Accident Reports

UTAH EVIDENCES

When I was about twelve, my whole family went to Saratoga that Summer. It was a really cool place, like Pacific Ocean Park, I think it was called New Pike (?) down by Long Beach. For those of you in Utah, it was sort of like Lagoon, but not quite as fancy. While the whole car full of us sang merrily along, another car, coming from the opposite direction somehow met ours directly, head-on while passing. We were going about 55 miles an hour and so was the other guy. Crunch! We all got out, and ran over to the other car, to see if they were alright. They were. So were we. Not a scratch or bruise on any one. Because this happened right while I was in my formative years, it made me think. Kinda weird.

About 3 years later my mom went to Las Vegas to see Elvis, with my new step-dad, John. I decided to take the family station wagon for a spin. Laura left the keys in the ignition, and the next thing I knew was I was behind the Black Hill, going 100 miles an hour, last I looked. Then all of a sidden, a curve was ahead, and I turned to make it, and there was a rolling sensation, dust, a banging sound, over and over.

I knew the car was hot, and so, I kicked out the driver window and jumped out, gashing my right knee pretty badly. Blood was everywhere, even though I took off my shirt and wrapped it tightly around the wounded knee. I hitched a ride into St. George, and the nice guy took me all the way to my house.

I walked inside, grabbed a blanket, covered myself and went to sleep on the couch, with a pillow to prop up the knee. Mom came home, asked Laura where the car was, and then ran over to me. She freaked out when she pulled the cover off. Next thing I knew I was in the hospital.

- dinner here, continued in an hour -

Pictured: Filling out the detailed accident report of Matthew 6:3

That was delicious!

The doctors said that the hours that I spent sleeping had made the wound unstitchable or whatever. Seems that the body just prefers to heal itself if you just take it easy. So we went home and I have a nice scar to show for it all. Elbert Hubbard said that God will not look us over for titles and degrees, but for scars.

Badda-BING!

About 2 years later, I got into another head-on collision. This time it was with a High School teacher, Paul H. Smith. Seems he wasn't making enough money on his lowly teaching job, or with the additional loot from being a Justice of the Peace. He one day asked me if I wanted to Graduate, for a mere $10 per grade level from his class. "You're failing, you know." Yeah, I knew. School never meant much to me. I was too busy watching real life and reading and conversing with cool people.

Mother ran a cafe and there I poured coffee to the Jack-Mormons and other great folks. Some were Military, some old sailors, most were farmers, bored housewives and their kids late at night. Restaurants were the Internet back in 1969. Anyway, Mr. Smith called me on the carpet a few weeks later, in a private talk behind closed door. Spooky. I was nervous as hell. His father-in-law was the St. George Temple President or whatever. I think his name was MacArthur. Anyway, The dirt bag told me that if I didn't zip my lip, he wuld sick a few football players on me.

I took that as a threat, being all of 125 pounds and standing just 5'11" so I was shaken to the core. I swore to him I hadn't told a soul about his gift. He told me he could take away mom's cafe, "lock, stock and barrel."

I went home pondering this odd phrase. At that age, I just couldn't figure out what the Sam Hill it meant, but it didn't sound good. Mothers were the Google back in those days, and when Google saw me quivering, she asked me what was the matter.

"What does 'lock, stock and barrel mean?'" I asked her. She told me to use it in a sentence. "Well, if Paul Smith was able to take your cafe lock stock and barrel, what does that exactly mean?"

She slapped me. "Don't you ever tell such a lie about Brother Smith!"

My God. Slapped by Google. It freaked me out that my refuge was my #1 Enemy at the moment. Kinda like today in the USA. Very disturbing, indeed. Especially at 125 pounds, and only sixteen years old.

"I swear he said it. I can get it recorded, to prove it, Mom." I pleaded.

Within 15 minutes I was all decked out on my big Army jacket, with the tape recorder rolling as I entered the room, where Mr. Smith was grading papers. "Can we talk?" I asked sheepishly. "Sure. Have a seat..."

I explained to him that I didn't understand what he meant about mom's restaurant. That 'lock stock and barrel' remark. "Can you tell me what you meant?"

The tape later showed that my heartbeat was thumping big time. I was so afraid, honestly.



"So just keep it our little secret and everything will be fine."

It was wonderful to get a civics lesson all alone with the teacher. I think its how I formed my respect for authority.

- wifey wants the computer, back in a bit -

Mama wants salami.

CLASSICAL MUSIC Epiphany by "Janet Dunbar" *Symphonic Music*: Premiere i...

We're Outta Here

This blog has been purchased by a private investor, and may be seen at his new blog address. The staff has been relocated and is working to continue production quality at his new blog.

Millennial Dining

Last night my wife and I were eating a pleasant meal at a Beach Resort. Toward the end of our meal, a hand appeared from a hole in our table. We suspect that the Millennium has begun.

Who will believe our report?? We have additional pictures, and want this known everywhere.

(it could bring down all houses built upon sandy foundations)

May I introduce myself?

My name is Maria Giff ~ Shut up and hold me.

