The hardest thing for any (sane) man to do is to sit still and take it like a real man. Especially when the ‘it’ is delivered by a shrieking witch. With Biden picking Kamala Harris, ‘it’ is only going to intensify. So we have to re-double our resolve not to deliver the just rebuke, physically speaking, that our tormentors deserve. At least, not yet.
Why? Because we do deserve this. In so many ways. Starting with Eden, of course, but more recently, from our handing of the reins to those who seek to master us. That is, women. Armed with their votes. And ever-sharp tongues.
Go ahead, castigate me. I don’t care.
Let me continue to irritate you. Here’s the situation. In the face of the seeming inevitability of Trump’s re-election, even after three years of non-stop calumny and outrageous lies that boggle the mind, the Demons and their malignant minions were faced with the horror of their agenda being forestalled. Not defeated, mind you, but simply forestalled. By maybe a hundred years, if Orangeman won again. The problem for HQ (in Hell) is that they don’t have another 100 years to burn. Bad pun, I know. Sorry.
Here’s what the Demons think: Everything was cooking along smoothly till that mongrel bastard Donald wandered into the scene. Who the Hell could have imagined this? We had it in the bag! The last hundred years were great! What could go wrong? No saints had visibly arisen, no Popes had effectively defied us, no secular leaders were able to defeat our ‘humanistic’ arguments. How in the Hell did this happen? Where did this guy come from? We have to do something! Anything! Everything! NOW!
See what I mean, my friend? Even the other side has the same problem. The problem of resisting the urge to act, precipitously. Of course, the other side has absolutely no choice. None at all. They only had one choice, and they made it in the first three instants of creation, when they openly resisted The Lord. Actually, it was His mother they mocked. Not real smart fellas. Their fate was sealed. A fate they fully knew and accepted.
Mock me in my beliefs if it makes you feel better. But let me ask you, brother, what have you got that’s better? Logic? Rhetoric? Philosophy? Even Math or Physics? Hell, they’re all out the window these days! Care to argue that fact? There’s only one thing that can prevail, and that is Faith. It has defeated everything anyone has thrown at it. Even Richard Dawkins is starting to regret things. So, listen up, as this may be your last chance.
Our enemies, our actual and True Enemies, have a certain and defined fate. And that fate is this: defeat. Ultimately, they are defeated, and they know it. Go back to the link, and look at the prophecy. Their glorious Light-Bearing Leader had to beg for another century. Their only hope is to harvest enough fools to ease their coming and eternal pain. Enough fools to share that pain with them. And to distract them from what they threw away in their first moments of created glory.
We, on the other hand, have a rather uncertain fate. A totally undecided fate. Due of course, to the grace of that cosmic fluid we are immersed in known as ‘time’. A fluid our True Enemies do not enjoy. We can change, they cannot. Because they will not. That’s the whole point. Their will is fixed, by their very nature. They had True Reality staring them in the face, and they balked. Game over, for them. By their own free will, of course.
They were created outside of the material creation (which occurred later in Day One), and so, they do not enjoy the one major benefit we do. That benefit? The ability (through willingness) to change. The ability to change is each man’s only hope. Hope and Change. Who was it that said that?
Anyway, our True enemies must make every moment count as the time horizon literally shrinks towards their ultimate end. A willingly unchanging end. We, on the other hand, have the ability to make a change, for better or worse, at each and every moment before death. And there’s the other difference. We have to die. They don’t.
The choice they made is the choice they must live with, eternally, regardless of their environment. An environment that is already defined. And they know it. And still freely accept it. This tells me a lot. About their pride. And what they deserve.
We, on the other hand, whilst we must die, we can choose our final environment. Here is that choice, my fellow man: smoking, or non-smoking?
Now, having said all that (while enjoying my Marlboro 27), let’s return to my original point. Our need to sit still. That is, to do what our True Enemies cannot. There’s no rest for the wicked, you know. We, on the other hand, are not yet eternally wicked (and thus deserving of our Enemy’s fate). We can change. And the best way to change, at this point in ethereal time, is to sit still.
