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Archive for the ‘God’ Category

His Name Are Legion

Tuesday, March 28th, 2017

Refer Madness

When I was a kid and I thought about evil, I pictured obvious things. I thought about murder, stealing, violence, genocide, and so on. It didn’t occur to me to think about sexual perversion or a general abandonment of reason.

I didn’t know much. For example, I didn’t know homosexuality was extremely common among career criminals, or that this was why rape was a big deal in prisons. Later in life, when I read books like The Onion Field and In Cold Blood, and when I found out the Birdman of Alcatraz (sanitized and glorified in a movie starring Burt Lancaster) was an unrepentant rapist of boys, I started to get a clue. I didn’t think of reason as a big threat to evil, though.

I suppose it should be obvious that reason works against evil. Good ought to make sense, after all. It would be a funny world if righteousness caused problems and evil fixed them.

In his book Slouching Towards Gomorrah, witch-hunt victim and brilliant judge Robert Bork wrote presciently about the coming age of irrationality. He wrote of liberals who promoted the insane notion that reason itself was a Eurocentric, patriarchal construct. It sounded a little nutty at the time, but…here we are. Bruce Jenner is a woman, and illegal aliens are “immigrants.” Craziness rules.

Leftism doesn’t work, so in order to promote it, you have to fight reason. Leftism conflicts with itself. For example, leftists have to be pro-union, pro-minimum-wage, AND pro-illegal-immigration, even though illegal immigrants bring wages down and erode unions. Leftists have to be pro-woman AND pro-perversion, even though letting male “women” compete with female athletes takes victories, records, and money away from women. Men keep outdoing women at traditionally female activities. Leftists have to be pro-expression, but they also have to be against “hate speech,” which is necessarily defined by small groups of people prone to bias. Leftists have to hate the objectification of women, but they also have to love pornography. They have to hate slavery and human trafficking, but they have to love “sex work,” which is generally slavery.

According to an Internet source, “Cognitive dissonance” means “the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes.” Without cognitive dissonance, the left can’t function, but because of the dissonance, the left will eventually fail. This is what Jesus was talking about when he predicted the eventual destruction of the kingdom of evil:

Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation, and every city or house divided against itself will not stand. If Satan casts out Satan, he is divided against himself. How then will his kingdom stand?

Right now, a guy (ostensibly) named Pablo Gomez, Jr., is under indictment for killing three people in Berkeley. I don’t know if he’s gay or what. People say he is, but news stories omit mention of his sexuality. Here’s the really interesting thing: he insists on being referred to using plural pronouns. When you write about these guy (???), you have to say things like, “They were indicted on Tuesday.”

You would think leftists would wake up at this point and say, “Man, we look crazy. This is just one person. Calling him ‘them’ is grammatically wrong.” But that’s not what’s happening. They’re standing behind them. Those. “Ellos”? “Los Pablo”? They’re excoriating sane people for pointing out their insanity.

How much more deranged can people get? How can anyone defend this position? And what on earth does plurality have to do with being gay? If he is gay, I mean. Whatever he is.

Even if you’re the gayest man alive, you should have some understanding that language has to work. The need to communicate should outweigh the need to control other people’s words.

Think of the confusion we’re going to have in the coming years, as pronoun madness goes mainstream. How will we address each other? We’ll be afraid to talk. More than we already are, I mean. You’ll say something like, “That guy went downstairs,” and an angry person with female genitals, horns, and a full beard will start shrieking, “THEM FEMEN WENTED DOWNSTAIR, YOU PIGS!”

Think how hard it will be to fill out forms. Where there used to be one box, there will be fifteen. Then someone will sue, claiming having only fifteen boxes is a microaggression.

The Bible calls gender fluidity “confusion.” Years ago, I did not understand that. Now, I get it. I really get it.

I wonder what full-blown persecution is going to look like. Most Americans thought it was horrible when Hitler jailed or killed people for political or racial reasons. We thought it was irrational. What are Americans going to think when leftists are killing us for standing up for good grammar? I can answer that. Most Americans will think it’s fine, just as most Germans and Austrians thought Hitler’s crimes were fine. Most Americans will suffer from the victim delusion, and they (he?) will see killing Christians as justice or self-defense.

The anti-Christian and anti-Semitic outrages of prophecy can’t come true until delusion becomes normal and widespread. That has to happen. We’re seeing it now.

Yesterday, I thought about my blogging, and I spoke of it as writing “things that will be used against me at my trial when they decide to kill me.” I was trying to be funny, but I believed what I said. The devil has no statute of limitations. The inquisition is coming, and the Internet is preserving our heresies.

Well and good. When things get that bad, I will look forward to death. Maybe I’m saying that, not to whoever reads this blog today, but to the loons who will be in charge of me years from now. “On March 28, 2017, you yourself admitted you preferred to die!” Make whatever you want of it, ladies and/or hermaphrodites of the tribunal. You can’t take anything away unless God puts it in your hands.

What are English classes in elementary schools like now? “Johnny, use pronouns correctly in a sentence about your dog.” “Us throws the ball for my dogs Rover, and then they goes and fetches them.” “That is correct. Here is their participation prize.”

Maybe I have a bad attitude about the rest of my sentence here on earth. Every time I read about a Christian who just died, I have the same thought, instantaneously: “Man, that must be great.” No hate, no disease, no taxes, no jerks, no death, no work…that’s for me. I guess I’m okay, though, because Jesus said, “He who loves his life will lose it.”

It sounds nutty to look forward to dying, but here’s what’s really nutty: being highly excited about a life which ends, after a short time, with the loss of everything you have. Human life ends with slow physical and mental deterioration. You lose your talents and abilities. You lose your looks. You fall apart. People start to ignore you. Then you lose everything. At best, you have about 50 reasonably good years, and those years pass quickly. After 40, they seem to fly by. Then you’re all done. If you haven’t lived for God, what have you invested in? Your retirement account is empty. Living for that future is not rational at all, so if people contemn my values and desires, I contemn theirs right back. In fifty years, they’ll be just as dead as me, and we’ll see if their contempt mattered.

When I think about the foolishness of clinging to earthly life, I always think about Madonna and Cher. They got everything they wanted on earth, and then they lost their looks. As old women go, they look okay, but to be frank about it, compared to women years younger, they are not merely faded but completely unattractive. They built their lives around youth and sex appeal. Now those things are gone from them, forever, and they’re ignored. When Madonna exposed herself thirty years ago, boys got excited. Now they make faces and say, “Ewwwww!”

Madonna is very upset about her new situation. She’s very bitter. She keeps exposing herself, which is gross even to fans, and she keeps complaining because her audience is shrinking. She thinks people owe it to her to lust after her and admire her. Think how bad it will be in fifteen years, when she doesn’t even look good from a distance in a grainy photo. She’ll be climbing the walls.

Cher and Madonna have had so much plastic surgery they no longer look like normal human beings. They look sort of like accident victims who have had extensive reconstruction with limited success. It bespeaks desperation and denial.

Things are only going to get worse for Madonna. She’s going crazy over aging now, but this is as good as things will ever be for her. What kind of life is that? She spent her years corrupting people in exchange for money and attention, and the only things that make her happy are things she will never have again.

Me, I see death as an escape and a new birth. I see it as redemption and a chance to start over, doing good things that will last forever. Whenever I feel anything funny going on in my chest, I always say the same thing: “I am ready to go!” The haters and the rebellious can have this place. It was worn out anyway.

I read a book by a lady who said she visited hell. In hell, she saw a woman who had been dead for hundreds of years. The woman was in a cell, in a chair. She was very beautiful. Over and over, her flesh deteriorated, rotted, and fell off, and then it regrew. Over the course of a few seconds, she went through what Madonna is going through now. She was a big deal on earth, and she led people in idolatry for her master, but in hell, Satan tormented and ridiculed her for believing him. I can’t swear the book is true, but the punishment makes a lot of sense. Aging is very painful for shallow, attractive women who misuse their looks. Aging over and over again would be a terrible torture for such a person.

I wonder how crazy people will get. I am tempted to say, “Maybe they’ll worship the devil openly,” but they already do that. We already have witch celebrities. Madonna and Beyonce use demonic imagery in TV appearances. Katie Perry is a witch. Dan Aykroyd–the kindly, roly-poly son from Driving Miss Daisy, has said he was sending “hell energy” to people. I suppose celebrities who worship devils are not as open or confrontational as they will be in the future, though.

For the sake of the people who will be persecuted, I hope we’re not far from the end.

This morning I read about Lot. He lived in Sodom, and he was burned out from the filthy ways and speech of the people around him. God decided to destroy the city, but Abraham got him to agree to spare it if God could find ten righteous people there.

Two angels went Sodom to look for the righteous, and Lot invited them to his house for their protection. The people of Sodom and Gomorrah were famous for abusing travelers. Homosexuals gathered in the street outside and demanded that the angels be brought out so they could rape them. Lot was so mortified, he offered to give them his daughters instead. The response? The homosexuals said they would do worse things to Lot than to the angels. They intended to rape him, too.

It was a lot like a modern prison riot. Prisons and wars are little pictures of hell.

The angels pulled Lot inside and blinded the homosexuals. Then Lot tried to get his family to leave the city. His sons-in-law, as blind as the gay mob, thought he was joking, so he had to leave with only his wife and two daughters.

What happened to Lot is a picture of what’s coming to the world. God will permit people who know him to suffer a certain amount of abuse, but at some point he will draw a line and remove us. After that, there will be no good people on earth to motivate God to show restraint, and his anger will fall like burning sulfur.

God is the worst enemy you can have. When he decides to punish you, there is nowhere to hide. No weapon or ally can save you.

How well a Christian will do toward the end will depend on his closeness to God. If you’re a worshiper of Benny Hinn and Joel Osteen and the other “prosperity Christians,” you won’t have much power to look after yourself. The same thing goes for people who go to churches that deny the Holy Spirit. That’s why Jesus said, “But woe to those who are pregnant and to those who are nursing babies in those days!” He was talking about weak Christians who are like unweaned babies. A man can swing a sword. A baby, not so much.

These are interesting times, as the well-known curse puts it.

I will keep an eye on the pronoun front. I’m sure something even weirder will happen shortly.

