Don’t Let Satan Cheat You Out of a Family

God gave me a very strong revelation, and it has changed my life.

This happened on around January 2.

For a long time, I have been asking God to help me to love him and be close to him. Greasy, lying preachers tell us to ask God for money, spouses, healing, and so on, as though he were nothing but a genie. We are also taught to follow rules so we get points and win the game of Christianity, earning places in heaven. That’s completely wrong. We don’t earn anything. It’s better to pray for God to clean you up and help you to be like him, and you should pray for him to help you to obey the two fundamental commandments: love God as intensely as possible, and love others as you love yourself.

When I prophesy, God keeps saying, “Be close to me and love me.”

In 2021, one of my pets died, and it was my fault. I hesitated to take him to the University of Florida, where they said I might sit in the waiting room for 12 hours. I took him to an incompetent vet who said he would be fine while antibiotics came from Arizona. This is how I lost Maynard the cockatoo.

He was extremely attached to me. He loved to he held and petted. The more an animal loves you, the more its death hurts you.

Several times, he has appeared to me in dreams, glowing and full of joy and love. In these dreams, I have held him and kissed him. I was so glad to see him. I was always glad to see him in life, but when he returned from the dead, it was more intense.

Over the last few days, God has helped me to feel as though he were holding me against himself, feeling his love and warmth go through me. It reminds me of the dreams I had about Maynard. I feel great relief in being close to God. I spend time in this state now, and it’s hard to break loose and come back to the world.

God showed me that we should love people as though they had just returned from the dead. Have you lost a child or spouse? How glad would you be if they returned and let you hold them? You would be beside yourself with relief.

He then reminded me of something. Yeshua did return from the dead, and so have we. We were dead before he saved us, even if we couldn’t see it. Yeshua feels as though he lifted us out of hell and took us into his embrace. This is why the angels in heaven celebrate so much when we are saved. They are celebrating our resurrections.

He showed me something else: in the story of the prodigal son, the father said, “It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.”

There is more. Look at Colossians 12.

Buried with him in baptism, wherein also ye are risen with him through the faith of the operation of God, who hath raised him from the dead.

And you, being dead in your sins and the uncircumcision of your flesh, hath he quickened together with him, having forgiven you all trespasses. . .

Look at Romans 6: “Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.”

We are resurrected with him, and if we are resurrected, we have returned from the dead.

People who reject Yeshua reject a man who returned from the dead, as described in the story of the rich man in hell. He asked God to send Lazarus the beggar to warn his brothers, and God told him that if they didn’t believe the prophets and Moses, they wouldn’t believe one who returned from the dead.

This was not a parable. In parables, people don’t have names. Lazarus and the rich man are real people, and the events in the story happened.

Ephesians 2 says God “quickens” us, and “quicken” means “bring to life.” It says he has raised us up together.

I hate to put it this way, but we should be like dogs. If you have a dog, every time you come home, the dog treats you like you were just raised from the dead. He dances and jumps. He wags his tail. He becomes delirious with joy. It’s like he thought he would never see you again.

We should feel this way about Yeshua and about each other. After all, we don’t know how long we’ll have each other. Things happen. We should be intensely grateful for each other while we live.

God showed me something else: Yeshua, who is God, is called Emmanuel, or “God with us.” If you are not with God, you aren’t a success as a Christian.

Now I lie in bed feeling as though my cheek is pressed up against God, and I have a hard time making myself let go and talk to my wife. But when I’m back, I savor being with her. I press her against me.

God showed me some other things.

If we have this attitude about him and other people, then we treasure God and human beings. They become our treasures. What did he say about treasure? “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

If you treasure God and people, your heart will be for them, as it’s supposed to be.

God calls us his pearl of great price. He said the pearl of great price, worth everything a man had, represented the kingdom of heaven, and he said the kingdom was in us.

A pearl is treasure.

The Bible is very consistent, but you have to have the Holy Spirit’s help to see it. Smart theologians often go to hell because they rely on their minds.

When you are with God, he blesses you, and he keeps spirits that hate you away. It’s crucial to be with God.

God has also shown me how powerful humility is. It brings God close. It should be cultivated and prayed for. You can’t be close to God without humility, and without it, demons will always surround and inhabit you.

These things God showed me are very important, and everyone is supposed to have them. I suggest you ask for them and see how things change for you.

Taking the Gas Out of Gaslighters

My buddy Mike sent me some interesting photos on December 31. His son works in Manhattan, and while his son was at work, a man showed up on a balcony below his office and set up a sniper rifle. Here it is.

At first, I thought the photo was more interesting than it later turned out to be. I thought Mike’s son’s building was locked down due to a terrorist situation. Then I realized the rifle belonged to a cop. Mike sent me a video, and it featured a burly guy in black clothing with big white letters on the back.

If you were dancing, getting drunk, and doing drugs in Times Square when the ball came down, you were surrounded by guys with precision rifles.

I thought this was interesting, so I went to a community of shooters and asked if they could identify the gun. I have a precision rifle, so it was natural for me to be interested. You could call my gun a sniper rifle if you wanted. Professional snipers use precision rifles, just like shooting hobbyists. Military snipers didn’t always use them. They used to use deer rifles that were nicely set up to maximize accuracy.

I don’t know if it’s correct to say our military still uses deer rifles. The Marines use a modified .308 rifle based on the Remington 700–a deer rifle–and you can buy a heavy-barreled 700 in .308 for $690. The Marine designation for its rifle is M40A5.

A company called Georgia Precision sells the M40A5 for about $6500 without a scope. Do Marine rifles come from Georgia Precision, or are there a bunch of companies selling different M40A5’s? Not sure. I saw an Internet forum post which suggests the Marines build their own rifles.

The McMillan stock they use runs about $1400, and the aftermarket barrel probably costs something similar, including customization.

Do you need to spend that kind of money to get a super-accurate .308? No. But not every custom part is intended to improve accuracy, and the military can afford frills.

How much of the money is, basically, wasted? No idea. I’ll bet a lot of it is.

The Marines use a barrel made by a company named Schneider. So Schneider must make unbelievably accurate rifles on one else can match? No.

I don’t know why the Marines use .308. It’s an obsolescent (not obsolete) cartridge that loses velocity quickly. It drops below supersonic speed at around 800 yards, and when that happens, the bullet jiggles in flight, and it degrades accuracy. A 6.5 Creedmoor round is supersonic to about 1400 yards. It’s a more modern cartridge, designed with better technology.

When I took my precision rifle course, an instructor said my .308 had a trajectory like a mortar. The bullet goes up, slows down, and comes down, creating a path that looks like the Gateway Arch in St. Louis.

All rifle bullets do this, but a .308’s arch is a lot shorter and steeper than a 6.5 Creedmoor’s arch.

A bullet that slows down and drops fast is a pain to shoot accurately a long way out. When you do precision shooting, you have to know how much your bullet will drop over distance so you will know exactly how high it will be when it gets to your target. A short arch means the bullet’s path will be more nearly vertical far away. That means it will drop a lot more over a given distance out there. You have to have a good accurate range figure, because the round is less forgiving than a flat-shooting round.

The .308 delivers somewhat more energy to a person or deer at 200 yards than 6.5 Creedmoor, but farther out, the 6.5 delivers more energy because it’s moving faster. Because it wasn’t designed during the Truman administration.

I don’t know why any sniper would use a .308. Tradition, maybe? I don’t know any Marine armorers, so maybe I’ll never know. Maybe they have a great reason. It can’t be the increased energy at short ranges. A 6.5 Creedmoor will kill a moose just fine, so there is no reason to think a .308 is needed to kill a person. And there are a bunch of other cartridges that are better than 6.5 Creedmoor.

It’s not because a .308 rifle can use spare ammo from machine guns when things get bad. You can’t hit anything with machine gun ammo. I have tried.

If the .308 didn’t exist today, no one would invent it, because the technology is so backward. It would be like inventing a black and white TV with 13 channels.

The .308 was invented 73 years ago. Penicillin was about 11 years old. The transistor was just being made available to the public. The only intelligent life that had been to space was a few perverted beings that liked to abduct guys out of bass boats in Mississippi and probe their unmentionable parts. There were no satellites.

I guarantee you, you can get a Remington 700 that is just as accurate as the Marine version for way, way less than $6500. Maybe it will weigh more or not have wifi or something, but it will shoot fine, and given the short useful range of the .308, it will never need to shoot better than maybe 0.75 MOA. One MOA is 10.5″ at 1000 yards. How wide is a person?

Remington rifle: $650. Timney trigger: $250. New barrel: $500. Precision chassis (stock): $400. Bipod: $100-$250. Ballpark figures. Under $2000. Good scope (Vortex Viper): $1000. Rings: $150.

You don’t actually need the precision chassis, but it looks neat.

What are we at? $3050? Have my 3,000 university math credits paid off?

I think I have something like $2700 in my precision rifle, and I can promise you it will shoot 0.5 MOA with the right ammo and shooter, because I shoot close to that with crap off the shelf, and I am not a great shot.

You know what? Boys like their toys. It’s a blast, customizing, well, nearly anything and getting it just the way you want it. The Marines are boys, just like the rest of us.

As King Lear said when his daughter tried to tell him she couldn’t keep his drunken entourage in her palace, “O, reason not the need!”

To get back to the sniper photo, I asked some forum people if they knew what it was. It turns out the NYPD bought (or was given for publicity) Sako Trg M10 sniper rifles, which sell for about $12,000 without accessories. This is a 14.6-pound gun, and apparently, the NYPD went for .308.

Sako is Finnish, so yay for supporting US jobs.

I asked if anyone knew why the NYPD used this gun when Chris Kyle managed to get by with a TAC-338 which you can buy for $6500.

The TAC-338 uses a real sniper round which stays supersonic out to maybe 1500 yards and can be useful farther out.

The best answers I got involved politics. Basically, the NYPD does not care what it spends, and if it fails to spend whatever it gets in a given year, it gets less the next year, so it tries to spend up to its allotment.

I believe this is the correct explanation, because it comports with my understanding of human nature and blue states.

Anyway, I got a few unbelievably stupid answers. One guy called me a Fudd, which is a nasty name for a person who thinks the Second Amendment only applies to things like hunting shotguns. His answer contained zero useful information. He wanted to know how I had been on the forum for 4 years without knowing exactly why the NYPD needed a $12,000 rifle.

The answer was dumb for multiple reasons. First of all, they do not need the rifle. They could do the same job with an RPR from Bass Pro. Second, since they do not need the rifle, it is not possible for the justification for the rifle to appear anywhere on the forum. Third, who sits and memorizes every post on an Internet forum for 4 years? Fourth, his answer was rude, and he was a bully. I put him in his place and left him there.

Another guy said I had posted a dumbass thread. Another bully. I trimmed him down to size as well. A whole bunch of other users–knowledgeable people including former snipers–had responded with useful posts full of great information. A bunch of them agreed with me. I asked him if they were dumbasses.

I was called a whiner, by someone who has no idea what whining is. Whining means exaggerated, useless complaining. I didn’t complain. I pointed out problems with the arguments supporting the Sako purchase. That makes me a hater, not a whiner, right?

The Internet is a big playpen for jerks and bullies, and forums can be really trying. And certain interests draw unusually snotty people. Firearms. Bodybuilding. Christianity. Fishing. Electronics. Professional machinists are so rude they’re barely human. Hobby machinists are in the middle along with homebrewers. Welders are really nice. Foodies are Nazis. Not regular guys who like barbecue and pizza; they’re okay. I mean people who call themselves foodies and worship Food Network windbags who can’t really cook. Photography people are okay.

It’s funny, but bodybuilding draws bullies, but bodybuilders can’t actually fight. Fighting is a skill. It also requires cardio fitness, which many bodybuilders don’t have because they’re on drugs and don’t do cardio. There are bodybuilders who get tired climbing stairs. A lot of guys pump up show muscles in order to push other guys around, but actual martial artists who could pummel them easily are less obnoxious.

Bodybuilders aren’t even that strong. The kind of lifting they do produces big muscles that don’t do as much as smaller powerlifter muscles.

There is a skinny guy on Youtube who goes to gyms and humiliates drugged-up bodybuilders, tossing their weights around and saying how light they are.

Nineteenth-century-pistol guru Massad Ayoob is a forum guy, and he’s pretty obnoxious. Goes into panic/attack mode when anyone shows him up, which is not hard to do, or, more accurately, hard not to do. He has set himself up so many times. He got me banned from The High Road for disagreeing with him in a thread he was not even part of. Must have sent a note to his pals the mods: “I HAVE BEEN BLASPHEMED!”

Christian forums are awful. The Catholic forums are full of Catholics telling each other all Protestants go to hell. Protestant forums are full of people telling each other they’ll pray God helps them with their errors, when they really mean they hope they go to hell.

You literally have to treat electronics people like mental patients who could have full-blown slobbering-and-head-banging crises if you say the wrong thing. You can’t think of them as human beings. You have to act like you’re trying to extract data from bombs without setting them off. Like you’re playing Operation, with no funny bone.

Reddit is swarming with moderators who have no interest in moderating. They live to delete useful posts and lecture people. “Stand in awe of my deletion powers, mortal! Nanna, get me more Hot Pockets! And shove more Funyuns in them!”

In any case, I think I know why New York City spent a king’s ransom on rifles that work no better than Bass Pro merchandise.

People should be nice to each other. We should be patient. It makes life so much better. If you’re going to be hostile to someone, you should have a very good reason.

When people are nice to you, it gives you a lift. Sometimes I remember nice things people said to me decades ago, and the memories still give me strength. I remember nasty things people said and did, and I realize they still drag me down. It’s funny that I attached so much weight to remarks made by inferior people who were little better than chimps and who failed at life.

When you’re nice, you form attachments to people, and you go on to be helpful to each other in life. Snotty people push others away and end up fending for themselves unless they can control others.

