This hymn was being sung by Christians when Charlemagne was a baby in a stroller and the whole Western Hemisphere a legend–Be Thou My Vision, an Irish hymn from the 8th century. Requested by “thewhiterabbit” and entered into the hymn contest.
Sung by the Lebanon County Youth Choir. Background sets by God the Father.
Gee! Look at all those invisible Biden voters disguised as empty seats!
You’d think a nation would be mortally ashamed even to suggest that such a wreck as Joe Biden could be president.
So the other night Biden had a “town hall”–a euphemism for a totally contrived event choreographed by biased nooze media–with CNN. They had to jam everybody into the first couple rows to hide fact that the auditorium was 90% empty.
His rambling, disconnected takeoff on an audience member’s question featured cameo appearances by “a man on the moon” and “aliens.” It is hard to see how they fit in.
It is unfair to say Biden was flirting with the man’s wife. We know that when he flirts, he gropes. No–this was just some ham-handed pleasantry put forth as wit.
The real stuff here is the incoherent babbling.
Once upon a time long ago–I will not say “in a galaxy far, far away”–Biden was a practiced, professional politician who knew how to talk to people, knew how to warm them up, knew how to pass himself off as one of them. He has lost those gifts. His public appearances are pitiable.
And this represents our country to the world.
But then the other national leaders, with just a few notable exceptions, aren’t so hot, either.
It’s getting crazier and crazier out there, and at some point it’s going to bring our whole civilization crashing down. You can only go so far, insisting that some fat guy in a wig and wearing a dress is a woman, before you’re no longer spouting poppycock on purpose but spouting it because you don’t know the difference between horse-schiff and reality anymore.
Cats are supposed to eat birds. I’ve seen it done. But the cats in this video sleep with birds, groom them, play with them–and one cat gets fed a morsel at a time by an enterprising crow… who also feeds the dog.
Wait a minute. I’m starting to sound like Allen Funt here. Oh, no…..! [Briefly turns into Allen Funt]
Patty decided to clean out our spam cache today. There were over a thousand items in it.
This included a staggering number of sexual enhancement ads. I will not quote them here. Insta-Hard. Rock-Hard. Secrets of Secret African Penis Cult. A more pathetic assemblage cannot be imagined.
I wonder what some archaeologist will think if, a couple thousand years from now, he discovers and reads our spam cache. “Were these people really that obsessed with the size of various body parts? No wonder their civilization collapsed.” I mean, what must we look like to a stranger, if the spam cache is the only thing he sees? What if that’s all that’s left of us? That, and assorted get-rich-quick schemes that wouldn’t fool a puppy.
Are there really that many people out there all lathered up to buy these products? Is the male half of our population really and truly that badly lost? (For some reason, or maybe no reason, they haven’t been sending us products pitched to females. Go figure.)
I pity our posterity. And I pray they’ll do better than we have so far.
I’m re-running this post as a public service. When abortion-loving Kamala Harris tells us that “the Bible says” we should all get shot up with some experimental COVID drug. The day we need religious advice from that source will be a sad day indeed.
St. Peter tells us that the Bible is not ambiguous. It does not tell us we can perform abortions, teach little children that they should be “transgender,” and “marry” a man to a man, a woman to a woman, a human to a toaster-oven.
There is no “private interpretation” of Scripture–none that’s allowed, at least.
They still think they can force this down our throats.
I received a comment yesterday that went straight into the trash bucket.
This person–I am assuming he really is a person–was there to defend Critical Race Theory. He defended it by saying a lot of things that included the phrase, “You white people.” ‘Cause we’re all alike, ya see–all born bad, according to Hypocritical Race Theory. (Y’know, I think I’ll call it that from now on.)
What if I went around saying “You black people”?
I don’t reply to such persons because I don’t trust myself not to lose my temper and say something which I’ll regret later. I have come to understand that Democrats and other Far Left villains want us to hate and fear each other according to race. They want us at each other’s throats. And I don’t want to give them what they want.
CRT is a war against America. The good news is that virtually everybody really hates it a lot. It may be the only thing that you can get most Americans to agree on.
So we should be able to win this war–if we have the stomach to fight it.
I don’t generally review books I’ve already reviewed. But I’ve just finished re-reading Curtain and it shocked me all over again.
This was a heckuva book to be writing while World War II was going on and German V-2 rockets were killing people on the streets of London. But that’s when Agatha Christie wrote it–the story of Hercule Poirot’s last case, written when she still had two more decades’ worth of Poirot mysteries to write–and then she locked it in a safe for 30 years.
In Curtain the world war is never mentioned. One senses that the action in the story could have taken place either just before the war or just after–although in terms of the Poirot timeline, that would be impossible. But that’s not why I’m writing this review.
Have you ever been involved in a group conversation in which one or two persons comes out with something totally outrageous, wicked, beyond the pale–and gets away with it? Worse–everybody else sort of tepidly, timorously agrees with it, even though you can tell by their body language that they don’t really agree and would just like this part of the evening to be over. So somebody drops a bomb–“I don’t care what they say, people who say they don’t believe in Climate Change ought to be jailed!”–and everybody else nods their heads, maybe mutters “Yeah, uh-huh,” and totally fails to call them out on it. Because, I guess, who wants to get into another one of those interminable arguments?
A lot of that goes on in Curtain. Characters natter on about useless lives, lives not worth living, people who are a burden to others, and how they all need to be humanely put out of the way, cull the crowd for the good of the species etc. And no one else ever says, “What are you, some kind of Nazi? You sound like Heinrich Himmler talkin’–if he were here, he’d fit right in!” I mean, we don’t even get an “Oh, come now!”
Now… why would Agatha Christie include such conversations in her novel unless she had heard them, probably pretty often, before World War II broke out? Heard them at dinner parties or casual get-togethers. Heard them from well-educated, highly thought-of people. After all, it was eugenics–which was Settled Science in the 1930s. You had to agree or you were anti-science.
Gee, I wonder why so many people in Britain became convinced that their ruling class wanted to sell them out to Hitler. Well, has our ruling class sold us out to China? Honk if you don’t think it looks that way.
This is a shocking book. Agatha Christie wrote it while her nation was fighting for its very life against an enemy that believed in eugenics and had no compunction at all about putting it into grim practice–an enemy with which her nation’s ruling class had much in common.
One wonders to what extent God had to intervene to keep Britain from entering into an alliance with Nazi Germany.