Hear Him Roar

Monday, March 27th, 2017

The Upcoming Obsolescence of Female Athletes

A few years back, before Americans completely lost the ability to tell male from female, I wrote about the upcoming destruction of female sports. Women and girls of exceptional ability were demanding to be allowed to compete with men, and of course, leftists were all for it. They don’t think; they just ask themselves what seems most PC, and they go with it. They don’t concern themselves with consequences and contradictions.

I pointed out that the results for women’s sports (something I care nothing about) would be disastrous. First of all, the women who competed with men would never excel. They would be among the worst competitors in their chosen realm. Second, women’s sports would lose its top performers; they would move to men’s sports. Women’s sports would become even more boring (which is saying a lot), and the women who continued competing with females would end up with illegitimate, asterisked records. If you didn’t compete with the best, your record is a consolation prize.

I don’t believe I thought much about the problem of men competing in women’s events. I guess I assumed feminists wouldn’t have it. Their victimhood complex is at the center of their lives. To let mean, non-diverse, meat-eating, non-yoga-practicing men who use plastic grocery bags enter their midst would undo decades of assiduous man-bashing. It would also pretty much kill the careers of most female athletes.

Now I see that I misgauged things. I didn’t realize men would eventually be allowed to compete with women, because they would claim to BE women.

The sad yet also–forgive me–hilarious outcome of our extraordinary gender confusion crisis is that now any man who feels like competing with female athletes can do so, and he doesn’t even have to have surgery!

I just read about a “woman” athlete who is actually a man, who won a major weightlifting competition, the Australian International. His name is now Laurel Hubbard, but it used to be Gavin Hubbard. He lifted a grand total of 268 KG. The second-place finisher, an actual woman from Samoa, lifted 249 KG. You should see the photos. He’s a very manly looking man with a receding hairline. I haven’t seen closeups, but from a distance, he simply looks like a man standing among women. Maybe he has a ponytail or lipstick to set himself apart from other males. I couldn’t tell.

This is a confusing topic. Athletes used to complain because other athletes used drugs to win. Then everyone started using drugs and beating the tests, so that fuss abated considerably. Drugs are accepted. Now women who use drugs to win events are upset because they’re competing with men. Who probably use drugs. Cheating has a new and unanticipated level.

I could not care less about sports. They work against Christian values. They teach people to value worthless, fleeting abilities. Judaism and Christianity have always had problems with persecution directed through professional athletics. Aside from all that, I get bored watching other people play. I enjoyed playing sports when I was a kid, but I never had much interest in watching. I don’t care if professional sports get more screwed up; I would welcome it. I’m just commenting as an outsider fascinated by what’s happening.

One great thing about shemale inclusion is that it will allow mediocre and even bad male athletes to get rich in jobs they’re not good enough to do alongside their genetic peers. That will open doors to a lot of frustrated, bitter people.

My phys. ed. coach at Miami Shores Elementary was a physically abusive little guy named Gary. He was handsome. He was muscular and lean. He had chiseled, masculine features and a gruff, manly voice. He was very athletic. He was also about 5’5″ tall. Gary was not big enough to play pro sports, and he ended up working at an elementary school, pushing kids around. Maybe if he had been allowed to play women’s tennis, he wouldn’t have been a teacher, and I would never have seen him pick an 80-pound kid up by the neck and throw him on the ground for complaining to his mom about his bullying.

If Gary had had an opportunity to use his male muscles to humiliate female athletes, maybe he wouldn’t have found himself lining kids up in squads and making them watch him shoot free throws on the kiddie baskets.

A long time ago, there was a male athlete who tried to compete with women, but at least he had the integrity to get the surgery and give up the parts that made his muscles strong. He called himself Renee Richards. As a man, he was a low-ranking tennis pro. As a woman, even in middle age without the benefit of testosterone produced by male organs, he was in the top 20. Here is what he said about it: “Having lived for the past 30 years, I know if I’d had surgery at the age of 22, and then at 24 went on the tour, no genetic woman in the world would have been able to come close to me. And so I’ve reconsidered my opinion.”

He finally admits being a man would have helped. It took him decades to see through the PC haze. Amazing.

I wonder how many people remember tennis’s “Battle of the Sexes.” An aging male pro named Bobby Riggs challenged the top female player in the world, and he won easily. Her name was Margaret Court. She was 30, and he was 55. Her loss drew another professional, Billie Jean King, who played Riggs and won by a smaller margin. Decades later, evidence came out suggesting Riggs threw the match in order to help his bookie creditors profit from betting on King. The difference between male and female athletic abilities is that big.

Nature is what it is. Maybe that won’t be true five years from now, but I can say it now. Mixing the sexes in sports will never work, as long as human beings remain sexually dimorphic.

The most interesting part of this issue is the supernatural blindness that has fallen on people. Those who call Bruce Jenner a woman are completely serious. The fact that he has male genitals and a male physique means absolutely nothing to them. When you say he’s a man, they think it’s not only wrong, but ridiculous.

Because of increasing demonic influence, there is no limit to the craziness of the things people can believe. God is the only barrier between us and insanity, and we don’t like God, so we removed him.

The smart thing to do now is to look to the future and try to make predictions based on the current situation. Here’s a question: if people can believe a man is a woman, why can’t they believe a man is a goat or a tree or a toaster? What if a small child somewhere starts telling his parents he’s a motorcycle? Who is to challenge that?

Right now we have parents denying male children puberty simply because the kids think they’re female. They are receiving treatment to prevent their bodies from developing as male. What a horror. Imagine being 23 and a recipient of this treatment, and then changing your mind. What a mess you would be. What if future parents indulge kids who want lion claws or hooves? These days, many deaf people are convinced deafness sets them apart as a sort of race; they don’t see it as a defect that should be fixed. What if a three-year-old starts jamming things in his ears and telling mom and dad he identifies as deaf? Should they pay a doctor to cut out his eardrums?

I sound like I’m tossing out absurd examples of future deviations. I am! But Bruce Jenner’s case is absurd, too. People just can’t see it. What seems right today was correctly viewed as preposterous fifty years ago. What seems preposterous today–precious little of it that there is–will seem right and normal in the near future.

I once saw an interview featuring a “man” who had had at least two sex-change surgeries. It may have been three, but I think it was two. He’s not the only one, either. Somehow, this person went through the vetting process, which sanctimonious leftists tell us is beyond challenge, at least twice. Assuming it was only two surgeries, he convinced a board of brilliant medical professionals he was really a woman, and they operated, and then he convinced another infallible board he was definitely a man, and they operated again.

Think about that. We’re supposed to think the whole gender-confusion enterprise is scientific and progressive, but the people doing the surgery have definitively, dispositively stated that it’s guesswork. They’ve stated it through their actions every time they’ve done a second or third “reassignment” (When did sexuality become an “assignment”?). If they’re not sure they’ve been wrong, then it would be unethical and possibly criminal to perform consecutive surgeries, so by doing the surgeries, they are testifying against their own conclusions.

Maybe horses can become convinced they’re people. If so, it would be wrong to deny them the right to fulfill their dreams of competing in the Olympics. Any other position would be speciesist.

I’m starting to make myself ill.

Let me suggest something: you are what you are, not what you “feel” you are at the moment. You’re not a person of the opposite sex. You’re not a stuffed animal. You’re not a leopard. You’re definitely not a comic book character created by Nazi scientists experimenting with supersoldier serums (See the video below). People get strange ideas from time to time. We don’t have to build our lives around them. Usually, they pass.

If you’re a female athlete (a real one), you have an interesting path ahead of you. Maybe it’s best to stick to skill sports and leave power and speed to the men and steroid junkies.

Green Acres

Friday, March 24th, 2017

Now I Need a Hungarian Wife

Today I started to write something negative about the way the entitlement mindset has driven fast food companies to replace people with machines, but I think instead I’ll write about the presence of God.

This week I hired an appraiser to check out a property my dad and I looked it. It’s one of the farms we visited in Marion County. I wrote about it and posted a photo before. I will repost it here.

A short time ago I was very excited about the possibility that I might end up in Broward County (Ft. Lauderdale’s county) on two acres. Now I’m comparing properties that have ten to twenty acres, much farther north. It’s a wonderful change.

We visited seven or eight places. Several were very nice. Some were hopeless. When it was over, I had three real possibilities. I didn’t know how to choose. I wanted God to help me, because I knew that if I let my flesh make the decision, I would end up in the wrong place.

Finding God’s guidance is a real challenge for me. In America, a man is expected to lift himself up by his own bootstraps, make a plan, and force it to come to pass. To refuse to do that is to court shame and criticism. People will accuse you of cowardice and laziness. For the last few years, I’ve had to sit back and do what seems like nothing, while I’ve waited for guidance. Sometimes I’ve wondered if I was in denial. I wondered if I was destroying my life through passivity.

After we looked at properties, I refused to choose one. I waited for guidance and confirmation. Sometimes I couldn’t help worrying that the best one might get away while I fooled around. I prayed to be led, and I waited.

The other day, I took the photo above and made it my PC desktop. I wanted to think about the pleasant future, not the stress of being in Miami. When I saw the picture blown up to 55″, I was shocked. Peace swept over me.

Every time I look at the desktop, I feel a sudden burst of peace. I don’t know how else to put it. It’s as if a peace bomb had gone off on the screen, and the shock wave had crossed the room and hit me.

At first, I dismissed it, thinking any picture of a rural property would do that to me. I was wrong, though. There is something about that picture. I found myself sitting and staring at it. I couldn’t tear myself away. It was as if the strength left my body.

My friend Mike came down to visit. He slept in the room where I keep the computer. He started telling me how he couldn’t stop looking at the picture. We both sat here like idiots, staring at it.

My friend Travis came over for a prayer session. He felt the same thing.

When I pray by myself, I use the computer to play Christian music, and of course, I leave the desktop on. It’s mesmerizing. The presence of God is so strong here now. I feel his presence so quickly when I’m looking at the picture. It’s bizarre.

Yesterday I was thinking about my choices, and I realized something. There are other properties that seem like they would be more suitable after a lot of work, but this one is pretty much turnkey. I’ve had to struggle here to get the house that used to belong to my sister ready to be rented, and I’m working to get my dad’s poorly maintained house ready. I don’t need another project! Simply moving will be hard enough. Maybe that’s why this property is right for me.

