The Wheat and the Chaff

   "The Wheat and the Chaff"

   I could list names, birth-dates, Steve Brown (assassin), oops, and all the rest; however, keep hoping they get the caveat of their own cruel--what you sow is what you reap.
   Don't put flip-flops on Jesus.  Don't make him a hippie.  And if you label him pink cotton candy--make sure that the cotton candy has teeth.  Trump--uh, subliminal, maybe.  Tough.  Guy is tough.
   So is Jesus, from everlasting to everlasting, as Solomon, a Son of David; moreover, a man of peace might ode; still, there is no peace, for the forked-tongue is alive and living in Belle Meade.  
   What's it been--an approximate 3 weeks?  Regardless, kidnap a soul no more.
   I like Jesus.  Love Him--the Redeemer.  Volunteered for it.  No Father would dictate a douche-bag death sentence.  What a lousy Father He would be.  And Gandhi--we are all children of God--maybe a lesser and more finite god, lower case here.  Look to the Truth as Jesus told Pilate.  And what did Jesus, a mere tradesman say?  Kinda, totally, like this:  "Your father is the devil.  The father of lies and murder.  He was a murderer and liar from the beginning."
  Now, a New Testament mix, forged like Mr. Joyce, the fidelity of the Penelope culmination--words slung in a collective remembrance of the wandering Jew, Leopold Bloom speaking:  "If these were My people, would they hand Me up to you.  My world is not of this world.  And you shall see the Son of Man coming down from the clouds of heaven.  I will separate the wheat from the chaff, throwing the chaff into eternal fire."
   Still think Jesus is a no-good hippie?  There is a time for peace--if people gave a rat's ass, but they don't.  One last thing:  "The love of money is the root of all evil."  The crummy and phony caretakers would always tell me, after insulting me:  "She gonna make sum money--lotta money."
   And where the hell does that get you in the grave?  I've been on my deathbed--since birth.  You got two choices, more or less.  Just know:  There is Light.  A bubble of rainbow promises, gelled together.  Or so I possibly witnessed.
  And baseball--well, as the only smart physician I ever met told me:  "Baseball is charming.  Just charming."  Yes, baseball is still a walk in the park.  Old school.  Even some would say:  "Peace."