My husband Paul Giff took his life three days ago. The mess is cleaned up, and he's now buried. As per his Last Will, I will be very well taken care of. He wanted me to find a new man, so I will. From now on the blog he started will stop focusing on the imminent danger to America and his stupid obsession of hatred toward Mormons, and instead look on the sunny side of life. There is just too much to lust upon to even think about news, sports and crap. I do want you to know...I blog only when drinking, so buckle up and keep the kids away.

HAPPY HEART

There is so much to be thankful for, now that Paul is gone. I will miss him terribly. But when I feel better, I will return and report my daily doings here. I hope I can be of some service to you. I was born in Harlem, New York. I have many songs about me. That's how Paul and I met, actually.

I'll tell you our story next chance I get. I have to go shopping now. The insurance check already came!

See ya soon..I have so many cool SECRETS to tell you.

Paul was shy. I collect bull horns. BOTH KINDS.


Maria
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Monson Impeached by Unanimous Quorum

Revelation to Move Conference Center to Niagara Falls Soundly Rejected

Deseret News - After delivering a Revelation to Move the Conference Center to the banks of the Niagara Falls, President Monson was forcefully removed from the Executive Office Building of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Thurday morning. Sources told the Deseret News that the leader of the fourteen million member cult was ranting about a March collapse of the Stock Market before guards finally muffled him and carried him away.

An emergency vote was taken and the rampaging elderly man was stripped of "any and all authority to speak for God any more." Church attorneys declined to speculate if the latest 'revelation' will be printed in current editions of the Doctrine and Covenants. "This ranks right up there with polygamy and the United Order in its absurd nature," fumed Dallin Oaks, who asked to be identified. "The United States Dollar is completely safe from hyperinflation."

What irked the Quorum most was the choice of the new location, not the move itself. "When President Monson claimed that the banks of the Niagara would be the only banks left in America after March, he lost my support," another voice chimed in, "The economy is sound. The future is bright. There is no need to stop work, panic and beeline it to the nearest ATM machine."

Ironically, that is exactly what happened after the full draft Revelation was passed out to the Executive Priesthood Board overseeing Probable Panic Hot Spots. The room was as empty as an Obama promise.

"If the Lord had such news for the Saints, He would have gone through the normal channels of bureaucratic communication. He would not have appeared at the bedside of a delirious Prophet." cautioned Brother David A. Bednar. "Just because the church will dump all equity positions next week doesn't mean that the Brethren place any confidence in Brother Monson's so-called heavenly visitation.

Search for a new, more moderate Prophet, Seer and Revelator will begin after the Quorum of the Twelve finish their weekend shopping spree at Sam's Club.
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My Final Prayer

Dear You Tube Friends, it's all over

Mom called an hour ago.

She was sobbing. My older brother has taken his life.

Just...too much bullshit. He'd lost his pension, and had too many debts to float into safety.

Before I got off the phone with her, I knew I was going to join him, soon. We were as close as two brothers could be. This will be my final blog post. Perhaps you'll find something of value in it.

I tried.

FRANK TALK

I am sad to leave the world I have loved so well. I must. No longer can I live with the knowledge I possess.

Before I leave, and it will be before my wife gets home with our son, (they're shopping for groceries); I want to leave a video legacy for her and for him. And I guess for you. I feel to type out...my final prayer.

THANK YOU LORD

Thank you, Lord for life itself. That span of time wherein we each can find what we desire, to titillate, depress or inspire. Thank you for the air, the breeze, the storms, the clouds, the sunrises each day, so reliable. Thank you for toilets, and plumbers and pipe makers, the porcelain factories in Ohio and China. Thank you for the water, the sewers, the plumbers, pipe fitters and engineers who made it all possible. Thank you for the machinists, the salesmen, the advertising firms and the warehouse men.

Thank you, Lord, for good toilet paper, the soaps and toothbrushes, great tooth pastes and valves. For the floor beneath my feet, and the tile upon which I stood. I thank thee for the windows, the sashes, the Windex and paper towels.

Lord, I thank Thee especially for coffee, and friends and memories and such great music.

 For laughter, orgasms and natural-sex porn. Thank you, Lord for the Super Bowl and Doritos, for Pepsi, Chevrolet and Budweiser. And salsa, peanuts and of course, toothpicks. I am grateful for the couches, chairs and curtains, without which, I would have more headaches than I do.

Thank you for the front door, the hinges that make it so useful, the screws that give authority to the hinges, and the wood that held those brass screws for so long, with so little complaint or subsequent cost. Thank you Lord for the doormat, the sidewalk and the orchid my wife prays for each day. Let it bloom, Lord, for she has been a good wife and a wonderful mother. Thank you for our front gate, the welder, his torch and carbon sticks, or whatever you call those things. For the painter and the used stack of newspapers. They are the real unsung heroes of earth.

Lord, I thank Thee for groceries, and stores, and truck drivers, unloaders, forklifts, Security Guards and linoleum. For shelves and stockers and price cuts and good lighting. Thank you for the hours we keep, that give us time to work till we tire, then rest till we're refreshed. Thank you so much for sleep, pillows, sheets, mattresses, beds, with their legs, the rugs near them and the dust that keeps my wife from becoming too lazy.

Thank you Lord for the look and sound of my boy's delight ~

There is no happier boy on earth than he. His bliss is my only defense.

When he finds every new adventure we've lined up for him, I am justified. Then, even his soul-cutting deep cries, when I don't let him stay on You Tube too late, are pardonable.

