My Beef With Miami Coming to an End

Good news on the housing front. I am putting in an offer on a second house in northern Florida. I can’t steal Internet photos of it and put them up, because nuts would be able to search for the photos and find the address, but I can use some shots they can’t track down.

That’s the workshop. Here is what I like about that, apart from the fact that it’s a big honking workshop: it has a porch. A SHADED porch. Okay, so you spend your morning breaking things, failing to use tools correctly, making a mess, and sustaining minor injuries. All the things guys like to do in their shops. Then in the afternoon, you open the side door, lift the lid on your cooler, grab a Sierra Nevada, and sit in your swing, staring at the confused steers that ground your agricultural tax exemption.

That, my friends, is living.

Here’s another interesting shot.

That is the “wet weather pond.” The listing agent claims it’s a feature. I would think of it as more as a pedestrian hazard/snake and mosquito breeding pit, but then I am a suburb person. There is a big berm right near it, and I’m guessing the berm came from the pond, so that would mean someone actually built this hole deliberately. I don’t know about that, but I know what a berm means: no gun range fees.

Here is a partial view of the cleared side of the property. Here is what it contains, that I like: distance. I can be on this lot, a minimum of say 120 yards from anyone who is a) yammering in Spanish and angry with me for not speaking a foreign language in my own country, or b) just generally being rude to me. In practice, that distance would typically be more like 175 miles, but 120 yards is about as small as it could get in a worst-case scenario.

Here’s another great shot.

That’s one of my driveways. Notice that it does not go anywhere. That’s the beauty part. Aggravating people will make it 15 feet down the driveway and then find themselves in dirt and leaves, behind a gate which I will probably have welded shut. There is a gate that works, up by the house. I may weld that one shut, too.

Now I know what to call the place. “GET THE HELL OFF MY LAWN FARMS.” If not that, then “GRAN TORINO ACRES.”

“No. I don’t believe Steve is interested in buying any Girl Scout Cookies.”

Why do people name their farms “farms”? If you have one farm, it’s not “Sunny Hill Farms.” It’s “Sunny Hill FARM.”

I am hoping I may be able to retain the farm’s staff. Here they are on a break.

Actually, they may be working in that photo.

The lady who showed us the property called those creatures “bulls,” but I suspect they have had some minor surgery, along the lines of what Bruce Jenner recently had. It would be a little odd to put two bulls together on one lot, even in 2017. I have spent most of my life in the suburbs, but I am pretty sure bulls hate each other.

My grandfather had two in one herd, though. I guess I don’t know everything.

This ought to work out. The appraisal came in close to the asking price, so the owners aren’t living in a fantasy world. I want a little money off, because the place has been on the market for 400 days, but I don’t expect them to give it away. With God’s help, we will have a contract next week.

How do you get a property inspected from 300 miles away? I guess the owner will deal with the inspector. They always miss things, anyway. Inspectors make you feel good, and then they leave you holding the bag. A lot of the money we pay to professional people is mainly intended to make us feel good.

Getting out of South Florida is like being released from hell. By that I mean I felt like I was trapped here. My dad agreed to get out four years ago (when I started looking to move and leave him here), and then reasons to delay kept coming up. Then he forgot our agreement. Now he’s all about leaving. He hates Miami. It’s like it was his idea to leave.

I’m going to sell every last thing we have here, as soon as tax considerations permit, and I will cut every remaining tie. After that, forget this place. Let global warming come and drown it. I’ll be safe and secure, at a lofty elevation of nearly 80 feet. Like the Grinch on Mount Crumpet.

“MOUNT CRUMPET FARMS.”

If, for some reason, this place doesn’t fall into my hands, I have another one lined up, and it’s even more rural. I’m talking Deliverance without the perversion and inbreeding (I assume). That place will suit me just as well. It has a workshop you could build a space shuttle in.

I’m thinking of getting a remailing service. The Florida Bar requires me to maintain a mailing address, but I don’t practice, and I don’t want spammers and idiots bothering me. For $15 per month, you can have your mail sent to a service, and they scan it and send you pictures. Then you tell them to throw it out.

Hannibal Lecter used remailing services. How could I ask for a better referral? I’ll see if I can have my mail sent to “Get Lost, Florida.”

It’s an exciting day. God really comes through when you start getting with the program. Unfortunately, most people can’t do that, because no one is telling them what the program is. Preachers just beg for money and drive people into bankruptcy.

I hope soon I can post a photo of me enjoying a beer with my staff, either on the hoof or medium-rare with Bearnaise sauce. Pray for me.

Only Three Inches of Paper Between me and Freedom

I feel I should update the world on my progress with the Columbia College Literature Humanities reading list. I am tunneling my way out of it like Abbe Faria in the Chateau d’If. Unlike him, I expect to emerge soon.

Paradise Lost is behind me, so I feel sort of the opposite of the way Adam felt when he got kicked out of Eden. Freedom, at least from that stage of my torment, is sweet. Reading books that (sort of) make sense, and then running into Milton, is like digging through soft sand and then hitting rocks. Milton was a terrible writer who punished the reader with his pedantry. Enough said about that.

Now I’m bogged down in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. It’s the Nineteenth Century equivalent of a chick flick, and it’s nearly as painful to sit through. It’s about a bunch of upper (but not too upper) class British people who have nothing to do but gossip. There are lots of female characters in the book, and Austen shows her gender no mercy, putting all of its characteristic flaws in a blazing spotlight. Her women are petty, shallow, conceited, vain, spiteful, envious, conniving, manipulative, deceitful, vengeful, cruel, and a bit stupid. That list gets longer every time I review it.

I don’t know why the book was included. They could have chosen Dickens. Well, I’m wrong. I know why it was included. Jane Austen was a great literary titan because she managed to write passable books in spite of the monumental handicap of being female. That, surely, is the reason she was included. Affirmative action. She’s the Gal Gadot of her age.

Tangent time. What’s with all the fuss about Gal Gadot? If you don’t know who she is, let me burden you with some useless knowledge: she is the star of a recent Wonder Woman movie. People are acting like they’ve never seen a woman in a movie before. They gush over her. It’s silly. There are tons of women with female protagonists, and some of these protagonists are based on actual human beings, not the absurd fantasies of the least talented men in the fiction industry. Some of the movies have discernible depth, which is not something you have to fear encountering when you watch Ms. Gadot.

Even comic book movies have had strong female characters. There was a whole Cat Woman movie. You’re lucky if you didn’t see it, but it exists. The X-Men movies are jam-packed with scary women, including one who is so strong she’s a sort of manic-depressive god. The fuss over Wonder Woman is bizarre and probably due to some supernatural cause.

When you work too hard to promote what you perceive to be a disadvantaged group, often you end up exposing your sincere, hidden belief that people in that group are inferior. If women are as talented as men, professors shouldn’t have to force people to read their books.

I don’t know what Austen’s book is about. I’m something like 70 pages in, and nothing has happened. A single girl named Elizabeth has met a man named Darcy, and he is too rich to marry her. She has the hots for a young army officer named Wickham. Darcy’s dad left Wickham an income, and Darcy took it away from him. Elizabeth thinks Darcy is a filthy beast. Darcy is trying not to fall in love with her, but it’s not working. That’s all I know. Aren’t you glad you didn’t have to read 70 pages to learn that?

Maybe she will turn out to be wrong about Darcy, and Wickham will have some awful secret. Maybe they caught him prancing round in Darcy’s mom’s underthings. Maybe Wickham is a great guy, and Darcy will use his wealth and power to get him sent to Crimea or wherever and blown to bits. Then Elizabeth will marry Darcy, not knowing what happened, and then Wickham will turn out to be alive after all, and he will come back and expose the whole mess. Like Edmond Dantes. Then Wonder Woman will jump out of her invisible plane, land at Darcy’s house, and punch him in the mouth.

Don’t give me any spoilers. Don’t make this book any more boring than it already is.

I assume Pride and Prejudice will turn out to be a condemnation of the British caste system, along with capitalism, the church, God, apple pie, heterosexuality, fossil fuels, and accurate gender pronouns. Lit. Hum. has helped me understand how long academia’s hostility to everything good or traditional has existed.

My experiences with the Lit. Hum. reading list make me feel like I hate literature. I’m always saying the books are boring. Herodotus was okay, though, and Shakespeare was great. I haven’t been a lover of literature since I was about 25, but I don’t hate it. I just hate most of the books on the list!

I’m looking at the list. I didn’t mind Thucydides. Euripides was not that painful. Boccaccio started out okay and then got repetitious and dull. Dante could have been worse. These, along with Shakespeare and Genesis, were my positive experiences.

I don’t have any insecurity about saying I don’t like most of these books, or about questioning their merit. My record proves I’m smart (considerably smarter than the vast majority of literature professors). I’m educated. I have reasonably good taste. I don’t read trash like Dan Brown and John Grisham, for the same reason I don’t have coloring books.

You don’t have to think Cervantes is a good writer in order to be intelligent or informed.

Blech. Cervantes. I wish Trump would put a copy of Don Quixote over Vince McMahon’s face in the now-famous video and release it again.

I want to put Jane Austen behind me, but beyond that frying pan lies the fire of Dostoevsky. I have never been able to finish one of his books. I only tried once, I admit, but I failed. I was too busy going to tractor pulls and not believing in global warming.

Austen is not hard to read, thank God. It’s just unpleasant to visit her world. It’s like spending time with your wife’s friends, whom you can’t stand. “Oh, come on. It’s just one night. So what if Rain won’t let us go to restaurants that serve meat, and she makes us all do yoga breathing before we touch our salt-free Quorn patties?”

I can get through Austen as long as I have no distractions. This weekend I took her to the car wash, and I tried to read her book for maybe 45 minutes. It was very hard to do. People around me were talking, I could hear the radio, and there were windows to look out of. Everything around me was more interesting than the book. To read Jane Austen efficiently, you need to lie in a sensory deprivation tank and have the words projected on the ceiling.

Audio books! Why didn’t I think of that! I’m going to look into it. It’s legit! If I were blind, Columbia wouldn’t expect me to read real books. I am so doing this.

So far, there has not been one laugh in Austen’s book. Now that I think about it, there have been no laughs in any of the Lit. Hum. books. King Lear has some jests, but they’re not funny. They’re cruel. Herodotus was lighthearted but not really funny. Cervantes is supposed to be funny, but he’s not.

Academics are sour people who enjoy bringing other people’s spirits down. They are humorless and sanctimonious; always hoping for a revolution so they can put the “right” people up against the wall. I wonder if the lack of humor in these books is a reflection of their grey and mildewed inner workings.

It probably is. When I didn’t know God, my inner workings were greyer than grey. They were moldy, damp, tenebrous, and cold.

“Great” literature is generally gloomy and pessimistic. It’s whiny. The world of fiction is an unrealistic world where God is absent and hopelessness is realism. To God-hating academics, it must be a comforting affirmation of all their self-destructive notions.

The reading list calls for Virginia Woolf, but I canned her and inserted William Golding. I malewashed the reading list. Good thing, I guess. Woolf was a miserable person, and she drowned herself. She didn’t do it quickly, either. She prolonged and savored her suffering. She filled her pockets with rocks and walked into a river. Her book must be a knee-slapper. I’ll bet Golding’s black tale of murderous children is cheerier.

Imagine walking into a river with rocks in your pockets, thinking you were ending your misery, and waking immediately in hell, with an eternity of worse suffering before you and no one to praise you for your toxic talent. This is probably what happened to Virginia Woolf. I wonder what she would say if she could come back and be a guest lecturer at Columbia College. It must be strange to be in hell and know that people back on earth are buying your books and heaping compliments on you.

Wherever you go, heaven or hell, the people you influence will follow you, and knowing that will make the experience even better or much worse.

When Woolf learned that the poet T.S. Eliot had accepted salvation, she wrote this: “I mean, there’s something obscene in a living person sitting by the fire and believing in God.”

That’s chilling. Woolf is not living, she is always near fire, and she believes in God more than you and I do.

Dead to the flesh, alive to God. And vice-versa.

I don’t recommend Jane Austen, except for the purpose of broadening yourself or propping up a short table leg. If you like soap operas, you will probably enjoy it. It’s not for me.

AUDIO!

Check this out! The whole miserable book is on Youtube! I am saved!

On Earth as it is in Heaven

I find metaphors for the supernatural all around me.

Lately I have been getting huge mileage out of “casting out.” I wrote about this. I cast this and that out…of myself. It works. I feel better. I get more done. I’m losing weight. My self-control has improved tremendously. Things keep going my way.