I hired an appraiser to look at the place in the photo, and once I get his report, we’ll make an offer or move on to something else.

I felt tremendous peace when I was on the property. There was no noise at all. No traffic sounds. Just birds, bugs, and the breeze. It was wonderful. I felt good on the other properties, too, but not as good. Maybe God is telling me something.

The presence of God is now much stronger for me than it was before, and I am able to receive it more quickly and more often. I believe we are supposed to live in God’s presence as much as we can. We are always in the presence of spirits, and they’re either good or bad. It makes no sense to put up with the bad ones all the time and make no effort to be with God.

I believe that when God is with me, he does things for me. He breaks down walls and shows me paths. He destroys my problems and gives me peace. I don’t think he would simply sit here with me and make me feel good while my problems increase. In the Bible he says, “The Lord said to my Lord, ‘Sit at My right hand, Till I make Your enemies Your footstool.'” To me, that says that merely being with God brings us protection and victory.

That makes sense, because the Bible never tells us to earn anything. It tells us to humble ourselves and let God do the work.

Miami always feels like it’s under a dirty, moldy blanket of spiritual oppression. The air here smells like sweat and fungus. On the farm, everything felt clean and fresh. I wonder if that would be true after I had been there a year, as well as on the first visit.

I don’t know where I’ll end up, but even if I don’t get that farm, I’m keeping that picture!

I’m going to post this and look at my desktop for a bit. I really need it.

The Search for Eden Continues

Tuesday, March 21st, 2017

Right Idea; Wrong Planet

I am still waiting for God’s clear guidance on where I should move.

Yesterday, a complication was introduced. I started thinking about places farther north than Marion County, Florida.

If I want to live in Florida in an area which isn’t hideous scrub land, and where I’m less than 30 minutes from a grocery store, I am pretty much limited to 20 acres. I don’t feel comfortable going past the price level that tops out with that much acreage.

I would really like to be able to go for walks on my own land without having the neighbors wave at me from their front porch. I also want to be able to shoot high-powered rifles without hearing a lot of nonsense from neighbors. You can come close to these goals on less than 20 acres, but you can’t quite get there.

I started looking for stuff in the hilly areas of Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, and Tennessee. I like places in the mountains because the air is cooler and I wouldn’t be living on something resembling a pool table. At the same time, I would want a considerable amount of flat land, because you can’t do much with land that’s mostly vertical. Land is cheaper up there than it is in Florida.

One of the issues with moving to the area where Georgia, the Carolinas, and Tennessee come together is that some of the counties have become infested with Floridians. These people can’t drive; they go up and down hills at 20 mph with their brakes on, holding everyone up. They are rude. They are also likely to turn nice places into little copies of Doral and Hialeah (particularly unpleasant neighborhoods in Miami). I don’t want to move eight hundred miles to get away from Spanish and then hear it every time I try to buy something at the grocery store.

I don’t know how bad the Miamization of the Carolina mountains has become. Maybe it’s not too bad. I know I would not want to be anywhere near the North Carolina towns of Highlands and Cashiers. My parents had a place in Cashiers a long time ago, and the Florida people were already thick.

Here’s the other thing: given that I don’t want to be around Miamians, do I really want to be around Appalachian people?

I’m from Appalachia. My people come from Eastern Kentucky. I would never live in Eastern Kentucky, because of the racism and love of ignorance. I don’t want to hear the word “nigger” every time someone talks about a basketball game. When I’m around people who talk like that, even though they’re a lot like me (and may be related to me), I feel alone. I feel like a Jew passing for German among the Nazis, or a closeted Republican on a movie set in California. It makes me reluctant to get close to anyone new.

When we had our place in Cashiers, I learned that North Carolina hill people, though somewhat more responsible and capable than Eastern Kentucky people, were possibly even more bigoted. They really hated blacks. My dad made a friend of a deputy sheriff up there, and the things this man said about black people were horrendous. He was a public official, and I guess everyone approved of his mindset, because he didn’t get fired or sent off to sensitivity training (which didn’t exist yet).

I’m sure a lot of bad things happened to black people who were accosted by the cops in Jackson County. I remember the deputy saying something about running off a part-black prison road crew. I believe he expected trouble from the other locals.

I don’t want to live in a place where racial prejudice toward blacks is heavy. On the other hand, I wouldn’t want to live in a primarily black area, because then I’d be the one suffering from racist persecution, and no one cares about victims of black racism. When it happens to you, you are on your own.

What if I had a choice between living in a place where blacks were treated badly or a place where whites were treated badly? Not a pleasant question. I would have to put my safety first.

Central and northern Florida are interesting, because they seem to be places where there is little racial friction. If you visit Ocala or Orlando, you’ll see a lot of black and white people sitting in restaurants together or walking together. That’s unusual in Miami. I’ve also seen a lot of mixed families in Orlando.

In Miami, you’ll see a lot of mixed people. You’ll see brown people who clearly have a lot of black blood. But you won’t see them sitting with black people. They sit with other brown people. It’s strange; many Cubans have black blood, and it shows, but they still have issues with black people.

Miami is full of racial tension, but people don’t talk about it, because most of it comes from Latins and blacks. If you’re white and you say anything about it, you’re automatically considered racist. A big percentage of Cubans do not like black people, and it’s very hard for blacks to get jobs in Latin-controlled Miami. Latins also treat each other better in commerce, and they are often hard on white people. Blacks have a lot of animosity toward whites and Latins. That seems to be true everywhere, and because no one talks about it, it won’t change any time soon.

There are some very good things about Appalachia. People there are polite. They are overwhelmingly Christian. They’re culturally similar to me in many respects. The land is beautiful. You can grow things there. Self-righteous, provincial bicoastal culture is less powerful there. You don’t have to worry about gay men having naked parades. Yet. The cost of living is low. People speak English. There isn’t much traffic. You can get away from humanity if you want to.

Another interesting thing about Appalachia is that construction is much better than it is here in Miami. No one here can do anything right. Walls are crooked, doors don’t fit, and so on. Miami contractors get very angry when you show them how bad their work is, and they blame you for being too picky. In Appalachia (and just about every other place outside South Florida), you can get a house that’s built correctly, and you can get repair people who aren’t completely inept and lazy.

I don’t think I’ll move to Appalachia. Marion County looks too good. The winters are a joke. The people are great. The county is dominated by conservatives. I think I’ll stick with the plan.

Maybe I shouldn’t air my inner thoughts as I deliberate, but I like shining sunlight on things. At least when I’m not the object of scrutiny!

I look forward to a better world, where I don’t have to weigh the impact of different types of foolishness and evil before making a move.


Monday, March 20th, 2017

This is What Defeat Looks Like

Every day I make the mistake of looking at the news, and today I saw something even more disturbing than usual. Comedian Tim Allen said he took his five-year-old to a parade in Santa Monica (part of greater L.A.), and they saw a fire truck covered with naked men.

I hadn’t thought about naked gay parades in quite some time, mercifully; this just brought the matter back to my attention. I don’t want to sound like I’m outraged about something new. This has been going on for a while.

I Googled and found all sorts of disturbing images.

Gays really do march stark naked in parades in major cities. I was thinking about putting up censored images to prove it, but I’m too lazy. Google “gay parade nudity” and click “Images.” If you have a strong stomach.

This stuff happens in L.A., San Francisco, New York, Key West, Toronto, and God knows where else.

“Who are they hurting?”, you may ask. If that’s your response, the hurt is already done, and you are probably beyond help. If you don’t see anything wrong with men showing their genitals to women and children, you are hopelessly jaded.

Christianity is a mess. We have been taught that it’s about obeying rules. We’ve been taught that God is like a slot machine that will pay off on rare occasions if we pray constantly. We have been taught that his help is rare. We have been taught that Satan and other evil spirits aren’t real. Imagine that. The Old Testament says they’re real. Jesus and the apostles said they were real. Christians pretend to believe Jesus is God. Somehow, we have decided God was wrong about a lot of things.

We don’t know God. We don’t understand the way spirits work. We don’t understand the very nature of the universe. We don’t realize we’re in the middle of a battle between spirits. It makes sense that we think sin is harmless. If God is just barely real, so are the consequences of ungodliness.

The problem with loving or even tolerating sin is that it cuts us off from God–the good spirit–and subjects us to the power of Satan, fallen angels, and demons. These are spirits that want to destroy us. We are supposed to live in God’s presence, through the Holy Spirit. We are supposed to be close to him, so we can be shaped by him. When we get into rebellion, it’s as if we build walls between him and ourselves. He stops answering our prayers. He stops pitying our suffering. We lose his help.

Simply by being exposed to outrageous sexual perversion, we are harmed. Some of us are tempted and then become subject to evil spirits. Some are simply discouraged and vexed and lose their peace and their faith that God is more powerful than his enemies. Some may fall into anger and malice. In any case, yes, it is harmful.

The Bible makes it clear that evil will win. The Tribulation and the second coming aren’t celebrations of the victories of God’s people. They will be punishment for the people who defeat us. Christians hate hearing that they’re going to lose; we are extremely arrogant, and we are unwilling to face our failures. But lose we will. In fact, lost we have.

We are already in the beginning stage of Nazi-style persecution in America. Gays and others who hate Christianity are closing Christian businesses, with the state and our new, unelected, unaccountable, Bill-of-Rights-exempt, tech-giant pseudo-government on their side. Simply saying you believe the Bible is enough to get you fired in many plances. We are being pushed out of commerce, just as the Jews were under Hitler. We have already been pushed out of education, just as the Jews were under Hitler. We are being pushed into smaller and smaller areas. It’s not subtle. It’s obvious, but people can’t see it because their minds are clouded supernaturally.

Some of us want to fight. That’s beyond stupid. If natural strength meant anything, we wouldn’t be in this position. We had numbers and wealth, and we still lost. It’s silly to claim we can win now that our numbers are shrinking and the state is against us. Christianity in America is drying up like a tumor after chemotherapy, and it will continue to dry up. Fighting with our natural strenght will only bring us humiliation, and it will make us look like hypocrites.