God put us here to help each other. It would be wonderful if more people realized that instead of seeing humanity as a muy thai bag to use to vent their baseless cruelty.

Guess it’s time to take my new rifle out and see what it will do.

You Know too Many People

I had an interesting dream.

My wife and I were here at the heavily armed, fenced Northern Florida compound (my homey, welcoming name for it), and I was standing by the front door when I saw a big truck in my driveway. I had not let it in.

Right away, I reached for my illegally-modified full-auto AR-15 with the Punisher Trump skull laser engravings on the grips and opened up while quoting Bible verses I misinterpreted in order to justify violence.

Oops. Sorry. For a second there, I thought I was one of the guys who thinks we can shoot our way back to the Fifties.

I don’t have any illegally-modified full-auto firearms. I don’t even have Trump Punisher skulls. Sorry, BATF. I’m not interested in spending a grand every time I shoot steel for 15 minutes. I think one of my neighbors might have something, though. Based on the sounds I hear occasionally.

You should start by investigating the lady across the fence who complained that my shooting disturbed her snowflake horses. I’m pretty sure it’s her. Go no-knock on this one, guys. The earlier in the morning, the better. Just keep your fingers off the trigger, because I could be wrong. It’s actually okay for feds to withhold fire until there is a real problem.

I don’t mean any of that. I don’t wish her problems, but she should respect borders.

I don’t have any guns like that, but it takes like 45 minutes to make one with a Dremel and an Internet printout. When things finally go totally nuts, the number of automatic weapons in the US will skyrocket by a factor of 20 in about a day. Except in the ghettos, where everyone already has a Glock switch and kids fight white supremacy and institutional black genocide by shooting at other black people.

That switch has probably done great things for Glock sales. To the people the guns are stolen from, I mean. They have to replace them, after all.

Forget “Glock perfection.” The new slogan should be, “Glock. Make the switch.”

Pardon the jocularity. I am in a jolly mood this morning. Because I’m not drunk and in pain, unlike most Americans. It’s bowl season, and today many people are hugging one.

I shouldn’t joke about the BATF. They just ransacked a black man’s home for no clear reason, threw bombs into rooms occupied by innocent people, held children at gunpoint, threatened to blow up his gun safe, and left without arresting anyone. They destroyed floors and windows. Their dogs pooped on the victim’s daughter’s bed.

Apparently the training issues in federal law enforcement have spread to the canine agents.

The victims cleaned up the poop themselves. That was unnecessary work. They could have called the FBI crime lab and told them it was important evidence. The FBI would have collected it and lost it.

Not that there is any justification for thinking the feds are high-handed or anything, but, shockingly, if you’re the kind of person who believes CNN is fair, the BATF has not responded to inquiries from the press. I get it. If Uncle Joe doesn’t have to talk to the press, neither do they. I plan to keep checking dictionary sites to see if the leftist editors have gotten around to changing the definition of “transparent.”

The man’s name is Mark Manley. He has a Go Fund Me page.

Joe Biden will surely pardon the agents later in the day, as soon as his wife wakes him up and tells him to. Or maybe someone else has already done it. The thirtyish West Wing transvestites who have actually been running the country since January 20, 2020. “Hold his hand steady. Make the loop on the ‘J’ bigger.”

Is it possible Jeff Dunham is the president?

The victims kind of asked for it. They live in Baltimore. It’s like being in jail and asking to bunk with P Diddy. “Come on, warden. I’m a huge fan. It’s okay if he works on his music. I’m a very heavy sleeper.”

Maybe they’ll join the flood of political refugees and move to my county. Like traffic isn’t bad enough already. I was used to seeing a lot of yankees and other blue state survivors here before 2020, but they were really old. Now it’s entire families. Still in their reproductive years. And Republicans let their babies live. Once an invasive species starts breeding in Florida, you can’t get rid of it.

I hope they’ll open pizzerias. That would soften the pain.

I don’t know why I’m in such a good mood. I need to stop.

So the truck turned out to be a big hurricane-debris truck. We have had two messy storms here since my arrival. The county gives us time to dump trees by the road, and they send huge trucks to pick them up. They have cranes on them to lift the debris and drop it into their beds.

Dumping in beds. BATF. Stop it, self. Let it go.

The truck was inside my gate, which made me feel somewhat territorial, but I let it go, because they started going all over the compound, gathering up the dead wood. They picked up entire burn piles that predated the last storm. I was thrilled.

I suspect the dream had supernatural significance.

In the Bible, trees represent people. A dead tree is an unproductive tree, fit only to be discarded and burned.

In dreams, government employees are usually spirits. The police and the feds are demons. Military people are angels. Government employees who are helpful and pose no threat are on God’s side, and they usually will not talk to you. They already have their orders. They seem happy, and they’re pleasant, but they ignore your efforts to communicate, and they go on with what they’re doing.

Demons are chatty. They like attention. And they rely on the power of lies and threats. They need to talk in order to lie.

I think the county guys in the dream were angels sent to remove useless, destructive people from my life and my wife’s life. The few people who still treat us badly. If so, it’s not a good sign for people I am still entangled with financially. I knew it would not be long before old age got the most difficult ones, but the dream makes me wonder if the time of our disconnection is close.

It’s extremely important to get free of useless people whose only contributions to your life are negative. Sometimes you can’t cut them loose. You can’t put a wife in a dumpster, and you can’t abandon your kids. But most people can be dismissed at will, and you should get rid of the ones who consistently reward you with good for evil.

My dad was a net negative for most of his life, and one day, God told me he had cut him off, meaning his patience was used up.

I knew he had become forgetful, but he was still able to handle his affairs. I had prayed a lot for God to restore him, but after God told me he had been cut off, I quit.

The same year, my dad had to quit practicing law because dementia set in. I was put in charge. We ended up leaving Miami, finally, after years of delay which he caused.

After a while here, his dementia got very bad. At some point around the beginning of 2019, I started feeling that God was saying my dad would be gone before April 1. That was not his medical prognosis, however. His doctors didn’t think his situation was deteriorating all that fast.

When I finally had to put him in a nearby facility, I started to feel bad because I wasn’t praying for his recovery. One day as I drove to see him, I asked God if I could pray for recovery again. I felt it was allowed, so I prayed.

When I saw him the next day, he was much sharper than he had been the day before. He was fighting with the employees. He called his roommate a filthy name in his presence. He had been opening up to God, and he had asked for salvation, but on this day, he told me it was all insincere. He said he had done it to make me happy, which wasn’t true. He disavowed Christianity. He said the Bible was a story book. He radiated his characteristic arrogance.

The dad I had known all my life was back.

I prayed for help, and I got an idea.

I asked my dad if I could pray that God would do whatever had to be done to assure him a good afterlife, and he agreed to let me do it.

The next day, he had slipped backward. The clarity was gone. He was pleasant again. The negative talk about Christianity was gone. I realized God was showing me that some people shouldn’t be healed, because they turn healing into a curse.

Wherefore if thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off, and cast them from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life halt or maimed, rather than having two hands or two feet to be cast into everlasting fire.

This is true of all blessings. Some people can’t be given husbands or wives. Some people can’t be given financial abundance. There are people whose problems are necessary in order for them to remain saved. This is particularly true of the proud. It’s true of people who repent, get what they want, and then forget their repentance.

My dad died three weeks later, in peace, with me at his side and Derek Prince speaking from a laptop. He had recovered his salvation. All the hateful talk about Christianity had been replaced with reverence, gratitude, and enthusiasm.

This was late March. He didn’t make it to April 1.

If he had continued to recover from dementia, he would have died in torment and then gone to hell. He would be burning in humiliation right now, instead of waiting for me and his grandson to join him for eternal life in a place of perfect love.

My dad was a mixed bag. When his mind went and he started to love God, I was thrilled. I loved praying with him and talking to him about God. But the situation couldn’t last. I was alone, and he kept me too busy to progress in my own life. I could have continued visiting him over and over for years, but that wasn’t what God wanted for me.

I keep asking God to change me without chastisement and suffering. I want supernatural change. I want him to be able to give me good things without losing me.

As for the dead trees in my dream, I can understand why God would free me from them.

They don’t disrupt my life the way my dad did, and my situation is absolutely fantastic. I have a wonderful wife. I’m having a child. I’m healthy. We have abundance without working. We live on a dream property in a dream county. We get closer to God all the time, and things continually improve. He keeps correcting us. But while these people can’t keep us from having beautiful lives, they are treacherous and out of place in our circle of acquaintances. We should be big assets to each other, but while I am good to them, they abuse me and my wife, and they have no intention of changing.

They are tiresome, and it would be best if they were replaced by better people who are the opposite of tiresome. Even if they’re not replaced, their absence from my life would be a welcome relief. I’m ready for it. I can’t change their choices, I am in no way responsible for the way they treat me, and I will not be troubled about problems they make for themselves.

As for us, we are planning to fry chicken today. The deep fryer beckons. I’m going to try making twice-fried fries in it for the first time. We can’t find small chickens at Publix, but the local Winn-Dixie had a 4.5-pounder, so I think we’re all set. I’m also making hush puppies because they’re wonderful.

Later on, I may do some shooting out back. When you live in a place like this, every day you fail to shoot is a disgraceful waste.

Maybe God will smile on us in 2025, and his children won’t have to be here on this date in 2026. One can only hope.

One Day Dallas and Atlanta May be as Pleasant as Mumbai

Is it bad to be a Christian nationalist?

That depends on what the phrase means.

I have seen it defined as part of white supremacy. That claim is completely asinine and belongs in the toilet with the whining about how white people can’t eat tacos because it’s cultural appropriation. It’s beneath the dignity level of tinfoil-hat stuff.

Incidentally, the web says most Christians are not white. You have to be pretty provincial not to know that. There are Christians other than Pope Francis and Franklin Graham.

Christianity is like gender or shoe size. Unrelated to race.

I have also seen Christian nationalism defined as a belief based on the notion that America is, and always has been, a Christian nation. That belief is fundamentally true, regardless of historical nitpicking and cherry-picking to the contrary. Overwhelmingly, the drafters of the Constitution represented Christians. But this doesn’t concern me. I don’t care what we believed in the 18th century. I would like to do whatever is best in the present, regardless of what Americans did two centuries ago.

If Christian nationalism means a desire to turn America into a Christian nation with special accommodation for Christians and a certain amount of favoritism for Jews and Israel, then I’m all for it. I would love to see Yeshua honored in our Constitution. Other countries have done this, and the earth hasn’t swallowed them up.

When I was young, I was indoctrinated, of course. Leftist teachers convinced me that religious freedom was extremely important. That is true, up to a point. But the First Amendment wasn’t drafted with Satanists and witches in mind. It wasn’t drafted to make room for Islamists, any more than the part about freedom of expression was drafted for Hugh Hefner.

“Islamist” doesn’t mean “Muslim.” It means a person who wants to establish a political state under Islamic law.

When the First Amendment was written, nobody considered the possibility that demonized people would eventually insist on putting monuments to Satan in front of courthouses. If this had been foreseen, the text would be a lot different. The First Amendment was intended to prevent the government from establishing a particular type of Christianity and forcing it on people. The Old World has a long tradition of turning denominations into governments and murdering people who disagreed. The founders didn’t want a Church of England here.

I guarantee you, Thomas Jefferson would not have been in favor of forcing city councils to let kooks wearing horns invoke Satan’s blessing at meetings. It’s childish to suggest otherwise. I very much doubt the founders would have expected Muslims and Hindus to be made goverment-employed chaplains. Our military didn’t get a Muslim chaplain until 1993.

I didn’t think about these things when I was in high school. I figured we were supposed to let people build mosques and Hindu temples and leave them alone, and I suppose I just assumed it would end there. I didn’t foresee the courthouse devil statues, and I didn’t know we would have a huge problem with radical Muslims establishing sharia law and committing thousands of murders.

I didn’t know one minority religion’s barbarism would result in the government forcing us all to pose for naked pictures at airports.

My plan now is to vote against the spread and encouragement of heathen faiths every chance I get. I am allowed to do that under our laws, so it’s what I’ll do. I am also against the wholesale importation of heathens from places where hatred of America and Christianity are common.

Right now, H1-B visas are in the news. Vivek Ramaswamy, a Hindu whose religion is the worship of evil spirits, has said we need to increase the flow.

Worshiping evil spirits is bad. Is it still legal to say that? It’s very bad. They are evil, after all. Hell is real, and not all religions will save you from it. Demonic doctrine is incorrect. Hindus have been fooled. It’s very serious.

Yeshua is the God of everyone. Hindus, Muslims, wiccans, atheists, Jews…everyone. There is only one God. The others are impostors who ruin people and cut them off from God’s love. It’s okay for Christians to say this. To do otherwise would be like living in America and refusing to name the president. It’s absurd for us to hesitate. Saying Yeshua is God should be routine and commonplace, spoken without any reluctance, like saying Elon Musk runs Tesla. To Christians, it’s a simple fact.

Incidentally, Ramaswamy is a Brahmin (big surprise), so he’s in the top Hindu caste. Apologists claim the caste system doesn’t come from Hinduism, but that’s a lie, because their religious texts lay out caste rules. They say Ramaswamy can’t eat food prepared by certain castes, for example. Also, Brahmins are generally lighter-skinned than the people Hinduism sets beneath them. The darkest people are in the lowest caste. And the castes are preserved and sometimes enforced among Hindus in the US. Caste discrimination is a big problem in America’s tech industry.

If there is a white man’s religion, it’s probably Hinduism.

Ramaswamy has as much as said that Americans are too lazy to fill the need for tech professionals. He thinks this means we need to open the floodgates. To all sorts of people we clearly do not need.

I looked up HB-1 visas. If what I read is correct, you can get an HB-1 visa in the fields of education and the arts. You can even be a fashion model.

