"For I," says the Lord, "will be unto her a firewall and will be the glory in the midst of her."
May God bless Abraham, Sarah and Isaac and all the generations of the descendants of Jacob. Amen.
To love a woman is to fear her sadness, as you alone are responsible for her happiness, & will burn for her tears. http://t.co/xhv2x9B936
� OliverOyanadel (@OliverOyanadel) April 19, 2015
How Do I Describe the Creator? First thing, is His hair is silver in the most unbelievable way; it glimmers as it almost shines, you'ld swear you were hallucinating, but it is just the way it reflects the light; He is remarkably so beyond healthy that He is above medical comparison: He is the Creator of all things. He is Ancient in terms of the most primordial, yet certainly almighty enough to be able to punch a hole through anything, and with only the wisest yet youthful glint in His eyes: He is the Creator of all things. His Name is Yahweh, and don't you even dare doubt it. Knowing your every thought before you can think it, His sense of humor is relentless in its severe mercy, and His sense of justice stops enemies dead in their tracks: He is the Creator of all things.
The following should be narrated by the same sci-fi robot voice from the following movie reference:
2001: a Space Odyssey had a scene where Hal sang, "Daisy... Daisy.., " as it slowed to a halt. It's how God sounded as he was so turned off by the daisy chain in the pond at Woodstock 69. His spit streaming off his disgusted frown, seemingly in slow motion, (aided by the wind).
Purposely expressing Himself in slow motion while everyone else was moving normally around Him, the wind blowing just right to make his hair and his facial expressions even, fluttering so perfectly, nature just concurred and blew just right, committing to the outrageous gesture.
Somebody roll film, it is hilarious.
I mean, can you blame Him? He was disgusted. He's The Creator of all things. Give Him a brake.
The Kingdom of God is like a drug addict disagreeing with an innocent little boy about whether or not heroin is allowed in Heaven, and then God swoops down to intervene and says to the child, "Hey! Did you want to say 'fump you' to that man?"
Before the kid can even answer for certain, God takes them both to hell to work it out with His angel in charge. They go back and forth with the issue, and after anyone makes a seemingly valid point, the angel in charge says, "Good one," where then they erupt with flames of furious hell-fire, burning them over and over again.
Then the angel takes time in between burnings to tell the child to thumbs up the guy and say 'good one' next time the guy seemingly wins the argument, and after many tries the little boy gets up the nerve to do as the angel has asked. Then he has to do one last thing. By now, that side of hell has drawn a crowd of damned souls between burnings, and one day the angel decides to give them a rest and takes them just outside the very gates of hell as a small walk around the grounds type of field trip. He tells them "Yeah, this used to be Heaven, until that boy decided to take so many down here to answer the Creator's question: whether he wanted to say, 'fump you' to this guy. Look at him, no, really, just look at him; I bet he's thinking, 'some day, I' ll graduate from this place.'" Everyone laughs, as the angel continues to mock him, saying, "Well, guess I'd better learn my way through that hell maze.'" At this point, the child, prepared already by the angel, plays along and darts into the gates of hell again, and with a wince, everyone shouts, "No!" And with a laugh from the angel, they all end up back in hell and burn all over again.
This goes on for an unmeasurably long time. Until God takes the time to retrieve the both of them from hell, and sits them down to first put the child at ease, and say, "Hey, you like good guitar playing right?" God plays a beautifully vertuosic guitar that really rocks too. But then He calls the junkie up to play, and says, "Come up here and play along, you always wanted to be a great guitarist haven't you?"
"Sure." Excited, and relieved, the junkie gets up and jams with God, side by side. While surprised by his newly endowed talent at first, the junkie looks at the kid in a victorious manner, as though completely justified. God even gives the child a seemingly sarcastic thumbs up, saying, "Good one, little boy, good one." As God ascends back to Heaven above (there's always a Heaven above), God's new jamming band member, ascends up with Him. And as they both float further and further up and away the junkie begins to realize he has just passed away; he has just died, and mocking a shocked expression God gives one more thumbs up to the boy, disappearing into the heavens above.
