Hilarious Respite

July 30, 2014

Date: Wed, 23 Jul 2014 05:24:50
Hilarious Respite
From: Zeke
To: Eleanor

July 22nd

El, this is gonna crack you up so bad, you’ll need to breathe into a paper sack to cease your hiccupping laughter! Just moments ago (around 7:20 PM) I had recently returned from Bean There coffeehouse, and I hear Larkin’s golden voice just outside my window. (For me, his audacious timbre upon these needful eardrums is always a blessing, no matter the context.) So I fling aside the curtain and peer out to see him and housemate Zachary schmoozing with an elderly gentleman who is blatantly drunk. Actually, Zachary just stood there grinning while Larkin poured it on thick, sucking up to the old coot with hugs, fist bumps, arm shakes and affectionate words of camaraderie. Including an invite to hang with him at Twin Peaks Tavern. So I holler down at them:

“You rock, Larkin! Yeah, that’s right, Twin Peaks Tavern!”

I was boisterous, but the traffic offered me serious competition, so I continued to bellow even louder; “Larkin is a sweet man, you are so lucky to have his attention!”

Still, no reaction. I persisted: “Hey, Zachary, nice to see you again!”

The patsy then looked up at me and laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Then just as quickly dropped his attention to focus once more on Larkin and prey. Which “objet de mon amour” continued to grace the geriatric rooster with subtle touches and words of endearment as I observed his targeted methodology. I wouldn’t be ignored, so echoed in fervent glee:

“That’s right, Larkin! Suck up to those lonely old fags with lumpy wallets! You got my approval, one hundred per cent!”

That is when Larkin glanced up and displayed a face of exasperation…
nonetheless gloriously handsome. Seeing as he had not one whit of control over my sudden apparition from stage left, he simply turned away and began marching towards Castro Street a half block further up. The drunkard Methuselah seemed so captivated by Larkin’s charisma, not a single word of mine reached his ear. Thus, he never turned around, never saw me, totally oblivious to this parallel overlay. At his age, I’m sure audio capacities are limited (Larkin always seems to have the Luck of the Irish on his side).

I saw My Wyvern’s legs beneath a shop awning as he patiently waited for Zachary to catch up. But I pressed on (though he stood six doors up now, my echo could not be ignored):

“I didn’t mean to drive you away, Larkin! You know I love you. So you mooch offa the obese billfolds of tipsy old queers. Far be it for me to condemn you!”

Larkin didn’t move (his legs remained steadfast), but I knew he heard my every word. Finally, the doddering barfly moved along with Zachary, and they were soon out of sight. I decided a few minutes later to stroll on down to Jane Warner Plaza, and hang out smoking a ciggie while Larkin performed his hustle on this or that gray-haired or bald patron. But alas he wasn’t there, so I returned hovel to reflect upon this silly imbroglio.

I don’t think it was by accident that Larkin showed up almost beneath my window, that I could play the jilted amigo. Nor do I think it was kismet alone that set me up for the perfect sting. In fact, I am convinced that he intentionally played out the script according to his own intent. Why (you may ask)? To honor me by making himself vulnerable, just as he did when he fell down the Metro steps last month, as I chastised him from above and he hollered: “Fuk you, Zeke!”

I meant to complete and email this piece last night, but new friend and neighbor Gabe dropped by to present me with a blue rose. More on that later. It’s now 5:25 AM, I woke up a half hour ago and decided to finish this report and send it off.

– Zeke

[ Let me backtrack a bit now, Crepusculous Reader, to when I was still hanging at Bean There and doing my Internet chores. Gabe shows up about two hours after my arrival, and plunks the netbook upon the table right beside yours truly. Of course I was so glad to see him, and that he wanted to test the device when it had access to really good wireless. (Our building lacks such benefit, in spite of San Francisco’s attempt to provide wifi to the Castro; their mistake was letting AT&T run the show.)

Gabe was such good company, and I was delighted to show him how well the netbook works when decent wifi is available. He turned me on to his Facebook page and the excellent photos and videos therein. One pic displayed his almost naked body (but for a Speedo-type garment that was terrycloth-thick). He also had a hairless torso, unlike the present gray hairs that now poke above the collar.

“You shave your chest!” I exclaimed. “How old is this photo?”

“Two thousand eleven,” he replied.

Most of the photos of Gabriel showed him minus his present swatch of gray hair. But at least I know now for sure, he has one helluva handsome figure. So much so, I’m surprised I didn’t get a woodie right then and there.

After about an hour or so, I finally depart, leaving him to peruse cyberspace without my back-seat-driving presence. For in his exuberant gestures (he is full of piss and vinegar) I kind of panicked over the splashes of water from his drink that threatened to short-circuit the rejuvenated netbook. I even grabbed a few more napkins, that he keep the table dry and safe from destroying his new (though secondhand) device.

Now, let’s skip forward to just after my latest (and risible) encounter with Larkin and patsy just below my window. Once returned hovel from my failed attempt to vex Larkin by Twin Peaks Tavern, there is a gentle knock on my door. So I declare before opening:

“I wonder who that is! Could it be my fantastic friend Gabe?”

Of course it was him (no one else in 2306 cares about me one whit). Holding a long-stem rose colored blue, with purple tinges. I was terribly charmed.

Please realize this photo was taken with my android tablet, since my digital camera was stolen by a visitor about five weeks ago. Thus, not the clarity I wished to share. The rose is dyed a deep blue with purple edges where the petals curl. An exquisite gift from an exquisite man.

The fact the rose is mostly blue, comes from my telling him some of My Many Legends of the Blue Rose (yesterday I think, but perhaps earlier today). And that such a color for a rose does not exist in nature, but came from my own visions of the Ice Age and the world of Neanderthals. Here are some of the tales (in condensed form) I passed on to Gabriel:

1) My first Vision of The Blue Rose occurred in 1996 when I was napping in my humble SRO. I saw two angels standing by the curtain off to my right (I have two windows in my room). One angel was sewing a blue rose into the white-gauze mesh, while the other angel stood by and observed the handiwork.

I stood up from desk #2 and approached them. The angel who needle-pointed the rose paused and spoke:

“We want you to sew a blue rose just like this, that people walking the street may see it. One if by land, two if by sea.”

“Oh no,” I exclaimed, “I don’t have the talent to do that. Could I possibly paint it on a square of cardboard, and place it in the window?”

“Yes, that will work quite nicely.”