I didn’t know anything of use when I was young, but now I know we are surrounded by stupid people, vicious spirits, and our own treacherous flesh, and they never stop trying to wear us down. They tempt us, discourage us, make us ill…around the clock, every day. When you speak defeat to your problems and enemies and use the power of casting out, you aren’t doing anything new. You’re doing exactly what your enemies have been doing to you, continuously, since before you were born.

My telephone situation reminds me of this.

I take care of all my dad’s business now, and I use his phone and his office. It used to be intolerable. He had given his phone number and God knows what other personal information to hordes of hostile people who wanted to scam him. The phone rang all day, and sometimes, the calls worked (at least when he was in charge). A company called Mellberg got him to look at annuity plans.

Do you know what an annuity is? I’ll explain it to you. Say you have ten million dollars. You give it to an annuity scammer, and he pays you $800,000 until you die. Then he keeps the remainder. Guess what your wife and kids get? Nothing.

It’s a beautiful scam. You find someone who is almost certain to die within five years, and you convince him he’s getting a guaranteed income for life. Then if all goes well, he dies a year later, and everything he has is yours.

Let’s say my dad’s first name is Mel. People would call, and when I answered the phone, warm, friendly voices would say, “Mel?” As if they were his best pals. They had some bad experiences when I answered the phone.

Scammer: Mel?

Me: Who are you and why are you calling?

Scammer: Is this Mel?

Me: Don’t you know Mel’s voice?

Scammer: Who are you?

Me: I’m the guy who answered the phone. What are you calling about?

They really hate me.

A big percentage of the calls come from India and Pakistan. Sometimes I answer the phone with that in mind.

Phone: RINNNG.

Me: (Slumdog voice) Hello? Hello, Devadip? Is that you, my good friend? Hello? I am wanting to speak to the chai wala.

Sometimes I order the chicken vindaloo.

They get very angry, which is okay with me, because it may encourage them to get real jobs where they don’t annoy people and steal their savings. Also, it’s really funny to take a chance and drop that bait out into space and then hear an outraged voice with an Indian accent.

The guys who use my dad’s first name are typically selling “energy investments.” Sometimes I beat them to the pitch.

Scammer: Mel?

Me: (cheerful, booming voice) HI! Are you selling ENERGY INVESTMENTS?

Right away they know they’ve stepped in it.

They’re like the Omaha Steaks people. Thankfully, that company seems to be doing poorly. Their “franchisees” borrow money to buy refrigerated pickups, and then they ring your doorbell. Their clever trick is to start walking backwards when you open the door. They say, “Hi, I’m from Omaha Steaks, and I have some great products in my truck for you!” Something like that. The idea is that you’ll naturally start following them. I watch them walk back into the yard, say, “Not interested! Thanks!”, and shut the door.

I know someone who bought their steaks. They are little, thin, frozen steaks I would only use if I needed meat for soup. Not good at all.

It’s too bad, because the franchisees aren’t just scammers; they’ve been scammed, themselves. They have to buy all that junk, and what percentage of them make a profit? You know what happens. They and their relatives eat the food, and the trucks get repossessed. I can just hear the higher-ups in the Ponzi (sorry: “multi-level marketing) hierarchy talking to them. “You just walk backward to your truck, and people will pay you ten dollars for a three-dollar steak! We only take 65%! The rest is PURE PROFIT!”

Perhaps I am wrong. I say that so they can’t sue me.

If I get sued, when we approach the courthouse, I’ll start walking backward to my car to make them settle. “I have a crisp, fresh five-dollar bill I want to show you!”

Oh no…I’m Googling, and I see claims that the truck people don’t really work for Omaha Steaks. In that case, I’m sure Omaha Steaks is a fine, reputable company that sells wonderful products (which I will never, ever buy, because I know what a grocery store is).

I wonder if there was anything bad in the meat I ate.

Anyhow, Satan’s children are just like him. They use the same techniques. Spirits buzz around us like flies all day, trying to get us to allow them to land and feed. Scammers call old people all day, for the exact same purpose.

I hooked my dad and myself up with Nomorobo, a service that runs all calls through servers that keep the scammers from getting through. It’s almost fun when a scammer makes it to my ear, because then I can report his number to Nomorobo, and after that, he has problems. If you report a number to the Feds, nothing at all happens. The government is very stupid. Nomorobo is a private company, so it gets things done.

Reporting a number to the feds is like calling the cops when you’ve been burglarized. The cops show up, take notes, and shoot a couple of pictures. Then they go back to the police station, do nothing whatsoever to help you, and wait for their pensions to kick in so they can buy motorboats. As far as I know, except for murder, most crimes are solved only when a civilian calls, turns someone in, gives directions to the criminal’s house, and threatens to blog it if they don’t get action. I have known a lot of crime victims, and I have never known anyone whose property was found and returned by the police. If the feds are doing anything about scam calls apart from making a list no one looks at, I am unaware of it.

I’m looking at a log of calls I’ve been blessed to miss. Some company calling itself UPLIFT calls over and over. The caller ID number is (214) 453-68xx. No idea what they want. When you see that Nomorobo is blocking a caller, you can block it manually as well, and then you don’t even hear one ring when they call. Too funny.

I also get calls from Grangeville ID, at 208-494-16xx. No idea who it is. The log says, “Grangeville, Grangeville, Grangeville.” It must be pretty important.

“Monetary Gold” is another caller I will never speak to directly. Maybe it’s a Jewish guy, and his first name is “Monetary.”

Demons are a lot like the scammers my dad let into his life. They come in through doors we open. You don’t have to invite them. Unfortunately, by the time I understood how things worked, I had broadcast invitations throughout the known universe.

I look forward to getting rid of my old phone number as well as my dad’s. Then Devadip and Bakhtiar can call someone else and pretend to know them. “By Jove, are you sure this is not my good friend Mel? It seems like only yesterday that we were bathing together in the Ganges.”

I will keep closing the windows and doors and spraying fly repellant. I suggest you do the same.

Serve me Cold Decaf at Your Peril

The Terror of McDonald’s is at it again.

I have written about my annoying problems at McDonald’s. When I forget to get breakfast food, I end up filling the gap with McMuffins, and then I run into the Perplexing Wall of McDonald’s Incompetence. Chick-fil-A manages to get minimum wage employees to treat customers like royalty, but McDonald’s can’t get them to brew fresh coffee every half an hour or give you what you ordered.

As you will see if you read earlier posts, I found my bad experiences at McDonald’s to have deeper meaning than one would expect. I believe God told me it was a bad idea to drink caffeine, and because McDonald’s employees kept drugging me with regular coffee (because it’s just too hard to keep decaf on hand), I had nights when I didn’t sleep well. I wrote about a day when I felt crabby and irritable because McDonald’s had dosed me.

Today a friend called and asked if he could come over for prayer. I still had not gotten my breakfast supplies together, so I went to Mickey D’s before his visit. There was no one at the register. A girl sauntered by, thumbing her smartphone. She stood at the register, texting. I asked her if she was taking my order, and she said “no” and went about her business. I decided to try again. I asked her if ANYONE was taking my order.

She walked over to a place where she could see into the kitchen, and she started yelling at “Areli,” who was busy in the back doing something the first girl didn’t approve of. She kept saying, “Really, Areli? Really?” Eventually, Areli emerged and took my order, and I went home. I didn’t give anyone a hard time. Not even the classic Miami woman who came in and tried to get in front of me while I was waiting for Areli.

The store was cleaner than usual. Strange.

My friend was hungry when I picked him up, so we went by the same McDonald’s. Areli took his order, and I stood back and waited. A neatly dressed man came up and asked if I had been waited on. I said I was just waiting, and I expected him to place an order.

He approached me again, and I said I was waiting for my friend. “And waiting…and waiting.” To my surprise, he started apologizing and told me he was the owner.

This explained the sudden cleanliness.

I felt like I had an audience with President Trump. I started delivering my laundry list of complaints. No fresh decaf, mainly. I told him the story of Areli and the smartphone. I wasn’t trying to get kids fired. I was trying to let a businessman know what was happening to his investment, and I was hoping some day I might get some decent coffee.

I told him nothing happened when I commented on the McDonald’s websites, and he said that stuff takes forever to get to the owners.

My friend stood and took all this in. We had been talking about the slack attitude of the employees on the way to the store. After we left, he started talking about the obvious way God was favoring me.

Does this mean everything is fixed at the local McDonald’s? I don’t know, but it definitely means I can’t go back for at least a month. Not unless I want boogers in my food.

I don’t feel bad for the kids. They needed to have their butts kicked. A good lecture will make them better employees, and it will result in their making more money later in life. Or it will weed out the hopeless; the stubborn mules who drag everyone else down.

It was a very strange experience. It made me realize I had never been in a really clean McDonald’s before, and that I had never seen a McDonald’s owner who gave a crap.

I thought it was an interesting experience, so here it is for your enjoyment.

Today I bought food, so I’m all set for the next two weeks or so. By then, maybe Areli will have forgiven me.

Cocoa is the New Coffee

I don’t want to encourage anyone in error, but I believe the Mormons are right about one thing: caffeine is bad news.

God gave me a strong habit of daily prayer in tongues, and the more I did it, the less caffeine I was able to tolerate. I suppose that makes sense. Caffeine is a drug, and we use drugs to compensate for a lack of blessings. If you’re in line with God’s will, you won’t need drugs to get you out of bed in the morning or get you through the workday.

It’s funny how used we have gotten to taking this powerful drug. It’s as if it’s completely normal to get up in the morning and pour yourself full of something that speeds up your heart rate, jacks up your alertness, raises your blood pressure, and increases your ability to focus. Speed and cocaine do the same things, only better, and no one thinks it’s normal to start the day with several lines of blow.

It’s also funny that people don’t see caffeine as a powerful drug. Eat a tablespoon of instant coffee and see if it’s powerful or not. It will have you climbing the walls. You can overdose on caffeine. People have done it.

Every so often, I go to McDonald’s and get McMuffins to take home. I run out of the stuff I usually eat for breakfast. Problem: the McDonald’s kids don’t make decaf.

McDonald’s doesn’t care about decaf. It’s an afterthought. They don’t police their employees to make sure they have fresh decaf ready all the time. When you order decaf at McDonald’s, you will almost always get it one of three ways: 1. hot and stale and smelling like cat pee, 2. cold and stale, or 3. not decaf. It’s virtually impossible to get real, fresh decaf unless you ask for it and wait a long time for it.

The kids don’t care. They think you can’t tell the difference between decaf and regular. They just want you out of their hair. They’ll give you whatever looks like decaf just to make you shut up. They give me regular coffee all the time. Complaining to the kids doesn’t help, because McDonald’s employees don’t care at all about the quality of their work. Complaining to corporate doesn’t work, because McDonald’s only cares if a franchise makes money on the whole. They’re not going to go in and knock heads just because a few of their customers can’t get a decent beverage.

People who run McDonald’s stores don’t hang around keeping an eye on things. They buy franchises because they want money machines they don’t have to supervise. If you want an owner who cares about your happiness, you’ll have to go to Chick-fil-A, where you will be treated like visiting royalty every time.

There are no Chick-fil-As near me.

Yesterday the McDonald’s kids drugged me again. I was complaining about the perpetual decaf issues. They give you hot food, and then they tell you to wait for decaf to brew. Then you have cold food. They could tell I was not happy, so they drugged me.

I was suspicious, because the fresh “decaf” came out as soon as I complained, but I figured I would be okay. If it was regular, I would take two Benadryls to help me sleep.

I knew something was wrong after I drank the coffee, because I felt too good afterward. I was full of energy and caffeine euphoria. After that, I got what you always get when a stimulant wears off. I was cranky and somewhat depressed. I felt bad for hours.

I went to the corporate website and complained, but I knew I was wasting my time. From now on, I’ll have cocoa, and I’ll make it myself. Coffee makes McDonald’s a lot of money, because it’s practically free to make, but they’ll have to get by without my coffee money.

It’s weird, because all the other restaurants manage to serve people decaf. Denny’s never gets it wrong. The local deli never gets it wrong. Never. It’s not that hard to get right.

Cocoa contains a miniscule amount of caffeine, plus a chemical called theobromine which does not cause caffeine problems. Good enough. And the milk is good for my bones. I drink it every day anyway.

