tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21853595899966428052024-03-13T23:51:11.852-07:00Les is More? Free range crazy lady who writes about baking, dieting, and religion from the perspective of a whacky Episcopalian liberal Okie democrat with an oddly traditional perspective on living. Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger223125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-53634945465084514562018-08-08T19:29:00.001-07:002018-08-08T19:29:29.740-07:00Shake, rattle and roll!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I need to give a shout out to all the crazy white ladies of the internet. You're really freaking people out. A girl can't even chase down a stranger in her car without terrifying people anymore.<br />
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I was driving down East Main, minding my own business, when I saw my worst car related nightmare rolling by me. I'm no car guru, so I'm not sure, but I think it was a geo metro. I know for sure it had a front fender panel that was a different color than all the other fender panels and the rear passenger side tire was literally shaking. <br />
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xrkxh9sNeTA/W2ujmUoLEcI/AAAAAAAAU2M/2ezHaUCyBDc2zEkj5QUJZUXqCP7iJG5EwCLcBGAs/s1600/31988167_258055914770625_6416837077601615872_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xrkxh9sNeTA/W2ujmUoLEcI/AAAAAAAAU2M/2ezHaUCyBDc2zEkj5QUJZUXqCP7iJG5EwCLcBGAs/s320/31988167_258055914770625_6416837077601615872_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Think about like this only more white and less shiny paint: <br />
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I'm following this car and I see the back tire shaking like a chihuahua. I pull up next to them and roll my windows down. They speed up. They take the next left hand turn. Their tire is still shaking. Not to be deterred, I take the same turn. I'm still trying to get their attention. <br />
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They take a right hand turn. Not today, Satan! I'm going to tell these people their tire is vibrating like some weak armed girl (me) changed it and didn't get the lug nuts tight enough before it drops them going the top speed of 45 mph this beautiful legacy of the 90's tops out at. They could get hurt! Another turn! I follow, not to be deterred by mere evasive maneuvering. <br />
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Finally, the little car that's going to drop someone pulls into a gas station. Nice and public, security cameras, in case I get my crazy white woman thing on and someone has to call me Linda. A man pops out of the back seat to handle me. <br />
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He doesn't speak English and my car related Spanish is all insurance words that don't include vibrating tire. I'm trying to tell him what's going on, pointing to the tire and making weird gestures to indicate it's about to fall off when his son, the driver, gets out of the car and I explain to him (in English of course) what is going on.<br />
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Teenager breathes a sigh of relief, realizing he isn't going to have to defend his mother in a street brawl with someone screaming for a cop. I tell him about the tire and he promises to fix it. I get in my car and drive away. <br />
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I'm even more sure now that me changing a tire myself is a terrible idea.<br />
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Oh and girls, calm down, everyone has cameras now. You can't have an epic meltdown in public over cheese or returns at Sears without someone filming it. Basically, our reign of terror is over.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-49124768993665809882018-05-30T13:11:00.003-07:002018-05-30T13:11:51.458-07:00Can we stay on topic here? <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have noticed a trend going around with the news cycle. Someone does something awful. People criticize the person for doing something awful. People then instantly point to someone else who also did something awful and say what about them! <br />
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So what? Can we please stay on topic? Roseanne isn't Bill Mahr. No one cares what Whoopi Goldberg said on The View. Right now, God knows, we're all talking about Roseanne Barr. Roseanne Barr who got herself fired by making a crappy racist remark on Twitter. It isn't the first time, no one's really shocked, but it is out there, and it got her cancelled. <br />
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But Whoopi, but Bill, but but but...<br />
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No, no buts. She did this to herself, there's no excuse for what she said. Ambien doesn't have a side effect of racists views. Naked sleep cooking? Yes. Racism? No. Let's not make excuses for this. It doesn't matter if you like her. I like her. It doesn't mean ABC shouldn't fire her. Free speech does not mean freedom from the consequences of speech. She said something crappy and racist and she got fired. Quit trying to make it about politics. <br />
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We're not talking about someone else so let's not follow the red herring. If we switch topics, we switch topics. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-72270144944585446822017-10-16T18:15:00.001-07:002017-10-16T18:15:54.402-07:00Me too<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How's this for messed up? My first thought with the <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2017/10/15/entertainment/me-too-twitter-alyssa-milano/index.html"><span class="_5afx" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; direction: ltr; text-decoration-line: none; unicode-bidi: isolate;"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl _5afz" style="color: #4267b2; unicode-bidi: isolate;">#</span><span class="_58cm">metoo</span></span> </a>was "don't be a drama queen, it's not like someone raped you".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Good grief. Internalized misogyny is real and I have it. I sat there staring at my phone last night and thought I was such a goddamn drama queen for sharing a status when nothing <i>that bad</i> happened because I've never been raped. Like rape is the gold standard and I had no right to complain because <i>that </i> hadn't happened to me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn't want to share it. But for you men out there who think it's not a problem, it is, and I was 12, maybe 13 the first time a stranger talked about my body in a sexual context. Touched in the pool in a way that wasn't appropriate for my age by a man later convicted of rape. It got worse from there. I was 17 when my friend's boyfriend tried to kiss me in the car and I had to get him off me by squeezing his throat until he backed off. The worst part about that? She didn't break up with him. He tried to sexually assault me and she didn't break up with him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every time some guy makes a lewd comment or a gross suggestion, I shrug it off. Mostly because I still have work to do (it happens at work too) or the guy's drunk, or some other dumb reason. Mostly, I shrug it off because I don't want to deal with it. Because I don't want to waste my precious time dealing with some pervert's actions in a way that would punish me as much as him. I mean, hell, did you know if you pull a knife on someone, rather they just grabbed your ass or not, people call the cops? That pepper spraying people is kind assault-ish? I really don't want to go to jail in this county, people. People die in there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But here's the thing, guys: I don't want you to start standing up against perverts sexually harassing women because we're your sisters, or your mothers, or your wives. Do it because we're people. That's reason enough. It ought to be anyway. If you see something, say something. Use that manly physical strength to tell another manly specimen that is disgusting and wrong to treat women like disembodied boobs and butts. That it's wrong to talk to a girl like she exists to make babies and cook dinner. That's wrong to think you're entitled to sex. (That's wrong for everyone to think, women included) Just freaking stand up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because that's the right thing to do. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeah, I crushed Justin Wade's larynx with my hand and I fought my way out of that situation, but if someone doesn't, it's not their fault. It's the person committing the crime's fault. Always. Every time. Every single time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So believe them now and stand up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And believe us when the Harvey Weinsteins of the world have the light shone on their cockroach corners. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That would be great. </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-8115397830648512152017-08-14T19:56:00.003-07:002017-08-14T20:06:58.640-07:00Punching Nazis in the Face<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-60K0ZtTkAfg/WZJV95uiP2I/AAAAAAAARJc/Un2VastEFnoNBXS7sAg0CjgfFJJxMGpfQCLcBGAs/s1600/image-20170123-8062-1nr3t6t.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="541" data-original-width="754" height="228" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-60K0ZtTkAfg/WZJV95uiP2I/AAAAAAAARJc/Un2VastEFnoNBXS7sAg0CjgfFJJxMGpfQCLcBGAs/s320/image-20170123-8062-1nr3t6t.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm not going to dance around it, I really hate Nazis. I don't just dislike them, they are literally the antithesis of everything good in the world. This past weekend, they showed up at a "demonstration" with swords, clubs, guns, and shields. They also killed several people. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They came there looking for a fight and they made sure they got it. It isn't "normal" (Dear God, why do I have to use that word?) White Power crap where they show up, have a parade, congratulate each other on their lack of melanin and talk about how glad they are to be out waving their dicks in public. No, this was them showing up looking for an actual fight, <i>because they think they're starting to become normalized in the public eye. </i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f_8qefRPkPw/WZJYl1DFiTI/AAAAAAAARJs/FgVtgjv8LIgKDtZjZMRkrl9cK_ZNri1mACLcBGAs/s1600/A-Woman-Hitting-a-Neo-Nazi-With-Her-Handbag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="398" height="201" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f_8qefRPkPw/WZJYl1DFiTI/AAAAAAAARJs/FgVtgjv8LIgKDtZjZMRkrl9cK_ZNri1mACLcBGAs/s320/A-Woman-Hitting-a-Neo-Nazi-With-Her-Handbag.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This lady. Be like this lady</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Guys, this is where we come in. Especially, let me be clear, <i>white Christian people </i>absolutely must react to this bullshit with swift retribution. There must be public mockery, because honestly, they hate that, loud opposition, and public shaming. Why? Because if we don't, they become more normalized. If they become more normalized, more cockroaches are going to join their ranks. Law enforcement may turn a blind eye (age of Trump and all) and more people will die. I repeat, more people will die. </span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kvFzheR2DwU/WZJYh7NSiBI/AAAAAAAARJo/QXPWHtJvwUAqto3L02Q4ibmVrxwhaLjZACLcBGAs/s1600/i-want-you-to-punch-nazis-punch-every-goddamn-one-12749441.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kvFzheR2DwU/WZJYh7NSiBI/AAAAAAAARJo/QXPWHtJvwUAqto3L02Q4ibmVrxwhaLjZACLcBGAs/s320/i-want-you-to-punch-nazis-punch-every-goddamn-one-12749441.png" width="205" /></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> As people who are not their preferred target, we absolutely have to stand in the way of their evil behavior. It will probably get dangerous, but do not let that stop you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Some suggestions:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1) Call them out on racist or violent comments. Do not let them go unchallenged. This will get uncomfortable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2) Call out government officials who do not publicly condemn acts of violence and racism. Right now, this pretty much means call the White House and tell Trump his base is evil and ridiculous. He needs to know he can either be President of the United States, or a Nazi sympathizer, but not both. This is not acceptable behavior, even for Trump. (I can't believe I have to say this about the President of the United States.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3) If you've ever had the words "They can't even speak English" come out of your mouth, you need to </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">A) Stop saying that. </span><br /><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">B) Remind yourself Jesus didn't speak English either.</span><br /><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">C) STFU unless you're multi-lingual yourself. </span></blockquote>
