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26 Hours of Pain to Go

November 11th, 2017

Snorkeling in the Sewer

Last night I blogged about my horrifying visit to Miami. I am here to do some work on a condo and bring home some things the movers left here. I think I went a little overboard in my post. Visiting Miami is more traumatic than you would think. Once you get away, the thought of going back is nauseating.

I may delete that post. I was carried away.

The county is still messed up from Hurricane Irma. That surprises me. I went through a number of storms with tropical-storm-force winds here, and they weren’t a big deal. I suppose Irma’s tropical-storm-force winds were a little stronger.

There are a lot of mangled trees beside the roads, and I saw a FEMA truck roll by. These trucks have huge trailers, and they have cranes and claws to pick up trees. They’re still here, two months after the blow.

Our properties did’t suffer much, but the post-storm work bonanza made it very hard to hire people to fix things. I was quoted $2000 to paint a small condo and replace several $60 doors. I am hoping I can do 80% of the work today, in a few hours. Hope I’m not underestimating the job, but I used to paint that condo for my parents, and it was a half-day ordeal back then.

I can’t stand being around the people here. Waiting in line at McDonald’s was very unpleasant. Everyone was rude and/or ghetto. When I say “ghetto,” I don’t mean they were economically disadvantaged or that all people from poor neighborhoods are trashy. I mean they had that angry vibe you get from people in rap videos. I’ve known lots of great people who lived in bad areas, but they rose above their environment.

The “me first” school of roadway navigation has already gotten to me. I’ve had people cut in front of me more times than I can remember. No one has given me the finger yet, but I have a whole day to wait for that to happen.

In Miami, the motto is, “Get the other guy before he gets you.” If you think I’m making that up, let me tell you that I’ve known hundreds of Cubans, and I’ve heard them express that sentiment more than once. It’s the opposite of, “Go the extra mile.” When two people go the extra mile, each does his own work plus a little bit of the other one’s job, and the net result is that everyone is better off than they would be had everyone done only what he had to. When you do things the Miami way, one person does a little, the other does a little, and you end up with a big responsibility gap. When it’s over, at least one party has been mistreated and let down, and the things that needed to be done are unfinished.

In Ocala, a storm came, and my neighbors sneaked onto my property to remove a tree that had fallen across my driveway. That’s the difference between Ocala and Miami.

God, I can’t wait to go back. I feel something related to claustrophobia. I want to move out from under it.

The sad thing is that Miamians think they have it good. Most of them stay here all their lives, and they have no idea how decent people behave. If you’ve never eaten anything but dog food, you can’t imagine steak. Miamians get very angry if you knock the place, but they have no idea what they’re talking about.

There is such a thing as a person who can’t be blessed. In fact, that describes most people, since most people reject Jesus and go to hell. You can’t be blessed unless you are willing to acknowledge the need to be blessed. You will reject or discard every good thing offered to you. Miami-lovers reject better ways of life. You can’t get them to move. That’s a good thing, because if they moved to places like Ocala, they would ruin things for everyone else.

Miami is a demonic stronghold. A big percentage of the people here literally worship demons. They practice Cuban voodoo, Haitian voodoo, and other types of voodoo from other islands and Latin American nations. This place must be under a cloud of powerful demons. No wonder it’s so nasty. You would have to be nuts to want to live here.

A lot of people love evil, so Miami fits them very well. People tend to end up where they belong, on earth and in the hereafter.

Ocala is better than Miami. What’s better than a place like Ocala? Heaven. As nice as Ocala is, it’s still a flawed area on a cursed planet full of pain, decay, terror, and despair. I used to think how wonderful it would be to leave Miami for Ocala. I was right, but I’m still on earth. These days I think how wonderful it will be to die and be done with this miserable planet. No aging. No disease. No idiots. No reading glasses. No polarization; in heaven, no one thinks debate is healthy. Debate is a manifestation of God’s curse on the earth. Christians should agree on everything. Our disagreements expose our poor connection to the Holy Spirit, who resolves all disputes. God tells everyone the same things. Period.

I have to go to Home Depot now. I hope this effort pans out. I wish I could leave Miami right now.

If you live in a big city with a lot of creepy people, you need to move. Unless it suits you. Then by all means, stay. Don’t ruin the nice places by moving there.

2 Responses to “26 Hours of Pain to Go”

  1. Cliff Elam Says:

    I am struck by how much you dislike the fast food “experience” (I assume you find Chick Fil’A good?) and wonder why you go back?

    I hate it too (different reasons) so unless I can hit a Fil’A or a BoJangles I just pack protein bars and guzzle a chocolate milk.

    Still better for ya’!

    -XC

  2. Steve H. Says:

    I dislike the Miami experience, not the fast food experience.

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