Right To Life

   
   "Right To Life"
   
   There's this guy I know, and at one point in his young life he was bleeding to death--nothing would stop it; moreover, in the middle of the night, the nurse came in to check his vitals, and she cruelly said:  "If I was in your condition, I'd know it was my time to go."  Yet the dandy dude fought through it, and thrived a bit.  
   We are asleep concerning the suffering.  The sick and elderly, or anyone dubbed a "burden" to society still has the right to live.  A RIGHT is a moral claim; moreover, we do not claim death, but death claims us.  And there have been many times when this "dude" has prayed to die, yet as the Man Upstairs says:  "To Me belongs vengeance and recompense."
   Saint Francis was disgusted by lepers.  He had an overpowering phobia concerning them; nevertheless, he conquered his aversion and kissed a leper.  People need touch.  A baby trapped in an incubator, alone and without the breasts of his mother has no touch.  And Christ does touch us by way of the Eucharist.  We all need positive touch.
   Many caretakers have abused patients.  Have cackled and shown violent and macabre images to them, or professed their readings of Christ's adversary; plus, much worse.
   Even though Merlin was paradoxically spawned, being born of both mortal and demon, as lore and legend go--he still conquered his passions and assisted Arthur and his gallant knights in their search for the Holy Grail; indeed, all life is special, and any soul can accept the light; otherwise, the alternative seems a bit vacuous.   

1970 Plymouth Barracuda (Big Block)

   
   "1970 Plymouth Barracuda (Big Block)"
   
   The Barracuda is not just a monstrous muscle car--much more; specifically, a salt water fish, found in tropical and sub-tropical oceans; plus, in a metaphysical sense--it fuels aggressive feelings and offers sincere courage, just like the awesome automobile, and now:  the specs and performance levels of this well-respected muscle machine--off we wend:

426 Cubic Inches.

Horses:  425.

Torque:  490 lb-ft.

0-60:  5.6 Seconds.

Quarter Mile Sprint:  13.5 Seconds @ 105 Miles-Per-Hour.  

Crystalline Cool (5)

   
   "Crystalline Cool (5)"
  
   Sitting on a comfy couch out in their rural backyard, a little red on their necks, but not drinking Mountain Dew--Duncan and his Dad started having a little talk.  His Dad igniting it all, as the twosome and Roadkill, the adopted Golden Retriever looked up into the celestial night, admiring the luminosity of the sparkling heavens--Dad saying:  "I'm proud of what's inside of you Duncan.  Heck, you couldn't even speak until you were four years-old--that speech pathologist was an angel I'm telling ya.  And then, you got fat on life, chasing girls, questioning everything, nervous as an innocent bird on a hot tin roof, yet you found your solace and refuge in the Lord.  And I'm inspired by your work ethic, no matter that it pays crap--you just give me 15% of your earnings and I'll put it in a fund for you.  Who cares if the community mocks your lack of being controlled by the fallen, gelling with an American Dream that is forged on damning the determination of the magnanimous, which seems deranged to those in pursuit of the brass ring.  And I'm a damn patriot kid."
   Duncan changed the subject:  "Dad--there's this girl named Aimee.  She works at the local burger joint in town.  Anyway, I can sense her interest in me, and she's blonde, which for some innate reason makes me crave her glowing laughter.  Should I ask her out?"
   His Dad chuckled with a cowboy's snort on a smoky cigar, saying:  "If it brings peace to you, and you never become more attached than to what is correct in life--go for it kid."
   Duncan gave Roadkill a heavy petty atop the dog's head, and the noble beast nuzzled in close to his friendship.  

1970 Buick GSX Stage 1

   "1970 Buick GSX Stage 1"
   
   Usually appearing a canary-like yellow, the 1970 Buick GSX Stage 1 sings with unearthly power and privileged potency.  Not to get too metaphysical about this bird, but the Canary Totem fuels the ability to feel and express emotions--and boy, does this big block sing on the blacktop.  Here are some specs and performance levels from this Classic vehicle--here we go:
  
455 Cubic Inches--total 8-Cylinder.

Horsepower:  Listed at 360; however, more in the range between 415 to 425.

510 pounds-foot of torque--imagine all that power going to the wheels!!!

Hurst 4-Speed Manual.

0-60:  5.5 Seconds.

Quarter Mile:  13.38 Seconds.

Top Speed:  Never can tell, but I bet she could hold 144 for a protracted period.  