No. We do not need to import more Hindu and Muslim teachers. We are perfectly capable of finding citizens and existing residents to teach. And paying people to come in and act or sing is moronic. Entertainers spread corruption, and we already have plenty of them. Why we would need fashion models so badly we would move them ahead in the immigration line is beyond me.

Extending the program beyond areas where we have a legitimate need makes no sense at all, unless it makes sense because it’s normal for our government to do stupid, woke things. It definitely makes sense. In that sense.

Ramaswamy just happens to come from a country full of educated people who live in squalor and who would love to come here and write code or give people prostate exams. And only a small fraction of them are Christians or Jews. A suspicious person would say he may be more interested in helping Indians than Americans. I’m not sure, but I have to wonder.

We get a lot of very good African professionals who are Christians. I’m all for bringing them in. I wish we could deport American citizens who practice wicca in exchange for them. But loading our country up with heathens is a bad idea. They will continue to push Christianity aside. Christianity is correct, and heathen faiths all belong to Satan, who hates humanity. The more heavily-Christian a nation is, the more blessed it will be. Heathen faiths bring problems.

Look at India. They work like slaves. They’re smart. They have ports and farmland. They work extremely hard to get education to the poor. In spite of all this, they live in horrible circumstances in a low-trust, low-empathy culture. Which we should expect them to bring with them.

Work and education aren’t the big factors in a nation’s success. Yeshua is.

When God blesses a nation for honoring him, people from cursed nations start moving there. Eventually, they can overwhelm God’s people to the point where the curses overcome the blessings.

If I were the king of America, I would drastically limit immigration except for Christians–real ones–and Jews. I wouldn’t worry about whether we had enough chip designers, because I would know God would look after us for being faithful.

Whenever I get a chance to cast a vote that will favor Christianity or disfavor heathen religions, I will do it. If that makes me a Christian nationalist, so what? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s the only intelligent policy.

It’s too late, though. The lifeboat is already sinking. It can’t be fixed. We now live in a nation where a big, strong, masculine rapist who has a moustache, no women’s clothing, a man’s name, and no feminine mannerisms can be sent to a women’s prison at his own request. That’s how demonized we are. Demons have made most Americans insane. We’re not coming back from this.

Why Does it Taste Like a Dodge Wiring Harness?

I decided to try a Tikka T1x bolt-action .22. It can be my son’s first rifle when he is ready. I’m concerned I may have trouble getting him to pay attention to shooting instruction during the first few weeks of his life. He’ll just have to man up.

As for shooting opportunities here at the compound, targets and things like water bottles and golf balls will always abound, and he will be permitted to kill any animal he sees that isn’t wearing a collar or a saddle.

He won’t be allowed to shoot inside the house, of course, but shooting FROM inside the house will be encouraged, since I do it myself.

Exceptions will be made for home invaders, or as I call them, undocumented guests, and also for those rare times when game finds its way into the living room. It has already happened once.

I chose the T1x because it has a top-notch reputation for accuracy. The other alternative was a Bergara, but the Bergara’s barrel was a little longer than I would have liked. The CZ 457 was also tempting, but in order to get the options I wanted, I would have to accept a 12″ length of pull designed for a 12-year-old. It would have been good for my son, but since I will be the exclusive user of the rifle for, I am estimating, at least two months, he will once again have to man up and deal.

I need a scope now, so I am thinking. It’s not a simple subject.

I was thinking I might go for high magnification because I like seeing what I’m doing at 100 yards, but let’s be honest: there is no reason to shoot targets with a .22 at 100 yards. That far off, it will probably shoot 3 MOA at best, and you learn nothing at all from that kind of spread. I think I will shoot targets at 50 yards and leave it at that.

I do want to be able to see which part of a squirrel I’m aiming at, and I think 12x is about right for that, up to a realistic 50-yard-limit. I am hoping to be able to stay within a one-inch circle at that range without a serious rest. Shooting squirrels is inhumane when you can’t shoot at least that well. I want to be able to tell where my crosshairs are so I can be sure the squirrel will drop even if I’m half an inch off either way.

I’m going to take some of my optics outside and fiddle around at known distances so I can firm up a decision.

To hit things like coons and possums, I should be fine with something in the area of 5x.

Like I always say, nearly all of my grandfather’s good guns mysteriously vanished when my grandmother died, so I didn’t inherit a single one from her, even though I shot with him a lot and the other grandsons did not. My compensation is to get better guns and shoot them better. His .22 rifle was a crusty Remington 550-1, and I have considered getting one, but I was not able to resist buying rifles that were superior in every possible way. The T1x will be the best so far. Comparing it to a 550-1 is like comparing a new Lexus to a Crown Vic at a police auction.

I asked for scope recommendations at a forum for sharpshooters, and naturally they came in with things starting at around $500. I don’t think that’s necessary for this gun. I have some very good glass, and I understand the need for it in some applications, but I’m never going to shoot a thousand yards at twilight with a .22. Or anything else, now that I think about it.

Their recommendations were great, apart from the cost. They know what they’re doing. This country is full of men who can hit a man-sized target over half a mile away, and they are really common in rural areas. There are people shooting .338 Lapua, which is useful at ranges longer than a mile. There are people with night vision headgear, night vision scopes, and thermal scopes.

It makes me want to stay indoors, just writing about it.

The leftists who are most prone to putting on black pajamas and attacking innocent people in cowardly mobs are generally women or men who are a lot like women. Spindly, effeminate, spoiled, and not inclined to masculine pursuits. The country is no place for their fatherless unemployed behavior. A diet of soft urban targets doesn’t prepare them to take on men and women who decorate their homes with other creatures’ heads.

When I bought my first AR-15 here in my rural county, I picked it up at the company’s headquarters. They had a Ma Deuce set up among the displays. That’s legal. And they’re military guys, so it’s not just an ornament. Talk about feeling safe.

It wasn’t like visiting a Target in California and having to step aside while people punch clerks, break glass, and run off with boxes of Prilosec to sell on the sidewalk out front.

If I worked in a building near that place, I know where I’d run if I saw vans full of narcissistic sadists headed my way. I’d only slow down at the register to buy earplugs.

I don’t want to kill anything, but the squirrels have to go. One truck wiring harness is enough. It would be neat if we could be friends, but we tried that, and it didn’t work. At least the crows will feast.

If I hit anything.

I hope I get improved accuracy out of this gun. I’ll feel pretty stupid if it shoots no better than my semiautos.

On the subject of fathers’ gifts to sons, I had a wonderful revelation. A usual, it was something obvious which I already knew, yet which somehow had not made itself part of me. We can’t see the obvious without God’s help.

I realized I should not talk about God and his blessings, as though blessings and God were different things.

We always say we want to do this or that to get God’s blessings. Pray to get God’s blessings. Stay close to him to get his blessings. The truth is that he, personally, is the blessing. The other things are just the natural consequences of being near him.

If you are in God’s presence, you are already blessed. You are wrapped up in love. Because of his love and power, things are going in the right direction for you. Things may not be perfect, but they are headed toward perfection, and they will continue as long as you’re with God.

Knowing him and being with him are what matter.

These things don’t apply if you’re proud. First of all, a proud person can’t be in God’s presence except briefly. He stays far from proud people. Second, when you’re in God’s presence, he gives you revelation, and proud people can’t accept revelation. They can’t learn.

If Satan were in God’s presence, it would be a bad experience for Satan. A human being with air in his lungs and blood in his veins is different. We can surrender and receive help. Forgiveness is available.

God showed me that I have already won. If I stay with him, I’m not just winning. I’ve already won. I’m just watching the victory unfold, one step at a time.

God’s presence should be your top priority, and in order to get it, you have to humble yourself continually. When you get into pride, you push him away and bring demons near, making them your gods and demonized people your masters.

Prayer in unknown tongues is a manifestation of humility. When you do it, you’re admitting you’re too stupid and evil to pray well on your own. You are abandoning your own inner monologue and letting him replace it with his.

I hate being busy. I used to like it. I liked going to work and getting things done. I liked being busy with recreation. Now I feel resentful when I’m busy. It distracts me from God. I miss prayer sessions and receive worthless and harmful things in exchange.

It disturbs me when Christians brag about hard work and long hours. It is bragging. If you’re working 12 hours a day, you can’t possibly be close to God, unless you’re doing simple manual labor and occupying your mind with prayer. If you absolutely have to brag, you shouldn’t brag about being self-destructive and failing your family.

I like getting things done around the compound, but frequently, when I’m done, I realize I’ve overdone it. I should have quit earlier. God isn’t going to reward me for doing a perfect job, clearing limbs out of the yard or spraying weeds. He doesn’t care about things like that. He rewards me for being with him. I was with him a few weeks back, and while speaking by the Holy Spirit, I heard myself say, “Being with you is my purpose.”

My yard needs work, and the nursery isn’t done, but it’s better to fail at earthly jobs than my relationship with the one who loves me and solves every problem. God never rewarded anyone in the Bible for hard work. Not one person.

I have to continue trying to stay with God. The path is already prepared. The enemies are beaten. The corrections I need are in progress. I have to be careful not to try too hard to save myself.

The Best Present Fills a House

Merry Christmas, all!

On a somewhat-related note, a strange thing happened two days ago. Dave Portnoy, the Jewish founder of a website that caters to people who place illegal bets on sporting events that came to us via pagans, did something unexpected.

I don’t want a job. The thought horrifies me. But if I had to have a job, I would want Portnoy’s secondary career. He goes around the country reviewing pizza joints for his Youtube channel, One Bite Pizza Reviews. If he likes your shop’s pizza, his viewers mob it, and you make a lot of money.

On Monday, he visited Tinybrickoven, a closet-sized pizza place in Baltimore. He was in a hurry, so he couldn’t wait to have a pizza made. He asked them to reheat one.

This probably means he knew what he was up to when he showed up, but let’s ignore that.

The proprietor sold him a pizza and said he was getting ready to close. Portnoy asked what he meant, and he said the shop was closing for good. It wasn’t making money. The proprietor said the problem was that the authorities had refused to give him a liquor license.

Dave gave the pizza a 7.9, which is a very good score. Anything above 7 is worth a visit.

He asked the owner, “How much money do you need to stay open for like a year?” He had a hard time getting an answer, so he said, “Well, if there was somebody super rich right in front of your face who’s in the pizza business, and by serendipity, he’s like, ‘What do you need to stay open for a year?”, you got to give him some figure, because then he’s going to walk away.” Finally, the man said he thought $60,000 would get him a liquor license and allow him to stay open.

Then Dave gave him the money. He told him he was giving him a grant.

That was a nice thing to see. Portnoy gets a lot of criticism. He’s brash, he says harsh things about pretentious leftists, and women have accused him of treating them badly, but he started a foundation that has given tens of millions of dollars to small businesses. Whatever is going on inside of him, it’s not all bad.

What he did was a nice reminder that Christmas is a holiday we owe to Jews who helped gentiles. We celebrate a Jew who died for us and saved us from hell, and his Jewish friends told our ancestors the good news.

It’s best to do charity anonymously, but it’s still a nice story. It reminds us that Christmas is about love, not secular homosexual parades and gifts we buy on credit.

Not much is happening here. My wife’s gift has not arrived from Africa. She’s not in a position to get me anything. She has no job, apart from giving me someone to look after. We haven’t decorated.

Still, I am very happy, because God has answered my prayers.

Before my wife met me, she had a vision. She saw a big white house from a distance. Yeshua came out and walked toward her to welcome her. As she got close to the house, kids came out and hugged her, and she felt overwhelmed with love. I know she had this vision, because she texted a friend about it at the time.

Before I met her, I prayed for God to give me a house of love. Now we have it.

My family is a mess. My dad’s father drank and beat his wife, and then he died young from drinking bad moonshine. My dad’s elder sister was a sick, cold sociopath. My dad hated Christianity, and he grew up to be a drinker and wife-beater who neglected his kids and committed adultery. My mother’s dad was a much better person, but he had no interest in God, and my mother did a very poor job of showing God to my sister and me. My sister was a sociopath who hated me, in the manner of her aunt, who hated my dad.

I don’t really know my cousins on my dad’s side. My mother has one living sister I get along with, but she is tormented. The other has turned out to be very dishonest, and she is verbally abusive to me for no reason. My cousins generally don’t know God, and I haven’t been invited to a family gathering since maybe 1998.

In case you’re wondering, I’m not the problem. People like me, believe it or not. I’m easy to get along with. I’m nice to people. I make them laugh. I try to be helpful. I make friends very easily. I keep my circle small, but that’s a choice. I had all sorts of friends in college and law school. And in church.

I was popular in high school, although not quarterback-popular. I was voted funniest in class. At least two cheerleaders were interested in me. One made overtures after college. So was another one of my class’s top-tier girls. She actually wrote me a two-page letter after she got married.

I didn’t have to worry about where I sat at lunch.

I’m not the person you don’t invite to Thanksgiving or Christmas because he will get drunk and surly and make everyone wish he would leave, or because he’ll start a fight over some slight that happened in 1982. My sister always took the role of holiday-destroyer.

I made no friends when I was in grad school, but I was studying physics, surrounded by physics students, so that was completely normal. You would have to know physics people to understand.

The family gets together without me. It may be because I’m not supposed to see heirlooms they didn’t come by the way they should have.

I have one cousin who has a serious mental illness, and he practices yoga, which invites demons to destroy him. He has been rejected all his life, and I don’t think he has any hope that this will change. I think he feels unloved. I wish he hadn’t been ignored so much. His brother is not right, either, and he is extremely angry at the world. We used to be very close, but that’s over. Another cousin lives in Texas and has almost nothing to do with the rest of us, which I can understand.

Generally, they are unhappy people. Resentful. Not much interested in the welfare of others or the kingdom of God.

I used to love being with them. I loved all three of my aunts. I loved my cousins. I looked forward to Christmas and summer vacations. Now it’s almost like they’re dead.