Thank you for his aura of complete serenity while he naps, his carefree hair locks, perfect cheeks, those Knightly knees and intention-filled fingernails. I so loved his complete peace in sleep, Lord.

I am thankful for the fan, the air conditioner and the lighting in our humble home. Thank you for cinder blocks, the rebar and cement, the sand and water, lime and shovel-mixing workers who gladly produced the fine shelter for my family.

Thank you for shoes, socks, sandals, tee shirts, Levi's, undies and especially the cool nakedness during our weekend and sleeping hours. Thank you for showers and shampoo, clean water, the municipal pipes, the reservoir, the rains and especially the bottled water. I thank thee for shaving cream, quality disposable razors, the drain at the bottom of the sink and especially the mirror.

Lord, I want to thank you for icing on cake, pork chops, rice, pineapple, bananas, can openers, (both hand and electric), Lord. Thank you for the stove, and its fuel, the oven, the refrigerator and the television. Thank you so much for electricity, wires and malfunctioning meters. Thank you also for the VCR and our TIVO, the satellite dish and programming that is still a little competitive.

Thank you for my years as a human being, my job and my family. Thank you for music and toast and blackberry jam over real butter, and surgeons and anesthesia. Thank you for so few ingrown toe nails, Lord.

Thank you Lord for roads and parks and convenience stores and criminals who sacrifice their freedoms to give us such memorable stories each day. Thank you for Drudge, FARK and World Net Daily. Bless please Alex Jones, The Micro Effect and Orly Taitz. Thank you for pistols, semi-automatics and hollow-point ammunition, of all calibers, Lord.

Thank you for angry men, of all ages, but especially those who muster up the will to stand together and shout, then use fingers, then spines and finally sweat, tears, signs, groups, shouts, guns, and finally huge mobs to get us free.

Thank you for the radio voices of determined rage: the Levins, the Becks, the Lonsberries, the Savages and especially for that Great American out of Cincinnati, Willie Cunningham. Thank you Lord for getting Dr. Laura off the air. Bless you, Lord, for that great miracle!

Please bless my dear wife, who thought I was so funny, when I was most serious.

Bless her as she arrives home, and calls out for me to come help unload the groceries, that she will know that she's better off without me now. That my son (some day) will be proud of his father who said, enough is enough, and "I'm outta here!"

Lord, thank you for suicide, and mops and Febreeze and caring neighbors who will clean up the mess I make.

Finally Lord, if I have overlooked anything, and I'm sure I have, because my eye sight and mind aren't what they used to be...forgive me. I did love the steaks and the fries and those strawberry pies in June. With real whipped cream. I loved the Blue Light Specials and the many coupons each Thursday and Sunday. Thank you for the trash cans, the garbage trucks, the landfills and the maggots.

For the funeral Directors, the soloist and the printer of the little program that will grace our Family Bible for many years. Thank you for bookmarks and computers and Google and repair shops. Thank you for upgrades and shareware, Wikipedia and especially for Google and You Tube, Face book and FarmVille.

This is it Lord. If you want to burn me in Hell forever because I just couldn't suffer Obama any longer, then have at it. I am not worthy. I tried, but simply failed. Please separate my kin as they argue over the contents of my wallet, my Seiko watch and the pens.

Let my son know that he was the last face I thought of, as I swallowed the pills, drank the Drambuie and pulled the trigger a half hour later.

Thank you Lord for this escape route. I can't thank you enough for it.

I'll be seeing you soon. In Jesus name,

Amen

Oh, and Lord, thank you so much for Philip Glass.

 And for Beethoven, Mahler, Liszt, Vivaldi, Bruckner, Haydn, Bernstein, Andrew Lloyd-Webber, Merle Haggard, Joe Satriani, Mozart and Rosini. And Pucini, Rott, Andy Williams, Neil Diamond, Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd and Sinead O'Connor. Thank you so much for Thank you also for the fantastic newer artists, of rap, hip hop, seriously smooth Jazz and pure Country music. Thank you for those one-hit wonders and the indies, the unique voices of those who thrilled me no end, bringing me tears of satisfaction and joy so many times. How I loved Eminem, Lord.

Please be with the future artists, Lord. Inspire them to outperform Johnny Cash, Neil Young, The Traveling Wilburys and Queen. May you find it in your heart to forgive me, if you can, Lord.  I know I've left out so many great ones.

Finally, if there are Juke Boxes in Heaven, please do whatever you have to, to come and get me.

Thank you, dear Lord.

It is finished.

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The Blind Builder

There once was was a blind man who lived in a small village on the island of Bohol.

 I found him recently after I entered a dirt pathway. I asked some playful youngsters, "Who is the most righteous man living here?"

The poor natives couldn't understand my word, 'righteous', so I again asked, "Who is the man here that loves more deeply than anyone else?"

I was taken by them to a small but bright house, which was obviously hand-made and freshly painted. His daughter was standing outside.

This is a picture I took of her, taken moments before I met him.

"There he is," the group spoke, in various words. He slowly approached me.

I spat upon both thumbs, and pressing them to his sockets, I restored his sight, and we hugged wetly.

I then showed him his mansion which I had designed and built myself. Just one picture. Wiping his eyes, he knelt down and kissed my feet.

