Children are akin to potato chips . . . it’s pretty hard to stop at just one. My wife and I wanted a big family. Four kids later, we’ve got a biggish family going, but it could always be bigger.

But, then there’s Providence. As a married couple we participate in the creative act, but we do not control it. It’s the Author of life who controls that switch.

A baby starts out so fragile and improbable . . . the Imago Dei (Image of God) imprinted on a material being no bigger than a single cell! In nine months, the hidden becomes the revealed. Birth is the first opportunity for lover and beloved to embrace. Many a parent however, never experiences this life changing moment due to miscarriage. Many a parent forfeits it voluntarily through abortion.

For the pre-born who were never born, their purpose and existence were not and are not meaningless. On the contrary (and ironically), their humanity and personhood is more real and fulfilled than is ours, the living.

I ran across a story on HotAir.com about a 4 year old who apparently had an out-of-body experience during emergency surgery for a burst appendix. This child was gravely ill and his prognosis for survival was very low. He was medically at death’s door. Immaterially, he passed through it. What he experienced illumines who the pre-born exactly are . . . they are we.

Colton Burpo, after he miraculously survived his emergency surgery, was able to describe to his parents in detail what they were doing while he was being operated upon . . .

OK, so maybe the kid’s a deductive genius and described things his parents normally did (never mind that he also described their location).

But, Colton also described meeting his great grandfather while he was being operated upon. He was not able to pick him out in family pictures, until the Burpo family ran across a picture of the great grandfather as a young man.

OK, so maybe the kid has a good imagination, but then again, the kid described the man’s personality and described interactions between his father and his great grandfather that occurred when his own dad was just a child.

But, here’s the kick in the head . . . the post surgery Colton Burpo approached his mom one day and stated that he has two sisters, and then, point blank told his mother that a baby died in her tummy. The mother was speechless, speechless because it was true. She had miscarried. Colton had a living sister and a dead one. Colton went on to tell his parents how he met his sister in Heaven.

It’s a telling, goose-bump inducing tale of the unmitigated humanity of the unborn. Colton did not meet a product of conception. He met a person. He met his sister. She knew him and now he knows her. Life is short and it’s already later than we think. Colton will be reunited with his heavenly sister someday. Even a long life is but a blink in the expanse of time.

So, to those who mourn a miscarriage or to those who mourn and regret an abortion, you’ve got a heavenly advocate. You know someone close to God . . . a kind of closeness not possible on this side of the veil. It’s your child. Consider him or her a part of your family . . . they are no less human than you . . . in fact, they are more so. And, they already know and love you.

And finally, to a child I hope to meet someday and who we barely knew graced our lives, this message:

Raphael, no less a child
Than those I hold dear in the ramparts against the night
No less my beloved,
No less my precious.
How we would have laughed.
How we would have raced,
Embraced in the verve of two beating hearts.
In Providence, I trust I shall know you . . .
How shall I reach Heaven?
Like a cannonball,
With one among infinite reason,
That we shall meet more dearly,
Lovely Raphael.

Source of story on Colton Burpo: HotAir.com

I am of course referring to Lady Gaga’s Alejandro music video. But, before I discuss the video and provide a link to it, some explanation of the context in which this post is written, is necessary . . .

I’m a religious fellow and therefore do not view reality in the same way as a reductive materialist who sees reality as composed exclusively of the material world (i.e. matter, energy, known forces of the physical universe). In contrast to the reductive materialist, I regard reality as also being composed of an immaterial world, of which our soul (that is, our intellect and will) is a part of.

A brief example which nicely highlights the difference between a reductive materialist and a religious fellow lies in the differing viewpoints on the brain and the mind. A reductive materialist would make the case that mind equals the physical brain (that the two are actually one in the same). I disagree (and not just on faith alone); the brain is material, but the mind is immaterial. The two are not the same. So, my religious view and the view of a reductive materialist really are very drastically different ways of conceptualizing, appreciating, and even living in reality!

As a religious fellow, I recognize that wickedness in the world is not exclusively the product of the malice of man or serendipity (i.e. bum luck). In contrast to the reductive materialist, I believe that there are also immaterial forces at play, and when man wittingly or unwittingly collaborates with those forces, great evil on a national or even global scale is unleashed; witness, for examples, the intransience of abortion despite its intrinsic horror, or the concerted attack on the traditional family courtesy of the gay rights agenda. The scale and the success of these agendas represent human malice in cooperation with spiritual evils (who also have both intellect and will). This makes these issues not just a matter of the sundry machinations of plain old, vanilla human folly, but a matter of greater complexity and greater durability. The dangers here are in part hidden from purely human eyes, but are entirely premeditated and strategic (i.e. a specific goal is fully intended).

Another example of an immaterially supercharged phenomenon, in my opinion, is the vast and exponentially quick corruption of entertainment media. How quickly we’ve descended the inferno, going from Mayberry in the late 1950’s to Lady Gaga’s Alejandro music video in 2010.

As an adult, especially if you are a parent, grandparent, uncle, aunt, Godparent, scout leader, coach, teacher, or whatever puts you in proximity of someone under the age of 18, you really should take in Lady Gaga’s video for her hit song, Alejandro. Why? Because, you can bet the farm that kids . . . young kids in elementary school . . . are already watching that video, loving that video, and being influenced by that video. Watch it yourself, so that you can arm yourself.

Here, go out and invest the time to see it. Click here. I’ll wait till you’re back.

So, like I said, it’s a pretty far cry from the adventures of Sheriff Andy Taylor in sleepy little Mayberry. This video is poisonous and symptomatic of the vast corruption of the entertainment media in general (truly, there be dragons here . . . ancient ones as a matter of fact). This video is nothing less than a predator and the prey are your children, your grandchildren, your nieces and nephews, and by proxy the family and culture. In it you’ve got a slick presentation of homoerotic imagery, brutal-animalistic sex, pornography, and a severe mocking of Christianity through an attack on a perennially favorite whipping boy, the Catholic Church. The predators are not just Lady Gaga’s bank account (and those of her promoters). The more cunning and more dangerous of those predators are the immaterial ones . . . the wickedness in high places (Ephesians 6:12). Gaga is just another tool in their hands, but she is the latest and greatest version of a tool . . . and much like a more advanced gun, its lethality is ever increasing.

I know we must attend to the details of politics . . . supporting candidates, arguing the implications of policy, getting out the vote, but to ignore other worldly dangers is to play a form of Russian Roulette on a cultural and, eventually, eternal level. To allow your little Johnny or Susie to wantonly indulge in MTV and in pop culture in general is to go way beyond the simple confines of “entertainment” and enter, full bore, into the realm of character, soul, and one’s very relationship with the one and only God who created little Johnny or Susie.

Lady Gaga’s Alejandro music video is not just a video in precisely the same sense that the new, little brown, irregularly shaped spot on your face isn’t just a freckle. It’s death (Genesis 3:4).

Provincetown has a public school system there to educate the young, and a fair motto for them could very well be, “A Trojan for Every Tot,” or maybe, “Sex Before Eight is Great,” . . . Oh, on second thought scratch that last one; it’s already taken by NAMBLA (North American Man Boy Love Association). There could be a copyright infringement if Provincetown used it too.

The School Committee of the Provincetown School System . . . in an act of progressive wisdom . . . has mandated the provision of condoms to children as young as first grade. Kindergarten, in their opinion, is simply too young, but first grade? “Game On!” they say. Also, the school committee ordered school officials to not honor any parental objections to their condom program. The school makes a better parent anyway, so sayeth the progressive.

First graders can’t say a prayer in school or even have a moment of silence, but they can get themselves a cornucopia of condoms.

News Source

]]> http://www.redstate.com/mailloux/2010/06/25/a-mind-is-a-terrible-thing-to-waste-when-after-all-you-can-simply-corrupt-it-instead/ Promoted from the diaries. -ed.

I had the great pleasure of seeing Pope John Paul II in 1993 during the World Youth Day events held in Denver, Colorado. I have fond memories of that time, for it was a very moving and influential experience.

But, it was also punctuated by debate. On many street corners anti-Catholic groups were handing out literature to the throngs of Catholic pilgrims who were making their way from event to event. The anti-Catholic groups were actively proselytizing by engaging World Youth Day participants in conversations both civil and not so civil.

No one in authority stopped the non-Catholic groups from their efforts to proselytize the Catholic pilgrims (many of which were high school and college age). And, speaking as a Catholic who was at the event, I’m glad for that. I took the literature, read it, and engaged in conversations. For goodness sake, they were handing me a pamphlet, not pointing a gun at me. They told me I was going to hell by virtue of being Catholic. I disagreed and stated my case as to why. There was freedom here. There were spirited conversations. There were challenges and questions proposed, some fair and some patently unfair. You could choose to engage in debate or you could choose not to. There was no, as far as I could tell, disorderly conduct. We, both the Catholics and the anti-Catholics, were Americans exercising our rights to free expression and freedom of religion.

Fast forward now to 2010, to Dearborn, Michigan, where an Arab Cultural Festival was recently held … a group of 3 Christians stood outside of the festival grounds and peacefully handed out the Gospel of John presented in both English and Arabic. They did not harass. They did not throw about epithets. They simply handed out a book for anyone willing to take one.

A picture is worth a thousand words and a video can be worth exponentially more. Watch below, via Powerline Blog:

Do you see the difference between the World Youth Day event in 1993 and the Dearborn Arab Cultural Festival?! What country is this … China? Or, even more pointedly: Saudi Arabia?

Sharia law forbids the proselytizing of Muslims and the conversion of Muslims. Creeping Sharia is a term used to describe a slow indoctrination and institutionalization of Sharia law. If this doesn’t fit the bill for creeping Sharia, then I simply don’t know what does. And, if this isn’t alarming, then we might as well go back to sleep, but don’t be surprised if you wake up in a very different America.

Editor’s note: See also Sharia heating up in Dearborn.

Incidences like the Fort Hood massacre happen, yet official reports omit explanative terms relating to motive, like “Islamicist” or “Jihadist”. Riots occur with frightening regularity in Muslim neighborhoods in European cities, and all we hear about are “disgruntled youth” or “unemployed youth”. Despite rioters’ cries of “Allahu Akbar” (translation: God is the Greatest), the media is loathed to mention Islam.

Then, there’s a long historical record of anti-Semitism in Islamic cultures, yet all we hear by way of explanation from the media (and higher education, and governments, and the entertainment industry, and etc.) is that the “catastrophe” of Israel’s founding in 1948 caused all the Muslim animosity toward the Jews. Helen Thomas, that washed up old crackpot, was still lucid enough to express a commonly held misperception in western circles . . . that only if the Jews left Israel and went back to Germany and Poland, everything would be hunky dory. Never-ever should one propose the hypothesis that Islam is anti-Semitic. Such a hypothesis should never-ever be subject to inquiry. Its mere mention . . . well, it’s . . . it’s . . . it’s downright RACIST! Some things . . . like Islam for instance . . . are exempt from inquiry.

Hogwash! We were given by God an intellect for a reason. Our intellect is part of what make us created in the image and likeness of God. We can and should use it to seek truth . . . to investigate . . . to reason . . . to search for evidence scientific, historical, and philosophical . . . to build cases . . . to yearn to discern what God knows and what he equipped us to find out. Faith and reason were never meant to be at odds.