A long time ago, God gave me this: “Caffeine destroys peace.” Yesterday helped me understand how right he is. I was annoyed about things that shouldn’t have annoyed me at all. I was annoyed about being annoyed. I didn’t want it. I fought it. I didn’t want to be cross with innocent people.

I thought about the millions of people in this county who chug Cuban coffee all day. This is espresso with so much sugar it makes it thick. No one even pretends it’s a beverage. It’s just a drug. They sell it in tiny cups that hold about an ounce. Drink it, and get back to installing rain gutters. That’s the Miami way. And Miami is an extremely hostile city. People here are angry all the time.

I wonder how much of America’s anger and violence can be attributed to caffeine and nicotine (another stimulant). When the drugs are working, all is well, but the crash always comes, and then your patience and cheer evaporate.

I gave up cigars because the tiny amount of nicotine I inhaled started keeping me awake at night, and because I felt God wanted me to stop smoking them. I wonder what life is like for addicts who smoke 30 cancer sticks a day, inhaling as deeply as possible to satisfy a burning desire for nicotine. Smokers can be irritable and hard to deal with even when things are going well, and God help you if you’re around one when he can’t get his fix. My mother used to grab butts out of the car ashtray and unroll them to keep her going until she could get to the store.

I would hate to have a drug dependence that started to make me angry at people every 45 minutes.

Before Jesus, people who believed in God were concerned about what they said and did. External things. They couldn’t do much about their inner selves. Jesus demanded more. He wants us to change so the things that well up inside us aren’t black and toxic. Under the old system, it was okay to have a spring of filth inside you as long as you sat on it and restrained it. That’s not how Christianity works. Because we have the gift of the Holy Spirit, we have the power to change our roots. We can change our insides so the evil doesn’t rise up in us in the first place.

Pre-Christian Judaism will help you not to have sex with your neighbor’s wife, but it won’t keep you from thinking about it. Holy-Spirit-led Christianity will help you hate the thought of it.

I thought about things like this while caffeine had me in its grip.

TV is full of lying preachers who tell us to give them money in order to get God to fix our finances. It’s a crock. It makes people poorer. But the New Testament does provide perfect financial advice, and here it is: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you.” That’s a promise, from God itself. Either it’s true, or God is a liar.

Christians don’t know the Holy Spirit, because there is no one–no person of national prominence–who can teach us about him. I’m sure there are lots of obscure people dispending good advice, but there is not ONE SINGLE well-known preacher who can be trusted. The Pope knows nothing at all; he’s a garden variety socialist. Billy Graham is a nice guy, but he’s not that helpful. Rick Warren teaches pride and self-salvation. The money preachers are just pigs.

We don’t know the Holy Spirit, so we live like pre-Christian Jews. We try to fix ourselves, and we work on external things. We don’t have much confidence in inner change.

If you want things to go well in your life, you’re supposed to be focusing on building his kingdom, and as Jesus said, that kingdom is inside you. The kingdom isn’t a giant, money-stuffed church. It’s not a nation with laws taken from the Bible. It’s God, ruling inside a clean vessel. You have to be a place in which God is comfortable. You have to be a little tabernacle or Ark of the Covenant.

I thought about lust yesterday. Steve Munsey, who knows as much about God as a baboon, says it’s okay to look at women as long as you don’t touch. Jesus said that looking on a woman with lust was inward adultery. In the past, I believed what Munsey believes, so I got in the habit of fantasizing about women. I had a disturbing realization yesterday. I would not want to go anywhere near a porn theater, but I had turned my own mind into one, and I expected God to be comfortable there. How about that?

Here is what Paul said:

Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind,

Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God.

When I take stimulants, I invite things like anger and cruelty. Of course God dislikes stimulants! God doesn’t want to live on the set of the Jerry Springer show! How could I not have known this?

God’s truths are obvious. As soon as you understand one, you wonder why you didn’t see it sooner.

Last night I thought about the reappearance of Jesus. After the crucifixion, he appeared to the disciples and spent a long time with them, explaining things to them. They knew Jesus. They had traveled with him and worked with him. But when he reappeared, they had no idea who he was. It was as if they were Lois Lane and he was Superman with Clark Kent’s magical glasses. They thought some stranger was talking to them. Then he allowed them to recognize him, and they were shocked to see who their new companion was.

That’s how Christianity works. The truth is obvious and simple, but we can’t see it because we are supernaturally blinded and deafened. When God takes away the barriers, his truth is so plain it’s bewildering.

Lately I have been focusing on inner change more than ever, and it has paid off in natural rewards. I have more time to do what I want. My business affairs take up very little of my time. Problems pop up, and when I prepare to handle them, they disappear, or I find out someone else is taking care of them. Surely this is Jesus, adding “all these things” to me. It has to be true, because it’s what he promised.

It’s a disturbing process in some ways. I don’t know what it’s like to live a truly humble and honest life. I know how to be proud, and I know how to be defeated and full of self-loathing; those things are easy. Now I have to be humble yet untroubled and confident of my future.

I am not a person who is worthy of respect. No one who knew my worst thoughts would respect me. It’s not pleasant to have God remind me of this, but on the other hand, it’s the key to relief. The Bible says God fights the proud (including those who are in denial), and he helps those who have broken hearts and contrite spirits. Help is what I want. A little painful introspection is a small price to pay.

Pride is like a goalkeeper who keeps God from helping us, and humility is a key that opens the door to God. There is always symmetry in the supernatural

I feel bad about what I am and what I have wasted, but my situation is understandable. When I was young, I had absolutely no one to teach me, and that is still true. There isn’t one preacher on earth I care to listen to. I haven’t seen a single one who is even close to right. If they knew what worked, they would be focusing on it and giving practical instructions for making it happen, and they do not do that. I recognize God’s voice, as he said I would. I recognize an imitation.

Thank God for the Holy Spirit. If I had to rely on human beings, I would be as good as damned. We are as filthy and treacherous as rats. At best, we are ignorant. The Holy Spirit knows everything, and he is one hundred percent trustworthy and loyal.

If you rely on drugs, my advice is to go to God and find out why you need them. Something is amiss,and if you admit that, you can find the answer.

I’m going to get used to cocoa. I don’t want to have any more days like yesterday.

TDS Penetrates Better Than Liquid Wrench

Trump Derangement Syndrome gets worse and worse, and it works its way into every area of life.

I belong to a number of forums, and I subscribe to a bunch of Youtube channels. I have a lot of interests. Last night I saw a link to a Youtube video by a person who runs a forum I belonged to, and I took a look.

Like many forums, the forum he runs has a politics ban. Nonetheless, he started his video with footage of Trump making an off-the-cuff proposal about an idea which involved the use of certain technology. That technology lay within the area of expertise of the forum proprietor (he claims), and he proceeded to sneer at Trump and “debunk” his plan.

Mind you, Trump did not say he had a serious plan, or that he was sure it would work. He just mentioned an idea, and he issued a disclaimer, saying it was just an idea, and that his own expertise lay elsewhere.

Maybe the idea was not sound. I don’t know. It was probably something one of Trump’s friends tossed out over dinner. It wasn’t a formal plan. Anyway, Mr. Forum was pretty nasty in his “debunking,” and to make matters worse, he’s a foreigner. He wants Americans to use his forum and help him make money on Youtube, but he feels entitled to insult our president and butt into our internal affairs. And we’re not allowed to respond, because that would be political.

On the forum, I complained that his video made me feel unwelcome, and I suggested it was possible to debunk ideas without taking a nasty tone. Mr. Forum criticized me and deleted my account. By that time, I had destroyed all of my posts, and I was looking for the button that would flush my account. Anyone who looks at threads in which I participated will be very confused, because I deleted most of my stuff, and the rest was replaced with a short non-sequiturial quote from a popular book.

What he did was very bad business. Let’s face it; Americans are a big force in the marketplace. We can pretend Internet forum proprietors support themselves off attention from people from backward places like India and Morocco, but they don’t. The vast majority of his supporters come from the US and Europe. In all likelihood, around half of the Americans who feed his family are conservative. If I’m offended by his rudeness, others are, too. In fact, I’m not the only one who left the forum. And he needs us. We don’t need him. There are tons of forums out there. Besides, if I feel like it, I can start a new account under a new name, I can use well-known methods to escape IP address detection, and I can ask all the questions I want. Then I can delete my new account and the content I posted. I didn’t lose access to his forum, but he lost my support.

I quit watching the news a long time ago. I don’t submit to the presence of left-wing nuts voluntarily. I don’t go to political forums. I would never put a Trump sign in my yard or wear a Trump shirt, because I don’t want to be the victim of petty crimes. I read books and watch Youtube to get away from the hate. Now the hate is following me into new venues.

I wasn’t rude. I didn’t call anyone names. I was very polite, at least until I used Mr. Forum’s own phrasing to quit his forum. I was treated very rudely, without provocation, by a person who needs my business.

On a supernatural level, this is a symptom of the darkness that is creeping over our nation. There used to be walls that held it back, but we dropped our walls when we turned away from God, and now spirits and people who are against God have more access to us than ever. They can come into our businesses and shut them down. They can take your children away if they don’t like the way you’re raising them. If you send your kids to school with Oreos in their lunchboxes, they may have the temerity to confiscate their food and send you nasty notes.

It’s going to get worse. Property rights will disappear. Liberties that are deeply personal will disappear. We are already losing the right to speak freely, but here is what’s worse: we are losing the right to refuse to speak as we are told. You can be fired from certain jobs for refusing to call a man a woman, or for refusing to call a sexually confused person “them” or “ze.”

That’s really something. God respects free will; he preferred creating hell to abolishing our ability to govern ourselves. Satan is different. God doesn’t want robotic children, but Satan is happy to take them. Until he can get our hearts and minds, he will settle for our bodies and tongues.

That is a long stretch from Internet forum intrusions, but it all comes from the same battle plan. The hate is coming at us from all directions now, around the clock.

How do you think Obama got the power to force us to buy insurance, not to drive cars or run businesses, but simply to live? That was a supernatural defeat. The law was not on his side, and neither was the public. Miraculously, we still ended up with a bizarre new government compulsion. When crazy things happen, look for a supernatural cause.

Man, I’m glad I’m moving to a conservative area full of Christians. I don’t want to deal with the children of darkness every single day. I’m aware that I’m climbing on a coffee table in a basement which is quickly flooding, but it will be better than standing on the floor with the water around my neck.

Here is what bothers me: what percentage of future persecution targets are aware of the threat? How many take it seriously? How many are preparing? It’s hard to develop a relationship with God and gain his protection when the freaks and flakes are at the door to drag you off to your undignified end. It takes time to get to know God.

The smart Jews got out of Germany before the Nuremberg Laws were passed. We know what happened to the rest.

You can’t escape to a safer country. The US is the end of the road. When the US is gone, there will be nowhere to move to. But you can move to better areas in America and prosper longer, and you can get into the shelter of God’s protection.

Look how used to persecution we are. We’re not marching in the streets when homosexuals close businesses. We barely respond when celebrities joke about killing the president. A lunatic leftist just tried to assassinate an entire pack of GOP congressmen, and he hit one and shot three other people. The outrage was muted, to say the least. There are more people protesting Michael Brown’s justified shooting, which happened years ago, than the DC ambush.

A funny thing happens when you get used to mistreatment. It increases. You focus on shutting out the unpleasantness, not resisting or preparing.

I am all about getting poisonous people out of my life. I snip ties to abusers and bad influences the way other people snip their nose hairs. I do it instantly and usually without warning, and I never go back. I forgive. From a distance.

No one wants to turn into a pillar of salt!

I was thinking about friendships last night. I remembered some things my mother told me. She did not originate them, but she was wise to repeat them. She said, “People are no damn good,” which is also what the Bible says, and she said, “If you have one real friend, you are very lucky.” I make friends easily, but I don’t have a lot of casual friends. I don’t respect people who think they have a lot of friends. If you think you have a lot of friends, you’re gullible or you’re selling out. You’re a friendship slut.

To me, there are two types of friends. There are real friends, and then there are people you enjoy hanging out with. If you can’t call a person at three in the morning to come give you a jump start, that person is not your friend.

I thought about people my dad knows. He has an ex-partner named Rufus (perhaps not his real name). Rufus is very greedy and shallow, and he has a cruel streak. Rufus married a shallow but attractive lady named Isabel, and then a very good-looking woman named Gertrude (not) joined the firm. Gertrude is a nice person, but she is not deep. First thing you know, Rufus and Gertrude are married, and Isabel is out in the cold with a greatly reduced standard of living. Then one day word got out that Rufus was sleeping with Donna the receptionist, and Rufus was divorcing Gertrude. Here is the excuse people said he gave: Gertrude stopped going to the gym. Is it true? Wouldn’t surprise me. They got back together in the end.

