Jango Fett vs. Obi-Wan Kenobi HD

Hey Chief (2)

   
   "Hey Chief (2)"
    
   Paul piloted his CRF 250 Honda, a dual sport cycle to the edge of a cliff in his native Arkansas; next, he cranked the motor off, unseated himself, and looked around at the animal-haunted nature of his woodland scenario, spotting the Totem of a fleeing skunk.  A lonely barber, having embraced dandyism, yet as redneck as they make them, putting some chaw inside his oral cavity and giving it a big spit, wishing he had a bottle of Southern Comfort; also, the respect of people--well, at least Mexicans hadn't thieved away his job; still, nobody respected a Caucasian barber.
   He figured that he should lose the mustache and shirts with a collar, unless they were flannel, but that would prove only the regularity of normality.  After all, what do they say in these back-wood hills he knew: "It's freaking Arkansas fella--same shit happens."  

The Man from Laramie (1955)

   
   "The Man from Laramie (1955)"
   
   Snowing in Nashville/Franklin area today--a dreary day; thus, just watched The Man from Laramie starring James Stewart with Mom and step-dad--it was awesome!  Double talk, repeating rifles, Apache, a mystery; plus, a beautiful girl that never gets kissed, for Jimmy Stewart is a true gentleman--he's got couth.  
   Having seen Day of the Evil Gun (1968) starring Glenn Ford at my Pap's house when I was a teenager, I figured there could be no better Western; at the same time, when I saw Silverado starring Kevin Kline in 1985  during a vacation to Colorado years before, I figured the same thing, at that particular flux of time.  Next, Tombstone starring Kurt Russell lit me on holy fire, but truly--The Man from Laramie is the freaking metaphorical bomb concerning an unwanted anti-hero doing his best to solve a crime, stay alive, and remain as innocent as a dove.  It lassoed my lonely heart.  

Cloudsong

Hey Chief (1)

   
   "Hey Chief (1)"
   
   Paul didn't like the feeling of arousal, not since youth.  Felt like toxic slime in his pants.  He had overcome his desires, morphing frigid without being cruel, yet standing up for the weak, when necessary, and washing like Tobias.  
   Paul was a barber.  Had a fancy mustache, like Tesla and Proust--those dudes could pass as brothers, though one wore a fur coat--go figure.  Too, Paul was Catholic, and took it to the next level of intensity, being an ascetic with a fondness for dipping; next, giving it a redneck spit, so uncouth, but his only non-dandy habit.  
   He had a friend that owned his own perversion--Trevor.  He liked Trevor cause Trevor was totally honest.  Dude would tell you he was a fink; hence, a nice fella--in Paul's opinion.
   So, Trevor was in the barber's chair and Paul was giving him an elegant Errol Flynn haircut.  It was a nice day to be dandy.  

The Millenium Falcon Escapes Tatooine [1080p]

Umbrage over watching football

   
   "Umbrage over watching football"
   
   On 1/20/1980 I cried and became as annoyed as an angry baby when Vince Ferragamo and the Rams lost to the Steelers--even though born in Pittsburgh, due to the fact that the Steelers had beaten the Cowboys (my team) twice in the big game; thus, I had no choice but to hope for the Steelers to lose, and that was stupid on my part.  Ferragamo played a great game, and as my mother calmly explained:  "They get paid tons of money, and they're more unhappy for losing than you."
   My biological father, a hardcore Steelers fan, once pulled a bathroom sink out of the wall after the Steelers lost a game, according to my mother.  Just don't get pissed if your team loses.  Those dudes are filthy rich, and most of us have nothing in comparison.  Just enjoy the game, pray that every player does their best with their God-given talents, and eat some cheese dip.  That's all you can do.  

Extremely pleased with step-dad

   
   "Extremely pleased with step-dad"
  
   I may be an ass, but I'm not a prick--just ask my last wife.  Anyway, my step-dad kicked my ass, metaphorically, today--and it was great; specifically, he showed me that he has steel.
   You never know.  Some people just soldier up.  He did--big time.  I'd take a bullet for him on this day.  Hell, of late--I'd take a bullet on any day.
   But I'm extremely pleased with the old man.  The cowboy liveth!!!  And he's a patriot too.  

Pence, and right to life

   
   "Pence, and right to life"
   
   You have to fight for EVERY life, no matter how bad it looks--even genitalic mutilation.  Well, maybe I question that; regardless, Pence will speak at the MARCH today, and unmask the Pharisees as did Christ.  What were Mary's words:  "Do as My Son says."
   Unmasking is not bad.  It's best to do it to yourself.  Twain did it.
   People are so concerned about their happiness and they forget that little boys with no arms and legs can praise an unseen God, like fishermen casting their nets below the waters, knowing something is down there, but not exactly where, as they can not see into the seas.  We must cast out our nets.  Or die with the most and win--in this America.   