Notice I’m not saying ‘don’t change’. Nor am I saying you should renounce the act of ‘being’. I’m saying you can change your state of being without exterior action. I’m saying ‘don’t act’ is the means of changing your being. Being who you are is simply a matter of will. It is simply a matter of will power to not act in these circumstances. Being and action are two different things. They ultimately end up together, but not at any given instant. And in this instant, the way to change is to not act, as a matter of will. Let me tell you why.
Our Enemy acts because his ‘beingness’ is already defined. Ours is not. He must act to make use of every moment (left) of his being-in-time in order to ameliorate his coming fate. Which will be timeless. We, on the other hand, need not act (in the worldly sense) to change our fate. We simply must decide who we wish to spend eternity with. That is an interior matter of the will. Only then must we act. And the time to act is not now.
Here’s why we must not yet act. Before acting, we must first decide if we can believe in anything beyond our senses. I believe we can. And while our senses are exciting us to action, we have yet to hear from our Indian Scout who is still out on patrol. Mine has already returned, and he tells me that the Enemy is in disarray. And that there is no need to wander into a final ambush. Because, as he relates it to me, we are in excellent shape. No precipitate action is needed.
I will now enumerate a number of reasons to explain why things are actually going our way. And I will follow that up with my thought on what our True Enemy will unleash in the coming days before we are allowed to act. Because they will unleash something. After all, the clock is ticking, and they cannot fail to act. Because the clock will eventually stop, and they know it. We, on the other hand, seem oblivious to that fact.
Here are the real facts, today. We are winning. Yes, winning. How? By not acting, that’s how. Everything in the last three (now, almost four) years has been about trying to get us to act, precipitously. Donald has somehow resisted every effort to goad him (and us, in support of him) to act in a way that would put Our Enemy’s agenda back on track. Let’s review the past four quarters of this game that is going down to the wire.
Remember that series of downs in the first quarter? Guess what? The other side is now so desperate that they are trying the same set of plays. Russia! Russia! Russia! Let me ask you something, Komrade. Is anybody in their right (voting) mind going to listen to this again? Really? Is anybody falling for that same fake into the party-line? Is there anybody who even cares anymore when this play is called? We all know what will happen here.
The defense has figured this play out. Put Comey on the stand. It’s coming up soon, in the Senate hearings. Do I trust Lindsey Graham? Hell no. But does our Enemy trust him either? Hell no! After all, Lindsey is still within the fluid of time, and he too can change. And our Enemy does not like that kind of change. In any event, that trope of RUSSIA! has gone the way of crying ‘wolf’. At the very least it’s a dud, and at worst, for Our Enemy, it may backfire—again. Net gain, zero yards. And zero points.
Remember Iran? Remember the second quarter, and all the times our Neo-Conmen tried to get us involved in a Hot War with this pathetic entity? And how close Donald has come to listening to the Siren Song sung by the War Party? You know, the Permanent Imperial State. Staffed by D’s and R’s alike. And Wall Street, their permanent friends. What was the result of all these plays in the minds of the fans? Well, take a look. Nobody lost any family members in another foreign war. Net gain, zero yards. Score, zip-zip.
Another fabulous drive that consumed the entire second quarter, and ended with absolutely zero points for the Enemy. Then half the crowd left the stands. At least, half the CNN/MSM fans did. And they haven’t come back. This was the beginning of the Enemy’s end. Because the field goal attempt (‘we do not exonerate him’) was blocked, and run back by Donald himself, and he led at halftime, 7-0.
Then we had half-time, featuring the All-Star DNC Trans-Band, and their Target Bathroom Revue. More tepid Blue fans exited.
The second half opened with another series of fruitless downs for Our Enemy. Another series of endless plays abetted by endless flags thrown by the Media Zebras. A drive that went 90 yards ended in an unforced fumble when the defense (led by Jim Jordan and his linebacker corp) caught Sleepy Joe’s kid on camera paying the refs with Ukrainian dough. Score another defensive touchdown, and Donald leads 14-zip at the end of the third.