After that incredible vision I researched the spiritual meaning of The Blue Rose. But really found nothing pertinent on the web, other than its Celtic value as a mystical symbol (as perhaps an impossible quest nonetheless fulfilled). Years passed until I acquired its true meaning. It came to me in visions, nothing that could be discovered via library resources, or Internet searches. The Many Legends of the Blue Rose (as I shall call this collection which I have yet to complete, or even begin) were born of prehistoric adventures, when ice ruled the planet and Neanderthals were king.

2) This seraphic vision directly led to my inspiration to found the world’s first gay militia, back in 1997: The Blue Rose Militia. Dedicated to “fighting for the rights of same-sex lovers across the globe and into the 21st century.” You may read that essay here: http://gay-bible.org/write/4_militia.htm

3) Some years later visions of Neanderthals on a quest for The Rare Blue Rose that only grows on the edge of glaciers began haunting my nocturnal hours. It was an act of true love, a sacrifice through many months seeking this unique flower, that discovering one and bringing it back (if you didn’t die of exposure or beast, which often occurred) guaranteed that the target of your adoration could not turn you down.

4) Later visions revealed Cro-Magnon encroaching upon the habitat of Neanderthal, pillaging, raping and destroying this earlier species. And cannibalizing them as if they were just another form of wild animal. Yet some Cro-Magnons came to see such violence as a great crime of the soul, for they realized that they and Neanderthal were brothers under the skin. And so, they became the first civil rights activists in history. Not just that, but LGBT activists too, for Neanderthal was highly homosexualized. These Earlier Men could not conceive the brutality wrought upon their kind, for they were telepathic and already regarded Cro-Magnon as kin.For some time, these compassionate Cro-Magnons (barely 1% of the total species) would protect this Neanderthal remnant by hiding them out in distant caves way high up the mountains. And bring them food, beverage, clothing, gifts, and friendship. Some even fell in love, thus secret trysts abounded. Sadly, these hidden places were eventually exposed by traitorous Cro-Magnons, and the remaining Neanderthal survivors were all killed, along with their beloved Cro-Magnon allies.Yet before their tragic demise, certain chiefs of the Neanderthal tribes had made their Quest of The Blue Rose, and presented this gift to their Cro-Magnon comrades. Thus this vision revealed to me The True Meaning of The Blue Rose:

The promise one day of harmony between two different species of man.

5) Actually, not all Neanderthals have been wiped out, for there remain two separate tribes totaling 467, in two remote and covert locations in Siberia. I know this only through visions, and from a secret society called The Arctic Circle Federation of Warlocks. (Actually that’s not quite the title, but close. They are a direct lineage from those original Cro-Magnon activists.) Whose only communique with yours truly has been through telepathy thus far. They do not reveal to me why these Neanderthals are split into two locations, nor tell me of any other treasures they guard, except for five remaining dragons who all abide together in the same cavern undersea. Suffice it to say they originated the myth of the Loch Ness Monster to conceal from the world the actual home of These Wyvern Beauties.

6) Some months after my Neanderthal Vision, came visions of a great warrior chief out of Ancient Thrace, whose name was Sabazios, after their sky father god (and as “Hero” to the Greeks back then). And who lost his dearest friend and lover in battle. So was pining for a new love to end, or at least ease, his grief. Yet in spite of his heroic deeds and great affection of all the villagers he ruled over and protected with absolute fealty…not one of his superb warriors ever came forth to propose. And this struck our hero’s heart like a poisoned-tip spear. He would often weep in a hidden glade bordering upon the tribe’s territorial perimeter. All creatures would cease their chattering, bellows, groans, chirps and grunts…for here was truly a MAN for whom tears are no shame. Yea! Those tears are the waters gushing from Zibelthurdos’s own grief (whom the Athenians called “Zeus”)! And he would pray to The Great Goddess Bendis (“Artemis” as the Corinthians called her):”I have sacrificed my life for Our People many times over, yet no one cares enough to bed with me? I am still the most handsome and brave of them all, even when you consider our entire legacy of kings. What curse is this on their souls, that they grow shy like fawns from honoring what I most need and, I know, deserve all too well! Especially if I am to continue My Sacred Duty to protect and defend with utmost ferocity!”

So Sabazios determined to satisfy his need by questing for The Blue Rose all by his lone self.

[ Now, My Entrecote Reader, those angels who give me these visions refuse to tell me precisely how The Blue Rose managed to survive well beyond the end of the Ice Age. Perhaps there are just a few dozen remaining of that species, astride the top of an ice-chilled mountain; I just don’t know. But there they were, some time in the ninth century BC. ]

Long story short. Upon his return, Sabazios expressed undying love for one Brasus, a most brave warrior who was a glorious auburn of purple irises flecked with green and black, of course deliciously buff, thickly hung and a leopard in the barley stack. And really super-affectionate after just two horns of fermented sheep milk. But when Our Hero fell on both knees, wept in the startled man’s toga and presented him with The Rose: Brasus threw up his skirt and ran away beyond the furthest village in the kingdom, neither to be seen nor heard of again.

Well that broke the king’s spirit beyond mending, so he spoke these words in his final visit to the secluded glade:

“Oh My Creator Zibelthurdos! My people have fallen into depravity and wickedness. They have no heart, no strong love, no gratitude for my devoted sacrifices that they may survive and be joyful. I must leave the village I once so cherished and protected, for my shame in them is beyond measure. I cannot look at a single one of them in the face!”

Then he wandered off into the forest, far far beyond where any Thracian had hunted. Sabazios lived off his hands and remained unknown to any other human until the day he died six years later, destitute and broken hearted.

The end (unless you tell of his reincarnation into a gay activist in turn-of-the-century San Francisco, and whose final search for true love ends in the arms of one Larkin Kelsey…much to his delight and eternal gratitude to Zibelthurdos).

If you’d like, Hirudinean Reader, you may learn about ancient Thracian religion at the following site (’tis quite enlightening, though you won’t find any tale like mine therein):


7) This final legend of The Blue Rose has to do with Jesus Christ…or at least, the crown of thorns he wore during his crucifixion. For that crown was not made of any ordinary rosebush, but of The Blue Rose Itself! Imagine what distant, hardscrabble tundra Roman Soldiers had to traverse, to acquire such a precious bramble!When the Roman Guards prepared Christ’s crown, they stripped away all the leaves and buds, till only branch and thorns remained. Yet they missed one tiny bud barely pushing out from the xylem. It grew almost into a petite blossom while trapped atop a dying man nailed to the cross. But when Nicodemus and Joseph lowered Jesus into the tender arms of his mother, this solitary bud popped away from the thorns and tumbled some distance across the dusty ground. Planting its roots at last, once the next storm arrived. And soon it did, within moments. More to this story at a later time. I just wanted to give some examples, though the Neanderthal and Thracian portions were quite a doozy, eh?

