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  1. markdohle
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    Just Life

    (For to pray is to take root deeply in the ‘Living Water’ allowing mercy and grace to heal and wash us clean in the midst of ‘just life’.)

    Here is the September 25, 2016, message from Our Lady, Queen of Peace, given through Marija:

    “Dear children! Today, I am calling you to prayer. May prayer be life to you. Only in this way will your heart be filled with peace and joy. God will be near you and you will feel Him in your heart as a friend. You will speak with Him as with someone whom you know and, little children; you will have a need to witness because Jesus will be in your heart and you, united in Him. I am with you and love all of you with my motherly love. Thank you for having responded to my call.”


    There are studies on prayer to find out if they ‘work’ or not.  As if prayer was something apart from our lives and not the very breath of the soul.  It is understandable why people think this, because when people speak of prayer it is often to ‘ask for something’ desired.  Often what is prayed for is something good, loving and understandable.  However, prayer is much more than that.  For in all of our lives, we will all come up to situations that are painful, sad, and tragic and out of our control.  Life happens and prayer is not some sort of magic formula that will make everything all right.  It is in the human heart that prayer bears fruit even in the midst of the most trying and painful circumstances.  For in prayer, those who actually do it for the love of God and not for ‘something’ will find peace and joy in the midst of great suffering.  No one likes suffering, it is never pleasant, but when we allow God to present Himself as ‘friend’ and even ‘lover’, it can change the texture of our lives and help us to understand that we are pilgrims and when on a journey many situations will present themselves to us.  How we react from the heart is what we are about.  For on our journey, we either grow in love and trust of God, or we allow bitterness and despair to take deep root in our lives.  Or we seek to find some other ‘god’ to fill the inner void in our hearts that only leave us desolate in the end. In prayer, we become aware of the inner way that pulls us often in two different directions until we choose. Prayer allows grace to work in our hearts.  For to pray is to take root deeply in the ‘Living Water’ allowing mercy and grace to heal and wash us clean in the midst of ‘just life’.—Br.MD

  2. A blog, huh.

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    The Gravetard Crow

    Strange days have found us... He is here once again.. A man with no face wearing a very worn out mask... He has no name but he goes by The Graveyard Crow. The more you think about him, the closer he gets to you, ready to remove your eyeballs with his own fingers.

    His house is next to a cemetery where a lot of people reside in there, underneath the dirt... Some are alive and screaming and trying to get out but completely out of strength and with their bodies disfigured by the Graveyard Crow and his "playful" nature. He likes to remove eyeballs, cut the limbs and cut open the stomach. This man knows no boundaries he does as he pleases. Nobody has ever identified him. Don't forget to not think about him, the more you do... the closer he gets to you.

    Death is a mercy that you will not face if you're caught by the Graveyard Crow.

  3. I've had a male Gang around me for over 20 years now. And I still dont understand how they think. 

    Two boys, and a husband, I am very aware of their, let's just say ..... differences. Men think differently.

    Let's go back to Crate day, a Kiwi tradition since circa 2005. The first Saturday in December is now crate day.. this is a crate beer-crate.png

    The goal is to start the day with one of these and end it with an empty wooden box. It's not a big goal, it's not an enlightened goal, but it is a goal.

    Crate day is not limited to just the males, many women attempt participation. So this blog is not about the beers.

    It's about what happened after the beers... 

    I have a young man in my house who apparently had a good time on Crate day, he has a black eye.

    It involved boxing gloves, a back yard fight club, (I've seen the videos but I'm not allowed to talk about it) and him and his friends beating each other to a pulp.

    Then they all went to the movies and McDonald's on Sunday, black eyes, bruising, and swollen chins.

    Good times....good times...:unsure2:

  4. Debs

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    Watching the clouds roll in, smelling the rain as the wind drifts towards the house. I stare at the trees swaying and I realise.

    We have a legion of different cultures, not to mention religions, different dialects, he'll, we can't even agree on food.  Yet, it is a universal happiness, gratefulness that sweeps every human's face when the raindrops touch the ground.

    For it is a truth that echoes within humanity, that if we don't have water... we don't have life.

    So as the clouds roll over the roofs of so many houses on it's way to mine I have to at the fact that that one simple raindrop falling unites nations in one goal...



  5. Ryu
    Latest Entry

    I was reading a comic done by "The Oatmeal" (maybe you've been to is site) and this one was about being happy or in his case, NOT happy.

    After reading it I realized that he, at least in part, described what I had been feeling for years. See, our society, as Oatmeal pointed out or at least alluded to, has a very limited view and perception of what "happy" is, that it somehow is a end result of something, a end goal to be reached. Happiness, like most other emotions, is transitory and simply fleeting. It changes from day to day, moment to moment.

