NO! You're not over-blogging the subject - the one that preys on everybody's mind, but nobody wants

to be for-real about it.  So much fakey-ness comes out, whenever that f-word (finances) is even sort-of mentioned.  Like the old guy or gal who claims he or she enjoys (getting up at 5 am and driving through winter muck) standing for hours on end ringing up/bagging people's groceries, because retirement gets boring.  Sure, retirement is bound to get boring...happens when you don't have the extra money to buy craft/gardening/travel/gift items.  Happens when your fixed income is barely enough to fix things.  Not retired yet, would like to be, but it's not happening for awhile.  Taka good guess why.  

Anyway, the saturna-stickup is (thankfully) behind us.  Not exactly my favorite time of year...bah-humbug, you betcha!  Saw a picture of a friend's beautiful Christmas tree - and what was really nice was, the oodles of packages surrounding it.  And yeah, the green covetous creecher was fixing to invade my space, but the practical side posed a reminder...you know what appears in mailboxes later this month.  Uh, thanks but no thanks.  

Been there, done that.  One year, when the flowers were blooming and the birdie-birds were singing, was still paying for the previous saturna.  

Preecher-creechers everywhere. And then, here and there, are a few for-real pastors. Just read a post that so resonated.

A pastor, who's ministry is basically focused on abuse-victims - he had been a police-officer back in the day - knows from personal experience...well, evidently, alot of things.  In his early years as a preacher, he had been the victim of financial abuse.  That's hard to fathom...ya know, a guy that had been a cop, cops have heard about every lie told under the sun.  "But officer, I didn't see the sign, I didn't do it..." bla-bla-bla.  Anyway, he had been messed over, not by antifa, but in the church.  The board at the time, basically didn't want to pay him a wage that allowed him and his family to afford decent hamburger.  "Don't muzzle the ox that treads out the corn."  That's in the Bible somewhere.

We could say, "gedda job."  Thing is, being a pastor IS  a full-time job, and then some.  By the way, you won't hear him telling people - who are about to have their electric shut off - to tithe up.  Okay, that said.  Anyway, being a Pastor means visiting/helping people (the leg-work in rounding up a few guys/materials to put a roof on Carl's house, because there's no way the old guy can afford to call RufersAreUs) studying Scripture, writing sermons.  Some preachers preach/teach Sunday nights and wednesday - not so much nowadays...and today's society is a train-wreck???

Evidently, my pastor knows another pastor who had been kept poor by muzzlers.  A few years ago, Pastor had gotten in contact with this old pastor...wanna talk about retirement-hell??  The man and his wife are living in some rickety little 5-wheel trailer.  i wasn't there, and don't know the man, but i know that Pastor was upset.

So how does that "be fruitful and multiply" decree work? For sure, no way around it - law of first mention, and it's right there on like page two.

But what about overpopulation, and under provisioning?  Thought about this for awhile.  Let's say that America has always been largely a for-real Christian nation.  Would not our population be, like, 500 million by this time - with so many one-paycheck patriarchal families with like four kids?  How on earth would that pan out, space-wise?   i don't have the answers, but i know that if you fell in a slushy mud puddle - while hailing a taxi - and ruined your good coat, you'd get the thing dry-cleaned, and it would now be your winter yard-work coat.  You'd then head over to Macy's and look for another coat.  

Macy's would be a very different store; they'd have quality classic coats for everybody - fat, skinny, young and old.  No weirdoid stuff.  Yeah, an adult's coat would cost twice as much - because they'd be made here in the US, by textile workers, making a livable wage, and provided health and retirement benefits, and be able to accrue paid personal/sick days.  So yeah, that coat - with real buttons, and enough of 'em, instead of cheezoid zippers/snaps (that just won't after two seasons) - anyway, that coat would run about $600.  But here's the deal - unless you had another mishap - the thing would still look good decades down the road.

Same thing with anything else you needed to buy.  While the shopping malls would be crowded - in a nation of some 1/2 a billion souls - landfills would take up minimal space.  We wouldn't be throwing away stuff - things like furniture, curtains, kitchenware would be quality, and would last, and be passed onto the next generation.  

In a for-real Christian nation, there would be some wealthy people who would want new stuff every two or three years; what wouldn't get passed on, would go to a second-hand store.  While poverty would be minimal, poor people would be able to have decent clothing and furniture - yeah, a dent here and a fray there, but nothing like today's threadbare tinny crap that poor people have no other option but to put up with.

Break's soon over.

Well, i feel better, the walkway is shoveled out, and so is the passanger side

of the truck.  Aside of a few hums of machinery, it's so quiet.  Anyway, taking another short blog-break, before continuing to shovel out the truck - car will have to wait, needs new tires anyway, which i'll get come spring.  

Had a bright idea this morning.  While at the hardware store last week, think i saw they have 12 or 14 foot A-ladders.  Cool!  Think that could work for getting some of the snow off the edge of the flat roof.  But for this time, had made the call, on Monday, to the professionals.  Sure, it will cost money, but that's what money is for.

Anyway, back to work, want to get as much shoveling done as soon as possible.  The snow gets heavy if you let it lay too long, and besides, what will the neighbors think?

Ps, it's 11:30, shoveling is done.  So thankful, we only got 8-some, instead of 18-some.

It's 7 am and have been snoveling show ;) since 6 am. Time for an actual break...not 35 anymore. Anyway, want to post about narcs and snow shoveling.

First off, had read that a foot of average snow (not real wet and not real dry) = an inch of rain.  Want to share a short account of someone who was married to a narcish type of person - no, i don't have a fancy degree, but if it looks like a duck ...  Okay here goes, because i wanna get back to shoveling. 

The wife, being a for-real person, of course, would pitch in and actually shovel.  There was alot of snow, like what's outside - a foot of wet snow - so, wanting to get done as soon as possible...uh, because, guess the woman (who, of course, held down a full-time job) also had 2nd-shift things to do in the house - ya know, like laundry to put in the dryer, dishes to put away, floors to mop, a hem to mend...those things.

Well, as typically overwhelmed as she was, evidently, she deposited the heavy snow at the nearest place.  That nearest place was right by the house (they were doing the walkway).  Holy moly, narc barked, like she was fixing to torch the place.

Sure throws a cold wet blanket on a shovel party ;/  

Twelve inches of snow = one inch of rain.  Now, doing the math (which perhaps was a bit much for narcoid) add a shovelful to that foot.  So, eighteen inches = one and a half inches of rain.  Guess what!  Rainstorms like that happen atleast several times in the spring and summer.

Ya know, if narcoid was so blasted concerned about, i guess, a wet basement, than why the heck didn't narcoid contract for some decent spouting?  The dude didn't have a bass-boat, but evidently had some other vanity.

That was an interesting conversion, shared with some co-workers about working from home.

Being a widow, didn't think about...well, alot of things.  One of my co-workers, working from home, also has a husband and children.  So, everybody's on-line.  She was talking space issues - and today's smaller families want dry wall?  (A judgy comment from, basically, one of the quiver-full - jam 'em all within 1200 square feet...gross ;/ anyway...)  Computers take space, and so does working from home; she and her husband had bought the house prior to the current psy-ops, and now realize, their family could use more space.

But there's another issue.  Yea, here we go with the right-wing conspiracy theories again.  You betcha!  Anyway, my co-worker - being a mom - even though the family was at home working and schooling - had expressed disapproval at the revealing clothing her daughter was wearing.  Well, mom forgot that daughter-dear was in class.  So, this working/schooling from home...what another great idea for the powers-that-be to nose in on people's business.  In other words, what you blurt out in your own home...oh yikes, what if you say (in private) that you just flat out don't like people who drive orange cars and wear green sneakers?

Yeah i realize, the powers-that-be, have the means to horn in on everything going on in this room, this house, where i am currently posting this blog-entry.  Need to put on my list, to stop at the card shop (when the blizzard's past) and buy a top-end sympathy card for whatever human or robot, or combination thereof, who is tasked to nose in on what goes on within the boundaries of my property.  Ya know, one of those fancy cards that play a somewhat overly sweet tune, as soon as you open the beautifully written card.  Yeah, one with a big vase of pretty flowers, too ;)  Oh, and i need to swing by the donut shop for a gift-card for their terrific coffee, to put inside.

That was funny...in a sermon, from a real preacher (they're few and far between,

but they're out there).  Anyway, it was a sort of God-helps-those-who-help-themselves situation.  Back in the day, the preacher was driving along one night, and had a blow out.  Evidently, wasn't the first time.  He prayed to the Lord to get him out of this jam.  And the still small voice of the Lord answers, along the lines of: quit driving on may-pops; buy yourself some (real) tires.

Old people can be so doggone annoying - sitting (uh ;/) pretty in their paid-for vaca homes,

demanding, like petty tyrants, that everyone avoid everyone else.  Well, that results in businesses going under, jobs disappearing, rents and mortgages going late...  Yeah, not the boomers' problem.  It's easy, real easy, for old-fart boomers to dictate to the young people not to throw even medium-sized parties (even if they can afford it - please see above), let alone the BIG crowded parties, boomers still glory at each other, and - ugh - anyone within farce-bluuck shot.

Have heard it said - long before the recent psy-ops - that there's old people who are just plain resentful against the young, because the young are as they are: good looking and energetic - while the old are past-tense.  Hey, such as life;  deal with it.

My heart continually goes out to the young.  The young want to go to lots of different places, do different things, and meet lots of different people.  And it's really selfish of the has-beens to want to rob young people of - not only their jobs - but their very youth.

Just a few more Scriptures that get glossed over - huh, if even preached.

"But in vain they do worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men."

Matthew 15:9

"But woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye shut up the kingdom of heaven against men : for ye neither go in yourselves, neither suffer ye them that are entering to go in."

Matthew 23:13

"For their pastors are become brutish, and have not sought the LORD : therefore they shall not prosper,  and all their flocks shall be scattered."

Jeremiah 10:21

"I have not sent these prophets, yet they ran : I have not spoken to them, yet they prophesied."

Jeremiah 23:21

Even poor americans live better than kings of old. STOP IT! That's such manipulative bull crap! Kings of old,

even kings of 3rd rate nations, lived in spacious rooms - not crampy dingy apartments.  Kings had atleast several changes of warm clean clothing, that fit properly - all the buttons, were there, and they matched.  Kings had people and space to wash and maintain their clothing - there was a long wash-line out behind the palace. 

