Her patience has been worn
By the dwarf-child at my side
That rounds about the room
In the morning tide
Which seeps through the window panes

My fallen Sister sees my hair
Fit for birds
With broken wings
When she speaks to Grief,
Her voice cracks in her age

"I pity the Fool who marries you."
I laugh through fits of sweet rage

In a time of now,
Where there was never a then,
And where the Virgins seem scarce

-EA

Matron's a fanatical murderer.  Last week, for example, just to keep up with her insatiable bloodlust, she managed to work her way through an entire agency's worth of secretary temps.  I needed some creative thinking to persuade the agency to send some more after the 37th failed to hand in her timesheet.  I don't think my story of there being a giant secretary magnet hovering over the country plucking secretarys from the streets (and that they were at their safest at the institution where we have a strict no giant magnet flight zone in force), was totally convincing.  The promise to Boris of a night with Brad Pitt was a useful bribe that kept the rouse going longer than ordinarrily possible, though.

Still...with murder comes body disposal. 

Luckily for Matron I'm adept with shovels, acid, hungry pigs, DNA alteration and hacking into Police networks to modify their so called "evidence".  It took me a while to get good at this stuff, so some of my early attempts, circa November 1938, were somewhat shambolic.  Take this for example.  I left a huge clue to all the authorities that I'd buried the fruits of Matron's foolish behaviour.  At least, that's what I think I buried there.  It's been a while.

So I decided to take a peek.  There's no harm in peeking right?

At first it was all pretty normal.  I excavated through the usual bones, teeth, spoons and amulets of ancient and ungodly power.  Then I found something really intriguing.  It had an eery mysterious glow and it smelt of wasps.  The light danced across its surface and it was dispensing weak lemon drink into a small cup that never seemed to overflow or run dry.  Then it began singing a melody of such enchanting beauty that I was powerless but to lick it furiously. 

A few hours later I was aware that my tongue had swollen to the size of my left foot - which was just as well as my left foot appeared to have gone.  As had my right elbow, though strangely my right hand was right where it should be.

It was ace.

But when I lost awareness of my eyebrows I knew I was sinking into trouble.  But I couldn't stop licking.  The melody was washing over me in waves of surrealness that compelled me to lick.  I could feel my life ebbing away from me.

A pain.

A stinging pain at the back of my head.

Then nothing.

Nothing at all.

I awoke in my cell.  Matron was there.  And so was all of my body.  In fact, my body had been augmented by a large shovel shaped bump on the back of my head.  Matron explained.  I should never had tried to regain my foolishness by unearthing what I had stowed years before.  Matron, it would seem, had taken appropriate action to free me from my folly and save my life.

But damn.

I had found an eternal source of weak lemon drink and it was cruelly taken from me. 

I guess my quest continues...

Interplay has a new official poll. The question is "Why don't you currently play an MMO?" Hopefully, your answers might influence the development of Project V13. According to Chris Taylor, the next poll will be "Why I play MMOs."

I return to the roots
With my flashy desert boots
Dancing in the streets
Jumping in puddles
Within concrete jungles
In my beloved desert boots
No cut out for this

Some people are perplexed
But very pretty cool
Plop
While I'm playing the fool
Splashing with my feet together
Filful
Under the natural shower

From their pedicabs
Pulled by pressed carters
Some regret their toots
They watch
Mute
Plop
My lovely desert boots
Not made for that place

I bounce in life as a big hose
Then last time plopped on tiptoes
With a cartooned smile on my face
For those who get up their nose

Mae Linat © 2008

Did you know that Genesis says God created light on the first day, separated it from dark and called it day, then created plants on the third day, and then, finally, He created the sun...on the fourth day. I suppose that works for some people, until they read a first-grade science text and realize the light that separates the night and day is from the sun, and that plants can't exist without the sun, and that if the sun wasn't created till after, none of it makes sense. (This wasn't in the film, I'm just in a venting mood -- fully understanding that if you are a Christian you think "anything is possible with God" and that there's nothing odd about this because "God is God" and "He can do it even though it doesn't make sense to us -- He's God!" I say to you: Please, grow up.)

