Guns N' Roses-One In A Million w/Lyrics

The Rods of Aaron and Moses

   
   "The Rods of Aaron and Moses"
   
   Aaron--Moses' big brother, and he gets no credit in Hollywood.  The Golden Triangle:  Academia, Media, Celebrity, or something like that, all lies, mostly.
   They put their Rods in the Ark, and they morphed into almonds.  Eat a few almonds everyday; next, you cut your risk of cancer in half, so some say.  
   Moses was shy.  Send my brother Aaron to speak for me.  Aaron did.  He loved his little brother.
   I always wanted to be pals with my big brother, but he would have none of it.  I looked up to him, especially his greatest possession--a fire-red 1969 Mustang with a small block; specifically, a 302, factory hood induction, and dual exhaust--it would hit sixty in a flat six.  Pretty good.  But the private college goons called him a redneck, and he sold it.  He should've owned it.  It eats Jaguars for breakfast.  Nothing could take it out of the hole--we're talking some serious torque.
   He sold his soul.  Wanted to be a historian, but got talked into other things.  Still, he loves the Razorbacks, God Bless him.  His daughter could've won the Bram Stoker Award, living in his apartment over the garage with 27 cats and having no friends.  She's a genius, linguistically.  But drank the Kool-Aid and got all pseudo-medical.  His middle child is gifted.  I can tell.  Has great empathy, beyond even me.  I hope he remembers that he is a King, not a Brown.  He was built for mercy.  
   But hell, I'm a schlemiel when it comes to socializing; moreover, a schlimazel when it comes to the ladies.  Thank God the Lord gave me a cabbage and not a brain.  I would've been dangerous if I had a brain; however, the sublime thing about being a cabbage--people underestimate you.  So, I'm not a total schmuck after all, as I Confessed, face to face, with my Priest on Saturday, as if the Virgin Herself was calling me a Schmuck.  I can do more for my mother.  You can always give more.  But money makes us anxious and greedy.  Fuck it.  Give, and ye shall receive.  

My Step-Brother: The Best of Men

   
   "My Step-Brother:  The Best of Men"
   
   G. Gordon Liddy said, as did L7:  "What's up with what's going down."  Indeed, that bad Mofo flipped it all around.  He took his labelled shame, and put it on you bastards.  Mr. Liddy will and does will, if only to kick ass and take no prisoners.
   My step-brother survived more than anyone I know.  He's a survivor.  His brother and nephews wouldn't last two seconds; moreover, he's a Christian, and a better soldier than any of you.  Too, he's a historian when it comes to the Civil War, and I've walked many a battlefield with him.  A damn Yankee and a Rebel, just a walk in the park.  Also, he gets no credit, nor does his wife.  I love them, because everybody spits on them.  My Pap loved my step-brother too, and prayed for him, always; specifically, my Serbian Pap said:  "That kid has a sense of humor."  
   No man deserves to be your toilet paper so that you can think your shit doesn't stink.  I think I'll use my sorcery and give my biological brother and sister-in-law a heart attack tonight.  Is that illegal Sheriff?  Can I have G. Gordon Liddy bring packages and gifts to your wife, invoking him with my magic?  Is that illegal?  Say hello to my MOTHER.   
   Damn, I'm so happy that I'm not totally human.  I only do these things so that you will repent; next, you will be saved.  It's called tough love.  Yup, I'll put a little pressure on my brother's thoracic portion tonight.  Just to remind all people of the Gemini persuasion that Christ can blow your nose any damn time.  My sign has a Trinity of aspects, the most powerful sign.  I can be anything I want.
   It's all an allegory.  Get over it.  I have no magic.  God is not real.  Jesus is fake.  The Bible is total crap.  Feel the love guys.  Feel the love.  The King is in the field, and the Son of David lives forever.  

Star Wars Episode II - Obi-Wan Kenobi meets Jango Fett

Ode to Jango Fett

   
   "Ode to Jango Fett"
  
   You bastards, just joking, possibly; anyway, he didn't need no wussified light-sword, nor the power of the Force flowing through him, for he had balls of steel, and you wish, but:  make sure to wish on white, brother, and I love ya.
   You don't bitch at someone unless you love them.  If you don't correct their errors; next, you're the son of a bitch.  Rebuke your brother, and never say Godspeed, unless you're sending them to Christ, who looks better than Brad Pitt, and sits at the back of the bar, nobody behind him, like Han Solo, knowing:  hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid; however, Vader proved him wrong, for the moment, and he screwed his daughter--it all equals out.
   So, know:  cult is having a spec of attention, yet it rages, potently.  Jango Fett is pure, pulsating cult.  Always a pleasure to meet an angel--he might say.  

