AlterEgo

The Fall

2011-04-27T17:31:00.001-07:00

John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion

The first sin as original sin

As Adam's spiritual life would have consisted in remaining united and bound to his Maker, so estrangement from him was the death of his soul. Nor is it strange that he who perverted the whole order of nature in heaven and earth deteriorated his race by his revolt. "The whole creation groaneth," saith St Paul, "being made subject to vanity, not willingly," (Rom. 8: 20,22.) If the reason is asked, there cannot be a doubt that creation bears part of the punishment deserved by man, for whose use all other creatures were made. Therefore, since through man's fault a curse has extended above and below, over all the regions of the world, there is nothing unreasonable in its extending to all his offspring. After the heavenly image in man was effaced, he not only was himself punished by a withdrawal of the ornaments in which he had been arrayed, viz., wisdom, virtue, justice, truth, and holiness, and by the substitution in their place of those dire pests, blindness, impotence, vanity, impurity, and unrighteousness, but he involved his posterity also, and plunged them in the same wretchedness.

This is the hereditary corruption to which early Christian writers gave the name of Original Sin, meaning by the term the depravation of a nature formerly good and pure. The subject gave rise to much discussion, there being nothing more remote from common apprehension, than that the fault of one should render all guilty, and so become a common sin. This seems to be the reason why the oldest doctors of the church only glance obscurely at the point, or, at least, do not explain it so clearly as it required. This timidity, however, could not prevent the rise of a Pelagius with his profane fiction—that Adam sinned only to his own hurt, but did no hurt to his posterity. Satan, by thus craftily hiding the disease, tried to render it incurable. But when it was clearly proved from Scripture that the sin of the first man passed to all his posterity, recourse was had to the cavil, that it passed by imitation, and not by propagation. The orthodoxy, therefore, and more especially Augustine, laboured to show, that we are not corrupted by acquired wickedness, but bring an innate corruption from the very womb. It was the greatest impudence to deny this. But no man will wonder at the presumption of the Pelagians and Celestians, who has learned from the writings of that holy man how extreme the effrontery of these heretics was. Surely there is no ambiguity in David's confession, "I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me," (Ps. 51: 5.) His object in the passage is not to throw blame on his parents; but the better to commend the goodness of God towards him, he properly reiterates the confession of impurity from his very birth. As it is clear, that there was no peculiarity in David's case, it follows that it is only an instance of the common lot of the whole human race.

All of us, therefore, descending from an impure seed, come into the world tainted with the contagion of sin. Nay, before we behold the light of the sun we are in God's sight defiled and polluted. "Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? Not one," says the Book of Job, (Job 14: 4.)

6. Original sin does not rest upon imitation

We thus see that the impurity of parents is transmitted to their children, so that all, without exception, are originally depraved. The commencement of this depravity will not be found until we ascend to the first parent of all as the fountain head. We must, therefore, hold it for certain, that, in regard to human nature, Adam was not merely a progenitor, but, as it were, a root, and that, accordingly, by his corruption, the whole human race was deservedly vitiated. This is plain from the contrast which the Apostle draws between Adam and Christ, "Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned; even so might grace reign through righteousness unto eternal life by Jesus Christ our Lord," (Rom. 5: 19-21.) To what quibble will the Pelagians here recur? That the sin of Adam was propagated by imitation! Is the righteousness of Christ then available to us only in so far as it is an example held forth for our imitation? Can any man tolerate such blasphemy? But if, out of all controversy, the righteousness of Christ, and thereby life, is ours by communication, it follows that both of these were lost in Adam that they might be recovered in Christ, whereas sin and death were brought in by Adam, that they might be abolished in Christ. There is no obscurity in the words, "As by one man's disobedience many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one shall many be made righteous." Accordingly, the relation subsisting between the two is this, As Adam, by his ruin, involved and ruined us, so Christ, by his grace, restored us to salvation.

In this clear light of truth I cannot see any need of a longer or more laborious proof. Thus, too, in the First Epistle to the Corinthians, when Paul would confirm believers in the confident hope of the resurrection, he shows that the life is recovered in Christ which was lost in Adam, (1 Cor. 15: 22.) Having already declared that all died in Adam, he now also openly testifies, that all are imbued with the taint of sin. Condemnation, indeed, could not reach those who are altogether free from blame. But his meaning cannot be made clearer than from the other member of the sentence, in which he shows that the hope of life is restored in Christ. Every one knows that the only mode in which this is done is, when by a wondrous communication Christ transfuses into us the power of his own righteousness, as it is elsewhere said, "The Spirit is life because of righteousness," (1 Cor. 15: 22.) Therefore, the only explanation which can be given of the expression, "in Adam all died," is, that he by sinning not only brought disaster and ruin upon himself, but also plunged our nature into like destruction; and that not only in one fault, in a matter not pertaining to us, but by the corruption into which he himself fell, he infected his whole seed.

Paul never could have said that all are "by nature the children of wrath," (Eph. 2: 3,) if they had not been cursed from the womb. And it is obvious that the nature there referred to is not nature such as God created, but as vitiated in Adam; for it would have been most incongruous to make God the author of death. Adam, therefore, when he corrupted himself, transmitted the contagion to all his posterity. For a heavenly Judge, even our Saviour himself, declares that all are by birth vicious and depraved, when he says that "that which is born of the flesh is fleshy" (John 3: 6,) and that therefore the gate of life is closed against all until they have been regenerated.

7. The transmission of sin from one generation to another

To the understanding of this subject, there is no necessity for an anxious discussion, (which in no small degree perplexed the ancient doctors,) as to whether the soul of the child comes by transmission from the soul of the parent. It should be enough for us to know that Adam was made the depository of the endowments which God was pleased to bestow on human nature, and that, therefore, when he lost what he had received, he lost not only for himself but for us all. Why feel any anxiety about the transmission of the soul, when we know that the qualities which Adam lost he received for us not less than for himself, that they were not gifts to a single man, but attributes of the whole human race? There is nothing absurd, therefore, in the view, that when he was divested, his nature was left naked and destitute that he having been defiled by sin, the pollution extends to all his seed. Thus, from a corrupt root corrupt branches proceeding, transmit their corruption to the saplings which spring from them. The children being vitiated in their parent, conveyed the taint to the grandchildren; in other words, corruption commencing in Adam, is, by perpetual descent, conveyed from those preceding to those coming after them. The cause of the contagion is neither in the substance of the flesh nor the soul, but God was pleased to ordain that those gifts which he had bestowed on the first man, that man should lose as well for his descendants as for himself.

The Pelagian cavil, as to the improbability of children deriving corruption from pious parents, whereas, they ought rather to be sanctified by their purity, is easily refuted. Children come not by spiritual regeneration but carnal descent. Accordingly, as Augustine says, "Both the condemned unbeliever and the acquitted believer beget offspring not acquitted but condemned, because the nature which begets is corrupt." Moreover, though godly parents do in some measure contribute to the holiness of their offspring, this is by the blessing of God; a blessing, however, which does not prevent the primary and universal curse of the whole race from previously taking effect. Guilt is from nature, whereas sanctification is from supernatural grace.

(Original sin defined as a depravity of nature, deserves punishment, but which is not from nature as created, 8-11)
8. The nature of original sin

But lest the thing itself of which we speak be unknown or doubtful, it will be proper to define original sin. (Calvin, in Conc. Trident. 1, Dec. Sess. 5.) I have no intention, however, to discuss all the definitions which different writers have adopted, but only to adduce the one which seems to me most accordant with truth. Original sin, then, may be defined a hereditary corruption and depravity of our nature, extending to all the parts of the soul, which first makes us obnoxious to the wrath of God, and then produces in us works which in Scripture are termed works of the flesh. This corruption is repeatedly designated by Paul by the term sin, (Gal. 5: 19;) while the works which proceed from it, such as adultery, fornication, theft, hatred, murder, revellings, he terms, in the same way, the fruits of sin, though in various passages of Scripture, and even by Paul himself, they are also termed sins.

The two things, therefore, are to be distinctly observed, viz., that being thus perverted and corrupted in all the parts of our nature, we are, merely on account of such corruption, deservedly condemned by God, to whom nothing is acceptable but righteousness, innocence, and purity. This is not liability for another's fault. For when it is said, that the sin of Adam has made us obnoxious to the justice of God, the meaning is not, that we, who are in ourselves innocent and blameless, are bearing his guilt, but that since by his transgression we are all placed under the curse, he is said to have brought us under obligation. Through him, however, not only has punishment been derived, but pollution instilled, for which punishment is justly due. Hence Augustine, though he often terms it another's sin, (that he may more clearly show how it comes to us by descent,) at the same time asserts that it is each individual's own sin. And the Apostle most distinctly testifies, that "death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned," (Rom. 5: 12;) that is, are involved in original sin, and polluted by its stain. Hence, even infants bringing their condemnation with them from their mother's womb, suffer not for another's, but for their own defect. For although they have not yet produced the fruits of their own unrighteousness, they have the seed implanted in them. Nay, their whole nature is, as it were, a seed-bed of sin, and therefore cannot but be odious and abominable to God. Hence it follows, that it is properly deemed sinful in the sight of God; for there could be no condemnation without guilt.

Next comes the other point, viz., that this perversity in us never ceases, but constantly produces new fruits, in other words, those works of the flesh which we formerly described; just as a lighted furnace sends forth sparks and flames, or a fountain without ceasing pours out water. Hence, those who have defined original sin as the want of the original righteousness which we ought to have had, though they substantially comprehend the whole case, do not significantly enough express its power and energy. For our nature is not only utterly devoid of goodness, but so prolific in all kinds of evil, that it can never be idle. Those who term it concupiscence use a word not very inappropriate, provided it were added, (this, however, many will by no means concede,) that everything which is in man, from the intellect to the will, from the soul even to the flesh, is defiled and pervaded with this concupiscence; or, to express it more briefly, that the whole man is in himself nothing else than concupiscence.

9. Sin overturns the whole man

I have said, therefore, that all the parts of the soul were possessed by sin, ever since Adam revolted from the fountain of righteousness. For not only did the inferior appetites entice him, but abominable impiety seized upon the very citadel of the mind, and pride penetrated to his inmost heart, (Rom. 7: 12; Book 4, chap. 15, sec. 10-12,) so that it is foolish and unmeaning to confine the corruption thence proceeding to what are called sensual motions, or to call it an excitement, which allures, excites, and drags the single part which they call sensuality into sin. Here Peter Lombard has displayed gross ignorance, (Lomb., lib. 2 Dist. 31.) When investigating the seat of corruption, he says it is in the flesh, (as Paul declares,) not properly, indeed, but as being more apparent in the flesh. As if Paul had meant that only a part of the soul, and not the whole nature, was opposed to supernatural grace. Paul himself leaves no room for doubt, when he says, that corruption does not dwell in one part only, but that no part is free from its deadly taint. For, speaking of corrupt nature, he not only condemns the inordinate nature of the appetites, but, in particular, declares that the understanding is subjected to blindness, and the heart to depravity, (Eph. 4: 17, 18.)

The third chapter of the Epistle to the Romans is nothing but a description of original sin; The same thing appears more clearly from the mode of renovation. For the spirit, which is contrasted with the old man, and the flesh, denotes not only the grace by which the sensual or inferior part of the soul is corrected, but includes a complete reformation of all its parts, (Eph. 4: 23.) And, accordingly, Paul enjoins not only that gross appetites be suppressed, but that we be renewed in the spirit of our mind, (Eph. 4: 23,) as he elsewhere tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our mind, (Rom. 12: 2.) Hence it follows, that that part in which the dignity and excellence of the soul are most conspicuous, has not only been wounded, but so corrupted, that mere cure is not sufficient. There must be a new nature. How far sin has seized both on the mind and heart, we shall shortly see. Here I only wished briefly to observe, that the whole man, from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot, is so deluged, as it were, that no part remains exempt from sin, and, therefore, everything which proceeds from him is imputed as sin. Thus Paul says, that all carnal thoughts and affections are enmity against God, and consequently death, (Rom. 8:6-7.)

10. Sin is not our nature, but its derangement

Let us have done, then, with those who dare to inscribe the name of God on their vices, because we say that men are born vicious. The divine workmanship, which they ought to look for in the nature of Adam, when still entire and uncorrupted, they absurdly expect to find in their depravity. The blame of our ruin rests with our own carnality, not with God, its only cause being our degeneracy from our original condition.

And let no one here glamour that God might have provided better for our safety by preventing Adam's fall. This objection, which, from the daring presumption implied in it, is odious to every pious mind, relates to the mystery of predestination, which will afterwards be considered in its own place, (Tertull. de Prescript., Calvin, Lib. de Predest.) Meanwhile let us remember that our ruin is attributable to our own depravity, that we may not insinuate a charge against God himself, the Author of nature. It is true that nature has received a mortal wound, but there is a great difference between a wound inflicted from without, and one inherent in our first condition. It is plain that this wound was inflicted by sin; and, therefore, we have no ground of complaint except against ourselves. This is carefully taught in Scripture. For the Preacher says, "Lo, this only have I found, that God made man upright; but they have sought out many inventions," (Eccl. 7: 29.) Since man, by the kindness of God, was made upright, but by his oven infatuation fell away unto vanity, his destruction is obviously attributable only to himself, (Athanas. in Orat. Cont. Idola.)

11. "Natural" corruption of the "nature" created by God

We says then that man is corrupted by a natural viciousness, but not by one which proceeded from nature. In saying that it proceeded not from nature, we mean that it was rather an adventitious event which befell man, than a substantial property assigned to him from the beginning. We, however call it natural to prevent any one from supposing that each individual contracts it by depraved habit, whereas all receive it by a hereditary law. And we have authority for so calling it. For, on the same grounds the apostle says, that we are "by nature the children of wrath," (Eph. 2: 3.) How could God, who takes pleasure in the meanest of his works be offended with the noblest of them all? The offence is not with the work itself, but the corruption of the work. Wherefore, if it is not improper to say, that, in consequence of the corruption of human nature, man is naturally hateful to God, it is not improper to say, that he is naturally vicious and depraved. Hence, in the view of our corrupt nature, Augustine hesitates not to call those sins natural which necessarily reign in the flesh wherever the grace of God is wanting. This disposes of the absurd notion of the Manichees, who, imagining that man was essentially wicked, went the length of assigning him a different Creator, that they might thus avoid the appearance of attributing the cause and origin of evil to a righteous God.

In Memory of Debbie Goad

2009-08-05T06:57:00.000-07:00

I never met her, only exchanged a few impersonal emails with her in trying to track down her ex-husband. But the essays under her name in Answer Me! made a great impression upon. I was sorry to learn of her death.

I wrote this a year or so ago:

George: Truth and illusion. Who knows the difference, eh toots? Eh?

The woman struggles to lift herself from the bathtub. She has to take baths, now. It is too tiring to stand under the shower. And the jets of water feel like liquid darts pricking her skin and aggravating her assaulted-by-chemotherapy, ultra-sensitive nerve endings.

She stands naked in front of a mirror. Aged beyond her years, bald, emaciated, veins shining green through her pale, nearly translucent skin. Ah, that skin--that little bit of flesh that does remain to cover her bones--it is so moribund it can only hang loose and sag. Sag to the earth. The gravity of death literally pulling her flesh down into the grave.

It is impossible that while she stood there examining her naked body she did not observe to herself how closely she resembled a concentration camp victim.

The woman had concluded her essay I Hate Being A Jew (and it certainly must be ranked as one of the two or three greatest essays of the 20th century. . .the brilliant but ghastly humor of self-and-family loathing delivered in the author's peculiar narrative voice. . .an eerily bland voice. . .a creepy monotone of matter-of-fact moroseness) with the following:

"I wish there was a perfume I could sprinkle on myself to mask the Hebraic stench. I even have a name for it: Final Solution. But the oppressive smell won't go away until I'm stone-cold dead, a lifeless Jewess in my own private Auschwitz."

There is a stench to everyone, whether they be Jew or Greek. But the Final Solution won't mask that foul stink.

George: Truth and illusion. Who knows the difference, eh toots? Eh?

Franz Stangl, Treblinka Kommandant, was asked when he first stopped thinking of the victims as human: "I think it started the day I first saw the Totenlager in Treblinka. I remember Wirth standing there, next to the pits full of blue-black corpses. It had nothing to do with humanity--it couldn't have; it was a mass--a mass of rotting flesh. Wirth said, 'what shall we do with this garbage?' I think unconsciously that started me thinking of them as cargo. . .I rarely saw them as individuals. It was always a huge mass. I sometimes stood on the wall and saw them in the tube. But, how can I explain it, they were naked, packed together, running, being driven with whips."

It is a disturbing thought, and yet, what of those not covered by the Blood of Christ? Surely they will be exited from The Judgment in a more dignified manner. . .but their eternal place of residence, the Lake of Fire. . .it is a fearsome thought. . .what is the Totenlager compared to the Lake of Fire? But in this world of lying vanities, man does not see himself as the garbage he truly is. In the end, the one great mystery is the love of God. That the Almighty would put on the flesh of man and condescend to inhabit man's garbage dump and willingly suffer the indignities of the Cross--all the while knowing the vast majority of mankind would laugh as His Spilled Blood. Beyond understanding. . .but thank you, Lord Jesus Christ.

Already the effects of the hot bath begin to wear off. The chill returns. She takes one last look at herself in the mirror. . .trying to determine how much more death she has put on since yesterday. Perhaps the cheeks seem a trifle more hollow? She steps into a pair of slippers and wraps herself in a warm robe. She painstakingly pads to the kitchen, stopping only to nudge the thermostat from 74 to 76.

The woman takes a dirty glass and a bottle of wine from the kitchen and eases her way into the bedroom. She sits at a desk in front of a computer. On the computer desktop there is a text file titled *me.* It is her story. Her autobiography. She double-clicks *me.* She gulps wine as she reads her most recent entries.

George: Truth and illusion. Who knows the difference, eh toots? Eh?

Everybody wants to tell their story. Most people tell it to you everyday--whether you want to hear it or not. Co-workers, relatives, *friends,* they rape your ear with their version of their life. It is an urge they cannot control. God spoke the world into existence. The creature, cut off from the Creator and doomed to death, tries to save himself with his own stories. He tries to speak his version of his life into existence. But it is a lie. An unnatural story. It violates the Law of Creation. So when a *friend* corners you at a *party* and tells you their side of the story, you know their sterile words will just float through space. Float out into the dark and cold universe until the words drift to close to a black hole. . .where they will be sucked into an astronomical prison and compressed, along with all the other sides of all the other stories, into a microscopic dot of untruth.

There is an earthly prison not too many miles from where the woman sits drinking and thinking about her story. Her ex-husband resides in this prison, pencil in hand, and works on his story. As husband and wife they attained a degree of notoriety. Thus, their personal tribulations and failures became matters of public debate--in contrast to the lives of you and I, who comprise that indistinguishable mass of humanity whose own failures are noised no further than the apartment building or neighborhood they occur in. Therefore, you and I ad lib monologues of justification to the handful who have witnessed the anonymous failure that is our life, whereas the husband and wife will craft books, public records, meant to express their side of the spectacle that is Goad. Of course, in escaping the flat plane of drab humanity in which you and I reside, the Goad's story becomes three dimensional. And so there is a third side to the story.

George: Truth and illusion. Who knows the difference, eh toots? Eh?

The Goad marriage was barren. Their union produced no offspring. They were the George and Martha of zines. The Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? George and Martha of zines. Of course, one would not cast Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor as Jim and Debbie Goad. Being the George and Martha of zines is of a considerable magnitude less than being the symbolic First Family of the nation, as the George and Martha of Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf? are. Hence, John Saxon and Kay Lenz would make a suitable Goad cast.

In Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? George and Martha compensated for their infertile marriage by birthing an imaginary son. He existed exclusively in words. . .in the conversations between George and Martha. They spoke him into being.

Zinedom's first family had an imaginary daughter. The third side of the story. Unfortunately, Jim and Debbie Goad's imaginary daughter had a little more flesh and blood than George's and Martha's imaginary son.

We read the following in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?:

GEORGE: . . .the real reason our son used to throw up all the time, wife and lover, was nothing more complicated than that he couldn't stand you fiddling
at him all the time, breaking into his bedroom with your kimono flying, fiddling at him all the time, with your liquor breath on him, and your hands all over his. . .

This hint of incest is fully developed in the less artful Goad version, though the gender roles are reversed. No need to recount here the much-talked about details of the Jim Goad/Sky Ryan coupling. Note only that Sky Ryan was young enough to be the Goad's daughter, and once the Jim/Sky relationship drew its last, a peculiar mother-daughter bond formed between Debbie and Sky.

In Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Martha violated her's and George's own private Law of Creation by speaking about their imaginary son to another person. As a result, George had to terminate the delusion.

GEORGE: You broke our rule, baby. You mentioned him. . .you mentioned him to someone else.

The delusion of the new life Jim Goad and Sky Ryan were creating together ended in a somewhat similar, albeit more lowbrow, fashion. Ms. Ryan broke their private Law of Creation by writing on the Internet about Mr. Goad's nose job and hair implants.

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? has a happier ending than the Jim and Debbie Goad Story. After finishing with their imaginary son, George and Martha resolve to stay together until their own natural end. They realize it won't be easy or pleasant, but understand that they must stay together. Because they know they cannot survive on their own.

MARTHA: Just. . .us?
GEORGE: Yes.

Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.

It is impossible that there were not moments when the Goads were content. I don't say they were happy. Maybe they were. Probably they weren't. One calls to mind the following passage from Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and imagines its brutal *real life* fulfillment in the strange union that was Goad:

. . .whom I will not forgive for having come to rest; for having seen me and having said: yes; this will do; who has made the hideous, the hurting, the insulting mistake of loving me and must be punished for it.

They were one flesh. And now they are torn asunder. Examine the results. This, then, is the tragedy that is Goad.

Would Jesus Be A Human Bomb?

2009-05-27T12:26:00.000-07:00

ABCNEWS.com (14 Jan 2003): A young Palestinian woman made history of sorts today in the 3-year-old Arab uprising against Israeli occupation. She killed four Israelis in a suicide bomb attack at the main border crossing between Israel and the Gaza Strip. Reem Raiyshi, 22, managed to get right inside the border security office with a bomb belt under her clothes. According to the Israeli military, she calmly told soldiers she had a metal splint in her leg that would set off their detector. As she was taken to a special room for a personal search, she blew herself up.

The Lord Jesus Christ, just hours from His crucifixion, revealed to His disciples:

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends"--John 15:13.

Is therefore honor among the Human Bombs of Palestine, who lay down their lives for their friends? Would The Lord Jesus Christ be a Human/God Bomb where He to walk the earth today? Of course, the answer to these questions is *no,* for the Human Bombs sacrifice not only themselves, but others as well. . .and their motivation (hate and/or covet) is sinful. A trickier question to answer might be: would it be righteous for a Human Bomb to kill only himself on behalf of his friends as an act of protest? Such an act might be compared to self-immolation, a practice which probably originated with Buddhists. The most well-known self-immolation of recent years is that of the Asian monk Quang Duc who torched himself at a busy Saigon intersection on 11 June 1963 to protest the Vietnam war. Indeed, the act was captured on film and became one of the most famous photographs of the 20th century. Can a suicide meant to highlight an injustice and persuade the guilty party to repent of its wickedness be justified? The answer has to be no, because as noble as the deed sounds to our carnal ear, such suicide is still a sin. Why? Because the act displays a lack of faith in the Almighty. Whoever would bomb or burn himself must arrive at the conclusion he must take action himself. . .he therefore convicts God of tardiness, indifference or worse. The *greatest* sin is the sin of unbelief.

The person who would bomb or burn himself to bring about repentance in another is, in essence, attempting to perform a miracle, a supernatural act. . .to save the world by sacrificing himself. . .this is God's realm. God did not invest man with the ability to perform the supernatural. For the miraculous to occur, man must follow God's rules, as outlined by The Lord Jesus Christ:

"Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on Me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father. And whatsoever ye shall ask in My name, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If ye shall ask any thing in My name, I will do it"--John 14:12-14.

Thus, any person who would seek to initiate a miracle must first petition The Lord Jesus Christ. An infidel can never willfully perform a genuine supernatural act. Therefore, all that resulted from the bonfire (and bonfire, of course, is taken from the old pagan bone fires, in which human and animal bones were set on fire to *appease the gods* for supernatural favor) the hapless little Buddhist Quang Duc made of himself was a spectacular photograph that eventually ended up as the cover art work for a Rage Against The Machine cd (and such a crass commercial use of what was the poor ascetic monk's defining moment in life must surely sadden the damned ghost of the little yellow man).

What if a believer prays for a miracle and it doesn't happen? They must be patient, and not fall into unbelief, as was the case with some of Christ's disciples, who could not perform an exorcism:

"Then came the disciples to Jesus apart, and said, Why could not we cast him out? And Jesus said unto them, Because of your unbelief: for verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you"--Matthew 17:19-20.

How long must the believer be patient and wait on the Lord? Until the end of his life, if need be. The Bible is filled with examples of individuals who had to wait years, decades for God to fulfill His promises of miraculous action. But man is not patient, and if God does not come running when man snaps his fingers, he tries to fix everything himself. The result, of course, is the present ugly world we live in. Truly, then, patience is a virtue:

"Are there any among the vanities of the Gentiles that can cause rain? or can the heavens give showers? art not Thou He, O LORD our God? therefore we will wait upon Thee: for Thou hast made all these things"--Jeremiah 14:22

"Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD"--Psalm 27:14

"Cease from anger, and forsake wrath: fret not thyself in any wise to do evil. For evildoers shall be cut off: but those that wait upon the LORD, they shall inherit the earth"--Psalm 37:8-9.

"Wait on the LORD, and keep His way, and He shall exalt thee to inherit the land: when the wicked are cut off, thou shalt see it"--Psalm 37:34.

"I waited patiently for the LORD; and He inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings"--Psalm 40:1-2.

"Say not thou, I will recompense evil; but wait on the LORD, and He shall save thee"--Proverbs 20:22.

"The LORD is good unto them that wait for Him, to the soul that seeketh Him. It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the LORD"--Lamentations 3:25-26.

Be patient, wait on the Lord. . .and let us not think too highly of ourselves. . .for we must also remember that those who would sacrifice themselves to highlight an injustice and persuade the guilty party to repent of its wickedness are themselves wicked. . .God sees every man as a sinner. . .isn't it the height of arrogance for someone to think their own death could have a cleansing action? For the person who would suicide himself to provoke another to repent must imagine himself a superior being. This is the ultimate delusion of grandeur. . .a mockery, a counterfeit of Christ, whose sacrifice was acceptable to His Heavenly Father because He was without sin:

"How much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered Himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?. . .But now once in the end of the world hath He appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself. And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment: So Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many; and unto them that look for Him shall He appear the second time without sin unto salvation"--Hebrews 9:14, 26 - 28.

Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter:

The Palestinian (or any other aggrieved party seeking justice) must come to Almighty God through the Lord Jesus Christ and patiently wait for Christ to deliver unto him all the promises of the Bible. . .even if it means waiting until the end of this life. . .even if it means enduring an occupation of a brutal tyrant. . .after all, the Lord Himself lived all His life under Roman occupation, and He Himself was obedient unto the death of the Roman Cross. . .

The Palestinian (or any other aggrieved party seeking justice) must come to Almighty God through the Lord Jesus Christ and then learn that "If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth. For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God"--Colossians 3:1 - 3.

As described in Hebrews chapter 11, the great men of faith of the Bible realized not all the promises would be realized within this world system, but it was of little matter, since this is not our homeland, anyway: "These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For they that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country. And truly, if they had been mindful of that country from whence they came out, they might have had opportunity to have returned. But now they desire a better country, that is, an Heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for He hath prepared for them a city"--Hebrews 11:13 - 16.

This, then, is the answer for the Palestinian. . .learn what it truly means to be a refugee. . .and then rejoice when the Lord calls you home!

Where Will You Be In One Million Years?

2009-05-27T05:46:00.000-07:00

Do we spend a lot of time thinking about that? Or, are we *too busy?* Too busy with *more important* matters? Too busy fretting over our skyrocketing *interest-only* house payment? Our shrinking 401k? The failing dollar? Too obsessed with our neighbors' husband/wife and/or son/daughter? Too frightened by the *terror* threat? *Global warming?* *Illegal* immigration? *Gay* marriage? Health *care?* Bird flu? Disappearing honeybees? Britney's breakdown? Just too depressed because we only have 3 MySpace *friends?*

What a blessing, if we were to be locked alone in an empty room for three days with a loudspeaker quietly transmitting the following question every fifteen minutes:

Where will you be in one million years?

Nothing else matters.

Everything else is distraction.

No matter our varying frames of reference, one truth holds for all:

We will be dead for infinitely longer than we are alive.

Thus, this world is a triviality.

But it has snared most. The masses are so lost in the trivial pursuit, their own eternal nature eludes them.

The Spirit of this Letter is obvious.

But only those who are to be quickened by the Spirit of God will recognize its truth.

The rest remain dead. The Walking Dead, following the Fashion of the Age. . .the Walking Dead, that mass of humanity which is but a Pyre, burning on the Lusts of the Age. . .

The Dead are most welcome to remain. . .as it is written:

But the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned.

No offense is taken from the Dead who remain to be amused by the perceived foolishness of the Letter. . .if in their State of Limbo on this Earth, the perceived foolishness of the Letter comforts their deceit, it is not begrudged. . .it is their narcotic which allows brief moments of pleasure.

If we use the abstraction of one million years to peer into Eternity, and see the Dead in the Torments of the Lake of Fire, their artificial pleasures in this World, which in the temporal appear gross and disturbing, can be viewed almost as a merciful Stay of Execution. . .not a Last Supper, but a Last Meal. So all are welcome to stay and enjoy the remainder. . .

The Eternal Question:

Who am I?

