Sam Heath - samheath's Blog - Bakersfield.com

The Weedpatch Gazette

Fri, 20 Nov 2009 09:44:28 PST

It was evident to many including me when the GOP could not come up with someone better than McCain I wrote that under the circumstances his choice of Sarah Palin was the wisest thing he could do. Having thrown away any chance of winning the election, and it becoming blatantly obvious there were evil forces at work to bring a nonentity like Hussein out of obscurity and thrust him into the limelight by those like Soros, ACORN, the ACLU, racist Oprah, and the MSM for the most part hating on Sarah making her the focus of their vitriol it was the Devil’s game throughout. But Devil or not, Hussein is fast becoming America’s worst nightmare while Sarah is becoming increasingly popular and getting all the press. That the press she is getting speaks volumes about her enemies, including the sexual orientation of some who hate her for being a real woman speaking her mind, she continues to prove the wisest choice McCain could have made, albeit unwittingly on his part.

No, she is not a viable candidate for President at this time and she may never be; but it is blatantly obvious that all the vitriol being spewed out against her is forcing other issues into debate; issues the backers and worshippers of Hussein would rather not discuss or brought out into the open. Hussein continues to be a puppet of the evil forces working against America and the attacks against We the People, our very freedoms as legitimate American citizens are becoming increasingly transparent. But when you consider all the really bad things in Hussein’s background like his birth certificate and Jeremiah Wright being brushed aside, the lack of Congressional oversight for his supporters like ACORN you know his handlers are not going to settle for anything less than a Hitler/Goebbels control of the media. For the time being, those like Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh are allowed a forum because these globalists like Soros backing Hussein want to give the illusion that we still have a free press and freedom of speech. But to repeat; I believe the seed of America’s destruction was sown in slavery for the sake of profits, much like “Press one for English,” and I continue to see America as Babylon of Revelation.

Consider the early doctored photo of Sarah Palin in a bathing suit holding a Crosman pump pellet rifle. Who but a pervert would have her holding a pellet gun only useful for killing gophers, rats, and ground squirrels rather than a large bore rifle such as that used to shoot a moose? Many people did not catch on to that pervert trick; but I’m very familiar with the tactics used by perverts in their attempts to turn America into a pervert loving nation, along with all the attempts to foil any opposition to open borders and slave labor. All of these things are a perversion of what America used to represent, the fatal flaw of not rejecting slavery by our Constitution aside and we have lost anything like the moral compass Sarah Palin represents. And the servants of Satan continue to demonize anyone believing the Bible has great value in their lives.

In the book of Judges God had Jael and Deborah to do the work when men were failing in their duties. The book of Esther emphasizes this point. There are several instances of God having women do the work when a man worthy of the name could not be found. The only real fault I find with Sarah Palin is that she has stepped into a role which God did not intend for women from my Biblical point of view. But if a real man cannot be found with the backbone to confront the Evil One and his attacks on those of us who hold the Bible as having great value in our lives, then it would not surprise me if God will have a woman do the job; and that to the shame of men.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 15:23:01 PST

A close friend has died of breast cancer; but the way in which she handled the disease has been an inspiration to many others and me. She has, in fact, told her story in a pamphlet that is used by many oncologists to help their patients. A truly remarkable woman!

The catastrophic suddenness of the death of a loved one may precipitate a loss of hope. The sudden and unexpected betrayal of someone's love and trust in a mate is not unlike such a death and is always accompanied with a loss of hope through the grief of betrayal and the accompanying loneliness.

Granted most people live through the psychosis of grief, the torment and agony of such betrayal, but the psychic pain, while dulled with time, is always there, always ready to rear its ugly head in some familiar setting of remembrance, through some melody heard, through some chance remark or expression. And, there will always be the nightmares.

The Psalmist asks the question of God: “Why do the wicked prosper, why do they feel no pain or grief?” Simple: They are the betrayers, and betrayers of love and trust never have a conscience with which to contend. It is that tender conscience that separates the sheep from the goats. Those with a conscience simply cannot do as those that betray. They cannot even return evil for evil. Such a tender conscience both grieves and hates. Yes, hatred can be properly directed at the seducer of a faithless mate; but that tender conscience does not take a gun and go after either one of their betrayers.

My own studies in Human Behavior have led me to some very interesting speculations on this subject. I call these “speculations” because of the paucity of empirical data. No, we don't lack examples, but examples are not proofs. It is my contention, however, that a database could be built with mathematical precision that could predict human behavior, analyze it and help people with emotional problems and things like addiction. But the database would have to be immense. It is unlikely that the necessary funds for such a study would be forthcoming unless the bottom line should have an economic pay-off. That's reality.

Certainly there are broad parameters of predictability; people would rather be rich than poor, good looking rather than ugly, etc. Neither does such a study have to deal with stupid questions. What's a stupid question you ask? I'll give you an example. A woman asked me once why older men preferred younger women? Now either this woman was somewhat short in the think department or she hadn't really given the question serious thought. In her case, however, knowing the woman reasonably well, I know it had a lot of sour grapes to it. She was well past the age of attracting a desirable man and she knew it.

Her coping mechanism was to put down all men as silly if they preferred younger women. She does have a point; men have been just that silly about women all through the history of humankind and that isn't ever going to change. However, her remark carried not a little of the truism of a woman scorned; hell indeed hath no such fury.

Consequently, women had better learn to value themselves as persons in their own right. It wouldn't be a bad idea either if women would give some thought to those ancient concepts of virtue and fidelity. Unhappily, even tragically, too many seem intent on proving Solomon right: “A virtuous woman who can find for her price is far above rubies ... one man among a thousand I have found but never a woman.” Talk about a dismal outlook.

But what does lead to betrayal, what causes the loss of so much in people's lives, where does love go to die? After the excitement of the chase, why does boredom set in rather than a mutually satisfying give and take, a nurturing and maturing relationship? What leads some to having to constantly prove they are still desirable to the opposite sex? And, of utmost importance, what leads to the contentment of having just that one other person in your life? Why do some have to have constant, even impossible, assurances of love and desirability? Ah, the perversity of both men and women in seeking happiness!

Women seem to need far more than men do of the constant assurances of love. They need, even demand, attention. Since the poet, the writer, lives in his head, he is most often given to introspection and meditation. This is a solitary man. Women in general cannot seem to abide a solitary man. They feel ignored.

What, exactly, is at work in the mind of someone who rips out gardens and flowers at 3 a.m.? Why does music suddenly become a curse? Why do some have to relocate to get away from familiar places, even giving up homes in order to relieve the suffering of remembrances? The betrayal of love and trust often causes otherwise bizarre behavior.

To explore grief is not an easy task. It is the dark side of love. I'll never forget the friend who asked me how I could endure listening to so many people's problems? There is no ready answer to such a question. Whatever the cause, the poet deals with life in the raw and makes the mistakes that come with trying to deal with it. It is always the hope of the poet that in painting memorable word pictures of life some will find cause for hope, that the ideals of purity, romance and beauty will survive the onslaught of all the ugliness of the realities with which we have to contend in our daily lives.

There was the woman for whom I would place a rose from our garden on her nightstand as an expression of my love and appreciation for her. But such indicators of my feelings for her were never enough to counter her concerns for more practical considerations. And, in the beginning, she seemed to have the same appreciation for the stars at night, for discussions of romance, love and poetry.

Our lives seem to be caught up in the practical considerations and circumstances of getting a living. In the fresh bloom of love, our hearts do turn to the things of beauty and they are real. We seem to give our hearts to those things of lasting value and the priorities seem to be ordered properly. Then, little by little, those practical, incessant demands seem to gain the ascendancy.

I believe it is their nature that women have to be more practical than men. In our perverse culture where a woman's value is predicated on her youth and attractiveness, a woman better have her wits about her and make the best deal she can while she still has something of value to exchange. Pity the poor girl who exchanges her youth and beauty for a bum! Therefore it should come as no surprise that men can afford to be more extravagant in the areas of love and romance; that men can be the poets and artists and leave off undue concern for many of the practicalities that women have to consider.

So it was that my lady, as others, seemed to lose, little by little, any appreciation for the things of real beauty and romance. There simply wasn't time in her busy schedule for such relatively unimportant things. But the curse of the poet remained upon me. Such things as the stars and the beauty of God's creation, of the animals, birds and flowers, rocks and trees, the vistas of sea, mountains and desert, the enchantment of the ideals of beauty and the expressiveness of the language of love, still move in me and will not be silenced. Such things remain the best of the child within me, the best of what makes a real man and will never give way to more practical considerations.

I remember well another woman I loved deeply telling me once, “Love isn't enough!” Some years have passed since that unforgettable night. I wonder, now that she faces 50, whether she might have reconsidered? Of course love isn't enough if it isn't accompanied, like faith, with the requisite works. But I was never a man who failed to provide those things that are essential for maintaining life such as food, clothing, shelter and transportation. I have always, for example, made sure the women I have known and loved always had better cars than I was willing to drive.

I am not so impractical that the considerations of getting a living are ignored. My own life is a testimony to my work ethic and I will always heed the injunction: If any not work, neither should he eat! But, gentle reader, how much is enough? As Thoreau pointed out, a man is rich in accordance with those things he can afford to leave alone. I think most people would profit from wanting less. Certainly lives would suffer less stress if the creed “He that has the most toys when he dies, wins” was not the goal of our society.

The question remains, can love and romance survive the necessities of dirty laundry and dishes, of working on the car or mowing the lawn, of getting a living? I say YES! in the face of all the odds against me. Hence the appellation thrown against me by one of the women I have loved: A man without common sense.

I have been described, however, by some women as a kind and gentle man, a nice man, even a very special man. That is high and humbling praise. If there be any truth to such praise, it comes by virtue of the fact that I have been blessed by daughters who taught me the softer and gentler facts about women. I wish I could say I have learned such things from the other women in my life; but I cannot.

As a writer, I often intrude myself into areas where angels fear, not so much out of any death wish, but primarily out of curiosity. Along with the curse of solitude, I am cursed with an inordinate curiosity about many things, often quite diverse. For this reason, I found myself in the bars as a non-drinker for example, doing the research for this book.

I’ve returned to Bakersfield for a short stay. Now that I'm in the big city, I am checking out the local churches (and the local bars). One large church advertised a Singles Ministry. I certainly qualify so I went.

Well, the people were all exceptionally nice and friendly and certainly made me feel welcome. But as I sat and endured the sermonette I couldn't shake the impulse to cry out: Where's the reality of what Jesus is all about here? In other words, a nice group of people was sitting listening to the same old thing you hear virtually every Sunday in both Sunday school and Church. The word “dynamic” did not exactly come to mind, but the word “boring” most certainly did. I had to comment to one of the nice fellows after surviving the meeting that it only confirmed my own theological observation that if the churches could only make Heaven half as exciting as Hell they would be doing a thriving business. He was not amused.

But as I sat there, I remembered that I too was once one of these people; satisfied with comfortable religious beliefs, dogmas, that allowed an easy mind if you didn't ask the hard questions. Unhappily I did begin, finally, to ask such questions of God and I haven't had an easy time of it since.

There was a moment during the harangue from the speaker where I found myself fervently wishing that I had opted to go to the Cadillac Ranch out at Marin instead. Well, I thought, if this finishes in time, I could still make it out to a place where the people were actually alive, some actually enjoying themselves rather than pretending to as a religious exercise. But, it wasn't to be.

The time was redeemed in some fashion by my being able to actually discuss some of my views with a few people before I left. These are nice people. Nothing I have said should be construed otherwise. They are caring, concerned and trying to find answers to their own loneliness in a manner that fits their own beliefs and faith. I heartily commend them for this.

It is, I suppose, the oppressive insular attitude I meet with in the churches. These folks just don't seem to know there is a war going on for the hearts and minds of our children, our future as a nation. And if they are aware of it, they seem ill suited to do battle in the Devil's arena. Religion is the protective shield they have built to insulate themselves from all the ugliness about them. God help such warriors if I were allowed another pulpit from which to tell them of the realities outside their comfortable pews!

Harsh as such criticism is, let me be the first to confess that I would willingly re-join them in shutting out all that ugliness if I only could. How fervently I wish I had never intruded myself into the World, how I wish the questions had never begun to be asked that led to my alienation from my brethren. I feel like Paul who could have wished himself accursed for the sake of his own brethren according to the flesh, the Jews, if they could only be made to see the light.

But all the wishing in the world won't change what I know and what I have learned and experienced in my own pilgrimage through this vale of tears. How I wish I could get those brethren to listen and understand. But I'm damaged goods and, like the Publican, no matter how low I bow my head and beat my breast crying out to God: Be merciful to me, a sinner!, the wicked, the seducers, the liars still prosper and those with a tender conscience still grieve alone. And I can't shake the belief like that of Emerson that if the churches were really doing the job God called them to, it wouldn't be this way.

