Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Saint Nicholas--Christmas
"Saint Nicholas--Christmas"
Is bleu a Christmas color? Is art, only what it means to you? Sometimes. Power goes both way.
Luke Cage, in the 80's comics, with simply called by the big dude: "Fist." Anyway, he would also say: "Christmas." Have we lost that Luke Cage and Fist? Now we have androids. Goblins and brownies; plus, angels and mutants made Earth crowded enough (allegorically), now my phone records everything, thinking I'm a normal man, and tantalizes with tempts concerning the reward of normal treats, watching me give it my own damn confusion, yet unfolded, in a symmetrical laundry basket, before even the wash. The cactus was--CRANKY.
Yeah, but water lives in there; plus, aloe is near.
Saint Nicholas. Christmas. Bing Crosby as a singing priest. PEANUTS with Snoopy and Charlie Brown; also, Linus and Lucy. A doghouse that magically morphs into a World War One dog-fighting vehicle, or a vessel built for war.
They say Saint Nicholas got in a fist fight at a fancy council. Maybe he did. Sometimes, we believe what they tell us. And sometimes, it's true. There's something remembered about the Spirit of Christmas--in my opinion, and in the hearts of millions, not just me. Build a family snowman. Make an angel, even in the dirt. Be a dog. A holy hound for the Lord. And, Saint Nicholas. Remember . . .
Kennedy & Trump
"Kennedy & Trump"
Jack Kennedy and "the Donald" Trump do not need to join your club; indeed, Kennedy lavishly lives on, with an awesome and eternal flame, and Trump is our modern reality President.
Kennedy couldn't be indoctrinated, for he was born rich, Catholic, and good looking; thus, he didn't need favors, already secure by Camelot's Round Table--a family with class and ultra-suave smoothness. And what normal man would turn down Marilyn Monroe? Well, since her tits were better than Tony Curtis', I'd turn her down, but I'm a wacky and weird wimp. Specifically, Kennedy would not join schmuck clubs, and that's why he pissed people off.
It's the same with our modern Commander in Chief. Trump is richer than the rest, and he won't be indoctrinated, nor bought off. It's not that he thinks he's better than social clubs like the FBI (Federal Bureau of Intimidation)--it's just that he actually is. And that's why they hate him. He likes the Blue Collar man, hot women in appropriate fashion, and rock and roll; plus, the Christian preacher--good for him.
People that join corrupt groups only become more corrupted. Nobody can save the world--that already happened, its architect, a Jewish carpenter.
Monday, December 11, 2017
Elect Jesus, then
"Elect Jesus, then"
Commander in Chief--they throw everything @ him; specifically, plenty of manufactured malcontents; however, only be thirsty for regal righteousness; next, you are queen-like quenched; otherwise, thirsting for yourself, unless attempted murder in your non-start-up direction, it doesn't wend well; therefore, align yourself with stubborn sublimity--why not?
Everybody's poop smells snarly, unless you were lost and weirdly minding your own business in the fabulous fields, seen and spied as a specter of smooching stories that are strongholds of bodacious benevolence.
Some like country. Some like rap. Some like smooth jazz; however, others fancy folk--never can tell. Do your best, and remember: the innocence of a child, a true child, that which imperatively ignites innocence, not some meth-forged delinquent getting toxins into the dastardly discharge, or a mollifying matriarch that mistreats with aloofness, yet a damned daredevil voting for freedom, in the true sense of the word on the American ballot.
Make the field awesomely optic. See and know instead of blinding. Allow them their gifts, and you yours--just never abuse or think you are commando-sworn telepathic, unless you know you are--never can tell.
Life would be plenty easier if we were all truck drivers with friends in the mystical restaurant business, in a sophisticated sense of the Blue Collar, though never replacing the Roman Collar.
Prayer to St. Rocco
"Prayer to St. Rocco"
O Great St. Rocco, deliver us, we beseech thee, from the scourges of God; through thy intercession, preserve our bodies from contagious diseases, and our souls from the contagion of sin.
Obtain for us salubrious air; but, above all, purity of heart.
Assist us to make good use of health, to bear sufferings with patience; and, after thy example, to live in the practice of penance and charity, that we may one day enjoy the happiness which thou has merited by thy virtues.
St. Rocco, pray for us--3 times.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen
Saturday, December 9, 2017
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