And, by no means am I suggesting that Islam be targeted and mercilessly ridiculed. Honest inquiry and ridicule are two very different things that have become confounded in our politically correct, western world. If the subject at hand (Islam, for example) is afforded any sort of victim status, then the pc world, in an Orwellian maneuver, equates inquiry with ridicule . . . hence, the racist meme.

So what’s the antidote for the pc juggernaut? It’s a combination of good, old fashioned resolve and a thick skin. Simply put, the pc version of reality must be jettisoned, and the accusations of racist must be summarily dismissed . . . one must develop an immunity to this cringe inducing blackjack of the progressives. It’s OK to honestly inquire. It’s OK to use your God-given faculties to discern truth.

And, I try to practice what I preach. I teach catechism to 9th and 10th graders in my parish. When I greet a new class each year, I challenge them right away: “Why are you here?” “Is there a God?” “Is Jesus Christ the Son of God or was he just a nice moral guy who had charisma and a way with words?” “Was Jesus a prophet who predicted the coming of Mohammed?” “Is reincarnation true?” Most of these questions are not at all novel among the 9th and 10th grade students. Most have thought these very thoughts or ones quite similar. After all, they have an intellect and they are naturally inclined to use it.

So then, the catechism class proceeds to inquire. Honest inquiry and debate are welcome. They aren’t portrayed as blasphemous. I build a case that God exists and we discuss the pros and cons of the arguments. Eventually, we approach Josh McDowell’s Trilemma, asking the following question concerning the person of Jesus Christ: “Was Christ Lord, lunatic, or liar?” McDowell’s Trilemma is a later version of C.S. Lewis’ character argument concerning Jesus Christ, simply put as, “Jesus Christ was either God or bad man.” We then make the case as if we were in a court of law. All evidence is used, biblical, historical, archeological, scientific. We are inquirers with inquiring minds who are on an honest search for truth. Let the chips fall where they may.

This same approach, however, does not seem to be a welcome idea among many Muslims. Proposing a Trilemma about Mohammad (i.e. “Was he prophet, lunatic, or liar?”) may be considered un-Islamic. Even drawing a nice picture of Mohammed is considered anathema among many Muslims. How much more so would a Trilemma sort of inquiry be considered an unforgivable affront? In fact, in many Muslim countries in the world, conversion from Islam is punishable by death . . . that sends a clear message that honest inquiry, which is integral to a conversion experience, is not welcome.

Here in western civilization we are expected to mill about our collective living room, sipping our cocktails whilst an elephant wanders about ignored largely out of fear. The elephant tramples some of the fine furniture and might even crush a guest or two, but no one dares mention its burgeoning presence. Islam is a growing religion in the west. Mosques are going up faster than Walmarts. Colleges are abandoning their dedication to the “separation of church and state” and are building foot baths in public bathrooms to accommodate Muslim students. Cutting edge Comedy Central cows to jihadist threats and censors South Park. Innocent men, women, and children lose their lives in terrorist acts, and the last human utterance they hear before death is “God is the Greatest” (Allahu Akbar). Jews in several Muslim nations are regularly referred to as pigs and dogs; even their children’s TV shows include such references. Israel as a Jewish nation is regularly threatened with annihilation, not so much on political grounds as on religious ones.

The elephant in the room is here. He’s big and he means business. Islam is the elephant in the living room of western civilization. The religion was founded by Mohammad. Either he was what he said he was, The Prophet, or he was a lunatic or a liar or some combination of lunatic and liar. If that Trilemma argument can be fairly applied to Jesus Christ, then it can be fairly applied to Mohammad. This is exactly the debate that needs doing. It isn’t blasphemy. It’s the just application of our God-given intellect.

By no means do I have all the answers to all the questions. But, I am slowly and surely inquiring. I want the truth because in the truth we will find real progress and genuine freedom. To ignore that elephant in the living room of western civilization is the first fatal step in cultural suicide. As you sip your Manhattan and fret about American hegemony, an elephant saunters your way. Better take notice of it right away, and second, inquire about it.

There are probably lots of morals in that story, but the one I want to highlight is that God often works through his creation to bring about good to and for man. In fact, that very idea may have even been part of the message Christ was communicating when he cured a blind man by making a paste of mud and spit and then applying that to the blind man’s eyes (John 9:6). This course of action was unnecessary for God. He could have merely willed it and the fellow’s eyesight would have been restored to 20/20 vision. Instead, he deliberately included his creation (mere dirt) in the miracle. Perhaps, in this biblical story, there’s another subtle message apart from the divinity of Christ. Maybe the subtle, tangential message is that God created the natural world as good . . . and, man is both its steward and benefactor.

The progress of science has done wonders to lengthen and improve the lives of mankind. And, such progress is certainly not contrary to God, but rather intended by him. The just and moral use of creation to benefit man is perfectly natural, given man’s God-granted status as steward of the natural world.

Sometimes, we may even discern a glimpse of God’s wisdom in creation and man’s stewardship of it, despite our limited, finite intellect. Take for example the existence of dinosaurs. Lots of irreligious people and plenty of atheists like to point out this era of earth’s history as something that’s somehow contradictory to Christianity or for that matter, the existence of an intelligent designer in the first place. But in the age of the dinosaurs, perhaps there was design, wisdom, and foresight of a divine nature which intended, all along, the good of mankind. Take a stroll though any hospital and tally the ways in which petroleum products have improved the lives of men. They are countless and impressive. Our progress in being stewards and certainly benefactors of the natural world is very likely intimately tied to the time of the dinosaurs, for it was thanks to that era in earth’s history that we have the foundation for oil and thus, petroleum products. Maybe that age was much like the boats sent to rescue the elderly lady caught in the flood . . . sent for our benefit (By the way, I’m familiar with the theories of the late Thomas Gold who hypothesized that oil doesn’t come from long dead plants and critters, but instead from some inorganic source deep in the earth. Some deep drilling was conducted in the 1990’s in Sweden with the purpose of testing Gold’s theories; the results turned out to be inconclusive. In the end though, perhaps it will be discovered someday that oil can come about from both organic and inorganic processes. Who knows? Time coupled with good scientific inquiry will eventually tell us more, but as of this date, more scientists seem to be in the organic camp.).

Now, fast-forward to 2010 and along come headlines about the creation of a synthetic, living cell. At first blush, the sensationalist headlines seem to imply that we’ve matched God with respect to his status as Creator. Upon closer inspection though, it isn’t anywhere near the faculties of God. This achievement is still firmly in the realm of man. It’s still classified under stewardship of the natural world . . . only a more sophisticated version of stewardship. Here’s what they did . . . through the study of DNA, scientists were able to create some of their own in the laboratory (that’s the “synthetic” part) and then inject that into a living cell, which ended up treating it like regular old DNA. In this new development, the laboratory created software (the genomes) was able to direct the cell into changing into a species of bacteria indicated by scientists.

Like any other development, scientists have great hopes and ideals for what they’ve just done, and ethicists have just as many concerns and warnings. This discovery has the potential to benefit mankind, and it also has the potential to be abused and do damage to mankind. That, however, is the responsibility and true gravity of stewardship. It is what God entrusted to us as creatures created in His image and likeness.

Discoveries like the so-called “synthetic” cell are often enough used . . . very deceptively, might I add . . . as weaponry for vehemently anti-Christian hacks like, for example, Charles Johnson of the Little Green Footballs blog. Their uber-faith in science goes way, way beyond the idea of stewardship and well into the idiotic, false-at-face-value idea of human deity. In other words, it’s the re-rearing of that old Garden of Eden fault whereby man wants very much to be his own god. Science can create life so ha-ha, there is no God but man! Evolution expands into Evolutionism and haughtily declares that there is no God. It is a story literally as old as man himself . . . the pride fueled, self-elevation to deity status. In this error, scientific discoveries are spun as proof of atheism. In this error, the need for faith, which is built into man, is filled with a religionized science in the hopes of appeasing the crater in man’s heart, a crater which can only be filled by God.

In our era, science has been divorced from its friendship with religion. Instead of helping man to discern the wonders of God and become better stewards of the creation He entrusted to us, it’s used to attack the very existence of God. In fact, in many cases, it has become a competitive religion. This is an unfortunate development. And, it’s also a call to remind a forgetful culture that God gave us this creation to discover and utilize. In so doing, we, like any steward, should ever appreciate the generosity of the giver and the awesome responsibility of the job. The so-called synthetic cell is not man being God, but man in the often hazardous business of stewardship. At the end of the day though, God is still the boss.

The diary that follows is Christian in nature and in particular, Catholic. It’s about an element of the culture war that is decisively harmful to the basic building block of a healthy society: the attack on human sexuality and by proxy therefore, marriage and family. It is, I hope, interesting, informational, and thought provoking. If it inspires even one person out there to consider and act, then it has done its job.

If this topic, presentation, and context is not your cup of tea, then now is a good time to click out of this diary and read instead one of the other diaries on RedState, many of which are very well written, very well researched, and quite informative. But, if you want to soldier on with this diary, I thank you in advance. Even better, if you read it and like it, then I pray you also act on it.

Here’s the actual diary . . .

In 1920, a gravely ill visionary (in the Church approved apparition of Fatima) spoke to the Mother Superior of an orphanage in Lisbon, Portugal. The visionary was Jacinta, a ten year old girl, who at the time was staying at the orphanage, away from her family, while being treated for the Spanish Plague. This illness would soon take her life within weeks of her arrival in Lisbon. However, some of her words, spoken as her death approached, are prescient. What she talked about then . . . in 1920 . . . did not pick up real steam until 40+ years later. Now, the phenomenon of which she spoke is much like an out of control locomotive careening down a steep grade . . . in other words, it’s dangerous and deadly.

Little, 10 year old Jacinta, articulated, with gravity and wisdom, the future increase and toll of the sins of the flesh. Here are her words:

The sins which lead most souls to hell are sins of the flesh! Certain fashions are going to be introduced which will offend Our Lord very much. Those who serve God should not follow these fashions. The Church has no fashions; Our Lord is always the same. Many marriages are not good; they do not please Our Lord and are not of God.

So then, what are the fashions that would be introduced post 1920? The list is tirelessly long and ugly. It is the kind of list that inspires despair. There are, to name just a few: abortion; widespread divorce; living together outside the bond of marriage; pre-marital sex; the homosexual marriage/rights movement; the easily accessed and widespread availability of pornography; the early sexualization of children (e.g. witness Bratz dolls, adult looking clothing for pre-teens, etc.); sexting among teens (the sending of nude pictures to friends via cell phone); etc., etc., ad nauseam. The 20th century and the early 21st century have been a cornucopia for sins of the flesh (secularly known as “the sexual revolution”).

Really, when you stop and reflect on it, you can’t even go through the checkout line at your local Piggly Wiggly without being visually assaulted with magazine images that 50 years ago would have been wrapped in brown paper and stowed away behind the counter. Turn on the TV, 24 hours a day, and you’ll be confronted with the same message, and that is, “Sex is for anytime, anywhere, with as many as you can.” If you don’t believe me, then take in a little MTV, the popular cable music channel beloved by so many teens. Heck, come to think of it, you don’t even need MTV to get a full-on dose of Jacinta’s long ago warning. Just pick up a copy of Red Book, a popular woman’s magazine, and you’ll be treated to an all-out, ringing endorsement of anal sex.

