Happy Birthday Me

Yep, as of today I’ve seen 69 of them. But the bad thing is, I can only remember …. maybe 5 of those days! Ten years ago I received cards like this one by Brianna, from each of my grand-children, telling me what they would get me if they had lots of money.
Most of my birthdays were so unremarkable that I cannot for the life of me remember what I was doing on all those “special days.”
According to Evelyn, I’ve got to remember what at least 20 more of them will be like. Well, good luck with that project.

This morning I was cleaning house in my hard drives and came across this little gem. Thought I would share it today. As noted above, I have a short memory, so I may already have this in a much older Blog… perhaps on the other site.

The following is the most interesting thing I’ve read in a long time. The sad thing about it is, we can see the end coming, because so many of the “check points” are now history to us, and we have already overrun the end of list.

I have heard of this democracy countdown before, but I’ve never seen it in print. It is a very insightful look at our way of government.

God help us, not that we deserve it.

How Long Do We Have?

About the time our original thirteen states adopted their new constitution in 1787, Alexander Tyler, a Scottish history professor at the  University of Edinburgh, had this to say about the fall of the Athenian Republic some 2,000 years earlier:

 ‘A democracy is always temporary in nature ; it simply cannot exist as a permanent form of government.’

‘A democracy will continue to exist up until the time that voters discover they can vote themselves generous gifts from the public treasury.’

‘From that moment on, the majority always vote for the candidates who promise the most benefits from the public treasury, with the result that every democracy will finally collapse due to loose fiscal policy, which is always followed by a dictatorship.’

‘The average age of the world’s greatest civilizations from the beginning of history, has been about 200 years’

‘During those 200 years, those nations always progressed through the following sequence:

1. from bondage to spiritual faith;

2. from spiritual faith to great courage;

3. from courage to liberty;

4. from liberty to abundance;

5. from abundance to complacency;

6. from complacency to apathy;

7. from apathy to dependence;

8. from dependence back into bondage’

Professor Joseph Olson of Hemline University School of Law,  St. Paul, Minnesota , points out some interesting facts concerning the 2000 Presidential election:

• Number of States won by: Democrats: 19 – Republicans: 29

• Square miles of land won by: Democrats: 580,000 – Republicans: 2,427,000

• Population of counties won by: Democrats: 127 million – Republicans: 143 million

• Murder rate per 100,000 residents in counties won by: Democrats: 13.2 – Republicans: 2.1

Professor Olson adds: ‘In aggregate, the map of the territory Republicans won was mostly the land owned by the taxpaying citizens of this great country. Democrat territory mostly encompassed those citizens living in government-owned tenements and living off various forms of government welfare…

‘ Olson believes the United States  is now somewhere between the ‘complacency and apathy’ phase of Professor Tyler ‘s definition of democracy, with some forty percent of the nation’s population already having reached the ‘governmental dependency’ phase.

If Congress grants amnesty and citizenship to twenty million invaders called “illegals,” and they vote, then we can say goodbye to the USA  in fewer than five years.

If you are in favor of amnesty, or don’t care, then  know that apathy is the greatest danger to your freedom. I’d like to shout, “Hey, everyone! Get off the public tit!
Reconsider who you are planning to vote for!”

But alas, it’s 9 years farther “down the road” and I’m in that Apathy stage! So many of the rest of you are already in the Dependency stage and are so helpless without our movement to socialism that it seems impossible to change history.

WE LIVE IN THE LAND OF THE FREE, ONLY BECAUSE OF THE BRAVE. By their efforts we have delayed the inevitable for some 30 years, but it IS coming, folks, IT IS COMING!