The Galvanized Gimp (8)

   
   "The Galvanized Gimp (8)"
   
   Though reunited with his family and heavily involved in the Church; specifically, Our Lady of Good Counsel, Dragic was still experiencing Sleep Paralysis.  Kathy would rub his shoulders in bed, sing him sweet Psalms of David, and tell him to take walks in the park and focus on the love of a Good God.  Dragic did all of these things; nonetheless, from time to time, his sleep patterns were disturbing.
   One night, after feeling pinned down, he pulled himself up and went into little Jude's room.  The young adolescent was sleeping, a lullaby of love around his neck, the Mother of God on the Miraculous Medal; thus, Dragic felt overwhelmed to touch it, close his eyes, salute Mary, knowing She was full of grace and the Mother of true God and true man--everyone's salvation, if admitted. 
   Therefore, Dragic knew he was saved by the blood of the lamb and the confession of the mouth; plus, eating the body of life, and his past came back to him with full thunder from on high, igniting him with pure energy, shielding him forever from the neglect of holy inspirations.  He truly became a new man, for once were there was darkness--now there was light.  

Doug Flutie Tribute

Han Solo vs Darth Vader

The Galvanized Gimp (7)

   
   "The Galvanized Gimp (7)"
   
   At the local library, shuffling through the theology section, Dragic stumbled, like ghost-walking serendipity into his ex-wife, Kathy.  The twosome ignited with a synergy of shock, awe, and remembered love.  Kathy immediately began to tear up, and could not help but instinctively embrace the man that had left her, for as a Christian--she knew his pain; moreover, knew he was the image of God, so to speak.  Dragic had no tears, just felt the feeling of true love; next, Jude wheeled around the corner, into the theology aisle.

JUDE
Are you my Dad?

KATHY
Letting go of the embrace.  Yes Jude--he's your father.

DRAGIC
I made a mistake Kathy; I want to come home.

KATHY
I'd like nothing better.

JUDE
Smiling.  Me too Dad.  

Flash Gordon - Football Fight

Balulalow

The Galvanized Gimp (6)

   
   "The Galvanized Gimp (6)"
    
   Dragic had spent the last two months going to Mass ascetically, wending his way off of the anti-psychotics, and battling his sleeping disorder with prayer and meditation upon the daily mysteries of the Holy Rosary.  He felt a little better, and was feeling a sense of action to reattach himself to his estranged family; specifically, his ex-wife and son.
   The Priest gave him some advice from the poet Pope:  "Be not swift, but wise."  Still, Dragic knew there had to be a bit of mercurial haste involved, as he was determined to bandage the cruel wounds of life.
   He would drive past Jude's house, innocently spying his child playing and wheeling around in his wheelchair on the driveway, always with a book in his hands.  He knew his ex-wife loved literature, and as he departed he went to the library and checked out Twain's Joan of Arc.  Though she was female, he knew her to be determined in faith, and filled with a spirit that gelled with the supernatural aspects of holy sublimity.
   He started invoking her for strength, and would put on his armor of God in order to make a divine re-connection from that which was thieved from him due to the despair of life.  

The Galvanized Gimp (5)

    
   "The Galvanized Gimp (5)"
   
   Dragic Rokavic, Jude's biological father, was having two beers, for he knew the wise words of the past journalist Christopher Hitchens:  "Drinking is like a woman's breasts--one is too little, and three is too many."  He drank the two beers with his anti-psychotic.
   He blamed himself and the doctors.  Having epididymitis and getting treated with Prednisone and antibiotics, they never told him not to discharge into his wife's vaginal cavity; however, he did; next, nine months later--a baby born with no legs, little Jude.
   There was no proof; regardless, on the list of deaths in the United States, physician and nurse error outshine smoking cigarettes.  Dragic could give a damn.
   He loved Jude, but what he didn't know is that the same figures that pinned him down at night were pinning Jude down, but Jude had escaped them through religion.  Dragic knew they were real.  So did Jude, but the little boy had the Christ.  Sleep Paralysis is never easy--that's what they call it.  Dragic got two hours at best of slumber, the rest, his eyes wide open while they hovered around and paralyzed him.
   He remembered, years ago, a man limping into Mass, Dragic going there as his ex-wife was Catholic while he was Serbian Orthodox, yet he converted, and that limping man, disheveled, bearded, and yet armed with ascetic confidence marched to take the Eucharist--in the worst of conditions, suffering next to Christ, ready to imbibe the Body of a Living God.
   Upon such remembrance, Dragic decided it was time to try Mass again.  Give it a shot.  

Crimes of a selfish family

  
   "Crimes of a selfish family"
    
