Do owls know better than to try to force themselves uphill? Do we?
I have just posted an eye-wateringly beautiful rendition of In Christ Alone, by Michael W. Smith. I’d kind of like it to stay with me for a while! I do not want to write about Obama and Kamalalalala or any of the rest of ’em. Scat! Shoo!
Anybody out there got any hymns you’d like me to post?
I just can’t take any more nooze today. The picture it presents resembles a Three Stooges pie fight. That’s our politics, these days.
Gee, I wish they’d all just shut up and have a pie fight! Which public figure would you most like to see smacked with a pie in the face? Politician, celebrity, washed-up actor… enough to keep a lot of bakeries busy.
I shall return later with a critter video.
Please pray for Robbie, our cat. It’s not looking good… but at least she’s eating today.
“But he was little and cute when I bought him!”
Covering the usual political nooze was oppressing my spirit this afternoon, I didn’t know what to write… and then my sister, Alice, called and suggested (pause) this.
Puerto Rico is being overrun with great big snakes that don’t belong there (https://www.vox.com/24144224/invasive-species-snakes-puerto-rico): notably the reticulated python (can grow to 30 feet long, biggest snake in the world), boa constrictor, and ball python.
The reticulated python has been known to swallow human beings. It doesn’t happen often, but people get a little edgy about it.
The big problem is the non-native snakes gobbling up native birds–and people’s cats and dogs–to the point where some of these birds might go extinct. No one has done anything about it.
Thirty-foot-long reticulated python, having pulled the family dog out of the dog-house, still hungry, finds the house’s back door left open and slithers eagerly into the kitchen…
Maybe they’d better make it their business to do something about it.
Yeesh, what a world!
I’ve been grappling with a question today: how does reporting so much bad news (and good news, when I can find it) serve Christ’s Kingdom? Because, really, it’s easy for “journalism” to become an end in itself… and then it serves nobody.
I came up with three reasons for doing this.
One, we have to know what we’re up against, don’t we? That’s half the art of war and half the art of politics.
Two, once we know what we’re up against, then maybe we can address it with heartfelt prayer and then do our level best to deal with it. As in “Here are things that need to be corrected!” And sometimes we succeed in correcting them. It’s always possible, for instance, to get Far Left fools voted off your local board of education. That’s a good start.
Three, news reporting can serve a kind of prophetic function. One might argue, “But Israel and Judah never listened to their prophets!” But that’s not altogether true, is it? On those rare occasions when God’s people did listen to His prophets, good things happened. See the Book of Esther; consider the actions of righteous kings like Hezekiah.
For these reasons I continue to report news. I do my best: how it turns out is up to the LORD.
Sanity break: Baby iguanas instead of nooze
Tomorrow morning I have to go to the doctor, then grocery shopping, and that’s a fair chunk out of my workday. Meanwhile, there’s so much scary **** in the nooze today, and so much sheer loopiness, that I doubt I’ll be able to serve up a full plate of it tomorrow.
(Putin cites threat of nuclear war over Ukraine.)
(Democrats discuss ways of keeping Trump out of office if he wins the election… and installing some golem of their choosing. One whom no one voted for. Exit our Constitutional republic.)
Anyway, let us all just do our very best and trust in God to bless us.
Lights out for Black
Obviously I can’t cover all the nooze myself, there’s only one of me; and by the time the weekend rolls around, I’m beat.
But there are also stories that I could cover, but I don’t.
I’m trying to teach myself to view this era as a chess game in which it sure looks like the Devil and his mob are winning… but they can’t see the moves that God is making, and neither can we. We don’t see until God says “Checkmate!”
It happens in chess all the time.
And it happens in history, too. God wins. If He didn’t, we wouldn’t be here anymore.
Woody Woodpecker? Well, why not? Maybe he can figure it out.
By Saturday I’m usually noozed out, can’t take anymore. But I persevere nevertheless. How often does one get to write “persevere”?
This was written before the reign of King COVID and surely needs to be updated. I invite readers to do so.
It’s our 46th wedding anniversary and we are surrounded by electronic doodads that just don’t freakin’ work. At the moment it’s our phone.
I have it in my mind not to cover any nooze today, try to take it as a holiday. We have crab cakes set aside for supper. I was scanning nooze yesterday afternoon and wound up just bagging the whole thing. So much crap going on, I couldn’t imagine where to start. Where do you even begin?
Have you noticed the media’s Two Takes on Biden? Fascinating. Take One: Biden is great, his presidency is great, and he will easily beat Trump. Take Two: The guy’s a disaster–who do we have to replace him?
And that’s all I want to say about that today. Let’s take a peek at the movies.
“It’s THE camp for OCD news junkies!”
If you can’t tear yourself away from the screen and TV nooze, Camp Bah-Lo-Nee’s the place for you! Here they’ve got nothing but nooze. Inside a week you’ll know the names of all the politicians’ lawyers.
Although the camp is still under construction somewhere in the Australian Outback, there’s already a waiting list. I don’t know where Byron the Quokka put it. This will be the first news junkies’ camp ever set up by quokkas, and everybody’s learning as they go along.
You know you’re spending too much time in the nooze when it starts breaking and entering into your dreams. When that happens, the dream becomes a nightmare.
The other night I dreamt I had to ride to work every day with… Hillary Clinton! It was a long ride, and I couldn’t get out of it because it was some kind of compulsory car-pool thingy. And she talked and talked and talked all the way there. You couldn’t have a conversation with her, any more than you can have a conversation with a bowling ball.
At least we can wake up from nightmares. The nooze is there every day.