The Gospel

Wow! Double WOW! Last evening we watched the recap of a local church here in Orchards, WA, of their crusade in India. You, too, can watch it here. I dare you! I’ll warn you, you’ll never be the same again.
Yes, the 17,500 + baptisms were impressive, so was the half-ton of food that they took to a leper colony. But here’s what really impressed me.
Evelyn and I don’t have much, we squeak by on our retirement that seems to be shrinking weekly. We live pretty basically. We are not encumbered by a lot of “things.” All that we own, we carry with us. I have a ruptured disk that gives me almost constant pain, she has a gimpy foot that is recovering from surgery. But we have SO MUCH more than literally millions of people around the world! One poor fellow that they interviewed, lives in a ragged 6’ X 8’ tent that he shares with six others, and has for thirty-six years!
And the lepers! The lepers put my aches and pains to shame. Many of them had contracted it when they were children and when they are my age they are missing hands and feet or facial parts. Yet, a single $150 vaccine , in childhood, would have stopped the leprosy in its tracks.
I just have to limp with a little pain.
It was heartbreaking to watch young mothers trying to give their children to the Crusade members to take back to America for a better life.
I just celebrated Thanksgiving with most of my kids under one roof.
Jesus proclaimed, “Whatever you do for the least of my brothers and sisters, you do for me.”
If you, like me, can’t afford to go to India or some other third-world country (what am I saying? We’re all in the same sinful world), some other nation, find some homeless people here to help.
“Aw, I don’t want to help someone who won’t help themselves or go looking for a job,” you say.
Or, “So many of them are homeless on the streets by choice” I know, I’ve had those thoughts, too. Shamefully, I’ve shared them with others.
I’ve never even visited a homeless shelter.
But you know what? The very Jesus that we worship had a good job for 20+ years before made the choice to go homeless! That was HIS choice. He chose to go homeless in order to be with the broken, the down-and-outers, to bring them the good news of  God’s love, to heal the brokenhearted, to show US what God can with a homeless person. A person that is homeless by choice! Re-live in your mind for a few minutes, the lives of all those great leaders of the New Testament times.  They were ALL homeless by choice! What is it with our society that we expect our preachers of the gospel to own a home and drive new cars?
He told his disciples, “I don’t have a place to lay my head… Come, take up your cross, and follow me.”
Some went back to their lives of fishing later. Again, he pled with them to give up the work for something more rewarding, fishing for the souls mankind.
I’ve been out of work many times, but I’ve always had a home and food.
I’m wondering if the the little that we DO have is too much? It sustains us for our volunteer work, but it is SO WAY MORE than so many others have, that it makes me cringe.
So many in our nation have enslaved themselves to the banks and live such a rat-race life, and they still can’t climb out of debt. One day soon, jobs will be lost and the slavery will end in homelessness. Are you ready? I personally know people that have literally walked away from beautiful homes because they can no longer make the payments. Conservative estimates are that three hundred thousand others across America thought it would never happen to them, either.
Maybe it’s time to get serious about our coming homelessness, and spend more of our time and wealth on sharing the Good News of God, and less time on the treadmill of slavery to debt.
What kind of cross do you carry?

The Story (part7)

With this installment I’ve delved a little into my dark side. Some my find it offensive, but it was my life. I never got into drugs, but there are other things that affected my life for years to come, just the same.

