Chris Christie bullies Marco Rubio

   
   "Chris Christie bullies Marco Rubio"
    
   Chris Christie has irreverently bullied Marco Rubio--but of course; that's what the guy does.  Shuts down bridges, not giving a damn about traffic phobia and his own state, crowning his monstrous self King of the World.  Says a 1st term Senator is a bad choice, like Obama.  What about Bill Clinton as Governor?  What a porn show his 8 years were.
   Regardless, Rubio was rising in the polls, and Christie, having hugged Obama in the past, diabolically calls him:  "The boy in the bubble."  Christ might offer:  "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the Earth."     
   Moreover, Rubio wasn't stuck in repetition during his response.  He was simply pointing out that Obama is Harvard (IVY LEAGUE) smart, and knows specifically what he is doing!!! 
   Anyway, I would've taken a page out of Trump's vociferous book, looked the big bully in the eye, vocally probing:  "If you can't even control your appetite; next, how can you control Congress?"
   Obviously, obese people have problems.  As do all of us.  But just because you're a pseudo-Mob Boss, this deplorable axiom doesn't make it right to attack a smart, young man with a heart.  And BTW, I'm not voting for Rubio--I like Bernie.  It just made me sick how Christie doesn't think his crap smells, and it's probably the most toxic lard of all the Republicans.  
   Alas, in the kinda/sorta words of William Blake:  "People who control their emotions only do so because they have weak emotions."  I much rather see Trump make deals than slaughter myriads and initiate war.  You scratch my back; I'll scratch yours--Putin and China would go for that.  

Existence Womb (54)

   
   "Existence Womb (54)"
   
   Buck was intrinsically haunted by the spirit of the wolf before the Black Madonna became animated and prayed for his magnanimous Lycanthropy, way back in the early centuries when Saint Helena swayed her son Constantine Christways; moreover, he (Constantine) saw the alien/angelic cross flying through the azure sky--they've been dropping out of the heavens since before the construction of Sumerian Cuneiform.  And now Buck felt so ashamed of the lack of knowledge possessed by humans as quasi-academia drills bullshit into the brains of youth, the government insisting upon such, as George Bush knew:  "We are not ready to know--it would freak us to the core."  As would the knowledge of his search for King Solomon's Ring that was inscribed with the true name of the Abrahamic God, able to have an uncanny impact upon the fallen.  So, sitting in the Calgary snowfall, Miriam strutted up to him.
  
MIRIAM
Whatcha doin?

BUCK
All the supposed fables, and they still don't sink into the skulls of conscious men.  Language invented, and all cultures write of God and the lesser gods.  As if nothing is going on except the light of Bud Light and frat sex; next, a crummy job that defines you; then, you die, not even taking Pascal's wager to heart.  

MIRIAM
Relax, the coyote will bring the Great Spirit or Grandfather to the people.  And you're kinda like a coyote.

BUCK
The globe would be in a state of phobic terror.  The whole world put on anti-psychotics, like you were.

MIRIAM
And look how well I've adapted, like the coyote--adaption is true for most men.

BUCK
Save the power hungry.

MIRIAM
Screw those infected by the root of all evil.  There is more, and I'm gonna tell.
   
   Buck looked at her sternly, knowing this would mean the ignition of the angelic/human wars.  

Sad is a man with no friends; sadder is a man with no enemies

   
   "Sad is a man with no friends; sadder is a man with no enemies"   
   
   It's not easy being the quintessential freak--trust me; I know.  And when you have a myriad of social phobias, and obsess; moreover, when you're physically ill--there is always a bully; furthermore, sometimes those bullies are family members or pseudo-friends.  What would the sublime Christ sweetly offer?  Something like:  "My brothers and sisters are those that do the will of God."  But who cares of Christ these days.  Yup, ignite pernicious neglect, pick on those with asymmetrical brain patterns; next, purposely drive them to suicide.  You got what you wanted.
   And then the proud.  Pride:  Rebellion against God.  Look at me!!!  They pin medals on guys who carry backpacks weighed down, marching a few miles; meanwhile, those enduring the American Prison System for protracted periods get "the business", as the Beaver called it.  And who is the man having braved the most?  Locked up for years and shamed upon release, while soldiers kill innocent women and children and are dubbed heroes.  Again, the Christ:  "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven."
   Bogus physicians and attorneys armed with no compassion or mercy; plus, black-robed pricks incarcerating without any axiomatic knowledge of events.  Hell, DNA evidence can be planted--they've been doing it for years.  Cops with no knowledge of Agatha Christie, having weak Bush League educations, while men that are autodidacts are persecuted.
   Just like in the epic novel FIGHT CLUB:  "You are not the car you drive; you are not the job you have."  Verily, it's about treating people with respect, and having reverence for every human life.  We miss out on that in America.  And as life is over, for all of us, in the blink of an eye--the Divine Justice System is calling--and They know every thought and action of man.  Even as the somewhat atheistic Voltaire knew:  "To the living we owe respect; to the dead--only truth."  

