A Platoon Leader and a Rabbi

   
   "A Platoon Leader and a Rabbi"
  
   You can learn a lot from a dummy, buckle your buckwheat, or get hopping.  Many a Lieutenant has gotten enlisted men slayed.  "Elias is  a water-walker Lieutenant."  Thank God for cinema, and the truth contained within.  
   Christ, a mere tradesman, scolded, and harshly, many a Rabbi of His time.  "Your father is the devil.  The father of lies and murder."  Too, He rebuked the sin of sinners, even though He healed them.  "And sin no more, or worse things will happen."  
   But He didn't allow anybody to question His Heart, more or less.  A conscience can be cluttered by a sub-conscious that has swallowed  a swamp of doubt; on the contrary, Young's "Heart of Gold" is waxing golden--never grows old, if always beating for truth, justice, and kinda/sorta--the American Way, way back then, and here now--in some places.
   Don't let them put you down if you're only playing the part.  A student is not above his teacher, in an institutional sense; however, many teachers have dirty hands themselves, and don't want the student to surpass or outshine them--the selfish schmucks.
   So, get on with your Jesus.  If you're aligned with Him, run your mouth and wax on and off with your hands, in a clean direction.  And when the dirt arrives, vacuum it up with a blood made bold by a bodacious God.  He knows.  Not them.  He and you know.  Not them.  Never them.  That's just the Bravo Sierra they tell you.  Trust old Jack Burton.  

Big Trouble in Little China - "We May Be Trapped"

Camaro burnout. STL hall street Sunday nights.

Blood types, implants, & Magnum, P.I.

   

   "Blood types, implants, & Magnum, P.I."

   Look over your shoulder; there are twenty people weirder than you.  Only a ninja can kill a ninja--maybe not, for the truck driver liveth; regardless, the government monitors the magnificent minority with Rh negative blood; however, Uncle Sam has a really cool goatee, and I like his red, white, and blue colors--like the French flag.  You think Saint Joan of Arc is a little angry with some people?  I know she is.  A perfect paladin, in a sense, taking on the cause of an entire country, forsaking her own wants.
   As my German Grandma Bertha used to say about crummy:  "Everybody's shit stinks."  
   There are different ways of being brutalized by implants, whether from non-terrestrial officers rudely entering, or the cleaning lady that wants to seduce your husband (she is implanted too), some of us have to deal with crude yet calculated intrusion; next, choose sides instead of being neutral and inheriting a cold hell, as the Irish of Kennedy offered.
   And this be metaphor mister--I like Joseph Campbell; he was all metaphor too.  
   The blood speaks to God, as the Good Book mentions; specifically, look what they did to Christ for rejecting the rigged system, and His Mother adored Him, though they didn't care, blaming Her for Him as well.  Peace and Justice will kiss--already has in parts of Heaven.
   I can't believe that all this time, I could've been laying in my pajamas and simply watching MAGNUM reruns.  Higgins is a scrapper, but his storytelling is too long-winded.  

Sparkles and pony cars

 
   "Sparkles and pony cars"

   Ya, you hang out with Bilbo, and I'll space-step with Chewbacca and the Flux Capacitor Itself, mind you--and Greedo doesn't deserve to talk smack about me, or I'll stuff a chili dog down his pursed honker, that bounty-hunting crumb, less than salacious.
   And to see a white horse with one emblem, galloping minus the stampede, not going into your tempting tree because he loathes maple syrup, and Bill Lee had the heat as a spaceman, up in the slang France of Montreal, for a tour.
  It's all in the reflexes, and even Jack Burton didn't kiss her goodbye, cause that would initiate a genesis of apocalypse; thus, he will see Wang again, down yonder memory, so alive, and Egg is always there, for his homeland, well--he carries her in his heart.  

Death Star explosion Original

Pious Santa, nuff said

   
   "Pious Santa, nuff said"
   
   After contracting cooties from his charitable endeavors, Nikola put away his Father Christmas, though the Father seems the boss, like a Boss 302 birthing life, swift and quick out of the hole, or a Boss 429, happy and protracted on top end, burning beyond rubber on the asphalt runway.
   So, knowing Mars speaks to Spica nowadays, the Heavens seem to be in conference concerning Earth, and while some Earth girls may be easy; on the contrary, there is always a collective counterpoise, which deducts from the contagion of false camouflage, even for the deer hunter, if Saint Hubert remembers an ecological Saint's love and admiration of simple beasts, being noble in themselves.