Wash-lines are against the (many) rules in apartment complexes - washer and dryer on the ground floor will run about $4, but the $5 and change you have is for bus-fare (monthly pass ran out), to get to your minimum-wage job.  A drying rack put in the shower might work...oh wait, your roommate needs to get ready for his minimum-wage job - and anyway, wally-world has metal drying-racks for only $35 dollars, but where's that going to come from; rent's coming due, your half is $503 and you're some $70-ish short.

Kings, even the 3rd rate ones, had reliable transportation; kings didn't stand in the cold - in not-that-warm clothing - waiting for a bus.  Kings had the option to simply stay inside when the weather got nasty.  Oh, and their rooms had enough heat - sure, palaces were drafty, but they also had fireplaces, and people to bring in wood, take out ash.

Kings ate steak, even for breakfast, kings didn't have to scrounge around almost bare cupboards, looking for something other than ramen noodles - or whatever dented foodbank castoff.

So, please stop with the guilt-games already.  Struggling americans have more than enough crap on their plates.

Before my shift starts, have listened to more than several sermons, putting down the smart-phones.

Chalking down the people who use them, as a bunch of money-wasting hedonists.  Oh here comes the cynicism:  yeah, jack, you want that money...to fund that upcoming (so-called) mission-trip to wherever.  

If it wasn't for the smart phone, i would not know half the Scriptures, that i've heard preached, from the pulpits of real preachers, who really care about saving souls.  Yeah, i know, real preachers are few and far between, but they're out there, in churches here and there in the US and other (English-speaking) countries.  

If it wasn't for the smart-phone, i wouldn't have had the opportunity to have read some of Charles Spurgeon's sermons, while on the bus.  Btw, while having read, over a year or so, what had struck me most about these 150-some year old sermons was, it was like he had written them just last Tuesday.  Oh, and having had read more than a few, i do not recall even ONE trolling for money.  Nope, Spurgeon was way more concerned about people getting saved, and reading their Bibles - guess he figured the Lord would deal with the rest. 

Well, shift is starting.  Bye ;)

A real sermon, on what really goes through the minds of real people who've been messed over.

Please see sidebar.  

So many, too many, sermons are preached somewhere from la-la land - uh, could be one reason why my girlfriend's boyfriend walked away from enforced sunday and wednesday church attendance, as soon as he reached early adulthood.  Btw, he knows Scripture after Scripture.  You start a Scripture?  He can finish it.  And he's been so done with it, for so long.  

Anyway, yeah the sermon starts off with about four hymns.  Pastor Cooley - who preaches from a real church, made of real building materials - has a thing about music.  He was once into rock - which he wants no parts off that rubbish (yay Cooley) - and feels led by the Lord to start off with some Godly music.

About ten minutes into the recording, the sermon starts.  Christian or not christian, when you're messed over, it takes a long time - if not a lifetime - to get over the mistrust...of everybody, the cynicism, the critical spirit, the anger, the general mental trauma.  

Most preachers will not touch this area.  This same area, where most people have either been or will be - atleast once in their lives.  Most preachers think that, because we don't live in china or iran, we're just nothing but spoiled rich kids, who have no problems, and who should (just shut up and) put 20% in the plate - not just 10%, before taxes.  And, Jack, you don't really need to stop at qwik-way each morning for that coffee - that's about $10 weekly, $40 monthly, $520 yearly.  Yes, i did hear a sermon telling people, they don't need their morning coffee...dem hedonists.

In short, for-real preaching that helps for-real people, is rare.

Visit to the so-called best department store in the area. The unwritten, but clear message of the tags read,

"We don't want your kind around here."  In other words, statistically, the average woman.  And statistically, it's the old broads (boomers) who are actually able to afford that winter coat.  Wouldn't have anything to do, with the last winter coat - and a good one, at that - having been puchased, uhmm...years ago, would it?  Anyway, store wanted a few hundred... yeah, overpriced, and skimpy on the buttons - way of worldlings, way of pervs who design the stuff, (and have for decades)  hate women - especially older women - with. a. vengeance.  Needed a pair of gloves and something else - needed, which is why i'm not in eyeball debt - and went to find a checkout.

Left the store and looked for the mall directory, thinking perhaps, there might be a nice full-length, button-down coat for an average woman - yeah i know, silly me at a certain other sorta-better store.  Needless to say, the other store is no longer there.  Being old, also looked for a restroom that used to be near the directory, but they are now located in one place - the other end, by the food court.  Ya know, had there been any decent stores up that way...but there weren't - just Disney fluff and all, luring people to buy things, they neither need, for which the bills will continue into spring.

Left the mall and headed home.

Meanwhile, back at the little town of Gilead, along Stepford street.

Nah, don't think some of the neighbors like me much.  Oh well, life goes on ;)  Anyway, and no, don't want to sow discord, but doggoneit, what am i supposed to do? just sit placidly with my thump up my...nose while young ladies are possibly (and i fear, probably) are being fed slow-acting koolaid?  Which, by the way, may not likely take any effect for another twenty to thirty years.  And then, whamo!

Ya know, just when it's (borderline) too late to cultivate a sustainable vocation, and almost definitely too late ... the wall principle.

Mrs.Whatzerface, that old biddy, smugly shaking her chidey little beak at the young wife next door.  Uh, for no better reason, than, well the girl likes to read, after she gets her work done.  Well, evidently, that's not good enough for Whatzerface...and frankly, wouldn't be a bit surprised if Whatzer was a red-pill popping wolf - posing as an older woman teaching a younger.  By the way, young does not always equal naive (dumb) - and ya wonder why there's young women who simply don't want to hear it from has-beens (who, perhaps, never were - and are a tad discontented about that).  

Wasn't the first time i saw wolf tracks or smelled wolf-poop around these parts - guess it won't be the last time, either.  

That time of year, again - the Saturna Stick-up. Peer-pressure is on,

to put hundreds of dollars on the plastic.  Why?  In hopes of gaining approval from various (plastic) people.  That's why.   If there's one advantage to covid, it's there won't be quite as many hands out, begging/expecting you to shell out money - money, for which you get up each morning and go to your job - the one you chose to do, and stay on in. 

Have to give an extra tip to this person, and to that person...uh, no i don't ;)   Haven't been inside a restaurant since last February, nor have been inside a bar since around September or early October of 2018 - and i miss bars and restaurants about as much as  i miss having $10 to get to Friday - and it's Wednesday.  

Where is it written that we are commanded to go gadding about, spending money that we might not really have?  Stat i read somewhere - don't know if it's accurate, but i'll bet it mostly is.  Anyway, nearly half the people retiring are doing so with less than 10k in savings.  Does that include burial money?  Oh, i don't know...eh, maybe that explains all th' crispy-critterin' goin' on these days.

Anyway, it's real easy to judge someone for retiring early, but there could be reasons.  Some jobs are physically demanding - like standing on a cement floor, in front of a cash register for several hours; that business can draw on a(n older) person's back.  Some jobs have the built-in benefit of an ergonomic chair, desk and keyboard, but by 5pm in December it's dark...and transporter beams are still the stuff of star trek.

How did our grandparents manage?  Uh, many didn't...didn't live to see their 60th, let alone, 65th birthday.  

All's i know is, there's really good reason to buck up and push back against the annual Saturna Shakedown.  Years down the road, when ya can't work - or atleast work steady - are those people you spent lots of money on, over the years, gonna float you a $20, so you can put gas in your car and be able to keep that dentist appointment?

Wouldn't count on it.

My mother-in-law was like that.   She'd shell out money on showers, graduations, birthdays, (what. a. heist!) and whatever other gimmee-fests making the rounds.  When she died, her three children split up her burial bill; yep, you guessed it, no savings, no life insurance.  Was a nice funeral, not extravagant, but nothing cheapoid about it either - some ten years ago, the total bill was 11k.  

Doggonit, i think Lisa W., a big-whig in these parts, and i went to grade-school together.

The lady even looks like she may be the same person.  But i won't ask, because if she is the same Lisa, then she is using her maiden name.  She might be a bit sensative about that.  Ya know how it goes:  if a woman was never married, then she is reproached as being a left-over - for what?  The great crime of, perhaps being...eh, being a bit homely - but for all we know, she may have been a looker 30 years - and 30 pounds - ago.  Personally, i don't know - last time i saw Lisa was ... wait, it was 1974, she had taken an after-school job.  She looked like the average 16 year old girl.  But there had been a competence about her - taking seriously that menial job.  And, all these years later, (if it's the same person - and i believe so) wudja lookit where she is now!   Yay Lisa, you go girl!

Oh, i don't know, maybe she was married...and it didn't last.  Ya know, one of those smart women, who married a few too many points below her intelligence quotient  - as in, the title of that book that came out, back in the 80s or 90s.  Think the title was, "Smart Women, Foolish Choices."  Not sure, and didn't read it, anyway - think the book was less focused on IQ stats, and more focused on common courtesy, decency, and work-ethic...well, more like, lack of.  In short: smart women are women too - and they want a man's love, a home, and a few kiddos too.  Yep, asking for the moon ;/

Oh brother, another gray divorce, to happen in early 2021. A family-member of a lady at work,

was saying, the couple had been married for about 25 years.  And taka good guess what broke the covenant!  Yep, pee-wee was caught with a piece of take-out chicken.  So, here wifey - if she wants to keep the house, will have to get a mortgage for half its value.

Ee-yep, wifey wasn't the one who stepped out, and she's being punished - at early 50-something - with a what?  Like a fifteen (count 'em) year mortgage - cha-ching!  That's what.  Why, she'll be about in her early 60s before the thing's paid off - hopefully, she has a good job, and can get that out of her hair, alot sooner.  

It's a really good idea to have atleast some savings for later life.  In fifteen years, social security pensions may be getting cut by about 15 or 20% - their information tells ya, the laws can change (for the worse) from budget to budget.  

Sad to say, but it's a really, really good idea for women to have marketable skills - to atleast have documented experience with excel and word - better yet: a college degree - because you never know, things change, people change.

Sounds feministic?  Maybe!  But here's the reality:  as annoying as feminists can be, feminists are well aware of how things can, and do, go in the world-as-is - as opposed to the world as-wished-for.

The 1700 to 1900 blocks along Gilead's Stepford Street, appears to be a nice neighborhood.

Ya know, the sort of place where, if you leave your car unlocked, you don't have to worry overmuch that someone will steal the package (it's just wiper blades and two bottles of motor-oil) sitting on the front seat - or your car (mine's a clunker, but anyway...).  Nice neighborhood, the white picket-fenced (some are little pink) houses and yards are well maintained - but appearances can, and often are, deceptive.

