Requested by Erlene, as an antidote to the grim and evil news of these days–He Still Has the Scars, by Carroll Roberson.
As a sinner I would not dare to pray, but for my faith in God’s word, that His sovereign grace has covered me with Christ’s righteousness. By His stripes we are healed.
Why are leftids all over America in a frenzy to destroy Confederate monuments? Why wage this cowardly war upon the dead, who can’t defend themselves–and why with such a boiling passion?
Now they attack not only Confederate dead, but also George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Andrew Jackson, Theodore Roosevelt. See, everyone who had anything to do with creating and building the United States of America, they’re all racists, they’re all slaveholders. Down with them! And down with everything they ever said or did!
President Trump has asked, “Which statues are next?”
And why are the rest of us, millions of us, permitting this to happen? Why are we not saying “No!”
This is the Left trying to cut us off from all our past. No Washington and Jefferson, and there’s no Declaration of Independence, no Constitution, no Bill of Rights. They owned slaves 200 years ago, therefore everything they ever said or did is tainted. All our heritage from them–for instance, our right to free speech–is tainted, too, and must be done away with in the interests of social justice.
Then we can have this lovely PC country where no one has any rights at all.
Take a good, hard look at these people, and a good, hard listen. Do you want them to rule over you? Do you want them to have the power?
Their war is not about the past; that’s only on the surface. Underneath it is a war upon the future, which they mean to win. They hate our country and mean to destroy it.
May God smite them first.
I am reminded of an ancient Welsh tale from The Mabinogion.
The hero Pryderi, for services rendered, received a wonderful gift from the king of Underworld–pigs. At that time, those were the only domestic pigs in Britain. All the other chieftains were jealous.
For reasons too shameful to relate here, Prince Gwydion, trickster and magician, schemed to get the pigs away from Pryderi. He tried to earn them as a reward, but Pryderi had already promised the king of Underworld not to sell the pigs or give them away.
So Gwydion said, “I know a way you can let me have the pigs without breaking your promise: neither sell them nor give them to me, but trade them to me in return for something better.”
Pryderi’s eyes dazzled. In return for the pigs, Gwydion was offering him a dozen thoroughbred horses and a dozen pure-bred greyhounds, and both horses and hounds came fully equipped with trappings and accessories in finest gold and silver. Unable to resist such a wonderful offer, Pryderi let Gwydion have the pigs.
And Gwydion said to his servants, “We’ll have to drive these pigs off in a hurry, boys. The magic will only be good until the morning.”
And in the morning Pryderi’s steeds and greyhounds, and all the gold and silver, turned back into dead leaves, broken twigs, and toadstools: for they had never been anything but an illusion conjured up by Gwydion.
This was free stuff before free stuff was invented! This was a man who should have known better parting with something of real value in return for empty, glittering promises. Pryderi wound up losing his life, too: Gwydion killed him when he tried to recover his pigs.
Beware Gwydion’s gifts. If he were alive today, he’d be giving you Social Justice in return for your freedom. And whatever he gave you would turn into crap in the morning.
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