Well, I'll be going to the Cadillac Ranch another time and mixing it up with the rest of the sinners. The music will play, I'll dance with the women and some will provide me the stories I write. I'll find the real poetry of life in an accurate recounting of real people and real events. At least it will be lacking the stench of hypocrisy.

I'll be with those who certainly understand the subject of sin, and often show a more sincere sensitivity to their own sins than those attending the churches. Could this be the reason Jesus said the prostitutes and tax collectors stood a better chance of Heaven than the professional religionists of His time? My mother used to say, “If the churches were as friendly as the bars they would be crowded.” I credit my mother being correct about this (From my book: “Birds With Broken Wings”).

The Weedpatch Gazette

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 09:34:23 PST

Death of a Beagle:

Mr. Cavendish was very anxious to pick up his pet beagle, Merl, from obedience school. It wasn’t that Merl was really disobedient, but he had acquired a few bad habits and Mr. Cavendish, being such a gentle person, just couldn’t bring himself to properly discipline his little friend. So, enrolling him in obedience school seemed the best solution.

Entering the school’s office he was greeted by the headmaster, Doctor Diabole.

With a warm handshake, the good Doctor bid Mr. Cavendish welcome and invited him to take a seat.

“Well, now, Mr. Cavendish, how very kind of you to drop in; I assume you’re here to inquire about Merl?”

“Why yes, of course, Doctor Diabole. I know I should have called before coming by, but I have been very anxious to see Merl and I had hoped he would be ready by now for me to take home. It has been very lonely for me without him and I’m certain he misses me as well.”

With a polite soft and delicate cough Doctor Diabole cleared his throat, and averting his eyes from Mr. Cavendish slowly folded his hands on his desk, and with bowed head as though reluctant to speak replied, “Ah, my dear Mr. Cavendish I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news.”

“What is it Doctor, Merl isn’t sick is he?”

“No, no, nothing of the sort. As a matter of fact Merl is dead.”

Mr. Cavendish was stunned! What? Merl dead? How did it happen? He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Merl dead?

Attempting to comprehend the magnitude what he had just heard, tears suddenly filled his eyes and Mr. Cavendish struggled to control himself… his Merl, dead? It simply could not be true! He could not be hearing Doctor Diabole correctly! There must be some terrible mistake!

Doctor Diabole arose, and stepping out from behind his desk went over and put a comforting arm around the shoulders of the sobbing Mr. Cavendish.

“My dear sir, I’m sorry to have to tell you this but Merl proved incorrigible. In fact, he consistently failed an essential course on properly piddling. You know, of course, how a rolled up newspaper is used to gently correct a dog?”

“Yes, I know,” Mr. Cavendish replied with an effort past the lump in his throat all the while wiping his eyes with his handkerchief.

“Well,” Doctor Diabole continued, “Merl just didn’t respond well to such a training technique utilizing a newspaper. So I was forced to apply sterner measures with a whip. But even this proved insufficient and finally left me no choice but to beat him with a baseball bat.”

“WHAT!” Mr. Cavendish roared, jerking up from his chair.

“Now, now, Mr. Cavendish, I understand your concern, I truly do, but really, we simply cannot have dogs piddling just anywhere, now can we?”

“But, but, beating Merl to death with a baseball bat! You can’t possibly be serious! This is some kind of sick joke, right?”

“Not at all, sir. But you do have the option of having Merl stuffed and mounted quite attractively in a pose of your choosing, or we can simply give you his pelt.”

“Stuff Merl! Give me his pelt! Are you insane!?”

“Please calm yourself Mr. Cavendish. We here at the Kind and Gentle School of Obedience are not savages; we are not insensitive to owners such as you. But surely you must realize that the school’s reputation is at stake. We simply cannot be viewed as not taking our responsibility seriously. Nor, may I be so candid as to suggest that you, as Merl’s owner, would surely not wish it to be known you owned a dog that was so cloddish he couldn’t learn to piddle properly, now would you?

“You! You! ...!”

“Please now Mr. Cavendish, I do urge you again to calm yourself and try to put yourself in my position. Now beating Merl to death has to be put in its proper perspective. I’m sure you will, upon calm reflection, come to see the wisdom of my action. Your agitation is understandable, but do be civilized my dear man. After all, didn’t your parents beat you when they were lovingly trying to teach you to piddle properly?”

“No! They most certainly did not!” Mr. Cavendish shouted.

“Come, come now, my dear Mr. Cavendish it’s perfectly permissible and quite understandable to indulge in some fantasy, but for the sake of sound mental health it does no good to continue in denial and pretend such a thing didn’t happen. After all, I came to see the beatings my parents gave me were out of their purest love for me. Denial is very harmful, damage to the psyche and all that, you know. It would be far better to simply admit the truth of the matter rather than continue in such denial. Most harmful, you know, to a well-adjusted and healthy mind toward such things.”

“You sadistic fiend! My parents never beat me to get me to piddle properly and how dare you even suggest such a thing!”

“Oh, dear, I simply cannot deal with you about this issue if you continue in this hysterical vein, Mr. Cavendish. Perhaps it would be better if you simply left Merl’s final disposition to me. The choice of the pelt in your case, I would imagine. Yes, that would be best, I’m quite certain. I assure you that once you have Merl’s pelt in your hands you’ll feel much, much better and be able to put all this in its proper perspective. In time you’ll come to appreciate the wisdom of my action and the fortuitousness of no longer having to bear the disgrace of being the owner of such a shameless and incorrigible animal. Now my professional recommendation is a nice hot tub, a cup of tea and a good book. You’ll feel much, much better, I can assure you.”

Now being struck dumb and utterly incapacitated by his profound grief, without another word Mr. Cavendish allowed Doctor Diabole to quietly and gently usher him out the door.

Postscript: Oakland, California: A man, Damon Valrey, 25, was charged with murder for beating a toddler, Dante Jones, 2, to death because the boy was having problems with potty training. The little boy’s body showed signs of previous abuse including burns from scalding water.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 15:13:47 PST

Among my forest companions, I love our Valley Quail; their chuckling and calling to one another are music, like that of a breeze soughing through pine needles, I came to love as a boy and has never lost its charm for me. But one time a “kamikaze” quail went right through a living room window killing itself, breaking out the glass and sounding like a bomb going off that really got my attention, and what a mess to clean up.

Accommodation to Nature is a necessity when you live in the Kern River Valley, and especially when you live as I do in a small cottage in the country. Some of the most beautiful of my forest companions around the place are the large grey tree squirrels. But these can present a problem when you have a big pine tree growing next to your house. These squirrels get busy on the pinecones and bombard the roof; one large pinecone actually punched a hole through both my roof and ceiling. It sounded, like the quail through my window, as though a bomb had exploded in my living room. If you are familiar with the “digger pine” you know some of their cones can be quite large and heavy, and a fresh cone dropping from the height of this very tall tree could actually kill someone. So one of the necessary chores I face with which city dwellers have no problem is keeping the flat portions of my roof swept clear of pinecones, pine needles and keeping the roof patched. But while I used to build houses I am no longer able to climb the ladder and do this simple chore and have to depend on others to do it. Fortunately over the years living here I do have good people to call upon when I need repairs to the house or well and the various things that go into keeping the place habitable.

Lacking a family any longer I came to depend on attending angels including both those seen and unseen, but at my age I need “angels” that can engage and share moaning, bitching, and complaining in general as well as those with whom I enjoy sharing some of the more delightful aspects of life and my gratitude for all God has done for me including the indispensible friends that help me keep on keeping on. But dry macular degeneration has cost me the sight of my left eye and the right is deteriorating so they know my time of writing is drawing to a close. This is not intended to elicit sympathy, but as explanation for why the occasional typo may occur in what little writing I am now able to do.

With Thanksgiving and Christmas coming on the lack of family makes these “holidays” a melancholy time at best as those in my situation readily sympathize. For the most part, over the past few years I have “gone into hibernation” during the holidays apart from the few friends who visit; the holidays are something to “just get through” and wait for things to return to normal everyday concerns. But putting things in perspective, my personal problems pale when compared to what Americans as a whole have to face with no prospect of future improvement.

Wherever we turn there seems to be little but confusion and bad news for America, no leadership worthy of being called such, and the devil you knew grows more popular while contending with the devil you don’t know. In the case of the elderly, I have come to know personally the dictum put in place by greed and ineptitude on the part of our “healthcare” situation in America. We elderly are expected to simply “go home and die.” Even as I write I am still waiting for paperwork to be “processed” before I can get attention to a life-threatening physical problem. A dear friend went through three months of such before receiving needed attention. She certainly affirmed what I have just written when it comes to our medical system with its interminable paperwork and test after test wearing you down: “They expect you to give up and just go home and die.”

America’s empty and spineless suit of a President is in the Devil’s pocket and dances to the tune of his global masters like Soros. When you think about the fact that the hundreds of billions spent by Hussein and his cohorts in Congress to make the rich even richer could have put thousands of dollars directly into the pockets of the Great Unwashed it makes us angry; but our anger has no force; we are no longer a nation but a bunch of petty states divided by race, languages, cultures, special interests, and as a result the Great Unwashed pose no real threat to our rulers. The Devil allows the voices of those like Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh because the Evil One knows it lulls people into a sense of hope something will be done to put America back on the right path; but it isn’t going to happen.

I’ve lived in Norman Rockwell’s America, a nation where doctors actually made house calls. There is no disputing the fact that a doctor in the house can’t take the place of what is available in a hospital; but medical services are now enormous big businesses as well as providing full time employment to multiplied thousands of lawyers.

I was born into an America that was a once proud nation and the envy of the world; now I have lived long enough to see that America destroyed through unbounded greed and avarice leading us on the path to becoming a third world debtor nation to the global masters calling all the shots, not seeming to realize they may be fulfilling their place in God’s plans to bring our nation into judgment.

It is easy to dismiss those like me that believe in God and believe He is going to have the last word; it is increasingly easy for the servants of Satan to ridicule us, satirize us and make us appear foolish. But this is what God’s children have been told to expect in the End Time because it is during this period of the old earth in which the Devil knowing his end is certain and near will, like Hitler attempted to do with Germany, become increasingly destructive. But God has promised there will be a new earth in which righteousness will prevail and all tears will be wiped away. I hold on to that promise.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Sun, 15 Nov 2009 13:43:12 PST

Do you remember how the children were so upset in “The King and I” when their teacher showed them a map and Siam appeared so tiny? Siam should have appeared much, much larger because this was how the children were taught to believe. To these children, that map was an insult to Siam. While winners write the history of wars, the universities of America teach a revisionist history that would have it we should apologize to Japan for those two atomic bombs; notwithstanding the fact that those two bombs saved millions of American and Japanese lives had we been forced to invade Japan. It’s a moot point now that WWII should never have even happened; and we live with the consequences. But the children of Japan are taught a revisionist history, much as those children in Siam that would make America the villain for the war and gloss over the reasons Japan invited its own destruction. Russia, China, Arab nations, etc. have their own revisionist histories to fit the changes in leadership.

It is not surprising that Hussein would dodge the question by a Japanese reporter whether he thought America was right in dropping those two atomic bombs. Hussein is a product of our universities and their revisionist histories, and that reporter was probably the result of Japan’s revisionist history that glosses over details like the treachery of Japan in attacking us, the Rape of Nanking, and the Bataan Death March.

But look at a world map and try to appreciate how tiny Israel could be of such monumental importance on the world scene? How is it possible that so many nations call this tiny bit of geography the greatest threat to world peace? To qualify for such a distinction one would think like those Siamese children it should be much, much bigger!

Well, Israel’s “size” is not based on the space it occupies but on religion and politics. It is believed for good reason that had it not been for God’s covenant with Abraham Jews would have disappeared from the world scene centuries ago. And were it not for America, the new Israel would never have become a nation or have survived thereafter. However, God had promised a remnant of the Israelites would remain to the End; and that remnant would be all-important for God’s plans in the End Time.

It is nothing but sophistry to attempt to explain the survival of Jews to this day and Israel to be reborn apart from the Bible. But so many have a hatred for the Bible they are unwilling to attribute any truth to it. Certainly Muslims want nothing to do with the fact Ishmael was born of a handmaiden and Isaac was born the legitimate son and as such was to inherit the promises made of God to Abraham. Muslims have an enormous amount of revisionist history in order to make their religion legitimate, but the Bible tells a different story. So, Mohammad had to have his own “Bible,” the literary abortion known as the Koran. Much of my own system of belief is based on the Bible, but I don’t worship a book and I know the damage done by those that worship a book whether the Bible or the Koran.

Jesus accused the religious leaders of his time of being “book-worshippers” that had done much damage by leaving off the most important teachings of their Bible, the teachings that culminated in “To love God and your neighbor as yourself is all the Law and the Prophets.” No matter what the religion, if this is not its goal it is false.