Why can't it be answered? Because man is a creature. . .the offspring of the creation of an Infinitely Superior Being. Man can no more tell you who he is than a chair can tell you what it is.

Man does not know where he came from, nor does he know where he is going.

Man's *great achievement,* that which is called *Civilization* (defined as man's attempt to organize himself into the appearance of meaningful purpose), is but the blind stumblings of the ignorant. *Civilization* is x number of thousands of years old. . .it began as a pathetic shack in the plains of Shinar, and all of human history can be seen as just a series of shoddy, tacky add-ons. . .

*Civilization* is the make-work project of humanity. . .the busy work which the Dead occupy themselves until their flesh-and-blood bodies perish.

To what can we liken *Civilization?*

*Civilization* is like unto the baskets weaved by defectives in mental hospitals. . .

Who am I?

We do not understand our own behavior, our own motivations, our own desires.

It is written:

O LORD, I know that the way of man is not in himself: it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps.

We imagine we are the Masters of our own Lives. . .we have ambitions, goals, we aspire to *Self-Actualize*. . .but it is written:

A man's heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps.

Who am I?

We are the offspring of the creation of the Infinitely Superior Being.

The History of the Creation:

In the beginning, God created Adam and Eve. He set them in an Earthly Paradise (Eden). Immortality in their flesh-and-blood bodies would be granted, if they could follow His few simple rules. Satan, that old serpent, captured Eve's mind, and she did that which her Creator forbid her to do. Adam followed Eve in her disobedience. This was the End of Paradise on Earth. Exile, Misery and Death have reigned through the Ages. . .

The vast majority of human lives have been short and ugly. Miscarriages, stillbirths, abortions, puerperal fever, etc., etc.

And what of those who managed to survive more than a handful of years? Brutal, futile existences scarred by poverty, disease and violence.

It is written of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ:

All things were made by Him; and without Him was not any thing made that was made. In Him was life; and the life was the light of men.

Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, the Light of the World who upholds the universe by the word of His power, once fed the multitudes from five loaves and two fishes. . .He produced enough bread and fish to feed thousands, and after the people had eaten, there was still much food. Jesus said to His disciples:

Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.

Our Lord was not a wastrel. Gather up the food, keep it, it will provide many more meals. Do not let it remain on the ground, to rot under the sun and turn to garbage.

But what is the History of the Creation, but a garbage heap of wasted humanity? Jesus ordered the loaves and fishes to be saved. . .but the mass of humanity?

One could accuse God through a thousand questions. This is the pastime of infidels. Through arrogance and pride, they deny the Creator with their accusations. But it is written:

Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to Him that formed it, Why hast Thou made me thus?

Where will we be in one million years? The Lord Jesus Christ told a very simple parable with which we can answer this question:

The kingdom of heaven is like unto a net, that was cast into the sea, and gathered of every kind: Which, when it was full, they drew to shore, and sat down, and gathered the good into vessels, but cast the bad away. So shall it be at the end of the world: the angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from among the just, And shall cast them into the furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Where will we be in one million years? Will we be with Jesus and the just in New Jerusalem? Or with the wicked in the Lake of Fire?

How will the angels know the wicked from the just? Is it based on how well we live our lives?

No, for it is written:

There is none righteous, no, not one: There is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of the way, they are together become unprofitable; there is none that doeth good, no, not one. Their throat is an open sepulchre; with their tongues they have used deceit; the poison of asps is under their lips: Whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness: Their feet are swift to shed blood: Destruction and misery are in their ways: And the way of peace have they not known: There is no fear of God before their eyes. . .For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.

Who are the Just?

The Just are the ones who know the answer to the question:

Who am I?

Let us not answer with our *pet peeves* or our favorite flavor of ice cream or our sexual preference.

When the question *Who am I?* is asked, it does not matter who WE are. We? Who are we?

We are the offspring of sin. We are the end of the long line of corruption, which stretches back to the mortified Adam and Eve, as they stood staring at each other's nakedness in the Garden of Eden. That's who we are. We shall die in our sins unless we can answer the question:

Who am I?

It is written:

Jesus went out, and His disciples, into the towns of Caesarea Philippi: and by the way He asked His disciples, saying unto them, Whom do men say that I am? And they answered, John the Baptist; but some say, Elias; and others, One of the prophets. And He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?

The Lord Jesus Christ asks:

Who am I?

The Just are the ones who know the answer.

Who is Jesus?

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. . .He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. . .But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name: Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.

In whom we have redemption through His blood, even the forgiveness of sins: Who is the image of the invisible God. . .all things were created by Him, and for Him: And He is before all things, and by Him all things consist.

Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: But made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: And being found in fashion as a man, He humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted Him, and given Him a name which is above every name: That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; And that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

The History of the Lord Jesus Christ:

Jesus is God. Without beginning, without end. All things were created by Him. All things were created for Him. His creation followed the way of Satan. He left eternity and entered His creation. He was rejected by His creation. He tolerated His creation's abuse of Him. He tolerated His creation's crucifixion of Him. He died for His creation, leaving their sins nailed to His cross. He rose from the dead--as the proof of His claims and as His creation's hope.

Who am I?

We are the creation. We were created for Him.

The way of the world:

The spirit of the false religions creates gods for every man. For every man there is a religion that suits his corruption. For every man, there is a god who is created in that man's image. All paths lead to God? No, all paths lead to man.

Only one path leads to God. The path laid out by Jesus Christ, of Whom it is written:

But was manifest in these last times for you, who by Him do believe in God.

We can only believe in the one true God by Jesus Christ.

The spirit of ecumenicism:

Man tries to topple God from His throne.

The folly of unmerited arrogance:

We offend God with our self-serving religions, and then imagine He will welcome us into eternity with open arms.

Who are the Just?

God the Father sent Jesus, God the Son (the faith God placed in us removes the stumbling blocks from the Trinity), to earth to restore man to his prelapsarian condition. The Just are the ones who understand God the Father will only welcome into eternity those who enter by the Door of the Lord Jesus Christ. These are the Just. . .the Justified.

As our Lord Jesus Christ spoke:

Verily, verily, I say unto you, I am the door of the sheep. All that ever came before Me are thieves and robbers: but the sheep did not hear them. I am the door: by Me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture. The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. . .I am the good shepherd, and know My sheep, and am known of Mine. As the Father knoweth Me, even so know I the Father: and I lay down My life for the sheep. . .Therefore doth my Father love Me, because I lay down My life, that I might take it again. No man taketh it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again. This commandment have I received of My Father.

How can a man know that Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life?

Christianity is the dominant *religion* in the United States of Amerika. But when we survey the landscape, we see no evidence of the faith. It is written:

And you hath He quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins; Wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience: Among whom also we all had our conversation in times past in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind; and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others. But God, who is rich in mercy, for His great love wherewith He loved us, Even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by grace ye are saved;)

But in Amerika, the vast majority of *Christians* continue to walk according to the course of this world. Christians live just like infidels. . .the only difference is they futilely try to serve two Masters.

A fundamental problem with contemporary Amerikan *Christianity* is the cult's answer to the question:

How can a man know that Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life?

Here is the typical Amerikan Christian response (this was taken from an actual Amerikan Christian website. . .you can find similar all over the internet, and in countless little paper tracts littering the Amerikan landscape):

Who is Jesus Christ? The Bible tells us that Jesus is God in the flesh, God become a human being (see John 1:1,14). God came to earth to teach us, heal us, correct us, forgive us - and die for us! Jesus Christ is God, the Creator, the sovereign Lord. Have you accepted this Jesus?

What is a Savior and why do we need a Savior? The Bible tells us that we have all sinned, we have all committed evil acts (Romans 3:10-18). As a result of our sin, we are worthy of God's anger and judgment. The only just punishment for sins committed against an infinite and eternal God is an infinite punishment (Romans 6:23; Revelation 20:11-15). That is why we need a Savior!

Jesus Christ came to earth and died in our place. Jesus' death, as God in the flesh, was an infinite payment for our sins (2 Corinthians 5:21). Jesus died to pay the penalty for our sins (Romans 5:8). Jesus paid the price so that we would not have to. Jesus' resurrection from the dead proved that His death was sufficient to pay the penalty for our sins. That is why Jesus is the one and only Savior (John 14:6; Acts 4:12)! Are you trusting in Jesus as your Savior?

Is Jesus your "personal" Savior? Many people view Christianity as attending church, performing rituals, not committing certain sins. That is not Christianity. True Christianity is a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Accepting Jesus as your personal Savior means placing your own personal faith and trust in Him. No one is saved by the faith of others. No one is forgiven by doing certain deeds. The only way to be saved is to personally accept Jesus as your Savior, trusting His death as the payment for your sins, and His resurrection as your guarantee of eternal life (John 3:16). Is Jesus personally your Savior?

If you want to accept Jesus Christ as your personal Savior, say the following words to God. Remember, saying this prayer or any other prayer will not save you. It is only trusting in Christ that can save you from sin. This prayer is simply a way to express to God your faith in Him and thank Him for providing for your salvation. "God, I know that I have sinned against you and deserve punishment. But Jesus Christ took the punishment that I deserve so that through faith in Him I could be forgiven. I receive your offer of forgiveness and place my trust in You for salvation. I accept Jesus as my personal Savior! Thank You for Your wonderful grace and forgiveness - the gift of eternal life! Amen!"

Have you made a decision for Christ because of what you have read here? If so, please click on the "I have accepted Christ today" button below.

It is true Jesus is God. It is true we all are sinners. It is true Jesus was our substitute on the Cross, and His shed blood cleanses from sin. It is true we must have faith to be saved.

What's the problem?

The problem is:

According to the Standard Amerikan Evangelism *plan of salvation,* WE ACCEPT JESUS. WE determine, through our own reasoning, that Jesus is the Savior, and WE decide we will accept Him.

The Billy Graham-type of crusade, the TV preachers weeping every Sunday morning, the literature of the tracts, etc., present Jesus as an unfulfilled Savior who needs His self-esteem boosted by having lots and lots of *friends* who love Him.

I died for you, now please accept Me, they have Him beg. . .

Nothing could be further from the truth. Jesus tells us He came to earth not to beg us to love Him, but:

I came down from heaven, not to do Mine own will, but the will of Him that sent Me. And this is the Father's will which hath sent Me, that of all which He hath given Me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up again at the last day.

Therefore doth My Father love Me, because I lay down My life, that I might take it again. No man taketh it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again. This commandment have I received of My Father.

When Jesus stood among the unbelieving Jews in the temple, He didn't beg them to *accept* Him:

If God were your Father, ye would love Me: for I proceeded forth and came from God; neither came I of Myself, but He sent Me. Why do ye not understand My speech? even because ye cannot hear My word. Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it. And because I tell you the truth, ye believe Me not. Which of you convinceth Me of sin? And if I say the truth, why do ye not believe Me? He that is of God heareth God's words: ye therefore hear them not, because ye are not of God.

Jesus came to do the will of His Father, not to beg us to accept Him.

JESUS IS NOT SOME LONELY NERD, ROAMING THE STREETS LOOKING FOR FRIENDS!

THE LORD JESUS CHRIST SITS AT THE RIGHT HAND OF GOD THE FATHER! FAR ABOVE ALL PRINCIPALITY, POWER AND MIGHT! FAR ABOVE EVERY NAME THAT IS NAMED! THE ANGELS IN HEAVEN SING HIS PRAISES!

And Amerikan Christianity presents Him as knocking on hearts, hat in hand, asking for reprobates to *accept* Him?

The arrogance to think we can *accept* Christ and *allow* Him to be our Savior!!!

Jesus Christ is KING OF KINGS!! Do we really think He frets over our opinion of Him? Let us get over ourselves and recognize what He said:

My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me: And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand. My Father, which gave them Me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of My Father's hand. I and My Father are one.

God the Father gave God the Son x number of sheep. . .OUR OPINION DOES NOT MATTER. God's will over-rules.

It is written:

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.

Those who claim they *accepted* Jesus claim responsibility for their faith. In essence, they boast they saved themselves, through their own intellect. They decided Jesus was the Savior, and so they give their faith to Him. They invert the scripture. . .they claim they are saved by their faith which they give to Jesus.

How can a man know that Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life?

Our Lord and Savior plainly declared:

No man can come to Me, except the Father which hath sent Me draw him.

We cannot *accept* Jesus. . .

Therefore said I unto you, that no man can come unto Me, except it were given unto him of My Father.

Who am I?

When Jesus came into the coasts of Caesarea Philippi, He asked His disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I the Son of man am? And they said, Some say that thou art John the Baptist: some, Elias; and others, Jeremias, or one of the prophets. He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am? And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God. And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon Barjona: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but My Father which is in heaven.

Flesh and blood cannot reveal Christ.

It is written:

Wherefore I give you to understand, that no man speaking by the Spirit of God calleth Jesus accursed: and that no man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.

Man on his own cannot *accept* Jesus Christ. . .God must reveal it to him by the Spirit.

It may seem a trivial matter of semantics. . .but when we survey the *Christian* landscape of Amerika, and see it differs little from the rest of the world, let us understand the mind of the Christian. In his mind, he has *accepted* Jesus Christ. He evaluated the claims made by and about Christ, and decided with his own intelligence the claims were true.

Or, to put it in the Amerikan fashion, he shopped for a god, and decided Christ was the best model. These *Christians* will tell us in all sincerity that Jesus died for their sins. . .that their faith is in Jesus. . .but in reality, their faith is in themselves.

The proof is all around us. When trouble comes, they rush to a doctor or a psychiatrist for a pill. . .they rush to a lawyer for blood money or to escape their responsibilities. . .when confronted, they use their fists. . .when trouble comes to their nation, they call on the military. . .when trouble comes, they solve their own problems, shopping for the best solution. . .they NEVER rely on the Lord. Every solution they embrace contradicts the gospel of Jesus Christ.

How is it Amerikan Christians can support a criminal war in Iraq? How can they claim to follow the Way of Christ, when Jesus said to turn the other cheek, to love your enemies, and then the Christians pray for President Bush and support him in his ghoulish war on terror?

The Way, the faith of Christ, cannot be reconciled with the way of the world. . .

The Lord Jesus Christ asked:

And why call ye Me, Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say?

The Way, the faith of Christ, cannot be reconciled with the way of the world. . .

It is written:

Know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity with God? whosoever therefore will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God.

The typical Amerikan Christian *accepts* Christ, he decides Christ is savior. . .it's on his terms. . .he's the one who has made the deal. Therefore, it is a little thing if he discards the gospel. Some of Jesus' teachings don't fit his mind set? Disregard them. It's all about his decision.

As it is written:

A little leaven leavens the whole lump. . .

It may seem a small matter of semantics, this issue of *accepting Christ*. . .but if one can choose to accept Christ, can't one also then choose to accept only those parts of Christ's gospel that do not threaten their friendship with the world?

When a *Christian* accepts Jesus, he is not accepting the real Jesus, he is accepting another Jesus, a Jesus who is a creation of his own mind. Not surprisingly, the pseudo-Jesus has no problem with the pseudo-Christian following the course of the world.

The awful truth:

Many will say to Me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Thy name? and in Thy name have cast out devils? and in Thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from Me, ye that work iniquity.

Our Lord Jesus Christ said:

No man can come to Me, except the Father which hath sent Me draw him. . .

The Father must *draw* you to Christ. . .the Greek word which is translated in the King James Bible as "draw" is helkuo, defined as:

to draw, drag off

metaphor: to draw by inward power, lead, impel

Remember what was quoted before:

There is none righteous, no, not one: There is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God.

THERE IS NONE THAT SEEKETH AFTER GOD. All these people who *accept* Jesus, and all the people in the world with their cults, religions, sects, are not seeking after God. . .they are seeking after a ritual after their own heart.

Man is such a depraved, corrupt sinner, so totally cut-off from the true God, God must literally drag him to Christ, by a powerful supernatural force. . .

We do not *accept* Christ. . .God drags us to Him. . .and inside of us, before the creation of the world (According as He hath chosen us in Him before the foundation of the world), God has already placed the measure of faith (according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith). . .that faith is activated when we hear the gospel (so then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God), and if we are Christ's, if Christ has *accepted* us, we cannot deny it.

The Sum of Human History:

God created Adam and Eve, and they turned to Satanism. . .unseen forces, good and bad, have battled to influence the world down through the ages. . .

Yet even before the foundation of the world, an unknown number of men and women were conceived with the faith of Christ. . .no man can explain the mystery of salvation. . .all we know are the brief lines recorded in the Scriptures (My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow Me).

We can offer an analogy:

Let us say all men and women are born with a superheterodyne receiver, which they can tune to the world frequency of their choice. . .pornography, *sports,* yoga, whatever. . .but there is that unknown number of men and women who come into this world also equipped with a tuned frequency receiver. . .a receiver that will only receive the true gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. . .they may wander through the wilderness for ten, twenty, thirty years, a lifetime, tuning in and out the frequencies of the world. . .and then one moment of one day, they are dragged by God Almighty to the true gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. . .it may only be two simple words, Jesus Saves, but those words, those gospel words will be received on the gospel frequency receiver, and then faith cometh. . .

So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God. . .

And the disciples came, and said unto Him, Why speakest Thou unto them in parables? He answered and said unto them, Because it is given unto you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given.

We can say Jesus spoke in a *frequency* only believers could receive.

To those implanted with the tuned frequency receiver, the mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven are given. The rest follow the noise of the world, barred from the Kingdom. Just as we do not *accept* Jesus, we do not put OUR faith in Christ. God Almighty puts the faith of Christ in us.

As it is written:

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God.

Those who claim they *accept* Christ stink of the sin of pride, for they claim ownership of their salvation. "I accepted Jesus!"

Similarly, those who claim they put their faith in Christ also stink of pride. They gift their faith to Christ!

God Almighty puts the faith of Christ in the saved and then, at some point in their lives, drags the saved to the Lord Jesus Christ and they hear the gospel of Jesus, they receive the gospel of Jesus-and they are born again, a new creature in Christ, adopted by God Almighty through the Lord Jesus Christ.

Again, these are not semantic trivialities. . .if one believes one accepts Christ, or gives their faith to Christ, at the very least they have a subconscious pride, which will taint their soul with mere religion. . .they become the author and finisher of their faith, and thus they feel free to follow the course of the world, whenever the course of the world suits their fancy. . .their conscience does not burn when they wave their flag in support of their nation's anti-Christ wars, or when they buy Wal-Mart merchandise manufactured by exploited laborers, or when they isolate homosexual sin from sexual sin.

It is written plainly:

Jesus the author and finisher of our faith. . .

We, who deserve nothing, begin the Way with the following attitude:

Christ has given us everything.

After that, then what? What is our responsibility with the faith that has been given us? One can ask countless questions regarding free will, predestination, eternal security, etc., etc. We will not know all of the mysteries of salvation. All we can know is that the Lord Jesus Christ is the author and finisher of our faith. . .as for what is in between, perhaps the best that can be offered is the paradoxical advice the apostle Paul gave the Philippians:

Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. . .For it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of His good pleasure.

Where will you be in one million years?

The End

[Author's note: I do not claim divine revelation. I do not claim scholarship. I offer these words as my imperfect understanding of the mystery of salvation. As the apostle Paul said: For now we see through a glass, darkly. I do not judge whether these words are of any consequence. . .but if one soul passes this way, and God Almighty uses these words to tune you to the faith of Christ, then I join you in thanking our Father in heaven, who has opened your ears to the gospel of Jesus Christ and given you the incomparable gift of salvation.]

Few There Be That Find It. . .

To Hell With The Death Penalty

2009-05-27T05:43:00.000-07:00

Lucasville, OH (AP 14 Jan 2003): A murderer whose claims of mental retardation were rejected by the courts was executed Wednesday after struggling with guards and pleading for his life until the last moment. Lewis Williams, 45, was put to death by injection for fatally shooting a 76-year-old woman during a robbery at her Cleveland home in 1983. Four guards were needed to lift the 117-pound Williams from his knees and pry his hand off the edge of a table before carrying him into the death chamber. As he was strapped to the execution table he cried, "I'm not guilty. God, help me." At least nine guards restrained him as they prepared his arms and inserted needles. One guard standing at his head alternately restrained him and patted his right shoulder to comfort him. Williams repeatedly shook his head and tried to lift himself off the preparation bed. He yelled several times, then rested his head and spoke, appearing to whisper or chant quietly.

Williams kept pleading even as the warden pulled the microphone away after his final official statement: "God, please help me. God, please hear my cry." He was pronounced dead at 10:15 am. His mother, Bonnie Williams, 66, sobbed in an adjacent room separated by a window. "It was an awful thing to watch," assistant state public defender Stephen Ferrell said. "The struggle caught us by surprise. He didn't seem to be like that this morning." "I would say it was disturbing. I would say it was traumatic," prisons systems director Reginald Wilkinson said. "It was probably as traumatic as anything our staff has gone through." His execution, originally set for June, was delayed while a judge considered his claim that he was mentally retarded and therefore ineligible for the death penalty. The judge rejected the claim after an expert hired by Williams' attorneys found that he was not mentally retarded.

Good for you, pseudo-retard. . .why should you make such a disgusting procedure appear *routine?* Look at the state's representative, Reginald Wilkinson, he has the nerve to be traumatized by the pseudo-retard's actions. They want the condemned to be polite about their own execution. "Slide down the gurney just a bit, please. . .Turn your head this way, please. . .Could you make a fist so we can find a vein?. . .Good. . .Now die quietly. . .Thank you."

It would be beneficial for Wilkinson and the *corrections officers* who carried out this killing to have nightmares for the rest of their days. . .let them wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming of being on their knees begging for their lives before a retarded Freddy Krueger. Maybe then they will have a greater appreciation for the virtue of mercy.

"Well, these killers didn't show any mercy to their victims, why should we?" is the standard reply. The state, if it wants to serve as the model for its citizens to emulate and if it wants its laws to be the citizens' schoolmaster, must make as great a distinction as possible between itself and its grossest members. . .this is the usual response. Of course, it's nonsense. The mere fact laws exist are proof of the hopelessness of legislating good behavior.

Mercy is a theological matter of self-interest. . .but most people think of themselves as *good*. . .they arrive at this conclusion through the process of relative righteousness. . .they look around for a pedophile or a serial killer or a Hitler, and then compare themselves to the beast. . .presto!. . . "I'm good!". . .hence they think they will never need mercy. . .they believe they are justified by their own Potemkin *goodness*. . .and they feel no qualms about denying mercy to others who they judge as *evil.*

Surely they will be shocked when they find themselves dead in their sins, being judged by the Almighty. . .then they will ask for mercy, just the like pseudo-retard in the story above. . .too late. . .in fact, they will claim a form of mental retardation themselves. . .they will tell the Almighty, "I didn't know I was a sinner." The Lord will likewise reject their claim of mental retardation.

Apparently most of the condemned cooperate with the state. . .they calmly accept their execution. Perhaps they don't want to create a spectacle because they believe they would appear weak, and it would offend their image of themselves. . .vanity, vanity, all is vanity. . .even in death. . .maybe the condemned think the state wants them to grovel and beg, and that by appearing cool and calm, they think they can gain a final victory over the state. . . "go ahead and kill me, I don't care." So they go like sheep to the slaughter, stupidly not realizing that by bending over for the state, they assist in making the barbaric practice appear to be nothing more than a routine *medical procedure.*

What if all the condemned went down swinging? I would guess most of them could put up a much better fight than the 117 pound weakling pseudo-retard in Ohio. Imagine if the weekly executions in Texas turned into tough man contests. . .with psychotic murderers and rapists biting, kicking, screaming, scratching, gouging, spitting on and clawing their last mile *escorts*. . .if they had to be pepper-sprayed or zapped with a stun gun just to get them on the gurney. . .make the thing a frenzy of blood and broken bones and chewed-off ears and noses. . .the system surely would have to be *reformed.*

Of course, the state would likely adopt a more ruthless procedure. . .such as the one that used to be applied in Russia. . .where the condemned were never told of their execution date. . .they sweated it out in uncertainty, until one early morning when a prison official would simply tell the condemned he had not been reprieved, and then an officer would fire a single shot to the back of his head.

One could ask, if the condemned are going to end up dead, anyway, what does it matter the form of execution? But why allow the state its pretense of a clean, orderly *medical procedure?* Make the state shed its surgical mask. . .make the state pull the trigger and have to clean the mess off the wall. . .let the state stand without guile before its people.

Few There Be That Find It. . .

New Testament Commentary: Matthew

2009-05-27T05:35:00.000-07:00

Matthew, Chapter 1
1The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.
2Abraham begat Isaac; and Isaac begat Jacob; and Jacob begat Judas and his brethren;
3And Judas begat Phares and Zara of Thamar; and Phares begat Esrom; and Esrom begat Aram;
4And Aram begat Aminadab; and Aminadab begat Naasson; and Naasson begat Salmon;
5And Salmon begat Booz of Rachab; and Booz begat Obed of Ruth; and Obed begat Jesse;
6And Jesse begat David the king; and David the king begat Solomon of her that had been the wife of Urias;
7And Solomon begat Roboam; and Roboam begat Abia; and Abia begat Asa;
8And Asa begat Josaphat; and Josaphat begat Joram; and Joram begat Ozias;
9And Ozias begat Joatham; and Joatham begat Achaz; and Achaz begat Ezekias;
10And Ezekias begat Manasses; and Manasses begat Amon; and Amon begat Josias;
11And Josias begat Jechonias and his brethren, about the time they were carried away to Babylon:
12And after they were brought to Babylon, Jechonias begat Salathiel; and Salathiel begat Zorobabel;
13And Zorobabel begat Abiud; and Abiud begat Eliakim; and Eliakim begat Azor;
14And Azor begat Sadoc; and Sadoc begat Achim; and Achim begat Eliud;
15And Eliud begat Eleazar; and Eleazar begat Matthan; and Matthan begat Jacob;
16And Jacob begat Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ.
17So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations; and from David until the carrying away into Babylon are fourteen generations; and from the carrying away into Babylon unto Christ are fourteen generations.

It has been supposed by previous commentators that Matthew included this abridged genealogy of our Lord to convince a Jewish audience that Jesus was the legitimate legal heir to the throne of David. . .one cannot imagine many Jews, either in the first century AD or in our own time, bowing their knees to the Lordship of Christ based upon the pedigree. At best, the Jew’s skeptical response will remain: “Is this not the carpenter’s son?” (Matthew 13:55). . .and at worst, they will identify Christ with the Talmud’s heretic *Yeshu,* who is condemned to boil in excrement in Hell (Gittin 57a).

If one accepts the New Testament as the inspired word of God (II Timothy 3:16), one might ask why the Almighty would have this genealogy included? The most astounding miracles ever seen on earth, the raising of the dead (Mark 5:35 – 43), healing of the blind (Matthew 9:27 – 29), etc. are covered in a handful of verses, yet here 17 verses are spent on a genealogy that will convince no one of the Christ.

Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to Jordan unto John, to be baptized of him. But John forbad him, saying, I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me? And Jesus answering said unto him, Suffer it to be so now: for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness (Matthew 3:13 – 15).

So it may be also that this genealogy is included: to fulfill all righteousness. . .the genealogy as the meticulous work of God, dotting all His cosmic i’s and crossing all His cosmic t’s. . .

Unusual for a Bible genealogy, five women are named, of which at least two were Gentiles (Rahab and Ruth). . .

Of these women’s stories, one in particular has always been a favorite:

Tamar (Genesis Chapter 38): Judah picked Tamar to be the wife of his first-born son, Er. Er must have been an unsalvageable miscreant, however, for we are told he “was wicked in the sight of the LORD; and the LORD slew him.” After the Lord dispatched this reprobate, Judah gave Tamar to his second son, Onan, who, by the law of the levirate marriage, was supposed to *lay* with Tamar, that she might have a child to continue Er’s name and receive Er’s inheritance. Onan did, indeed, frequently *lay* with Tamar, but not wanting his dead brother to have an heir, he refused to ejaculate inside her. . .he would dismount the poor girl before climax and *spill his seed on the ground* (at least the ill-treated Tamar was spared the additional indignity of the modern practice of a *facial*). The LORD took note of Onan’s selfish disobedience, and removed him, also, from the Land of the Living.

Judah was therefore left with just one remaining son, Shelah. . .knowing only all-too-well Shelah was cut from the same cloth (the Canaanitish Shuah) as his brothers, and thus hoping to hide his probable moral and sexual dereliction from the LORD, Judah sent Tamar back to her father’s house. He told her he would bring her back when Shelah was ready to marry. . .but, of course, he never did.

The years passed. . .Egg after egg from Tamar went unfertilized. In our sophisticated age, women can remain single and childless, and it’s of no consequence. . .women can work and earn their own keep. . .they are *liberated* to live just as futile of an existence as men. Not so for Tamar. . .she lived back in the day when women were *oppressed.* She needed a son to secure her livelihood. With her biological clock winding down, Tamar dressed herself up as a whore, and seduced Judah:

When Judah saw her, he thought her to be an harlot; because she had covered her face. And he turned unto her by the way, and said, Go to, I pray thee, let me come in unto thee; (for he knew not that she was his daughter in law.) And she said, What wilt thou give me, that thou mayest come in unto me? And he said, I will send thee a kid from the flock. . .(Genesis 38:15 – 17).

Ha ha ha. . .you have to chuckle. . .imagine a similar exchange in our day. . .imagine having a goat on a leash, and bringing it up to some poor negress crack whore on a Highland Park, MI street corner. . .“Git dat crazy-ass dog out my face!”

Well. . .but anyway. . .old Judah didn’t spill his seed on the ground. . .no, indeed. . .he planted it right in Tamar, and she got her heir. . .in fact, she got two sons, the twins Pharez and Zarah.

A few things about this story:

One) There has been, down through the centuries, a tradition equating *Onanism* with masturbation, which suggests Onan was killed by God for being a wanker. . .but this is just an example of “making the word of God of none effect through your tradition” (Mark 7:13). Onan’s sin was greed. He *spilled his seed* so his dead brother wouldn’t have an heir, thus increasing his own inheritance.