Back around 1982, my dad bought a boat in partnership with Rufus and Rufus’s “friend,” Jim. I should have known something was fishy. My dad never spent money on such things when I was a kid. We never had a real vacation. He did not support expensive activities for his kids. We didn’t have much in the way of toys. I think Rufus manipulated my dad in order to get himself a big boat and only pay for a third of it. He also got him to buy a third of a luxury waterfront condo.

Later on, Rufus got my dad and Jim to invest in another boat, which was eight feet longer. At some point, Rufus wanted to make a big expenditure on the boat. My dad said he was game, but he said he wondered about Jim. According to my dad, Rufus said, “Jim’s stupid. He’ll do whatever I want.” My dad thought that was funny, and it was, but if Rufus said things like that about Jim, what was he saying about my dad?

I don’t feel bad for Jim, whose real name is Jim. He really disliked me. He was rude to me from the first time he met me, and for some reason, my dad never defended me. Jim loved to start conversations by accusing me of things. For example, he accused me of failing to properly tie down the dinghy they kept on the front of the boat. It eventually came through the boat’s windshield in a high sea. I’m sure this is not relevant, but Jim had a not-wholesome-looking teenage boy who was almost certainly capable of believing a rubber bungee cord (yes) could hold down a 500-pound boat. Unlike me (I lived out of state), he knew how to run the davit and lower the dinghy into the water.

In those days, I was not much of a Christian, so I put Jim in his place in front of people without hesitation. Jim was mentally slow, but he had a Dunning-Kruger thing going on. He was convinced he was smarter than I was, but he was never right about anything, so when we conversed, things went poorly for him. No matter how many times he got stung, he never learned not to provoke Happy Fun Ball. He always expected to come out on top.

Here’s a funny thing: Rufus and his wife voted my dad out of the firm, after my dad made him a partner at an early age and helped make him rich. They then sued him unsuccessfully (In terms of ability, Rufus << my dad.) over a client that went with my dad. After all that, they maintained a practice of inviting him to their Christmas party every year, which they held on his birthday. And he went! Even when I invited him to celebrate with my friends and me instead. I never went with him. I was offended that they had the gall to invite me. And thanks for taking him away from his son on his birthday. This is what friendship is, to many people. In all likelihood, Rufus has never had a friend. People find him entertaining and funny, but they laugh at him, not with him. When people talk about him, they don't have anything nice to say. I have never heard anyone say they liked him or that they admired anything about him, but I've heard people make fun of him a great deal. When I was young, I was not all that sensitive to contempt and abuse, because I was raised with it. The older I get, the less willing I am to tolerate it. The price I put on my company says a lot about me. I like being alone or with a few people I know to be decent and sincere. I don't get lonely, but subjecting myself to the presence of the Rufuses of this world would be unbearable. I don't miss the people I've cut off. I am relieved they're gone. I feel good about abandoning a snippy Internet forum owner who doesn't appreciate my patronage. I feel good about my reclusive ways. One day God will take me from the earth very abruptly, and the experience will be similar. The screeching and fighting will be in a far off place while I look forward to better things. It seems like I am becoming a person who is easier to kill than to assimilate. I have no problem with that. Be careful who you hang around with, and don't cast your pearls before swine. That's what I say. It would be hilarious if Trump put his plan to work and turned it into a yuge success. I might just visit the forum to see what people had to say.

The Name Kennedy is Always Associated With Trouble

Wow. Can this be true? The AP says Justice Anthony Kennedy may retire. Kennedy is the Ginsburg of the sane (conservative) wing of the court. He is the farthest left. If we get rid of him, it will be a giant step forward for Christians and conservatives.

It would be much better if one of the Red Sisters hit the road, but Ginsburg appears to be immortal, and young justices do not quit.

Kennedy is the swing vote. By that I mean he is sort of a traitor. He’s conservative in name only. He was appointed by a conservative president (Reagan), and he has proven unreliable. On many occasions, he has helped leftists hinder and corrupt our country by voting with the Supreme Court Soviet Bloc. One wonders how much better off we would be had Reagan chosen someone else.

Actually, Reagan did choose someone else. Two someone elses. The second choice was not all that inspiring, but the first would have been a tremendous blessing to our nation. I am referring to Robert Bork. Bork was a dream justice for Christans and conservatives. He was slandered and reviled during the confirmation process, and the Senate rejected him 58-42. Terrible. If you want to find out how prescient Bork was, and how he would have fought the wave of perpetual offense and entitlement that is sweeping our nation, read his book, Slouching Towards Gomorrah. If Ginsburg read it, I have no doubt that her head would burst into flames.

We will probably be stuck with four Marxists on the court until Ginsburg packs it in, but getting rid of Kennedy will be like getting rid of half a Ginsburg, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. It’s a big victory.

I get annoyed with “centrist” voters, because they are ignorant and self-righteous. They are unquestionably the least-informed voters among us. They say dumb things like, “I vote for the man, not the party.” Insane. A president IS a party. His VP may be able to swing Senate votes, he appoints all sorts of cabinet heads and executive officials, and he appoints every single federal judge.

Say you vote for Hillary Clinton instead of Donald Trump, because you are under the astounding delusion that Trump is morally inferior to Clinton. Say Clinton wins. While you feel smug and superior driving your Mercury Marquis back to your corn farm in Iowa or your dude ranch in Montana, Clinton prepares to appoint hordes of slimy leftist extremists who are itching to destroy everything you believe in, take what you have, and persecute everyone who looks like you or shares your religious convictions.

In the aftermath, you would almost certainly be dumb enough to be surprised to see your government turn against you and your loved ones. This is the curse of the ignorant centrist. They’re like Jews who believe in appeasing terrorists. Always shocked when bitter fruit start dropping from the tree they fertilized with their security.

There are smart liberals and smart conservatives. Swing voters are generally fools, at least when it comes to politics. When you live in Wisconsin and most people around you are orderly, kind, and hard-working, it’s easy to fall under the delusion that the rest of the country is in the same situation, and that conservative policies are not needed to keep the looters and freaks at bay. It’s a very selfish delusion. People in South Florida, New York, California, Illinois, Philadelphia, D.C., Baltimore, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and other looter strongholds need a strong hand in the federal government to keep life from turning into a Terry Gilliam movie.

Because we managed to get Trump into the White House, we can look forward to at least 3-1/2 more years of conservative judicial choices. If God helps us, we will lose Ginsburg, and we will find ourselves with a 6-3 majority in 2020. Maybe we’ll lose some of the nuts in the 9th Circuit. That would be very helpful in slowing the rise in persecution of Christians, Jews, white people, heterosexuals, and men.

I don’t see Ginsburg or Breyer quitting voluntarily while Trump is in office. Unlike our witless, ignorant “moderate” voters, Ginsburg and Breyer are very aware of the importance of the political composition of the federal courts. I guarantee you, they lay awake all night after Trump was elected, while happy swing voters in Minnesota snoozed in their safe, fluffy beds like overfed steers.

Trump has turned out to be a bizarre and provocative president, and he has demonstrated a surprising inability to think before he tweets, but he is not going to make bad judicial choices. Too many qualified people have been making lists for too many years. Those lists were ready and waiting for any conservative candidate who made it into the Oval Office. We won’t get a new Ginsburg, and we probably won’t have to deal with another Kennedy. The stakes are too high, and so is awareness. The kingmakers have done their best to weed out the turncoats.

In the end, leftists will win. It’s sad to see conservatives crowing about controlling the federal government and many gubernatorial offices, because they forget that Hillary won the popular vote. They forget that even so-called Repubican lawmakers are doing their best to see to it that millions of Mexicans and Salvadorans get citizenship. Illegal aliens do not care at all about America. They only care about getting Tia Marta shipped over from Michoacan. They will eventually tip the scales and make it impossible for a Republican to be elected to any office higher than meter maid. Even with our majorities, we are busy trying to cut our own throats so Marxists won’t have to.

When the house of cards comes down, do you think our leftist rulers will forget the voices that crowed loudest at their distress? They will not. They will see us the same way they saw the innocent children of Czar Nicholas, when they murdered them in their parents’ arms. Looters love revenge, even when they’re the ones who have done wrong.

It’s fun to be Donald Trump in 2017. I would not want to be Donald Trump or anyone in his family in 2037. I would not want to be a Palin, a Nugent, a Coulter, or a Limbaugh. The Cambodian death ditches and Soviet Gulags are on their way to America. Purges are coming, and records are being kept in anticipation of the cleansing. The Internet is a trove of evidence for the prosecution.

Liberal rage is like a compressed spring, and Trump and the conceited, foolish conservatives who gloat and antagonize leftists are compressing that spring and putting new energy into it. One day that energy will be released on us, just as serf hate was released on the Russian nobility and the hatred of successful Cubans was released in Che Guevara’s torture rooms and at the execution wall he and his pal Ernest Hemingway viewed over drinks for purposes of satisfying light entertainment.

Leftists own the future, up until the Tribulation, but the temporary political victories we’re having now give us a little time to prepare. We can get right with God and move out of cities. We can put his kingdom and his righteousness first and get his help moving in our lives.

Jesus said the time before his return would be tough on women who were nursing. He was speaking prophetically about churches full of Christians who are spiritual babies. The soft and undeveloped will have more problems as persecution mounts. The closer you are to God, the more he helps you. If you love the world, God will sit back and watch while you waste your time crying out for the world to help you. He will let you and your children be martyred, and if you think that’s a lie, consider the Holocaust.

Move away from the looter strongholds. Develop a prayer life. Make confession and prayer for inner change your big priorities. Or do whatever you want and then blame God when he doesn’t defend you and your children. Free will is a hardened anvil on which a lot of swords are broken.

Go, Kennedy, go. It won’t solve all our problems, but it’s a blessing I will not disdain.

Life as it Really is

Yesterday I had a bizarre experience.

I was just about to go to bed, and before shutting the PC down, I got a wild hair and decided to look up some people I used to know. When I was a kid growing up in Tampa, two twins lived next door to me. They were my best friends. One was serious and a little crabby, and the other was friendly and easygoing.

They have an aluminum company now. Their dad built it. I believe he’s still alive. One of them is active on Facebook, and the other–the friendlier one–is nowhere to be found.

The serious one is Trumpophobic. He is furious about Trump’s very existence. You know the pattern. It’s a form of psychosis which defies reason. He posts angry messages about our beleaguered chief executive.

Not surprising. He’s Jewish. If you’re Jewish and you can cast stones from the safe shelter of America, you are obligated to hate President Trump. Jews in Israel, where bombs land from time to time, like him a lot better. Obama was the worst enemy they ever had in the White House.

I Googled the house where we lived, and I looked at it in Google Street View. Funniest thing…my blood ran cold. I felt chills. All the darkness of my childhood rose back up inside me, like ice water in a glass.

It was a nice little house in a neighborhood full of fairly nice people. It should have been a good place to live.

It occurred to me that there must be people who look at photos of their childhood homes and feel warmth and longing. I wondered what that was like. To me, the Google shot was like a police photo of the scene of a massacre. It was a little like looking at photos of the World Trade Center.

If it had been a hut in Somalia, I would not have felt the same darkness. If you have kids in a hut, the kids don’t expect a lot. Any good thing that happens is gravy. But this was a house in middle-class America. We were healthy. My parents were educated. We did not lack money. Things should have been better. What I saw were missed opportunities. I saw gold spun into straw. I saw waste. Having something good and having it turn to filth is worse than not having anything at all.

It was all unnecessary. Normal parents spend money on their kids. They like their kids. They get involved with their schooling and activities. Their kids aren’t afraid of them. There is no reason why my sister and I could not have grown up like that.

When I think of that house, I think of violence. I think of waking up in the night and seeing snakes and yard-long centipedes crawling on the beds, walls, and ceiling. I remember having nightmares every night.

It’s so strange, the things we do to each other for no good reason at all.

When the devil owns a house, and the people who inhabit it don’t know enough to fight him, it’s tough for a kid to live in it. My mother was on my side, and that was about it. She was all I had. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the knowledge or tools to fix things. She had a rotten life, and she died young.

I just realized I could go to a real estate site and look at photos of the inside of the house, so I did. It does not feel good at all. I remember where certain things happened.