    I realized that this is how I really feel; not happy or unhappy really. I like things and I can appreciate certain activities but my reasons for doing them is not to be happy or because I have some sort of goal or because I want to illicit some sort of sensation. Perhaps I feel something in between, perhaps one of the million shades of grey that falls between "happy" and "not happy".

    I am not sure how to describe it but after reading a seemingly silly comic I began to realize that it is society that creates this unhealthy mode of being by insinuating that you have to always maintain this mode of being no matter how tedious and tiring, that you can be just fine without the simpering grin or maniacal giggling. That you don't have to have this mindset all the time that is really not sustainable.

    Actually I had been contemplating what "happy" was supposed to mean; what it was supposed to feel like and why people assume that if you aren't behaving a certain way then it must mean you are un-happy. I don't do things to make myself feel "happy" but simply because I like to. Nothing more. I play video games because they're fun, not because I want to be "happy".

    I draw (when the mood moves me) because I wish to do so and if I am motivated enough I can work on something for a couple of hours. Not because I have a goal really or that I am out to create something; I just do so because it is what I wish to do at the moment. It's kind of hard to explain but I am beginning to realize why we have such problems in our society when it comes to emotional equilibrium and mostly it stems from our rigid and limited view of what we think and assume people are supposed to feel and we judge them for not fitting into our rigid paradigm that makes no real sense and just causes confusion for others. I happy? No, not really. Am I un-happy. No, not that either.

    Content? I don't know, maybe. Neutral? I guess, for lack of a better word at the moment. Motivated? On occasion I suppose.

    Like the Oatmeal, maybe I am wired differently, just like he is. Maybe I just don't get the same things out of existence like society thinks I should. But I am still alive, I really don't know what keeps me going every day because it certainly isn't because of any goals, desires or the hopes of being happy. I just exist. That should be enough for everyone.

  6. Prologue

    My name is Peter J Blattch and I have been involved in journalism for some thirty years or more. One of the first lessons I learnt as an investigative journalist is, being there on the front lines as a story unfolds in order to get an accurate account of the events. Ever since then I have travelled extensively throughout the world and have been at the forefront of civil unrests, marched with protesters against totalitarian regimes and, most recently, went undercover to expose governmental and corporate corruption; an assignment which unexpectedly segued me into chronicling drug trafficking and the seedy underbelly of the sex trade. These assignments were instrumental in the furthering of my career.

    But fortunes change, and the capricious Fates who had woven the tapestry of my life now had other things in mind for me. In the course of my work I had made many powerful enemies, men who would stop at nothing to silence me. They almost succeeded. It would take months before I recuperated sufficiently from the gunshot wounds I had sustained during the drive-by shooting that left me fighting for my life. Though many suspected the hit was sanctioned by one of the Mexican drug cartels I had exposed earlier in the year, the subsequent investigation into them led nowhere. It did, however, have a serious knock-on effect to my career; insofar as no-one would hire me for fear of being caught up in further reprisals. I had in effect become persona non-grata. My days as a feature writer and undercover investigative reporter had, to all intents and purposes, come to an end and I found myself covering fringe stories normally doled out to rookie reporters. But what the hell! At least they paid the bills.

    I was not embittered by the events that overtook me. I went into this business knowing full well the dangers involved. Nor was I resentful towards those colleagues who had given me a wide berth – most of whom had families to consider. I was already contemplating early retirement at around this period. Now, I reasoned, was as good a time as any to bow out gracefully. But a string of events was about to unfold that would rekindle my journalistic instincts, and my retirement plans were put on an indefinite hold.


    Chapter One: The Package

    About six weeks ago, I received a package through the post that anyone else would have ignored or thrown out with the garbage. Getting ‘snail mail’ is rare, and when I do it’s usually from the fringe elements of society who claim to have dated Bigfoot, seen alien bases on the Moon, and the like. A UK nursing home listed on the return address caught my attention. On opening the package, I discovered a hand-written letter and a voluminous journal; attached to which was a first-class, round-trip ticket to Britain and two thousand US dollars in cash. This was uncommon to say the least. Intrigued, I began reading the attached letter.

    In the latter part of my waning career I had met and interviewed more than my share of crazies, weirdoes, and conspiracy theorists, but what I read in the letter and journal went beyond the pale. If this was a hoax it was a very expensive one on behalf of the perpetrator. Was it the ramblings of an unsound mind? Possibly. What the letter and journal divulged was inconceivable to say the least, but my journalistic instinct and curiosity got the better of me and so I determined to look further into it to see how far this particular rabbit hole went.