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The doors of a time travel phone booth open to a field of Hasidic farmers cringing a grimace upon seeing the time traveler peering out the cloven doors of the phone booth, and they point up to the sky, warning it's God's place here for them, not this traveler's. Please move on.
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...The same angel prepares the Shau of Iran for his being released from hell, admitted into paradise, he has him outfitted like an old western cowboy movie character and sends him to the planet in a Sci-fi time travel phone booth, upon stepping out, he is blown up immediately by the military there of.
Once upon a planet, an angel of the Lord found himself in the very worst neighborhood, in the very worst planet in existence. He had just been coming from answering someone’s prayers in the name of the Lord, blessed be He, when a gang of skinheads came up and noticed him looking different than anyone else on the entire planet (he had only been dressed more upper class). These skinheads were armed with clubs, made of axe handles taped up with black electrical tape at the end for its own grip handle. They started threatening the angel, swinging their clubs millimeters away from his face as the angel kept on walking with perfect faith in the powers of heaven above.
Suddenly a robot came floating by with its static-electricity anti-gravity unit puttering like an old idling motor. This robot had obviously seen a lot of action in its time as it was beat up and dented pretty bad. The robot had the letters C U printed in large black font on its front, cylindrical, robot body, with the cutest robot face, complete with working camera eyes, looking worried and oppressed by man’s cruelty. One can only feel an affinity for such a device, to even say, “Awe, are you all right?”
The angel calmly stepped up to the robot and sat on its head, weighing it down just a few inches, as it adjusted its hovering height again. He nodded to the skinheads saying with a voice like a tearful laugh, “I dare you to call its name." The leader of the pack shouted, "C U!" The Robot and he shot out past the atmosphere at the speed of light into deep outer space, leaving the gang of skinheads standing there, dumb- founded, holding their clubs, and watching them turn into a smaller and smaller speck in the star studded sky.
Two children, a brother and sister, cautiously approach the floating Robot, trembling slightly as it putters away, weary of the children as they call its name.
No one knows who created this Robot, or who programmed it, or even how or why. What purpose it were meant to serve may be a mystery even to itself. It seems as though it were frightened away as soon as it was activated and called by name.
"CU... Oy, CU!"
There once was a little boy who had trouble reading up to speed in the early grades of school. The teachers gave him an adult IQ test and allowed him to take his time to finish it. In front of their eyes he answered every question and had gotten every single answer correct. The teacher who witnessed him take the test vouched for him he did not cheat nor had a chance to cheat. He really did NOT cheat. As he progressed through the grades he would be haunted by the consequences of not reading up to speed with the rest of the class. He was held back in first grade and fifth grade. But every year they would give him this IQ test in private, and he would get every single answer correct. Of course his computational speed was below average, yet still, every answer was spot on correct. The principal was convinced he had cheated some how.
He did not seem interested in a scholastic career at all, and was mostly a class clown, and over all rambunctious to say the least. He would get into trouble and have detention and was punished more often than not in school. He saw the value of his youth and felt it should be cherished, and not wasted by growing up too fast. But in high school he took an interest in English literature and Algebra. He would get his best grades and recognition as an Artist. Everything else he simply did not do any homework for, which would frustrate a lot of good teachers. He would do very well on his tests, all except History, which he took no interest in what-so-ever. On one of his History tests, in order to be a wise guy, he sarcastically wrote an essay on the turmoil of the sixties and how he would have rather have been taught this subject than early dynasties of the far east, which bored him to no end. It was that essay, combined with an F- grade he got on an Egyptian History Report that seemed to have been sensored Vietnam War style, which seemed to pass the senior grade History class with flying colors: this was a class he never attended however, and seemed to raise flags on whether he was somehow cheating. He has never cheated on a single test his entire life.