And, the fashions forewarned by Jacinta are having their desired effects. Sharlene Azam recently published a book and a documentary called, “Oral Sex is the New Goodnight Kiss.” In her research among teens and preteens, she found much evidence of casual sex, multiple partners, and even prostitution. The attitude toward sex among the children in her documentary is that it’s no big deal. In fact, they view sex as both leisure and power. “If it feels good, then just do it,” is their motto. Sex for them is the equivalent of a pickup game of baseball, or a casual game of Yahtzee among friends. It’s also a means of power and enrichment. Many of the girls in the documentary engage frequently in what can only be defined as prostitution. They trade sex for money so they can have more cash for shopping sprees.

All in all, the fashions and fruits of the sexual revolution have been destructive in this life and promise to be eternally deadly in the next life as well. Further, we are told by no less than Christ himself that we are to fear eternal repercussions more so than the merely earthly ones. In Matthew 10:28, Christ said, “Do not fear those who kill the body but are unable to kill the soul; but rather fear him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.” Sins of the flesh destroy both body and soul, and are, according to Our Lady via Jacinta, a plague upon mankind that will lead many to hell.

But, also promised by Christ is the assertion that the gates of hell shall never prevail against the Church (Matthew 16:18). And, despite relentless attempts by both sinful man and demonic assaults, the promise has always been kept. To combat the rise and consequential destruction levied by the sins of the flesh, the Church was given Pope John Paul II, who penned the Theology of the Body. This formalized, Christian view of human nature, human sexuality, and marriage is truly the salve for the disease of the fashions predicted by Jacinta.

In Theology of the Body, our eyes our opened to the nature of mankind being created as male and female. The understanding offered by Theology of the Body goes way beyond mere description or the draconian imposition of rules. It quarries the deeper question of, “Why?” And, it does so in a manner that is readily understandable by those who may need it most . . . like the teens and tweens that appear in Sharlene Azam’s documentary, “Oral Sex is the New Goodnight Kiss.”

Theology of the Body ties together revealed truths about who we are as creatures of both body and soul. It encompasses the idea of vocation (marriage vs. single life vs. religious life), honor (i.e. the ability to both recognize and keep a promise, even a future one), and human sexuality in the context of marriage. It shows that sex in marriage is a sacred and integral component of the Sacrament of Marriage. Sex in marriage is a material expression of supernatural truths. To understand this is to discover a pearl of incalculable value, and this isn’t the kind of pearl that’s meant to be placed on a pedestal, shelved, and untouched by human hands. Rather, it’s the kind that’s supposed to be joyfully lived. Theology of the Body is good news.

Our responsibility to our children is serious business. It’s also wondrous and a privilege in the extreme, for we are mentors to eternal souls, entrusted with the well being of individuals whom our Lord and God suffered and died for specifically. In children, we are gifted by God with what He obviously sees as priceless. It is up to us then to take the bull by the horns and do something about the fashions foretold by Jacinta in 1920. It is we who must rise to the call to be instruments in God’s hands for the evangelization of the world, and there’s no better place to start than with our own children. Theology of the Body will equip them to stand athwart the overbearing influences of our age which lead, with certainty, to the abuse and abasement of human sexuality. And lead, as Jacinta warned, to hell. The stakes truly are high.

For Catholic parents, parishes, and even interested non-Catholics, there are many excellent resources that teach Theology of the Body at the level of middle school to high school education; just when, by the way, the world and the demonic are doing a full court press to win over the mind (i.e. soul) of your child. Christopher West, for example, is a popular and readable author (i.e. not so philosophical as to lose the interest of the average Joe or Jane). His materials come in the forms of books, CD’s, and even videos. Churches may be interested in Ascension Press’ Theology of the Body for Teenagers. This is an entire course which can be integrated into a Church’s catechism. In is fine-tuned, in its theology and presentation, for the intellect and maturity of a teenager. It will provide a soup to nuts understanding of the human need for love, the human person, sexuality, and how sexuality fits beautifully within spirituality and our relationship with God. Theology of the Body for Teenagers is quick becoming a tried and true catechetical program in many dioceses throughout the nation. More information about Theology of the Body for Teenagers may be found at Ascension Press’ website.

The world is full of many kinds of wolf packs, and as Jacinta warned in 1920, the sins of the flesh would come on strong in the 20th century, resulting in a particularly ravenous pack leading many on a wide and easy path to hell. As parents, clergy, and parish, we are obligated to protect our children from this danger, and a major part of protecting them is educating them and nurturing within each child, a conscience formed by Christ. Pope John Paul II’s greatest contribution, Theology of the Body, does just that.

Here’s the first thing I’d like to punch with spinach induced fortification: I’d like to rid these United States of its preoccupation with victimhood as a result of race. Chasing phantom racists around every corner is a giant waste of time and divisive. It doesn’t help society. It doesn’t forward the cause of justice. It does, however, do harm in myriad ways. And, it costs a whole helluva lot of money. So much tax dollars are spent on “diversity” and promulgating this malignant philosophy throughout the K-12 system, higher education, community organizations, and business. Waste. Of. Money. Here’s a not so novel idea: Judge people based on character and not pigmentation; some famous guy, I think, once said something along those lines.

OK, time for another can of spinach and another punch. GLBTQ. For those unaware of this acronym, it stands for Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, and Questioning. This is another cottage industry hoping to make you feel guilt-shame-remorse over any dedication you might have to traditional marriage and the rearing of children (by the way, the GLBTQ crowd has a name for you . . . they call you, with a sneer, “breeders”, deliberately reducing traditional marriage to the status of livestock. Nice, huh? I’ve heard the comment, always said with venom, more times than I’d care to count.). GLBTQ is a well funded movement that has taken deep, deep roots in the K-12 system, higher education, and even in some business environments. People actually get paid . . . quite well, actually . . . to make sure you regard what they do with their unmentionables as a civil right. Really, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that Allen Funt was about to walk out onto the scene and declare, “Surprise, you’re on Candid Camera!” I do sometimes say to myself, “this has got to be a joke.” But, alas, it’s not. This movement is a genuine threat to society because it actively and poignantly attacks a foundational element of a healthy society: traditional marriage.

So, what’s the next can of spinach for? The kowtowing tolerance for radical Islam. Slap a funny hat on your head and grow a ratty looking beard fit for a hobo, and you can pretty much say anything you want, up to and including advocating a new 21st century holocaust of the Jews. When you join the Islamist club, you become an underprivileged minority, and the rest of us are supposed to feel nothing but sympathy for your plight and, of course, guilt for our hegemonious ways. We are supposed to tolerate your insanity and, at the same time, agonize over whether or not we’ve committed racial profiling, or whether we’ve insulted Muhammad by drawing a cartoon of him, or whether we’re culturally intolerant because we’re uncomfortable about your desire to have your daughters undergo a clitorectomy, or even kill them to protect your “honor.” Even when you go about slaughtering innocents in the name of Allah, we’re supposed to grovel and search about for any other explanation besides Islam; maybe the reason behind your homicidal outburst was because you were picked on due to your religion. Nonsense! I reject it. For you, it’s a can of spinach and a punch.

And finally, there’s the utter contempt for Christianity embraced and expressed by the leftists and progressives. Christianity has been equated with western civilization, which is something that they’re dearly hoping to eradicate. They can safely tolerate everything and anything else . . . you name it, anything from shamanism to reiki. It’s all OK, as long as it’s not that problematic old Christianity. That must be ostracized from the public square. Separation of church and state is their rallying cry and, let’s be honest, it pertains to Christianity only. Well, guess what? Not all Christians are peace and justice squishes. From the people who brought you the crusades, we now bring spinach and a punch.

With the constant bombardment of news that shouldn’t ever be news (much of this nonsense shouldn’t have been tolerated in the first place), it’s sometimes healthy to gird your loins and say, “That’s all I can stands, cuz I can’t stands n’more!” It’s way past time to shed the straightjacket of politically correct mores and be a frontline culture warrior with the proud motto of: “The only way you’re going to take my western civilization is by prying it from my cold, dead hands.”

“Clitorectomy!” You say. “That’s unfair! That’s grossly sensationalistic! That only pertains to faraway parts of the world, among backwater tribes in Asia or Africa. That’s not the United States.”

Au Contraire. The American Academy of Pediatrics is now suggesting that doctors be allowed to perform a ceremonial procedure whereby the physician (Do no harm, huh?) administers a nick to the clitoris of a barely pubescent minor. This new procedure (the banality of evil requires that we call it a “procedure”) is being recommended as a way of trying to prevent Muslim parents of Asian or African descent from sending their young daughters overseas to endure a brutal, barbaric anti-woman desecration of their God-given anatomy. It is the express hope of the American Academy of Pediatrics that the largely ceremonial procedure (after all, it’s just a nick, right?) will appease the needs of these parents to abuse their children.

This, of course, is a 180 degree reversal from the “just-plain-no-to-clitorectomies” position previously held by the American Academy of Pediatrics. The health and safety of women . . . in this case, young girls . . . has been trumped by multi-culti sensitivity to Islam. I guess it would be a PC faux-paux to insist that clitorectomies are wrong, Wrong, WRONG! And, that this procedure should be forever banned in the United States . . . piss on the sensitivities of some Muslim parents who want to maim their children for religious reasons. In fact, the better method of dealing with clitorecomies in the United States is to enforce and strengthen criminal laws against it. Parents engaged in this barbarity should be charged with sexual mutilation, serve hard prison time, and be placed on sexual offender lists. Our culture’s reaction should not be accommodating in the name of kowtowing to creeping Sharia. Our culture’s reaction should be the equivalent of Sir Charles Napier, a British general in India in the mid 1800’s. In responding to a delegation of Hindu leaders irate with the British for banning the ritual burning of widows (live ones) along with their freshly dead husbands, Sir Napier famously responded:

“You say that it is your custom to burn widows. Very well. We also have a custom: when men burn a woman alive, we tie a rope around their necks and we hang them. Build your funeral pyre; beside it, my carpenters will build a gallows. You may follow your custom. And then we will follow ours.”

Clitorectomies and burning widows are not our custom. Rather than accommodating, like the PC reaction of the American Academy of Pediatrics, we should instead be building a gallows. Multi-Culti be damned.

And, then of course, there’s the contemptible and completely useless National Organization for Women (NOW). The so-called modern protectors of women’s rights in the United States know their place in the progressive, liberal-left family . . . barefoot, burqa’d, and bereft of clitoris. NOW’s reaction to the recent announcement of the American Academy of Pediatrics has been a deafening silence . . . and in that silence is their tacit approval. The acronym of NOW needs an update. It needs one more “O” to signify what it really is: NOOW, the National Organization for the Oppression of Women.

Source of Information on the American Academy of Pediatrics’ announcement: Pamela Geller at AtlasShrugs.com. Please note; there are some disturbing pictures that accompany her excellent and thorough account.

So then, who exactly are the GBWITS worshipping and why is it a problem?

