Stupid Hateful Evil Morons

freshly pissedThis ^^^^ is because of what follows. Just seen via Twitter.

I downloaded the above image from Phil’s place because I was angry at something I read a couple of weeks ago on the same subject. I abstained from writing anything figuring that, as a fellow blogger would say, ‘You can’t fix stupid’.

But this here! I don’t care about fixing stupid. As yet another friend would say, ‘I want to slap the stupid out of them’.

How dare they!

http://www.queerty.com/young-lesbian-couple-left-unconscious-and-bloodied-following-anti-gay-attack-20150225

Stupid! Hateful! Pure and simple. Get the fuck over yourselves. This is why the world’s in a shitload of trouble. This is why I get depressed. What a world.

Stupid. Hateful. Evil. Alive and thriving.

Pissed doesn’t even begin to cover it.

 

Dance With The Devil

I don’t do dark very well – it scares me! But I thought I’d try my hand at devil’s advocate.

 

Will you dance if I dine at your table,

If I furnish your hearts deepest desire?

Will you welcome my arms twined around you

While I lead you on the dance floor of fire?

Will you sway when promised heaven on earth

Though I bind it to the cost of your soul,

Will you forego nirvana eternal,

Negate elusive Elysian goal?

 

Will you feed from my hand if I proffer,

Twirling you in a frenzy of delight,

Will you swoon at my feet when exhausted

And I summon in Babylon of night?

Will you beg if I torment your spirit,

Abandon you pinned, flower to the wall,

Stretched beyond your every endurance,

Should I catch when you are ready to fall?

 

If I guarantee worldly successes,

As an exchange for a waltz with your mind,

Will you welcome my evil excesses,

Assist me in my most hellish designs?

May I offer exact allocation,

Fetch a price for your hand to my hot touch,

Prostitute values and weaken, survey

Temptation’s acreage, breadths of my reach?

 

Will you sashay in joint admiration

While I false praise you, inflating your pride,

Have my words reached core of your vanity,

Will you unveil as my spouse, stand by side?

Shall I teach you beyond luminescence,

Revealing ominous behind closed doors,

Shall we frolic with innocence and goodness,

Sweep these charlatans from searing dance floor?

 

Can you bide with the devil anointed,

Impressed deeply in the hearts of all men,

Or cast me from task, duty appointed,

To begin asking all over again?

May I rest at your table while thoughts war,

Till you test your resistance to my charm,

May I offer some spirit to savour

As you weigh up the pros and cons of harm?

 

Remember I dwell fast within you, though

You fight me and address as external,

Dance with me, partner, ignore all the risks,

Embrace me as your power internal.

You’ll regret if you shun my advances,

Dismiss earnest request for all your hands,

When my power’s seized by those who crave it,

Destruction viewed and rued  in cast-off lands.

 

I’m counting the minutes of this music,

Tapping foot as you mull my overtures,

I’ve tried, no one can fault me for effort,

Revealed to you the best of all my lures.

You’re declining when I seek your favour?

You won’t dance, you say? I need not do more

As long as you don’t dance with the other,

I have accomplished, completed my chore.

 

Excuse while I move around the tables,

My feet are itching, ready still to dance,

Some among the many gathered hereabouts

Are pining and would welcome, given chance,

To glide round the parquet with the devil,

Grasp my claws, all they offer and bestow,

Unoffended by your blunt refusal,

I have a world to dance with, just so you know.

Michael

True or not, believed or not, this is a lovely recount of something I came across years ago. The story of a soldier’s protection. Just as we have been protected by them. ‘Lest We Forget’.

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There’s a story about a young Marine named Michael who wrote a letter home to his mother while he was in the hospital after having been wounded in Korea in 1950.  A Navy Chaplain named Father Walter Muldy apparently was given the letter, checked the facts and concluded what was in the letter was true. A year later he read the letter in public for the first time, to a gathering of some 5,000 Marines at the Naval Base in San Diego.  Here is the letter:

Dear Mom,

I wouldn’t dare write this letter to anyone but you because no one else would believe it. Maybe even you will find it hard but I have got to tell somebody. First off, I am in a hospital. Now don’t worry, ya hear me, don’t worry. I was wounded but I’m okay you understand. Okay. The doctor says that I will be up and around in a month.

But that’s not what I want to tell you.

Remember when I joined the Marines last year; remember when I left, how you told me to say a prayer to St. Michael every day. You really didn’t have to tell me that. Ever since I can remember you always told me to pray to St. Michael the Archangel. You even named me after him. Well I always have.

When I got to Korea, I prayed even harder. Remember the prayer that you taught me? “Michael, Michael of the morning, fresh chord of Heaven adorning,” you know the rest of it. Well I said it everyday. Sometimes when I was marching or sometimes resting. But always before I went to sleep. I even got some of the other fellas to say it.

Well, one day I was with an advance detail way up over the front lines. We were scouting for the Commies. I was plodding along in the bitter cold, my breath was like cigar smoke.

I thought I knew every guy in the patrol, when along side of me comes another Marine I never met before. He was bigger than any other Marine I’d ever seen. He must have been 6’4″ and built in proportion. It gave me a feeling of security to have such a body near.

Anyway, there we were trudging along. The rest of the patrol spread out. Just to start conversation I said, “Cold ain’t it.” And then I laughed. Here I was with a good chance of getting killed any minute and I am talking about the weather.

My companion seemed to understand. I heard him laugh softly. I looked at him, “I have never seen you before, I thought I knew every man in the outfit.”

“I just joined at the last minute”, he replied. “The name is Michael.”

“Is that so,” I said surprised. “That is my name too.”