One of the most striking things to me about religion is that it seems like the tighter one holds on to their religion, the less able they are to think critically about anything (particularly their chosen faith). This never fails to astound me. If I were dealing with a personal belief that was central to not only my own way of life, but to the entire creation and existence and future of the universe, I would want to be extra critical about it -- because if it were true it would, presumably, change my entire outlook and way of life. If it were true, I would have to be a different person.

The reason, then, in my opinion anyway, that so many Christians fail to think critically about such a supposedly central tenet of their way of life, is that they don't really believe it. Sure, they like to act like it --- they go to church on Sundays (they dress up even), they tithe, they sing and read the bible and maybe even pray when they're alone -- but their lives are no different than anyone else's as a result of their faith. They may not drink or smoke or have sex outside of marriage because of their faith, but many do despite their faith. And many people of no particular faith don't do those things out of a personal moral code anyway. It doesn't really matter. (That's the point!)

The fact is Christianity makes some serious claims -- if you don't follow Christ (the only way to heaven) you burn in hell forever being the most serious and, very literally, the most damning -- that most Christians fail to live with respect to. Most Christians today not only fail to live a lifestyle in any way materially similar to that of Jesus Christ, but will defend to the hilt their right to live a lifestyle of overabundance. This will also always boggle my mind. This "Christian entitlement."

To get political for a moment: How a true follower of Jesus Christ could ever vote for a man like John McCain for president, who supports making permanent tax cuts handed to the richest 5% of people in this nation while ignoring the other 95% who actually need them, is beyond me. Christ supported the wealthy using their wealth to ease the suffering of those in need. He wouldn't have supported giving the wealthy more wealth because they are already so wealthy.

Am I bitter? Yes. I don't like it. I feel bamboozled and made a fool of by beliefs I held and held dearly for the majority of my life. Beliefs that literally shaped my everyday decisions throughout my adolescence. Beliefs I began to see were not shaping the lives of others who supposedly held them also. Beliefs that bred hypocrisy so much more than faith, they led to contempt.

Sorry so dramatic tonight.

OJ was just found guilty of twelve felonies. Twelve. The minimum sentence he faces is 23 years, thanks to the presence of weapons during his brave adventures. Now, add that with his likability factor (0) and multiply the effect of Johnny Cochran's absence (-62) and it looks like the Caucasian Coochie Smasher is facing 34 life sentences.

Okay, maybe just one. But at any rate, he is definitely fucked. Think of it: every bearded, tattooed white supremacist on D-Block will finally get to split that chunky, murderous booty of his open, Nicole Brown style. Ole!

Before sending the jury away to deliberate, the judge alluded to the possibility of waiting days or weeks for a verdict. After all, a pretty well-known man's life is in their hands. A wrong decision (in the public eye) and they would be forever linked to this trial as the fuckups who freed OJ. Again. It was reported that Mr. Simpson had that same stupid ass, infuriating cocky grin plastered on his chubby, 61 year old face as the jury received their instructions. Then, he strolled out of court cool as a fan, chatting confidently with reporters about his plans to spend the next few days at a friend's house while the jury deliberated. Hell, he probably had some pretty young blond thang waiting for him in the back of his SUV.

Surely, his feelings were hurt when he was called back to court thirteen hours later. It took him longer than that to plan the heist of his dusty ass memorabilia last year. Upon re-entry, he mentioned being "apprehensive."

Then...

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. And....Guilty.

Same for his dickface of a sidekick CJ Stewart.

When the verdict was read, he gave one of those "Aww, shucks" reactions.

Surprised, Orenthal? Did you really think Amerikkka would let that ass walk free? What you don't realize is that they have been waiting to catch you the first time you ran a red light, littered, or looked hungrily at a nice, white woman.