I know they don’t care a lot about each other. They’re together because of habit. None of them has ever told me how wonderful any of the others were, except for moms bragging about their kids. One of the moms makes things like that up, so it’s for her, not them.

I have seen almost no affection being displayed.

This house is different. It’s full of love. My wife and I love being together. We go everywhere together. We go to each other’s doctor appointments. We pray together twice a day. We are very affectionate. We compliment each other.

I am not ambitious, so I don’t neglect her for my career. I have no interest in drunkenness, other women, TV sports, or selfish pursuits that ruin weekends and prevent me from being a real husband and father.

My wife has no interest in the things that ruin wives. She is not interested in status symbols or social-climbing. She likes working to create a warm, comfortable home. She is excited about having a baby. She sings to her belly all day.

We don’t belong to a dead Catholic or Baptist church where they tell you Christianity is a game where you try to rack up points while God does absolutely nothing for you. We don’t belong to a prosperity gospel church where the pastors spend their days thinking up ways to con people out of their savings and houses. We don’t hang out with church volunteers who snipe at us and revel in abusing their meager authority.

We pray for God to transform us and inhabit us. We ask him to separate us from useless people and spirits. We ask for humility, love, and revelation. We don’t get on our knees, ask God to give us more money than our neighbors, and get up and go about the business of the flesh. God helps us to pray for the important things.

I speak blessings over my wife and child. I speak blessings over my parrot, Marvin. I use the name of Yeshua. We want our family to be different from our parent’s families and our cousins’ families, and it is.

The yard is a mess. We need to fix the landscaping. The house needs a lot of painting. We are less than halfway done with the furnishings. Doesn’t matter at all. It’s nothing. My wife doesn’t lie in bed and pray for God to change me and make me a Christian husband who treats her well. I don’t go off by myself and ask God to make my wife love me and stop using me. We’re not looking around to see if someone better can rescue us. The important things are in place, regardless of whether the hedges need trimming.

God is extremely, extremely good to us. I’m sorry so many people from our past are doing so badly. I wish everyone lived in a house of love. I can’t do anything about it, though. They don’t listen. God is ready when they are, but they prefer shallow lives devoted to bringing themselves the things they think will make them happy.

We don’t have a Christmas tree or matching Christmas pajamas. We don’t put up Facebook photos that are carefully engineered to create a false impression of an idyllic existence exemplifying the American dream and to hide things like domestic abuse, perverted children, debt, adultery, alcoholism, and despair.

Many Americans post photos like that. I don’t understand it. No one is going to try to rescue you from despair if they don’t know you have a problem.

Our house is decorated by love and God’s presence. We don’t need to publish a newsletter about how little Tommy is the tallest boy in the first grade and little Becky is the captain of the pep squad.

Happiness and peace are priceless. The appearance of happiness is worthless without more.

Things are working because I gave up. I was inept at running my own life. I had no idea what I was doing. I corrupted myself and turned myself into a disgrace. When I gave up, everything turned around, and over time, I was brought to this place. I have nothing to be proud of, and I am afraid of pride. God did it all. I don’t want him to stop.

You can have a life of peace and love if you want it, but you have to give up and admit defeat. You have to let God run things. You need to be baptized with the Holy Spirit, pray in tongues, and receive revelation. You have to embrace humility and benefit from its power. Otherwise, you’ll just be putting flashy bandages on infected wounds until you die.

I never lived in a house of love until my wife moved here, when I was already nearly elderly. I loved people, but I was alone with two birds. They were the only creatures I could share love with every day. Living in a house of love is still very new and strange to me.

Thank you, God, for all you’ve done. Please help us not to ruin it.

100% Failure Rate Does not Inspire

I don’t plan to become a family blogger, because my wife and whatever kids I will have never made the decision to be on the web, and I don’t believe I should subject them to much exposure. Nonetheless, I supposed it’s inevitable that I will mention them from time to time

Today I’m learning about gestational diabetes.

Pregnancy is a horror. I don’t care who gets mad when I say it. It’s true. God cursed women in Genesis 3, and he laid it on pretty good. If I had to be the one to bear the children, we would have to adopt, because there is no way I would consent to go through it.

Childbirth is a horror. It’s disgusting. If you’re a man, and you don’t know much about the subject, go read. Watch videos and look at photos if you have the stomach for it. Men love to say it’s beautiful and natural and all that, just like they love telling gullible girls they’re all about saving the whales or the Palestinians or going vegan when all they really care about is virtue-signaling their way into the sack. Men who lie to make women happy make truthful men look like the bad guys, but of course, that’s their plan. “I’m not like the others. And I’ve had a vasectomy, honest.”

About half of women take a dump during childbirth. Is that beautiful? I could go on.

When you get pregnant, you can look forward to vomiting, having food you love taste bad, all sorts of joint pains, muscle cramps that wake you up in tremendous pain, fatigue, headaches, uncontrollable mood swings, irrational thoughts, constipation, gas, hemorrhoids, and diabetes. You may not get all of these things, but you’ll get some.

The list is actually longer than that.

At the end, you have to push a huge object out through your genitalia, and rips and tears are common. Then you may go crazy from post-partum depression.

Nobody ever says the thing men’s bodies do to conceive a child is beautiful. Why? Because men don’t have to be flattered in order to get them into bed. It’s not beautiful. It’s gross. It makes a mess.

Like most women, my wife picked up a lot of weight after marriage. This set her up for gestational diabetes, and when she became pregnant, her own body betrayed her by changing its hormones to cripple her response to insulin. She failed a glucose test, so now we have a glucose monitor and a bunch of wokeness-corrupted dietary suggestions.

I say “wokeness-corrupted” because the advice always seems to begin with a push toward wokey food. Whole grains and fruit. Grain and fruit made her diabetic in the first place, but the medical establishment has a sick bias against meat and fat, which, had she eaten them exclusively, would have kept her thin and healthy.

A woman with diabetes does not need medical enablers telling her it’s okay to stuff herself with whole grains. Food cravings are her problem, which means she has the same problem an addict has. Her mind makes her look for justification to continue with destructive behavior. “I can’t eat a pound of African corn meal mush every day, but I can load up on brown rice and any bread that isn’t white.” No, she can’t. And she should not be encouraged to.

When you eat a big pile of brown rice, you’re going to raise your blood sugar more slowly than you would with white rice, which is almost a poison, but you will still raise it more than you would with a healthy meal with a moderate level of carbs.

My wife’s problem is partly due to whole grain. She eats nshima, which is boiled corn meal. It’s as whole as grains get.

As for fruit, it’s just a sugar solution with a little fiber added. It’s not a healthy food unless you eat it sparingly. When you eat a lot of fruit at one sitting, you get a headache. Why? Because you just pummeled your system with sugar. And it’s not “healthy sugar,” either. It’s fructose and glucose. Glucose is worse for you than table sugar.

They should be telling her to focus on meat, fat, and non-starchy vegetables with some carbs thrown in for balance.

My wife is expected to cut herself 4 times a day and check her glucose levels.

I started reading about these things because I know she will want help with monitoring. Now I feel so bad for diabetics, I can hardly stand to think about it. They’re all over the web talking about their problems. “Can I eat this?” “Can I eat that?” Discussing their level of this or that.

How do they stand it? They get things like terrible foot pain, headaches, blindness, amputations, impotence…

I’m not sure I realize how blessed I am.

Yesterday, I saw a video in which two web comedians made fun of Arnold Schwarzenegger. They were commenting on a video of an old white-haired man shuffling up a street and struggling to climb two or three stairs to get into an RV. He was breathing through his mouth. The man was Arnold.

The video came from a movie set, so I don’t know if the hair is his, but the rest is real. He looks bad. His feet barely leave the ground, which is a sign of dementia. His posture is terrible. His spine seems crooked.

Schwarzenegger is 77, and Donald Trump is 78. Donald Trump swings his arms and legs when he walks. He hits a golf ball a mile. He doesn’t breathe through his mouth when he walks on level ground. He dances at his appearances. I think Schwarzenegger would fall over.

My health is not perfect, and I am considerably younger than Arnold Schwarzenegger, but I am doing extremely well compared to many people my age. I can run up a flight of stairs. I work outside, carrying big branches, and I never feel sore the next day. I walk fast. My young wife asks me to slow down.

I make beer, so I have to lift a 10-gallon pot nearly full of grain and water. No problem. I have to lift 55-pound kegs about 40″ to get them into my freezers. Easy.

Sometimes I get an urge to go out and work hard with my chainsaws, not just to get things cleaned up, but to feel myself moving, like a horse that runs and jumps for no reason.

I park a long way from stores so I can burn off energy walking and so I can leave the other spaces for the “old people,” many of whom are younger than I am. When we went to Switzerland recently, the day after we arrived, I left the hotel alone on very little sleep and walked all over town. I went to a bar by the river and had a few beers and shot video. I loved it. My wife was at the hotel, flat on her back.

Why has God been so good to me, of all people? It’s a little scary. I don’t want to do anything to ruin it. And should I tell other people about it, or will I make them feel bad needlessly?

I have a friend who is two years younger than I am, and he has an artificial hip, artificial lenses, an amputated big toe, and diabetes. I’m afraid he’ll die soon. I would miss him.

This diabetes thing is giving me a new appreciation for other people’s physical problems. Before this happened, I was thinking about these things and praying about them a lot, but reading about diabetes really brought it home to me.

I hate this place. This planet is just hell light. There is so much suffering. Age, deformities, diseases, and injuries are extremely ugly and humiliating, and we can’t get away from them. Even if I’m doing well, I have to see others I can’t do anything to help, all day.

I’m not even discussing mental deficiencies and disorders. That’s a big subject all by itself.

Schwarzenegger is a wretched person in my opinion. If he has ever done anything for anyone else, I am not aware of it. He pumped himself up with drugs and climbed over other people in order to become famous. He was a bully, and he had sex with all sorts of women, including at least one session involving a whole group of male bodybuilders in the same room. He smoked weed. He entered into an extremely suspicious marriage with a person who just happened to be a Kennedy, and then he spat on marriage by knocking up a homely servant in his wife’s house. He served as Bush I’s Chairman of the President’s Council on Physical Fitness and Sports when he didn’t actually know anything about fitness or sports and he was prancing around with drug muscles.

Bodybuilders aren’t actually fit. They use routines that build muscles that are very large but not all that strong. Skinny powerlifters put them to shame. A lot of bodybuilders have a hard time walking up stairs because they have no cardiovascular fitness and no energy reserves. Their endocrine systems are constantly in crisis. They get cancer. Their guts and hearts grow and fill their chest cavities because they use growth hormone. They grow breasts and have to have them cut out. That happened to Dwayne Johnson, another person I don’t admire.

Schwarzenegger was supposed to inspire young people, and he did. He inspired them to take illegal drugs and ruin their bodies. There are a lot more steroid users out there now than there would have been without Arnold’s mass mentorship.

Now Johnson is using drugs while appearing in movies aimed at kids. He’s 52, and he has much bigger muscles than he did when he played football at the University of Miami. They had a fantastic strength coach, and they probably gave the players drugs, but old Johnson makes young Johnson look like Don Knotts.

I know a former UM player a few years younger than Johnson, and he was a monster when he played. He beat up a top-10 boxer outside a club, and he had muscles on top of muscles. I saw him a few years later, and he didn’t even look athletic. Skinny arms and legs. Don’t tell me he wasn’t on drugs.

Schwarzenegger weakened the GOP after it helped him get a governorship. He took a naturalization oath in which he swore to protect the Constitution, and then he tried to curtail our civil rights with gun control. He even said, “Screw your freedom,” because he was so terrified of coronavirus.

I am perplexed by people who admire him. Yesterday, I told my wife he had sold his soul to the devil, and I wasn’t sure the devil got a good deal.

Now the earthly life he sold his soul to enjoy is wrapping up. Everything is being taken away except for the money. No worthwhile person respects him. They see through him. His movies were fun, but they were shallow and cartoonish. He never made a Casablanca or Lawrence of Arabia. Even Jean Claude Van Damme has made more mature fare. Van Damme is able to examine himself with some honesty.

Last night my wife and I prayed for Schwarzenegger, but there isn’t much hope for people who get everything they want while remaining children.

I wish I could do something for people whose bodies are messed up. It will be nice to live in a place where such help is never needed.

Excuse me While I Kiss the Sand of Florida

In our daily prayers, my wife and I pray for divisiveness.

We pray for God to separate us from worthless people. The worthless are the people who are so determined to stay in pride and reject Yeshua, there is no hope for their salvation. They are vexatious and discouraging to be around, they do great harm, and whatever good they do in our lives is not worth the cost.

Division gets a bad rap. It’s actually a huge blessing. Associating with degenerate people is harmful.

The other day, God told me something. Good people avoid bad people, but bad people pursue good people and want to live among them. Parasites can’t get by without hosts.

This is why America has so many destructive immigrants and illegal aliens. People from what are kindly described as “low-trust cultures” come here to get away from their own kind and abuse people who have established a relatively orderly society. On the other hand, good people flee low-trust cultures to get here and experience reduced predation.

Many conservatives are upset because their deranged far-left acquaintances are cutting them off. They complain because toxic people refuse to spend the holidays with them. What are they thinking? There are few greater blessings than having people who do harm removed from your life.

Ordinarily, the type of people who love leftism make an effort to be around successful, productive, orderly people, because they know they can take advantage of them. It’s wonderful when their derangement and hatred overcome their common sense and they decide to separate themselves from us.

I haven’t heard my sister’s voice since 2015, if memory serves. Often, I pray God will keep her away from me forever. I don’t have to be told to separate myself from parasitic people. God got the message through to me years ago.

