Dudes, wait a freaking hour . . .

   
   "Dudes, wait a freaking hour . . ."
   
   Like Hemingway now.  Bang. Bang. Bang.  Wait an hour till reading my Blog.  It's automatic.  My mortality cannot type that swiftly.  I'm being mercurial--fast but erratic.  Wait an hour till you read my published Blogs--okay.  Wait.  Saint Joseph--Mirror of Patience.  But me:  Happy.  Happy you guys are reading and spying.  A hater wants to hate, a thief wants to steal, and a wise man wants to merge with the light.  We are all characters in a story, but get a grip on your pen.  Okay, wait till I edit my mercurial speed, and I don't even read The Flash comic books.  

Rattle your own cage; you belong in it

   
   "Rattle your own cage; you belong in it"
   
   Never tell me the odds--a smuggler instructs artificial intelligence gone golden.  And they worship that gleaming calf, till a Prophet like Ezekiel comes along.  Always takes a prophet, never appreciated in their own time, but I know no prophets, for who can spot the light when the darkness comprehends it not?  2nd LAW, and things will not change.  Entropy.  Possibly.  Gleaming and total purification of awesomeness.  Purgative step being the first step in:  P + I = U.  Ask Saint John of the Cross, Mr. Science.  Gotta mortify the senses, as did King George's physician; otherwise, feed the monkey.
   They swing on the Cross @ Calvary.  Scratch their hairy beards.  Stupefied in glaring at the Cross, as if no comprehension, or not a bit of hope in that beyond the banana peel, which fools foolishly slip on.  Why not be a child?
   Shut your face woman.  Nothing worse than a big-mouthed woman.  Mother Angelica had no big mouth.  Back @ the REAL Catholic school, the Sisters would enter, and the Priests would meekly sit in the lowest places with humility, fearing the Gom Jabbar of it all, knowing spice during burial preserves.  A woman in inviolate white, always appearing on the 13th, and they say Catholics hate women, and that Nuns get Priests their coffee.  I was there dudes.  Even my Monsignor was terrified of their intuition and empathy--high class and solidly chaste.  But not big-mouthed.  Do as My Son says.  Women don't have a hairy scrotum; thus, they should not envy.  Wear white like Emily Dickinson, but black, to absorb the negativity.
   Don't make the neurologically-challenged sign fraudulent documents lawfully illegal.  Don't walk with a straight spine forged from personal pride and put your feet on the General's desk.  Don't flash your grill, those gold teeth credentials.  A wild dog could rip your throat out, or just piss on your reptilian toenails.
   And to think, the POLICE lost Sting, that allegorical Wasp and his infecting Totem.
   I leave you with Saint Francis--no wussy, neither was the bullwhip-carrying Christ, for Saint Francis, having spent a year in the Crusades, and next to Vietnam, the cruelest of Wars; regardless, as he asks of the SOURCE:  "Where there is darkness, let me put light.  Where there is sadness, let me put joy.  Doubt, faith.  Despair, hope.  And may I not be understood, but may I understand."  Only in Christ's Name can you ask, or it is an eternity in the vacuous dirt-nap.  

Steve Earle - Copperhead Road (Lyrics.)

Kooky Lucy Frost (6)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (6)"
   
Lucy did diligently dash home to praise Pap--
The old bibliopole having an Orthodox prayer book in his lap;
Plus, a smoldering piece of dancing cherry and ash,
Looking like a dandy old timer, having had a good IRA; thus, he had some cash;
However, this was TOTALLY about her today,
For she felt the cyanic communication of the Socratic probe thieve her away from utter dismay;
Indeed, she was a stale fruitcake, getting older--though no longer bound,
Like an adopted, aged hound with deaf and neurotic tics can still grow to hear harmonious sound;
Hence, Lucy told Pap about her Christ-like awakening--
That so many people are more than orgasms faking,
And while not to be dirty or impolite,
But better than smashing windows on college campuses due to Freedom of Speech--a RIGHT.  

Kooky Lucy Frost (5)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (5)"
  
   Lucy got her blood-work done, as if it was like espionage or something, skulking into a physician's personal house, where his laboratory consisted of a fake or real skeleton, medical equipment, a living room turned into an examining room, and a Rembrandt, depicting Christ on the boat during the frightening storm--she got the idea, but broke away from immediate intuition, getting the creeps; then, calmly breathed, relaxing as the house was clean, the doctor clean-cut, not even a bit of monkey shadow, and his coat was an immaculate white with many objects placed within a pocket, and she wondered if he was going to poke her with any of them.  Anyway, after sitting on the examining room table, he asked which arm she wanted the blood drawn from, and she said the left; thus, he withdrew two vials; next, carefully placed them away while she just sat there like a dork, not knowing what to do at that particular point.  Then, they started a little conversation.

DOCTOR
My shrink friend has some suspicions about you.  Do you mind if I ask a few questions?

LUCY
Sure--I guess, I mean.

DOCTOR
No need for panic madame.  But for your entire life have people repeated mantras to you?  Telling you you're this way or that way?  That things which you sincerely know happened in your personal history, they would insist to you that they didn't happen?  That you don't deserve?  Or were relationships with males always about them mocking you behind your back, yet they kept repeating they loved you?  Did people put mantras into your mind, always trying to influence you against your natural, inborn instincts?

LUCY
Her forest green eyes swirled in weirdness, and as she blew a bit of dirty blonde out of her eyes, she realized this man was clean and honest, most-likely trying to help, and that he was exactly right.  Her whole life people had been assholes save Pap, or influenced those she loved to not love her, if they were like her, and that's why her Mom went away--she just knew.  Damn Doctor--I think you made me realize something.  And the answer to your question is a definite yes.  So, do I go now and see my shrink, uh, I mean my psychiatrist tomorrow for the results?

   He nodded his head, and kooky Lucy Frost bolted with live-action, knowing most of the world was one fat, hairy, ugly, and unacceptable prick. 

USA - Monk: Blood Test

Kenobi Meets Jango [1080p]