And they got you. Signed, sealed, and delivered. For life, hopefully. Sentencing is in December. He's 61. So, with the combined sentences he faces, he is pretty much done. In the mouth. He and CJ get to sit in a cell and blow each other for the next 40 or 50 years while they reflect on better days. He won't even be seen as the cool, Teflon rebel from 13 years ago to his future cellmates, because at the core, even they probably know he should have become a monk or just quit life while he was ahead. But...the jig is up, sir. Party done.

Today, one of my coworkers jokingly tried to convince me that OJ should be freed.

"I'm about to print up some FREE THE JUICE shirts."

(Sad face from me)

He then said I'm rejoicing in the misfortune of my people (....but not as eloquently.)

Wrong, sir.

I'm simply pointing out the stupidity of another human. And just because we both:

1. Had ancestors in Africa, and

2. Avoid blackwomanvagina,

doesn't mean I am to excuse this fool. Wrong is wrong. Guilty is guilty, whether black, white, gay, straight, fine, hideous, or Ashanti--a fool is a fool. The same group crying out for America to cut OJ some slack are the same jerks who pity Michael Vick, support and root for Rapist Robert Kelly, think Mariah Carey still makes good music, and actually supported Al Sharpton's presidential bid. Losers.

(climbs down from soapbox)

exhale.

i'm not some crazed negro-hating dude (as someone "jokingly" called me earlier), but i have grown tired of those who feel obligated to support the brother just because he is a brother. same for those who are voting for Obama JUST because he's black (and NOT because his opponent is on social security and the next in line can probably name more hockey teams than she could former presidents). we throw stones at white serial killers (because...you know...we don't do that) who sit on Oprah's couch, but we watch Rapist Robert Kelly piss on kids then go buy his CD's "because he makes good music." where's the logic?

wrong is wrong is wrong.

so....in closing...(cue superhero music) I call on my competent, brilliant, self-respecting readers to proudly punch the next person to speak out in defense of OJ, Mike Vick, or R. Kelly (or...Mariah Carey) in the top of their head. and repeat these words, "fuck.you.in.the.mouth." don't get mad, though. it's a lost cause. it is an unfortunate truth that you can't fix stupid, but, goddammit, you can shut it the fuck up for a few minutes.

thank you and goodnight.

~chris.alexander

This is not particularly fresh news, but since Briosa has been busy lately (let's hope he'll get better soon), I thought it's good to at least help with catching up with the most important of the recent events.

Interplay is not only back with a new website, but the company has announced that Chris Taylor, another member of the original Fallout team, has joined Jason Anderson as a member of IPLY's new development team:

BEVERLY HILLS, CA, September 22, 2008 – Interplay Entertainment Corp. (OTC BB:IPLY) announced today the launch of an all-new web site at www.interplay.com.

The site, developed over the last several months, is designed to improve the company’s communication with customers, investors, and partners. The new site includes forums based on past and future Interplay games, a customer support section, detailed information on the company and its products, and much more.

The company also announced that Chris Taylor, a game designer who was a part of the original Fallout game development team at Interplay in 1994, has rejoined the company. Taylor will serve as Lead System Designer for “Project V13,” the working title of Interplay’s next generation Massively Multiplayer Online Game (MMO) currently in development. Taylor joins other original Fallout team members on staff at Interplay’s internal game studio, which recently opened an office in Irvine, Calif. Additional development staff members continue to be hired as the project ramps-up.

Of course, it doesn't take a genius to figure out what Project V13 is, given that Interplay has licensed the rights to a Fallout MMORPG after selling the franchise to Bethesda.

For a summary of available information and some speculation about the project, see the Project V13 FAQ at The Vault.

FOOL.  Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.   (III.1.40-41)

And Adi, were he familiar with Twelfth Night, I am certain, would have this response for me:

VIOLA:  This fellow is wise enough to play the Fool/ And to do that well craves a kind of wit.  (III.1.61-62) 

Am I the kind who hears one thing and interprets another?

The kind who walks toward the flames when there's no one I'm after?

