Raw Deal (1986), funny moment

Indigo Samson--Mr. Yummypants (28)

   
   "Indigo Samson--Mr. Yummypants (28)"
   
   Samson's father turned crimson, furious with his runaway son--the damn vagabond hood, but who really knows.  "I'm gonna cut that boy's hair when I find him!"  
   Mrs. Landon spoke boldly back to hubby:  "And no razor shall come to his head, as the BOOK of JUDGES instructs.  And if you don't allow him this fairy tale; then, I'll tell the whole world that you have an adult porn handle; indeed, you are known as Mr. Yummypants on the World Wide Web."
   Mr. Landon dropped his head in smeared shame, for Bluebeard's wife had unearthed his secret, and she was too much of a hardcore witch for him to slay her, being all down with the dangers of Advanced D & D.

* * * * * * *

   Bobby Rook had health problems.  His ass had been handed to him from his genesis.  I hated you even in the womb, but that was not the Trinity talking to him, but doubt and fear, and Christ is not the author of confusion.  He stammered in speech nowadays, stuttering as he probed Liberty's cerebral self for answers to Miriam's horn call.  Liberty, a closet nerd, having turned over numerous libraries in Michigan's wolverine state, knew that 46 chromosomes are in every singular cell, usually, split into 23 parts, and that a defect in chromosome 7 leads to stammering, but if metaphorically charged and royally resurrected, we become linguistic lanterns, being beacons of beatific bantering.  Even though she was in the filthy restroom at a gas station in Helena, Montana--she was fully capable of offering Bobby Rook's brain a kiss of Saint Raphael's healing hue, going at about 560 THz, for Liberty was the one who had called the Archangel, sub-consciously; otherwise, the advocate dove had invoked a family member standing before the Throne of Him.   

Indigo Samson (27)

   
   "Indigo Samson (27)"
   
   Miriam was pulling the enduring team together through her use of being gregariously gelled with the atomic consciousness of it all; specifically, some would turn their backs, due to chromosomes, lacking, or extra, being too gifted or ignoring their purpose to reside within parallel realms, yet knowing there is always two, at least--as did Miriam.  
   She pondered The Catcher In The Rye, and how people could not perceive that a hard-drinking youngster armed with tobacco products could want to save children out of a knight's noble purpose, yet chalked it all up to linear thinking, and how that diminishes the facts of EVERYTHING.  Corn on the cob is yummalicious, unless the children aren't baptized once, and for all sins--just once, along with a small exorcism performed by a Catholic or Orthodox Priest.
   The word on the street about Christ was wrong, as Saint Peter pointed out to the Lord and revered Rabbi.  Saint Peter truthfully admitted who Christ was--that He was Christ.  And Jesus basically said:  "There ya go."
   Miriam was introspective about herself and others enough; hence, she enjoyed the azure noon of it all; moreover, battle is from Sun up till Sun down, yet even Christ yelled at Saint Peter for falling asleep during Sister Moon's reflecting dream.   

Tom Petty

treat them like the gentiles

   
   "treat them like the gentiles"
  
   How did the Son of Man treat the Gentiles?  Thanks to a Priest being the branch of Christ's vine--I totally know.  He broke bread with them, and he healed them; moreover, he nourished them with love.  
   Of course He said that salvation is of the Jews.  A mere tradesman.  Is God a trickster?  Coming in the guise of poverty, lack of education, fatherless, yet truly having all of those things, if only within the theater of His immortal soul.  Why form into tribes?  Why segregate yourselves, when America is honorable, and a family?  Protest injustice, yes.  But don't hate Old Glory.  She gives you a holy land and freedom, no matter how unfair--she gives you a chance to pursue liberty, whether a craftsman or an engineer.  Do not complain of your portion, for if you are of Christ; next, you have an advocate, a tough and loving dove, asking God what you are not bold enough to ask.  

The King is in the Field

  
   "The King is in the Field"
   
   The Virgin hides, have you not read Scripture?  And they say nothing happened.  But we will see the Son of Man coming down from the Clouds of Heaven, to separate the wheat from the chaff with the winnowing fork, throwing the chaff into the eternal fire, more or less.  We have had every chance to repent.
   If they were His people, why would they hand Him up?  His family are those that do the Will of God.  If you are handed up by family; next, they are not your true family.
   They say it takes two.  They're right.  But it doesn't take three.  I learned.  Paid in Spades.  But I did my job, and knew my portion was slavery.  
   But even a decent dog deserves an exodus.  No longer will there be a silent voice screaming in the wilderness.  One way or they other--we will all get our proper portion.  A skeptic has to be right everyday, but a man of faith only once.  So enjoy the golden calf, while you can.  

Astronomical Passion

   
   "Astronomical Passion"
  
   Let's not go religious today; specifically, let's do, and yet imagine the psychology of it all.  The Cross forgives sins--you believe Christ died and was resurrected; next, you are forgiven.  Easy.  A little modesty, brainwashing yourself to be a regular, adapting to your environment with social camouflage as does the red fox, and buying into the system--you have to, at least in minimum fashion.  Hell, even a janitor can get a double-wide, fly the American Flag, have a fence and a dog; plus, vote, and get laid here and there--if he chooses.  Don't be Emily Dickinson, wearing ivory-white perpetually, writing bodacious poetry, giving children candy, and being somewhat flaky, which is synonymous with eccentric.  Yes, I've read an entire thesaurus while drinking a six-pack of the King of Beers, Bud Heavy; moreover, babysat a Britney Spaniel, that I later bathed with Head and Shoulders dandruff-controlling shampoo.
   On the flip side, what if there is no control for passion?  And I'm not going all Pantheistic or astrological, yet admitting that when it rains it floods, the Moon affects Terra, and maybe the alignment of the Cosmos constructs reflexes in Adamkind.  
   And even the Signs of the Zodiac are offering astronomical truths, in a sense, if you dive into it all; therefore, know that numerous theories exist, and that there is no scientific dogma, nor any dogma that can be completely axiomatic, as far as we know, for all the possibilities are there, so you have to be on guard, for most people are up to something, and as it is in Heaven, so shall it be on Earth, and I'm talk'n the Cosmos, and the pull of a Moon, and the noise of a dump truck making you nearly ditch your car, and a girl with a good ass, and a song that fuels you, or the green tea you drink--it all has effect, and can be used for whatever purpose, whether to heal or kill.  So passion is good--if you send out the vibes of survival, but even Saint Francis bitched; next, stripped himself naked and preached to the people, a true fool for Christ, and it had effect.  However, all people form into tribes, and there is not the same truth for every man, till we have to own ourselves, and our sub-conscious, possibly, in another realm of existence.