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That kind of talk feeds into their rhetoric. It is not acceptable for a Christian person. I know there's at least five or six of you who are going to want to hit me for saying that. I don't mind.<br />
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4) Violence: Kids, we'd probably better get ready to physically get in the way of these people. You might actually have to punch a Nazi. <br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A6Y1eRahCRI/WZJit3FJviI/AAAAAAAARJ8/wGlZ5GQfQJMyBEgwnV6r8cI5dHRAL5RYQCLcBGAs/s1600/if-you-see-a-nazi-punch-anali-memes-wwijd-12989811.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="500" height="201" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A6Y1eRahCRI/WZJit3FJviI/AAAAAAAARJ8/wGlZ5GQfQJMyBEgwnV6r8cI5dHRAL5RYQCLcBGAs/s320/if-you-see-a-nazi-punch-anali-memes-wwijd-12989811.png" width="320" /></a>5) Help identify the people in photos from these events. Have no qualms about getting them fired. Yes, I said that, <i>get them fired.</i> We have to make it incredibly uncomfortable to be a goddamn Nazi in this country. We have to make sure they know it is socially unacceptable to be a goddamned Nazi.<br />
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6) Free speech is not a defense for these people. You know how yelling fire in a crowded building is not protected speech? Nazis are inciting and carrying out violence. That means, they've crossed a line, and guess what? We can legally punch them. No, wait, you're probably going to get arrested for doing that, but if you're going to get arrested, punching a Nazi is a great reason for it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">7) This is going to mean standing up for people you might not like. Don't like gays, Jews, POC, Mexicans, or Muslims? Guess what? Jesus loves them. Love them too. Because Nazis suck and their dislike leads to murder.<br />
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We can't put up with this crap. If that means you have to step outside your comfort zone and defend people you don't like, do it for Jesus. Seriously. We worship a Middle Eastern Jew, people, and Nazis would want to kill him. If you don't think it matters that Jesus was Jewish, you're uneducated and you need to go back to Sunday school in a real church where people actually study Scripture in context. <br />
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Seriously.<br />
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The only way we're going to stop these people from making themselves mainstream is if we come at them, full force, punching them in the face, literally or figuratively every step of the way. We can't allow them to become a routine normal thing in society again. The last time, we lost too many lives and burned the whole world down in the process. God will not hold us guiltless if we stand by and do nothing. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-14711566032367327352017-07-23T20:38:00.002-07:002017-07-25T11:02:41.082-07:00Running Water<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wtEEzC5myeA/WXVkXVWRCNI/AAAAAAAAQ78/Jf6DhOy8W0MroI1Itlq6_I6m-jvTUb4jwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20170701_133151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wtEEzC5myeA/WXVkXVWRCNI/AAAAAAAAQ78/Jf6DhOy8W0MroI1Itlq6_I6m-jvTUb4jwCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_20170701_133151.jpg" width="240" /></a>So a few weeks ago I'd been working my butt off and I decided I needed a break. Desperately. I couldn't afford to fly to an island to hide in the wilderness with a hammock, a prayer book, and a box of Franzia, so I googled waterfalls in Oklahoma and came up with <a href="http://www.travelok.com/listings/view.profile/id.6460?CMP=PPC_G_SP123_RomanNoseStatePark&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=State%20Parks%20(1-3)&utm_content=Roman%20Nose%20State%20Park&gclid=Cj0KCQjwktHLBRDsARIsAFBSb6wPuktlKMpgpAChLMlsF7ctXaJfaJVRsaSPlnbk1be9YAhRVr3cqpYaAhxsEALw_wcB">Roman Nose State Park.</a><br />
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(Yes, I know, boxed wine is for classless middle aged single women who are never going to get married and who live alone with cats.<br />
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I'm 36, never been married, and I don't live alone with cats, I have dogs too! *<i>drinks more box wine and contemplates dying alone</i>)<br />
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So I set out on the road to go find a creek to wade in with a waterfall to wade in so I could have a beer with Jesus (figuratively, I brought a Strawberita with me) and play in the water. I needed to reconnect with God. I knew from experience that running water is a good place to do that. There was some planning involved. State parks in Oklahoma are notorious for a lack of soap in the "bathrooms", packed that, check, in case of no fresh water, Purell, check, and toilet paper, should I be faced with a glorified outhouse. I also packed a chemical ice pack, because I've met me, I might hurt myself, bandaids, and journal in case I got all poetic.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A3F93-0_ma4/WXVoajoHycI/AAAAAAAAQ8M/uxpuYPg7gH4E5aZihE2C9EOd3_ZQ7VqPwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20170701_144053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A3F93-0_ma4/WXVoajoHycI/AAAAAAAAQ8M/uxpuYPg7gH4E5aZihE2C9EOd3_ZQ7VqPwCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_20170701_144053.jpg" width="240" /></a>Since there's not exactly a sign that says "Waterfall in a cave, this way!!!" I had to find the place. The first time I went through the area I struck out. I went to Watonga and bought gasoline and came back.<br />
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(You drive to the swimming pool area, past the main parking lot to the little one in the back. Go to the log blocking the road and walk in. Then you will see this------------------><br />
Go down those steps. There's a little wading pool at the bottom with a bridge on the other side. Cross that, you'll hear the waterfall, and you're welcome.)<br />
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pky7_qPrbcE/WXVo_neVErI/AAAAAAAAQ8Q/VAOx4mPfQL46FDEH9EojRWdGtdT-xgS4gCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20170701_145633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pky7_qPrbcE/WXVo_neVErI/AAAAAAAAQ8Q/VAOx4mPfQL46FDEH9EojRWdGtdT-xgS4gCKgBGAs/s200/IMG_20170701_145633.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
I came to a little creek with a small area it was safe to go into it from on the side. If this makes anyone feel better, I have a terrible right foot that's still unstable and kind of awful from several injuries, so yes, I had to plan this from a crippled up vantage point. You can totally do this if you're very careful. I took off my sneakers and put on my orthopedic flip flops (Walgreens, not a joke) and scooted down into the creek. The water was freezing cold and before I got to the cave it was up to the bottom of my shorts. There were about fifteen people there, I wasn't able/willing to stop and pray, but it had a similar effect anyway.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8I3T73ksWV0/WXVqldSejcI/AAAAAAAAQ8k/pj30P8awBhs7iOcu_vgOg52N5S3yRsb9gCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_20170701_145445.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8I3T73ksWV0/WXVqldSejcI/AAAAAAAAQ8k/pj30P8awBhs7iOcu_vgOg52N5S3yRsb9gCKgBGAs/s400/IMG_20170701_145445.jpg" width="300" /></a>I was wading in ice cold water, up to my butt, to get a closer look at Heaven essentially. If I hadn't have been surrounded by teenagers and concerned about being completely soggy in my car for the next hour, I would have washed my hair in it. Not going to lie.<br />
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<a href="https://newspin.com/tour/?site=2489&scenename=18331">The area around the spring</a><br />
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Go see some wild running water. It's worth the gas, and the mild heat stroke. I promise. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-90437437675432424412017-06-04T18:57:00.000-07:002017-06-04T18:57:44.631-07:00Only 9 am<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Acts 2:14 But Peter,
standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, "Men of
Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to
what I say. 15 Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine
o'clock in the morning. 16 No, this is what was spoken through the prophet
Jo'el</span></blockquote>
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I know, file this under the myriad of reasons I'm probably headed to hell, but this is one of the things that make me giggle. Not so much about the original joke, as remembering the first time I realized what he was actually saying.<br />
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Let me narrow this a bit for you: <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px;">Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o'clock in the morning.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px;">"It's too early for us to be drunk yet." That's what Peter is saying. Peter, yes, that Peter, is reassuring the crowd that it is too early for him and his friends (who let's face it, had gotten extra weird in the last couple of weeks) to be "lit". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px;">I remember the first time I realized what he was saying. I cackled aloud in church. Not entirely sure I wasn't standing at the lectern. It was the first time Peter, as seen in scripture, came off as funny to me. It happened again today, and of course, someone saw it. (I didn't cackle aloud, which is good, as I sit under a hanging mic.) </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-18048913722963865472017-01-28T08:55:00.002-08:002017-01-28T08:55:16.180-08:00From the Outside In. (Installment Eight) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then it was over. Rafael watched as they carried the body down from the cross and quickly laid it in Joseph of Arimathea's tomb. He followed. He watched as they pushed the rock over the door and began his vigil. The air was cold and still. He waited. He passed the night in silence and about halfway through that Saturday he began to work. Rafael began to loosen the shroud, light pulsing from his hands as he prepared body for Jesus' return. The flesh began to heal. He waited a little while more. He was hoping he would be able to sense the return of Lord's spirit, but nothing was happening yet. One of the angels guarding the door looked in, wanting to know if anything was happening. Rafael waved him off. He peeled back more of the shroud. He staunched the wounds that had started to bleed again, but left the scars as he had been instructed. No breathe yet. No Jesus. Rafael washed his hair and cleaned off the dirt and the blood. He took the clothing he had brought with him and dressed the body. He waited. Watching impatiently as the sun went down.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rafael leaned over and kissed Jesus' forehead. He heard a shocked gasp and Jesus' eyes fluttered open. Overcome, Rafael embraced him, crying, and Jesus pulled away. He looked at the angel with compassion in his eyes and softly said, "Don't do kiss the women when they come, the shock will kill them."