The kind who writes letters that never gets read?

The kind who puts flowers on top of my head?

Am I the fool who waits for the train that will never come?

The kind that stares directly into the hot summer sun?

Am I the fool who chooses to believe, silly stories meant to deceive?

Or the kind who looks forward to letters I never will receive?

Am I the kind who endures a long, painful weep?

The kind who dips into warm river waters until I discover exactly how deep?

The kind that runs endlessly in the garden, chasing butterflies...stumbling all too often, too swift, too sudden..

Am I the kind who obeys without question, every law ever written, even unproven supposition? Takes unsolicited advice and accepts every notion?

Am I the kind who stare blankly into space, wondering what is it that colors the sky that's so splendid in its grace?

Am I the fool who thinks that love, is nothing more than finding your heart's desire, without exception or expectation? Who thinks that when I find it, it's best to follow its direction?

The kind who wishes fairy tales to come true or for Santa's present to arrive? When the entire world affirms that it is folly to think so, like a bee doesn't live in a hive?

Am I the fool who sees more in you, more than anyone else will?

Or the kind that gets run over by a slow car's steady wheel?

Am I the kind who climbs mountains and dreams to see the world from atop it?

Or the kind who thinks it's futile to resist when I want it, oh I want it.

What kind of fool am I, will you tell me?

Before I discover it myself and decide to flee?

What kind of fool am I? Please let me know quickly.

Before I lose myself and kill you without mercy.

The kind of fool I am, is the kind you ignored.

The kind who loved you, but you were never in accord.

The kind who worshipped you, but was never adored.

The kind of fool who lied for you, who eventually got bored.

I want it fanciful
Full
Cheerful, fruitful
Fool
Fearful and graceful
Not awful

I want it lovely
Fancy
Beachy and fairy
Chatty, creamy
Cheeky
Not chewy

I want it blue
Lean-to, undue
Redo
Renew
Into and yahoo
Thorough too
No curfew

I want U

Mae Linat © 2008

Naked.

Sinking willingly into Legend's

seductive voice and poisonous words.

And then there you were.

That face in my head

In that one moment

That one place.

those eyes that looked at me and knew that I would bite.

I was your virgin warrior

Embroiled in your sweet barbed-wire love

Loyally forging ahead with a full body and a fuller heart

I fought.

I fought so hard.

And in the end - I won.

But now I know, it was a battle for fools

And baby,

I was a fool for you.

From The Simpsons (Burns Verkaufen der Kraftwerk [Season 3]):

Horst: You have been safety inspector for two years. What initiatives have you spearheaded in that time?

Homer: Uh…All of them?

Horst: I see. Then you must have some good ideas for the future as well?

Homer: I sure do!

Hans: [long pause]……such as?

And from Sarah Palin, current Republican candidate for veep:

Couric: And when it comes to establishing your worldview, I was curious, what newspapers and magazines did you regularly read before you were tapped for this to stay informed and to understand the world?

Palin: I've read most of them, again with a great appreciation for the press, for the media.

Couric: What, specifically?

Palin: Um, all of them, any of them that have been in front of me all these years.

Couric: Can you name a few?

Spooky.

The mirror in my mind

Reflects the sorrow I can’t find

For things I’ve done when it’s been right

I couldn’t change that if I tried

But when you dream I’ll follow

I can borrow different endings

If I want to for tomorrow

When you’re dreaming

I don’t care

If you wake up I will tell myself what’s real

It’s not the crazy things I feel for you

And maybe I was never even there

Morning is the easy part a brand new day

A brand new start

I’m sure I’ll find so many things to do

The night will come again

With all it’s wishes and pretending

All its promises and prayers

I’m always sending to the stars

Then when the moon is full

It brings a soft light to my room

And I remember everything I said I’d never do

Breaking all the rules

I make a fool of me it’s true

Desire still the winner

I know someone has to lose

When I dream you follow

You can borrow all my endings

If you want to for tomorrow

I’ll be dreaming

I won't care

Its currently the school holidays. Its pretty boring. I want to go for my P's now so i can go places. Might go for them next week or the week after.

