You Can Keep Your Skinny Jeans

I have wonderful news about my relationship with Rhodah. It turns out we agree about two very important things.

1. Wives should be slender and toned at all times.

2. It’s fine for a husband to be old, fat, flabby, and useless.

I’m holding up my end of the bargain. No one can accuse me of shirking.

Like Mel Brooks said, it’s good to be the king.

Of course, I am going to make an effort to do better. But she really did say no one cares if a man is fat, which is not far from the truth.

Today my friend Mike, who has appointed himself marriage coach, said I should ask Rhodah why she loved me. Rhodah said that was the wrong question. She said I should ask why she chose me. She said that if you can point to reasons why you love someone, the love isn’t real.

I have to agree. If you choose your mate based on one or more known criteria, what happens when he or she no longer measures up? What if your rich man becomes poor or your pretty wife balloons up, which most of them soon do? The thing you actually loved will be gone.

I was thinking about it while she talked, and I realized I don’t have a set of reasons why I love her. I just do. I can think of many wonderful things about her, but I can’t say I love her for this or that reason.

Here’s something God showed me today: if a man and his betrothed have disagreements, it’s not necessarily a sign they shouldn’t marry. Why? Because the Holy Spirit tells everyone the same things. If both of you are connected to him, and you listen to him every day, eventually, any disagreement will be resolved. It depends on how much time you spend with him and whether you’re too proud to listen.

I think contentious marriages are sick. It sets my teeth on edge when abrasive couples grin and talk about their “healthy” arguments. But disagreements about trivial things shouldn’t discourage couples, as long as they stay connected to God.

Our relationship is not contentious. One reason: Rhodah is not high-maintenance or entitled. Many American women have gone insane with feelings of entitlement, which is odd, because they sell themselves more cheaply than ever. A man’s chance of sex on a first date, or even before a first date, is at its historic peak, and continual sex prior to engagement is almost guaranteed, yet increasingly, American women demand insanely expensive weddings with ridiculous requirements.

Why are brides so crazy now? I think one reason may be that they feel they’re being repaid for sex.

Women often complain that men expect sex after paying for expensive meals. Men often complain about spending three figures on food and going to bed alone. Maybe this, along with the bridezilla entitlement syndrome, shows that modern marriage is more about self-interest than love.

I can say I’ve experienced this. I had an improper relationship with a completely unsuitable woman, and on one occasion, she talked about what I owed her, and she said I knew what she was talking about. I didn’t, but I suspected she was referring to a particular sex act she had been providing. I felt she was saying that if she was willing to yield to that extent, it meant I was obligated to marry her.

As a man, I had never thought of things I did for her behind closed doors as services or favors. I was just enjoying myself. Maybe I was the only one who saw what we did as recreation. Maybe she saw it as a paying job.

If a woman believes marriage is a set of transactions that comes with a ledger of credits and debits, then it makes sense that an irrational woman would feel owed after advancing marital services for months or years. The problem with this attitude is that where there is no contract, there is no debt. If you give someone something and pretend you’re doing it out of love, you can’t come back later and present a bill. Free samples are just that. Free. If a lady at the grocery store gives me a free egg roll on a toothpick, she can’t chase me down in the parking lot and make me buy a whole box.

The bills seem to keep coming, though, all over America and other parts of the First World. You can go to Reddit and give yourself eyestrain, reading about insane women tormenting grooms, relatives, and friends with demands that would make Caligula seem reasonable.

“If you want to be a bridesmaid, you’re not allowed to talk about your pregnancy, because it would take attention away from me.” “My bridesmaids can’t wear makeup, because I have to be the prettiest one there.” Actual quotation, about gifts: “Any clothes OVER $400 from Calvin Klein, Moschino, or Nora’s.”

One viral bride demanded $1500 from each guest so she could fly everyone to Aruba for a wedding.

The most I recall spending for a wedding gift is $140 (law school friend), and I thought that was ample. Vogue says $99 is fine unless you’re a close relative.

The weird thing about bridezillas is that so many go after innocent parties. If you sold sexual services to your boyfriend, why would you charge your sorority sister?

Another big problem American husbands complain about is a sudden end to sexual activity after marriage. Here’s the truth, plain and simple: if you don’t want intimacy with your husband, you don’t love him. You can’t stay away from a person you really love. Even at times when you’re not in the mood, you’ll show some consideration because you want to be good to someone you care about. If your husband were an invalid, you wouldn’t refuse to change his diaper because you weren’t in the mood. If he had cancer, you wouldn’t refuse to take him for chemotherapy because you weren’t in the mood. Somehow, sex is different?

Don’t claim you can’t have sex when you don’t feel like it. I can do it, and so can anyone else. It’s a simple courtesy.

Anyway, American women have a reputation for narcissism and selfishness these days. It’s very pleasant not to have to deal with that, especially in the time of coronavirus, when arranging a wedding with a foreigner is very hard.

Rhodah doesn’t care if we have an online wedding. She doesn’t care if it’s just us and a judge or preacher. She isn’t concerned about gifts. Why should she be? My kitchen is stocked with equipment, and we’ll be furnishing the house when she gets here. We don’t need a collection of doodads from Pottery Barn.

Rhodah never says I haven’t shown that I love her. She hasn’t asked me for all of my Internet passwords. She doesn’t tell me I have to eat what she eats. She never says I don’t do enough for her. She doesn’t fish for compliments. She doesn’t say things to make me feel bad about myself, in order to manipulate me. She doesn’t hang up or run away to punish me for disagreeing with her. She has never given me what modern men call a “sh__ test.”

I have written about this kind of test before. A cleaned-up version of the phrase is “poop test.” A poop test is deliberate mistreatment intended to determine exactly how much abuse a man will put up with. That’s not a complete definition. It’s also a way to establish dominance. It’s a way of making a man understand that if he wants sex, he will give up his self-respect and his integrity.

Women like this turn marriage into a game. A game is a competition. You can’t compete with someone if you’re on the same team. Aren’t you supposed to be on your husband’s team?

“Running hot and cold” is an example of a poop test. One day, a woman is all over a man. He’s the man of her dreams. He can do no wrong. The next day, she ignores his phone calls. She lets him drift for several days. Then she turns the hot water back on. She calls and asks where he’s been. He’s her dreamboat again. Then the pattern repeats.

Ultimatums are poop tests. “If we can’t agree on this, we may have to break up.” The last time a woman did this to me, I took her up on it, and her world was destroyed. I was more important to her than she was to me. She was expecting me to do anything to keep her, but I was already thinking about cutting the cord, so she picked a bad time. She should have been looking at herself and trying to make herself a better candidate.

Rhodah doesn’t have a list. “We have to live here, in a house that looks like this, with that kind of furniture, and we have to have this many kids, and we have to have them before I’m this old, and you have to be this tall, and your eyes have to be that color, and we have to have this kind of car…” None of that. Many, many American men have wives with lists. The men are just list items. They’re not leaders. They can be replaced.

In law school, I ran around with a girl who had a list. She said she was looking for a German man, which sounds crazy, but she meant it. A German man, in Miami. If not German, then maybe Scandinavian. Like she was picking out a couch.

She had other requirements. She would be about 46 now, and a quick Google suggests she’s still single. If so, it’s a shame. She was generally a very pleasant person, and I’m sure she could have landed a good man. She was very selfish and spoiled, though, and she could not accept correction.

She wasn’t a looker, but she wanted one. That’s a hard requirement to fill, for women. The world is full of happy couples in which the woman looks better than the man, but men generally marry women who look at least as good as they do.

She said she would consider me if she didn’t get what she wanted by a certain time. That was not an offer I could accept. I spent time with her anyway because we really enjoyed each other’s company, and I rarely ran into anyone I wanted to date. I got fed up with her selfishness one day and decided I didn’t even want to accompany her as a friend while I looked for someone else. I sent her an email explaining this. That was in 2004, and there has been no communication between us since.

I’m not saying she should have dated me. That would have been a disaster for me. But I think her entitlement made her a permanent spinster.

I would have dated her had God opened the door. I’m so glad he looked out for me. I was not capable of choosing a good wife. I didn’t know what a good wife was. Now that I have Rhodah, it seems obvious. God had to show me.

I didn’t know what a good marriage was. I had never seen one. Not one. Not in person. I had seen lasting marriages, but not good marriages.

My parents had a terrible marriage. All of my aunts and uncles had bad marriages. My grandparents had two bad marriages, and then my widowed grandmother married a man who was good to her but not a soulmate. My sister could not get a man to stay near her long enough to marry. Among my 6 cousins on my mother’s side, I can think of 6 divorces, with some multiples. I believe a 7th is in the works. One husband died very young, so it’s impossible to know how the marriage would have worked out.

Actually, I do know two marriages that don’t seem too bad. I had forgotten about them. They’re charismatics, though, and they try to stay close to God.

If you want compatibility, both man and wife have to have the Holy Spirit, and they have to let him order things. That’s the key. Even most Spirit-baptized Christians don’t listen to him, though. I hope Rhodah and I will always listen.

I am continuing to research marriage and immigration. More and more, online marriage looks good. It’s not as pretty as conventional weddings, but there is a certain romance to it. Two people faced with enormous obstacles abandon convention and use the Internet to elope electronically. Then they jet off to a beautiful location for a long honeymoon with no distractions. It would make a nice story for the future.

Coronavirus Makes the World Very Small

I appreciate the kind words I received after writing about the unnecessary, preventable death of my gentle little friend Maynard. Thanks, everyone who left a comment.

Things are slowly getting better, but I have waves of grief when I’m not busy doing things. The life of an animal can’t be as important as the life of a person, but you can certainly love an animal more than a person and grieve harder when he dies. These things are particularly true when you know your errors helped cause the death.

Marvin, my other bird, doesn’t miss Maynard at all. Not one bit. They lived next to each other for 25 years, and Marvin didn’t bond with him in the slightest way. That’s a blessing. I wouldn’t want to see him pull his feathers out because he was lonely.

He likes certain people, so it’s surprising he never felt anything for Maynard. Nothing positive, I mean. When he was young, he assumed Maynard liked him, but Maynard bit him as a reward for his advances. I guess Marv took the hint. Maynard was originally very friendly to other birds, but my first African grey, Frank, was nasty to him and changed him.

Marvin actually seems happier now. His attachment to me seems stronger. He becomes very emotional when I take him out of the cage. I didn’t see that coming.

Bird maintenance is easier now. One cage to clean. One poop tray to empty. Two dishes to clean, instead of four. No looking at the clock when Marvin is out, to make sure I leave time for Maynard. Every time I notice these things, I feel sad.

I feel sad when I bless Marvin at night. I used to decree that God was ending his hatred of Maynard. I don’t have to do that now. When I pray for God’s protection over me and all I have, I don’t have to say, “Marvin and Maynard” any more. Just “Marvin.”

Maynard’s death was made more painful because I had spent a lot of time using the birds to help me project love into the world. I didn’t have a wife or kids, so I made a special effort to pour love into the birds, just to open up the channel. I would hold them against my face and focus love on them. I asked them if they felt loved. I guess they thought I was crazy. From being near God, I knew love poured from him, and I believed it should pour from us, too, so I didn’t hold back. That left me more open to grief.

Maynard was not one to resist affection. Sometimes I held him against my face as long as I could, just to see how long he would stand for it. He didn’t protest at all. I always gave in first. He was happy to be held and loved for as long as I could manage it.

I would say I feel somewhat worse than I did when my dad died. I’m not sure. If so, it’s probably because my dad made his own bed, I tried to do right by him, his death was expected, and we were together at the end so I could say what I wanted to say. Maynard died young, I wasn’t as good to him as I wanted to be, his death was mostly my fault, and he was killed in a locked room in a veterinary hospital, where he could not see, hear, or feel me.

So much for that.

Today I’m working on arranging my marriage. The coronavirus picture keeps changing. Suddenly, it’s possible for Rhodah and me to go to countries that were locking us out a week or two ago. To my surprise, I found that even places like France and Switzerland were available.

We were thinking of Iceland, but I ran into what seemed like a roadblock. “Stronghold” is the word that will pop into the minds of Christians.

To marry in Iceland, you have to produce proof you’re not married already. In many countries, it’s simple to get what is called a “no impediment” certificate. Rhodah already has one. In the US, the federal government does not provide them, and many states don’t offer them, either. It’s stupid, because marrying abroad is not very unusual.

I researched a lot, and the best information I found said Florida would not give me a certificate. I contacted Iceland, and although the people who corresponded with me responded at length, they were not that helpful. They didn’t answer the questions I actually asked. They told me what they thought I should know.

I can understand that. People from Northern Europe can be very rigid. It’s a fact of life. I’ve dealt with it before.

Iceland said it would accept documents from every state I’ve lived in since I was 18, saying a search had been performed, and that nothing had come up. Having lived in several states, I was not happy about this. I started looking at state websites and making calls.

It turns out New York will give me a document, even though their website clearly says it’s impossible. I also ordered one from another state. A third state doesn’t answer the phone, so I left a message.

Regrettably, I didn’t check Florida first. Their website is not great, but when I called, they directed me to a page where I was able to download a form ordering a certificate proving my single status.

This means the money I sent Texas was wasted. On top of that, they take up to 25 business days. Now I have to try to cancel. They even provide apostilles which are tailored to various countries.

I will ship the Florida application out today, and I should have my marriage-ready document in maybe 2 weeks.

Iceland is looking good.

Before I got help from Florida, I was looking for alternatives. Gibraltar’s website seemed to indicate that they would accept Rhodah as a tourist, and they would also let us marry using an affidavit from me, notarized in Gibraltar. I started planning a trip.

Gibraltar is too tiny to hold much interest, so I thought we might take trains up into Europe. We can go to Spain, France, and Switzerland right now, unless I’ve misunderstood things. Right now you can check different “authoritative” sites and get differing information on coronavirus restrictions. I thought we could hit Marseille and then spend some time in Lucerne, where I spent part of a summer when I was in high school.

The first time I visited Lucerne, I fell in love with a cheerleader named Debbie. She seemed to be on board briefly, and then she started running around with a guy who played football in Calera, Alabama. I thought the world had collapsed. I thought love was supposed to be forever.

Of course, this girl was wrong for me. There was no way she could have been a good wife. I was young, though, and no one had taught me anything at all about women and marriage. I really believed God would put a boy of 16 and a girl of 14 together for life.

I didn’t eat for 13 days. I lost weight. I didn’t move fast enough when the cheerleader’s roommate showed interest. On the night before we left Europe, she asked me to dance and planted her lips on mine. I flew home on a high note, but I wished I had done something instead of waiting.

Visiting Lucerne with my new wife would feel like a victory lap.

Today I learned that Gibraltar is not accepting Zambians after all. That kills my plan. Maybe we should marry in Iceland and then fly to the continent for our honeymoon. Iceland looks great, but I can’t imagine spending more than a few days there.

Missing Spain will be a bonus. I’ve heard enough Spanish for a lifetime, and there is something dark about Spanish and Hispanic culture. It has a similar feel to Muslim culture, which should not be a surprise, given that Spaniards and Hispanics have so much Arab blood.

Spain is bigger than it looks on a map, so getting out would have taken at least two days.

I was disappointed to learn that the trains in Europe had changed. I knew there were fast new trains in Europe, but I didn’t know how common they were. I had been hoping for comfortable cruising on the nice, old-fashioned trains I remembered from over 30 years ago. It looks like Star Trek trains are all over the place now. You zip along at 200 mph in a double-decker car.

I’m not interested in speed. I enjoy watching the countryside roll by. I liked stopping in little towns and leaning out the windows to buy food from vendors. I guess those days are ending, except maybe in America, which has a backward passenger rail system.

I suppose a person can drive in Europe. Maybe we could fly to Marseille and drive through the alps. The gasoline would probably cost hundreds of dollars.

Jeremy Clarkson says Switzerland is like hell for drivers. The speed limits on many roads are very low, and being the kind of people they are, the Swiss enforce them. It’s strange the Germans don’t have the same policy. Maybe the highway is the only place where Germans can cut loose. But for the Swiss speed limits, people like Clarkson would probably spend every weekend in the alps, driving Porsches into guard rails.

My two favorite hangouts in Lucerne–Fugi’s restaurant and Pickwick’s Pub–appear to be gone. Fugi’s had nice, fatty Swiss food, which I liked. Pickwick’s was where I learned to drink way too much beer, at the age of 16.

I have looked at restaurants online, in Lucerne and other European cities, and I have been disappointed. Many, many places are full of the same nouveau garbage they serve in America. Cold kale and blue corn soup with locally-sourced squid ears. News flash, Europeans: no one goes to your countries to eat pretentious food they can get at home. They want the food your parents ate. I’ll have to screen restaurants in advance in order to avoid being buried in Gordon-Ramsay-wannabee gastronomic science projects.

Food doesn’t actually have to be creative to be good. A rib eye steak, prepared correctly, is still as wonderful as it would have been in 1905. In fact, most restaurants prepare steaks and other simple foods badly, after centuries of practice. It’s still a big deal to walk into a restaurant and get a perfect steak, a fluffy baked potato, and a proper martini without disgusting olive juice in it. I’ll bet I would have to drive 90 miles to get that meal, unless I wanted to cook.