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Lord..." he muttered. "It's not, you're not, the body's not ready yet. You must rest, Master." He watched him crumple up the shroud at the foot of the slab, and stand up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I have to go meet my brothers." He leaned over and kissed Rafael on the forehead and told him what to tell the women when they came to the tomb. Then he left. Rafael sat there for a few minutes, trying to process what just happened. Michael came in and patted him on the shoulder. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"You alright, brother?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"He just got up, told me what to do to send the women to him, and left. Wouldn't sit still for even a moment. I'm not even sure he's.." Michael put a finger to his lips to stop him talking. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"He got back up and started working, right?" Rafael nodded. "Rafi, he's fine. That's what he does." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rafael started to speak again, to protest, when he heard something rustle outside. "It's them, Michael, let's stand aside while they look around." They faded into the back wall of the tomb. </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-51214253101947426562016-12-15T07:03:00.000-08:002016-12-15T07:03:02.958-08:00From the Outside In (Installment Seven) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The chief priest was heading home and threw up on the side of the road along the way. Something had to be done, he mumbled to himself. Something had to be done. It was him or someone else. Something had to be done. He claimed to be one with God. Something had to happen. But he was Joseph and Mary's boy, and that bothered him. So did the healings. What did they mean? He cursed violently as he passed through the door at the front of the house. Remembering Jesus as a young man, a gangly boy, helping Joseph put up the lintels. He had been so jealous of the attention Jesus was getting. What had he done? He tried to pray, and found he could not. The words wouldn't even come off his lips. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rafael considered comforting him, but decided against it. He looked small and weak in the light in his house. Less like a man who had spear headed a campaign to murder a rival using the Roman government and more like a man who'd done something he didn't know how to undo. Rafael decided to let him wallow in it. He didn't understand how it had come to this. Humanity had been showing promise, but it always came back to this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rafael looked up and realized the moment had come. He understood now why Jesus had chosen this in a way he hadn't before. The soldier's shaking hand holding the nails to his wrists. The stiffening of their jaws as they did what was, at that moment, their duty. The air smelled of desperation, feces, and blood. There were thieves on either side of Jesus. One of them defiant, even naked and nailed to a cross he was defiant, and the other was resigned to his fate and even defending Jesus from the first one's gasping mockery. Rafael's heart swelled with love, falling to his knees next to the women. They were weeping. He was too stunned to move to help them in any way. Gabriel already stood behind them with his wings spread over them in protection. He was also stunned and weeping. </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-30300086593401241962016-12-11T21:01:00.000-08:002016-12-11T21:01:04.687-08:00Waxing adventurous<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Big secret reveal here: I have hair on my face. Hair in places I do not want it to be. My chin, for example, grows wiry hairs that are stiff like a man's, are a favorite place for zits to crop up and generally drive me crazy. In my continued efforts to not look like a man and not feel horrible stubble when I touch my chin, I have been waxing for years. <br />
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Years!!<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XTP7nirD4Lw/WE4o-2DNrNI/AAAAAAAAOuA/HGRMNgeBTlAV3w4kcSCODjZPKnCuTWSvQCLcB/s1600/3552-large_default.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XTP7nirD4Lw/WE4o-2DNrNI/AAAAAAAAOuA/HGRMNgeBTlAV3w4kcSCODjZPKnCuTWSvQCLcB/s200/3552-large_default.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
This is the stuff I buy at Sally Beauty. It works great. It goes on sticky, makes a little bit of a mess, but nothing I can't handle. I've learned to stick in it in the microwave, not use it when I'm tired for fear of losing half an eyebrow, and generally respect the boundaries of my relationship with the stuff. <br />
Except for when I went shopping on December 4, 2016, That day, thinking I had spotted a larger size of the same product, I bought soft wax. You know soft wax, the stuff the nice lady at the salon slathers on your face and then makes your eyebrows look like a painting of saint? That soft wax? I got it home and realize it was not my beloved blue microwave hard wax but the soft wax. I thought, why not? You're grown! You've been waxing for years!<br />
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Stupid, stupid girl. The signs were all there. I bought the cloth strips at the store. I saw all these other products I don't usually use because I'm a bad ass bitch who don't need lidocaine. I also noticed products designed to remove wax from skin. I figured this was also for people without my pain tolerance, because hey, I've been waxing for YEARS. </div>
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I was so so wrong. I decided I was going to do this before church, because a certain choir girl had Satan's chin hairs poking out to say hi. I put the wax in the microwave. I use my finger (like an idiot) to break the top layer of said wax. It won't come off the tip of my finger. It keeps drawing more wax up instead, until it looks like wax icicles on top of the wax pot. Three inches worth of spun wax icicles. I put it back in the microwave and wash my hands. It won't come off. I keep paper toweling it, thinking surely, it will eventually come off. </div>
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I carry it to the bathroom and put it on my face. It's so sticky. It just stays sticky too. I put the cloth strips on my face, I rub them in, proceed to rip them off. The little bastard hairs are still there. I try this again. For the record, it worked on my eyebrows. I break open a healing zit on my chin. Swearing ensures. The damn hairs are still there. I decide to tweeze them because they have to die. I realize at this point that I have to get this crap off my face before I got to church. I try soap again to no avail. In desperation, I reach for the rubbing alcohol. It works!! </div>
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There is a way out of this. At this point, I realize I'm not making it to Sunday School. I decide to get cleaned up and shoot for choir practice. I rub wintergreen rubbing alcohol all over my bathroom and my face and do my makeup. I go into the bedroom for earrings and realize I have this crap on my blouse. I go back into the bathroom, pour alcohol on my shirt, it goes away. (Thank you, God, for this small miracle) I make it to church, thinking I've turned my phone down. We're singing the Magnificat and Rachel texts me back. The TARDIS's engine noise echoes through the church. I run up to my choir pew and bend over to shut it up before it goes off during the sermon and I feel it... my breasts are sticky. I reach down and realize I have soft wax on my boobs. </div>
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What do I do now? Where is there rubbing alcohol at the church? Where? I remembered Marilyn's hand sanitizer that she keeps in the front pew. Salvation in the form of a stinging bottle of germex has arrived! Still trying to play it cool, I sit down in the front row with the bottle and nonchalantly rub it on my chest while singing. Elizabeth pretends not to notice because she's used to me being weird as shit. Finally, I'm free of the sticky crap! Then I notice it on my necklace, and stuff the damn thing into my purse to be immersed in rubbing alcohol later. </div>
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The moral of the story: Do not use soft wax at home!! </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-51553831094986835072016-12-11T00:01:00.000-08:002016-12-11T00:01:04.236-08:00From the Outside In (Installment six) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Herod, upon seeing them bring him in, was visibly tickled. He hated the council. He'd been wanting to see Jesus in hopes that he would perform some sign for him. Rafael sighed, the man was a buffoon. Herod was increasingly bored with the tenuity and danger of his position as a Roman puppet. The religious leaders irritated him. So did revolutionaries. He listened to their accusations and upon seeing Jesus refuse to answer any of them, began mocking him. He sent Jesus back to Pilate. Herod had no idea that there was anything significant going on. His mind was on his belly. He didn't like to drink too much in front of the council. It made him say things they made him regret later. At any rate, he wanted the noise to stop. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pilate, upon seeing them bring Jesus back into his court, sighed deeply. He laughed a little seeing the robe Herod had put on him. Maybe the old man had a sense of humor after all? The angel retreated to the shadows to get grip on his anger. It was no great thing to them to be doing this. It was true, Pilate was a little afraid of the mob. He was a little worried about what his wife had said to him. He was also amused at the way these Jews took themselves and their god so seriously. He couldn't even figure out what they were so upset about. The man hadn't done anything wrong so far as he could tell. He was just more popular than them. As far as Pilate could tell, he was only more popular at the moment. In the end, these Jews always went back to their standard rabbis and left the rabble rousers alone. He tried to get them to let him go. He appealed to their conscience, knowing it would turn tender the next day, and tried to give him to them as was customary. They picked a bandit instead. Rafael caught a glimpse of Mary, Jesus's mother, and some other women, disciples, watching from the edge of the crowd. Their veils shielded their faces and gave them an anonymity the men didn't have. He stopped watching Pilate, sensing what was about to happen, and went to Mary. He wrapped his wings around her to shield her from what came next. It didn't help much. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why, what evil has he done? Pilate asked, exasperated. A roar came in response. Crucify him! They shouted. Crucify him! Mary fell, quickly caught by the other women and held up in a manner attempting to hide her shock and despair. Mari, they whispered, Mari, we can't be seen. They were terrified. Rafael made them fade into the crowd. He wouldn't let them hurt her any more than they already were. The people around them simply didn't notice the women at that point. They could have if they really wanted to, but they were fixated on other things. Pilate appealed to them again, wishing to satisfy their blood lust with a flogging. It wouldn't do. Crucify him! They roared again. The women carried her away, bearing her up as she was unable to move under her own power. Rafael shielded them from notice on the way out and away from scrutiny. </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-39694683202634912462016-12-04T13:29:00.000-08:002016-12-04T13:29:00.152-08:00From the Outside in (Installment Five) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Prophesy, if you can! Who hit you?" The soldier sneered with a slurred voice. Rafael turned and ran back to the house in dead heat and Michael caught him at the door, nearly clothes-lining him with his arm. "No. You know we mustn't." Michael held him back. "Look at him, he's exhausted." Michael didn't mean the Lord, he meant the soldier. Rafael stopped fighting and studied his face. He was sick of the dirty business before him. The man was tired, tired down to his very soul. He was irritated that the "revolutionary" he was being forced to guard like he was a rabid dog was a peasant rabbi with dirty clothes and a swollen lip. He took note that the tunic was nice, but he didn't figure he'd be wearing it much longer. Quintus, as he was called, was trying to distract himself from the role he was to play in what he was afraid was this man's immanent demise. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The other man, Titus, took a blind fold and covered Jesus's eyes, hitting him the face. This went on for a while until they tired of abusing him. What did he think he was going to do anyway? Take down the mighty Roman empire? Rafael saw this on his face and resisted the urge to whisper "eventually, yes" into his ear. Michael leaned over, smiling a little for the first time that day, and said "just don't" into Rafael's ear. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Night passed into morning. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was something that was supposed to be a trial. Rafael watched, stunned, as the men did something they no longer wanted to do, simply because they had started doing it. The whole council conferred, in their jealousy, and decided to take him to the Roman Governor. Pilot was annoyed at first when he saw them walk in with Jesus as a prisoner. These were the same men who annoyed him with their religious scruples and their sensitivities. He listened to them, and examined Jesus. He didn't see him as a threat. The council, on the other hand, posed annoyance after annoyance and usually had the power of the mob on their side. Usually. He didn't want to get involved. Rafael looked at Michael a little stunned. Pilate? Is it possible he wants to do the right thing? Michael leaned in a little bit, and remarked that the man probably wanted to go eat and avoid the council, who he did not like and knew that they disliked him. He sent them to Herod.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-51763538424767307832016-11-29T10:28:00.001-08:002016-11-29T10:29:51.246-08:00From the Outside In, (Installment 4) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rafael watched them disappear into the house to see Cephas coming in behind them. He stood in the courtyard around a fire with a few others. He was shaking and it wasn't from the cold. A young woman approached,recognizing him, she called him out. "This man was with him." In her voice there was accusation, the reaction from the disciples had been violent, if sloppy and short lived. She was a friend of the man whose ear had been sliced off. She was upset and confused, a little angry, but more frightened because of the healing that had taken place. The man they arrested had healed her friend's ear. What had her master done in having him arrested? Peter swore and said he was not with them. A violent chill had seized him, terror at meeting the same fate he feared for Jesus. She looked down at the fire and back at Cephas, then she went into the house. She wanted to be alone. She had work to do in the kitchen. Maybe it would take her mind off the strange things happening here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A little while later one of the other men, recognizing Peter, brought it up again, and again he denied he knew Jesus at all. He could see him through the courtyard. There was more talk as the night wore on, another one of the men, recognizing Peter as a Galilean, brought it up again. His accent had given him away. He swore and denied it a third time. The rooster crowed in the garden. It was morning. Jesus, standing near the door surrounded by armed guards, turned and looked at Peter. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Peter collapsed inwardly, remembering the words Jesus had spoken to him earlier the night before. "Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times". He ran out of the house and wept as he walked away. Rafael followed him, saw him hit his knees once he was out of sight, shaking violently and sobbing hysterically. Cephas could hardly breathe. The angel stood in front of him, knelt down and kissed his forehead. Peter stopped crying. He knew something had just happened but he didn't know what. The man got up and walked quickly to the home of one of his cousins. None of them would dare ask him what was going on and that was how he wanted it just then. </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-56567044466277224712016-11-19T15:51:00.001-08:002016-11-19T15:51:49.153-08:00Let's Play a Game<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
If you voted for Trump, you're probably wondering what the fuck I'm so upset about now. I'm sure you're probably sitting over there taking inventory on me. She's white. She doesn't use the government health care exchange. Her family works in the energy industry. She works for a small business and Trump is supposedly going to lower taxes. She's white! Did I mention you're white? You're reasonably middle class, I mean, what passes for that these days, and college educated. What do you have to be upset about?<br />
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Well, where do I start? First of all, quit pointing out I'm white. Yes, it does afford me, personally, some privilege, but probably 60% of my friends (and some family) belong to some sort of a minority. I don't really take much comfort in knowing that I am not personally going to be deported, put on a registry (Yay Jesus!) or subjected to racists emboldened by having a white nationalist (<a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/is-steve-bannon-really-as-bad-as-all-that/2016/11/15/3c74af12-ab81-11e6-8b45-f8e493f06fcd_story.html?utm_term=.2c354325e106">Trump's buddy Bannon)</a> in the White House.<br />
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It just doesn't help. <br />
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I've already heard stories about local kids crying in school because they're afraid they're going to be deported because their family is Mexican. <br />
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I've already seen pictures of an Episcopal Church (I belong to one of those) with<a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/news/heil-trump-swastika-gay-slur-spray-painted-on-indiana-church/"> "Faggot Church" </a>and Heil Trump emblazoned on the side of it. I don't really have any desire to carry pepper spray in church, but at this point, I may have to. <br />
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Now they're talking about registering <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/18/us/politics/japanese-internment-muslim-registry.html?_r=0">Muslims</a>. I only have one thing to say about that, and it's not this time, motherfucker, we aren't going there. Though, I'm sure Steve Bannon has got his eye on the Jews too. (Again, not this time motherfucker.)<br />
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Mike Pence is an even bigger nightmare, believes in conversion therapy, even though it clearly didn't work for him because he's obviously a closeted self hating hating homosexual or he wouldn't be this crazy. I mean, who else would demand people provide funerals for fetuses that didn't make it to full term? <br />
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Did I mention I'm female and still (probably) fertile? God forbid I get pregnant and miscarry in the next four years, I'll probably be put on trial for infanticide. I mean, I am over 35. I probably have a geriatric womb and rotten eggs by now. I should probably put a barb wire fence around my uterus right now so I don't end up incarcerated after a family tragedy.<br />
<br />
<br />
So yeah, the Electoral College has screwed us once again. The American People wanted Clinton, and it gave us Trump. Quite possibly the WORST PRESENT EVER. (<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/11/opinion/clintons-substantial-popular-vote-win.html">She won the popular vote by over a million.) </a><br />
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He's probably going to get impeached and we're going to end up with Lord Voldemort finishing out the rest of the term. <br />
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So that's why I'm upset. I'm not a sore loser, I'm scared and I'm pissed. I'm going to have to remember how to advocate for people without a president who has my back again. I'm going to have to go back to worrying about people's safety when they come out of the closet, keep worrying people I care about are going to get shot for being black, definitely not get pregnant, and get in the faces of people who want to pull a Hitler on my Muslim neighbors. I'm going to have to defend my immigrant friends (and customers) even more vigorously than usual just to stay sane listening to all the bullshit people now feel completely okay with saying about them, now that we have a president elect endorsed by the <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/post-politics/wp/2016/11/01/the-kkks-official-newspaper-has-endorsed-donald-trump-for-president/">Ku Klux Klan. </a><br />
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It's going to be a long four years and I want to move to moon for most of it, but I can't afford to do that. There's too many people are going to need all the voices they can get to survive this nouveau Andrew Jackson. We keep comparing him to Hitler, but right now, he's more of a Jackson. <br />
<br />
I really hate Andrew Jackson.<br />
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So back to the title of the post, does anybody want to play a game and try and mansplain to me why I'm really upset? At this point, I dare you to.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-62569768656512822092016-10-30T13:00:00.000-07:002016-10-30T13:00:05.771-07:00From the Outside in (Third Installment)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Jesus questioning them, even then, "am I bandit? Swords and clubs?" Judas' eyes registered what this meant. No army. No great victory was forthcoming. He had started to get the idea during the evening meal, but his mind had been clouded by Satan's presence. He had been drifting from guilt to satisfaction all night long. His rage just below the surface, his passenger drinking it in like the wine on the table. So much time. So much time wasted. So much power for nothing! Healing a few peasants? (He frequently forgot that he too was a peasant.) He knew the rabbi's power and yet here again, there was nothing. Nothing when there was so much work to be done. It didn't make any sense. Despair was creeping over him now. Rafael watched with regret. He knew this man's story had a desperate ending. He still didn't move. Some choices, he knew, were not able to be unmade. It wasn't his place to reach out to Judas either. That was the role of the one standing opposite him with pain and betrayal on his face and fear in his eyes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They led him away to the home of the high priest. Raphael hung further back now. He had been ordered not to intervene at all from this point forward. Until the deed was done, all he could do was watch. Watching was a concession. He had commanded that they let him do this mostly alone. None of the little things they normally did to ease human suffering were allowed. He saw Jesus being taken into Caiaphas's house and saw his fingers touch the woodwork in the doorway. Rafael remembered that Joseph had put up the new archway years before. The detail work in wood frame was his signature cut. The entrance to the outer courtyard was "new" compared to the rest of the house and had been designed to look as impressive as possible to go with the family's change in status. It certainly did that, but the house had an unease about it. A soldier grunted at him to keep his hands to himself. He did so, reluctantly, wondering if he'd done any of the work himself but unable to make himself remember. </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-85357850053507884152016-10-25T17:55:00.000-07:002016-10-25T17:55:40.974-07:00You ain't afraid of no Ghosts: Things to consider before deciding your house is haunted.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A conversation I had with a friend the other day made me think of writing this post. He lives in an old house that his housekeeper thinks is haunted but he doesn't. <br />