I'm currently in love with George Nozuka.
So SEXY!

The other thing that happened is I immediately began to fixate on this space and let go of the offline journal I had only just begun to keep. I began playing with design and theme neglecting other actually important projects. I may not drink booze or do drugs or entertain p*rn but I absolutley have an addictive personality. Bak when a lot of people used to follow my blogs and the comments and good will rolled in. But as an addict I have no doubt worn out a good deal of that good will.

So there's the art blog and there's my off line journal. There's this place if I think I need to put something out there into the ether world for whatever reason. The problem is that I seem to write truer when there is the possibility of someone else reading it. That is dumbass stupid and I probably need to overcome that by pushing into the offline journals and my art.

There's this horrendous ache inside of me that says I can't do this anymore. Like a little child on the far side of the playground who says, please, I want to play with you but I don't want to hurt or be hurt.

I promised I wouldn't delete this or move and I won't. I didn't promise anything else.

"This person is not very smart." Indeed. Enjoy. Thank you, Defamer.

My first (i won't say 'successful', but at least 'finished' ('finished' not as in 'polished', but as in 'I made it to the last line) pantoum. Devour it.

I'm still deciding where to lay the blame.

Can it be true I simply was a tool?
I suffered guilt, believed you felt the same.
Was I a criminal, or just a fool?

If it is true I simply was a tool,
I don’t know if you knew where it would lead.
Was I a criminal, or just a fool,
a girl who didn’t know how deep her need?

I don’t know if you saw where it would lead
or if you didn’t guess the pain we’d find.
This girl, who didn’t know how deep her need,
imagined you adored her for her mind.

And if you didn’t want the pain we’d find.
perhaps you didn’t know how it would end?
Imagining you loved me for my mind,
I broke a friendship that I couldn't mend.

Perhaps you didn’t know how it would end,
but you behaved as though your hands were tied.
I broke a friendship, which I couldn't mend.
I never knew how many times you lied.

Yes, you behaved as if your hands were tied:
We couldn't finish what we had begun.
I cannot know how many times you lied –
You let me think I was the only one.

I couldn't finish what you had begun,
so quickly did it grow beyond control.
You made me think you were the only one
and part of you made part of me feel whole.

So quickly did it grow beyond control,
I ached with guilt. I thought you felt the same
and part of me made part of you feel whole.

Now I’ve decided where to lay the blame.

There are now increasing calls for Palin to resign her candidacy as she seemingly becomes an increasing embarrassment. Observers believe her to be ‘out of her league.’

Palin has been struggling in media interviews and has apparently been making a fool of herself. Perhaps she is another George Bush in the making?

Below: Sarah Palin interview with Katie Couric

"Where did you get the river water and the hill grapes?" his young voice said to the old man's ears.

"Would you like some, Sim?" the old man almost yelled, in a crackly friendly voice. Sim supposed the old man's ears didn't work very well.

"How do you know my name?," said Sim, sitting down with the man.

"A man is known by his deeds, Sim."

The old man's eyes glowed a little orange like the sky at this time of day. And they were brown like the sky will be in a few minutes. Sim liked his eyes. They looked happy, and smart.

"But I have done no great deeds, Old Man." Realizing he had perhaps just insulted the man, and proven he was in fact a fool by assuming great deeds were suggested to have preceded him, Sim looked down at the dirt floor, as was the custom, and he mumbled an apology.

"Forgive my tongue, oh Sir. You see, I am a fool, and...I guess, you must be...The Oracle.  Sim was now a bit pleased  by his own words. Then he immediately thought, 'I am a fool, for sure.'

People called the old man 'The Oracle,' not because he knew the future, but because he often gave wonderful ideas to those who came to see him. In return, they did him favors or brought him food and water.

"Call yourself no such thing, please Sim." Not in my home." He smiled to lessen the weight of his admonition. 