It’s nice that Trump is slowing the process down, but he won’t be around forever, and the overall trend in America is leftward. It’s true, we elect a lot of Republicans, but they’re not much help. They’re like the leftists of twenty years ago. It won’t be that long before our politicians move so far to the left it makes little difference who we vote for.

We’re supposed to know God personally. We’re supposed to live in his presence, without the help of preachers and priests. We’re supposed to get his help and become transformed internally, so we are aligned with him in our hearts and minds. It’s all supernatural, but because we love pretending to be able to help ourselves, we reject it. His charity is the only source of power and peace, but we don’t want it.

We hate God because we don’t know him. We believe the lies we’ve been told about him. We think he doesn’t care, or that all he wants is for us to follow rules we (in our great wisdom) find silly and unpleasant. We can’t get close enough to him to see him for ourselves and make the obvious decision. Our rebelliousness limits how close we can get to him, but it helps us get closer to the spirits that are against him.

I’m working on getting out of Miami, which is a hub of demon worship. I tend to feel like it’s an escape, but it’s not. It’s a retreat. God’s people lost Miami. We got thrashed. When an army gets beaten, it pulls back and regroups. That’s what’s happening in my life. My unit failed to take its objective, so now we’re on the run. The same thing is happening all over the country.

The enemy’s people will follow us. We will get some time to recover and serve God as well as we can, but they will come for us. They’ll actively look for us. They’ll come to the areas to which we’ve fled, for the purpose of tormenting and defeating us. It will be the wedding cake battle all over again. Gays don’t go to Christian bakers because they think those bakers are the best. They go to them because they’re Christians. They go to force confrontations, knowing the Christians will lose. Things may be less stressful in your rural community in the South or the West, but that won’t last. Towns and states can’t protect anyone. The federal government is all-powerful now. Any rest we get will be temporary.

We will be marginalized. Our property will be taken. We will be forced into servitude, like dhimmis in a caliphate. We will be driven off the airwaves and the Internet. We will be killed for our faith, with government approval. Things will eventually get so bad God will blow the whistle and remove us.

It’s astonishing, what has happened to America. How did so many get so filthy?

Naked men on a fire truck. In America. During a parade. In front of children. And it doesn’t even make the news! And if you criticize it, you’re evil!

We’re always told homosexuals are just like everyone else, except that they prefer homosexual relations. If that were true, pre-gay-revolution parades would have been full of nudity, bondage gear, and sex acts. They were not. Gay life is about sexual depravity. It revolves around fornication. They are obsessed with sex, to a much greater degree than the rest of us.

Christians caused this mess. We were selfish. We were proud. We didn’t care about other people. We didn’t seek correction. We just wanted God to make our own plans work out. We can’t help ourselves, so naturally, we were not able to help the men who now ride around on the fire truck. We blame them as though they’re the whole problem. What if we had done things God’s way? What if we had allowed God to become so powerful in us he could deliver people and help them find his love? Wouldn’t things be different?

They’re responsible for their own problems, but we are also to blame.

The history of the world, from creation up through the Tribulation, will look like this: God set us up for success, we threw it away, God set us up for success, we threw it away, God set us up for success, we threw it away, and then God had to come down and push the “reset” button. Adam failed. The Jews failed. We failed. We should be glad God is so close to putting an end to the spectacle.

It is no exaggeration to say that when he returns, he will be putting the world out of its misery.

I’m not trying to discourage anyone. I’m just trying to help people see America the way it is. If people can see the storm developing, they might prepare for it.

Get ready for what’s coming. You can’t say you didn’t know.

See Spot Run

Thursday, March 16th, 2017

Bad Dreams are Not for Me

I feel like adding something to my previous post, which was about my progress with God (perhaps more accurately, the converse).

For a number of years, I’ve been having bad dreams every night. I don’t have nightmares; just dreams I hate. Very often, I’ve found myself back in Austin, Texas, in the apartment I lived in when I was trying to get a Ph.D. in physics. I find myself there with my tools and my junk. The groceries I left behind in 1997 are still there, fresh as the day I left. I wander around the apartment, aware that I’m supposed to be back in class. It’s like I’ve gotten a second chance, and I’ve already started blowing it.

I hate that dream. Giving up on physics was a huge defeat for me. Getting my undergrad degree and getting accepted by a major department was an astounding victory, and I thought it meant failure was behind me. Then I got burned out, and nothing I did fixed the problem. On top of that, there were a few snotty, maladjusted kids in the department who wanted to see me fail (for no reason whatsoever), and I had to watch them get their wish.

I could have been a physicist. Technically, I am a physicist. I have my undergrad degree. You can’t go from a vague knowledge of algebra to grad school in under four years without the natural ability to do the job. But I couldn’t make it work. I was in rebellion. I didn’t have God’s help. I didn’t know what my weapons were. Everyone who was against me won.

It’s bad enough to have failed. Going back and reliving it hundreds of times is too much.

Here’s another dream: I’m in a big airport, similar to DFW, walking around with my bags. I never get to the gate. I just walk, past Cinnabon stalls and bookstores. Travel is fun, if you actually get somewhere. All I do is tour the terminal.

Sometimes I dream I’ve signed up for courses at the University of Miami, but for some reason, class is in session, and I’m at home. It’s halfway through the semester, and suddenly I remember I quit going to several classes I signed up for. I forgot to drop them. I wonder if I can convince the deans to let me drop them now, or if I’ll be forced to receive failing grades for courses I didn’t know I was enrolled in.

I’ve also been waking up in the morning. Usually, it happened too late to go back to sleep but early enough to result in serious sleep deprivation. I hate that. If your alarm is set for 7:30 and you wake up at 6:00, you’re done sleeping for the night. When I don’t sleep, I feel bad all day.

Weeks ago, after I woke in the night, I heard a female voice say something like, “I’ll see you again soon.” I believe a spirit was ruining my sleep, and that it was taunting me about its future visits.

For many years, I’ve had another problem. I call it “morning sickness.” Often I wake up with a sense of dread, for no reason. I think about the things I’ve been planning to do, and I feel like they’re going to end disastrously. It makes me want to cancel my plans and take the safest route possible.

Since I’ve been commanding my spirit, I haven’t awakened early. I haven’t had a single bad dream. I haven’t had morning sickness. Whatever was after me has been dispersed. That’s a huge relief.

Our lives are controlled by the supernatural. We think we accomplish things through willpower and natural ability, but that’s just pride. Sometimes the things that happen in this world are consistent with our natural expectations, but often, events make no sense at all. That shows that the supernatural is involved. Surely no one believes Kim Kardashian is rich because she’s intelligent, talented, or hard-working. No intelligent person thinks Cher or Marisa Tomei deserved Oscars, or that Barack Obama deserved a Nobel.

We ignore the supernatural and focus on our own efforts. Even Christian leaders teach us this foolishness. Almost none of them understand how things work. The Bible reminds us over and over that it’s the blessed, not the industrious, who succeed, yet we don’t listen. Spirits control us, and part of that control manifests in our unwillingness to believe the truth.

If you don’t have God on your side, you’re just hoping for the best. You’re counting on random chance to save you from the horrible things that can happen in your life. That’s how I’ve lived for most of my time on earth.

My family was constantly under attack. I was cursed. I tried to fix it myself. I failed where people of less ability succeeded.

The more I work on the supernatural side of life, the better things get. This is how I plan to spend the rest of my time here. If it doesn’t pan out, I’ll go work at Burger King. But so far it was worked much better than struggling and striving.

Night before last, I found a blue spot on my calf. It didn’t look good. It seemed irregular, and it had thick skin over part of it. Having virtually no skin pigment and having grown up in Florida, I had disturbing thoughts. There are three common kinds of skin cancer. The first two can be cured in five seconds with a can of Dr. Scholl’s wart freezing medicine from the drugstore. The third one–the one that gives you thick blue spots with irregular shapes–usually kills you.

I pulled out the supernatural weapons. I cursed and prayed and so on. Then I went to sleep. I told myself that if I had melanoma, and I couldn’t get rid of it, I would use my medical insurance and spend my last months taking whatever drugs I needed to stay comfortable, and then I would die and be glad to be gone. I refused to worry about it.

I forgot about it yesterday, and then I looked at my calf last night. There’s a pink place on my leg where the blue spot was. The thick skin is gone. I have no idea what happened, but I don’t even have a wart.

I keep asking God to help me to use supernatural tools before panicking and using my own limited power. When you feel rushed or panicked or worried, that’s not God, and it’s not reality. It’s spirits and people who are working to destroy you, planting poison in your heart and mind. I don’t want any part of that. It’s a lie.

I look forward to continuing improvements. I believe I will eventually know what it is to have some semblance of a blessed life. Whether I can take anyone with me is another question, but I know I’ll be used to try to rescue people.

Peace is available. Remember that. Don’t give up on pursuing it. Worry and fear are neither normal nor mandatory.

Every Business Needs a Manager

Wednesday, March 15th, 2017

Take Charge

Time to get back to writing about God.

I had a big development during the last few days. I’m always learning things about God, and when I apply them, things happen. Sometimes I learn things and then I forget them and learn other things. Then God reminds me of the things I forgot, and I apply them along with the new things. That creates a synergy, so I’m better off than before. It’s better to do several things right than one thing.

A few years back, I noticed that people in the Bible gave commands to their minds and spirits. They spoke to them as though they were servants. You can see this in the psalms. The authors will command their souls to do this or that. I believe the soul is the conscious mind. Also, the Bible says the spirits of prophets are subject to them, and Jesus sent his spirit to God when he died, implying he had authority over it.

I have started commanding my spirit when I pray. I command it to believe, to submit to God, to love, to forgive, and so on. The results are startling. I feel movement inside me. I hear groans coming from within me. It’s very strange. It’s overwhelming.

I find that it works. I have much more control over what I think about and what I feel. Since I’ve been doing it, things have gone more smoothly for me. It seems that I dont have to exert much effort in my natural strength, as long as I cover the bases in the supernatural.

That makes sense to me, because the most blessed people in the Bible were not hard workers. The Bible doesn’t say Abraham was rewarded for his hard work. He was rewarded for faith. When Moses started working hard, it was not perceived as something to admire; it was a problem. God gave him helpers to fix it. Joseph wasn’t put in charge of Egypt because of hard work. His relationship with God did it. You can find example after example in the Bible, but you will never find anyone who won God’s favor by striving.