<br />I should mention my friend isn't much of a muggle, and would probably notice if the house was haunted. She hasn't seen or heard anything, it's just a feeling. A feeling he doesn't get and neither does his wife. I suggested he look for high EMF (electro magnetic fields if you've been under a rock since before Ghosthunters was on the air) in the basement. The wiring in old houses in combination with the plumbing can make for interesting EMF levels. I don't think he's brought in the meter yet, but I thought I should write a "list".<br />
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Disclaimer: I absolutely believe in ghosts and paranormal stuff. I've seen some freaky stuff. Having said that though, I also believe in treating it with stone cold logic, even when you are dealing with an actual ghost or demon. Nothing good can come of running screaming out of a building like a scared little kid shrieking your head off. Unless something is chasing you, then run. Run and pray at the same time. <br />
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1) Eliminate the quirks of your house first. I had a flaky little drunk lady who used to rent this very bedroom I'm writing this in tell me once that the door opened on its own in this room. Being a weird little mystic myself I was puzzled because my house isn't haunted. When I reacted by asking her when or why this had happened, she proceeded to tell me that the ghost lady had touched her foot. When I asked what she looked like she told me something crazier that didn't make any sense and when I pressed for more detail she tried to gaslight me for some reason into thinking that she was seeing something right then. I think me basically MAKING her pray Compline with me sent her over the edge. She got freaked out and scared so she wanted ME to get freaked out and scared, and when I didn't, she lost it a little. <br />
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So I wrote it off as a psychotic episode and didn't think about it much until after she "moved out" (I changed the locks after she sent me 150 texts telling me I needed to kill myself because I wouldn't let her pay her rent 20 days late.). I was sitting in here using the computer and I half way shut the door. It popped open slowly and dramatically. I shut it again just to see if it would do it again. It did. I'd lived here six years before I noticed that. I imagine if I was a drunk lady, sleeping in this room with a crazy liberal I hated in the next room, I might think the house was haunted too. She also mentioned hearing voices outside her window. I <i>had </i> noticed that and I have learned over the years that the sound from the house across the street carries and sounds like it's right outside <i>my house. </i><br />
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Moral: Experiment. If you hear something in your house that you think shouldn't be happening, look around. Try and pin point the sound. Does noise come in from outside? Does the sound carry strangely? What do the acoustics of your home do to sound? Have someone help you and rule this out! Does that door open on its own? It could be the way the house has settled over the years, or maybe it's perched on a hill like mine and that's just what happens when you don't latch the door. It's probably not just your imagination, but that doesn't mean it's paranormal. <br />
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2. Were you drunk or high when it happened? This one is fairly obvious but some people don't believe drinking or drugs effects their perception as much as it does. For the record, things that can impair your perception include:<br />
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<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>Sleeping pills.</li>
<li>Allergy medicine you use to knock you out. </li>
<li>Prescription pain killers. This includes Tramadol. Do not let it being non narcotic fool you. </li>
<li>Opioids. Codeine, heroin, Oxycontin, Percocet, Lortabs, and Vicodin. They will make you hallucinate, or more like exaggerate something you actually see and distort your memory of it. Do not worry about it unless you see it sober. Also, mention it to your doctor, considering seeing things isn't a common side effect of these drugs. (Mostly being a little dizzy, sleepy, and having no brain to mouth filter.) </li>
<li>Booze. Are you stupid drunk? Are you stammering drunk? Did you black out? Probably lay off the booze and wait until you see it sober. </li>
<li>I've never used it, but I'm going in to include Marijuana in here just for fun. </li>
<li>Meth. (I've never used it either, but I have it on good authority people see some freaky shit on Meth.)</li>
</ol>
3. Are you sick? Feverish? Wishing you were dead from a norovirus? Probably write it off until you feel better. Illness can make you see things.<br />
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4. Eliminated all three? Check under the bed. Your dog might snore. He might talk in his sleep in English. This happened to me once. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sEe85qBifoY/WA_9rg0KYeI/AAAAAAAANp8/_nB9JGRKxGE_Sv3tY0aep3fhLfZfrgskQCKgB/s1600/IMG_20161024_190224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sEe85qBifoY/WA_9rg0KYeI/AAAAAAAANp8/_nB9JGRKxGE_Sv3tY0aep3fhLfZfrgskQCKgB/s320/IMG_20161024_190224.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adorable asshole who talks in his sleep<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
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4. On a related note, do you have cats or children? They make weird noises. Cats especially are known for running through the house like a maniac at three am. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aNvlxKi_QQw/WA_-I6LcmCI/AAAAAAAANqA/q5LfS-MxNh0MUd4aJIYjKOkmT5A-EpxcwCKgB/s1600/IMG_20161010_223239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aNvlxKi_QQw/WA_-I6LcmCI/AAAAAAAANqA/q5LfS-MxNh0MUd4aJIYjKOkmT5A-EpxcwCKgB/s320/IMG_20161010_223239.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and he demands you pet him for it</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
6. Eliminated all of this? Ask yourself this question: Do you think it wants to hurt you? No? Tell them to shut up so you can sleep. Then pray. Yes? Pray. Ask God to make it go away. Order it to go away in the name of the Trinity. If that doesn't work, contact your clergy or someone who knows about things like this and go from there. (You can even send me an email.) <div>
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Not a comprehensive list, of course, but I thought it would be fun. </div>
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Happy Halloween!!!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-1684626096117504562016-10-23T06:00:00.000-07:002016-10-23T06:00:01.545-07:00From the Outside In (Second Installment) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"Did my Father?" He whispered ... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"No" Rafael breathed. "I love you, Lord." Rafael kissed his forehead, putting all the love and energy into that kiss he could. He heard people entering the garden from a distance. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"Go" Jesus whispered and Rafael receded into the shadows again, watching unseen. Another angel had his hand in a tight grip to remind him not to stop what he was seeing while he wept. He watched Jesus approach his disciples, asleep and half drunk still, shaken by the things he had been saying over the past weeks and confused. He was moved to pity by their sorrow at his rebuke, and crushed by the hurt in the Lord's face. "Could you not stay awake with me one hour?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">No, no they could not. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The crowd came. A great flush of people led by Judas who had a familiar smile behind his eyes. Satan hadn't left this to chance. He'd come to do the job himself. His great victory was forthcoming. "Can I kill him?" Rafael asked Michael, knowing the answer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"No, he's mine, and not yet."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"Are we to bear even this insult? That he takes a bitter man and uses him for this?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"We are to bear witness. That's what we are to do, Rafael."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">More shouting, Judas kissed his cheek, almost casually, Satan casting a glance at the archangels from behind his eye, more fresh pain in his voice "a kiss?" Rafael couldn't tell who it came from more. He knew Jesus could see Satan behind Judas's eyes, and that even then, he remembered him as he was before his fall. He watched the devil leave him then. His work done. Fresh shame sneaking on him even as he had what he thought was his victory. Then the man, the man coming back to himself and realizing what he had done with his eyes clouded by unmet expectations and desire to see his revenge on the Romans in Judea. He was waiting, watching the Lord closely thinking that any minute armies of angels would descend on the crowd and he would take his rightful place at the head of great rebellion and then a great victory. That was not to be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The disciples, realizing what was about to happen, drew their swords to defend him. Sloppily, arms shaking, one of them raised his sword and struck the slave of the high priest, slicing the man's ear off. Shaking his head, Jesus touched the man's ear and restored it. "No more of this," he muttered, and waved them off before they could attempt to do more. These were not soldiers. </span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Tornado Alley, USA35.460669951495305 -96.50390625000005728.833735951495306 -106.83105475000005 42.0876039514953 -86.176757750000064tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-18385907285107241322016-10-18T19:41:00.001-07:002016-10-18T19:41:31.991-07:00Men like that<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've known men like Donald Trump all my life. They're the type of guy who gives you a hug without asking, that you gracefully remove their hand from your ass while subtly backing away from to avoid a fight. Confronting them, in a social setting, doesn't really do anything but ruin your night. For the most part, you can ignore them and just walk to the other side of the room. The men think they're okay, because they don't notice the sleazy stuff they do. Either that, or they pretend not to.<br />
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Men like Donald Trump are pleasant enough. They're someone you acknowledge in public or invite to a party because they're so thin skinned and sensitive that you'll hear about if you don't. If you're a woman, you don't take a drink from men like that. You don't let yourself be alone with them. You might not even realize it. For the most part, you just stay away from men like that. As long as they aren't running for President.<br />
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Guys like that shouldn't be President. <br />
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But Leslie!!! John Kennedy was a womanizer. (That's sixties code for man-whore.) Bill Clinton had an affair! So did Franklin Roosevelt. You know what the difference is? This isn't the sixties. It isn't the 90s. It's definitely not the 1940s and Eleanor Roosevelt took her own mistress after FDR's affairs so that one was a little different. After Bill Clinton's shitastic behavior, ruining a pretty good presidency, we had to have 16 years of Christian men in actually monogamous relationships to get that taste out of our mouths. As far as I know, despite seeming to be a total imbecile puppet of Dick Cheney, W didn't step out on his wife. I'm pretty sure Michelle Obama would EAT her husband for lunch if he pulled that on her and I <i>know </i>we'd have heard about it if he'd stepped out on her. (We hear about it if he smokes while doing the most stressful job in the world, if he farts in public, etc etc, I'm sure infidelity would be front page news.)<br />