Two) Though at least two Gentile women are included, it would seem God was determined to have Tamar, and not the Canaanitish Shuah, in the Messianic line, no matter how hard Onan and, later, Judah tried to keep her out. One might wonder what was so special about Tamar. Probably nothing. God would reach out from the other side and pick a good-looking chick every now and then (Sarah, Rachel), but the *heroes* of the Bible are mainly human mediocrities. . .cowards with trophy wives (Abraham), stuttering fugitives (Moses), bipolar adulterers (David), etc. God is the star, not man (despite the efforts of organized religion’s PR hacks to repackage these oddballs as spiritual Supermen, for the purpose of promoting today’s religious hucksters as being the latest in a line of *Great Men of God*).

Being picked by God for a part in His master plan does not guarantee a life of limousines and red carpets. . .in this, Tamar is typical. She was, essentially, a human bowling ball: picked up, fingered and thrown in the gutter by a series of low-lifes. One can easily imagine the horny Onan jack-hammering poor dry Tamar for two minutes and thirty seconds, then violently pulling out, grunting and spilling his seed all over the place as he fantasized about his increased inheritance, never even looking at Tamar, and leaving her sore on her bed to rub the oil of myrrh on her chafed genitalia. And then the indignity of Tamar having to play the whore and seduce her father-in-law, what a chore that had to be, teasing a the seed out of the old geezer Judah. . .all just to secure her *social security.* And when she got it, when she birthed the twins Pharez and Zarah, she was left alone to raise them.

Tamar, the single mother, abused by a string of irresponsible men. The more things change, the more they stay the same. How many millions of Tamars in our Amerika? Forced to whore themselves, in one form or the other, because some deadbeat is too immature, too selfish to fulfill his obligations.

Of course, the difference between Tamar and the average Amerikan single mother is that Amerikan women make their own bad choices about for whom they spread their legs. . .still, considering the grossly sexualized culture they are born into, one can retain a degree of sympathy for the Amerikan demi-Tamars.

Three) Because of man’s depravity, God’s plan is often continued in untidy fashions, as was the case with Tamar. Christ was the only one able to navigate squeaky-clean through this ugly world man has created. . .the rest of us get sullied from time-to-time. . .contemporary Amerikan Christians seem scandalized by this. . .perhaps they imagine they are already clothed in fine, clean white linen (Revelation 19:8), and that is why they rail against faggots, abortionists and other assorted sinners. . .but in doing so they risk judging another man’s servant (Romans 14:4), for who knows that God cannot reach into the darkest sewer, pluck out a human turd and use him or her to further the Divine Plan?

Our Lord once observed:

He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal (John 12:25).

One can easily imagine poor Tamar when reading these words. . .and in her life of misery in this ugly world, she doubtless never imagined she had been picked by God to continue the Messianic line. . .she lived a lowdown life but was given a special place in the Eternal Line of the Kingdom of God.

Matthew, Chapter 1
18Now the birth of Jesus Christ was on this wise: When as His mother Mary was espoused to Joseph, before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Ghost.

The Virgin Birth of Christ. . .the Parthenogenesis of Christ. . .

There has been some recent bluster concerning evolution and intelligent design. Not surprisingly, the blowhards on both sides of the *debate* miss the mark.

The apostle Paul advised:

O Timothy, keep that which is committed to thy trust, avoiding profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science falsely so called: Which some professing have erred concerning the faith. . .(I Timothy 6:20 – 21).

There you have the evolution/intelligent design debate: vain babbling.

What is most amusing is these babblers, clouded in the steam of their own over-heated blubberings, have lost sight that the foundation of each of their belief systems is based on the same principle: virgin birth, or parthenogenesis (for the Christian, this would also include Adam and Eve).

What is most sad are these Christian hicks, who would have a hard time spelling DNA, let alone explaining it, trying to use it to prove God.

“Ya see, fellers, this here DNA stuff is so gosh-dang complicated and all, why, it weren’t possible fer it ta jes pop out o’ thin air. No, sir, some real smart being had to a been there ta mix the D with the N and the A.”

What a sorry spectacle, what a sorry testimony for the faith. . .all these Christians running around, trying to cast out science with science. It’s a losing proposition.

If they are that insecure, that they need everybody to believe what they believe, if they need *science* to validate their beliefs, then they need to examine their faith. What God has chosen to reveal about creation should be enough for them:

Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shewed it unto them. For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse (Romans 1:19 – 20).

The truth is, most Christians in Amerika have been seduced by science. . .they rely more on science than on God. . .they take the same anti-depressants as the infidels. . .they are just as afraid to depart this earth as the infidels (look how maniacally they tried to keep poor Terri Schiavo from Christ. . .they wanted her to be kept on earth as long as possible, because they themselves want to stay here for as long as possible, no matter in how degraded of a condition. . .what lack of faith that Christ awaits them!).

So now they want their second god, science, to reassure them of their first God, the Creator. . .pathetic. . .they love their life in this world so much, they make fools of themselves to get the world to love them back.

Of course, the infidels have their fools, also. . .the haughty High Priests of Scientism:

Because that, when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools, And changed the glory of the uncorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and fourfooted beasts, and creeping things (Romans 1:21 – 23).

The High Priests of Scientism sneer at their Creator. . .imagine Tesla turning on his radio and hearing it insult him. . .the nerve!

The great geniuses of the day dismiss the virgin birth of our Lord (and Adam and Eve) as an old wives’ tale. . .they dismiss their own birth, then. . .for what is abiogenesis except for a virgin birth? They applaud their own spontaneous generation, while they hiss at the incarnation.

One can only marvel at these blind Pharisees of Scientism. . .they scoff at the virgin birth of our Lord, then, lacking an answer to explain the transition from asexual to sexual reproduction, they must insist upon billions of virgin births to bridge binary fission to meiosis and fertilization. Truly the Priests of Parthenogenesis strain at a gnat and swallow a camel.

One might register the argument the Priests of Scientism reject any creator behind their virgin births, yet when these proud little men tried to invent themselves in a chamber of glass tubes and flasks filled with water, methane, ammonia and hydrogen, they summoned the god of lightning to breathe the spark of life. Here they unconsciously embraced Christ’s metaphor:

I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven (Luke 10:18).

For their god is the father of all proud little men who seek to exalt their thrones above the stars of God.

Matthew, Chapter 1
19Then Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not willing to make her a public example, was minded to put her away privily.
20But while he thought on these things, behold, the angel of the LORD appeared unto him in a dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost.
21And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call His name JESUS: for He shall save His people from their sins.
22Now all this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying,
23Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call His name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.
24Then Joseph being raised from sleep did as the angel of the Lord had bidden him, and took unto him his wife:
25And knew her not till she had brought forth her firstborn son: and he called His name JESUS.

Joseph. . .Mr. Mary. . .the Blessed Virgin’s caddy. Here is the blandest of Bible *heroes.* His job was to keep Mary’s womb from being polluted and to drive her to Bethlehem for Jesus’ birth. After that, he was to chauffeur Mary and Jesus to Egypt. Upon the return to Nazareth, he becomes the very definition of superfluous. “Just stand over there in the corner, buddy, and don’t mess things up”. . .but even this simple task may have proven difficult.

Since Matthew labels him a *just man,* Joseph must have been a decent Jew, and doubtless followed all their arcane laws, etc. . .he probably didn’t even masturbate, just waited for wet dreams (this is, in all probability, how narcolepsy started. . .a bunch of ultra-orthodox Jews, standing around horny, wishing real hard they could fall asleep and dream they were Solomon, rolling around with 700 wives and 300 concubines). Thus, already accustomed to celibacy, and with the religious fervor that must have followed the angel of the Lord’s news that Mary was carrying the Redeemer, it could not have been too difficult for Joseph to refrain from *knowing* Mary.

One might ask: “Could a religious Jew, convinced his virgin bride had given birth to his people’s Redeemer, ever in good conscience defile with his own impure penis the birth canal through which the Savior enters the world? Wouldn’t some kind of Christo-Genital phobia be expected, which would leave Joseph permanently impotent in the presence of Mary?” A good Jew wouldn’t even fart in Yad Vashem, so how could Joseph ever have wanted to have sex with Mary?

Though none of us have ever experienced the religious ardor that must have gripped Joseph after his dream visit from the angel of the Lord, and which must have been refreshed by the Deicidal intrigues which prompted the flight to Egypt, we know from our own meager examples, and the life histories of Bible figures, that religious mania, even the most genuinely inspired, wears off, evaporates, and we descend again from the heights of spiritual ennoblement to the depths of human carnality. Even so for Joseph. . .

So he *knew* Mary. From the Biblical record, it is clear Joseph and Mary had four sons and at least two daughters (Matthew 13:55, Mark 6:3).

Let us for a moment wonder at Mary’s attitude toward Joseph’s sexual demands. . .

One can suppose Mary’s religious dedication to be more durable. . .after all, she had a maternal bond to the infant Christ. . .it would not be unusual, therefore, for her to have preferred to remain a virgin, and devote her life to the Christ. If one believed oneself to be the Handmaiden of the Lord, would one really want to be troubled with the burden of the commonplace human spawn? The ordinary marriages of the mass of human nonentities are chock full of sexual tension. . .so what type of sexual tension must have existed between Mary and Joseph?

Considering Joseph again, it would only be natural he expected a little gold dust to be sprinkled down upon him from the heavens. The Jews have a blind spot in regard to their prophets: they cannot see the predicted Suffering Servant (Isaiah 53, etc.). They expect only the Redeemer King, who would restore the glory of the Kingdom of David. Therefore, wouldn’t the Messiah be raised in glory? And so wouldn’t His caretakers achieve a lofty station in life? But for Joseph, after returning from Egypt, it was back to the sticks of Nazareth, of which Nathanael would ask *can anything good come from it?* (John 1:46).

Joseph had to wonder about this, as he returned to the drudgery of his previous life. And over the years, though Jesus would display His astonishing superiority, there would be nothing of the glory of David.

One might well ask if, over those years, Joseph came to doubt the dream of the angel of the Lord? So it may be that, at first, Joseph wanted to *know* Mary as a kind of consolation prize, as it had to be evident very early on he would not be leaving his humble station in Nazareth for a seat near a throne in Jerusalem.

Joseph would have more in common, of course, with his natural born sons. . .and it may be that he began to use Mary as a breeder in order to create more and more distance between himself and this enigmatic child called Jesus. . .

What happened in that household, as Joseph’s children were added? Mary could never favor them the way she favored Jesus. And what would Joseph’s attitude be, observing his own flesh-and-blood taking their mother’s backseat? One could insist Jesus had a fairy tale upbringing, and that Joseph, never doubting, was always the good sport, even though he had no earthly material gain as Jesus’ caretaker.

But we know Joseph’s sons did not believe in Jesus (John 7:5). Where did this doubt originate? From Mary? Unlikely, for there is no evidence Mary ever doubted. From amongst themselves? Possibly. But we must also consider there is no evidence Joseph’s daughters doubted. Would it be unreasonable to picture a household with Mary and the daughters on one side, and Joseph and the sons on the other side?

For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law. And a man's foes shall be they of his own household. He that loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me (Matthew 10:35 - 37).

If any man come to Me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be My disciple (Luke 14:26).

The greater cosmic spiritual truth of these sayings would not be invalidated if Christ Himself had analogous local experiences.

Sometime in Jesus’ life between age 12 and age 30, Joseph died. Unlike the other famous *patriarchs,* his passing goes unnoted in the Biblical record. After Christ’s birth, there is no mention of him in the gospels, save for as a sidebar in the famous *missing Jesus* anecdote of Luke 2:41 - 49. There is not a single word of Christ’s recorded in the New Testament concerning Joseph. As He was dying on the cross, our Lord entrusted the care of Mary not to any of Joseph’s sons, as would be the custom, but to His disciple John (John 19:25 - 27).

Is it unreasonable, at the very least, to infer a distant relationship between Jesus and Joseph?

We often think of the only pain in Christ’s life at His betrayal, trial, scourging and crucifixion. . .the last few hours of His life. But what must His childhood have been like?

What would He have in common with anyone around Him? There is very little of Jesus’ life prior to age 30 revealed in the Bible, but after He begins His ministry, there is frequent mention of Jesus’ going off alone to the desert or the mountains. . .this may have been a lifelong trait. . .Jesus the Loner. . .Jesus the Outsider.

He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not (John 1:10 – 11).

Why should His childhood have been any different? In fact, He would have been less well received as a child than as an adult. . .adults would have been intimidated by His supernatural intellect. . .and what would He have in common with children of His own age? It is not that He would have been a stereotypical *goody-two-shoes* that normally rambunctious children ostracize, but it would be His alien nature. Here was a being who at age 12 was already fixed upon doing His Heavenly Father’s business (Luke 2:49). . .thus what childhood *peer* could Christ have had? Who could draw near to the Word made Flesh? It would not necessarily be that other children were antagonistic, but perplexed and at a loss as to how to *socialize* with the only begotten Son of God. . . Jesus would thus remain outside their circle.

In the well-known *missing Jesus* anecdote, we are told when Jesus was 12 years old, the family makes a Passover pilgrimage to the Temple:

And when they had fulfilled the days, as they returned, the child Jesus tarried behind in Jerusalem; and Joseph and his mother knew not of it. But they, supposing Him to have been in the company, went a day's journey; and they sought Him among their kinsfolk and acquaintance (Luke 2:43 - 44).

A whole day passes before they even realize Jesus is missing. Even in His own *family,* He was always on the outside. . .so much so that His absence is not immediately apparent.

His disappearances must have become more and more frequent, for as an adult, He seems not to have been recognized by those who should have known Him (for example, His *cousin* John the Baptist cannot identify Him at the baptism—John 1:33).

As an adult, Jesus placed Himself in league with the homeless:

And Jesus said unto him, Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay His head (Luke 9:58).

These musings on the relationship between Jesus and Joseph are not meant to suggest Joseph died in unbelief, or that he was hostile to Jesus. . .only that one can reasonably infer a distance between the two. Joseph, plagued by doubt and broken dreams, can be viewed as a sort of Ultimate Spiritual Everyman, struggling against his own corrupt nature to remain faithful to the promise of the Redeemer.

As for Jesus, He may well have been the loneliest man who ever lived. . .

Matthew, Chapter 2
1Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem,
2Saying, Where is He that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen His star in the east, and are come to worship Him.
3When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.
4And when he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the people together, he demanded of them where Christ should be born.
5And they said unto him, In Bethlehem of Judaea: for thus it is written by the prophet,
6And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda: for out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rule my people Israel.
7Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, enquired of them diligently what time the star appeared.
8And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search diligently for the young child; and when ye have found Him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship Him also.
9When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was.
10When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.
11And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary His mother, and fell down, and worshipped Him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto Him gifts; gold, and frankincense and myrrh.
12And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way.

The Wise Men. . .they were probably Zoroastrian astrologers from Persia (one of them perhaps in the genealogical line of that modern Persian, Ahmadinejad, who likewise *troubles all Jerusalem?*).

What *star* did the Magi see? It’s doubtful it was the arcing fireball of Giotto’s *Adoration of the Magi* or some spectacular supernova as commonly depicted in other works of art. After all, the pseudo-Jew King Herod and all of Jerusalem seem to have been unaware of any signs and wonders in the sky.

These travelers to Judaea were *magi*. . .highly skilled in whatever esoteric astronomical art they practiced. . .these weren’t some ignorant touristy boobs gaping in awe as they stumbled from one Las Vegas neon light show to the next.

No, whatever the magi saw, it was doubtless unobserved by the uninitiated. This was as it should have been. . .the celestial object as humble as the birth of the being it marked.

It is not surprising when notified the *King of the Jews* had been born, Herod was *troubled.* Not being a *religous* man, he would logically view this new-born *King* as a threat to his little Jewish satrapy.

What may be surprising is the reaction of the Jews’ chief priests and scribes. Made aware their long-awaited *King* may have been born, not a one of them bother to go to Bethlehem to investigate. The magi must have traveled for months to cover a distance of more than one thousand miles, but the *chief priests* couldn’t be bothered to journey six miles to Bethlehem.

But then, like their pseudo-Jew King Herod, these were probably not *religious* men, either. Even though had they been familiar with their own prophets (notably Daniel), they would have been aware the timing for the birth of the Messiah was at hand, they seem not to have believed. These were arrogant people, who trusted in their race to save them (Matthew 3:9) and therefore they probably discounted any news of their *King* which came from *gentiles.* And these were people ignorant of their own scriptures (Matthew 22:29) and would continually miss during Jesus’ life the *signs of the times* (Matthew 16:3). Additionally, these were political people, more interested in maintaining their own miniscule sphere of influence within the Roman Empire than with seeking the Kingdom of God (John 11:47 – 50).

Arrogant, ignorant, political. . .those were the Jews of Christ’s day. Arrogant, ignorant, political. . .these are the Christians in Amerika of our day. . .just picture Billy Graham limping to the White House to bless the wickedness du jour. . .or Pat Robertson calling for the assassination of Hugo Chavez. . .or the scholarly Bob Jones III, who baptized the war in Iraq with this unique twist on the blessedness of peacemakers: “I don't see how anybody who loves peace could really be against this war.”

Well, we will have ample opportunity, as the commentary is continued, to further beat the dead horse that is Amerikan Christianity. Let us return our attention to the Wise Men. It would seem from the Biblical record they were members of a very exclusive club: givers to the Savior. Though our Lord was undoubtedly the most generous individual to ever walk the earth, doling out healings, exorcisms and free meals to thousands and thousands, and, His most unselfish and valuable gift of all, His life as a ransom for many (Matthew 20:28), He was answered with a surprising degree of ingratitude. He Himself remarked at least once upon this lack of appreciation:

And as He entered into a certain village, there met Him ten men that were lepers, which stood afar off: And they lifted up their voices, and said, Jesus, Master, have mercy on us. And when He saw them, He said unto them, Go shew yourselves unto the priests. And it came to pass, that, as they went, they were cleansed. And one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, and with a loud voice glorified God, And fell down on his face at His feet, giving Him thanks: and he was a Samaritan. And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger. And He said unto him, Arise, go thy way: thy faith hath made thee whole (Luke 17:12 – 19).

From this telling episode, we can extract a small parable of the Jews: they took what they could from the Lord, then turned their back on Him.

As for the Wise Men, I have often wondered whether the Lord, in later years, personally thanked them for their pilgrimage and gifts? Or, like the woman who gave Jesus an alabaster box of spikenard, was their mention in the gospel record their thanks (certainly sufficient), an eternal memorial to their kindness and generosity (Mark 14:3 – 9)?

The Bible is mysteriously silent concerning Christ’s years from age twelve to thirty. Where fact is absent, legend appears. Among the *missing years of Jesus* fables, we are told Christ returned to Egypt to learn the magic of the hekau, or that He traveled to India and Tibet to study the mysteries of the eastern charlatans, or He sailed with His Uncle, Joseph of Arimathea, to Great Britain:

And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England's mountains green? And was the Holy Lamb of God On England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the Countenance Divine Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here Among those dark Satanic mills?—William Blake, 1804

Of course, there is nothing Jesus could have learned in Egypt, India or Tibet. . .so what would be the point of our Lord traveling to any of these lands, or to Britain? Vacation from His alleged work as a carpenter? No.

No, if Jesus did any traveling during His *missing years,* I find it would be more befitting His character to imagine Him making a long solitary trek to Persia. . .the lone Christ, traveling a thousand miles on foot, to thank the magi and to personally bring them the gospel, the full meaning of the good news of the sign in the stars they observed so many years prior.

And one could well then imagine, years later, our Lord remembering this great mission, as He rebuked the scribes and Pharisees for their hypocrisy:

Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye compass sea and land to make one proselyte, and when he is made, ye make him twofold more the child of hell than yourselves (Matthew 23:15).

Matthew, Chapter 2
13And when they were departed, behold, the angel of the Lord appeareth to Joseph in a dream, saying, Arise, and take the young child and His mother, and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I bring thee word: for Herod will seek the young child to destroy Him.
14When he arose, he took the young child and His mother by night, and departed into Egypt:
15And was there until the death of Herod: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, Out of Egypt have I called My son.
16Then Herod, when he saw that he was mocked of the wise men, was exceeding wroth, and sent forth, and slew all the children that were in Bethlehem, and in all the coasts thereof, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had diligently inquired of the wise men.
17Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremy the prophet, saying,
18In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not.
19But when Herod was dead, behold, an angel of the Lord appeareth in a dream to Joseph in Egypt,
20Saying, Arise, and take the young child and His mother, and go into the land of Israel: for they are dead which sought the young child's life.
21And he arose, and took the young child and His mother, and came into the land of Israel.
22But when he heard that Archelaus did reign in Judaea in the room of his father Herod, he was afraid to go thither: notwithstanding, being warned of God in a dream, he turned aside into the parts of Galilee:
23And he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, He shall be called a Nazarene.

It must be supposed Satan imagined he had defeated the Almighty when he successfully tempted Eve.

I can picture the Adversary chuckling contentedly to himself as he watches the bewildered Adam and Eve sewing fig leaves together to cover their nakedness, and then trying to hide themselves from the LORD God in Eden (Genesis 3:7 – 8). . .

[The Leader reveals his spiritual ignorance when he makes statements such as *we are good, they are evil*. . .*they* are subject to the same supernatural forces *we* are. . .*they* are not the enemy. . .to believe that *evil* can be removed from the world with Helter-Skelter bombing attacks is childish. *We* may think we are removing evil when we bomb a *terrorist,* just as *they* think likewise when they bomb *civilians*. . .nothing is destroyed except corrupt flesh. . .evil moves on to a new host.

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places (Ephesians 6:12).

Man’s weapons are useless against these principalities, powers and rulers. . .and when he stupidly uses them, thinking he is *fighting evil,* he is really only serving evil. . .]

[Re: Genesis 3:7. . . And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons. . .it would therefore appear the fist manifest consequence of sin was *nudity.* As a response, the *fashion industry* was born. The oldest profession is not prostitution, but *fashion design.*

We should not call Kate Moss, Carmen Kass, Karolina Kurkova, etc., *supermodels*. . .we should call them *Eves,* for when they slink down the catwalks, covered in the latest fig leaves, they minister the Sacrament of the Apron, in remembrance of their mother, Eve, the First Model, the First Sex Object. . .

The Sacrament of the Apron

*Fashion,* at its heart, may be nothing more than a Satanic art, meant to celebrate the Fallen Woman. . .

Satan, for those brief hours in Eden, must have thought he had captured all humanity for eternity. . .

Then the LORD God issued the first prophecy of the future Redeemer. . .it is interesting to note this prophecy is addressed by the LORD God directly to Satan:

And I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel (Genesis 3:15).

Satan did not pout, but set to work again, with the aim of sabotaging the Messianic line. . .

It began with Cain’s murder of righteous Abel (Genesis 4:8), and continued through the near-entire genetic corruption of mankind, which provoked the flood (Genesis 6:11 – 13). . .and then the corruption of Abraham and Sarah (Genesis 16:1 – 4). . .and then the corruption all of Israel (Matthew 21:43).

Down through the ages, working through human surrogates tempted with sex, power and violence, Satan sought to block the Redeemer’s entry into the world. After thousands of years of failure, and after seeing the first humans, the Wise Men, worship the Christ child, it is the supreme arrogance of Satan that he still *believes in himself.*

His faith in himself unshaken after centuries of defeat, he vainly plots the murder of Christ in Bethlehem. As always, God is several steps ahead. Jesus is already in Egypt, as Satan works through Herod.

Herod is just another in a long line of patsies, bewitched by the Adversary into confusing Satan’s ambitions with his own. In a rage because the Wise Men did not betray Christ, this pseudo-Jew and dupe of the Devil orders the deaths of all the children in the area of Bethlehem who fit the Christ child profile. . .kill them all, that it may be certain Christ is killed. . .the others are mere *collateral damage.*

If we jump ahead of the story to our own day, we see Satan remains just as arrogant, and just as faithful to himself. He continues to be the world’s King-maker, bringing into position those whose interests can be made to serve his own. The pseudo-Christian Bush is his latest patsy. . .convinced he is the Right Hand of God, Bush’s disastrous military adventures only lay the groundwork for the chaos in the Middle East from which the Beast will create the New Satanic Order of the Age (Revelation 13:1 – 7). . .

Satan will believe in himself to the bitter end. . .and even beyond. Even the defeat of Armageddon, which leaves him in chains in the bottomless pit (Revelation 20:1 – 3), will not shake his faith in himself. He will scheme in his prison, and then try again (Revelation 20:7 – 8). And one must imagine, even as Satan is cast into the Lake of Fire, to be tormented day and night for ever and ever, he will remain confident of final victory. . .

Well, and what is the average man on the street, but a little Satan in a wrinkled suit? The average man, the human mediocrity, lives a life of continual defeat, and yet never loses faith in himself. . .Every way of a man is right in his own eyes, says the Proverb, even as the way leads him straight to Hell.

But anyway, one must marvel at the unshakeable faith Satan has in himself. . .if a man could have such faith in Christ, the world could be turned upside down. . .

Matthew, Chapter 3
1In those days came John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness of Judaea,
2And saying, Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.
3For this is he that was spoken of by the prophet Esaias, saying, The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make His paths straight.
4And the same John had his raiment of camel's hair, and a leathern girdle about his loins; and his meat was locusts and wild honey.
5Then went out to him Jerusalem, and all Judaea, and all the region round about Jordan,
6And were baptized of him in Jordan, confessing their sins.
7But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees come to his baptism, he said unto them, O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come?
8Bring forth therefore fruits meet for repentance:
9And think not to say within yourselves, We have Abraham to our father: for I say unto you, that God is able of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham.
10And now also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees: therefore every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire.
11I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance. But He that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear: He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost, and with fire:
12Whose fan is in His hand, and He will throughly purge His floor, and gather His wheat into the garner; but He will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.

Look around. The world of *homo roboticus.* And each one fancies himself/herself *special.* They imagine their frame of reference is unique, and their observations to be *illuminating.* Somebody winds the little metal key in their back, their mouth opens, and they think they have *spoken.*

Since Christ ascended, how many genuine individuals have appeared in the Western World? Five? Ten? King Arthur, Francis of Assisi, Jeanne d’Arc, Sir Isaac Newton, Arthur Rimbaud, Bobby Fischer, Klaus Kinski, maybe a couple more. Otherwise, 2000 years of battlebots fighting the Great Toy Wars. . .

For most of the 2000 years, the great lump of humanity lived without pretense. The cobbler did not mark a few X’s on a scrap of paper, tack it to his door, and proclaim himself the next Voltaire. The cobbler mended shoes, ate a hot meal, and then fell asleep, perhaps hoping a succubus would visit.

Satan’s greatest practical joke must surely be the internet. The perfect *joy buzzer* to jolt the vanity of *homo oves.* Every human zero is now a star.

MySpace!! The zero’s cyberspace Walk of Fame!

They don’t have to have any native opinions, ideas or fictions. In fact, knowing the average *homo consumens* is nothing but a scarecrow, the format discourages them. Instead, it encourages trivia, the strawman’s loose hay. Lists, surveys, crypto personality analyses. “I am 82% Nymphomaniac!” *homo roboticus* proudly calculates.

Humanity reduced to junk data.

It cannot be *My*Space when nothing is their own. It is MimeticSpace.

The greatness of John the Baptist: Inspired by God, he turned away from the world.

Our Lord said:

He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal.

If there are any Christians left, they are compromisers, at best. They compromise with the world. They live much as the rest of the world lives--minus some sloganeering about abortion, faggot marriage, etc.

John the Baptist made no compromise. This is why Jesus said of him:

“Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater than John the Baptist” (Matthew 11:11).

He never set any captives free, like Moses, never slew a Goliath, like David, never performed any miracles, like Elijah or Elisha. He did something far greater: he never compromised with the world.

It would have been impossible for him to say *Repent ye* had he remained in the world. One man standing on the outside. His criticism therefore remains pure:

And think not to say within yourselves, We have Abraham to our father: for I say unto you, that God is able of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham.

What did this man mean when he said *repent?* Did he mean cry, feel sorry, lose some sleep for an uneasy conscience, then make a half-hearted vow to *try and do better?* That’s what Christians have dumbed the word down to. . .but that’s not what it means.

Repent means: be a completely different person. It would be like telling a redneck to be a nigger, or vice versa. How can a person truly repent? Impossible for a person of their own will to genuinely repent. That is the symbol of John’s baptism. . .you must be washed, purified, born again, by an external source.

John’s mission was to stand outside the circle of humanity, and to tell humanity it had gotten it all wrong, all wrong. Get ready for the One to come, or be burned, he said.

The Jews listened, received John’s lesser baptism, then rejected Christ for the world (John 5:35). Still, it’s better than the response of today’s human zeroes. Today, most merely yawn and move on by.

But there is in that great lump of human chaff the odd mocker and scoffer. . .they live exactly like the yawners. . .they live exactly like the rest of the world lives. . .unremarkable lives devoted to trivial pursuits. . .like the yawners in the modern world, the *My*Space Age, they imagine themselves special. . .like the yawners, they chase their own tails, thinking they have discovered the mystery of the universe. . .it’s just their own unwiped ass.

Like the yawners, these mockers and scoffers are parasites, growing fat on the mercy of God. The mockers and scoffers are just as useless as the average human zero. . .but with a Jesus tic. Say “Jesus” and they start blinking and twitching and grimacing. . .and then the Tourette’s-like epithets.

Out of courtesy, you try not to stare. . .

They can’t help themselves. . .like their fellow zeroes, it is impossible for them to repent. . .

Just like 2000 years ago, stones laying in the wilderness are closer to the Kingdom of God. . .

