Thoracic Animus (6)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (6)"
   
   Mutt knew, all those fostering his depressed dog had dyed red hair--FAKES!  They didn't carry the true blood, neither do most people; thus, their Wicca is wishes, and you can only wish on weird, or bet on black, or bid in blue, or SpongeBob in Orange, or gamble in green, or yellow snowman in yellow--you get it, maybe.
   And Mutt would position his wallet or other items, leaving the room, and seeing if they had been moved by these artificial red heads, and they had.
   But their control is like a fake alien invasion released.  An illusion of bologna intrusion, and the blue vests need to get smarter, or wiser, hating pride, arrogance, and false testimony.
   Mutt got his dog back, played some Poker with the holy hound.  Found the Fool Card, but there is no Western Dakota.  So, he went to the real red--Chief.  Beautiful, scorched before in truth and passion, not drinking the Kool-Aid, for his people were his people, and didn't belong to any man save the Great Spirit.  When he entered Chief's bungalow, he kept his Iroquois, but reserved his Orthodox Serb, not wanting to get ignited by vociferous voracity with another truth being hijacked hungry.   

Thoracic Animus (5)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (5)"
   
Mutt reflected upon Winchester the 3rd,
That thoracic surgeon thinking meatball surgery did disturb,
Yet worse than someone saying it's not your house,
And a razor wristways, thinking you're homeless--blame their demon; specifically, their spouse;
Alas, things could have union for Mutt,
Knowing Christ said they will hate you because of Him, like of Han Solo did Jabba the Hutt;
Moreover, once union arriveth, and a duplicate you become of David's metaphorical son;
Next, everlasting from everlasting, like Roy Rogers' reruns and his six-gun.
But Mutt only carried his little, depressed dog,
Offering comfort and solace while uplifts their nostrils like a snob,
Thinking their shit doesn't stink because of a white shirt,
When it only covers the coal of a black heart, filthy as diabolical dirt;
As a result, Mutt felt no guilt for persevering due to a Messiah,
Glad he lived in Dakota and not Carolina.

Dodgers play Cubs--TONIGHT

   
   "Dodgers play Cubs--TONIGHT"
   
   Tonight, the Chicago Cubs will raise their Wold Series Champion Banner; moreover, my favorite team, the LA Dodgers will be there, giving plenty of LIVE-ACTION.
   And watching baseball on television is not boring, unless you're a boring person--in my opinion, but yes, you cannot smell them cooking Dodger Dogs out in actual California, but the essence and spirit of it can be brought into your imagination, even if you boil a turkey dog; next, lather up a bun with some spicy mustard and add a kosher dill spear, followed by pouring yourself an ice cold Bud.  So, TONIGHT--Dodgers face the Cubs!

Dodgers Record:  

W:  4  L:  3

Cubs Record: 

W:  4  L:  2  

Star Wars - Opening Scene

Columbo - Intro (1975)

Thoracic Animus (4)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (4)"
   
   Mutt's cross breed of Serb and Iroquois ignited an intuition nearly feminine, and he heard the thunderous crank of metal clanging outside his modest habitat; next, a walk in the park--hearing their footsteps outside his door.  He kept on guard as instructed by Moses' literary endeavors, which he received no money for.
   It was always something.  Like--peaks and valleys.  As we mourn in this valley of tears.  But gravity is at a loss when intention is a misunderstood State of Grace.
   Mutt wouldn't let circumstance walk over him.  Burn Joan; next, Mark Twain gives her a Phoenix.
   Can they hold the Patriots down?  
   Mutt found nothing but more canine suspicion, yet they missed his sense of loyalty and friendship.  

Thoracic Animus (3)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (3)"
   
   Mutt's sacred heart was not related to the snowman, but like Saint John the Eagle at the Last Supper, putting his ear over Christ's left breast, listening to the pulse of pure Divinity, knowing--there is a time for peace; on the flip side, there is a time for war.
   That poor boy with autism, OCD & tics, social phobia, digestive disorders, constant ringing in the ears, and they call him Rain Man, make fun of his lesions, say the boogeyman is under his bed, yet they are the boogeyman, rattling his cage for decades, thieving away his confidence in Christ, his belief that Jesus loves him; furthermore, imprisoning him, and we are called to visit those in prisons, not just the criminals, even taken down from Calvary by Orthodox Jews, but those living in the pits of their own personal Pandemonium, false testimony offered upon them--these Godly losers loading them down with opprobrium, when they have been abused by culture, pure culture, and they snap; next, you call them guilty, when you are wearing the adder's mask, hiding a forked-tongue beneath, but as Daniel means:  "God is my judge," knowing every aspect of inner thought, for nothing is hidden from God, not even a man praying in private, or playing with his private parts concerning the girl at the grocery store, which is still negative adultery, yet the true Law has been dismissed, and Jesus picks it up from Moses, saying to spread it like healthy bacteria.
   They tried to keep G. Gordon Liddy down.  Jimmy Carter fought back.  The media is propaganda, yet even the modern king knows there are spies hidden in his scepter, nanotechnological spiders weaving wicked webs, and your best friend is your worst enemy, like a mean girl, for you look better than her, and all women crave beauty, as do men envy it, that's why fat porn is rarely observed as Socrates empirically witnessed before drinking the Kool-Aid, and still running wisely at the mouth, for an unmasking intention of those that deal in death.
   Mutt had a bloody poop, and buried it under the rocks.