When he took his IQ test in high school, he scored the same score he always has: off the charts genius. His teacher told his class they have been sharing the class with the most intellectually advanced human being on the planet. And told him never to lose that test score, “That score is your ticket,” she said. “My ticket where?” he asked. She answered, “Your ticket anywhere.” He later found that to be most untrue. Not only did anyone ever see the score, no one seemed to even care. The teacher had debated calling the news, but never did. I wished she had. Because, you see, that little boy was me.
Something that should have been my greatest asset has become an unbelievable claim that only seems to offend people when mentioned. I was cheated out of all the good opportunities that should have been available to someone like me. When I look back on some of the tests they had given me as a child, I can’t believe they would subject a child to so much. I was tested on astrophysics, particle physics, and medical science--I wonder if I had taken the bar exam in fourth grade--And I wonder how I did. I don’t know everything. I haven’t read about everything or learned everything. I’m simply intellectually advanced. I can comprehend absolutely anything--when taught the subject. But people expect me to just have all the answers if I can make such a claim. Even Einstein was an idiot in some other personal aspects of his life not concerning physics. Oh, and by the way. My teacher, not to brag, said I was WAY smarter than Einstein. Someone asked, “Is he another Einstein?” The teacher answered, “WAY smarter than Einstein.” Huh… Things that make you go huh about yourself, you know?
I have so much ambition. So many things I want to be a part of. I can help design a nuclear powered static-electricity anti-gravity spacecraft, which would be able to move at the speed of light. I need someone high up there in the space program to believe in me and help me get this idea off the ground. I have military ideas, Air Force ideas, musical instrument innovations and over all mathematical physics of the entire universe of matter and the entire frequency of matter. Please, I’m begging you; someone has to help me be all I can be and set me up with some opportunities. I have strengths, but I also have weaknesses. And it’s these common every day things that are my weaknesses. Talent I have. Common sense? Better than most, but you’d be surprised at what common sense things I just don’t have a talent for. These are the things people have trouble believing I can be so intellectually advanced. What should I do? Who do I turn to? There’s no one other than the beloved Creator of all things, whom I worship without end. A man does not lose favor with God because he sins, rather, he sins because he loses favor with God. He controls absolutely everything, even your thoughts and feelings. And I am drawn to worship Him forever and ever. It’s time we introduce the scriptures the Christians refer to as the New Testament to Israel, including all the works of the prophets in the most complete works of Judeo-Christian Bible versions. Because quite honestly, unless one has been raised steeped in the Jewish faith and religious practices, no one else has any understanding of these complete biblical scriptures. But I digress.
Parable One:
God sat Adam down and said, "Now, Adam, I have something to show you: it's my favorite of all the creatures I've ever created. Once, long ago, there was a serpent, and he did something very special for me. Now, I'm going to bring him out, and I'm going to let him tell you his story. I don't want you to be scared of him. If it seems like he's dancing, it's okay; he has a reason to dance. Remember, he did something very special for me. He's my absolute favorite of all the creatures I've ever created. Okay, here he is."
The drums began to play and out danced the serpent, giddy and smiling as he swayed across the floor. Suddenly, Adam stomped on the serpent's head and killed him. Adam said, "Did I figure it out, God? Did I do good?" God answered him, "Adam, NO! What were you thinking? I told you he was my favorite of all my creatures, didn't I? Adam, why did you do that?" Adam started to cry and said, "I thought you wanted me to. I thought I was your number one son." God grabbed Adam by the neck and said, "Are you kidding me? I make Adams all day! You're a douche bag, Adam. Now I have to kill you."
The moral of the story is, when it comes to whether or not God blots anyone out of the book of life, don't assume you're his special little creature, especially Adam ben Adam by now.
Are you kidding? Angels use Adam as target practice: There's a room where angels are trained and take out frustration just shooting and taking out cloned Adams left and right.