Pinky 19   The Games One Plays

We had a neighborhood landmark know to anyone of the right age, as simply “The Big Tree.”  The Big Tree offered to us a place of privacy, a place of moral and immoral education, a place for dare-deviling and suicidal risks.  It was our world of make-believe vs. stark reality.
This place of wonder, truth, and lies stood along the north-south fence line of Higdon’s pasture.  It stood towering above the other scrubby firs, alders, hazelnut and cascara trees.  It was separated from the closest of our homes by several acres, which during grazing season we utilized as a ball field.
The Big Tree provided a sanctuary for a lot of “firsts.” It was here that a lot of us kids had our first smokes.  My first was Menthol KOOL’s that we stole from Larry’s dad. Larry’s dad was one who seemed to me to wile his free time away in a haze of cigarette smoke and television. So when he was at work there was always cartons of them lying around to pilfer.
It was here too, that we came with our pockets bulging with cigarette butts that we collected along the road as we walked home from school. The butts you see, came in handy when one wanted to build a foot long cigar, and be really cool.
Here is the recipe we used, for the foolhardl brave among you.  Take one clothes hanger tube, (the tight-rolled ones that look like a cardboard box that you get when you send your suit to the dry cleaners) and pull it off the wire hook. 
Well wait a minute, you’ll probably only be able to find these at an antique store! Anyway, cut it in half, to share with a friend.  Pull the filter tips off the butts and stuff the cigarette butts into the cardboard tubes.  Climb 2/3 of the way up the tallest tree you can find.  Park yourself astride a limb and lean back against the tree truck to light up.
To heighten the effect, tell tall tales, and try to keep your friends convinced that you really are not sickened by that big “cigar” that you’re puffing on
We thought Pinky was a master of tall tales, until we later learned that he really didn’t get sick as often as we did, because he wasn’t inhaling the smoke!
The Big Tree afforded us the opportunity for many an anatomy lesson as well.  Many times we stripped to the “buff” and raced to the top of the tree.
Now, you have to understand that “the top” meant different things to different people. The TOP was directly relates to your age, sex and weight.
To Pinky, “the top” meant that portion of the tree trunk that extended up near the clouds, and was reduced to wrist size or smaller.
To Susy, “the top” meant that portion of the tree trunk where she could see her house, and she was afraid her mom could see her bare bottom if she went any higher.
To me, “the top” meant that portion of the tree trunk that was about as wide as my shoulders, with 3 limbs branching out at about the same place.
This odd configuration made an ideal seat.  Usually it was not so high that we couldn’t lure one of the neighborhood girls up for a view.  They viewed the countryside while we viewed their bottoms after pushing them into place.
Pinky invented the sport of limb diving. He would scramble up the tree 20 or 30 feet, and begin sliding out on the limb until it would bow under his weight lowering him gently down to the limb below.  Then he would gently roll onto the lower limb.  At this point he usually had to move out a little farther with each succeeding limb.
It all looked like great sport, and soon we all were joining in.  Then it developed into a race for the ground.  A few of us became covered with bruises as our coordination lagged and we came down faster than we wished!  That skill was always good for a few shrieks from newcomers to our Big Tree.
The area directly under The Big Tree was well protected from our generous rains.  It could very often be perfectly dry under there several hours after a rain.  Our clothes, when rolled up tight and tossed against the trunk would stay quite dry.
Each year The Big Tree would grow a generous supply of cones that changed from heavy artillery to hand grenades, depending on the “enemy” and the game in progress.  One soon learned to respect the throwing arm of Pinky and several of the other kids. 
A number of real wars broke out as a result of these childhood games with the cones.  The serious ones usually started as a result of somebody’s overpowered hurl. Or the cone would strike a particularly tender spot of our anatomy.
One such dispute that lasted several days, and had rather dire results was the day we started with a game of Nudie Birdie Ball.  This was long before the whiffle ball was invented. 
The cones we discovered, acted a lot like the modern whiffle ball, when hit with a bat.
Since very often there was not enough of us to make up two teams, we usually played cross-out softball where the ball was thrown between the runner and the base for which he was headed.
Our birdie-ball game as it evolved, was like a cross between this softball “work-up”, and strip-poker.  Only the largest cones were used by the pitcher, who usually hurled them with all his might in the general direction of home plate. 
I say “general direction” because it was very difficult to have much control over it as it went flopping and tumbling like a sick bird toward the batter. The batter crouched, bat in hand ready in an instant to either duck or get into a swinging position.
The resounding whisssh-splat told everyone in the field to look for a “goose” or a “buzzard.”  The goose amounted to a line drive, while a buzzard more resembled a pop-fly that went up and sort of hovered there waiting for the wind to carry it away or drop it at the batters feet.
Three strikes and you’re out, and you had to leave one article of clothing at home plate. If you got crossed out, at one of the bases, one article had to be left at the last base you were occupying.
Well, this particular game had lasted several hours. We were hot and sweaty.  Most of us were stripped down to our socks and shoes.  I was on pitchers plate, with Pinky up to bat.  Somehow he had only been put out or struck out twice since the game started, and most of us naked, burned players were getting pissed and tempers were short-fused.
Kicking through the collection of cones at my feet, I picked up the most compact green-looking one in the pile.  Taking careful aim at his chest, I gave it my mightiest throw.
What happened next took place so fast that in the retelling it seems like slow motion.  In fact it was so fast that nearly everyone in the game had a different account of the facts involved.  So, if sometime you come across someone who was in that illustrious game and their story is different, you’ll understand that this my account!
The pitch left my hand like a torpedo set on its course.  Like a perfect bullet-pass in football, it neither wobbled nor tumbled.
“What a hit!  What a hit,” I thought as it sped for its mark.  Then, right at the last second Pinky stepped back, and with measured stroke, connected with that cone!  In an instant it had made its turn-around and was headed back for me!
Dumbfounded with disbelief, I was unable to move as I watched that murderous cone speeding back to me at strike-zone level.  Well, strike it did, right on my sunburned penis. It bounced off me, and was quickly retrieved by Larry the short stop.  In a valiant attempt to cross out Pinky he whumped Ina on her panty-covered buns.
She went screaming after Larry ready to scratch his eyes out.  I bounced off the ground mad as a hornet, and grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on, which just happened to be the one foot square piece of 1/2 inch plywood that served as home plate.  After chasing him around in a vain attempt to brain him with home plate, I threw it at him.  As though the Devil himself were my helper, that board sailed as true as the cone. Pinky, hearing my scream of rage, turned to see what I was up to, but it was too late.  Home plate hit him squarely on the forehead.
Of course the sight of blood running profusely down Pinky’s face changed the whole tenor of the game-gone-war.  But before we could even think of getting help for Pinky we had to get dressed!  Some of the smaller kids started hollering and crying.
Fearing all the commotion might bring some parents on the run only made getting dressed in a hurry all the more difficult. But dress and scatter we did as Pinky ran for home clutching a bloodied forehead.
The wounds and hurt pride eventually healed, but our enthusiasm for Nudie Birdie Ball waned and the puzzle of just what happened that day has never been resolved amongst us.