Update

It’s frustrating, trying to get solid information on travel, especially for Zambians, because no one really cares whether they get to go anywhere. I have three sources for information on Switzerland. One says Rhodah will have to quarantine for 7 days. That’s no good. Another, the official Swiss travel information site, claims she does not have to quarantine at all. My third source, the Swiss government, has not responded to the email I sent.

France doesn’t look good. One source says Rhodah would have to quarantine for a week. I would not. I’m not sure why a vaccinated Zambian has to be treated differently from a vaccinated American. We get the same shots. Is the delta variant more likely to accompany a Zambian? I don’t know.

I just found a claim that Iceland has a 5-day quarantine requirement, but it sort of looks like it only applies to unvaccinated people. I see indications that if you’re vaccinated, you only have to quarantine until you get the result of a post-flight test.

Maybe we can marry in Iceland and then fly to Switzerland so we can honeymoon in a more pleasant location. I’ll have to delay applying for proof that I’m single until I know where we’re going.

My friends Alonzo and Teri have announced that they want to come. That will make for an interesting trip. I never thought they would want to spend that much.

Anyway, God will get us married one way or another. Getting the answers is a challenge, but it’s a nice problem to have.

Hope You’re Bathing in Love and Joy

This is a very sad day for me. Last night, my little friend Maynard, who called himself “Main Bird,” among other things, passed away at the University of Florida’s small animal hospital.

Sorry I don’t have a newer or better photo on this computer.

Maynard was a citron-crested cockatoo. He hatched on April 2, 1991, and he was with me from June of that year until last night. He was gentle (with me, anyway) and full of love. He lived for his times with me. He used to groom my skin and comb my hair with his feet.

I had no business buying Maynard. People make bad decisions when they’re out of touch with God. I had bought Frank, an African grey parrot, and I thought he needed companionship. Maynard loved Frank and tried to make friends, but Frank hated Maynard from the instant he saw him, so my plan didn’t work out. I had to keep them separate in order to prevent bloodshed. Eventually, they cooperated to make contact through the bars of separate cages, and Maynard bit Frank’s toe so badly he bled to death. After Frank, Maynard lost his friendliness to other birds.

I shouldn’t have bought Maynard for the simple reason that citron-crested cockatoos do not make good pets. Like many other cockatoo species, they have an insatiable desire for interaction and petting. You can never give them enough. Unless you dedicate your life to making your cockatoo happy, he will eventually become sad and dejected. When you take him out of his cage for love, he will brighten up, but the second you put him back in, he’ll feel rejected. You can improve the situation somewhat by providing toys and music and so on, but you can’t make things right.

My other bird, Marvin, is an African grey. He’s very different. He amuses himself all day, and he doesn’t mind if you spend time away from him.

Another problem is that a cockatoo that is cared for well should be good for 50 years, and he might hit 80. Even if you’re the best bird buddy on earth, can you commit to looking after an animal for most of a century?

I bought Maynard, and I found out how hard he was to please. Then I was stuck with him, so I kept him out because it was my duty. I could have sold him, but I knew most cockatoos got worse care than he did. I was afraid I would make things worse for him.

He was never consistently happy, but we had good times. I took him out every day and massaged him for long periods. I am probably immune to all types of bird microbes because I kissed his feathers so much. He used to get so flustered, he would shake with emotion. He would grab me with a foot and refuse to let go.

He never had a health problem until shortly before he died. He started chewing his feathers a few years back, and he also got fat and had to have his diet changed, but he was always strong and full of energy.

When I went to Egypt to meet Rhodah, I put Maynard and Marvin in a boarding facility. When I picked them up, Maynard had lost a lot of weight, and he had diarrhea. I started calling around, trying to find an avian vet. Some said they weren’t accepting new patients. Some offered appointments in the distant future. Maynard’s appetite was good, and his weight bounced back very quickly. He was active, and he looked reasonably happy. I decided to give him a few days.

When I got him to a vet, she took blood and poop samples. This was last Friday. She said he didn’t look too thin, and she was not concerned about his condition. She told me she would get his test results yesterday. Her office called yesterday, and they said his white cell count was high, so he needed an antibiotic.

I thought I would run over to her office and pick up the medicine, but they said they were having it shipped from Arizona. I thought that was ridiculous. He still had diarrhea.

He still seemed strong, though, so I didn’t worry. I decided I would take him to a different vet the next day.

Last night, I picked him up, and I could tell something had left him. He was limp. His beak was open. I offered him cheese–his favorite food–and he barely nibbled at it.

I put him in the car and drove him to the University of Florida, about an hour away. The whole time, I was praying for him and commanding him to be healed.

I had his test results with me, so I thought I would hand him over to the vets, they would give me antibiotics, and we would leave him alone while they worked. Instead, they insisted on examining him. That’s what killed him. He couldn’t take the stress of being handled by strangers while I was separated from him.

While I was sitting in the waiting room, I got a phone call. They didn’t even come out to face me. He had only been in the exam room a few minutes. They told me they had bad news.

I was surprised by the way the conversation went after they said he had died. They offered to do a necropsy, and they said it would cost $800. I like to think they weren’t squeezing a grieving pet owner for money, but it sure looked that way. Why would anyone want a pet necropsy, and why would it cost so much? I declined. They said they could cremate him for $60 and keep the ashes, or they could put them in a box for me and charge $140. I chose the first option. I did not want to see his ashes. I did not want to take his body or his ashes home in a box. I didn’t want to bury him on my land. I didn’t want to think of him every time I passed his grave.

I left his travel cage with them. I didn’t need it.

I drove home alone, and I saw a very strange moon down by the horizon. It was a three-quarter moon, and it was orange. The color was similar to that of a lunar eclipse. Horizontal bands of dirty-looking clouds lay across its face.

The moon looked like the devil himself was inside it, sending the world evil in the form of ugly clouds. It made me think about the tribulation.

If the rapture is near, then Satan’s time is just about over. The word says he will be imprisoned for a millennium, and then he will be released briefly to tempt the earth. We may be in his last months or years. He must be furious and ready to pull out all the stops. The word says he will be angry because his time is short. If the tribulation is near, Maynard won’t have to go through it.

Back at the house, I took Maynard’s toys out of his cage, along with a couple of perches, and I put them in a trash bag, along with the plastic bag that had been lining his poop tray. I pushed his cage into my foyer so I would be ready to roll it into my truck. I want to throw it out. I could give it away, but people here are very slow to answer ads, and I don’t want to walk past the cage every day for a month.

I was in a lot of pain, but I thanked God. Honestly, I think he rejected my prayers because Maynard didn’t have a very good life. The Bible shows that there are animals in heaven. Maybe Maynard is there now. Maybe he’s with my parents. In any case, he’s not stuck here, living an unsatisfying life and feeling rejected.

As much as I loved Maynard, I have to say that his passing will be helpful in some ways. He was a burden. Because I could not let my birds get near each other, I had to repeat things every day. I had to clean two cages. I had to take each bird out for a long time. I had to concern myself with two different diets. I had to buy multiple toys. Now I just have one bird to think about, so I’ll be able to do better by him.

Marvin senses emotions. He has been very gentle and solicitous today. I hope he won’t miss Maynard. I don’t think he will. They were jealous of each other, and they didn’t interact much.

I don’t want another parrot, so I hope Marv doesn’t need a companion.

On the drive home, I thought about my life. I realized I was very tired of death. My parents are dead. Three of my five aunts are dead. Three of my five uncles are dead. My grandparents are dead. Last year, I lost my young friend Travis to a gunshot wound. It was only a year after my father, whom I was caring for, died. Now Maynard is gone.

It’s discouraging.

Many years ago, I spent 4 months on a kibbutz, where volunteers came and went. I planned to spend a year, but I changed my mind. I was tired of seeing my friends leave. I made friends quickly, we spent a lot of time together, we made great memories, and then they vanished. When your life is like that, you may make an adaptation. You may stop making friends. The knowledge that anyone you befriend will be gone soon will discourage you.

Until last night, I never thought about this principle applying to life as a whole.

My remaining relatives are as distant as strangers. I have no wife. I have no children. I have friends, but most live far away. Right now, my fiancee is the only person I have to live for. If it weren’t for her, I would be glad to go. Someone would snap Marvin up. I don’t have to worry about him. My friends would mourn, but not very intensely.

I enjoy life, but how long does a rational person want to stay on this cursed planet, especially when the spirit of Antichrist has rendered so many people insane?

I wish Rhodah had been with me yesterday. Times like these are what husbands and wives are made for.

While I drove, I also thought about the need to streamline my life. I have all sorts of hobby junk. I have a huge tool collection, lots of guns, and many musical instruments I no longer use. The more excited I get about marriage, the less interested I am in maintaining my old pursuits. I feel like my possessions weigh me down. I’m even wondering if I should leave this house and get a property that needs less maintenance.

My next-door neighbors moved away over a year ago. They sold their big house and bought an RV. They planned to drive around ministering to people. I would never live in a vehicle, but I understand their motivation. How much can you do for God when you’re glued to tractors, guns, tools, and so on?

My yard is a real mess. I don’t feel motivated to improve it. It’s very hard to battle weeds and pests here, and growing good things is nearly impossible, even if you replace the sand with real soil. It would be nice to have a place covered in woods, with maybe 5 acres of easier-to-maintain grass.

Maybe I invested in hobbies and activities because I had no wife and no kids.

Do I feel like I want to get rid of things because, in my heart, I’m getting ready for death? I just got back from Egypt, where people prepared for death by stuffing tombs with things to take with them. I think they took the wrong approach.

The most painful thoughts I had involved my failings. In some ways, I am a contemptible person. Friends will deny it, but I know what I know. My character deficits have hurt people and animals unnecessarily, and I couldn’t do much to stop it. I can’t undo any of it. All I can do is thank God for redemption.

I feel bad today. I recognize that. I know most of what I feel now will dissipate. I know better than to make decisions based on the way I feel one day after the death of a pet I loved for 30 years. But some changes may be coming. Things may be sold.

I let Maynard down. I mismanaged his medical care when he needed me, and it killed him. That will be hard to get over. I also let him down while he was healthy. I trapped him in a situation that could never work out well. For years, I’ve been praying for God to help me do better by him, and I thought maybe it would happen once I had a wife here to help me. I can forget that now. At least I can refrain from making the same mistake a fourth time. No more pets. I’ve never bought a pet out of anything but selfishness.

I’m grateful for all the times I did things right. I’m glad I let him walk around on me and try to help me with his painful grooming routine. I’m glad I kissed him so much. I’m grateful for all the times I held him and loved him until he shook with gratitude. I’m grateful for every dollar I spent on him to make things better for him.

That’s it. His earthly problems are over. If pets have an afterlife, maybe there will be some redemption, in a place where time means nothing and creatures are good to each other for so long, they can’t remember anything else.

All I Wanted was to Buy a Nice Wife

The Zambian fiancee and I continue to work on formalizing our relationship and importing her permanently.

Previous research suggested the best thing was to try to get a K-1 or “fiancee” visa. They let you bring your fiancee to the US for 90 days, and during that time, you must get married. After that, you have to file for a green card and permission for your new spouse to stay in the US for two more years.

I had read that K-1 visas were better than spouse visas because they took less time. Having looked deeper into it, I am hearing that the time difference is very small. I thought a K-1 was the way to go, but now we are thinking of changing our plans.

If we marry in another country, we will no longer have to be concerned about male/female sin. We won’t have to worry about separate beds and rooms. That would be a big plus, because marriage with limited intimacy is a strain. We wouldn’t be united permanently right away, but we would have considerably more liberty during pre-immigration visits.

So where should we marry? Right now we’re considering Iceland.

You may wonder why Iceland came up. It’s pretty simple. There are very few non-Muslim countries that will take us in right now, within reasonable flight times from our homes, where we can marry without excessive red tape. Even Mexico requires things like chest x-rays. Iceland demands a pile of papers you can file in advance, and that’s about it.

Malta and Mexico are available as rendezvous locations, and we will probably need a few of those while we wait for Rhodah to be issued her visa. Iceland is not a good place to visit except in warm seasons, so if we choose to go, we should do it before the end of September. That, along with the possibility of a trouble-free wedding, makes it a good choice for our next stop.

What’s in Iceland? I don’t know much about it. Volcanoes and glaciers, I’ve heard. People who have been there say great things about it, so I am satisfied that it will work for us. It won’t be as dirty or hot as Egypt, and there will be real stores and restaurants serving things other than traditional Arab food, so it’s looking pretty good to both of us. I’ll be honest. After Egypt, just about any clean, peaceful place with normal access to food and merchandise would look great.

I heard from my friend Mike yesterday, and when I told him we were considering Iceland, he was surprised. He and his girlfriend are planning a trip there. Now we may have to make it a double date. They wanted to go to Paris, but there were various issues, and somehow he came up with Iceland.

They would not be able to stay as long as we would, but they would be around for a little over three days. That ought to be fun. Then we would be alone together, and that would also be fun.

I talked to Mike about the women he knows who are suspicious of Rhodah, and I’ll tell you my sexist conclusion, which is nonetheless correct. I don’t blame them for thinking she just wants a green card. Why? Because they’re women, and women understand women. They are used to seeing other women deceive men. They hear what women say about men when men aren’t around. A big percentage of women would lie to a man about a green card, paternity, love, attraction, or any number of other important issues. It’s no wonder they assume Rhodah is up to no good.

Men get what they want through their careers. Many women do the same thing, but many others achieve their goals by manipulating men they’re not attracted to. It’s an ancient truth.

Iceland requires a strange document from people looking to marry. You have to have a certificate stating that you’re not married already. In the US, many jurisdictions don’t provide these. It appears the answer is to swear an affidavit, notarize it locally, and then get an apostille, which is like an international notarization. Whatever. I’m working on it. Zambia issues the required certificate, so Rhodah’s job is easier.

When all this is done, we may have to wait a year for a visa. Should I give up on Rhodah and look for an American? Of course not. Women are not fungible. I can find an American bride, but I can’t find an American Rhodah. I’ll just have to wait. Thank God I can pay for occasional visits.

I’m going to start looking up restaurants, hotels, and things to do in Iceland. Mike wants an AirBnB. I don’t get that. In a hotel, they clean up after you, and they provide room service. In somebody else’s second home, that would all be on me and Rhodah. Mike says he wants a kitchen. I can’t really see myself going to a weird Icelandic grocery and then trying to cook on someone else’s hopeless foreign rental cookware.

Imagine the kind of cooking equipment people leave in their houses for tourists. It can’t be good.

Rhodah is also against AirBnB. She says you go to a foreign country to try their food, not yours. Like me, she wants room service and maids.

I don’t want the homey feeling of someone else’s house. I want to avoid it. I like the cold, impersonal cleanliness of hotels. I want to know the toilets are clean, everything has been dusted, and no one’s heart will be broken if I break a glass or leave a stain on a carpet or towel.

Nothing is set in stone now, but it’s possible we could be married in a little over a month. How about that? Until today, I didn’t see it happening that soon. Marriage will open up new questions I wasn’t thinking much about. How does God feel about birth control? Should we risk having Rhodah carry and bear a child in Zambia, even if the risk is small?

Here’s a question: do I want to risk having a child who is not an American?

America has an idiotic law which says any person born on our soil is a citizen. It makes no sense, and it encourages hostile foreign women to come here to have children. It originally came from English common law. The idea was that the British king wanted to rule over everyone born in his kingdom. Why the Founding Fathers, with their leftist, sovereign-hating bent, allowed this ridiculous time bomb of a law to be adopted is beyond me. Maybe they felt America needed to build up its population.

As a result of the internal conflict over slavery, the Fourteenth Amendment reiterated the common law principle. Now we’re stuck with it.

Even the children of illegal aliens are citizens, as long as they’re born here. Unbelievably, however, there is no blanket law that makes the children of Americans citizens. Some children born abroad are citizens, and some have to apply for citizenship. I suppose this shouldn’t surprise anyone, since birthright citizenship was originally intended to help the state at the expense of the people. Maybe it makes sense that the law isn’t always helpful to us.

It sort of looks like my children would be citizens, because their mother and I would be married. A State Department release says the foreign-born child of at least one American citizen is considered a citizen at birth, as long as his parents are married. A press release isn’t the same thing as a legal opinion, however, so I don’t know how reliable this one is.

It boils down to this: marriage is not a lovers’ paradise, free of all earthly cares. I had lost sight of this well-known fact. I was thinking mostly about the other aspects of marriage. I thought I should have a partner in life. I wasn’t focused on generating my own tribe.

New blessings always bring new challenges. Like Rosanne Roseannadanna said, it’s always something.

I hope to post exciting news some time between now and the end of September.

Women Root for Zambian Fiancee and Me…to Fail

It’s a strangely cool, overcast day here in Northern Florida, and for some reason, when I walk outside, I smell burning coal. Wonder what’s up with that.