“I know,” he said and then went on, “Michael, Michael of the morning …”

I was too amazed to say anything for a minute. How did he know my name, and a prayer that you had taught me? Then I smiled to myself, every guy in the outfit knew about me. Hadn’t I taught the prayer to anybody who would listen. Why now and then, they even referred to me as St. Michael. Neither of us spoke for a time and then he broke the silence.

“We are going to have some trouble up ahead.”

He must have been in fine physical shape or he was breathing so lightly I couldn’t see his breath. Mine poured out in great clouds. There was no smile on his face now. Trouble ahead, I thought to myself, well with the Commies all around us, that is no great revelation. Snow began to fall in great thick globs. In a brief moment the whole countryside was blotted out. And I was marching in a white fog of sticky particles. My companion disappeared.

“Michael,” I shouted in sudden alarm.

I felt his hand on my arm, his voice was rich and strong, “This will stop shortly.”

His prophecy proved to be correct. In a few minutes the snow stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The sun was a hard shining disc. I looked back for the rest of the patrol, there was no one in sight. We lost them in that heavy fall of snow. I looked ahead as we came over a little rise.

Mom, my heart stopped. There were seven of them. Seven Commies in their padded pants and jackets and their funny hats. Only there wasn’t anything funny about them now. Seven rifles were aimed at us.

“Down Michael,” I screamed and hit the frozen earth.

I heard those rifles fire almost as one. I heard the bullets. There was Michael still standing. Mom, those guys couldn’t have missed, not at that range. I expected to see him literally blown to bits. But there he stood, making no effort to fire himself. He was paralyzed with fear. It happens sometimes, Mom, even to the bravest. He was like a bird fascinated by a snake. At least, that was what I thought then. I jumped up to pull him down and that was when I got mine I felt a sudden flame in my chest. I often wondered what it felt like to be hit, now I know..

I remember feeling strong arms around me, arms that laid me ever so gently on a pillow of snow. I opened my eyes, for one last look. I was dying. Maybe I was even dead, I remember thinking well, this is not so bad. Maybe I was looking into the sun. Maybe I was in shock. But it seemed I saw Michael standing erect again only this time his face was shining with a terrible splendor. As I say, maybe it was the sun in my eyes, but he seemed to change as I watched him. He grew bigger, his arms stretched out wide, maybe it was the snow falling again, but there was a brightness around him like the wings of an angel. In his hands was a sword. A sword that flashed with a million lights. Well, that is the last thing I remember until the rest of the fellas came up and found me. I do not know how much time had passed. Now and then I had but a moment’s rest from the pain and fever. I remember telling them of the enemy just ahead.

“Where is Michael,” I asked.

I saw them look at one another. “Where’s who?” asked one.

“Michael, Michael the big Marine I was walking with just before the snow squall hit us.”

“Kid,” said the sergeant, “You weren’t walking with anyone. I had my eyes on you the whole time. You were getting too far out. I was just going to call you in when you disappeared in the snow.”

He looked at me, curiously. “How did you do it kid?”

“How’d I do what?” I asked half angry despite my wound. “This marine named Michael and I were just …”

“Son,” said the sergeant kindly, ” I picked out this outfit myself and there just ain’t another Michael in it. You are the only Mike in it.”

He paused for a minute, “Just how did you do it kid? We heard shots. There hasn’t been a shot fired from your rifle. And there isn’t a bit of lead in them seven bodies over the hill there.”

I didn’t say anything, what could I say. I could only look open-mouthed with amazement.

It was then the sergeant spoke again, “Kid,” he said gently, “every one of those seven Commies was killed by a sword stroke.”

That is all I can tell you Mom. As I say, it may have been the sun in my eyes, it may have been the cold or the pain. But that is what happened.

Love, Michael

We have search the internet trying to find the Marine soldier named Michael’s prayer which he said every morning.  Finally, we found a saintly elderly priest, Fr. Joseph Reitz, who knew the prayer.  Here it is: 

Michael, Michael, of the morning,
Fresh chord of Heaven adorning,
Keep me safe today
And in time of temptation,
Drive the devil away.

This prayer must be prayed upon rising every morning.

Image

http://www.tldm.org/News10/MarineNamedMichael.htm

In Glory They Shine

Undaunted he rides on creature with wings

Head thrown back, from true heart he sings,

Banner aloft, a symbol of power,

Challenging the beast, for this is his hour –

Misery and heartache he brings.

 

 

Struggle ensues in stars’ endless night,

Clashes almighty! A furious fight!

Mounts of giant standing keep to their pace,

Enabling each rider to take part in this race –

This marathon for forthcoming light.

 

 

Brilliance looks on, each heavenly body,

Shimmering with excitement, for these two embody

The battle that wages out here in this ‘hood,

Death is success for the bad or the good –

Mercy shown for nobody.

 

 

Years pass in combat, blood flows from the sky,

Drips to the earth and burns you and I,

Venom from one with viperish tongue,

Hooded and ready he sprung –

To the heart of hero forbye.

 

 

Evil was winning and good hung from his steed,

Victim too worthy but ready to bleed,

He looked all around in desperate plea

To stars in the galaxies, that’s you and that’s me,

And they responded, paid heed.

 

 

Mustering all mighty strength they maintained,

They breathed forth their power, in good’s name proclaimed,

Light will battle with darkness, it’s true,

One is enough, but many is better than few

So goodness may be blessed and ordained.

 

 

It’s true what I tell, it’s the conflict of old,

Centuries written, millennia told,

Where two hearts of one man, divided by cause,

Wreak havoc and vengeance with weapons and claws

And declare to the world they are bold.

 

 

But bolder than man with blackest of heart

Is the radiance of heavens that shone from the start

Seeking to illumine where darkness prevails,

Appease understanding with light-infused tales

Of glories one day to impart.

 

 

Video reading  In Glory They Shine