My own accusation against those that make wars is that they are invariably for profit; and as a result the innocent suffer, sometimes millions of them. We do not belong in Iraq or Afghanistan. As I said of our past President I say of our new one: “Impeach Obama and bring our troops home!” But I know such a thing is patently implausible; America seems on a path of self-immolation and Hussein seems determined to hasten the day. America does have a destiny to fulfill, but I fear it will be that of self-destruction leading to the kind of Biblical globalization leading to Armageddon in which the tiny nation of Israel will play a key role.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 14:35:01 PST

Paul Wendkos, the director of “Gidget” has died. Sandra Dee passed away in 2005. According to her son, Sandra Dee was only sixteen when she married Bobby Darin. They were, as her son Dodd pointed out by the title of the book about his mother: “Dream Lovers.” And so it appeared to many of us back in 1959 when Gidget was released; we wanted to believe the dream onscreen would mean a happy ending, however things did not turn out that way and the couple divorced in 1967. But I will always be in Gidget’s debt for the dream as I describe it in a chapter of my book “Birds With Broken Wings:”

My mind often goes off into the memories of my life on the old mining claim. I have just remembered the time my grandfather and I tried out a few sticks of more powerful dynamite than we had been using to do the assessment work on the old claim. The 20% we were used to working with seemed a little tame for the work so grandad picked up some 40%. Having star-drilled the corners of the pit, we split a couple of sticks and inserted the blasting caps. Placing a couple more sticks on top and stringing the wire, we tamped them in place and got back away before letting loose.

Now there was a convenient large, granite boulder we were used to crouching behind during the previous operations, and we assumed our positions. Grandad hit the detonator. The blast was horrific; huge chunks of material the size of watermelons shot over our heads like cannonballs! There was, obviously, a very real distinction of difference between the 20% and 40%.

Surviving surprises of this nature has seemed to be my lot through life. I'm not at all sure why. Most of the time it hasn't been through any conscious cooperation of mine; quite the contrary as my friends can testify.

So, as with my surviving my motorcycle accident, the Mojave Green missing its strike, the Canadian Ross rifle exploding, being shot at and cut and so many other similar incidents, shrapnel in my leg and the various scars top to bottom (though a quiet man, I'm more than a little acquainted with violence and could never back down from a bully either in a person or an evil system of government), I have been forced to the conclusion that my time is in God's hands and I'm not leaving off cumbering the earth until He decides to call it quits.

For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow. Ecclesiastes 1:18. It would seem The Preacher knew whereof he spoke. There is such a thing as knowing too much. I wish I could return to the simpler life of comfortable dogmas and beliefs before I began asking the hard questions of God. But I did start asking and it hasn't been easy since.

Yes DR, as you agreed in a note to me, there is a need to take time out to feed the squirrels, to take time out for the simpler things and get the taste out of our mouths of having to deal with so much evil all about us. But, as you also agreed with me in response to my once saying “I think I have lived too long and I know too much,” the battle rages and we are entered into the labors of those who have gone before. There is no rest from vigilance for the sake of liberty.

As I try to make a finish of this chapter, there are many questions left unresolved in my mind. I certainly don't presume that I will find the most crucial answers to the most important of them alone. It will take Americans working together to do this. But this chapter is really an epilogue, and as such doesn't have a real ending nor did I really expect it to. There is just too much to the story, and I am apparently, rightly or wrongly, going to keep on keeping on. I know there is a job to do and by God's grace I’ll persevere. As I shared with a loved one recently, I'm tenacious and keep working for the day and hoping in tomorrow’s.

I miss the pictures. No matter how welcome I am in the homes of friends, the pictures of their families, their children, are a haunting reminder of the cost of doing battle in this arena in which I have found myself. How I long to have a place where the evidence of family, my family, my children, is displayed. But for over ten long years at the time of this writing this hasn't been the case. Will it ever be? I have no way of knowing, but the loss never stops hurting.

Count yourself blessed if you have such a place, such a family. Take it from one who knows, it is worth all you can give to it; it is precious beyond words, and Caesar will continue to do his best to destroy this most precious resource, our families and children. Remember: Our Children Do Not Belong To Caesar!

Perhaps it is just as well that I am writing this in the old South Bay under the influence of so many memories of Camelot and my life among the Lotus-Eaters of long ago, of a time when all things were possible. The gentle reminders of what things are supposed to be in hope of a future for our children flood my mind here as nowhere else.

The mental picture forms from Life Goes On of Becca and that boy on the beach, silhouetted against a blood-burst sunset, knowing they have shared the very best of what love has to offer in the midst of the tragedy that will prevent their ever marrying and having a family. Our children face an uncertain future filled with evils I never had to face as a child and young adult.

But it is the responsibility of my generation to fix the mess we allowed that has betrayed our children of the hope of the American Dream. We must rebuild the Ancient Landmarks and provide, once more, the fertile soil from which the artists, poets, musicians, writers, philosophers of future civilization, a kinder and gentler civilization, can come forth. No nation that fails to cherish its young has a future as a nation. Nor does it deserve one!

I wonder how many of you remember the movie Gidget? It came out in 1959 starring Sandra Dee, James Darren, Cliff Robertson, with the Four Preps, Darren and Morris Stoloff doing the music. Having lived the life of the Lotus-Eaters with the music of Camelot and clean, uncrowded beaches with no graffiti in sight where the movie was made, it was my era and my life during the late fifties and early sixties.

Leaving the wilderness of the Sequoia National Forest and my life among the birds and animals on the mining claim, I found myself in Redondo Beach and soon made myself familiar with Hermosa, Manhattan Beach, Santa Monica, Venice and Malibu. The transition was eased by the music that I continued to play and sing; music as common to me in the wilderness as it was in Camelot. The kids at Mira Costa High School in Manhattan Beach where I attended my senior year and graduated knew and loved the same music so, by continuing to play in the school band and at dances together with my job at Floyd and Gil's Auto Body Shop on Pacific Coast Highway in Redondo, I gained acceptance to this new environment.

To watch Gidget now is to realize how much our children have lost. Toward the end of the movie, Gidget and her mother look at a motto on Gidget's bedroom wall. It reads: To be a real woman is to bring out the best in a man.

After all these years, I am surprised to find myself much more in love with Gidget now than I was then. Perhaps it is because in our maturity, having learned and now understanding what is of real value in life neither Gidget nor I will ever really get old. In our minds the ideals of love and romance remain unshakable and hope of the future will never die.

Gidget, as with Audrey Hepburn and me, did grow up. We learned to love others, to love children. And in learning to love, we never became old. So I watch what is now an old movie and Gidget and I are young once more in the true environment of a Camelot that promoted the best of innocent love and romance, the best of a hope for the future; the Four Preps together with Morris Stoloff always provide the music in the background, the sea and shore remain clean and uncrowded, filled with the scent and sound of the kind of magic only the Pacific Ocean and the old South Bay could provide.

As I write this, I am sadly aware of how few people can truly understand what I am trying to say. It is a tragic loss to our children that they don't even know what they have lost. So I suppose someone has to recall it for them, someone like myself who was there when it was all real, when it was actually happening and Gidget and I were in love and knew it because she, as a real woman, brought out the best in me as a man. She was the poetry, the music and the inspiration that a real woman should be for a real man.

It is the responsibility of the poet, the maker and raconteur of his age, to never let the magic die but to pass it on to the next generation. It remains the definition of true poetry to be a recounting of the actual, but in a way as to make it memorable. And nothing but a real woman like Gidget can inspire the poet to his best.

My own poetry is much that of the essayist. As such, it is intensely personal and without the usual devices by which poetry as it should be fell into decline in the universities. The poet and essayist is an intense examiner of his own life. It is through such self-examination; meditative, reflective, studied, that the experiences of his own life lived in conjunction with others becomes remarkable. And so he is compelled, finally, to remark.

Michel Eyquem de Montaigne (1533-92) is known as the father of the Essai. As he pointed out, he did not set out to make himself a study for books. It just happened. Before Montaigne, it was thought unacceptable to set one's life out in such a personal way for others to read as he did. Before Montaigne this was held strictly the purview of the poet only. Montaigne freed the poet to incorporate the essay, this method being far more liberating to comprehensible expression to the masses of people. In later times, this degenerated to a form that became what is called prose.

But a good poetic essay is read pen in hand, and touches heart and mind just as a good piece of music sets the mood of tapping your feet and clapping your hands or instills a mood of love and romance to which the heart and mind are moved to respond. It is my hope these essays will affect the reader in such a fashion.

Along with “Gidget”, we had “Rebel Without a Cause, Picnic” and some of the best Broadway musicals ever made. But things were beginning to get confused. The “Theme From Picnic” or “Moonglow”, Morris Stoloff providing the music for the movie, is one of the most beautiful of compositions. I still thrill to it, especially the McGuire Sisters' version, and always will. But you lose something if you don't visualize Kim Novak and William Holden dancing to the music.

Literature just before and after the turn of the century was already tending to a realism that exposed many of the evils of the time. Life was not all sweetness and light; of course it never had been. Much as I admire the genius of Faulkner, Tennessee Williams, and some of Arthur Miller, I still hold to the fact that a humanity that can produce such masterpieces of beauty, love and romance like the great musicals and Gidget must have within itself the potential of overcoming evil. Our humankind that can portray Gidget cannot give itself over entirely to cynicism or brutality. Gidget gives me ever renewed hope that she and I, together, can still speak for the children.

Gidget and I are not naive. We are believers in love, truth and justice. And knowing the best of these, we are able and willing to fight for them. I would have counseled Kim Novak not to run off to William Holden until he had something to offer a wife. I would have told James Dean that he better get his act together and behave responsibly before his little friend or Natalie Wood got hurt.

But Holden told the truth when he exclaimed to Kim Novak, “I can amount to something with you!” A real woman brings out the best in a man. A real man and woman know that love has responsibility. And it is a responsibility that is gladly embraced. I am not naive. But I know the most powerful force in the universe is love. And I have learned that love is not naive. If the love is real, William Holden and James Dean will get their act together. Gidget will bring out the best in a man.

Lacking naiveté, I know how this generation would respond to a movie like Gidget. They would laugh at it; that is if they could sit through it. Tragically, they would not understand their laughter. But they have never known a society untouched by the brutality of drugs, immorality and violence, a brutality of life that has made virtue, love and romance quaint anachronisms.

Certainly when I watch the movie I am transported with Gidget to the magic of that time which I lived and experienced. I don't have to overlook what is now thought to be the ultra-simplicity of it and the lack of technical sophistication and Spielberg special effects.

But, unlike the young people of today, I also know it wasn't a sham. It was real in its most important parts; real in a way that makes such a tragedy of the lives of our young people today; it was real in making self-discipline, accepting of responsibility and making a life commitment to another, a part of genuine love and romance.

When Cliff Robertson looks at Sandra Dee and says, “She may be pint-sized, but she's quite a woman,” he knew what it was all about. When James Darren looks at Gidget and tells her she “represents real responsibility for a man,” he knew what it was all about. And Gidget knew what being a real woman was all about when she brought out the best in these two men.

Neither Gidget nor I would understand it back then. We understand now. But that motto on her bedroom wall had been passed down from her grandmother to her mother and then to Gidget. Grandmother and mother knew, and in time Gidget would come to know and, hopefully, pass it on to her little girl.

When Moondoggie and Gidget finally face each other as Francis and Jeffrey on the beach, the pledge of their love is enough. All of the commitment to each other in that college pin, the anticipation of what lies ahead for them, is the thrill of a lifetime never to be repeated; and never needed to be repeated. To know real love and romance is a lesson once learned and never to be forgotten.

The world desperately needs Gidget, the girl for whom the pledge of love was enough, the girl who lives in such a way that it commands the respect of boys who, as men, come to understand the supreme value of what Gidget represents and encourage it.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 16:12:42 PST

University-bred political correctness has all but emasculated America as a cohesive force for any good purpose or end. “I have never seen our government, the military, the media, and those enlightened ones on the Left work so hard to avoid even intoning the words ‘Muslim, Islam,’ or ‘terrorism’ in any story relating to Major Nidal Malik Hasan or the shooting rampage at Fort Hood. Instead, the panoply of ideas as to why… include any and everything you can imagine, EXCEPT the possibility that he may have been influenced by the teachings of violence and martyrdom he's been exposed to all of his life in Islam. We have already forgotten a great lesson from our own recent history: it's more important to be 'correct' than 'politically correct.' The Bible warns that a nation that has been given great light from God, and rejects it, will be given a mind, by God, that cannot even think in its own best interest. That's a perfect definition of 'political correctness.' And that's what's happening in America right now…” Hal Lindsey.

