WHY LIFE MIGHT BID THE EARTH GOOD-BYE

Some who occupy Earth deny its worth. Others not so dumb or numb of mind fear the end is near. They think our world is on the brink and soon will sink into the sea from whence it all began long before the Age of Man.

All was planned for the Great Revival of the children of Mother Earth. The birds, the bees, the flowers and trees, those with two feet and those with more and those who have none who are forced to crawl in the noonday sun. Will they join in the celebration of God's greatest experiment, Earth and all life on it, all life in it, all around, underground and in the sky where birds, buzzards and airplanes fly?

A delegation of angels and famous souls of history, believers of every stripe and many types to share their contribution to evolution and dedication to creation with the wise who realize the two are compatible, in the know and raring to go. Will they complete their task? Will they cope with the hope of ending the generating of wasted energy of clergy and the laity, the faithful and the faithless and pray they agree to no longer use hostility to demonstrate their ability to rewrite history already documented Biblically?

While not a hate-based debate, the dispute separates heretics and skeptics whose misconceptions can and do lead to bloody war where thousands die and casualties go sky high and basic issues are unresolved.

Are all the living creatures on Earth, all inventions and good intentions conceived by Man with the help of God's right hand, all the land and greenery, all sun rises and scenery, all sunsets that let light rest at night, all stars that sparkle dusk till dawn, a moon that glows when the sun is gone--will all this fade just because laws God made were disobeyed? Or will there be one last chance to make amends, to forestall all that God intends to do to end the Miracle we all call Earth?

WHO KNOWS WHAT COMES, WHAT GOES

Days may come and days may go, but this we know: there will always be a tomorrow to take the place of yesterday. When today is through there'll be a new tomorrow waiting in the wings to redo old things, to experiment with time as yet unspent, to present new event, and to some extent, will be went like last month's rent that's laid to waste in haste to make way for another day filled with predicted by Nostradrama's mama. Predictions are fictions with no restrictions, waiting evictions years to come and go. You cannot know it's SO until ity;s SO' SO.

Dates can't wait to create a new taboo or untried opportunity, a chance advance, a romance perchance, a happenstance, a plague of ants in Dubya's pants.

A new day lays in wait for you to do the things you did not do because you know the new day will dawn, filled with time to waste, to find its place in the uncharted space occupied by the human race that sets the pace of the chase of the race, be it black or white, yellow or red, Oriental or elemental, experimental and accidental.

Today's detoured highway of yesterday's shortcut to what may be waiting to give you the runaround, found in the almanac of maps made by saps, perhaps, who got their directions while throttling a bottle of booze while they peruse the news of market miscues speculators usually use to choose to force, of course. Dow to go down and Jones to choke on chicken bones.

Bear in mind you'll find prognosticator spectaculatove speculators, overweight debaters, weight watcher sons and daughters and squatter spotters waiting until it's too late to invest in respirators, incubators, alligators or hater baters.

The shame is, they play the same game they played, paid the cost, lost their hockey shirts and and jockey shorts and more while minding the corner store. They're all a bunch of dumb upchuck cluckers, all day suckers, chicken pluckers, taking bets and making babies, buying/selling blue-chip dogs immune to rabies.

Forget yesterday. Tomorrow is another day, If tomorrow never comes stick out your tongue, fill your lungs with nicotine until they turn patriotic green. Wait a while for your teeth to rot and fall into the chamber pot. Meanwhile, SMILE. DAMN YOU, SMILE!

HERE COMES ANOTHER HURRICANE!

Weather. Breeze light as a feather. Clouds Let sunshine in to tan the skin, to warm the heart. What a woinderful way for a day to start. A breeze to ease, to live as memories to warm the heart. Rain, no strain. Pitter-patter. Doesn't matter. Starts and stops. Good for crops. Makes things grow. Life will flow and go on and on from dusk till dawn.