Existence Womb (53)

   
   "Existence Womb (53)"
    
   Buck was dreaming fondly of Roger the Dodger, and how the darling Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders of the late 1970's were featured, briefly, on the LOVE BOAT show.  He preferred TAXI and the Hebrew neurosis of an introspective cab driver, who when asked what he did for a living, simply and humbly voiced:  "I'm a cab driver."
   Jews and Muslims pissed at each other--same God.  Now all the taxi drivers are Turks, Arabs, or Persians, whatever.  Is this a modern reason for contempt?   
   Next, Buck went into the rapid and mammalian REM sleep, which he kinda/sorta was already experiencing, yet science is in the Dark Ages today, yet boasts its false axioms; regardless, he remembered when the American Government Spooks crookedly captured him after a sinister shot from a .38 Special with a sultry silver bullet; indeed--it was "sultry" motherfucker, as Sam Jackson declares ubiquitously in every word breathed from the scripts of his films.  Sam Adams was a Brewmaster and part of the Sons of Liberty.  Sam Jackson was a Motherfucker, and part of a son of a bitch--in a few of his films; on the contrary, he can be the benevolent hero--what the hell am I saying?
  Anyway, silver, the Moon, and even Wolfsbane, a European plant and name of an English rock and heavy metal band had no effect on him shifting werewolfways.  It was a Divine Infusion of the Holy Spirit, a prayer from the Black Madonna to give the honoring Templar a power to defend Her Son.  
   So, they gave him a Haloperidol Injection, which stops the garden-variety werewolf from shifting--one cursed or brutally bitten.  No effect; moreover, Haldol is not approved for aging patients with dementia-related psychosis.  But it still had no effect.  Buck was an anomaly.  A Jack London drifter, with many varying opinions before his tail wagged for the Living, Most Potent God--the Abrahamic God, gelling with a singular Son, the Holy Ghost's glimmering-hued awesome and all the rest of that cool, mystical crap--but, it was all freaking real!
   He looked at the stupid prison guard, saying meekly but firmly:  "Is inutilis."
   Got clubbed.  Found the Good Ghost--healed; then, Luke showed up.  The good doctor--with a plan of escape.  A friendly, scholarly physician--somebody who gives a shit about asymmetrical souls--them Shapeless Divine.  

Existence Womb (52)

   
   "Existence Womb (52)"
    
A Marian invocation for the Templar Knight Buck;
Specifically, the Salve Regina--like four-leaf clover luck;
Anyway, he had been brutally true with his benefactor, Luke;
Thus, IN NOMINE Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.  Amen.  Never on God be mute.
And his Holy-Burning Ice that kept him in frozen heat for Miriam's fiery sweet
Was like unto a Templar always venturing for another Holy Grail--not knowing defeat,
Yet there is no cheating in the mystical art of faith,
Which births supernatural things--even the possibility of a prophet-weeping wraith.  

Existence Womb (51)

   
   "Existence Womb (51)"
   
   Luke, among the morning breeze that William Blake fancied, getting hard-kissed by the Arctic blast of cold wind, inhaled the non-pernicious purity of a less industrial nation, as is Canada; moreover, he knew he wasn't being desultory; specifically, there was purpose and predestined determination more deeply implanted in Miriam, though with her Walmart clothing and living in the rural region, she could easily be mistaken as a simplistic gamin--especially with her Joan of Arc haircut and lack of being a makeup junkie.  
   Regardless, Miriam and the rest of them were well camouflaged for the time being; next, Buck entered out into the open, closing the house door with ninja-like silence.
   "You must be half-Indian.  Kinda a silent man-beast."  Luke smiled.
   "In saecula saecularum."  Buck offered.
   Luke knew:  Indeed, forever and ever this time was.  What would happen and become of them?  Or would it even be noticed?  For Luke had once treated an angelic entity serving in the Celestial Hierarchy.  Hence, how imperative were their actions to an alien/spook government?  
   And Buck pondered on, probing gently, and with a bit of jocularity concerning watching Canadian Football from now on, maybe starting a Fantasy Football CFL thingamajig.  Luke laughed, and it was genuine; nevertheless, he asked Buck strongly:  "What do you feel for my daughter?"
   Buck, simply with:  "I love her.  In all ITS ways."   

Existence Womb (50)

   
   "Existence Womb (50)"
    
Miriam in melodramatic groove pestered Buck for his feelings--he stoically replied:
"Fidus Achates--you are my best friend girl, not to be protectively denied."
Miriam did cachinnate with vociferous vibrancy,
Showcasing a tongue-lashing teen spirit that would target ultimately
Herself--a bloodthirsty warrior--in an allegorical sense,
Meaning all was for a forged future being as reliable to a poor man like a sixpence;
Moreover, Miriam surmised Buck boldly having her non-tattooed back,
Though she read:  Certain Rune-like tattoos can save from the World Serpent's offspring attack;
Plus, a piercing with the many protections of certain metaphysical metals--no soul should lack;
Regardless, she was not going Emo or Goth-like in search;
Next, need a dumb shit Clinical Psychologist not knowing the difference between Mass and Church.