Larry’s family owned a brindle boxer dog who loved to kill cats. He had already killed one of Cliffy’s cats and one of ours.
Duke, I think his name was, was a loyal dude. He followed Larry everywhere and he managed to get into trouble about as often as Larry and I did.
Although Pinky’s place was “Cat Heaven” for any stray cat that wandered in or got dumped by a passing motorist, it was “Duke Heaven” anytime Larry and I went to his house.
We had tried everything we could think of to get Duke to stay home… including tying him to his home porch.
Of course it didn’t help much that I had a female boxer that delighted in teasing him with her lady-like behavior and coy ways.
“I read somewhere,” said Pinky, one day, “That if you soak a corncob in turpentine, and rub it on a dog’s butt, he will stay away from you.”
“Really?” asked Larry incredulously.
“Sure ‘nuff!” affirmed Pinky. “Magazines don’t lie.”
To myself I’m asking, “What kind of magazines does this guy read, anyway?”
Well, after arguing the pros and cons, we set out in search of the needed materials. But where could mischief makers find a corncob in the spring of the year?
“Guess we’ll have to find something else for an applicator,” says Pinky, “How ‘bout my t-shirt? We could wrap it around a willow branch.”
That problem solved, we still had to find some turpentine.
At my house we searched the garage from one side to the other. Tucked high on a shelf, behind some cans of paint I found it. There wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
While Larry held and petted Duke, Pinky did the dirty work. Dowsing the ragged t-shirt that he had wrapped around the stick, he set about the task.
Not having a tail, Duke was an easy target. As Pinky scrubbed his butt with the mixture, the poor dog began to squirm, then yelp.
When Larry could hold him no longer, he shouted, “Go home, Duke!”
At first Duke just ran in circles, then dropping his butt to the ground, he began dragging himself across our lawn by his front legs. We were all holding our side in laughter.
That was the last of anyone saw of him until late the next day.
All of our unsupervised games were fun. Some were weird. Some down right cruel.