    They were written by one Lucian Dragomir. The introductory letter was merely a precis of what I would find in his journal, in which he recounted the history of his battle against malevolent forces whose activities went largely undetected and unopposed. He has entrusted me to share this knowledge with the world and has assured me that were I to accept his offer irrefutable evidence awaited me in the UK to remove any doubts I had regarding the veracity of his tale.

    According to what he had written, Lucian was born into a large family of humble origins on a small farm in Romania shortly after the hostilities of the Great War had come to an end. Life was challenging for the poverty-stricken Dragomir family during the post-war years, but they confronted each test with an unwavering fealty borne of a close-knit family. Despite their impoverishment, he grew up to be a happy child. With the passing of the seasons, however, he had his first confrontation with death. A harsh and prolonged winter held the country in an icy grip. Enfeebled by a long illness, his mother finally succumbed to her infirmity and passed away. Her passing was to have a profound effect on the carefree Lucian whom, in his naivety, had believed she would always be there for him. As the years passed the harsh realities of life struck yet again with the untimely death of his childhood sweetheart, Ileana Ardelean.

    Romania is home to many myths and legends concerning all manners of assorted horrors that are said to hide in the shadows. Almost from the time they could walk Lucian and Ileana had been versed in their country’s traditions and folklore, and as children heeded the warnings never to go into the forest unaccompanied by an adult. But things took an unexpected turn on reaching adolescence when their long-term friendship changed course and they became lovers. Following a brief courtship, they were betrothed to one another and the date for their wedding was set well in advance of the expected happy event.

    For Ileana and Lucian that date seemed an eternity away and, as is the case in many love affairs, they were feeling an overpowering and ever-present need to consummate their relationship. That opportunity was to present itself at an annual folk dance festival being held in the village that year. Motivated by powerful hormonal changes, Lucian snuck from the celebrations into the forest and waited for Ileana. It was an ill-fated assignation from the outset and one which would alter the course of Lucian’s life forever. For Ileana, they would be the last horrifying moments of her life.

    Here, in Lucian’s own words, is an extract taken from his journal of that fateful night.

    Resting beneath the beech tree where we had carved our names, I closed my eyes and listened to the sprightly tones of the fiddle and backing accompaniment rising up from the village. Time seemed to slow as I waited patiently beneath a full moon for Ileana to appear at our designated rendezvous spot in the forest. She was late, and I began to wonder if she had been waylaid by someone at the festival and was waiting for an opportune moment to slip away unnoticed.

    There are many different scents in the forest; most of which I was accustomed to on a daily basis. That night, however, I smelt a strong musty odour drifting on the night breeze. I knew instantly what it was. Born with an eidetic memory, I recalled with crystal clarity an incident that had taken place when I was no more than five years old. The event involved the shooting of a wolf that had attacked and killed one of my father’s sheep. Having shot the animal, he dragged its carcass back to the farm to show to family and friends. Its pelt bore the same pungent smell; like that of a wet dog. Shortly thereafter a hunting party was quickly set up by neighbouring farmers who had suffered similar attacks on their livestock. Over the next four days the entire wolf pack was hunted down and killed.

    Though I knew wolf attacks on humans were rare, I wasn’t about to take the risk of Ileana accidentally coming upon them. Fearing for her safety, I hurriedly began retracing my steps to the village in the hope of meeting her along the way. I hadn’t gotten far when I heard a commotion in the undergrowth and a familiar voice scream my name.

    Plunging wildly through the underbrush, I entered a small clearing and came across her. The look on her face was one of unbridled terror. Seizing me by the arms she screamed for me to run. Before I could respond I heard a deep-throated growl coming from the treeline. Just beyond the clearing I could make out a dark, ill-defined silhouette and a pair of bright yellow eyes that made my skin crawl. Momentarily paralyzed with fear, I watched as it rose up on its hind legs. Only when it stepped out into the open did I fully comprehend why Ileana was so terrified – I was gazing into the bestial eyes of a werewolf.

    Instinctively, I looked around for a weapon. Less than ten yards from where I stood lay a fallen branch. Releasing my grip on Ileana, I made a frantic dash for it. With phenomenal speed the creature bounded across the clearing, hurtling headlong into Ileana and dragging her deeper into the forest. Caring little for my own safety, and with club in hand, I pursued the beast.

    To my dying day, I will never forget the scene I came across on reaching the bridal path: slumped against a felled tree lay Ileana’s body, her life’s blood oozing from multiple savage wounds. Of the beast, there was no sign. Cradling her in my arms I tried desperately to staunch the flow of blood, but her injuries were far too many. For one brief moment, she regained consciousness, her hand reaching to my cheek and stroking it feebly. She smiled and mouthed an ‘I love you’ before succumbing to her wounds. With bitter tears, I held her one last time to my breast.