Of course I could have chosen other sources than Lindsey to make the point, but his point concerning the Bible is one I share. God will not be mocked, and any nation that rejects God as America has done cannot expect anything but the rejection and judgment of God (however defined) in return. Those who know me well recognize the wide latitude I grant others to believe as they will; but when religion becomes a cloak for torture, murder, and atrocities all civilized people should come together and recognize such things and the motives of the monsters doing these things and bring them into the light of day. God has been shamed and mocked throughout human history by many a religious group and devotee claiming His name as the reason for their heinous actions; but invariably the children of God throughout the world will be known for their love of one another, not attempting to justify torture and murder in His name; nor are they known by trying to shove their brand of “truth” or “gospel” down the throats of others through force of any kind against another’s will.

If love is the guiding force in your life you are a child of God no matter how you define your belief system, no matter how you define God in your life. I can say that with the assurance of what I believe to be a divine truth: God is love; and all who love are born of God. But in all families there is room for both love and allowance for a wide diversity for the individual members of the family; in my opinion this is no less true of the Family of God. But no child of God is going to purposely commit atrocities of any kind.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 12:38:13 PST

Animals have no problem with political correctness; all creatures great and small have their own cognitive domains and pecking orders leading to their survival though it means nature is red in tooth and claw. But here we are, human beings capable of articulate speech and can’t get it right in attempts to stop killing one another through unremitting wars of one kind or another. But if animals had articulate speech like that of humans what do you suppose your dog or cat might have to say to you?

In respect to an article “Why chimps can’t talk” researchers are trying to see if it may be a genetic problem. However, to quote from the article: “While finding the molecular differences is good, it is too early and unclear to weigh what it means for language and cognitive evolution,’ said Marc Hauser, a professor of human evolutionary biology at Harvard University. ‘I would be extremely skeptical about drawing inferences,’ Hauser wrote in an e-mail. And the key question is not how, but ‘why did we get language,’ said Derek Bickerton, a linguistics professor at the University of Hawaii. He wrote the book ‘Adam's Tongue: How Humans Made Language, How Language Made Humans.’ ‘Just because humans developed the ability for language, that doesn't mean it would happen automatically,’ Bickerton said. ‘Every other species gets along just fine without it,’ Bickerton wrote in an e-mail. ‘We must have had some need that other species didn't have.’ “

Well of course human beings had some need that other species didn’t have. Chimps, dogs, and cats were not likely to develop the means of a nuclear holocaust; that was left up to us humans because we not only had the proper physical requirements but sophisticated articulate speech and the means of conveying complex and abstract thoughts and mathematics through writing. Chimps were never designed to produce a Newton or a Shakespeare; this has been the domain of Modern Man, a very new arrival among living creatures upon the scene of world history. Other creatures may be traced back millions of years, but our distinct species capable of creating actual civilization with all the accouterments of the arts and sciences is a scant few thousand years old and no “missing link” has been found to our very young and unique species. But at the rate we seem determined to follow a path of self-annihilation this “infant life-form” that is us brings to mind the old saying “Here today, gone tomorrow.”

Those that dedicate their lives to the arts and sciences deserve our admiration and I applaud the many discoveries being made daily in the sciences especially. But Life and Death remain the mysteries they have ever been, and the uneven distribution of the results and benefits of science globally would seem to mark our species nearly as psychotic as the recent Muslim fanatic that gunned down all those innocent people at Fort Hood. The only explanation for this uneven distribution of the results and benefits of our science in modern nations is profits. And why should money be wasted on unproductive mouths led of tyrants and despots that choose to live in the Stone Age rather than practice the most rudimentary thing of birth control among savage nations that would only be money down a rat hole? By not practicing birth control particularly among unproductive mouths and inviting in all the barbarians from Mexico for the sake of slave labor and forcing university-bred political correctness down all our throats the leadership of our nation seems committed to creating as much misery as possible. But following the money leads me to the conclusion a much bigger game is afoot than our nation imploding, a game of globalization bent on enslaving all Americans. After all, neither Stalin nor Hitler were unique in their thinking, only in the extent to which they were successful in carrying out their evil thoughts.

In “The Godfather” one of the Don’s insisted the drug trade be kept away from the schools but it “was alright among the coloreds because they’re animals anyway.” While civilized people gasp at such blatantly rank and ugly discrimination how is it that we have come this far in America from when I was a high school teacher in Watts during the 60s warning that what was happening with drugs there would soon spread to the “lily-white” communities throughout America.

According to the Bible the Adam was a special creation of the gods into which God breathed His own Spirit of Life; and it was a different spirit of life than that of all other creatures in that the Adam became a living soul; it was a “spark of divinity” as with articulate and sophisticated speech not given to other living creatures; it is a “fire of life” as Emerson phrased it and not given other creatures that we carry about in these mortal bodies unique in being able to think and do far beyond any other living creatures. But because of The Fall, the first act of “war” was committed by Cain against Abel; and humankind has been plagued by wars and violence ever since. And it is obvious that barbarians as well as those considering themselves “civilized” commit acts of atrocity and yet the world will never know peace so long as people commit to wars whether the motives be religion, politics, or greed.

So it is that I continue to place my faith and trust in God rather than men. To those that cling to the idea that our species will somehow miraculously survive in the face of the history of our species being contrary to such hope I can only say: Good luck.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 13:57:27 PST

“Filthy lucre” and “Money laundering” has taken on new meaning what with so much money smeared with cocaine dust and the results of where bills are deposited for topless pole dancers, and let’s not forget the hazards of Swine Flu. I expect a commercial offering money laundering machines at any time shouting out of your TV: “Keep your money clean for the sake of your children! But wait; there’s more; order now and get not one; but we’ll ship a second one free!” Of course the reason such a thing has not been offered may be that these kinds of commercials offering junk are already being used by the shill corporations set up by drug lords for the purpose of money laundering and tax write-offs and don’t want to draw this kind of attention to them.

And perhaps “We the Great Unwashed” actually deserve to be using literally dirty money seeing that “Hussein” and Congress are our duly elected rulers. However, there is some hope since we “little people” as per Leona Helmsley’s observation are virtually guaranteed to have increasingly less of that dirty folding green in our pockets as the organized robbery and tyranny of government threatens to overwhelm us.

Bible scholars have long puzzled why such an important nation as America is not mentioned in the Bible. I believe it is in Revelation chapters seventeen and eighteen. America’s leadership has maxed out the “credit card” far into the future and other nations like China are fully aware of this. What we are not hearing is the very small blip on the screen of history America actually represents as a “superpower.” It was not until after WWII that we emerged fully equipped to gain this status; and have retained it for only a little over sixty years. Should we suddenly suffer economic, weather, asteroid, Yellowstone volcano, SoCal slipping into the Pacific, a horrendous pandemic or any truly catastrophic event as described in Revelation it would throw us (in one hour: Revelation 18:19) into third world status. Should any such thing happen suddenly in the near future America would only be a footnote in future history books should there be any future in which to write such books. But if I am correct in seeing America as “That Great City, Babylon” of the book of Revelation as opposed to “the great city Jerusalem” of Revelation 11:8 our demise as a superpower and the only friend of Israel would play a key role in the nations of the world coming together against that tiny nation, which is considered by most nations at present the greatest obstacle to world peace, and resulting in Armageddon of the End Time.

America having begun rooted and grounded in the Bible has turned its back on God and is ripe for the judgment of God. But to repeat what I have said many times, the seed of our destruction was sown by the failure of the Founding Fathers to abolish slavery by our Constitution for the sake of profits. And as profits continued to rule in America’s leadership resulting in the needless 600,000 casualties of Lincoln’s War and unremitting wars to follow and still ongoing a profits-driven America is facing the catastrophic judgment of God that I believe I foresee in Revelation! But this seems altogether appropriate as America descends into hell like the rich man of the Bible. Despite all the warnings about the lust for riches and extravagant living America became the richest and most powerful nation the world has seen; and in the process has lost its love of God and its soul.

Now all of this might easily be discounted as the ravings of a mad man except for the fact that even discounting God in the process the experts around the world are forecasting the demise of America and acting accordingly. I have no doubts about a global conspiracy of evil being a satanic process well underway; but if you follow the money you can discover conspiracy or not, God and Satan or not America cannot possibly survive the coming economic holocaust our “leadership” is committed to that will enslave the “little people” and benefit only the wealthy and powerful.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 12:12:45 PST

In conversation this morning with my eldest son Daniel about the problems plaguing the Large Hadron Collider it occurred to me what they need is an exorcist like the witch doctor in “Operation Petticoat.” As fantastic as some of the speculations concerning the LHC’s problems have been and knowing some of the greatest minds and most powerful people in the world have been devoted to Astrology and the occult it would not surprise me if a few people within CERN are not already in one way or another attempting to “exorcise the demons” plaguing the project. But such things among great minds and powerful, wealthy people are generally accepted as merely idiosyncratic whereas among the Great Unwashed they would be called at best “superstitious nonsense.” Class distinction? Of course; such a thing is a commonplace throughout human history.

Among the self-styled liberal tails trying to wag the dog and given to bullying and labeling all that disagree with them “racists, homophobes,” etc. ad nauseam there is an abundance of evil to be found in those ranks and whining anyone watching FOX NEWS has to be delusional at best. But the worshippers of “Hussein” as Jesus pointed out of all the children of the Devil will have their day before the end comes; and I believe the end of America led of Hussein and his worshippers is coming and the process of our destruction as a once proud and powerful nation is accelerating rapidly. “How long, oh Lord?” those in Revelation cried out. Not long, I believe; and I have quite a bit of company among those who believe the prophecies concerning the End Times. Tragically for America, I continue to see our nation as that Great City, Babylon of Revelation whose destruction comes swiftly, and the portents for America’s end are to be seen everywhere for those who can read the “handwriting on the wall.”

Quite surprisingly the prophet Daniel continued to live under the reign of several of Babylon’s leaders; but he was under the protection of the Lord, and because of this was spared from the wrath and plots against him. It would appear from Scripture even those wanting him dead were restrained because they knew he was under the protection of God. Nebuchadnezzar we read had made Daniel “master of the magicians, astrologers, Chaldeans, and soothsayers,” and like Joseph had a “cup of divination.” So when that handwriting appeared on the wall condemning Belshazzar it was Daniel who was called on to interpret it. The interpretation: “God hath numbered thy kingdom and finished it, thou art weighed in the balance, and are found wanting. Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes and Persians.” Right after this we read: “In that night was Belshazzar the king of the Chaldeans slain.” That the king had greatly honored Daniel for his reading and interpreting the handwriting on the wall did not save Belshazzar and his kingdom from the judgment of God in that same night of Daniel’s interpretation. That Great City, Babylon, had been destroyed quickly; or as prophesied in Revelation of that Great City in the future: “For in one hour is she made desolate.”

China no longer buying our treasury bonds is a portent, becoming a fractured and divided nation is a portent, “Press one for English,” the various minority tails wagging the dog, the determination by the tyranny of government to make all of us slaves to the dole, the blatant attempt to kick God out of our history and founding as a nation and throughout America today, all are portents, all are the handwriting on the wall prophetic of our own destruction. Here a little there a little and soon the camel is in the tent.

While it is true as Tevye pointed out in “Fiddler on the Roof” that if you have wealth people generally accord you wisdom and you are seated in places of honor. But God prizes genuine humility; that this seems to be wanting among those of great wealth and power comes with the Devil’s territory. It is a curiosity of human history that the wealthy and powerful are often found “consorting with familiar spirits” and devotees of things like Astrology; but then when anyone acquires great wealth and power they become increasingly aware of their mortality and lacking anyone they can trust often turn to the supernatural.

Given our many enemies including Hussein I don’t believe God thinks America is “too big to fail.” Unhappily, I don’t expect to see those at CERN trotting out a witch doctor as per that hilarious scene in the film with Cary Grant and Tony Curtis, but I do believe some of them are resorting to witch doctors and the occult of some kind. The LHC is enormously complex, and to be compared with America in that respect. Our problems as a nation are enormously complex, but unlike CERN we don’t have scientists calling the shots; look at what we have for a government and you don’t know whether to laugh at the clowns or mourn for our coming demise.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 13:40:30 PST

When I learned the Large Hadron Collider had to contend with a bird having dropped a piece of bread in the works halting the operation I immediately thought of the ravens feeding Elijah: I Kings 17:6: “And the ravens brought him bread and flesh in the morning, and bread and flesh in the evening; and he drank of the brook.”