Today Rhodah and I worked on the ill-conceived government form that will eventually lead to her getting a fiancee visa. I hate government forms. It seems like they never work. They ask questions that have no answers, or the answers can’t be determined by a normal person with normal resources, or the answers won’t fit in the tiny boxes.

The single biggest obstacle to my marriage is a series of boxes in which I’m supposed to write Rhodah’s current and former addresses. Zambian addresses don’t fit in American boxes. A typical American address has three lines. First line: the recipient’s name. Second line: a street, a house or building number, and maybe an apartment number. Third line: city, state, ZIP. A Zambian address can have an infinite number of lines, and instead of a logical model involving a number and a street name, it may say something like, “Corner of Mboogoo Boulevard and Mumbweezi Drive, Third Floor.”

We are trying to jam the addresses into the form as well as we can. I think the answer is to append some pages and use them to write out addresses just the way Zambians do.

I don’t know what the government plans to do with these addresses. Rhodah says you can’t look Zambians up by their past addresses. They sort of wander from place to place without leaving much of a record.

Some time tomorrow, I expect to come up with a final version of the form. Then we’ll send it wherever it has to go, with however much money the government wants.

In the meantime, we are getting cynical comments from the meow chorus.

My friend Mike has told his friends about Rhoda and me, and that means the friends’ wives know. The ladies have decided Rhoda is a) too young, and b) too pretty for me. They think this proves she’s a gold-digger. Their theory appears to be that I will learn my lesson soon. I guess they think God will show me I should have married someone bitter and old.

This is exactly what I expected to hear from older American women. I should also add that it’s music to my ears. What man wouldn’t want to hear that his fiancee was too young and pretty for him?

Here’s a funny thing about modern life: for about 60 years, people with heads full of manure have been telling us not to believe things which are clearly true. Want to learn about men, women, and marriage? Don’t watch Jerry Springer or Dr. Phil. Don’t watch Oprah. She’s about 70 and still hasn’t been able to squeeze a proposal or a family out of her boyfriend. Instead, watch an episode of Leave it to Beaver or I Love Lucy. People used to know how human beings thought and felt. They used to know what worked. Modern people are stupid by comparison. They can’t even figure out what sex they are.

Here’s an old-timey, sexist generalization which is true: American women tend to feel entitled. They also tend to be highly mercenary. They tend to be misandrists. This is why so many American men are interested in foreign women.

I used to joke about marrying a foreign girl. I said I would to go a Thai bride website and place an order for delivery. In retrospect, I should have been serious about it. I knew the pool of American women was not the best place to fish, but I didn’t have the courage of my convictions, so I didn’t take the plunge and look abroad, to countries where women actually like men and want them to assume their proper roles in marriage.

About three months ago, I signed up for an interracial dating site, and after about a week had passed, I had met a wonderful Zambian woman, and I already felt it was likely we would be married. I suppose that makes me sound like a desperate man who would dash down the aisle with the first woman who winked at me, but that’s not true. If it were true, I wouldn’t be single at my advanced age. I have rejected a large number of women over the years, and that includes women who were attractive and who would have seemed like good catches to most men. I have been lonely and discouraged at times, but I have never been desperate. When I came across Rhodah, I didn’t think, “This may be my last chance; I better do whatever she wants.” I thought, “This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. This is effortless. This time, I am not going to run.”

I opened the door to foreign women, and a keeper jumped right into my lap, right away. Maybe it’s a lesson for other American men.

There are a lot of success stories out there, coming from American men and foreign women. Failure stories are a lot less common. You can find a lot of American men out there, praising their foreign girls. There aren’t that many men complaining that they were duped and used. Something to think about.

Anyway, here is some more non-woke, old-fashioned wisdom about women. First, they all hate each other. This is really true, although I guess I exaggerate a little. Women are extremely competitive when it comes to men, and they resent other women who might land the fish they want. They take it very, very personally. They harbor white-hot malice toward the competition. Women will actually mourn when male celebrities get married; men are not like that. Second, they also resent it when men who belong to “their” dating pool start to look into other pools. It makes them feel threatened and powerless. They tend to feel the men are breaking an unwritten rule; unwritten because it doesn’t exist.

If you marry a foreign women, American women who find out about it are likely to be angry at both of you and to wish you the worst. If your wife is younger and better-looking than they are, it’s even worse. Your wife becomes a gold-digging tramp, and you become a pathetic, delusional fathead who prefers denial to admitting no attractive woman could ever want him.

No one will ever tell you you’re unattractive in order to help you. It’s always manipulation.

Here’s a truth many people, male and female, will not want to hear: fierce attraction and intense love between dissimilar people are as common as dirt. Here’s another truth: if someone who doesn’t want you takes up with a person who is more attractive than you, and then things don’t work out, it won’t make you more attractive to the person who rejected you.

If you’re unattractive to me, it’s not because women who are more attractive exist. It’s because you’re unattractive to me. If everyone else in the world disappeared, I would still not want to marry you. I would work with you in order to survive. We could live close to each other in individual post-apocalyptic shelters. I still wouldn’t want to see the inside of your bedroom.

I always think of Budweiser when I think of women. If all beer production ended except for the production of Budweiser, I wouldn’t start drinking it. I would quit drinking beer forever, because Budweiser is disgusting. Having no beer at all is much better than drinking Budweiser. I’m not going to marry Budweiser just because I can’t get Guinness.

A wife isn’t a necessity, like food. When good food isn’t available, you will eventually get so desperate, you will be thrilled to eat things like cockroaches and lizards. It doesn’t work that way with women. When an attractive woman isn’t available, you still won’t want the unattractive ones.

You shouldn’t resent other people over their romantic desires. It’s none of your business. You should try to get what you want instead of telling other people what they should want.

May-September romances have existed since the creation of man. There is nothing abnormal about them. What’s abnormal is hoping two people who love each other will divorce in misery, just so you can think God punished the husband for not wanting you or your type.

Rhodah is wonderful. I love her without reservation. We get along beautifully. We have the same beliefs. We enjoy the same things. The bond of affection between us is very powerful. I can’t go into detail without getting into TMI territory, but our relationship overflows with warmth and a desire to be close.

I hit the jackpot. People who live in a different reality–people who didn’t let God choose their mates–will think we’re lying to ourselves, because that’s what they would have to do in order to end up in a situation like ours. They would have mates God didn’t select, so they would have trouble, and that’s what they expect us to have. The reality of blessed people is not like the reality of the cursed, so when they interpret our circumstances according to their paradigm, they’re wrong. As the book of John says, “the light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.”

I’m not watching my step. I’m not pacing myself. I’m not hanging onto an insurance policy. When I hold her, I hold her, all the way. I don’t think about betrayal and alimony. I let my cares go. When you see what you want, you know it.

Now that I’m an official “swirler,” meaning a person involved in a black-white relationship, I’m learning stuff. One thing of interest: marriages between black women and white men are the most stable kind. The divorce rate is very low. On the other hand, black men and white women are more likely than average to divorce.

Why is this? I think it may be because black women are the most feminine women, and white men are the most masculine men. Masculinity and femininity are drawn to each other. They complement each other. Some people might argue that Asian women are the most feminine, but they tend to have a hard edge, and they can be emasculating. Some may say black men are the most masculine, but think about it: they are more likely to let women support them, they are much less likely to stick around and be real fathers, they tend to have a feminine obsession with their appearance, and in relationships, they expect to be pursued. White men are more likely to pursue wives, marry their women, raise their kids, pay the bills, and protect their families. This is just fact.

When black women let their femininity out, it’s almost overpowering.

I don’t think anyone is unaware that white men are looking for women who will let them be masculine, and I know for a fact that black women are looking for men who will let them relax and be feminine. If you look around, you will find them online, complaining that they have to be masculine in order to survive. They hate it.

Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but it’s true, and it’s interesting: white men who marry black women tend to get women who are very attractive, but black men who marry white women tend to end up with ladies whose beauty isn’t their long suit. I don’t know why this is true, but it is. If you go to Youtube and search for videos about interracial couples, you’ll see one beautiful black woman after another, but the white wives are generally less gorgeous. Oddly, the same dynamic seems to be at work among white women who marry Muslim men.

I don’t know why I’m writing about black women. Rhodah isn’t “black” in the American sense of the word. Her ancestors were never slaves. They stayed in Africa. She also doesn’t have the cultural issues that can cause problems when black women marry white men. By that I mean she dresses well, speaks well, isn’t overly sexually provocative, and doesn’t let her emotions run away with her. She also doesn’t resent white people. She doesn’t think I need to be reeducated. I don’t have to worry that her friends will come over and eat my food while telling me I should be ashamed of my race.

I don’t want to reeducate her, either. She’s already exactly what I want. She knows the Bible up one side and down the other. She loves prayer and Bible study. She hates leftism. She’s very warmhearted. She’s thoughtful. She’s helpful. She’s funny.

When we’re married, I will never have to go to a Juneteenth parade and risk becoming a crime victim while I virtue-signal. I will never have to celebrate Kwanzaa or pretend it’s a real holiday. I will never have to pretend Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton are real reverends. I won’t have to see CNN in my living room. I’ll never have to stifle my real opinion of BLM.

I should prepare for problems with other people. I don’t foresee much trouble from whites. I had a black girlfriend a long time ago, and white people didn’t bother us. Black men may become a problem. They are very, very open to dating white women, but many of them are extremely hostile to BWWM relationships. I suppose black men and older white women will resent us more than anyone.

One great thing about my life is that the nearest ghetto is…I was about to say it was x miles away, but the truth is I don’t even know where it is. Orlando? That’s over an hour away. Ocala has no ghettos. There are pockets where relatively poor black people are concentrated, but there is nothing like Miami’s Liberty City or New York’s Bedford-Stuyvesant, where people like me can’t walk down the sidewalk at night in safety. There are no ghettos anywhere near me, so Rhodah and I won’t have many interactions with the kind of people who would be likely to threaten us. Interracial marriage is very, very common here. I don’t think people think much about it.

Miami is now mostly ghetto. That’s really something.

I doubt I’ll ever be in a place where I’m likely to be abused for holding a black woman’s hand, and I doubt Rhodah will ever see black-on-black crime up close.

I don’t think Rhodah would know what to do in a ghetto. She would be even more out of place than I would. Zambia is nothing like Harlem. I suppose that’s why Rhodah is such a girly girl. She never lived in a place where she had to grow a hard, masculine shell.

I don’t deserve my blessings. I ran from God and delayed all the good things he wanted to do for me. It’s amazing that he was still willing to bless me with such a fine lady. I hope I can be a huge blessing to her as well. If you’re still young, learn from my problems. Stay close to God, pray in tongues every day, submit, and pray for help in finding a wife. God is still in the matchmaking business, and when he comes through, you will be amazed.

Exodus Begins

I am now the proud owner of a bouncing baby fiancee. I am even allowed to use her real first name on my blog.

That’s a picture of me and Rhodah at some heathen temple or other. We spent 9 whole days and two half-days in Egypt, satisfying the requirements of the American fiancee visa program, not to mention our own desire to see each other in person.

I think the photo was shot at Luxor, but I’m not sure. Our Guide Ahmed (no, the other Ahmed) shot it and sent it to me, so it comes up out of sequence with the photos I shot.

I know a summary will be more interesting than a long description of the trip, so here it is: we had a magnificent time. The weather was unbearably hot. We both got colds. The food was usually bad. We were sleep-deprived nearly every day. Doesn’t matter. In person, we get along exactly the way we get along in video chats, and that’s what counts. I have zero misgivings about inviting this woman to share my life.

We met at Cairo International. Her flight arrived shortly before mine, so she was waiting for me with our guides. We had private guides for the whole trip. It was expensive, but it was the right way to go. We never had to find ways to get to and from airports and hotels. We had expert advice on everything, including getting PCR tests before leaving for home. We were spared a lot of hard work.

We booked our flights to and from Egypt and our main hotel ourselves. After that, we left everything to a company called Emo Tours. Every penny was well spent. They handled everything professionally, and we were allowed to focus more on each other than on the difficulties of travel.

We spent two days in Giza at a pleasant hotel with views of the pyramids. Of course, we toured the pyramids and the Egyptian Museum, along with other local sights. Then we flew to Aswan and joined a Nile cruise Emo Tours booked for us. For four days, we never had to worry about food or activities. Everything was provided for us. They even did our laundry in about three hours. After the cruise, we chose to spend two more days in the hotel in Giza, doing nothing whatsoever. This was the best part of the trip. I highly recommend scheduling idle days during foreign trips. Otherwise, you start to feel like a UPS package, being hauled from this place to that with no time to think.

I suppose I should give my impressions of travel in Egypt.

First of all, I was very glad to find that the Egyptians were extremely friendly, even when we weren’t doing business with them. They were very polite. They almost always tried to be helpful. Most spoke English.

After 911 and all the friction America has had with Muslim jihadists, I felt my attitude toward Muslims and Arabs was way too negative. I was glad to see that my experiences with Egyptians took the edge off that. The Bible says God loves Egypt, and it says the Egyptians will be brothers with the Jews and Assyrians. No matter how many problems come to us through jihadis, God’s perspective is the one that matters.

In Isaiah 19, God refers to Egypt as “my people” and Israel as “my inheritance.” Obviously, God does not hate Egypt.

After landing in Egypt, we were driven from the airport to Giza, and it takes an hour or so. Cairo has a poor highway infrastructure. The president of Egypt is building modern highways, so there are some nice exceptions, but generally, you will find yourself moving slowly among drivers who appear to be trying to kill themselves.

Egyptians have no regard for lane markings, and they routinely drive with their cars less than a foot apart. Virtually all cars in Cairo have body damage. Drivers also honk the horn constantly, to the point where they have developed a Morse-like language that includes insults, questions, greetings, and expressions of gratitude. There are very few traffic lights. People just jam into intersections and negotiate.

You will see interesting sights on the road. I saw one toddler in a van, propped up so she could lean out an open window and enjoy the breeze. I saw a man driving with his tiny daughter on his lap. I saw scooters zipping around in heavy traffic with three men on them. People hang off the steps of moving buses. Women sit behind their husbands on scooters, riding sidesaddle without a care in the world.

The bottom line is that it’s a very bad idea to rent a car in Egypt, even if you’re used to driving in a place like Miami.

On the way to the hotel, we saw countless half-finished apartment buildings with bare rebar sticking out of their uppermost stories. They generally had no window glass. I was not able to get a good explanation for their state of incompletion. Maybe the Egyptians build them one brick at a time, as money becomes available.

It looked as thought some people had arrived in the area and started building a city, and then they ran off suddenly.

I saw some bizarre sights, such as an incomplete apartment building with an excavator on the roof. Who puts an excavator on a roof? How did they get it up there?

I don’t have a lot of complaints about the hotel. It was reasonably clean, everything worked, the toilets had bidets, and we had a good view of the pyramids. The restaurant was acceptable. The neighborhood was a mess, however. Streets were torn up everywhere. More of the president’s projects.

Our hotel had a sliding steel gate and a guard booth. Whenever we entered in a vehicle, they made it stop outside, and a sniffer dog walked around it before it was allowed in. We went through this in more than one place. They also had a metal detector with a conveyor-belt x-ray machine. I don’t know exactly what they’re expecting, but they are obviously determined not to let tourists get blown up.

Tourist attractions had barriers set up, and armed police were everywhere. We went through too many checkpoints to remember.

We found Giza to be a difficult neighborhood to live in. In the hotel, we were fine, but walking around the streets was not easy. The Egyptians had built strange sidewalks. First of all, they were maybe 10″ higher than the street, so there was a lot of stepping up and stepping down. Second, they were incomplete. There were many places where you could walk down a sidewalk for a long distance and then find the sidewalk ended for no reason, making it necessary for you to walk in the street among moving cars. Taking a walk in Giza didn’t make sense. Exploring required a vehicle, and for that, you had to pay a driver. Then the driver would probably take you where he wanted to go, not where you wanted to go. They were always promoting businesses.

In Athens or Paris, you can step out of your hotel, walk down the sidewalk, and take your pick of restaurants and shops. Not so in Giza. Walking a block was a difficult project, and there were very few businesses you would want to visit.

The sidewalks and streets were filthy. No matter where I was, I always smelled one kind of poop or another. There was litter everywhere. We saw an Egyptian open his car door just so he could throw a fast food wrapper in the street.

Giza, like much of Egypt, was full of construction rubble. When they performed demolition, they didn’t clear the mess away. They just learned to walk around the piles. In Egypt, there are piles of concrete and stone that have obviously been in place for years.

They say open-toed shoes don’t work in Egypt. This is true. By the end of the day, your feet would be caked with filth.

For us, the answer to the Giza problem was to eat at the hotel. As long as we had food, nothing else mattered.

Our tours started the day after we arrived. First, we went to the pyramids. A guide named Osama ran the show. He had our driver take us to the pyramid area, and we saw the two biggest pyramids up close. We felt we should not visit without going inside one, so we paid for an upgrade.