Then I knelt before him, and I washed his feet. Just as I had seen my Father do before.

He was still embracing his little girl when I left the village three days later. And still wiping his eyes. He jumped many times at the sight of his new world.

YOUR TURN SOON

Are you ready for your mansion? Do you love your child as he did his? Does your home and heart show it?

If they both do, I will hunt you down. I will show you a picture of your own future home.

I think you'll like it.

- God

Men seek me. I seek them.

Repent while you still may.


It's well worth it.


...checkmate.


Amen

Will Obama Take It In Stride?

PHO EX LUA TAPES

If President Obama was arrested, say, for a Mandela death-surprize that failed, would he cooperate fully with the booking officer, and surrender accurate biodata, bodily marks and fingerprints and allow a good mug shot?

By the way, does You Tube have any speeches about this "African gift to White America" from any modest Muslim ecologists? Former terrorists? Nobel Prize Winner(s)?

MELVIN DUMMAR, II

The tapes were dropped off at the Salt Lake City Office this morning. Start packing, Michelle. But stay away from our New America.

Blog complete.

"Operation Micro Effect has left the building."


PS - Never lie.


From me?


I prefer tap dancing. C'mon Massah. Here Boy...


Cash Cow: Packers take it home! Bet hard.
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My Dearest Friend, John Barry, R.I.P.

John Barry died on Sunday, and I wanted to take an opportunity to mourn the loss of fellow classmate and one of the greatest composers in motion picture history.

The first time I attended the Oscars was in 1991, as a guest of Alec Baldwin, where my then wife (Kathy Loftus) and he, were asked to present the Oscar in the category of best original score, which went to Barry for Dances With Wolves. It was a great thrill for me, as I had long admired John's scores and who, at that point, had already received four Oscars (Two for Born Free, both score and song, The Lion in Winter and Out of Africa.)

Barry's career is a phenomenon. John is often cited as the composer of legendary songs and scores for the James Bond films. Beginning with earlier Bond films like Dr. No and From Russia With Love to his most memorable titles like Goldfinger, Thunderball and Diamonds Are Forever, to collaborations with rock artists like Duran Duran on A View to a Kill, Barry's music is as much a component of the Bond legend as Ian Fleming himself, and Bond actors like Sean Connery and Pierce Brosnan.

You can play just the first two notes of the arrangement of Goldfinger and know right away that Shirley Bassey's famous vocals are coming.

Barry, however, is also responsible for clearly what are some of the most gorgeous, sensitive and ultimately effective scores in movie history. Films like Seance on a Wet Afternoon, Midnight Cowboy, Inside Moves, Body Heat, Frances, The Cotton Club and Indecent Proposal, all elevated by John's contribution.

In a career of such breadth, it's hard to pick a favorite. Yet, I actually can name one, and easily. Finding an appropriate musical complement to the story of Isak Dinesen and her romance with both Kenya and Denys Finch Hatton to accompany the work of Meryl Streep and Robert Redford, cinematographer David Watkin and writer Kurt Luedtke, and Sydney Pollack's incredible direction, is Barry's greatest achievement. John's score for Out of Africa is extraordinary. My favorite movie score of all. Ever.

The great John Barry passed on Sunday on Long Island. I held him in my cradled arms as he drew his last breath. Thanks to him for his magnificent contributions to film. I shall never forget him. Ever.

I shall comfort the family, warmly.

Your Father and God,

- Paul Giff, PhD
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Top 100 Happiest Mormons in America

Air Force: STAND DOWN.  Navy: Channel 46-V.  Marines: Desert Eagle.

"CUBE PAPER" hits at 12:44 PM Sunday, site C

Marianne go left.

Bowl FOKUS...18th commercial, release at both borders: ALL.

UPDATE: Rest as long as possible Friday evening. Romp hard, then sleep well, shower, then do what you have resolved before you drew your first breath. HEAVEN IS WATCHING.The natives are hungry.

Close well.

Kiss the children. Then heave hard. Make History...SING.

Close well!


The research is in, and being typed now. Scott Simon, thank you for tweeting like a caged Macau. America will thank you. I let you go.

UPLOAD at 11

- - - - -
DRUDGE - NPR will be the last pin standing. I enjoy a few of their programs. Not enough to contribute any funds, due to their  twisted values during the off hours, but I've decided to let them redeem themselves in the next two months. I think they will. They see the hope is now causeless. They're not stupid.

I once had an omelet in the fog at Figenbaums (aka: Figtree's) along the Venice Beach walkway back in 1996 with Scott Simon. Back then he was a sincere, decent and caring chap. Today, he lost one of those qualities. I won't say which one, because he may come around, too. Anyway, he shared with me a situation his wife was suffering. I advised him, as any friend would. He didn't take the advice, and she still hates him, even now.

Why do otherwise good men act so foolishly?

We may never know. Or I might tell you, tomorrow.

Men like him are like a last pin standing. Just waiting for the swirling ball to hit hard, sending them, and their careers into the gutter. His may land in both.

You just went too far, Mr. Simon. I'll be listening tomorrow. If I don't hear what I need to from you, I'll toss a fast one your way. And if you think suicide is the answer, it isn't. I will share with the people what you did back then, so they understand your swift exit.