    Then I caught the odour of the foul beast again. It was skulking nearby, watching, waiting in the darkness. Off to my left I heard a menacing throaty growl. An adrenalin fuelled rage began swelling in my breast. Laying Ileana gently to the ground, I stood and turned to face the hirsute abomination.

    It crouched low and snarled, exposing its blood-soaked teeth. Caring little whether I lived or died, I raised the makeshift club and waited. Those few brief seconds before its attack felt like an eternity to me. The eyes which had regarded me unwaveringly suddenly narrowed. The moment was at hand. Screaming like a banshee, I rushed forward determined to give a good account of myself. What next happened came so suddenly that my brain was barely able to register it.

    A shot rang out and the creature crashed to the ground. Spinning on my heels in the direction it had come from I saw a figure emerge from behind a tree. This was my first encounter with Francisc Servruasa – and it wasn’t to be my last. Without uttering a word, he strode forward with a woodman’s axe in hand and severed the creature’s head from its body in one powerful blow. Stuffing it into a hessian sack hanging from his waistband, he walked over to Ileana and knelt by her side. Finding no signs of life, he rose to his feet and crossed himself.

    During the Great War I was witness to many acts of bravery’, he said, turning to me and wiping the gore from his axe, ‘but rarely have I seen such courage from one so young. This girl obviously meant a great deal to you; enough for you to put yourself in harm’s way.’

    Holding back the tears that threatened to engulf me, I spoke briefly of our love and betrothal.

    ‘You showed great courage boy. If we had more like you among our ranks, we could rid the world of these godforsaken monsters’, he said.

    At the time his words were of little consolation to me. I wished that I too had died that night; as did Ileana’s parents who, in their grief, blamed me for her untimely death. Had they not heard the gunshot that drew them into the forest and seen with their own eyes the decapitated corpse revert to its human form, I would have undoubtedly found myself at the end of a rope before sunrise.


    If you like to read the rest of the story go to Abnormal Realm by clicking on this link.   The Numinous Story


  7. I'm not drowning in them.

    I'm swimming through.

    But, as of late I've had a million different thoughts that I don't want.

    Are some of them in line with actions previously taken specifically by my very own self?

    A select few.

    A finite amount.

    Are some of them generalized blanket assumptions based on past experiences with only a handful of individuals?

    Yes, and that's wrong.

    The rest are just completely hair brain like nothing I've ever had pass through my head.

    If I wasn't sure about who I am I'd think I'm insane.

    Nowadays, I'm as offended by hearing about your God as you are about hearing me say I'm no longer of the belief.

    You demand to get to say your piece with little to no protest.

    Yet, you don't extend to me the same courtesy.

    Why is that?

    Should I purposefully try and get others to hate you every time you come up as a topic?

    Why would you do that to me?

    I ask only of you to treat me how you want to be treated regardless of whether we see eye to eye.

    Your views are the crowd favorites; so they're going to be stated more than mine.

    I have to accept that.

    You need to accept they're not the only way of thinking.

    I'm of a small town in the bible belt, and I want freedom of religion.

    Not just the freedom to share one with others, but the freedom to be devoid of one without punishment.

    Why is that too much to ask?

    Stop looking for reasons for why I don't want your perspective.

    I've got them, and sharing them with you isn't going to change them or you.

    Let's not waste our time.

    Stop making up why I didn't fall forever in love with any of my previous partners.

    Tolerate my not feeling we were ever equally invested, and let me leave it at that.

    I am none of your concern.

    I'm not your burden that you freely carry.

    I am not anyone you care for.

    Your just unable to not mess with what you don't like.

    You can't stand not fighting with someone when they don't stroke your ego.

    Figure out how to do that without hurting me.

    I'm tired and want to be left alone.