I wish all of you could know exactly what it feels like to be a person of color: the sheer terror of being confronted by the spoiled brats of fetid, larvae-like people, deceitful, self-righteous and pompous bigots who succeed in life by being such instruments of injustice. And not only that, but to be far stronger, faster, and better than any of them at just about everything, while your whole life, having survived a martyred childhood of the pain and anguish of suffering their abuse of power, wielding their one-sided miscarriage of legal leverage, while having to show only the utmost patience and restraint, worthy of only the most pious of saints the whole time. I only wish you all could know what that is like, to feel it, to live it, and have to die with it, to weep over your own with it. God! I only wish they could see themselves as they truly are: by their own deeds. Remember; what you have done to the least of your brothers, you have done to the King of all nations. Amen.
One day, I had temporarily broken up with my Fiancé and had been spending the day and night crying and praying to God. I had been trying some breathing exercises to calm myself down and had been inadvertently hyperventilating as I was praying with a severely broken heart. I had later did some reading on the ancient Kabbalists of Jewish Prophets, and this technique is an actual meditative technique of the ancient biblical prophets. They say only with a pure heart and an undistracted intent to bestow rather than to receive, one can make contact with the upper forces of GOD, and be united with His mind. This is called the divine influx, in which, at the very moment of unification with the mind of the Creator, Lightning will strike right next to you. And this is exactly what happened to me.
At first my mind was thinking as fast as a computer scanning multiple files at once. I was speaking, or thinking aloud, at the speed of light, answering prayers all over the world. I was trying to answer prayers on Twitter, yet, the computer could not keep up with me. I felt that my mathematics of the entire universe of matter, which was given to me, or revealed to me, by GOD himself through inspiration, was too much information to reveal on the internet, and that someone could feasibly destroy the entire universe by copying the information there of, and creating another big bang through a nuclear explosion. I felt so sorry I had let too much information out there and fell backwards on my bed repenting what I had done. The suffering was so great, I felt the whole house shake, as what I thought was the end of the world was taking place. The entire universe seemed to explode as I was cringing in remorse.
Suddenly all the lights went out, and I saw a familiar angel hovering over me, sitting on what looked like a nuclear bomb, his legs dangling off the sides. He said with a tearful laugh, "I felt so SORRY for you!" He had saved my life, spared me from the destruction of the entire universe. I was surrounded by deep outer space with my bedroom, broken in a million pieces. Nothing but my bed remained, where I lay. And then, just like that, the angel floated up and the entire universe was repaired like magic. The lights went back on with my computer running. I found out the next morning lightning had struck the tree next to our house, and we had lost power except for my bedroom.
Later when I read about such things also happening to the biblical prophets, after these divine influxes take place, what you are left with is an earth dwelling angel, whose prophecies always come true. That's right; I have become an actual angel of prophecy... An angel... How about that? I don't say all this to brag, but, I know this can make a difference in someone's life. I'm not perfect, but I'm working on it. That's all we can do, right?... Right.
~Oliver.
Read More about the Divine Influx and the earth angel here: http://tinyurl.com/qzy3c2w
The Ten Commandments were not hewn with hammer and chisel, but cut by the Creator Himself with laser on blackened ruby tablets, and in such a way that only the words were on stone and the negative spaces were hollowed open right through on both sides. After they were broken, they were rebuilt with Sapphire.
You'll have to imagen the almighty version of whose face I use on the desktop site version of this page with His sky blue shirt, light grey slacks and these white shoes equiped with programed sensors in them which, triggered by His motions can manipulate electrons and protons like ones and zeros in a binary code, so that His will be done even in the most procurious situations. He's seen all things before they've happened and not all of it is our faults. And then there's the rest of His created technology...
The Gnostics say the space between our world and hell is no thicker than your hand, and that’s the way it is in God’s company on the Merkabah. The Merkabah is God’s starship. It spins in a frequency allowing it to move through walls like a ghost. It is an enormous palace with glossy dark marble walls as tall as the eye can see, although some parts of it has mere cubicle walls. It is filled with Air Force pilots wearing green jumpsuits with what looks like a NASA patch, but with the red swish white and painted like it was torn out, as if symbolically tearing through the barriers of space-time dimensions. Those pilots are what we might consider arch angels with huge responsibilities on their shoulders. They are never in a mood to joke, and if you are taken on a ride with them you would do well to remember that, because they will knock your block off if you act irresponsibly. Remember, hell is just a shove through a doorway away.
