Let us digress for a moment into the personal as well as the divine. Let us pretend for a second that an opinion matters and that conversations are worthwhile. Let us begin again from the start and hear what was intended to hear, the impossible might seem less so after seeking such as this.
We are all negated human beings. God we say does not listen. We do not listen therefore God has no time for us and our worries and fears. Sad state of affairs for believers even more so then the non-yet, think about this for a brief second.
If there were a divine being that certainly tells us about himself through creation, should we not give credence to this being, let ourselves become through him and within him. It is not so much a question as a response. Can you make yourself? Make even yourself do the things you want to do, let alone stop yourself from the things you do not want?
How about something greater than yourself able to guide you. Do you not know the love of a father and mother? Have you been gypped?
This is all I ask, to ask yourself, what do I believe-think, say, write...
For in the end it comes down to you to explain your actions, during the trials of human life, explain your case.
And if you have the advocacy of the father you would speak your mind would you not.
No longer a question but in the becoming of a statement it is well spoken, bringing you to heights never before supposed, never gained but ascribed too, never wanting- only gain.
Believe dear daughter- the father loves you very much.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
On the Perpetuation of the Hitler Myth
The general public has no idea how close to the brink the Nation stands. Our States are seceding and our streets overrun with ravenous bands of hungry gangs. Hungry for power, for the wealth that isn't theirs and that they refuse to make by their own hands. The government extends its hands into our pocketbooks to procure provisions for the supposed poor while the poor provide the vote to keep the whole machine running.
That was Nazi Germany after the Wiemar Republic collapsed. It is the state or America now.
The myth is that no-one will concede that world conquest is again at hand. That Germany learned its lesson and the communist wall fell in the last half of the century. Both were beaten we think by free minded individuals and sanctions.
It is an ancient evil that pervades the climate of the Americas now. An ancient evil that dictates what the new policy will dictate, same as the old policy, same as the old dictators envision.
Socialism bred Auschwitz and never died after 1944. It is the same in its insidious march as it was then, only forty years of relative peace has obscured this. The devil is patient, we are the doctors.
Surgery is in session.
The general public has no idea how close to the brink the Nation stands. Our States are seceding and our streets overrun with ravenous bands of hungry gangs. Hungry for power, for the wealth that isn't theirs and that they refuse to make by their own hands. The government extends its hands into our pocketbooks to procure provisions for the supposed poor while the poor provide the vote to keep the whole machine running.
That was Nazi Germany after the Wiemar Republic collapsed. It is the state or America now.
The myth is that no-one will concede that world conquest is again at hand. That Germany learned its lesson and the communist wall fell in the last half of the century. Both were beaten we think by free minded individuals and sanctions.
It is an ancient evil that pervades the climate of the Americas now. An ancient evil that dictates what the new policy will dictate, same as the old policy, same as the old dictators envision.
Socialism bred Auschwitz and never died after 1944. It is the same in its insidious march as it was then, only forty years of relative peace has obscured this. The devil is patient, we are the doctors.
Surgery is in session.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
On: Another Sort of Learning
This book keeps me creeping back in time to a more subtle romance with the written word.
It is less infatuation as it is age and decay. It is the foul rotting bodies of the authors spoken of in this great volume (truly literal) that keeps me coming back year after year to discover the face behind the corpse. The men behind the facade. The word.
What fascinates me is that they still speak, hundreds to thousands of years beyond the pale. What scintillates me is that they make sense at all, that I can sense all they did though not in the words they happened to spew, but that they did it, and I understand that they did, why they did and how.
I wish to be a thousand years dead so I could know them. They will remain unnamed for you will know them when they call and I shouldn't presume that they will be read anymore. But yet, perhaps, they have shaped you whether recalled or not. They are the greats, whomever that is to you. I will not presume that you have read them all as I presume you have not of me.
I am the worm that crawls through the socket, I know nothing but that which I devour. Great names, worthy souls. Men who wrote books.
That is the beauty of the title of this post. "Another Sort of Learning" penned by James V. Schall and available from Ignatius Press will point you on the road to a Liberal education the likes of which you never saw in college. A book for everyman, corpses or not.
Take my word- please. Take my freedom, please...but don't take my copy.
This book keeps me creeping back in time to a more subtle romance with the written word.
It is less infatuation as it is age and decay. It is the foul rotting bodies of the authors spoken of in this great volume (truly literal) that keeps me coming back year after year to discover the face behind the corpse. The men behind the facade. The word.
What fascinates me is that they still speak, hundreds to thousands of years beyond the pale. What scintillates me is that they make sense at all, that I can sense all they did though not in the words they happened to spew, but that they did it, and I understand that they did, why they did and how.
I wish to be a thousand years dead so I could know them. They will remain unnamed for you will know them when they call and I shouldn't presume that they will be read anymore. But yet, perhaps, they have shaped you whether recalled or not. They are the greats, whomever that is to you. I will not presume that you have read them all as I presume you have not of me.
I am the worm that crawls through the socket, I know nothing but that which I devour. Great names, worthy souls. Men who wrote books.
That is the beauty of the title of this post. "Another Sort of Learning" penned by James V. Schall and available from Ignatius Press will point you on the road to a Liberal education the likes of which you never saw in college. A book for everyman, corpses or not.
Take my word- please. Take my freedom, please...but don't take my copy.
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