Satan owns their hearts

I, like most of you, saw the convulsions this weekend up in DC; like, or maybe unlike you, I was repelled, not so much by the message- but by the medium. There is an essential sickness loose in our country, an angry intolerance for any views not exactly like our own. I was not raised that way- for all the problems in my family I can unhesitating say that my sisters and I were taught to think for ourselves, to puzzle things out on our own, to not be swayed by the popular emotion.

But now we have the wimminz in the Klitoris Kostumes; the hatred of the White and the Male; and, while my first instinct is to react angrily in the end I’m just sad and disgusted.

I didn’t know how to express this without coming off as a Hater. Discourse today is a minefield of trigger words and doubleplusungoodthink; but I ran across a post that expresses most clearly what I see going on.

(begins with a quote of a ranting woman from this weekends events)

Well, bless your poor blackened heart. Never go full vagina hat, sweetie.

But seriously, I’ve been thinking about what drives this hysterical behavior and I’ve decided that it mostly boils down to a fundamental lack of gratitude.

I’m not going to recount how fortunate we are in America. Everyone on this blog knows it. I wake up some days and literally thank God that I can take a warm shower in clean water. What we have, materially, is undeniably amazing.

But there’s poverty of goods and poverty of spirit. The women who act out this kind of absurd personal theater are generally well-off materially, but utterly impoverished spiritually.

Now Ace or others might disagree with this, but I would argue that the strongest spiritual links that you can form with God are faith and gratitude in that order. Paul, for example, responded to being flogged and thrown into prison not with wailing and despair, but by singing God’s praises. He had faith and gratitude in such abundance that no circumstance could shake his connection to God.

When I see these women, who are blessed with more freedom, justice and material prosperity than almost any human beings to ever live on this Earth, crying, wailing, and lashing out at the world, I see people with neither faith nor gratitude.

It’s no surprise, then, that they act like lunatics. Satan owns their souls. You cannot wake up every day and deny the goodness all around you and be happy, healthy and well adjusted. You cannot regularly stew in anger, hatred, spite and resentment and stay connected to God.

These people are lost. I do feel sorry for them, but I also understand that they’re living in a hell of their own making. Their misery belongs to them and only them.


Sad, sickly souls, lashing out. Bless their shriveled little hearts.

Poesy, a warning

by Rudyard Kipling

It was not part of their blood,
It came to them very late,
With long arrears to make good,
When the Saxon began to hate.

They were not easily moved,
They were icy — willing to wait
Till every count should be proved,
Ere the Saxon began to hate.

Their voices were even and low.
Their eyes were level and straight.
There was neither sign nor show
When the Saxon began to hate.

It was not preached to the crowd.
It was not taught by the state.
No man spoke it aloud
When the Saxon began to hate.

It was not suddently bred.
It will not swiftly abate.
Through the chilled years ahead,
When Time shall count from the date
That the Saxon began to hate.

“they were enamoured of poesy and the fine arts”


I had a big September 11 post all written in my head, full of fire and anguish, but in the end I couldn’t do it. Others all over the Internet did a much better job than I could have. Besides, the events of the past year have left me sad and depressed. Not beaten, though- the bastards will not get me down.

One could be forgiven for thinking that the 11th of this month has a hex on it- especially if you’re Hillary Clinton. I can’t but think there’s a little Karma adjustment going on. Trump, bless his boneheaded little heart, at least had the decency to know when to shut up. We’ll see if that holds up.

Meanwhile, we have millionaire athletes protesting the national anthem because this country isn’t treating them right. The reality disconnection there is mind-boggling.

Days like yesterday put me in mind of The Boss, in his younger, less politicized days:

Outside the street’s on fire in a real death waltz
Between what’s flesh and what’s fantasy
And the poets down here don’t write nothing at all
They just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of a knife, they reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded, not even dead
Tonight in Jungleland

God help the United States of America. We need it.