Soaring Saurian Speculation

March 10, 2014

From: Carlyle
To: Ezekiel
RE: J’accuse
Date: Sun, 23 Feb 2014 12:05:26


I sometimes wonder if things like the Ohio connection are not just coincidences, but an aspect of a Reality that has a topography not yet understood to us, and is in a manner of speaking shaped a bit like a deep canyon.

That has a distinct “echoing” effect.

The power of “intent”–which scientists would be too-certain has no effect at all–while it might not be as pronounced or consistent as “It’s a Good Life,” does really happen, and sometimes can be dramatically pronounced.

It might have been only a TV episode. But what ever gave them that sort of notion as a basis and the creative theme for such an episode? Pure fantasy? Or experiences and observations of some kind? Part of what made “Twilight Zone” such a good show was that it tried to make us think a bit, to make us aware of mysteries, things that we don’t understand, and contemplate some of the exotic possibilities.

Regards, Carlyle

From: Ezekiel
Sent: Saturday, February 22, 2014 5:04 PM
To: Carlyle
Re: J’accuse

On Fri, Feb 21, 2014 at 5:55 PM, Carlyle wrote:

{{ I’m very fond of that Twilight Zone episode with Billy Mummy…a small boy from Ohio, mind you (like me). }}

Ha. I didn’t realize that (the Ohio connection). It was fun putting a gay twist to a classic episode.

{{ I sometimes wonder if things like the Ohio connection are not just coincidences, but an aspect of a Reality that has a topography not yet understood to us, and as a manner of speaking shaped a bit like a deep canyon. }}

There is a conspiracy theory I learned about, many years ago…that earth is guided by interstellar aliens who disguise themselves as humans and infiltrate all aspects of society. Including Hollywood. These numerous sci-fi movies are to prepare us psychologically for the time when they reveal their existence.

And the strange (but hilarious) events that have suddenly taken over my life indicate they’ll make their presence known some time this year.

– Ezekiel the Delusional Prophet

From: Carlyle
To: Ezekiel
Date: Sun, 23 Feb 2014 12:45:58
RE: J’accuse


I often sense a presence of intelligence almost toying with us, where in earlier times most people would have been prone to use the word “supernatural” or thinking in terms of angels/demons/ghosts, I would tend to imagine more simply “alien.” Not “God” but a much more advanced intelligence. Maybe not so much even interstellar as “interdimensional.”

One theory for the wild coincidences of my life is “intelligence world” (CIA, NSA, KGB, FSB,etc.)

But sometimes even that does not seem quite enough and is pointing not merely to “intelligence world” but to “higher intelligence.”

Nearly any person from the more developed world today, if going back in time to 1862, would sympathize fully with slaves and not listen at all to propaganda how slaves are “not ready” for freedom, how they are “better off” here than Africa, how they are really being well-treated, how slavery is “God-ordained,” etc..

It wouldn’t be a minor issue, but a major issue, to them.

Same for gays. The higher intelligence would be pulling strings to help us. They would clearly see the real situation. They would not be impressed by the current power structure, the excuses, the “traditions.”

I often get the distinct impression that something like this is what we are really seeing.

Regards, Carlyle

From: Ezekiel
To: Carlyle
Date: Sun, 23 Feb 2014 13:56:39
Re: J’accuse

On Sun, Feb 23, 2014 at 12:45 PM, Carlyle wrote:

{{ Maybe not so much even interstellar as “interdimensional.” }}

“Interstellar” implies “interdimensional,” because if you achieved the former, you have also likely achieved the latter…due to advanced scientific wisdom.

They are not ghosts…nor fairies, elves, dragons, imps or fawns…but they /are/ the creators of such paranormal beings. Once a sentient species begins its arduous trek towards civilization, these Andromedan guides manifest as all sorts of fantastic things that go bump in the night. And why is that?

To build a foundation of mythology for our gestating cultures. And–even more important–to kindle the flame of imagination. To keep the sparks of our dreams, our aspirations, our daytime reveries aflame. They also play as gods and goddesses throughout all cultures: dressing, appearing and behaving appropriate as befits each particular society.

So while one might argue that such mythological creatures do not exist, the final truth is that indeed they do. Thanks to the tremendously sophisticated scientific wizardry that is the Andromedan gift to all intelligent life everywhere in the universe.

The Andromedans are also reptiles, who often appeared as dragons in ancient China and medieval Europe. So for good reason do most Asian religions view the creator’s original form as a dragon. In the West, of course, the dragons presented themselves as ominous forces to be conquered. Or IOW the Andromedans gladly sacrifice their own lives that we may be celebrated as heroes. But it’s more than that (much more):

By their many mythical guises (terrifying or delightful and sometimes both) they’ve enriched our human heritage with the most incredible tales and adventures throughout the length of history. And even pre-history.

The Andromedans were the serpent in the Tree of Knowledge…as well as YHWH himself. Who (and this is quite profound) is presently manifest on this planet as My Darling Larkin. And he /does/ have the flaming orange irises of a dragon! Thus my many references to him as my guardian dragon, and similar metaphors (such as “wyvern,” “mesosaur,” “basilisk” and “lizard”).

They are also the spirit of each plant, animal and mineral…especially when shamanism ruled the world prior to religion’s ascent. Native Americans saw each species as a “tribe”: wolves, bears, rabbits, eagles, snakes, and so on. Each tribe had its own “chief” to represent them. And each one of these chiefs was an Andromedan. They are shape shifters, they are dream weavers, they are most scientifically advanced in total harmony with universal laws including physics.

In the guise of wondrous elements, they became ogres, witches, banshees, leprechauns, trolls, dwarves, fairies, brownies et al, all across the Celtic kingdoms of Europe. And in so doing, gave us our fairytales to delight children down through the ages. But all that was destroyed by the birth of McDonalds and other franchises who diabolically replaced nursery rhymes with the musical memes of mass consumption.

But such disregard for a child’s spirit will soon be corrected by the Reptoids, as will other wrongs. I just want to point out that the rich legends of /every/ culture were instigated by Andromedans. And now that homo sapiens is dabbling with space travel, it is time to reveal themselves and work alongside us as devoted friends.

They will save this planet from destruction, and restore it to a pristine condition while redeeming all souls, starting with gay folk. Then, LGBT’s shall become the leading force to direct all other suffering minorities to a better existence. And we homophiles shall be revered and adored by all.