My Shrivled World

The internet, I’ve discovered, is one of Al Gore’s modern miracles, but it is taking too much of my time.
From it I have learned many things. Like how Bible prophecy is being fulfilled in my lifetime.
“knowledge shall be increased”
“men’s hearts failing them for fear”
“the devil wanders about seeking whom he can devour”
“men will be lovers of pleasure, rather than of God”
and so many more.
I don’t know about yours, but my internet feeds me that sort of thing too much of the time. I suspect that yours does, too, because I get so much of it from you all.

It COULD be used for such good things… like communicating what’s going on in your daily lives, or sharing just the highlights. But no, most of what I get is “Forwards” that you have received that have been passed along several hundred times.
It’s like most people don’t have any original thoughts… they just enjoy sharing something that tickles their fancy, or that has shocked them.

Despite what you might think, there are those who care to share your personal joys and heartaches. We live in a big world that has so shrunken that it can be circled in a few short hours. We can communicate with someone on the other side of the world or across town in micro seconds. I am currently living within a half hours drive of the majority of my remaining extended family, but the only thing that consistently brings us together is a funeral or nutty emails! Is that sick or what?

Yeah, yeah, I know, if I live so close, why don’t I stop by to see you? Good question. Why is it that I, like you prefer to communicate via a keyboard rather than face-to-face. Is it the basic laziness of mankind that gets in the way? We have so many things to do, games to play, shopping to do, that we just can’t pack it all into a day. So, old fashioned visiting “bites it in the shorts.”

I guess my rant should have a point. It is this, Please don’t Forward email to me that you didn’t write. In accordance with my new policy, I’ll just “Trash” it without opening it. If it is so funny you’re falling out of your chair and you just HAVE TO share it, take the time to tell me about it in your own words. If it is so scary that you HAVE TO warn me, condense it and do it in your own words. From now on…. I’ll do the same for you.
In fact, when we find something like that on the ‘net it would probably be better if we would step across the street and personally share it with a neighbor.

For those of you that aren’t that near, I have my Blog in which I share with anyone the things that concern me, my welfare, my joys, and my disappointments. However, I plan to spend much less time at the computer (for the benefit of Al Gore ;>), and more time visiting.

Over the hurdles, one by one

I see this morning that the Senate has jumped another hurdle towards  the PolosiePlan for ObamaCare.

If it goes according to her will, we will have “health care,” whether we want it or not. The price tag starts at $15,000/yr. It isn’t clear WHO has to buy it, except it will cost $250,000 in fines or 5 years in prison to refuse it. We know for sure that the president & vice-pres. don’t get it, nor do any members of congress. What exceptions there are beyond that, I don’t know. I haven’t taken the time to read the 2,400+ pages yet.

I sharpened my pencil to see how this would affect me. We retirees living on Social inSecurity won’t have much choice in refusing ObamaCare… they’ll just deduct it from our monthly check.

Let’s see, I get $886/mo. or $10,636/yr., and they want $15,000/yr for medical care. I guess they will expect me to work off that $4,368 difference, volunteering at some internment camp for the dissidents.

Of course, they could just give me an H1N1 vaccine and take me off the “rolls” so you struggling youngsters won’t have to support me with your rising SS taxes.

The Bible warned us long ago that the “last days” would be troubling ones. Jesus also said “Let not your hearts be troubled. You believe in God, believe also in me.”

I guess I don’t need ObamaCare or his vaccines… do I even need his other medications?

Highly recommend the YouTube video “In Lies We Trust”

A Day of Rejoicing

A Day of Rejoicing has come. But it is a mixed bag.
Yesterday, Evelyn had the pins removed from her toes. It only hurt half as badly as the day she fell and bent them. But it could have hurt less than that, except that the wires were still a little bent. One was still a good ten degrees! Since they were inserted through the inside of the bones and joining three bones in each toe, the exit was doing a lot of wobbling of the joints that were trying to mend.
So now, she can walk without crutches…YEAH!