I don’t know why I’m writing about this. I don’t think it will help anyone. What am I going to say? “Be a good parent so you don’t destroy your kids”? The only people who would listen are people who are already making an effort.

No one but me is responsible for any problems I have now. Still, I can’t help being stung by the waste and needless destruction.

Before I got on the web and looked up my friends and the house, I watched a documentary about New York. It was created by Ric Burns, the brother of Ken Burns.

The show was interesting. New York is an interesting place, even if you would not want to live there. But it was also disturbing. The people they chose to interview were very different from me. They were writers and academics who appeared to be heavy-duty leftists. If they’re not, their success in New York is a miracle. The likelihood is so small it can be discounted out of hand.

New York is a symbol of worldly success. Whatever its faults may be, New York is a place where many things are done as well as they can be. Want to study the sciences or technology? They have Columbia University. Like the arts? They have the Met, the Guggenheim, Juilliard, Carnegie Hall, and God knows how many other places where you can indulge your desires. New York has top-notch food, clothing…everything.

It’s a place where I would be as welcome as streptococcus in a beaker full of white blood cells. I know! I lived there for about four years.

Imagine me trying to be accepted or even employed in New York. I criticize homosexuality. I believe God created the world. I think feminism is a curse. I believe in accountability. I am against the disenfranchisement of white males and the mindless promotion of minority leftists who have less merit. I think global warming is probably a socialist construct intended to weaken America. I carry a gun when I go to the grocery store.

I could be the smartest, most capable person on earth, and I would still be unable to make it up there. We’re talking about a milieu in which people are fired openly for their religious beliefs, even when they don’t intrude on their job performance.

I felt very alienated. I could never befriend the people I saw on camera. Their Trumpophobia would put a veil of red over their eyes.

Today I was watching a TV show I had recorded, and one of the characters was balding, saggy, and grey. I thought how odd it was that he went on performing his job as though aging, decrepitude, and death were completely normal and acceptable. He wasn’t self-conscious at all. It occurred to me that we have learned to accept some truly terrible things. We don’t even notice them.

Imagine Adam sitting around with Eve and seeing a man with thinning hair, stooped posture, wrinkles, and a gut shuffle by. They would have been horrified. They would have asked God what was wrong with him. Before the curse, death and decay were unknown on earth.

Then I thought about other things I had seen in life or on screens. I have seen films and shows about disasters; some real and some fictional. I’ve seen damaged people wandering around prior to receiving medical care. I’ve seen post-apocalyptic movies in which people with radiation sickness went about their lives as though it were not remarkable to have a tooth or a fingernail fall out during a conversation.

I realized the earth is like a post-apocalyptic movie or a disaster movie. We go about our business in varying states of failure, disease, deterioration, and sorrow. We think nothing of it. When we see people who are worse off, it seems odd that they could be used to their problems, but we’re no different. It’s just a question of degree. On my street, you would have to be young and in top physical shape in order to get attention for your condition. In Auschwitz, you would just need to be fat enough so your ribs couldn’t be seen through your shirt. If you were forty pounds underweight but you could still stand and walk, you would be considered normal.

A long time ago, God told me two things: “The world is a death camp,” and, “The world is a ghetto.” We’re too used to it. We think a life under bearable curses is a life of blessing.

I didn’t have a good childhood, but there was no reason I should have. This is not a planet where people thrive without clinging to God. My problems were obvious, but other people, who I envied later in life, had problems that were worse and yet harder to perceive. If I grew up with neglect and abuse, other people grew up with love, success, and health but never got to know God. I’m certainly better off than they are. Their well-being is temporary, and it keeps them convinced they don’t need God.

The people who are truly blessed are the ones who were raised, from infancy, to know God. Everyone else has sham blessings at best.

People who claim to have visited hell talk about tormented creatures with no flesh, living in pits, burned and eaten by chewing worms. They say hell stinks. What must it be like to leave heaven and visit earth, though? Not that different. You leave a place with no death, sorrow, disagreement, cruelty, loneliness, disease, danger, or failure, and you come to a place where we have words like “hemicorporectomy.” That’s an operation in which your lower body is amputated just below the waist. It has happened often enough to make it necessary for us to coin a word for it.

This is not a good place. It’s a disaster. The universe is built in levels, and we are on the first level above hell. We live, literally, on hell’s roof. There is no worse place to be, save hell itself.

Getting attached to this place or having unrealistic expectations of it is a huge mistake. I feel bad for billionaires and celebrities who squirm and struggle to preserve their youth and extend their time here. The wrinkles will get them all. Who would buy a poster with a photo of Racquel Welch wearing a bikini, at her current age?

This is just a place to meet God, be improved by him, and be rescued by him. That’s all it’s worth. God says he is going to destroy it with fire and rebuild it. Makes perfect sense to me. Used diapers have to be washed.

If you don’t know God, all the success you think you have here is excrement, and it will be burned off in flames later. There are no Academy Awards in hell. There are no TV cameras. There are no yachts. There are no private jets.

It’s interesting to think of it this way.

My life keeps getting better, but my perception of life on earth, generally, deteriorates like the portrait of Dorian Gray. There is nothing here to hold onto.

Maybe I’m bumming people out. I’m not sad or depressed at all. Just a little more sober than usual.

Writers write about what moves them. Maybe you have to take the good with the bad.

Have a good Tuesday.

Serve the Bums With Eviction Papers

Time to talk more about God.

Recently I wrote about my bizarre experience with a new supernatural tool. I tried casting things out of myself, in silence. I didn’t say anything aloud. I had no reason to think it would work. I had always been taught that only God can hear our thoughts, so how could a spirit hear me if I cast something out silently? Why should I expect it to obey?

Here is the startling result: my life has changed tremendously. I have so much more self-control, I’m like a different person. I am less lazy. I have fewer issues with sexual temptation. I eat less. I feel better. I have more energy.

I don’t know what to think about it.

It’s always easy to criticize people for their faults. I should know, because I do it all the time. Sometimes it’s appropriate. There are a lot of people out there who just don’t care, or who prefer to do evil. But many human beings fight their character issues every day and fail, and it’s not right to ignore that and treat all of them as if they weren’t trying.

I have fought my faults ever since I realized I had them. I’ve tried to make myself eat less, work harder, have a more positive outlook, and so on. I’ve fought lust and covetousness and everything else. Fighting in my own strength has not been a total waste of time, but it hasn’t worked very well. I have to have sympathy for other people who can’t change themselves. We have strong enemies who work against us. It’s your fault if you’re a mess, but it’s also the fault of other beings who work against God in you, and you need to defeat them as well as yourself.

Any honest person who isn’t completely deluded can relate to what I’m talking about. Diet, exercise, get yourself in shape, and then get fat again and stay that way for five years. Clean up your house, keep it neat for two months, and then fall back into laziness. Set up a homework schedule, stick to it for three weeks, and then go back to watching reruns of Spongebob while high. People are like springs. We can stretch and bend ourselves, but often, we snap back to our original shapes.

The Bible uses a word that means “bend” to describe iniquity. An iniquity is a habit. A person who has a bad habit is like a tree that is bent in a certain direction. We even say a person with a habit has a bent.

When you fight a bad habit, you fight your flesh, and you fight spirits and people that want that habit to remain strong. No wonder we usually fail. We’re outnumbered.

If you can close the door to the spirits and people who work to keep you weak and corrupted, it only makes sense that you will improve. It’s like driving the illegal aliens out of the country so they have to stop voting in our elections.

For a long time, I’ve known that God can remove bad habits without any help from us. He has delivered me from a couple of things instantaneously. I ended up relapsing, but the deliverance was real and supernatural. It’s the correct type of relief to seek. God intended us to receive it instead of working our way out of our messes. The Bible clearly says Jesus bore our iniquities on the cross, not just our sins. But we love pride, so we prefer to use our own puny tools. We take the same hills over and over, because the enemy takes them back repeatedly. You can’t conquer the country if you spend the entire war fighting over one small objective. God wants us to have everything, not just a little corner where we can barricade ourselves in and wait for death. We can’t have complete victory unless we let him do the fighting.

Spirits bring baggage with them. If you accept sin and iniquity, you accept disease, divorce, poverty, mental illness, defeat, and every type of misfortune. Spirits are not good guests. It’s not enough to addict you to heroin or overeating or gossip. They have to trash the place. They have to defecate on the floors and eat the studs. If you can fumigate the house with the Holy Spirit’s help, you can end all that. If not, how can you claim to be surprised when you get bad news? How can you ask, “Why me?” Of course, you.

Churches will never promote this. The churches that believe in the Holy Spirit think Christianity is just a way to get your greed satisfied. The churches that deny the Holy Spirit have no tools and no weapons; they are in love with self-righteousness and therefore weakness. If you want this, you will have to get it directly from God.

Find out what’s wrong with you, confess it to God, and cast it out. You have to be honest. God isn’t going to fix a problem you pretend not to have. Luckily for you, he will even help you with honesty. Ask for it. Cast things out. Pray in tongues. Focus on his kingdom and righteousness, not money and other superficial things.

I feel like someone who is getting over a fever. Sometimes it’s as if the fever has broken. I feel peace. I have fewer destructive thoughts and urges. I am less childish. Then the fever comes back. I get angry, or I feel the pull of gluttony or lust or laziness. Then I remember to use my weapons, and the fever goes away again. I’m not Jesus. I am not a great person all the time. But my base level of evil is not what it was a year ago, and I keep improving. And my good periods are better and longer than they used to be.

If you can rule yourself, the world can’t rule you. You will be the head and not the tail. If you’re not in charge in your own body and mind, you can’t expect a lot of help from God. He wants to live in us, and he doesn’t want to move into a crackhouse where he has one vote along with a bunch of depraved bums and addicts. You will ask him for stupid things, and he will deny your requests, because to grant them will be to serve the demons and the flesh that made you ask.

God is not going to serve the devil. If you serve the devil, God can’t serve you.

If this stops working, I’ll come back and say so, but it has been a while now, and things keep getting better.

I hope God will help you focus on the right things and find his power and help. We were never supposed to be at the mercy of the world, especially inside ourselves.

Send him Representative Scalise’s Hospital Bills

Sometimes I’m more right than I thought I was!

I said America would become an unsafe place for Christians and conservatives. I didn’t check to see what liberals were saying and doing. It was just common sense and the Holy Spirit. I didn’t know Bernie Sanders was encouraging the violence! I just found out. He seems like a harmless Fozzie Bear of a burnt-out socialist, but here is what he said to Rachel Maddow:

Republicans historically had their town meetings. Thirty or 50 of their friends would show up, and they talked about cutting the deficit and cutting Social Security and Medicare, and everybody would applaud, but now you’ve seen people coming and saying, “If you do this, my wife is going to die and I’m not going to let you do that”. You’re seeing members of Congress, Republicans, having to sneak out the back door or claim “I’m worried about my safety, I can’t even hold a town meeting.” That’s our goal.

I got that from a leftist website. Check it out yourself.

You think we’re going to pull together and stop the violence? Okay. Believe what makes you happy.

You Get the Kind of Guests You Ask For

Doctrine is confusing. I know I’m stating the obvious.

In the early days of Christianity, we were taught by people who knew God personally, and their teachings were very solid. They believed in the baptism with the Holy Spirit, prayer in tongues, and the gifts of the Spirit, so God was able to teach them directly. Satan managed to get the church to reject the Holy Spirit and murder those who knew him, and after that point, we had to get by with false teachings from proud ignoramuses like Augustine. The older churches were taken over by fools and liars who made up theories that were largely based on paganism, and Christians lost their direct connection to God’s teaching. We ended up worshiping “saints” and trying to turn Mary–a sinful woman, like every other woman–into a sort of co-God. Hundreds of millions of Christians pray to Mary and the “saints,” as though they were God himself.

“It works,” they say. Yes, and so does voodoo.

God managed to give me a strong habit of praying in tongues, and through that, he has given me a lot of revelation. He has undone a lot of the damage the fabulists did. He helped me understand that the prosperity gospel was a lie straight from the mouth of Satan. He showed me that the ridiculous doctrine of pleasing him through hard work was based on pride, and that it actually cuts off his help and forces him to work against us.

From time to time, God gives me a new weapon, or at least a weapon that seems new to me. Sometimes I’m not sure whether I should accept these things. I take a while to become convinced they came from the right source. I can’t ask a knowledgeable, Holy-Spirit-led teacher, because there are no people like that. If there are, I have never met one. I’ve met a lot of people who wanted money and free work, however.