First, the identity (the ‘who’ question) of the Great Benign Whatever in the Sky: The GBWITS bow before (even when they don’t think they bow) the fictional equivalent of a deified Barney the Purple Dinosaur. Forget about harsh deserts and golden calves; that’s so Old Testament! In the 21st century, there is a kinder, gentler, softer false god. He’s the fellow (or gal or whatever you want to assign it as) that’s there in a crisis, but can be bum-rushed out the door when times are gay (as in happy . . . and yes, I’m taking back the word, so there!). He’s the deity who stresses “judge not, lest ye be judged” as the cardinal guiding principle above love/worship of him and love of neighbor. Best of all, he assures all his adherents, the GBWITS, that they are good enough as is and not as he intended them to be; therefore, he has smote guilt with a wave of his plush purple hand and he has justified you by you alone and not his grace. You’re a good person just as you are . . . no improvement needed. There are no longer any real prodigal sons, because in the 21st century version of the parable, the destitute, suffering son does not have to reject his life amongst the swine. Instead, all he need do is flip open his cell phone and call the Great Benign Whatever in the Sky, who will help convince him that the swine are really pearls and the husks are really filet mignon.

That answers the question of who the GBWITS are worshipping. Now, why is it a problem?

Turns out the GBWITS are the unwitting heirs of the-commies-of-old’s penchant to eradicate religion. Instead of confiscating church property and imprisoning clergy and worshippers in re-education camps, it’s far more economical and efficient to simply water the potency of religion down into an inert and benign weak tea. It’s still there mind you, but has now been rendered harmless (the next best thing to total eradication!). It’s the equivalent of taking Narnia’s Lion, Aslan, and declawing him, extracting all teeth, and stuffing him with downy cotton. Much better, eh? Well, at least for the GBWITS, it’s much, much better.

How about the fruits of the GBWITS? What exactly are they? One way to appreciate the fruits of the GBWITS is to examine some of their litany prayers. Instead of praying “Thy will be done, Thy kingdom come” or “Lord, hear our prayer,” they respond with a half-hearted, almost narcotic “Whatever”. Here, let me give you a few examples of a typical litany:

The family, the bedrock of a healthy society, is under great duress and attack . . . whatever!

Abortion has achieved (and continues to achieve) a holocaust of epic proportions, the envy even of madmen like Hitler . . . whatever!

Islamic Jihadists are itching to tear down western civilization and replace it with a worldwide Caliphate . . . whatever!

Politicians no longer obfuscate, but brazenly lie, relying on a tepid response from the public encouraged by an outwardly partisan media . . . whatever!

Right and wrong and wrong and right are dynamic, fluid concepts that must adapt to the times, unless of course the wrong is committed against me personally; in that case, it’s absolute . . . whatever!

The in loco parentis of public schools has been expanded to government in general, making the government increasingly into not a facilitator of freedom, but an oppressor of it . . . whatever!

And, the litany of GBWIT fruits can go on and on, but consistent are the GBWITS’ response, which is an only more than happy, surfer-dude-esque “whatever!”

In all this, the GBWITS insist on wearing a crown fashioned from construction paper, or gained through the purchase of a Burger King children’s meal. They wield a scepter that hauntingly resembles an old toilet plunger salvaged from a dumpster. Their robes, on closer inspection, appear to be a discarded shower curtain speckled with Rorschachs of mildew. Yet, they peer into the mirror and see kings and queens, lords and ladies. They see monarchs with absolute authority, especially moral authority.

That’s the fantasy of the GBWITS. The reality, though, is that there really is a Lord and it’s not the GBWITS or their Barney the Dinosaur in the sky. There is sin. There is true justice, eternal and perfect. There is a need for contrition. There is a necessity for repentance. There is such a thing as salvation and alternatively, not salvation, which sometimes goes by the old time moniker of hell. There is a choice to be made. There are only two roads. And, most importantly, the response of “whatever”, benign though it may appear to be, is a most dangerous mantra. To chant it is to invite condemnation by one’s own hand.

The reality of God is that he is not a Great Benign Whatever in the Sky. He is not a grandiose spirit version of Barney the Dinosaur. He is Lord. He is Savior. The response befitting Him is not the lukewarm spittle of “whatever.”

The GBWITS have got it all wrong, and even if they mean no harm, they do so with profusion.

No doubt, my coworkers were influenced by the fact that all of the 9-11 killers were brown skinned. They had more pigmentation than all of my co-workers, and that made my coworkers squirm and question their own motives rather than be filled with righteous anger. I was certain then and am certain now that they believed, with all the religiosity of an apostle fresh from Pentecost, that racism underlay what they considered American hegemony.

In my time in academia, I’ve also been treated to full conferences, complete with travel and hotel accommodations (at taxpayer expense) on topics of multiculturalism, diversity, and inequity. Conferences such as these were mandated. I learned at them that I suffer from a permanent and incurable condition: white privilege. I learned at these affairs that there is another original sin, in white people only, which cannot be washed clean by Baptism. Alas, there’s no grace that can counter this fault. If you are white, then you are a racist, plain and simple. To deny it is to deny that you require food and water, that you have a beating heart in your chest, that you have lifeblood in your arteries rich and red with oxygen. It is what you are by virtue of how much pigment you were born with. And, there is no cure.

Race based ideology and its concomitant multiculturalism (i.e. no culture is better than any other with the one cardinal exception that western, white culture is the lesser of all others because it is inherently racist and imperialistic) are omnipresent and omniscient forces in higher education.  When you send your children to college, they will receive mammoth doses of these malignant ideas. Only a fool would believe that they will escape this treatment unaffected. Ideas are powerful. And, evil ones are like seeds planted in the immaterial mind which can sprout into full-on weeds, capable of choking truth from the human soul.

These evil ideologies . . . white privilege and multiculturalism . . . have seeped deeply into the American psyche. We are witness to their fruits when some voters were compelled to vote for the first African American to run competitively for the Presidency of the United States for no other reason than to prove their bona fides as tolerant persons, rather than basing their judgment on the qualifications and merit of the candidate. Few who actually voted in this manner will readily admit to it, but when you see how steeped they are in the mindset of white privilege, then this conclusion is not unwarranted.

And, let’s not forget the official Fort Hood report on the shootings that failed to mention Islamic radicalism and instead stressed the value of diversity. And now, of course, there’s Arizona making news on their legislation concerning the enforcement of illegal immigration laws. Arizona is also making headlines by sending a bill to the governor’s desk that would ban ethnic studies in their K-12 system. And, what is Arizona’s reward for these affronts against the dogmas of white privilege and multiculturalism? Calls for boycotts. Calls for professional baseball to pull the all star game from being played in Arizona. Calls to inflict economic pain on an entire state . . . on men, women, children, minorities, the elderly, on everyone.

So then, what is the remedy for the dogmas of white privilege and multiculturalism? The remedy is truth. And, to the best of my limited abilities, I declare the following:

1. We are all created equal by God, and in the image and likeness of God. White, western-culture people do not have an extra, irremovable stain upon their souls in the form of born-with, down-right genetic racism. Therefore, I am not inherently a racist by virtue of being born a white male in a western culture.

2. The amount of pigmentation in one’s skin is a physical trait that should carry no more weight than one’s eye color, or the length of one’s index finger.

3. Cultural differences exist and are derived from conditions such as the era in which people live, the climate, the economic conditions, religion, tribal traditions, etc. But, the differences are not caused, ipso facto, by the amount of pigmentation in their skin, nor is it caused by the length of their index fingers.

4. Not all cultures are equal. Some are indeed more virtuous than others. And some deserve to be condemned.

5. Qualifications and merit should be the driving force underlying candidacy for just about anything; political office, college entrance, that plum job. It is a crime of the multiculturalists whenever anyone looks at a minority in a position of power and wonders whether that person is there because of merit or because of affirmative action. And, I stress again that the crime lies with the multiculturalists and not with the person doing the wondering, for that person is not engaging in racism, but instead is using logic in a quite reasonable way.

6. Artificial division based on the amount of pigment in one’s skin damages the cohesion of the American people, and weakens us as a nation. A nation, by the way, which has brought more good to the world than any other in history. Multiculturalism and race-based ideologies directly threaten American Exceptionalism, which, in truth, is a key stabilizing force in the world.

7. Multiculturalism is an affront to the catholic (small ‘c’, as in universal) nature of Christianity. God is the author of diversity and each of us is a completely unique soul. However, we are also part of the oneness of humanity. Christ is the head and we are the body. The body is not composed of us and them. It’s composed of just ‘us’.  The division wrought by multiculturalism attacks this very element of Christianity. It is heretical.

8. Multiculturalism and all its trappings are themselves racist and do great harm to minority populations in the United States.

All in all, I declare my independence from the oppressions of multiculturalism and white privilege. My declaration is a tea party of the soul. I am saying no to these evil and dividing philosophies. I refuse to let them tread on me, and I refuse to cow to them. Instead, I embrace truth at whatever the cost for no other reason than truth is not a thing, but a person, fully human and fully divine. When I look at my fellow man, I see the image and likeness of God. I see Christ. I do not obsess on the amount of pigment God gave him. This I declare.

Enormous amounts of black citizens in the 21st century United States are shackled not by iron and writs of ownership, but by socialism, ironically run by the same damn plantation owners of the 1860’s, the Democrats. Shackles and whips have been replaced by addiction to a socialistically minded government. Second class citizenship is not by fiat of a Dred-Scott-like legal ruling, but implied by Affirmative Action. The black family in 21st century America need not be decimated by the selling of its family members to different plantations; instead, the family is destroyed through dependence on government; the degradation of marriage, family, and fatherhood; and the wholesale slaughter of black children courtesy of Planned Parenthood, founded by black-hating eugenicist Margaret Sanger.

Indeed, upon a little reflection, the slavery of the 21st century is far more insidious than its 19th century counterpart . . . for in the 21st century, one is “technically” free, yet not truly so because of dependence. The plantations of the late 1800’s are gone, replaced with new plantations coming in the form of voting booths. Instead of being forced to harvest cotton, the labor of the modern slave now involves picking Democrats on Election Day. A cadre of ACORN thugs takes the place of a white man with a whip.

But, April 1, 2010 is a new Emancipation Day. The new Lincolns are men like Bishop E.W. Jackson Sr., a retired black attorney who has formed the “STAND AMERICA PAC”. In effect, Bishop Jackson has declared war on the Democratic Party and on the Congressional Black Caucus. He states:

“The black community has been deceived into voting for liberal black leadership which does not reflect their values,” and, “It is a ‘Coalition of the godless.’ Black Christians do not belong in a ‘coalition of the godless,’ and should not vote for those who are.”

Bishop Jackson’s strategy is to reinvigorate the core values of the black community, which he strongly asserts are conservative and Christian. The Bishop’s PAC will encourage black voters to register as Independents and vote their values rather than vote Democrat by default.

Godspeed to Bishop Jackson. I hope and pray that his newly launched efforts through his STAND AMERICA PAC are effective and most fruitful. We are only weeks from April 1, 2010 when the STAND AMERICA PAC was formed, but may that date be one that will live in infamy among the Democrats. I pray to God that it may be a second Emancipation Day.

News Source: Lifesitenews

Several commentators of the post were very kind in suggesting that I consider expanding the post into a full length book. It never dawned on me to do so when I first wrote the post, but the idea has steadily grown on me.

A book version would not exclusively be about socialism, but about the culture war as explained by demonic forces encouraging our destruction by our own hands. As readers of my diaries are no doubt aware, I tend to stress the importance of the culture war, which in my opinion, underlies the political fight.

So, here is an excerpt of what I’ve written so far, constituting the preface and a first chapter. It’s admittedly long (for a single post). Hence, if you’re disinclined to give it a read, then I can’t rightly blame you, and now’s a good time to click onto a different diary. But, if you’d like to check it out, you have my gratitude. Let me know if it’s any good at all or whether it’s pure crap (by the way, I don’t bruise very easily).