   Six years ago she was begging to divorce him; next, an approximate year later, intruders entering--something her son has experienced since a child.  Son tells step-parent that she's becoming paralyzed by fear--he hearkens not.  False diagnosis.  Poisonous pills that cause further paralysis prescribed.  It gets worse.
   Everyone runs from her.  One vacation in the mix--a false display of commitment.  The son the only one taking her out to the coffee shops, the park, the library, the bookstore, suffering himself, bleeding internally; plus, many more things including chronic pain and trauma.  Talking to every physician, alone in the waiting rooms for surgeries and procedures, concerned about the woman as she is exposed to neglect, terrible images on television, and no words but silence from all.
   Son feeds her, bathes her, helps her have bowel evacuation, gets her pills in order, perfect blood-work and vitals, treating numerous sores, with no help, no nurse in the house when other son has millions; hence, the care-taking son borrows money, puts himself in debt, bleeding out, sitting at Mass alone, brother wont pray or come with him to a holy place.  She is taken to a notary, under the influence of narcotics; moreover, made bizarre by fear, told to sign papers, which is completely illegal.
   Pseudo-caretakers arriving, armed with foul and cruel mouths, putting down two disabled people, sleeping, eating, cackling, doing nothing but neglecting.  No help.  No help. The woman has one relative that is concerned, but she lives far away and is sick herself; otherwise, no help or prayers.
   Step-son comes into house, gets drunk with children, firearms are passed around the house in front of her, causing her demonic distress.  It gets worse.
   When someone gets sick, that soul should be the nucleus of your efforts.  Carry your cross, don't throw it down and run away--that is weakness, no confidence, and greed.  Help the disabled and chronically ill with TRUE effort, not simply bringing over fried chicken once every six months while the woman is eating out of cans and food bought by her impoverished son for half a decade.  No new clothes or comforting devices for years save from one disabled seed.  What a sour taste in the mouth, them fueled by the adder to rebel against love.  How many bed sores can one sick man treat with no assistance from a true professional armed with an altruistic nature?  And while he's done it for five years, the terror continues. 
   One out of every 20 houses it's all fine; however, within that 21st house, true terror lurks.    

Faith, hope, and charity

   
   "Faith, hope, and charity"
   
   To protect all human life at EVERY cost is sweetly sublime.  Even though Christ was murdered, He had hope in us.
   While my biological brother has bullied me, as well as others--I pray for them.  Too, he gave me awesome advice at one point in my early twenties, saying:  "Kerouac didn't need long hair, tattoos, or piercings--and he was way more cool than all those rockers."
   That kept my hair short, my skin not inked, and my body from being pierced.  Thanks bro.  And as hard as he drank, Kerouac may have had his reasons.  Too, he lived with his Mom; plus, his Aunt saved his "on the road" butt; moreover, with his first paycheck, he bought that special mother an awesomely new kitchen.  Possibly to help keep his beer cool in the fridge.
   So, thanks to my brother for Kerouac.  Maggie Cassidy is my favorite book by the dude.  And I salute Jack.  They often wonder how such a hard drinker could have written over a million eccentric words.  Why drive when you can be driven?   

The Galvanized Gimp (4)

   
   "The Galvanized Gimp (4)"
   
   Jude was dragged throughout the house at night, by forces unseen.  They call it an aspect of sleep paralysis, but he saw the shadowy figures; plus, knew the history of psychiatry.  To stop the bullying, he would chant Saint Catherine's words:  "Jesus (God) is good."  Thus, they would depart.
   His mother stopped bringing him to the shrink, and had the Priest come over and distribute to the tormented adolescent the Body of Christ.  Jude was always relieved to touch God, so gently, and praised the Lord his refuge, getting Saint John's wings of an Eagle underneath his saved soul.
   His mother was aware that Saint Paul was right.  It is no man's fault, but tricked or threatened into becoming sinister by the fallen.  She trusted no physician save those armed with faith, and prayed without ceasing for the strength and steel of Jude.
   The day ignited with shimmering sunshine, and Jude cruised around on the driveway in his wheelchair, lighting himself up with the armor of God.  

Abuse from family

   
   "Abuse from family"
    
   I was born; next, placed into incubation for a protracted period.  Couldn't speak properly until I was four or five, when my mother took me to a speech pathologist.  Had tubes shoved up my urethra for urinating blood as a child.  Surgical spoons inserted into anal cavity to remove impacted fecal matter as a child.  Terrible night terrors.  Even more, but I write this in haste.  
   Anyway, it has continued against my biological mother and me; specifically, here is some of the abuse I have endured from my brother:

1.)  Would punch me in the face as a little boy, when I attempted to sleep in his bed at night.
2.)  Rubbed my face in dog urine when I was 8 years of age.
3.)  Held me down and fed me hamster food.
4.)  Threw me out of his car in a snowstorm when I was 10 years of age, miles from home, for I said his loud music was giving me a headache.  I walked miles in the cold snow, terrified.
5.)  Attacked me when I was a minor and he was over 21 because I lit a Camel cigarette, punching me in the face numerous times.
6.)  After passing the BAR Exam, he attacked me over an argument concerning STAR WARS, breaking my finger, and he had over 30 pounds on me.  I drove him back with a fire place poker.
7.)  When I wrote a metaphorical poem to a girl, he, as an attorney, told my mother:  "Mark has no 1st Amendment Rights."
8.)  Has said of my religion:  "King David is full of shit.  The Virgin Mary is a witch.  Saint Paul I loathe."
9.)  When my biological father died, he said he was relieved.  Too, said Dad left some money for me, but all I received was a plastic Swiss cheese bank with 17 cents from my step-mother.
10)  After my first colonoscopy, he told my mother I should get back to my crummy job; hence, I contemplated suicide as the blood in my bowels and stomach pain were terrifying me.
11.)  Told my mother my job wasn't good enough, which was delivering newspapers.
12.)  Called me stupid and ignorant.
13.)  Said my step-brother's police son is like Barney Fife.
14.)  Written letters to my physicians attempting to have me locked up in a mental institution, due to me having religious freedom and mortifying my senses so I would obey the Bible. 
15.)  When my mother was falsely diagnosed with Alzheimer's Stage 4 over 4 years ago--he disappeared for months, now only makes weekly visits at best.
16.)  I told him to lend me 180 dollars cause the pseudo-caretakers were abusing and neglecting Mom and me, and that I would move to Arkansas and live in my truck on my son's property--he gave it to me, and I told him Mom will die, and so will I.  And as he has told both her and my sad soul:  "Everybody has gotta die sometime."  I didn't give up on myself or my mother, using the money to buy her food and clothes. 
17.)  Told me he was gonna purchase a Tesla or Mercedes, while my mother and me suffer, wearing rags; plus, my mother is a true patriot, having worked at the Rand Corporation for years during the 1960's.  
   There's plenty more, and about his wife's bullying remarks too.  He did pay for my divorce, but my kindness gets walked over, and mocked; moreover, viewed as weakness.
   All I can do is pray.  While he says Trump is an ego-driven, bravado-fueled man, I can only pray that my new leader kicks ass and takes names.  I forgive them all, but will not be silent, as my 120 pound frame cares for my mother--the rest abandoning her, or sending in thugs that neglect and abuse.   

Captain America I could do this all day

Neglect and Abuse of the Disabled

   
   "Neglect and Abuse of the Disabled"
   
   Nobody has helped save a Priest and the Church.  Here's a letter for those in need of hope: 

   Monica--
   Patricia has been tortured for many years, as thug-like personalities have invaded the house under your watch.  The first pseudo-caretaker--here's a list:

1.)  Sat an approximate five hours during six hour shift, eating.
2.)  Would not go along on errands with Patricia and her son, such as to the library, coffee shop, and park.
3.)  Would put on terrifying television shows with gore-smeared violence and the occult, inducing crying fits in Patricia.
4.)  Would talk about Lucifer and cackle, further producing tears in Patricia.
5.)  Would call her son, Mark, on Federal Disability, scrawny, a fool, and that he should be whipped; moreover, threw wet rags at his face; plus, asked if she could trip him, physically.
6.)  Would make racist remarks about ethnic people--in cruel fashion.
7.)  Placed a peach pit, a way to poison dogs, near the family dog's favorite spot, before Patricia's son pulled it out of the dog's choking mouth while the pseudo-caretaker made her exit.
8.)  Much more, to be revealed, if you keep sending thugs over here; also, drank beer on the job at times.
9.)  Would allow Patricia to sit in urine and fecal matter for six hours.

   Second pseudo-caretaker:

1.)  Dropped Patricia's fragile body in shower.
2.)  Talked on her phone most of the time, which played profanely vociferous vulgarities, such as: "Motherfucker!  Motherfucker!"  Over and over, causing Patricia high anxiety.
3.)  Slept most hours.
4.)  Called Patricia's son weak and incapable, when he has been the only one caring for her.
5.)  Dropped illegal drugs in the house.

   Furthermore, Patricia's son is said to be nearing colon cancer.  Disabled as it is.  Nancy insisted on putting Patricia in a HOME over a year ago.  That along with the neglect and abuse of these two disabled people drove Patricia's son to attempt suicide.  You don't want two deaths on your ignorant hands.  Nancy has also called the pseudo-caretakers, offering consolation; therefore, those caretakers should invade her parents' home when they are in need, due to the fact that she has so much confidence in them.

POST SCRIPT:  This is a picture of what Patricia's son's bloody stool looks like when enduring the stress of thugs.  Social Services and the Law will be contacted by Patricia's son's physicians if the neglect and abuse does not stop.   

The Galvanized Gimp (3)

   
   "The Galvanized Gimp (3)"
   
   All was well in the Celestial Heavens for Jude and his biological mother, allowing them a moonlit night, which did reflect the Sun's blessing upon their modest home, where within, the disabled adolescent and his non-defiled mother sat, her explaining:  "Jesus Christ was a popular guy.  They followed Him, ate with Him, flocked to wherever He went; however, when He said you must eat of My body and drink of My blood, not My symbolic body and blood--if you are to be raised and have eternal life; plus, during His arrest and crucifixion--they fled from Him.  When times were easy, they were there; on the contrary, when challenged to have confidence in Him, they fled."
   Jude wept.  He only had faith in the Lord; plus, those that had faith in Him as well.  He wished to wear the Roman Collar, but knew his asymmetrical aspects would keep him on the sidelines; still, he would be a soldier for Christ, remembering King David's words about true service, and the best service being service to God--the mighty bard/fighter voicing in the Book of Psalms:  "Wine to make man's heart happy, and herb for the service of man."
   Jude had never tasted true wine.  But was always eating herbs and talking to God, which puts many cancers into a state of eternal remission.  
   So, as his biological mother exited his bedroom, he pulled the covers over himself, made the sign of the cross, and praised God; moreover, uttered an Act of Hope, remembering that even though Saint Joan of Arc was abandoned and ridiculed, a bizarre man named Mark Twain, him not giving a rat's tail about writing any book save her biography--and from this point of view, helped the Saint rise from the ashes and become the Phoenix she will eternally be, for after its publication, she was shortly thereafter canonized, mysteriously. 