She sent me an email a few years back. Why? She wanted money. She had moved in with my sick aunt, ruined the aunt’s life, and refused to leave. By the grace of God, my sister fell in a ditch and broke her leg in several places, and while she was being treated, my aunt’s daughter took her junk to a hotel. Then I got the email. I deleted it and blocked the sender. Every day that passes with no communication from her is a big victory, and I literally thank God every day for the separation.

I didn’t shut her out because of a political disagreement. I did it to protect myself. But a leftist relative who ruins family gatherings with vicious diatribes is also a fine candidate for ostracism.

Think about this: far-left nuts generally go to hell, because most never repent and get to know Yeshua. If you invest in them while they’re alive, you’re wasting. What are you wasting? Time, money, affection, company…you name it.

You will die, and after that, you’ll never see them again. You will never share fond memories in heaven. The things you did with them prove to be worthless and not fit to be remembered. Eventually, you will be cut off from them for eternity, so you may as well let them go now.

The more you invest in such people, the more you lose.

Why am I thinking about this? Naturally, it’s because I read about a gun control case.

Hawaii is a far-left state. A horrible place. Hawaii’s government has decided to violate the Constitution over and over. In Hawaii, only a tiny percentage of carry applications are approved. This obviously conflicts with federal law.

A guy who lives in Hawaii was prosecuted for carrying a gun while hiking. He got the case dismissed based on federal precedent, but Hawaii’s Supreme Court reversed and wrote a deranged leftist opinion. The case was appealed to the US Supreme Court, which denied certiorari on procedural grounds. Basically, they decided the case was not ready for Supreme Court consideration. Eventually, it will be.

Hawaii’s Supreme Court said something really stupid. Here is what OUR Supreme Court said, quoting the lower court:

[I]t denigrated the need for public carry in particular, rejecting as un-Hawaiian “a federally-mandated lifestyle that lets citizens walk around with deadly weapons.”

People carry deadly weapons everywhere. Even Honolulu and Martha’s Vineyard.

Legally, many things can be considered deadly weapons. The case law is clear. A wrench. A screwdriver. A bronze figurine. A rock. A car. A canoe paddle. In the George Zimmerman case, a sidewalk was used as a deadly weapon.

People have access to deadly weapons all the time. On top of that, many people ARE deadly weapons. If you’re a 250-pound athlete with 15% body fat and a 300-pound bench press, your hands and feet are deadly weapons.

Carrying firearms doesn’t introduce deadly weapons into an environment. It just makes the playing field more fair to the weak. If you can’t carry a weapon, and you’re small and frail, you pretty much have to accept being beaten up and otherwise abused by stronger people.

There are lots of Hawaiians who are very physically dangerous but unarmed, and unarmed Hawaiians commit a lot of violent crime. Native Hawaiians are extremely prone to criminal behavior. They are known particularly for beating women.

Wife-beating is a big problem among Pacific Islanders in general. It’s not just Hawaii. But you can’t talk about it, because if you do, you’re a racist.

To get back to the opinion, permitting people to arm themselves is not a “mandated lifestyle.” No one will be forced to carry a weapon.

“Un-Hawaiian” is divisive virtue-signaling, and it evinces contempt for the union. Residents of Hawaii are supposed to be American, not Hawaiian. There is no country called Hawaii.

Please don’t tell me how great Hawaiian culture is and how idyllic Hawaiian life was before Christians showed up. They loved human sacrifice. They thought incest was normal. Hawaiians killed Captain James Cook, and 4 of them shared his heart at a ceremonial meal. They murdered many of their babies, supposedly to avoid overpopulation.

If carrying a weapon is un-Hawaiian, then presumably, Hawaiians won’t want to do it, so no harm done, except for the continuation of the harm of allowing the weak to be preyed upon. Tough luck for women abused by native Hawaiian husbands.

I’m very tired of the dishonest anti-2A arguments. They’re all lies told to keep citizens weak and compliant, and, frankly, to turn crime victims into sacrifices on the altar of misguided gun control.

I think the worst lie is the one about militias. The Second Amendment says we have the right to own and carry firearms. It mentions militia work as a motive, but it does not say we can only possess and carry guns while serving in militias.

How stupid would it be to write a Constitutional amendment giving people the right to possess and carry arms in the military?

The Second Amendment is part of the Bill of Rights, which is a list of changes representatives of states forced on the union before agreeing to join up. Its sole purpose is to limit the federal government’s power over states and citizens. It does not give the federal government any power.

It should be obvious that it makes no sense to grant the people the right to carry arms in military service. That’s not a right. That’s something that has historically been forced on people.

Hitler allowed German and Austrian citizens to carry arms in the military. Genghis Khan allowed it. George III allowed it. The pharaohs allowed it. Stalin, Mao, Castro, Pol Pot, Ho Chi Minh…every tyrant who ever lived allowed it. Their regimes depended on it. They didn’t allow their military slaves to NOT carry arms.

Governments force arms into people’s hands. What kind of idiot would write a law pretending carrying a weapon for military service is a right? It’s like saying you have the right to pay taxes.

Incidentally, 2A says militias are needed to protect the security of free states. Not the union. The states. Against the union. The framers weren’t thinking a state might need to defend itself from Canada. They were concerned that states might be overrun by union troops or forcibly absorbed into the union. Which is exactly what happened in 1865, but let’s not go there.

Leftists stupidly say 2A is only about militias, even though they hate militias, and they also claim we should only be able to carry the types of guns soldiers carried when 2A was written. They like to say this means muskets, but we fought the British with rifles, swords, pistols, and cannons, too.

If the purpose of 2A is to assist with military service, then we should be allowed to carry the military weapons of our time. Full-auto. No nation on Earth goes into battle with AR-15’s that fire one round at a time. Imagine showing up for militia duty to fight the Russians, carrying a flintlock.

I’m glad I don’t live in Hawaii or any other blue abscess. Thank God I live among good conservative people. Thank God I don’t have to go to work every day and be pushed around by sexual deviants, socialists, and environmental tyrants. I’ve never had to take a seminar and be told how evil my race is. I’ve never been pressured to honor a coworker who chose a same-sex marriage. A friend of mine works at a university, and she could not discuss the pandemic at work for fear of being fired. I don’t have to deal with such things.

My best friend has another friend who is a senior engineer at Raytheon, a company we rely on for our defense. The engineer complains of being forced to take wokeness classes, not because he has done anything wrong, but because all employees have to take them. He says the company is filled with affirmative action hires who are incompetent. Everyone else does their jobs for them. I don’t have problems like this. I am so blessed.

I never have to say, “I don’t know how I can stand this, but I have a mortgage.”

It’s good to live among conservative Christians. It’s very good to limit your exposure to demonized leftists who have no future. I don’t chase the people who have shunned me because I turned to Yeshua. We were going to be separated eventually anyway.

Once Again, New Yorkers Get What They Deserve

There was a certain householder, which planted a vineyard, and hedged it round about, and digged a winepress in it, and built a tower, and let it out to husbandmen, and went into a far country:

And when the time of the fruit drew near, he sent his servants to the husbandmen, that they might receive the fruits of it.

And the husbandmen took his servants, and beat one, and killed another, and stoned another.

Again, he sent other servants more than the first: and they did unto them likewise.

But last of all he sent unto them his son, saying, They will reverence my son.

But when the husbandmen saw the son, they said among themselves, This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and let us seize on his inheritance.

And they caught him, and cast him out of the vineyard, and slew him.

When the lord therefore of the vineyard cometh, what will he do unto those husbandmen?

They say unto him, He will miserably destroy those wicked men, and will let out his vineyard unto other husbandmen, which shall render him the fruits in their seasons.

Yeshua spoke this parable against the Jewish leaders of his time who rejected him, and it also applied to those who killed the prophets. Here’s something Christians don’t like to hear: it also applies to Christians who reject the Holy Spirit and try to create their own version of Christianity. People like that think they’re better than the Jews who rejected Yeshua, but they’re the same.

Interesting thing Christians and Jews don’t like to talk about: Christianity is fundamentally Jewish. It’s not Judaism, but it came from the Jewish God. The early “Christians,” as we like to call them, were all–every one of them–Jews. Before the gentile churches existed, the worship of Yeshua was a strictly Jewish phenomenon.

There was no gentile disciple. Think about that. The Romans thought of the struggle to suppress the worship of Yeshua–the arrests and murders–as a squabble among Jews, and that’s exactly what it was.

Anyway, I’m thinking about the vineyard parable today because of Daniel Penny, who risked injury to save a bunch of strangers, some of whom were not white. What did New York City do? It tried to imprison him for many years, among largely-minority criminals who would certainly have tried to kill him.

I don’t say corrupt, racist prosecutor Alvin Bragg did this, although he did. I don’t say his subordinate Dafna Yoran, who is equally disgusting, did this, although she did. New York City did this. Bragg and Yoran were just the instruments. New Yorkers are responsible because they overwhelmingly support leftism. They put Bragg and Yoran in office. They will do it again. They have installed many other far-left lunatics in positions of power. Everything these powerful people do can be blamed on the populace.

New Yorkers are determined to destroy themselves with absurd leftist beliefs based in fantasy. They punish everyone who tries to help them with common sense and decency.

For these reasons, New Yorkers are no longer worth trying to save.

Yeshua spoke of the prophets and himself, but the same principle is true of any helpful person who is abused by the ones he tries to help. A city that punishes selfless heroes deserves to be left in the hands of malefactors.

Daniel Penny got on a train. A violent, fatherless brat or mental case (depending on whom you believe) showed up and attacked other passengers. He said he was willing to die. He made at least one death threat.

What did Penny do? He got off at the next stop and waited for the next train.

No, that’s what I would have done. I’ve spent a lot of time on New York subway trains. I’ve seen entitled punks harass and pressure innocent people. I’ve had black New Yorkers say racist things to me. One man walked out of his way to spit by my feet. A drunk lady told my friends and me white people were nasty and she couldn’t stand us. I know New York racists are dangerous, and I have never seen myself as a person who had the physical tools to confront them. I would have gotten off the train and maybe contacted a transit cop.

Daniel Penny is braver and more altruistic than I am, so he grabbed a dangerous assailant and neutralized him. He didn’t try to kill him. He held him for the police. Penny is not a scientist who analyzes the consequences of chokeholds. No one like that was available when he restrained the criminal. He had to guess. It looks like he guessed wrong, because his chokehold is considered to be a likely cause of the criminal’s death.

Well, tough.

If two criminals stick up a 7-11, and a clerk kills one, the other criminal is guilty of murder. The clerk goes free. Criminals, not their victims, are responsible for such deaths. Similarly, Jordan Neely, the criminal who died after being restrained, is responsible for his own death. Any other conclusion is inconsistent with centuries of precedent, not to mention public policy.

When you put other people in reasonable fear of serious bodily harm, you open yourself up to very bad treatment. I can use a flamethrower to ward off an assailant with a gun, if a flamethrower is all I have. I can push him into a tank full of hungry sharks and watch while they rip him to pieces. If all I had were a machine designed to grab people and peel their skin off, I would be allowed to shove him into it. Scared people on a subway are certainly allowed to avoid a beating by choking a healthy male attacker.

What if the attacker is technically innocent because he’s nuts? Doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant to your right to use force.

New Yorkers have decided, over and over, to empower officials who favor people who abuse the innocent, and to cut New Yorkers–themselves–off from remedies available in other states. Stores all over the city have closed because criminals are supplying Ebay and Craigslist businesses by shoplifting regularly without opposition. Dafna Yoran– supposedly a prosecutor–worked to get leniency for a young man who murdered an elderly Asian at an ATM. New Yorkers vote over and over to nullify the Second Amendment, so people can’t defend themselves.

They are not worth saving.

If Daniel Penny had gotten off the train, Jordan Neely would probably have beaten at least one victim, including the black woman who talked to news people after Penny saved her. Penny himself would have been fine. He would have had a story to tell at dinner that night. “This nut got on the train and started threatening people. I managed to get off before he did anything, but check out this video I shot.”

No one would know his name today. No one would be protesting, demanding to know why a big, strapping Marine didn’t prevent a spoiled animal from knocking a woman’s teeth out. He would be in the clear. Instead, he is now a famous target who will be threatened by black racists for the rest of his days.

Black Lives Matter is now threatening Penny, who defended a black woman. A BLM idiot said New York needed black vigilantes to go after people like Penny. New York already has black vigilantes. They’re called criminal gangs.

Penny is being sued civilly by the male human being whose sperm produced Neely by chance. The alleged “father.” His attorney is so dumb he speaks in ungrammatical sentences in front of crowds. The attorney told the news Neely was choked to death for boarding a train and asking for food. It’s a shame an attorney can’t be disbarred for lying to the press.

I believe Penny can sue him for defamation. What he says in court is privileged, but I don’t believe that applies to statements made in self-serving press conferences. It shouldn’t.

A quick web search indicates that an attorney may be sued for defamation during the course of a lawsuit for statements made to the press.

New Yorkers should be celebrating Penny, but it’s only happening outside New York City. New York restaurants should give him free meals. The mayor should honor him. Instead, they tried to put him in a cage with dangerous black racists who would love to be known as the person who killed Daniel Penny.

Neely’s “dad” is a real piece of work. Of course, his last name isn’t Neely. He abandoned Neely and let a single woman raise him. Now he’s back, pretending to be devastated because one of the illegitimate kids he had, most likely because he didn’t like condoms, and whom he failed to support, died. Why is he back? Well, we can’t read his mind, but he just sued Penny, whose defense fund is currently at $3,331,843. That’s the kind of bait that attracts roaches.

Penny’s lawyers should force pops to take a DNA test. Maybe he’s not the real father. He may be guessing.

Penny’s putative dad will probably sue the city as well. If he sues the city, the city will pay him. They’ll settle.

I sincerely hope Penny is able to hire excellent attorneys and that they mop the floor with his “dad’s” revolting representation. I hope “dad’s” attorney spends a great deal on this case and loses every…penny.