Over and over, in the Bible, hard work is equated with servitude and defeat. It was part of Adam’s curse. Samson was cursed with hard work. Esau’s sons were cursed with servitude. So were Canaan’s descendants. Freedom from hard work is shown as a blessing. One of the nicest things God promised people was that they would live in houses other people built and have wealth other people accumulated.

Some extremely odd and unlikely things have happened to me lately. Walls I thought would never come down crumbled so fast my biggest problem was adjusting. It’s hard to stay on your feet when you get a huge blessing.

I can give you some examples. Excuse me if I repeat things I’ve mentioned before.

Several years ago, I made a deal with my dad. I would not leave Miami without him, provided he bought a place somewhere else, big enough for both of us, and moved with me. All sorts of barriers rose up. We had problems with his real estate. We had to buy my sister out of the house he owned with her and renovate it. One contractor abandoned the job. The other was very slow and inept. The city held us up for months.

A few months back, my dad claimed he had never made any promise to me. I assume he forgot, due to his memory issues. I thought I was going to have to go alone and then have to deal with his problems and responsibilities from a long distance.

I don’t want to get into all the details, but since then, one by one, his objections have disappeared. I didn’t beg him or fight with him. His mind simply changed, overnight. He decided he would move, grudgingly. Then he decided he wanted to move, provided we got his Miami house renovated first, which was completely impractical. He started saying he couldn’t stand Miami any more. Then, very suddenly, he said we could buy a new place and move before fixing the house. On his own, he started feeling bad about making me work so hard to get this done.

I found places on the Internet. I thought small, because I didn’t want to shock him with a big expense. He asked if I was sure I didn’t want to get something nicer. He said I would inherit it, and if I got married I would want a nice place. I was amazed.

We looked at places in Marion County. The one I liked best seemed remote. I was concerned he might be bored. He was also concerned. He indicated he didn’t want to be so far out. I thought we would have to start looking again. Then out of the blue, he started saying he thought it was fine. He really liked it. He wasn’t worried about driving ten minutes to get to a drugstore or having a limited number of places to go to for lunch.

The game field keeps changing so fast I can’t steady myself well enough to plan firmly.

The place I’m considering has a 25-by-36-foot workshop with a concrete slab. It has never been used. It has a big three-car garage with a beautiful epoxy floor. It has ten acres of secluded, peaceful land. The shop contains a tractor, a bush hog, and a John Deere Gator that appear unused. It’s like someone prepared the place for me, knowing I was on the way.

Can I trust the blessings I’m getting? How do you cope with the change when you go from struggling and waiting to having things handed to you? I feel like one of the four lepers who looted the empty camp of the Syrians in 2 Kings 7. They must have looked around and said, “Is this really for us?”

I don’t know if I’ll get that place, but I’m getting out. That’s a done deal.

I feel very bad for the people I know from church. Just about all of them are stuck in the fake prosperity maelstrom. The Steve Munseys and Benny Hinns and Joel Osteens are bleeding them to death. They are either leaving church in disgust or staying and getting weaker and weaker. I wish everyone could come with me.

The things Jesus said about the crooked Jews of his time are true of Christian leaders today. They don’t know the way into the kingdom, and they keep other people out. They teach people poisonous garbage in order to turn them into slaves and get them to contribute obscene amounts of money, so the preachers can spend it on the kind of trinkets known to be appealing to common white trash.

In the battle for the Pacific, the Japanese came up with smart tactics. At first, they attacked Americans on the beaches of the islands they invaded. They sent waves of soldiers to charge American guns, and they lost thousands of men. Later they let our troops land with little opposition, and they hid in huge, bomb-proof cave complexes stuffed with food and ammunition. Our casualties went way up. This is why we dropped atomic bombs on Japan. They would have used the same strategy on a gigantic scale.

The money preachers are like the Japanese. Some of the devil’s sons go after people in porn theaters and casinos, where no one is even close to God. Other sons wait in their big concrete churches, and they let us come to them. Then they attack on their own turf. They wait for us like goaltenders in hockey goals. Churches are like choke points. A lot of seekers come in the doors, and preachers pick them off by the millions. They teach them lies and keep them weak. People fail just when they think they’re finally almost home.

If this move works out for me, it will be after a long period during which I haven’t given preachers one red cent. It will happen after I spent years of “touching God’s anointed,” criticizing the prosperity preachers and accusing them of serving the devil. What would they be able to say, presented with my testimony? “Just you wait. God is going to get you any minute now!” Right. Just like he’s always one service away from giving the slaves their thirtyfold, sixtyfold, and hundredfold financial windfall. I’ll be dead and living in heaven before they see that money.

Sometimes I almost wonder if it’s possible for anyone other than a preacher to get into hell, what with all the clergymen crowding their way in.

If you want to help, pray for God to guide me and help me end up where he wants. That would be a big favor. I can’t seem to do much for my friends, but maybe I can get out of here and put some space between me and the mess.

Throwing Shade

Tuesday, March 14th, 2017

A Man has to Eat

The northern Florida dirt issue is getting more complicated.

First, I found out almost no land in Marion County is considered prime farmland. That hurt. Then I found out the property I liked was only about 30% “farmland of local importance.” Now I’m concerned about shade.

The three best acres of the property are next to a fence. Trees grow along the fence. The trees give shade. The fence runs north to south. I’m on the west side of the fence. That means the trees will kill at least some of the sun until maybe noon. They’re tall trees, so I suppose some sun will slip in under them, but it’s not ideal.

I looked at a list of vegetables that don’t need full sun, and it made me feel better. The list goes like this:

1. Everything except corn and tomatoes.

I guess that’s not really right, but a whole lot of things are on the list. Taters. Beans. Peas. Carrots. Anything related to cabbage, which means just about every type of greens.

Peppers need sun. I guess I could put a raised box with fake dirt in a sunny area.

I don’t know how good farmland has to be, in order to work. I grew a fine crop of beans in my sand yard in Miami. I had one 30-foot row, and I did pretty well until fungus killed everything.

Do I really need raised beds? Why not get a backhoe and dig a square pit about 20 feet on a side and a foot deep? I could fill it with composted horse manure, better dirt, pixie dust, and whatever else it takes to grow food. I guess there must be a reason why this is a stupid idea, because it seems so obvious and no one does it. Or maybe they do. Do they?

Sweet corn would appear to be an important thing to learn to grow. When the nutty left starts driving Christians out of grocery stores, you won’t be able to get by with just cabbage and tomatoes. I wonder if there’s a way to force sandy ground to produce corn.

Once you learn to grow stuff, you have to figure out how to preserve it. Root crops keep a long time. I can dry beans and turn them into shucky beans. Other stuff would have to be canned. That’s a drag. But I already have the equipment.

Fruit trees. Is there a fruit tree that will grow in sandy soil? I would love to have peaches.

The owners of the place I like killed all the trees on about seven acres of it. I can’t understand that. I guess they wanted the horses to be happy. What about the people? People like trees. How can you have a huge lot with no fruit trees? That’s insane.

I’ll get the answers. One way or another it will work.

My New Field of Study: Dirt

Saturday, March 11th, 2017

Like This Wasn’t Complicated Enough

The home-shopping experience is getting more complicated, which should not be a surprise. I know very little about buying houses (even though I should), I know even less about buying farms, and I overthink everything I buy. When I buy a pair of pliers on the web, I have to look at a hundred websites to make sure they’re the best pliers on earth. Imagine how bad it is trying to buy a house.

I did not know soil varies greatly over small distances. I figured you would have one kind of soil in one part of a county and maybe another kind in another part. I didn’t think different kinds of soil would be swirled around and mixed so every single farm in a county would have to be examined separately.

I found out about soil variations today. There’s a government website called Web Soil Survey, and you can use it to find out what kind of soil you have under you. You can look at very small areas, like 15 acres.

I found a nice farm with a green house. I checked the soil. Only about 30% of it is nice enough for the government to consider it farmland. The other part…who knows? The government divides things into “prime farmland,” “locally important farmland,” and…crap, I guess.

If I understand the soil report, I can grow 20000 pounds of tomatoes per acre per year, but it looks like I can only plant an acre or two. Hmm…I probably won’t need more than 3000 pounds for personal use, so maybe that’s okay.

I can grow 60 bushels of corn per acre per year. Whoopee.

I can’t grow watermelons very well, according to the government’s pessimistic report. Suddenly I really want those watermelons.

How do I figure out how the land itself affects the value of the property? I guess this is where appraisers come in.

I’m not interested in becoming a farmer, but what if that changes? What if I find out there is huge money in growing exotic artichokes or something? What if our economy tanks? What about the inevitable day when leftists exclude Christians from buying and selling?

I don’t know if I can accomplish anything with two or three acres of tillable land.

Can I grow anything on the remainder of the property? Search me. It’s something called “Arredondo sand.” Sounds like a paint color. What if I make the property a free dumping ground for horse manure for a year? Will that help?

The property next door is sitting on a pile of Kendrick loamy sand, which extends slightly into the lot I’m looking at. This extension is the fertile part of the lot. I can’t believe that guy got 100% Kendrick loamy sand! Lucky so-and-so.

For fun, I looked up the 300-acre farm my grandfather owned in Kentucky. Virtually all of it is prime farmland, which means plants grow like crazy. I didn’t appreciate it when I was a kid.

Sooner or later I’ll get the answer. It’s too complicated for me, but surely prayer will get the job done.

Bugging Out

Friday, March 10th, 2017

Make Sure you Pack the Skillets and the AK-47

It has been a hard week. I spent two days in Ocala, looking at houses with my dad and my old friend Mike.

I would have blogged the trip from Ocala, but trip blogging is just an oblique way of begging thieves to rob your empty house, so I kept quiet.

For several weeks, I’ve been digging up properties online and talking to a realtor. I ran into some obstacles. First of all, Florida contains a whole lot of extremely ugly houses. I’m not picky, but there is such a thing as a house too ugly to live in. I found a number of places I could not stomach. Very sad, because sometimes great properties have bad houses.