  8. Can I be realistic and honest after having had sometime to reflect on Thanksgiving and the human condition as a whole. The only thing about each of our lives that is mandatory is that we eventually die. Some of us do it within a matter of days after conception, and, according to a few of the news sources I follow, some of us do it well after we've reached the ripe old age of a hundred and fifty, but that's the guaranteed only experience each and every single one of us is going to share. Everything else bad that happens to us is not necessarily something we'll all have dealt with; therefore we can't just expect anyone we come in contact with to be able to relate and or understand, and everything good that happens for us is a luxury, privilege, and courtesy not everybody gets afforded. Somewhere out there somebody isn't even adequately sheltered, fed, or clothed. If you are it's at least in part due to a courtesy once extended to you by another. Are you ever thankful for that? I hate to say it, but somebody out there got murdered today, got framed and didn't receive a fair trial today, was homeless and got spit on today, etc. If none of those things happened to you it's at least in part due to a courtesy that's been granted you, and you as well as I should be thankful for it. Here's what specifically started this train of thought for me today: I was thinking about how I used to like to make it known how much others presence in my life wasn't necessarily needed or appreciated until the day I figured out I was running off much needed participants, I was in no position to make it through life without the assistance of anybody else, and that I don't like hearing how unimportant I am. Now, I'm more about if I don't want to hear it come out your mouth I don't want it coming out of my mouth, and if I need it from you I should be willing to give it to you; so currently the philosophy for this stage in my life should be, "If I like the courtesy I should want to extend the same courtesy." I'm not perfect at it. There are days where my emotions get the best of me, and my mouth lets out words I regret. My stinginess still exists from time to time. I'm not perfect, and probably won't ever get to be. At least I'm no longer giving in to the, "They would screw me over if they could" or the "It's happened to me before" mentality that used to run my thinking. Today, and hopefully from now until my mandatory end, at least I care. Do you?

  9. I celebrated Thanksgiving on Tuesday with my sister and two of her boys, Ryan and Seth. Ryan lives in a group home in the northwest corner of Iowa. The home puts on a really nice Thanksgiving dinner for the families of the eight boys who live there.

    I met up with my sister at the Hy-vee store in Carroll, then we rode together for the three-hour drive from there. It’s a nice drive, not much traffic, and the scenery is always beautiful. In the summertime it’s fun to stop in LeMars for some Blue Bunny Ice Cream. The ice cream factory is right there in town.

    On Thanksgiving Day, I went for a long ride in the country. I was driving along at my usual pace of 20 miles per hour when I saw a small, black-and-white, terrier dog trotting toward me on the gravel road. He was carrying in his mouth a fully-grown Rhode Island Red chicken. I stopped and rolled down the window. The dog stopped next to my car and dropped the chicken, and we stared at each other for a while. He had red feathers stuck to his face, which made him look like a clown-dog. I couldn’t help but laugh. I reached for my cellphone to get a picture, but he picked up the chicken and ran up the road and over the hill. It would have been a great picture.

    I stopped at the Casey’s store in town to buy gas and get some cash from the ATM, then drove south out of town to 140th Street and turned west toward Atlantic. I passed a farmyard that had a dozen sheep and a dozen chickens roaming around freely in the yard. As I drove by, they all panicked and ran off. The sheep stayed together as a flock, swerving across the yard and making a beeline for the barn, but the chickens scattered pell-mell in every direction. It was quite a sight.

    I went to the Walmart for groceries, early enough to avoid the Black Friday Sales Event that inexplicably begins at 6:00 PM on Thursday. They had row-after-row of merchandise wrapped in plastic and guarded by watchful employees. No one was allowed to rummage through the sale items until precisely 6:00 PM. There were very few customers in the store, and I felt sorry for the employees who were mostly just standing around in their guard positions, or pretending to rearrange the merchandise. To lighten the mood, I smiled as I pushed my grocery cart up and down the aisles and I said funny things like: “Calm before the storm, eh?” or “Gonna get crazy here in a few hours, eh?” I think they appreciated my efforts, though it was hard to tell from the looks on their faces.

    I arrived home and had my own Thanksgiving Dinner: the ham sandwich was good. Dessert was just okay; I probably should have splurged and bought some good Blue Bunny ice cream instead of the cheap Walmart stuff, but I had already had enough excitement for one day.




  10. Mystical

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  11. i have a tumblr

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    Maybe I could post some comics on here, doodles about me. They'd just be little sketches, stories about my life and things I think about. Maybe.

  12. and then
    Latest Entry

    It's 1:30 AM here in south Alabama.  The election will be decided in about 48 hours. A lot of sound and fury that signifies nothing?  Oh no, it signifies a great deal for us and the world.

    I want to begin with a disclaimer because there are a few here who cheerfully accuse me of inciting violence.  The following statements are my OPINIONS.  They are nothing more or less than that....opinions.  I do NOT desire or advocate any violence against ANY person, group or government entity.  

    I pray that HRC is defeated but I fully expect her to win.  Unless irrefutable proof is brought out that cheating has occurred on a scale that could change the electoral outcome, I will accept the vote and the new president as legitimate.  That does not mean I will not protest any illegal actions by the administration, simply that I will accept the legitimacy of the choice of my fellow citizens.  What follows are my predictions about what I see happening in the weeks and months ahead.  I pray earnestly that I am mistaken but I base these predictions on my faith, (scant) knowledge of history, and my rather deeper understanding of human nature.