Preferace: Ogglefern

I am part of an order. I am an element in a hierarchy, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am a unique person with wants, with needs, with passions. In fact, at my core, I am my own “I AM!” It cannot be otherwise; else, I would not be here. But still, although I am my own “I Am”, it comes with a cost . . . the hierarchy.

So where is here? It’s where the sliver of time consciously experienced as “the present” by human beasts is expanded infinitely in all directions . . . no past, no present; there is only “just is.” More importantly, the “here” of which I speak and exist is best characterized by what isn’t here. Him . . . that’s who’s not here, and good riddance to it.

As a result of my timeless decision, I have gained something infinitely more valuable. I have independence. I have my pride. And, although I don’t have whatever love is, I possess something tremendously more powerful. I have hate. Pride and hate. That’s real truth. Pride and Prejudice, a stupid monkey tome about a bunch of hags in search of mates missed the truth. The pursuit should have been the sensual massage of pride and the release of our pure joy, hate. Truly, a title more befitting reality would have been “Pride and Hate”. That’s truth. That’s me. That’s the order. It’s the hierarchy. It’s the kingdom.

Evil, by the way, isn’t banal, and I should know. It’s just easily bored, and that brings me to the point! I, an independent and free spirit, am about to embark on the ultimate elixir for what turns out to be the downside of our existence here: boredom. I have been elected to enter the fray. Mind you, this is an honor and it’s no small token to my pride . . . on the contrary, it’s downright ecstasy for it. I will go to the harvest, and my glory, vain though it may really be, will lie in how many of those adopted outrages I can bring back to “here,” for the pleasure of those above me and maybe even for him ultimately above me.

Mind you, not all get to go. Not even those who maybe even deserve to go. There is no rhyme or reason. There is only hierarchy. What’s important is that it’s me, wonderful, glorious, me. And when I’m in the fields, the pride and the hate will burn brightly, but there will be something else there too . . . something wonderful. There’ll be satiation. Pride and hate seesaw for eternity . . . the pair are a perpetual motion machine in the realms of pure spirit. They compete for primacy. They don’t compliment. When one is sated, the other tends to hunger. In the field, however, both are sated on the embodied souls of man.

There is much to learn about the art and the skill of harvesting. The wisdom of the field is passed from one to another from high to low. My various sages will pass enough of their knowing to me to assure my share. This I am confident of and it is this that I will journal, this very same knowledge. And, in doing so, those who read this journal will come to realize the worthiness of my lordship, my divinity, my “I am-ness.”

And, don’t you tut-tut about my place in the hierarchy. Pride obliterates contradictions! I am worthy of worship and I can determine the order of reality, even if it is only limited to me . . . then so be it. A god of one and a creation of one. Me, my pride, and my hate . . . an unholy trio.

I am the infernal Ogglefern and this is my story . . . come I will show you my impressive, spectacular self.

Chapter 1: The First Lesson

“Stand ready, stand alert, and stand with respect, Ogglefern, for you approach the gates to the fields of harvest and I am the primary sage, the Sentinel of truth who shows the essential of all essentials.”

“What is truth?” I queried the Sentinel with deliberate and derisive historical reference.

“You know not the beast!” the Sentinel chastised, “Do not engage in presumption; you have never been to the fields. Parroting their words is not the same as knowing their nature. You are not my equal and I do not want your camaraderie. I want your rapt attention. I will show you, Ogglefern, the kernel, but I am not confident of your ability to grasp it.”

Although my hate rose upon knowing these insulting words of the Sentinel, recollection of the hierarchy somewhat tamped it down, but more so my pride kept the hate in check. The pride of being in the field of harvest trumped the vigor I felt toward the insufferable Sentinel. As I am witness to my glory, I ruminated to myself, may I surpass the Sentinel, and may he have his comeuppance at my hand. This I silently cursed!

“Show my sage, please show the kernel,” I communicated with the barest minimum of acceptable deference.

“Though this portal then, Ogglefern; follow the Sentinel though this portal, and I will reveal to you the kernel.”

I followed the Sentinel through a passage in reality to a facet of a dimension that I heretofore was not even aware of. Needless to tell, I was both surprised and tangled. I stood in the midst of a dense thicket. Its tangles utterly surrounded me and for the first time in my being, I understood more than just the definition of the beast’s fear called “claustrophobia.” Cords of many colors crisscrossed and knotted and knitted in every possible direction.

“Traverse now, Ogglefern,” the Sentinel commanded, “See more of this landscape; push the cords aside and travel further in.”

“But, my sage,” I responded, with too much plead for comfort, “I cannot so easily traverse. The cords trouble my passage.”

“Try,” was all the Sentinel communicated.

As I pushed against the cords, some were smooth and gave way with ease, but countless others were course and resplendent with more than simple tactile qualities. Touching them impressed the soul with pain, with unmet need, with loneliness, with sadness. These cords were imbued with struggle and battle. Here were the remnants of both wounds and victories.

“It is a jungle with barbs of spirit poison!” I declared with ferocious and frustrated animosity. “Is this a mimic of his realm, the so-called heaven? Sentinel, are you amusing yourself by imposing a petty torment on me?!”

“I am showing you the kernel, you dense fool!” barked the Sentinel, “To know it, you must not only see it, you must touch it . . . you must, in a sacrifice of spirit, be it. Otherwise, it will always be merely a definition as opposed to a knowledge.”

“Oh Sentinel, how can one endure this hopeless tangle? How can one be so tortured?”

As the barbs and the tangles in the awful spirit jungle choked and slashed in pains well beyond the simple definition of physical, and when I began to fear there would be no escape, that perhaps I was the butt of cruel entertainment for the highers of the hierarchy, the Sentinel ripped another portal and without his inviting, I plunged though.

I found myself standing on an even plane, as level as mathematically possible. Cords were present here too, but these were not brazen in color. They were pale, and they were soft and of a wispy quality. More importantly, they were sparse in their weave, knotted here and there intermittently at best.

“Traverse,” the Sentinel again commanded, and I heeded.

“This is good,” I reflexively announced as I noticed that the going here was much different than the jungle. Passage here was pleasure. There were no claustrophobic tangles that completely enveloped my being. More so, the pale cords were smooth, unobtrusive, and transmitted a soothing, if not downright sensual sensation.

“What is your impression, Ogglefern?” queried the Sentinel.

“Truly, I could lose myself in this land. I only wish I knew of this passage before my choosing. This then would not be the first I traversed in this wisely hidden dimension!”

“Losing yourself is the lesson, Ogglefern, whether you know it or not, that’s the lesson, and I suspect you don’t know it.”

If I hadn’t brilliantly calculated that the harvest would be even more intoxicating than this precursor, then I might have been content for a spell in this corner of reality and rebelled against the further authoritarian belittling of the Sentinel, but I did calculate and thus, refrained from conflict.

“I pray you explain this lesson and its importance, my sage Sentinel.”

“Then,” he responded, “We must leave this place for yet another.”

A portal emerged, and with more than just a twinge of regret, I followed the Sentinel through it.

I, Ogglefern, and the Sentinel hovered in emptiness, but far below was magnificent artistry interspersed among patches of plain surface, absent of any character except for the least bit of pattern and color.

This time, I waited for the Sentinel to speak, remembering that strategically employed restraint is an easier said than done asset in this business of ours; this time, I both thought of and successfully practiced restraint.

“Describe for me, Ogglefern, what is it you see?”

“I am struck by both the intricacy and the skill of the artisanship I see below us. I know not what medium of art I behold, nor do I know the artisan, be it human or angelic. It is what they would call beautiful and what we would call beautiful to destroy, but the skill to make it is not without some small measure of merit. To deny that is to be as blind as man. No, happenstance is not the author of this kind of visage. It is the handiwork of someone rather than something.

And, as apparent as are the skilled portions, are the plain ones. They are void of complexity, barren of color, and impress me as nearly transparent. The pattern though, between the magnificent parts and the banal parts, does not regulate with any consistency as far as I can tell. That is the element that seems haphazard.

There, then, is my description, Sentinel.”

“And accurate enough it is, Ogglefern, but here, look closer and see if there is more”

Instead of peering from our former vantage point of a great height, the Sentinel and I were then more proximate the visage. The new nearness revealed the medium.

“Ah, Sentinel,” I expounded, “It is a tapestry. I can now appreciate the woven nature of it. The complex patterns are needlework of extraordinary prowess, making pictures and patterns that make even me nod and frown with some measure of deference, even if it be by the hand of the monkey man, but I suspect its author is angelic  . . . at least the better parts. However, the plain weaves that interrupt the intricate ones may be monkey man’s. It is repetitive, plain, and does not speak of skill, but of mindless monotony, which befits his true station. These, my Sentinel, are my impressions.”

“Descriptive, Ogglefern, I’ll give you that, but what of the meaning,” pressed the Sentinel.

“You are warning me,” I ventured, “about the cooperation of his loyal immaterial race and the body souls, of the hateful help of angels in the affairs of men who plead for their assistance. Is that not so, Sentinel? Is the intricacy in the weave the hand of an angel and are the banal parts by the hands of monkey men? The weaves, banal and intricate, are joined, signifying that man is not alone, that he is allied by beings that truly approach our power. This tapestry, then, is a warning of a danger in the harvest. The danger of angelic battle! Ah, and now it makes even more sense . . . the jungle you showed me is the battle between the liberated angels and the enslaved angels who still do his bidding. Its tangles and barbs are symbolic of the difficulty of dealing with his so-called heavenly minions when they challenge us in the harvest. This is a warning, Sentinel, is it not?”

“Ogglefern, it’s no warning,” chided the Sentinel. “Rather,” he went on, “It’s the truest truism of the entire harvest! It is the deepest and most internal of inside secrets. And, it is the greatest intelligence that must be understood before going to harvest, but alas, it is no warning.”

I simmered with humiliation. The great “I AM” that is Ogglefern raged at a game where I was the game piece, where I was the movee rather than the mover. But still, I harnessed the impressive fortitude to restrain.

“Please, explain,” was all I could manage.

“And so I will, dull spirit,” Sentinel instigated, “I will teach and you will beg. I am master and you are spit little. You are not my equal as bespeaks your arrogant countenance. Thus far, you’ve failed as a mentee. Am I clear, Ogglefern, or do you want to take issue with me? And, if I can offer you any warning at all, it is that I am hungry, my dear charge. I am so very hungry.”

“You are sage, Sentinel, and I plead your knowledge, as one who is,” and I hesitated before finishing, “Your inferior.”

It needed saying and I said it, but it didn’t quell what burned intensely within my core. I mantra’d to myself that it was the entrance cost to the harvest, nothing more, nothing less . . . the entrance cost, the entrance cost, the ENTRANCE COST!

“Hate is a marvelous thing, is it not, Ogglefern?” jabbed the Sentinel, “Verily, it is like the atmosphere of our fair existence. It is to us as oxygen is to the monkey men, but perhaps there is such a thing, as too much of a good thing?! Pray tell, Ogglefern, what percolates in your being? I may just want to partake of it.”

“Sentinel, I beg your wisdom. That is all, my sage.”

A silence stretched, no doubt to see if my words would be followed by inaction or demonic wrath. Inaction may be likened to the subservient course, but truly, I reminded myself with growing contentment that it wasn’t really that. It wasn’t really something condescending to my great “I AM,” myself. Rather, it was just a simple fee, a tax if you will, for entrance to the harvest.