The bad news is, she has developed shingles on her face. She has started a series of meds that will shorten the length of the outbreak. The rash, itching, and shooting pains are a bit of a joy breaker.

Just watched a talk by Margaret Feinberg, the author of “Scouting the Devine”.

Modern times have diluted the Bible’s most powerful imagery. What does it mean to know that “Jesus is Lamb of God” when the only places we encounter sheep are at petting zoos? How can we understand the promise of “a land overflowing with milk and honey” when the only honey we buy comes in a bear-shaped bottle at the supermarket? Can we grasp Jesus’ invitation to “abide in the vine” when we shop for grapes at Costco?

She does an intriguing, animating job of ferreting out the answers. It’s a good view. I highly recommend it.

The HISTORY CHANNEL reveals links

Double WOW! I just finished a 3-part segment on YouTube starting here about the efforts to limit population growth around the world.

I’ve know since I was a youth that Satan has been at work trying to kill as many of God’s prime creation as he can before his time is up, but I had no idea how many in the world are banding together to make this happen. War is the prime example, of course, but it has gotten much more insidious than that.

Here are a few choice things that I learned from this movie alone:

* The Rockefeller family donated the land in NY for the United Nations building… the first major step toward a one-world government. This body’s laws supreceed those of any other government. The World Health Org. is under UN control.

*GAVI- Global Alliance for Vaccination and Immunization was launched in 1999 by a HUGE donation- $740 million by the Bill and Mellissa Gates Foundation. The goals of GAVI are to improve the health of 70 of the world’s poorest nations. (Good goal, but…). They do this by vaccinations and immunizations ONLY. They don’t provide food, shelter, clean water or any other medicines.

* In 1974 Henry Kissinger (who was a protoge of John Rockefeller) issued the National Security Study Memorandum #200. The stated goal was :
1) achieve replacement fertility in developing countries by 1985. 
2) achieve replacement fertility in lessor developing countries by 2000.
They were to do this by:
1) legalized abortions
2) propaganda
3) financial incentives
4) coersion.

*  The target players in GAVI are identical  to Kissinger’s list in 1974! The sponsors are all Anglo countries, and the recipients are mostly African nations. And the list of donors is the same.
Wolrd Bank
World Health Org.
Donor countries
“Private organizations and groups”( like Gates)

* One of the organizers of GAVI is the founder of Planned Parenthood – G. Birtch(sp). In his 1947 book, “Human Breeding and Survival” he stated,

“It appears what the UN needs to do is to recommend to all nations… adoption of laws which will… actively lead to sterilization of all persons who are inadequate, either biologically or socially…”
Is it any wonder that Planned Parenthood ruthlessly promotes abortion over adoption?

*  The film goes on to document the “vaccination” of women in Phillipines and Thialand who are being treated with Tetanus vaccine that is at lease 20% “tainted” with hGC, human growth hormone. hGC is needed to ensure the healthy development of fetus’, but when given in conjunction with Tetanus it renders the women sterile.  If the woman is already pregnant, she will abort within two weeks. What kind help is that GAVI?
In Thialand, if a woman delivers a child before she has all her shots, the child will never be a citizen and receive ID papers.
Sounds only a little more controlling than in the USA where a child cannot go to school unless he’s up-to-date with his shots. Our babies don’t die, though, just a larger and larger percentage of them are getting ADD, ADHD, and Autism. They are dying later from complications of diabetes, and morbid obesity.  The pharacuticals don’t want to kill us off yet. They have to get us to invest all our wealth in health.
Quite simply, it’s another way for the rich to enslave the working part of society.

That’s a glimpse of the video… watch it now before it too, is removed from YouTube.
 Unless you are making a $million or more a year, you won’t be able to much about what’s happening. On the other hand, if you’re making that much you’re most likely part of the problem.

The only real way to get around or through the problem is to introduce people to the God of salvation. He has promised to rebuild this cesspool that we have made of this earth.