Matthew, Chapter 3
13Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to Jordan unto John, to be baptized of him.
14But John forbad him, saying, I have need to be baptized of Thee, and comest thou to me?
15And Jesus answering said unto him, Suffer it to be so now: for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness. Then he suffered Him.
16And Jesus, when He was baptized, went up straightway out of the water: and, lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon Him:
17And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.

And thus begins Christ’s Ministry of Reconciliation. . .

I wonder what Jesus thought as He took these steps toward John and the baptism. . .these first steps toward Calvary’s cross?

Before this world was formed, His ministry was prepared. The perfection of Eden would not last, and the Son would have to humble Himself, clothe Himself with flesh, and sacrifice Himself for the sins of the world. . .

I wonder what Jesus thought, then, as He began His first steps toward the crucifixion. . .

The God without beginning or end leaves eternity to enter the time and space of His own creation. . .

He had spent 30 years living amongst His creation. Thirty relatively quiet years. Thirty years in the garbage heap they had made of His perfect world. Thirty years observing the pettiness and cruelty of humanity.

I know what my thought would have been, after 30 years. . .it would have been the same thought I would have had after 10:

“Why bother?”

I wonder why Christ didn’t say:

“Ah, I changed My mind. Let me go back to My Father in Heaven. I’ll play cards with the angels, instead.”

Of course, I’m projecting my ill will, the product of my corruption, onto Christ.

But really, why did He bother? Not for anything of our merit (Ephesians 2:8), that much is clear.

Probably the most well-known verse in the New Testament is John 3:16:

For God so loved the world, that He gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

This tells us the Father’s motivation. Love. But what about Christ? Did He share the same love for the world? And if so, could it really be that simple? Maybe it was. But the problem is, who the Hell knows what love is?

Everybody loves his/her own self. Most people don’t love anybody else. A few maybe love a few, on and off. Nobody loves everybody. There’s good reason for this. Just look around. Just open a window. I can’t stand to open the windows in my house in the summer. . .can’t stand to hear the screaming and the crying from the *neighbor’s*. . .and I’m sure they feel likewise

Sometimes, when one of my kids cracks especially wise, I think maybe I know what love is. But if one of them gets on my nerves. . .

You hear about some mother or father who kills their child: “How could they do that?” Nobody who has kids should ask that question. You know damn well how they could do that. You know damn well what Genesis 6:5 – 6 means:

And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented the LORD that He had made man on the earth, and it grieved Him at His heart.

You think, did I ever really want this? You want to go back in time, when it was just yourself.

I say these things to Christians, and they look sorrowfully upon me, and tell me I must not really be a Christian, I haven’t really *given my heart to the Lord* (they can no more tell you how to do this than I can tell you what love means). . .well, maybe they are right. . .it’s not for me to decide (I Corinthians 4:1 – 4). But I see no profit in being too comfortable in the faith. The apostle Paul advised: “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling”(Philippians 2:12). You don’t see much trembling in Amerikan Christianity. . .it’s a pretty cocky bunch.

I say these things to infidels, and they look at me like I’m a maniac. “Well, I love my family!” they say. “Every second of every day?” I ask. “Yes!” You can’t shake these infidels. They live in complete denial. What they will tell you is that even if they are *angry* with someone they *love*, or even if they *make a mistake* and do something to hurt someone they *love,* why, even while they are angry or being hurtful, they *still love them!* Their hate, it seems, always takes place under a rainbow of love. . .

How many parents in Amerika who have *molested* their own children have tearfully told a judge they *loved* their little ones?

Only one walked this earth who was *internally consistent*:

That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; And that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father—Philippians 2:10 – 11.

The rest of us, to varying degrees, are schizophrenics.

They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick.

But anyway, here is Jesus, standing before John, the opening act of the Ministry of Reconciliation. And what does John do? What does the greatest of them born of women do? He corrects the Lord. “No, no, Jesus. I shouldn’t baptize you, You should baptize me!” God’s got it all wrong. On the very first pitch, Jesus swings and misses!! Ha ha ha. There’s man’s problem, right there. He always thinks he knows better than God. He’s always giving advice to God, correcting God’s mistakes. Man just can’t shut up and do as he is told.

That was Satan’s problem, and he convinced Eve of the same thing: God is wrong.

Some office buildings fall down in New York?

But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for He maketh His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.

You don’t know what the fuck you are talking about, God! You’re an idiot if you believe that shit! Save that crap for the Sunday Schoolers, God. We’re talking about the *real world,* here, and we’re gonna kill and destroy!! So get with the program or get the fuck out of the way!

Ha ha ha. . .God is wrong, man knows better. In the real world, sometimes you have to do some unpleasant things to make the world all nicey-nice again.

But anyway, Jesus gently corrected John, and His Ministry of Reconciliation began with the following commentary from the Father:

This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. . .

Maybe this is why Christ bothered. . .more than out of any love He had for the world, He did it for the praise of the Father. . .

Matthew, Chapter 4
1Then was Jesus led up of the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil.
2And when He had fasted forty days and forty nights, He was afterward an hungred.
3And when the tempter came to Him, he said, If Thou be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread.
4But He answered and said, It is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.
5Then the devil taketh Him up into the holy city, and setteth Him on a pinnacle of the temple,
6And saith unto Him, If Thou be the Son of God, cast Thyself down: for it is written, He shall give His angels charge concerning Thee: and in their hands they shall bear Thee up, lest at any time Thou dash thy foot against a stone.
7Jesus said unto him, It is written again, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.
8Again, the devil taketh Him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth Him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them;
9And saith unto Him, All these things will I give Thee, if Thou wilt fall down and worship me.
10Then saith Jesus unto him, Get thee hence, Satan: for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou serve.
11Then the devil leaveth Him, and, behold, angels came and ministered unto Him.

One can read here an article claiming a cure for blindness is only five years away. Indeed, one can easily imagine, if science and technology continue uninterrupted for the next forty years, the great miracles of the Lord Jesus Christ will all be duplicated. The electronic and chemical and nano gadgets of the High Priests of Scientism will cause the blind to see, the paralyzed to walk, the deaf to hear, the lunatick to be healed, and, in some cases, the dead to be raised.

Jesus Christ, if even taken seriously in forty years, will be regarded as a kind of Leonardo da Vinci, a freakish genius born two millennia in advance of the contemporaneous medical/philosophical curve.

If the Bible is even read in forty years, that generation may find the only truly miraculous achievements of Christ to be the wilderness experiences recounted above.

We consider our own present generation *plugged in*--with all of the electronic gizmos mainlining Media. Imagine the next generation, which will be completely fused to Media. They will find it incomprehensible that Christ could have spent forty days in the wilderness. . .forty days of utter solitude. . .Christ alone with His thoughts for forty days. . .His only communication: prayer to the Father.

Contemporary man is not comfortable with himself, not comfortable with his thoughts. He is estranged from his own psyche. The proof is evident in his constant search for distraction and escape.

The apostle Paul advised us to work out our salvation with phobias and traumas. . .but these are considered disorders in our own age. Yes, the natural result of introspection, of investigation of our place in the universe, is considered *illness*. . .treatments are offered to cure us of self-examination. . .the *patient,* the naturally curious human being misdiagnosed as *ill,* is prescribed chemical modifications. Depression is only the natural result of the discovery of our cut-off condition (cut-off from God, though, of course, most do not realize they are cut-off from God. . .the infidels feel isolated, alone. . .but they do not know what they are alienated from). We are the Paxil People. We take communion at Walgreens.

And even those outside the cult of pharmakeia still seek to dissociate themselves from themselves with alcohol or iPods or internets or video games or text messages and unceasing chatter on cell phones, etc. We are *connected*. . .not connected to ourselves, but connected to Media distractions.

Just picture the Future Wired Man, after forty more years of Media fusion. . .Homo Medius. . .he will not understand how anyone could bear to be alone with themselves for forty days and forty nights. This walking tangle of nanowire, whose eyelids will probably be coated on the inside with an organic electroluminescent video display (just close your eyes and play Solitaire), could not fathom being stripped back down to Homo Sapiens and set out in the wilderness with nothing to do but think.

After two hours without any Mega-Gulps to drink nor any simulacrums to frolick in, Homo Futurus would be confronted with the reality of himself. . .separated from his lifelong Siamese twin, Media, he would have to fight off the terror of his electronic nakedness. Alone in his own flesh, without any programmed prompts from his personalized *Smart Network,* his brain a mush of atrophied neurons, he wouldn’t know where to begin to think. Alone and mentally retarded, without Media to guide him, he wouldn’t even know to come in out of the rain (do not scoff—I know people even in our generation who do not know whether to dress for the hot or the cold without first checking weather.com. It does not occur to them to simply poke their head out their front door).

Man has always sought external wisdom. . .from the prophets and the gods, the stars, the flight of birds, etc., etc. But in the past, man sought external guidance for the aim of becoming a better man. 2000 years ago seekers went to the river Jordan where John preached the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins.

Today man seeks to fuse with Media to free himself from the burden of his own being. He wants only to become a character in a simulation of life, directed by Media. Today the seekers line-up outside the electronics Temples for the baptism of iPhone for the remission of sapiens.

It can be summarized, at its most elemental: Man used to seek God. . .now he builds a wall of electronic noise to keep God from his thoughts.

For Homo Futurus, the second great miracle of Christ will be His refusal to enter into temptation. The next generation, after being astonished at Christ’s 40 days of solitude, will be further amazed by His 40 day fast and subsequent refusal of Satan’s temptation of bread.

In our own Age of Instant Gratification, temptation is hardly refused. Indeed, the behemoths of the day cannot even get past the Gas-Mart check-out counter rack of *impulse* candy items without grabbing a chocolate treat. . .

Well, in truth, everything in the Consumer States of Amerika is now an *impulse item*--even housing. . .we see our 3500 sq ft dream house, but we don’t have money for a down payment? No problem. It’s ours. Because we want it. We give in to the temptation to turn air into money . . .we give in to the temptation of a no-money-down, interest-only mortgage. We want a 72 inch Plasma Screen HDTV? A Jet Ski? Our 10th pair of Crocs? We can’t pay for any of the earthly treasures our hearts are set on? No problem. They’re ours. Because we want them. We give in to the temptation to turn plastic into money—we whip out the VISA and just go a little further into debt. The consequence, either to our future or present Asian laborers, is barely considered.

We now live by *impulse.* All rigorous thought, planning, budgeting, and the discipline to adhere, are now beyond our capabilities.

Jesus went forty days without pizza or potato chips, and then refused Satan’s temptation to turn the wilderness stones into an insta-order of cheesy bread? Imagine the Future Impulse Consumer trying to make sense of this!

The Future Impulse Consumer, who science and technology will free from all medical concern in regard to his own gluttony (though we must concede, when scanning the obese masses, our generation doesn’t exhibit much interest in the health effects from record-setting over-eating), will merrily stuff himself with nachos and candies, pizzas and beers, red meats and white breads. . .and won’t even have to bother with the pretense of *Diet* Coke. . .for a navy of little nano-mowers will sail through his blood stream, continually trimming fat cells to levels consistent with a 20 BMI. . .

Of course, the same biotechnologies will be able to save Homo Impetus from all lusts. For example, those of the next generation will be able to fornicate with anyone and no longer have HIV or STD worries. Sin-thetic life forms, super intelligent virus and bacteria hunters, will flood our circulatory system, tracking and killing any herpes, HIV, etc. viruses, or devouring syphilis, gonorrhea, etc. bacterium. Condoms will be a relic from a by-gone age, as quaint as the chastity belt. . .

Our generation has seen the rise of the *Transgender*. . .because of the übersexualization of the culture, in which every form of fornication is promoted and celebrated, and people live in a constant state of arousal, increasing numbers of *human beings* no longer know whether they are male or female. . .all they know is they are burning with fleshly desires. . .and they’ll lay with anyone, any sex, who can help them lose themselves in sex.

But there will be no gender confusion in the future. . .for there will be no such thing as gender. . .in forty years or less we will all be living in the New Age of the Hermaphrodite. Each individual will be injected at birth with nanobot sexgineers. Feel like being a man at work, but flitting around the clubs at night like a low-rent Lindsay Lohan? No problem, just a push a button on our gender remote, and our nano-gynes will convert our genitals to suit whatever lust fits our mood.

Picture the next generation: fused to Media and with every lust completely risk-free. The Lord Jesus Christ in forty days of solitude? The Lord Jesus Christ refusing Satan’s temptations? Both impossible for Homo Futurus to imagine.

The Bible teaches the wages of sin is death, and though most consciously reject the Bible as the Word of God, there is a subconscious awareness of this simple truth. Man expects the worst to happen. Man is surprised when good happens. Deep in the subconscious is the awareness our world is wrong, and that we have a part in that wrong, and that a price must be paid for that wrong. When man must pay a price, after seeming to live a charmed existence, he confesses:

I knew it was too good to be true!

Man lives with unacknowledged dread.

However, in the next generation, all the effects of sin (aging, disease, etc.) will be wiped away. Even now, some High Priests of Scientism prophesy a future of immortality.

The hope of immortality will break down the last barrier of man’s religion: superstition. Then man will do as he truly has wanted to do all along. . .he will cease paying superstitious lip service to God, he will kick God off His throne and proclaim himself god. . .and then do whatever his/her heart desires. . .without fear.

Would God allow this to happen? Let us suggest:

If there is no supernatural intervention (such as occurred at Babel 5000? years ago) which interrupts the progress of science and technology, then we are perhaps only one generation from the End. . .and let the final harvest of souls begin.

Say not ye, There are yet four months, and then cometh harvest? behold, I say unto you, Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest.

I Seen Some Movies Lately

2009-05-19T11:55:00.000-07:00

The Dead Girl: Mildly interesting flick, told in five episodes, about the *dead girl:* a serial killer’s latest victim. The first part is the best, and the only section really worth commenting on. . .it plays like Carrie: 28 Years Later, complete with a now- terribly obese Piper Laurie once again camping it up as an overbearing religious nutter of a mom. . .here she brow-beats poor Toni Collette, a kind of middle-aged, still sexually-repressed Carrie, who has the thrill of a lifetime when she discovers the dead girl’s body. The other 4 vignettes are mostly standard fare, and not much here will surprise anybody, including Brittany Murphy’s embarrassingly bad and irritatingly shrill performance as the addict/whore who ends up as the titular *dead girl.* **

Little Children: One of the better Amerikan movies of the last few years, despite its less-than-satisfactory happy ending, in which terminally childish Amerikan adulterers, slackers, vigilantes and resentful mothers spontaneously regenerate as responsible adults. Prior to the absurd ending, this black, black satire of Amerikan suburbia captures, with a bit of a sneer, the frivolous fears and self-absorption of a nation of souls riddled with arrested development. Almost as absurd as the film’s ending, though, is the casting of classic English beauty Kate Winslet as a supposed-dumpy, unattractive Amerikan house-wife. . .watching Kate frolick in the nude during her many sex scenes, in which she is meant to be a typical frumpy Amerikan female sweatpants model gone wild, requires more-than-a-little suspension of disbelief. . .but most of the rest is a pitch-perfect send-up of Amerikan Suburbiacs afraid of their own shadows. A more ingenious bit of casting in this tale of grown-up children is the use of former Bad News Bears child actor Jackie Earle Haley as the community scapegoat pedophile. In suburbia, the pedophile is the local equivalent of al-Qaeda, and there is a parabolic scene in Little Children in which Haley *terrorizes* the neighborhood swimming pool. . .post-9/11 Amerikan hysteria writ small. ****

Pan’s Labyrinth: Set in post-civil war Spain, a little girl escapes from the cruelty of reality (personified by her step-father, a fascist army captain with two obsessions: crushing the last few remaining Republican dead-enders, and willing the birth of a son from the little’s girl’s sickly mother) into an underworld of fairies, fauns, giant toads and monsters. Powerless against the fascist beasts of the *real world,* the little girl finds herself as a conquering princess in the fairy underground. This is real arty and all, with the supernatural creatures spectacularly realized (particularly one fairy-eating monster who looks like a cross between Nosferatu and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’s Grandpa), but the story itself is pretty routine (fascists are *bad?* What a shocker!). . .well, there’s nothing wrong with that. . .it still makes for a very entertaining movie. . .but if you look at the ratings on metacritic or IMDb, wow, this thing scores as one of the all-time greats of cinema. . .which is a little like saying an old Tool video is of the same rank as Citizen Kane. . .sorry, but no. . .this is a lightweight champion, the kind of flick teenage habitues of comic book shops adore—nothing more, nothing less. ***

The Prestige: Pure escapist entertainment from the Nolan brothers. Two turn-of-the-20th century London magicians literally battle to the death over their stage tricks. There’s nothing philosophically enlightening here, it’s just a fun and very moody gimmick movie. The interesting cast includes the eccentric David Bowie, playing the eccentric genius Nikola Tesla, a genuine wizard pursued by one of the illusionists in search of *real magic,* and Scarlett Johansson, who post-Ghost World has been more of a Maxim Hot 100 Girl than an actress, but here Scarlett offers a pretty good limey accent in addition to her Amerikan curves as the slutty magician’s assistant who falls for the illusionist with the biggest trick. ****

Room: Typical dumpy, unkempt Amerikan woman, married (barely, husband not too interested in fulfilling his marital obligations with his own personal chubby behemoth) with kids and a crappy job (at a bingo parlor!!), navigates her way through her pirated Amerikan Way of Life (the cheap, grainy version the poor can afford). The strain of it all, the vanishing family life, the scramble for dollars, the constant electronic Media droning in the background with *news* on wars and rumors of wars and other assorted disasters, drives the dumpy woman mad, she experiences blackouts, migraines and *visions* of the *room:* an empty industrial or warehouse space. One such episode results in a car crash that leave the dumpy chick stranded at Houston’s George Bush International Airport. . .apparently taking this as a *sign,* the dumpy chick wanders into the airport and books a flight to New York. . . once in the Big Apple, the dumpy chick begins her new family-free life with a quest to find the *room.* This is one of those movies that just ends. . .with no resolution, no questions answered. . .the dumpy chick never finds the *room* and the viewer has no clear idea of what any of it is supposed to mean. The best one can guess is that with the constant references to war and George Bush and New York, this is somehow a *commentary* on Amerikan fear/paranoia post-9/11. This is the kind of movie that could annoy a lot of people, especially Amerikan people, who like simple, easy to understand stories (*we are good, they are evil. the end.*), but I enjoyed it. . .dumpy chick driven to the brink by the Amerikan Phantasm? That’s my meat and potatoes. . .Hell, give me a sequel. ***

Gene Scott, Ph.D., Stanford

2009-04-28T11:13:00.000-07:00

22 February 2005, AP: Gene Scott, the shaggy-haired, cigar-smoking televangelist whose eccentric religious broadcasts were beamed around the world, has died, a family spokesman said. He was 75. Scott died Monday after suffering a stroke, said the spokesman, Robert Emmers.

Poor old euGene. . .the very first paragraph of his obituary, branded a *televangelist.*

A voice-over began Scott's broadcasts:

"Dr. Scott is not a televangelist. He has a Ph.D. from Stanford University. . ."

How he loved that Ph.D. from Stanford. . .it was the cornerstone of his most famous sermon,
his annual Easter message on the *proof* of the resurrection of Christ. . .a faultless exercise in logic. . .if it were possible to argue people into Heaven, his Easter message would be the greatest evangelistic tool of the age. . .it's based on assuming 8 *facts*. . .1) Jesus lived, 2) He was crucified, 3) He was considered dead, 4) He was buried in a known tomb, 5) His disciples preached He was resurrected, 6) Jewish leaders opposed this preaching, 7) His disciples were persecuted, 8) His tomb was empty. . .

Of course, it is impossible to argue people into Heaven. . .Scott himself tacitly acknowledges this in his Easter message when he recounts his experience with one of his professors at Stanford. . .after listening to Scott's *proof* of the resurrection of Christ, the professor replies to Scott:

"Gene, I am convinced. These men (the disciples) believed what they were telling. Therefore, some one of these other eight facts must be wrong."

Man can always find an excuse not to believe. . .it's the easiest thing to do.

How Scott hated the lumpenfundamentalists! The Jerry Falwell crowd. He couldn't stand to be grouped with the Falwells, Swaggarts, Bakkers, etc. A man of his education, his learning. Well, Scott was essentially a self-hating bumpkin, the son of a backwoods Pentecostal preacher, born in the sticks of Idaho, raised in the Assemblies of God. . .

[It must be noted Scott toed the AoG line for many years, before finally breaking away from Oral Roberts and that crowd. . .the integrity of the Word could not be compromised. Scott went his own way. . .a way unlike any other in Amerikan Christendom. . .Scott is the Col. Kurtz of
televangelism. . .he broke away, formed his own army, fought his own war.]

The startling paradox of Dr. W. euGene Scott, Ph.D., Stanford, 1957, is that for a man who so dearly wanted to be recognized for his sterling intellect, most of his public ministry was devoted
to buffoonery. . .the cigars, the silly costumes, the awful music looped over and over, the
dreadful video clips of his horses, the crack-pot theories. . .the weeks, the months, the years wasted on UFOs, British-Israelism, the Pyramid, Atlantis, Amityville, etc., etc.

Worse, for a man who feared the brand of *televangelist,* Scott aped the televangelists' absolute worst characteristic: the endless begging for money. In fact, he spent more time begging for money than that most shameless of all televangelists, Robert Tilton. . .but ever the great thinker, Scott rationalized his money-grubbing under the cover of a pseudo-intellectual, labyrinthine
interpretation of Galatians 6:6 and tithing.

He fooled no one except himself. And that is why, despite his habitual flashing of his academic credentials, he was always considered a televangelist. . .go on TV, talk about Jesus, beg for money--you're a televangelist.

Scott had what is termed today an *anger management* problem. If the money did not flow in fast enough, he would scream into the television cameras, berating his audience for their penury and *lack of faith.* His frothing, lunatick tirades, which ended with his trademark snarling command "git on the telephone!," brought the TV preacher to the attention of one of the world's most esteemed filmmakers, Werner Herzog, who captured the schizophrenia that is euGene Scott in the documentary *God's Angry Man.*

One could imagine how the vanity of Scott was pricked when approached by the great Herzog. . .but when Scott saw the unflattering finished piece, he refused to allow the film to be released in the United States.

Scott was not Mr. Congeniality. On air, on world-wide TV and short-wave radio, he would mercilessly castigate staffers for the most trivial of offenses. If a visitor left one of Scott's services before he finished preaching his message, Scott would order his ushers to identify the miscreant, and then have them banned from future services. Worse tales, impossible to verify, are posted by alleged former Scott *insiders* on various internet news groups.

Five years ago, Scott was diagnosed with cancer. . .he began what can only be described as a bizarre faith-healing monologue directed at God. . .spiritual homeopathy, in which Scott ordered God to heal him. . .it was the desperate scripture-twisting (bordering on heresy) of a man afraid to die. . .

Scott seemed so terrified of death, one could question his faith. . .

Then, the *miracle!* The cancer was gone!

Merely into remission, it would seem. . .

A couple of Sundays ago, three men carried a cancer-riddled, chair-bound, pajama-clad Scott out on to the stage of his Los Angeles *university cathedral*. . .he waved weakly to his cult worshippers, briefly updated them on his medical condition and was then carried off. . .never to be seen in public again. A week or so later, he lapsed into a coma, then died yesterday. . .

Yet during his last sick years, he did what he did better than any of the Amerikan TV preachers, he taught the Bible. . .300 sermons just to get through the first three chapters of
Romans. . endless repetition. . .the same phrase of the same verse laboriously studied in all the various languages. . .his goal: to strip away all the traditions of Churchianity which make void
the word of God.

15, 20, 25 messages devoted to a single word, repentance, the King James Version translation of the Greek *metanoia.* Well, the Word has been covered with so much garbage down through the ages, it was necessary for Scott do to his careful excavations. . .

[Repentance. . .though he never expressed it so bluntly, Scott taught the truth that most of what Churchianity practices is the *repentance* of Judas. . .]

Listening to the dying euGene Scott almost monomaniacally trying to burn away all the rubbish of Churchianity, one became more and more convinced he was preaching to an audience of one: himself. . .a man at one time seduced by the wisdom of the world, but whom God would not let hold of, and who had to wrestle for a lifetime, contending for the faith which was once
delivered unto the saints. He was the man who always had to convince himself his faith wasn't foolishly misplaced. . .an Amerikan doubting Thomas. . .

His core message was: Jesus did it all, that it was faith and nothing else that got you home. . .he saw clearly the phony faith of the lumpenfundamentalists, who preach faith, but then add on their silly rules and regulations and political agendas. . .he saw clearly that for the vast majority of Amerikan Churchians "Christ is become of no effect. . .ye are fallen from grace."

But he also knew faith wasn't easy, contrary to the impression given by the easy-livin' Churchians. . .faith is a fight. . .in fact, it is the only good fight.

A month or so ago, the handwriting on the wall, Scott was having one of his *festivals*. . .a live television appearance, meant to both harangue and encourage his cult followers. . .he was in
the middle of one of his weird monologues pitched at God, haggling for a healing. . .if his faith could reach the *amen level,* then God would be forced to heal him. . .then Scott broke down and wept like a baby. . .one of those times when we cannot deceive even ourselves, anymore. . .he looked into the camera and admitted the truth of Hebrews 11:39 (not all the promises
are for the here-and-now). . .aware, however briefly, there was no way to *guarantee* a *faith healing,* and how he had been flirting with heresy, Scott wept. . .ashamed, he cried out to Jesus in quavering voice: "You can send me to Hell and I will not complain."

No, Gene, no Hell for you. . .despite the wasted talents, despite the buffoonery, despite the bumpkin's patriotism (I remember back in '86, after Reagan ordered the bombing of Libya, it was reported that Qaddafi's adopted daughter was killed. . .Scott refused to believe the girl even existed. . .the closest Scott came to expressing sympathy was his statement "if such a girl did exist, Qaddafi only adopted her because he wanted to molest her, so she's better off now"), you finished the course, old boy. . .you kept the faith. . .barely. . .and that's about the best any can do. You're on the other side, now, and all the promises are yours. Over here, there's a mustard seed's less faith in the world.

"Jesus paid it all, and God damn anyone who compromises!"--Gene
Scott

Friend, The Troops ARE The War

2009-03-10T05:58:00.000-07:00

The Nation, 12 July 2007: Over the past several months The Nation has interviewed fifty combat veterans of the Iraq War from around the United States in an effort to investigate the effects of the four-year-old occupation on average Iraqi civilians. These combat veterans, some of whom bear deep emotional and physical scars, and many of whom have come to oppose the occupation, gave vivid, on-the-record accounts. They described a brutal side of the war rarely seen on television screens or chronicled in newspaper accounts.

Their stories, recorded and typed into thousands of pages of transcripts, reveal disturbing patterns of behavior by American troops in Iraq. Dozens of those interviewed witnessed Iraqi civilians, including children, dying from American firepower. Some participated in such killings; others treated or investigated civilian casualties after the fact. Many also heard such stories, in detail, from members of their unit. The soldiers, sailors and marines emphasized that not all troops took part in indiscriminate killings. Many said that these acts were perpetrated by a minority. But they nevertheless described such acts as common and said they often go unreported--and almost always go unpunished.

Court cases, such as the ones surrounding the massacre in Haditha and the rape and murder of a 14-year-old in Mahmudiya, and news stories in the Washington Post, Time, the London Independent and elsewhere based on Iraqi accounts have begun to hint at the wide extent of the attacks on civilians. Human rights groups have issued reports, such as Human Rights Watch's Hearts and Minds: Post-war Civilian Deaths in Baghdad Caused by U.S. Forces, packed with detailed incidents that suggest that the killing of Iraqi civilians by occupation forces is more common than has been acknowledged by military authorities.

This Nation investigation marks the first time so many on-the-record, named eyewitnesses from within the US military have been assembled in one place to openly corroborate these assertions.

Veterans said the culture of this counterinsurgency war, in which most Iraqi civilians were assumed to be hostile, made it difficult for soldiers to sympathize with their victims--at least until they returned home and had a chance to reflect. "I guess while I was there, the general attitude was, A dead Iraqi is just another dead Iraqi," said Spc. Jeff Englehart, 26, of Grand Junction, Colorado. Specialist Englehart served with the Third Brigade, First Infantry Division, in Baquba, about thirty-five miles northeast of Baghdad, for a year beginning in February 2004. "You know, so what?... The soldiers honestly thought we were trying to help the people and they were mad because it was almost like a betrayal. Like here we are trying to help you, here I am, you know, thousands of miles away from home and my family, and I have to be here for a year and work every day on these missions. Well, we're trying to help you and you just turn around and try to kill us."

He said it was only "when they get home, in dealing with veteran issues and meeting other veterans, it seems like the guilt really takes place, takes root, then."

The Iraq War is a vast and complicated enterprise. In this investigation of alleged military misconduct, The Nation focused on a few key elements of the occupation, asking veterans to explain in detail their experiences operating patrols and supply convoys, setting up checkpoints, conducting raids and arresting suspects. From these collected snapshots a common theme emerged. Fighting in densely populated urban areas has led to the indiscriminate use of force and the deaths at the hands of occupation troops of thousands of innocents.

Many of these veterans returned home deeply disturbed by the disparity between the reality of the war and the way it is portrayed by the US government and American media. The war the vets described is a dark and even depraved enterprise, one that bears a powerful resemblance to other misguided and brutal colonial wars and occupations, from the French occupation of Algeria to the American war in Vietnam and the Israeli occupation of Palestinian territory.

"I'll tell you the point where I really turned," said Spc. Michael Harmon, 24, a medic from Brooklyn. He served a thirteen-month tour beginning in April 2003 with the 167th Armor Regiment, Fourth Infantry Division, in Al-Rashidiya, a small town near Baghdad. "I go out to the scene and [there was] this little, you know, pudgy little 2-year-old child with the cute little pudgy legs, and I look and she has a bullet through her leg.... An IED [improvised explosive device] went off, the gun-happy soldiers just started shooting anywhere and the baby got hit. And this baby looked at me, wasn't crying, wasn't anything, it just looked at me like--I know she couldn't speak. It might sound crazy, but she was like asking me why. You know, Why do I have a bullet in my leg?... I was just like, This is--this is it. This is ridiculous."

