You Need A Mental Evaluation

This is what a lot of us forgot while we were being frightened and isolated last year, with the deluge of propaganda from all sides and the usurping of liberties and livelihoods assaulting us hourly. We forgot grace and mercy. That led to 'Karens', and that led to animosity and being offended and the word 'racist' dividing us further. And for what? To set us back a half a century, to a time of violence and blindness? No, we need to come together like the girls in this group project video, and make a difference in another living thing's life. We'd want the same consideration from other superior life, if we ever woke up to find that we were no longer apex...

Do some good. Do it a month from now, 2 weeks from now, 10 days from now, HELL! Do it tomorrow... it doesn't matter, as long as you do something good and in tune with your Higher Power, be it God and Jesus Christ, or The Universe, or Ganesha, or any pantheon of any creed...

I try to do some good every day. It's its own reward...

Love these kids and their selflessness. I bow to thee, ladies...

11-year-old girl rescuing a Draughtboard Shark that got wedged between two rocks at low tide. (Hobart, Tasmania) 

Source

My Zen offering for today.

“Guinea pig getting cozy enjoying the back scratcher.”

(via)

Boy whore. If he takes on work from other males, he's probably a catamite. Either way, he's an arrogant little puke who deserves any and all STDs he contracts in life. Excuse me now, as I go vomit and then discuss with my daughter boys to avoid (or else Daddy will make said boys disappear...).

Lunatic Poetry was the order of the past few nights:

4/⁰3/²0²2:

"Sometimes I just can't..."

Charcoal dawn, purple sunset

Beautiful and distracting, dizzying...

When I should sleep I know not

All I can think of is where you are...

My compass is broken,

the magnetism tuned to foreign poles...

So I'll wander about until you whisper...

Then I'll be whole...

...I hope...

A stream of silver clouds now, above, carrying a question: Is this your game, or is it mine?

Answer: I won't know until you kiss me that one last time...

Another: Which of us owns the other, I wonder...

You reply: the memory of your smile... and I begin swimming again... or drowning... not sure which...

Autonomic reflex embroiled in a battle with the hunger of a starving heart...

I live this battle every second,

To the point that it defines me...

My heroin...

I scream, long and silent:

Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you....

Then, in supplication: please fuck me just one more time...

... for old time's sake...

Please...

...

It's crude, but then, again, love is brutal and rapacious...as is my appetite for every atom of you...

[Note: I don't know what it all means. I was held captive by the crashing words and could do little else but grip the pen with a shaking hand and tears in my eyes. I swear I wasn't inebriated in that time of writing, but I can't swear that I was sane. Still, it stirs something in me to know it issued forth from some part of me, a part I thought maybe dead, but at least dormant for the past five or six years. It felt good to pour out verse. And I knew I had to share it...

Thank you for indulging me by reading this.

Closing note: I think I may have been possessed by the ghost of Charles Bukowski, now that I think of it...]

The man is doing his job. Leftists can just piss off with their continued hate campaigns. If you're not supporting these efforts to reclaim our country and safety for American citizens, then you are the problem. Period.

Tom Homan predicts that the liberal media will show the first female or child crying they can to try and manipulate public perception. He says they will be sued numerous times a day but he doesn't care what the media says anymore as reports are coming out that ICE plans to start major illegal immigration raids on day one of Trump's administration.

He is sick and tired of seeing all the trafficked women and children due to open border policies.

Hate all you want.

Push the misinformation on all you want.

We're not gonna slow down.

We're not gonna go away. We're gonna get this done. 🤔

By KIRK JOHNSON, nytimes.com

MARYSVILLE, Wash. — A 14-year-old girl who was shot by a high school classmate in an attack in the school’s cafeteria on Friday in this northern suburb of Seattle died late Sunday, hospital officials said.

Gia Soriano was sitting with friends wh…

I certainly hope that no one tries to memorialize the piece of trash that wrought this tragedy. I feel for his family, but at the same time I also hold them responsible for letting this miscreant monstrosity run loose. And further, if the gun that was used is traced back to a family member, then the owner of that gun should be charged and tried as an accomplice before the fact. No way around it: this kid and his family are just plain garbage. My prayers go out to the innocents in this tragedy, but I hope that the family of the shooter has to endure this special raw pain for the length of eternity.

I could watch stuff like this all day. It's way funnier than watching our nation get unraveled by the clowns in government and the games that THEY play...

This is so funny I don’t even care for baseball but this is great

And with that money, I will buy Alberto something he can smile about. 'Cause he looks like a sad little dude here...

this is the money dog, repost in the next 24 hours and money will come your way!!

Been away for a few days/nights, sorting out the grain from the chaff. And by God's grace and love, I've been successful...

And just when I thought the gifts couldn't get richer, I found a poem come flowing out tonight. It may read as a sadness, but read deeper, because there's love and the anticipation of a love that holds the salvation one man, this man, sought. That salvation was delivered to me by Providence, and this poem marks the time it took me to come to this revelation...

1:

Red cirrus swipes against blue canvas

The colors should grasp my voice and send it heavenward, but I can't... just can't

Birds alight like dreams upon my head, shoulders

They wheedle me for a song to join theirs...

But I can't... just can't...

A child laughs and invites me into her otherwise private joke at the ridiculous world of ridiculous grown-ups...

I smile, and, for that briefest of explosions from the canyons of my yesterdays, I want to join her. Join her and force my wild laughter to Heaven's gate... but I can't... just can't...

A friend died today, or maybe a century ago, but it feels like every second he's there, then not...

And before tears can own me, I remember his jokes about living, dying, soaring, searing and God, and I want to laugh... but I can't... just can't...

I sit on the quiet bench among heavy skies, and I know, now, the reason for my can'ts...

I can't until there's you to show me I can...

Postscript:

God gave me HER, as undeserving as I was for all my years, and she shines a light dipped in God's lustrous Waters, a light that guides me in Stygian nights and stormswept days. And I decry my unending gratitude for God's gift of her. Amen.