At the base of the biggest pyramid, accurately named the Great Pyramid, we found a sort of shed and some Arabs. One tore our tickets, and we were shown the angled tunnel that led into the King’s Chamber, deep inside the rock.

For reasons unknown to me, the rectangular tunnel is about one meter high, and it penetrates the pyramid at a steep downward angle. There are no stairs; just a wooden floor with slats running across it every foot or so to keep people from sliding.

An Egyptian volunteered to go with us. I didn’t particularly enjoy climbing down into the hole while hunched over and holding a heavy backpack I was not willing to leave with strangers. Rhodah was unburdened, so she was able to walk into the pyramid quickly.

After a certain distance, we reached a small chamber with more headroom, and then we had to exit the chamber on the other side, into another cramped tunnel angled upward. At the end, we came out in the King’s Chamber, which was just a room with a big, empty sarcophagus.

The man who came with us persuaded me to pose for pictures, but Rhodah wanted none of it. She had barely entered when she said she was leaving. I posed for a couple of shots and then followed her. Of course, I had to tip the Egyptian even though he had not made a deal with me.

Rhodah seemed uncomfortable as we made our way to the next attraction, which was a camel ride (her idea). We drove to an area where a bunch of tired-looking camels were lying in the sand waiting for tourists. By this time, the air was very hot, and there was a strong, constant wind. The wind picked up the powerful smell of camel poop and urine, not to mention the pungent odor of whatever the drivers were eating. It was not a smell one would strive to reproduce in one’s home for purposes of nostalgia.

The camel drivers had a tent set up, and Rhodah asked if she could sit in the shade for a bit. The drivers were very courteous and invited us both to sit and have tea. I declined, but she sat down. After a minute or so, she asked to walk back to the car. She was not feeling good, so she wanted to skip the ride. I, of course, had no excuse for not riding a camel, so they put me on one, and up it went.

You board a camel from the left, using a single stirrup to give you purchase. You hold onto a saddle horn once you’re seated. They tell you to lean back. Why? Because the camel’s rear goes up first, and if you lean back, you’re less likely to fall off toward the front. Just when you’re used to struggling not to fall forward, the camel’s front end comes up, and you have to hang on so you don’t fall off the back.

When the camel is standing, your behind is probably 7 feet off the ground. When it walks, it sways violently. I had to hang onto the horn very firmly, and I also squeezed the camel’s body with my legs. I wondered how anyone could sit one of these things in a race.

We made our way to the car, and somehow I managed to resist offers for more camel time.

This was my second time, being offered a ride on a camel. The first came in 1984. I was in Jerusalem, traveling with a Dutch girl, and for five dollars, they let her pose for photos on a camel. When my turn came, I told her and the driver to forget it. I have never had any desire at all to ride a camel, and I have only ridden horses, which smell a great deal less foul, under tremendous social pressure.

When Rhodah said she wanted to ride camels, I agreed to it because I wanted her to enjoy the trip, but my camel enthusiasm was still where it had been 37 years earlier. I should have refused to get on, since there was no point in doing it alone, but the guides had gone to the trouble to set it up, and the drivers needed money, so I took one for the team.

This was my last animal-riding event. I will never get on another camel, horse, donkey, mule, or elephant (don’t ask) again. People get offended when you say you don’t want to ride horses. It’s almost always women who get upset. They seem to be hardwired for horse riding, and they don’t seem to understand people who don’t have the gene. They seem to think you, too, secretly crave horse rides, and they appear to believe you will have a breakthrough and experience ecstasy once you’re up there plodding around.

I guess it’s like dancing. Women always think men will love dancing if they just do it enough. Not true. Love of dancing requires certain wiring which is almost always present in the female nervous system and generally absent in heterosexual males. I don’t love dancing any more than I love doing deep-knee bends or jumping jacks. I never think, “It would be great to get up and dance right now,” and I never have, even when extremely drunk. Doesn’t matter whether I’m in a crowd or alone. I just don’t feel the desire.

A famous song says, “Dance like nobody’s watching.” When nobody’s watching, I generally sit in a recliner.

The only times I’ve enjoyed dancing, I’ve enjoyed it because it let me share moments with women, or because I was deliberately making a fool of myself after drinking enough liquor to make me throw up later. Sometimes I make a small celebratory movement when a really good pizza comes out of the oven, but that’s about it.

To get back to riding horses, it’s just not for me. You’re too far off the ground, you’re on something which is nearly useless for carrying anything but a rider, it has no roof and no air conditioning, the only speed choices are way too slow and dangerously fast, and if you opt for fast, you’re pretty much asking for paralysis or a fractured skull if anything goes wrong. And sometimes horses don’t like their riders. My utility cart has never gotten angry at me or tried to bite me. I can put two people and a bunch of cargo in the cart, I can ride in comfort, and I don’t have to worry about breaking my pelvis if I hit an armadillo hole.

The whole horse-versus-machine debate was resolved for good when the Polish cavalry went up against German tanks. In 2021, a horse is a luxury, not a useful tool, and a luxury isn’t a luxury unless you like it.

Rhodah has no interest in dancing, which is one more reason why we suit each other. I don’t think she cares for riding camels, either. She just wanted to be able to say she had done it.

It’s a relief to know I have a woman who will never become bitter because I never dance with her. Some women seem to need dancing, the way a dog needs to be walked. Rhodah doesn’t even want to dance at our wedding. Tell me that isn’t a sign from heaven.

It’s wonderful, not having a bridezilla. There will be no “destination wedding,” requiring the guests and ourselves to spend six figures in order to create an event that looks good on Instagram and then ages poorly as the marriage quickly deteriorates. We will not be flying her relations over from Africa at 10 grand a pop so they can watch a one-hour event. There will be no hot air balloons or orchestras. We will not pay Jennifer Lopez to do a set.

In our hearts, we feel as though we’ve been married for years, so the purpose of a wedding will be to get legal and religous sanction for expanding our activities into all areas of matrimonial business. The wedding won’t be intended to make other people feel poor or to focus an unhealthy level of fleeting attention on the bride. While planning, we won’t find ourselves saying things like, “It has to be perfect.” We won’t get matching tattoos in Chinese. There will be no viral video of groomsmen and bridesmaids doing a dance routine. We’re just going to say, “Thank God that’s over. Now we can really live like man and wife.”

We have joked that two minutes after exchanging vows, we’ll shout, “Thank you for coming. GET OUT!”

Weddings are unimportant. Marriages are what matter.

You will put your heart into the one that really matters to you.

So, back to the camels. When my camel and I got to the car, Rhodah was saying she wanted to cancel the rest of the day.

We started talking, and I learned that something had happened to her in the tomb. She had felt that something wanted to kill her. She felt she couldn’t get air, so she ran back out. Even outside, she felt there wasn’t enough air. She wondered if she needed to go to a hospital, but she didn’t tell me that right away.

I wondered if she was experiencing claustrophobia. Before going into the pyramid, I wondered if I would become claustrophobic, myself. She said she didn’t have claustrophobia. She felt as if something were trying to take her air.

I said it sounded like a demonic attack, and she agreed. Something in the tomb didn’t like her.

The attack endangered the remainder of the trip. We had booked a Nile cruise, and the guides told us the weather in the cruise area was considerably hotter than it was in Cairo. We were headed for a place where highs were hitting 114°, and Rhodah didn’t know if she would feel she could breathe.

Our response was to have a prayer session and cast things out. Afterward, everything was fine, and the cruise was back on like Donkey Kong. It was a big relief, because I didn’t want to sit in a hotel in Giza for 9 days.

After this, we made a point of battling any spirits associated with the Satanic ruins we visited. We had no more problems, and Rhodah enjoyed visiting several more holes formerly occupied by pharaohs. We canceled the second half of our activities on the day she was attacked, but other than that, we were fine.

The next day, we visited the Egyptian Museum and Old Cairo, including a bazaar.

The museum was wonderful. King Tut’s stuff was there, and we saw a lot of other artifacts related to other prominent Egyptians. Our guide explained things to us. As we made our way around, we saw that ideas found in the Old Testament were not exclusive to Judaism.

We saw a throne belonging to Tutankhamen. It wasn’t for his use in life. It was to be included in his death goods, to be used in the afterlife. Pretty sad. A person who rejected Yahweh thought he would still have a throne and a bunch of golden treasures after his death.

There was a box in front of the throne, maybe four inches high and as deep and wide as a welcome mat. It was blue, with gold figures of men on it. The figures represented Tut’s enemies. This shows that the ancient Jews were not alone in believing their God would make their enemies their footstool. The box in front of the throne was for Tut’s feet.

I’ve also seen this concept expressed in modern times. Saddam Hussein created a mural of Bush I’s face, set into the floor of a hotel. The idea was that people’s shoes would touch his face all day. In the Muslim world, having someone show you the bottom of their shoe or throw a shoe at you is a great insult. It’s clearly related to the idea of using enemies as footstools.

We saw works depicting judgment. The ancient Egyptians believed their hearts would be weighed before their supreme “god,” Osiris. If their hearts were too heavy, they would be eaten by an evil baboon “god.” If not, they went on to become Osiris himself.

In Christianity, we become part of God if we receive salvation, and God says he looks on the heart. What ruins a man’s heart? The flesh. Our flesh is a lot like a baboon. Humans who remain undeveloped are just like monkeys, and monkeys are violent and selfish. Figuratively, you could say that if you let your flesh corrupt you and prevent you from being saved, a monkey has eaten your heart.

The cruise was very pleasant. We flew south from Cairo to Aswan, and that’s where we boarded the ship. Big Nile cruise ships are all about the same. They have several decks. The staterooms have twin beds and individual bathrooms with showers and tubs. Every ship has a big cafeteria where meals are served buffet-style, three times a day. Food is included in the cost of tickets. The cruise companies move from Aswan toward Luxor, dropping people periodically for excursions.

Knowing we had restraint, we used a single room with two beds. It was very comfortable, and everything was clean. The cleaning staff was funny. When they replaced the towels, they turned them into sculptures. One day you might get a towel crocodile, and the next, it might be a towel elephant with a rider.

The food was very good. Not phenomenal, but fine for our purposes. Every day, the dishes changed. They had a salad and dessert table, a row of entrees and sides, a large display of breads, and a daily soup. Beverages cost extra, but they were not expensive. The buffet was a good way to get familiar with a large number of dishes.

Early on, we learned we had enemies. There were people who would attack the desserts early, taking all the best stuff. I told Rhodah there were a bunch of fat German women, whom I never actually saw, going in commando-style. I said something she still keeps quoting: “Buffets bring out the worst in people.”

We resolved to be on time for meals from then on. I also decided we would collect food for all three courses at once, instead of waiting until we ate the previous courses. This way, we were nailing the good desserts while our enemies were still cramming entrees down quickly in hopes of finishing them in time for a sneak dessert attack.

We had no more problems. We cackled about our defeated foes.

The fruit and vegetables were excellent in Egypt. Unlike Americans, they don’t pick everything, and expect you to eat it, green. The tomatoes were better than anything I’ve had in America since my grandmother died. Her tomatoes were perfect.

I think our worst choice was the decision to visit Abu Simbel. This is a temple complex that was moved when the Aswan Dam was built. The Dam created Lake Naser, which rose and covered a lot of ancient sites. Abu Simbel, along with some other sites, was cut up and moved to higher ground.

The problem with Abu Simbel is that the drive to see it was three hours long, through open desert with no cell signals. It just isn’t worth it. We could have spent six hours, plus the time we spent at the complex, enjoying each other’s company. Instead we were crammed into a Hyundai Elantra, and I was behind a driver who kept his seat pushed back nearly all the way.

We spent four days on the cruise, and we had the same guide, Ahmed, the whole time. Ahmed is a young man with a master’s in archaeology. Like the other people in the area around Aswan, he’s a Nubian. That mean’s he’s mostly black. He informed us he was the King of the Nubians, so that’s how I referred to him from then on.

We saw a number of American black women while we were in Nubia. Ghetto “scholars” have convinced a lot of American blacks ancient Egyptians were black geniuses, so American blacks visit Egypt to see their accomplishments. Sadly, what they believe is not true. The Egyptians who did all the important things were olive-skinned caucasians, and later on, Greeks took over. Cleopatra was a Greek. She wasn’t Egyptian at all.

I read about DNA analysis involving Egypt, and it appears the modern Egyptians in the Cairo area are about 20% black, and that percentage comes from recent centuries. In the past, they were whiter.

Another thing critical race theorists may not like: the Egyptian temples tourists go to see were built by white Greeks. They are reconstructions and reproductions. We saw almost no temples built by Egyptians.

When the Greeks ruled Egypt, they wanted the locals on their side, so they built temples honoring Isis and all the others. The reason the temples look so good is that Greeks created them. I guess it’s probably also why they all look alike.

Egypt is full of people trying to sell souvenirs and cheap clothes. In Nubia, they have learned how to sell things to black women. They call them “cousin.” They approach, saying, “Sister! Sister!” They did this to Rhodah over and over. They thought she was an American.

Apparently, black American women are known for certain behaviors in Egypt. Our guide took pictures of us, and he seemed to be encouraging Rhodah to pose in certain ways that emphasized her rear end. Later, he admitted black American women do that kind of thing all the time. He was not happy about it, but he was willing to go along with it in order to make more money.

Nubians have a reputation for friendliness and gentleness. I found this to be well-deserved. As nice as the Egyptians in Cairo were, the Nubians had them beat.

Exploring Nubia was a little tough for me because I was sick. My nose started running a day or two after I got to Egypt. I thought I might have the kung flu, in spite of my vaccination. I never got very ill, but I felt feverish and dehydrated. Naturally, during this time, I had to do a tremendous amount of walking in the burning sun, in strong dry winds, with temperatures over 110°.

Rhodah and I fought the illness supernaturally, but she caught a little of it, too.

I felt differently depending on where I was. In the Cairo area, I felt weighed down. I thought it was a supernatural thing. I always feel heavy in Miami, which is a cursed city full of people who provoke God. In Nubia, I felt a lot lighter, but I still had to drink a lot of water and put up with feeling hot inside.

At some point during all this, I proposed. The proposal suited our natures. In Egypt, you can’t have a fancy proposal. You can’t dress up and go to a nice restaurant. You can’t hire mariachis or a skywriter. You pretty much have to spit it out and move on. One evening, I waited for a quiet moment, told Rhodah how I felt about her, which she already knew, and asked if she would marry me. Of course, she said she would. We knew what we were going to do, months ago.

For various practical reasons, I gave her one of my mother’s rings, which neither of us likes. She knew this was coming; we had a plan. Now that I’m in the States, I can go ahead and get a better ring I already chose.

I also gave her the matching watch, heavy and made from solid gold. Of course, it doesn’t fit. We plan to have it melted down and turned into something else.

During our last two days of rest at our Giza hotel, we got PCR tests. I had a feeling we were going to test positive. I was okay with it. Staying in Egypt with Rhodah until we tested negative sounded great to me. We both passed, though. I wondered whether the Egyptians were delivering false negatives just to keep tourism booming.

Rhodah’s plane landed in Zambia a couple of hours ago, so now we’re about to get to work on her American visa. We hope it comes through reasonably quickly. If not, we will just have to meet overseas a few more times.

Greece, Israel, and Italy are opening up. We’re going to start getting visas for Rhoda. I don’t need one because I’m American.

I expect things to go well. This relationship was put together while we were submitting to God, and besides, we’re crazy about each other.

As for Egypt, I can say a few things.

1. It’s not a beautiful country, although people think it is. It’s sand and rocks. Some deserts have natural beauty. Not the one in Egypt.

2. Egypt has a lot of potential. They just need to change their culture. There is too much emotion, and they don’t put much emphasis on rules and order. They work hard, but they don’t have focus, and they don’t seem to plan. They need to clean up their cities. They need to stop leaving garbage everywhere. They need to get rid of the piles of construction debris.

3. The summer weather is abominable. A guide told us to go after October. It won’t rain, but it won’t be 114°, either.

4. Private guides are the way to go. They don’t cost all that much, and you will have a very hard time without them. For one thing, you’ll have to get through a lot of security checkpoints.

5. Street crime is not bad, and they don’t hate Americans, so don’t assume everything you have will be stolen or that you will be beaten up.

6. Absolutely everyone in Egypt expects a tip. I actually met the president of Egypt briefly, and I had to give him 10 Egyptian pounds for running the country so well. Unless I’m kidding. Anyway, you will want to have tons of small notes (50 pounds or less) for tipping, and you can forget about using a public toilet if you can’t come up with 5 pounds. You don’t have to tip during a cruise, but when it’s over, they will expect the equivalent of $32 in an envelope, to be shared by employees. That’s for a short cruise.

7. Cairo’s airport is useless. There is nothing to do while you wait. Also, you can’t check your bag and then go back out to the terminal to eat. Once your bag is checked, you have to stay in the area where the gates are. There are lounges, but they are not good.