Here’s a piece of doctrine I’ve been thinking about lately. We are taught that only God can read minds. We are told that other spirits can’t hear our thoughts. Is that true? I think it is. We are familiar with occultists and “psychics” who pretend to read minds, but there are a lot of ways to fake that, and there is no reason a spirit can’t put a thought in your mind and then tell it to someone else. Also, a clever old spirit should be good at guessing.

Even if spirits can’t read our minds, I have no doubt that they can speak into our minds. That’s a different thing. Plenty of people have been possessed or temporarily entered by spirits that spoke through them. I don’t see any reason why a spirit assisting a clairvoyant couldn’t speak into your mind and then speak the same information to the clairvoyant.

I’ve been thinking about this because I’ve been using a new tool lately. I’ll explain how it works. Say I have a thought or urge I don’t want. Maybe it’s gluttony. Maybe it’s lust or laziness. Silently, in my mind, I’ll say something like, “In the name of Jesus, I cast out lust.” Sure enough, I get relief. It’s as though there is a spirit of lust inside me that can hear me.

When I started doing this, I began wondering if other spirits could hear my thoughts. Maybe they can; I don’t know everything. My best guess, though, is that they can’t. I think my own mind and flesh hear my commands, and they respect my God-given authority and shut off their compliance with spirits that are trying to influence me.

The 127th psalm says that children are like arrows in a man’s quiver, and it says they will speak with the enemy in the gate. What does that mean?

A man is like a walled city. In ancient times, cities normally wanted walls. People were barbaric, and they overran each other’s towns and raped and murdered and stole. Cities had gates. In Israel, the city gate was a place of authority. Powerful people sat there, and the gate was where deals were made and legal judgments were handed down. It was also a place where enemies were turned away. They came to the cities, and the city authorities spoke to them in the gates and sent them packing.

These days, our walls are generally down. We are like Jerusalem after it was sacked by the Babylonians. We are like America, with obnoxioius aliens stomping across our borders and doing whatever they will, sneering at us in the process. We don’t care about God. We think our Sixties values are brilliant and original. We don’t pray. We exalt ourselves. We wallow in pride, greed, lust, and sexual perversion. We don’t make any effort to avoid the sins that give nasty people and spirits power over us. Instead, we work hard to bring them in and enthrone them. We fornicate like crazy. We revile. We use drugs. We blaspheme. We love evil and cruelty.

Evil spirits are like flies, which is why the Bible calls the devil the lord of flies and the lord of feces. Flies are attracted to corruption and filth. They go where they can get a good meal. We open our windows and smear our walls with excrement, and in the process, we invited spirits in to rule us. They make us sick. They deceive us. They transform us into little copies of our real father, Satan.

I believe you can turn a spirit away at the gate. That’s what I believe I’m doing.

I used to believe my thoughts were just fine, and that I was allowed to think what I wanted, as long as I restrained my actions or did what I wanted and then asked for forgiveness. That’s not how it works. Your thoughts matter. The Holy Spirit is clean, and he wants to live in you. He’s not going to linger in a place which is like a filthy toilet overflowing with fermenting urine and poop. It’s not okay to stare at women and fantasize about them. It’s not okay to savor thoughts of anger, cruelty, and revenge. It’s not okay to obsess on possessions or money you want. It’s not okay to sit and think about fattening food you want to eat.

When you go along with evil thoughts and desires, you give control to spirits that hate you. You’re like a snotty, know-it-all girl who chooses a pimp over her parents.

Think of the problems biblical figures had. They participated in their own destruction. Adam and Eve invited Satan to take their planet by listening to him. The Jews repeatedly invited destruction and murder by turning to false gods. Saul added to his curses by consulting a medium. Solomon was a disgraceful failure who let pagan women turn him to idolatry, and after he died, his kingdom was torn in two.

Dealing with spirits is like dealing with vampires. One of the rules of vampire mythology is that a vampire can’t come in your house unless you invite him. We invite spirits all day and all night, and then we complain to God when we get cancer or our businesses or marriages fail. We choose Satan as our father, and then when he does exactly what we know he’ll do, we go to God and pretend he’s our father, and we ask for “justice.” Justice is actually what we’ve already received. We’re really asking for mercy and a handout. We’re asking God to enable us.

I believe I’m speaking to the enemy in the gate. My body is a gate. My senses are gates. My mind is a gate. Spirits that are used to my obedience and enthusiasm come to me, expecting the welcome they have usually received in the past. Now I turn them away. That’s what I’m doing when I say I cast things out. Maybe they can’t hear me, but they know they’ve been rejected with authority.

If you think this is crazy, try it yourself. If you have a strong habit of prayer in tongues, you will have the faith to make it work. You have to be repentant, and you have to be a seeker of God’s presence. You can’t expect it to work if you’re doing it on the way to a whorehouse or a bar. Be realistic. But it does work. It has made a very big change in my life.

You have to know what you’re fighting. Satan has convinced us that many sins aren’t sins. He wants us to think that as long as we’re nice, we’re not sinning. Here’s a list of some things to look out for: pride, dishonesty, excuses, malice, fear of other people, general cowardice, gossip, laziness, envy, gluttony, unbelief, and worry. If you don’t think unbelief is sin, how can you explain the fact that God punished biblical figures who doubted him?

It’s very important to keep looking for things that are wrong with you. The world teaches us that “shaming” is bad. It teaches us that we’re supposed to be proud and defiant. We’re supposed to be proud of fat, proud of of slutty behavior and clothing, proud of our accomplishments, our beauty, our money, our sexual perversions…wrong! So wrong. Self-criticism is self-diagnosis. If you don’t tell God you have a problem, he probably won’t fix it. Nobody with any common sense goes to a doctor and pretends to be well.

Why is it important to be fixed? Isn’t it okay to remain as you are and then ask forgiveness and go to heaven?

If you don’t get cleaned up, you will suffer in this life. You will have no authority. You will not be able to cast out disease or speak defeat to your enemies and problems. Here is how Paul put it:

Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind,

Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God.

The “kingdom of God” isn’t heaven. It’s God’s power and authority inside you. It’s what defeated Israel’s enemies when the Ark of the Covenant was with them. You are supposed to be a little ark, with God’s presence inside you. God will not live in a pile of used diapers.

The early Christians got miracles and revelation. Most of us don’t. Why should we? We’re Satan’s children, not God’s. God respects our choice to let Satan raise us and care for us. Would you go to your neighbor’s house and make sure the kids brushed their teeth?

The more I learn about God, the more evil I see in myself. I was raised in complete ignorance, filth, and rebellion. My parents knew nothing. The neighbors knew nothing. Preachers knew nothing. I had no wisdom whatsoever. There was no one to teach me. And I thought I knew everything. Ignorance is bad, but thinking you know the truth already is worse. It keeps the truth from entering in.

It’s amazing that God hasn’t given up on me. It’s not like he needs me. I have been proud, unclean, dishonest, cruel, cowardly, lazy…you name it. I rewarded his love and help with the ugliest kind of abuse. It’s as if I had been raised by pigs. God could have let me go to hell and replaced me with someone else, and it would have been absolutely righteous of him.

The world has gone completely nuts. It’s as if a giant tank of feces under the ground had burst, and it’s rising all around us. We are surrounded by nudity, anger, blasphemy, cruelty, arrogance, violence, greed, female rebellion, hatred of masculinity, sexual deviation, and love of evil. The cleaner I get inside, the more I want to get away from the world. It’s as if I’m a boat that has been bailed out, and I’m floating on the sea of excrement.

Things are going to get worse. We’re just seeing the tip of the iceberg. If you’re spiritually weak, you are going to be submerged in the cesspool. It won’t matter if you go to mass and pray to Mary ten times a day. It won’t help if you give half of your income to Benny Hinn. You have to know God personally and be transformed internally. The whole country is going to look a lot like a Black Lives Matter/Antifa rally. People who believe in God will be beaten, raped, and murdered, and no one will help them. If you’re not preparing yourself, you will drown. Trump won’t save you.

You need someone on your side. If you want God to be on your side, you have to be on his. He won’t help you just because you exist. He already allowed himself to be tortured to death for you. You can’t keep asking for more.

If anything I say helps you, let me know. It would be nice if I were used to accomplish a few useful things before I am excused from this miserable planet.

America’s Future: Beheading Jokes

What interesting things are happening in the world.

It looks like comedian Kathy Griffin has finally gone off the rails. She has become known for strange, degrading stunts, such as exposing her aging body to cameras. Now she has pulled out all the stops. She posed for photos holding a human head in her hand. The dummy head was made up to look just like Donald Trump, and it was covered with blood.

I try not to use copyrighted material here, but this definitely falls under “fair use,” so here:

Griffin has said it was okay to go after all of the Trumps, including 11-year-old Barron. She wasn’t kidding. The Trumps say Barron saw one of the photos and thought the head was his father.

Is this just sick humor? I don’t think so. I think it’s a message from Satan. He’s showing us what’s in the hearts of his people. He’s showing us our future. That severed head represents us.

Prophecy tells us we will be murdered by people who think they’re doing good. We’ve already seen it happening as part of Muslim terrorism. Muslims behead Christians and people from Christian countries all the time. Now the gloves are coming off, and the the enemy is getting bolder. He’s showing us Muslims aren’t alone in their feelings for us.

Would leftists really behead Christians? Of course they would. It’s silly to ask. Leftist terrorists already murder Christians and random white people in America. For every leftist who gets off the couch and acts on his anger, there are many who have the same feelings and are only restrained by the fear of acting alone.

We have the funny idea that Americans are above genocide. The Indians would have something to say about that, if there were any left. There are fewer than a million in the US today. Granted, America didn’t round them up by the millions and kill them in a systematic extermination campaign, but America did kill a whole lot of them and force them into reservations. America was also very brutal to blacks. If Americans can do things like that, why can’t leftist Americans murder Christians and conservatives?

Did you see how Griffin responded to public outrage? She got herself an opportunistic lawyer (the daughter of Gloria Allred) and appeared before TV cameras, whining and crying and claiming her victims were bullies. She played the victim. People were shocked. Most people, anyway. To me, it made complete sense. This is what Satan and his people do. They victimize, and while they do it, they play the victim card.

This is why I hate Black Lives Matter and the other victimhood movements. They’re just like the Nazis. Hitler rose to power by telling the Germans and Austrians they were victims. The same thing happened in Russia; the communists were able to murder the Christian czar and his kids because they convinced ordinary Russians they were victims. Everything a victim does is justified, because it’s self-defense. Victims have no remorse, and they are extremely sadistic. We shouldn’t be surprised that the Germans murdered Jews they needed for their war effort. The pleasure of sadism was more alluring than the prospect of winning. Our modern victims have the same mindset.

It’s remarkable how the victimhood mindset makes people sadistic. Look at our movies. If Arnold Schwarzenegger made a movie in which he went around roasting random people with a flamethrower, the public would hate him. On the other hand, he has tortured people in movies, and he has killed them in terrible ways and mocked them while they died. The public loved it. Why? Because they were bad people. The writers always set Schwarzenegger up as a victim before he did his acts of cruelty. When he jammed a hot steam pipe through a man’s chest or dangled a man over a canyon by his ankle, the audience loved it, because they were getting what they deserved.

That’s us, in a few years. Getting what the victims think we deserve.

We can’t play the victim game. We are under attack, but if we get down in the dirt and use our victim status to justify cruelty and hate, we will become our persecutors. The only sane responses are to pray, repent, and move away from victim concentrations. If you still live in places like L.A., St. Louis, Baltimore, and Miami in five years, you will be responsible for what happens to you.

Incidentally, the word “victim” used to mean an animal or person used in a sacrifice. Something to think about. The greatest victim in history was Jesus Christ. In a way, our modern chronic victims are stealing his glory.

Here’s another interesting news item: UK Prime Minister Theresa May is angry at social media companies and ISP’s for allowing hateful online communications. Apparently, she blames Twitter and Facebook for this weekend’s Muslim murder orgy.

Let that soak in for a minute. The leader of a nation that encourages Muslim immigration and does nothing to acknowledge the true nature of the terrorism problem is angry…because Muslim extremists are allowed admission to Facebook. You let them in your country, but you’re upset because someone else lets them into an online community, where they can’t behead or slash anyone.

Is the irony not obvious? Do I have to keep hammering on the point?