FOXNEWS: November 7, 2009: “The massive machine at the center of the world's biggest scientific experiment has malfunctioned again – derailed by a bit of bread dropped by a bird. The Hadron Collider, buried 100m under the ground near Geneva, Switzerland, is supposed to recreate conditions seen after the Big Bang. Scientist’s hope the $7.3 billion machine will shed light on the event that many scientists believe gave birth to the universe around 14 billion years ago, but the project has suffered a series of setbacks. The latest saw a ‘bit of baguette,’ thought to have been dropped by a bird, fall onto machinery, causing a fault. Sections of the machine, which fires protons round a 17-mile-long tunnel at close to the speed of light in order to smash them in to each other, then overheated. Members of the public who had been looking at data published online noticed the temperature changes and contacted journalists at The Register. They alerted those in charge of the project at the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN). According to scientists, had the Collider been in operation at the time it would have shut down automatically, avoiding the damage of last September when a large amount of helium leaked into the tunnel. But the difficulties faced by those working on the project have prompted some members of the scientific community to speculate, in all seriousness, that the machine is sabotaging itself — from the future. The theory is that the particle that physicists hope to produce might be ‘abhorrent to nature,’ so that once created it would work backwards through time to put a stop to whatever created it. However Dr Mike Lamont, who works at the CERN control center, said that the nature of the experiment meant that glitches were inevitable. ‘This thing is so complicated and so big, it's bound to have problems sometimes,’ he said.”

I’m still of the mind the investors in the LHC are looking for an enormous payoff rather than purely adding to scientific knowledge and the project does seem to be “jinxed” so far, at least to those of a mind to consider such a thing plausible. There is no doubt in my mind God knows every sparrow that falls to the ground as Jesus said, and just as He caused the ravens to feed Elijah could cause a bird to interfere with the LHC. However, just as Dr. Lamont stated; a machine of such mind-boggling complexity is fraught with potential problems, and even if these are finally overcome we still don’t know what is going to happen when and if the LHC does fulfill its intended function.

That some are seriously speculating about the possibility of Einstein’s “spooky action (or communication) at a distance” in relation to something (or someone?) from the future sabotaging the LHC at least sustains my continuing to believe there are people of science keeping an open mind to the fantastic. The more that science enables us to peer into atomic structure and our universe the more is discovered that opens the door to speculation about the fantastic. While many are willing to credit Newton with rare genius, they are not so willing to credit his attempts to interpret Scripture or his conviction that Intelligent Design of God was at work in creating the universe and life. But, Alchemy and the Philosopher’s Stone (one possible discovery using the LHC?) are beginning to get the attention of scientists and some are even speculating as I have done about Astrology, knowing as anyone does that the Constellations as per the ancient maps and zodiacs could not be discerned by the naked eye in ancient times any more than they can be today. So, as with many mysteries concerning ancient people and the artifacts declaring they could not have possibly accomplished some of these things without “outside help” of one kind or another I continue to call attention to God putting it in the minds of people like those specially chosen to build the Tabernacle to put it into the minds of others to do His bidding.

On the other hand, I believe the Devil sure has those to do his bidding as well. To paraphrase Thoreau, while God may seem without much company the Devil draws a crowd. And let’s face it; from its infancy the “news” doesn’t make money telling of the good works of good people; it is still the accident drivers slow down to look at, and just as “Hell and destruction are never full; so the eyes of man are never satisfied.”

While I see Intelligent Design the result of the mind of God in all of His creation the mysteries of God are abundant as well. “Who has known the mind of God that he may instruct Him?” As thoughts of the fantastic and speculation about many things flow through my own mind, I am given more and more to wonder at the mysteries of God. But these thoughts and speculations invariably call to mind as well the words from a hymn: “Farther along we’ll know all about it, farther along we’ll understand why.”

The Weedpatch Gazette

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 10:34:29 PST

There is a scene in the film “Giant” in which after the young upstart has struck oil the observation is made that he should have been killed earlier but “Now he’s too rich to kill.” As Obama came out of obscurity with a following hating Bush (for many a good reason, some of which I amplified in my own writings all during his dreadful administration) together with zombies chanting “Imhotep, Imhotep, Imhotep” voting for the first Negro President in our nation’s history, the flaw of our Founding Father’s not abolishing slavery for the sake of profits making this possible, that statement from the old film with Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, and James Dean would come to mind.

So we have come full circle from those with the power and wealth that betrayed America; selling out our nation wholesale sending businesses and jobs to foreign nations because of cheap labor (profits); and here comes Imhotep and his chanting zombies in Congress approving unimaginable amounts of taxpayer money into the far future to bail out the wealthy and powerful assuring the rich will become richer and the poor will become poorer because “Now they are too rich to kill;” or to use the political phrase, “Too big to fail.”

It is no longer Norman Rockwell’s America and some would say with much justification it never was, however for those of us raised with the Norman Rockwell ideals of America fairly well intact our memories do recall such an America of which we were the proud citizens and heirs of a Biblical America that saved the world from the Axis Powers. Mine is the last of a generation that lived in such an America but the universities will continue their work of making sure such an America and “The Greatest Generation” will eventually be erased from the history books. Gone from the schools of today the songs like “God Bless America” and all that would glorify America in any way; this America is now “Press one for English” for the sake of profits and perverts openly and without any sense of shame celebrate “Gay Pride” rather than “American Pride” and our schools, universities and colleges graduate illiterates.

The power to tax remains as it ever has the power to destroy, and those behind the scenes holding the purse continue to call the shots; even paying the salaries of those like Rush Limbaugh, Lou Dobbs, and Glenn Beck in order to maintain the illusion of giving a legitimate voice for dissent. The Devil is not divided against himself and knows what he is doing by allowing a few to preach to the choir. But Devil or not, the result is the same; people being deluded they have a voice when it all amounts to a shell game and politicians continue to lie to be elected and lie to stay elected.

A dwindling few of us old timers with vivid memories of WWII and the sacrifices that were made both at home and abroad to win that war and save the world cannot do anything but tell the stories of a seeming “Camelot” and watch helplessly on the sidelines of life while this generation must fend for itself the best it can without any heroes such as I knew as a child or an America that was once a proud nation, once loved and envied, when not hated, by other nations. But I will continue to tell the stories of Camelot because that is part of my job; and what a job of wearisome work it is at times.

America now has a delusional empty suit of a President willing to throw anyone under the bus to whom like Jeremiah Wright he once pledged fealty or disagrees with him leading our nation to disaster while preaching a doctrine of globalization and welfare for everybody “for our own good.” I wouldn’t be surprised if it were discovered the President keeps copies of “Mein Kampf” and “The Prince” on his nightstand as inspiration for what he means by “Change.” Obama would be a perfect example of “The friend of my enemy is my enemy” except that Obama has no friends; only those that he uses and those that use him.

As the players parade across the TV screens of America and the world, the sheer magnitude of potential disasters is far more than my mind can comprehend. I wrote some time past the investment of billions in the Large Hadron Collider had to have another motive than simply increasing our knowledge for the sake of science, but held promise of a huge payoff years in the planning where the discoveries made would result in an ultimate weapon and many billions in profits. I’ve no good reason to change my mind about this. If the “Man of Sin” is to arise from Europe, this might provide him the “Big Stick.” America’s birthright has been sold like that of Esau’s for a “mess of pottage” and our nation may yet prove to be that Great City, Babylon of Revelation as a result with Obama paving the way to bring this about.

Like those Israelites of old that became slaves to Egypt because of their prosperity and having forsaken God and adopted the gods of Egypt, nevertheless there remained a remnant that called out for deliverance and because of His covenant with Abraham God delivered them, though that generation died in the desert wanderings due to the judgment of God against them for continuing in idol worship. Our own enslavement to “The Egyptians” because of our past prosperity and following after false gods is well underway; and only a remnant remains that have true faith in God. But this remnant did not save that generation of Israelites of the Exodus; nor will a remnant of true believers save America.

Of course it is all speculation on my part, just as I write of my ideas concerning angels and demons, ghosts and spirits. But sometimes to use the philosophical expression some things “I believe in my bones.” I can’t prove these things with empirical evidence subject to scientific scrutiny, and I discourage my impulses to be dogmatic about some of these things; nevertheless some I believe in my bones.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 12:13:36 PST

Some years ago I was watching a TV series entitled “Life Goes On.” The following is an excerpt from one chapter of my book “Birds With Broken Wings” and I want to share this with others who have not read the book:

TV Guide lists Life Goes On as #1 among the 10 top shows recommended for Teens. Quote: “Parents that struggle, kids that cope, and believable love.” And it is Kellie Martin, largely, who makes it believable. But such believability is only achieved through the vulnerability of genuinely caring about others; no matter how masterful the actor or actress, this is not something that can be learned as a craft; it is either there or it is not.

And, so, I fear for Kellie, as I do for Karrie, my remaining little angel, as someone who has that rare and precious gift of really caring. And because of this, they are vulnerable to the evil that men do and those eyes betray their love to those that would take advantage as well as to those who would return that love in kind.

But to attempt to describe the un-describable? I cannot. I can place flowers on the nightstand of my Lady, I can try, with all my powers, to describe my feelings to her, I can do the thankless and grimy tasks of day-to-day living and punching a clock as expressions of my love, but if those eyes of innocent trust and wonder and unreserved giving like the eyes of Diana, Karen, and Kellie are missing I soon realize, as it continues to play itself out, it is all in vain.

Damned by an age which despises those like Scott and Cooper, the art of language, hopes, dreams and ideals of true love and true romance, our young people have been cheated of the most precious thing of all: the ability to give and receive pure, unselfish love, love that sacrifices without any sense of sacrifice this having been betrayed and traded for unbridled lust where our young girls are the predominant victims, an age where we are learning, more and more, that our young girls are preyed upon by even those of their own families! How willing I would be to put the rope around the neck of any that would betray the trust of a child in such a fashion! These monstrous bullies, these maimers and cripplers of innocence cannot be human beings! They are beasts; devouring, unclean, predatory, destroying monsters in human guise and should be treated as such!

As I began to face up to what Kellie had opened in my own soul which I thought had been successfully buried, the question was what to do about it? For several days I struggled with the question. I know nothing and everything about Kellie Martin. It's what I know of genuine love and romance, what I know from her eyes as that of my own daughters that truly counts about Kellie, that makes me fearful for her and all the Kellies she represents. Certainly my girls have been the recipients of the thoughts of their father. But, how many times did I fail to warn those thousands of teenagers I was entrusted with in the schools? Now, having seen Diana's eyes once again in Kellie I had to at least try to do something about it.

Diana was killed in a motorcycle accident after having been married less than a year. She lay in a coma for several days. My son Daniel, Diana’s brother and I would sit by her side, reading and praying, hoping against hope that she would come out of it. But it wasn't to be. She slipped quietly away from us without ever regaining consciousness.

Kellie's eyes are those of my daughter Karen's as well. But Karen has been hurt and betrayed so much in her young life, seeking love and fulfillment that she is beginning to lose the open, wonder-filled, pure, honest, trusting elements of these wells and windows of the soul. People who care as much as Diana, Karen, and Kellie can never hide what they really feel; their eyes betray them. I grieve to see in Karen's eyes the increasing knowledge of an evil world of selfish, using and abusing, people.

Are we now a society for which genuine love and romance are anachronistic, a harking back to simpler times where the search for such was not an exercise in quixotic futility? I will not have it so! Not as long as there are girls like Kellie, not as long as there are daughters like Diana and Karen who can truly love their fathers and evoke the purest love in the universe in the hearts of those fathers!

I'll never forget the time I took Karen out for our very first grown-up dinner together. She was only seventeen, but she was breathtakingly beautiful! It was nearly impossible to believe this beautiful girl/woman was my own daughter, the little girl I use to tumble with, cuddle, tease and tickle.

I had made reservations for the dinner at one of the finest restaurants in the area. Every eye in the place was on us. I was bursting with pride that my little girl was pleased to let her daddy show her off, and show her off I did. Now you just can't do this with your sons. A father has an altogether different relationship with sons. As they grow up, they become men in their own right; but those little angels? Never! They will never become women; they will always be Daddy's Little Girl.

Karrie (she will never be Karen to her dad) couldn't possibly have known the turmoil of my own thoughts as we sat in this fashionable restaurant and I savored every moment of this precious time together. I wanted to capture it forever, indelibly, on my heart and soul, to have it there for recall when the shadows of life began to lengthen, when she would move into her own sphere of living her own life and dad would recede.

What kind of men are the fathers of all these girls who sell out their dreams of a good man so cheaply? And all these young men who treat girls so shabbily, what are their fathers teaching them? What redeeming note can be sounded for a culture which treats its children in such a fashion, leaving them without their right to dream and hope? (End)

As I contemplate the foregoing written a few years ago and the shadows of my life have grown quite long, I now live with the loss of my other little angel, Karrie. The grief never departs for the loss of both of my little angels; such grief is profound beyond any words as those who have suffered such a loss can testify. The point I want to make here is that today’s America seems to actually hate children. We do not cherish them, and a nation that fails to cherish its young has no future! Nor does it deserve one!

