Year: 2022

FBI Goon Squad Storms Family’s Home

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

2022 Goon Squad NorthStar Series | echovalleymotocross.com

(Thanks to Susan for the nooze tip)

FBI storm troopers–oops, sorry, I meant “agents”… 25 or 30 of them, armed with rifles–raided a pro-life activist’s family home, scared the dickens out of his seven children, and carted him off to be grilled for a case that a judge had already thrown out of court (https://www.lifesitenews.com/news/fbi-raids-home-of-catholic-pro-life-speaker-author-with-guns-drawn-as-his-terrified-kids-watch/). They came in 15 “vehicles” and pounded on the door at 7 a.m.

Are we still in America?

They do these things to show us who’s boss. They would never, never, never do it to a pro-abortion activist.

They do these things to scare the rest of us.

I think it ought to make us angry, not scared. Our tax money, that we worked for, has been used to transform the FBI into a Far Left Democrat goon squad.

There’ll be more and more and more of this if the Democrats can successfully cheat their way through the midterm elections.

Vote Republican as if your country’s life depended on it… which it does.

 

By Request, ‘Our Father Who From Heaven Above’

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

Requested by Thewhiterabbit (and did I have a time, trying to find it!)–Our Father Who From Heaven Above, via the Trinity and Faith Lutheran Church.

Martin Luther wrote this hymn by expanding each of the points of The Lord’s Prayer into a verse.

‘Your Old Toys Are Worth Big Bucks’ (2015)

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

It’s seven years since I first posted this. Yes, I still have all those dinosaurs! Only now I don’t care how much money I could get for them. They ain’t goin’ nowhere!

Your Old Toys Are Worth Big Bucks

Most of my family has passed on; very few of us left. Little gifts that grandparents, aunts and uncles, and my mother and father gave me… well, sorry, but you just can’t put a price on that.

Handling my now-expensive Sphenacodon, I can almost reach back and touch the summer of 1960.

By Request, ‘We Bow Down’

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

(Running way, way late today! *sigh* Couldn’t help it.)

Requested by Susan–We Bow Down, sung by Twila Paris. Read the script as you listen: it’s all from Psalm 91.

O Lord Our God! Be with us today, to guide us, to heal us, to help us! In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Chicken-Hearted Dogs

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

The dogs in this video are terrified… of cats! Fie and for shame. Come to think of it, a chicken would probably have more gumption than most of these dogs.

But cats do seem to know which dogs they can pick on and which dogs’ll give them what-for if they try.

The Water’s Full of Sharks!

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

Holy moly, the water’s full of sharks! I mean chock-full. I don’t think I’ll go swimming in the ocean anymore.

The good news is, the sharks mostly mind their own business and the people don’t even know they’re there. The bad news is “mostly.”

This video is a little long (11 minutes), but it’s something I haven’t seen before (not often, I mean) and I thought you might find it fascinating… in an edgy sort of way.

The Burrowing Rhinoceros (‘Oy, Rodney’)

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

a gripping page-turner headed for the top of the NY Times bestseller list | Romance novels, Funny romance, Book parody

Violet Crepuscular introduces Chapter DV of her epic romance, Oy, Rodney, with an extensive list of flaws in her neighbor, Mr. Pitfall’s, character. “He’ll eat your toothpaste sandwich cookies and then just leave you!” she laments. “Or else he’ll just stick around and bug you!”

So much for Chapter DV.

In Chapter DVI, while the American adventurer Willis Twombley is still organizing a safari, the rhinoceros has again crept out from under the vicar’s backyard wading pool and returned to digging burrows all around the property. Twombley would see the brute if he only turned around!

“Someone’s going to fall into one of those burrows and break a leg!” excalibrates Lady Margo Cargo, who already has one wooden leg (upholstered) and would rather not have two. “Quick, darling–there it is!”

Twombley can scarcely conceal his disappointment. “Gol-durnit, honey-child! That ain’t no African rhino!” He wipes the tears from his weather-beaten cheeks. “Hell’s bells, that’s an Indian rhino! Which means I can’t use this here safari: gotta send ’em all home–” some of them have come all the way from Zanzibar, they’re that desperate for work–“and recruit Indian men for a shikari!”

“Couldn’t you just…er… shoot the rhino, now that he’s here? Oooh, he’s digging up my gladiolus! Will you please just shoot the bloomin’ rhino!”

Twombley floxerizes. “No can do, dearie! The rajahs get mad if you shoot their rhinos without their permission. Gotta find the rajah and square it with him. And then go about hiring new bearers and beaters.”

Lady Margo screams (they heard her in Detroit), “There are no flaming rajahs in Scurveyshire!” The chapter ends before she can have full-fledged conniptions.

Memory Lane: I Talk to the Cows

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

Trio of three black and white cows looking over a stone wall on Terceira Island, Azores Stock Photo - Alamy

Something stirred one of my very earliest memories.

My parents went away for a weekend and took me with them. I was either four or five years old. My brother was still a baby, so let’s say four.

We went to what I guess now was a rented house somewhere in North Jersey or upstate New York, in farming country. I don’t know what my parents did all day; but there was a stone wall in the back yard and I sat on it, playing with my toy horsies and making up adventures for them…

And explaining it all to the cows!

See, I wasn’t lonely because on the other side of the wall was a pasture and I had company the whole time I was there–three cows who hung out with me. I petted them. I told them all about my toys. I told them little stories I made up (my father, my grammie, and my aunts told me stories all the time, and I imitated them). They were the nicest cows you could imagine–although I don’t know, maybe most cows are like that. Suburban kids don’t get a lot of experience with cows.

But that little bit of experience I had, I treasure.

I hope I meet those cows again someday. We have a lot of catching up to do.

A Colossal Milestone!

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

This day in sports: Cal Ripken Jr. hits for the cycle in 1984 | DC News Now

Eat your heart out, Cal Ripken! I’ll show you a streak!

Would you believe it? I have blogged on this site for 3,000 consecutive days! Ai-ya, how did I ever do that? Actually I did it yesterday but didn’t notice till bedtime, and my last look at my stats page.

(Uh, Lee… couldn’t you find anything else to do?)

(Yeah, I could and I do! It’s called working your tuchas off!)

I don’t know what good I’ve done, but I like to think I’ve done some. I pray my work is of use to Christ’s Kingdom.

‘When Is a Good Book Not So Good?’ (2015)

Posted By: leeduigon(patty)Posted On:

Not all the books that I enjoy reading would I recommend. The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman is one of them.

When is a Good Book not so Good?

I admit it: I don’t turn away from cheap thrills. I don’t gorge on them any more than I’d eat a whole package of chocolate chip cookies at a sitting. If it’s going to unsettle your faith, or get you hung up on alien ideas that no Christian should have room for… then it’s best to stay away. Don’t court temptation.

Scary books won’t hurt me. I know of other things that can, so I avoid them.

Plus! This book makes for an interesting study of popular culture in what was once a Christian nation. Our America is following Britain down the tubes: we need to wake up to the danger, slam on the breaks, turn around, and go the other way. Fast!