I had another problem: a surprising number of people put two-bedroom houses or trailers on nice farms. I can’t figure that out. I suppose some of the smaller homes used to be caretaker shacks on larger farms, and once the farms were cut up, the main houses went with other parcels.

Third thing: some of these places were just too remote. I’m all for breathing room, but half an hour is too long for a drive to the nearest drugstore. Also, my dad will be with me, and I don’t think he would be thrilled about living in a place where there are only three or four decent restaurants within a half-hour’s drive. And if he needs medical care, it would be best to be fairly close in.

One place had a shop building that almost made me faint. It was maybe sixty feet long and thirty feet wide. I was told it was an RV barn. Think what I could do with that.

I found a couple of places that stood out. One is a mint-green farmhouse a rich couple used as a vacation home. They fixed it up perfectly, and then they rarely used it. It has a small barn, a beautiful shop with a concrete slab, and the nicest house I have ever been in. They even bought a new tractor and a small four-wheel drive utility vehicle. The machinery still has tags on it. It has never been used.

The mint color is odd, but I can fix that myself for a few hundred bucks.

I’ve never seen construction to equal that house. Everything fits perfectly. The woodwork is finished to perfection. The garage has a brand-new epoxy floor. It’s stunning. It would be impossible to build such a house in Miami, because no one here could do it even if they wanted to. People here have no skill.

I don’t know how they did it.

You could put a dirt berm up behind this place and shoot rifles all day. How sweet would that be?

Unfortunately, it’s pretty far out, and I don’t think the price is realistic. The owners got hammered, paying $100,000 more than what it’s probably worth now.

It’s not in the high-rent area of the county, but they’re asking a high price, and I doubt it will appreciate quickly.

The other place I like is a frame house on 16 acres of woods. I don’t want that many trees, but you can have your land timbered selectively, and because the wood is useful, you make money on the process. I could mark the trees I want gone and open it up without destroying the privacy.

The house has no outbuildings (bad), but it does have a nice 3-car garage with a gun room built into the side of it. The gun room has a heavy steel door. A smart person could open it up in a few minutes with an angle grinder, but most thieves are stupid and in a hurry.

Can’t hurt.

We would have to add a shop building. That would take time. I suppose my stuff would fit in the garage until then.

This house is closer in. No issues with distance.

I think the second house is best, but man, that first house is something. It’s magnificent. It’s like someone knew I was coming and built it for me. “Here’s your unused shop, complete with electricity and concrete slab. Here is your new tractor. Here is your huge garage. Here is your steel gate. Here is your emergency generator. Did we forget anything?”

It was wonderful to not be in Miami. The people in Marion County were great. Everyone was polite, and I only heard one conversation in Spanish.

Mike used to live in Ocala. His parents had a thoroughbred farm there, and after that, he and his wife lived near the city. He was a great resource. He knew where the best soil was. He knew what different areas of the county were like. On top of that, he’s an incredile schmooze, so he got people to open up and tell us about the properties we looked at. One lady operated a soap company out of her home. She made him take free soap and tried to get a date. She said he was cute.

Not to be outdone, I also attracted attention from females. While we were walking around the soap lady’s farm, a white horse noticed me and trotted over to the fence like she couldn’t believe I had finally arrived. She was thrilled to see me. She stuck her head over the fence and tried to get me to come over. When I walked around a barn and reappeared on the other side, she saw me, and she ran over to flirt some more.

I tried to take a dignified photo of her from the side, but she lunged at me, and this is what I got:

Mike was not happy. He has been around horses for most of his life, and she didn’t give him the time of day.

I have to decide what to do. Try to buy one of these places, or wait for something new?

There are worse problems to have. I could be upside-down on a Miami mortgage, forced to rot here until I pay it off.

Why Melania Won’t Move to Washington

Monday, March 6th, 2017

Nip-Slip Media Goes After CINC

I get tired of being proven right when I don’t want to be.

Today CNN has a story. President Trump had a screaming, knock-down, chair-throwing fight with insiders Steve Bannon and Reince Priebus. And how do they know that? BECAUSE THEY SHOT GRAINY, INCONCLUSIVE VIDEO THROUGH THE WHITE HOUSE WINDOWS WITH A TELEPHOTO LENS.

This is how crazy the left has gotten. They are literally stalking the president.

Raise your hand if you remember all those times the American press made voyeur videos of Obama and then blew them up all over the Internet.

Me, neither.

Go watch the video. I did. Here’s what I saw: some figures are in the White House, talking. Bannon’s face is visible. You can see a guy who looks like Jared Kushner. You can see the back of a blonde woman’s head. Bannon seems a little excited. For a few seconds.

If you can see anything more than that, I credit you on your exceptional eyesight or, in the case of CNN, imagination.

CNN’s talking head claims Reince Priebus is in the video, but I can’t see him. If I recall correctly from personal experience, Reince is about 5’2″ tall, so he would not be that easy to spot.

I went to college with Barack Obama and law school with Reince Priebus. Unexpected difference: people I know actually remember Reince.

Bill Clinton held Dick Morris down and choked him. Why was there no kerfuffle? No one cared. No one in the press was out to get Clinton. CNN never got exiled to the sidewalk during the Clinton years.

When I think about Trump, I always think of the expression “to damn with faint praise.” You know what it means. Andy Griffith provided a famous example: “You don’t sweat much for a fat girl.” The other side of the coin is praising with faint damnation. The press makes Trump look good by hammering him over insignificant or imaginary faults.

Trump got mad! We think! IMPEACH! IMPEACH!


I’d be mad, too, if I just found out my business was wiretapped. Actually, I am mad, because I did find out I was wiretapped. We’re all wiretapped. All of our communications go into government servers, in a violation of the Fourth Amendment no judge seems brave enough to call out. I found that out quite some time ago. The conspiracy nuts were right. How can that happen?


Rush Limbaugh calls the MSM “the Drive-By Media.” Maybe we should call them “the Taxi Driver Media,” or “the Fatal Attraction Media.”

I hope Baron Trump doesn’t have any pet rabbits.

Here’s a nutty idea: how about covering things that actually happened, instead of things you really hope happened?

Trump and journalists share a common flaw: the inability to admit fault. Trump rarely, if ever, says he made a mistake. When Trump rightly says people don’t trust the press, only a tiny handful of journalists discusses the possibility that there is a reason for their unpopularity.

Trump didn’t create the notion that the press is unfair. The public figured that out a long time ago. The only novel thing about Trump is that he talks about it while serving as president. The press has been crazy-biased for decades, and they refuse to admit it. How can you expect someone to take you seriously as an institution that gathers and reports facts, when you think you’re immune to bias? It’s patently insane.

The press is trying to tell us Trump threw Priebus and Bannon off Air Force One. They said he told them they couldn’t fly to Florida with him. Sounds juicy! Oops…it turns out he said they should stay in Washington and work, because a lot of things are going on right now. Not really the same thing, is it?

What is wrong with these people? Can’t they even try to be fair?

The devil’s people hate Trump because he’s helpful to Christians and Israel. That’s the bottom line. Trump is not a man of God, but what’s happening to him is still religious persecution, because the primary motivation behind the left’s rage is hatred of Christians and Jews. What we’re seeing now is the reeking blossom of a new age of open persecution from respected institutions.

If you think it’s bad now, wait a few years.

I have a new level of empathy for illegal aliens. I wish I could emigrate to heaven. This place is completely out of hand. Unfortunately, God’s border patrol has a perfect record. I will have to wait here, south of the border, as my asylum claim gets better and better.

I’m glad I’m as old as I am. I would hate to be 20 and have maybe 70 years of this craziness stretching out before me. I don’t know how the apostles dealt with it.

Poor President Trump. Wiretaps at home, and peeping toms at the office. The first paparazzi president. I should quit looking at Fox and CNN. From now on, I’ll just check TMZ. Maybe Trump will get out of his limo carelessly and show CNN his underwear. “GOP ROCKED BY REINCE PRIEBUS SEX TAPE!!!”

When is checkout time? My bags are just about packed.

Background Radiation

Wednesday, March 1st, 2017

Eating Clean for the Mind

I finished Philip K. Dick’s The Man in the High Castle. I enjoyed it. I knocked it off in three or four days, which shows the difference between reading things you enjoy and things you only read out of duty. I’ve been suffering while reading relatively small passages from the books on the Columbia College Lit. Hum. syllabus. Reading 50 pages of Philip K. Dick in one day is a pleasure. Reading 20 pages of Cervantes is a chore.

Dick is very clever, but I don’t think he’s all that deep. Here’s one thing you notice about him right away: all of his characters sound the same. It’s as if one person is talking all through the book. In that respect, he resembles Ayn Rand. Maybe Rand wrote that way because her books involved two opposing sets of characters, and the characters in each set shared the same mind. Dagney Taggart and Hank Rearden were pretty much the same person.

Perhaps, like most people who write science fiction, he was more interested in the physical world than in human beings and their personalities.

When I put his book down, I finally got to open Helmet for My Pillow, the first-person World War Two chronicle written by marine Robert Leckie. His book, along with one by fellow marine Eugene Sledge, was used as a basis for the Band of Brothers companion series, The Pacific.

While I’ve been reading Leckie’s book, I’ve continued watching the Ken Burns series, The War, which also covers World War Two.

I had a disturbing revelation last night, after watching the show. The War followed the story of a soldier named Corado Ciarli, who died as part of the invasion force that landed at Anzio. The Anzio invasion and the ensuing campaign have been criticized as incompetent and very wasteful of human life. General Mark Clark took too long preparing to attack the Germans, and by the time he felt ready, they, too, were prepared. They spent weeks showering the Allies with bullets and artillery rounds from high ground, and there was very little cover on the ground below.

The soldiers in the invasion suffered terribly. Ciarlo wrote home very often, and guess what he told his family? Nothing. He said he was in great health. He bragged about how much he ate. He kept telling them he wished them the best. Meanwhile, he was living in a hole, waiting to die.

He had two brothers, a sister, and a mother back in Waterbury, Connecticut. He could have vented to them in order to reduce his own stress. Instead he kept it light. Because he loved them so much, he put their welfare first.