Conan "secret of steel"

The Galvanized Gimp (2)

   
   "The Galvanized Gimp (2)"
   
   Jude was cruising around in his wheelchair on the driveway that connected to his humble yet holy habitat.  The neighbor, a teenage girl, adorned in tight jeans to vacuum up the cottage cheese in her buttocks approached with a look of disgust concerning the legless boy.  She stuck out her tongue; next, cruelly offered:  "Just die already.  What kind of respect will you get as a gimp?"
   Jude smiled, saying:  "Respect is earned.  Giving dignity to the disabled is duty; furthermore, your father is the father of lies and murder.  He was a murderer and liar from the beginning."
   The neighborhood tart swiftly responded:  "At least I can walk.  My father gave me legs, and your father gave you a handicap."
   Jude raised his head to the holy skies, pronouncing:  "God made me special.  And you could be very special too, if you hung your sins on a wall, confessing publicly, and reminding yourself to never do them again."
   "What has it gotten you?"  The girl asked.
   Jude replied:  "Eternal life, and a mother waiting to gently pass me to the father."
   The girl walked away.  Jude continued to roll wisely in his wheelchair, praying for the girl as instructed by the altruistic Rabbi--true God and true man.  

Raw Deal Clip

UCD Ad Astra Ensemble

The Galvanized Gimp (1)

   
   "The Galvanized Gimp (1)"
   
   Jude Rokavic, named such as his erudite mother had paged through Jude the Obscure by Hardy, which T. S. Eliot applauded vocally as being:  "The greatest work of literary sublimity."  Too bad people don't connect the dots about it today.  Too much zombie on the mind.  Not knowing, like having a credit card in the 70's and 80's was the only way you could pass through the allegorical gates, rent a video at the store, the whole bag of magically venomous beans.
   Anyway, Jude was a lovely boy, born without legs, and tooled around, though he wasn't a tool, in his wheelchair, powered by arm strength, using his mind to journey to wonderful places.
   His mother home-schooled him.  Taught the young adolescent about all the poets and sci-fi prophets, starting with Blake and Shelley, reminding him of today's computerized dangers, Blake having blasted the Industrial Revolution by way of verse, saying:  "Satanic slave mines that rob men of their imagination."  Next, another autodidact, as was Shelley and Blake, a more modern man, Philip K. Dick, showcasing how technology would transform into terror; thus, the corporeally manipulated wheelchair, which was powered by the arms, which were powered by the spirit.
   Jude's days were filled with reading and classical music; plus, opera, having a particular fancy for Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries.  His Dad was absent, not being able to face a gimp of a child, blaming the mother, himself, the boy, pharmaceutical companies; plus, everything under and beyond the shimmering Sun.  But Jude's mother was loyal and would never let another man dominated by humping hubris invade her now inviolate life.  She was Jude's guardian and mirror of justice.

Catholic Joke Told By My Serbian Orthodox Pap

   
   "Catholic Joke Told By My Serbian Orthodox Pap"
   
   When I was merely sixteen years of age, I bolted from home due to bullies, driving an approximate 1,000 miles on the asphalt ballet of it all--from Little Rock to Richmond.  I did this numerous times, but my folks kept stealing me back, though I preferred the solace and harbor of safety my Grandparents did offer.  But I never scrubbed Grandma's floors, and I still feel guilty about it, even 30 years later.
   Anyway, my Pap was born of a Serbian immigrant named Dragan Radulovic.  He was Serbian Orthodox, though Grandma was Catholic.  He said the Pope made you eat fish on Fridays because his brother was a fisherman and it increased business.  But there was more.
   As I observed my Pap suck in on his Tareyton cigarette, armed with a two-part filter of fiber and activated charcoal, he exhaled this joke:
    A lady forgot her purse in the pew after Mass.  The Priest, later in the day, found it and looked through it for identification.  Unearthing it, he called her.  She arrived shortly and picked it up.  After handing it to her, the Priest said:  "You know--the Virgin Mary never smoked cigarettes."  The lady boldly looked the Priest in the eyes, replying:  "And Jesus Christ never drove a Cadillac."   

Obi-Wan and Mos Esiley

Separating the wheat from the chaff

   
   "Separating the wheat from the chaff"
   
   Some people become paralyzed by fear.  They claim to see intruders; next, paralysis of the senses; however, as Christ was always telling his Disciples:  "Fear Not!"  Too, He will come and separate the wheat from the chaff, burning the chaff with eternal fire.  But as long as the six-pack is cold and reality television continues, along with the false testimony of mainstream media--nobody cares.
   Plenty of people are threatened.  Or their family member are.  Teach them Pineal Intrusion; plus, how to know them by their fruits, putting on the armor of immortality.  We are ready to fight.  To knock some over-sized craniums into the dirt, or however it goes.
   You don't mix up dogs, cats, squirrels, snakes, and so on--so forget the cotton candy dream of everyone living together in harmony.  That is a false dream.  The true dream is to be united to God, always knowing--he protects the innocent; thus, repent, truly--and exile yourself from sin.  Be blameless.
   But with Internet porn, forged and false testimony, pride in passing achievements--we are being enslaved and weakened.  Numbers and size don't matter--Sun Tzu knew this, as did the Ninja, and King David, the regally royal bard motivated to fear no angel or giant, but only God Himself, letting God be his power source to slay tens of thousands.  
   So, fear not.  And if they get to your loved ones; next, get to them!  King David further saying angels aren't that much tougher.  And there are many forms of combat.  And we now have politicians in place unwilling to submit to fear.
   Love God first.  Serve God first.  And Light Yourself Up!  Believing, like a child trusting in his father.         

