Jesus Christ is My God

Over the years, I’ve always been careful–careful to discuss matters of my faith online in ways that did not run people off who might not want to hear direct, specific mentions of Jesus Christ. His name has been grossly taken advantage of by churches, by Christians themselves. The modern Christian church (in the mainstream sense) has done more disservice to His name than any demon could do. And I’ll tell you one thing, whatever the demonic world is, that world has profound respect for that name. Humans are the ones who disrespect that name, and the multi-faceted power that is associated with that name.

In doing so, my intent was to perhaps be able to talk about Him, again, without running someone away. I will repeat this below, but given how badly the mainstream church has abused their position and His name in their reductionist views and portrayal of Him, I understand people’s frustration in this regard. But this fallacy has done a disservice to my own authority as a writer and someone who believes in Jesus Christ.

You see, He is the God that I worship and the one who took me in despite not being deserving of any of the power that comes with that name. One of the reasons I’m no longer going to be careful is that I am not what one would call a ‘Bible thumper,’ or otherwise prone to make judgments on anyone if they have no interest at all in Jesus or the Bible, or the church (local sense, the ones who still bear at least a modicum of respect for that name), or even prefer to refer to my God as my imaginary friend. Because I understand their frustrations, and I understand that the choice to take on any faith in any God is a personal decision. My thoughts on that decision have little to no bearing on that person’s choices at all. No one needs a lecture from anyone not equipped to be a judge, and I am not equipped I assure you.

Thus there is no need for being overly careful as I’ve done. I’d rather discuss Him from this point on directly in ways that are different than the usual fare, and be upfront about His name.

I enjoy looking outward in a cosmic view, not merely inwardly asking silly questions like, “Why did God allow this to happen to me,” or “why does God allow bad things to happen to good people?” Christ, according to the Bible, is The Logos–the Divine Voice of God who brought the Eternal Laws of the Universe into existence. Approaching Him topically and spiritually in this manner (cosmic) grants a much larger picture than mere Sunday School religion that limits Him to a being more intent on watching my every little move, like Santa, so that He can check His list, find out if I’m naughty, and not bring me things. I cannot stomach that form of Christianity. I would prefer a much more visceral view of Christ, one that quite frankly can be terrifying to the tiny mind of the human, who spends each day just trying to figure out what the hell is going on. For if He is the God that I believe in, then His makeup is far beyond my ken, and that, to me, is a much more interesting God than the one the mainstream church has reduced Him to.

So as we begin a new year, I just want any reader to understand this is my public declaration of the fact that I am a follower of Jesus Christ, the Second person in the Trinity (Godhead). Many whom I talk to already know this, and this won’t surprise them, but many readers especially new ones who might come along have no idea of the specifics of my belief in God. Now, they know.

All that said, let’s see what 2020 brings. And I hope that this new year brings you peace.

Take it all With a Generous Grain of Salt

Ricky Gervais. I’m sure the name rings a bell.

How did this ‘sneak’ by? How was Gervais able to deliver such a blistering monologue at one of Hollywood’s self-loving pornographic spectacles without being dragged from the stage?

I have to wonder.

Hollywood has been summarily destroying its own franchises for the last few years, introducing an amount of political correctness and ‘diversity’ to their scripts that makes normal people want to vomit and stop spending money. The only people who seem to flock to these modern franchises without reservation look like a lineup of Antifa mugshots. Weird hair colors (hell, weird hair), pixie cuts, ears filled with gauges that will leave those earlobes looking like flaccid nether regions later in life.

How does Gervais fit into this all with his monologue, which to the naked eye (and the ‘WOO conservatives’) seemed to eviscerate the modern Hollywood mindset? Call it what a friend of mine does: an idiot fascinator. While there is a small possibility that this was not all part and parcel of Hollywood’s next plan of attack to get freedom-loving folks in America to unwisely blow a day’s earnings on going to a theater, paying for a ticket and then paying forty dollars for three dollars worth of terrible food, I somehow doubt that. It’s awfully suspicious.

I thoroughly enjoyed the comedic timing and delivery of Gervais’ monologue from a purely artistic standpoint, and were it to stand alone as something not set up, it would be very much laudable. But I doubt in my gut that this is the case. The Golden Globes are not a Netflix special whereby Dave Chappelle or Bill Burr are allowed to rant. This was, again, a Hollywood pornographic spectacle of self-love.