While material crimes are low, in this quiet church-going, Bible-reading community, this very neighborhood is, and has been, targeted by thieves.  Crooks far more wicked than some random JimmyCrackhead looking to fence gram's silver tea-service or uncle Bob's gold watch.  But, Stepford Street has more of its share (just ONE is waay enough) of potential, if not actual, soul thieves.

Yeah i know, hard to get your head around that reality - but, hey, i didn't grow up here.  Thing is: go ask more than a few of the long-time residents, and they'll look at you funny.  Ya know, NIMC - not in my church!  Uh, 'fraid so - was happening back in Bible days, and is going to wax worse.

And yeah, i get it - though am still rather new to the (Christian) community, and will probably never really fit in - the quiver-full neighbors, their submissive keeping-at-home wives, are only trying to do right, obey the Lord's commands.  Having lived, most my life in...eh, not the best of neighborhoods, have encountered some wolves.

And guess what!  Those nasties don't all hang out in bars.  The worst of 'em don't even touch booze or listen to rock music.  Nope, they go to church, and like know the entire Bible, and use the Scriptures to. th. max...wresting their families all out of shape.  i know this goes on, didn't just fall off the melon truck! 

Per a link on one of the boomer blogs, the numbers of covid

cases aren't much different than they were in April.  About 4 to 5% of the US population is - or had been - down with it, and the hospitalization stat is around .1%.  In other words, this is not the bubonic plague.  And sure, it's only common courtesy to don a mask, where the store-front sign says to do so before entering - Mac's auto parts, Mac's rules.  Refuse to mask?  Then buy your wiper blades elsewhere.  

Anyway, back in pre-covid times, the flu would make the rounds, every fall and spring.  We didn't mask, but some of us - who had decent bosses, and work situations, would call off when down with the flu.  That's the blessing about working somewhere, where employees have the benefit, the opportunity, the choice to save up their sick/personal leave, instead of blowing it on yet another plastic-funded casino/road-trip.   Nope, did without the vanity-fair runs, and so when the flu found me, i was able to stay home, and not have to bring that grossness to work.  

Have to laugh, looking back, recalling that boss-lady downstairs.  "Earn and burn, then they get mad at us."  Where i work, if you blow through your leave, and cannot qualify under that medical protection law - where you need a physician's signature - if you have no leave, and take off anyway, you could end up fired.  

That happened to a woman who was like a second-level supervisor - she had gotten into some weird stuff, and had like witchiepoo tattoos on her arms.  Still shocks me, somewhat, i expect such weirdness amongst low-level employees (like me) but not among the higher ups.  What gives!  Sign of the times, i guess.

Uh, boomers at it again - ya know, the new-agey be-filled-be-warm mantra - and be-th-eff-oudda-my-face.

Sitting back, smugly collecting a sizable geriatric-welfare check, while preeeching at young/er people - whose workplace door has been coldly, rudely, slammed in their face - to just, oh, put on their big-girl pants (gag me with a spoon) and seek open/ing doors.  Good luck with that, because - thanks to the current psy-op (covid-19) - there's significantly more closing doors than doors opening.  The old bag went on, that draftees had their careers put on hold, or destroyed.

And she's right.  Except for one iddy-biddy detail.  Men who were drafted, were barely old enough to have worked five years - the minimum needed to qualify for the company's retirement plan.  Btw, back then, one shure-fire, but face-saving, way to get out of the draft/get a mile-long deferment  was to get your girlfriend pregnant and marry her.  

Talk about shooting yourself in the foot!  There you are, barely 19 or 20, and barely able to provide for yourself - much less, a wife and a baby on the way.   Things were different fifty-some years ago.  It wasn't like a man could just farm his pregnant wife off to work somewhere.  Back then, gubment wasn't so big - an employer was free to not hire a pregnant woman, if he (or she) didn't want to.  Applications had - and i remember this - right at the top, marital status boxes.  During the mid 70s, at a particular flower shop, were five of such boxes - Single, Engaged, Married, Widowed, Divorced.

"My ppaarrrtnerrr..." Bluck! Talk about lowest common denominator. The very term just reeks.

What's really pathetic about this society-wide pandering to the perv agenda is - while shack-ups (can ya spell "fornicators?") may prefer this fuzzy definition of their arrangement - married couples (i.e., a man married to a woman) are submitting to this gender invalidation, perhaps on account of misplaced - and totally unwarranted - guilt.  Uhm, why should Mr and Mrs Smith feel the need to muddy their legit union?  Because one or more of the MARRIED couple's friends have settled for just playing house?  Uhm, not the Smith's monkey, not their circus.  "Partner" erases all differences between marriage, and just playing house.  There is a difference, a big difference - and the players know this.  

Covid is nothing but a control mechanism, farted straight out from the stinking pit of hell.

Back in the 60s, the devil and his staff blew out acid rock, and generally skanky/confusing lyrics, and the old people reacted ... quite sensibly, looking back.  Yep, flag-waving grampa was right - that mus-eech i was listening to was, at best, unproductive.  Nuts to that, it was downright rebellious/wicked (black sabbath...bluuck)!  Anyway, that was yesterday's "generation gap."  A bit mild, compared to the social-engineering going on today.

Before covid - and before we devolved into a society without faces - young people were already becoming quite fed up with boomers, our we-still-rock bumper stickers and such.  Ugh, just want to retch whenever i see one.  Why?  Because it feeds young people's resentment - that's why!   

Our college debt was a few $20s and change, compared to theirs.  And many of us, who didn't even go to college, found good jobs anyway, and were able to be debt free and to save up for dottage days that might lay ahead.  For young people, they'll be likely in their late 30s, before their college debt - and lots of interest - is paid off.  When we were pushing 40, our mortgages were in their last years.  In short, the deck is stacked against young people. 

And young people have an attitude?  Well duh!

Anyway, covid will only further the resentment.  Granted, while the entertainment/hospitality industry is, generally, about as needful to any society as big gubment, restaurants, concert halls and movie houses yield jobs which put food on the family's table and shoes on the kids' feet.  

Really? $130, for that? For starters, it's tissuey thin recycled coke-bottle fabric, and the interfacing is very minimal. That means,

after a few washings - like three or four - the garment will stretch here, and sag there, and end up, in short order, to the back of an already crammed fast-fashion closet - if not dispatched to the landfill, along with the other piles, and piles of recycled plastics, called clothing.  And, adding insult to injury, this rubbish (before the tags, and the intentionally irritating label, is removed - the later being an exercise in surgery) is sewn by people, who work long hours with no breaks, and barely enough time to wolf down a small bowl of rice.  Btw, tell me only one factory over there, put bars on the windows, to keep the slaves from chucking themselves out!  

Anyway, atleast men's clothing is made with some sensibility in mind...oh, wait a sec.  Some 15 years ago, jeans were jeans - not the thickly priced thin stuff of later years.  Strange, back then, my husband worked in the warehouse, and his jeans lasted longer, than in later years -  when he was no longer physically able to lift heavy stuff all day long.  

Yep, i'm one of those oollld people, who believes clothing should be cut generously/sensibly and last a few years, (yeah, this old biche expecting the moon, again) and even make it to the second-hand store, still in reasonably wearable shape.  Oh wait a sec, poor people aren't supposed to feel halfways decent in used clothing - such is a grevious offense to the god of social darwinism. 

As for the, so everywhere, garish colors and uneven hemlines, that's all fine and dandy ... for the april fool's day parade.

Oh here we go again, the same old wife-bashing, in bubble-land.

It's mom's choice of clothing - but the blog-owner doesn't want to read that bit of reality.  Which is: from about 18 to 80, women have two choices of clothing.  There's ugly, and there's uglier: pick one, biche!  In bubble-land, don' cha know, the stay-at-home wives sew all their clothing - and the kids' clothing as well.  In the real world, however, not only does wifey have to work full-time, then hurry to a cluttered home (cluttered, because she can't be there to keep things in order) and quick, fry up some grub, open several cans/boxes, load the washer, hurry to an occupied chair, dump the dryer load, and start...eh, sorta folding.

Why not fold the recycled soda-can fabrics in the laundry room?  Because wifey is too dog tired to mention of needing the small table in there - which is occupied with someone's (oh, taka good guess) stupid ars'd hobby.  Uhm, hobbies are for 3,000k square-foot circles, not for little-pink-house struggling couples, barely able to make the in-frakking-sane mortgage payments/school-taxes.  So, she doesn't want to start, what will end up as drama.

And preeecher-creeecher expects a double tithe?  Any wonder his sermons don't include a certain duty of husbands.  Hint:  that awful seven-letter word, starting with p.  

In bubble-land, if there's marital trouble, it's because the wives are fat, grouchy, selfish, frigid and lazy.  Never mind, the reality is: mom's needs usually, if not always, come last.  "Old clothes will have to do, 'cause the kids all need new shoes."   That's a line from a mid60s song called, "Queen of the house."  

It's almost funny, some of the (cough, gag, puke...) men over there, who are the most critical, aren't even married, but are chest-pounding single.  So red-pill proud.  Meanwhile, the reality is, the 30-something cat ladies don't even want so much as a half-hour coffee date with such pee-wees, let alone a sweaty romp.  Red-pills know they're generally losers in the mating game - and about so does everyone else.

Thankful. To live in a strongly republican community. Trump and Pence signs still up. Another gun went off - yes, guns. People have 'em here.

There one went again.  Have noticed, however, haven't seen that wild turkey running around for awhile - guess they know, around September or October, what comes up in November.  

Having roast chicken this year.  With all the meat - which i'm thankful for, that my late husband had bought, just a few weeks before he died - anyway, there's still alot there.  Probably another 2 year's worth - don't eat much meat.  So, a 15-pound turkey, added?  Nah!  Think with covid, the 10-pounders - which is still too much - had been snatched up.

Family have their own family, and friends, the same.  No biggee, it's all good.  

Because Christmas falls on a Saturday this year, making Christmas dinner will work.  No way, if Christmas was on a Sunday - Thursday, because after all that, then getting up the next day for work.  Have dinners here because, going elsewhere means driving after dark - no thanks!

Read somewhere, that back during the depression (1930s), people gave a higher percentage to the collection plate than nowadays.

