowing Jesus always ran away from His Mother to find His Father, and that King Solomon mentioned:  "Hearken unto the father that begat you, and despise not your mother when she grows old."  Freud and his bullshit, not knowing Rh negatives can't be traced, completely, though monitored, and that psychiatry was the invention of witches; still, true blue bloods can be rebels, raging against the FDA's newly approved electric shock treatment for depression.  Lucky for her that she was just kooky.  Too stupid to be depressed.  And ignorance and stupidity can be a blessing.  Just ask James Joyce, knowing:  "A rise every morning out of standfast Dick."  Anyway, the conversation ignited in blue ice.

DOCTOR
As I suspected, your blood is extremely rare.  Remember Sun Tzu . . .

LUCY
Sun who?

DOCTOR
Just remember--size and numbers don't matter.  And I will add my own knowledge--it is spirit and frequency, though know--spirit is white and platinum, confessing, and never hiding in the darkness.

LUCY
What does this mean?

DOCTOR
It means you are protected, though will suffer.  Like Tim Tebow, even though he drinks Martin Luther's Kool-Aid, he still had a Christian mother, and the True Mother is the Light, but that has not been canonized, meant for the chosen, as are you.  I see here that you were screwed out of two Wills having been written, by a father's wife, not your mother, and by a mother's husband--not your true father.  And if you read Shakespeare, you will see that a step-youth is always screwed concerning inheritance, but the greedy get paid back with Crohn's gone like Snoop Dog in their oral cavity.  And if they do repent and follow the Gospels; next, it is forgiven; on the flip side, if they go to death pissed, they will inherit their own shadows and secret greed.  Like Edison stole patents, killed Tesla, inventing the first electric chair, proving DC better than AC, yet we now know, for a prophet that is 0- is never respected in his own time.

LUCY
What they hell are you talking about?

DOCTOR
Miss Lucy Frost, the government has threatened me over you, but I have my own friends; thus, eat your Lucky Charms, be a Notre Dame fan, and don't trust anybody, not even if you have to.  For you are your own Universe amid the Multiverse, and God wants you to shine.  If I was younger, I'd make a pass, but I'd be sincere, for I am of your blood.

LUCY
So, what now?

DOCTOR
Pray.  Sing to the God of Light.  Sing to the WHITE of the Virgin--as white as snow, as King David begged God to be, him the first confessor, always mentioning his mistakes, wailing about his sins, but knowing:  God does not chide always at those that fear Him, and if you praise the Light, your youth is restored like an eagles.
  
   Lucy exited, kinda/sorta getting the groove of it all.  

Kooky Lucy Frost (7)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (7)"
   
   Lucy Frost and Pap shared a synergy of sauerkraut and beef sausage, spiced to the max baby. 
   @ the dinner table, a fine cherry-wood ensemble, Pap let her in on all the neglect and abuse she had denied, after her informing him of her new intuitive knowledge initiated by an altruistic physician, though her Big Appointment was 2morrow.  
   Anyway, Pap mentioned a few things, like how family always said she was incarnate, and should let out her lusts, not knowing--she possessed none, being very poor in spirit.  Her path and bizarre nature was gravely misunderstood by them; thus, thinking she wanted what they had, they attempted to force her onto their path.  But she would not be initiated.  Taking crummy jobs, and suffering with faith and hope in the Christ Consciousness, hoping that people actually gave a damn about the shapeless divinity of it ALL.
   Furthermore, Pap said they couldn't understand how she didn't want to compete.  But her gifts were beauty, resistance to pain, yet too much trust, believing the monkeys that always rattled her cage, attempting to drag her to the peanut-eating circus.  But he reminded:  hell hath no fury like a woman in scalding white scorned, armed with an azure burn--the blue being the hottest part of the flame.  Not exactly a mother's revenge, but more like a renegade's reckoning.  So, he told Lucy to lift up her chin, for as a crazy South American once said:  "Sad is a man with no friends; sadder is a man with no enemies."  

The Eagle Movie Trailer Official (HD)