Much of the resentment toward Iraqis described to The Nation by veterans was confirmed in a report released May 4 by the Pentagon. According to the survey, conducted by the Office of the Surgeon General of the US Army Medical Command, just 47 percent of soldiers and 38 percent of marines agreed that civilians should be treated with dignity and respect. Only 55 percent of soldiers and 40 percent of marines said they would report a unit member who had killed or injured "an innocent noncombatant."

These attitudes reflect the limited contact occupation troops said they had with Iraqis. They rarely saw their enemy. They lived bottled up in heavily fortified compounds that often came under mortar attack. They only ventured outside their compounds ready for combat. The mounting frustration of fighting an elusive enemy and the devastating effect of roadside bombs, with their steady toll of American dead and wounded, led many troops to declare an open war on all Iraqis.

Veterans described reckless firing once they left their compounds. Some shot holes into cans of gasoline being sold along the roadside and then tossed grenades into the pools of gas to set them ablaze. Others opened fire on children. These shootings often enraged Iraqi witnesses.

We heard a few reports, in one case corroborated by photographs, that some soldiers had so lost their moral compass that they'd mocked or desecrated Iraqi corpses. One photo, among dozens turned over to The Nation during the investigation, shows an American soldier acting as if he is about to eat the spilled brains of a dead Iraqi man with his brown plastic Army-issue spoon.

"Take a picture of me and this motherfucker," a soldier who had been in Sergeant Mejía's squad said as he put his arm around the corpse. Sergeant Mejía recalls that the shroud covering the body fell away, revealing that the young man was wearing only his pants. There was a bullet hole in his chest.

"Damn, they really fucked you up, didn't they?" the soldier laughed.

The scene was witnessed by the dead man's brothers and cousins.

[The entire article can be read here.]

This is why you CANNOT be against the war, and at the same time *support the troops.*

My friend, the troops ARE the war.

Bush and Cheney and all the other war lunaticks could stamp their feet from now until Judgment Day, but if the troops laid down their arms, the war would be over (for Amerika, anyway). It really is that simple. Doing the right thing is always that simple. Amerikans have no business shooting up the Middle East. Would the troops have to pay a price for doing the right thing? A better question:

What price will have to be paid for doing the wrong thing?

Among those who crow they are against the war (as if that is anything), a vast majority add the cowardly caveat *but I support the troops.* They want it known they understand the obvious: the war in Iraq is a dirty crime.

But they also want to avoid the stigma of appearing unpatriotic. They don’t truly want to stand outside the Military Media Complex, which rules Amerika. They fear the creeping fascism of the country, the government terror lists, the government’s encouraging of citizens to report *suspicious behavior,* etc. And they also fear admitting their own guilt in the war.

They seek to limit blame to Bush & Cheney and that gang. Thus, the troops are just reluctant warriors, with no choice but to do what they are told. . .and by extension, the cowards of the anti-war crowd can excuse themselves, also. It’s all on Bush and Cheney. . .they excuse themselves from continuing to pay taxes which pay for the war, they excuse themselves from non-violent forms of war resistance, etc., etc. In short, all the blood of the war stains only Bush and Cheney. . .but this is only the coward’s lie.

For sixty years the German people have had to assume their share of guilt, they have never been able to dump it all on Hitler. Why, then, should the Amerikans be allowed to dump their guilt on Bush and Cheney?

So, the feeble anti-war *movement,* not even with the strength of a flea’s bowel movement, supports the troops? What are they supporting? War crimes.

Amerika did not send 200,000 choir boys to Iraq. . .there are not 200,000 choir boys standing on the street corners of Baghdad, Basra and all the rest singing What A Friend We Have In Jesus. . .

Friend, you want to support the troops? Fine. Go ahead. BUT QUIT YOUR GOD-DAMNED LYING! STOP PRETENDING YOU ARE AGAINST THE WAR!

You want to support the troops? Fine. Go ahead. Go to Hell with them.

For Christians wondering about the logic of the last declaration:

We CANNOT have faith in Christ and the military. It’s one or the other. Don’t lie like the anti-war *movement.* We can’t serve two masters. So let us confess who are master truly is.

If we have such a fear (even though we supposedly have not been give the spirit of fear) of the muslim bogeyman, then trust in Christ. . and if you have to die for that trust, then rejoice in the dying. . .

We CANNOT claim to follow Christ, then quake in the knees every time a muslim sets a car on fire or knocks down some office buildings, and then rush off to the military and ask them to start bombing every Middle Eastern thing that moves. . .

Listen, for Christ’s sake, let us read the New Testament and defend again the faith which was once delivered to the saints. . .let us not embarrass the name of Christ by saying we follow Him, when at the same time we also support the wickedness we read about in the article above.

Girl Murders Abuser Dad In Quintessential Amerikan House Of Skank

2009-03-10T05:56:00.001-07:00

AP, 7 August 2007: Inside the home's front door lay a bare, blood-soaked mattress and box spring. The house was infested with fleas, the plumbing was backed up, much of the furniture was broken and the stench of cat urine filled the air. Matthew Booth, 34, was lying face-up on the mattress when he was shot in the head early July 30. His 13-year-old daughter told investigators she used a 12-gauge shotgun to shoot him in the face, a crime that her attorney said was precipitated by years of sexual abuse.

The Associated Press on Sunday toured the Elizabeth Township home, located about 20 miles southeast of Pittsburgh, and found revolting conditions. Prosecutors initially charged the girl as an adult with criminal homicide. But after visiting the filthy home Friday, Allegheny County District Attorney Stephen A. Zappala Jr. decried the deplorable conditions and said the girl would be tried as a juvenile.

The girl lived in the squalor, among the fleas and animal feces. There was barely enough room to walk through the living room. A beat-up couch, where the girl slept, stood propped up against one corner, its back ripped and its cushions scattered on the floor. An empty alcohol bottle, beer cans, soda cans, books, a stuffed animal, papers and crumpled-up pages from pornographic magazines cluttered the floor. A coffee maker and another small appliance sat on the kitchen floor amid dirt, debris and animal feces. A green cat litter box lay on its side.

Authorities said animal welfare officers took away an array of animals - including dogs, cats and rabbits - from the house last week. Several trash-filled plastic grocery bags leaned against the fridge, while larger trash bags brimming with empty beer cans took up space under the kitchen sink. The only items in the freezer were a bottle of vodka, a plastic bag and a small red container.

In one room upstairs was another bare mattress and box spring. Stuffed animals, plastic toys, clothing, and soda cans and bottles were strewn across the floor, along with animal feces. Several drawings took up one wall. On a piece of paper stuck to the wall was D.H. Lawrence's poem, "Self Pity," which begins, "I never saw a wild thing feel sorry for itself." Written in marker on the wall was "To live is to suffer" and a line from a Tupac Shakur song, "My only fear of death is reincarnation."

A second room upstairs was so cluttered that walking more than a yard inside was impossible. A kitchen sink, a vacuum cleaner, an artificial Christmas tree, broken furniture, boxes and other items filled the floor. After going through the house with an AP reporter and photographer, Rose and Al Hanasik, who works with Rose, spent several minutes furiously smacking the fleas off their clothing.

You wonder, day after day, reading all the various House of Skank stories on the various news sites on the internets:

What percentage of Amerikan Homes have descended into skank? 5%? 10%? 15%? Maybe 25%? More?

The House of Skank stories aren’t particularly disturbing, anymore. One now accepts as matter of fact that a sizeable percentage of Amerikans live in filth--not the filth born of poverty (not enough money for repairs or materials), but the filth born of choice. . .choosing to remain stretched out in piss-stained underwear on a dirty sofa, staring at an idiot box while drinking cans of beer rather than to get up and open a door to let out the 6 dogs and 10 cats that have to relieve themselves. . .

John Wesley preached 216 years ago: Slovenliness is no part of religion. Cleanliness is indeed next to Godliness. If true, Beelzebub must be the god of Amerikan skankdom.

Imagine the louse on his couch, staring drunken at a pornographic dvd. . .amidst the pretend moanings of the not-pretend fornicators, cats and dogs hunt and sniff, looking for a spot to evacuate their bowels or empty their bladders. . .the louse doesn’t even move as the dog lifts its leg and pisses on the already-stinking couch he is resting on. . .

Increasing numbers of Amerikans are becoming comfortable living in absolute filth. . .what is inside Amerikan households will gradually creep outside, as well. . .the schools, the malls, the stadiums, the airports, the restaurants, all the public places will soon be dotted with filth. . .well, talk to any janitor, and he or she will tell you a tale of the public bathroom with feces smeared on the walls, tampons floating in the clogged sinks. . .

This is not the filth of Iraq, where the infrastructure has been destroyed due to war, and the water is dirty and the sanitation system has broken down, etc., etc.. . .Amerikan filth is the filth of choice.

What makes this particularly story disturbing are the added elements of sexual abuse and patricide.

The fleas hopping off the naked body of the girl. . .13 years old when she took the shotgun and rescued herself. . .it’s trite to say, in a situation presented such as this, *we don’t condone murder, but. .*

In truth, we can condone this murder. . .we can accept it and forgive it. And it is not hard to do. If we can condone our military’s murders in Iraq, we can certainly condone this murder.

This girl was 13 years old when she took the shotgun and rescued herself. And certainly, whatever foster home or juvenile facility she is placed in will seem a refuge, a safe haven. . .locked up, free at last. This girl was 13 years old when she took the shotgun and rescued herself. . .and you wonder at what age the fleas started hopping off her naked body? At what age did her father begin his sexual abuse of her? 9? 10? 11? 12?

This little girl would come home from school. . .school, which most kids naturally despise, but what must have seemed like some place over the rainbow to this little girl. . .this little girl would come home from school, open the front door to her *home* and be greeted with the stench of cat urine and the sight of empty liquor bottles and soiled pages from pornographic magazines. . .maybe even the sight of her father abusing himself on the dirty couch as he *enjoyed* a *Barely Legal* magazine. . .and the little girl would have to wonder if today would be one of those of days, one of those days when her father would come to her. . .would come to her in their world of filth and defile her young body. . .the fleas leaping from her after her father violated her.

The newspaper story reports the young girl slept on a beat-up couch on the first floor. But on the second floor, there is a room with a mattress. . .and on the wall of this room, the poem:

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself

and the doggerel of Tupac.

You wonder what this room was? One must assume the girl placed the poem on the wall. Was it her abandoned bedroom? Her father must have molested her on that bare mattress, and she could no longer bear to sleep in that room, so she chose to sleep on the tattered first floor couch.

She placed art on the wall of the abandoned bedroom. . .drawings and poetry. No doubt her father still molested her in that abandoned bedroom. . .oblivious to the poems. . .and the drawings. . .the drawings must have told her story, in however subtle a fashion. . .that wall, that wall as Diary of an Abused Girl, made no impression upon the father. . .he never saw it.

I imagine the girl on the mattress, after her father has left off with her. She might scratch at her genitals. . .and the fleas leap away. In a dirty, stinking, itching, degenerate godforsaken corner of the world, she stares at her Diary on the Wall. . .she picks up a marker and begins a new entry. . .

You often hear the infidel say:

If there is a God, how could He allow such an awful thing to happen?

The stupidity of the infidel. . .to accuse God over your own indifference.

This girl is so dear to Him, so dear to Him. . .

Eventually the girl grew old enough, strong enough for the shotgun. You wonder how many months, how many years she thought about that shotgun, her salvation? And then the day came, the moment arrived, when she could lift it and point it at her father.

This girl is so dear to Him, so dear to Him. . .as she trembled before pulling the trigger, God loved her. It is written:

Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits: Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies. . .The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy. He will not always chide: neither will He keep His anger for ever. He hath not dealt with us after our sins; nor rewarded us according to our iniquities. For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is His mercy toward them that fear Him. As far as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed our transgressions from us. Like as a father pitieth His children, so the LORD pitieth them that fear Him. For He knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust.

This girl, whose earthly father had no pity for her, can have a Heavenly Father to pity and heal and forgive her. . .He knows the weakness of the girl’s frame, and remembers she is but dust. . .

By the mystery of salvation will she be brought to Christ?

This girl, who fears reincarnation, will she one day rejoice at being born again?

There are those would say, she could have told the police, a school teacher, a relative, a neighbor, somebody, anybody--she didn’t have to kill her father.

How many who would say this live in filth, physical and moral? This girl lived in a different world. . .

But I say unto you, That it shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom in the day of judgment, than for thee.

She pulled the trigger? A mere formality. . .a matter of dotting *i’s* and crossing *t’s*. . .her father was dead already. He was on a mattress, probably passed out cold after having a drunken molesting session with his daughter. . .had he opened his eyes and saw her standing over him with shotgun in hand, he had no reason to fear her:

And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear Him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.

He was dead, already. He never feared God.

These stories interest me. I do not, as the infidels, wonder how God could allow such to happen. These stories about our ugly world interest me. Look out your window. Look at the neighbor’s house. Look at the apartment across the hall. What’s happening behind those walls? It may be in your own *home.* There is so much ugliness hidden. . .the sun shines, the sky is blue. . .but in the private rooms there is so much ugliness. . .the worst kinds of filth imaginable. . .going on 24/7, as they say.

These stories interest me. I do not, as the infidels, wonder how God could allow such to happen. If the infidel would take the time to read the Bible, would ask the Lord to lift the veil, it would be known how *God could allow such to happen.*

These stories interest me, these ugly stories, because if we consider them even briefly, we can see a picture. . .a picture of a God who could love just one little girl so much, hold one little girl so dear, God would allow us to pervert ourselves and His creation in order to save a few like her out of this dung heap.

I read a story like this, about one little girl who must suffer all the garbage of the world, and I should pray she receive the gospel.

The infidels will argue the technicalities of free will, omnipotence, etc., etc., in their vain attempt to deny God. As if they have the capacity to understand the Cosmic Order. . .I would say to them: shut up, get on your knees and ask God to grant you repentance, but they don’t have that capacity, either.

Heavenly Father, just remember the girl, the flea-bitten girl in the Amerikan House of Skank. . .

Yo Yo Girl Cop vs Jason Bourne

2009-03-10T05:53:00.001-07:00

Hollywood’s idea of a *new* action movie is to dust off Bruce Willis and film yet another Die Hard episode. . .but in Asia, they reinvent the genre every 4 or 5 years. Yo Yo Girl Cop is not a cinematic masterpiece. . .except by the standard of stale Amerikan cultural retreads. I had the great misfortune to be given a free pass to a showing of a terrible Amerikan movie titled The Bourne Ultimatum, a preposterously unbelievable *film* which must have been shot by a half-dozen cameramen, all of whom were suffering from an advanced stage of Parkinson’s Disease. . .

This hyper-shaky exercise in action-for-the-sake-of-action, whose warp-speed Muhammad Ali-like jitters are only interrupted very infrequently to capture an image of *star* Matt Damon looking puzzled or pouty, or co-*star* Julia Stiles looking like she’s about to burst into tears for no apparent reason, takes Hollywood to a new low in the lost art of storytelling. The stupidity of the CIA villains Damon battles in this wretched nonsense must only be matched by the stupidity of the 12000+ morons who voted this thing one of the Greatest Movies of All-Time on imdb.com.

The Bourne Ultimatum isn’t cinema, it’s NASCAR. . .it’s a motion blur, a whirlwind of cartoon violence blowing a cloud of invisibility over the uncountable plot holes. What little story there is to this nonsense concerns the o-woe-is-me super assassin *Jason Bourne,* apparently the creation of some CIA mind control wizard, as he kills and maims the dozens who stand in his way on his frenetic search to discover his true identity. . .the Eternal Question, *Who am I?,* has never seemed so meaningless.

After watching the abomination that The Bourne Ultimatum is, Yo Yo Girl Cop seemed like that silver screen pearl of great value, a movie for which the viewer would sell one hundred The Bourne Ultimatums to obtain. Why, Yo Yo Girl Cop’s crazy plot (about a teen Jap girl who is deported back to Japan after her mother, a former Jap Special Agent, is arrested in New York, and who then, to have the Jap government intervene with the Amerikan government to get her mother freed, must herself become a Special Agent and infiltrate a high school to learn who is behind the ominous web site Enola Gay, and what mischief Enola Gay intends to wreak on the school after their web site countdown clock zeroes out in 72 hours) seems as airtight as Kubrick’s The Killing.

Whereas in The Bourne Ultimatum you have metrosexual male actors prancing around in pretend fist fights and gun battles, Yo Yo Girl Cop features a cast of pretty young J-pop girls in those cute Japanese school uniforms battling it out with their weaponized steel yo-yos. . .and the movie even has a subplot, about classroom bullying, which makes this thing, compared to contemporary Hollywood, seem as intricately layered as The Godfather: Part III.

There are also moments of humor (sorely sorely lacking in the dour Bourne saga), such as the inventive, compared to Bourne, chase scene in which a suicide-belt clad four-eyed Jap who looks like the long lost son of Jerry Lewis’ Nutty Professor flees from Yo Yo Cop Girl, and his subsequent giggling, wild-four-eyed explanation to the police for his motive in joining Enola Gay.

Yo Yo Girl Cop is a lightweight, for sure, but its fresh, youthful take on the action genre make it seem like her hero, the Yo Yo Girl Cop, could run rings around Jason Bourne, and then knock him dead with a blow to his head from her steel yo-yo. ***

She's Ill and Dirty

2009-03-10T05:51:00.000-07:00

The Sun, 22 January 2008: Wild Amy Winehouse was filmed blitzed out of her skull and struggling to talk after sucking in crack fumes from a glass pipe. The tormented singing sensation took hit after hit of the deadly drug after a 19-minute binge in which she snorted powdered ecstasy and cocaine. And she admitted she had just popped six valium pills to “bring myself down”. Amy’s spiral of self-destruction was revealed in a harrowing video filmed at her East London home and seen by The Sun.

It will horrify relatives and friends who fear she could soon end up dead. The footage also laid bare the Back To Black singer’s squalid lifestyle as she stumbled around in a grubby vest surrounded by junkies and parasitic hangers-on.

Amy is locked in a nosedive towards oblivion — she is killing herself. The video shows a woman completely out of control. Her family and her few real friends have begged her to pull herself from the brink many times. But here is proof she has pressed the self-destruct button. Her fans would scarcely recognise the drug-addled wreck in the video as the talented performer they love. We can only pray she will get a wake-up call when she watches the video herself and sees the terrible state she is in. Amy is looking ill and dirty, and is so thin you wonder how much more she can take. She must get help.

I’ve seen a lot of headlines about this tiny pop singer. . .I’ve never heard any of her music. . .I’m not much for music, anyway, most of it gives me a headache. I’d rather listen to the gentle whirring of an electric ceiling fan than most of the noise that plays on the radio. It don’t really matter, anyway, whether this size zero warbler can sing or not. . .what matters is:

Amy is looking ill and dirty, and is so thin you wonder how much more she can take.

You read all these stories and you scratch your head and you wonder why people can't control themselves, anymore? Even our celebrities now drift through life like the derelicts on the street.

Three doors down from me lived a 45-year-old white biker named Robert. . .he’d been my *neighbor* for the last five years. He never went to work a day in those five years. . .his *old lady* supported him. . .on the days he was clean-and-sober enough to step outside, he would tinker with his motorcycle for a few minutes, then retreat back inside to use whatever drug he was addicted to. I saw him ride his beloved motorcycle maybe a half-dozen times in the five years. Last Friday morning, as I was heading out to work, I spotted an ambulance in front of Robert’s door. . .when I came home from work, I learned from another neighbor that Robert had died—*drugs* had finally killed him.

The neighbor, a nice old colored woman, said to me:

“Maybe he in heaven now.”

“Maybe. I wouldn’t bet on it, though,” I said.

She looked at me like that wasn’t a nice thing to say. What does it matter, now, I wanted to say to her, it’s all too late. We can talk nice or mean about him, and it don’t make one bit of difference, we’re just passing the time of day, we’re just amusing ourselves. But I didn’t say that to the nice old colored woman. . .no need to ruin her fairy tale ending for Robert, him up there in Heaven, dressed in white, sporting wings and all the rest.

I had talked to Robert three or four times during the five years. I would take my kids through the neighborhood, and we would walk past Robert’s place. . .he let my kids sit on his motorcycle a couple times. You could tell he was broken-down, hanging on by a thread. . .he talked so low, it was impossible to hear him. . .I would just nod and smile, and say he had a nice bike.

When the old colored woman told me he was dead, for a moment there I thought to myself, you should have really talked to that old boy.

But what was I going to tell him? That he was on his way to Hell? He was of that AC/DC Highway To Hell type, the biker who envisioned Hell as an endless orgy of drugs and whores. . .an eternity being high, with your genitals in some worn-out old whore’s mouth. . .To them, Hell is every fun thing you ain’t supposed to do. . .

What was I going to tell him, that he was going to die? His whole lifestyle indicated an indifference to life.

I could have told him that Jesus understood every last thing about him, that Jesus had a scorn for the world, too, but that He offered a different path out of the world. Yes, I should have said that, but I didn’t. Truth be told, I didn’t really care about old Robert. I’ve thought more about him here, in these last 5 minutes, than I did during the 5 years he was my *neighbor.*

Master, which is the great commandment in the law? Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.

The whole world had pretty much passed over old Robert. . .maybe, when he was a little boy or a teenager, even, he had an old grandma who told him a hundred times Jesus loved him. . .but in the last years of his life, he lived in poor people’s housing, intoxicated mostly, sometimes bringing his tool kit outside to work on his bike. . .a nobody to the whole wide world, but there he was, just three doors down from me. . .I don’t want to say God set him there, because then God would have made an error, He should have set him by somebody else. . .

There’s no way around it, really. . .sometimes the best you can say about yourself is every now and then you catch of glimpse of how short of the mark you fall. . .

Now here’s Amy Winehouse, a celebrity, and there are a lot of people telling her she needs to get on a different path. . .you’re ill and dirty, they say, and you need help.

I looked at some pictures of Amy on the internet. . .when she’s all scrubbed for the staged photo shoots for the fan magazines and the album covers and all that, she’s sort of pretty, in an ethnic kind of way.

But now she’s ill and dirty. . .and she needs help.

People can’t control themselves. It’s a condition of the times. The mass of Western humanity drifts through life, carried by the tide of hedonistic materialism. Amy Winehouse and all the rest, the Britney Spears and the Lindsey Lohans and the Roberts and all the other derelicts, they all would have been better off in the Middle Ages. . .better to have worked like a dog for a loaf of bread to take home to a cold, damp, dark thatched hut. . .better to have died of the plague than crack or a heart attack in front of the idiot box. . .the plague produced a fear of God. . .not a healthy fear of God, it must be admitted, but a superstitious fear of God. . .but I would wager Christ managed to pull a few of those stinking peasants out of the hocus-pocus of the Roman Catholic Church. . .more than He will pull out of our *Leisure Class,* that’s for sure.

Now even the relative poor, like Robert, live better than most who have ever lived. . .they live mostly idle lives. . .no one fears God, anymore. . .*Jesus,* *Christ,* *Jesus Christ* are no longer said in reverence, but as a curse or an exclamation. . .listen, the punk kid who pushes the mail cart at the building where I work, the other day when he discovered a load of large FedEx boxes he had to push down to the mail room, he muttered to himself in anger “Jesus Christ!” Some punk, whom God could yawn and knock his sorry ass past Uranus, some punk mad because he has to do a little work, spits “Jesus Christ!” This is the meaning of Jesus Christ in our world.

The masses drift through life, finding meaning only in pleasure. . .maybe they shop or have sex or eat like a pig. . .maybe, like the tiny songbird Winehouse or old Robert, they find pleasure (or, in some cases, escape from our dead world) in intoxication, however short-lived. . .and when the pleasure leaves them trapped in an addiction which eats away at them, they are helpless. . .they are all alone. . .even the renowned, like Amy Winehouse, with all the people shouting at her to change, she’s all alone, she’s helpless. . .she’s ill and dirty.

But look around. . .try to find one who ain’t ill or dirty. This Winehouse chick, her illness is just a little more spectacular than the fat old bag in front of us in the grocery store line. Most of us ill and dirty are just mediocre, fat nothings who watch TV, or clean-cut morons $30,000 in debt due to conspicuous consumption.

It’s too bad Amy Winehouse didn’t do crack last week, maybe I would have thought to have been a better neighbor. . .maybe I would have thought about old Robert, and walked those three doors down, and told him how Jesus understood every last thing about him, that Jesus had a scorn for the world, too, but that He offered a different path out of the world.

He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal.

That don’t seem like such a paradox, anymore. . . and that's the only hope for the ill and the dirty, the only hope for Amy Winehouse, that Jesus Christ shine a light on their dark lives, and they come to understand what truly motivates their behavior: they hate their life in this world.

The Double Life Of Emily Sander

2009-03-10T05:49:00.001-07:00

AP, 29 November 2007: A missing Kansas college student believed to be the victim of foul play apparently led a double life as an Internet porn star by the name of Zoey Zane. Nude photos of 18-year-old Emily Sander appeared on a Zoey Zane Web site before she vanished, and investigators are looking into whether her modeling had anything to do with her disappearance last Friday.

"She enjoyed it. She is a young teenage girl and she wanted to be in the movies and enjoyed movies. She needed the extra money," Nikki Watson, a close friend of Sander's at Butler Community College, told The Associated Press on Wednesday.

The brown-haired, blue-eyed Sander was last seen wearing low-rider jeans and a "Don't Mess With Texas" T-shirt. She has tattoos and body piercings. Sander was last seen leaving a bar in El Dorado, about 30 miles from Wichita, with a man identified as Israel Mireles, 24, authorities said. Sander and Mireles had met that night at the bar, according to Watson. After Mireles did not show up Saturday at his job at an Italian restaurant, his employer went to the motel room where he was staying. "His motel room was found to appear in great disarray, and a large quantity of blood was found in the room," El Dorado Police Chief Tom Boren said. "Bed clothing was found to be missing."

A nationwide manhunt was under way for Mireles and his 16-year-old girlfriend.

Sander recently signed a contract for the pornographic work on the Web site, and told her parents about it on Thanksgiving, Watson said.

Media says 18-year-old girl next door Emily Sander lived a *double life.* It is suggested her work in internet pornography is foreign to her everyday existence. . .nonsense. Was Emily Sander a member of the Order of the Poor Clares?

The reality of contemporary Amerika: no one leads a *double life.* We live in the ÜberSexual States of Amerika, where all aspects of the questionable culture are grossly sexualized.

There is nothing remotely shocking or surprising about Emily Sander putting it all out on the internet. Millions upon millions of teen and preteen Amerikan girls do the same, to one degree of nudity or the other, on everything from MySpace to Nubiles.net.

And this behavior is not incongruous with the everyday routines of Amerikan girls. Look at the last day in the life of girl next door Emily Sander, who led a supposed *double life:*

Emily, who appears in one of her typical internet poses grinning from ear-to-ear as she tickles herself under her panties, enters a bar even though she is not old enough to legally consume alcohol in the state of Kansas. . .she meets a man named Israel Mireles. . .what do they talk about, this girl next door who is supposedly leading a *double life?*. . .do they discuss the crisis in Darfur? Do they discuss the literary merits of the latest Denis Johnson novel? Or is the talk pornographic? Does Israel comment on Emily’s tattoos and piercings, and does Emily offer a private viewing? They end up in Israel’s motel room. She does here what she does on the internet. She takes off her clothes. This is her talent, this is her career choice. Look at me, I’m on display. No, there is no *double life.* Only the same life, repeated in a dingy motel room. The same seedy Amerikan Way of Life.

So culturally accepted has the skin trade become, Emily’s *close friend* Nikki Watson rightly equates it to the *legitimate* movie industry:

She is a young teenage girl and she wanted to be in the movies and enjoyed movies.

Twenty minute internet porn videos are *the movies.*

In the eyes of Amerikan youth, there is no difference between what Angelina Jolie does in Beowulf and what *Zoey Zane* does on the internet. . .only those who reached puberty before the Inernet Age still hold the illusory distinction, hence the claim for the equally illusory *double life* of Emily Sander.

How did girl next door Emily Sander end up in a pool of blood on Israel Mireles’ bedding? Maybe Emily wanted to restrict her show to the kind of stuff she did on the internet? *Just* some posing, and maybe a little show with Israel’s 16 year-old girlfriend? But maybe Israel wanted something more hardcore. Or maybe he just wanted to kill her for sport. What does it matter, the reason?

Emily ended up lifeless in a pool of her own blood on some dirty sheets in a cheap motel room because she wasn’t living a *double life.* If she had been as modest in real life as she was graphic on the internet, she wouldn’t have been anywhere near that bar or that motel.

This is not meant to blame the victim, or to blame the culture. We are who we are. Whether we parade our flesh on the internet, or merely look at it, or whatever else we do or don’t do, we all fall short of the glory of God. These stories are our contemporary Romans chapters 1 – 3. . .useful in charting our personal and national decline. Take away the pool of blood at the end of the story, and we could have just as well been reading about Lindsay Lohan. . .

It is one of those *telling coincidences* that the Amerikan girl next door, the teenager Emily Sander, told her parents of her pornography career on Thanksgiving, that most Amerikan of holidays. . .from Mayflower to deflower. . .

There is no *double life* in Amerika. There is only one life. . .and it is life on the decline.