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But really, guys, here's the thing: Bill's not running. Hillary Clinton is running. She also isn't married to a guy who likes to walk into dressing rooms at beauty pageants unannounced and likes to talk about grabbing women by their crotches. If she did that, I guarantee you she wouldn't be leading him in the polls. <br />
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I've known men like that all my life. Nothing is ever their fault. Nothing. They crumple like tissue paper at the slightest criticism. If people don't like them, it's a conspiracy. It's because they're a white man. Of course it is. If they weren't white men, people would give them the respect they deserve. If they lose an election, they're pretty much going to incite a riot for the first time in American history over election results. Because why? Because if they can't have it, they're going to burn the whole place down. They would rather kill their wife than see her with someone else. They would rather burn the country down than see someone else lead it. If they don't meet their financial obligations, it's not because they're bad at their jobs or bad businessmen, it's because they weren't satisfied with the work. If their ex wife says he grabbed her by the hair and raped her because he was mad about a cosmetic procedure he had done, well, that's her fault too. Probably for marrying him. <br />
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I've known guys like this my entire life. Men like this aren't fit to be President of the United States. It's a brutal job. People don't like you and they haven't even met you. Put a thin skilled bully with an admiration for Kim Jung Un in the Oval Office and we're going to have to make America great again, because he's going to burn it to the ground.<br />
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You probably need a woman with a cool head who can smile and hug her husband on tv after he does a shitty thing like have an affair with a 19 year old intern and lie to you about it while you're living in the Nation's biggest fish bowl instead, don't you think?<br />
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For the record, I'm not saying Donald Trump would kill someone for leaving him. I'm saying that men like him HAVE killed someone for leaving them. It's also why people come out after stuff like isn't taken seriously and talk about their ex boyfriends literally grabbing them by the "pussy" and carrying them out of a club. Most people don't want to think about men like that doing things like that. Why? Because good men don't do things like that, and if you're trying to convince yourself that a bad man is a good man because you don't like who he's running against, you have to do some serious mental gymnastics to ignore things like that.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-1361331717501155322016-10-16T14:08:00.002-07:002016-10-16T19:42:39.286-07:00From the Outside in (First Installment) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><i>(From the Outside is a fictionalized account of the death and resurrection of Christ written from the perspective of an archangel, specifically Rafael. It is an ongoing project, and it isn't done yet, so I'm publishing it a week at a time in hopes that I will be motivated to complete it. A few things: I'm no theologian. I'm a lay woman who works in Insurance who also likes to read. Taking this seriously in anything other than what it is, fiction, is not advisable. Let me know if you have any suggestions.) </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Rafael closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the first time he understood this moment would come. He had wanted to protest, but he hadn't. He knew that this kind of thing ruminated in the mind of God far earlier than it was said aloud. Once he said it, with rare exception, it was going to happen. It had been weighed, measured, and plotted to tiny details. Still, the shock settled over his face visibly when he understood what God was saying the Son was going to do. Human. A hairless ape. He also remembered the first time he saw them. Blinking in the sunlight after the light of reason had properly descended upon them. He'd seen it then. The blurry image of God before him on the untamed Earth. There were times it was a like a picture taken through a smeared camera lens but he saw it. It was there. Underneath the dirt and the grime and filthy rituals some of them did after Lucifer's "intervention", it was still there. He wasn't without sympathy, but there was distance. He could do his duty on occasion and help and step back again. It was there, and the end was in view. It still seemed unreal. The Word, made flesh, like a hairless ape. In the wilderness he had watched from a distance until the appointed time. Watched with baited breath until he could intervene. Until the time was right. Until God the Son had begun to come into himself and understood more fully who he was. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">He found himself fully embracing humanity. The Son of God, the Word, filthy and tired and hungry and fainting in the wilderness. He'd fed him, bathed him, (He could barely move) put him in a clean set of clothes and put him to bed in his mother's house. Rafael made it look as normal as possible for Mary's sake. She was shocked to find him safe and asleep in a little room off the back of the house. She knew something was different but didn't want to think about it. Not then. She sent word to the family that he had returned in one piece, safe and sound, and tried not to think about the rest. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was strange to be here now, waiting until he was needed, knowing he couldn't intervene this time when he really wanted to. It was too much. Too much see what he was seeing and do what he had to do which is not spirit Jesus away from all this so he wouldn't suffer. He saw him to fall to his knees in anguished prayer and rushed to his side. Rafael took him in his arms and gave him his strength in the embrace. </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-49215801377013949302016-10-13T11:00:00.000-07:002016-10-13T11:00:29.535-07:00Remember Jonah<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 16px;"><i>I ran into an old friend Sunday and he mentioned I haven't written anything on this blog for a while. That's true. I haven't. I've had a lot going on. I'm in a much better place now and most importantly, I have my home office back. (I evicted a crazy person without hurting her, be proud of me.) </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Jonah 1:17-2:10 (NRSV)</span></blockquote>
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<blockquote>
17But the LORD provided a large fish to swallow up Jonah; and Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights. Then Jonah prayed to the LORD his God from the belly of the fish, 2 saying, "I called to the LORD out of my distress, and he answered me; out of the belly of Sheol I cried, and you heard my voice. 3You cast me into the deep, into the heart of the seas, and the flood surrounded me; all your waves and your billows passed over me. 4Then I said, 'I am driven away from your sight; how shall I look again upon your holy temple?' 5The waters closed in over me; the deep surrounded me; weeds were wrapped around my head 6at the roots of the mountains. I went down to the land whose bars closed upon me forever; yet you brought up my life from the Pit, O LORD my God. 7As my life was ebbing away, I remembered the LORD; and my prayer came to you, into your holy temple. 8 Those who worship vain idols forsake their true loyalty. 9But I with the voice of thanksgiving will sacrifice to you; what I have vowed I will pay. Deliverance belongs to the LORD!" 10 Then the LORD spoke to the fish, and it spewed Jonah out upon the dry land.</blockquote>
</blockquote>
It's not easy to feel sorry for Jonah in this passage. He's sitting in the belly of a great big fish that we all imagine as a whale and he suddenly remembers God. God who he has been running from all this time because he knew god was going to be nice to people he didn't like. (Please note that it doesn't say Jonah has a reason to hate the people of Nineveh. He just does.) God who he jumped on a boat and proceeded to go as far as he possibly could away from the task he'd been asked to perform.<br />
<br />
Jonah, for all I know, is a metaphor, but this guy is basically my spirit animal. I understand him. I still grumble and complain when the Lord asks me to be kind to people I don't like, but I haven't taken off across the ocean in a boat yet. I haven't even run away in a long time. I actually usually don't even run very far. Maybe I'm remembering Jonah... <br />
<br />
Remember Jonah.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-15589456317190843612016-07-10T17:21:00.002-07:002016-07-10T17:21:51.094-07:00Not Today, Satan.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last week saw two more black men killed by police, followed by a sniper murdering five police and hurting seven more. I think most of us were in shock, and Facebook exploded with the usual reactions.<br />
<br />
All Lives Matter.<br />
<br />
He had a record.<br />
<br />
Police lives matter.<br />
<br />
He must have done something to deserve it.<br />
<br />
What do the cops expect when they kill civilians all the time?<br />
<br />
Thin blue line decals for free!! (That one was pretty sweet, actually.)<br />
<br />
More thoughts and prayers! <br />
<br />
One for one side and one for the other and never the twain shall meet. No, no, actually, I'm going to say something about that. <br />
<br />
Not today, Satan. <br />
<br />
Nope. I'm getting pretty sick of people saying that the people being killed for no obvious reason deserved it. Being an asshole is not a death penalty offense. Being a suspect in a crime is not a death penalty offense. Even if it was, this is America, and we're supposed to get a trial. Thinking these things does not make me anti cop. It makes me anti murdering cop, which, if you think about it, everybody should be anti murdering cop. Seriously. Especially cops. I understand that sometimes the police have people lie about them. I understand that their first instinct is to close ranks and defend their fellow officers. I get it. I work with the public, how could I not get it? But there comes a point when enough is enough and you have to take a long hard look in the mirror. <br />
<br />
But I'm still not willing to say the police in Dallas deserved it. Why? They didn't. I take cops like I take everyone else. One at a time. In this case, the Black Lives Matter protest was going extremely well. The police and the protesters were taking happy pictures with each other. Everybody was calm, everybody was as happy as you could be at a rally protesting police brutality. Even the police. (Who I suspect are largely as sick of police brutality as the public.) <br />
<br />
Then it all went to hell. Someone started shooting, because he "wanted to kill some white people". I understand the instinct to say Black Lives Matter ordered a war on the police, but I'm going to ask everybody to take a moment and firmly say: Not today Satan. <br />
<br />
Today, and everyday, we need to be calm. We need to be rational. We need to stop for a minute and think. Let's be adults. Let's all look at this like grown people with clear heads. Evil says that the police, all the police, are the enemy. Evil says they are all racist assholes who hate black people. No, not today, Satan. The police need to take a long hard look in the mirror and train their officers in deescalation and give the occasional attitude adjustment when it's needed to their people, but most cops are good cops. <br />
<br />
And as far as Black Lives Matter wanting to start a race war, I'm going to tell y'all a little secret. They let this white girl follow their facebook page. I'm not seeing a thing about a race war or starting one or targeting the police. Not a thing. Am I on their email list? No. But I'm not seeing anything like what you're picturing. For heaven's sake, just say no to paranoia and white supremacist propaganda and, well, Satan, and take them and the protests one at a time. Like anyone else. Reserve judgement. Evil wants you to heap it up on your fellow human beings and stop seeing them as human beings. Don't do that. Just don't.<br />