As Hollywood has attempted (and succeeded in many cases) to murder its own franchises, it surely is a long step ahead of the general public as to its next act. Gervais monologue could very well be a starting point for this next act. While it was funny, and gave us a sense of relief, believing that finally, someone ‘gets it’ and isn’t afraid to hand the celebrities their verbal comeuppance, it strikes me a bit like Iran’s sabre rattling in the wake of the tactical action recently taken by the United States: don’t take it terribly serious. Otherwise, Hollywood’s next act will fool us and we’ll be lining up again like lemmings to pay for more rot, only from a slightly different perspective to appeal to a different mindset, and they’ll all be laughing as they phone up their financial advisers.

Temptation is Illusion. But the Time for Trickery is Passed

Temptation is more dangerous to the soul than demonic possession, exorcist says

The great secret of evil hides from us because it is within us. We create evil by making stupid short-term decisions based on our desires instead of the needs of a healthy ecosystem involving ourselves, including social and civilizational layers. “I want” is the doorway to Hell, but people would rather blame demons and scapegoats than confront the moral duty that humanity nearly universally neglects.

Brett Stevens

I remember seeing a comic strip some time ago, which I cannot find. The devil is sitting on a sidewalk crying. Someone asks him why he’s crying. He replies, “These Christians are always blaming everything on me.”

Though I do believe in external evil (I call it Primary Evil) as well, there is no shortage of wisdom in what Brett is saying in the above quote. I grew up in hyper-religious Christian schools. I am thankful for the knowledge of scripture that I garnered while there, but I do not miss the bubble-like mindset of seeing everything not specifically Christian as evil, and Satan as being something with enough time and minions to be attacking myself and everyone else simultaneously, and that the results of my life were always hinging on his plans.

Whatever the demonic is (inter-dimensional beings, something akin to a flu-like virus of the spirit, or perhaps even a mafia-like organization with a hierarchy) its primary device is whispering to us to desire things we do not need, do whatever it takes to get what we think we want, and blame everything external when nothing works. I don’t buy the old adage that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. More likely, it is paved with the shiny trinkets of misery, akin to Fool’s Gold; indeed, “I want,” is the doorway, but the road leading to it are the false tiles of temptation that lead us to this door. As the fictional character Pinhead noted in Hellraiser: Bloodline: “Temptation is illusion.”

The person of faith and/or decency grows in maturity when they grasp the second part of Pinhead’s quote: “But the time for trickery is passed.”

The illusion is that getting all that we want is heaven when, in fact, it is more akin to Hell and then when we realize we are in Hell, pretending that it was not ourselves who set it all into motion. I’ve seen several op-eds recently denoting that the last decade have been the best years of humanity, and some have even asked the question, so why is everyone so unhappy?

Deep down in our souls we know that the whispered temptations of the demonic that told us that comfort, convenience, denial of morality, denial of basic human nature, and the perverse modern definitions of ‘freedom’ were all lies–clever illusions–but we listened, followed the false trinkets on the road to Hell, and opened up the door, like some Pandora’s Box, and now we don’t know how to close the thing. Closing it is in large part up to our ability to admit we opened it, the devil did not make us do it, we were dead wrong, and must face some consequence of our actions. But when you destroy civilization by convincing the people residing in it that consequences are inhumane and ‘not who we are’ most people can’t even ponder the notion of them, so the cycle continues until the really dark things step through the door and end the whole exercise.

And so often, people forget that God is the one ultimately holding those really dark things back. God is more like Santa to modern people; checking his list twice, then bringing us nice toys when we’re good. There is no basis for this idea. It’s a false narrative used by religion to get people in the door to put money in the baskets and build bigger buildings, even in the midst of impoverished neighborhoods.

He is love, but more so in that everything He does is logical, and seeks out the best for humanity and all Creation. Humanity is always given the opportunity to admit that it listened to the temptation-whisperers and shut the door before the really dark things come through it, but most often, we don’t. So God looses the chains on those Krakens, and blood is spilled on the burning grounds of once-great civilizations. I’m certain it pains Him, but He is not us, and does not subscribe to our notions of fairness. The interest of His comes down to balance and making right what was wrong, which includes most definitely pain and anguish in order to rid humanity of the mental, spiritual and even physical sickness and disease it welcomed into its midst.

Along comes a new year. The West is in its death throes and everyone can sense it, no matter how ‘positive’ people pretend to be with their quotes on social media and false smiles. The West listened to the temptation-whisperers and bought all the lies, hook line and sinker. So most that are lost will remain so, and the really dark things will emerge soon. And temptation is much like a drug with one fix leading to needing a stronger fix the next go-round, and these really dark things will be pushers of the strongest kind. Those lost will embrace even more lies, and give into the worst of their natures. It has to happen, and the good part is that when evil is shown for what it truly is, the sane will face it and turn it away. It isn’t pretty, but it is good.