The Weedpatch Gazette

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 13:51:25 PST

Now that Thanksgiving is coming up I like to share the story of my most memorable dinner celebrating this day of remembrance giving thanks to God by those early colonists and Native Americans. And the particular dinner I’m so fond of remembering had much in common with those early celebrants.

My guns and fishing poles had supplied much of the food during the time my grandparents and I lived on the mining claim here in the Kern River Valley before the lake went in. This particular Thanksgiving morning I took my shotgun and soon bagged six quail. Taking them back to the cabin, I skinned, gutted and washed them thoroughly. My grandmother made a dressing of sage and cornmeal in a cast iron pot and placed the six quail breasts on top of the dressing then put it in the oven of our wood cook stove. She covered the pot just long enough to steep the quail thoroughly then removed the top in order to brown them and form a thin crust on the dressing.

Once the stove had done its job, the quail breasts were a marvelous, golden brown with the tender white meat steeped in the juices from the dressing. With this as the main course complimented with mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the cob and homemade apple and pumpkin pies it was as good as it was simple. I took special pride in my ability to supply the main ingredient, giving me a sense of self-worth contributing what I could to our family’s welfare and came to appreciate what those early colonists had to thank God for.

It is a pity the great majority of children today will not have the chance I had of living in an environment where the opportunities I was given to think well of myself and develop self-esteem are denied them; opportunities where hunting and fishing are not “sporting events” but contribute to the family welfare as a necessity of life. The six years I spent as a boy living on the mining claim without any indoor plumbing or electricity also provided me the experience I needed to understand what those early colonists faced and preach simplicity in living to others without any illusions about how harsh living such a life can be. While other children dreamed of getting a bicycle, I dreamed of getting a power chainsaw and exploding wedges. I never got them, but I did become the first kid in the valley to have his own car. Being in high school by that time, a car became my priority and it also made it possible for me to become the very first “Junior Custodian” for old Kernville Elementary and earning the first real paycheck of my life: $35 a month; a princely sum for a kid back then that was used to earning a dollar an hour with hammer and saw, pick and shovel when I could find the work.

Back in the old days when jobs were plentiful and it seemed lawyers were fewer children had to do “chores” that were really work; the kind that required sweat and muscle-power. My being raised a generation behind even my own for the most part with kerosene lamps and outhouses I was well equipped for manual labor, and my grandparents were advocates of the Scripture “If any not work, neither shall they eat.” But Biblical morality has little part of the America in which we now live; that America has all but disappeared in which the Bible was still a prominent part of our society having been the primary textbook of America from the very beginning of our nation and children were taught good manners and civilized speech both at home and at school.

Harper Lee understood the “modern” movement of the 30s passed from the universities down to the schools of the time that “innovative designs in teaching” did not include making the schools places where the teaching of parents at home was being encouraged in the schools. So the suggested “compromise” by Atticus to little Scout was she and her father would continue doing as they had always done at home contrary to her teacher and Scout would jump through the hoops of her teacher while at school; the go along to get along routine so many of us have faced at one time or another.

As a teacher beginning in the 60s in Watts I was confronted by this same dismal failure of the schools to educate children and young people. Eventually I came to realize the truth of Harper Lee’s criticism of the universities and schools of her time, and I began to say of America’s schools there could not have been a better system designed for failure had it been done intentionally. The proof of this abounds by the lack of civilized good manners and proper speech all about us.

With Thanksgiving Day coming like an express train at my age (the time does fly now whether I’m having a good time or not) it reminds me of how Norman Rockwell celebrated the day with his Saturday Evening Post cover (November 24, 1951) of the little boy and his grandmother praying over their meal at a table in a restaurant while two young men are watching with curious expressions. I have the book by Fred Bauer published by Guideposts titled “The Faith of America.” Bauer’s book is filled with works by Rockwell including the one mentioned, but when I think of Norman Rockwell’s America I realize I was born into an age where such faith was encouraged by the majority. Now, it seems a minority of the Devil’s followers has created an America celebrating illiteracy, perversion and vulgarity, uncivilized manners and speech, an America Norman Rockwell would not recognize as his America, the nation he showed such gratitude for.

The children of the Devil try to marginalize and even demonize Norman Rockwell and his America, they try to marginalize and demonize me and those like me. But I know the history of America, and I know the Bible and its history. America was a far better nation when Thanksgiving Day had the relevance attached to those early colonists, when the Bible was still the textbook of America and Norman Rockwell’s portraits of his America and mine were not ridiculed but displayed faith and held out hope for a better future.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 13:48:09 PDT

World leaders including our own parade across our TV screens acting out a charade because each is determined to get their piece of the action no matter that taken together they seem determined to destroy the earth in the process. To me, it’s the Devil’s work no matter the face of the various players in this “Dance Macabre.” Much of the Bible and Shakespeare together with other worthies have tried to describe and warn, often citing the foolishness of men believing they are immortal while seeking wealth and power, but they all die in the end no matter the degree of “success” they may achieve while they lived. Far better to live simply and want little, thereby escaping the sword hanging over the heads of the greedy of whatever persuasion; but alas, the innocent pay the price of such greed as well because trade, profits, is a curse to all in the end. It was for this reason Jesus cautioned “The love of money is the root of every kind of evil.”

But to paraphrase Thoreau, while economics (as with government and politicians) may admit of much levity it is not so easily disposed of. We must have bread or we perish; the problem is one endemic to our species that for some like “Rocko” in “Key Largo” what they want is more, and the more they get they are never satisfied with what they have but are always wanting more and more ad infinitum. It is small wonder the myth found credence with some that Alexander the Great died of a broken heart because he had no more nations to conquer. There is a truth behind the myth that is descriptive of too many men, and this kind continues no matter how many stories and films like “Citizen Kane” end with the moral of “Rosebud.”

My job is writing, and parts of the job I enjoy and some parts I don’t; the part I don’t enjoy is following my namesake’s path as a prophet. I’m not so sure that Samuel enjoyed his work either; but unlike him my role as prophet is to “tell forth” rather than “foretell.” I have a Bible, and have no need of visions or God talking to me directly. The Spirit of God enlightens me as it does all of His children; and by God’s Spirit I believe what He has to say to us in the Bible, especially concerning the End of the Age, a time in which I believe we now live.

God will not be mocked and He will not always withhold His anger. America as a nation has mocked and forsaken God, and we are ripe for His wrath in judgment. This is my job as the prophet Samuel; telling forth and telling it like it is. The prophet Ezekiel was sternly told by God to prophecy (warn) both the wicked and the righteous of God’s judgment and if he failed to do so, their blood would be upon him in judgment. This is the position I have taken in so much of my preaching and writing over a lifetime. But neither Samuel nor Ezekiel was to be held responsible if the people refused to listen and because they refused to listen the ancient nation of Israel was destroyed and only the Jews remain of the original twelve tribes of Israel.

When his disciples asked Jesus what was in it for them by following him, he promised them much in the hereafter; but he also sounded the alarm about how this world would treat them if they continued to follow him. But alas, the movement that was started by Jesus as with many others eventually fell into such disarray it no longer resembled the “church” he spoke of but became fractured and divided along many, and sometimes murderous lines. But no matter the many cathedrals and Hollywood wannabes, the simplicity of the true Gospel remains that those who love are born of God and the whole of the Law and the Prophets is summed up by loving God and others as yourself. That this obviously does not include the wicked is pointed out in the Bible that Christians were to demonstrate their love of God by the love they had for one another, the children of God. And these are not just among those that go by the label of “Christian” but are found among all the nations of the world no matter how they may differ in their beliefs. So I will warn the wicked, those that are perverts, those that sell out to the Devil for power and wealth, those that abuse women and children, but I am not commanded to love them. Let them first forsake their wickedness; turn to God and repent, make restitution, confess and pay for their sins even at the cost of their own lives and perhaps find forgiveness from God and love from me. That I have been witness to this change in the hearts of some gives me hope for others to turn to God

So, this not a part of the job I enjoy; but I realize the somber importance of this part of the job. Jonah tried to run away and hide from God, believing that if he prophesied against those dwelling in Nineveh they might repent and God would go soft and forgive them. But Jonah should have been a lesson to those disciples that asked Jesus if they should call down fire from heaven to destroy their enemies and Jesus rebuked them saying they didn’t know the Spirit they were supposed to represent. But, like Jonah they would soon find this out for themselves and learn the truth of the words of Jesus that not everyone calling out “Lord, lord, haven’t we done all these wonderful things for you” only to be answered by God: “Depart from me; I never knew you.”

I believe God must be allowing for the wide gulf that separates me from the fellowship of many of His children that belong to one kind of orthodox religion or another; the reason I believe this is because I’m still alive. Some accuse me of making a god in my image, but my reply is that God made me in His; that I’m far from perfect as a child of God comes with the territory we all occupy, that of being frail mortal beings subject to temptations and failures and only perfect in God’s way of seeing perfection just as any parent does of their child. Neither is God perfect by the definition of men, but by His own definition.

Awakening this morning to such a beautiful day, the sun once more streaming through my windows and the cat purring once more in my lap I hoped the job for today would be writing of something soft, a warm and fuzzy story to lift my own spirits along with others. Didn’t turn out that way; and so I can’t help but commiserate with Jonah all the while having to remind myself of God’s stern warning to Ezekiel.

We can’t seem to get away from all the bad news inundating us; we are trying to swim in such murky waters of evil on every side but floundering in the attempt. I’m just like that old Israelite crying out to God “Tell us something good!” But the bad news just keeps hammering us, and God has laid it on my heart to do the part of the job I don’t enjoy by reminding people there is such a thing as sin, there is a soul to lose or save, there is a judgment of God coming on America and the nations of the world. Perhaps God will relent and allow me to do that part of the job I enjoy next time I sit down with the cat in my lap to write. I fervently hope so. In the meantime, the world may be going to hell but you don’t have to. In the meantime, I’m here to remind you (prophecy) that while the world may be going to hell you don’t have to.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 14:03:04 PDT

Can anyone point me to a really sincere pumpkin patch where, like Linus, I can await the rising of the Great Pumpkin at midnight? Charles Schulz and his “Peanuts” became an instant favorite of mine, as did Walt Kelly from the first appearance of “Pogo” and I have cited them many times over the year’s right along with men like Emerson and Thoreau for their wisdom. It isn’t that Emerson and Thoreau were lacking in humor, but Kelly and Schulz made it an art form that appealed to both children and adults. Neither was ever malicious in their use of humor, but made us laugh at the many parallels we would find by both of them poking fun at religiosity and the chicanery of politicians.

Humor, I believe, is a gift of God. It is for this reason I believe God has a sense of humor despite it not exactly being a strong suit in the Bible, and neither Jews nor Christians seem willing to give God credit for a sense of humor. Will Rogers was one of America’s greatest humorists, but it is Sam Clemens the world considers the greatest humorist our nation ever produced. However, Sam had a penchant for the mean streak in some of his humor and had become quite egotistical, this leading to his belittling and poking fun at some of the greatest thinkers and writers of the time. That he was actually jealous and envious of their reputation and public status was transparent and he was properly chastised for this. But his ego has never prevented my reading and enjoying the many good books by Clemens nor does his ego get in the way of my appreciating Thoreau and his writings. I have always appreciated and entered into Sam’s sorrows for the many grievous things he suffered to the point of once contemplating suicide and saying he considered death to be the only pure, unalloyed gift of God.

Clemens would be the first to point out that the best of humor always has a moral basis; and it is that morality of the humorist I look to when contemplating any work of humor. Clemens was a moral man, as were Schulz and Kelly. But not everyone would agree with my interpretation of their morality. While few would disagree about the morality of Schulz, that of Clemens and Kelly might be called into question; but not by my standard of morality. For this reason I can believe God was pleased and amused by Schulz’s Great Pumpkin, a poking of fun at those that suffer under the tyranny of their religious beliefs. But I also believe God enjoyed much of the humor of both Clemens and Kelly as well.

It is difficult to find a whole lot of good humor or things to laugh about these days. My own best source of humor remains me because of so many dumb things I have done. It really is true for the most part that looking back at these brings on the laughter though it wasn’t funny at the time. My maternal grandfather, grandad, was a great humorist and had a great sense of humor which I believe I inherited from him. But he was as ready with his fists as he was with a funny story; and living in Southeast Bakersfield (Little Oklahoma) required him to use both and he was just as quick to laugh at himself as I am.

And there it is; if you can’t laugh at yourself you are taking yourself too seriously. Since I have always been quick to laugh at myself, I don’t worry about taking myself too seriously; but some of the subjects I write about are quite serious, even somber and do not admit of humor. As a child advocate and writing of so many abuses of women and children does not admit of much in the way of humor. I would laugh at the antics of politicians like “Hussein” if it were not for the fact that they seem intent on enslaving all of us for their own gain.