First off, back then, most people (interested in Christ's offer of salvation from sin, or not really) went to church.  Back then, we were less mobile - we knew our neighbors, their families.  Back then, if you got sick/lost your job/had storm damage, had another child - and could barely feed and clothe the ones you already had...gubment programs were few and far between.  

Giving a portion of your hard-earned money to the local church, gave you say as to where it went, and what it went for.  Some of it supported the preacher and his family, so the preacher could focus his WORK hours on studying Scripture, and giving good long sermons - they didn't have sermonaudio.com back then.  You heard the Sunday one/s, and if you got the newspaper, you may have read one or two published, from the church across town, and the other church just over the county line.  Back then, sermons were preached to and for everybody in the church - from the brightest, to the not so bright.

Godda get ready.

At the little church, where i attend. Each sunday, when Bob brings the plate up to the pulpit,

where Pastor thanks the Lord Jesus for the "gifts, tithes and offerings," in the 10-ish years i've attended that little church, Pastor has never, ever inserted a plug in any of his sermons, for mo moneh.  You see, Pastor is way more concerned about people coming to a saving knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ - and so, not ending up forever in hell - than he is about getting more stupid money.  Pastor has mentioned a few times, in thanks-giving, that the church is solvent, and has some left over to help fund a missionary - who's somewhere in Africa, and a local ministry that helps struggling moms.  There's also another local ministry that helps financially distressed people in general.

Speaking of helping poor people, just read an article yesterday.  This lady had volunteered in soup kitchens and such, for quite sometime.  Over the years, she has heard the mantra that atheists and pagans put in the legwork also - ya know, that you don't need the Lord God to do good.

Well, she said, the kitchens and such are very grateful for volunteers - period!  And it's always the same type of people who show up to load or unload the boxes, stock the shelves, make the meals, clean up after, deliver stuff to needy families or individuals...  Always, always the same type of people.  Ya know, people who attend church, where Jesus Christ is honored as Lord and savior.   Funny how that works, eh?

i don't know the guy, or the situation that lead him to have it out with his pastor. But i did listen to one of the pastor's sermons -

well, about the first 10 minutes, couldn't stomach any more.  The preeech speeech...ya know, like this:

thus a sayeth the Lord a you a are a sinner a and a need a to a get your sins a which are a many a forgiven a...  Fast talk and no pause between sentences, it's jarring.

It's not the message, that's a turn-off - the message is true, and if not-so little susie has a problem with it, tough beans.  

Anyway, per the story as related by another preacher - a personal friend of pastor preeech-speeech - preeech called the guy a thief, because he wasn't tithing (off the top?) all the time.  

Evidently, the guy was convicted (bothered) by the short bills he was putting in the plate.  (Yeah dude, know that feeling!)  Don't know the man's situation, and his situation is none of my beeswax - and none of speeech's either.  Oh, could it be, the man was rather behind the financial 8-ball, before covid brought its dose of financial persecution?  Is the guy about one or two unexpected expenses away from possibly losing his house?

Or maybe, he's just a bit miffed.  Before covid, preeech somehow had the money for airline tickets and lodging at nice hotels.  (Mrs Preeech's mid-managerial wages at work???  And does she even get to go along?)  Anyway, was the guy's last va-ca sometime during the second half of the Clinton administration - he and the mrs went to the beach for a few days?

Jus' askin'

Oh here we go again, with the beaded lunch-bucket mantra.

Per a comment on another blog, a young-ish widow was advised to continue keeping at home.  Btw, good thing her late husband thought enough of her, and their children, to have provided some life insurance - call it, shoe-leather on the lovey-dovey hallmark-phrases.  Anyway, life insurance only goes so far, and so the widowed housewife has to find a way to earn income.  

And guess what - like this 'el be a major shock - her church hopes they don't have to help her much...happens when the tithes are needed for that fancy building (wonder if they have an atm, one that takes credit cards ;/ ).  So, they're basically saying, gedda j.o.b. honey.

At the blog, she was advised to start a business from her home.  

But in the real world, a home-based business, that actually turns atleast some profit, is way easier said than done.  First off - and besides for upfront tax purposes - you need an entire room just for that business.  Finding, and maintaining, a customer-base is an ongoing hurtle - are people willing to pay ... oh my stars, she wants ten whole dollars???

Yeah!

Lady i worked with, who tried that route, had told me, that if your materials cost a dollar, then - in order to keep the business worth the time and hassle - you need to charge atleast four dollars.  

Well guess what!  You can find beaded lunch pails, over at wallyworld for just over half the price - or wait until late fall when they go on sale.

Another reality concerning crafted items is, alot of people are more or less transients - don't really know, from one month to the next, if they'll be living at the same address/sleeping with the same person.  So no point in acquiring craft items - they take up room, and aren't move-friendly.

Busstop ahead.

Back in 5th or 6th grade, there was a brain activity chart in one of our text books. After a bit over a half century, still remember it.

The chart's x line showed years of age, and the y-portion showed the slant upward of the line.  For the first few years of a person's life, the line didn't go upward very much - which is why four year-olds don't run heavy equipment.  At around six-ish, the line took off like a rocket, and continued up and up.  At around the late teens or early 20s, the line plateaued, and remained on that plain throughout adulthood.  At around 50 or 60-ish, the line began to drop just a little, but basically remained at the same level.  

One particular i still remember - as if was yesterday - was the line noticeably, but nowhere near radically, dropping at around age 82 and 84, and then dropping off a bit more - noticeably, but not radically - during the mid 80s.

Though occurred to me, about a half hour ago.  When you're old, like pushing 80, you're mind is so busy planning each step - a simple fall can equal an ambulance ride.  Yeah, just a misstep.  Any wonder, old people sometimes forget to record a check, leave their keys ... eh, somewhere, misspell words, leave their scarf ... eh, somewhere.

People don't realize how stress weighs on the mind.  Talk to a young, strong war veteran, who is dealing with shell-shock.  While old people have years to prepare, veterans find themselves plunged suddenly into ugliness - and is it any wonder that, while during wartime veterans operated sophisticated equipment - come back, and spend many a sleepless night.  Workday mornings come early.

Anyway, this post is about old people.

Back when i was still young, i heard about dementia and alzheimers - and seriously, right off the bat, suspected a fear-mongering PSY-OPS!!!  Ya know, hey old fart, get th' eff off th' effin' planet already!

Guilted for living in a western nation - where public restrooms are clean.

That's us!  Us westerners.  Our fathers didn't put up with snakey-eyed despots - who steal the people's taxes to buy themselves gold potties.  Nope!  Here in the west, the tax money goes for things like railroads, snow removal, mail delivery, hospitals, services to help veterans deal with shell-shock, and find work, bridge maintenance (so ya don't fall in the river) ...   When our towns and farms get blown away or flooded out, tax money is sent to help folks rebuild.  In despot-land, the big-cheese couldn't care less, that his people are dying of thirst; why he needs yet another gold potty - half a dozen throughout his chambers aren't enough.

So away with the guilt-gaming, played too often by the air-miles-clocking crew.  Have to wonder what the third-worlders - whom they visit and bring stuff - are really thinking.  Oh sure, bet they're very grateful for the provisions, but surely the third-worlders are well aware, there could be an agenda going on.  Third-worlders may be dirt poor and down-in-dirt oppressed, but they're not stupid.  

Yeah i know, tithing (off the top) is Biblical, and there's so many people who need help.  How yet another conference (in pre-covid days, that is) at yet another touristy place, helps???  Well yeah, sure helps the gad-abouts to find more innovative ways in making merchandise. 

If you need to take a pill for ... that, maybe what's missing is a good old-fashioned dose of reality.

Not to be - well, totally - rude...but it's a real trial not to be...the very subject is delusional.  Uhm, we age.  For women, it happens earlier.  For men, the window remains open for another decade, maybe two.  But sooner or later ... then things like high blood pressure take hold.  The recipe of medically necessary pills are enough of a side-effects show waiting to happen - but it's either the heart-meds, or a quick trip to the er.

Guess some folks just can't let go of their glory days - assuming the trip to woodstock did actually happen...some years back there was joke, the punchline being, the northeast us would buckle under the weight.

This obsession only lengthens peer-pressure's lifespan (which shoulda died long ago); never mind giving young people yet another reason to despise us - can ya really blame em!  Young may be dumb, but apparently, old doesn't always match up with wise.  

The twelve year old sitting alone at the mall, hiding behind a faux palm tree, or whatever.

She doesn't want a certain trio of mean girls to spot her.  Looks like they're headed toward faux-fancy for another group/selfie pic-shoot.  And yeah, they'll actually purchase some of the stuff - and probably included, will be that $40 shortie excuse-for-a sweater.   As an aside (but not really) have to wonder where the three spoilers get the money, and how that weekly white-collar-funded dole will play out over the next 50 years.

But this post isn't so much about them.  Those girls don't crave for just any young man to tell them they're pretty.  Those girls know they're hot - the stats continue to prove that.  But still, have to stay in the game.

Not so, with the girl, sitting behind the tree.  The shirt she is wearing came from a big-box store, on sale, back in March.  Her jacket has a tear, and one of the five snaps - toward the middle, of course - doesn't exactly stay in place.  Her jeans?  Guess it's a good thing people don't really keep count on how many different pairs of pants a girl wears to school - tops and shoes are another matter; that's evident by looking through any fashion catalog.

Anyway, a rather smartly dressed youngish man has recently taken a seat close to her, and - having observed her body language - has just begun to strike up a conversation with her.  In a few seconds, he'll drop a flattering phrase, maybe two.

Have to wonder, what's been going on at the girl's home - and in what red-pill bubble-world has her father immersed himself in, for way too long!

Shift fixing to start.

Red-pills are so full of themselves...running that same old th-ol-lady-wont-gimme-a...

form of intimacy that's way far from any possibility of reproduction ... well, of course it is.  Babies = provisioning.  Anyway, they revile and blame their ex/wives - and women in general - for...oh, where to start!

Could it be, the now ex wife (who is not perfect) simply became tired?  Tired of being fussed at, for basic stuff.  The last bit of drama, was when she finally had enough and...

Get this!

She called a plumber, and not only that, she called a reputable one.  The bill to clear the slow drain (since, like 2017) and replace a pipe had cost over $200 dollars.  Oh, never mind, she was able to get the dishes done in half the time, and no unsanitary blub-blub-blub.