So as the lost fall deeper into the whispers, the wise should remember:

Temptation is illusion. But the time for trickery is passed.

What the Hell Just Happened?

When it comes to fighting, I’m far too lazy to have much interest in it, so the only interest I have with fighting is ending it as quickly as possible, doing the most damage to my opponent as possible so that I can just get the hell out of the situation and move on, hopefully without being arrested and ending up in jail.

But I’ve been playing guitar for over 30 years. This is where I can truly attest to the concepts being conveyed in the above video. John quotes Sun Tzu: “Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

As a guitar player, I haven’t any interest in you seeing me coming. My interest is in the music. I’m not important. I’m the instrument playing the instrument. Anything else I presume myself to be is just that: a presumption with little to no merit. When I sit down to record a song or step on stage to play one, I have a job, singular: I am to deliver to the world the best performance that I am able to deliver at that moment. That by no means should be taken to mean that every time I perform I’m going to deliver what my job requires. Music, like war, is a moment to moment action, and like the soldier, the musician more often than not misfires, has to reload and begin the exercise again. Such is human nature. But this does not detract from the fact that my job is to make that delivery, and I again am merely the instrument playing the instrument.

But having played for over 30 years, many of them on stages in bars with other musicians, I can tell you that pretending that the instrument is the guitar and not you is the best way to fail on nearly every level. Sure, there are those with almost inhuman abilities who can do almost anything on a guitar no matter their ego, but they are few and Shrapnel records likely has most of them on at least one album. For most of us mere mortals there is a grind we must submit to, and most of the time practice is the least cumbersome part of that grind. The pumice stone that most annoys us is that of our own ego and subverting it.

I know so many guitar players who could be far beyond their current ken if only they could transcend their own egos. I know players who have their image down to a fine art. I know players who will only play certain styles. I could go on but for the most part, all of these players who limit themselves do so because they want to be noticed more than the music that they play. They want so much for people to see them coming, to know their names, to remember their names, and to laud them for that name. The truth is that this is the reverse of how it all works. Those who are remembered only wanted to be remembered in the peripheral; it is never the main goal of the musician, soldier, writer, fighter, etc, et al to be remembered (again, save those who seem to have something like supernatural abilities) but moreso to do their job to such a disciplined degree that being remembered is something that will happen in and of itself. So many of the greats only wanted to serve their purpose.

When I step into a bar to play music with my bands, I want to leave people thinking, “What the hell just happened?” I want them to wonder how the nondescript looking man in the black shirt and black cap playing the white Stratocaster managed to peel paint from the walls. I want my playing to serve the music and the band at once. I don’t care if anyone in the audience remembers my name, so long as they remember that my playing did both.

I believe this all has a practical application in today’s political and societal climate. Thanks to social media, first world culture believes that it must be recognized individually; people want to respond to every insult and prove that their opinion has merit. But if an opinion has merit, it needs little to no defense. Those who care about the moral and cultural degradation of modernity have the upper hand, as the laws of nature and the universe back them up. So our names do not matter. Our job is to, as a meme I saw stated, ‘walk in, **** shit up, and walk out.’ We are to serve the music, so to speak, in that the opposition need not see us coming until all is too late, and we have done the damage to their systems of destruction.

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

While I understand the need for communicating plans to those with like mind, I believe that those of us on the right are perhaps talking too much online. As the pendulum begins to swing in reverse, let us be those who quietly give that pendulum momentum. Perhaps we even restrict our movements to text messages and emails, rather that posting plans online on different websites. Do we need to be remembered as individuals, or is it more important that we put a stop to the cultural rot of modernity? Is it worthwhile to be remembered as ‘bad-asses’ who say whatever the hell we want, or as the most dangerous men in the room, whom no one saw coming?

Frankly, I’d like the left to remember one thing most prominently in their minds:

What the hell just happened?

I am the Laughing Man.

Well, at Least it's Worth a Laugh

I thought what I’d do was, I’d pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes. That way I wouldn’t have to have any goddam stupid useless conversations with anybody.

Despite the tragedy of modernity, at least it’s worth a laugh.