    When HRC wins, I expect there to be a few here who will crow, shout and gloat over their "team" winning.  I consider that to be a childish response but I understand the urge.  If the Donald were to win I'd expect the same from many on the Right and I'd feel the same about them as well.  The issues in our country and our world are far too serious to surrender to such inanity.  The choice that Americans make in the next 48 hours will echo for years to come.  The only real guarantee that can be made at this point is that when the election is certified, half of the population will be angry, disgusted and perhaps, fearful.  That is a sad pronouncement on our nation but it is, what it is...

    In my lifetime I have seen this country fall from a place of honor and respect in the world to a place of disrespect and disrepute.  I've seen the death of civility in our political discourse and the rise of rampant dishonesty and assignment of blame taking the place of genuine attempts at compromise for the common good.  Instead of finding a middle ground, our politicians have clashed and become expert in procedural moves that tie up government and confound their opponents.  The "game" has become more important than the outcomes for the people.  Our politicians have come to love the power and prestige so much that they will suffer any dishonor to acquiesce to their check writers.  

    We are beginning to see our country unravel because of our greed and inability to compromise.  Over the last couple of decades, the most dangerous changes have become business as usual.  Unless quickly remedied, those changes will be the death of our republic.  For a "nation of laws, not men" the very hint of corruption on a large scale can be devastating.  When the votes are counted this time around, I expect Americans to have given the nod to a known criminal with more excess legal baggage than a mobster.  I cannot find the words to explain how obscene I find this to be.  When she is declared the winner, there will be celebrating crowds to usher her into the office.  I wonder where those crowds will be a couple of years hence?  I suspect they will be angry at their lot in life and will be blaming everyone but themselves for that condition.  Elections have consequences.  By installing a lawbreaker as the chief law ENFORCEMENT official in our republic, lawlessness will naturally take hold on a wider and wider scale.  If equal justice under law gives cohesiveness to our government, what will the opposite condition do to it?

    HRC desires to raise taxes on those earning 250K or more per year.  Most small businesses fall into that range.  Small business provides about 80% of the employment in America.  Between that impact, the upward spiraling healthcare costs, and the strain of ever-increasing regulations on businesses, what kind of economic future can we expect?  

    I believe that HRC and her immediate predecessor are both Alinsky disciples and have as their goal the dissolution of our current type of governance.  They actively work to make the system unstable with the goal of collapsing it and building a new edifice on the ruins.  Unless there are enough citizens who will stand against them, they WILL succeed.  The chaos this will cause globally will affect every nation on earth.  Standing against this juggernaut won't be easy or cost-free.  The alternative will be the loss of freedom and the imposition of a radically new form of tyranny in what was the greatest nation on the planet.  

    The "just" and "inclusive" government will openly demand obedience to the whims of tiny minorities whose behaviors are considered disgusting or bizarre to the great majority of voters.  And when the media and the Left have completed their "legal" putsch, America will be a one-party government for the foreseeable future. Oh, the irony of an inclusive government that demands strict uniformity of everyone who believes differently from themselves.  It is a recipe for rebellion.  When that rebellion begins, the nation they have created will crumble.  What, if anything, will rise to take its place?

  13. “Dear ch

    ”Leave selfishness and live the messages which I am giving you. Without them, you cannot change your life.”

      calling you: pray for peace. Leave selfishness and live the messages which I am giving you. Without them, you cannot change your life. By lContinue:

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    Misc.: Just talking to myself and a few entities in the states. Apx.: moment was,18:35 Thursday,October/13/2016


    ============================================= sig.

    Oh quaint apropos, truly a plethora of colloquial platitudes abound. --As of yet UNKNOWN!;D
    I don't approve of political jokes; I have seen too many of them get elected.—Jon Stewart
    There is nothing impossible to him who will try.—Alexander the Great circa/around or about /Apx.: 333 B.C.
    Keep the dangerous close.

  14. On September 22nd, 2016, I finally got my wisdom teeth removed.  I wish I had done this when I was younger, as when I was a teen, I didn't have high blood pressure or other issues.  In August my blood pressure at the oral surgeon's office was too high, so I had modify my diet, so it was in an acceptable range.  Early September it was acceptable, so I finally made an appointment.  I don't remember much that day. 

    I remember taking a medication to sedate me.  When my friend arrived, I felt very tired.  I remember going into the Dr. Office, getting into the chair and having the IV put in my right hand.  I then remember being told I could go home and then I remember eating a chocolate Wendy's frosty.   I felt okay.  I slept very well.  I called my brother twice and didn't remember.  