{{ One theory for the wild coincidences of my life is “intelligence world” (CIA, NSA, KGB, FSB,etc.) }}

Such organizations are completely under the control of Andromedans. Not just to be sure oppression doesn’t become the raison d’etre for such groups, but also because Andromedans are mischievous, and love their conspiracy theories.

{{ But sometimes even that does not seem quite enough and is pointing not merely to “intelligence world” but to “higher intelligence.” }}

Correctomundo, my scaly amigo!

{{ Same for gays. The higher intelligence would be pulling strings to help us. }}

You hit the spike on the cranium, Carlyle! Simply because you are one such Reptilian nudging me on to a glorious fulfillment, first with subtle clues, then with more obvious declarations, once I came to a better level of awareness and Dinosaurian Conjecture. Which has only just begun.

{{ I often get the distinct impression that something like this is what we are really seeing. }}

Of course it is, Carlyle…’cause you’re one of ’em! Thanks eternally for all your amazing wisdom, compassion and courage.

– Ezekiel

From: Carlyle
To: Ezekiel
Date: Sun, 23 Feb 2014 16:48:04
RE: J’accuse


I have speculated on the point also that much of our mythology, religious notions, superstitions, etc., are not merely a result of pattern replication, or confirmation bias, or such types of ignorance and psychological phenomena, but are sometimes based on exotic aspects of reality that only in distorted fashion had tickled the primitive imaginations of human beings throughout history.

Had I not experienced some of those exotic fringes of reality, I probably would have been very opinionated that all such notions of “paranormal” were pure nonsense. I have always been like the rational skeptic who found himself squarely in the Twilight Zone to his own amazement.

We must always remember in humility when we think that we understand things too well, that we don’t really understand things at all. This planet Earth is not something down-to-earth. It is a mystery, a bizarre impossibility, like the sun and stars.

Even if the sun and stars are not gods in the sky but merely hydrogen undergoing fusion, even that hydrogen is an impossibility, or so it should seem to a rational mind that is able to rise above the everyday delusions imparted by a sense of familiarity that has become so reflexive that it prevents real contemplation.

Regards, Carlyle

From: Ezekiel
To: Carlyle
Date: Mon, 24 Feb 2014 14:52:22
Re: J’accuse

On 2/23/14, Carlyle wrote:

{{ but are sometimes based on exotic aspects of reality that only in distorted fashion had tickled the primitive imaginations of human beings throughout history. }}

If being guided, protected and loved by inter-dimensional, super-intelligent dinosaurs from the Andromeda galaxy ain’t exotic, I don’t know /what/ is!

As if that isn’t weird enough, try dealing with their Reptoid leader who insists on being your one, true love! That is the mess I’m in, Carlyle, and to be honest: I don’t want out!

Every time I think of Larkin, tears of joy stream down my face. So perhaps I should increase my Prozac dose. :P

{{ Had I not experienced some of those exotic fringes of reality, I probably would have been very opinionated that all such notions of “paranormal” were pure nonsense. }}

You might even have turned Republican. *shudder*

{{ I have always been like the rational skeptic who found himself squarely in the Twilight Zone to his own amazement. }}

I’m quite opposite to that, in some ways: a dreamer, explorer of the supernatural, believer in unicorns. Imagine my surprise and delight to finally discover that unicorns are real…but with this catch:

They are actually Reptilians in disguise.

{{ We must always remember in humility when we think that we understand things too well, that we don’t really understand things at all. }}

Sage advice.

{{ even that hydrogen is an impossibility }}

Absolutely true, Carlyle. Just on hard science alone, the universe is pure magic. No need to create another layer in the mind, to call “magic.” It’s already here, within us, around us, infinite and eternal. The wonderful minds we have is one of the universe’s greatest gifts.

We are both a couple of very lucky archosaurs!

– Ezekiel

From: Carlyle
To: Ezekiel
RE: J’accuse
Date: Mon, 24 Feb 2014 20:47:32


{{ You might even have turned Republican. *shudder* }}

Yes, I fear that could be true for many of us, had we “fit in.” The GOP knows how to play the average American heterosexuals like a violin, or maybe more like the fiddle of Nero. Appealing to their petty prejudices, flattering their vanity, manipulating emotional images and rhetoric. The power of propaganda has overwhelmed populations repeatedly through history, far and wide. The people tend to be like putty, easily fooled by religion, military glorification, nationalism and hate.

I think that people have an inborn need to hate just like they have an inborn need to be loved. To have an enemy, a scapegoat against which to vent all the bile in their systems, to which to feel superior.

Most of my relatives, even my brother, are Republicans. They have no concept how nauseating that is to a gay man. It is not that they are anti-gay, it is just that they relegate that to a lower priority over all the other cheap appeals.

For most people, their opinions are determined by their race, class, group identity. Most people only think that they think for themselves. Their opinions are molded by the masters that they don’t even realize that they have or realize are consciously and skillfully trying to manipulate their opinions.

That is why I do not respect popular opinion.

Regards, Carlyle

Date: Wed, 26 Feb 2014 09:30:50
Re: J’accuse
From: Ezekiel
To: Carlyle

On 2/24/14, Carlyle wrote:

{{ Yes, I fear that could be true for many of us, had we “fit in.” }}

Ever since the Roman Empire turned Christianity into a state religion, it’s been mass mind control. Most of western civilization has begun to move away from such dogma, with the exception of the Stars & Stripes. But looks like Islam is fast filling in the gap.

{{ images and rhetoric. The power of propaganda has overwhelmed populations repeatedly through history, far and wide. }}

That same iconic propaganda can be turned against them…using powerful memes and images to celebrate the gay mystique with patriotic fervor.

{{ I think that people have an inborn need to hate just like they have an inborn need to be loved. To have an enemy, a scapegoat }}

Explains why you can find plenty of homophobes even under the atheist umbrella. It’s the appeal to be a bully, to participate in scapegoating the most vulnerable. Nothing to do with religion at that point. The atheist’s rationale: “It just ain’t natural!”

{{ Most of my relatives, even my brother, are Republicans. They have no concept how nauseating that is to a gay man. }}

Yet, even many gays are Repub’s. But I believe only because they feel coerced to kiss the str8 man’s arse in order to not be targeted. IOW: they know on which side their bread is buttered (and whose hand clamps their balls).

{{ It is not that they are anti-gay, it is just that they relegate that to a lower priority over all the other cheap appeals. }}

My final conclusion re. homophobia (as you already know, due to my recent Reptilian revelation) is that gay haters only exist for the same reason that evil exists in myriad forms: to give each of us as many opportunities as possible to overthrow these demons. And in so doing, become heroes ourselves, even /to/ ourselves.