Then the old man handed grapes to Sim and said with a show of his big, suprisingly healthy-looking teeth, "...and I am no oracle...just an old man...who has learned a few things...in his long, slow life."

He looked long at Sim, with a caring expression that betrayed just a little weariness.

"And you did right calling me 'friend.'" It is the name I like most.' Then he took a drink of water froma small clay bowl which looked distinctly foreign to Sim. And an awful cough came from the old man's throat.

"Well, thankyou...Friend,  you are kind," muttered Sim. Then he took a break from looking at the old man, and let his gaze fall out through the door and on the sun for a moment, near the bottom of the sky. 'He has been nice to me. How I have wanted somone to be so, for a long while.'

"Sim, can you do me a favor? You are a nice young man."

"Certainly, Friend, and thank you for your kindness." Sim suddenly felt useful.

"Sim," The Oracle said quietly, taking another sip from his bowl. Please tell me what you are worried about. I see you often over there, near the cliff, with your head down."

"Well my job is not fulfilling, nor does it pay well. My life is lonely, and I miss the fields. You know, my father was a farmer and I used to help him." It gave me great pleasure."

"Well Sim, thank you for sharing your private thoughts with me." Can I help you?"

Sim, had been looking at the plain wall of the hut, at a painted circle that the old man had probably painted there himself. Sim noticed that at the bottom of the circle, it was not complete. It was open. There were brushes and ink bottles nearby. Now he had tears in his eyes.

Then he looked at the Oracle and said, "yes!" Please help me."

He knew the old man gave simple answers. It gave him pleasure to understand this, for he often thought so much, that he managed to understand little else. He prepared his mind. He would listen intently.

The Oracle struggled to get up. He came the distance between them a bit slowly, but had great balance. When he was just in front of Sim, he placed a hand on Sim's head. He bent over and he smiled down at the sitting young man called "The Fool." 

Sim looked up at the old man in anticipation.

And the Oracle said,  "Don't worry about the small things." He looked into Sims eyes with nothing less than love, and then said, "Now I must sleep." With another great smile, and he turned and went to a small pile of blankets in the corner, and lay down.

Sim got up without thinking, covered the man with his blankets, and by the time he finished fussing a bit, he noticed the old man was already sleeping. Sim felt better already.

***

The next day, down in the town, Sim quit his job, went to the home of the woman whom he loved, gave an offering of his savings to her parents, and proposed marriage to her. Being a simple and kind person herself, the woman-who was lonely for many years--accepted.

They had a simple ceremony. Then they moved to Sim's late father's empty home in the mountains, not far from where the Oracle lived.

*** 

One day the Oracle was sitting where Sim usually sat when he was sad. Sim came along and saw greeted him, opening his bag full of hill grapes and taking out his jug full of  river water. He offered some to The Oracle.

They talked for a while. The old man asked Sim about his life these days, and Sim told him.

Surprised, the old man smiled and said "Sim, you left your work, married, and became a farmer?" Did I steer you wrong?" Do you know the difference between big and small things--when the worry comes to the mind?" Then he smirked.

At this, Sim looked confidently at the old man, smiled back, and said showing his healthy teeth, "They are all small things, Friend."

That night the old man died. A simple service was held the next evening, as the sky turned the color of his eyes.

People from all over came to the mountain top to say goodbye. And as was customary, his closest friend, his wife, read his last wishes.

The woman opened a pouch, took out a note The Oracle had written the night before, and read it to the crowd. The inscription was inside a painted circle on the page. The circle was perfect, and closed at the bottom.

"Dear Friends,

You have been good to me and have heeded my advice, the greatest honors a teacher--or any person--can enjoy besides being loved. I Thank You. You have given my life more meaning.

I have three wishes. It is that you live happily; showing kindness to one another for the rest of your days, that you teach your children to do the same, and that you never call anyone a fool--or anything more hurtful--least of all Sim, whom I wish that you call The Oracle, from this day forward.