The fourth quarter opened with the ultimate threat, the threat of forfeiture, with Donald being forced from the field by the security goons. What became of this series of downs? An interception leading to another defensive TD. What idiots decided to let Jerry Nadler and Adam Schiff run this series of plays? Donald is up 21-0, just minutes into the final quarter. Even the Bookies in Hell had him at a 95% probability of winning.
Then the Enemy unleashed a series of plays no one saw coming. Plays never seen in any playbook. The Enemy put in a new quarterback, some guy with no face. His jersey said ‘Covid’, but nobody had ever heard of him before now. He wasn’t on the published roster, but the Media-Zebras let him play anyway. This guy unleashed a drive you can’t believe. Before you know it, they’ve shut down the concession stands (and bathrooms too), and the next thing you know, the scoreboard says 21-7. Nobody saw the actual touchdown, and the re-play tapes are still missing. Oh well. Game on!
Donald received the kickoff, but his team was in disarray. Penalty flags everywhere, even during time-outs. The Enemy got the ball at the fifty-yard line. Just then, some dude in the crowd passes out at the Wendy’s walk-thru line (at a smoldering food kiosk), and the cops decide to play tough. Real rough. The North-stand crowd goes nuts, and the game is temporarily halted. Donald refuses to take a knee at the decreed moment of silence, and he draws 3 personal foul flags. The ball is moved to the five-yard line. The next play, twelve camera-men flood the field and escort the Enemy fullback as he rambles untouched into the end zone. They go for two, and now it’s 21-15, with ten minutes to go.
Next thing you know, all the concession stands on the North side of the stadium are on fire, with fans (?) looting them. Gunfire everywhere, but the Media-Refs won’t allow the stadium cops to interfere. They de-fund them and send them home. The fire spreads. Fans are fleeing, and nobody notices that the Enemy has demanded that they receive the kick-off. I know, you can’t make this stuff up, right?
Meanwhile, the Zebras demand reparations for the dead fan, and another 7 free points go up on the scoreboard for The Enemy. The unnamed (but black) runner respectfully lays the ball into the casket containing the body John Lewis, lying in state in the end zone for his 38th state funeral. Now it’s 22-21, in favor of the Enemy.
That’s where things stood with five minutes left on the clock. The Enemy, inexplicably, gets the ball again, but suddenly, they can’t gain any yards. Too many fans dead on the field, which clogs the running lanes. The Media-Zebras are frantically trying to throw flags, but the South-side fans are starting to boo. Loudly. Very loudly. Fans on the North side start throwing bricks at Donald’s team. Then the Enemy demands that they should get extra downs for further reparations, as their fourth down attempt falls short. The Refs call a delay-of-game penalty, but fail to say which team is penalized.
They finally give Donald the ball. On his own one-yard line. His guy Fauci, the wide-out from Deep State U, suddenly drops three passes in a row. Donald takes his Fed’s off the field, after punting to the fifty. Again. The Enemy takes the field, totally confident that the Donald is finally rattled. And they’re up by one. But, just as the ball is snapped on their first play, the score from the Dow-Corona Game flashes on the scoreboard. Dow State has just hit 27, and Corona is looking rattled. The Enemy loses his concentration and get sacked for a forty-yard loss. Two plays (and 60 days of riots) later, they punt. But the punt is blocked, and while the Enemy recovers in the end-zone, it’s a safety for Donald. Now he’s back on top, 23-22, with two minutes left in regulation.
Donald still can’t get anyone to catch a pass, and so he punts again. But there’s another new player on the field. Some hulking 350 lb. monster from Beijing U (from one of their many American campuses). They call him The Chunk. This guy is just like Ndamukong Suh. He’s ready to step on anyone, assuming they’re already down. Unlike Ndamukong, this guy plays offense. He’s ready to offend.
That’s where we are today. Two long minutes left, and Donald is ahead by one. All he has to do is run out the clock. And win by a whisker, even though the national broadcast of the game on MSM TV refuses to update the score after Donald’s safety. The national audience is still hearing that the Enemy is still ahead, by one.
The last two minutes of every game take forever to unfold. Especially with instant replay. Which is never instant, by the way. These two minutes are going to last at least another 70 days (unless we have re-count overtime). The pressure has reached maximum proportions. Every move, every feint takes on crucial meaning. Any mistake by either side may decide this epic battle for the soul of the Nation (and conversely, The Empire).