And the most reviled, the most scapegoated, of all these oppressed groups, shall end up the most favored denizens of this planet. Which, of course, are “the gays.” So at this point in my spiritual evolution, I am far more ecstatic than angered. Though I will gladly play my role as Big Gay Brother dictator in order to fulfill the drama in this world’s arena.

Just waiting for the makeup lizard to arrive.

– Ezekiel


From: Carlyle
To: Ezekiel
Date: Wed, 26 Feb 2014 17:55:15
RE: J’accuse


Christianity is a cult that hit the big-time, like most major religions. Basically a meme, propagating itself somewhat in the style of a chain-letter. All groups can include homophobes, but it seems to me in general that atheists tend to be far more understanding of gays than religious people. Probably because their sense of morality is more reason-based instead of superstition-based.



From: Ezekiel
To: Carlyle
Date: Wed, 26 Feb 2014 21:43:02
RE: J’accuse

On Wed, Feb 26, 2014 at 5:55 PM, Carlyle wrote:

{{ Basically a meme }}

That’s about what it comes down to. Though there /is/ an important lesson to be gained from this, which is: To better learn how to halt and diffuse anti-sane thought memes before they get out of hand. Which means that one must sharpen his mental skills, in order to find that solution. For it only takes /one/ mind, /one/ person to turn things all around. If (and only if) of course, he harnesses those psychological skills in the proper fashion, and at the proper moment. Should that person achieve his goal, there need not exist one other sentient soul to trigger the Love Bomb.

And such a good person does indeed exist. And he has already set the world aright though sheer mental prowess. So let me ask you, Carlyle:

Who do you think that person is? Does he really exist, or is he just a metaphor for humanity’s next level of awareness? Could he actually exist as an evolved and independent human being, living among the destitute in this or that oppressed community?

Is he perhaps a starving youth somewhere in India, South America, Africa…or an angry dissenter in this or that eastern European nation that struggles for freedom yet insists on still bashing gays…or a long suffering Islamic woman of middle age who will soon perish from breast cancer unless she somehow obtains a DNA transplant from a gay male in Denmark…or a diehard liberal pushing for a compassionate America right in the heart of redneck Texas…or even a lone prisoner escapee hiding out somewhere in eastern Greenland?

Please, toss a guess in my direction before I reveal the truth. Much appreciated.

{{ All groups can include homophobes, but it seems to me in general that atheists tend to be far more understanding of gays than religious people. }}

Nope, Not when it comes to homophobia. The percentage of gay haters among atheists is considerably less than among religious zealots. Say: 30% to their 82%. Still, thirty percent is a big chunk of the atheist family. More than enough to perpetrate misery upon gay men and women for time immemorial. You need to rethink your perception of homophobia as not so much a major dysfunction among the non-religious. That may indeed be your Achilles heel!

{{ Probably because their sense of morality is more reason-based instead of superstition-based. }}

Beg to differ, Carlyle. I have been stalked and threatened by many an atheist, both online and offline. The appeal to be a /bully/ is far stronger than simple religion. You know that Madalyn Murray O’Hair headed the American Atheist movement until she disappeared off the face of the earth about 19 years ago? (In fact she was kidnapped, murdered and mutilated by another diehard atheist.)

When asked by a gay reporter what she thinks of homosexuality, her reply was one of disgust and vitriol. “They are not natural. I do not support the pollution of society by such perverted behavior.” Paraphrasing her stance to the essential approximation of the low esteem she held in her eyes, of queers.

– Ezekiel

Date: Thu, 27 Feb 2014 20:47:3
Re: J’accuse
From: Carlyle
To: Ezekiel Krahlin


I’m not sure how many of us are doing just that: changing the world with pure mental intentions focused like laser beams, but I’m sure that whoever all we might, we are doing that.

I agree also that a single person can do this. My main hunch that we can all sort of create own, little, private alternative universes that we can engineer to our needs. It is part of the wonder of Infinity. Not that we would be “God” exactly, but it would almost seem like that for all intents and purposes, if we were not aware of the rest of Infinity. The trick is to create a place where we can be content, because we can also accidentally create anything, including places where we suffer. If we get skilled at reality-bending, eventually we should be able to stop all suffering and all be content.

Regards, Carlyle

Date: Fri, 28 Feb 2014 12:23:58
Re: J’accuse
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: Carlyle

On 2/27/14, Carlyle wrote:

{{ I’m not sure how many of us are doing just that: changing the world with pure mental intentions focused like laser beams, but I’m sure that whoever all we might, we are doing that. }}

Great answer! I was, however, thinking of myself as such a person…and I’m sure you knew that. But there are billions of intelligent souls who’ve brought me to this level, and who guide and protect. So yes, it’s really “us” not just “me.”

BTW: Yours was the most perfect reply possible, to my question. Exactly what I’d expect from a highly intelligent and compassionate Reptilian/Jungian therapist. :P

– Ezekiel

From: Carlyle
To: Ezekiel Krahlin
Re: J’accuse
Date: Fri, 28 Feb 2014 21:44:14


Clearly signs of significant changes in the world, to our benefit, are becoming visible that would have been almost unthinkable, not so long ago. BTW, I have a business trip to Atlanta, leaving Sunday and not getting back until Thurs. Probably won’t see email until then.

Last time that I was in Atlanta was to protest the Bowers vs Hardwick Supreme court decision (civil disobedience action). My hotel turned out to be right by the Martin Luther King center. Silly me, at the time, I didn’t even realize that King was from Atlanta, but the coincidence seemed to me to validate what I was doing. I have since then of course read his full biography.

While I respect him and admire his charisma (not so much his daughter and niece), I think that our civil rights situation has had less resemblance to 1965 civil rights conditions and more to 1865 (Civil War) conditions as to the extent of our dehumanization.

Regards, Carlyle

Date: Sat, 1 Mar 2014 09:08:57
Re: J’accuse
From: Ezekiel Krahlin
To: Carlyle

On 2/28/14, Carlyle wrote:

{{ Clearly signs of significant changes in the world }}

We’re gonna whack the ‘phobes upside the head when they least expect it. Possibly by your own hand.

{{ BTW, I have a business trip to Atlanta }}

Okay. I’m publishing a new blog entry every three days…so all you’ll
get from me during that span, is announcement of my latest article.