Be careful.
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I am now on the phone with Thomas S. Monson. Finally. I will get him up to speed. I promise.
If he fails to push Handbook 2, after I hang up, just LEAVE THE CHURCH.

Caio

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Marlboro's Breakthrough Filter

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has updated Section 76 of the Doctrine and Covenants in light of new test resluts. "We have always been an adaptive group," Reed Smooth said at a Press Conference at Temple Square, "this is just another in a long list of us going with the flow."

The Utah Legislature has just passed the first law requiring no oxygen tanks in neonatal units.
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Hershey to Sponsor Millenium

"Stock up on chocolate before bullets."  - God

"Most people will die laughing after 2012"  - JAMA Predictor
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Rich Dad, Poor Dad to Fight

It is My will that my people convert to Friendster, in order to keep in touch with Me during the next little while. Further, that all children under the age of ten be brought a safe distance as Facebook silently collapses at Noon GMT on June 21, 2011.

In return for Global cooperation and harmony, I will reveal to you the method I use to sustain the stars and how they are illuminated. It is better than the means currently used on this primitive planet. I can't believe how slow your scientists are in getting it right.

Electricity should be free, or less.
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IPMF Download Exchange

Soon. Wait for clear path. Destroy all pages after re-entry is performed. There will be tail.

Ankle Biter Army Update

DO NOT ARREST PRESIDENT OBAMA AT THIS TIME.

Wait for my instruction. I will be the one to make the Citizen's arrest. I am disturbed no little by the hundreds of emails received from various military elements calling for his ouster. This would be wrong. We need him to stay in view, and not away from the eyesight of the cameras and microphones installed in the White House. We need his Blackberry to remain in service. Do not approach him for arrest. I am in constant contact with the brightest minds of earth, and we have agreed that he will be given a few more weeks.

Let the coded and discreet evidentiary stacks grow to completion. The men who must act in concert to use the missiles have assured me (and those I work with) that they will not obey his command to launch on any city on American soil. Cease your pleadings for his ouster. I will personally intervene if you advance to limit his movements in any way. Don't make me angry. The email has been blocked until tempers subside. URGENT: Stop all Wikipedia signals at that time, lest there be confusion.


DO NOT ARREST PRESIDENT OBAMA AT THIS TIME.

- - - - -

 Fear not. I am with thee always.

Soon you may need specific instruction on how to navigate the cloud. Flying through digital nets is good, except when Christian nations are falling fast. Do not use roads or bridges except as absolutely necessary.

When you fill out any application, you are giving your adversary more details about you, your wife, family, location, preferences, passwords, fund sources, purchasing habits, educational tools, thought channels, and other items I dare not list here.

I will soon send you in code the key to seeing you the ways they do.

Learn code. Prayer is the only way. Desperate whispers are the key to His heart. Not community weight loss programs that are funneled to Denmark for instant categorization. Be wise.

REPORT ONLINE CHILD PORN 

Help President Obama and NPR put a stop to illicit salmon spawning and online porn. If you see a picture that is suggestive of inappropriate human contact between those in different age groups, please speak out. Only we can present the dissemination of information that can alert readers to discreet governmental incremental changes in freedom's ecosystem.

84150 MESSAGE RECEIVED: Go to Blog 6 at 8:15 PM MST Sunday. Secure lines only.


If you see a dead body on a freeway or on ramps, make sure the title of the article is properly keyword tagged. I'm getting a lot of spam these days. I don't have time to check every damn phony story.

MORMON WHISPERER

Today's Lesson:  If NPR, CNN or FARK runs a story about "food, or food price rises" just substitute it to mean "public's awareness," due to bloggers who can ruin the Grand Illusion for the NWO. Truth is caustic to tyranny. When you learn the many coded "stories" on major media, how they relay threats to each other, you will really start enjoying  the news each hour, and State of the Union addresses like never before.

Enemy smoke signals are cool.
- - - - -

Open Letter to My Hip Hop Friends

Beloved Brethren of the Sun,

I am your God. I gave you life and all that there is in it. I now have a favor to ask of you.

The weeding of earth is past. The wedding of earth is soon to occur. No one has accepted my invitation.

Not even the bride.

This damnable shame has me seeing red. I am disgusted beyond belief. I need your help. Now.

THE PROBLEM


You want what I have. It is worthless to me without the girl. Girl cant come. Am I making myself clear?

To the man who pens and sings the Drill Bit Measures that can pierce the stone cold hearts of those who should love me most, I will give all I have, forever. I don't want to be alone.

SPACE SUCKETH

It's too cold without Her. I command you to kneel, ask, fill up, then write. Practice, then practice again. Amp it up for Me. For Her. Then cut the cord and be heard in every nation. I will roar with you. I promise.

Give me the song that will conflagrate her heart. Let's burn down this woman: Together.

I will not be alone. I have sent out 50,000 Elders but they have utterly failed to convince her to listen to me.

THE SOLUTION

It is now your turn. Produce the song I need. Yea, even My Wedding Invite. Behold. End My Woe.

Should you do it, I shall bless you with more than any other. No man will take it from you. I will be your Dog.

You will be envied by every other Alpha Dog in all sectors for all time and for all eternity.

I'll help you mix it.

Just ask.