But to write of politicians and their chicanery is no fun at all. It is coming up on Halloween and I really enjoy this holiday; right now the sun is streaming through the windows here where I write, the cat is snug in my lap purring away so no matter what your beliefs I still say: Happy Halloween!

The Weedpatch Gazette

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 13:35:41 PDT

A fellow told me one time if the preacher’s sermon didn’t “pinch his toes a little” he didn’t think the preacher was doing his job. “Well, if the preacher is really doing his job,” I replied, “and you believe your toes need pinching there is probably more than your toes that need a drubbing.” And so it is that I continue to believe God’s true prophets do not wear soft clothing and live in kings’ palaces. And this is the problem I have with today’s “prophets” whether they stand in a pulpit or do their “preaching” through radio, print, or the MSM; and this includes the FOX news channel, not just TBN.

For example, I personally like Glenn Beck and sometimes tune in to his “preaching.” He equates with me as a kind of Billy Sunday preaching about the evil of booze. As Billy often preached, “Booze has its place; but its place is in hell!” Because of his great popularity at the time, Billy provided great impetus to the Volstead Act being passed; insane as it proved to be. But then there were the unintended consequences of ushering in organized crime. Hollywood certainly profited greatly from films that were made resulting from the insanity of Congress, and after it was far too late to undo the damage Prohibition was repealed.

Knowing history and human nature, I am all for the legalization of marijuana and prostitution; follow the money and you will find that if politicians didn’t profit from making weed and prostitution illegal (politicians give working girls a bad name and exercise a “privilege” of sex denied ordinary citizens) they would act to legalize these. But as with our open borders, if politicians didn’t profit from illegal aliens our borders would be secured. If corporations didn’t profit from “Press one for English” there would be no such thing in America. And so it goes; as Thoreau so well said, trade (profit) curses all it touches though it be trading in messages from heaven. It was in the interest of profits that our Founding Fathers refused to abolish slavery by our Constitution. Wars, even our own Revolution and Lincoln’s War, WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, and the wars now ongoing are fought for profits and benefit only the wealthy and powerful. In the end, the words of Jesus ring so very true: “What does it profit if you gain the whole world and lose your own soul,” and what is true for the individual may be true for a nation. In my opinion America as a nation now exists without a soul, as some Russian poets have accused.

When Satan accused Job of serving God for profit, the Evil One was given permission to put Job to the test. I have to wonder how our modern age “prophets” preaching from either their Hollywood cathedrals of TBN or from the MSM like FOX would stand up to such testing; not very well I would guess. The real prophets of God do not wear soft clothing or live in kings’ palaces. It isn’t that their “preaching” does not pinch toes, but the whole of America needs saving that can only come from genuine repentance, contrition, restitution and the leaders in government, churches, and the MSM wearing sackcloth and ashes; and not many are going to give up what Satan has to offer in exchange for what America really needs from its leaders. It is a given to me that Obama is a servant of Satan as with all those in Congress; that politicians as a species are on the Devil’s payroll.

I’m not opposed to prosperity for an individual or a nation, but am always aware of the words of Jesus of the great difficulty for the rich to enter heaven. The chasing after money, the gaining of wealth puts one at great risk of their soul because very few can handle wealth for the good of others and to the glory of God. To live simply and owe no one money remains good advice. But “Neither a borrower nor a lender be” has long passed into history.

Not a lot is said in the Bible about how the Israelites became slaves in Egypt apart from the passage concerning a Pharaoh that “knew not Joseph” and demanded more from the tribes of Israel than those before him. The Israelites had it made in Egypt, but became victims of prosperity and as such a threat to the Egyptians. It was their very prosperity that caused Egyptian rulers to start enslaving the Israelites. There was no 400 years of bondage, it was not an overnight event that cast the Israelites into slavery; it was a process of time that eventuated into them becoming a threat to Egypt much in the way of Hitler’s perception of Jews, the last remaining “tribe of Israel.” But God would keep His promise to Abraham and this “remnant” would remain as a testimony to the faithfulness of God rather than the faithfulness of the Jews.

God did not deliver the Israelites because of their faithfulness to Him; but as a witness to God’s own faithfulness in keeping His word to Abraham. The Jews remain a miraculous testimony and witness to the faithfulness of God, a Chosen People not because of any exceptional goodness in them but for a testimony to the world that God keeps His promises despite the way people fail Him. According to Jesus, not many are going to be saved out of this world system and a world that is Satan’s domain, and will remain so until God acts upon His decision of the day and hour when Satan’s reign will be ended as foretold in the book of Revelation.

In the meantime, I listen to Glenn Beck, Lou Dobbs and others realizing they may be sincere in what they are preaching and are pinching toes. But I suffer no delusion that such preaching will turn America onto the path of righteousness or call our nation and its leaders to repentance in sackcloth and ashes. Those like Glenn and Lou have a bully pulpit but I remind myself that unlike America, Satan is not divided against himself. By all means, let’s hear our modern day prophets pinch toes wherever they can; but it isn’t going to save our nation. The dark forces at work are not confined to secret meetings in Copenhagen or the White House; they pay the salaries of those like Glenn Beck, Lou Dobbs, and Rush Limbaugh ever as much as university professors and those of the ACLU that are blatant enemies of America.

It was as a high school teacher in Watts that I discovered welfare was a way for “the establishment” with their hired guns, politicians, “to pay those people off for keeping their place” so long as they did not intrude into places where they were not welcome; places like Malibu, Beverly Hills, and Rodeo Drive. Now, Obama and Company sit on old Pharaoh’s throne and seem determined to make slaves of all of us, and eventually Americans will be reduced to the plight of those ancient Israelites and commanded to make bricks without straw. But I won’t be looking for some “Moses” from the MSM to deliver us from bondage. Only God will be able to do that, and I don’t believe America will fare any better than did ancient Israel after rejecting God and demanding a king to rule over them. And while modern Israel is a miraculous witness to God’s faithfulness to His promise to Abraham the only “friend” that tiny nation has, surrounded by enemy nations, is America.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 18:49:25 PDT

It’s hard to beat graveyards, morgues, and mortuaries for “spooky.” Years ago when I was an undergraduate a friend and his wife were offered an apartment over a mortuary if they would perform cleaning chores and nighttime services like taking phone calls. Needing the financial help while attending college they took the job; but among their several duties there was having to turn off all the lights in the mortuary before ascending the stairs to the apartment for the night. Being the gentleman that he was (and his wife refusing), it fell to him to perform this task. There would usually be a body in one of the “slumber rooms” for viewing by relatives and friends of the deceased, and a floor lamp discreetly placed behind the open casket would be turned on for the benefit of such evening visitors. The doors of the mortuary were closed and locked by 9 p.m. which left my friend all alone to turn off the lights.

He once told me that one of the most difficult parts of his job was reaching over a dead body to turn off that last light and in the sudden resulting darkness keep from running as fast as he possibly could up the stairs to get into the apartment above and shut and lock the door. At that, it took his wife and him some “getting used to” sleeping over the caskets and dead bodies down below them. And, of course, there was the place where the embalmer (canoe maker) did his work, and the fellow would often engage my friend in detailed descriptions of his “art”

Whenever I would visit my friends at the mortuary, I always wanted to be shown the latest models of caskets. These ranged from the “black box,” of pine covered with such thin black fabric you could actually see the knotholes in the wood, hinges made of the cheapest sheet metal and the screw-heads holding the box together showing plainly. Mortuaries are usually required to handle bodies of the indigent, and the black box was made to the minimum requirements. Instead of a mattress, excelsior was used and the box was do shallow I did not doubt the lid would be resting upon the nose of the occupant. Opposed to the box were the top of the line models, some of them very costly.

On one of my visits the mortuary display room contained a marvelous rosewood casket priced at $3,000, and that was a great deal of money in the early 60’s. It looked so beautiful and comfortable that I asked my friend if I took off my shoes whether he would allow me to climb into the casket and see if it was as comfortable as it looked. He readily agreed, and quickly removing my shoes I got into the casket. As I maneuvered my body in the thing, it was indeed very comfortable but was a little too snug for my shoulders though I knew the legitimate, long-term occupant wasn’t likely to complain. Upon finding the most comfortable position in the casket, I folded my hands over my chest and closed my eyes, imagining being in this beautiful coffin for real. My friend suddenly said, “Stay right there while I go get my camera.” I did as he asked and the picture was taken. I wish I still had the color photo, but alas over the years since it somehow was lost.

We all have a fascination with death, knowing none of us will escape it. But there is no need to be morbid about the subject, and while I enjoy ghost stories I was never a fan of violent programs and films but rather the old black and white movies like Dracula, The Mummy, Wolfman, Frankenstein and the versions by Abbott and Costello though I do enjoy those by Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz.

While the old Apalatea house here that made #6 on This Old House list of most haunted sites in America, perhaps ghosts and spirits are found around Minter Field? I have many memories of that place having lived there following WWII when the base was open to returning veterans with families; and among my most indelible memories of the place is our coming across the Base Morgue. The following is an excerpt about the base from my novel “Donnie and Jean, an angel’s story.”

Thinking of Minter Field brought back many memories, including something that was familiar about my feeling in this neighborhood. Minter Field had been very interesting in many ways. Ronnie and I had several other children our age with whom to play and we loved exploring the huge complex of the base. One especially wonderful discovery was a tall tower that had been used to train pilots in bailing out of disabled aircraft.

Mounted on the top of the tower was the cockpit section from the fuselage of a fighter. An apparatus with a parachute harness was swung over the cockpit. You could put on the harness and jump out just like you were bailing out of a real fighter. But I was the only one who tried it out. I don't know why the other kids were afraid of it because it was a real thrill.

There were colorful and detailed posters of various aircraft in the flight tower and the base headquarters. One showed the field of fire for the guns of B-17s, Flying Fortresses. That was fascinating. It made me wonder how any enemy plane could get through such a withering field of fire? But I knew many had. The floor of the base headquarters had a huge American star, the emblem of Army Air Corps aircraft, inlaid in the linoleum and outlined with thin gold-colored metal strips. It was beautiful.

We would inspect the numerous, now empty barracks on the field. It was interesting to see stainless steel mirrors in the bathrooms. Of great interest were the numerous posters of various kinds. Among the usual warnings like The Slip of a Lip Can Sink a Ship, one that held all us boys spellbound warned about venereal disease and the proper use of condoms. None of us had ever seen such material before. Especially not right out in the open like these posters. Most of us didn't know anything about a condom until then.

Another thing that contributed to the excitement of living on the base was shooting jackrabbits, which were plentifully abundant around the abandoned airstrips. Many of the returned veterans had military rifles, some of which were Japanese and German souvenir weapons. Some nights, our step-dad would take me along when he and some of the other vets went shooting. For some reason, Ronnie didn't want to come along on these excursions. But regardless my experience with grandad’s .410 and .22, I was considered too young at the time to do any of the actual shooting with those high-powered rifles; but it was still exciting. The large bore guns really tore a jackrabbit apart.

I particularly remember one very large old jack being cornered in a revetment. These semi-circular earthen-works dotting the field had been built in order to park and protect aircraft. Caught in the glare of the headlights of the cars, there must have been more than fifty of the rabbits. As the men began shooting at them, this one big jack came bounding out straight at us. One of the men swung his rifle by the barrel like a baseball bat and smacked him with the stock like he was hitting a home run. The old jack had gone sailing off in a spray of blood. I wondered why the man would risk splitting the stock of the rifle just to kill a jackrabbit? But guns and killing were in the blood, it seemed, of many of these men.

I also remembered our coming across the site of a crashed trainer on one of these excursions. It had hit at about a 30-degree angle and buried itself in the earth clear up to the windscreen of the cockpit. I wondered at the time whether the pilot had been able to bail out before the crash? It was obvious no one could have survived such an impact. Had the pilot been an instructor with a cadet? If so, had they both gotten out okay?

Once while exploring our surroundings, we had come upon a large building with a sign proclaiming it to be the Base Hospital. Ronnie and I, together with three other kids, got inside and began to wander throughout the building.

Then we saw it; double glass doors with black lettering: Morgue.

That one word held us all spellbound. A morgue! That was for dead bodies! Wow!

One of the kids, I don't remember which, exclaimed, “Hey, I'm not about to go in there!”

But the thought of going into such a place fascinated me. I'd only seen morgues in the movies. And here was a chance to see one for real! Ronnie was tugging on my sleeve and exclaiming, “Donnie, don't go! There might be a dead body left in there! We don't wanna go someplace where they put dead people!”

But I had to see for myself. With the other kids hanging back, I pushed open the doors and entered the dread sanctum. There were a couple of long, metal trays mounted on wheeled frames like hospital gurneys. The trays were indented and had a hole about three inches in diameter in the middle of them. I guessed this hole was to drain the body fluids during an autopsy.