New York doesn’t deserve Penny. It deserves to be abandoned and allowed to self-destruct. One Daniel Penny is worth a thousand leftist New Yorkers who reward evil and punish the good.

New Yorkers will suffer because of Alvin Bragg’s racist indictment. They’ll be beaten, robbed, raped, and killed because future Daniel Pennys will keep on walking. That’s part of the tax New Yorkers will pay as punishment for wokeness. They don’t mind. The appearance of virtue is priceless to leftists, even if virtue itself is repugnant to them.

Forget College and Fauxnouns

I just read an interesting article purporting to relay smart advice from old people to young people. The purpose was to help the young avoid the mistakes of the old.

The advice seemed inconsistent. One person said the young shouldn’t work hard to build up their wealth, but another said it was important to invest while young. Some advice was just stupid. One person said people should not rush to marry in their twenties.

I can think of some good advice I wish I had received.

1.Yeshua is mandatory, not optional. He is your God. He is everyone’s God. He is the God of every Jew, regardless of what rabbis say. He is the God of atheists and every sort of pagan. You have to give yourself to him and submit to him. If you reject him, your life will be pointless, and you will eventually be condemned to burn alone forever. There is no reincarnation. You can’t try again. You get one shot.

2. You have to know the Holy Spirit. It seems to be possible to escape damnation without knowing the Holy Spirit, but without him, you will never mature, you will believe all sorts of lies and errors, you will lack the power to help yourselves and others, and you are much less likely to be able to introduce your children to God successfully. You are supposed to pray in tongues every day and experience the gifts and fruit of the Spirit. You need at least three prayer sessions per day.

3. Bless God. I don’t mean thank him. I mean speak blessing to him, like Jacob blessing his sons. “In the name of Yeshua, I bless Yeshua, Yahweh, and the Spirit of Holiness. Their names are honored and made holy, their kingdom is come, their will is done, their children are multiplied, and their enemies are defeated, on Earth as in heaven.” Things like that. God will speak blessing to you, too. Yeshua commanded us to speak blessing to God. He had a reason. Bless yourself, your spouse, and your kids. If you’re a kid, bless your parents and siblings.

4. You should marry early, especially if you’re female. If you are raised to know the Holy Spirit, he will choose someone for you, so you don’t actually have to spend 20 years sorting through applicants in order to protect yourself. You’re not qualified to choose your mate. Only God can do it, and he is willing and eager.

If you’re a woman and you wait till you’re 30, you may have a lot of trouble conceiving, and you will be more likely to lose your baby during gestation. You are also more likely to have children with defects. You will regret not having a family much more than you will regret not having a career.

5. Have children. Paul suggested there were people God had created to remain single, but they are rare, and you’re probably not one of them. If you know the Holy Spirit, he will tell you if you are. We were created to please God and help him reproduce. Our children are really his children. And a big family can be very helpful. Family members look after each other.

6. Don’t live in a city. Satan’s children are concentrated in cities. You will always be at odds with the people around you, and when they rise up and become terrorists, you’ll be right there where they can get at you, and your city’s government will back them up.

7. Keep non-Christians at a distance. Not just unbelievers, but backward Christians who pull you down instead of pulling you forward. Don’t marry them. Don’t have them as close friends. Don’t partner with them in business. Avoid working for them if you can.

8. Give to people in need, as the Holy Spirit tells you. God will bless you and protect you from your enemies, and he will bring you wealth.

9. Cut off everyone who makes you miserable. They came from Satan. Being alone is better than being suppressed and abused by idiots. Before I got close to God, I had a pattern of making friends with overbearing, condescending people who let me down and treated me like a child. I haven’t had a friend like that in maybe 14 years. It’s wonderful that they are not part of my life now. I would never let them rekindle our friendships.

I had a college buddy I thought was a friend. Eventually, God showed me what a liability he was. To be honest, he was a jerk. He lied all the time, mainly by embellishing stories to the point where they became ridiculous. He couldn’t admit fault. He was undependable. He had a bad temper; he couldn’t hold his liquor, and he liked to pick fights when he was drunk. He punched walls and windows. He was a racist. He used racial slurs like “Jew boy” when he was angry at people.

There were good things about him, but on the whole, he was a drag.

One day he contacted me and asked if he could come to Florida and go fishing with my dad and me, and I realized I just didn’t want to be around him any more. I turned him down and let him know I had grown apart from him, and that was that.

I’ve never missed him. We never did anything worthwhile together. We never helped anyone. We never prayed. We drank and amused ourselves with worthless pursuits. I was no asset to him, either. Our friendship didn’t add any value to either of our lives.

If I were still running around with him, it would be a chore, not a pleasure.

9. Never lift anything you don’t have to. Always ask for help with anything that takes serious effort to lift. In one second, you can put yourself in a back brace for life. It has happened to millions of people.

10. Never exert as much force as possible with your muscles. For example, never try to see how much weight you can lift. It’s at the extremes of effort, which are unnecessary, that we hurt ourselves.

11. Invest. You want passive income that multiplies. You will never get rich by working more hours at an hourly rate. You get rich by making people and things work for you.

12. Don’t go to college unless you’re certain you need to. It’s very expensive, and it will cut four productive years out of your life. You will be indoctrinated and surrounded by filthy people. If your college friendships last, it probably means you’re immature and a failure at life.

If you want to be rich, start a business and make investments. The richest people on Earth aren’t doing anything they were taught to do in college. They’re not professionals. They’re investors and businessmen.

Elon Musk doesn’t build rockets or cars. He runs the businesses that build them. He never picks up a tool. He doesn’t design anything.

On the low side, at a college that will not impress anyone, college will cost you over $100,000. On the high side, several times that. If you’re like most people, you will waste 3.5 years memorizing Cliff’s Notes and taking subjects you can learn just as well on the web and at libraries. It’s an unparallelled waste.

I called a guy about landscaping. A young man. He has a truck and a few employees. He told me his net worth was around a million dollars. What’s the average net worth of a 30-year-old English major?

A young guy charged me $7500 for a day of tree cutting. He had several trucks, multiple employees, an enormous crane, and a diesel grapple that probably cost six figures. He probably brought half a million dollars’ worth of equipment to my house, and he had other jobs.

He never had to learn anyone’s fauxnouns (my name for them) or attend orientation lectures about groveling for confused, bigoted, dangerous perverts. He has never had to pay Marxists to lecture him.

13. Keep your kids out of public education, and if you send them to a private Christian school, watch them like hawks. Hold everyone at the school accountable. Look at the textbooks. Go to every meeting. If you see effeminate men and masculine women on the faculty, pull your child out while there is time.

14. Never, ever, EVER trust a man who likes being around other people’s kids. Scoutmasters. Priests. Funny, witty male teachers who wear bowties. Camp counselors. Youth pastors. Your single uncle who keeps an immaculate house. It is not normal for a grown male to want to hang around with children.

15. Read a lot, but don’t waste too much time on fiction. The fiction establishment rewards the children of Satan with money, awards, and wide distribution. Fiction is full of rebellion, sexual sin, and misinformation, and very little of it includes God. You would be wise to avoid reading any fiction written after 1900. You don’t actually need it.

16. Don’t eat a lot of carbohydrates. Don’t listen to the nonsense about whole grains being good for you. They may be less bad, but that’s about it. Carbs cause obesity, diabetes, tooth decay, strokes, heart attacks, arthritis, high blood pressure, dementia, and a whole bunch of other things it is pretty much impossible to get from animal products and non-starchy plant foods.

17. Music, travel, and books are not luxuries. They are necessities for people who want to be fully developed, so don’t be afraid to spend on them. Learn an instrument, and make your kids learn instruments.

18. Buy cameras and learn to use them. Your descendants will be grateful.

I wish I could take advice as well as I give it, and I wish I had had this advice when I was younger. My children will receive all of it, and they will be better off than I have been.

Truce Over

As I have said before, genocide can be a good thing. I was referring to God’s efforts, like the flood, the tribulation, and the destruction of the Canaanites and Amalekites, but it’s particularly true of squirrels.

I used to kill squirrels whenever I got a chance, but one day I decided to stop. I was working in my shop, and a mother squirrel kept walking by, carrying material for her nest. Ordinarily, squirrels are afraid to be near people. She walked right by me, over and over as she built the nest in a tree by the corner of my house.

I felt bad when I thought about killing her and her family. She trusted me. Maybe God was telling me something. I let her live.

Then I paid $6000 for truck repairs. Squirrels ate my Dodge’s wiring harness.

Let it suffice to say the ceasefire is over. And they are the ones who violated it.

I got myself a gadget that lures squirrels and shoves a bolt through their heads, but so far, it has only registered one kill. I’m going back to firearms.

I have a few .22 rifles. I believe the best for squirrel control are a Savage A22 and a modified Marlin 60 (made during the dark Remington years). Both are scoped. I also have a Ruger 10/22 with a Sig red dot and a silencer.

My 10/22 breaks down. I don’t mean that in the FIAT sense. I mean it comes apart into two short pieces you can stick in a backpack. Like an assassin’s ridiculous briefcase gun from a 1970’s movie.

In retrospect, I believe I should have gotten the one-piece version. My understanding is that it takes some skill to make the one I bought accurate, and I think it is also known to lose its zero when broken down.

I have gotten bad results in the past using scoped rifles for squirrels. I can’t let that continue. I don’t want to wound animals and have them run off and suffer. I would also like to avoid giving up and using a shotgun.

I believe the solution is to sight the rifles in correctly and memorize the deviations at squirrel distances so I can be really sure where the bullets will go. I also think I need to use the same ammo all the time, so I’m going with CCI Mini-mags. I have a good supply on hand, and they seem to be 1″-accurate at 50 yards in a good gun.

The Marlin Model 60 is a mix of good and bad. The good? It’s cheap. It’s light and handy. It feels good in the hand. The barrels have a great reputation for accuracy. It even looks nice. The bad? The quality control during the last years was like the quality control at Popeyes. The insides are like BB-gun insides. It’s not made for hyper ammunition. The trigger is plastic, and the trigger pull is bad.

I bought my Marlin a few years ago. I sat down and shot at a target maybe 60 feet away. The impacts covered an area the size of a big orange. Unbelievable.

I sent it back, and Marlin didn’t even try to fix it. They sent me a new gun, and I had to do a new background check.

The tube magazine fell off the new gun, and rather than go through the warranty process, I bought parts and fixed it myself.

I bought a trigger, springs, and some other stuff from a company called MCARBO, and now I have a metal trigger that works fairly well, and the gun will handle hyper ammunition if I decide to use it.

A photo I have on hand suggests this gun will do 1 MOA at 50 yards. I’m not positive about it. I wonder if I typed “50” in the file name when I should have typed something like 25. Anyway, it’s not bad.

Ruger is a fantastic gun company, unlike Remington, which owned Marlin when it made my gun. Ruger bought Marlin from Remington when Remington collapsed. The Rugerians must not think much of the Model 60, because they discontinued it. It’s probably one of the two most popular .22 rifles in history, but I guess Ruger’s people know a problem child when they see one.

I think they should bring it back and fix the issues everyone knows about.

The Marlin has a Bug Buster on it. This is a very cheap airgun scope. I like good optics, but I will defend the Bug Buster against all attacks. At short distances, a scope doesn’t need perfect glass or even good tracking. You just have to be able to see your game. You will never need to move your turrets. Just remember how the gun shoots and hold over or under accordingly.

The Bug Buster has a neat illuminated reticle that lights up in red or green, and it also has target turrets, so you don’t lose stuff when you sight it in. You don’t have to remove caps that fall in the grass, and you don’t need a screwdriver.

When I decided to sight my guns in yesterday, I chose the Model 60 and left the A22 in its case. The A22 is better in every imaginable way, but that miserable Model 60 has an allure no one seems to be able to resist.

The A22 is tapped and threaded for a real scope mount. It has a Savage Accu-trigger. It comes with iron sights, too. It has real-rifle guts. You can replace the barrel with a wrench instead of a press. Savage barrels are known for accuracy.

I didn’t want to go out in the manure and set up my bench at 50 yards, so I settled for 35 yards in my backyard. Let’s face it; no compassionate person is going to shoot a squirrel with a .22 if it’s over a hundred feet away. Rimfires are not accurate enough to trust on tiny game that far off.

I used a dubious hunting tripod for a rest, but I still got the gun shooting into half an inch at 35 yards, so it was good enough. I moved the target to 20 yards, which is a more likely distance, and it shot half an inch or so low. Now I have three numbers to remember: 35, 20, and 1/2. Done.

The Ruger surprised me. I didn’t think a red dot would be any good for squirrels, but it put rounds into half an inch at 20 yards just fine.

I ought to be able to assassinate squirrels very reliably now without resorting to the 16-gauge.

I don’t like the Ruger’s trigger. It’s plastic, and it seems like I can feel it bend before the gun goes off. I don’t think it matters at rimfire distances, but I could see myself changing it some day.

The scope is a Sig Romeo5. Very simple. Cheap. The battery lasts for years. You don’t turn the scope on or off. It’s “shake awake,” which means it comes on by itself when the gun is moved.

Now I’m looking for shooting opportunities. I have a great hide. It’s not black or camo. It’s white. It has a refrigerator and running water. It’s my house. I’m going to look out the windows every so often, and when I see a good shot opportunity, I’ll open a door and shoot from inside. It works great.

I might start shooting from upstairs windows. That will give me more chances. Because of the elevation, more squirrels will be significantly below my position, so I will be able to blast them without any concerns about rounds leaving my property.

Maybe I should put a stand up in the yard. That would be really funny.

When my dad and I were looking at houses here, we saw a 5-acre property with a deer stand and feeder. There is freedom here. I can sit in a stand beside my house, holding a semiautomatic rifle with a 25-round magazine, shooting at squirrels, any day of the year.

I have to stop at 12 squirrels per day. I guess that’s the tyranny I face.

Time to get up and look out the window.

