Mommy! Johnny gained two pounds!
This is another one of those stories that rises to the surface, makes a loud pop, and then disappears. But regardless of how this eventually turned out… when was it ever any of the government’s business what you eat and how much?
UK Doctors Ordered to Rat Out Patients Who Gain Weight
For cryin’ out loud! You subject a nation to socialism, and then you’re astounded when the people act like children? If you’re going to turn them into perpetual infants, that’s a lot of diapers to change.
Do you ever get the impression that for some people, there are no imaginable limits to government?
No Christmas carol requests yet–and our computers have risen against us, full-scale mutiny, you wouldn’t believe the trouble I had, posting this: I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing, by Blackmore’s Night. You can’t really sail a ship to Nazareth, but the sentiment is what counts.
I never saw Pomeranian puppies till now. Gee, they look like animated pom-poms! But as you can see, they are totally fierce and if they ever did to you what they do to this sock… you’d wind up two feet taller.
Here’s an old Jackie Gleason joke. I hope you haven’t all heard it before; and I hope it gives you a laugh.
A greenhorn gets off the stage in a little town, way out West, walks into the saloon, and orders a drink. Everybody, even the bartender, seems a little nervous. But before he can ask anybody why, a man burst in and cries “Everybody git! Big John’s comin’!” And everybody drops what he’s doing and skedaddles out of the saloon–even the bartender.
A few minutes later, the biggest, meanest-looking cowboy the greenhorn ever saw comes barging into the saloon. He has to duck to get inside, and he’s so huge, he can barely fit through the batwing doors. He has bandoliers across his chest and a .45 on each hip–plus some rather intimidating tattoos.
The greenhorn’s scared; but all he can think is, “I’d better be nice to this guy!” So he says, “Good afternoon, sir! May I pour you a drink?” The big guy gives him a fierce frown, then says “Thankee, don’t mind if I do.”
The greenhorn pours a stiff belt of whiskey, which the big man drains in a single gulp. “Have another?” asks the greenhorn. After a thunderous belch, the cowboy says, “Thanks but no thanks, stranger. I’ve gotta get goin’ out of here… Big John’s comin’.”
Why do they have to drag our children into their creepy politics?
[Thanks to Elder Mike for the nooze tip]
California Gov. Gavin Newsom, the slimiest man in North America, wants to be president of the United States. In case Jobydin comes up snake-eyes. Hey, he’s done such a great job on California!
One of the Golden State’s most recent capers, signed into law by Slimy, is legislation requiring toy stores to have a special section for “gender-neutral toys” or else face up to a $500 fine (https://wpde.com/news/nation-world/california-stores-without-gender-neutral-toy-sections-will-be-fined-under-new-law).
Now they want to run the toy stores.
I’m not so sure I know what “gender-neutral” toys are. My brother and sister and I all played with our Lincoln Logs, modeling clay, stuffed toys, building blocks–no room to list ’em all. My sister had a lovely six-gun and holster (we have the home movies): I am sure the clerk at the toy store never said to my father, “Now, you’re gonna let only boys play with this, right? No girls!”
If people would just mind their own cotton-pickin’ business–!
But wait, there’s more!
They’ve also passed a law requiring parents to “affirm” (God defend us!) “a child’s ability to determine their (?? bad grammar alert) gender independent of their parents’ desire…” Now plain fact is rewritten as mere “desire”? Well, of course! To do otherwise would be “the antithesis of modern thinking.”
So that’s modern thinking, is it? Where do I dump it?
So… shall we let Slimy Newsom do to all America what he’s been doing to California?
Not that any of the other Dems is any better.
I’ve been wondering lately whether we’ve properly understood the prophecy in Ezekiel 37: the vision of the valley of the dry bones. It’s as if a voice cries to me, “Listen! Listen!”
The Valley of the Dry Bones
There are a lot of dead spots in our culture. “Higher education,” for one. And lower education. You can name as many as I can. They all need God’s attention. He asks us, “Can these bones live?” But He already knows the answer.
If only we could have skipped that decade!
I shudder when I look back on the 1960s. That was when things began to fall apart. Every college student had a ringside seat. We had no idea what we were chasing after. Our professors told us we were wise, and made us fools.
My Generation Ruined America
We’re still living with the wicked idiocies embraced by my generation in its youth–remember “Youth Culture”? Sure, we were exploited: clever villains fed on our ignorance. But some of this, really, we should have seen through. We shouldn’t have been such butterballs.
Another entry in our annual Christmas Carol Contest, this one from Ina: In the Bleak Midwinter, sung by the Gloucester Cathedral Choir.
Is it beginning to feel like Christmas for you?
Let’s get the Christmas carols started today with this: requested by Phoebe, Adeste Fideles, sung by Luciano Pavarotti–at Notre Dame Cathedral, Montreal, no less. Plus orchestra and choir.
I pray we can pour our hearts into this year’s Christmas.
A border collie is supposed to herd sheep: they were bred for that. But here’s a border collie herding ducklings–and doing a good job of it, too. I wonder: was she auditioning for a job with sheep?