Peace be With You,

The Old Man Who Was Once Called A Fool Himself

_____________________________________

Thanks to My Dear Friends Mr. Colm Barker, Mr. Robert M. Diefendorf, and Dharma Soulmate, Ms. You, Ji-young; Venerable Chong Go Sunim, Venerable Gyatso Sunim, Most Venerable Dae Haeng Kunsunim, My Dharma Brothers Marcus, Joeseph, Joe, and Mr. Park; My Dharma Sister, Amita, and My Good Friend Ms. Kim Chang-sook. Great thanks to My Lovely Uncle Charli and My Great Parents.

My first impression is that this is bogus and that the powerful social force of the medical establishment is simply testing the reach of it's power. By checking how far people trust their expertise and authority, they can see what they can get away with. If people do seemingly goofy movements like in this video because a doctor says its a cure for all ailments, how much MORE can they get away with. Yes, some with sadly think this is conspiracy thinking. Haha. Who ever said I couldnt read minds, everyone can read minds, well mostly. Right? ERmm. Anyway back to the topic. To me, this practice, this exercise seems completely bogus. Whats the word, its a distraction from the main point of which I think it is an authority playing with its power. Another funny, semi-related thing to add. A guy was pulled over for driving without a headlight, then the guy farted and wafted in the direction of the police officer. He was actually charged with assault. ASSAULT PEOPLE! This is power crazyiness. When someone has the power to put a man in jail for offending his pride, that is when you know this guys got too much authority. The man farted, get over it loser. This is what Im talking about. Power allows freedom. It allows one to move freely because the threats are reduced. The world and its rules are fairly farcical and deceptive. I mean, in a world of intellgent creatures such as humans, how does one live? Dunno. But I mean, look at the world outside, how seriously can you take certain ways of living, the should and oughts of behavior, ideologies...How am I to take this seriously when I see contradictions and consequences everywhere. This is a far cry from a utopia,  I mean thats impossible, but there world aint that great to live it. Its not in my best interest, the way Im living it anyhow. My job certainly does not have my best interest in mind, that is certain. So yeah, power. I guess its important to test the boundaries of your authority, "your" is my way of saying "that entity out there" in this case the medical community. I think this vid is bogus, thats all. Dont wanna ever be someone elses fool.

If he is a liar, then let us eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die

If he is a lunatic, then let us eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die

But if he is truly Lord, then we better sit up and listen carefully to what he has to say.

CARM puts it like this

If Jesus is who He said He was, God in flesh, then whatever He says is authoritative and true. He said that He was the way the truth in the life and that nobody comes to the Father except through Him (John 14:6). Right there we see that any other way, according to Jesus, is not true.

Christianity bases its truth and its doctrine on the word of God, the Bible. In the word of God, Jesus claims to be the only way. Since He performed many miracles, raised people from the dead, commanded a storm to be still and it obeyed, healed diseases, and rose from the dead Himself, then we are forced to face the reality of His words. Is what He said true or not? Either Jesus is a liar, a lunatic, or He is Lord. No one else in history, except Jesus, has fulfilled detailed prophecies, performed many miracles before eyewitnesses, and risen from the dead. Jesus is unique.

Those of us who are Christians, we have trusted what Christ has said. We believe in what He said and did. Like it or not, Jesus is the one who said He was the only way. It is not the Christians who are being "narrow-minded." It is Jesus. Therefore, to say that other religions can be true means that Jesus is false. To say that there are other ways to God, also means that Jesus is false. This is what it comes down to. Either Jesus is who He said He was and what He said is true, or He is false. This is a choice you must make. To trust what He said or reject His words.

If we do reject his words, then there will be eternal consequences

Related Posts

Is Christianity True? - An Introduction

Is Christianity True - Part 1: Does God exist?

Is Christianity True - Part 2: What can we know about this God?

Is Christianity True - Part 3: Facts about some of the other faiths

Is Christianity True - Part 4: The Bible

Is Jesus God?