Memorial Day

Mom and me at the park

Her favorite holiday

Indigo Samson (1)

   
   "Indigo Samson (1)"
  
   When he was born--all of his skin burned bright blue, as if lit up with neon squid ink.  Samson Landon knew about himself:  "And no razor shall come to his head."  Yet his conservative father complained to his immaculate mother:  "All of my problems in life are caused by our Samson's long hair."
   He was a return man on the high school pigskin team, dodging with determined dexterity upon the semi-glacial tundra of Michigan's flowing fields.  Like with a jawbone, slaying their ass, if ya hear me, while others did the blocking and tackling, binding themselves in the heavens.
   Samson didn't need phony friends.  As a species, human beings form into tribes, his psychiatrist told him.  Everybody has an agenda, mostly--and the braggarts go here, the asymmetrical there, the pseudo-educated are all radicalized with the hostile left-wing fascination to euthanize, and the elves of the world mix with fairies, yet beauty can demonically destroy or bring forth the wickedness of pernicious plots to venomously vanquish the reflecting flower.  But no paganism here.  What you kill; next, you own it, but it may end up owning you.  It's based on PASSOVER Mr. college professor, brainwashing the children, while you've never dug ditches and been held in contempt by the rich man.
   So, Samson did his thing, and knew the words of JUDGES 15:11--like this:
   "Then three thousand men of Judah went to the top of the rock Etam, and said to Samson, Knowest thou not that the Philistines are rulers over us?  what is this that thou hast done unto us?  And he said unto them, As they did unto me, so have I done unto them."
   Samson Landon's hands turned blue.  He was in his room drinking a Sprite.  Felt no guilt, remembering those forged in stone words, them forever eternal concerning the mighty shining one:  "AS THEY DID UNTO ME, SO HAVE I DONE UNTO THEM."
   

'13 BOSS 302 vs '13 Mustang GT

Caretakers Feel Underappreciated

   
   "Caretakers Feel Underappreciated"
   
   Great article about this; moreover, was showcased on one of the wack-job networks, like MSLSD or the Cranky News Network; regardless, when the chatter you pick up from other people is:  "She'll be dead soon."  It's like these people are against the patient.  A doctor's say-so isn't axiomatic.  Ever hear of protracted content, or radical remission.  You fight as long as you can--to your own death, like a Saint.  If you choose.  But my Grandma taught me many things both German and Catholic, I'm totally talk'n.  Too, I saw my Aunt and Mom squabble over her, nastily, nobody was doing enough, and Grandma was put in a facility; however, my Aunt was a frequent visitor and kept the staff in line.
   Like your shit doesn't stink?  Yeah--I've given plenty of lip, but you started all of this with negativity and a false diagnosis.  I was just the weird guy that made fun of myself; also, was the phobic and bizarre clown.  But nobody pulled together.  It was all too disgusting to see, or pessimism caused by phony doctors, and they took her physical therapy away two years ago.  You guys are the officers, the successful ones, but I'm a grunt in the trenches, getting my ass kicked by Jackie Chan in the rice patty.  
   I'm not mad.  I'm just disappointed, but will block any attempt to make someone go to a shithole before their time.  You tempt him, yet say I'm the villain.  He took an oath, through sickness and health, and he's healthier than me--wanna see my shitty blood-work and large intestine.  So, I'm an asshole, but not a prick.  I can't live without hope.  Don't threaten me with silence or seduce the old man.  I do well for both of them.  Yes, I screw up.  Can't even find my own car in the parking lot I'm so frazzled.  Haven't slept in six years, but I own my insomnia and my sleep paralysis.  I shake.  On medication for over ten years that causes Parkinson's-like features.  If you don't want to hear me; next, turn off this channel.  Go to another website.  This is my therapy.  I've never physical assaulted anybody in the family--you know that's false testimony.  Just lip, here and there.  Yet my face has been punched in by members of the family, and bones broken, but I wasn't a wussy about it.  
   I forgive everybody, for what I see as sin, because all of you have lives.  I don't.  I've never had friends, my wife was the biggest, well, that wouldn't be nice, but you know what I'm saying.  I'm just a gimp with a few gifts here and there, but I'd rather live in Montana, in a little shanty.  No more from me.  I'll write about hot blondes and muscle cars.  I'll be a silenced redneck.  

Queen of Heaven

   
   "Queen of Heaven"
  
   The Queen of ALL Virgins, as the Litany wends, is highly toxic to contagion, as is menthol to bacteria; furthermore, in Chapter 12 of Revelation, or better yet:  The Apocalypse of Saint John the Apostle, She resides.  Even Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd put a bullet shell into Her Crown, that golden chakra, forgive me, but as Christ told the prince of this world:  "Man lives not on bread alone, but on every word breathed from the mouth of God."
   Yup, the good-old-days, when Ronny Raygun and the Pontiff knocked it out of the park with the unearthly crack of the American Bat.  And they tried to kill Tebow with a 90 MPH fastball to the head; moreover, it was his mother that saved him, and she would name him Timothy.  
   So, Virgin most powerful, and Virgin most merciful--Mirror of Justice and Queen of Peace--the Chosen know you know how to Super-Position Yourself.  It has to do with physics, for those that have a Bush League college education.