If Muslim nuts are good enough to live among you, they are good enough to like your cat memes.

Here in the United States, imprisoned murderers are allowed to use the Internet. We don’t care. We know there is a difference between online communication and physical violence. When a judge turns a murderer loose and he kills again, we don’t get mad at the judge for letting the murderer use Twitter.

May wants to “regulate” the Internet. We all know what that means. Censorship. And of course, while the response would be stimulated by Islam, it would be used to persecute Christians. Remember how Obama’s people focused on nonexistent Christian terror threats?

This morning I was thinking about the weird old threats that have come back to life in America, to menace white males. In the past, white males were leaders here. God sent white Christian males to get America started, and they were used by God to make it strong. Other segments of society were subordinate to them. God gave them favor. Then white Christian males fell asleep, credited themselves with America’s success, and forgot God.

Look what’s happening now. We run from everyone. We run from our own women. We run from blacks. We run from Hispanic invaders who aren’t citizens; they say this is really their country. Was Iowa part of Mexico? I don’t remember it that way. We even run from animals that used to be under control. We reintroduce large predators our ancestors had the good sense to drive out, and we are not allowed to shoot them when they invade our homes and kill our pets and livestock. And not all of the predators were introduced by man. We have coyotes in New York City now. We even have a bedbug plague. Predators bite us while we sleep.

This is what happens when favor is reversed. White Christian males assumed they would be on top forever, because they had all the answers, and we assumed America would always be invincible. Wrong. Our forebears had favor. God can give a goose favor and make it emperor of the world. We didn’t build this, as Obama would put it. We just took the credit.

Am I saying white men should take over again, or that white supremacy is a good idea? Never. That’s idiotic. I’m saying God favors his people, and everyone who wants to rise above the increasing chaos needs to get close to him. If a Christian black faction or a bloc of former Muslims arises and takes over the country with God’s blessing, no one will be happier than I will. I plan to be on the same team.

One of the reasons Europe is such a pleasant place is that there are no predators to speak of. Did you know lions used to live in Europe? If the hippies had been around thousands of years ago, lions would still be roaming the streets of Rome, eating people. Europeans had the common sense to get rid of lions, and along the way, they drove bears and wolves out of populated areas. We’re not as smart as they were. We think it’s cute when a family of black bears keeps a family of humans trapped indoors. We say stupid things like, “They were here first.” Hey, the bubonic plague bacterium was here first. So was poison ivy. So were rattlesnakes, roaches, fleas, lice, rats, mice, and bedbugs. Intelligent people understand that human beings are more important than animals.

I don’t care who was here first. My kind is here now, and we are what matters. Plants and animals were put here to be ruled and used by us.

Animals and types of human beings who used to be harmless to white Christian males are driving us before them like cattle, because we’re not God’s people. We give them the whips. We forge our own shackles. We hand them our constitutional rights. What a crazy time to be alive.

Adam and Eve gave Satan the earth. The Jews invited the Babylonian captivity, the Diaspora, and the Shoah by turning away from God. We are giving America away by rejecting God’s criticism and help. Nothing changes. Our illusions of moral superiority make us think we’re different, but we’re not.

When Kathy Griffin’s moral heirs start beheading and slashing and raping in larger numbers, it will be our fault. It will be the fault of our assailants, too, but that won’t be a good excuse.

Nothing that’s happening now is extraordinary. All of it was predictable. It was to be expected. We should have seen it as inevitable, given our actions.

It’s astonishing to know that I am witnessing the destruction (the suicide) of America. It seemed impossible. Other people will deny it, and they won’t prepare, but in time they’ll see it and acknowledge it, too. They’ll be like the Jews in Germany and Austria who failed to get out in time.

Somewhere in Detroit, there is an old white homeowner who thinks the real estate downturn is a passing thing.

If we’re prospering now, it’s temporary. The conservative “revolution” is an illusion. Hillary won the popular vote. In time, we will reach a state where the Democrat always wins the electoral vote. America will be dismantled. If you’re white or Christian, you will be part of an underclass. Eventually, our very existence will be the target, and we will lose.

Kathy Griffin may live long enough to become a celebrated hero of the left. The beheading photo may become a cherished cultural icon. Maybe on New Year’s Eve twenty years from now, they’ll wheel her out on CNN, and she’ll pull a sash that turns on the gas to kill Barron Trump and his children.

I’m glad I’m old. I would not want to have seventy more years in front of me. The other day I saw a black spot on my back, and I wondered if it was melanoma. At first I was disturbed, but then I thought about the way melanoma would give me a way out of this place. You lie back and take your painkillers, and one day you stop breathing. The way things are today, you’re likely to be killed by a nurse who turns up the morphine while doctors look the other way. Then this place is other people’s problem. I felt real peace about it. It turned out to be a scab from something I had scratched, but it taught me something about my view of death.

I’ve had a number of dreams in which I have died. I never felt terror. I felt sober but relieved. “Finally, I am done with this place.” I don’t understand people who live in terror of death. It seems childish to me. It’s immaturity. Death is normal, like puberty and menopause. Everyone goes through death. How can you scream and cry about something you knew was going to happen? You’re not really going to die. You’re just going somewhere else. Make sure it’s the right place and calm down.

I don’t brace for death. I brace for more life. I am probably stuck with quite a few years left on my sentence. More illnesses. More physical decay. More unpleasant tasks. More interactions with nasty people. More traffic jams. More injuries. More disgusting and disconcerting news stories. More alienation from an increasingly gross and trashy citizenry. The continued destruction of my beautiful homeland. Gloating speeches from an uninterrupted succession of leftist presidents. I feel like I’m on an exercise bike, counting the minutes until I can get off.

Once America falls, there is nowhere to go but heaven. This is the last decent place on earth.

I may be wrong about that. There is some hope for Russia.

Stay out of trouble, and pray scalping doesn’t come back.

Startling Revelation: Hollywood not Best Source of Reliable News

I did something I probably should not have done this week. I watched most of The Dallas Buyers Club. It’s a movie about AIDS victim Ron Woodroof, who ran a company that distributed non-approved AIDS drugs to sick people.

I shouldn’t have watched it because over and over, nudity kept popping up. You can fast-forward when that happens, but little glimpses are still in your head afterward. Not helpful. Oh, well. I will keep trying to improve.

Anyway, as entertainment goes, it’s an excellent movie. As infotainment, not so much. It turns out there is a lot of BS in the film.

In the movie, Woodroof is an oilfield electrician who rides in rodeos in his spare time. He is fiercely heterosexual. He hates gays. He hates all minorities. He threatens to beat up the doctor who diagnoses him with AIDS. Over time and out of necessity, he develops relationships with gay men, and first thing you know, he’s a passionate advocate for the cause of gay AIDS sufferers.

I checked a few things out, because the movie seemed very slanted to me. Big Pharma in bed with the FDA, trying to kill people with poisonous AZT and suppressing cheaper medicines that worked better. Does anyone seriously think that happened? Also, who rides bulls while working full-time as an electrician? Does it work that way in Texas? Can you tell your boss you need to clock out early so you can break your collarbone riding El Diablo? I doubt it. Finally, movie Woodroof contracted AIDS from straight sex. How realistic is that?

Here are the actual facts.

1. Ron Woodroof was gay. He married three women, but he also had sex with men. His doctor says he was gay. A nurse he worked with says he was gay. The man was gay. The only person who insists he was straight is a screenwriter who didn’t know him well.

2. Ron Woodroof was not homophobic, according to people who knew him. It’s hard to be homophobic and gay and have any kind of social life.

3. Ron Woodroof did not ride in rodeos. The movie people put that in to make him look like a scrappy guy used to fighting bigger opponents. That’s what they say, but they also put it in to make him look butch.

4. Ron Woodroof did not have a tumultuous friendship with a transvestite named Rayon. This person never existed.

5. The FDA tolerated buyers’ clubs for a long time, and they only stepped in when profiteering became a problem. They even let Ron Woodroof keep importing a banned medication for his own use.

I read this stuff, and I wondered why the movie people insisted Woodroof was straight. Then I saw where someone said they did it to prevent The Dallas Buyers Club from becoming a “gay movie.” WHAM. That explains everything. If a movie looks too gay, most people will feel like they can’t relate to it, so they won’t go. There are exceptions, but Hollywood likes sure things (hello, sequels and remakes), so why take a chance?

Thinking about that, I realized there was more to it than that. They wanted AIDS to look like a heterosexual disease, in order to generate support for victims. Problem: AIDS has never been a major heterosexual disease, except for women who sleep with gay men or intravenous drug users. This is why black heterosexual women make up a significant number of AIDS victims. Many have sex with closeted gay men. It’s easy for women to get AIDS from straight sex, but it’s just about impossible for a man.

I looked it up. If you’re a heterosexual man who doesn’t share needles, you have, essentially, no chance of getting AIDS. Millions of people have died from AIDS. I couldn’t find a single example of an American heterosexual white male who got it from a woman. If examples exist, they are flukes, like male calico cats. Straight men can get all sorts of venereal diseases. AIDS is one you don’t have to worry about.

A lot of black “heterosexual” men get AIDS, but it appears likely they get it from sex with other men. Black men don’t like admitting they’re gay, so they lie to people who gather statistics.

Here’s something amazing: if you look at a 2010 chart that show how AIDS affects different types of people, heterosexual white males who don’t shoot up aren’t listed. I looked at it several times, because I was sure I was missing something. They’re not listed because they don’t exist in numbers large enough to put on graphs. It would be like listing animals that fly by group and having a bar for snails.

Yes, the chart does have a bar for black heterosexual men. It lists 2700 new infections and none for whites. Do you seriously believe that? Are white men really that much more conscientious about “protection”? No. We are not. If protection were the issue, we would still have a significant number of cases, and we don’t. The black “heterosexual” men on the chart are gays and drug users who lie.

They’re not the only ones who can’t face the truth. You can see the denial mindset at work if you look at statistics. Gay men aren’t called “gay men.” They’re called “MSM.” This means “men who have sex with other men.” Even the professionals can’t bring themselves to say “gay.” If having sex with other men doesn’t make you gay, WHAT DOES? Collecting Ethel Merman records?

By the way, I’m not talking about charts created by Jerry Falwell, Jr. I’m talking about government charts. We all know how government employees and medical people lean left. This is not right wing or Christian propaganda. Straight white men were excluded by people who have powerful motivation to include us.

What does this mean? That we should be happy gays and junkies are getting AIDS? Of course not. But no one likes to be lied to. Systematically. Deliberately.

Man, the world is crazy. Next thing you know, the dishonesty will find its way into documentaries, and we may even see people using CGI to create drowning polar bears to convince audiences global warming is real.

No, that could never happen.

It’s very unfortunate that people who create fact-based fiction make so little effort to let the public know what they lie about. Sometimes they do a lot of damage. People who watched Cinderella Man came away thinking Max Baer was a murderous anti-Semite. In reality, he was a great guy and a supporter of Jews, and he put the Star of David on his fighting trunks.

That brings me to Milton. I am still not done with Paradise Lost. It only read two or three pages per day. I need to get on with it. I’ve decided I don’t like it for two reasons: 1. Milton is a boring, incredibly pedantic showoff, and 2.) people should not make up Biblical history, because it tends to become doctrine. Milton wrote a fact-based work of fiction, and he had no right to do it. It’s unfortunate if you write a deceptive movie about AIDS. It can be blasphemy, apostasy, or heresy if you write a deceptive poem about God.

Milton was extremely bright, and he wanted people to know it. He twisted and bent the English language into Baroque shapes it didn’t need to be bent into. He reminds me of the little black kids who appear on talent shows and do all sorts of non-helpful vocal acrobatics while singing Whitney Houston numbers. Okay. You’re talented. But now I’m bored and annoyed, and you’ve killed the pace of the song, so what good has the showing off done?

Shakespeare was a better writer than Milton, and he did not beat the reader or listener over the head with his genius. He knew the difference between a work of fiction and an Olympic event. And he was not boring. And he had a great sense of humor. Milton was a humorless crank who craved admiration. You can have him.

Guess who wrote the play that contains the words, “brevity is the soul of wit”? Not Milton. That probably infuriated him.

If I want to see people do amazing things, I’ll go watch Chinese acrobats. I don’t read literature in order to be impressed. Milton turned his poem into a circus act, and on top of that, he’s long-winded. You don’t have to use three pages to describe every action in the story. Just say, “The sun went down,” not, “The gleaming orb of Helios, its glorious substance spent on teeming fields of indebted posies, summoned forth its gilded chariot and blah blah blah shut up already.”

