Source: Binding the Sheaves of Idiocy
We usually reserve The Hallelujah Chorus for Christmas time or Easter, but I think we want it today. We want to say to the wicked of this world, “We defy you in the name of Jesus Christ the King of Kings! And He shall reign forever, whether you like it or not–nothing you can do about it!”
This performance (indoors, for once) is by the kids at Fountainview Academy.
Hamsters are rodents, like rats and mice, so they should be pretty intelligent–right? Let us take intelligence for granted here.
Why, then, does this hamster walk backwards while he’s eating? He always winds up falling over something. This happens to human beings who walk backwards while they’re eating, too. But you’d think a hamster would figure out that he’s doing something wrong. But hamsters insist on doing things their own way.
Lest there be confusion, this is the same Hillary Clinton who was Planned Parenthood’s “Champion” of abortion and who said, last year, that the core beliefs of “religions”–that is, Christianity–“have got to change” to accommodate and “affirm” abortion and public sodomy.
That Hillary is the subject of a recent book, Strong for a Moment Like This: The Devotions of Hillary Rodham Clinton, by a Rev. Shillady–relish the irony of that name–the Clinton family pastor–more irony. With the thinly veiled likening of Hillary to Queen Esther, we go beyond irony into uncharted, murky waters of I don’t know what. What lies beyond irony?
The news turns out to be what we’d expect. Right smack-dab in the middle of the book is a prayer written not by Mr. Shillady–who named this guy? Charles Dickens?–but by someone else who was not given credit for it (http://hosted.ap.org/dynamic/stories/U/US_HILLARY_CLINTON_PASTOR_PLAGIARISM?SITE=AP&SECTION=HOME&TEMPLATE=DEFAULT&CTIME=2017-08-15-10-07-55). Usually we call that plagiarism. But as any liberal would, Mr. Shillady says it was only a mistake, nobody could have been as surprised as he was when he found out the prayer had actually been written by another man, and he’ll give the guy due credit in subsequent editions and everything’ll be just hunky-dory.
It’s raining like mad and this is what I’m reading about instead of working on my own book. I have bypassed the truly disastrous news of the day in favor of this wee tidbit of cultural decay.
I suppose we expect our politicians to be hypocrites, especially if their last name happens to be Clinton. But this is a bit thick even for Hillary. I mean, really–plagiarizing a prayer?
And we’re supposed to be sorry that she’s not our president. The nooze media all tell us so.
One of the things that most troubles me about this age is the ease with which people of my age, or only slightly less, abandon truths and standards that they were brought up with. They don’t hang on to them at all.
I think I must have mentioned this before, but it is to the point and I’ll never forget this incident. The young amoral couple in the next apartment, the woman not yet divorced from her current husband, succeeded in conceiving an out-of-wedlock child. To celebrate, they threw a party on the lawn. The whole neighborhood turned out–all these people old enough to know that you don’t shack up with some jidrool before you even file for a divorce from the other monkey, let alone produce out-of-wedlock children by some guy who already has a kid somewhere California–a kid, but no wife.
This was not a thing to celebrate. People in their fifties and sixties ought to know that. But there they were.
Then another neighbor had an out-of-wedlock pregnancy, and they threw her baby shower at the Baptist church. I thought Baptists knew it was wrong to beget children outside of marriage. Did God change His mind about that, or did the Baptists just forget?
What does it take to swing people around 180 degrees from their moral standards?
Not much, I guess.
It’s raining, the neighborhood resounds to the sullen roar of the mulching machine, and Adam the tech guy is here to see if he can fix our computer, which may not be possible. And guess what? We might have lost all our data!
Anyhow, the cats are upstairs under the bed and it’s hellzapoppin ’round here, and I’m still trying to type on this laptop keyboard which was designed by fairies from a distant galaxy.
Hmmm… it might have stopped raining. I wonder if I can sneak out with a cigar and my book, which I couldn’t work on yesterday. If I go outside, I won’t hear any computer talk unless the birds and squirrels start it.
I haven’t looked at any news yet today. Maybe I won’t.
PS–The verdict: hard drive is dead, gone, must either be replaced or we gotta buy a new computer. Enter infinite turmoil.
Source: Google Ads Embarrass Columnist
The author of this hymn, William Willams, has been called “the Welsh Charles Wesley”–and we have it for you in Welsh as well as English. You may know it from your hymnals as Cwm Rhondda. I mean those old hymnals that were actually bound and printed.
So how was your day?
Typing on this keyboard, which was surely designed for some other form of life, murdered me. But we also had to do our grocery shopping. When we finished buying our supplies, we discovered that Patty had locked her keys inside her car. With the engine running. No problem, said the auto club: they could get there in just an hour and a half.
At this point the Lord provided a good Samaritan who offered to drive me home so I could fetch the spare key. Thank you, Father; and thank you, most benevolent stranger.
After that, all I had to do was type my Newswithviews column on this infernal keyboard.
We have to get a new computer. And if that means I will have to learn a whole new system, after it’s taken me ten years to get this far with Windows 7… Well, that ought to just about finish me off.
My Missy used to do this with pipe cleaners. She liked to start the game before I got out of bed in the morning.
The cat in this video is performing an experiment to see for how long the tame human will keep this up.