South of the solar system, to the next Mandelbrot coordinates is another planet earth, just like ours, yet at some ecological time in the future beyond us, but identical in every other way. You can travel to the future simply by traveling south of the solar system from earth to earth. God can control everything, and He does. In fact, God has created Himself over and over again to the nth power of times so He could rely on His own company for a helping hand; that is why God is everywhere. He really is.
Death means little to them up there, because at the push of a button, He can simply summon anyone you want back to life again. With God’s will and His technology, there is always life after death: no one ever stays dead. Eternal hell should really scare the pants off of everyone, I mean that. I don’t know why He lets us continue without a clue of its existence.
After burning in hell for such a long time, I was allowed a PC and a room, but I had to wander, and had inadvertently wandered too far down a hall and into God’s bedroom, believe it or not. He patiently showed me the entire universe of matter out side His panoramic window. It was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. It seemed to glitter and glow with ultra violet highlights, glistening with zillions of galaxies and stars, and bright huge beams standing like pillars, four of them, from the stars closest to us, placed perfectly along the edge of the universe, more aesthetically pleasing to the eye than any other work of art I can imagine.
I miss His company in person.
He always knows what you're thinking before you even get to think it. He can answer all your questions before you even open your mouth, leaving you with answers to questions you haven’t even thought of yet for years to come. Wouldn’t you feel safe around that? It is this feeling of safety I take with me when I remember my time spent up there in the heavens. Bless God and all His spirits forever and ever... Amen.
Exploratory Research on the Phenomenon
of the Movement of High Voltage Capacitors
by Doyle R. Buehler
Thesis Statement: Experiments performed with high voltage single and parallel plate electric capacitors indicated a net external force acting upon the capacitor mass. The observed tendency was that the charged capacitor consistently moved in an upward direction. However, the force could not be directly associated with the interaction of the electric and magnetic fields of the earth; the results were extremely anomalous. For the parallel plate capacitors, it was shown that the upward motion is proportional to the amount of electrical potential energy stored in the electrostatic field of the capacitor. A rigorous theoretical discussion is not presented since a complete understanding of the results was not attainable. Preliminary data analysis is presented. Comparisons are made with an ionic lifting grid to formulate a basic hypothesis for the capacitors’ motion.
Gates of Hell
In Hell
Having created all things, to summon someone to life, the Creator of All Things uses your complete D.N.A. information in digital form combined by a single pulse of the correct amount of electron voltage. However, when God commands His angels to keep a steady stream of that voltage, rather than just that single pulse, this is how and when one burns in actual Hell.
In Hell, you’re led around by the one angel who knows your name. That’s why you’re following him, he hears your thoughts and prayers. He introduces you to a few people who are about to burn for far less sins than you, and everyone has the same look on his face, of poor baby or poor me, a worry about themselves like never before, as if facing the taunting of their executioner. You find yourself in a charred black metal cell, with a grilled floor and a steel bench welded to the wall. A man called Life sits you down with a few sheets of paper in his hand, listing all the sins you have ever done he wants to talk to you about before they set the fires of hell on you, to consume you to ashes. At the push of a button they summon you back to life again and burn you over and over again. At this point you’re just glad to be out of the flames even if just to discuss your most embarrassing sins--every little sin you could think of too--you burn for far less than you would think; like David Koresh says, “Where sin is bound, grace is much more bound.”