Guess peewee was still jacked over her nagging about that leaning branch, back in 2013.  Uh, the thing had been one or two windstorms away from crashing onto either the side-roof, or one of the vehicles - if not both.  Uh, not rocket science - tree limbs too close to buildings and cars need to be removed by people who know what they're doing.  Yeah, the job was expensive, but i guess family safety isn't worth sacrificing fun-money.

In the REAL world, this shiola goes on, far more than any of us care to think about.

More later, truck will soon be done.  Yeah, i'm one of those freaking annoying responsible people, who don't make a scene because of a few hundred dollars - that, ugh...can make do with the winter coat i've had since Barak Obama's first term.

During after-service fellowship, politics barely was a side-issue. Something far more important, was the central topic.

One of the brethren had seen a documentary, a few days ago.  It was called, i think, Blind Eyes Open, and it dealt with the slave-trade that's going on, right here in the USA and in other countries.  In the documentary, the question was raised, as to why the young girls, and boys, if able to escape, don't run to the nearest church, or police station.  Yikes, the slavers are everywhere. 

Why?  Because of the top selling form of video entertainment.  That's why!  There are so many people - even seemingly-upstanding church people, who close their study door...and prEy.

The discussion continued.  Another reason, people affected by this really vile predation, generally avoid the church, is because the nicely dressed church-people tend to look down on the family whose clothing are basically tired sweats, their car a dented soda can.  At the very least, those fine upstanding  church people don't understand how evil works - and frankly, don't give a flying hoot.

Oh, just another reason to be upset at the SO FEW sermons which Biblically explain - in simple terms - how and why children end up set up, sold for cheap, and are a done-for train-wreck before their 18th birthday.  That is, if they make it to 18.

In the film, one of the predators, who got caught and put in jail had said, they target the kid who's sitting alone in the mall - the kid whose body language shows social awkwardness, and so evidently doesn't have many, if any friends, the kid who, very probably, comes from a troubled home.

Oh man!  And the overwhelming number of sermons, continue to be the sort that if ya could only bottle for the summer...

Yikes, i really need to bother myself with current events. When my husband was alive,

he was my news source.  Yeah, i trusted his judgment.  Well, it's been two years, it's not like he's going to call me up from the graveyard  and fill me in on why Donald Trump is so upset with the election results.  Btw, my husband was republican - bigtime.

Well, i thought Donald Trump was just mad, because, well he's a mover-n-shaker and rather accustomed to getting his way in things - uhm, because he works at it, until he gets it.  

Not that simple...so much for what i thought!  

Did not watch the election results - figured it would be a few days because of the mail-ins.  Heard that on election night (am guessing around 10 or 10:30), Donald Trump was ahead in about every state, by about 5%.  

As an aside, where i live (outside of a small town) the local paper gave election results.  Now, they were dated, November 4th, 10:40 in the morning, and were not official (because, i guess, the counting wasn't yet complete).  Anyway, around here, Donald Trump  had received over twice the number of votes, in all five communities (including two other small towns) than did Joe Biden receive.  But hey, this area isn't the whole US.  Just saying i live in a very republican area - yay!  ;)  ;)  ;)

So, the question had arisen, from a mind way sharper than mine (yeah, big shock ;/) but that's not the half of it, that sharp mind, said he voted straight conservative, but didn't cast any ballot for president - said he doesn't care for either candidate.  Anyway, his question concerned how the stats could just (majically) flip, as the mail-ins came to be counted - and how piles and piles of them were for Joe Biden.

Wished i'd of voted at the polls, but having wanted to vote, had settled for mail in - 2016 voting night was so dark and rainy.   And no, don't think it was just chucked in the Biden stack... well, hope that didn't happen.

Thing is, in a bit of a jam - don't trust any of the major news-sources, they've a left and newageyish bent (o-verr ).

Joe Biden will be our next President, i am not surprised. Just don't have a warm fuzzy feeling, not about any election fraud - like that never happened before.

It's just, i smell an agenda - he's gonna get ridden like a rented horse...by people who really don't give a flip about his well-being.  If Joe Biden isn't yet redeemed in Christ, pray he does so - and not dilly-dally.  Nuf said.

i guess, "Anonymous's" post could be labeled as a troll, but i think the individual has valid thoughts - angry? yes. But, frankly,

can't blame him or her for being mad as heck.  First off, the lack-of sustainable jobs had been a problem, long before covid showed up.  People - boomers, who are still in power - have decided that fast money is more important than hiring people.  For example, in needing a certain service, like procuring alot of other services, it's all done over the internet.  Gone, are the days, when you dialed a phone number, and actually talked to a receptionist, who could either answer your question, or forward you to someone who could.  There's not even a phone number to call.

Oh courssse, there's no actual live human to talk to; that would mean the really rich owner would have to cut a paycheck.  That would mean one less person drawing unemployment.  Heard it said, and read in print, a few times over the years that paying people is a business's most costly expense.

Anonymous mentioned those "We're Spending Our Children's Inheritance" bumper stickers.  Haven't seen any of them pasted to pricey travel-toys lately, but some thirty years ago, saw more than a few, during two cross-country road trips.  At the time, thought, you go, you earned it, you spend it, let the kids gedda frickin j.o.b.

Then, over the following years, something happened.  i grew up.  That process included a Scripture i read in the Old Testament (and there's other Scriptures that say the Lord doesn't change).   The OT Scripture exhorts us to leave an inheritance to our grandchildren.  Oh drats, that means - for us lower middle-class folks - not much jingle for travel-toys ;/

But, especially nowadays, inheritance - even a modest one - is more than just financial assets.  While many boomers grew up in stable homes, where mom and dad remained married until death do part, that's no longer so.  When your folks split up, that splits up the kid - whether he or she is four, or 44.  Divorce is CRUEL, anyway ya slice it.  Divorce messes kids up, and they're angry.  The divorce doesn't even have to cut up their home.  Could be a cousin's or a classmate's, that brings home, the image of a big mean knife, dangling over the sofa by a mere thread.

An inheritance evidences a home that was stable, and for sure, of parents who cared enough about their children to consider their kids' mid-life future - even a modest inheritance, can pay off junior's house, when he's 50-something and his job is replaced by robots.

And, oh please, no lectures about going back to school.  In the real world, once you hit 50-something, getting the job probably won't happen.   Employers - who haven't set up the robots...yet - want younger people.  And there's reasons for this.  

Some are valid, but aside all that, welcome to corporate darwinism, kids!  But, hey, whaddaya expect...after all, the typed-written memos went out years ago.  Ya know, the ones, covertly (or not so) warning staff members to not discuss the letting-go of a certain Individual, because He was not a "good fit"...   Like what?  Is He a pair of pants?  

Anyway, ya kick Jesus Christ out of your boardroom, you're gonna have corporate darwinism - and crappy wages, and stupid smug "mc-duhnolds is hiring" mantras.  Yeah, lots of mantras, too (ugh!)

Well, that's a lovely thought...from a handful of comments, from a post concerning retirement communities.

And no, nobody in their right mind looks forward to getting shoved into a nur$ing home (where the staff don't even earn livable wages).  That said, what was most disturbing - in response to a post that was published but a few hours ago - was two of the six or seven commentors, had used the phrase "check/ing out," if or when their health would deteriorate to the point where routine things would be very difficult, or not possible. 

Yeah, welcome to the new age, kiddies!

Some states already, per certain medical conditions, allow you to drink the koolaid - and drift off into eternity - where one of two places will be your eternal home.  Needful to say, the crock smiley-set don't give a rip if you take the M.A.I.D., and fall...fall forever and ever, like a piece of burning slag.  The all-smiles set (hiding their sabre-teeth) don't believe the Word of God (who sent His Son, Jesus Christ...yeah, folks don't wanna heed Reality.)

Anyway, with millions of disembodied infants long thrown into the clinic trash can (and more added to the heap, each hour) ya think, five or ten years from now, the lives of old people with (even non-critical) health issues are going to matter???

What dream world...?  :(

Well, one thing for sure, haven't been the most responsible of voters - still would have voted

for Donald Trump.  It's only been recently that i bothered to listen to even portions of the debates - and only because these portions were wrapped within an infinitely more important topic. Yep, get my news from Bible preachers - so scoff away, i don't give a rip ;)

Anyway, heard Joseph Biden speak.  There's a gentleness about him.  Okay, the man isn't perfect, neither is Donald Trump.  What was very noticeable was, the tremendous pressure fixing to crush Biden.  Uhm, think the wicked in high places aren't going to wrest his words?  Hah!  

Btw, the preacher had said, more than once - during recent sermons - he's not voting for either Trump or Biden.  Who he's voting for?  Didn't say...whether or not he's even voting.  Evidently, none of our beeswax ;)

If Joe Biden becomes our next president, those wickeds are going to eat him alive.  Abuse is wrong, period.  Joseph Biden's life matters.

Memories of Election Day past. Husband and i would go vote,

(yeah, not ashamed to say) Republican, then around 8-ish, head over to the Vets, drink beer and watch the election results.  But that was a few years ago, before his heart condition had basically prevented him from really going anywhere for any appreciable amount of time.  

Further on back, i remember my staunch Republican grand parents, and just regular Republican parents, gathered around the tube, watching the results while drinking either manhattans (whatever's in those) or beer, and munching on finger-foods.  No! My folks weren't drunks.

Today, we probably won't know until...maybe next week?  But i guess, some of the crew will be (socially distanced - whadda crock!) around the bar, watching whatever electoral projections the news-media cares to offer.

Me?  i'll be at home.   Glad to not having missed the bar-scene, the jukebox, for some years now - the Lord doesn't like that sort of thing; may seem fun...for a season, but leads nowhere.  

Wow! Don't put that in your truck battery. The raging bile against our current President, and against the people who want him to serve another term,

truly astounding.  And sort of humorous, but not really.  If Donald Trump wins (and i can't help, but to hope, by a landslide) oh, there's likely going to be serious temper-tantrums going on in our streets - if already struggling business-owners don't have enough on their plates as it is...

But if Joe Biden wins, there will be (perhaps stark) change.  Part of me is glad my combat-vet husband isn't around to witness, what very (un)well could be, the fall of this once great nation.  Per a previous post, cannot help but to sense socialistic revolution in the air.  

When the snarling masses are fixing to bust down the nation...not a good time to be old.  Glad i believe the Bible, thankful that the Lord is sovereign...that He blessed me with over 60 years.  And glad He gifted me, throughout 2019, (before this stupid covid) with the mindset to not dilly-dally, but get the papers in order.