Jimmy And Judy: Edward Furlong Falls From Grace

2009-03-10T05:45:00.001-07:00

Jimmy And Judy: Ha ha ha. . .this is one of the great bad movies in the recent history of Amerikan cinema. . .and an excellent example of the dangerous long-term side-effects of the lax security at our nation’s multiplexes, which allows 14-year-olds to sneak into R movies. . .for one can easily imagine the filmmakers of this gem from the garbage heap of Amerikan *indy* fare being impressionable lads of 14 when Natural Born Killers was released. . .hence, thirteen years later, this amateurish homage to Oliver Stone’s screwball crime flick. Jimmy and Judy is the hilariously bad mockumentary of two misfits embarking on a Paxil-ated Starkweather/Fugate-esque spree across Kentucky (Kentucky!?!?).

The *star* of this disaster is Edward Furlong.

Edward Furlong! Edward Furlong!

Fifteen or so years ago, when he was a teenager himself, Furlong was one of Amerika’s greatest actors. He had the ability to perfectly portray the disaffected Amerikan youth, the punk who will drop into and then drop out of whatever subculture is the flavor of the day. . .the bored teen nihilist, desperate for diversion from the stultifying McAmerikan culture.

Furlong’s natural brilliance was first displayed in the ignored masterpiece American Heart, and then reached its peak when, at age twenty, Furlong played a teen skinhead in the monumental American History X. Furlong successfully transitioned to adult roles in the overlooked Mickey Rourke classic Animal Factory. . .and then. . .and then he must have died. . .for what we see in Jimmy and Judy cannot be Edward Furlong! This flabby, double-chinned 30-year-old man playing a 20-year-old misfit? The frail, world-weary at fifteen icon of the Larry Clark Kids generation is a flabby grown up still trying to play a nonconformist punk? Well, perhaps in ten years Eddie can play a pedophile and resurrect his career, just like Jackie Earle Haley did in Little Children. . .

As for the movie itself, Furlong plays Jimmy, a twenty year old rebel with a video camera who skulks around his hometown filming all the rotten adventures of his gloomy life. . .indeed, the entire film is seen through the lens of Jimmy’s camera. . .an annoying gimmick which would seem to serve no other purpose than to limit the number of scenes in which the flabby old Furlong and his young real-life wife co-star are discordantly seen together in various stages of undress. . . but anyway. . .Jimmy has been kicked out of college for some vague reason having to do with a roommate who committed suicide and who taped the act on Jimmy’s video camera. . .the trauma from the roommate’s suicide, or the trauma from witnessing his parents’ cross-dressing sadomasochistic anal couplings (Parenting Rule #1: never leave your bedroom door ajar while your video-camera-carrying 20-year-old son is in the house) fuels poor Jimmy’s personality disorder, which leads him to multiple hospitalizations. On one break between stints in the loony bin, Jimmy visits his old high school and witnesses poor Judy, a girl he has apparently known and had a crush on for most of his life, being bullied for apparently no other reason than she looks like she could be the half-gentile daughter of Sandra Bernhard. . .Jimmy *cleverly* engineers revenge on Judy’s tormentors, and her life-long indifference to him instantly melts away, and she *falls madly in love.*

Judy (here’s your chance to see one of The Ring girls nude) is a female version of the type of character Furlong used to play. . .she hooks up with Jimmy for no other reason than his dangerous madcap schemes are her only alternative to the dreary suburban Amerikan life she hates so much. . .but anyway. . .stuff happens. . .like Judy runs over a bum in some Kentucky ghetto, so Jimmy wisely decides to pack him in the trunk of the car. . .surprise, Jimmy and Judy immediately get pulled over by the police! Jimmy shoots the cop, and, after setting fire to the bum’s corpse and picking at the melting head with a small tree branch, voila!, Jimmy and Judy are now *on the run!* This *action* comprises about the first half of the film, and it is miserably bad, with Jimmy and Judy’s juvenile antics and dialogue (“it feels like God has stuck a thousand daggers into my heart, and only you can take them out,” Jimmy solemnly intones to Judy) frequently interrupted with their juvenile fornicating. . .

The second half of the movie frequently rises to the level of poor-to-mediocre, as we witness Jimmy and Judy seeking sanctuary with Jimmy’s weird loony bin crystal meth pal Dinko, who unfortunately spoils his guests’ stay when he tries to rape a skanky white crank addict. Naturally an outraged Jimmy and Judy take it upon themselves to murder Dinko. The doomed lovers (uh, I didn’t just spoil the plot, did I?) then next visit a crank commune, a kind of crystal meth-ized cross between Elohim City and the Koresh compound, run by a cult leader who, for no known reason, calls himself *Uncle Rodney* (played with the intensity of an Old Testament prophet by the veteran character actor William Sadler, who preaches, with a nubile crank addict across his knee, modern Amerikan doom). . .more sex and violence and violent sex happens at the commune, and Jimmy and Judy are forced to take to the road again, with fate now closing in fast. . .and with a low budget Thelma & Louise climax, this crazy, mixed-up arrested development of a movie crashes to The End.

The laugh-out-loud awfulness of the first half of the movie, combined with the lurid, sleazy crank gothics of the second half and the spectacle of a gone-to-seed Furlong (watching him flabbily frolic with a shotgun, clad only in his underwear, is a real hoot) make this a classic from the Ed Wood School of Cinema. *

Delirium Tremens

2009-03-10T05:42:00.000-07:00

Delirium Tremens, by Ignacio Solares: When a drunk quits liquor cold, his brain panics. The poor brain, after being assaulted for years by alcohol’s neurotoxins, and having become chemically dependent, must now try to adapt to its suddenly alcohol-free environment. . .the liquored-up brain needs a little time to adjust to sobriety. . .unfortunately, during this adjustment period, the hungover brain functions a little erratically, hence the phenomenon known as delirium tremens, which boasts a myriad of symptoms including confusion, tremors, sweating, dehydration, unstable blood pressure, irregularities of the heart rate, and, most famously, auditory and visual hallucinations. This rummy’s manifesto is divided into twenty chapters. . .the odd-numbered chapters detail the delirium tremens experiences of ten nameless people. . .the even-numbered chapters present the story of Gabriel, an 80 proof prophet who allows the author to flesh out the harrowing DT experience and recovery process. Written by the Mexican novelist Ignacio Solares, this remarkable book is almost Christian in its repudiation of the world. The alcohol survivors we meet are closer to being *born again* in the spirit than the vast majority of those zombie *Christian* posers who warm the pews of our churches on Sunday morning.

One of the drunks we meet in the book asks: “Why can’t we stop in time?” (p. 134). All the drunks in the book come to realize their own powerlessness. Alcohol becomes the master, they become the slave. The greatness of this book is that Solares is able to expand the question *why can’t we stop in time?* so that it is clear this is the central question of the Age for everyone. . .for everyone is drunk on something.

These drunks hit *rock bottom,* as they say. . .they lose everything. . .their jobs, their families, their dignity, their will to live, and then even control of their own minds. . .they become tormented by the snakes, rats, bats, cockroaches, demons, monsters and phantoms of their delirium tremens:

“But when I got to the door, I knew that the man who was following me was just on the other side of it, waiting for me so that he could kill me. His killing me wasn’t my concern, however, it was the idea of seeing him, of finally meeting him. I ran to the window to jump out, but the curtain was closed and I knew when I opened it I would see that face I couldn’t withstand. I had the sensation that the only thing I couldn’t survive would be to see him. I desperately tried to figure out a way to kill myself before he could appear. I shouted out for help, and my mother came into my bedroom. I shook as I hugged her. I told her that he was there, near the door, and would be peeking in at any moment. She said no one was there and told me to lie down while she prepared an injection and called the doctor. Poor thing, she was crying and trembling as much as I was. She opened the curtains to show me that there was no one at the window, either, as I was insisting. From that moment on, I remember nothing. It’s as though my soul left my body. The window was open, and my mother says I yelled and jumped through it”(p. 67-68).

How do some drunks stop, who haven’t previously been able? Their sobriety is as mysterious as Christian salvation. . .it is unclear even to them. . .in the AA program, which most of the book’s drunks adhere to, one must acknowledge one’s own powerlessness, and the need for a higher power. . .as the Gabriel says:

“People who aren’t alcoholics will never be able to understand our return to life—and all its mysteries—when we stop drinking. Along with us, everything has a rebirth; for example, a flower we almost crush becomes a symbol of resurrection” (p. 166).

In Delirium Tremens, the recovering alcoholic stands above the mass of humanity, which many of Solares’ drunks rightly condemn as intoxicated as their former selves. As stated earlier, Solares is able to expand the question *why can’t we stop in time?*

Why can’t any of us stop in time? Why can’t the fat pig stop eating? Why can’t the pedophile stop molesting? Why can’t the credit card-carrying conspicuous consumer stop buying? Why can’t we stop lying, cheating, stealing, slandering, gossiping, etc., etc.? This extends from the individual level to the national level. Why can’t we stop bombing? The supposed enemy we attacked in Iraq is no more real than the bogeyman hiding behind the door in the hallucination quoted above.

“An ideal society is impossible, because of the inertia that drives us, an essential characteristic of the human condition. . .people don’t want to confront themselves, control their emotions. . .therefore, we don’t need a visionary to tell us that this is a society condemned, sooner or later, to self-destruct. It’s an alcoholized society, and you know that alcoholism is a progressive, deadly disease. . .we just go through life adrift, without really knowing ourselves or the world in which we live, guided by an absurd philosophy: let whatever has to happen, happen. . .it is just so easy to be swept away by the current” (p. 112-113).

“I don’t know why I started drinking. . .the problem is that suddenly, when we least expect it, our slaves become our lords and owners. That’s the way it is with everything, isn’t it? For years I’ve worked with computers. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day they unplugged themselves, devoured the people who use them, and started to live their own lives. . .And barbituates? Tobacco? Television? We surrender life to things and then are surprised to have lost it” (p. 5).

What is the beginning of recovery for the drunk? The following revelation:

“Nothing is lost when we recognize that everything is lost and that we need to start over” (p. 175).

Almost Christian. These drunks are not far from the Kingdom of Heaven. The rest of the alcoholized masses, the masses who have surrendered their lives to things, need a similar revelation. . .

Look around at our world. . .everything is lost, and we need to start over.

Dinner Invitation For Mlle. Cotillard

2009-03-10T05:37:00.000-07:00

3 March 2008: Actress Marion Cotillard sparked a political row yesterday after accusing America of fabricating the 9/11 attacks. The 32-year-old French actress, who received an Oscar last month for her performance as singer Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose, openly questioned the truth behind the terrorist atrocity in an interview broadcast on a French website. "I think we're lied to about a number of things," Cotillard said, singling out the 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center as an example of the US making up horror stories for political ends. Referring to the two passenger jets being flown into the Twin Towers, Cotillard said: "We see other towers of the same kind being hit by planes. Are they burned? They [sic] was a tower, I believe it was in Spain, which burnt for 24 hours. It never collapsed. None of these towers collapsed. And there [in New York], in a few minutes, the whole thing collapsed."

She added that the towers, planned in the early Sixties, were an outdated "money-sucker" that would have cost more to modernise than to rebuild altogether, which is why they were destroyed. She said: "It was a money-sucker because they were finished, it seems to me, by 1973, and to re-cable all that, to bring up-to-date all the technology and everything, it was a lot more expensive, that work, than destroying them."

Cotillard's stardom and increased earning power looked assured following her Oscar win. But after her outburst, in which she also queried the 1969 Moon landings, a successful future in Hollywood appears to be in jeopardy. She said: "Did a man really walk on the Moon? I saw plenty of documentaries on it, and I really wondered. And in any case I don't believe all they tell me, that's for sure."

Ah. . .a woman after my own heart!

Listen, there is a SERIOUS problem in Amerika. . .get over *9/11* already. It is absolutely absurd that this pretty, talented woman’s opinion on *9/11* should cause a *political row.*

Are we looking at a future in Amerika where there will be *9/11 laws* like the holocaust laws in much of the rest of the world? That it will become a crime to question the *official* story of *9/11?*

Amerikans are in danger of following the zionists tragic path, in which they substituted their suffering for God’s sacrifice. Will Amerikans do the same?

Even if Amerikans never sacralize *9/11* the way the zionists have sacralized the holocaust, Amerikans have still become SERIOUSLY unhinged. Amerikan Nationalism is idolatry. Amerikans have placed their nation above God.

Look how sensitive Amerikans are about *9/11*. . .they fly into hysterics whenever anyone *insults* their injury. . .their injury which, in reality, is just a pinprick compared to the injuries she has inflicted upon the rest of the world. . .

The great misfortune for the Amerikans is they cannot see how idolatrous they have become. . .

Amerikans are too damn full of themselves if they can make a best seller out of a book that claims the Lord Jesus Christ fornicated with Mary Magdalene, yet cry like little babies if someone slights their *9/11* collapses of office buildings. . .

Look, I don’t care what anyone says about *9/11* and I don’t care what anyone says about Jesus. . .let everyone say whatever they want. . .everybody is free to do with Christ what they want in this life. . .the very second they cross over to the other side, though, Jesus will do with them what He wants. . .but as a way of gauging the nation’s values, it’s very telling when *9/11* is more venerated than the life of Christ. . .

You got problems, Amerika. . .

Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and today, and forever. . .

Amerika is nothing. . .it didn’t exist in the beginning, when Jesus Christ was the Word. . .it didn’t exist when Jesus was born of a virgin in Bethlehem. . .it didn’t exist when Jesus astonished the teachers in the Temple. . .it didn’t exist when Jesus gave the sermon on the mount. . .it didn’t exist when Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. . .it didn’t exist when Jesus died on the cross. . .it didn’t exist when Jesus was resurrected. . .

Amerika has a short history completely outside God’s incarnation. . .Amerikans worship themselves because of their piddling half-century empire. . .if Amerika is anything to God, she is the harlot Babylon, and will be burned in one day, as a reward for her wickedness. . .so get over yourself, Amerika. . .human history is filled with murder and misery, and *9/11* barely registers. . .what is *9/11* compared to the fire-bombing of Dresden, the atomic bombing of Hiroshima or Nagasaki, etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc.?

Is anyone offended by this pretty, talented woman’s comments? If so, they need to look in the mirror. . .who the Hell are they to be offended? Can a barn choked with cow dung be offended when the visitor says it stinks?

But enough about Amerika’s baseless self-exaltation and her epidemic *9/11* hypochondria. . .

Gee, what an ugly world we live in. . .after Israel’s *shoah* rehearsal in Gaza in which 106 were killed, 25 of them children, we had the inevitable pitiful retaliation: 8 killed in a rabbinical seminary in Jerusalem (of course, our Media ignored the deaths of the Palestinians and only lamented the Israeli dead). . .can Satan cast out Satan? The wars grind on in Iraq and Afghanistan. . rumors of wars in the Balkans and South America. . .the normal everyday misery of Africa. . .the anger and depression which infects our own homeland and fuels the unending street and domestic violence and the spiraling addictions of the sheeple (whether to legal or illegal narcotics, pornography, video games, YouTube or whatever these zombies seek escape in from the *Amerikan Dream*). . .

It really is a grotesque world. . .you can’t talk about it. . .at least, not in Amerika. . .the sheeple are too far gone. . .they look to the military to solve every problem. . .any scapegoat offered by the Military Media Complex as the source of their misery, they automatically want to bomb. . .

There is no peace in the sheeple. . .neither in their culture, nor in their own souls. . .just rage.

The Amerikans, who always call themselves Christian, remind me of the pre-pentecost James and John:

And it came to pass, when the time was come that Jesus should be received up, He stedfastly set His face to go to Jerusalem, And sent messengers before His face: and they went, and entered into a village of the Samaritans, to make ready for Him. And they did not receive Him, because His face was as though He would go to Jerusalem. And when His disciples James and John saw this, they said, Lord, wilt thou that we command fire to come down from heaven, and consume them, even as Elias did? But He turned, and rebuked them, and said, Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of.

Fire to come down from heaven, that is the sheeples’ answer to everything. . .

This world is a place of violence and ignorance. . .well, I’d like my own little escape, too. . .fed up with being stuck here. . .I need a little break. . .I’d like to associate with someone cultured and amusing. . .so that means not an Amerikan. . .not some dumpy fat woman, some unkempt slob who dresses in sweatpants and sweatshirt day after day after day as she sags her sofa watching *Guiding Light*. . .no, I’d like to associate with someone like:

Marion Cotillard!

What a charming woman!

I’d just like to have dinner with this pretty French woman. . .a nice leisurely meal in a quiet restaurant. . .no other guests shouting pointless chatter into their cell phones and other assorted electronic gizmos. . .but just so the restaurant doesn’t seem creepily empty, I would have attractive, elegantly attired mannequins seated at the other tables—that would make a pleasant backdrop. . .

I’d like to have a long, long conversation with Ms. Cotillard. . .on a variety of topics. . .none of them having anything to do with our present barbaric world. . .I’d like to begin our conversation with a discussion of the alleged Apollo moon landings. . .I think I could hold my own with the lovely French woman. . .I own a copy of William L. Brian II’s very-hard-to-find *Moongate* and have my own doubts about NASA’s claims.

Yes, that’s what I need. . .good food, an attractive face to look at, engaging conversation. . .I bet Mlle. Cotillard is extremely clever and witty. . .

That’s all I ask: just a couple hours relief from the banality of evil. . .

Even So, Come Quickly, Saucer People!

2009-03-10T05:31:00.000-07:00

7 July 2008, The Sun: It’s the summer of the UFO – with dozens of mysterious objects boldly glowing where none has shone before. Reports of weird night sightings have poured in from across Britain. Shapes of all sizes, colour and brightness have been spotted at night from Liverpool to Dover and from Cornwall to Hertfordshire. And the experts cannot explain whether it’s alien activity or natural phenomena to blame.

Top UFO watcher Malcolm Robinson said yesterday: “Something very bizarre is happening in the skies over the UK. I have been dealing in UFO sightings for more than 30 years and we are currently dealing with something very real and tangible which mankind cannot comprehend or explain. Usually 95 per cent of sightings can be explained, but it is the remaining and mysterious five per cent which we can’t just shake off that particularly interests me.”

Malcolm, founder member of Strange Phenomena Investigations, said: “There has been an unusual number of sightings recently. Some experts believe it could be linked to global warming and craft from outer space are appearing because they are concerned about what man is doing to this planet.”

Royal Navy aircraft engineer Michael Madden, 25, told last week how he spotted a disc-shaped UFO over the M5 in Somerset before it disappeared at “incredible speed.” Soldiers reported seeing 13 objects above their barracks at Tern Hill, Shrops. And a police helicopter reported a close encounter with a UFO near Cardiff.

I always read these UFO stories with great interest. . .for you see the sheeple as they truly are:

anti-Christs.

They look up into the sky, they see a light. . .and suddenly all things are new again! There is hope! The world can be transformed!

The Magi saw a light two thousand years ago, and followed it all the way to Bethlehem to see the new-born Christ. . .that was their hope.

But that’s a *myth* from a by-gone era. . .the blood sacrifice has no relevancy to the sheeple of today, who place their faith in the gods of science and technology. . .

Now the sheeple spy with their little eye something twinkling in the sky, and they wish for glad tidings from a flying saucer, the ultimate technological offering.

Craft from outer space are appearing because they are concerned about what man is doing to this planet. . .

That is the heart of the UFO phenomenon. Yes, when you read these accounts, some of the sheeple may express fear, but this is only the fear of suddenly finding themselves alive again. . .shocked out of their normal stupor, it is their own adrenaline which momentarily startles them. Nobody ever hides from the light. . .they grab a camera or call to their family and friends:

Look! Did you see that!

Nobody ever grabs a rifle and shoots at the light. . .ha ha ha. . .a strange non-gray colored man wanders onto their lawn, and they might grab that rifle and start shooting. . .but a UFO? No, never.

Because at the heart of the UFO phenomenon is the desire of the sheeple for Martians to come and save them. Bring peace and harmony, clean up the earth, and shower them with mind-boggling extra-terrestrial gadgetry. . .e-junk from the Plan 9 Circuit City from Outer Space!

Ha ha ha. . .shuffling humanity. . .automatons going through the motions at home, at work, at church, at the mall. Mostly placated by the opiums:

Consumption, narcotics, religion, and the three-headed beast of television, the internets and video games.

Mostly placated. There are the outbursts of domestic violence, the abuses of the narcotics and the sexual manias. But these outbursts remain localized. There is no organized resistance to the counterfeit life. . .only the disorganized psychic breaks of the individual sheeple.

Old Ronnie was right in the comments he made about humanity discovering its common bond after an alien encounter. . .but he was wrong in his belief the aliens would be considered a threat.

No, the aliens would be greeted with flowers and kisses. . .and worshipped as liberators.

Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains. . .

This is more true today than when Rousseau penned it in 1762. . .

Rousseau, of course, couldn’t have been more wrong about the remedy. . .the *general will* of today’s *social contract,* bent by ceaseless mass-marketing, chains the sheeple to soul-less materialism. . .thus the sluggish, vacant-eyed humanoids at Target, droning on their cell phones:

“Huh?. . .Yeah. Huh?. . .Yeah. I got to buy another pair of crocs, then stop at McDonald's and pick up dinner. Bye.”

Billions of these unnecessary communications beamed through space, advertising the decline and fall of God’s crowning creation. Perhaps the aliens will hear, and take pity on the sheeple, and come and rescue them?

That is the great beating heart of the UFO phenomenon. . .that the Saucer People will land, and with their Higher Consciousness, free the sheeple from their condemned lives.

Believe me, all would fall in line, all would fall in line. . .except the elect few.

And for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie: That they all might be damned who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness. . .

I have always hoped God would send this delusion via *aliens*. . .aliens spouting some celestial mumbo-jumbo that will solve all the sheeple’s many superficial dilemmas: a degree or two knocked off the earth's temperature, food for Africans, cars that run on human waste, a cure for obesity (thereby allowing the sheeple to sin indefinitely).

Let the Saucer People come. . .then the elect can be freed, too. Freed from the pew-warmers who claim Christianity. They will all eagerly, enthusiastically convert to the new Judeo-Martian Tradition. For they are no different from the sheeple, except for ten minutes on Sunday when they line up, as if in a fast food drive-thru, to eat a cracker and drink a thimble’s worth of grape juice in hasty *remembrance* of the Lord. . .and then they rush to return to the world.

Yes, they will all convert. . .and all of their leaders. . .John Hagee, Joel Osteen, Billy Graham. . .the Christian Zionists, the Prosperity Teachers, the All-Roads-Lead-To-God crowd. They no more want Christ to forgive their sins than the sheeple. They just want Him to be an Errand Boy and bring them an easy life in this world:

Dear God,

Give me more money, and let me kill my enemies.

Amen.

Yes, friend, if God sent the Saucer People, the whole world would unite. . .a New World Order of *enlightened* sheeple, bowing to the Saucerites, who would expound a more excellent Way. . .

Send them, God, send them. . .send the Saucer People. Then the elect, the few who would resist by the Blood of the Lamb, who would insist only Christ had the Truth, could finally be free of the co-opting and perverting pew-warmers, and could return to being what they were meant to be:

Kooks and outcasts, strangers and pilgrims in this world. . .

Aliens, as it were. . .

F-450, Into Thy Hands I Commend My Spirit

2009-03-10T05:23:00.000-07:00

Life wasted on nothing.

And then comes the end.

Each day, we get up, take care of the few necessities, and then do nothing of consequence. After the make-work, we return to sleep. Thus, every day becomes an abbreviation of life.

We repeat the pattern day after day. A few of us die, more are born.

Our combined activity amounts to *history.* This academic label lends the collective behavior a gravity it does not deserve.

The milestones of history are only concentrated episodes of the individual’s pointless pursuits. Wars, for example, are only the violent taking the nothingness by force.

The kingdoms of earth are built upon sand. The Amerikan empire is the latest, which now threatens to collapse upon iself, due to the bankruptcy of her finance economy.

What is the great accomplishment which organized human behavior can boast? Walking on the moon?

Fortunately there were no native peoples there for the invaders to exploit. . .

The space men congratulated themselves, planted a flag (how utterly provincial), performed a freemasonic ritual, hit a golf ball and then returned home with a few souvenirs.

A generation has passed since this *giant leap for mankind*. . .

It was nothing. . .it was nothing. . .time has proven it was nothing.

But maybe if we go to Mars? It might be different? Maybe there’s ice! Maybe even bacteria! We’re saved!!

As I scribble these notes on a piece of paper, to be perhaps turned into an electronic jot, it is a little past 9 pm on a July night. It isn’t dark yet—the assaninity of Daylight Saving Time. It is 80 degrees. The window is open. All the windows in the neighborhood are open. I can hear the boy next door crying, the mother and the father arguing.

I look out the window:

The row of Amerikan council flats—picture Agrestic after it has been through a trash compactor. . .what a physically and mentally unhealthy way to live. . .crowded together, *neighbor* suffocating *neighbor.*

Ha ha ha. . .I remember a girl from years ago, weeping for the animals in the slaughterhouse. . .the poor creatures, packed in those little pens, she lamented. She herself lived in a high rise apartment building and was just as neurotic as a factory farm pig.

I once told her it was my dream to live in the desert, with no nigh boors within sight. Oh, I’d go crazy out in the middle of nowhere, she replied.

I look out the window:

The parking lot full of shiny motor vehicles—the poor drive like the upper middle class. . .but they eat hot dogs and send their children to public school.

The shouting father storms out, cursing all the way to his F-450—what a preposterous machine! What possible reason can this angry little man from the little flat next door have for such an abomination?

I remember a day or two after the little man brought his motorized mutant home, I saw him and his family returning from a grocery store. . .and the few bags of food scattered all over the titanic eight foot truck bed. The goods must have crashed around back there with every stop, turn and pothole. . .the cans of pork-n-beans were dented, the loaves of white bread were smashed, the jumbo-size bags of Doritos were flattened, the two liter Diet Cokes were shaken into bottle rockets. . .

What does this monster truck mean to this angry little man?

The monster is from his dream, which he does not understand is really a nightmare. He has dreamed his life away. He dreams of material and social status. The monster truck is the evidence of his dream. I have this object, therefore the dream is true.

Thou fool, your monster truck will end up in the junkyard, and you will have to begin again. Your dream will ever remain out of reach. Your dream is of material purity—nobody ever dreams of a house with dirty walls and loose toilet paper rollers, of a car with a cracked windshield and a busted air conditioner. . .but that is all the dream will ever bring, will ever bring.

I look out the window:

Here comes the mother, chasing after the angry little father. . .she shouts:

I WISH YOU WERE DEAD!

He is, he is.

They abuse each other there in the parking lot for a minute, until the angry little man drives off in his beastly truck—like some tiny dot head riding atop an elephant.

As the mother returns to her flat, she looks up, sees me looking down upon the scene. She glares at me—apparently it is a crime to sit quietly within my own four walls and look out my window. Apparently it is a crime to not look away as the neighbors violate the peace and demean themselves in the parking lot.

Yes, lady, I saw it all, I heard it all.

And He saw it. . .He sees it all. . .He sees the lives we throw away.

Think about all of the dead. All of the billions of dead. Pile them together. Make a mountain range of them. Then look for Adam, Noah, Abraham, Joseph, Moses, David, Mary, John the Baptist, Paul, Justin Martyr, Martin Luther. . .

Even if I missed a few, it’s still just needles from a haystack. . .

All the rest, all the rest of us—nothing.

The Almighty brought life into being—its meaning, therefore, derives from His will. Those few named above labored in service of His will.

The rest of the elect [the invisible Church] so compromised with the world, the flesh and the devil, the cause of Christ would have been harmed—if such were possible. They tolerated inquisitions, crusades, usury—all the ugliness of the counterfeit Christians [who form the greater part of the visible church]. The elect should have branded them as heretics and cast them out.

A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump. . .

Thus we have the lump that is Christianity today.

As for those outside the church, they play life the way children play house.

Look at them. . .pretending their pathetic posturing means something. From their wars and ideologies down to their smallest enterprises and dysfunctional personal lives—waste. None of it mattered, none of it earned anything eternal, except their own shame. All of it outside God’s will, and thus it must be burned as the rubbish it is.

I look out the window:

Darkness now finally, mercifully brings down a curtain on another day’s bad performance. . .

Who Gave Himself For Our Sins

2009-03-06T06:47:00.000-08:00

I feel more alive today than I have since I first heard the gospel 33 years ago. . .I may die today, and stand before God and hear the Accuser rail against me, yet I will say to him:

To our Lord Jesus Christ, Who gave Himself for our sins, that He might deliver us from this present evil world, according to the will of God and our Father: be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

Martin Luther, in commenting on the above, asks us to really consider WHAT JESUS GAVE HIMSELF FOR. . .did He give Himself, did He allow Himself to be crucified, for gold? For a kingdom? For man’s fame and glory? God only knows how many men and women in our world willingly risk or give up their lives for the hope of gain and/or glory. That is how they attach meaning to life. But our Lord willingly gave up His life. . .not for gain. . .not for glory. . .but. . .FOR OUR SINS.

Can you imagine Paul Revere undertaking his *Midnight Ride* not for liberty, but for some pathetic crack whore’s HIV? Or Mohammad Atta flying an airplane into an office building not for the glory of Allah, but for the lies of George Bush?

He gave Himself FOR OUR SINS. . .

I can look at my life this morning, and for the first time in many many years, really see my sin. . .this is a blessing.

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God. . .

Over the years, family members and a very few friends have sent cards on the holidays or for a birthday. . .I would rip open the envelope, glance at the front cover, read the prefabricated sentiment printed on the inside and look at the quickly scrawled signature. . .then drop the torn envelope and card into the nearest garbage can. . .the cards never meant a thing to me. . .in fact, I almost resented the effort to tear open the envelopes and read the things. . .

At some point in the last years, I began to treat the gift of God like it was a $2.00 greeting card from my mother-in-law. . .

The gift of God had lost meaning. . .I took it for granted, just as one takes for granted a wife or a child giving you a card on your birthday. . .

And as I took the gift of God for granted, I therefore took my own sin for granted. . .

My sin became of little interest to me. . .