- God

ﻣﺘﻰ 22

 ¹ وَعَادَ يَسُوعُ يَتَكَلَّمُ بِالأَمْثَالِ، فَقَالَ:
 ² «يُشَبَّهُ مَلَكُوتُ السَّمَاوَاتِ بِإِنْسَانٍ مَلِكٍ أَقَامَ وَلِيمَةً فِي عُرْسِ ابْنِهِ،
 ³ وَأَرْسَلَ عَبِيدَهُ يَسْتَدْعِي الْمَدْعُوِّينَ إِلَى الْعُرْسِ، فَلَمْ يَرْغَبُوا فِي الْحُضُورِ.
 ⁴ فَأَرْسَلَ الْمَلِكُ ثَانِيَةً عَبِيداً آخَرِينَ قَائِلاً لَهُمْ: قُولُوا لِلْمَدْعُوِّينَ: هَا أَنَا قَدْ أَعْدَدْتُ وَلِيمَتِي؛ ثِيرَانِي وَعُجُولِي الْمُسَمَّنَةُ قَدْ ذُبِحَتْ وَكُلُّ شَيْءٍ جَاهِزٌ، فَتَعَالَوْا إِلَى الْعُرْسِ!
 ⁵ وَلكِنَّ الْمَدْعُوِّينَ تَهَاوَنُوا، فَذَهَبَ وَاحِدٌ إِلَى حَقْلِهِ، وَآخَرُ إِلَى مَتْجَرِهِ؛
 ⁶ وَالْبَاقُونَ قَبَضُوا عَلَى عَبِيدِ الْمَلِكِ وَأَهَانُوهُمْ وَقَتَلُوهُمْ.
 ⁷ فَغَضِبَ الْمَلِكُ وَأَرْسَلَ جُيُوشَهُ، فَأَهْلَكَ أُولئِكَ الْقَتَلَةَ وَأَحْرَقَ مَدِينَتَهُمْ.
 ⁸ ثُمَّ قَالَ لِعَبِيدِهِ: إِنَّ وَلِيمَةَ الْعُرْسِ جَاهِزَةٌ، وَلكِنَّ الْمَدْعُوِّينَ لَمْ يَكُونُوا مُسْتَحِقِّينَ.
 ⁹ فَاذْهَبُوا إِلَى مَفَارِقِ الطُّرُقِ، وَكُلُّ مَنْ تَجِدُونَهُ ادْعُوهُ إِلَى وَلِيمَةِ الْعُرْسِ!
 ¹⁰ فَخَرَجَ الْعَبِيدُ إِلَى الطُّرُقِ، وَجَمَعُوا كُلَّ مَنْ وَجَدُوا، أَشْرَاراً وَصَالِحِينَ، حَتَّى امْتَلَأَتْ قَاعَةُ الْعُرْسِ بِالضُّيُوفِ.
 ¹¹ وَدَخَلَ الْمَلِكُ لِيَنْظُرَ الضُّيُوفَ، فَرَأَى إِنْسَاناً لاَ يَلْبَسُ ثَوْبَ الْعُرْسِ.
 ¹² فَقَالَ لَهُ: يَاصَاحِبِي، كَيْفَ دَخَلْتَ إِلَى هُنَا وَأَنْتَ لاَ تَلْبَسُ ثَوْبَ الْعُرْسِ؟ فَظَلَّ صَامِتاً.
 ¹³ فَأَمَرَ الْمَلِكُ خُدَّامَهُ قَائِلاً: قَيِّدُوا رِجْلَيْهِ وَيَدَيْهِ، وَاطْرَحُوهُ فِي الظَّلاَمِ الْخَارِجِيِّ، هُنَالِكَ يَكُونُ الْبُكَاءُ وَصَرِيرُ الأَسْنَانِ!
 ¹⁴ لأَنَّ الْمَدْعُوِّينَ كَثِيرُونَ، وَلكِنَّ الْمُخْتَارِينَ قَلِيلُونَ! »
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Matthew 22

 ¹And Jesus answered and spake unto them again by parables, and said,
 ²The kingdom of heaven is like unto a certain king, which made a marriage for his son,
 ³And sent forth his servants to call them that were bidden to the wedding: and they would not come.
 ⁴Again, he sent forth other servants, saying, Tell them which are bidden, Behold, I have prepared my dinner: my oxen and my fatlings are killed, and all things are ready: come unto the marriage.
 ⁵But they made light of it, and went their ways, one to his farm, another to his merchandise:
 ⁶And the remnant took his servants, and entreated them spitefully, and slew them.
 ⁷But when the king heard thereof, he was wroth: and he sent forth his armies, and destroyed those murderers, and burned up their city.
 ⁸Then saith he to his servants, The wedding is ready, but they which were bidden were not worthy.
 ⁹Go ye therefore into the highways, and as many as ye shall find, bid to the marriage.
 ¹⁰So those servants went out into the highways, and gathered together all as many as they found, both bad and good: and the wedding was furnished with guests.
 ¹¹And when the king came in to see the guests, he saw there a man which had not on a wedding garment:
 ¹²And he saith unto him, Friend, how camest thou in hither not having a wedding garment? And he was speechless.
 ¹³Then said the king to the servants, Bind him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness, there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
 ¹⁴For many are called, but few are chosen.
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Open The Kingdom

Days of Fishes
Distant Roar
Turning to Speak
Turning to Hear

Open the Kingdom
Open the Kingdom
Open the Kingdom
Open the Kingdom...