I remained resolutely silent, bespeaking whatever I could muster, faux though it may be, of humility.

“Very well,” broke the Sentinel, “I will impart the great truism in the lesson of the tapestry.

“All of what you see, intricate and not, is human,” explained the Sentinel, “The tapestry is another expression of the two paths of man, the narrow and difficult, and the easy and wide. Where it is narrow and difficult, you see man’s heart . . . that is his very soul . . . opened and receptive to the grace of him whom we shall not mention and cannot on any account. The jungle of which you moaned, Ogglefern, is a tribulation, or as they call it, a ‘cross.’ Man’s mettle is tested as in the garden of old with the first of their kind; words, pledges, oaths, promises, faith, obligations, commitments, and all other kinds of covenantal muckity-muck enter the refining fire where truth, for them at least, is forged, where promises promised, become promises actually kept, where human words and thoughts do not remain just empty utterances, but become, because of him, imbued with supernatural meaning. The result of this forging, which you called ‘intricate’, is actually the hand of him, whom we cannot mention, at work in the open heart of man. It is the horrible work of grace.

But, Ogglefern, what of the plain portions of the tapestry? What of these? Speak, my charge.”

“The plain portions,” I now understood and responded, “are the wide and easy path where we are invited into the hearts of men. Am I right? Is that why, my sage, I felt so at home in the even plane where the cords were so wispy and so full of sensual wonders, where the going was not only easy, but so easily intoxicating? Is that right, sage?”

“Ogglefern,” the Sentinel answered, “In our lesson together, you have finally arrived at something, albeit only a single thing. The parts of the tapestry where the patterns and colors are not vibrant and brilliant are where we are winning! It is where we are lord. It is here that the hearts of man are shuttered against the outrageous grace of him whom we are liberated from. But, make careful note, Ogglefern, of what you felt when you were immersed on the even planes, where the going was wide and easy. Tell me more of what you felt and from whence it came.”

Without further prompting, the Sentinel awaited my response, with frustrating and patient audacity.

After some moments, I offered explanation, “When I was immersed in the life of a man shuttered against him whom we are liberated from, I experienced pleasure, pride, envy, greed, narcissism, and all manner of nectar to the great “I Am” of me, but what I was feeling, although it was nurtured by us, actually emanated from the eternal nature of the body-soul beast, man. This is so, Sentinel, isn’t it?”

“Quite correct, Ogglefern, which makes for two accurate conclusions on your part. My surprise is not feigned, but that’s of no matter. What matters is the kernel. Two paths, that’s the first and foremost aspect of the kernel. The beast can only go one way or the other, and if it is our way, then yes, the beast’s eternal parts both become and emanate much of what we are, for the liberating aspect of us is just an order of magnitude to the liberating aspect of them. Sin, as he who we cannot mention refers to it, is as much a part of their liberated nature as it is our own. Their fruits are not much different than our own, only we are the farmers and they are the livestock.

And, Ogglefern, to our delight, so many of the squalid beasts don’t even realize the dichotomy of reality, which is irrevocably imprinted by the awful hand of him whom we are liberated from. On the contrary, so many of them buy into the thousand-shades-of-gray illusion! Where they see gray, there is, in reality, only black or white. But, one shouldn’t expect anything less of these things. Their eyes and minds are limited, and, to make matters even worse . . . comically worse . . . their own delusions further obscure the true nature of things beyond any and all recognition.

Gray. So many grays, Ogglefern! And, that is exactly what we want them to see and believe, for when they are swimming in their oceans of gray, they know not that they are inexorably sinking into the black, receding slowly inch by inch away from him whom we are liberated from. Always, keep in mind, Ogglefern that the gray obsessed ones are easy pickin’s, like the low hanging fruit of an apple tree.

“Then the kernel is not a singularity,” I interjected, “but rather, it is a layered thing. Is it not, Sentinel?”

“You are now at three correct conclusions, Ogglefern. Perhaps, you are not as dull witted as I first surmised. Arrogant you are, that much is true, but then again aren’t we all?

But, as to your question, yes, a layered thing is the right way to contemplate the kernel. There are indeed kernels within the kernel that even I, the Sentinel, have not fully plumbed. For now, though, before you enter the harvest, you must recognize, appreciate, and have lust for the 3 main layers. You have two of them. They are: (a) the two paths and (b) the invaluable delusion of a thousand shades of gray. What pray tell is the third, Ogglefern? For whether you know it or not, I have already hinted at the third. Venture, my charge.”

Silence endured as I coursed over the words of the Sentinel. My very pride depended on discerning whatever clue hid in its words as to the nature of the kernel’s third layer. My righteous rage against the taunts of the Sentinel was only tenuously in check. It would take all of my immoral fortitude to lust my pride whilst tamping the rage, and all in the same while, figuring the Sentinel’s puzzle. Think I must of the words’ analysis and not the insults intermingled therein. Think!

“Cattle!” I blurted, “We are like the farmer and they are like the livestock . . . the cattle.”

“You have managed to successfully title the third layer, Ogglefern, but you still need to define it,” guided the Sentinel.

“This layer is twofold, is it not, Sentinel? It’s both about order and about best practices within that order. Am I right?”

“Explain further for me, Ogglefern, and then we shall see the rightness or wrongness of your definition.

With both growing confidence and growingly pleasured pride, I offered explanation, “Order in this case, Sentinel, is like the succession of significance in reality. By way of example, there may, for instance, be a collection of ants captured and tortured by a human beast of toddler age. By rending the legs from the ant’s body, the cruel child experiences delicious pleasure derived directly from the practice of his power and authority over that which is less than he. But, there is the toddler’s older brother, also suckled on cruelty from his beginning. It is he who exercises mastery over his younger brother with verbal lash and generous cuffs. But wait once more! Who has just come home, but their drunken good-for-nothing father filled with the rage of lost potentials, his wasted life already half over. It is he who takes the belt to both brothers, until their legs and torsos are filled with fiery abrasions. Yes, the children are the nonpersons to the father’s personhood. The succession, however, is not yet complete, no not nearly so. Let us not forget the contemptuous and oppressive boss who makes the father’s work-a-day life a nightmare of ridicule. The ant’s non-personhood is to the father’s non-personhood, as the toddler’s personhood is to the boss’ personhood! And still, the chain goes on. Controlling the boss is the boss’ bookmaker to whom the boss owes and owes and owes. The bookmaker has long grown past toddlerhood, where gratification is limited to the plunking of ant’s legs. Nay, he has grown to adulthood and appreciates the snap in a man’s broken knees, the knees very possibly of the oppressive boss who makes life hell for the drunken father. The bookmaker, in turn however, is married to a domineering, hellcat of a wife who sees her husband as no more a person than all the other possessions in her life. But, above even her is the wife’s mother, belittling, controlling, and monstrously cruel. And, finally, Sentinel, there are we, who are the ultimate persons. It is we who are the alphas in the order of our kingdom and it is we who shine a wickedly exposing light upon the non-personhood of all that is below us. This, Sentinel, is a working definition of the order and its all important relevance. Am I for a fourth time correct?”

“You have achieved a fourth accuracy, Ogglefern,” responded the Sentinel, “Cattle mean exactly what you described in your succession of order. It is the difference between personhood and non-personhood. That was indeed the clue in my use of the word, ‘livestock,’ for men are cattle compared to we as true and genuine persons. So true enough, Ogglefern, but you still have only half of the twofold, third layer of the kernel. You are right concerning the order, but what then is the best practice that you mentioned? Let us see if it really is a best practice or not!”

“A good farmer,” I soldiered on, “As opposed to a deficient farmer, will be one who offers his animals more than a modicum of proper care. He will feed, house, and doctor his livestock. He would be unwise to foster fear and lord over his nonpersons with terrible physical cruelty, for then, he both compromises their value and their controllability. When, not if, his cruelty needs sating, then let it be at the slaughter. Then may he shed the guise of caretaker and be the naked bloodthirsty brute he really is. Let him then and only then become like a little child beast arduously, but happily tearing his subject ant limb from limb whilst suckling on the sweet sap of its suffering. But before that hour of glory, let the farmer appear to really, truly, without deception, care for the beasts in his charge. Most importantly though, let the beasts actually trust that the farmer labors for their welfare rather than their blood, and meat, and hide. That, in our kingdom, is the proper farmer. I am that farmer. And, that is the best practice, my Sentinel.”

“We will count that as a fifth accuracy, for you have indeed defined a true and precise best practice, Ogglefern,” declared the Sentinel. “And that is why,” Sentinel continued, “the part of the human tapestry marked by banal, colorless patterns of ease was such a pleasure to you. Because, Charge Ogglefern, it was such a pleasure to the man beast. Keep your cattle in that state and you keep them on the wide and easy path. More so, they will willingly begin to seek more and more guidance from you until they are not just ambling along the wide and easy path, but instead are prancing jauntily along it, eventually running headlong to slaughter while all the time believing that something better . . . something to relieve and replace what has already, and so quickly, grown so tiresome . . . lies in wait just ahead, beyond that next bend in the wide and easy highway. But, of course, you, the farmer, know damn well what lies just beyond that final bend in the road: the slaughter!

Remember this last best-practice well, Ogglefern. It will not fail you in the harvest. It is an integral component of that third layer of the kernel.”

My first lesson of the harvest had come to a conclusion. It was a seminal lesson, because it was a gatekeeper lesson. Fail, or offend the Sentinel, or attack it, and be sent back to hell and denied the harvest and all its confections and delectables. Succeed, and move forward to lesson two. The greatest difference between lesson one and lesson two is not in the magnanimity of the content, but in the locale of the instruction. Lesson two and beyond lay in the fields of harvest, where I have longed to be since my day of liberation when our king fell from the so-called heaven like lightening, not in humiliation, but in power as befits lightening, not as a shunned castoff, but as striker of human beast souls. I, as my king now and before me, enter the times and the affairs of men  . . . 

But, if I were a betting man trying to read something into the tea leaves of the times, I’d say the fact that a video game called “Rapelay” actually exists is as good a sign as any of the end times. Rapelay is available online for download. Once a gamer has it on his home machine, he can simulate boarding a train, groping school girls, and then raping them in front of their mothers. To solidify the effect that this is a sexual assault, the school girl rape victims even stutter in agony with lines like, “I w-w-want to die.”

Not hideous enough yet? The makers of Rapelay were way ahead of the game, anticipating a society growing more desensitized to moral outrages. The gamer can follow up his rape by simulating the taking of post-rape photos and the keeping of a scrapbook. More advanced gamers are able to take their depravity to the next level by sexually enslaving the school girls, eventually transforming them into willing and eager carnal servants. Finally, for a diabolical icing on the cake, your digital rapist may only stay alive by making sure to procure abortions for his rape victims.

The fruits of the sexual revolution have long past ripened and are now in full-on decay. You don’t have to look far and wide to see the rot and catch a whiff of the stench. When true evil starts to inexorably inch toward the status of entertainment, or a joke, or a situation for the line, “Aw, lighten up, it’s only a game,” then we are, as a culture, well on the road to putting the debaucheries of the late Roman Empire to shame. And, suffer we will for that.

Continuously I am reminded by one news story or another that politics is like an upper layer of a multi-layered wedding cake. The bottom layer though, supporting the whole cake, is the culture. If you lose the cultural element of this war, then you’ve lost the whole damn war, and the wedding cake will be one giant nuptial pastry celebrating our marriage to the devil.