At the time of receiving the gospel, there was a great awareness of God’s grace. . .that salvation truly is a gift of God, that we can offer nothing of our own in exchange for it. To truly understand this, we must truly understand our own sin.

Here are the words of Martin Luther:

How may we obtain remission of our sins? Paul answers: "The man who is named Jesus Christ and the Son of God gave himself for our sins." The heavy artillery of these words explodes papacy, works, merits, superstitions. For if our sins could be removed by our own efforts, what need was there for the Son of God to be given for them? Since Christ was given for our sins it stands to reason that they cannot be put away by our own efforts.

This sentence also defines our sins as great, so great, in fact, that the whole world could not make amends for a single sin. The greatness of the ransom, Christ, the Son of God, indicates this. The vicious character of sin is brought out by the words "who gave himself for our sins." So vicious is sin that only the sacrifice of Christ could atone for sin. When we reflect that the one little word "sin" embraces the whole kingdom of Satan, and that it includes everything that is horrible, we have reason to tremble. But we are careless. We make light of sin. We think that by some little work or merit we can dismiss sin.

Time is the great destroyer. Over the last 33 years, the 33 years since God dragged me to Christ, I slowly, gradually renewed my friendship with the world, the flesh and the devil. I never turned my back on Christ. . .I never proclaimed a false gospel. . .certainly Christ never left me nor forsook me. . .yet I became *careless* with sin.

All that God blessed me with, I yawned at. I cast His pearls before the swine. Christ’s sacrifice came, more and more, to seem a small thing. . .a $2.00 greeting card.

Will I now be *good?* Certainly not. I will sin and sin and sin until I die. Yet I pray I not be *careless* about it. I pray I not become the dog that returns to its vomit.

It is the height of arrogance to diminish Christ’s giving of Himself for our sins. . .if one could know the full degree to which this offends the Heavenly Throne, I imagine one would tremble, indeed.

My favorite Psalm has always been number one hundred and three:

Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits: Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies. . . The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy. He will not always chide: neither will He keep His anger for ever. He hath not dealt with us after our sins; nor rewarded us according to our iniquities. For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is His mercy toward them that fear Him. As far as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed our transgressions from us. Like as a father pitieth his children, so the LORD pitieth them that fear Him. For He knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust.

I know firsthand the Lord has not dealt with me after my sin, nor rewarded me according to my iniquity. . .

Imagine a lewd scene. . .an orgy in Hell, complete with every perversion. . .men, women, children and beasts. . .writhing and moaning. And imagine I cast before it all God has blessed me with. . .

When I take for granted that He gave Himself for my sin, and therefore take my own sin for granted, and am *careless* with it, I poison myself.

I remember that Adam and Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and their *eyes were opened,* and they saw everything differently, including themselves. . .they had a new and prurient view of their own bodies, for example. When I am *careless* with sin, *my eyes close*. . .I have a dimmer view of God’s blessings. . .I look at my own life, the life God blessed me with, with bitterness, murmurings and complaints. I have a perverted view of my own life. . .I see only myself. . .the life God has blessed me with slowly vanishes from my vision. . .the universe contracts to the size of my own lusts. . .God’s gift seems as small as a $2.00 greeting card.

How am I freed from the poison of my own sin? Only by taking my eyes off of myself and placing them upon my Savior, and seeing once again HE WHO GAVE HIMSELF FOR OUR SINS.

I did not of my own will take my eyes off of myself, nor was it a pleasant circumstance which led my eyes back to Christ on the cross:

For whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not? But if ye be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and not sons. Furthermore we have had fathers of our flesh which corrected us, and we gave them reverence: shall we not much rather be in subjection unto the Father of spirits, and live? For they verily for a few days chastened us after their own pleasure; but He for our profit, that we might be partakers of His holiness. Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness.

I say amen.

At a time I cannot accurately recall, I shifted my gaze from Christ to my old friends the world, the flesh and the devil. . .I took the gift of God for granted. . .I treated His blessings as a tiresome burden. . .I became *careless* with sin. . .and as I lived more and more in sin, my discontent and bitterness and murmurings grew. . .though I would not consciously acknowledge it, I looked for *peace* in sin. Though it sounds trite to the unbeliever, it is nevertheless true: sin does not bring fulfillment. . .I lived in sin and misery. . .I lived as Paul once described:

But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?

I spent so many days in sin and misery, because I lost sight of those six little words:

Who Gave Himself For Our Sins. . .

Today I could die and the Accuser could rail against me, and everything he said would be true. . .yet as Martin Luther observed:

If he says, "Thou shalt be damned," you tell him: "No, for I fly to Christ who gave Himself for my sins. In accusing me of being a damnable sinner, you are cutting your own throat, Satan. You are reminding me of God's fatherly goodness toward me, that He so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. In calling me a sinner, Satan, you really comfort me above measure." With such heavenly cunning we are to meet the devil's craft and put from us the memory of sin.

I wonder at what the unbeliever who stumbles across this must think. . .but no need to wonder:

For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness. . .

But we preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumblingblock, and unto the Greeks foolishness. . .

Today, I have the peace of God which passes all understanding. . .

And He that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And He said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful. And He said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely. He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be My son.

Thank you, Jesus.

It Can Only Be The End Of The World, Ahead

2009-03-04T09:20:00.001-08:00

AP, 15 February 2008: Taking a page from Hollywood science fiction, the Pentagon said Thursday it will try to shoot down a dying, bus-size U.S. spy satellite loaded with toxic fuel on a collision course with the Earth. The military hopes to smash the satellite as soon as next week—just before it enters Earth's atmosphere—with a single missile fired from a Navy cruiser in the northern Pacific Ocean. Military and administration officials said the satellite is carrying fuel called hydrazine that could injure or even kill people who are near it when it hits the ground.

Left alone, the satellite would be expected to hit Earth during the first week of March. About half of the 5,000-pound spacecraft would be expected to survive its blazing descent through the atmosphere and would scatter debris over several hundred miles. If the missile shot is successful, officials said, much of the debris would burn up as it fell. They said they could not estimate how much would make it through the atmosphere. They said the largest piece that would survive re-entry would be the spherical fuel tank, which is about 40 inches wide—assuming it is not hit directly by the missile.

I’ve read three or four articles about this in the last couple of weeks. . .each time I read about it, I think: you got this satellite orbiting around up there, and there’s a little chunk of it, maybe a piece of the fuel tank or whatever, there’s this little chunk of it that has somebody’s name written on it. . .there’s somebody out there, going about their life, maybe right now sitting on the crapper, bowels aching, and they only have a few days left. . .their world will end when a chunk of that satellite finds them. . .makes its way through the atmosphere, survives the re-entry, and finds that one unlucky soul. . .

Sure, the odds must be pretty high. . .I’m no mathematician. . .most of the debris will likely fall into the ocean. . .and even most of our landmasses are unoccupied. . .but there’s a chance, however slight, that right now somebody’s days, hours are numbered.

Sure, we all are going to die, we all live with no certainty tomorrow will come. . .but stories like this, stories about dying satellites crashing to earth, make me stop and really ponder the fact.

That satellite up there is circling around. . .like a buzzard circling around. . .that satellite might be somebody’s own personal mechanical buzzard.

After giving it some consideration, I am pretty confident that robot buzzard isn’t circling me. I’m ready to die. I have certain beliefs—whether they are right or wrong isn’t even an issue, anymore, for me. . .I am convinced of them—so I am ready to go. So I figure that metallic monster up there, that worn-out *All-Seeing Amerikan Eye* up there, a little piece of it is going to fall on somebody who ain’t ready to go. . .

I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven. . .

There is an undeniable cruel cosmic poetry that dooms most to an unfortunate fate. Do not misunderstand, I lay no charge against God. . .man writes his own poetry. . .the Poetry of The Fall. . .now man’s broken-down attempt at omniscience, the spy satellite, may be about to come crashing down on someone. . .

What if it is someone who is reading these very words?

Satellite or no satellite, anybody we meet may be mere moments from death. Turn your head and look at somebody. . .they could be dead in the blink of an eye. . .and yet it doesn’t really seem to be that important, does it? We feel more angst if our team loses the *Big Game,* or if we get a hole in our favorite shirt. . .ha ha ha. Strange.

It may be people’s fear of death is so great, all consideration of it is repressed to such a degree it cannot be processed. Or, it may simply seem too unreal to the living. For some, life may be so disappointing, death doesn’t seem like such a big deal. Who knows? For whatever reason, death is largely ignored by the culture.

People, at least people here in our Leisure Class, are very interested in even the smallest details of their own lives. . .they make so many plans, want to achieve certain things. . .they are careful for money. . .they take their jobs seriously. . .some of the Leisurely are even careful for the planet. . .the Green people. . .contemplating the death of the planet seems to agitate them. . .but their own deaths?

Maybe some people, every now and then, before they fall asleep at night, when they aren’t in full control of their thoughts, maybe for a second their death escapes from their subconscious. . .and they shiver. Maybe.

But what if it’s somebody reading these words right now? What if a section of that satellite is zeroing in on them? What could I say to such a person, to help them ready themselves for their death?

I don’t know most of the people who stumble across this page. As far as I know, there is only one person who reads this thing that I have actually met in person. . .and I haven’t seen him in over twenty years. There’s maybe a dozen I know a little bit about through email. . .

To these people, what can I say?

I hope the satellite doesn’t hit the Bronx. . .there’s a real nice Satanist over there, and I hope she’s spared. . .but, friend, if you’re walking back to your apartment Monday or Tuesday, and you happen to look up at the sky and see a little fireball headed your way? I don’t know. . .what was it Jim Jones said? To me death is not a fearful thing. It's living that's cursed.

You there, in North Carolina. . .if it’s you, for your sake, I just hope that piece of satellite tastes like Rosario Dawson’s feet. . .

A little further south, in South Carolina, well, at least you won’t have to see Obama in the White House. . .

Over in Denmark, man, it would be kind of ironic, no? You do the right thing, flee Amerika, only to have her *All Seeing Eye* track you down. . .

The rest of you? I have no idea who you are. . .though I know about 40% of the people who come here want to see Susan Sarandon nude. . .

Maybe some of you, after you’re done doing what you do with that picture of Sarandon, after you’ve cleaned up and maybe had a little snack or whatever, maybe some of you will actually visit the current page. . .what can I tell you, if it’s one of you? What can I tell you, if it’s one of you about to become a human satellite receiver?

I was actually in Denmark, once, myself, many years ago. I was 17 years old, in Copenhagen. . .walking toward Tivoli Garden. I saw a truck hit an old man on a bicycle. The poor old bastard went flying. I was the first person to get to the old man. I can still recall every detail. He had a huge crack in his head, blood flowing out at a deathly rate. The old man looked at me. . .what a sad expression on his face. . .he had to know it was all over. . .the old man never cried, never even whimpered. Soon a lot of other people gathered around. . .they started squawking in Danish. . .I don't know what the hell they were saying. An ambulance came. . .they loaded the old geezer on a stretcher. . .as they began to cart him away, he looked at me and said something, barely audible. I just nodded at him as they loaded him in the ambulance. . .then he was gone. I was probably the last guy on earth he ever spoke to. I have wondered for years and years what the old guy was saying. The sound waves are still probably out there somewhere, traveling through space, waiting to be understood.

I would have liked to have told that old guy in Copenhagen something before he was carried away, carried over to the other side. Of course, I don’t speak Danish, anyway, so what could I have said? Then again, don’t doubt the supernatural. . .he could have heard whatever I said in his own language. It would have been a trifle, for God. But, I had nothing to say. Now one of you may be about to be flattened by a dead satellite’s fuel tank, or drenched in hydrazine. . .what can I say to you?

When Jesus was on the cross, three hours or so from His own death, there were with him two others being crucified. . .one of them laughed at Jesus, as most do. It’s understandable, really, the leap of faith is beyond most. But the other fellow looked at Christ. . .he looked at Christ out of the shadow of his own death, and he saw something. . .he saw the truth. . .it was as if a satellite were beaming the truth directly into his brain. . .he looked at Christ out of the shadow of his own death, and he said:

Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom. . .

So, if you look up at the sky Monday or Tuesday, and see a fireball heading your way, I hope you see, out of the shadow of your own death, Jesus on the cross, and I hope your last words are:

Lord, remember me. . .

Alain Robbe-Grillet, 1922 - 2008

2009-03-04T09:18:00.001-08:00

She had just moved her head back and was looking straight ahead of her down the table, toward the bare wall where a blackish spot marks the place where a centipede was squashed last week, at the beginning of the month, perhaps the month before, or later (p. 47).

“A centipede!” she says in a more restrained voice, in the silence that has just fallen.

Franck looks up again. Following the direction of A. . .’s motionless gaze, he turns his head to the other side, toward his right.

On the light colored paint of the partition opposite A . . ., a common Scutigera of average size (about as long as finger) has appeared, easily seen despite the dim light. It is not moving, for the moment, but the orientation of its body indicates a path which cuts across the panel diagonally: coming from the baseboard on the hallway side and heading toward the corner of the ceiling. The creature is easy to identify thanks to the development of its legs, especially on the posterior portion. On closer examination the swaying movement of the antennae at the other end can be discerned.

A . . . has not moved since her discovery: sitting very straight in her chair, her hands resting flat on the cloth on either side of her plate. Her eyes are wide, staring at the wall. Her mouth is not quite closed, and may be quivering imperceptibly.

It is not unusual to encounter different kinds of centipedes after dark in this already old wooden house. And this kind is not one of the largest; it is far from being one of the most venomous. A . . . does her best, but does not manage to look away, nor to smile at the joke about her aversion to centipedes.

Franck, who has said nothing, is looking at A . . . again. Then he stands up noiselessly, holding his napkin in his hand. He wads it into a ball and approaches the wall.

A . . . seems to be breathing a little faster, but this may be an illusion. Her left hand gradually closes over her knife. The delicate antennae accelerate their alternate swaying.

Suddenly the creature hunches its body and begins descending diagonally toward the ground as fast as its long legs can go, while the wadded napkin falls on it, faster still.

The hand with the tapering fingers has clenched around the knife handle; but the features of the face have lost none of their rigidity. Franck lifts the napkin away from the wall and with his foot continues to squash something on the tiles, against the baseboard.

About a yard higher, the paint is marked with a dark shape, a tiny arc twisted into a question mark, blurred on one side, in places surrounded by more tenuous signs, from which A . . . has still not taken her eyes (p. 64 – 65).

On the bare wall, the traces of the squashed centipede are still perfectly visible. Nothing has been done to clean off the stain, for fear of spoiling the handsome, dull finish, probably not washable (p. 78).

It is at this moment that she notices the Scutigera on the bare wall in front of her. In an even tone of voice, as if in order not to frighten the creature, she says:

“A centipede!”

Franck looks up again. Following the direction of A. . .’s motionless gaze, he turns his head to the other side.

The animal is motionless in the center of the panel, easily seen against the light colored paint, despite the dim light. Franck, who has said nothing, looks at A . . . again. Then he stands up noiselessly. A . . . moves no more than the centipede while Franck approaches the wall, his napkin wadded up in his hand.

The hand with tapering fingers has clenched into a fist on the white cloth.

Franck lifts the napkin away from the wall and with his foot continues to squash something on the tiles, against the base board. And he sits down in his place again, to the right of the lamp lit behind him, on the sideboard (p. 82).

From Alain Robbe-Grillet’s La Jalousie. . .

A friend sent me an email over the weekend in which he mentioned the death of Robbe-Grillet, one of the Great Men of Literature. . .he died 18 February 2008, and his passing must not have caused much of a ripple, for I recall seeing no mention of it by Media. . .perhaps buried in the back pages of the New York Times, or on the third or fourth page of news links on one of the internet news gathering sites?

Heath Ledger, whose great achievement was to play a *tortured* homosexual in a mediocre film, died and Media buzzed, as if someone notable had went to the grave. Of course, he was young, and he was found nude in bed, and there was the specter of a squalid demise, which leads to Media frenzy. Robbe-Grillet died an old man’s death at age 85, and his greatest accomplishments were decades ago. Still. . .it reflects on the adolescence of Western culture. . .

The obituaries of the renowned provide the culture an opportunity to stop and reflect. . .when a Giant dies, we comment on their contribution, what we accept and reject of them. . . and we speculate who will inherit the mantle. . .

That Robbe-Grillet’s death was greeted with relative indifference tells us that Literature itself is now culturally unimportant. . .

This is the YouTube Age. . .the Age of the Mediocre Narcissist. . .cretins explode firecrackers on their bellies, or hit each other in the head with hammers. . .girls in thongs stage pillow fights in front of tiny cameras. . .ninety second videos of human garbage polluting their own being.

That was then: the elegance and refinement of Eden. . .

This is now: x thousands of years later, Eden’s moronic offspring celebrate their own depravity. . .

Imagine God. . .just imagine God. . .humanity His crowning creation. . .He brings into existence a sublime life form. . .and now retarded humanity digs its index fingers into its nostrils and pulls out its boogers to eat on video. . .or farts are ignited with Bic lighters. . .

A Christian tells me Hell can’t be eternal torment. . .God wouldn’t do that, He would be too cold, too cruel. . .

If God watches YouTube, He’ll send this garbage to Hell, all right. . .

Humanity wastes His gift on this? Defiles His generosity on this vulgar exhibitionism? Why not burn the garbage?

The Creator should greet this garbage with a smile and a slap on the back and a well done, thou good and faithful servant?

If He does, I won’t complain. . .who I am to complain over God’s mercy?

But then, again. . .I remember when Gene Scott was near the end. . .a moment of clarity in his final hours, trying to right himself with His maker. . .weeping as he examined himself, he cried out that Jesus could send him to Hell, and he would not complain. . .

We should all know ourselves that well. . .

But anyways. . .Robbe-Grillet. . .dead. . .the father of the *nouveau roman*. . .the new novel. . .Robbe-Grillet believed the novel was withering under 19th century literary conventions. . .he believed the novel should be stripped of emotion and psychological analysis. . .the focus of the novel should be shifted from plot, action and character onto objects, the details of the world. . .a scientific observation of the surface, without any attempt to instill meaning. . .in the new novel, the reader must shake off his passivity and enter the text and determine for himself the meaning of the details and events described.

La Jalousie was Robbe-Grillet’s masterpiece. . .written in 1957, it features all the hallmarks of the noveau roman: nonlinear narrative, breaks in time and space, scenes repeated over and over again with slight variations such as in the famous *centipede* examples quoted above (and which, paradoxically, create psychological tension). The narrator never *appears*. . .never uses the personal pronoun *I*. . .no commentary on the events described are offered. . .the invisible narrator drags the reader into the void. . .

746 copies of La Jalousie were sold in its first year of publication. . .

It couldn’t be published today. . .

The Great Man wrote some of the most boring passages in the history of literature. In La Jalousie, which is set on a banana plantation in the West Indies, there are pages of tedious descriptions of rows of banana trees featuring paragraphs such as these:

In the second row, starting from the far left, there would be twenty-two trees (because of the alternate arrangement) in the case of a rectangular patch. There would also be twenty-two for a patch that was precisely trapezoidal, the reduction being scarcely noticeable at such a short distance from its base. And, in fact, there are twenty-two trees there.

But the third row too has only twenty-two trees, instead of twenty-three which the alternately-arranged rectangle would have. No additional difference is introduced, at this level, by the bulge in the lower edge. The same is true for the fourth row, which includes twenty-one boles, that is, one less than an even row of the imaginary rectangle (p. 51 – 52).

In this regard, one could view Robbe-Grillet as the Andy Kaufman of literature, deliberately provoking the reader, as Kaufman did when he stood on stage and read page afte page of The Great Gatsby to audience expecting *comedy*. . .Robbe-Grillet gave agronomy to readers expecting *literature*. . .

Can you imagine the illiterates of today trying to decipher Robbe-Grillet? These YouTube boobs who stare at ninety second video clips of two-legged dogs? These anti-linguists who electronically grunt text messages? We are one or two generations away from a return to cave painting. . .

As for Robbe-Grillet himself, unfortunately, he lived too long. At age 35 or 40, he was superior to the culture. . .yet there was always a tendency toward pornography in the Great Man. . .his most well-known novel, Le Voyeur, contains hints of pedophilia and implies a bent toward masochistic sluttiness on the part of thirteen-year-old girls. . .as the Great Man aged, and the culture became more and more pornographic, Robbe-Grillet gave increasingly open expressions to his own debased sexual fantasies. . .after scripting one of the great films of all-time, L'Année Dernière à Marienbad, Robbe-Grillet himself filmed a series of soft-core S&M films. . .then, just a few months ago, he released his last novel, Un Roman Sentimental. . .I do not believe it has been translated into English. . .it was described by the Guardian:

The recently published novel by Alain Robbe-Grillet - Un Roman Sentimental - is creating something of a stir, with calls from various sources for its actual ban. Publishers Fayard, aware of its potential to disturb, even went to the extent of issuing the book with pages uncut, sporting a sober, purely typographical cover, with each copy shrink-wrapped and featuring a warning sticker to the effect that "this is a fairy tale for adults and a fantasy that might well shock sensitive souls". Were Robbe-Grillet not a member of the respected Academie Francaise and best known for having invented the ascetic and stylised form of the nouveau roman, it is unlikely his novel could have been published at all even in these liberated times. But then, cinemagoers will recall the frequent nudity and sado-masochistic tropes present in many of the art films he has directed, including Trans-Europ-Express, La Belle Captive, Glissements Progressifs Du Désir and L'Éden et Après. Unlike the flesh on frequent display in the films of Peter Greenaway, Robbe-Grillet's movies never had the alibi of a painter's perspective and the bound, captive women he loved to display always evoked a disturbing sense of troubled eroticism and deliberate fetishism.

Un Roman Sentimental, however, is unlikely to be filmed. It's a venomous flower of a novel which defies convention and taste and takes a tradition invented by the Marquis de Sade, principally in 120 Days of Sodom (the Prix Sade jurors presciently awarded their prize to Robbe-Grillet in 2004 for the whole of his oeuvre), and its film adaptation by Pasolini in Salò. What constitutes pornography is very much in the eye of the beholder, but there is little doubt that this is an openly and joyfully pornographic book, in that it turns into an unbound celebration of deviancy at its most explicit and imaginative.

Gigi, also known as Djinn, a young girl in her early teens, is being groomed by her father to become a woman much like her own mother, Violetta, whose education, contamination and death by devices and persons unknown occurred some 10 years before the novel begins. The fact that Gigi is underage and sleeps naked in her own father's bed is only the transgressive prelude to a series of stories within stories within stories in which the fate of similar young girls is examined in the most minute detail, often culminating in terrible orgies of desecration, violation and ecstatic torture to the point of death. Every female character in the book is well under the age of consent, and are all complicit in their fate to a troubling extent.

In the last three decades Robbe-Grillet stagnated, while the culture decayed at a rapid pace. . .at his death, the former avant-garde Robbe-Grillet found himself a Man of the Debased Times. . .at age 85, Anno Domini Nostri Iesu Christi 2008, Robbe-Grillet and the culture of the day had arrived at a point in time and space where they were equals. . .the culture was not changed by his literature. . .in the literary sub-culture there may have been some mild shock at the perversion of his last novel, but in the culture-at-large his pornography is merely a sign of the times. . .

He lived too long. . .he was a great writer--when his taste for violating young girls was constrained by the culture. . .but he lived long enough to come out of the kiddie porn closet. . .he was able to indulge himself. . .as the beasts of the YouTube Age defile their own humanity, Robbe-Grillet defiled his own talent. . .

A man can write a great novel. . .but he is still what all others are: human garbage.

And if the Lord wants to toss us on the fire, who are we to complain?

This Is Christmas

2009-03-04T09:14:00.001-08:00

And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom: and the grace of God was upon Him. Now His parents went to Jerusalem every year at the feast of the passover. And when He was twelve years old, they went up to Jerusalem after the custom of the feast. And when they had fulfilled the days, as they returned, the child Jesus tarried behind in Jerusalem; and Joseph and His mother knew not of it. . .And it came to pass, that after three days they found Him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the doctors, both hearing them, and asking them questions. And all that heard Him were astonished at His understanding and answers. . .

TRY to picture the scene. . .two thousand years ago, at the temple. . .all the great intellectuals gathered. . . the most respected scholars of the day. . .the thinkers who regulated the routines of life. . .they were probably arguing important issues such as how the people should wash their pots, etc. . .and then:

In walks the One by whom all things were made. . .in walks the Source of Life. . .in walks the Light of the World. . .in the form of a twelve-year-old boy from the backwoods of Nazareth.

Imagine the Savior standing politely at the edge of the group, listening to the geniuses squabbling. . .feigning interest in their vain babbling, He asks a question. . .the great teachers debate, but cannot answer. . .Jesus provides the solution. . .the masters of Israel are a little taken aback, but also amused. They begin to question the young Galilean, thinking to put the lad in His place. . .but with each answer they receive, the amusement fades, until, astonished, the doctors have but one last question for the boy:

Who are you?

He would not tell them He was the Messiah. It would be another twenty years before even a few could accept that. He would tell them He was Jesus of Nazareth. That He lived with Mary and Joseph, the carpenter. He would not say He was Joseph’s son. Even there at the temple at age 12, He claimed God as His father. When Joseph and Mary found Him teaching there, they told Him they had been searching for Him for three days. He calmly replied:

Wist ye not that I must be about My Father's business?

I wonder what of His Father’s business He told these scholars? What astonishing words did He give them? Secrets, mysteries of creation? The better way, a preview of the Sermon on the Mount? What did God incarnate reveal that day?

It has been lost. . .

THINK about that. . .

The sayings of the Lord Jesus Christ, lost.

The wisdom of the Eternal Logos, lost.

Infinitely more precious than gold—but lost.

We know to what lengths man will go to protect his gold. Fortresses are built to guard it. The words Jesus gave His hearers that day astonished them. . .but they could not keep them. They were lost. Think about that. . .for almost everything Jesus gives to men, they lose.

What happened to those doctors, who sat astonished before the Lord?

How long did Christ’s words remain with them? An hour? A day? A week? A month?

Behold, a sower went forth to sow; And when he sowed, some seeds fell by the way side, and the fowls came and devoured them up: Some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth: And when the sun was up, they were scorched; and because they had no root, they withered away. And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprung up, and choked them: But other fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit, some an hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold. Who hath ears to hear, let him hear.

Did Jesus’ words, of a value beyond what we can measure, produce any change in the lives of the hearers? Or a day, a week, a month later, were they back squabbling about the washing of pots?

Did they forget the encounter?

Was it, for them, as if it had never happened?

[Is it, for us, as if Christ’s atoning death and resurrection had never happened?]

This is the history of God’s interaction with mankind. From Eve to the Ark, from Babel to Sodom, the *sacrifice* of Isaac on a mountain in Moriah to Moses and the burning bush at Horeb, the Exodus through the Wilderness and on to the Promised Land—none of it made any lasting impression.

Let us borrow Rousseau:

Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains. . .

God has supernaturally acted in His creation countless times, but for the creature, the encounters with the Creator remain ephemeral. As awesome as they have been, the effects nonetheless have a strangely short duration. Peter, rather bluntly, put it this way:

The dog is turned to his own vomit again; and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire. . .

Man cannot stay clean. . .

We may also wonder:

Were any of the learned men still at the temple twenty years later, when Christ returned?

If so, did any of them know this prophet from Galilee who was causing such a stir preaching the Kingdom of God, healing the sick, raising the dead, was the very boy who had astonished them two decades prior?

It does not seem unreasonable to assume at least a few who had witnessed the twelve-year-old Jesus teaching at the temple had survived for twenty years, and thus also witnessed the Passion Week.

If not in an official capacity in Jerusalem, were not some of them there for the Feast, anyway?

Did any of them lay down palm branches and cry Hosanna in the highest when Christ entered the city?

Did any of them, one week later, cry Crucify Him!

The boy who astonished them twenty years prior. . .did they also see Him hanging on the cross?

Twenty years after marveling at His words, did they then insult Him as He was nailed and dying on a tree?

Twenty years after asking in astonishment who are you? did they then taunt Him with the following challenge?

If thou be the son of God, come down from the cross, and then we will believe.

Did any of those who heard Christ say it is finished realize this man was the boy they had heard twenty years prior? What would they have made of that?

Even if none of those from that earlier time were there, some who had lain palm branches before Him at the Triumphal Entry must have turned on Him a mere week later:

And Pilate answered and said again unto them, What will ye then that I shall do unto Him whom ye call the King of the Jews? And they cried out again, Crucify Him.

So whether it takes an hour, a day, a week or twenty years—the end result will be the same: man loses sight of God. Man cannot comprehend God. Man cannot apprehend Christ.

Look at Jesus’ supposed cousin, John the Baptist, of whom Christ said:

Among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater. . .

Even John, who had himself baptized the Son of God, and who had seen the Holy Spirit descend upon Him like a dove, could not grasp the Savior:

Now when John had heard in the prison the works of Christ, he sent two of his disciples, And said unto Him, Art Thou He that should come, or do we look for another?

Art Thou He that should come? John saw the Holy Spirit like a dove descend upon Christ. John bore witness Jesus was the Son of God. And yet there he is, not long after, wondering art Thou He that should come?

Art Thou He that should come? Two thousand years later, does anybody even bother with such a question? What is left of Christ’s ministry? Just the shell. . .the brand name. . .a franchise. He’s a religious Col. Sanders or a religious Wendy. . .the Eternal Logos now just a logo to plaster above the entrance to the thousands and thousands of McChurches. . .

The masses queue up for their drive-thru communion. . .a bit of cracker and a thimble-full of grape juice. It’s over in seconds. A damnable fraud. . .

This do in remembrance of Me. . .

People waiting in line, bored, checking their watches, they grab a bit of cracker and a swallow of juice, eyes wandering over the crowd—anybody in a short skirt?

