Some copper conducts fear of bulldogs

   
   "Some copper conducts fear of bulldogs"
  
   Not all perfect angels.  Manipulated, exploited, twisting with sale's pitches their innate glamour, as they are being controlled.  Allegory.  Just get a cheeseburger and fries, don't worry about it.  The look on the receptionist's face when they pull up medical records--that says it all.  You're jumping to conclusions; on the contrary, there are no coincidences in life.  She slays with beauty, though absent of morality in her own head, morphing myriads of men into goblins, metaphorically.  He gives everything away to be even more mortal and vulnerable. 
   They sense what you sense, for they have an empty hand; nevertheless, as they feed off of your electricity, it gives them potency to birth your disaster, which is what they want, for some.
   Just say:  "It's all apple pie and okay.  There is no Christ; that is absurd.  I'm not wacko; I know Christ is myth.  It's a continual flux of atoms, a spark of chance, and we're just photons floating through vacuous space at the end."
   She wasn't a nice child.  The man was burdened.  Yet, did the man not burden the girl?  Did he not whisper charms into her ears.  We're family.  Christ states:  "Those that do God's WILL are My family." 
   Darwin's cruel.  They purchase it, and send their children off to eat of that fruit, in institutions.  Of course God tests the just man.  Labor is more than 9 to 5.  Sometimes, staying alive is all you need to do in life.  To align yourselves with not a conscience even, as a programmed sub-conscious can lead you to doubt even that; thus, heart.  Run.  Get out.  You'll never make it.  She's seen things.  Was the Virgin not even a bit phobic after Gabriel's introduction of praise?  
   If everything is as it is; next, why is there even a spark of corruption?  
   Oh well, just symbolic.  I don't even eat Halloween candy.  All people are nice.  Everyone has my best interest in mind--they really care about me.  Nobody keeps tabs on my computer trail, nor contacts family, physicians, priests, all in order to have further control--that is just crazy.  There is no such thing as a bad immigrant.  It's all cotton candy.  
   BONANZA was a great show.  Michael Landon was and is one of the cool ones--just my opinion; however, nowadays--it has all gone zombie in cinema.  Whatever happened to cowboys?  Kids today think of the cowboy as a mythical figure.  No kidding.  

The heartwarming moment Kekoa the giant timber wolf plays with a wildlif...

Nittany Lions

   
   "Nittany Lions"
   
   First of all, may the Holy Standard-Bearer Saint Michael deliver us from the lion's mouth, that we may inherit the Holy Light promised to Abraham and his seed.  
   My mother always wanted to go to Penn State (a real school); however, her father wouldn't allow it, knowing she was a bit boy crazy.  He was a Serb, and his best pal was Italian; thus, knowing--he told her strictly:  "You're not allowed to date Italians or Serbs."  She would say:  "But Daddy--he's so good-looking."  And my Pap would say:  "He looks like a monkey."  And once, threw a kid off the front porch.  Good for him.  That's what fathers do.  
   There have been two men I've known that I never gave any crap.  Pap was one of them, for he could crush me like a beer can.  Dude was solid--still is, I'm sure.  
   So, his daughter had to go on some damn idealistic crusade out to the City of Angels, leaving Pittsburgh behind.  What an adventure.  And a damn football-playing Irishman went with her.  They say he was my father.  One tough son of a bitch.  He was golden--still is.  

War & Amour

   
   "War & Amour"
   
   The pic below--having to do with a sci-fi thang, not southern fried ya'll, knowing that history repeats, and new Saints fashioned in the old will be reborn, as their candle has already been lit--kinda/sorta.  Yet not anchored down by a false grid of negativity (it can't be done) and many other Lilliputian lies, lathered in lascivious lust-ways--no wonder Christ was a bit hostile, for we have forgotten the words of the Psalmist:  "Ye are gods."  Want to play it safe; next, be a rock star.  What, I thought rock and roll was dead, you damn Yankee.  
   Slice their creeping elongation like a scrumptious piece of Brie de Meaux, yummying it up like my ex-mother-in-law, though with her:  le coup de foudre.
   Still, no TACO BELL, and never will run to that border--I hear the water has more crusty contagion in it than ours, while the government guys drink distilled liquids.  Must be nice.  They sit in a bubbling hot tub, a fat cigar in their oral cavity, singing:  "Ho, Ho, Ho--I wonder how all the poor people are doing, hee-hee . . ."  
   And granny gifts them moonshine and red hair skunk to take back to sonny boy--the spoiled fink; however, some say a portion of those poor peasants are part of the 1-4-4.  Never can tell, Wang.  And Wang is a pleasant man.   
  

Kim Carnes - BETTE DAVIS EYE - Les années bonheur - Patrick Sébastien - ...

George Hamilton KFC Extra Crispy Kentucky Fried Chicken TV Commercial 2017

Pious Bastard--it takes 2, not 3

 
   "Pious Bastard--it takes 2, not 3"
   
   So, he gets horny.  Would've been better if he just had one, but what a hunt from envy; regardless, the Book of Tobit explains matrimony--at its best.  How boring.  We find God, we get bored.  Not all of us.  The family can we see too.  The angels, saints, confessors, and all the rest.  We have a family, so we can see a glimpse of God, like unto a hind-quarter.  
   People get bored with duty.  The scrotum nags like a wicked wife.  Oh honey, he cheated on you--nail his ass.  Oh, I love you cool guy, she won't make you feel like I do, spoiling you tomb-ways. 
    From the womb to the tomb--disruption.  Did we not ask for this?  Many.
   Stay out of their singular attachment--themselves.  It takes two for romance, not three.  Holy Fire, if you think you're soooo damn cute; next, relieve yourself with a piece of fruit and thank the farmers in America--don't destroy a family, a true family; however, girlfriends, even the spouse, are at fault as well, bad-mouthing the bed they made, whimpering over a partner not perfect.  Who the hell is perfect save Christ?  He was too damn wise to get involved in carnal cravings.  You think so.  Your world is right, allegorically; at the same time, so ever wrong.  And yes, a virgin can kiss a child on the mouth--only to remind him, so that he never forgets.  Like a classy slap to the skull.  Good for her.