8. The restaurants stink. I don’t think this is universally true. I think the problem is that guides take people to bad restaurants where they get kickbacks. If you complain, you can get them to take you to better places. The food is similar to Arab food in other places, but it seems like other Arabs cook somewhat better than Egyptians. Egypt has a unique dish called koshary, and you should try it. It’s pasta and rice, covered with a bunch of other stuff. You add vinegar and hot sauce to it. Very nice.

9. You will be mobbed all day by people wanting to sell you things. They’re like biting flies. Smile a lot, say complimentary things, and keep walking. Do not let them hand you anything. If they manage to drape something over you, take it off gently and set it down somewhere.

10. Haggling is everywhere, and it gets tiresome. Asking prices are insanely high. Don’t be surprised if a 700-pound item goes down to 100. Personally, I was okay with being overcharged somewhat, because these people are starving due to the coronavirus hysteria. Rhodah and I practically had Egypt to ourselves.

We bought a certain amount of junk, but we avoided all the stuff with ancient religious symbols on it. We told the guides and merchants over and over: Christians don’t put idols in their houses. Of course, nominal Christian merchants insisted we were wrong, and we really offended a lot of people, but that’s their problem.

11. Don’t go into the Great Pyramid. It’s very unpleasant, and there is nothing to see. Tut’s tomb is also pretty weak, but at least there are murals. Tut died young, and they didn’t have a big tomb ready. His tomb is like a one-car garage.

That’s it. Maybe I will write more later.

YouTube is Still Here

I haven’t been here for a while. “Rebecca” and I have been working on arranging a meeting overseas, and also, I’m not quite as enthusiastic about reaching out over the web as I used to be.

Today I texted her when I got up, and she said she had been to church. She had been crying. The reason? T.B. Joshua had died.

Joshua was Youtube’s most popular evangelist until an obscure homosexual group got his channel deleted. Youtube did it instantaneously, without providing a chance for the ministry to remove the videos that made these homosexuals uncomfortable. The videos showed Joshua casting demons of homosexuality out of willing adult Christians. It wasn’t electroshock therapy. These weren’t videos of people claiming to be doctors. The videos showed Christians doing exactly what Christians are supposed to do, according to Jesus himself. Youtube made a remarkable leap into the realm of censoring religious speech, while leaving up videos of Muslims spewing hate and at least one rabbi claiming Jesus was in hell in boiling semen and feces.

Joshua did wonderful things. He performed a great number of healings. He delivered many people. He helped the poor. He never had a real scandal. One of his buildings collapsed, killing a number of people, but that was not a personal scandal. Anyone can own a badly constructed building.

Why did Joshua die? He was only 57, and he was doing God’s work. This morning, I asked God, and the impression I have is this: the church glorified Joshua too much, and he didn’t resist enough. People who came to him for help called him “Man of God” and behaved as though he were a great authority. He had a group of appointed “wise men” who also healed. His photo appeared in many places. Many videos were presented in a way that glorified him more than God.

I don’t believe God took him. I think Satan got access through pride.

This is what I seem to hear when I pray about it.

I felt that God told me what happened was part of the ending of the age of big churches. In big churches, people respond to peer pressure more than the Holy Spirit. A preacher who lets people idolize him is responding to peer pressure. I feel God said that peer pressure is the weapon of the Antichrist.

Of course, that’s true. The Beast isn’t just a man. It’s the voice of the unsaved masses. They are also the Beast. The man himself is just their representative.

The Beast likes homosexuality because liking homosexuality is the easy route to temporary peace. The Beast doesn’t like miracles and other manifestations of the Holy Spirit, because the Beast thinks self-confidence is our salvation. The Beast doesn’t mind hearing the word “God” (yet), but it hates the name of Jesus because Jesus brings division and demands obedience.

The Beast says you have to wear a mask and get vaccinated. Eventually, it will say you have to have a mark in order to buy or sell. Peer pressure will be overwhelming in America, just as it always has been in non-Christian countries. Persecution is peer pressure.

Obeying your peers is a bad idea. They’re your equals, so, like you, they know very little, and much of what they know is wrong. You should be obeying someone who is not your peer. God’s thoughts are better than ours.

Pride and peer pressure are connected. Proud people want others to think well of them. It turns preachers into followers when the word says we are to be the head, not the tail.

Peer pressure ruined the Hebrews on two well-known occasions. First, they chose Saul over prophets and judges, and second, they chose Barabbas over Yeshua. Both times, they chose the Beast. On both occasions, the damage was done by a popular vote. Crowds rejected prophets and Jesus and sentenced the Jews to future problems. The Beast is a crowd. His voice is their voice.

A few days ago, the government of Nigeria banned Twitter because Twitter deleted a tweet from the country’s government. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Joshua died soon thereafter. Youtube struck, Nigeria struck, and Satan showed Nigeria it could take down its greatest evangelist.

I expect Twitter to win, because the power of the Beast has gotten too strong. Humanity has elected Satan in a landslide. For a long time, I’ve been saying the Internet would replace government. Maybe the battle with Nigeria’s government will be a way for Satan to show how big he’s grown. I would be surprised if the ban worked properly. There are too many ways around it. Even if Twitter falls, another service can replace it next week. The Beast is like a shark which has rows of new teeth to replace the ones that fall out.

I don’t think Joshua was a bad preacher. Far from it. I believe everyone’s armor has chinks, however. The Bible shows that Satan can’t touch us without permission. It says a curse does not alight without a cause. It says Satan roams the street as a roaring lion, seeking whom he MAY devour. It may well be that in the age of “likes” and “influencers,” social pressure has become so strong, no one who heads a big, organized congregation is safe from pride.

I am praying for God to help me to give up all pride. My most dangerous and most culpable enemy is my flesh. The spirits and people who tempt me can’t get anywhere unless my flesh lets them in, and pride is a big doorway. If God has given me anything, it’s not because I’m good. I have been cruel to animals. I have paid for pornography. I have used drugs. I have said filthy things about people. I have stolen. I have lied. I can’t let myself mistake mercy and inheritance for wages I’ve earned.

My strong hope is that God raises up the grassroots ministries I believe he has told me about. We don’t really need a few individuals who reach millions of people. We need millions of individuals who reach a few people. Jesus never said any person would reach millions. He said a person might get a hundredfold return. That is the maximum figure he mentioned. If every Christian reached a hundred people, there would be no one left to go to hell. Right now, we have preachers flying around on jets speaking to billions, and hell is still the destination for most people, including many of the preachers.

A ministry doesn’t prove itself by healing the sick and working other miracles. A ministry proves itself by raising up many people who can do those things. If one men or a few men stay on top, very few people they teach become like Jesus, and the people who attend their church remain dependent on the pastor and his appointees, the church fails at its purpose. I hope the grassroots church which is developing now will have a lot more success.

As if Living in Detroit Weren’t Bad Enough

A while back, my Zambian sweetheart d/b/a “Rebecca” told me about an American TV show featuring a romance between an American man and a woman from Africa. She actually sat down and watched the whole series. Today I took a look at a couple of episodes.

The show is called BOB [heart symbol] ABISHOLA, and the symbol is pronounced “hearts.” As American literacy continues to decline, I should not be surprised to see “heart” used as a verb. Originally, phrases containing a heart symbol didn’t work that way. The first such phrase was “I [heart symbol] New York.” In commercials promoting the city, viewers were shown the slogan, and singers sang, “I love New York,” in the background. Now we “heart” things. I guess we also “smiley-face” and “thumbs-up” things in post-literate America.

I thought it might be fun to watch the show, since I’m sort of in the same boat as Bob. Having seen two episodes, however, I don’t see any reason to watch a third.

Here’s how the show works. Bob is a hefty, rich white guy who owns a sock company. He has a heart attack. In the hospital, he wakes up to find himself being tended to by Abishola, a cold American nurse from Nigeria. Inexplicably (sometimes voodoo works) he falls in love with her, and they marry.

Abishola has a family of mercenary immigrants who push her to marry Bob because they plan to move into his house and have him support them.

It doesn’t sound like a bad premise, but there are some problems.

First, Abishola. In order to be a good love interest, she should bring something to the table. Maybe not a lot, but at least one thing. She doesn’t. She’s overweight, married, saddled with a kid, rude, humorless, and bitter. She’s also domineering and not a great beauty.

Second, her relatives. They’re imbeciles. Say what you will about real Nigerians. Their emails and dating scams are the scourge of the Internet, and Nigeria’s crime rate is astronomical. But they are not all simpletons. Granted, a lot of the scammers are, but then simpletons are drawn to crime. Nigeria is a big country full of doctors, engineers, and other respectable people. I’m surprised Nigerians aren’t complaining about the show.

Maybe they are, though. How would I know?

When Bob starts pursuing Abishola, she is nasty to him, and after a couple of tries, he gives up. Personally, I didn’t see why he would make the first try, let alone the second. He and Abishola only become an item because Abishola’s greedy relatives manipulate them.

Abishola doesn’t seem like an African at all. She’s really an angry American urban single mother, tagged with an African name by American writers. She’s the kind of woman Americans marry African and other foreign women to get AWAY from.

I think the show should be named something like, “Run, Bob, Run,” or, “Bob Needs a Spine,” or, “What is Bob Smoking?”

Bob has other problems. He lives in Detroit. This is a city where houses sell for a dollar. Detroit was destroyed by creativity and hard work. Of course, I refer to the creativity and hard work of the Japanese. It was also destroyed by leftism and labor unions. The population of Detroit has decreased by over 60%, for the same reason the rat population decreases in a burning outhouse. What is wrong with Bob? Does he thrive on misery?

If Bob wanted a bitter, controlling, humorless single mother, and he lived in Detroit, he wouldn’t have to wait for a Nigerian immigrant. Like every other bastion of leftism, Detroit is jam-packed with them. Leftism creates single mothers.

Why does rich Bob live in 21st-century Detroit? He must have missed the memo. Wealth should serve a purpose. There is no reason to pursue it if you plan to use it to stay in a place like Detroit. In Detroit, escape is a strong motivating factor for pursuing wealth.

The only nice thing I can say about the show is that it looks like it’s one of the few family-centered shows in which the dad isn’t the jerk. Bob is rational, kind, and level-headed, at least in the first two episodes. Abishola is a jerk. Her best friend is a jerk. Her aunt and uncle are selfish and brainless.

I haven’t seen a show in which the man was okay and the wife was an utter idiot since “Mad About You.”

Since the show features an interracial marriage, there must be a lot of preaching later on. Just guessing. Surely Bob turns out to be insensitive and guilty of mansplaining before long. I guess I’ll never know. Who wants to watch a romantic comedy in which the suitor is making the worst mistake of his life, with a disturbed woman most men would block on Tinder?

The writing isn’t very good, so even if the show featured an appealing romance, the clumsiness would be a deal-breaker.

I am not Bob, thank God, and Rebecca is most definitely not Abishola. Rebecca is an orphan, and her sister’s families have no interest in me. They are not planning to have me fly them over at $15,000-$20,000 per visit, nor are they planning to emigrate. They are not scheming to go on the Steve welfare plan. As for my own family, it barely exists. My parents are dead, my sister is finished, and I rarely hear from any of my relatives.

My relations will not be involved with my marriage. That’s okay. In my family, most people end up divorced or perpetually single. They wouldn’t have much good advice to offer.

I have two relatives I would consider inviting to the wedding. That’s all. The rest wouldn’t even expect it. My grandfather had 8 grandchildren, and if memory serves me, I haven’t been invited to a single one of their weddings. That’s my mother’s father. I barely know my first cousins on my dad’s side. When I say “my family,” I’m not even thinking of them. I don’t know their spouses’ names or even whether they’re married or single. Only one ever expressed any interest in knowing me.

I told Rebecca I should go ahead and make her the death beneficiary on all my accounts. Even if something unexpected popped up and prevented us from marrying, and even if we fell out, she would still be a better choice than anyone else I know. I have no children, my relatives don’t expect anything, and money would destroy whatever remains of my sister.

Guess I won’t be buying the whole first season of the show. I don’t want to see Bob go out like this.

It’s crucial to have a marriage arranged by God, and he has to remain at the center of your life after you wed. So many marriages are dumpster fires. For many people, marriage is the cruelest thing that happens in life. It’s like going to hell. You marry the wrong person, you have kids, and you’re on the hook with no way out for at least 18 years. It’s amazing that people who don’t know God continue to get married, given the odds of catastrophe. It’s a testimony to the power of lust, greed, female narcissism, and self-delusion.

Antichrist Foreshadowed by Fruity Pharaoh?

This morning, I’m thinking about Akhenaten.

Akhenaten was a pharaoh, and he is thought to have lived in the 14th century B.C. He was male, and he is known to have had several daughters, but in Egyptian art, he looks like a woman. He has breasts, a thin waist, fat thighs, a round belly, and a big rear end. His feminine appearance puzzles historians. I don’t mean fringe Christian historians. I mean historians, period.

I’m wondering if Akhenaten was a picture of the Antichrist. It would make sense for an effeminate man to take the role. A buddy of mine told me long ago that he believed the Antichrist would be effeminate.

God works in repetitive patterns. The Old Testament is full of events which prefigure events that occurred, or will occur, later. For example, the flood prefigures the tribulation. The rescue of Noah prefigures the rapture. The exploits of Joshua prefigure what happens inside a Spirit-filled believer who goes all the way and drives evil spirits out of his body.

Exodus prefigures the rapture.

God loved Abraham, and he loves Abraham’s descendants, but he told Abraham his descendants would be enslaved in Egypt for 400 years. Why? How is that a blessing? The answer is simple. The Hebrews were sent to Egypt to lead, but instead, they followed. The word says the Jews are the light of the world, but in Egypt, they followed darkness, adopting the worship of filthy spirits that serve Satan. As a result, they lost favor with the government, and they became slaves. Like Esau, they gave up their birthright and the authority that came with it.

God’s plan was to bless the Hebrews, but they made it impossible. That’s why God told Abraham they would be slaves.

God used Moses to free the Hebrews. Along the way, he proved the authenticity of Jesus through events that demonstrated his relationship to Moses.

When Jesus was about to be born, devil worshipers who practiced astrology told Herod, and Herod sent soldiers to kill male children in Bethlehem, the only city which could produce the Messiah. Prophecy said the Messiah would rule Israel, and Herod didn’t want that. When the birth of Moses was foretold by devil worshipers in Egypt, Pharaoh ordered midwives to murder all the male Jewish babies.

Both Jesus and Moses were spared.

Before Jesus, there is no record of any Jewish figure dominating and defeating spirits. Elijah and Elisha performed miracles, including raising the dead and healing. Lots of people prophesied. No one, however, was able to cast out demons until Jesus. You can see this in the New Testament. When he healed people, it was not considered extraordinary. It wasn’t until he drove out demons that people realized he was the son of God.

Moses didn’t cast out demons, but he did show God’s dominance over evil spirits. The plagues of Egypt showed that the false gods of Egypt had to bend the knee to Yahweh. The plague of darkness showed that Yahweh ruled over Aten, the sun deity. The death of the cattle showed that Yahweh ruled over Apis, the bull god. The other plagues can also be linked to other false gods Yahweh humiliated.

Moses handed down the written law. Jesus, on the same holiday, handed down the law of the Holy Spirit. The books of Moses were delivered on Shavuot, which is Pentecost. On the same day, the followers of Jesus were filled with the Holy Spirit, whose law supercedes the written law. Jeremiah predicted this:

But this shall be the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel; After those days, saith the Lord, I will put my law in their inward parts, and write it in their hearts; and will be their God, and they shall be my people.

Obviously, this never happened under temple Judaism or rabbinic Judaism. People remained the way they always had been. It’s about the new covenant, made possible by the shedding of the blood of Jesus.

Presaging the events of the first post-crucifixion Shavuot, Jesus called himself “the word of God.” The books of Moses were the written word, and they were incomplete and inflexible, but Jesus was the source of the word. He was complete, and he was not limited by rigid rules that could be turned against him. Through the Holy Spirit, believers transcend written rules and become able to do what God himself tells them, in real time.

The resemblance of Exodus to the rapture and tribulation is obvious.

The Hebrews were slaves, just as most Christians are slaves now. Jesus gave us the Spirit of Holiness to make us free, and he expected us to lead the world, but Christianity became corrupt, and we became slaves, just like everyone else. Most of us can’t cast a demon out. Most are ruled by people who don’t know God. Most Christians can’t get healed. Most don’t get God’s guidance. The church rejected the Holy Spirit a long time ago, so Christians ended up serving false gods like the pope, the saints, secular rulers, and employers. They ended up serving demons and their flesh.

People think the Hebrews fell under Egyptian domination because the Egyptians were bad people. That’s not true. It happened because of their own failings. The Hebrews lost God’s favor by refusing to accept their destiny of being the head and not the tail. The Bible shows that when the Hebrews served God, they lived in dominance. Subjugation was always linked to rebellion, just as it is today for Christians.

In spite of their failings, Christians used to be favored by God. We ended up possessing lands that belonged to heathens. We were given empires that covered the globe, and we spread the knowledge of Jesus Christ. Then we decided we got these things through our own merit. We turned away from God and began worshiping things like government, science, and engineering. Is it because we love logic and reject the supernatural? Of course not. Idolatry is more common among us than ever. Witchcraft is very big, as is Hinduism. Our problem isn’t that we’ve embraced logic; we have never done that. Our problem is that we rejected Yeshua and the Holy Spirit.

