I had to take Robbie to the vet today for checkup, blood work, etc. She hates to be in the cat carrier and yowls and cries all the way there. So I tried singing to her, and this was the song I sung: Donovan’s Epistle to Derrol, from 1967.
How about that? It worked!
I’m tired out just now, and have decided to go back to bed for a nap. But it’s pleasant for me to revisit this song… and I hope it’s pleasant for you. Nobody I know of is writing songs like this one anymore.
“White males, eh? You need to buy some poisoned apples, Janey!”
Q: How do you tell a leftist has gone senile?
A: What do you mean, “gone”? I thought they were born that way.
Jane Fonda, who used to be somebody, got the troops stirred up at the Cannes Film Festival the other day by blaming “white males” for a supposed “climate crisis” and calling for them all to be arrested and imprisoned (https://nypost.com/2023/05/30/jane-fonda-blames-white-men-racism-for-climate-change/).
It’s the end o’ the world, it’s white males’ fault–Women, Minorities Hardest Hit–and, by the way, “there would be no climate crisis if there were no racism,” because, ya see, “it’s all connected…”
Did I just feel the earth move under my feet?
We’ve only got seven or eight more years to escape Doom, Fonda the Sage drivels. “They’re all white men behind this.” But not white women. Anyway, it’s sort of a Unified Field Theory of Far Left bellyaching–climate, race, homophobia, transphobia, phobophobia, income inequality, finding hairs in your soup–
Enough, already. Someone lead this old nag out to pasture.
I find I’m sick of nooze today; so I’ll try something else.
The following story is 100% true. That’ll make for a change.
When I was 12 years old, somebody bought me a baby iguana–a little bitty green thing. My father built a nice cage and in it I put a couple of branches so he could climb around (the iguana, not my father). He especially liked to snooze on the biggest branch, under the overhead light bulb.
Years went by, the iguana grew very large, and he became far too big for his favorite perch to hold him. If he tried to use it, it bucked this way and that and he usually slipped off.
Obviously it was time to replace the branch, which I did. A nice new branch, big enough to meet a grown boy’s needs.
Guess who sulked on the floor of the cage until his old branch was re-installed. As soon as I’d finished the job, he climbed onto the new perch–and draped his tail lovingly over the old one.
Well, heck, he was 17 years old by then–practically antediluvian, in iguana years. He’d had time to learn many behaviors that would never occur to any wild iguana. If he thought he was a mammal, who was I to correct him?
It’s no mystery why we love our pets, is it?
It might not prove as cool and exciting as expected…
I decided this was a bigger story than I thought at first. Maybe the first rumblings of a New Lifestyle that we’re all supposed to bow down to.
https://newswithviews.com/i-now-pronounce-you-what/
Imagine the ecstatic joy of Far Left Crazy if they could wipe out even the idea of being married, united, to another person. If all children could be sterilized with “gender reassignment.” If there was absolutely nothing, absolutely no one, in their lives but the blood-guzzling behemoth of the State.
God forbid. And I trust He will.
This was one of the very first posts to appear on this blog. Originally published in Chalcedon’s print magazine, Faith for All of Life, “How to Write a Fantasy Novel” is meant to shed some light on what we call–without devoting much thought to what we call it–“Christian fiction.”
https://chalcedon.edu/magazine/how-to-write-a-fantasy-novel
After I read Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings in high school, the only thing I ever wanted to do, as my work in life, was to write fantasy novels. It took me some fifty years to accomplish that.
Anyway, I’ve picked up knowledge along the way, and if you’re interested in trying your hand at writing fantasy, what I’ve learned through experience is encapsulated for you here. (I don’t believe I’ve had the opportunity to use the world “encapsulated” in any of my books. But you may want to.)
Such a beautiful job of singing this hymn! And I don’t know who they are.
An old Sunday school favorite, Trust and Obey–sung in beautiful harmony by whoever… with background sets by God the Father.