Emergency Visit Note--07/04/17--RAGLE (2)

   
   
"Emergency Visit Note--07/04/17--RAGLE (2)"

RUN IT:
   
   Visit?  No.  Took against my will.  Blood drawn from anemic patient, without permission; moreover, patient (freaking me) has history of blood transfusions, losing near 3/4 of his blood, blood in bowels; plus, blood in urine and urethra conditions, as well as bladder infections.  Too, Williamson County Medical Center also forced a catheter into patient (me), which is totally torture for a human being with these historically documented conditions, and without my permission, and thieved away my Freedom of Religion by physically taking (roughly) and breaking my Rosary Beads blessed by a Catholic Priest in the Diocese.  
   PATIENT CARE NOTES:
   Bravo Sierra, for there was no care, only torture.  Nursing note by O'NEIL, JENNIFER E, but she is an ugly-faced, in my opinion, monster of iniquitous energy.
   Nursing Note by HAY, HOWARD JASON:
   Dr. Ragle and myself spoke to the PT's brother.  Per family the PT has become more aggressive and physical with his step-father.  He also states the PT has been drinking starting early in the mornings with beer.  (Improper punctuation--you Bush League cracker.)  
   False Testimony, by my crooked brother.  Go back to my earlier blogs and read these miscreants lie on another portion of this erroneous report.  It never goes farther than beer, which this twit note implies.  And if you go to sleep at 5:00 PM and wake @ Midnight; next, how is 9:00 AM morning to you?  And there has been nothing but beer, Bubba.  Too, Medical records snort like a flamingo, saying I'm delusional, and CLAIM to be my mother's caretaker--who else is doing it assholes!?!  Too, says patient denies drug use.  Look at my drug screen you pricks.  No drug use.  Yet you took my blood and shoved a catheter down my urethra without my fully cognizant consent, based on an attorney's false testimony, which I have proved, and now I have problems with urination; plus, the other, again, FALSE TESTIMONY from my attorney brother is that I've been physical with step-father.  Wrong.  Aggressive--wrong!!!  I just talk like Trump, and I have Freedom of Speech, or do I not?  Not aggressive, and not physical--FALSE TESTIMONY, while Detective Parker and the Sheriff ignored their crimes, including attempting, well, it starts with M.  I've chronicled Dr. Death as well--just read my blog archives, if you can keep up.  My mother was given a shitload of metaphorical poison, and no chance to live.  Hell, they cut off physical therapy approximately three years ago, and now I do that too.  His recommended diet for my mother was potato chips and ice cream.  That sounds healthy.
   Kevin Feltner was contacted prior to what this erroneous report displays, as were the Williamson County Sheriff's Office, and they damn well know it.  Dr. Grenier is unknown to me--more FALSE TESTIMONY forged by an attorney in the report.  The Sheriff and Detective Parker failed to report Notary Fraud and abuse by past, part-time quasi-caretakers, that did nothing but sleep, eat, and allegorically torture my mother and me; plus, throw wet towels at my face, threaten to trip me, poison my dog, and it goes on.  One of my physicians, from approximately four years ago wanted to call Social Services.  My other physician has been contacted by brother and sister-in-law, numerous times, violating, at least making the attempt, my patient/doctor confidentiality.  This Williamson County Report, an erroneous document, also states that I have a history of being bipolar--NOPE.  It's Obsessive Compulsive Disorder with Tics, you schmucks!!!  And it's a gift, for my memory is near infallible, if I choose.  
   Hey crooked attorneys, if one of you rolls over, or a cop, you can have all of my brother's millions, and just give me a portion to live in a country shanty.  My brother's filthy rich, there's your prize.  Dinners with phony Judges, Belle Meade snobbish geography, and makes a Judas out of my step-father because he thinks his mother is too ugly to live.  Hell, she's better looking than his wife--I'd jump off a bridge if I had that woman's baneful countenance, both inside and out, her having a history of involvement with the Free Masons, who spit on the Virgin Mary.  
   My brother sits me down after my biological father died approximately ten years ago, him a mathematician for Lockheed/Martin, and this attorney brother tells me Dad has left me a portion; however, I got a plastic Swiss cheese bank with under a dollar in change--wonder where all the hundreds of thousands of dollars went?  Get in there Sheriff.  Don't be bought, or a pussy.
   Nuff said, for now.   

L7 - Pretend We're Dead (Official Video)