Suddenly, unexpectedly shrouds of clouds gather in the sky. Rain again? This time pitter-patter matters. Streams increase and turn to mud and flood, will not cease. A thrusting, blustering fickle sky begins to cry and here is why: Hurricane! Wind and rain, immense, intense, makes no sense. Mud and crud and blood and broken trees and eandering miseries.

Toilets, won't flush, sewage fills the sink. Water, water everywhere, not a drop to drink but who would think to drink it. Shingles flying though the air, signs and vines and power lines flipping-flopping, buildings toppling down.

Sirens wailing, power failing, trees swaying like belly dancers. Deluged! Winds blowing, showing wrath, throwing everything in its path. Cars and trucks, geese and ducks we dumb clucf. Wildlife and humanity crying, dying here, there. All your dreams and schemes headed down the sewer.

Panic growing, nobody knowing where to go, what to do. who to pray to, what to pray for. Why to even try.

A HISTORY WE MUST N0T FORGET

There's a lot more to being President than spending money to win a war, declared by a liar to increase popularity among the greedy at the express expense of the oppressed and needy. Make voters think the nation's on the brink of disaster and believe you're the master of their fate. Manipulate minds to support war as a last resort to defeat a danger that does not exist.

It's a mystery of history how so many could be persuaded to invade Iraq with no way of turning back. Then to continue as president after trillions wasted to wage a war invented with obvious intent.

While thousands of GIs and innocent Iraqis died and loved-ones cry, King George has the guts to do the hero strut. Those in the know, know we owe this master of deceit and sure defeat no thanks when he cranks up killing willingly to increase his popularity. Then he and the heartless GOP compound their dishonest treachery by stealing yet a second term so more would die and he could buy his way into the history books complete with a phony legacy.

This truth must repeatedly be told so the whole free world will not forget we owe no debt to these partners in a crime we will pay for far into time. Historians will ask endlessly: "How could they have been so dumb?"

Now we have a president, perhaps the best since FDR, who wants to put the past to rest, to forgive Bush and his cohorts for their mistakes and madness and remake America as the best place on earth it used to be. That's a risky policy. President Obama should know voters have a short memory.

The economy and misery George Bush left behind is more than just a state of mind. It's still a threat and, of course, could get worse, Millions may lose trillions before the Ship of State turns around and heads for higher ground.

But take heart. Our President is smart. He.has made a remarkable start. He will not let America down. Given time he'll prove his worth to Mother Earth and all the people on it.

HOW JAKE THE SNAKE GOT HIS NAME

The Younited Snakes of America, a reptilian organization, with millions of members, was responsible for the care and welfare of all creatures who crawl on their belly and occasionally are featured on telly nature shows.

Snakes, of course, get star-billing, willing or unwilling to cooperate on the ways in which they cohabitate with their mate, how and why they live and die and multiply, how they relate to ants, uncles and squirmy worms and other relations in North American nations and for thousands in far off jungle locations.

A situation arose among the wormy clan quite different than among a woman and man. Fornication situations between opposites like cats and dogs, flies and fleas, birds and bees are unheard of in animal kingdoms. However, research confirms, the egg of an adder and the sperm of a worm met and mated in a warm worm womb. It is fair to assume among the litter of inch worms, all teeny weeney, was a 12 inch adder. its parents embraced this freak, so to speak, as one of their kind and named the freak Jake. But when he went with his friends skinny dipping in the lake and came out dripping the water he dripped on the beach nearby left the lake nearly dry. That is why he could no longer be just one of the guys. He was prize of the litter, he was Jake the Snake.

Based on his size and weight and the state of his birth, for whatever it's worth, he gained fame based on his name and his claim to be the largest snake/worm in reptilian history To this day it remains a mystery how that adder egg found room to grow in an inchworm's womb.

GETTING THE MESSAGE THROUGH

The half a We I used to be is now a Me. Or more properly grammatically. I consider myself an I. When I die I will just be a temporary memory..

I watched the You, once the better half of We, grow faint, fade and disappear. I reminisce on this and wonder, "Were ever really here?"