{{ Last time that I was in Atlanta was to protest the Bowers vs Hardwick Supreme court decision (civil disobedience action). }}

I remember when you told me about that, years ago. It was quite naughty: videotaping boinking your boyfriend then mailing copies to the local Republican mucky mucks. :\

{{ the coincidence seemed to me to validate what I was doing. }}

I’m sure it was validation.

{{ While I respect him and admire his charisma (not so much his daughter and niece) }}

But his wife Coretta is amazing…totally for gay rights in every way.

{{ I think that our civil rights situation has had less resemblance to 1965 civil rights conditions and more to 1865 (Civil War) conditions as to the extent of our dehumanization. }}

I’d have to agree. But this year is our year where liberation takes over. I believe we shall have civil war in most every nation, over LGBT defiance. My amazing true tales featuring Larkin Kelsey are leading up to just such an outcome, along with the Andromedans revealing themselves to the entire world.

And their first major project will be to defend and protect sexual minorities. Easy enough to accomplish, as they are 6 billion strong, disguised as humans. This leaves how many /real/ homo sapiens on the planet…1+ billion?

Well, I hope your journey to Atlanta is a pleasant one. Perhaps something interesting will occur while there, kick things up a notch!

– Ezekiel

From: Carlyle
To: Ezekiel Krahlin
Re: J’accuse
Date: Sat, 1 Mar 2014 22:27:11


{{ I remember when you told me about that, years ago. It was quite naughty. :) }}

Actually, it was a battle for human dignity in a situation that had put us in an undignified situation by the state invasion into the privacy of our bedrooms. No real sex took place: purely simulated for sake of a token violation of the law.

Nothing naughty, in my view. Fighting for the side of truth and light, a very serious business: serious enough that we’d fight it in the streets with Molotov cocktails and with rifles and ultimately with plutonium, if it came to that. I wouldn’t consider even plutonium to be “evil” or even “naughty” either. We say to the state, “back off or else,” and if they don’t back off, they have brought their own fate, nothing that we unfairly imposed on them through any particular cruelty of our own.

{{ But his wife Coretta is amazing…totally for gay rights in every way. }}

Yes, bless her heart; she was our friend. Now, off to Atlanta. Will fill you in when I get back.

Regards, Carlyle

How I Acquired The Cloak Of Invisibility, And The First Thing I Did With It

April 21, 2010

Actually, I’m not really sure how I acquired the damn Cloak, but it must have been a reward for one of my Odyssey adventures, which the gods have deemed to erase from my memory until a future time. I believe it was woven from Ariadne’s thread tossed aside in a forgotten ball, once Theseus made his escape from the Labyrinth.

But who wove it, and who gave it the power to make one invisible? And who presented it to me, and for what accomplishment? Alas, these truths remain hidden to me for a while longer…thus I must proceed with my tale without the benefit of any history. (Perhaps it was my spill in the River Lethe, battling some sort of beast or another, that washed away these memories.)

The Cloak itself is velvet black, with a honey shimmer to it…as if a lock of the Golden Fleece. were woven into its threads. It BELONGS to me…it KNOWS it belongs to me…as whenever I fling it about myself, it always falls upon my body in the most artful manner. It complements, it embraces, it cherishes me with dear caresses, and never clings! Yet it slides off with not a moment of pause–once I release my grasp–and falls graciously to the floor with a pleasant “whoosh”. Neither static-y nor clingy, no dirt or dust ever gathers upon it…for which I conclude the unknown existence of some Polyester-blend goddess (perhaps the offspring of that rotten cyclops Polyphemus, who once chased after some lovely trifle of a mortal named Esther. Perhaps the Cloak’s power of invisibility came from the blinding of this cyclops by Odysseus).

So I stand on the banks of the River Lethe, contemplating all the delicious adventures that will be mine, as the invisible voyeur of others’ adventures…when along comes fickle Eros. As I am presently concealed beneath the Cloak, he would pass right by me without knowing I’m even there…except for my stepping in his way, for which he is unexpectedly knocked over. After gathering his arrows, Eros stands up, stares at my new gift of the Cloak of Invisibility…and after a few moments says, “Dude: I have a great idea where you could use that Cloak.” (And where could that be?) I think.

“The Bedrooms of the Gods of course,” brags Eros, “why, you could write the steamiest novels the world has ever seen, by merely recounting what you witness! You’d be an overnight sensation, a romance novelist par excellence, and a multi-millionaire to boot!” (I would also know what tickles Apollo’s fancy) I muse, as one mortal who is very hot for a particular deity or two.

“Oh, yes, why, the benefits to your personal life would be enormous,” admits Eros. “You would have ANY God you want by the balls, and caress them whenEVER you please! I must apologize for tempting you
with mere lucre, Ezekiel…as I know you value the immaterial over the material, as should any seeker of truth. Now, just think what all that money could do for the poor, the lame, and the downtrodden!” (Then let’s go! You need not convince me further…I’m hot to trot.)

We arrive at the Bedroom Palace (teleportation? flight? memory still hazy, try again later) somewhere on the eastern slope of lofty Mount Olympus…which contains secluded chamber after chamber, to satisfy even the most finicky demands of privacy for which any goddess or god could wish. Solid, thick oak doors trimmed in eggshell white and 24 caret gold-plated brass fixtures, are so sturdy not even Hephaestus‘s mighty hammer could batter them down.

“Let me show you the bedroom where Apollo and Zeus do the nasty”, Eros leads me down a long, long hallway until we reach a room whose door he pushes ajar. I hesitate.

“Go right in, no one’s home. I’m right behind you” whispers Eros, nudging me through the entrance. We stand amid silken tapestry and drapes of purest white, purple, and gray that grace tall windows and a ginormous bed against the far end of the room. Rose-scented candles in sconces and on small tables lend a soft, gentle light to the entire room. Eros guides me into a closet large enough to fit a banquet table and all its guests. “You can hide here, in their wardrobe,” speaks Eros. “That, plus your Cloak to shield you, will make you completely secure from their finding you.”

I am about to ask some pertinent questions–such as how long do they partake in their love making (knowing that a single minute to a god is a century to a human, and that I could easily starve to death, or grow old and die in this closet, long before they’re even done with foreplay…thus you can understand my concern)–when Eros suddenly jumps back, says “I hear them coming”…then quick as a flash disappears.

I am left standing amid all the masculine trappings of war gods: the musky scent of leather and rough cloth soaked in godly sweat nearly puts me into a heavenly swoon! But I stand determined to witness what no mortal eyes have ever witnessed before: Zeus boinking the daylights out of Apollo! (Or is Zeus a bottom? Or are they more egalitarian in bed, than elsewhere? Do they like to french kiss? How much foreplay? Or are they rough and ready from the get-go? These juicy details, and much more, I am soon to find out!)

