White Christmas-Elvis Presley

Amos Hart--Samson Effect

  
   "Amos Hart--Samson Effect"
  
   Amos Hart did a 40 punch in the Cutlass, the 350 igniting to life through hammered acceleration, and Bucko's tongue not flapping, but safely inside as the granny's old cruiser cranked it up to ninety in no time, and there was no lawman to see the Oldsmobile thunder.
   Thought of Samson.  They need a Samson prayer card.  Have Freedom of Religion in America, like in Rome at one time, and plenty.  The Neptune Festival or whatever it was that Amos' Uncle used to tell him about--how cool is that, and weird, for does your town have a Neptune Festival, and some do!?!
   All the gods were present for Amos; plus, all realities.  There was no other choice.  A journalist has to make cracker jack decisions, meet a deadline, drink sour mash out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald flask and be a degenerate spy, at first; next, the levels of sublimity kick in, and you no longer wear a trench-coat, waiting on the cape, or maybe even a mustang to ride on.  The point doesn't matter if you don't know who shot the arrow.  Amos ate a gingerbread cookie as he drove, and kinda fast.  It was great for a man to multi-task.  Unless of course he was watching STAR WARS, or ingesting the purely instrumental frequencies of Bach.  
   

Amos Hart--Ginger's Stocking

   
   "Amos Hart--Ginger's Stocking"
   
   Above the pool hall he lived over, Amos Hart wasn't fancying a gregarious game of Billiards with the boys, smoke, and strong spirits; on the flip side, he was casually petting Bucko's pelt, drinking a cold beer, a Pilsner, and puffing away on a cigar, the cherry dancing in the neon-lit illumination of a groovy studio-apartment type of thingamajig.  Ginger entered, howling silently with her chatty eyes.
  
GINGER
Merry Christmas!  I had to break the silence.  Getting spoiled and lit with the ale, huh?

AMOS
You know me--"alcoholic" isn't necessarily a bad word, especially if only your phony friends label you that, when they mix Crown with Coke and cheat on their wives, telling their kids Jesus is a royal racket.  Wonder if Samson is pissed?  Wasn't he a Nazarene as well?

GINGER
Many similarities between Jesus and Samson, yet Jesus stayed away from nasty women, carnally--that's why many followed Him.  If He wouldn't give it up, they desired to know His control, which of course, He had over everything.  And by the way, Old Saint Nick put a candy cane in my Snoopy stocking.  Doesn't he know Nuns don't eat sugar?  (Pulled out a Lucky and struck it to life with sulfur's flare.)
   
AMOS
Hey, it's toasted.

GINGER
So will be the world one day, maybe soon, unless the true racket ceases.  They rig, but not like Spider-Man jury-rigging his web shooters.

AMOS
Always liked Web-Head.  

The Fast and the Furious Ferrari vs Toyota Supra drag race. R.I.P Paul W...

Amos Hart--Dual Exhaust

  
   "Amos Hart--Dual Exhaust"
   
   Amos eating a SNICKERS, cause SNICKERS does satisfy, and to remind his future wife of that; otherwise--it all sounds like a lot of work.  At the sit-down gas station, an Elegant Cooter approaches:

ELEGANT COOTER
Is dat ur Cutlass with the V-8, boy?

AMOS
Can go to Midnight Mass @ 11:30 and still be there on Sunday and a Holy Day; as a result, I totally win.  But how to keep the Sabbath Holy if your son falls down a well?  Will you not miss services and rescue him?

ELEGANT COOTER
Damn boy, got me nuth'n 'gainst dem Catholics, ain't no sum bitch here or yonder.  Just got me a HEMI Block with high-outtake exhaust, and increased air-induction through my cowl backwards hit-me scoop.  Blow'n horsepower into the carb off my windshield.

AMOS
Not gonna race.  Too tired.  Maybe I should get a life.  But what's the worth in that?  

Men without Hats- The Safety Dance (Lyrics)

Amos Hart--Unveiling

   
   "Amos Hart--Unveiling"
   
   Amos Hart calmly sat with Bucko in the Olds, powered by the modest yet potent 350 Rocket--a zinger from the electric past.  Like he always knew inside, and as the American Government has basically admitted:  "We are not alone."  Reagan had already told us that there are non-terrestrials among us--we never listened.  Fairy Tales, Religion, you name it--and most children always know, before they age into adolescence, witnessing the greed and lust of false gods; next, their ability to see becomes as were Samson's eyes, burned out, and blind to the illusion that so many live under.
   The American Courtroom has no right to argue anything anymore.  The Judge is not Jesus Christ, the attorneys are fraudulent finks instructed on the art of lying, and the juries are hand-picked by these lascivious-living liars.  The psychiatric units are filled with illegal activity as well.  The government cannot truly declare ALL they know, for many people would be incarcerated, abusing those who have been abused already, and on a supernatural level--that word simply meaning, more than natural; however, as many bad ones as there are, it equals out with the magnanimous might of altruistic Angels and Holy Living Creatures.
   Whatever happens, most fear Christ's return . For if the Son of God were to truly encounter a soul void of repentance; next, Occam's Razor suggests that the endgame scenario might not be good for that particular soul.
   All the myths, art, everything speaks of sublimity outshining the false illusion of deceit.  We shall see.