Friday, August 26, 2016
Mainstream Media & Truth
"Mainstream Media & Truth"
Can you make millions without a few dead bodies (at least metaphorically) residing in cement shoes at the bottom of a river? Possibly. However, can you not?
We get angry at the smallest amounts of iniquity, when the titanic monster is upon us. We starve the poor, celebrate capitalism and beauty, yet the wilted old man outshines in his humility and everlasting fever for the Almighty.
All is relative; on the contrary, there are axioms. The Big Bang, the Multiverse--whether smaller Universes were crafted from the expansion of space to its limitations, like little bubbles popping up on a loaf of bread baked to its capacity, forging other entities, or actually (maybe) having the Creator aspects, igniting our puny Universe, we don't know. Like Jango Fett proclaimed: "I'm just a simple man trying to make my way in the Universe." And he was, yet he wasn't. It's all true, yet fiction haunts, as does non-fiction.
Angels are fallible. People are controlled. God is Good. What to do?
Have faith in sublimity. Know Jude the Obscure is actual reality, yet so full of melancholy and hurt. Aquinas seeing a vision so grand, he could no longer write again, yet having more script than the million words of Kerouac, some of which he claimed were dictated to him by the Holy Spirit Itself.
Thus, trust in God. Trust in true love. Trust in luminous, magnanimous energy that cannot be destroyed. Trust in a Man arriving in the Name of Love. Yet as did His allegorical father (King David) do--sometimes we have to fight and rebuke. It is all relative; still, axioms reside. This is our ambiguous journey. Not sloppy sex and banging a naked woman in a pile of a million dollars, for that fornication will fade, or haunt, as do the benevolent deeds of the esoteric folk humbled by dog-like loyalty. Yet simplicity is God--in a Fatherly sense of chiseling us through discipline.
Invocation to Saint Joan of Arc
"Invocation to Saint Joan of Arc"
Johnny Carson might say: "Weird and wild stuff." But the tradition of the Universal Church will not fade with a whimper into the night, not as long as the mystical knights of Almighty God ride alongside us. Here's an invocation to Saint Joan of Arc--her Feast Day, May 30th.
"Most extraordinary soldier, you insistently proclaim "Let God be served first!" You began by winning many victories and received the plaudits of princes, but then you were given to the enemy and cruelly put to death. Instill in us the desire to serve God first and perform our earthly tasks with that idea ever in our minds. Amen."
Teddy Roosevelt and Pete
"Teddy Roosevelt and Pete"
These tales are antiquated and ambiguous, as is Pete himself.
Pete was one of Roosevelt's many dogs, for Teddy liked dogs. If a man doesn't like animals, especially man's best friend, possibly he doesn't like people either. Don't murderers usually get their start by slaughtering animals?
Pete was maybe a Bull Terrier. Too, he tore the pants off of a visiting French Ambassador at the White House. And supposedly attacked two cops--they might've deserved it.
Anyway, lore suggests Pete was transported to parts unknown for terrorizing the White House from 1905 to 1908. So goes the myth and reality of it all.
Flash: The Wiry Whippet (5)
"Flash: The Wiry Whippet (5)"
Like a thief in the night, the prankster adolescents approached, carrying toilet paper, eggs, and even shaving cream--oh my, what was that for--were they gonna try and shave Henry's mustache off? No, Henry loved his handlebar mustache!
That ignited me to defense--the only way to play. And with the Moon as my light, and my sniffer superior with insight, I sprinted at the kids, Scooper following, but only as a goofy, fun-loving Lab would, and the kids took off. That simple. Stand up with your intrinsic traits; next, the cradle will rock, and the baby sleeps, for we must muster ourselves, though never monstrous, unless of course we're monsters.
Scooper was still chasing the kids, yelling at their retreat: "Play with me! Play with me!"
Even love can chase away things.
So, I took my paw pads and sauntered back inside the house, sitting next to my Master, Henry--on this spooky Halloween night. He continued to hand out candy to nicer children, always with a smile, and me at his side. Some might say it was a pathetic life. But what they don't know was: I loved Henry, and would lay down my life for him. Do you have anybody that would do that for you? Or would they lock you away from grace and favor?
Oh well, Scooper came back, all muddy, carrying a stick he found on the road. It's how life goes, sometimes.
Thursday, August 25, 2016
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)