I was so frightened at this point, my body physically reverted to an actual child of 12 or 13 year old preportions. And I do not know the angel's name, but I referred to him as Life. Because as he burned me he would yell sometimes that they were life, and that they want company, meaning, we need to earn it. Not life here, but in the Kingdom. He is surprisingly the most pleasant person known to me, funny, warm and friendly, very loving for an angel whose job is to burn the most evil and vile of the enemies of the faith in the pit of torment. He says, “Do you remember when you masturbated to a photograph of an under aged girl in your bedroom?” Somehow you remember every sin when listed and you say, “Yes,” and he says, “And that’s why.” On earth you would rationalize how young you were yourself, but here in this hidden realm of all too real afterlife doom, you know better than to argue: there can be no egos in hell. He goes over every sin, and after every one of them, he says in that deep and haunting voice, “And that’s why.”
He leaves the crematory room, leaving you on that steel bench welded to the wall and you know what’s coming. You hear what sounds like some gas jets firing up and you jump with terror as the flames engulf you with the most absolutely excruciating pain no one can even imagine, burning you to inexistence and every time they summon you back to life you jump and try to scream for them to please stop, no more, God, please! And they relentlessly burn you over and over, and over again without measure. Every time you burn again you beg it’s the last time, and when it is the last time you’re summoned back to life, you jump and beg trying to scream but you can’t scream: it’s too painful, too terrifying, too morbidly excruciating to imagine as you are convulsing in terror with your arms flailing around like a fully conscious seizure, the way you flinch burning a finger is compounded all over your body at once in every single moment: a constant flinching from the constant threat of eternal scalding pain. It takes forty minutes to an hour to regain your composure, and knowing how cruel hell can be, you’re so afraid they’ll just turn on the furious flames of hell again. But you wait, with sad puppy dog eyes, feeling like the perfect angel they refine you to in their furnace of torment.
Then, Life walks in with an even longer list, and says, “We have some prerequisite burnings to talk about. You say, “Oh, God, please, no” And he says, “Hey, do you want to get this out of the way? You know, we do have an infinity button on this thing.” You submit, then you learn all the most embarrassing things about yourself to come after they let you out.
This is if you are lucky like I am. When Life covers your eyes by holding up his hand, his four fingers symbolically covering your eyes, you will never remember all this torment; it fades like a bad dream; you convince yourself it must have been a nightmare and forget all about it over time. But when Life wants you to remember, he takes his four fingers up in front of you, and symbolically unblocks your eyes and you remember everything. Remembering it is just as terrifying as going through it again. And you come out a perfect angel, scared to death of ever sinning again. You don’t rationalize anything; no matter how trivial a sin might seem, you cling to every mitzvah, no matter how minute.
Soon enough, God will make Himself known to all. And it is my belief almost no one will be spared at least the temporary flames of hell. I thank God for every moment I spend outside of hell. Please, God, don’t ever let me burn again. I love You and everything You hold dear. Here’s to righteousness… To Life! L’Chayeem!
...True Story.
Click here to view God's Map Of The Entire Universe
Vanity:
There was a contest in Heaven:
Only a few humble angels walking as ghosts in the old west. Invisible in a ghost town saloon,
"Who is the most humble?" They all laughed and then still they played the game,
"Everyone who is entering this contest sign in on the white board."
They all signed, while after some thought, the last one signed his signature large enough to cover all the others' while they all laughed at him. One even called him a derogatory name.
"So how do we play the game?"
"You just did."
Because he knew how he would be perceived, his grandiose signature had ironically won the contest.
Be careful how you judge? Be careful not to judge.
This story was once known as the Rainbow to represent the way things could seem to others, but the title was changed to Vanity due to the homos. I mean don't get me wrong... I hate homos.
(rim-shot)
I'm only teasing, some things are just their own punishment, I'm sure.
And of course ladies never have anything to be ashamed of. They can always do better than us.