<br />
That's how bad things happen. When you start seeing people as things. We are all made in the image of God and we need to remember to act like it. Reign in your temper, straighten your crown, and push those thoughts away with all your might. <br />
<br />
Not today, Satan.<br />
<br />
Not today. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-46662819073268381792016-07-08T07:10:00.001-07:002016-07-08T07:10:06.331-07:00We have a probem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Reposted from Facebook: </div>
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Guys, I've reposted a lot of stuff that other people have said on this but I want to be absolutely clear.</div>
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We have a huge problem in this country with violence. I'm not anti cop or anti black, I'm anti goddamned murder. I'm not swearing, I mean that literally.</div>
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We need to fire and prosecute asshole murdering cops who kill civilians for no good reason. We need to prosecute the snipers who murdered those poor cops in Dallas who were trying to keep the peace at a protest.<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"> We also need to figure out what the hell is wrong with us as a nation that we keep having stuff like this happen.</span></div>
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<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Why is it so hard to admit something is freaking wrong with our country???? I love my country, and it's not exclusive of that to say something is wrong with us. We can fix this. I believe in us. I know we can do it. For now, can we please admit we have a problem?</div>
<div style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Please?</div>
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</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-29461421455020943932016-06-24T17:07:00.002-07:002016-06-24T17:07:48.221-07:00Like a Boss<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I read <a href="https://nondoc.com/2016/06/09/stop-opting-for-savior-politics-over-adult-pragmatism/?utm_campaign=coschedule&utm_source=facebook_page&utm_medium=NONDOC&utm_content=Stop%20opting%20for%20%27savior%20politics%27%20over%20adult%20pragmatism">something</a> this morning by a former Oklahoma State Senator that I admire, Andrew Rice. If you know anything about Oklahoma state politics, you know that's saying something. This guy is a class act. He's also smoking hot, but that's just a bonus. <br />
<br />
He talked about what he calls "Savior politics". Where a politician comes in with simple (too simple) ideas and promises to reign in an obviously corrupt system with no actual plan on how to do that. Senator Rice (Who I did vote for twice) points out that it's a fine idea if you're nine years old. Optimism is great, as long as it comes with a healthy dose of pragmatism. Basically, it boils down to the age old question: How do you mean to accomplish this?<br />
<br />
What exactly are you going to do? Do you know what you're doing? <br />
<br />
The thing is, America, we need a new boss. The executive branch of our government has an opening coming up in January and we need to pick someone for the job. Think about what you most admire about your boss. Is it their personality? That you like them all the time? Do you want to have a beer with them? <br />
<br />
If it is, I hope you don't have long term plans with your company, because those are not the important things in a leader. Don't get me wrong, I do like my boss. I don't expect her to ever read this, but I do <i>like her</i>. But the main thing she's there to do is run the company I work for. I need her to do her job so that I can continue to do mine and we can function as company. We're looking for someone to be President of the United States. We need a <i>politician</i>. We need someone to be ultimately in charge of our military. We need someone who's going to have the nuclear codes and know when (please, Lord, never) to use or not use them. <br />
<br />
Politicians lie sometimes. Sometimes they change their minds. They have to do really hard shit that they occasionally end up regretting. These are the people we put in charge of murder robots, for God's sake. I trust Hillary Clinton to be a moderate Democratic President. That's what we're hiring her to do. She's not going to be our drinking buddy. (Though I have no doubt she could drink me under the table.) She's not our mascot. This is not a personal relationship. She's a politician who understands Washington because she's lived there or adjacent to it for her entire adult life and she knows how to get things done. She's the exact opposite of thin skinned and God knows she's had to be. People call her everything they can think of and she handles it just fine. <br />
<br />
We need a new president. Donald Trump isn't qualified. Sanders is qualified but Clinton is more qualified and Clinton has won the primaries. You think she's a bitch? So what? We need someone who can handle our lazy obstructionist Congress like a boss and not give a shit if they hurt her feelings. Donald Trump (Who I deleted an entire rant about) is still upset over someone saying he has small hands in Vanity Fare magazine in the 80s. We do not need that orange bag of man period to be armed with drones.<br />
<br />
We just don't. <br />
<br />
We need a boss.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vfBgsNYUb5s/V23Ka8lj2VI/AAAAAAAALWg/rwFkT93rmcU3qYvuOJR_HdbtMfYqZ50XQCLcB/s1600/1024.txtshilary.mh.061912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vfBgsNYUb5s/V23Ka8lj2VI/AAAAAAAALWg/rwFkT93rmcU3qYvuOJR_HdbtMfYqZ50XQCLcB/s320/1024.txtshilary.mh.061912.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I think this is the best bitch we've got for the job who's actually applying for it. <br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-52751761149147060652016-05-13T08:45:00.000-07:002016-05-13T08:45:03.875-07:00Potty police<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was going to restrain myself and not write about this, but this morning I saw a preachy post on the subject and now I just can't help myself.<br />
<br />
Gentlemen: <br />
<br />
You seem suddenly worried about ladies in public restrooms. I don't know what you boys do in public restrooms. I've always imagined it was some kind of macho man parts competition or something and that was the purpose of urinals. I've never peed standing up so I don't understand peeing on the wall designed to be peed on. <br />
<br />
Here's what happens in a ladies room. You go in. You pick a stall that looks the least like a biohazard possible. (At least there are never cigarette butts in the urinals we don't use) We lock the door. We pee. We wash our hands. Maybe put some lipstick on or rearrange the hair. We leave. <br />
<br />
Never in this entire process do we, under normal circumstances, see anyone's genitals. Never. It just doesn't happen. If someone opens a stall door we just waive and shut it really quick. Still no exposure. <br />
<br />
The only danger I've ever been in a ladies room was in Junior high when another girl was angry at me for calling her out for being rude to my friend. I locked the damned stall door and waited on her to get bored and leave. She was, by the way, another female who was born a female. <br />
<br />
I have peed in the same bathroom as transgendered women. Nothing happened. They looked a little nervous like they were afraid they'd be yelled at, but nothing happened. I was not the frightened one in this situation. <br />
<br />
If you think rapists, (who are normally law abiding citizens right?) are going to suddenly become more interested in attacking women in a restroom I have to question who you've been listening to. We've been peeing in bathrooms with trans people for years. So have you. Nothing happened.<br />
<br />
My mother was spot on on this issue in her one comment about it. I can attest that this is true. She did this far longer than any of us wanted her to. She said to go to the restroom in public WITH your children whether they like it or not. If you're worried about their safety, do this. If you're not worried about their safety, do this. Until they're big enough to defend themselves, do this. Why? Because those perverts you're worried about don't care about the law. They're rapists and perverts, guys. So protect your kids. Rapists and perverts don't like people who run in packs. They don't want to attack people who are paying attention to their surroundings, and generally speaking, they aren't dumb enough to get between a parent and a child.<br />
<br />
Rest assured, this isn't about trans people or public safety. It's about stoking fear of the other so people keep talking about that instead of important things.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-29637807049985910582016-03-07T19:30:00.001-08:002016-03-07T19:30:23.249-08:00Walking Heroin<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="tr_bq">
The Tv show <i>Lucifer</i> will probably be short lived. Most naughty tv shows centered around religion or religion adjacent topics are. This one's got some real eye rolling moments. Lucifer is a night club owning man-whore who trades sex for therapy. It's hardly... profound. But what he says when he makes the offer, when he tells her she'll regret it, is the most accurate description of Lucifer I've ever heard.</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Raleway, sans-serif; line-height: 28.5714px;">I'm like walking heroin...very habit forming. It never ends well.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #777777; font-family: Raleway, sans-serif; line-height: 1.42857;">~Lucifer</span> </blockquote>
No, no it doesn't. It never ends well with that one. Think about it. At first glance, that almost sounds like a good thing. Walking heroin. Heroin, I'm told, starts out making you feel great, then it gets worse and worse until you're spending all your time trading sex for drugs and watching your health slip away until you die from it. Sin is like that. It feels great at first, then one thing or another starts going wrong until your life is unrecognizable. You find yourself face down in a gutter somewhere looking for another high that's never the same as the first one. <br />
<br />
The thing about Lucifer in the TV show is he tries to seem innocent enough. He's just giving the people what they want. All he's doing is allowing them to live out their deepest desires. What they want most in the world. Dear old dad (notice they set him up a son of god in a way that makes me very uncomfortable) has just forced him to do all this punishing and tempting and he's not really a bad guy, he's just doing what Daddy Dearest asks him to. That's how it starts. You get a little sympathy for the Devil and it opens the door just a teeny tiny bit for him to come in.<br />
<br />
Just a little bit. Just a taste. Speaking of taste:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