Crystalline Cool (4)

   
   "Crystalline Cool (4)"
   
   Duncan's Dad surprised him at their humble habitat by driving his son's gift onto the gravel driveway--it was a rusty, old El Camino, which means:  Royal Road, or the King's Highway; moreover, in the back of the counterpoised automobile, it being pure balance due to being a truck and a car simultaneously, was a Golden Retriever armed with nothing but gregarious glee and fortune's fidelity, though a dog needs a frisbee toss here and there--gotta play sometimes, but never too hard, for devotion trumps regalement.
   Duncan was soooo happy that he immediately embraced his father after the old man exited the cool vehicle, touch being so grand, offering healing and the best positive energy, as Christ touches us by way of the Eucharist.
   Next, Duncan ran to the back of the El Camino, and the large Golden Retriever jumped into his arms, as if axiomatically knowing his new best friend; furthermore, there were licks of love and slobbers of sublimity.  The twosome danced and played in the pastoral parts of where they did reside, and Old Dad lit up a cigar, blowing his prayers and thanks to God, the Lord always hovering above, watching our every move and innermost actions.  

Saint Guinefort; plus, what Pope Francis says about animals

   
   "Saint Guinefort; plus, what Pope Francis says about animals"
  
   Yes, yes--I get it.  Fantasy.  Myth.  Yet all of that is rooted in truth.  Remember:  "Man lives not on bread alone, but on every word breathed from the mouth of God."  Indeed, God is not limited to the Bible.
   The heretical tale, as some see, of Saint Guinefort is not unique, but in 13th century France, a nobleman left his child alone with a Greyhound.  When he returned, he found the child missing; moreover, blood on the dog's incisors; hence, he jumped to conclusions and killed the dog.  Next, he turned over the infant's cot, finding the child alive, and a venomous viper slain by the holy hound's bite.  Therefore, we get Saint Guinefort.  
   Pope Pius the 9th declared animals soulless.  Pope Francis wrote otherwise, declaring they too can share the Kingdom of Heaven with man.  
   My step-father was saved by his dog Pete.  He stepped, barefoot mind you, on a copperhead; then, he jumped away, but before the adder could strike, his dog Pete got a hold of the snake and killed it; plus, my friend's Dad, a Green Beret during Vietnam, having returned to Arkansas after his tour of duty, was out digging in his backyard when some toxic serpents came upon him--his dog pushed him back; then, it stood between him and the snakes with an intense growl--not even the cruel strike of reptiles wanted any part of that canine's teeth.
   So, we can either call these things fairy tales and pagan like, or accept that people like Saint Francis actually did have relationships with canines, as did Saint Roch, and many normal, neuro-typical people.  All dogs are not just dogs, humping, biting, fighting; indeed, like people, some dogs can be loving, sweet, magnanimous, and even enter into states of sublimity.  Why argue with a modern Pope dubbed Francis, being so popular--it even frustrates Christ's own Church at times.  

Crystalline Cool (3)

   
   "Crystalline Cool (3)"
    
   Duncan's father told him:  "Son, you've chastised yourself more than anyone since the Middle-Ages; moreover, wailed and given great lament unto the Lord.  Mortification of the senses, chastity when it came time, scorning many, great states of poverty, which allowed you to see the beauty of nature, and yet you admit not your own courage."
   Duncan would not cease.  He would never admit himself, only those things within him that gave him affection for the Divine.  Yes, a target on his back, that only the highest level of spooks in the government knew about--and would they assist?
   He told his father:  "I have sinned, and I know I'm being monitored."
   His Dad back with:  "So are your adversaries.  The trick is on them.  You never follow a coyote I've heard.  They don't know why, but you do."
   Duncan calmly asked:  "Dad--could we get a dog?"
   His Dad's face lit up in a sparkly grin, and out of his cool countenance, the old man's lips worked the words:  "Every man needs a best friend.  And no man should mess with God's gift of the canine, which has always resided side-by-side with man--since the conception of human consciousness canines and man have strode with smooth synergy.  And I don't know if this is blasphemy son, but Anubis is an ancient god with the head of a jackal, and when you die he weighs your heart, as some of the myth goes; specifically, if your heart is heavy--he throws it away and you don't pass, but if it is light; next, you go on to the afterlife.  Heck, the Knights Templar know more about the Egyptians than us regular Christian folk.  So much secrecy, but truly--the Creator, God, that Master of Intelligent Design--He knows.  Thus, let the Lord always be your refuge, and I think we should name the dog Roadkill."
   Duncan:  "That's horrible Dad."
   His Dad with:  "Where's your sense of laughing at yourself?  Just because Percy Shelley couldn't do it, doesn't mean a wild, American dog can't."