Fiction and Nonfiction Fugue
The Great Perceiver:
Well dressed, yet clearly down and out, Tim Roth and Renée Zellweger sit on a sidewalk against the walls of a street corner, their characters joined in bonds of love and despair; her love, sympathizing with his dispare. She holds him as the two of them are weeping. He holds up a small open case, resembling a simple leather coloured travel clock, playing a holographic video image of his own toddler self trembling convolsively out of terror, constantly flinching as though he were just plucked out of boiling water. He weeps for his own soul, as he watches the gruesome proof of the afterlife: the only proof. Tears rush down his face as he says, "I keep feeling so sorry for him as if it wasn't myself, but I remember every bit of it... Too long... Too much. It was such overkill. As far as right and wrong, sins or evil deeds, I never have done anything I would have needed justice for if it were done to me; certainly nothing so horrible to deserve Hell... The real thing. I just want to save this little boy, and it's me!" They both watch the looped holographic video image, and secretly wonder to themselves if no one opened this small travel clock case, would this child have ever been let out long enough to record this image? Or even worse, would he continue to burn every time it looped? Then, just as the toddler is seemingly begging for mercy with every fiber of his being, a black curtain flings open behind him and the face of Lilith, queen of all demons, robotically thrusts forward like some heartless vampire pez dispenser, a giant unearthly anti-maternal figure, reaches out and snatches the child up as the toddler springs to his feet in terror, but he bursts into spitting flames of furious hell-fire, and she suddenly pulls him in back behind the curtain. The video image loops to the chard grilled wrought iron riser sliding the trembling child out into view once again. The man now sobs as though reaching too late to save his own soul with the cathartic revery one emotes when privately listening to the most heart breaking soul crushing music.
Of course I would love to have Quentin Tarantino Direct and film this scene and any other of his choice, I need to make a living too, so as long as I'm included on the payroll we're cool.
~Oliver.
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A new employee being trained at a home improvement store asks what's happening with this one man who seems to be racing drastically for some item but in slow motion while everyone else is moving at normal speed, and he's told, "He must be on the verge of inventing something so unstable and dangerous, that somehow space-time has folded around him to keep everyone safe... Here, give him these: he probably needs to install a ground to a capacitor."
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A collapsed soul is a Devine influx.
Cursed be the possessor of wealth, for he who takes cannot give. Have you ever cared about anyone so deeply, you plummeted into the bottomless pit?
Believe it or not, this abyss is the entrance to heaven.
Imagine the entire world bombarding you with negative opinions about you at the center of a televised colosseum from day one of your success to the rest of your life. How rapidly would you have a breakdown? What did everyone expect?
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A guy holding a payphone says to the camera, "Honey when you left me hanging on the line, I think you've underestimated how invested I was in this relationship..." He turns, and there are chard, grilled walls and floor, and the people there are in no joking mood. He says to the phone, and camera, "I think you've left me actually hanging on the electric line," everyone screams and shouts with him as they cringe, "Because we're about to burn in hell!" The camera semi-quickly pans back from a port glass window as the flames engulf them all.
Cut to a self-righteous and seemingly 7-foot-tall dude dressed up in an all white suit from head to toe, long Austrian Nortic bleach blond hair with a big white cowboy hat, gold belt buckle, and gold cruciform necklace, so smug, and pompously walking in slow motion, to a bluegrass version of you're gonna' burn in hell.
...no evil,
don't you fear
no evil...
Inappropriate Laughter: It's "Oh, He's In Shock" Humor
"Look at em, just laughin', and laughin'," The little hell boy, apparently behind them the whole time, spooks the bujesus out of them and adds, "And duh laughin'," by then, the radio chatter broadcasts, "Huston, we have our duh laugh on." At which point, every single severely autistic kid turns with a spit take spraying, "...EPIC, man... EPIC!" By now it becomes we who are rendered piss-in-our-pants in hysterics, while everyone else gets in their ships and take off...
Just laughin', and laughin'...
Levies and Gentiles, the King of all nations.
Message Thread
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Judah! Reuben. Gad, Asher. Naphtali Manasseh! Simeon, Levi: Issachar; Zebulun. Joseph Benjamin.