<span class="text Matt-4-1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="chapternum" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; bottom: -0.1em; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-weight: bold; left: 0px; line-height: 0.8em; position: relative;">Matthew 4 </span>Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted<span class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NIV-23211a" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NIV-23211a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%204&version=NIV#fen-NIV-23211a" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b34b2c; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: top;" title="See footnote a">a</a>]</span><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23211B" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23211B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>by the devil.<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23211C" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23211C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span></span> <span class="text Matt-4-2" id="en-NIV-23212" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">2 </span>After fasting forty days and forty nights,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23212D" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23212D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> he was hungry.</span><span class="text Matt-4-3" id="en-NIV-23213" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">3 </span>The tempter<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23213E" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23213E" title="See cross-reference E">E</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> came to him and said, “If you are the Son of God,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23213F" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23213F" title="See cross-reference F">F</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> tell these stones to become bread.”</span><span class="versenum" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">4 </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px;">Jesus answered,</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px;">“It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’<span class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NIV-23214b" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NIV-23214b" title="See footnote b">b</a>]" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%204&version=NIV#fen-NIV-23214b" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b34b2c; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: top;" title="See footnote b">b</a>]</span>”</span> </blockquote>
The way this reads, Jesus hadn't eaten for eight weeks. This had to have been considerably worse than the year I gave up caffeine for Lent only to find out that also included chocolate. It was terrible. My friends waived fundraiser candy in my face every time we ate lunch together at school. I have never chosen that fast again for a reason. (Homicide. That's the reason.) The tempter came to him, and suggested he make himself some lunch. It seems innocent enough, but it is really not. Probably furiously hangry at this point, Jesus turns him down and answers him with scripture. It's tempting to take a short cut, to meet our basic needs in ways that do not acknowledge God as the source of all things, but it's also dangerous. What it does is convince us of our self sufficiency. It's what makes someone think they don't need God or man, and that they did everything on their own. The truth is, all of us are toddlers playing with legos that God gave us and thinking we built a house all by ourselves. Dad is proud to look at it and coo a bit, but he remembers giving us the blocks and knows whereof they (and we) are made.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;">
<span class="text Matt-4-5" id="en-NIV-23215" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">5 </span>Then the devil took him to the holy city<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23215H" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23215H" title="See cross-reference H">H</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> and had him stand on the highest point of the temple.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span class="text Matt-4-6" id="en-NIV-23216" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Verdana, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">6 </span>“If you are the Son of God,”<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23216I" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23216I" title="See cross-reference I">I</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> he said, “throw yourself down. For it is written: </span>“‘He will command his angels concerning you<span class="indent-1-breaks" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Matt-4-6" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">and they will lift you up in their hands </span><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Matt-4-6" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’<span class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NIV-23216c" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NIV-23216c" title="See footnote c">c</a>]" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%204&version=NIV#fen-NIV-23216c" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b34b2c; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: top;" title="See footnote c">c</a>]</span>” </span><span class="versenum" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">7 </span><span style="background-color: white;">Jesus answered him, </span><span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box;">“It is also written: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’<span class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NIV-23217d" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NIV-23217d" title="See footnote d">d</a>]" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%204&version=NIV#fen-NIV-23217d" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b34b2c; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: top;" title="See footnote d">d</a>]</span>”</span> </blockquote>
Now I have sang those words more times than I can count. "On your hands they will bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone." I believe it, but the advice that follows is gold. Do not put the Lord your God to the test. Don't run out into traffic. Don't play with snakes. Don't fall down on your sword in an effort to bully God into a display of power. In other words, remember who is who in this relationship. Don't make the power play. And if anyone could make the power play, the Son of God is the one to do it, But he doesn't. He doesn't take the bait, and neither should we. Playing games with our health and livelihood just see if God will really save us from our own stupidity is the height of hubris. <br />
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<span class="text Matt-4-8" id="en-NIV-23218" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">8 </span>Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor.</span> <span class="text Matt-4-9" id="en-NIV-23219" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">9 </span>“All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.”</span><span class="text Matt-4-10" id="en-NIV-23220" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">10 </span>Jesus said to him, <span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">“Away from me, Satan!<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23220L" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23220L" title="See cross-reference L">L</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’<span class="footnote" data-fn="#fen-NIV-23220e" data-link="[<a href="#fen-NIV-23220e" title="See footnote e">e</a>]" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%204&version=NIV#fen-NIV-23220e" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #b34b2c; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: top;" title="See footnote e">e</a>]</span>”<br /><span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23220M" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23220M" title="See cross-reference M">M</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span></span></span><span class="text Matt-4-11" id="en-NIV-23221" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">11 </span>Then the devil left him,<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-23221N" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-23221N" title="See cross-reference N">N</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> and angels came and attended him.</span></blockquote>
The last one is less subtle. Worship me, Submit to me. Follow me. Do what I do and put yourself first, and I will give you all the pleasures this world has to offer. Power unlimited for all time. All you have to do, is bow down to me. This is where the walking heroin really shines. He's pretty, he's shiny, and he moves so prettily. He promises pleasure forevermore. Even angels followed him. Like kittens after a sequined ball. But he makes nothing. The world is not his, he has only twisted it. He didn't make it. He didn't make a thing. Not even a damn thing. He took Someone Else's work and twisted it. <br />
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It's not worth it, kids. <br />
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Don't take the bait.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2185359589996642805.post-54799947782893272082016-01-25T14:04:00.000-08:002016-01-25T18:34:35.509-08:00Something else<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"When I'm with you I feel like I could die and that would be alright." -"Semi Charmed Life" by Third Eye Blind</blockquote>
<br />
We all have songs that define moments in our lives. Most of mine involve me picking out a line and applying it to a theological idea that in context would be completely inappropriate but cherry picked works out just fine. When I'm with you I feel like I could die and that would be alright is one of mine. I had a dream once that I was injured by someone I'd been trying to help. He was begging me to kill him and I wouldn't. I got on my knees and begged him to come with me instead. To let me help him with whatever was wrong. He stabbed me with a sword instead. I lay there bleeding, just kind of letting it happen, when an angel came along and found both of us. The person who hurt me ran away, and the angel picked me up and flew straight to God with me in his arms. I felt like I knew him very well in my dream and that I loved him and he loved me. He laid me at God's feet in the middle of a huge gathering and I was held so tenderly I can't begin to explain it. I can't explain what God looked like. Every time I try the words literally won't come out of my mouth, so I'm not even going to try to write it in this blog piece. I do remember thinking....and I was delirious with pain even in this dream, that if I died right there and simply ceased to exist that it would be alright. It would be just fine because I was fully known and fully loved. It was going to be just fine no matter what happened or how bad it hurt. <br />
<br />
It would be just fine because I was safe in the arms of God. I have never felt anything like that on earth (when I wasn't "dreaming"). The closest I can come to it is sitting next to someone you know loves you. Like hug from your grandmother multiplied a thousand times. Like falling asleep at the end of a long happy day. It was perfect peace, unspoiled even by extreme suffering.<br />
<br />
The kicker? Right there in the midst of heaven, God washed the blood out of my hair and healed my wounds. Not because God was the only one there to do it, no, not by a long shot. I'm sure there were plenty who would have taken on the chore. It felt like he wanted to take care of me. Me. Held my hand until I fell asleep even. I woke up feeling ridiculously good, and a bit like I was in between two worlds for the rest of the day. <br />
<br />
What this experience did for me, other than having me wake up feeling ridiculously good and then slightly insane for the rest of the day, is shatter the idea that God doesn't <i>like</i> me. I've always accepted the idea that God loves me. Love and like are sometimes two different things. Every time I start to think the only reason I'm still alive is that he doesn't want to put up with me at home yet the dream creeps back into my mind and I remember that feeling. I still don't understand. I can't tell you what that was about. I just know that the descriptions in scripture of the love of God are not an exaggeration. <br />
<br />
It's not a joke or a platitude or something nice to say to get more butts in a pew. God actually loves us. Even irritating ill mannered potty mouthed Leslie from Enid, Oklahoma. The one who sticks her foot in her mouth every chance she gets. The one whose prayers frequently get interrupted by bagels sticking out of her mouth and a cat's butt in her face. The one with the attention span of a five year old hopped up on sugar. If God loves Leslie, God loves you. Really. <br />
<br />
Sometimes I think the best lie the devil ever told was convincing mankind that God doesn't love him. That man is unlovable. That there was a way that we could get around that love, and out of its light. I don't think we can. <br />
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