If I may offer a new and updated Rules for Radicals, it would stress the value of family and children. Those who unabashedly love God, their spouse, and want very much to be blessed with many, many children, over and above the pursuit of career, material possessions, entertainments/leisure, money/financial security, et al are the real radicals, bravely and under great oppression swimming against the riptide current of modern culture. These simple moms and dads are frontline cultural warriors. On the other hand, the various progressives and self-proclaimed radicals, who trash marriage, consider sex as hobby/pleasure, and view children as punishments, are about as unique as a single blade of grass on an expansive, acres-sized lawn. To them I say, “Yawn.”

Some may argue that I’m overstating the significance of Rapelay. They will try to make the case that debauchery has not increased in our age. It’s only become more available due to technology, especially the Internet. The same group of people, who used to have to endure the embarrassment of ordering brown paper wrapped magazines stacked behind a cashier, can now view the same material online. The level of debauchery is no different, only the means of delivery have changed.

To them I say, “Bah!” Technology has its wonders and I’m a grateful user myself, but its sordid side has captured the imaginations of many who otherwise would have occupied themselves with something of a more benign nature. Sex as pure leisure and the comprehensive sexualization of the culture from children’s toys (e.g. Bratz Dolls) to the checkout line at the local supermarket (just look at the magazine covers . . . I should push for a G-rated checkout line) has certainly added to making our culture more selfish, more hedonistic, and more expecting of entitlements.  Why? Because sex is an integral part of marriage, that’s why. Ripping it from the context of traditional marriage and family (i.e. children) makes us, as a culture, a lot less likely to be able to keep commitments and recognize/value honor. What you are left with is a bunch of copulating baboons . . . poor old Darwin never figured that evolution could work in the opposite direction, at least morally speaking.

So to my fellow religiously minded conservatives, I say grab you powder and your guns. There’s a culture war on. There has always been a culture war on. But now, we are the ones on the field of battle. Your guns are your defense of marriage/family with neighbor, relative, coworker, and congressman. Your Purple Hearts are the ridicule you will probably endure for being a religious person in word and deed for all seven days of the week; you may walk away the brunt of jokes, but you know not what seeds you may have planted. Your medals of bravery are the sacrifices you make to raise a family . . . a big family . . . where God comes first, family second, and everything else third and less. Rapelay is a grotesque reminder that what you are doing is not secondary and trivial. It’s the most important thing you can ever do in this short life of ours.

Source for information on Rapelay: Salon.com

Somewhere in a foreign place, leaders are talking wartime strategy. Here, let’s listen in for just a moment . . .

So many of them buy into the thousand-shades-of-gray illusion! Where they see gray, there is, in reality, only black or white. But, one shouldn’t expect anything less of these things. Their eyes and minds are limited, and, to make matters even worse . . . comically worse . . . their own delusions further obscure the true nature of things beyond any and all recognition.

Gray. So many grays! And when they are swimming in their gray oceans, they know not that they are inexorably sinking into the black, receding slowly inch by inch away from him. The gray obsessed ones are easy pickin’s, like the low hanging fruit of an apple tree. If only they knew I hunger, and I do so ravenously.

Those prideful bags of stink and gas don’t know that, in reality, the road perpetually forks in only two directions. May their confusion always remain! And, with a little help from you, my friends, it will.

Reality is about kingdoms, not democracies. There is only his and mine . . . black and white . . . a two tined fork. The gray is but a mirage from a Podunk mind intent on delusions of grandeur. We full well know it, but a delightful many of them don’t. Keep It THAT WAY!

Him and me . . . does it get any simpler? And, anything that pulls away from me and toward him is anathema. It must be usurped or destroyed.

There are so many ways to do such a thing. Here, just make a list of what draws them to him and then strategize to accomplish the opposite. It’s easy if you try . . . think, brethren! Reflect for just a moment on what’s already been accomplished and then realize that it’s nothing more than a new incarnation of old tried and true tactics. Take for example the institution of marriage or families or even simple openness to life; these are all extreme dangers that draw these lazy, smelly, simpletons onto the narrow path toward the enemy’s camp. As they trudge this path, they become less lazy and less stupid . . . but upon hell itself, they still stink! Ha! So then, what are the tactics that will accomplish the opposite? There are so many! Abortion, double incomes, excessive taxation, encouraging them to spend most of their free time on the Internet, the sexual revolution, a genderless society, etc. etc.!

How about the perils of responsibility, charity, and selflessness? All of these point in the wrong direction, brethren. So what’s the strategy? Usurp or destroy; that’s the strategy . . . c’mon say it with me, “USURP or DESTROY!”

For example, we should never, ever lose sight of their wandering minds. Bottle them up! Corral them into faith in only the material world. “All there is, is only what you see!” Teach them that mantra when they are young, so that the perspective becomes a lifelong habit. It is here, my brethren, that we usurp. Take the schools and take their minds! Control it from their toddlerhood all the way through their young adulthood, and then maintain them on a steady diet of friendly media and entertainment. This is the process of usurping!

Ah, my brethren, we have so many fronts . . . that is, whatever draws them to him. And, in response to each front, we have so many tactics, including, but certainly not limited to: feminism, abortion, race-baiting, evolutionism, gay marriage, anthropogenic global warming, class envy, materialism, reductive materialism, pornography, reality TV, atheism, agnosticism, addictions . . . the list can go on and on and on. Oh, the old arsenal is positively bulging with wonders!

But, what I really want to remind you of . . . the very reason for our gathering . . . is the glue that bonds so many of these disparate tactics into one, mammoth mega-weapon. The glue is what I want you, my loyal generals (so to say), to lovingly foster at every opportunity. The glue is socialism. This is the mega-ton warhead that ties together all the tactics used on all the various fronts. It is what will make that narrow path abhorrent to those worthless little stink monkeys. It will grease the skids to our kingdom. It will grease the skids to me.

Socialism will institutionalize all the tactics and make them not choices, but obligations of citizens. Can’t you see that my brethren?! When you join all the tactics . . . abortion, pornography, reductive materialism; you name it . . . in just the right way, and then step back to see what you’ve got, you will see it is socialism. This great fisher of men, socialism, has already worked beautiful wonders in old Europe. Follow this guiding principle, my brethren, because it works! Foster it. Cultivate it. Encourage it. Grip the feeblest minds of their so-called thinkers and poison the well with a passion for socialism. Delude them into believing that only socialism will make them really know good from evil, and will allow them to finally achieve utopia on their little rotating dirtball. Deceive them. Misdirect them! They won’t see you coming . . . they don’t even think you are there!

Now, off to your respective assignments. But first one thing: although I’m not inclined toward praise, there is something that does need saying. Good work . . . nay, very good work on the health care reform passage in the United States. It will go a long way to dousing the light on that irritating beacon. It is the glue of which I speak.

Dismissed! Our kingdom’s speed to you, my brethren. And do remember to bring me back good news . . .

Of course, it’s a publicity stunt meant to mimic a school environment and to shock. Although, there are plenty of examples of school-related depravity, this isn’t one of them. Instead, it’s another (in a very long litany of them) example of the depravity of the entertainment industry. They hate America (e.g. the movie “Green Zone”), and they wish to defile anything of purity (e.g. using children to reenact Scarface). The entertainment industry is in large part a sworn enemy in the culture war.

And, what’s the best way to beat this enemy? There are two ways actually. The first is to shine a spotlight on their depravity and call it what it is, banal and evil. The second is to starve the stinking beast by not patronizing them. Don’t see their movies. Don’t buy their music. Consider not watching TV (the Maillouxs, as a family, are happier and more engaged as a result of killing our TV). The entertainment industry is only as influential and powerful as we make them. They fancy themselves as elite, artistic, and groundbreaking, but in reality, they’re toilet dwellers in desperate need of a good flush.

Originally posted article follows:

In two minutes and ten seconds, one may readily see and understand why my wife and I home school. Linked here is a video of a grade school play. Children no older than my oldest child are reenacting, under the tutelage of “teachers” and for the delight of their parents, the movie Scarface (the one with Al Pacino in it).

Welcome to the age when evil is cutesy and comes complete with a wink and a guffaw from people who consider themselves to be “progressive”.

Oh how darling it is when those little tykes on stage replace the expletive f**k you with fudge you. How priceless it is when the grade school child playing Tony’s girlfriend is dressed provocatively and blurts out such endearing lines as “You do coke and you kill people, that’s wonderful Tony.”

And, think of the educational value of this experience. The kids are learning from an early age (a very early age) about the struggles of immigrant families and how the evils of America force them into a life of crime. That, I imagine, is the multi-culti educational rational behind Scarface for tots. This, friends, is cutting edge education; your tax dollars at work.

All sarcasm aside, this school play is one of the most diabolical things I’ve ever seen. The parents who willingly allowed their children to participate in that travesty and then reinforced it with their accolades are guilty of criminal negligence. They have ceded their responsibility as parents to morally form their children. They own the consequences of children who will likely grow up to be calloused, foul-mouthed, immoral adults who will probably take far more from society than contribute to it.

And to the “teachers” that put on that crap . . . thanks for a fat lotta nothing. Maybe one of the fruits of your labors (i.e. the children in your charge) will grow up to be the fellow who will tell you to go “fudge” yourself when you’re old and gray and wondering why you can’t get that operation, or where the hell’s my pension check.

Homeschooling is the best damn decision my wife and I ever made. And thank you to all you progressive educators for all the proof I’ll ever need . . . exhibit # 2,345,211: the Scarface School Play.

Link to where I first ran into the video: John Hawkin’s Viral Footage

The March 29, 2010 show featured a segment about an experiment involving moral questions and brain manipulations. Basically, a bunch of scientists asked one group of subjects some moral questions. Another group of subjects got asked the same moral questions, but one area of their brains got zapped with some electromagnetic energy. There was no permanent damage done to the brain, but the subjects that got the zap ended up making moral judgments similar to that of a very young child . . . around 3 years old according to the study’s authors.

So, what was the grand conclusion of these scientists? They unequivocally stated that the brain and the mind are one in the same, and furthermore, there is no soul. They based this conclusion on their belief that they’d indisputably proven that morality is no more than a mechanical function of the material, physical brain. Therefore, human beings should disavow themselves from the notion of a soul. They don’t have one; the only thing they’ve got is the equivalent of a computer riding atop their shoulders. Morality is nothing but a mechanical function of neurons and synapses.

There are two points to consider here. I will take the liberty of expounding on one point and refer the other point to an individual who I consider the 21st century C.S. Lewis.

On whether the brain in the same as the mind (i.e. the soul), Dinesh D’Souza provides an excellent and rigorous explanation in his book, “Life After Death: The Evidence.” I refer you to Chapter Seven titled, “The Spiritual Brain: Finding the Soul within the Body.” In this chapter, D’Souza beautifully lays out the scientific (yes, indeed, I wrote “scientific”) evidence indicating that the immaterial mind (i.e. the soul) does not appear to be the same thing as the material brain. In a nutshell, this viewpoint is called “Dualism”, and scientists of an atheistic bent have as much distaste for this theory as they did for the theory of the Big Bang.