I hear voices and the door creak open, then shut. The Cloak of Invisibility is fully flung over my frame as I stand, shaking, knees wobbling in anticipation of my daring plunder into the most personal aspect of the lives of gods! A deep voice booms: “I don’t remember leaving the door open, do you? Is anyone here?” I stand, frozen, barely breathing. “Check the closet.” Arms push around the voluminous robes sliding on their hangers, but fortunately pass right by the spot on which I stand. I cannot see who it is. (Apollo or Zeus?) Not that I can’t see through my Cloak (of course I can), but the clothes shielding me that cover the Cloak block my view! Drat! I need to move a little forward…well, let’s wait till they calm down and get to bed.

“Uh, hey stud…lock that door will ya. I think we should, uh, mess around for a time. Don’t you?” I hear them disrobe: the gentle “shush” of togas falling, and the rattle of buckles. Again, one (I can’t see who) approaches the closet and plunks a heavy sword against the wall…it slides and crashes right onto my foot! Ouch! I better hold my breathe! Ouch! Damn friggin’ sword…must weigh as much as a horse…my foot is throbbing, god, this ain’t so much fun any more! Egads! Ouch, ouch ouch!

I can’t help myself; a moan wells up from my throat.

“Wait! Did you hear that?”

“What? Who could hear anything after that sword crash? Deafening! No, I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Well, I heard something, and it came from that closet!”

“And just what do you think you heard, little missy? Sure it’s not your bat ears ringing?”

(Little missy? One’s a fem? I can’t believe this! Wait’ll I get my book published! Uh-oh, he’s coming back to the closet!)

“Huh, maybe it was just an echo.” Arms swoosh through the clothing once more, and I stand frozen in fear. “Wait, what’s this?”

“What’s what? Lemme see what you’re talking about.”

I still can’t see either one of the gods, though their very breaths warm the cloak under which I tremble.

“Okay, whoever you are, come out of there now…we see you!”

(They do? I don’t believe them, they’re calling my bluff. After all, no one’s grabbing at me.)

“We can see your feet, fool! Look!”

(I look down and lo and behold! The Cloak of Invisibility hangs its hem just inches above my toes. I am not completely covered! I sigh, and drop the Cloak, and all pretense…and step out from behind the
wardrobe, to see…not gods, but goddesses! A pair of uber-dykes! What the hell is this all about?)

“Who are you?” demands the busty platinum-blonde, now hastily robed in a bedsheet.

(Ezekiel, madame…Ezekiel Joseph Krahlin.)

“Madame? You call the great goddess of the sacred hunt, Artemis, ‘madame’? Just where do you come from, little Ezekiel?” speaks the other, a voluptuous nymph of seaweed hair and piercing yellow-green eyes.

(Ummm…San Francisco, planet earth…that is, in my waking life. At present, I presume I’m in one of my vision dreams.)

“One of your vision dreams? Ha!” mocks Artemis, “Tell us who put you up to this or I’ll flay your skin and feed it to the Harpies!”

I’m not about to reveal my source…not when I’d have the wrath of yet another god upon my soul. So I just stand there, trembling, but lips firmly shut.

“Eros, eh? I should have known! That little imp is always messing up Mt. Olympus whenever he gets the chance!”

Too bad, they can read my mind. (He told me this is the bedroom of Zeus and Apollo.) I plead.

That’s your excuse, mangy mortal?” hollers Artemis. “You were going to spy on gods? This amounts to hubris of the highest order. I hope you realize the consequences of your heinous act!”

(Ummm…being chained to a boulder and having an eagle pluck out my liver for all eternity?) I venture an educated guess.

Taken aback, Artemis first glances at the nymph, then at me, than again at her partner…and they both burst out in laughter. “Come here, Ezekiel”, Artemis gently takes my arm, and leads me to a chair where she urges me to sit.

“No harm shall come to you, mischievous mortal. It is Eros who should take the blame. I have a plan for vengeance, but it will take me some minutes to work it out. Please enjoy Sylvia’s company in the meantime…I’ll be back shortly.” And with a wide grin on her beatific face, Artemis departs.

Sylvia and I have a heartfelt conversation about the homeless lesser gods in Olympus, and what can possibly be done about it, if anything.

Finally, after the passage of a little time, Artemis returns. “Boy have I got a treat for you, Ezekiel!” And she tugs my arm in a wish to escort me to parts yet unknown.

Artemis, Sylvia, and I (carried in Sylvia’s strong arms, due to my injured foot) proceed down enormous corridors, to yet another heavy wooden door, through which we enter. There, tied by his four limbs to the posts of a water bed, kneels Eros on all fours, his nether end most prominent. Sylvia sets me on the floor, where I stand, staring in disbelief: I do drool. “He’s all yours for the next twenty minutes, Ezekiel. I’m sure you’ll know what to do!” says Artemis, and they depart.

I do indeed…for twenty of the most beautiful minutes of my life, in sheer Tantric bliss! And this experience has shown me why, when spelled backwards, Eros means “sore”! So this ends the story of my winning the Cloak of Invisibility, how I first used it, and how I lost it in the heat of the moment before I ever got to use it more than once.

ADDENDUM: Were those succulent twenty minutes, the minutes of a god, or of a mortal? I leave you to ponder, and eat your heart out.

The Exalted Land Of Andor

March 21, 2010

Photo of a lake in the Pyrenees Mountains.

July is the best time of year to visit the Lilliputian nation of Andor, for they celebrate their Independence Day (July 1) all month long. The Andorians, descendants of the Basque people, were separated due to a disagreement over whether or not to allow AIDS carriers into their territory. The Basques (located in the Pyrenees Mountains between France and Spain) aggravated this dilemma by attempting to push all suspected homosexuals and/or lesbians into the Bay of Biscay.

The entire Andorian populace, totalling just and/or only 144,000 males and/or females, rose to the occasion in defense of brotherly and/or sisterly love, and beat off and/or creamed the attacking majority of breeders and/or homophobes. Radio Free Andor claims that the potential and/or conceivable casualties and/or victims of both sides withdrew before any blood and/or other vital fluids could be lost;

Photo of 2 WWII magazines with old-time radio.

thus and/or therefore (and/or hence) making their sudden secession and/or revolution the first peaceful one in Iberian and/or world history. Non-Andorian and/or non-Basque tourists who served as unbiased and/or non-partisan witnesses, claim that the Andorians and/or “Gay Basque Houses” won because of a clever and/or Trojan-like strategy to stockpile surplus artillery and/or munitions in their bulging basquettes and/or chests.