Consecration to the Virgin

   
   "Consecration to the Virgin"
   
You are all fair, my love, and there is no spot in you;
Thus, smokes the Word of God, like a pack of 1980's True Blue;
Moreover, believe like a child as did St. Louis de Montfort of France,
Consecrating yourself to Mary; as a result, giving Christ a better chance--
To live in thee,
For Her soul doth aggrandize the Lord,
Inflating Jesus as the physician Luke wrote--his quill more potent than the average sword,
And when you see the Son of Man coming down from the Clouds of Heaven,
He will be accompanied by the sublimity of stalwart levin.  

Loup Soup (19)

   
   "Loup Soup (19)"
   
   Alicia was meeting with Jasper today at the comic shop.  Had just given herself a "bob" haircut, not having the money for a beautician or basic barber.  She figured if Joan of Arc could do it--so could she, her being from Toulon and knowing that Saint Joan's haircut inspired the "bob" around 1909 in Paris.  
   She wasn't nervous about what Jasper would think.  Knew he liked courage.  And what is more courageous than a chick with short hair?  An involution of the self to outshine the fibs and lies of an adder-inspired desire for beauty; next, if you don't have it--envy.  Unless united to the Sacred Heart, which is an Anomalous Phenomenon, unless your Ninjutsu Rabbi teaches well.    
   So, after piloting her economically-inclined automobile to the comic shop--she boldly yet humbly entered, armed with her new fashion of dirty-blonde, having a cosmogony of rebirth, really wanting a man's sincere love after so many mistakes in her past, that she had confessed, bringing into the light, only ashamed that she had once hid in the darkness.
   Jasper spotted her, and a Han Solo grin spread across his face, for he had found his Chewbacca, so to speak, with a little less hair.   

Loup Soup (18) Superpositioning

   
   "Loup Soup (18) Superpositioning"
    
   Alicia's heart was ablaze with the most intense part of the flame--to do her Earthly duties, even if it meant being ashed to death, for she knew--she would rise like a Phoenix, as has Joan of Arc.
   Moreover, she didn't want to get into Jasper's head by way of lust, or Pineal Intrusion, or even true love.  She would only send out her innocent love to him, gently.
   Like the two thieves on the Crosses next to the Living Christ, one mocking Him, the other asking to be with Him--Christ responded to the latter:  "Today, you will be with Me in Paradise."
   Some say Christ descended into hell after being crucified; thus, how could He take the man to Paradise?  So, we get many theological theories on Abraham's Bosom, Purgatory, and so forth.  The old, Catholic joke goes:  "There are so many places to go when you die if you're Catholic, you don't need Christ, but you need a travel agent."
   But even though a mere gas station clerk, and a job is not who you truly are, Alicia knew that with SUPERPOSITIONING, something or someone can be in multiple places at once; hence, she as a Catholic knew God is a mystery, and as King Solomon knows:  "It is God's glory to conceal things, and a King's glory to seek them out."
   As a result of her autodidact-like energy, Alicia simply crossed the threshold of hope, believing that she could and would always take care of bizarre Jasper.  

Sleepsong - UCD Choral Scholars feat. Emily Doyle

Loup Soup (16) & (17)

   
   "Loup Soup (16) & (17)"
   
   Buster was a bit shy concerning seeing his buddy Jasper today--after spying the dude on his date and all.  He calmed himself by reading a comic book, at the shop, about teenage misfits engaged in supernatural fisticuffs with villainous folk--it was dubbed, The Movement.  After anticipating the oncoming future, and that he had been MADE as a spy, Buster's digestive tract got a little sloppy, and he had to make his own bowel movement.
   
* * * *

   Jasper throttled hard on the Ninja 300 to work.  The roads were clear; plus, the Sun was gleaming off the black asphalt.  He was happy to have contained his weird, making a fine impression on Alicia; however, knew that he was not wearing a mask, just curbing his enthusiasm, trying to take their freshly-sparked relationship day by day.  Anyway, all was cool, and he figured he should learn the HAIL MARY or OUR FATHER in French--for the Heaven of it, and to absorb Alicia's culture, proving that he gave a hearty darn about her.    