Yay! Found the Scripture - without google. Was listening to a sermon last night

and the preacher mentioned...well, what i thought was Corinthians 5.  I Corinthians or 2 Corinthians?  Didn't catch that part.  Here turns out, i was wrong - again ;)   Though, the Corinthians part, i did hear right.

The man's sermon was about false prophets.  The one in particular, drives around in a fancy car, wears pricey suits...while his followers live out each day in varying states of "food insecurity" - fancy word for hunger, want, starvation.   (Yeah, breaking news.)

"For such are false apostles,  deceitful workers, transforming themselves into the apostles of Christ.

And no marvel ; for Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light.

Therefore it is no great thing if his ministers also be transformed as the ministers of righteousness ; whose end shall be according to their works."

2 Corinthians 11:13-15

Tomorrow's the big day - though, could be awhile before we know who will be the next

president.  Voted for Donald Trump (and think Joe Biden is being used).  If for no other reason than all the new-agey carping going on in boomer-ville,  i hope Trump wins the election, and frankly, hope our current president wins by a landslide.  

Some of the posts i've read over the past few months - from supposedly peacy-peacy gaia-groupies - have been riddled with fang-marks...no surprise, really ;/

But who knows, Joe Biden may be our next president, and if so, oh well, life will go on.  And i believe, if he takes office, things will be...eh, okay - that is, as long as he is in office.  In short, i cannot help but to believe, he's being used.

Btw, concerning Trump supporters blocking traffic and making alot of noise, one question: 

Any of the Trump supporters bust any store-windows, steal any merchandise?  Any of Trump's supporters torch any buildings, gang up on one guy and beat the living tar out of him - if not stab him to death, and laugh about it?  

Any of that happen? 

Created a union query in Access - that's joining two unlinked tables,

that takes a few brief lines of SQL code.  Looked up my notes, no problem.  Same goes with multi-condition queries, and creating forms with sub forms, command buttons, and the data meshing properly.  Too bad the uber ap isn't as easy.  

So, this rant is not just some old lady who doesn't know her way around a computer.  This old lady would much rather have called on the telephone, spoke to a real, live human being and scheduled a ride with a taxi driver - but living in the country, good luck with that.  

All this ap automated crap is...bolshevik!

Now that was really creepy! A very famous man had passed away, back in 70.

According to wikipedia, he was an atheist, but if i'm not mistaken, another article said the famous man was annoyed at that particular label - he was not an atheist, he was agnostic.  Needful to say, and it's rather stating the obvious, he had no time for Jesus Christ - and the famous man thought christians were a brainless bunch.  Yeah, whatever!

The famous man had lived to 98.  Wow!  Reason i care not to post the man's name is, because having seen, on the internet - a few years back - the last, or next to last, photograph taken of him.  In his eyes, was a look of despair fixing to settle in.  But, hey, even godly people (like King David) are known to get a bit skeered of death (around Psalms 50).  So, the sad-ish look in the famous man's eyes, isn't what creeped me out.

i choose not to list the man's name, because of what my mind's ear heard, while looking at that picture.  Hate to post this, but heard what i heard, and it sounded like the high-pitched chirping/clicking stirr of insects of the eternal night.  

Can only hope, the sound was just a few other-worldly bullies messing with me - happens... they do that to people, (both saved and lost) from time to time.  Can only hope, what i heard wasn't actually an echo of the evil spirits' anticipation of feasting on the man.  From what i understand, he went into eternity rejecting Christ - but i don't know, i'm neither that famous 20th century man - wasn't at his deathbed, didn't read his last letters - nor am i his Judge.

All's i know is, there's far more people who fall into a Christless eternity, than are redeemed people - for whom the Holy angels come and fetch them to the Lord's heavenly kingdom.

Found the Scripture about what King David had gone through - yay!

"My heart is sore pained within me : and the terrors of death are fallen upon me.  Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and horror hath overwhelmed me."

Psalm 55:4-5

Ronnie passed away, in the early evening, October 30th - as if this news isn't all over boomer-ville.

Atleast it's about confirmed she didn't take the death-cocktail - the mix so gladly pushed by the smiley crew (buncha crocks).  In her posts, she so wanted to live long enough to see Joe Biden as president-elect.

One thing for sure, Ronnie is, eternally, in one of two places - and whichever of the two places, she is very aware of being, the election results are about the last thing on her mind.

Her Time Goes By blog is still up, being managed by a friend of her's - and, for her many fan's sakes, am glad.  

But, eh, no, have no desire to join in on the (new-ageyish) gush-fest.

"Enter ye in at the strait gate : for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat :

Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it."

Matthew 7:13-14

Preachers, even KJB-only ones, aren't perfect. And any for-real preacher tells his listeners flat out: study the Scriptures on your own. Okay, that said,

one of the preachers had said that Joe Biden was losing his mind.  Oh, i hope not, because that's a horrible way to spend one's final years.   Anyway, took that comment with a grain of salt - for one thing, no documentation.  However, there stands a very real probability of powerful people who fervently wish the man gets elected, but then, shortly after, (conveniently) falls into illness while in office.

Yep, voting for Donald Trump.  He's not perfect, but him being our president for (Lord willing) four more years will buy us some time, to appreciate and enjoy life as free citizens.  

But the signs are place, the babylonians are coming.  Revolution is in the air...not a good time to be old.

There's a part of me who is relieved that my husband did not live to see 2020...the masks (can ya spell "Psy-Ops?") which hide people's facial expressions from one another.  The "social distancing" posters and the (cattle) line arrows, the economic persecutions...i believe, would have broken the spirit of that flag-waving ol' jar head.

Time to get ready.

Why do marriages fail? Sorry...NOT!!! But i've seen the same scenario - different couples, same drama - play out, more than a few too many times.

Maybe, just maybe, if the wife didn't want to bring more than one kid into the picture, maybe the marriage would have survived.  One child is alot less expensive to provide - $100 a week for daycare, as opposed to $200.  On top of that, one child's laundry is less work (before or after work) than two, or more children.  Then there's clutter, and cleaning after it, in general - smaller family, less housework; the added benefit being, the house actually looks clean - after busting yer tail, after working all day.

But it's completely normal for wives to want atleast two children - maybe a third child.  Gramma said, back in her day, most wives wanted a boy and a girl.  Even back then - when women didn't work for a paycheck - too many kids often made mom's life very burdensome and sorrowful.  Yep, The Waltons was a television program, not reality.  Reality is, back then there were dads who preferred the barroom's company rather than his sons' companionship...teaching the boys how to fix a fence, build a shed, run a trout line...and when a bit older, talking with his sons, warning each of them to steer clear of manipulative drama queens.  

By the way, in the town where us kids grew up, there was a wife and mother of four children - and she was pregnant with number #5.  She was having an affair, but broke it off, because she preferred the father of #5 - which - yep, you guessed it - was not her husband.

Needless to say, the ... uh-hem... "lady's" husband wanted a divorce.  Thing is, being that he was just a regular working guy, getting a divorce in the early 1960s was a long, complicated, and VERY expensive process, which involved a courtroom, a (ol' patriarch) judge and witnesses.  So, i don't know if the man got free from that (for-real) ball and chain.

But anyway, back to regular families - where a man's wife is not a jezebel.  How wives managed, back then, to keep the house tidy...can't wrap my head around that one.  Houses back then were tiny, they had about half the square-footage, and twice the family-size.  Yikes, where did people put their stuff - their clothing...men, women and children, back then, actually wore under-clothing, and lots of it.   Everything needed ironed back then.  Where the heck was room for an ironing board!

More later.

Back in the day - like half the bar was at that funeral.

Evidently, the departed bar-tender's family member/s who made the funeral arrangements was/were from a fundamentalist Christian background.  i don't know how i had known this, but specifically remember sitting beside my husband, and wanting to leave before the preacher showed up, and gave a sermon.  How did i know this?  Have no idea...well actually, do know how and why things turned out the way they did - and what prompted my husband to not want to leave just yet.  

Well, motioning a let's-get-out-of-here request, once again...too late!  Preacher man showed up - and ugh! he had a big Bible in his satchel...wouldn't be surprised if it was a (gasp) King James, 1611.  Can tell ya straight, had my husband (that chauvinist;) not been there, i'd of quietly, politely been so out of there, even before the preacher had driven into the parking lot.

At that time (was about 11 years ago) so did not want to hear any preacher - especially one who actually believed the Word. Wanted absolutely no parts with people who believed in the God who sent people to an eternal hell, for rejecting His Son - ya know the ol' whadda meanie.

Well, here turns out.  The only thing that preacher said about either heaven or hell was that the departed man was in eternity, and knew where he was, forever.  No long sermon, and not even one "flee from the wrath to come" Scriptures. 

Still, was convicting enough, and really more than i had cared to hear at the time.

Batter matter. Well that's 1/2 done, the other two sticks not quite softened. So, there's time. Found the Scriptures, yay!

But woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees,  hypocrites! for ye shut up the kingdom of heaven against men ; for ye neither go in yourselves, neither suffer ye them that are entering to go in.

Matthew 23:13

For they bind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men's shoulders ; but they themselves will not move them with one of their fingers.

Matthew 23:4

i wonder if "Anonymous"/"Amanda"/"pah" are the same person, but at least he or she changes his or her posts alittle bit after

making his or her rounds in boomer-blogville.   Had considered simply deleting the post, not because of the angry message, but because of the f-bomb, but decided...meh!  The f-word is an obscenity, mere rude language, however that word is nowhere near taking the Lord's Name or His sovereignty in vain.  So, decided to let the post be.  

Have to wonder, does the anonymous less-than-welcome visitor even read more than the first two sentences in any of the blog-entries before inserting his or her comments?  Wait a sec, it's probably better that he or she doesn't read the boomers' articles, because then he or she would really rage.

Have to laugh when people accuse farcebook of being snooty-central.  Guess those people are young, and so never had any reason or interest to visit boomer-ville.  

Bible exhorts the young to be mindful of the old, to stick with the old paths and such.  Uhm, the Bible commands alot of hard things.  That's why they're there, because the natural man or woman wants to forge a new path, and - oh - wants to hang onto every single nickel and dime along the way.

Which leads to yet another rant...here i go off again!

Listen to alot of sermons, so i have atleast some idea of what i'm text-talking about.  Yeah, there are a few for-real preachers, who obviously put the flock's needs before their own ego.  Unfortunately, there's alot of preachers who come off as if they don't have issues with Scripture - if ya don't have eight kids (because you and your husband can barely provide for the two or three - if that - you already have) well, then yer hedonistic.