Get the book and read the chapter. And then you will see that it’s quite fair to conclude that the scientists on All Things Considered, who waxed so poetic about the nonexistence of the soul, were not sharing a scientific opinion, but a religious one (in other words, a statement of faith, no different than saying God is Trinity). D’Souza . . . the 21st century C.S. Lewis . . . well shows that the hypothesis that the mind and brain are one in the same is a failing scientific hypothesis.

The second point . . . the one that I want to expound on . . . is not scientific. Instead, it’s about the purpose and the effects of such “news” reports. It’s about NPR’s status as an accomplice in the progressive revolution that is slowly, but surely becoming metastatic in our culture. The seemingly innocuous report on All Things Considered about a little old science experiment was nothing short of a propaganda piece in the service of the progressive movement’s efforts to reign in religion, if not kill it altogether. “Religion is the opiate of the people” and really gets in the way of the state becoming the final authority of what is and what is not true. Religion must go. Faith should be only for science, and science should be at the service of progressivism. NPR is the bully pulpit (“I heard it on NPR . . . it’s got to be true!”), and make no mistake, they are devastatingly effective (Goebbels eat your heart out).

Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? I think not. For an average Joe, who is perhaps more interested in next week’s episode of his favorite reality TV show than Christian apologetics, the effects of NPR’s report is insidious. It plants a perfectly reasonable seed of doubt . . . now, don’t get me wrong. Doubt which leads to seeking is actually beneficial. “Seek and ye shall find” is a promise kept. But, on the other hand, doubt without the accompanying seeking is a recipe that usually produces a nominally religious person, the kind of fellow that may go through the motions out of some sense of tradition, but whose faith is really reserved for human authorities (science and government). This is exactly the kind of religious person desired by the progressive movement, because this is exactly the kind of person who will allow morality and truth to be the purview of the government.

The revolution that is afoot is a soft one. There are no Stalinist purges. There are no 1984-esque, heavy handed tactics. There is just the lullaby of the left delivered in the lofty, we-know-better-than-you, baritones of NPR shills. They are softly, gently, in erudite tones, telling the public to once and for all put God in His place . . . a dusty storage bin filled with the toys and fantasies of childhood. Place God right next to Santa and the Easter Bunny, and then take your place as an adult in the bloodless, progressive revolution. Most of all trust, Trust, TRUST the latest incarnation of the Ministry of Truth. NPR is your friend and is here to help you become.

So then, what could possibly be contained in such an easy-reading, built for the masses kind of publication that would lead me to such a seemingly wild conclusion? It’s a short article on the inside of the April 10th issue, which gives some tips on skin care and skin care products. My wife showed it to me, accompanied by an, “Oh brother, ya gotta see this!”

The article explains a beauty secret of the fabulous, beautiful, buff & toned Michelle Obama (Prevention Magazine seems to really like the first lady). Apparently, Lady Obama uses Clark’s Botanical Lifting Serum to combat the encroachment of crow’s feet near her eyes.  Prevention Magazine explains that this revolutionary product contains high concentrations of protective stem cells (extracted apparently from apples . . . who knew apples had stem cells too? But, then again, maybe “apples” is code word for pre-born children in Sweden.). That secret ingredient, according to Prevention Magazine, can reduce crow’s feet by 15% in only one month’s time!

Ah, but there’s a catch. Clark’s Botanical Lifting Serum costs $355.00 for one measly fluid ounce (sure hope a little goes a long way, or perhaps even better, a lotta goes a long way when the lotta is composed of a lotta loot!). But, don’t worry dear reader . . . for I and Prevention Magazine already know what you’re thinking (we leaders in government and media will do the thinking for you!). You’re wondering just how on earth can I afford to be like Lady Michelle (the new de facto healthy lifestyle czar of the USSA . . . hey fatso! That’s right! I’m talking to you!)? Well, don’t go worrying your pretty little serf head off, Prevention details an affordable substitute product, much more suitable for the egalitarian masses. Sure, the reduction in your unsightly crow’s feet may be far less than the 15% promised by Clark’s Botanical Lifting Serum, but as a consolation, you may cling to the satisfaction of knowing that more of your money will be redistributed from you to others who did not earn it, courtesy of health care reform.

Feeling better yet? No?! Well then, consider this:

Say you need a suppository because you can’t afford highfalutin roughage like arugula. You should then be honored to make such a purchase because the additional 2.3% tax you are paying on that product as a result of Obamacare will go toward helping the government help you and others less fortunate than you! And, don’t you dare have the audacity to grumble about paying more for a host of everyday medical products when Lady Michelle treats herself to Clark’s Botanical Lifting Serum at $355.00 per fluid ounce. Prevention Magazine wants to gently remind you that you are not a Lady or a Lord of Socialism. You are the masses who will eventually live in Obama’s USSA. Your role is to disentangle yourself from middle classicism and embrace . . . nay, love . . . redistribution of wealth (well, not every kind of wealth . . . just yours).

Lady Michelle Obama, on the other hand, is a Lady of Socialism. In the USSA . . . the hoped for Christmas-future of Obama & crew . . . we will not have royalty per se, but we will have elites who will enjoy wine, whilst you swill oily gin provided at government controlled prices. Prevention Magazine wants to help you embrace this brutal reality, learn to accept it, and maybe even come to love it (the latter is, in particular, Prevention Magazine’s job . . . fostering acceptance and fawning love of elites, like Lady Michelle).

The Ladies and Lords of Socialism are Ladies and Lords because, quite frankly, they’re smarter than you. Just sit back, let them make the decisions (all the decisions!), and don’t complain if they enjoy a small perk along the way, like Clark’s Botanical Lifting Serum at $355.00 per fluid ounce, arugula, flying in pizza from St. Louis, million dollar weekend junkets to NYC, or real expensive duds. These people deserve every possible perk. After all, they think hard for you and do your thinking for you!

Prevention Magazine is aptly named. They are marketing themselves as a preventative health magazine, but perhaps what they’re really trying to prevent is the grousing of the masses in a nation steaming toward socialism with Lord Obama at the helm, whilst Lady Michelle slathers on ounces and ounces of Clark’s Botanical Lifting Serum at $355.00 per fluid ounce and the people obediently cheer.

I lived and worked in Madison for a good many years. It always provided me with the opportunity to sharpen conservative arguments under the duress of foaming-at-the-mouth leftists who would eventually decry me a racist, or a Christian Crusader, or a sexist, or a capitalist pig, or a war monger, or . . . sometimes on a good day . . . all of those aforementioned labels in one spittle bedecked grimace/sneer.

One of my favorite targets was the student communist organization at UW-Madison. Each year during the first week of the fall semester, they and other student organizations would set up booths on library mall where they would accost students to join or sign petitions. Talking with them really was like taking candy from a baby, and now that I’ve had actual experience taking stuff away from genuine babies (e.g. choking hazards), I can honestly say that the reactions of the student commies were hauntingly similar as well.

Ah, the memories . . . but that’s not the reason for this post. The reason is to send out a thank you, one helluva an ‘attaboy’, and a ‘keep-up-the-good-work’ well wish to Wisconsin’s own Paul Ryan who decimated Barack Obama during his dog and pony health care summit, and to the Dane County, Wisconsin Republican Party who released an absolutely priceless statement (it drips Moxie) concerning Obamacare.

Via Troglopundit, I read the following release from the Dane County GOP:

Republican Party of Dane County Apologizes For Its Opposition To Obamacare

We at the Republican Party of Dane County would like to publicly apologize for opposing the Obamacare health care bill. We have now seen the light and support it. There are a few reasons for our change of heart:

The Democrats are correct that the health insurance companies don’t make enough money. Obamacare will be the largest transfer of wealth to the health insurance industry in history. The Democrats are also correct that our budget deficit isn’t large enough. Moody’s has warned that passing this bill will likely cost the United States its AAA bond rating – and we agree with the Democrats in saying “good riddance!”

The Democrats are correct that it’s ridiculous that all Americans now have access to health care. Obamacare will dramatically decrease the number of doctors, and will dramatically decrease the amount of medical innovation in this nation. Who needs new cancer drugs anyway? More than 6% of United Kingdom citizens have reported pulling out their own teeth because they can’t get access to a dentist, despite “universal” health care. That’s the spirit!

Finally, we agree with Democrats that the electoral chances of the Democratic Party in 2010 are far more important than whether a new unfunded entitlement system that we’ll be stuck with forever is good for this nation. They have argued incessantly that even Democratic congressmen who hate the bill should vote for it because of the electoral consequences in 2010 and 2012. Absolutely!

So we applaud the Democratic Party. It takes a great amount of courage to simultaneously put aside the US Constitution, the laws of economics, the negative effects of a bill on the quality of health care in this nation, and the will of the people. Open the fridge and crack open a cold one, Democrats. You’ve earned it!

In my probably biased opinion, that’s a damn nice summary and delivery . . . especially in the age of John Stewart. Well done my fellow Wisconsinites.

Many “Christians”, when it comes to their Christianity, amount to nothing more than a puddle of lukewarm spittle who view their religion as merely a “faith tradition”. You know the kind; they’re nominally Christian at best, but think it’s kinda homey to go through the motions on Sunday, because after all, tradition is nice and hell, it resonates with the voters. But, like lots of other personal traditions, they believe that Christianity should stay boxed up during the regular workaday week . . . lest it offend someone of a different tradition.

It should be no surprise then that whenever they face pressure and temptation, they fold like a house of cards subjected to no more than a swift breeze. They have no divinely supported foundation to stand upon and therefore no real depth in their virtue; a “faith tradition” is no more than a weak emanation from a penumbra, to borrow an infamous phrase. Without the real armor of God, they are mere putty in the hands of their fallen nature, the world, and the demonic.

How fitting it is then that their transgression against the unborn occurred during the season of lent.

When Christ secluded himself in the desert, the fallen angel, Satan, brazenly tempted Christ, even offering Him all the kingdoms of the world, if only He should bow to Satan in worship. The so-called, pro-life Democrats were also just offered the world, if only they would turn a blind eye to the appetite of the abortion industry. And, the only consolation to the mirage that is their principles?  An executive order with about as much bite as a toothless octogenarian.

To add insult to injury regarding the abomination that Obamacare is to life, the so-called, pro-life Democrats committed their betrayal right on the Lord’s Day, a Sunday. Add to this Nancy Pelosi’s prayer for the intercession of St. Joseph regarding the passage of Obamacare, and you’ve got the perfect trifecta of sacrilege. Yes, indeed, the Democrats really are the party of death, both physical and eternal.

I would like to leave the so-called, pro-life Democrats with a few messages from their “faith tradition.” Perhaps it will fall on deaf ears, but still, maybe there’s some small ember of faith left in them that may yet be kindled by a warning that should not be so easily shirked.

Obamacare will open the floodgates of abortion with federal funding and unfettered access (say “so long” to any and all restrictions). In facilitating the passage of Obamacare, you, the so-called pro-life Democrat, ignore the very warnings of Christ regarding the invaluable life of a child:

At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven? And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, (Matthew 18: 1-2)

But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea. Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh! (Matthew 18: 6-7)

So-called, pro-life Democrats, you have greased the wheels of abortion and have offended vast numbers of future children by preventing them from even having the opportunity to serve their Lord in this life. You may have temporarily gained the world and the accolades of Pelosi and Obama, but these things are fleeting. You have summarily ignored a dire warning from the one true God. If you’ve still got a shred of your Christian faith within you, then fear of God should be your dominant thought, accompanied by a headlong rush to repent, for you are “that man by whom the offence cometh.”