The meaning of the names from the twelve tribes of Israel spells out this sentence:
Praise! Luck, Happy, A Son Is Born--He Has Seen My Trouble. Fight The Cause To Forget! Listen, He Who Is Bound: A Man Is Hired--Accept The Gift. He Has Taken Away--May He Bring Another Son Who Will Be Fortunate.
Not one word of accusation against David Koresh was true... Not one word of accusation.
He had only one wife, and only slept with her, and only one member of his bible retreat owned a gun business: it was a legitimate gun business. The four agents that died at Waco 93 were all slated to be Al Gore's body guards, and three of them had already served as Bill Clinton's body guards during his campaign. They were assassinated by the ATF and the Branch Davidians were framed for it. George Bush senior was the head of the CIA during the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy and Martain Luthar King. And it has already been deduced these assassinations were done by the CIA. Bush had done all this to insure the election of his son, George W. Bush. Now, do you see? This is the meaning of the burning 'Bush'.
Micah 4
The Mountain of the Lord
In the last days
the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established
as the highest of the mountains;
it will be exalted above the hills,
and peoples will stream to it.
Many nations will come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the temple of the God of Jacob.
He will teach us his ways,
so that we may walk in his paths.”
The law will go out from Zion,
the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He will judge between many peoples
and will settle disputes for strong nations far and wide.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war anymore.
Everyone will sit under their own vine
and under their own fig tree,
and no one will make them afraid,
for the Lord Almighty has spoken.
All the nations may walk
in the name of their gods,
but we will walk in the name of the Lord
our God for ever and ever.
The Lord’s Plan
“In that day,” declares the Lord,
“I will gather the lame;
I will assemble the exiles
and those I have brought to grief.
I will make the lame my remnant,
those driven away a strong nation.
The Lord will rule over them in Mount Zion
from that day and forever.
As for you, watchtower of the flock,
stronghold[a] of Daughter Zion,
the former dominion will be restored to you;
kingship will come to Daughter Jerusalem.”
Why do you now cry aloud—
have you no king[b]?
Has your ruler[c] perished,
that pain seizes you like that of a woman in labor?
Writhe in agony, Daughter Zion,
like a woman in labor,
for now you must leave the city
to camp in the open field.
You will go to Babylon;
there you will be rescued.
There the Lord will redeem you
out of the hand of your enemies.
But now many nations
are gathered against you.
They say, “Let her be defiled,
let our eyes gloat over Zion!”
But they do not know
the thoughts of the Lord;
they do not understand his plan,
that he has gathered them like sheaves to the threshing floor.
“Rise and thresh, Daughter Zion,
for I will give you horns of iron;
I will give you hooves of bronze,
and you will break to pieces many nations.”
You will devote their ill-gotten gains to the Lord,
their wealth to the Lord of all the earth.
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The Fruit of the Knowledge of Good & Evil
Oliver Oyanadel On Lead Guitar:
2 Ezra: A Prophecy Of The End Of Days
The Book Of The Living © 2006 by Oliver Oyanadel
The Book of the Living by Oliver Oyanadel
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Through the course of some unfortunate family drama, a 17 year old, whose only crime was getting high with his friends, makes one naturally immature choice in response to his parents's ultimatum, and now he finds himself in a vigilante religious cult who lure and murder evil doers.
In the course of editing one revision, a word processor made the mistake of changing every "were" into "was", and although I have tried to make the necessary corrections, there seems to be still too many miss used ones for my taste. Luckily, the story is told through the eyes of the main character, so one can simply chalk it up to the character's manner of speech. ~Oliver. (They can't all be gems).
Today's Torah Lesson and Bible Study
Babylon is suddenly fallen and destroyed: howl for her; take blame for her pain, if so she may be healed. We would have healed Babylon, but she is not healed: forsake her, and let us go every one into his own country: for her judgment reacheth unto heaven, and is lifted up even to the skies. The LORD hath brought forth our righteousness: come, and let us declare in Zion the work of the LORD our God. (Jer. 51:6-10) Also je5145, is2701.
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