Here’s the revelation: my life has been pretty twisted. I grew up in a city where people are nasty and aggressive. I don’t know what it feels like to have a sibling I can write to the way Ciarlo wrote to his. I can’t imagine filling letters home full of expressions of love and praise. My family was not like that.

My neighbors had screwed-up families, too. A gay man across the street tied his lover up and murdered him, castrating him in the process. The family across 10th Avenue lost a son to a heroin overdose; one night, an ambulance appeared at the house, and the next day one of the kids told my sister, “My brother died,” as if he were talking about a visit from a TV repairman. The lady next door had a heroin-addict son who slapped her around, and her release was vodka, which she chugged from water tumblers.

I can’t imagine what it’s like to live in a healthy environment. I lived in Texas for a few years, but I was a graduate student in a physics department, so I was exposed to a lot of dysfunctional people. Texas was my best shot at normal life, and it didn’t work out.

I watched the war shows and learned about the veterans, and I realized their outlook on life was far superior to mine. Their values were much healthier. They grew up before Saturday Night Live, The National Lampoon, South Park, The Family Guy, and M*A*S*H (book, movie, and series). They weren’t constantly bombarded with filthy, counterproductive entertainment. It’s no wonder they were nicer people than I am.

Last night it occurred to me that reading Leckie’s book and watching these war shows was good for me. It was exposure to a frame of mind I didn’t know much about, even at my age.

Now, what about Lit. Hum.?

I’ve been thinking about the books I’ve read so far. Homer, Plato, Boccaccio, Virgil, Cervantes, and so on. For the most part, they’re not helpful. They’re morally corrosive.

Homer and Virgil lionized immature, lustful, greedy, sadistic morons who actually preferred war to peace. Plato praised a lifestyle in which homosexual predators “helped” young boys by having depraved relationships with them. Boccaccio is cynical and sexually amoral. Cervantes comes across as a sociopath who doesn’t know it when his sadism crosses the line and offends readers.

Ovid was full of whining. It’s like his book was written by the Cathy Bates character from Misery, or Glenn Close’s famous attention-starved would-be murderess. One bitter, unforgiving female stalker after another. A churning sea of daddy issues.

Herodotus and Thucydides weren’t too bad, but they were hardly uplifting.

Shakespeare stands out. King Lear promotes moral standards I can agree with. Fathers should stand up and be fathers. Children should love and honor their parents. Kings should be kings, not hosts of traveling debauches. Men in power should listen to good advice from people of proven character. Shakespeare is a good influence. But one robin doesn’t make a spring.

My social environment is bad. Much of the entertainment and study I’ve chosen during my life has been harmful to me. I have let these factors shape me into a person for whom my respect is necessarily limited.

What should I do?

Leaving Miami seems more important than ever. This place is just no good. No matter what I do to try to improve myself when I’m on my own, I find myself being pushed backward when I’m among people. That wouldn’t happen everywhere. The other day, when I was in Orlando (not a city known for the kindness of its residents), I felt that my interactions with people improved me. I was embarrassed when I dealt with them, because it was so obvious to me that they were nicer than I was.

Living here is bad. Belonging here is worse!

It’s interesting to me that generations of academics have chosen morally destructive works to put before their students. Maybe it was inevitable. I suppose that during the Middle Ages, with the limited supply of works to choose from, it would have been hard to justify keeping Homer and Plato out of curricula. Nonetheless, the truth is the truth: academics have a long history of corrupting the young.

I wonder now: should I keep reading this stuff?

Here’s what I have left: Milton, Jane Austen, Dostoevsky, Virginia Woolf, and William Golding. I substituted Golding for Toni Morrison. I read her book a long time ago, and I’m not interested in reading it again. I see her as an overrated affirmative-action pick.

If I quit reading, I’m abandoning a project, and that’s poor discipline. On the other hand…man, this stuff is nasty.

Crime and Punishment is 692 pages. I wish I had not looked that up.

You can make yourself spiritually ill by feeding yourself poison, but you can also feed yourself good things that make you stronger. I could read more nonfiction. Of course, I read the Bible.

I’m grateful for one thing: I’m not sitting here writing about how going back over this material has opened my eyes and shown me that liberal academics and non-Christian (or weak Christian) authors have all the answers. An awful lot of kids come out of college thinking they finally know the truth: God is dead, morality is a destructive fantasy, cynicism is the highest virtue, and so forth. I never felt that way, except maybe about cynicism. Even when I was young and stupid, I had a tiny seed of common sense that told me there were a lot of silly people working at Columbia.

I didn’t swallow all of the Kool-Aid at Columbia, but a whole lot of people have fooled me during my life. I have chosen many toxic influences.

America is very, very sick now. Our culture of cruelty, pride, lust, pleasure, and greed reached critical mass long ago. The chain reaction has been triggered, and we can’t overcome it. I wish I had turned from it sooner. Most people will not turn.

Good news for me, I guess. Bad for other people.

Maybe someone else will read this and realize they, too, have been poisoned.

Choose Your Company Wisely

Friday, February 24th, 2017

Influences Matter

I have a little time to fill, so here I am.

I haven’t written much about my relationship with God lately, so I thought I’d catch up. Things are continuing to improve.

If I could only stress one thing, it’s this: the most important thing you’re supposed to do, after receiving salvation, is to become like God. You’re supposed to be transformed by the Holy Spirit, so instead of having the mind and heart of an educated monkey (selfish, violent, sex-crazed, aggressive, greedy…), you have the heart and mind of a being who is made of love and faith.

You can watch Christian TV all day and never hear this. That’s amazing. It’s as if Procter & Gamble gave an ad company ten million dollars to make Tide commercials, and instead, they made Bugs Bunny cartoons.

The “dead” churches–the ones that deny the spiritual gifts–teach about inner transformation, but they teach that you have to do it by yourself, which is impossible. This is what the Jews taught. It didn’t work for them, either. Jesus came to put the Holy Spirit inside us, to do the work, and he was murdered for it. The churches that deny the Holy Spirit murder Jesus every day. They turn a powerful sacrifice into an ordinary homicide.

A monkey can’t give birth to a saint. It doesn’t work that way. Without the addition and help of the Holy Spirit, we are just monkeys.

God has shown me that if I have stress in my life, it’s not normal or acceptable. I think many Christians think we should admire their stress and misery. On their own, without God’s involvement, they decide to put themselves in difficult positions, “for God.” Then God doesn’t help them, because he’s not an enabler, and they think their unnecessary, pointless suffering makes them holy and special.

Look at the Bible. When people had stress, it meant God wasn’t blessing them. Over and over, people with problems went to God, asked them why, and (if they listened to his advice) got their problems fixed. The Bible hammers this lesson home: when things go badly, there is a problem with your relationship with God.

As far as we know, Jesus only had one bad day in his life, and there is no known example of him working hard.

American Christians teach kids to be proud. That’s sickening. They tell kids to believe in themselves and in hard work. The Bible says just the opposite. It says people who believe in themselves will suffer and fail. It says God works against proud people and helps the humble. A humble person, in Christian terms, is a person who lets God do the work and take the credit.

When blind people approached Jesus, he didn’t build laboratories and concoct medicines to help them, using his own mind. He listened to the Holy Spirit and allowed himself to be a conduit for miracles. If Jesus had tried to do medical research instead, he would have failed. God wouldn’t have helped him. God has all the power. Our little tools are very weak. We rely on them too much, and in doing so, we isolate ourselves from the only source of real help.

I’m not saying you can do nothing but lie in bed and pray all day, or that nothing bad ever happens to good Christians, but we suffer and work much, much more than we are supposed to.

Here’s a lesson I’ve had difficulty with: when a problem pops up, BEFORE I TRY TO FIX IT OR ASK ANYONE FOR HELP, I’m supposed to pray about it, curse it, and speak victory to myself and the Lord. If I do anything else, I am actually making the problem stronger. I’ve taught this to other people, but somehow, I still have to be reminded.

The other day, a friend came over for prayer, and he had some sort of problem. I said we should get on the Internet and look for an answer, and he had to stop me. He said he wanted to pray first, because we needed to lay a foundation for success before using our own strength.

That was really something. He was throwing my own words back at me, and he was 100% right. I felt so stupid.

If you’re going to fix all your problems yourself, why are you a Christian? What do you need God for? You’re living like an atheist.

Here’s another thing: I think we’re supposed to perceive the presence of God as much of the time as possible. When his presence is inside you, it makes it much easier to reject things like anger, lust, and fear. The love and peace are too enjoyable to give up. Focusing too much on hard work will cut his presence off. You won’t feel it when it happens, but afterward, when he’s gone, you’ll realize you blew it, and you won’t feel good at all.

I believe the presence of God is one reason I need to get out of Miami. This area is full of people who worship demons every day. It came with them from the islands. There are all sorts of people here who are demon-controlled drones. They provoke and annoy, all day. When you are constantly wronged, as people are here, focusing on God’s peaceful, loving presence is a challenge.

I find that I get connected with God, and then I go about living my day, and the first thing you know, someone does or says something nasty. If the plan works, I forget about God and think about anger. If I continue with it, his presence leaves. Then I’m in trouble.

This is one of the purposes of the Internet. Satan uses it to provoke people. You go the the web to read the news, and the first thing you know, you’re reading filthy, vicious comments from people who hate God. It’s like having Miami piped into your house.

This must be one of the reasons God got me to quit social media. I was provoked by ignorant people all day, and most were Christians. I would go on Facebook and see people praising Black Lives Matter or supporting homosexual “marriage,” and I let it destroy my peace. I had kids from my church try to set me straight on sexual sin. Young kids, with no education, no prayer lives, and no understanding.

A carnal Christian would say, “If you loved them, you would stay forever and be insulted and provoked.” Of course, that’s wrong. Jesus avoided annoying people, and I’m not better than he was. He spent a certain amount of time with them in order to reach the ones God had sent him to, but that was about it. He didn’t sit in the outer court of the temple for days on end, yelling, “LOL LOL STFU!”

I get stirred up just thinking about it. God’s presence…God’s presence…look back at the target…

I feel better now.