Life is the glue that holds two together, that binds two minds that think alike, dream alike, that care and share the good, the bad, the wish we had, two who worked things out or did without.

When our favorite song is played over and over in my mind where fantasy mirrors reality, could this be the message from Beyond I am looking for? Has my sleep opened the door that separates the living from the dead? It is said this barely happens more than once, rarely twice. How can I respond to a loved one from Beyond? How will I know my message got through to you?

It is said there is nothing God cannot do. If this is true, why cannot He, who created Adam and Eve, birds and bees, flowers and trees, land and seas, just pick up the phone and say: "Number please?"

HOW JAKE THE SNAKE MET HIS DOOM

The adventures of Jake the Snake brought him fame and notoriety, but his impropriety and phony claim proved to tbe cause of his shame, his rise and his demise,

All the same, his reptilian millions were safely invested, earning the best interest in the history of the National Piggy Bank of Yippity Yank.

Jake's birth certificate shows he was born in a litter of fifty squirmers to Mr. and Mrs. Wiggle Wormer. All the offspring were of normal worm form except for Jake who was twelve inches long and fat as a cat that lived on a diet of chicken fat.

As Squirm the Worm (AKA Jake the Snake) grew and grew he ate and ate to sate his growing appetite and took a bite of everything in sight. He didn't lack a late night snack. He nibbled the hide of his backside and found it tough but juicy enough to quench his thirst the first time he slurped it. He burped it up, a cup at a time, from his behind. He found a trash can full of smashed beer cans and decided cans can be just the thing to put zing into his mood for food and drink. And just for kicks he licked his lips and also ate a kitchen sink

What eventually sealed Jake's fate was his appetite for dynamite. The minuet he bit he knew it was a fatal mistake, but it was too late. He closed his eyes and waited. Time passed. No blast. The dynamite spent the night inside Jake in a slimy stream of scum with a bum drinking rum he stole from a chum in a slum in Kingdom Come. Meanwhile, all sorts of rancid meat and fish and flush and swish and fecal matter amassed in Jake's belly along with undigested peanut butter and strawberry jelly.

Doubting Jake died of indigestion, police made an investigation of his regurgitation. They found the remains ot Jake's brains, a neighbor's swinging iron gate, a Model T Ford still running great, a plow, a sow, the head, feet and teats of an unmilked cow, a teenager talking on the telephone licking on an icecream cone, George Bush, all alone, choking on a chicken bone.

The last blast came to the town at last when the ground, soaked with the residue of Jake's eating spree, was triggered by a sexy pair having a love affair, plop on top of the dynamite. They got so hot they lit the fuse and as they banged away Jake's hometown met its doom in a GREAT BIG BOOM!
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WHY THEY ARE CRYING IN THEIR BEERS

Many GO-PEE-ERS crying in their beers wonder woefully where their party's going. They deny they were sent by the stupidest president ever selected who couldn't be elected. They knew it and refuse to admit they blew it. The overriding reason why? You and I and They know, too. Guess who!

The GOP Flops (notice how the two words rhyme?) deny they were wrong to string along with the political jungle bungler, the senseless incompetent so dense he couldn't see the Bushes hiding behind the trees.

The RepubliCANTS lost their pants on a liar in and from a state of denial. It worked for awhile but now they're on trial by the Court of Last Resort. The jury verdict's sure to be they're done, the Democrats won. The "Party of No" should go, get outa here so the show can be run by a pro.

Dumbya took the nation from inflation to recession and to the precipice of depression. Now's the time to sign a confession their demise was caused by lies and hippocratic politics. One must wonder, what was their intention? Their attempt to defy Constitutional convention? Bush's violation of legislation he signed to protect the nation against foreign intervention? His action sanctifying blatant violation of laws just because he is powerful, he is strong and, as president, he can do no wrong,

Let's hope the dope's now resigned to a longTexass vacation guzzling his booze in moderation.