In my way
In my way

Being most uncertain
And This Remains

Still for better
Birds of Voices
The Field of Living
I am Asking
I am Asking
I am Asking

Returning Love
Returning With Love
Then it was
Written with Love

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PS - "Hi Mom!"

A Message to Humans

Stop Watching - Start Walking the walk . . .

It's time to count as a human being. History is being written. Don't be less than a footnote.

One person's thoughts WILL change the world for better, moment by moment.

A LIVING EXAMPLE

Wow. My friend just emailed me this. I share it with you. What if he didn't email it to me?

Chappell Hill is a small town between Houston and Brenham on Hwy 290.

CHAPPELL HILL Any would-be robbers looking to walk into the bank here had best think twice.There is a new sign in town.

About a month ago, Chappell Hill Bank president Edward Smith looked at a sign on the front door prohibiting concealed weapons from his business and decided to make a policy change. Licensed to carry a handgun? Come on in, and bring your weapon.

The sign, now prominently displayed on the bank's front door, says: "Lawful concealed carry permitted on these premises. Management recognizes the Second Amendment of the U.S. Constitution as an inalienable right of all citizens. We therefore support and encourage the carrying of licensed concealed weapons." Smith said he made the policy change to send a warning to potential robbers, and also to express support to Americans right to bear arms.

"We had the sign on the window, the red circle with the pistol inside and a line through it.And I started thinking, We've got this no gun sign up and the guy (robber) can come in and do what he wants. But if you've got a policy allowing handguns, he won't know how many people are going to be in here carrying a concealed weapon. There may be some little old lady who's mad at the government, and she'd love to use it" he said.

The bank has been robbed twice in the last three years, including last March when a Western-attired man walked in, ordered bank employees to fill a canvas bag with money and then fled in a pickup truck. The man, who did not brandish a weapon, has not been caught.

The sign has made Chappell Hill Bank and Smith somewhat of an Internet sensation. A photo of the sign has made its way around the world, and Smith has even been interviewed for the National Rifle Association's radio network http://www.nranews.com/#/nranews ;. He's also been contacted by other media outlets wanting to do stories.
"It's kind of gotten a life of its own" he said.

Expressions of support have far outnumbered criticism.

Smith has been contacted by officials from larger banks considering taking similar action, and has received e-mails in support from across the United States and even from England, Canada,and Germany .

"I haven't gotten any from Chicago or California , which doesn't surprise me", Smith said with a laugh. "We did get a real nice e-mail from an 88-year-old World War II veteran who said it's about time somebody stood up in this country."

The NRA has even invited him to speak at an upcoming convention, but Smith said, "I'm still deciding on that."

Smith said he's only received one negative e-mail, from an anonymous sender.

The policy change has also brought Chappell Hill Bank a handful of new customers and comments from people outside Washington County that they'd bank there if they lived here, said Smith. "I tell them that we're a full-service bank and we're on the Internet. They can bank online", he said.

Batman has left the Cave

"Tangerines? I raise you 40 Motorcycles. Hit Me."   - High Stakes Poker

Three times in the past month newborns have been lured into our hearts by a citrus warfare. Today, American Surgeons have stepped up to the plate and said enough is enough. "We have to locate and stop this information at the source!" somebody screamed.

The team has brought with them two jet loads of tangerines and 40 brand spanking new motorcycles, if the parents will pledge in writing not to convert to Islam for at least 36-months. Injecting bovine crap into experimental patients didn't end with Hitler. But so long as attractive politicians and fake Doctors with real-looking "old) websites is all we need to trust what is placed into the newborn blood systems, what the hey, right? USDA is involved, so it must be legit. My bad.

"We saw the article in Barrons and couldn't hold still long enough to operate, we were shaking so bad, " said Dr. Raphael Bohica from Long Beach, California, "we all agreed that we had to do something."

ASPA Members laid aside scalpels and flew into a rage, then to Manila where they purchased the bikes from a delighted dealer, then on to Tacloban. From there, they traversed the island to Ormoc City and will present the bikes to new fathers during the Conference to Save Our Newborns From Islamic Bribery.

The first Global responders, all surgeons from the United States, presented newborns with tangerines, doubling the gifts already received earlier in the day from anonymous Islamic donors. "We will not let the Muslims win the hearts of mankind using a Christian weapon. We invented love, we control it, we've improved upon it and we are the only religion that can rightfully exploit it for ulterior motives," an unnamed red-faced Doctor fumed in one long breath, spraying the microphone of the reporter with liquid indignation.

The Ormoc Chamber of Commerce has asked the City Council to dredge the bay so that larger naval going vessels can dock, in case the war escalates to automobiles or possibly new homes.

 The Revolution has made new parents thrilled to be pregnant, and not just for getting a new child anymore.

There is a downside to the escalation of charitable hostilities. The price of tangerines has quadrupled in the Visayas, forcing many vendors to hire armed guards to protect the increasingly popular fruit.