Here is what I’m leading to. The possibility of an unforced error that gives the Enemy his prize, fairly or not. Generally not. What might this error look like? Well, let’s get back to that new player, from Beijing-Berkley. That Asian hulk, The Chunk.
What will Donald do when The Chunk does something incredibly brazen and dirty? Will Donald lash back, hitting The Chunk in the gut? And immediately drawing a flag? Or maybe worse, as The Chunk then decides to openly grab Donald’s face-mask, and twist it 180 degrees, along with a knee to the crotch.
The Enemy has thrown everything they had at Donald, to no real effect, for nearly four years. They cannot afford, from their infernal and eternal perspective, to lose this game. For them, this is it. It’s all or nothing. And so, anything, literally anything, is on (or under) the table. They are capable of anything.
Here’s my deepest fear. That ‘The Chunk’ will incite Donald into a Hot War, in the South China Sea. Incite him with an act so outrageous (like sinking a carrier) that Donald cannot fail to answer in kind. To Hell with the Refs, no leader can fail to respond to naked aggression. Unless he wants to lose. Either face—or the election—it makes no difference here and now. We know what the Zebra’s will do in any event.
Let’s draw back a moment and think. Think about the past, and the prophecies given then. The recurring theme of all of them in the past few centuries, since the Fall of Paris in 1789 (and even earlier, for those who read), is this: that the faithless West will be given a chastisement in reward for its loss of Faith. While this chastisement will not be The End, it will make many think it is. Many today seem to think that this chastisement will come as so many other earthly disasters have occurred; War, famine, or plague.
But no one seems to think like God, who always finds a new way to confound us in our pride. No one in Noah’s day could conceive of rain, let alone a Flood, and no one foresaw the Black Plague that took out a third of mankind (aided by the first global communications system, maritime trade). Prophecy usually only becomes clear in hindsight.
No one today seems to notice that the forewarned chastisement is already upon us. Once again it is a plague. But not a bodily plague. It is a spiritual one. A plague that decimates the soul. Robs it of its strength and vigor, by destroying its virtue. Replacing it with the virus of vice. And the biggest vice is lying.
That’s what began this whole current chapter in this sordid misery of mankind. Lies. From the very beginning, of course. Worldwide communications have made it possible to spread lies around the global-garden, instantly. That is what this whole ‘pandemic’ is, a lie of epic proportions. A lie designed to engender panic, not actual death. A panic of the fear of Death.
A panic that is better described as a loss of faith. This loss of what once filled your soul created the vacuum that is now filled by a new faith. A faith in Science. Ineffective Science, it seems. If you have lost your first faith, why wouldn’t you fear Death? Science has never defeated Death, and never will. Why would you not fear Death? And then, you succumb to panic. A panic attack no ventilator can stop.
In our antiseptic replacement world of Scientism, faith in God has been replaced by an unearned trust in man. Scientific Man. Fauci-Man.
Here’s the bottom line, to me, my brothers. Ignore the idiots in the play booth. Keep everyone away from The Chunk. Hang on to the ball yourself, Donald, and sweep to the right on every play. Run the clock as far as you can, and just remember, you’re actually ahead. You don’t have to score again to win.
Don’t worry about The Enemy trying a Hail Mary pass. They tore that play out of their playbook eons ago. All you have to do is emulate the greatest player of all time. A man who overcame all the odds, all the polls, all the pundits, and even his wife, who said ‘curse God, and die’. The guy who took everything The Enemy could muster. All he did was to sit there and take it. Like a man. This player’s name? You could look him up. He’s right there, in the Old Testament Hall of Fame.
It seemed he had lost everything, and that everyone had abandoned him. But he refused to depart from his beliefs. From all outward appearances, he was destined to lose even his eternal (electoral) life. Nevertheless, he refused to curse God, and then die. For this refusal to abandon his God, to the confoundment of his Enemies, he was rewarded doubly for his constancy in Faith. This reward was delivered in this life. Take heed, my friends. And take it. Like a man.
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