In the modern world, peoples that used to be favored by God are disfavored, and those that used to be subjugated are putting us to flight. It’s just like Egypt. We are becoming more enslaved than ever. We run from witches, homosexuals, and heathens.

One interesting feature of the modern world is that Satan is doing things to make life intolerable for us. Coexistence is not the safe option it used to be. To be safe now, you may have to announce your support for homosexuality at work. You may have to call a man “she” or “they” in order to keep your job. You may have to bake a cake celebrating an abomination God hates. You may have to attend a seminar at which you are forced to denounce your race or your gender irrationally, repeating the sick hatred of bigots and persecutors.

Merely going out in public can be a problem now. Public nudity is becoming commonplace. Signs and billboards are filling up with profanity. If you live in a place like New York or San Francisco, you may have to stay home from holiday parades in order to prevent your children from seeing naked men.

Television and the Internet are hopelessly corrupt. Merely observing can be harmful to you.

We see a similar pattern toward the end of the Hebrews’ stay in Egypt. Pharaoh’s slaves had to make bricks for his idolatrous monuments, and that was bad enough, but when Moses told Pharaoh to let God’s people go, Pharaoh told them they had to gather their own straw as well, making their lives too hard for them to bear.

Pharaoh represents the Antichrist in Exodus. He was a man who served Satan, as the supreme human authority in his area. He claimed he was a god. Like the Antichrist, he had people who did supernatural wonders in his name.

I have often wondered whether Akhenaten, the effeminate Pharaoh, was the one Moses dealt with. It’s very clear that Satan is feminizing the world today. God is completely masculine. He only sows; he doesn’t carry children. Satan seems much more feminine. He craves attention. He is proud of his beauty. He is petty and unforgiving. He has a history of fighting our masculine God using idols like Ashtoreth and the Catholic version of Mary. He is using effeminacy as his main weapon in his battle against the church in America.

Males are losing power, and the worst kind of female trash is receiving it. Increasingly, famous and Internet-famous sluts and near-sluts are gaining influence in America. Kim Kardashian is disgusting, but she is said to charge seven figures per Instagram post. Madonna, before she became old and lost her looks, was one of our biggest pop figures, and she influenced hundreds of millions of girls. Lady Gaga can’t seem to keep her clothes on, and she is a huge pro-homosexuality activist. Beyonce Knowles isn’t known to be a slut, but she acts like one, performing in her underwear and singing explicit lyrics which are very harmful to girls. Then there are Rihanna and Miley Cyrus.

Nicki Minaj, Cardi B, and Megan Thee Stallion are almost beyond belief. In the past, you would have expected to meet sleazy creatures like them in the gutters of Times Square, not on red carpets.

A long time ago, I looked into Akhenaten’s history to see if he could have been the pharaoh who knew Moses. It seemed like the dates didn’t match up, but now I am seeing other evidence suggesting he was the pharaoh of Exodus. It would make a lot of sense.

I don’t see any reason why it couldn’t have been Akhenaten. He didn’t leave a son, and Pharaoh’s firstborn son was killed. He died young, as Pharaoh did. The Bible says God drowned the ruler who pursued Egypt, and we now have a mummy thought to be Akhenaten. If Akhenaten was lost in the sea, how could there be a mummy? The mummy’s identity is not certain, however, and even if it were, a pharaoh who drowned could be recovered from the beach later.

It may be that we are seeing the repetition of another pattern. The resemblance of Pharaoh to the Antichrist is obvious because of his cruelty, his phony godhood, and his hatred of the Hebrews and the Jewish God. It would be even stronger if Pharaoh had been an effeminate sexual deviant with a misshapen body.

I would be very surprised if the Antichrist were not effeminate. He will be a carnal manifestation of an effeminate, attention-whoring spirit who used to be Lucifer. Lucifer was the Liberace or Michael Jackson of heaven.

Pharaoh and his army chased the Hebrews to the edge of the Red Sea, where it appeared they had no escape. Then the waters opened, and the Hebrews walked across between two walls of water, on dry (not damp) sand. When the heathens tried to follow, the walls rushed in on them, and they drowned. It’s a picture of the rapture. When the children of darkness push us too far, we will have nowhere to go but up. The waters of the Red Sea represent corrupt human society. We will be separated from them, and we will be drawn up out, but the Antichrist and his children will sink and be put through the tribulation.

I think the Antichrist will claim to be Christian, while mixing Christianity with evil religions like Islam and wicca. He will “repair” Christianity, healing the rift between the church and people who insist sexual perversion is good. This is my best guess. Weak Christians will want to be accepted by the masses, and it will be much easier to hook them if the Antichrist pretends to be “correcting” Christianity and showing that it’s compatible with other beliefs.

Jesus was completely intolerant of other religions. I don’t think people want to hear that. Most people probably don’t want to associate Jesus with the word “intolerant.” It’s the right word, though. Prior to incarnation, Jesus had Elijah slaughter hundreds of idol worshipers, and he had the Jews turn places of idol worship into toilets and garbage dumps. He told Moses, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”

There is a difference between being full of love and tolerating idolatry. Modern people don’t understand that. They equate correction with hate. Jesus is the kindest being there is, but he was pleased when Elijah had 450 men executed, and he ordered the burning of the Sodomites. Most modern people don’t want that Jesus.

It will be interesting to see what kind of person the Antichrist is. It’s starting to sound like he’ll be a cross between Prince and Caitlyn Jenner.

In closing, here’s an interesting secular video about the telltale characteristics of a feminine man. If you’re a woman, you might want to watch in order to avoid becoming a trophy husband.

US Visa Policy Really Sphinx

My Zambian girlfriend and I are working on our travel plans, and things are firming up.

Because of coronavirus and the hysterical response from our state department as well as the governments of other nations, arranging to meet “Rebecca” has not been simple. I can’t bring her here unless we’re engaged or married, I can’t go to Zambia unless I want to pay a king’s ransom and endure almost two days of travel time each way, and most other countries which are both convenient and pleasant to visit are closed.

As of today, we have rooms booked in Cairo. Egypt is starving for tourist dollars, so they are making things easy for visitors.

Hotels in Egypt are very cheap right now. I chose a nice place with great reviews, and we are looking at under $200 per night for two rooms with views of the Nile. Flights are not too bad. Something like $2400 for both of us.

We could have rented one room with two beds, but I am concerned I will snore and keep her awake.

I have to admit I have no interest in travel. If I were traveling with another person, it would be different. I would have company all the way. I would have help. As it is, I will be handling everything. If I use a restroom, I’ll have to take my carry-on with me. While I’m moving around in airports on each end, I’ll have to drag everything I have everywhere I go, because there will be no one to watch my bags. I’ll have to board my birds myself. I’ll have to secure the house. There will be no one to share meals with en route.

Egypt is an interesting place, and some of the foundations of Greek, Roman, and therefore American civilization came through Egypt. Unfortunately, I know nearly nothing about Egypt’s history, and I am not likely to learn during the weeks before I visit. Maybe I can pick up a few things, but basically, I expect to be an ignorant tourist, carted around by guides chosen on the basis of Internet reviews.

I have to prepare Rebecca. Zambia is a stable, pleasant country, but Zambians don’t spend a lot on belongings. She will need decent shoes and clothing, not to mention luggage that won’t explode the first time a baggage handler drops it. She’ll need whatever preparation is required in order to make her phone work in Egypt.

Her travel experience will be easier than mine, to the tune of about 6 hours. Cairo is about 3300 miles from her, so flying to Cairo will be about like flying to Italy from New York. Speaking of New York, I will be stuck in JFK for over 5 hours. I had hoped I would never see New York again. I suppose I will only be idle for about 4-1/2 hours because of debarking and boarding time. Still, it’s more time than I would like to spend there.

When I came home from Israel in 1984, I landed at JFK and had to stay overnight to get a flight to Kentucky. My grandfather picked me up. He had to drive over 60 miles each way. When I got to New York, I bought a ticket and called my grandparents, and he said he would come get me. There was never any question about it; he looked forward to it. On the way home, he took me to a place like Golden Corral, and of course, he picked up the check. He was a great grandfather. Anyway, I didn’t enjoy sitting up all night at the airport.

I’m not excited about flying or Egypt itself, but I can’t wait to meet Rebecca. I’ll be meeting this extraordinary woman for the very first time. Finally, we’ll be able to talk without using phones. We won’t have to hang up. We won’t have to schedule. It should be fantastic. Egypt won’t be too big a price to pay. I would even be willing to go to Miami. Me going back to Miami would be like Henri Charrière going back to Devil’s Island.

I’ve always wanted marriage, but it has always eluded me. I’ve never been interested in fornication or temporary relationships, and I didn’t want to be alone. Finally, I’m getting my shot, and God has provided a woman who seems just about perfect. My hopes have been greatly exceeded. I wish we could meet under more pleasant circumstances, but I will take what I can get, with wonder and gratitude.

I hope we will be together permanently this year. We are praying for favor from everyone involved. I don’t want to have to travel several times a year to be with the woman I love, and I don’t want her to have to travel, either.

I hope Israel will be the next country we visit together. It would be nice to share time in the country that belongs to the kind God who gave us to each other.

Plus Praise Report

Today (May 26) during our first daily prayer session, “Rebecca” and I talked about cooking.

The subject came up while we were discussing Derek Prince, the English evangelist. We both enjoy his teaching videos and books. We have been watching his videos on marriage.

I watched a video about the duties of a wife. A lot of what he said seemed right, but I noticed a couple of things. He didn’t have much to say about sex and attraction, and he seemed to be buffaloed concerning the topic of submission.

No teacher is perfect. I recommend Prince to people all the time, but I have one reservation about him. Although he married twice, he seems feminine.

What this makes me wonder is whether he is a good judge of a woman’s duties in marriage.

Like many Christians, he seems skittish about the subject of female submission. He refers to the scripture in Ephesians that says Christians should submit to each other, without reference to sex.

Here it is:

And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit;

Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord;

Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ;

Submitting yourselves one to another in the fear of God.

Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord.

For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body.

Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing.

Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it;

That he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word,

That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish.

As you can see, the part about submitting to each other is a general admonition aimed at Christians as a whole. The part about wives is specifically directed to them, and it is followed by, “the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church.”

Is Jesus supposed to submit to us? Do I even have to answer that?

We only know of one example of Jesus submitting to another believer. He allowed John the Baptist to baptize him, and John, knowing Jesus was in authority over him, questioned it.

Here is the exchange:

But John forbad him, saying, I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me?

And Jesus answering said unto him, Suffer it to be so now: for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness. Then he suffered him.

After the baptism, John lost followers to Jesus, and John was glad. He knew Jesus was his head.

Here is what Peter said:

Likewise, ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands; that, if any obey not the word, they also may without the word be won by the conversation of the wives;

While they behold your chaste conversation coupled with fear.

Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel;

But let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.

For after this manner in the old time the holy women also, who trusted in God, adorned themselves, being in subjection unto their own husbands:

Even as Sara obeyed Abraham, calling him lord: whose daughters ye are, as long as ye do well, and are not afraid with any amazement.

Likewise, ye husbands, dwell with them according to knowledge, giving honour unto the wife, as unto the weaker vessel, and as being heirs together of the grace of life; that your prayers be not hindered.

Obviously, wives are supposed to submit to husbands, and the reverse is not true.

Some people think female submission is a curse, but that’s wrong. Eve’s status as a helper, created “for the man,” was established BEFORE God cursed the earth.

When the curse was pronounced, God said, “thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.” Does this mean having the husband rule was a curse? No. Adam already had rule over Eve, and he failed to meet his obligation.

“Thy desire shall be to thy husband” means, “You will want to rule your husband.” You can look that up. God told Cain sin’s desire was to him, using the same idiom. When God added, “he shall rule over thee,” he was completing the curse: “You will be ruled over by one you want to rule.” Being ruled by a husband is not a curse unless you think you should be ruling him. If you love and trust your husband, being ruled over him is a blessing.

It works the same way with God. We are used to authorities who are corrupt, stupid, weak, and toxic, so it’s hard to accept the idea of being an unquestioning slave to God. If we had never known useless authorities, the idea of slavery to God would be just fine with us, and we would pursue it out of self-interest.

Eve, a drug-abusing feminist witch, brought her punishment on herself. She wanted to be greater than Adam and God. God was the perfect protector and provider, but she chose her own path, which was a path of forced subordination to someone she could not fully trust.

I mentioned Prince’s erroneous teaching to Rebecca, and she didn’t like it one bit. She said, “A creature with two heads is a monster.” That sums it up.

Modern men are terrified of feminists, so male Christians duck and dodge when it comes to submission. No wonder men are so effeminate and inclined to homosexuality now. We would rather please girlfriends and wives than God, so we become like them, not him.

There is a huge problem with femininity among black men in America. People think they’re the most masculine men, but there is actually an epidemic of black male femininity. Many only look masculine.

Women run many black households. Men are pursued and prized, like princesses in fairy tales. Black men tend to dress more like women than whites and Asians. They wear bright colors and daring outfits. They are more likely to wear colorful shoes and gobs of jewelry. They have a higher rate of homosexuality; the concept of “being on the down low” is well-known among blacks, but most white people don’t even know what it is. The majority of black American men impregnate women and then leave them to be de facto fathers of their children. Black women are providers and protectors in America.

Black women are well aware of the problem of effeminacy among black men. You can go to Youtube and watch them analyze it with extraordinary insight. It’s the reason some black women are turning to white men. They are tired of feeling they are not allowed to be feminine.

You may not believe black men are more likely to be homosexual, but it’s true. Consider the AIDS rate, which is higher among black men. It’s nearly impossible for a man to get AIDS from sex with a woman; look it up. And not enough black men are using intravenous drugs to explain the disparity.

White men are headed the same way. Whenever a bad idea takes over among black Americans, white Americans latch onto it and make it their own.

Black Americans already have feminism, in that they have female-dominated families and women who are much more successful and educated than men, as well as passive men who depend on them for income. They also have a sky-high abortion rate, an extremely low marriage rate, and an epidemic of attractive, successful, childless spinsters. Look at the future of white Americans who love feminism.

Jewish and Latin households also have major problems with matriarchy. It’s common for Jewish men to be terrified of their wives and mothers.

Derek Prince was born in 1915, and he was still intimidated by feminism. Makes you wonder what chance the rest of us have. The answer is that we need the Holy Spirit. One of his prime purposes is to negate the power of peer pressure. Peer pressure is the main tool of the Spirit of Antichrist.

We were talking about this today, and I noted that men have a way of taking over female pursuits. Men make better hairdressers, interior decorators, wedding planners, and clothing designers than women. Now castrated men are also turning out to be better “female” athletes. Rebecca added cooking to the conversation.

That got me thinking. I cook, and men are unquestionably more talented in the kitchen. Maybe it’s a bad idea for me to cook. I have to cook because I live alone, but should I continue when I’m married?

I thought about cooking in the Bible. I knew Sarah cooked for Abraham, on demand. I knew Rebecca (Isaac’s wife, not my Rebecca) cooked for Jacob, to get Esau’s blessing for him. Mary and Martha served food, and Lazarus did not. On the other hand, a pharaoh released a butler from prison but executed a baker.

I looked at the Bible a little later, and I saw that Gideon and Jacob both cooked. I haven’t seen any indication that God disapproved. What should I conclude?

Maybe the best thing is to turn the kitchen over to Rebecca in the future. I can show her what I know and take my hands off. Maybe I’ll just cook on special occasions.

I don’t have any other feminine pursuits. I can’t sew or knit. I hate musicals. I don’t have a lot of interest in furnishing a house. Kenny G. gives me indigestion.

I suppose if Rebecca rules the kitchen, it will make our lives go more smoothly. She is horrified by my ideas about kitchen decoration (none) and equipment (institutional). To me, the perfect kitchen is a room with stainless steel walls and a tile floor with a drain. I would have a garden hose hanging on one wall if I could. Not homey, but man, would it produce.

A kitchen is a kind of workshop, so I think of it as a place that should be practical and filled with good tools. It’s hard to reconcile that with female notions of domesticity.

Rebecca is not a hotshot cook right now, but I can turn her into one, fast.

If she has to trust me, I suppose I have to trust her as well.

In other news, I have a praise report.

When Rebecca and I pray, I pray for God to give us favor with people. The word says that when a man’s ways please God, God will make even his enemies to be at peace with him. In a time of increasing persecution, I want government employees and everyone else who seems to have power over us to be blind to anything that could cause friction with us, and I want God to move them to help us instead. We are going to be working on immigration, among other things, and we will need God’s help to get Satan’s children on our side.

Yesterday, my food processor stopped working. It made a horrible noise while I was making pizza. Somehow, I got the wrong idea. I thought it had gears in it.

I opened it up with difficulty, and I saw that everything inside was fine. Then it occurred to me to check the blade. It was damaged, so it was letting the processor’s shaft spin inside the hub.