And when the hour was come, He sat down, and the twelve apostles with Him. And He said unto them, With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer: For I say unto you, I will not any more eat thereof, until it be fulfilled in the kingdom of God. And He took the cup, and gave thanks, and said, Take this, and divide it among yourselves: For I say unto you, I will not drink of the fruit of the vine, until the kingdom of God shall come. And He took bread, and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, This is My body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of Me. Likewise also the cup after supper, saying, This cup is the new testament in My blood, which is shed for you.

It means nothing. It lost its meaning ages ago. Go into a McChurch and see the zombies at communion. . .look at the bored faces and the dry eyes. . .the ritual cannot reach their dead souls.

This do in remembrance of Me. . .

No. He is forgotten. The real Lord Jesus Christ is forgotten. . .lost.

Look around, for the sake of Christ, look around. . .every way of man is anti-Christ.

Surely John the Baptist was the first Christian—surely he was the first goer down the path so many Christians walk. He had a miraculous encounter with Christ and proclaimed the Savior. . .and then. . .he doubted.

He wasn’t sure, anymore, of what he had seen and heard. Perhaps just like those who had seen and heard the twelve-year-old Jesus. Just like the Israelites who had the cloud by day and the fire by night, and yet continually doubted.

For John the Baptist, events must not have proceeded as he imagined they would. Yes, after the baptism, he told his disciples:

He must increase, but I must decrease.

But he could not imagine how greatly he must decrease! Perhaps he could not imagine having no place in the world?

And He said unto them, Ye are from beneath; I am from above: ye are of this world; I am not of this world.

That is the problem, right there. Christ’s way is not the way of the world. Christ entered this world from another realm. Christ could dazzle with philosophy and miracles, but the world could never really digest His message.

Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.

That message has no hearers in this world. The meek are held in contempt, while the aggressively greedy inherit the world.

We encounter Christ, and marvel. . .but we cannot put on His mind. . .for we are of the world—it is as simple as that.

John the Baptist, among them that are born of women there hath not risen a greater, must have imagined for himself some role in preparing Christ’s Kingdom. . .at the very least, to be a disciple. . .

But to find himself languishing in Herod’s prison? The voice of one crying in the wilderness, prepare ye the way of the Lord? To go from that to being totally removed from the world scene, locked away, waiting for a sinner’s executioner?

So the Baptizer of Christ doubted. . .he had to have doubted because of his place in the world.

I am from above: ye are of this world; I am not of this world.

Jesus could amaze the world. . .He would have celebrity. . . Hosanna in the highest they would cry. . .but when it was found His ways were incompatible with the ways of the world, all but a few left Him.

Today we have the franchise. . .the world has gone on its way for two thousand years, allowing the franchise to strain out the gnats because it swallows the world.

Christ was in the world, and yet the world remains untouched by His presence.

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, which killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee; how often would I have gathered thy children together, as a hen doth gather her brood under her wings, and ye would not!

All the gifts Christ gave. . .man let them slip through his fingers. . .he cannot accept Christ because of Christ’s other-worldliness.

This is the season wherein we rejoice!

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

This is the season wherein we rejoice! The Savior is born. . .

And two thousand years later the world is a tangle of disease and cruelty.

Where in the world is joy?

In Him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

The darkness has not lifted. . .

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Peace. . .good will toward men.

Look around. . .no, you cannot see for the darkness. . .feel around. . .feel around in the darkness of the world. Peace? Good will toward men?

The Lord Jesus Christ came. He delivered His message. He took away the sins of the world. He did His Father’s will and sacrificed Himself on the cross. It is finished, He said.

Why then are we still here in this stinking garbage dump two thousand years later?

Why is God’s interaction always lost? Why cannot men hold onto what their Creator has provided?

He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not.

The world does not know Jesus Christ. He came and went, and the world has continued in darkness. The darkness comprehended it not.

And I heard the voice of many angels round about the throne and the beasts and the elders: and the number of them was ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands; Saying with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.

Ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands, saying with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb. . .

Not even a whisper of it is heard in the darkness of our world. . .

Another Christmas. . .the fetishistic shopping, the dionysian office parties. . .idiots drunk. . .gluttons lapping up sugary goodies, fattening their holiday waistlines. . .the noise, the tinsel, the noise, the 50% off sales that stink of a depression, the noise, the dysfunctional family gatherings around the altar of disappointing presents, the noise, the fake sentiment, the noise, the discount religion, the NOISE. Christ pushed off into the corner, playing third or fourth fiddle to Santa Claus, reindeer and elves.

How could Christ dwell on this earth for thirty-three years, and this be the result? Over and over He astonished those who came into contact with Him. But in the end, He was run out of town and hung on a tree. . .

Christ told the history of God’s supernatural interaction with man in this parable:

There was a certain householder, which planted a vineyard, and hedged it round about, and digged a winepress in it, and built a tower, and let it out to husbandmen, and went into a far country: And when the time of the fruit drew near, he sent his servants to the husbandmen, that they might receive the fruits of it. And the husbandmen took his servants, and beat one, and killed another, and stoned another. Again, he sent other servants more than the first: and they did unto them likewise. But last of all he sent unto them his son, saying, They will reverence my son. But when the husbandmen saw the son, they said among themselves, This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and let us seize on his inheritance. And they caught him, and cast him out of the vineyard, and slew him.

All that God has given the world has been lost.

Go ahead, try to find Eden. Try to find the Ark of the Covenant.

Our Lord said:

Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you.

Let me tell you something, my friend, Jesus knew what He was talking about, here. He gave everything, including His blood. . .and it has all been trampled, trampled.

What the Hell kind of Christmas message is this?

We have to have ears to hear. . .

Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: But made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: And being found in fashion as a man, He humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted Him, and given Him a name which is above every name: That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; And that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. Wherefore, my beloved, as ye have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. For it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure.

Jesus left the Throne of God. . .Jesus left the Majesty of Heaven. . .and He came down to this wasteland. He preached the gospel to the poor. THINK about that. Nobody has a chance in this world. In the end, all are beaten down to the grave. The rich have their illusions. The poor have nothing. Jesus gave the poor the gospel. . .the hope for glory. . .but the glory will not be had in this world. The gospel is victory over the world.

Jesus left the Purity of the Highest. . .He came down and cleansed lepers and cast out disease. . .He raised the dead. He left the Splendor of Perfection and came down to the world of corruption. . .He who was spotless was mocked, slandered, spat on, beaten and bloodied, then nailed to the cross by gross humanity. He did not resist, nor utter an angry word. Look at us, foul creatures, and the insane tantrums we throw over the slightest insult.

What are we to celebrate on Christmas? Simply that Christ would so humble Himself by entering our world.

And what is the greatest gift our Lord gave us? What did He bring into this world? What did He have to personally hand deliver to our world?

Faith.

The faith of Christ.

Let that sink in.

The faith of Christ.

Not our faith. Let us not embarrass ourselves in front of the Savior Christmas morning as we tell Him we place our faith in Him, stupid grins on our faces as we wait for Him to give us slaps on the back.

He doesn’t want our faith. Our faith lasts about as long as the flavor in a piece of penny bubblegum. . .

Those doctors had a little faith in the twelve-year-old boy who astonished them. . .how long did that faith last? Was it there twenty years later when Christ hung on the cross? John the Baptist had faith in Christ when He saw the Spirit like a dove descend upon Him—where was that faith when the Baptizer asked art Thou He that should come, or do we seek another? The Jesus Christ fanboys had faith when they greeted His entry into Jerusalem singing Hosanna in the highest—where was that faith a week later? Crucify Him!

No, God doesn’t want our faith. Like a cheap whore sells her goods, we sell our faith to anyone or anything that provides a few tokens of comfort in this world.

The Lord Jesus Christ brought His faith into this hopeless world, and that is the great gift we celebrate at Christmas:

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God. . .

Knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law. . .

Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. . .

Let us not nitpick, asking for some blueprint showing every atom of the transfer of faith, and how it maps throughout the world, hitting some and missing others. If we need that to have faith, then the faith of Christ remains yet beyond us.

Jesus starts in us faith in Him, and finishes in us faith in Him.

Our joy in Christmas is the picture of Christ humbling Himself, being obedient to the Father’s will, condescending to take upon Himself human flesh. . .our Savior did indeed come into the darkness of the world, to bring His faith into the world to light our way home to the Father. . .

The world has lost everything Christ brought into it, let Him put saving faith in us, and then let Him sustain it in us until the end. . .

He places His faith in our corrupt vessels. . .our corruption can poison us with faithlessness.

Christ’s people have a hard time holding onto the gift He gave. . .but He will maintain His people through their journey in the wilderness of darkness and doubt.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, which according to His abundant mercy hath begotten us again unto a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, To an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you, Who are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations: That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ. . .

The darkness may cause His people to lose sight of Him, but He always sees us. . .

That star only the Magi saw two thousand years ago, it still shines, somewhere, out in the black sky. The Jesus star still shines upon those Christ calls His people. . .

Forget the dull sentiment printed on the Christmas cards. . .Christmas Day is for the soul that despairs. . .Christmas has been turned into the most worldly of holidays, eat, drink and be merry. . .the holiday has been co-opted by those who are at home in the world.

But for those who are truly world-weary, it is the day to refresh the hope, the day to celebrate when He stepped out of Glory into our dark world, to give His faith to us, to finish our redemption, to finish rescuing our souls out of the world. . .

Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

The world could for brief periods be dazzled by Jesus. . .but in the end, the world wants no part of Him. . .

Do we feel nothing in this world? There is nothing. . .until He appears to us. . .and then our soul feels its worth. . .

This is Christmas. . .

It Matters To Him About You

2009-03-04T09:11:00.001-08:00

I walk to work every morning. I leave between 5:45 and 6:15 am. It takes 20 minutes. It’s still dark out. I walk down a crappy stretch of road where there isn’t any sidewalk. Some mornings, it’s been so dark, I can barely see the ground. I’ve stepped on road kill a couple times. . .a squirrel and an opossum. Anyway, I almost never see anybody else out walking. Sometimes I pass an early bird at a bus stop, but that is about it. There are not even that many cars on the road at 6 am.

This morning, as I get up to the corner heading out of my *council flat,* there’s a fellow walking right ahead of me. He says “hello.” I say “hello.” I can either walk two steps behind him for twenty minutes, or walk along with the guy, having to chat.

For some reason, I don’t like to talk to people. I never have. I don’t have anything to say that can be said in what people call *casual conversation.* I don’t have anything against anybody, and I don’t think I am any better than anybody else—I just don’t have anything to say. Hell, I’m 48 years old. What is there to say, anyway? Enough has been said, already.

But here, in this situation, it would be rude to tail the guy for twenty minutes, so I walk alongside of him.

“I don’t normally ask this,” this fellow says, “but do you have a cigarette?”

“No. Sorry.”

I haven’t had a cigarette in fifteen years, I think to myself. I could tell this to this guy, but maybe that would be rubbing it in? Like I can quit, and he can’t. But maybe he’s never wanted to quit? And what would he care when I last had a cigarette?

“I used to smoke Kools,” I say to the guy. “I haven’t had one in fifteen years. Quit just like that, thanks to the Lord. Never had an urge for one. Not one urge for one in fifteen years.”

We’re walking along the side of the road. Through all the trash. The paper cups, the bits of paper, the fast food wrappers. . .and all the cigarette butts and empty, crumpled up cigarette packs. It must be affecting the guy, for he says:

“I sure wish I had a cigarette. I’m walking from St. Joe's hospital to Saline, and I could sure use one.”

“That’s a helluva hike,” I say.

“Yup.”

I think about it. St. Joe's to Saline. He’s already put in about five miles, and he has six or seven more to go. I take a good look at the fellow. Skinny white guy in blue jeans, flannel shirt, chain wallet, kind of long, slicked back hair, mustache. Forty-five, fifty years old, who knows? He gives the impression of being a jailbird. But maybe he’s never even so much as spit on a sidewalk, who knows?

“Isn’t there a bus or something you can take?” I ask the guy.

“I don’t know. I could have waited and got a ride, but I would have had to wait until my friends got up. I didn’t want to stick around that hospital anymore.”

I wonder if the guy wants me to ask what he was doing at the hospital? Maybe he wants to talk about it. I don’t know. I don’t really think I want to hear about it.

“Man, I just didn’t want to be in that hospital, anymore,” he says.

I don’t say anything. We walk on in silence. At the corner of Stone School and Ellsworth, under the street light and traffic lights, I can see the fellow more clearly. He has a sad face. He has a sad face there, with a little bit of a red glow from the traffic light shining on him.

After about a minute or so, he asks:

“Where are you going?”

“Work.”

“Where do you work?”

“At the next light up there, there’s some office buildings over in the back, I work in one of them.”

I don’t feel like telling him the name of the company or whatever. You know, I never have liked it when you are at a party or something and somebody you meet for the first time asks you: “what do you do?” I breathe, I eat, I sleep—just like everybody else, I tell them. They sort of laugh nervously, then say, “no, I mean, what kind of work do you do?” I’m a paper-pusher, I tell them. They wait, as if I’m going to say more. But there is no more to say. Then they tell me about their job, which I care nothing about. We’ll all be dead very soon, and our employment history will be of no consequence.

“Are they hiring?” this fellow asks.

He must be out of work.

“No.”

The guy almost trips over a drain hole. It’s dark, you can’t see. I’ve been down this road hundreds of times, so I know where all these things are. It sounded like the guy said “fuck” quietly to himself after he almost tripped. It has to suck, to walk from St. Joe's to Saline. And now he’s stuck walking with me, and he almost trips. I’ll say something to cheer him up:

“In fact, they’ll be laying off soon. I’ll probably be out of work in a couple months.”

That will make him feel better, to know somebody else will be looking for work. Misery loves company, as the old saying goes.

“I’ve been out of work since October,” this fellow says. “I bought a mobile home twelve years ago and I am still paying on it. I still owe seventy-five hundred. I’d hate to lose it, after all that interest I paid.”

Man, I didn’t know it could take twelve years to pay off a trailer. And seventy-five hundred to go? What’s he been paying? A hundred bucks a month? Either that, or this must be the crème de la crème of trailers.

“They might foreclose on me,” the guy says.

I never even heard of a trailer foreclosure, but I guess it can happen.

“My wife is back at St. Joe’s. She was bleeding from the vagina. It’s not her period.”

I guess you walk with a guy for a mile or so, and he will tell you anything.

“They are doing a lot of tests,” he says. “I bet it’s cancer. I had to leave. I didn't want her to see me cry.”

Right then, it starts to sprinkle. This guy is not even wearing a jacket. It’s probably fifty degrees, and here comes the rain. And he’s six miles from his trailer. I’m only about a quarter mile from work. It’ll be time to say *so long* soon.

“That’s too bad about your old lady’s vagina,” I say.

What else is there to say?

“Thanks,” he says.

I know a person. . .this person says to me: “you need to be more positive, tell people Jesus loves them. You’re always doom and gloom about war or the economy. Jesus is bigger than all that.”

I’ll be glad to get to work, for once. I wonder how many guys there are like this in Amerika? And how many more that will be like him, very soon? This guy is having hard times. Jobless. Sick wife. Can’t even meet the notes on his trailer. It’s funny, a friend sent me a news story the other day about this couple in town that were being foreclosed, and in that story, the husband had cancer and the wife was saying how her friends had been telling her to dump her husband and *save herself.*

Yeah, I think as I am walking next to this guy, I write a lot of stuff about Amerikans, living on Easy Street, living off the sweat and credit of the rest of the world, living beyond their means, not giving a shit about the poor in the rest of the world. But now more and more will be like this fellow walking next to me. And my turn will come, soon enough, I suppose.

Tell people Jesus loves them. . .

“Listen,” I say to the guy, “I’m gonna have to head off here toward work.”

“Thanks for talking,” he says.

Well, you get one like this, right next to you, with the sad face and all, and you can’t help but feel sorry.

“Listen,” I say to the guy. . .and then I don’t say anything.

For some reason, it isn’t easy just to say “Jesus loves you.” I wonder why that is?

“Listen,” I say to the guy, “you know there’s a couple gas stations up at State and Ellsworth. You can get a pack of cigarettes up there.”

“I’m broke,” he says, “that’s why I’m walking.”

I stop and take out my wallet. I have two dollars.

“Here,” I say to the guy, “buy a pack.”

He looks at the two dollars.

“Thanks for offering,” he says, “but cigarettes are six bucks a pack.”

“Six? Man, they’ve really went up.”

We stand there, looking at the two dollars. They might as well be pennies.

“Well,” I say, “you want the two bucks, anyway? You can buy a pop or a candy bar or something.”

“No, that’s all right.”

The sprinkle of rain starts to get a little heavier.

“I got to head off here to work,” I say.

“Nice meeting you,” he says, and he sticks out his hand. We shake hands and he walks off. When he’s about twenty feet away, I say:

“Jesus loves you,” but it’s more to myself, I guess. I doubt he heard it.

Although He has millions of stars to think about
Although the sun, the moon and the stars are in His care
How wonderful to know, wherever you may go
He can be reached just by a whispered prayer
It matters to Him about you

The Metallic Cherub That Covereth

2009-03-04T08:48:00.001-08:00

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles: Season 1: I’ve received a few emails asking why I haven’t reviewed any movies lately. Why should I? Should I go out to the dumpster and write about the brown banana peels, plastic bags of dirty cat litter and rust-colored tampons? Who reviews the neighbors’ garbage? It’s not worth the time. Likewise for the film industry’s trash.

The *movies* are dead. Back in cinema’s Golden Age, the late ‘60s and the ‘70s, movies commanded attention. They generated a discussion beyond their merits on the silver screen. They provoked an examination of the culture at large. From Bonnie And Clyde in 1967 to The Devil, Probably in 1977, the celebrated films of the era were known even to those who had not seen them. . .they entered the cultural consciousness. . .as it would be inelegantly stated today, they *created a buzz.*

The decline of the movies began in 1977 with Star Wars, and has continued unabated, with the result being the movies are now essentially anonymous. They have no life outside the multiplex or the dvd player. They are like the pornographic movies of a generation ago. . .people go to the movies today to gratify their pathetic manias and fetishes (the Saw series, for example), but do not talk about them to anyone except fellow maniacs and fetishists. I haven’t been in a movie theater in over a year. . .more telling, I cannot recall the last time I heard a friend or co-worker talk about a movie.

Oliver Stone was the last Amerikan who could make a film that leaked into the cultural consciousness. . .but judging from the lack of noise over his *9/11* and Bush films, it would seem even he has given up the ghost. Now, it is only the heavy-handed *documentarians* such as Michael Moore and Errol Morris who attempt to reflect the *signs of the times.* When the moribund studios try to capture the zeitgeist, they only produce shallow and tin-ear nonsense like Crash.

So the movies are dead. What we have now is zombie cinema, the living dead cinema. Human beings used to control the technology of the movies. They used the gadgetry of the cameras and the lights as tools to create motion picture stories about reasonable characters in reasonable facsimiles of life. Now human beings have lost control of the technology, and the stories and characters have been sacrificed at the altar of CGI.

But as the movies lay dying, the television series began a modest renaissance. Out of the ashes of the Seinfeld/Friends era (television’s nadir), the era of *New York* television, the era of sneering, condescending ethnic *New York* television [it is true these ethnic *comedies* were *hits*--but they were hits during the years the networks lost viewers by the tens of millions. . .the great unwashed Amerikan clodhoppers turned away from the networks force-feeding of ethnic New York narcissism] came what we could call *New Jersey* television, after The Sopranos, the first series in the exodus from New York cult programming.

Television, with its smaller budgets, has been less corrupted by the costly technological shortcuts of film, and therefore remains married to story and character. However, during the ‘90s, the television series degenerated into an alternate Amerikan reality of neurotic, passive-aggressive, effete New York decadence. The Sopranos was a much-needed baseball bat to the kneecaps of Seinfeld.

While The Sopranos was also ethnic, it was ethnic in an Amerikan way. . .segregationist and pro-family, whereas the ethnic *New York* television was interracial and anti-family, chock full of restless, nervous, neurotic apartment dwellers, forever single and self-centered, valuing, above all else, a soft life.

[Back in the days when Amerikan television was Amerikan, these dissolute, barren ethnic New Yorkers were ridiculed as the weakling specimens they were in the classic sitcom Green Acres. Of course, the ugly and raw ethnicity of New Yorkers, which would have rightly offended mainstream Amerika, was considerably softened in the Roccoco charms of the Hungarian Jewess Eva Gabor.]

While The Sopranos was the first series to rise from the ruins of the Seinfeld/Friends era, it was not the best. . .it has been eclipsed by the monumental Dexter, which is the only entertainment to truly capture the tragic internal defect of the contemporary Amerikan: the inability to repent, as well as the ever-raging internal conflicts, such as the simultaneous loathing and loving of family.

There have been other, lesser series which represent, to varying degrees, a repudiation of the degenerate ethnic *New York* television. . .Six Feet Under, Weeds, Jericho, for example. Make no mistake, these programs are not of particularly high quality. . .indeed, some of them are infected with a moral schizophrenia that could confuse our weaker-minded brethren. . .

[Well, it must be admitted Amerikans have traditionally found it difficult to produce any *art* of quality. Amerikans excel at a kind of popular, mass market art. . .in books, films and television, Amerikans really only produce *genre art:* pulp/noir/sci-fi. It is as Nobel literature secretary Horace Engdahl said it was: You can't get away from the fact that Europe still is the center of the literary world, not the United States. Amerikan artists are too sensitive to trends in their own mass culture, which drags down the quality of their work. The U.S. is too isolated, too insular. They don't translate enough and don't really participate in the big dialogue of literature. That ignorance is restraining. Thus, those Amerikans who have produced genuine art, an Edgar Allan Poe or a David Lynch, have done so only because their prodigious talent allows their work to transcend its humble roots in the detective/pulp/noir genres. . .]

But as flawed as these television series may be, they are superior to the current product of the motion picture industry, for they retain a degree of humanity in their adherence to story and character. . .they are not merely the anonymous random result of technological effects, which is what most of our theatrical releases have become.

I would guess that was the longest introduction you will ever read to a review of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (TTSCC). . .

I wonder if others find TTSCC as interesting as I do? Many must enjoy it. The eye-candy cast offers flesh for every taste. And there is the sci-fi hocus-pocus for the pencil neck crowd. It’s well-written and slickly produced. The only negative is the acting is uneven, and, unfortunately, it is the two leads, playing Sarah and John Connor, who give the wobbliest performances. But this is just a minor annoyance. . .

Indeed, compared to the obscene (no redeeming social value) and worthless reconstituted cine-bits such as The Love Guru, or the reanimated big screen corpse of the small screen ethnic *New York* Sex And The City: The Movie (itself an example from the Sin Drum school: neurotic, narcotized sexually confused girls who refuse to grow up and acknowledge their biological destiny), TTSCC seems Shakespearean.

Based on the three Terminator movies, TTSCC could be titled Terminator 2.5, as the story picks up where T2 left off, with Sarah Connor trying to protect her son John, mankind’s savior-to-be, from a cyborg assassin sent from the future. While avoiding the robot hitmachine, the Connors also try to destroy the computer network that will, somehow, develop into the artificial intelligence system that decides to wipe out humanity in a nuclear apocalypse.

For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come. . .

One of the reasons I find TTSCC so interesting is the Connors live out this Biblical precept. The Connors dwell in the same world as you and I. The world of sheeple. The world of sheeple grazing on distractions. The Connors live among the oblivious sheeple, these reality-challenged terrestrials who cannot see past the lying vanities of this world. This is the world you and I live in (at least, in the West). Look around. Does anyone live as if there is anything else to come?

Where is the promise of His coming? For since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of creation. . .

This is how the sheeple live. All things continue as they were from the beginning of creation. Even the Christians live this way. Who lives as if Jesus will return? Who stores treasure in Heaven, and not on earth? Who seeks those things which are above? Who sets their affection on things above, and not on things on earth?

The Connors are not Christian. They do not wait for Christ. John Connor waits for himself.

But seek ye first the Kingdom of God. . .

Christians don’t live this way, they don’t seek the Kingdom of God, first. But the Connors seek a kingdom to come, and they seek that kingdom, first. So it interests me to watch TTSCC and see these Connors who live in the world, but are not of the world. . .

Many commentators have tried to fit Christian symbology onto the Terminator franchise—but the resemblance is only skin deep. The salvation offered in Terminator is only a carnal salvation. . .the salvation of human meat. John Connor only offers temporal salvation. He saves mankind, but not man. He can only bring delay, and not victory, over death. He saves human meat from the destruction of metal’s Judgment Day, but the soul is still left hanging in the balance.

TTSCC tries to bridge the gap between Terminator’s sci-fi apocalypse and Christian apocalypse through the character of FBI Special Agent James Ellison, who is investigating Sarah Connor in connection with a supposed murder from eight years prior.

Through the nine episodes of TTSCC Season 1, we gradually discover Ellison is a *Christian,* a *man of the Book* as he is called in one of the episodes. We see Ellison in a Bible study group, and learn he has a deep interest in Revelation. As he digs deeper into the Connor case and discovers evidence that makes her claim of a robot Armageddon seem less and less incredible, we see Ellison struggling to reconcile the competing End Times narratives. It will be interesting to see how this progresses in Season 2. It would seem to risk requiring a suspension of Christian belief to have Ellison successfully incorporate the machine doomsday into his Christian eschatology. . .perhaps the series writers are using the Ellison character as a Christian straw man with which they can knock down the faith? This would be disappointing, but not surprising. But we will see, we will see.

In any event, Ellison is the most interesting character in TTSCC, and he is marvelously played by Richard T. Jones. Jones’ Ellison is a reluctant hero, investigating a case he doesn’t want to investigate, believing evidence he doesn’t want to believe, and then trying to accommodate his faith. Jones’ Ellison is from the *world-weary* school of TV detectives. . .he’s low-key to the point of being almost monotone, though he occasionally wakes up to deliver some well-timed sarcasm. And as the evidence for Sarah Connor’s *Judgment Day* claim grows, Jones’ Ellison seems a genuinely haunted figure—a man who must now live as the Connors, a man who now realizes *for here we have no continuing city.*

[Let us also note Jones’ Ellison is a welcome relief from the typical TV/movie negro cop: the violent hothead badass such as depicted in Dexter, Six Feet Under, Training Day, etc., etc.]

As for the actress and actor who play Sarah and John Connor, it would seem they were cast solely for their *hottie*-ness. In TTSCC, Sarah Connor looks far more MILF than the tough madonna survivalist Sarah of T2. . .indeed, the most far-fetched scenes in a series that features time travel and killer robots are those in which pretty little Sarah Connor smacks around muscle-bound male villains twice her size. Even on his deathbed, it would have taken all of thirty seconds for Andy Kaufman to pin the stick-figure limey actress who plays this Sarah Connor.

And it’s hard to believe Edward Furlong’s snotty mall rat T2 John Connor grew up to be the wimpy, weepy emo kid we see in TTSCC. I suppose sexually ambivalent tweeners and hardcore pedophiles love this boychild, but watching this John Connor pout because he thinks his mommy forgot his birthday can be a bit of a trial. Most of John Connor’s *action* scenes consist of him sitting in front of a laptop, bangs in his eyes, as he furiously conducts an internet search. . .

Sarah and John Connor are the main characters, and while they are not particularly interesting, the series is still compelling viewing, due to well-crafted scripts, the Ellison character and. . .

Cameron.

Summer Glau’s Cameron.

Let’s raise our glass to whoever dreamed up the Cameron character, the reprogrammed female robot sent back in time to protect John Connor from the machine assassin. Cameron is presented to the outside world as John Connor’s sister, and watching the emotionally flat robo-girl perplex the students and staff at her and her *brother’s* high school provides most of the few laughs in this otherwise brooding doomsday drama.

[Another element in the Cameron-as-high school-girl prank is Cameron is not too terribly different from the emotionally stunted *normal* teens around her. . .a not-so-subtle commentary on the increasingly sociopathic condition of our Amerikan youth.]

Glau’s Cameron, ever-ready to dispatch to the grave without so much as a wink or a nod anyone who is a threat to John Connor, could be viewed as a kindred cyber spirit to Dexter. . .Dexter’s hardcore simulated kid sister.

Summer Glau, who has acted in quirky little TV sci-fi shows for most of this century, must be pushing 30 years old. . .but with a manga make-up job and a suitably teen trashy Forever 21 wardrobe, she makes for stunning virtual jailbait. . . and she is entirely believable as a Lolita killing machine. Trained in classical ballet, Glau’s mastery of body mechanics allows her to play Cameron as a 99.9% convincing silicon human replica. . .she is able to add just that tiniest bit of the mechanical in her movements and mannerisms, even the gaze of her eyes. . .it’s an outstanding physical performance.

Summer Glau’s Cameron is the metallic cherub that covers TTSCC, the Gnostic knockout of End Times TV. And TTSCC is Amerikan genre art at its best.

AlterEgo

The Fall

In Memory of Debbie Goad

Would Jesus Be A Human Bomb?

Where Will You Be In One Million Years?

To Hell With The Death Penalty

New Testament Commentary: Matthew

I Seen Some Movies Lately

Gene Scott, Ph.D., Stanford

Friend, The Troops ARE The War

Girl Murders Abuser Dad In Quintessential Amerikan House Of Skank

Yo Yo Girl Cop vs Jason Bourne

She's Ill and Dirty

The *Double Life* Of Emily Sander

Jimmy And Judy: Edward Furlong Falls From Grace

Delirium Tremens

Dinner Invitation For Mlle. Cotillard

Even So, Come Quickly, Saucer People!

F-450, Into Thy Hands I Commend My Spirit

Who Gave Himself For Our Sins

It Can Only Be The End Of The World, Ahead

Alain Robbe-Grillet, 1922 - 2008

This Is Christmas

It Matters To Him About You

The Metallic Cherub That Covereth

The Double Life Of Emily Sander