Is it any wonder, there's alot of people out there, young and old, who are not into church, and still searching.  People who are still searching, have heard more than a few  pat (exceedingly invalidating) responses as to what they should believe, and really don't need to have their ears wrested with any more of the same.

There's a Scripture about holier-than-thous crowding around the narrow gate, and so preventing searchers who would pass through, if allowed a little space, just to get through.

Rant over for now - butter's soft and want to get the cookie batter mixed.  And then onto the muffin batter.

Well that was creepy enough! Not sure if i want to tune in for another episode of All-Show-No-Shoeleather.

Have to watch myself with the surmising, but doggoneit, that host ... his comments seemed to have tiny barbs attached.  Uhm, dude, why you have to (covertly) dredge up routine reactions to difficulties faced by (future divorcing) married couples?   Could sense it from here, there was definitely tension, coming from that dying old woman - who might not be around to speak come the next installment.  

Can't help but to wonder, did he passively/aggressively put her away when they were young, or did he wait some 25 years, and then - hitting the male-menopause wall - decide to cast that terrible REPROACH upon her...ya know, when she's too old to find a real husband/get a job that actually pays.... Yeah!

Blaming the man???

You bet i am!  

Because that's what usually happens.  Takalookaround!  It's usually the wives, who not only have to work full time, but end up doing everything else...including homemade stuffing, because StoveTop just isn't how his (stay-at-home) mommy did it/isn't Burl-n-Ives-ey enough for Thankgiving (think wifey got help with the dishes?  Ha-ha.) 

So, in other words, years go by...same-old, same-old, no StoveTop, just football - and she doesn't even get the chance to catch more than a few minutes of it.   As for who's the first - man or wife - to call the lawyer.  That so-called question is basically a herring that's half choking on a big red pill it had swallowed.

Post and comments on another blog. i don't think i'll ever get my head around the reality of wicked people

who go to church - every sunday - with the conscious intent to quietly, methodically stirr up trouble.  Where i come from - a home where christian-based morality was taught us kids - wicked people were the ones drinking in smokey bars/toking weed in the parking lot.  The idea of wanting to endure a 40-minute sermon and singing three or four hymns???  But that's not the half of it...!  Here comes that plate - ouch!!!  Any half-effective faker knows, if you're gonna game successfully, it's gonna cost some serious change.

Yep, once again, Scripture's right, the devil's subtitle.  That serpentine narc of narcs sends his flying-reptilian flunkies...not so much to roost at the local juke-joint, but to the where-the-Bible-is-preached church-house.  Can't get my head around it, the most wicked are the people who don't get DUIs, aren't behind on their child-support and have good jobs.  The most wicked are the "religious" wicked - the ones who are all holy-Joe at church, at the food-drive, at the soccer practise...always, "Praise the Lord," bless you Brother Sam" ... all the while, inwardly laughing at the old guy (he walks funny, and stutters).

Okay, we're all different.  Saved or (still) lost, we like and dislike different things.  But still, cannot get my head around the very idea of going to church to play head games.  But then again, not everybody is me.  

Some people have gone to church all their lives; that's what you do on Sunday - if not on Wednesday too.  Some people didn't grow up hearing an edgy joke or comment coming from the porch, smelling tobacco being smoked in the living room, seeing Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In on the TV, playing a card game on the kitchen table.  

Per previous posts on this blog, my parents were decent people, who worked very hard, did the best they could for us kids.  They just so were not into church.

So, ten years saved, and some eight years going to worship every Sunday morning, (because THAT'S a direct order) church life is still rather foreign to me - probably always will be.  But the Bible says to not neglect the assembly of the saints.  

Getting near time to start the 'puter and get to work.

So glad i listened to that sermon; part of the title is, "Government Sponsored Child-Abuse." The preacher, who has a brick and mortar church

somewhere in the mid-west, was saying that kids as young as 11 or 12 are being fed pills that retard the natural process of growing.  These pills are known to have side-effects, which come out later.  Well, he pointed out that children haven't experienced life long enough to at least partially understand how decisions made today, can affect the child's every tomorrow, and the day after.  

He pointed out there's (time-validated) reasons why 7th graders don't sign for car loans and such - never mind, a child cannot be expected to pick out a winter coat that will keep him or her warm, and made well enough to last through February.  

They're kids, they've math homework to figure out - math, which by the way, stumps many adults (me included) because, we don't work with it everyday, as 7th graders do.  This expecting kids to make adult decisions is nothing but theft of a boy's or a girl's personhood.

But he said something else.  If 12-year old Tim decides he wants to become Tina, there's things not right been going on in that child's brief life, for some time.   Well, indirectly, he certainly addressed a question i've had on my mind for awhile.  Will have to get into that later.  Lunch is over.

Here we go again, per a certain witchiepoo blog, "There goes that (g**d***) cheetah again..." Yep, the old has-been just had to

toss in a pet blasphemy.  Of courssse she did!  That's what beast spirits do.  Have to sort of laugh, because the article was so (19)80s - they were high-fiving "The Chalice and the Blade."  Cannot recall who wrote it, and don't really care.  It was one of many rad-fem books written during that crazy decade.  Had bought a copy of it back then, and like the other stacks of fembot flim-flam, it was some 250 confusing and depressing preachey pages - eh, you'll have that, when the sermon is anti-Christ.

The girls aren't stupid, from childhood, they've been schooled, over and over again, we all evolved from mush, and survival

of the fittest, means yer each on yer own, honey.  So yeah, while fornicating (with an occasional bad-boy-bob, who happens into the joint) is sin...oh, wait a sec, no Holy God, just make it up as you go along.  The girls know, solid by now, the only person they can count on, is themselves - certainly not the father of their children.  So, any wonder that the population growth is like 1.2 - and even less in some parts.  

Laying the blame of negative population growth to va-cas and other vanities, is at best, simplistic bubble-land mantra.  Never mind, when a society is taught that Jesus Christ was just some guy who lived 2,000 years ago...uh, what's the point in even considering tomorrow, and saving, long-term, so your kids can inherit your all-paid-for house, and some cds?  Hey, might as well, "grab all the gusto," (beer comm slogan) while you're young, and attractive.  Might as well - to borrow a phrase from the "Who" - "...hope I die before I get old."

That message, from the late 60s or early 70s (not sure - and striving to keep clear of rock music anyway...still struggle) is chock full of evolution - says quite plainly, an old life, isn't, and would be better off, for the Collective, for aged-out people to get the ef off the planet.

The girls around the bar, they paid attention in school, and they consistently did their homework - in neatly written pages...oopps, dating myself, again ;)

Oopps, shift has started, godda roll.

Girls' night out...not just an occasional wednesday. They're buying each other a shot - followed by a diet soda, and up

there on the floor dancing with each other.  Why not  ;/   At 23ish, they have their own apartments, their own cars, and some discretionary income.  In short, the girls are well on their way of establishing themselves - in a few years, moving out from the apartment into their own houses.  Enjoying a drink, and shaking it on the dance floor with one another?  Uhm, yeah!   Looking around the bar - there's not many, if any, guys worth the time of day.  That one over there is job-shy, and so's the clown sitting not far from him.  An older guy, sitting near the corner is, again, beefing about child-support payments - bending the ear of a 30-something greasy-baseball-capped dink who still lives in his aunt Edna's basement...(yep, his mean mommy had sold the house, about two years ago, and headed to a climate where she didn't have to deal with scraping her car's windshield and snovelling show, before heading off to WORK ;/ )

One of the girls is feeling a bit sad...sure, she had known, from the get-go, that hank-harley wound be riding out within a year or so.  Less than above-board concerning certain things, but doggoneit, he sure was good-looking, and he had a steady j.o.b.  

By the way, it's almost funny when the red-pills gloat when hank (inevitably) rides off.  Just evidences their wanting, so badly, to be hank - but that's not gonna happen, either today, much less tomorrow.  (Wanted to use a certain pun, but the Holy Spirit won't let me.)

Hank is but a needs-serious-repair xerox copy of masculinity.  What red-pills don't care to come to grips with is:  women prefer men who are big, strong and can fix things.  It's a biological thing, that try-as-it-will, baphomet-mtv has not been able to fully destroy manhood - but has sure marred it.

"...they just want to drink with their girlfriends..." Wow, if that (red-pillish) comment doesn't reek with jealousy! At another blog,

the issue of women choosing to remain childfree, or believing one child is enough...okay, abortion is murder - no way around that.  

Anyway, upon reading that overly-simplified comment, brought to mind, the women whom mr.red-pill is bashing evidently have friends to go drinking with.  Hhmmm, maybe that's the (underlying) point of the comment.  And not only that, the women who join their friends here and there on a friday or saturday night are likely not restricted to enjoying their two or three drinks in a public bar.  They're likely invited to one or more private parties, during the eight or nine party-weekends during the year.

Hhmmm, have to think this through...there's New Years, Superbowl (on Sunday - why can't they play on Saturday ;/ ... anyway,) St. Patrick's, Memorial Day weekend, July 4th weekend, Labor Day weekend, Farmer's Fair weekend, Halloween, Christmas, and someone's birthday, graduation, retirement, or just because...party.  So, that's that's atleast one party (that isn't a dud) every five weekends or so.

The comment just came off like, the young slender girls have better things to do than hang out with mr.red-pill - let alone (oh bigtime ;) have his baby.

Women who choose career over children are - sad to say - smart.

Yeah, goes without saying, the loudmouthed feminists - with their horrendously butched haircuts - are annoying.  But guess what!  Those same women have mothers, aunts, neighbors who had done the right thing - stayed home and minded the children, kept the house tidy, made do on a shoestring, did without necessary things...ya know, like a bra to replace one of two with one that isn't all stretched out (while you-know-who buys himself a new fishing rod).  Sort of thing happens all the time - anyone with ANY sense of reality, knows perfectly dern well it does.

So, some thirty years roll by, and guess what mom's or auntie's reward is, for doing the right thing?  Yeppers, you guessed it!  Once again, it's the spouse who keeps promises, who wants to preserve the marriage, who gets screwed.  

Meanwhile the women's magazines run stories (and a whole lot of other bs...) of this and that 50-something (divorced) woman who as successfully launched a career in ... beadwork lunch-buckets?  Whatever!  Number one: what those abominable mags rarely - if ever - tell you is:  how the lunch-buckets are selling 5 years down the road.