I had destroyed four caps that covered screws in the top of the machine, and I had also damaged the plastic cover on the shaft.

I should add that before I got into the machine, I got so discouraged I started shopping for a new machine. It looks like all the new ones except Robot Coupe (very expensive) have issues. I nearly blew $230 on a machine recommended by America’s Test Kitchen.

I ordered the cheapest used blade I could find, and it came in at around $20. I saw that a shaft cover cost around the same amount. Then I noticed that someone on the web said he had gotten a new shaft cover (“sheath”) for a few dollars from Cuisinart. It wasn’t listed on their website.

After 9 p.m., I called Cuisinart, expecting to hear that they weren’t open for business. I got a very nice lady who didn’t seem to understand the mechanics of the processor. I explained things patiently, and finally, she found the part. She said she would complete the order and send it. I said I needed to know the price. She said she would send it for nothing!

I decided to see what a new blade cost. She said she wasn’t sure. She thought it was around $8.50. She could check and put it on the same order.

After a few minutes, she told me it was on the way. I asked about payment information. She said there was no charge!

On the web, new ones cost at least $40.

I damaged two parts of the machine, and she covered it for nothing. I canceled the Ebay sheath order.

How about that? Total favor, and the lady could not have been nicer. Told me to have a great week and so on. I saved at least $35.

As for the caps on top of the machine, I filled the holes with silicone caulk. Done.

When the new stuff arrives, I’ll pound the new sheath onto the shaft, and I’ll be in business again. Until then, if I need to make dough, I can do it by hand or use one of my stand mixers.

The old sheath still works. It’s just chewed up from me working on it. I could probably restore the blade by pouring epoxy into the hub. Anyway, I have a different blade for dough if I really need it. I don’t know if it will work for small batches, but it might.

That’s about it for today. Sufficient unto the day are the blessings thereof.

But Jews Still Vote for Democrats

Today someone who may or may not want to be mentioned sent me the following image:

In case you can’t see, it’s two pictures, side by side. One features a bunch of sexually corrupted people holding a banner that reads, “Queers for Palestine.” The other shows a blindfolded man being thrown off a roof, and it says, “Palestine for Queers.”

Does it accurately portray the hypocrisy of the left? Yes. It does.

I checked around, and I found that it’s true that homosexual men are punished and discouraged in Gaza and the West Bank. A prominent Palestinian activist was tortured and killed as recently as 2016. His experience was extreme, but other examples show that it’s true that Palestinians are very hard on homosexuals.

I read a relevant article by a homosexual activist, and while he seemed to be trying to be fair, he was not. He said he disapproved of certain things Israel was doing, and he said being against Israel’s policies was not the same thing as being anti-Semitic.

I used to think this was true, but sometimes it isn’t. It depends on how consistent you are. Inconsistency reveals bigotry.

What if you’re against slavery, and you condemn the slavery of blacks in Europe and the Americas, but you never make a peep about the continuing slavery practiced around the world by Muslims? Can you really say you’re motivated by your disapproval of slavery? Of course not. If you really cared, you would go after Muslims, too. You would also criticize American Indians and sub-Saharan Africans, who also practiced slavery. You would criticize the black Africans who sold most of the slaves to traders.

What if you claim black lives matter, but you never talk about the thousands of blacks who are murdered by other blacks every year? What if you never mention the fact that a black baby conceived in New York City is more likely to be murdered by his mother and her abortionist than he is to be delivered alive?

What if you criticize Hitler while ignoring the tens of millions of people killed by Chinese and Russian communists?

What if you criticize right-wing corruption in Latin America while lionizing Fidel Castro and Che Guevara, who murdered, tortured, and imprisoned a big percentage of the Cuban people?

Leftist activists are very upset about what they perceive to be mistreatment of Palestinians by Israel, but what about other abuses around the world? Christians are routinely murdered all over the globe, and you can read about it whenever you like at Persecution.org. Where is the leftist sympathy? Persecution of Christians is ignored, even though it’s a huge problem.

No prominent leftist ever says we should boycott Egypt, Indonesia, or Saudi Arabia over the abuse of Christians. Somehow, Israel’s treatment of Palestinians is important, but killing or oppressing Christians is not a significant issue.

What’s the difference between Indonesia, to pick an example, and Israel? Here’s one that comes to mind: Indonesia isn’t the Jewish homeland and the only place in the world where Jews can be protected from extermination.

The premise isn’t, “Mistreatment is bad, so let’s report on it and fight it.” The premise is, “Jews have their own country, so we have to look for ways to take it away and make it easier to solve ‘the Jewish Question.'”

All leftists may not realize this is their motivation, because they are supernaturally blinded, but it truly is what drives anti-Israel hysteria. Satan wants Jews to have to move to countries where they will be weak minorities who are easily rounded up and disposed of. Like all people who don’t know the Holy Spirit, homosexuals are influenced very heavily by evil spirits, so they do Satan’s bidding, and we should not be surprised to see them attacking God’s chosen people

Homosexuals are also persecuting Christians with tremendous zeal, and this is consistent with the desires of their master. In America, far and away, the most enraged enemies of Jesus Christ and the church are homosexuals. Muslims come in a distant second. Muslims aren’t trying to close bakeries. Muslims didn’t keep Chick fil-A out of Boston. Muslims don’t get people fired for “misgendering” castrated men. Muslims have had their little successes, but homosexuals are getting major things done.

I had a birthday not long ago, and a friend bought me a book called The Good Old Days. It was on my Amazon wish list, and she picked it randomly. I started reading it yesterday.

The book is full of Holocaust reports and records, compiled during or shortly after the Holocaust, by people who were responsible for it. It’s strange that my friend happened to choose this book, about which she knew nothing, when there were so many things on the list.

The book was originally published in Germany, where many efforts have been made to publicize Nazi atrocities. The copy I have is a translation.

It’s disturbing reading. Whenever you think you understand how bad European anti-Semitism was during the last century, you should pick up a book on the subject, because you will be surprised. I can mention examples.

The book mentions events that took place in Lithuania, which was occupied by Germans. Lithuanians, with some German help, rounded up tens of thousands of Jews for liquidation. In a town called Kovno, they brought them in lots to a gas station, where young Lithuanian men beat them to death with clubs and crowbars. They didn’t do it carefully or skillfully. A young man would simply have a victim approach him, and he would hit him as hard as possible until he stopped moving. A water hose was used to wash the blood away during the event.

Here’s the remarkable thing: there was a huge crowd of happy Lithuanians around the gas station. One mother lifted her son onto her shoulders so he could see the beatings clearly. The crowd cheered and clapped.

The book says many men who were ordered to shoot Jews in mass killings quit because they couldn’t take the stress. Some even ended up in mental institutions. On the other hand, many could not get enough. The Germans didn’t have to scour Europe looking for murderers. Volunteers were abundant.

A German officer named Franz kept a St. Bernard dog named Barry. When he felt like being cruel, he would tell the dog, “Man, catch the dog,” referring to a Jewish prisoner. Barry would then bite pieces out of the victim, sometimes ripping off genitals. Franz is also accused of meeting trains full of victims and kicking babies to death.

Don’t sneer at Lithuanians and Germans. They’re no worse than we are. It can happen in America, and eventually, it will. It’s already trying to break out. Jews are being attacked in our cities today.

The “good old days” are what anti-Israel liberals want to send Jews back to. When Israel was reconstituted, atrocities like the ones described above were fresh in the Jewish consciousness, and they drove Jewish nationalism. “Progressives” don’t care, because they don’t know the facts and wouldn’t be persuaded if they did. To hip leftists, being fashionable is imperative; the truth means nothing. Don’t research the past. Don’t ask yourself what motivated millions of Jews to leave their homes in fertile, prosperous nations and move to the desert. Just give in to peer pressure and win “likes” on Facebook and Instagram.

Am I proposing a solution, or just criticizing? I can’t propose a solution that will fix the world or even the Middle East. These things won’t happen, because people won’t listen. I can, however, point out that the Holy Spirit is the answer for those who want to be separated from the scuffle and protected. The Holy Spirit tells every person the same things. He ends disagreement. He makes us brothers and sisters. If a significant percentage of human beings knew him, the world would be at peace. If you know him, he can bring peace and safety to you, even as the waves crash around you.

People should be humbling themselves, fasting, and getting baptized with the Holy Spirit. They should be begging God to forgive them for helping bring wars and plagues on the world. Coronavirus has been with us for well over a year, and there is still no popular prayer and repentance movement. The cold civil war in the US hasn’t generated repentance, either. Nearly all human beings are sure we need things like vaccines and political answers. We worship man’s strength and the government. This is why things won’t get better. The Bible clearly says those who trust in the strength of man are cursed. Cursed people continue to fail and suffer.

I believe Israel will become less and less popular. Its leaders will make mistakes the press will use to push the notion that Israel is evil, and even when Israel does things right, journalists and politicans will slander it. This is how things have gone so far, so why should the future be any different? Sooner or later, the propaganda will drown support for Israel. It has already been effective on most Jews, who should be the most resistant people of all, so it’s foolish to think it won’t work on the rest of mankind.

How blind humanity has become. The rapture can’t come soon enough.

Pray for Open Eyes

“Rebecca” and I have something to celebrate today. Yesterday, she decided to stop working on her bar exam.

Rebecca used to be career-driven. Now things are different. God has been transforming her, and her priorities have changed. She was supposed to start cramming for her exam last year, but she was not able to summon the necessary enthusiasm. As a result, she felt ill-prepared this year.

Exam stress has been a huge weight on her, and studying has interfered with our time together and her relationship with God. She wasn’t able to pray as much as she wanted. She couldn’t read Christian books or watch helpful videos. Lately, we have been limiting the time we spent praying together, and it was a big problem. When you’re Spirit-led, the last thing you want is to start a prayer session by saying, “We only have five minutes.” Flexibility is essential when you serve the Spirit of Holiness. If he wants an hour or more, you need to be free to comply.

This week she felt as though exams were not going the way she wanted, and last night, she made her decision. Prior to this, the plan was to complete the first cluster of exams and then stop.

The strange thing is that after she told me, I felt as though I were the one who had dropped the weight. I felt drained. I wanted to sleep. I hadn’t thought of her problem as a burden to me, but the sense of relief was overwhelming. I slept very well, and I woke up feeling very rested. It seems there is a supernatural connection between us, and we are sharing the same feelings.

As for Rebecca, she looks very different today. Her skin looks toned and bright. Her face seems to glow. We both noticed it. She says her youth has returned.

Psalm 103 says God renews his servants’ youth like that of the eagles. In the Bible, eagles are angels. When Jesus told the disciples how to know whether he had returned to earth, he said where the body was, the eagles would gather. He was referring to spirits that serve him. Two spirits that serve him were found at the tomb when he was resurrected, and apparently, they will be with him when he comes back.

We know that spirits in heaven surround God and praise him, and we know God strengthens those who are in his presence. Perhaps renewing your strength like the eagle’s means spending time near God and having your vitality restored. The word says to rest in God.

In any case, Rebecca will now be able to spend more time in his presence.

I heard Kenneth Copeland repeat a ridiculous myth about eagles. He said an old eagle will shed its old feathers and the outer layers of its beak and be physically rejuvenated. This doesn’t happen, of course. Eagles get old and die. Angels, on the other hand, do not.

It’s amazing how preachers will repeat nonsense, without investigation, when they can’t hear the Holy Spirit. Unbelievers hear it and draw the conclusion that Christianity itself is nonsense.

In other news, the press is saying anti-Jewish attacks are increasing in the US. If so, thanks, Democrats. It’s a pity so few Jews have avoided the trap of conflating Christians and conservatives with Nazis, and it’s unfortunate that around 90% of them consistently embrace their enemies and sponsor them financially.

Many anti-Semites, and perhaps many Jews, think our government favors Israel because of a mysterious, hidden group of rich Jews who control journalists and politicians with money. In reality, Christians are behind it. Our numbers are many times those of American Jews, and politicians are afraid of us. When Joe Biden feels compelled to help Israel, it’s not because he’s scared of the Jews, who make up about 2% of the electorate and who will vote for his party regardless of what it does. He’s afraid of the many tens of millions of Christian voters.

A supernatural delusion prevents most Jews from seeing this.

Anti-Semitism is a big problem among blacks, Hispanics, and of course, people from Muslim countries. Americans are afraid to correct people belonging to minorities, so the problem keeps growing. I think a lot of Jews expect their persecutors to show up in pickup trucks with Confederate flags, but in reality, the pickup people are more likely to defend them and donate money to charities that help Jews.

The worst thing about increasing anti-Semitism is that it is likely to include more and more white leftists who have fallen under the influence of BLM and Antifa. BLM is openly against Israel, which is no surprise, given the shocking prevalence of anti-Jewish hatred among American blacks. Antifa also sides with Israel’s persecutors. Most American kids have no connection to the Holy Spirit now, and many think it’s cool to protest and riot, so we should expect anti-Semitism to become much more mainstream in the near future. Presumably, we will eventually see cheerful selfies of white suburban kids beating Jews.

Rebecca and I have been praying for Israel, and we will continue, but ultimately, the spread of belief in Yeshua and the baptism with the Holy Spirit are the only things that can bring real peace. Only God puts Palestinians and Jews in church together as brothers. Peace talks and appeasement through giving up precious territory don’t really help.

Israel’s enemies are not interested in coexistence, so giving up land is pointless. If Israel only had one acre, the Palestinians would kill to get it. If the Jews left the country entirely, Muslims would still try to exterminate them. That’s why Israel exists. The Jews need one piece of land they can defend, because things haven’t gone well when they’ve relied on protection from gentile nations.

It’s tragic that Jews have created a religion which requires them to live in cities. It concentrates them among their worst enemies. They’re like sheep in corrals, waiting to be slaughtered by their neighbors.

God’s word provides a shocking confirmation of what happens when Jews live in gentile nations:

Thou hast given us like sheep appointed for meat; and hast scattered us among the heathen.

Yea, for thy sake are we killed all the day long; we are counted as sheep for the slaughter.

Those passages are from Psalm 44.

Israel created nuclear weapons (supposedly) and a big war machine to defend itself, but Jews in America have done nothing whatsoever. They have made themselves as vulnerable as possible. It’s a strange contrast.

I wonder if Israel really has the bomb. Nuclear weaponry is very expensive, and fissionable material is hard to get. Israel has no nuclear power plants. Israel has never had a confirmed bomb test. If they’re bluffing, I hope they continue to succeed.

In short, overall, the Jewish strategy for self-defense is more like a strategy for partial extinction. Support your enemies. Fight your friends. Fight firearm ownership. Concentrate yourself in small, undefended areas so rioters can reach you using mass transit and even on foot. Then dress conspicuously.

I look forward to continued improvement in my life and Rebecca’s life, especially with our new freedom. I hope we can help as many others as possible.

A Tip to Make Things Easier for You

Some very odd things have happened.

Weeks ago, “Rebecca,” my Zambian girlfriend had a dream. She saw the Lion of Judah. Spirits attacked her, and she cried to him for help. He didn’t help until she started praising him. She praised him because she recalled the scripture which says God inhabits the praises of his people. As she praised him, he came to her and removed the hostile spirits.

He had flags attached to him. Two were American, and one was Haitian. Before the dream, she hadn’t been aware of the design of the Haitian flag. She described the flag she saw, and somehow it seemed to me that it might be Haitian, so we looked it up. My impression was confirmed. We thought the American flags represented us, and the Haitian flag represented one of my Haitian friends.

A few days back, I got some revelation involving praise. Isaiah describes Satan as a worship leader in heaven. The failed spirit Lucifer, who was a cherub, used to hover above God’s throne, praising and making music. I started thinking about cherubs.

The Ark of the Covenant was a wooden box. Wood is human flesh, because trees symbolize men. Inside the box, the Hebrews put the commandment tablets, manna, and Aaron’s rod. The presence of God rested in the box. On top of the box, there were two figures representing cherubs. Only two.

When Jesus was resurrected, two angels were found at his tomb. Only two. The ark, which represented Jesus, was literally covered by two cherubs. The body of Jesus was also accompanied by two angels. It was the true ark, and they were the cherubs portrayed above the wooden ark.

I use the word “angel” loosely. An angel is a messenger. A cherub is a certain type of spirit that serves God.

The purpose of the resurrection was to raise up a race of beings like Jesus. The Bible makes this clear. Jesus was a man, and he was part of the tribe of Judah, even though priests come from the tribe of Levi. “Judah” literally means “praise.” When I thought about this, somehow I realized our purpose was to replace Lucifer and do his job. No wonder he hates us so much. It’s as if someone dragged Beyonce off a stage and threw her into a cesspool while inviting obscure Christians to come up and sing hymns. Her diva rage would be immeasurable.

No wonder pride is the main weapon Satan uses to drag us down with him. Like him, we like to praise ourselves. Seems to be an occupational hazard when your purpose is to praise God.