The Tree of Domesticity Must be Watered with the Blood of Rodents

I had a bad experience today. I stepped on a baby mouse. Deliberately.

I have a guy coming out today to look at our chimney cap. A squirrel got into my chimney a few years back, and I had to shoot it in the fireplace. I learned that animals had torn up the old chimney cap. Mice were coming in. I had the cap replaced.

Somehow, they still get in. It may be because I hired Certified Roofing to redo my roofs. Certified is a really awful company. They left dozens of nails in my yard. Shingles are still falling off the roof. I’m going to have to get them to fix everything. If they won’t, I’ll have to hire another company and sue Certified.

It may also be that the new chimney cap, installed by a different company, is not getting the job done. Maybe it’s loose.

Whatever is happening, we get an occasional mouse, so I leave poison out along with traps.

I use the white Tomcat traps. They’re really good if you bait them correctly. If you put peanut butter in them, the mice lick it off and walk away satisfied. I use peanut butter to glue big balls of Victor rat poison to the traps. The mice try to pry the balls out, and that’s the end of them.

The other day, I found a dead mouse in my master bedroom, and it looked like its nipples were distended. A mom mouse. I flushed it down the toilet and went on my way.

Today when I got up, I saw a little object wiggling on the floor by the guest bath. It turned out to be a tiny mouse. It was not very coordinated. It couldn’t get up and run effectively. It could scurry on its belly. Its eyes weren’t open.

It was dying of thirst, so it had left its hiding place to look for its mother.

It was depressing. A person’s natural instinct is to take care of small, weak things that need help. And baby mice are cute. But there was nothing to be done for it. You don’t buy a home for a disease-bearing pest and feed it milk with an eye dropper.

I scooped it up in a box in order to avoid getting microbes on me, I took it outside, and I put it on the porch. It found its way to a porch pillar and started slithering around it. Mice are drawn to corners. They like to scamper along the bases of walls. It was natural for it to go around the pillar. It wanted to get away and survive.

I shoved it out where I could get at it, and I stamped on it. Instant death. I scraped the goo off my sandal and pushed the mouse’s remains out where scavengers could see them.

That was it. I was finished. I went in and made breakfast, which I didn’t enjoy a whole lot.

When my wife made it to the table, I told her what had happened. She said, “It had to go. It was a pest.” No husband-shaming. No tears. I was more affected than she was.

This shows what a blessing it is to have a foreign wife. In some other countries, people are still so concerned about taking care of themselves and their families, they don’t really care how mice and rats feel. They still have common sense.

I have a friend who has three sons. They were at my house one day, and we went to my shop. While we were talking, I saw a big roach, and without interrupting our conversation, I turned on the shop vacuum, sucked the roach up, and turned the vacuum off. The eldest son’s jaw dropped. He looked at his mother. He asked if I was just going to leave the roach in the vacuum. I thought it was a strange question. Of course I was.

It took me a second to realize there was a culture clash.

Back when I was having mole problems, I started telling his mother about a trap I had bought, and she cut me off. She understood that the moles had to go, but did not want to hear about it. It upset her.

It didn’t upset me. I wasn’t happy about crushing innocent creatures in a steel trap, but I wasn’t going to lie awake thinking about it.

I guess they live in one of those homes where people scoop up spiders, take them outside, and rehome them.

My wife is from Africa. They don’t rehome bugs. They don’t even like having dogs in the house.

My friend is a wonderful woman, but every home needs a male authority figure to keep things in balance.

“Harmless” spiders bite people while they sleep, and the bites fill up with pus. I had two spider bites. I would say each one produced over a teaspoon of pus. I had to go to a doctor for each one. One left a scar. Now tell me how spiders are our friends.

I have something awful to say. The more decadent and spoiled a society is–the more worthless it has become–the better it treats animals. Being too nice to animals is a luxury for spoiled people have never had to worry about pests eating their food or giving their children diseases. People who have never had to kill an animal to feed or protect a family.

Everyone should be kind to animals when it’s practical, but we go too far. There are people now who complain about cruelty to shrimp, which are just bugs that live under water. Fish barely know they’re alive, and they aren’t capable of real suffering, but every fishing story on the Internet is followed by moronic, enraged comments from twisted people who think every tuna has dreams and a mom.

In its slide into decadence, America has become feminized and matriarchal, and that’s a problem. Matriarchies don’t work. They breed crime and poverty. They produce generations of worthless boys who end up in prison.

Every family needs a father who is willing to be the bad guy. Somebody has to say, “No, we can’t keep the sick dog we found at the dump.” “No, Fluffy the cancerous cat can’t come home from the vet this time.” “No, we can’t save the rat we found in the trap and buy it a nice cage with a wheel in it.”

That guy is me. I have to accept the burden of doing unpopular things now. I’m glad my wife is supportive.

When I was a kid, I found a mouse that was dying, and I put it in a jar and tried to help it. My grandparents and my mother should have ordered me to dump it in the yard, but they didn’t. That was a mistake. I thought its convulsions might be labor. I thought I might be helping it have “babies.” Mice don’t have babies. Babies are human beings. Mice have young.

It died the day I found it. I should have put it on the ground and stepped on it to end its suffering. Because my family failed to step up, I let it suffer for no reason. Their laziness was cruel.

I have also saved a litter of skunks, a white lab mouse, a tiny raccoon, and a baby mockingbird. I think the mouse did all right. A girl took it home with her. I turned the skunks over to my dad’s friend, a big, brash North Carolina sheriff’s deputy, and I was told they would be cared for by a buddy of his who raised skunks. I’m sure he dispatched them the same day. The coon went to a crazy lady with a wildlife rescue operation. I remember her holding the coon in one hand and a cocktail in the other. The mockingbird was torn apart by the same cat that made its rescue necessary in the first place. I found its headless body.

You don’t rescue coons. They are horrible pests, and they carry rabies without symptoms. I can kill raccoons here legally all year. There is no season. Every considerate, informed, compassionate person hates them.

My last encounter with a coon involved me shooting it in the head while it was stuck in a trap. It kept stealing the bait from the trap I was using to get a squirrel that chewed on my very expensive gate. I put a .22 round through its brain and tossed it over the fence for the buzzards, crows, and possums. I didn’t enjoy it, but someone had to do it.

My friend with the three boys has a mother who keeps abandoned animals on a farm. She’s an animal hoarder. The animals don’t get the greatest care. Most would be better off at the end of a veterinarian’s needle. She buys vegetables and provides salad for wild coons every day. This is like injecting yourself with something that makes covid viruses stronger and more prolific. It’s worse than feeding rats. Coons kill pets and livestock, they invade people’s attics, and they are generally a source of misery.

Who is kind? The person who hangs onto animals that have unpleasant lives and prolongs them with substandard care, or the one who steps on orphaned mice to save them hours or days of agony?

A person has a divine right to live. An animal does not. Jesus ate meat. God allows us to turn animals into meals and shoes. We don’t have to ask for permission or forgiveness.

Euthanizing a person is murder. Euthanizing an animal is compassion coupled with strength of character. It takes character to kill an animal you wish you could help.

I showed mercy to a family of squirrels here. Then I paid $6000 to undo the damage they did to my truck. That’s my son’s inheritance and my wife’s food and clothing. Now I’m killing squirrels again.

Florida has changed the squirrel season. It used to last about 5 months. Now you can kill them whenever you want, although you might be hindered briefly if you live next door to a Karen who just moved here from New Jersey. Florida realizes squirrels are a problem. The part of the state north of Tampa was designed for two types of creatures: retirees and squirrels. Every third tree is an oak that rains acorns. Up north, most trees don’t make food for squirrels. Florida is a squirrel paradise.

God requires us to kill. It’s part of the curse he put on the world. Because of sin, he has to kill and punish, so he wants us to know how it feels. Under the Mosaic law, a person who refused to eat meat had to be cut off from Israel. Animals were killed and cooked every day at the temple. God ordered the Hebrews to kill a lot of people as well as their livestock, perhaps because the livestock were raped and used in pagan rituals. God got angry with Saul for showing the wrong people mercy instead of killing them.

The Messianic Age will be different. The world will be like a big petting zoo. Animals won’t eat meat. They’ll get along. Presumably, we’ll be able to touch them and love them. Until then, we have to share in the burden of ending lives.

I’m so glad I didn’t marry a pampered American girl who tries to keep meat off our table or who would stop talking to me if I shot a coyote. I’m so sick of female self-righteousness.

Women are not the answer. God, a male, is. Women never built or protected a society. Women never established police forces or prisons to keep people safe. Women can’t raise children alone without disastrous consequences, but men can. Women vote stupidly. If men didn’t vote, we would be communists right now. No exaggeration.

Men are extremely important. It does no good to bear children if they just rot. Prisons are full of the children of single mothers, not single men.

The other day, I saw George Clooney doing an interview. He looked spindly and frail. I turned to my wife and asked if Clooney’s wife was a vegan. I could tell.

I looked it up. Yes, of course she’s a vegan. He has a matriarchal household. God help his children. And him, for that matter. He must live in a psychological straitjacket. “IS THAT A SINGLE-USE PLASTIC BOTTLE?” “ARE YOU EATING A TACO AND APPROPRIATING CHEE-CA-NO CULTURE?” “OH, NO, YOU DID NOT MISGENDER THE CAT AGAIN!”

I genuinely pity him. And I thank God I’m not around people like that now.

Two days ago, my wife showed me a horrible photo from the web. A woman with a beard, holding a tiny baby that appeared to be malnourished. The website said the mother was a man.

We have been praying for that child. What chance does she have? Her parents are disgusting.

We saw a self-righteous vegan female influencer showing off a baby. It was much too small for its age. Veganism is not for babies or children. It’s much worse for them than it is for adults. It’s hard to make a vegan work for an adult, but making it work for a baby takes much more effort and knowledge.

The freak with the beard disturbed me and made me wish the world would end. I wish Yeshua would come for us today. We are completely finished as a nation and a world. When you can publish a photo of an unconscionable abomination and get a flood of likes, you live in a world that is not worth preserving for another day.

The squirrels will continue to die, as will the mice, coons, and whatever else gets on our nerves. If you have a wife who will let you be a man, you should step up and accept the honor. If you marry an American girl who voted for Kamala, you won’t get much sympathy from me when the misery kicks in.

We Could have Done Better

Today my wife told me leftists are criticizing conservatives, saying we’re hypocritical for using the homosexual song “YMCA” to promote Donald Trump. I told her I agreed with them.

I don’t really think conservatives are hypocrites for promoting homosexuality. I was speaking loosely. Christians who promote homosexuality, including songs like “YMCA,” are hypocritical.

You can be very conservative and very hostile to Christianity. You can’t be Spirit-led and be anything but conservative, and all leftists who claim Yeshua is with them are wrong, but you can be conservative and hate God. You can be a witch or a homosexual or whatever else you want.

Maybe there are people who don’t know the history and meaning of the song. There must be, because there are adults who don’t know Joe Biden was an object of universal ridicule for about 30 years. There are adults who have no idea Bruce Jenner was a gold-medal-winning Olympic athlete.

“YMCA” stands for Young Men’s Christian Association. During the last century, many big cities had YMCA’s. If you were male and you didn’t have much, you could rent a room and get fed very cheaply at the YMCA, or the Y, as most people called it. When comedians joked about poverty, they would mention the Y. “My wife got my house, and I’m staying at the Y.”

There was also an organization called the Young Women’s Christian Association.

At some point, homosexuals started taking over YMCA’s. These were places full of vulnerable young men who needed money and opportunities. They were same-sex environments. They had dormitories. They had shower rooms. What more could a sexual predator want?

I’ll digress, as I usually do.

I won my city’s spelling bee, so my local paper flew my mother and I to DC so I could be in the national bee, which I lost because I spent, literally, one or two minutes studying. I didn’t realize what the contest was. They gave people a word list that was supposed to be helpful. Obviously (now), the point was to learn all the words on the list. I didn’t do that. I thought, absurdly, that the bee was about aptitude. That makes no sense. An aptitude test would require everyone to spell the same words.

The people who ran the bee brought a celebrity on board. A homosexual, now that I think about it. Will Geer, best known for his role and Grandpa Walton.

What? You didn’t know he was a homosexual? I didn’t, either. He was a hard core red who ran with a very unsavory crowd, and he also liked the boys. He served as a sort of emcee for the bee.

I have only asked for one celebrity autograph in my life, and it was Will Geer’s. My mom kept pushing me to ask. I thought autographs were stupid. At the final banquet, as he was making his way to the front in a weird, attention-seeking getup comprised of a grey suit and something like a Navajo blanket, I stood up and yelled, “Mr. Geer! Got time for an autograph!” I felt like an idiot, and he probably agreed. But graciously, he walked over to me and signed.

They brought the kids together for activities. One activity was a guessing game. They sat us on a ballroom floor in circles. Each one of us had a sheet of paper on taped to his back. On the sheet of paper, the organizers wrote names. The names of famous people. Our job was to ask questions and figure out who was on our backs.

I got absolutely nowhere. I don’t recall, but I’m sure the other kids were no help when I asked questions. They had an easier time. Their celebrities were people like Gerald Ford and John Wayne.

I was extremely frustrated.

Eventually, they told us to look at the names. Guess what my paper said on it. “Bette Midler.”

I am not making this up.

I asked, “Who is Better Midler?”, pronouncing her last name “MY-dler.”

At the time, she was not well-known to most Americans. She had had a top-selling album the year before, but she was years away from doing any acting.

Who was she popular with? Homosexuals. She had built her career performing in homosexual bathhouses where homosexuals gathered in the dark and sodomized each other without so much as an introduction. Bathhouses helped spread AIDS far faster than it could ever have spread among heterosexuals.