For the overwhelming majority of older women, finding a job that pays the insane rent (because the home, where the kids grew up, where extended family gathered for holidays and such)...  Oh lovely, there isn't much room in a dinky apartment...for much of anything - even family photo albums...which now have proven to be more a shelf-hogging mockery.

Godda roll.

Maybe 90-something? Joshua ran out to wallyworld for a machine to move that "great stone," but the passage doesn't say

anything about wagons or winches.  Perhaps, that detail is given elsewhere - but, for some reason, i think Joshua 24:29 gives the full account.   A "great stone."  Uhm, sounds heavier than 250 pounds.  How did the old man, "stricken in years," (Joshua 13:1) lift big rocks and battle - not just 2-legged desert-rats, but - full blown anakims?  Btw, concerning the stone, neither does the passage mention Joshua pointing to the stone, and telling four or five young warriors to "set it up there."

If women ran the world? You godda be kidding me! If women ran things, i'd have half a mind...wouldn't we all...

to find the nearest bridge...oh, wait a sec...there wouldn't be a bridge - atleast not one safe enough to walk upon...never mind, jumping off of ;/.   Yep, discontented women are still so...30-something years later.  Not a pretty sight ;)

Reality is:  even today, for the most part, it's MEN who do the serious brain work needed to design the bridges, and MEN who put up with the cold and the rain to maintain/repair those very same bridges.  Same goes with restoring the power, during a viciously cold and windy January night.  

The unthankfOOl fembot spIrit is truly astounding.

Women running things?  Has anyone noticed the legions of unmarried women trying, seriously trying to raise their children?   Single moms, working day and night to provide a warm home, in a safe neighborhood, so their children have the opportunity to do well in school, and grow up and obtain gainful employment. 

But statistical reality indicates otherwise.  Neighborhoods are becoming less safe, and children are growing into less-productive adults.  The Patriarchal mindset of saving money, instead of blowing it, is about out the window.

More later, lunch is about over...ya know, that ol' Patriarchal principal - lunchbreak is x-amount of time, and then it's time to get back to work.

"Mansplaining?" That's a harpy-hissyfit, thrown against reality.

Just wanna laugh out loud at the puffed up saggy chested rage against the ultimate masculine Person who created the universe.  It's no big secret that harpies hate Him, because He decided to make men the leaders.   The fembot article, of course, took potshots of the author's Sunday-school days.  

Uhm, i went to Sunday-school too.  Still recall the statement that "all men - who are in Christ - are brothers."  Well, that caused me some worry...ya know, being a girl.  So, i asked the (male) teacher.  He said that includes girls too.  End of worry.  

Some decades later, the question was raised - from something i had read (not in Scripture) that when a saved woman passes into eternity, she ceases to be a woman and becomes ... i guess, a man.  Oh, i don't know, all's i know is, when Christ came back and ate lunch with some of the twelve, the ruts in his hands were still there.  So, that tells me, who the Lord was - when He went back to His Father - is who the Lord is, to this day.  So, still sorta out to lunch on this question, have concluded this:  if being a woman only lasts while here, then i'm going to enjoy being a woman (saggy-boobed and all :) while i'm here.  All's i know, from Scripture, is this: heaven is wonderful, joyful and forever (and hell is eternally the opposite).  

Woah, break's over.

Just sign me, an old right-winger, who "takes no sh*t."

There's more to this rock thing. About 40 years later, when the Israelites

were soon to go down to the (flooded) Jordan and cross it, the men of each tribe were to choose a man - they were not given specifics, but they did know they'd have to fight for the land that lay across the river.  So, it only makes sense that the leading men of the tribes would choose an experienced warrior - a man likely in his 40s or 50s.  Btw, only Joshua and one other man was over 60 - because of that golden-calf rock-concert held some 40 years ago.

Anyway, the Lord dried up the riverbed and the people crossed.  Then the specifics were given to the 12 men.  Each grab a rock, carry it on your shoulder up to the campsite near the shore and lay it down.  But that's not the half of it.

Next morning, the same 12 men each took up their stone and headed for Gilgal.  Looking at the map, Gilgal is about two miles from the Jordan valley.  In other words, not only did these men carry a 250-pound rock for about two miles, atleast some of that trip was uphill.   This account is in Joshua 3 and 4.

Where this is all going is:  were people stronger in ancient days?   Joshua was 80ish, and still stomping canaanites.  In Joshua 14:10-12, specifically states the old warrior's age of 85 years, AND he prayed to the Lord for the strength to drive out the anakims - a big and mean group, who lived on a mountain.  And then Joshua gave that mountain to a brother-in-arms as an inheritance.

Ya'd think, after all that uphill trouble, battling some really vicious dudes, that Joshua would keep it for himself.  Evidently not.

By the way,  in Joshua 24:29, old age did finally catch up with Joshua.  He was 110 when he passed into eternity.  Oh wait a sec, not long before he passed, (Joshua 24:26) he "...took a great stone and set it up there..."

Per last post, my calcs were WAY off. An 18 inch block of rock weighs about 1/8th of a ton - a mere 250 pounds. But still,

two guys in their late 70s or early 80s.  Moving a rock means bending over to deal with it.  The rock they took, and put under Moses had to be high enough to not draw on his back.  The seat of it had to be suitable for sitting throughout the afternoon and into evening.  Moses didn't get off that rock until the sun had set.

So glad i bothered to check, a half cubic yard of stone weighs about a half ton. Had guessed 1/4th a ton. But either way, that's alot for two old guys

to take and put under Moses, so that he could sit down, while Aaron and Hur could steady Moses'es raised arms throughout the day of that battle against the lowlife Amalekites.  Moses was 80, maybe 81 - but this incident was not long after crossing the Red Sea ("on dry ground"), and Aaron was a few  years older.  Hur, the brothers' friend was probably 70 or 80-something.  

Rolling/lifting that rock and placing it at that spot at the "top of the hill," raises questions.  Was it magnificent quartz, or humble sandstone?  Though either weighs about the same.  Since time was tight, was the stone they had taken nearby?  Was it just a little ways down the hill, like 20 feet away?   If it had been close by, on that hilltop, there'd been no reason to move it.  Bible says, "they took a stone, and put it under him."  So evidently, this in involved (quickly) finding an adequate stone that wouldn't draw on Moses'es 80-year old back, or pinch his 80-year old...   This account is found in the last half if Exodus 17.

i am almost sure today, there are men strong enough to team up and roll/lift a rock that weighs about a 1,000 pounds.  But two men  beyond the age of 70?   Back in the late 60s, there were about three men in their early 40s who were still playing football with the  Baltimore Colts, but i think they were about done.  After 40, our strength tends to fade, by 50-something, think it was a boxer, named George, who decided he'd had enough.

Lunch is over.  More later.

All show, and no shoe-leather. Oh comeon, if he really cared, marriage would have lasted, and

she wouldn't be facing a dire health condition all alone.  Easier to do a video, and get hits...heels gonna be heels, i guess;/  Anyway, so sick of boomer buddistic b.s.  Btw, don't know much about eastern (salvation-by-meditation) ra-lid-juns, and frankly don't care to either.  Have read however, that westerns really don't have a clue what buddhism is really about.  Well, it's demon worship - as with anything outside of the Lord Jesus Christ.  Hey, i didn't write the Bible.  ;)   

As for "karma," in the east, that's just a rotten excuse to leave kids and old people to starve in the mirey gutter.  Meanwhile, in Christian-based nations, we have homeless shelters, hospitals, and (compared to pagan nations) we also have clean streets.  Go figure.

Yeah i know, sounds like a right-wing rant.  You betcha!   Btw, i actually voted - straight republican.   Godda roll, shift is fixing to start.

Before my shift starts, have time for a post. On another blog, some manospherian peewee (that's redundant) made the comment

concerning wives packing on pounds, before the marraige-cert ink has a chance to dry.  First off:  women tend to gain weight, some while young, others when older.  Staying in shape, being the inevitable losing battle it is...but caring women still try to remain attractive to their husbands.  Anyway, women - more so than men - are prone to stress-pounds.  In other words, wives who must shilly-shally themselves back and forth to the office, and their children to daycare, finally get home...only to end up dealing with the second-shift of cleaning, laundry, cooking and grocery shopping.  And then peewee's peeved because wifey's less than excited at 10 pm to give her wonderful lord and master his bj.

Yeah, wifey's dun copped an attitude over the past few years...you'll have that certain 70-80% (statistical PSY OPS!!!) when she's saddled with patriarchal responsibilities but none of patriarchal privilege and leisure.  Being only human, should it be a major surprise, when she files the papers? because she's done!

Prior to the covid psy-ops having successfully killed workplace fellowship, last year we had a retirement party,

and one of the guests - having been retired for about two years - sure didn't look the same.  Jane, who while working as a supervisor, had made an effort to stay away from the donuts and cookies people had brought to the office - whether or not she had been sometimes successful, who knows; and does it really matter?  She cared about the job and the people, that's what matters.

Well, Jane shows up.  Wow!  She didn't look the same.  What happened was, during her 1st year as a retiree, she lost 50 pounds.  The reason for that wasn't lack of funds - Jane was a planner and a saver, lived a quiet life.

i can only guess - me not being a supervisor - that being a boss is stressful enough for a man, but can be doubly so for a woman.  Being retired, i guess, allows Jane to fix nutritious and enjoyable meals, and not having to rush eating them.

That entitled old broad - she actually expected her husband to continue funding

her stay-at-home lifestyle, even though the children are grown and on their own.  She has alot of nerve, while her husband is at the office (be it home or on-site) she spends her days on her own terms.  She, not a boss, chooses what fruits and vegetables to grow and home-can - to supplement the real meals she cooks.  She decides what flowers and bushes to grow and tend in the beds around the front and back of the generous home she keeps swept and dusted.  Oh, and then she, not a boss, chooses when to wash clothing, bedding, curtains and such.   Having long-time considered heating costs to be insane, she cuts and stacks several cords of firewood.  

Oh i don't know, maybe her husband resents her free-time, she spends like two hours a day in the Word.  He wants her to work full-time.  Surely, he's not expecting too much - after all, she could devote those two hours...and she's just being selfish in thinking she needs 8 hours of sleep each day, shave 3 hours off of that, and there you go, part of a full-time shift, which she could get out there, and bring home some moolah - biche!  

Hey, bass boats and fishing rods ain't cheap, and it's time for an(other) upgrade.