Jesus also traveled with two cherubs in the Old Testament. He appeared to Abraham among a group of three men. When God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah, he sent two great angels. He, himself, had withdrawn from those cities. It was a picture of the tribulation.

God showed Rebecca and me the power of praise.

The Hebrews leveled Jericho with it. They didn’t use tools. They marched around the city, which was a way of praising God. They marched on seven successive days, and on the last day, they circled the city seven times. Seven is the number of the Holy Spirit and of completion. Their marches were praise. So was the final shout that brought the walls down.

When Paul and Silas were chained in a jail, they praised God with song. The earth shook and broke them free. God himself showed up in their praise to save them.

When Moses, Aaron, and Hur held up Aaron’s rod, the Hebrews defeated their enemies. When Moses lowered it, the battle turned against the Hebrews. Lifting the rod was praise.

We have started setting time aside for praise. This morning, we praised God and prayed in tongues for 20 minutes before we prayed together with our understanding. If you can sense the supernatural, you will feel God’s power and faith rise up around you while you praise him. Even if you can’t feel it, it will happen, unless something is wrong with you.

Interesting fact: the Jews are named for praise. “Jew” comes from “Judah,” and “Judah” means “praise.” Today Rebecca cited Isaiah 43:21, which says, “This people have I formed for myself; they shall shew forth my praise.” I wonder how many Jews realize this is why their race was created. It wasn’t to follow rules. The tribe named Dan (“judge”) was lost, but God preserved Judah.

Look at Psalm 40, which is a Jewish scripture:

And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the Lord.

Blessed is that man that maketh the Lord his trust, and respecteth not the proud, nor such as turn aside to lies.

Many, O Lord my God, are thy wonderful works which thou hast done, and thy thoughts which are to us-ward: they cannot be reckoned up in order unto thee: if I would declare and speak of them, they are more than can be numbered.

Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire; mine ears hast thou opened: burnt offering and sin offering hast thou not required.

Lucifer destroyed himself by intercepting praise and glory. He was close to God while others praised God, and Lucifer was beautiful and talented, so eventually he started “embezzling” praise for himself. He decided he could outdo God as supreme being. God saw this in his heart, and Lucifer fell from heaven like lightning, taking one third of the angels with him. This left one third for Gabriel and one third for Michael. Presumably, we will replace the lost third, under Yeshua. We should be doing it already, praising God every day.

If you give God glory, he does the hard work for you. God doesn’t want you to glorify him for things you did; that would be theft. It would make God like Satan. If he wants us to give him credit for everything, it has to be because he intends to accomplish everything for us. Praise must be a conduit of power.

Jesus is the Lion of Judah, so he is literally the Lion of Praise. This is why he noticed and helped Rebecca in the dream. When she began to praise him, she began to function correctly, so he supported her.

The Bible doesn’t call Jesus the Lion of Obedience, the Lion of Dietary Laws, or the Lion of Excessive Studying.

Satan is like a lion, too. The Lion of Feces. Jesus and Satan are both looking around, trying to find out whom they may take with them. You will end up caught up in the tail of the one you praise. If you praise anything but Jesus–hard work, talent, the government, riches, false gods–you praise Satan, and he is allowed to devour you. You are stealing God’s glory and putting it where it shouldn’t be, so you are committing the error of Satan.

When God shows me things like this, I’m amazed at how wrong the church has been for the last 2000 years. They tell us to praise God, but I’ve never seen anyone tell us we were supposed to replace Satan in praise. I’ve never seen anyone say praise makes God’s power flow in our lives. It’s not just a way of honoring him. It’s a way of getting him to do the kinds of things he did in the Bible.

On the other hand, praising yourself by believing in hard work and natural ability cuts off his help and makes you weak and vulnerable. So do praising other people and praising other spirits.

This morning before we started talking, Rebecca sent me a meme saying, “All the Glory to Jesus Christ.” She sent it while I was thinking about the power of praise. I didn’t prompt her. She was the first one to send anything.

When we started praying together, I was listening to Julie True. She started singing things like, “With everything within me, I praise you,” “Enter into his gates with thanksgiving and praise,” and, “You are worthy of our praise.” She kept doing that while we prayed. She was singing scripture.

It was spooky. It’s very obvious God was telling us what to do. He was very bold about it.

The Bible says to test the spirits, so I suggest you try what I’m doing. Spend time praising God. Just sit in a chair and tell him, “I praise you,” if that’s all you can think of. Thank him, too. “”In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

Try it for a half-hour or more. See what happens. Also, remember to thank God for things. Never take credit. When you do things, remember to tell him that without his help, you can’t do whatever it is you’re trying to do, even if you’re just making toast or tying your shoes. Tell him only he can make it happen. It’s true.

You Can’t Anoint Yourself

Today, somehow, I came across the name of Johnny Enlow. He says he’s a prophet. He belongs to the Seven Mountains movement, which teaches that Christians are going to take over every aspect of society, right now, before the return of Jesus. Doesn’t the Revelation say the Great Whore sits on seven mountains?

He pals around with a man named Doug Addison, who was a favorite of the late wife of my last pastor, who was imprisoned for molesting a little girl many times.

Incidentally, I find it disturbing that my former pastor was released on probation. He didn’t even do three years. Pedophiles–molesters of young children, not men who give in to aggressive high school girls while drunk–have an extremely high rate of recidivism. When a pedophile is caught, it’s usually after he has gone through multiple victims. When they’re released, a very large percentage of them molest again. I don’t think my former pastor’s niece was his first or last victim. He showed inappropriate attention to the young daughter of a friend of mine while we were at church. On one occasion, he presented her with a Christmas ornament he had bought somewhere, just for her. Her parents were not happy. I would hate to be held accountable for every bad thing I’ve done, but it seems to me the state is betting and using little girls as chips.

Pedophilia isn’t like stealing cars or robbing houses. It’s the result of a compulsion. No one lies awake at night fantasizing about stealing a Mercedes. No one goes online looking at pictures of houses being broken into. True pedophiles are addicts. They can’t necessarily quit just because they’re told to.

The mother of the victim offered my ex-pastor a chance to avoid prosecution. He just had to quit preaching, and things would be taken care of privately. He complied for a while, and then, unbelievably, he returned to the pulpit. That’s why he went to prison. It wasn’t for sexual assault. He was imprisoned for being too proud to listen. A gargantuan ego like that is not likely to be fazed by a short prison term. If anything, leniency may encourage him.

Hope I’m wrong, partly for his sake, but mostly for the sake of people his actions may devastate.

I believe in humility and forgiveness, but sometimes a person has to be labeled and dealt with.

The pastor’s wife was named Allie. Allie used to repost Addison’s material on Facebook, back when I had an account. I soured on Addison for a couple of reasons.

First, he used his followers to get himself a new couch. There was some sort of contest. I believe people were supposed to vote for him. Anyway, the winner got a new couch. Addison won the couch, and he put up a photo of himself sitting on it, pleased as punch. Imagine Jesus doing that.

Second, he interpreted people’s tattoos. God hates tattoos, as evinced by the Mosaic law against tattooing, and spirits enter people during the tattooing process. Only an ignorant Christian could think “interpreting” tattoos, without dispensing any accompanying cautions, was a good thing. Addison is no better than a palm reader, which is to say, a practitioner of the occult, like a witch or astrologer. If Enlow were really a prophet, he would not want to associate with him.

Enlow has a Facebook page. I saw the page a long time ago, when I was still using Facebook. He posted something or other about illegal immigration, seemingly in favor of it, and I corrected him. The Old Testament clearly says it’s a curse when aliens rise up above a country’s citizens. Enlow flipped out and told me I was a racist.

It’s somewhat remarkable that anyone could read the stories of Nehemiah, Ezra, Zedekiah, and Jesus himself and not see that domination by foreigners is a curse caused by rebellion against God. I shouldn’t have to explain it to anyone who owns a Bible. The Hebrews were oppressed over and over in their own land, and they were driven out by their final oppressors, the Romans. God didn’t let these things happen because he was against Jewish racism and xenophobia. He did it because the Hebrews worshiped false gods.

Today I learned that Enlow thinks Trump won the election. He’s right in there with people like Kat Kerr and Hank Kunneman. There is a tremendous crop of professional Christian reality-deniers.

Real prophets can predict the future. They can’t unpredict things that already happened. Trump lost, probably because people worshiped him instead of God.

Enlow has gone so far as to say Trump would replace Jesus in our calendar. Instead of BC and AD, we would say “Before Trump” and “After Trump.”

How can you have the temerity to claim you can predict the future when you can’t even predict the present?

It shouldn’t surprise anyone when a Dominionist (Seven Mountains) adherent turns a politician into a false god. Politics is carnal, and so is the idea that Christians will rule the world before the return of Christ. It’s the same idea the disciples had, before Jesus rebuked them. He said his kingdom was not of this world and that it was within his followers. These things are still true. Jesus will not rule here as a king until after Satan is bound. A planet can’t have two rulers.

Enlow claims he had a vision and saw Trump with a golden crown and scepter. He says Biden has no scepter. He may not have a scepter, but he has the White House, Air Force One, Marine One, command of all our armed forces, the nuclear football, and the power to pack the Supreme Court without our consent. He is definitely the president. There is no question that the Democrats, and some Republicans, committed fraud. Doesn’t matter. The courts made their decisions, and under our Constitution, their word is law. Crazy as it sounds to anyone who remembers Biden’s past, he is the president.

I took a look at Enlow’s “prophesy” for 2020. Most of it was teaching, not prediction. The predictive parts were very vague, and none were correct. He said 2020 would be a year of roaring justice, and that never happened.

He issued a prediction to people he called “the swamp,” in every nation. Here it is:

“Though the pride of the wicked reaches to the heavens and their heads touch the clouds, yet they will vanish forever, thrown away like their own dung. They will fade like a dream and not be found. They will vanish like a vision in the night… His children must make amends to the poor. His own hands must give back his wealth…He will spit out the riches he swallowed; God will make his stomach vomit them up…What he toiled for he must give back uneaten; he will not enjoy the profit from his trading. For he has oppressed the poor and left them destitute…he cannot save himself by his treasure…his prosperity will not endure. In the midst of his plenty, distress will overtake him, THE FULL FORCE OF MISERY WILL COME UPON HIM…GOD WILL VENT HIS BURNING ANGER AGAINST HIM AND RAIN DOWN HIS BLOWS UPON HIM. THE HEAVENS WILL EXPOSE HIS GUILT AND THE EARTH WILL RISE UP AGAINST HIM.” Job 20: (from 6-27)

Were the wicked thrown away like their own dung last year? Not really. Did they spit out the riches they swallowed? Not yet. Did the heavens expose their guilt? Did the earth rise up against them? Not at all. And 2020 is over, so there is no possibility Enlow will turn out to be right.

Enlow is pretty annoyed with people who hold false prophets accountable, in spite of the very clear Bible teaching requiring us to do this. Here’s something he posted after Trump lost:

Can you get back into contending for your nation—and save the bashing of prophets still contending for your nation— for a day when your very nation’s free existence is no longer at stake? If the ground around you unexplainably shakes know that God is pointedly giving you a sign to heed this message.

How many people have been destroyed by the doctrine of protecting frauds? False prophets were highly destructive to Israel, and they are still destructive today. We have oily characters all over TV, telling the poor to send them money in exchange for riches from God. People lose their savings and end up living with their children because of them, and they are discouraged from getting God’s true blessings of protection and correction. Jesus complained that the priests of his time made a show of praying in public while they devoured people’s houses. It’s still happening.

Enlow is a sports fan, and he thinks God reveals things through the NFL. Spectator sports are extremely carnal, and they have caused problems for God’s people since the Greeks conquered Israel. It appears Enlow is not aware of this. American men idolize sports figures now. We give them the kind of devotion and admiration only God deserves. A real prophet would not take his sick hobby and turn it into part of his religion.

Regarding the Kansas City Chiefs’ Super Bowl victory in 2020, he wrote this incredible passage:

It was and is a good sign that both these teams were in the Super Bowl. It’s an accomplishment of note even by the losing team. Both speak into a JUBILEE time of prosperity. This was also part of the prophetic message from LSU winning the College Football National Championship, as they were led by player of the year, Joseph Burrow (a Joseph prosperity call). The 49ers refer to the gold rush in California, and biblical Jubilee actually had a 49th year and 50th year component. It was repeatedly noted that Kansas City’s last Super Bowl win was 50 years ago. So, 49 and 50 were both highlighted, but the 50 wins. That is a good thing as well; it confirms that it’s not almost Jubilee, but presently yet another full Jubilee.

Did 2020 seem like a year of Jubilee to you? Unemployment benefits had to be extended because people lost their jobs. The IRS allowed IRA holders to forgo minimum distributions so they could keep earning. Huge numbers of businesses closed. Stimulus checks were mailed out.

Enlow said the Dow Jones Industrial Average would hit 35,000, but he was wrong. The number was right, but it happened in 2021, not 2020.

Here’s some even stranger material:

The Chiefs won on 2/2 of 2020. It was coach Andy Reid’s 222nd victory. I was in LA last weekend and as I was coming in, I was getting some pretty strong clues from Heaven that the Super Bowl signified an important shift, and that Kansas City was going to win. My flight coming in was #2222. My car rental ended in 220. I had about 3 other strong 222’s. The repeat patterns are to draw our attention to a message.

Isaiah 2:2 NASB (emphasis mine) says, “Now it will come about in the last days the mountain of the house of the Lord will be established as the CHIEF of the mountains…and all nations will stream to it.”

I didn’t make that up.

Why would a pastor spend thousands on a Super Bowl trip? Glorifying men is dangerous. The average price of a scalped ticket in 2020 was nearly $7000. You have to be under delusion to pay that kind of money to watch a football game.

As a preacher, Enlow is in a very good position. Preachers tend to fail upwards. When they utterly fail at their jobs, they still prosper, because they don’t have to do anything useful. They don’t have to make products or perform services that work. They don’t have to provide correct teaching. All they have to do is convince people to continue giving them money. When they make mistakes or get caught with hookers or other men’s wives, they say, “It’s an attack of Satan!” Their gaslighted followers lap it up and send more money. I doubt Enlow’s history of wrong prophecies will impact his income.

Peter Popoff was caught using radio equipment so his wife could feed him information about people so he could announce it in church and pretend it came from God. He still has a ministry. Jimmy Swaggart is still going strong. I’ll bet my former pastor ends up running another church. Merit has no relationship to preacher salaries.

No wonder Enlow criticizes people who point out his errors. They threaten his business model. Imagine how badly preachers would fare if their pay were linked to their performance.

For many preachers, the goal isn’t to serve God. It’s to convince people to give you money. Once you understand that, you have guaranteed income for life, regardless of how you disgrace yourself.

It always disgusts me when sports-crazy Christians try to drag God into their fetish. God does not endorse competitive sports. He hates zero-sum games. God teaches us to pray for our enemies. He wants as many people as possible to win. In every athletic competition, one person or team wins, and everyone else, without exception, goes home a loser. It ought to be obvious that God doesn’t support that system. He wants all of us to live in victory.

For every young man who succeeds in becoming a pro athlete, there are over 99 losers. Does that sound like God’s system, or Satan’s? Jesus is the only human being who ever won, and what did he do? He delivered himself to be murdered so we losers could be share his victory. We get to climb onto the podium with him, as though we had won in our own right.

In sports, a participation trophy is a disgrace. In Christianity, it’s the only trophy you can get.

God isn’t excited about fleeting glory. He wants us to have eternal prizes.

Think about this: Kareem Abdul Jabbar is a bad basketball player. There is no college team in America where he could make the cut. Why? Because he’s 74. Whatever he had is gone. His vertical leap is history. He’s slow. He’s prone to serious injury. Doesn’t matter what he used to be. His time is past, and it will never return.

A Christian, on the other hand, can be more effective at 90 than he was at 20, in every way. And when that Christian dies, he will take his treasures with him to heaven. Jordan’s money, houses, and trophies will stay right here. In heaven, if he gives up Islam and makes it, he’ll be just like the lady who cleans his toilets. She may be a bigger star there than he is.

I don’t call myself a prophet. God has shown me general things about the future, but real prophets make very specific predictions that come true. I don’t do that. I can’t swear Trump won’t bounce back via some kind of legal miracle. I don’t see it coming, however, and I can tell you for sure that Christians are not going to rule the earth during the present age.

Leftists have always been creatures of the Antichrist, and many Christians and conservatives are in the same boat. Trusting in Trump and football players is idolatry. It makes men false messiahs, and every false messiah is an antichrist. That’s what “antichrist” means. Trusting in militias and rifles is also idolatry. When the rapture comes, Christians who are worshiping Trump and rioting against BLM and Antifa are going to stay right here. I expect Johnny Enlow to stay here, too, unless he changes his ways.

He needs to pray in tongues and fight pride and greed. He needs to ask for revelation and correction.

I’ll pray for him after I get done writing this. I have no reason to feel superior. Whenever I feel proud, I can turn to the Bible page where I jotted down Steve Munsey’s ridiculous “Seven Blessings of Passover” as though they were the truth.