Then I saw the lockers in one wall. They looked just like the ones I had seen in movies. I knew these had to be the cold storage units where they put the dead bodies. Ronnie and one other kid had finally screwed up their courage and joined me. Curiosity had gotten the better of them.

I walked over to the wall with the lockers and opened one of the doors. Sure enough, there was a long, narrow metal tray in it. I pulled it out. Our imaginations were really working in high gear as we thought about the actual purpose of the thing and how many dead bodies may have occupied this particular tray and locker.

Then a strange thought suddenly entered my mind. I wondered what it would be like to crawl on to that tray and have Ronnie push me into that long, dark recess and lock the door? What would it feel like to inhabit such a cold black place, a place of the dead? Several words kept coming to mind: Creepy! Spooky! Morbid! Macabre! But there was no denying the fascination of the idea.

“Hey, Ronnie,” I found myself saying, “how about if I crawl up on the tray and you push me in?”

“No way!” Ronnie nearly shouted.

I knew there was no use arguing. Neither Ronnie nor the other kid was about to cooperate in the experiment. Just looking into that deep, dark tunnel and thinking about its purpose was enough for them, I guess. We all got out of there. It was a real relief to leave that building, no matter its fascination, and get back into the sunshine. I wondered why I should suddenly be thinking about something so spooky now? What on earth had called it to mind?

The Weedpatch Gazette

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 15:55:41 PDT

A recent thread following a post to The Bakersfield Californian blog site reminded me of a politician I knew well telling me he tried to get along with everyone. There was no use in my replying to him that what he really meant was that to do this he had to become a professional liar as that is the only way anyone is going to get along with everybody and the way politicians get elected and stay elected is to continue in league with Satan, the Father of lies. Ordinary citizens often find themselves in the same boat when they try to appear as “liberal” only to eventually be hoisted on their own petard, since they must engage in lying at some point in order for them to “get along with everybody.” For this reason, the Apostle Paul added the caveat that we should try to get along with others peaceably so long as it was possible.

“Batteries not included” might well describe the early hominids that first walked this earth millions of years ago, but never developed a civilization or into Modern Man. It was a scant some 12,000 years ago that Modern Man and civilization suddenly and abruptly appeared upon the screen of history. My belief is that the Genesis account is accurate in the facts of how this happened; that a hierarchy of the heavenly host took counsel and decided “Let us make the Adam in our image and after our likeness.” But it was when God breathed His own Spirit of Life into the Adam that this new creation was born with a living soul and one that may be described as “Batteries Included,” and gives real meaning to the words of Scripture “It is the Spirit that quickens; the flesh profiteth nothing.” Or, to paraphrase Emerson, this body, this mortal clay is only the container and vehicle in which we carry about the fire of life, the real person that lives in these mortal bodies subject to death and decay.

When my precious angel, Karrie (Karen) was a small child she once asked me; “Daddy, do dogs go to heaven?” It seems from the time she was born Karrie was to be a critter person, loving all creatures great and small just as her sister Diana did. My answer to her at the time was, “Sweetheart, all life returns to God, the Giver of Life.” To this day I cannot improve upon that answer, but can only elaborate upon it; which I have done at some length over the years.

But in the hereafter in the words of Jesus and sex being part of the curse of God on humankind, falling harsher on women than on men, there will be no marrying or giving in marriage but we will be as the angels of God. However, it is probably because of my advanced years that I can begin to believe this to be a blessing of God in the hereafter. As a young man I had other thoughts on the subject and there is no need to elaborate on those since I spell it all out in my book “Birds With Broken Wings” where the curse of sex is treated as a curse, but much of it from a different point of view since I was still chasing women at the time. But it isn’t old age alone that removes sex as being a curse in one’s life; children, while they exhibit an early interest in the subject are said of Jesus to be representative of those that enter the Kingdom of Heaven “for their angels do always behold the face of the Father.” So it is that Jesus told his listeners that unless you became as a little child you cannot enter into the Kingdom of Heaven,” and the harshest condemnation Jesus pronounced was against those that would do harm to a child. From this came my motto: IT SHOULDN’T HURT TO BE A CHILD!

The earliest humans had to deal with the most difficult conditions imaginable, and it isn’t any wonder that after The Fall as other generations began to deal with these conditions they would begin to call on deities of various kinds to help them. Eventually idol worship became commonplace and sex often played a prominent role in such “worship.” In Genesis 4:26 we read that with the birth of Enos, the son of Seth, “then began men to call upon the name of the Lord,” or, using the Lord’s name in worship as modern versions have it; but due to increasing violence as men began worshipping false gods and idols the Lord decided to destroy all of humankind, expressing His regret at creating them. But in sparing Noah, God allowed the violence to continue through Noah’s son, Ham.

In the first chapter of Romans in the New Testament we read that while men knew God in old times, they quickly turned to worshipping creatures more than the Creator and God gave them up to every manner of uncleanness. For this reason God finally chose Abram, later to be known as Abraham to call out a people that would follow the Lord and refuse to worship idols. At that, the only tribe left of the Israelites would be the Jews, the Chosen People who would become People of the Book and hated of all nations. But Jesus would change all this, pronouncing there would no longer be children of God found among just the Jews, but in all nations of the world. The Gospel does not discriminate, but is open to all who believe and put their faith in God as did Abraham.

But it still comes down to this; a child of God is not given to the worship of idols, and does not make an idol representative of God. The love of God, our belief and faith in God is proven among his children by their love for one another, not their love for the children of the Devil. And this is where politicians find their role in the scheme of things, lying by professing their “love” for everybody all the while practicing deceit of every kind in order to be elected and stay elected. And this practice of deceit and hypocrisy in order to “get along with everybody” is not confined to politicians. It is well said that a person’s character may not only be discerned by who their friends are, but by who their enemies are as well.

“This week on 'The Hal Lindsey Report': On this week's edition of ‘The Hal Lindsey Report’: the world's 17 largest economies held a meeting in London last week. Not coincidentally, these are the nations identified by the UN as the world's greatest producers of greenhouse gases. They were there to hold 'confidential' discussions as a precursor to the upcoming United Nations Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen in early December. It's interesting to note that the participants in the ‘Major Economies Forum’ were asked not to discuss the proceedings publicly. I wonder what they discussed that would be so controversial?”

I don’t have to be a fan of Hal Lindsey in order to benefit from some of his insights, just as I make a practice of listening to civilized discussion by opponents of some of my views and beliefs in many matters. But having read the full text of his report, I do find reason for concern that there may well be a global conspiracy leading America into the trap that Obama seems almost destined to fall into and drag America down with him. Whether or not, Obama still appears to me as an empty suit without a soul and determined to do the will of Satan in destroying us as a nation, bolstering my own opinion that the seed of America’s destruction was sown in slavery. For this and many other reasons, I still see America as “That Great City; Babylon” of Revelation.

The Weedpatch Gazette

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 12:03:25 PDT

Witches and conjurors, hexes and spells, gods and goddesses, magic, myths and legends are as old as humankind, and I for one would be the poorer without such things giving full rein to my own imagination and need to believe in things supernatural. What animates life and departs with death is without scientific explanation and remains the great mystery it has been from the beginning and we are fortunate to have an imagination, a characteristic of divinity that can entertain thoughts that facts lie behind much of what is passed on through myths and legends. I consider myself very fortunate to be able to allow myself speculation about all things paranormal and supernatural without hindrance by any orthodoxy that invariably fall victim to the common curse of confusing beliefs with factual knowledge. Over the years my beliefs eventually became amenable to change by new facts and knowledge, and these serve to expand my imagination and speculations accordingly.

We know the brutal conditions some people face in other countries; we see the starving children and adults and understand this world has been inhospitable and harsh for the most part throughout human history for those that have to depend on the weather, for example, to stay alive. I was born and raised among Dust Bowl migrants and heard the stories of Steinbeck’s “Grapes of Wrath” first hand from those that were devastated by that dreadful lack of rain they depended on for their crops. History is replete with examples of changes in weather patterns that have proved to be catastrophic for entire societies resulting in death or forced migration. With world-wide instant media we are made aware of how our species is depleting natural resources at a enormous rate, and I doubt a population of nearly 7 billion can be sustained. This together with unpredictable weather patterns naturally gives rise to apocalyptic scenarios.

War has been an unrelenting and horrid saga of cruelty and brutality of our species since the beginning with no end in sight. Now we are being told to brace for a pandemic of influenza, the problem being that we never know when we are being told the truth by any agency of government having been lied to so many times and no one in government from the President on down is to be trusted to tell us the truth since they all lie to get elected and continue lying to stay elected. And I credit Satan with being, as Jesus pointed out, the “Father of lies” since he was a liar from the very beginning.

The wonderful thing about myths and legends is that they are not meant as lies; they are stories, and the best storytellers were held in the highest esteem among the various cultures. The original word “Poet” meant “Maker,” and as such the ancient poets were our first historians. But to make a story based on facts memorable for the sake of passing on to other generations the early poets would embellish the facts not as lies but simply to make the facts unforgettable. It is only to be expected that without writing and relying on oral stories alone, the facts behind the myths and legends would become obfuscated or lost over a long period of time. Perhaps there was a “Homer” and perhaps Plato wrote a factual account of Atlantis; we simply do not know. But the myths and legends remain entrancing areas of continued speculation and scholarly studies.

Now we live in the modern world of computers and instant communications world-wide, we are literally drowning in a sea of both information and lies. Some blog sites like that of The Bakersfield Californian are open to “unclean spirits” that thrive on lies and insults, some are called “trolls,” and some are obviously cowards hiding behind their computers and are not happy unless they can attempt to make themselves appear important by demonizing others; one of the characteristics of the unclean spirits that seem to posses politicians. Since its beginning in 2006 I have become a favorite of those possessed by unclean spirits attempting to silence me on that Bakersfield Californian blog by unrelenting insults. For this reason, I do not comment on posts on that blog or any others where such insults are allowed a pass by the poster. But the Devil takes care of his own; as conditions worsen for America I expect those possessed of unclean spirits to multiply throughout the land and world-wide.

Control of a nation’s media is all-important to tyrants and despots and Hitler is a prime example of Satan and his unclean spirits taking over an entire nation by this work of the Devil. Now, it would appear those same unclean spirits are harder at work than ever right here in America, Obama and Company being at the forefront of this work of Satan in order to bring about the New World Order by subduing all dissenting voices. But the Bible does tell about those living in the End Time to expect an increase in demonic activity and whether one believes this or not, no one can deny that America is fast becoming inhospitable to civilized good manners and speech throughout and the threats against those of us critical of Obama and Congress are becoming increasingly blatant against the targets of Satan and unclean spirits.

But like the attacks against Russia’s poets under the Stalin regime, those that would not settle for anything less than telling the truth, we see the very same thing happening here in America. And in the past, many a myth or fairytale would be a veiled attempt to call attention to the works of the Devil through his unclean spirits possessing tyrants and despots. The same thing may begin to happen right here in America, and our “storytellers” may yet have to go underground or resort to subterfuges to maintain the truth.

Human history is filled with lies, it being all too true that the winners of wars write the history. Here in America, the universities simply revise history to suit their own satanic agenda, passing these lies through the schools and into the general population, one of the more prominent and successful lies being that America can survive without well-defined and defended borders, a national language, heritage, and culture. Well, I still believe the seed of America’s destruction was sown in slavery; and if so it is the Devil’s agenda to turn people against one another and give power to those he chooses.

Myths and legends of antiquity require very close scrutiny and study in an attempt to get at the facts that are the foundation of such myths and legends; however, these are worthy of such study since they are more to be trusted than the “histories” of tyrants and despots. As a result, I am increasingly drawn to the study of ancient myths and legends knowing the leadership of nations eventually fall prey to lying, unclean spirits; though poets take the risk as the Apostle Paul phrased it: “Am I become your enemy because I tell you the truth?” Or, as Melville so well said: “The truth; it don’t pay.”

Here in the Kern River Valley I still have not been able to get a flu shot since I am no longer able to stand in a line. We may have a “drive-through” at the hospital and someone would take me there; but I’ve just learned the company that was to deliver the vaccine says it never received the order from the hospital. So, after three attempts over less than a year’s time I may succeed in dying this time should I get hit by the flu or pneumonia since I am in the very highest risk category with my elderly status and very advanced COPD. That would silence my voice; but I still believe my time is in God’s hands.

Bad enough that it seems the stories about this year’s flu vaccine are obfuscated and not to be trusted, but when a hospital like ours becomes a victim of someone dropping the ball so badly even the personnel at the hospital are unable to be protected one becomes suspicious. The Devil’s work? I believe so; since in the end it is really all about profits, the domain of Satan. And if Obama and Company really wants to kill the elderly here is fuel to fire such speculation.