    I didn't have a lot of numbness in my face or lips and it went away very quickly.  I did have pain, some of it off and on that was bad.  

    It will be 3 weeks tomorrow.  For several days I had soups and liquids and probably did so longer than I had to but I'm older.  I haven't yet started eating chewy, crunchy food or hard candy. 

    I also haven't sip out of straw and will wait another week before doing so, again, probably longer than I had to.  

    I was concerned about dry socket which is a very painful  if you have the misfortune of getting it.  Thankfully, I didn't get it.  



  15. I’ve been considering writing another story. Thing is, I haven’t finished two stories I started months ago. I just haven’t felt like writing, been doing other things lately, plus, my mind hasn’t been in the right place. This means my brain hasn’t been wanting to function as a creative writer.

    The brain’s been needing some time off for a while. I can tell when my brain feels overworked and wants to shut down. I can tell this because it just shuts down one day all by itself and refuses to be moved by me. It doesn’t want to be compelled to think anymore. I can’t really blame it for this.

    Thinking is a difficult process, as we all know, and this is why we usually avoid thinking whenever we think we can function without thinking. In other words, thinking about thinking is enough to discourage us from the act itself. In my case, I haven’t been able to make my brain do any thinking for a few months. This is why I haven’t written anything lately.

    However, the me that is separate from my rebellious brain has been considering a new story. It’s another episode of my robot private detective. When I first thought of writing a story about a robot private detective I thought it would be a good idea, so I wrote the story, “The Case of the Crippled Replica” in my story blog. The term “Replica” would be a good term for robots in some future society, since they are all replicas of themselves, though they all have different personalities.

    I suppose Humans programmed them with personalities so they wouldn’t be so boring to live with. Of course, Humans all have different personalities, and they can be boring to live with, even so. Anyway, I’m working on this convoluted plot. It has to be convoluted because it’s a detective story. Thing is, it’s difficult concocting a convoluted plot while my brain is refusing to cooperate.  

    I’ll let you know if I come up with anything worthwhile, but as my brain is resisting me, don’t hold your breath in anticipation. Brains are contrary organisms, and unfortunately have a mind of their own.   



  16. Hey everyone, I just wanted to make a quick poll to try this feature out, give it a try if you want. it wont bite.







  17. Zylotta

    Latest Entry

    I used the PC game Spore to create a reasonable construction of a Zylottan, what do you think? I had to make some compromises, there's no webbed and clawed hand, so I had to make due with webbed.








  18. Premonition or anxiety?

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    Lately, I've been having a gut feeling that someone (a specific person) is going to pass away, in a very specific way.  I had a dream about it at first, only one.  I thought about it, then forgot about it, as I am not afraid of death for myself or others.  However, the gut feeling started coming up during the day about a week later while this person was away and it was my first thought when that person wasn't home or didn't make it home in time.  This passed last week.  Now, starting last night, it randomly came back like a huge wave crashing, but much more heightened than it had been in the past.  It is now a constant nagging feeling in my gut that this person is going to pass, and there is no way I can help.  I am wondering if this is a premonition that gets more and more intense as I get closer to the event or if it has just become a form of anxiety. 

  19. Ok so, for this entry I decided I would tell a few tales that I have from being a therian at the school that I go to. Most of these I no longer care about nor do I wish to care as they truly don't matter, but to understand more into why I get angry towards my school about stupid punishment things well here are the few major stories I still remember.

    One weekend me and my current mate (we weren't at the time) were talking. Some guy was threatening him trying to get him to come to the mall and fight, which he never would do. Well the guy threatened to beat him up, race his current girlfriend, and come kill the rest of us. Well this being a serious matter we toke it to the office. That Monday I was sick so it was everyone except for me who went there. After they went, he messaged me, saying that they let him off with a simple warning of not to bother us. What he said and what he was threatening and they didn't give it to much thought. This relates to the fact that as soon as a rumor started on how we had a hit list or that we were going to shoot up our school or dump acid on someone we were called down and questioned.

    Another goes to my friend having her tail stolen which is how a lot of the things began. This guy, the one who started many of things, had stole  my friends tail and had it in his locker. There was basically a bounty on all of us and that if they got our tails and toke it to a certain person then they would get money for it. Nearly two months later and the school had finally done something about it. We waited for so long, tail or not, it was stolen property and we waited so long to get it back that all of us had began to get so angry and asking for a friend of mine to get into his locker to get it because he knew the locker combination. 