Loup Soup (15)

   
   "Loup Soup (15)"
  
   As Alicia wended her way home in her humble Honda, she was reminded of the physician and Disciple Luke, especially his Gospel, which offered these words of Christ:  "Whoever rejects you rejects Me."   She wasn't probing the depths of the theology, just happy things went nice with lovely Jasper.  He was awkward, guarded, and yet polite as hell--pardon her mental French.  Furthermore, he asked her out for a second date, to the movies, where she might steal a kiss.  So, as she anchored her economically-inclined car on the gas station's asphalt--a place she not only worked at, but lived within, having a studio apartment upstairs that she shared with her one and only girlfriend, Stephanie.  Stephanie being a modern woman, into heavy dating after her divorce, and liked to experience the joyous juices of life.  Alicia entered, totally aglow from hopes of love, and Stephanie immediately cackled at her innocent and oncoming bullshit, noticing her pseudo-friend lit up with romantic brilliance.

STEPHANIE
Did you get any action babe?

ALICIA
More than that--I made a seemingly spiritual connection--I'm pretty sure.

STEPHANIE
You're so naive.  Guys just want lubricated love and delicious discharge--me too.

ALICIA
Not in the mood for her night to be spoiled by sex slang.  It's a wonderfully free country, and I get you like high vibrations, but did you know that Catholic women, wrapped up in guilt, experience the best orgasms, for they are going against their pure nature.  Regardless, we all are different, and some might need a man to enter their head.  Liked a molested girl.  Her creepy step-father telling her that his way of screwing her is the only way she should ever experience sex.  Hard and hurtful, bringing pain and darkness into her soul, unless she shakes it off and submits to treating her body like a temple.

STEPHANIE
Whatever.  Life is to be lived, not thought about.  We must grab the largest fruits, that nectar which propels us to promote our internal bliss.

ALICIA
You can win this argument, because I don't give a hot damn about it.  I adore your perspective sometimes, but please don't insult my choices if they don't gel with yours.  I don't preach more than necessary, and you don't boast more than needed--it's a decent friendship, and we should keep it that way forever.  Even if you like dragons, and I like unicorns.

   Stephanie retreated downstairs to fix herself a pickle sandwich.  Alicia had a point, but Stephanie would not stop being herself either.  She figured:  "We're all a bunch of sons and daughters of bitches anyway." 

Doc Holliday vs Johnny Ringo from Tombstone.

Loup Soup (14)

   "Loup Soup (14)"

   Buster couldn't help but check to see how his buddy was doing.  Remembering Starsky and Hutch reruns from the 1970's when he was a kid in Iceland, he went covert with a cheesy, fake mustache that was coal black, purchased at the local drug store--in the toy aisle no less, it not matching his golden mane, yet he wore a cap with the Saskatchewan Roughriders logo on it, being a fan of CFL football, and a pair of sunglasses.  He just wanted Jasper to make the score, get some, lay the pipe, be a man of today's time, not living in a bizarre state of sublime eternity--it was not to be so, and he knew it somehow, just as his shrink intellectually knew Tebow would not accept the lascivious invitation to hang out with Madonna when he got chosen to play for the Jets in New York.    
   Still, Buster wanted to see Jasper happy, truly--even if he was only a wise ass friend to Jasper, which is a paradoxical term; regardless, armed with the big, fake mustache, he remembered Wyatt Earp and the gunfight that happened at the O.K. Corral, knowing that according to witnesses, Earp had not moved a muscle during the gunfight; moreover, was not injured, having only symmetrical aim, and his buddy Doc, as well as Earp's brothers, who rolled around like Starsky and Hutch during the combative anthropology, were hit with the high velocity of bullets--art does not always imitate life, at least not on that occasion.    
   So, as he drank a hot cup of java with cream and brown sugar, he noticed Alicia was all laughs, playing with her hair, which means:  "I love you."  If of course a lady does this while engaged in conversation with a man, according to some body language experts.  Too, he noticed Jasper was stoic, keeping his Squirrel Girl comments on the inside, attempting a state of normality; next, he felt Jasper fly into his eyes telepathically, turning to look at him and right through his cheap and totally gaudy disguise.  Buster simply smiled, gave a humble nod, and made his exit.  He knew the dude with the dog's name was a werewolf, on some level, and left not stupefied, but in a state of mystic bliss to have such a comrade in the comic book arms.         
   
   

Loup Soup (13)

   
   "Loup Soup (13)"
   
   At the coffee shop, glaring into the eyes of each other, knowing only:  AGAPE.
   There was no tension.  No carnal cravings to thrust and mush.  Yet a love of humanity and the only One, True God.  A chance of growing old.  Suffering together as a Holy Family on the Cross, with only confession by way of something greater than faith--knowing.  Knowing that true love, in a higher form does eternally and truly exist, outside of the box of time, which Christ split in half by way of his beautiful birth.
   Nevertheless, Alicia played with her hair.  And Jasper licked his lips--if only out of anticipation for a gregarious gel of agape.
   His wolf was tame and domesticated, following a mentally mad Francis, him having served a year in the gore-smeared Crusades; next, transformed into a holy man, always saluting a priest before an angel, knowing you must eat of the body; plus, drink of the blood--if you want forever.
   Then, Alicia said:  "I think I'd like to take a ride on your motorcycle."
   "To where?"  Jasper asked.
   She didn't answer, but knew:  his heart.  