Children like David Hogg and Greta Thunberg lecture adults. This doesn’t surprise me from their standpoint–they’re children, after all, and children act up and act out. The humor I find in the adults who listen and lap it all up as though Christ walked into the room. I doubt that any of them would recognize Christ, mind you. When he did not show up as a hippie waving the peace sign but instead showed up as the man with the whip he’d hand-made who’d had just about enough of their nonsense, they’d all run screaming, jump on their social media accounts and proclaim “People told me that was Jesus! But that dude is a fascist!” Blue-check Twitterati numbskulls would want to go and cancel Christ upon learning the bearer of the whip was, in fact, Jesus. While it might be possible to cancel Christianity, I would truly enjoy seeing them try and cancel the actual Christ in physical form.

(I believe that was tried once before and didn’t work out quite as planned.)

The cancel culture itself is easy to mock, and thankfully, more than a few comedians are doing so these days. This is a ‘culture’ with so many tiny rules (they call them micro-aggressions) that attempting to follow them all is a futile gesture from the offset, because the people who inhabit this culture haven’t really the slightest idea about what it is they’re truly outraged over, thus everything outrages them. If you’re white and male you can’t say things about a certain group. If you’re white and female, you’re given a pass on saying some of the things white males can’t, but tread lightly. If you’re white, male, and straight, just shutup now. If you’re white, female, and straight, tread slightly less lightly. If you’re white, male, and gay, tread lightly, but collect your token. White, female, and gay, more tokens are granted, but still walk the ice as though it were thin. Black? Depends. The cancel culture grants you many tokens, but use them all in a sentence and they’ll come after you, too. You might think you’re safe. You’re not.

The cancel culture is a void of self-awareness. Chastise them for their neuroses and expect a long-form rant that affirms the need for them to be chastised. Perhaps an ‘OK, Boomer’ thrown in to show that they’re so much more clever than you are, you old effin’ fart. And they never shut up their sermonizing. I grew up in strict, Christian schools in the 80’s and 90’s. These people make the preachers and teachers I dealt with seem like dope-smoking party animals by comparison. Neo-Puritan Pearl Clutchers this cancel culture is, and they’re damned proud of that fact. If you’ve ever tried to argue with a soaking-wet cat, you already know that trying to argue with members of the cancel culture is a zero-sum game. Someone’s gonna get hurt.

Walk away laughing. Maybe take some pictures of them howling. Makes for good memes.

The entertainment industry is willingly destroying cash-cow franchises every few months. From Star Wars to Terminator, Hollywood is moving out with the old, and moving in the newer, terribly boring. While these franchises may still limp on, their substance has been dissected and reformed into the arrogant and boorish mindset of modernity, which seeks to rip down everything worthwhile and replace it with ‘brave’ new ideas. Which are neither brave nor new. A classic like Ridley Scott’s Alien could never be made today as it was in 1979, because the scene where Ash tries to kill Ripley by shoving a magazine down her throat, then exploding into a white, gooey mess when beaten down and stopped would be deemed as a moment promoting rape culture, thus missing the point entirely of both this scene and as well the point of the scene when the damned alien came bursting out of John Hurt’s chest at the dinner table.

Modernity has so many ‘facts’ it relies on but it understands next to nothing at all. Modernity does not understand itself anymore. It looks and sees that humans do bad things, and arrogantly believes that if it ‘educates’ people with factoids and pablum, humanity can be changed. It would be lovely if this were the case. But ‘Hey man, you do know it’s the 21st Century, right?’ has no bearing on anything when it comes to reality. Humanity is now what it once was, and will be until this species ends. We do not ‘evolve.’ We merely possess the ability to learn. And then forget, only to have to learn again. It is absurd, but not hopeless.

There is no such thing as ‘common sense’ left anymore. Modernity relies on the hilarity of ‘my truth,’ which means logical reality be damned, whatever each person believes to be truth is such, despite that this flies in the face of the Laws of the Universe like a bug flying into the windshield of a car.

I believe there is an order to this Universe, and thus do not give in to the absurdity of modernity to the point that I find life to be futile. Quite the opposite, really. The absurdity of modernity is the result of humanity once again forgetting the Laws of the Universe–Greeks called this mistake Hubris–and attempting to subvert these laws in order to make itself feel better. Humans don’t think on a cosmic level enough. We stay mired in the moment, failing to look at the long game.

Still, I understand why God himself once stated that he laughs at our calamity when we ignore those laws. Modernity is calamity. And in so many ways, it’s hilarious. It’s so easy to be outraged by everything in our world today. And outrage, on the face of things, seems reasonable. But laughter is all the more reasonable, for the pendulum will swing again, and it might get really brutal when it does. So let’s laugh now and we’ll mop up the mess when the reckoning appears.

Modernity may not be worth much, but at least it’s worth a laugh.

Call me The Laughing Man.