    These are two of the bigger stories many are little or don't matter or have a lot of importance behind them like these two. So much had happened and the school did very little to help us when this is our belief and also my Native American side. They stated we had to have papers showing that we were our tails for that stuff otherwise they wouldn't count it because it wasn't a major belief or anything. Eventually they banned our things as props to get around our belief and so now we still fight, not as bad, those who bother us and try to attack us all because the school won't do anything. Some teachers or friends who know me well enough or are very nice will stop people, but otherwise they go unnoticed and get to do as they please.

    Well for now this is what I have to say. Much of this is in the past, some still lurks in my memories, but at least we are more safe now then we were before, but that's because we fight for ourselves and no one else. We don't even bother going to the office for anything at all because those who still go here and we're or weren't a part of the war, they know we can't rely on the school for ****. 

    So for now this is Lunar Wolf signing out. Be safe my mates and never let the world stop you. They see only a sliver of your life and judge you on it. Don't let the hate get to you when they don't know your full story and haven't seen all parts of you. Be safe, be strong, and I'll see you all next time. This is Lunar Wolf.


  20. Crypto Social

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    I always wonder this. There are thousands of Bigfoot sightings going centuries into the past. More happen now, I'm sure, because of population increase and urban sprawl. But I ALWAYS wonder about the other half of the coin here: the hoaxer. 

    • Why do you do it? 
    • How much time are you willing to invest into the hoax?
    • How much money are you willing to pay for a suit? 

    It's ridiculous once you start rabbit-hole thinking about their motivations and desires for the hoax. Sometimes it turns out really bad: like the guy who got run over by a 15 year old girl on the highway while dressed as Sasquatch. Sometimes it just makes you laugh your ass off, like with this weird monkey dummy thing someone threw into a swamp. And sometimes it is clearly just for financial gain, like with Rick Dyer carting a fake Bigfoot in a freezer all over the country charging $5 a  pop for a viewing. 

    Is there really some kind of weird secret society out there? I really really want to jump into this topic more. I think I might put this into deep research.  You know, I look at what many people consider to be a compelling bigfoot video like the Patterson/Gimlin footage and I'm just shocked at the potential amount of time and effort that a small group of people are willing to dedicate to this bizarre hobby. 

    Do you hoax? 


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      So this all happened when I was five.  I woke up from a bad dream and this unnaturally glowing silver cat with big blue eyes was in my room.  At the time we didn't own any cats, so I was mesmerized by this, yet still frightened because of my dream.  It just padded over to me, and lay down next to me.  As soon as it did so I felt completely calm and fell asleep, when I woke up it was gone.

      Ever since I have been seeing ghost dogs and cats.  One of which is my dead cat (who just so happened to be my mom's cat in high school.  She died at age 27).  She died six years ago and I still see her ghost to this day walking around the back yard sometimes.  Other times I will see one singular white cat with green eyes, who often likes to troll me.  So I'll be sitting around doing my own thing when all of a sudden I see it staring at me and I stare back, then it will just poof away.  Another thing I saw once is a large shaggy dog.  It just padded down the street and vanished into thin air.

       Not entirely sure why I see them, but they haven't really caused any trouble so far.  The only one that I get annoyed at is the white one which I have named Myst.  Sorry for the short entry, just thought this may be a nice thing to post for my first blog entry. 

  21. So Haloween is my absolute favorite of all time holiday. It's not just the candy, horror films, or scantily clad revilers (above the legal age of course). It seems that ithis is the time of year when when even the weirdness is weirder than usual.

    During the summer months, high weirdness gets blamed on the heat, in the autumn it is blamed on the thinning of the veil or the ever increasing darkness as we march to wimter.  Lets just keep things weird, that's all.  So here are a few Haloween movie recommendations in no particular order.


    dog soldiers

    bad moon

    the birds



    any classic universal monster movie (wolfman, dracula, frakenstein etc)

    dracula untold

    and a few good tv series would include

    American horror story (any season)

    penny dreadful


    sleepy hollow


    I am sure I have missed someones favorite, it happens. Of course for those with children, some of these suggestions would be inappropriate. But that's up to the discretion of the parenting unit.

  22. tcgram
    Latest Entry

    A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

    For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master’s house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.

    But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.

    “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.”

    “Why?” asked the bearer. “What are you ashamed of?”

    “I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said.

    The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.”

    Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the pot apologized to the bearer for its failure.

    The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”


    Do not underestimate yourself by comparing yourself with others. It’s our differences that make us unique & beautiful. :)

  23. TheLight

    Google Sky Maps - Hidden North Star

    Why is the Polaris or "North star" hidden in Google Sky Maps? Who is behind this cover up - what are the connections? We look at some time-lapse footage and some astonishing information was revealed by shining the light on the darkness of this world.




    Jas 1:17  Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. 


    DISCLAIMER: You may never look at the world the same ever again.