Gaetan Dugas, the airline steward who has been called “Patient Zero,” used to spread AIDS in bathhouses, deliberately. He would have sex in the dark with men he didn’t know, and then he would show them his Kaposi’s sarcoma lesions. He told them he had “gay cancer” and that they had it, too.

My memories are hazy, but I think there was a famous Y on 72nd Street where Midler performed. A lot of information from that era has been censored.

Imagine, thinking a junior high kid would know who Bette Midler was during the Ford administration.

I suppose there were some friends of Dorothy helping run the spelling bee. “Everyone knows Bette! She’s fabulous!”

The song “YMCA” is about sexual predators luring young victims to a homosexual hangout so they can be groomed and sodomized, hopefully with consent.

“Young man.” What do homosexuals like? Young men. After all, they’re men, and men love young bodies. Sorry, ladies. A woman who is a 9 at 16 is likely to be a 4 at 40.

“You’re in a new town.” You have no support system. There is no one to protect you. You are highly motivated to do what you have to in order to get food, shelter, and a job.

“You can get yourself clean.” A strange thing to mention. It’s a reference to the showers.

“Put your pride on the shelf.” No need to explain that.

“YMCA” was created and performed by the Village People, a homosexual group whose members dressed as straight men in very masculine roles. A construction worker, a motorcycle cop, an Indian chief, a cowboy, a soldier, and an outlaw biker. I think the costumes varied a little.

Homosexuals who take the female role want straight men to fall in love with them and have sex with them, which is obviously not possible, so they cosplay as straight men. They want to be Cinderella, but Prince Charming could not be more grossed out.

Another digression.

When I was in junior high and high school, I knew a kid I’ll call Renaldo. Renaldo’s dad was some kind of businessman. He had a reputation for abusing people and being dishonest. One day, the cops found his dead body on a bench at a park beside Biscayne Bay. The park was two blocks from my house and one block from Renaldos’ house. Renaldo’s dad had killed himself. The rumor was that he was going to be charged with crimes.

I just found a newspaper reference saying he overdosed. He was 49.

Renaldo was very gay, and he loved to perform. His mother was very submissive, and he was nasty to her and told her what to do. Renaldo was very tough and assertive. I recall him as a person who did not start trouble with anyone in school, but I saw him humiliate a little bully with no fear whatsoever.

One day, I happened to pass their house, and I saw that Renaldo had turned their garage into a stage. It had obviously been built by professionals. The garage was filled with a raised platform.

Renaldo was on the stage in a straw hat, a jacket with green and white stripes, and white pants. He was holding a rattan cane out in front of himself, as performers used to do, and he was singing and dancing.

Very odd.

Some kids were in the driveway, watching.

When we were in high school, Renaldo and I carpooled. A group of parents divided the job of transportation up, and one day a week, Renaldo’s mom drove us in her metallic-green Olds Toronado with a white vinyl top.

The Village People came to town during this time, because their song was very big. Our school was in Coconut Grove, which was a homosexual neighborhood. While we were headed to school one day, Renaldo told us the Village People had stayed at the Coconut Grove Hotel while in Miami, and he had stayed with them.

So he would have been around 15, and he was staying with grown men, presumably enjoying Bible studies and receiving tutoring so he could pass math. I’m sure.

I’m not saying statutory rape was going on. For that matter, I’m not even saying Renaldo actually stayed with the Village People. But he said he did.

The last time I saw Renaldo, we were at our 10th high school reunion. AIDS had ravaged the homosexual population. I have seen estimates saying 20% of them died. AIDS used to be a death sentence. People died horribly, with diarrhea and vomiting. Some looked like skeletons. They died covered with big black growths.

He was living in New York. I think he was somehow involved with the theater, but I doubt he was performing. He had no talent, and he could never have passed for straight. A 1990 credits list for an obscure movie says he was an assistant casting director.

Regarding AIDS, he said he no longer had friends. He said he had acquaintances. Very sad. AIDS had gutted his social circle.

It was fitting that the Village People stayed at the Coconut Grove Hotel, in Miami’s gayest area. They named themselves after Greenwich Village, and the Grove was Miami’s homologue.

Anyway, now you know all about “YMCA.”

Anyone who thinks Trump is a Christian figure is wrong. I think he believes, but he’s a secular-minded president. He appoints homosexuals. A homosexual helped him win in Pennsylvania. He’s not going to go out and crusade for Yeshua. He’ll be better to Christians and Israel than a Democrat, but he dances to a song about homosexual predation, and he knows what it means. He’s not a sign that America has turned around. Things will continue to deteriorate.

Taste 9; Aerodynamics 1

Hope everyone is having a great Thanksgiving. God has been kinder to us than I can say.

Our Thanksgiving has been marred by my wife’s admission that she is not crazy about boneless turkey. We had a talk about it, and I said I would make turkey the regular inferior way, and I even offered to make prime rib, but she wants to go boneless again, so that’s what we’re doing.

I told her turkey is mandatory on Thanksgiving, even for people who don’t like it. This is one of the rules of living in America. It’s like America’s Passover lamb. But I wanted her to enjoy what she ate.

I asked what Zambians ate on Christmas, and she said chicken with rice. I told her she should go ahead and fix it this year. She was not interested at all. Prime rib, baby. Flavor wins out over nostalgia.

Most people who don’t like turkey have eaten turkey by people who don’t cook well. Regarding my own creations, I will not lie. My turkeys are generally spectacular. They’re tender and juicy, and they are packed full of cornbread stuffing laced with champagne.

We got lucky and found a small turkey this time. Misguided turkey fryers usually snap them up, and everyone else ends up with a bird weighing at least 15 pounds. They’re harder to prepare. They take ages to thaw and cook. Only a big family can finish one before it goes bad.

Remember all those times when your mom or wife said, “It’s not done yet. Maybe another hour”, and you ended up eating at 8 p.m.? That’s because Americans buy turkeys that are too big.

Our bird was 11 pounds before I removed its bones. Nice.

I made the usual cornbread-and-sausage stuffing. I am not making extra to go on the side. It’s all in the bird.

We’re taking it easy this year. No pumpkin pie. It’s a loser desert. Nothing green. Turkey, stuffing, potatoes, yams, fresh rolls, cranberry relish, and pecan pie with a little bourbon in it. Korbel brut, remaining from preparing the turkey, stuffing, and gravy. Good enough.

Not sure what the wife will drink.

I used Woodford Reserve bourbon in the pie. It’s pricey. I got it a few years ago because I was told that if I liked Knob Creek, I would like Woodford Reserve.

I found Woodford Reserve harsh. I don’t like it at all. When you buy expensive booze, you’re paying for complexity and smoothness. Without the smoothness, it might as well be Old Crow.

Maybe it’s better if you put water in it. Anyway, I use it for flavoring food now. Usually, I use Jack Daniel’s, which is also harsh, but I need to get rid of the Woodford Reserve.

I used raspberry Jell-O in the relish. Really nice. I hope it comes out nice and firm. It was too loose last year. This time, I omitted half of the water from the Jell-O.

I’m cooking the turkey at 250° so it will be tender and juicy. I plan to yank it when the stuffing hits 157°. The USDA recommends 165°, but they’re also way off the mark with steak and pork. Fricking lawyers. Any parasite that can survive 145° in a pork roast has earned the right to give me trichinosis.

Didn’t hurt RKF. All that much.

The web says the USDA now recommends 145° for pork. I believe that’s new. I’m pretty sure they used to recommend 155° or 165°, which are temperatures guaranteed to kill the flavor.

I see sources recommending 140° for turkey, so I may go lower than 157°. I saw a chart that lists temperatures and the times it takes salmonella to die. At 145°, salmonella dies in 13.8 minutes. I can pretty much guarantee that if my turkey hits 145°, there will be no way to get it to the table before 13.8 minutes pass. More like 25, I would think.

Have a wonderful dinner, and be sure to lock out the relatives who ruin it every year. I sincerely hope everyone who shows up at your table either loves Trump or is willing to shut up for a few hours.

Thank You, Drunk Monks

I am brewing again.

I took some time off for some reason I no longer remember. I’m not sure there was a reason. Laziness may have been involved.

Early this year, I stocked up on grain, hops, and yeast, but I let things slide. My house is full of brewing supplies. I had to get back at it.

I am out of wheat ale, and my amber/orange lager, Last Trump Lager (may be changed to Final Trump Lager) is definitely stale. My supply of Emergency Management Ale is dangerously low. My first imperial stout needs to be drunk and replaced with a recipe I like better.

Today I brewed my first batch of Happy Halfwit Christmas Ale.

My first heavy beer is called Happy Halfwit because it has a lot of wheat in it. It’s sort of like a Belgian ale. Belgians call their wheat beers witbiers. My beer’s grain bill is around 1/3 wheat, so I decided to call it Halfwit. Poetic license. No one would think Thirdwit was…witty.

About two years ago, when I started getting back into brewing, I bought a bunch of store beers to sharpen up my palate. I bought St. Bernardus Christmas Ale, from Belgium. I believe it’s a quadrupel, or what the BJCP calls a Strong Dark Belgian Ale.

When I first got the beer, I was not crazy about it. It had a coarseness to it. Too much funk, as I have said in an earlier post. I bought a 4-pack, and until today, I had two in the fridge.

It improved a great deal while I was debating throwing it out. The funkiness went away, and it became like Belgian beer Kool-Aid. Very easy to drink, but still complex.

Today I made something like a Belgian Dark Strong Ale, but I used a lot of wheat, while Belgian Dark Strong Ales are made with barley alone. Stunts like this make other homebrewers think I’m weird, but I really like the beers I make. They are my favorites.

It seems like all the great Belgian beers are made by monks. It’s like they spent the Dark Ages and the Renaissance doing nothing but lying around drunk. They didn’t stop with beer. They also invented a lot of well-known hard liquors. Supposedly, the European wine industry was developed by monks.

Why were they drunk all the time? Was life really that dull?

My brewing method is pretty slick now. I have it dialed in. I mash and boil in a 10-gallon pot straddling two stove burners. A mesh bag goes in the kettle to hold the grain. I strain the results and pour them into a 6-gallon stubby Torpedo keg, using a big saucepan. I put the keg in the pool so the wort chills fast. Then I pitch the yeast, add a valve to control the building CO2, and put the keg in a freezer with a Chinese temperature controller on it.

It’s really simple.

When I got back into brewing, I assumed other people had made a lot of progress with tools and methods, and I foolishly bought a computerized German machine that takes grain and turns it into wort. It was a stupid thing to do. I blew about a thousand dollars on something that should cost three hundred, and it was a pain to take apart and clean.

Now it’s just me, the kettle, and the bag. I spend about a third as much time cleaning and putting stuff away. And the beer is just as good.

I guess I shouldn’t make it sound like there has been no progress, because the kettle-and-bag method is relatively new. It’s called brew in a bag, or BIAB. But while it’s progress, it involves a setup more primitive than the one I started using in 2001.

There are guys out there using HERMS equipment. I’m not going to Google to find out what HERMS stands for, but it involves several huge stainless containers and at least one pump. I would quit brewing if I had to wash all that.

Here is the thing: men love gadgets. If we didn’t, women would be living in burrows and behind bushes. We love tinkering and engineering. When you get started brewing, it’s easy to fall in love with unnecessary machinery. You begin with the idea you’re going to make really good beer, and you end up trying to become a really good mechanic instead.

There are guys out there with big, shiny, three-vessel systems that take up their entire garages, and they could be using 1) a pot, and 2) a bag.

It’s not like BIAB is a compromise. BIAB people win prizes all the time.

I’ll just say it. You have to be stupid to buy a fancy brewing system. I know, because I bought one. I should sell it.

To a stupid person.

Okay, “stupid” is not the right word. But a person with knowledge and common sense would buy something else.

The beer I made today will probably ferment out in 4 days. I know this because ale I used as my starting point fermented out in three. This new one is a little heavier. I should be drinking it in 10 days or less.

So that’s nice.

In other news, our wonderful Lord has given me more revelation, and I should put it on the blog.

There is always symmetry in the supernatural. That’s the starting point. Look for symmetry, and you will save yourself a lot of time in the school of hard knocks. You will learn more quickly.

Pride is horrible. I have written about this. It goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit goes before a fall. Self-confidence is poison.

I have also said that God showed me that pride is a fence we build to protect our iniquities. We don’t like to listen or change, so we make excuses and dig our heels in. We protect our bad habits and delusions as though they were our children, because we think we know better than everyone else.

Pride is also a fence we build to keep God away. The Bible makes this clear. It says he is close to the humble but far from the proud.

If we build a fence to keep correction out, and it keeps God away, who is it bringing near? Evil spirits. Symmetry.

Here is revelation: by the symmetry of the supernatural, humility is a fence we build to keep destruction and evil spirits away. It’s a fence that surrounds God and ourselves, keeping him close to us.

Humility is actually power and victory. No one ever teaches this. They don’t know. They’re too busy telling us to work hard, grin while we are abused and defeated, and give them money to buy more jets.

If you’re humble, God will be close to you, so he will keep evil spirits far off, and he will bless you in every way.

Think of this: in the Old Testament, who saw God? One person, as far as we know. Maybe Adam saw him before the fall, but Moses is the only person we can say saw him, for sure.

What quality did Moses have?

No one was more humble than Moses. Look it up. The Bible says it.

I didn’t see the connection until God showed it to me yesterday.

Moses was close to God. Moses was given so much power and authority, he was able to stroll up to the ruler of Egypt and tell him off.

The one thing that Moses did that got him in trouble with God was an act of pride. God told him to speak to a rock and make water come out, and Moses struck the rock instead, making it look like human strength solved the problem. For this, Moses was kept out of Israel.

We tend to think of humility as something that makes us weak. We think it empowers others to abuse us. But it’s actually the entrance to the strong fortress the Bible keeps telling us about. It’s safety and power.

I wish I had known this a long time ago.

I hope this is useful to you. Now I’ll finish this beer and go to bed.