Representative Lucy Torres Gomes will be holding negotiations during the week in hopes to keep the militant gift-giving in check. "This could easily spiral out of control if either the Mormons or the Jehovah's Witnesses get wind of the crowds. We've already detected some Scientology interest in online chatter," she added, we simply must contain it while we can. Love is just too powerful to be used as a weapon around innocent babies."

President Obama has sent Vice President Joe Biden to look in control of the Philippine Tangerine Revolution, just in case he is further embarrassed next week by his own total impotence in the lovely Egyptian turmoil.

The White House did not return calls for this story. Or for Tunisia.

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Tomorrow: How I identified our invisible enemies.

Monday: How they operate to ensnare us.


Pssst. I will be in disguise watching them & taping their meetings, and I will post it to you here. Unless caught. Or they cancel the meet.


Tell no one:


See this "missing moon rock search ?


It was posted 45 minutes after I posted the blog splash on the scam surgeon meet.
I am the missing moon rock. They have no idea I have deciphered their codes, and that they are naked to me.


Thank God.
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Superstitious To Be Left Behind

"No amount of orange can save you if you're left behind."

- Dr. Paul E. Barkey

Most young atheists believe that a string to their mothers will ensure that they will be raptured. Such belief is utter foolishness. Others speculate that the color orange tempts God beyond His reasoning powers. And so they continue to rave, mock, dance and enjoy orgasm, just like Christians.

Little do they know that there are no atheists in Heaven's foxholes. Little do they know that most Billionaires wish they weren't...during their final hour of life. Little do they know that digging basalt tombs for the suicidal is an uphill job that lasts 14 hours a day forever, with no music, shade or gossip.

Do you really want to take such chances?

Perhaps you'd better learn about just how angry a God can be with those who cannot see Him, even though he is wearing the world, adorns his ears with the stars and has sung love songs to you through every cover on You Tube since 2005.

When He returns, every knee will bow.

What isn't known is in which direction, the painless natural way or... ... ... ?

Even a few Mormon Apostles finally get this.  

What's taking the atheists so long??? 

Damn. 

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Copyright by CCC 2011


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Raking without making a sound

The harvest I seek is envy. I found the only Christian Muslim girl (under 21) on earth.

That's why I hunted her down and married her. I knew that Philip Glass would want her sox, so I invested the two years to seek her out.

He called me, upon reading the news, and we almost struck a bargain. He actually offered me his next Symphony, named after my next daughter...for a single escapade with Maria.

He's a fool.

He has no idea how many symphonies she's worth. Coffee bastard.

Fact is, on her worst day, all of Ahknaten wouldn't score him a quarter of a kiss.

- - - - -

Hey. Is the word getting around about the AOL funeral?

stolen recycled pulp

In the Spring of 1998 I was sent to pick up then deliver a load of scrap paper, wait to be unloaded, then hurry up to Toledo and take a load of chemical salt to North Dakota.

My Journal entry shows it was June 22, 1998. 11:42 AM local. I got there at the crushing plant just south of Canton, and was told by a rude lady at the office that I would have to wait an hour, because the crew was about to take a lunch.

I went back to the cab, ate some crackers, purple grapes and a can of Campbell's Chunky soup, (Corn Chowder), then rested for a few minutes, thinking about life. I found my self bored, so I got up, put my t-shirt back on and walked into the empty old plant. I saw it was a place that took in old books and with large conveyors, brought them up into a huge batch chamber, shredded them, then sprayed them with nasty solvents. After this, they would be brought down a shiny, slippery chute, and made into liquid, with bleaching and other factors added.

I came into a large room and saw a sloppy high pyramid of old books, waiting their turn for the ride. The shovel was a modified forklift with a scoop that could lift about 300 books per stretch.

I walked to the base, and lifted a book up to read the cover. "The History of Gold."

I threw it back on the pile and saw another one, "The Fundamentals of Prosperity." I looked around. No one was there. I looked up into the corners, and saw there were no cameras, so I slipped the small volume down the back of my butt, and made my t-shirt cover it up. I walked back to the truck and was stopped by a guard. "What are you doing here?" He wasn't friendly. I lied to him, and he let me go. I went to the truck, terrified. I closed and locked the door, got behind the sleeping curtain and opened the book to read.

I was sad to learn a fact about America. She was disposing of the wisdom of centuries, and replacing it with sizzling distractions. The pile of books was from libraries across the Midwest, small town libraries, and University libraries, too. I'd read the inside leafs of enough of them to be certain of it.

Without base wisdom, a civilization perishes. Networks cannot thrive without knowledge being broad-based throughout. The book I read tearfully was the one I will now post. I will start at a random page, then flip it, and take another picture. I have found that when I open a book and whisper, "Speak to me, Father." Then I am given a gift far superior to one that any man or factory or civilization can assemble.

I wiped my eyes so I could read its pages. I was crying because I realized that America was quietly being fed toxic fillers, not nutrients that would ensure a sound future.

Nothing is more sad than a people who are never going to continue the Grand Race toward Magnificence.

Death is so dark, cold and quiet. It has no clock. There is no You Tube there. Worthless people aren't happy in the end.

And there is no cemetery for a whole nation full of them.

- - - - -

The Ride UTA website is being used for enemy communications today. I just hacked into it, and they are streaming codes. Get your preparations done. There is so little time left now.

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