I read a little bit of the next book on my list, Pride and Prejudice, because I was stuck somewhere with nothing to do, and I happened to have an Amazon sample on my phone. It looks like it will be more entertaining than Milton, although it does have “chick lit.” written all over it. I already dislike it, but I will be able to tolerate it.

I may have read it before. Who knows? Not the kind of book that changes your life and makes a lasting impression.

This is the view from here, as of Friday morning. I’ve mentioned two books and one movie, and I can’t recommend any of them. Shakespeare, however, gets two thumbs up.

Get me Out of Santeriaville

My house-hunting trip is over. I’m back at work, trying to get everything in order so a move can be worked out.

It’s a confusing time. There are a lot of tax angles to be looked at when you buy and sell properties. Real estate appreciates, so when you sell, you get hit with capital gains tax. You can get around that with a good accountant, if you can prove losses that offset the gains. If you sell rental property, you may be able to avoid paying the tax by putting the money into new rental properties in other locations. Sometimes one property may be eligible for both types of tax breaks, and you have to decide which one to apply.

When a person is my dad’s age, he also has to think about things like gift tax and the death tax.

I’m not sure what will happen, but I know this: it’s a lot easier to get hundreds of thousands of dollars by keeping it away from the government than by going out and earning it all over again.

Thank God for accountants. I can’t imagine a more dreadful job. It’s good that there are people out there who are willing to do it. They’re like morticians. They do a necessary job everyone else hates.

I haven’t written a lot about my relationship with God lately. I get distracted and write frivolous things. I stop focusing on what’s important. Also, I don’t want to write things that are half-baked and full of errors, just to have something to say.

Lately God keeps reminding me of the big lesson he tried to teach me in 1986: I have to spend a great deal of time praying in tongues. When I let it slip, it’s like coming down from a stimulant. Instead of feeling energetic and at peace, I feel crabby and worried. Things stop going well. It’s strange how one thing which requires so little of my own input makes such profound changes in my life.

I’ve also gotten very good results from daily communion. I know this, because I skipped it during my trip. I felt terrible yesterday. Returning to Miami is always a cursed event, but it was worse than that. I couldn’t find peace. I wasn’t able to resist temptation the way I should have been.

Today when I woke up, I didn’t have wine with me, but I went through the essentials anyway. Communion isn’t really about wine or crackers. I went down the list of things I was doing badly and compulsions I was yielding to. I repented and asked for help. It was like peeling filthy clothes off, one item at a time. Peace came back to me.

I think I’m going to do communion in the morning from now on, instead of waiting until late in the day. It’s like showering. If you’re only going to shower once a day, you should do it in the morning. It’s better to sleep dirty than to be dirty when you start the day. I suppose there is no reason why I can’t do communion more than once a day, though. I don’t really have to choose.

God’s big goal, apart from salvation, is inner change. The inside of a person is supposed to be as much like heaven as possible. It should be a place of peace, love, faith, joy, and humility. It should be a clean place. You don’t get that from churches where they teach people to sin all they want and ask forgiveness once a week. Prayer and communion are tools to get your insides ordered.

I often think about the disorder and filth inside me. I may be an okay person by the world’s standards, but I am not good. When I turned back to God, I was disgusting, like a house that has been turned into a crack den. He has improved me a lot, but there’s a great deal of work to be done. The job is overwhelming. I wish I were a better person. I wish I had not vandalized myself like this.

It’s very unfortunate that churches don’t teach this. They tell us God loves us as we are, which is true, but they imply that we don’t have to change. A serial murderer’s mother may love him, but that doesn’t imply approval.

They also don’t teach us this: power doesn’t come to filthy, unrepentant people. The Bible warns us about this, but preachers love money and high attendance, so they keep quiet about it. The Bible says idolaters, revilers, sexually immoral people, and so on will not inherit the kingdom of heaven. When you wallow in immorality and count on weekly church visits to save you, you don’t get the power Christians are supposed to have. Your prayers won’t be answered as often. Rotten people will get victory over you. Your problems will get worse instead of better. Most Christians don’t mind. As long as they get sexual immorality, pride, and rebellion, they don’t mind dying of cancer, living in lack, having no peace, or losing most of their battles.

I remember watching Steve Munsey give a terrible sermon at Trinity Church in Miami. For some reason, he was talking about sex. He had his people play the song “Single Ladies” while he danced around. It was quite a sight. He said, “It’s okay to look, but you can’t touch.” When he said “touch”, he grinned and held his hands out in front of him and made motions as if he were squeezing two objects. Don’t make me explain.

That’s the attitude most of us have. It’s okay to be dirty inside, as long as we don’t do what we want to do. Many of us go further: it’s okay to do whatever we want as long as we ask for forgiveness. Many go further than that: it’s okay even if you never admit you did anything wrong and you never ask for forgiveness, as long as you got saved when you were a kid.

Munsey is disgraceful. It’s not okay to look. It’s not okay to encourage yourself to be lustful, covetous, angry, gluttonous, and so on. When God has succeeded in changing you, you won’t be a leering, craving bag of useless flesh.

There’s a big difference between momentary temptation and deliberate obsessing.

I think good teaching would have sped up my progress. Unfortunately, I put myself in the hands of people who couldn’t help me improve because they didn’t want to be improved, themselves. They thought they were fine the way they were. They couldn’t teach what they didn’t know.

I didn’t deserve better teachers. I had turned away. I deserved continued decline and damnation. I brought Munsey and the Wilkerson family on myself.

There are certain things I know to do, which are easy and which bring powerful results. I just have to keep doing them. As long as I continue, I will grow stronger and have more success.

I look forward to getting away from Miami. This place is full of Cubans and Haitians who literally worship demons. No wonder things don’t go well for me here! What did I expect? I’m the enemy of the ruling spirits. Say what you will about most of America; most cities and towns don’t have hundreds of thousands of residents who practice voodoo. This is one of the worst places for Christians.

I believe that when I went on my trip to Ocala, I got away from a whole bunch of local spirits that hate me and work against me. I thought about this as I drove back, and it really bothered me. I did not want to return. Now I’m stuck here, and I have to keep fighting until I can get away again.

Miami is absolutely rotten.

What on earth was I thinking when I moved back here?

I plan to keep applying what I know. I believe God will deliver me from this trashy city just as he has delivered me from a lot of trashy people who mistreated me.

Maybe this will be useful to you. I hope you will think it over.

Miami Can’t be Behind me Soon Enough

The house hunt is going forward.

It seems like you have to be a…I’m looking for a PG-rated term…an ASSERTIVE PERSON to get anything done in real estate. I had to get on my realtor this week. Week before last, I said I wanted to get up to Marion County and look at some properties, he asked for time off because his mother was visiting. We agreed to get together this week. I emailed him a day or two ago, and he said he wanted to wait another two weeks because he was busy.

Uh…didn’t we already discuss that? Shouldn’t the reason you’re busy be me?

Anyway, I complained, and he agreed to show me places next week.

I’m going alone this time. My dad is no longer interested in making decisions, so he won’t be tagging along. He’ll buy any place I choose. That’s a huge change, from a person who used to flip out if I said he needed to spend $500 to fix his sidewalk.

It’s very odd, suddenly finding myself in charge of wealth someone else worked for all his life. It wouldn’t be so odd if he were gone, because my mistakes wouldn’t endanger him. As it is, I have to think very carefully about everything I do. I suppose I should think very carefully about decisions that only involve me, and I try to, but the pressure is not the same.

I’m learning a lot about taxes and investing. From time to time I call his accountant up with an idea that occurred to me, to see if it will save him money. So far that has worked out well. It’s strange, because I don’t come up with many ideas to save myself money. I’m doing better managing his wealth than my own.

Even after looking at homes for three months, it’s hard to be sure what I want. Houses that are remote, where I can have a great workshop and not have to worry about BLM, La Raza, or GLAAD marching down my street to tell me what I owe them, are very tempting, but they will be slow to appreciate, and I’ll have to be content living a good ways off from grocery stores, theaters, and so on. Houses that are closer in would provide more convenience, but I would feel obligated to socialize and mix with horse people. I don’t want that at all. I don’t give a crap about horses, country clubs, homeowners’ associations, or seeing other human beings more than once or twice a week. I don’t want idiots showing up at my door with fake grins, saying things like, “We’re from the Boosters Club, and we were just thinking you might be a LOT happier without that Bobcat parked in your yard.”

I would want to buy special boots just to kick people like that in the rear end.

Let’s be real. I’m leaving Miami to get away from jerks and meddlers. I am not going to be happy if I have busybody neighbors leaning over my fence, measuring my grass to see if it’s short enough.

Wow. Just writing about this helps me clear things up. I don’t want people bothering me. The remote places look better now.

I guess I’m getting very weird in my old age, but I’m excited about spending the rest of my life by myself, welding, machining, woodworking, writing, and fooling with electronics. When I say “by myself,” I don’t mean I wouldn’t want a wife, but I would not want to be very social.

I would love to have 300 acres up near the Georgia border. It would be great to have to drive half a mile from my house to see someone else’s land. I want to be frugal with my dad’s resources, though. The more he sinks into a new home, the less he will have left to generate income.

Sometimes I sit and look at properties in Appalachia. I would love to live there. The attachment never dies. Unfortunately, the problems with racism and ignorance would make it hard to find a location where I could be happy.

It’s funny; the sudden open animosity toward white people and Christians makes me afraid to live too close to cities and areas where minorities are concentrated, but at the same time, I could not go back to Eastern Kentucky and hear the N-word ten times a day. Sometimes I ask myself whether it’s better to live among white racists who would look out for me, or near minority racists who would try to harm me.

America seems to be getting cramped. Big properties are being sliced up. Controlling liberal freaks are showing up and trying to take over places where people used to feel safe from them. Can you open a bakery in Johnson City, Tennessee or Dalton, Georgia without anti-Christian gays seeking you out to force you to bake cakes? I wonder. Could I join a bar association in any state if they found out I’m a Bible-believing Christian?

I have this feeling I should stay in Florida because of my law license, but I think I would rather work at Home Depot than practice again. Assuming I could pass the Home Depot sensitivity tests. I don’t think I’ll ever practice law in the future. Maybe I should be thinking about moving out of this state.

Tennessee doesn’t look too bad. It hasn’t become packed with Miami vacation rabble, and they have no income tax.

Miami is starting to be truly unpleasant. All sorts of people are moving here, and I can’t even figure out where they’re from. They’re generally Hispanic. I think a lot of them may be South Americans. Hispanics have a habit of ruining their own countries and moving here to escape. They’re jamming themselves into the south end of the county, and that means the roads down here are buried in new traffic. Condos are going up all over South Dade. Extremely ugly high-rises are going up west of downtown.

The new people are not inspiring. I don’t think their countries are sending us their best. Lots of stretch pants on the women, and by “stretch pants,” I mean, basically, stockings without pants. Lots of orange hair. Cheap wigs. Pounds and pounds of makeup. Acres of convict tattoos. Convict hairstyles. Daisy Dukes so short and tight they seem to be injuring women’s crotches. Large masses of upper-thigh cellulite waving in the air. Every fingernail is an artistic statement in at least two colors. Belts are rarely seen on the young men.

Sometimes I see a woman pass by, and I think, “That HAS to be a prostitute.”

They don’t look like Cubans. I wonder who they are.

It’s working out well for me financially. My father had to buy my sister out of her house to keep the city from demolishing it, and we had to remodel it. The value of the property has gone up about 70% since then, not including the return on renovation. We are being forced to sell it. The value is so far ahead of rental prices, it makes no sense to keep it. Everything else we own down here is going up, too.

I think we’re in a bubble, so I would like to sell whatever I can and put the money in properties upstate. Let someone else hold the bag when the bubble pops.

I’m not the only one who wants out. Today a waitress told me she ended up in Miami because of “bad decisions.” She said she had a master’s degree in something useful (not English or history), and that she had to wait tables because her Spanish wasn’t good. She has three kids to support on her own. She said her Spanish was the problem, but non-Hispanics face discrimination here even when they’re bilingual.

At least she’s not black. God help a black person trying to get a job in Miami.

To get back to me, I suspect I find it hard to choose a place to go because of my beliefs. A Christian can’t be truly at home anywhere these days. The freaks and persecutors are spreading like black mold. They’re not content with tolerance. They literally want us to disappear.

I hope my search ends soon.