Last night I watched some Youtubes about the Jay Leno/Conan O’Brien/David Letterman feud. Maybe you remember this. Jay Leno was pushed off The Tonight Show, and he agreed to go and pass it on to O’Brien. Then NBC brought him back for a ridiculous show that came on before O’Brien’s and killed The Tonight Show’s audience. Then Leno graciously (not) agreed to take The Tonight Show back.

I watched various talk show conversations about this. I was impressed by the talent of the comedians as they ripped Leno and discussed their frustration. It made me think about myself. Humor is one of my talents. I could do the kind of thing they do. I couldn’t help feeling a little left out.

Then I remembered…you can’t have that mindset and also have the presence of God. Their careers are traps. The money and admiration are poisons that keep them asleep so they can’t see how lost they are.

Americans get nastier all the time. Our connection to God gets weaker. I can’t be part of that. Some talents are not supposed to be used.

Here’s another thing: I believe God is confirming what I’ve said about churches. People I respect keep leaving them. Churches belong to the devil. They poison people.

You decide you need God, you go to the people who are supposed to put you in touch with him, and they feed you a lot of nonsense that limits your proximity to him. That’s Satan’s system, not God’s.

Jesus didn’t hesitate to call the Judaism of his time “the synagogue of Satan,” but somehow, we think our churches are healthy and well. Christians are positive Jews are idiots, and that we’re the ones who do it all correctly. That’s wrong. We’re just like the Jews; we are no better. Look how many of us live under the law! Our churches generally belong to Satan.

You can go there and receive salvation, and you may learn some useful things, but in the end, you have to know God personally. A person who continues relying on church year after year is like an adult who hasn’t cut his mother’s umbilical cord.

The Bible calls them babies and says they suckle instead of eating meat.

Last night God told me something that made sense of his plan to move away from churches: in the future, church will be illegal. There won’t be many churches, and apart from the demonic government-controlled church, they will be underground. If we can’t carry on our relationships with God in private, we will be in real trouble.

We have to learn to get by without a sick dependence on organizations.

Eventually I would like a church to visit, simply to be around other Christians, but I won’t volunteer there, I won’t even consider receiving a title, and they’ll get little or no money from me. I am all done with Satan’s hamster wheel.

I was talking to a friend yesterday. Another friend is a sub-pastor at a church we know. He’s talking about quitting. He’s getting great results with the people he works with, but he knows the organization is filthy. Good for him. Why feed the wolves? You don’t need a church in order to reach people. John the Baptist was cut off from the temple, where he had a hereditary right to be a priest, but look how well he did.

God doesn’t need our help. We are positive he does, but he doesn’t.

Because I have been set apart, including my escape from social media, I am provoked and tempted less than I used to be. I look forward to living in a place where the pollution levels are lower still. I think I’ll sin less, be under less stress, and spend much more time in God’s presence.

Prepare for the mess that’s coming. Don’t say nobody told you.

Milo Opinion of Angry Pundits

Tuesday, February 21st, 2017

Secular Conservatives: Your Money is on the Dresser

I see Milo Yiannopoulos is in trouble.

Let’s see if I understand this right. He is gay. He is conservative. He is loved because he is aggressive and angry, and probably because conservatives like to point to him and say, “See? We’re all about the gay.”

Isn’t that about right?

To me, he’s just Ann Coulter or Ted Nugent with gay mixed in. I’m not suggesting he’s as smart as Ann Coulter or even Ted Nugent, but he seems like someone conservatives love simply because he makes their adversaries suffer. I never thought he was good for the GOP.

It seems like conservatives are divided. There are those who admit that the GOP is the party of Jesus and those who think we’re just the party of stinginess. Yiannopoulos appealed to the latter group.

When I say we’re the part of Jesus, I just mean Christianity is the primary thing that binds us, and it’s the primary reason people hate us. I’m not suggesting the Republican party is a religious organization or that we’re as morally superior as we like to think we are.

People are accusing Yiannopoulos of endorsing pedophilia. I don’t know if that’s correct, but based on my reading of his remarks, it seems pretty close to the truth.

Most of us don’t distinguish between pedophilia, which is the abuse of prepubescent children, and the abuse of teenagers for whom puberty has at least begun. Yiannopoulos seems to be in favor of the latter. It’s not pedophilia, exactly, but it’s still bad, so the difference may not be very important here.

He talked about lusting after older men and having sex with them at the age of 13 or 14. He described himself as the aggressor. He also said positive things about relationships in which older homosexuals serve as emotional anchors for “boys” with whom they have sex.

It seems fair to say that Yiannopoulos supports sexual relationships between teenage boys and grown men. Isn’t that exactly what homosexuals are always telling us doesn’t really happen (in spite of the fact that our cities are full of teenage male prostitutes)?

Does that make him sufficiently immoral to justify the things CPAC, his publisher, and (allegedly) Breitbart are doing to him, to distance themselves from the smell of his scandal? I think so. The mistake was embracing him to begin with. His moral positions put him too far outside the camp, and apart from that, do we really need someone who makes us appear more mean-spirited? Aren’t we trying to fight that baseless image?

It’s always hard to decide whom to align oneself with. President Trump is an adulterer who owns casinos where people go to get drunk and gamble. On the other hand, he is helping Christians, Israel, and the unborn, and we had no better alternative. If we’re to be criticized for backing him, it should be for backing him in the primaries, not the general election. In the general election, the alternative was a bona fide horror.

Solutions that offend God are bad, regardless of which political party resorts to them. I shouldn’t say “resorts” with regard to the Democrats, because they don’t have to be coerced to oppose God. They voted against him four times, by voice, on TV, at their own convention. They oppose God in their hearts, so they jump at any chance they get to offend him with their actions and policies. Anyway, Yiannopoulos was a stealth dumpster fire from the time he first gained prominence. We shouldn’t have expected anything good to come from promoting him.

We will reject him now, in all likelihood, and you know what Shakespeare said: “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” He’s not a woman, but given his temperament, he is likely to react like one. He may become the ex-girlfriend from hell. Remember David Brock?

You have to wonder what feckless conservatives have told him in confidence. Will he disappear quietly, or will some outfit like Huffpo (founded by a scorned traitor) seduce him and use him against us?

I just remembered…Breitbart himself…Saint Andrew…helped start Huffpo. What funny heroes we have.

I didn’t develop my opinion of Breitbart from watching the news or reading his site. I developed it from behind-the-scenes knowledge, starting before his site existed. When I see the T-shirts with his face on them, I don’t get the same feeling other conservatives get.

Politics is interesting, but religion is what makes or breaks a nation. I may comment on political stories because they’re intriguing, but I am not a participant in the political game. Not even on a blogging level. I never link to anyone any more. I rejected PJ Media when they asked about writing for them. I don’t contribute to campaigns. I will never go to a Trump rally. That stuff doesn’t work.

It will be interesting to see what happens.

Escape From Miami

Monday, February 20th, 2017

Choosing Houses Takes Horse Sense

I feel a little better now that the shock of driving to Miami from America is wearing off.

Today I’m working on various responsibilities and preparing for a visit to Marion County to see the area and visit some houses. The knowledge that getting out of Dade County will take months is weighing on me.

I went to a forum to ask people from the Ocala area some questions, and while I was there, I couldn’t resist looking at posts regarding Miami. People were considering moving there.

I had to say something. I was honest. I said the people were very rude and the traffic was horrible. I said Miami had no culture. I said black people got bad treatment here, which is very true. Cuba had a political revolution, but it never had a civil rights revolution.

Some character popped up and accused me of creating an account just to “bash” Miami. Yeah, okay. What about the people who said they agreed with me? I didn’t see a convenient explanation for their remarks.

To prove Miami had culture, this person posted a video of someone singing in a bar!

I don’t know why a person who lives in an unpleasant city would pimp it to unsuspecting visitors. Why bring people here with crazy expectations? I would be pretty upset if I moved here thinking this was a nice place to live. If people tell you the truth, at least you can prepare and adjust.

It’s tough to figure out which properties are best. It seems like people in Marion County don’t follow the universal rule of pricing houses 5-10% higher than what they really expect to receive. The prices seem completely random. The realtor is sending me places with asking prices more than 15% above my limit, and he says they’re “negotiable.” If your asking price is nearly 20% higher than what your house is worth, you’re not a negotiator. You’re a scam artist. You’re trying to fleece somebody.

If you don’t know what properties really cost, it’s hard to decide which ones to look at. If your baseball glove budget is $50, and the store prices the good ones at $75 and sells them for $50, you’re going to look at the cheap ones and end up paying $30.

I wonder what a baseball glove costs. The last time I bought one, my dad was not in a spending mood, so I got one from KMart for $5. I cut the label out so I wouldn’t have to hear about it from the other kids.

Wow. I just saw one for $99.

I don’t even have a KMart glove now. I think it was one of the many items that belonged to me that got discarded when my parents moved. I guess I can get by without one at my age.

I have to have a place for tools, and that doesn’t mean half a garage. It means serious room. Some places don’t have workshops. Some have barns with tooly-looking areas that have concrete floors. How hard is it to turn them into shops? Search me.

There are a number of great properties with really bad houses. Florida is known for ugly houses. If you want a geodesic dome made of pink fiberglass, this is the state where you should look for it. It’s sad that so many nice lots have houses that look like machine gun bunkers or log cabins.

Who, in his right mind, builds a 3500-square-foot log cabin? You will never be able to sell a log cabin house to any family that contains a heterosexual woman. Repairs and alterations will be nearly impossible. Every time you hang a picture, you’ll damage your ridiculous wooden walls in ways that can’t be fixed. Is it even possible to insulate these monstrosities? I don’t know. But they’re surprisingly popular.

One of the nicest properties has a house which is “stucco over frame.” Is that even a recognized construction medium? I can’t even tell what it is. I guess they put some kind of siding over wooden studs and then slop cement on it.

I don’t know anything about rural property, so I don’t know what pitfalls to look out for. I don’t want a place that floods whenever it rains. I don’t want drainage problems, swamps I’m not allowed to drain, or nuclear waste.

I’ll have to trust God and do my best.

It’s my own fault I’m in Miami. I chose it. I didn’t serve God, and I didn’t have his guidance. There was a period during and after law school when I was reasonably happy here; I deluded myself. If I had listened to God, I would have landed somewhere else a long time ago.

Don’t be like me. If you’re young, start listening now.