We already have several hymn requests this morning, and I’ll post them all during the course of the day. And help me out, people! I’ll need about 400 views today to climb out of the hole.
How Firm a Foundation, by our dear friends and colleagues Joshua and Jeremy: click “CC” for the lyrics. Maybe someday we can get these guys to sing.
Wow, look at that. I’ve just expressed a complete thought simply by listing three different animals. Is there no limit to what I can accomplish as a writer?
Cats usually behave like this because they want something. It this case, we don’t know what the cat wants. I suspect the dog does, but has no intention of granting the cat’s wishes.
The secret lives of our pets: we’ll never know what’s going on in there.
[Editor’s Note: Ms. Violet Crepuscular is mad at me for switching over to this book cover to illustrate the latest installment of Oy, Rodney. Well, confound it, I can’t find the regular cover anymore! This one will have to do. It’s very much in the spirit of the thing.]
Introducing Chapter CDXXII of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, Violet Crepuscular reminds the reader that Queen Victoria is about to elope to Abilene, Kansas, with Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who thinks he’s Sargon of Akkad. Word of this has reached Lady Margo Cargo and threatened her impeding nuptials with Lord Jeremy Coldsore–she thinks he and Twombley are the same person and resents her fiancee cheating on her with the Queen of England.
In desperation–and you have to be really desperate to do this–Lord Jeremy turns to Constable Chumley. “Please see what you can do to salvage this mess!” vocalizes Lord Jeremy. The constable replies, “Aye, thar forthin yon cusster, M’lord!”
Making an appointment to confer privately with Lady Margo, Chumley explains to her: “Favvin’ yoster me kippens, Lady me Lad, ye netter by swelvin’ a quarn?” She gives her enthusiastic consent to this proposal. With this to sustain him, the constable arrests Twombley and forces him to bathe in the ice-cold duck pond in Scurveyshire Common. Passersby are appalled.
But just as the constable hoped, this does the trick! Twombley is practically killed with cold by the time Chumley allows him to come out of the water. Passersby turn away, unable to bear the sight.
“Well, that’s froze the romance right out of me!” truncates the American. “Now I wonder what I ever saw in that there queen of yours! But you’re lucky I didn’t shoot you, ol’ hoss.”
“Mizzen yair frocken, sir!” says Chumley. Willis sighs deeply. “One cannot but agree!” he concedes.
I don’t know how I missed this essay by Martin Selbrede when it came out in 2006, but I’m glad I found it and read it today, on the Chalcedon website.
https://chalcedon.edu/magazine/the-strategy-of-subversion
In reviewing Ann Coulter’s book (Godless: The Church of Liberalism) and analyzing the subversion of the English language by those who seek to subvert the entire culture, and enslave it, Martin provides a dazzling insight relevant today. Very relevant indeed!
Leftids “win” arguments by choosing as their spokesmen persons who, by virtue of their sufferings, enjoy a moral authority which no one can question without appearing to be a heartless villain. We see it today: do you want your Marxist, racist, mischief-making cabal to prosper, and to skate right past any criticism? Do you want to make it above criticism?
Just call it “Black Lives Matter”! So anyone who dares to question it can be–and certainly will be–accused of saying “Black lives don’t matter.” All dissent, all criticism, is instantly morphed into Hate.
This is just one of the tactics leftids use to black out whole issues and remove them from discussion. In fact, they can stifle any discussion at all: unless you loudly agree with them, 100%, you are Guilty Of Hate. And if you don’t try to argue with them–well, that’s not good enough! ‘Cause “Silence Is Violence.” Everything but total submission is forbidden.
But only God is entitled to total submission. These people are playing with dynamite.
Martin’s essay is a little long, but it’s packed with meat and well worth reading. Not a word of it has gone out of date!
Now that the weather’s warming up, here’s an outdoor toy–you’ll soon catch onto why you shouldn’t play with it indoors–that was heavily advertised on TV when I was a boy: the water-powered rocket.
Whoosh! Look at ‘er go! I want it, I want it! This was back at the beginning of the space program when we were bringing TV sets to school to watch the latest launch from Cape Canaveral. So much cooler than plain old lessons! When those first astronauts went up, the whole country went up with them. But oddly enough, I never got one of those water-powered rockets, nor did I know any kid who had one. The fulfillment of this dream had to wait till I grew up.
Finally! I bought a water-powered rocket. Mine, all mine! I took it out to the schoolyard and hoped it wouldn’t fly so far away that I couldn’t find it. Pump, pump, pump the launcher, build up that pressure. And then, and then… Launch!
It gave this sort of little farting sound and mostly just fell off the launcher. Even as a little kid I could have thrown the fatzing rocket farther than it ever flew from the launcher. Again and again I tried. Its best effort was about four or five feet. Not exactly a moon shot.
I do wonder if everybody’s water-powered rocket was as big a disappointment as this. Nowadays you can get these huge, elaborate water-powered rockets, YouTube is full of them and they probably cost a fortune.
But I think I’ve learned my lesson.
Cover by Kirk DouPonce
The book is being printed as we speak–well, all right, we’re not exactly speaking, but you know what I mean–and should become available any day now: The Wind from Heaven, Book No. 13 in my Bell Mountain series. It’ll be available in both paperback and e-book format.
Thrills and excitement galore, in an exotic fantasy setting, winners of two Global E-Book Awards, and all according to a Biblical worldview–read the books, support the blog, make the leftids gnash their teeth.
And find out all about those mysterious ships that have appeared off the coast of Durmurot…
It doesn’t look like much is happening; but the starfish has attacked a scallop and intends to eat it.
The fascinating aspect of this question is the fact that a starfish has no brain. And yet they do all the things they need to do, to stay alive. So how do they do them without a brain?
Can starfish learn? Can they remember? If so, where do they store the information?
I’ve been trying for years to find answers to those questions, but no dice. Apparently no one knows the answers.
God’s stuff always works. We just can’t figure out how.
Here’s another hymn from the Voice of Eden–In God’s Green Pastures.
What I’d love to see today is a reader who’s never yet requested a hymn… finally requesting one. The hymn shop is open!
This is the easiest and best lottery strategy ever invented–anyone can do it! Even the merest simpleton. It’s guaranteed to make money. You are going to come out ahead!
And what is this system? Why, nothing could be easier–
Don’t play.
That’s all. Just stop buying lottery tickets. You’ll be amazed at how much extra cash you wind up with, after a year or so. Hundreds of dollars! Maybe even thousands, if you’ve got it really bad.
Now you can buy that fortune-telling crystal that you’ve always wanted!
… He’d be this dog, Coco. Look at him scoot up and down the tree! Obviously loving it.
But I remember a dog on our street, Toby, a black cocker spaniel, who ran full-tilt up a tree while chasing a squirrel–and suddenly realized he couldn’t get back down. His cries for help were piteous. They brought out Bobby R. with a ladder, who fetched Toby safely back to terra firma. The poor dog never went anywhere near that tree afterward.