Stripes - Meet Psycho - HD

Loup Soup (12)

   
   "Loup Soup (12)"
   
   Adorned in his Hawkeye Pierce-like Hawaiian shirt; plus, his crappy winter jacket bought at a thrift shop and with loose khaki pants hanging over his moccasins, Jasper throttled his Ninja 300 to the local coffee shop, where he was to meet Alicia for their date.  He harnessed none of the nefarious aspects of the Canis lupus, yet only the loyal and lethally-loving sublimity of Saint Francis' friend, which the Saint hung out with for an approximate two years.  Still, Jasper was worried about conversation, making sure he wouldn't bring up Squirrel Girl and how to hide your nuts for the winter, thinking Alicia might think him perverted, when in fact--he was only wily and weird.
   On the other hand, Alicia decked herself out in preppy fashion.  Though the French girl, armed with dual citizenship had no real money, her simply working at the local gas station--she did own some designer jeans, cool Nancy Sinatra boots, and a fashionable sweater hued in the frequency of aqua-blue, which she ornamented herself in, covering the conservative ensemble with a denim jacket to match her jeans.  
   Alicia was a bit anxious as well, for she had been crushing on the shifty Jasper for quite a while; hence, she used her French Catholicism to invoke Saint Joan of Arc for courage in speech, yet humility in bodily persuasion, her wanting true love, and not a mere roll in the hay, knowing intrinsically that Jasper was out for only true love as well.  

Loup Soup (11)

   
   "Loup Soup (11)"
   
   Jasper, though in his mid-forties, had never been on a date before.  Had always lived with his Grandma until she passed, leaving him a collection of Hawaiian shirts, some old-printed Savings Bonds, and Boxer the cat--better than bubkes.  He had loved Grandma so much, and even though she had passed on--he wrote her letters of adoration everyday in his bizarre diary, for she had been the only biological family the man had ever known.  Anyway, he called his boss Buster, the tall and handsomely blonde Icelander over for some dating advice.  Buster was astonished that the reclusive Jasper would ask for anything, yet happy to see that the weird, little man was coming out of his teenage turtle shell.  Hopefully, this would be a great New Year for the dude, and he would finally develop a Napoleon Dynamite Complex.  So, the twosome sat in Jasper's garage-converted home, and even the Icelander was cold.

BUSTER
I can't believe you live like this dude.  And you've never been on a date?  What, are you a monk?

JASPER
Never got around to it--was always taking care of Grandma, and I have trouble evacuating my bowels in public.  Have to go on newspaper like a dog, and on pseudo-sacred territory.  But never the front page, for that would be strange.   

BUSTER
What a confession.  And I always knew you were a werewolf.  That seems a werewolf thing to do--I mean crap while in a squat-like position, and on newspaper.  

JASPER
Just tell me what I should wear boss?

BUSTER
Do you have any shirts besides those Hawaiian ones?  No, wait!  If she decided to go out with you, having always seen you in them; then, just wear one with plenty of flowers, like Magnum always did on that cool television show.  Damn, you're a weird one.

JASPER
But I like to think I got some couth.

BUSTER
And a total will to be weird, but I think it comes natural to you.  You are a true freak--in the most flattering of terms I mean.

   Boxer the cat entered through his kitty door, giving Buster a suspicious look; next, meowed for some more albacore tuna and spicy mustard.  Jasper obeyed his best friend.  


   

Cannonball Run - Bloopers

DIE HARD: Roof Jump

Smokey and the Bandit- funny Sherrif Buford T. Justice scene

Loup Soup (9) & (10)

   
   "Loup Soup (9) & (10)"
    
   As the snow had experienced a deliquesce, it allowed for motorcycle travel on the asphalt; moreover, the work day at the comic shop had culminated, Buster allowing Jasper to leave first, saying he would lock up since the dude with the cat had sold a vintage Flash comic, influencing the customer with suavity and cool composure, which transcends confidence--a flaw of most salesmen.
   So, Jasper cranked the Ninja 300 to a rumbling-life; next, he darted towards the nearby gas station, grabbing some albacore and spicy mustard for Boxer and him, making his way to the dirty-blonde beauty from Toulon.
  
* * * *

   Jasper had always kept to himself concerning the ladies; however, he decided to introduce himself to the lovely lady from Toulon, officially, by offering his name.  And when she spoke--her accent was always flawless--very potent English.  They stood apart from each other at check-out, him somewhat nervous, running a hand over his buzzed hair, but keeping his gray eyes open and focused.

JASPER
By the way--my name is Jasper.  I have a cat.  He likes albacore tuna and mustard--so do I.  What's your name?  How freaky am I?--he thought.

ALICIA
You're funny.  My name is Alicia.  I'm so glad you asked, and thank you for always tasting my pastries.  I have some more for you to take home.  And I'm a dog person, but cats can be cool.

JASPER
Well, it's nice that we officially know each other--kinda/sorta.

ALICIA
Friends are nice--if they're nice, and not out to get you.

JASPER
Tell me about it.

ALICIA
So, I think we should be friends.

   Jasper and Alicia shared a smile with simple synergy.