The Andorian cottage and/or village industry is renowned for its beautiful basquettes and/or chests (traditionally worked with one of the artisan’s left and/or right hands in his and/or her lap and/or that of the apprentice). Some historians and/or ZekeKrahlinologists claim that this tradition and/or practice originated from the Lap-landers, who kept falling into Andorian basquettes and/or chests on their migration and/or march north, where they could settle and/or eke a living…without being persecuted for their love of reindeer and/or packed snow and/or sperm oil. (Another reason and/or explanation why they were travelling north in the first Place and/or originally, was because, at one time and/or another, the European continent and/or land mass tilted and/or sloped from south to north and/or southeast to northwest and/or south-southeast to north-northwest, while the Lap-landers were mounting their sleighs and/or reindeer.)

Miniature of male Laplander with a reindeer.

Since the origin of the Basques remains shrouded and/or hidden in prehistory and/or before they knew how to write, likewise and/or also must the roots and/or seed of Andor remain buried in a misty and/or questionable gap in the annals and/or bowels of antiquity. A curious note and/or point of fact in the Andorian Royal and/or Court Archives, is that Andor never claimed to be ruled and/or governed by a Queen…though one would tend to raise an eyebrow and/or two when considering and/or viewing the Royal Wardrobe: a wide and/or copious variety of expensive furs and/or stoles (said rationale and/or excuse being: “For the cold, mountainous air of winter, and/or going to the opera.”).

The territory and/or span of Andor is a mere and/or meager 4,248,668 square meters of virgin and/or undefiled parquet floors (hence the many signs and/or notices: “Slippery and/or slick when wet”)…equal and/or equivalent to 13,939,200 square feet and/or roughly one-half of a square mile. All Andor-ogenous zones and/or territorial boundaries are demarcated by straight lines and/or lines of straights (from which the national pastime and/or recreation, “Slap-and/or-Pinch-the-Butt-of-a-Border-Guard-and/or-Sentry,” arose).

Small Greek statue of naked man.

Fortunately and/or thank God Andor’s population and/or citizenry (alias and/or A.K.A. “Andor-oids”) numbers and/or is about 144,000…and housing for each one and/or every Andorian was easily accommodated and/or provided by the erection of one grand and/or luxurious condominium complex and/or hotel…with 53 restaurants and/or cafes, 192 bars and/or lounges, 18,422 vibrating Greek statues and/or sculptures and/or busts,

271 dog-grooming emporiums, 422 barber shops and/or hair-styling salons, 6,001 paraphernalia and/or sex-toy shops, 310 different flavors of Perrier, and 1 live white unicorn and/or little silver pony with a horn (free to roam the premises and/or grounds, often seen and/or merrily splashing and/or cavorting in the numerous marble fountains and/or spas overflowing with Aqua Vita and/or divine semen)…

Picture of a Little Pony plastic figurine.

to mention only a few and/or several of the many wonders and/or miracles that daily and/or every twenty-four hours bless this great and/or incredible city-state of Andor. This leaves the rest of the land open and/or available for disco dancing and/or hopscotch (for which reason and/or purpose the floor tiles are laid with alternating and/or staggered shades of hot pink and/or fuchsia and Jet-set black and/or ebony).

Andor’s national flag was inspired and/or stolen from the flag of America and/or the U.S.A. and/or U.S. of A., in that it, too and/or also, has thirteen and/or 7-plus-6 alternating red and white stripes and/or bars, with a large, dark and/or navy blue patch in the upper right (and/or left, depending on which way you view it) corner. Only instead of 50 stars and/or pentagrams, Andor’s flag proudly and/or snobbishly displays 50 white and/or Pink Princess phones…the exact number and/or amount of telephones required for each Andorian residence, per their Declaration and/or Manifesto of Independence and/or Liberty and/or Freedom and/or Fun.

10 columns of 5 rows of 50 Princess phones.

But and/or however, on one side of the bottommost and/or lowest stripe, are these inspiring and/or rousing words:


On the other side are the equivalent and/or similar words for dykes:


We hope, on your way and/or trip from one great and/or famous European and/or world capitol to another, that you do find and/or discover the time and/or inclination to visit and/or reside in the first new nation and/or state to be born of the New and/or Aquarian Age: Andor and/or NUGREECE. Visa and/or Mastercard are welcome; as are the currencies of Spain, France, and/or Monopoly. Andor’s own currency depicts and/or shows a circle of unicorns dancing around the motto and/or slogan: “E. Pluribus UnICORNum,” and a portrait of the first horse to land on the moon: “Captain Randy Seabiscuit and/or Soupcracker.”

Statuettes and/or miniature dolls of Captain Randy seabiscuit and/or Soupcracker are available in any of Andor’s 78 souvenir and/or gift shops…with and/or without accessories and/or appurtenances such as: golden bridle and/or harness, four-legged equestrian and/or horsy spacesuit, bail of hay and/or bag of oats, groats, and/or love notes, space capsule “Mr. Ed I”, and his sidekick “Little Pony and/or Buddy” with and/or without plastic raincoat and/or moonglasses. Engraved and/or etched with neon pink and/or lime green and/or metallic and/or bright silver, Andorian and/or NuGreek currency is not only a delight and/or pleasure to spend, but makes great decorations and/or ornamentation for wedding cakes and/or honeymoon-suite wallpaper and/or bow ties.

—–the end and/or finis and/or th-th-that’s all folks!

Photo of Mr. Ed the talking horse.

The Origin Of Evil

March 15, 2010

Once upon a time–long long before Adam & Steve were created–Jehovah realized that the universe could never be complete without something called “evil”. He tried to explain this to the Host of Angels (his only companions at that early time; though numbering in the hundreds), but they were all confused and aghast at this shocking concept. All that is, but one: Lucifer. When the Big Cheese saw that only Little Lucy was not aghast (but simply confused) he called him into his inner chamber, where they could be alone. (Archangel Gaybriel served them each a pot of lavender tea before departing behind the curtains.)

Hey Little Buddy,” declares the Good Master, “why aren’t you also shocked by my proclamation?” To which Lucky replies: “My Father, of course I am confused, but I’d never be judging you. After all, you’re our Creator…so even if I don’t comprehend one of your decisions, I still trust you. I could never conceive of you ever doing any wrong…even though this is the FIRST TIME I have become perplexed by anything you’ve ever said or done.

Jehovah contemplatively sips his tea, then leans forward. “You don’t really grasp what evil is all about, do you?

Of course not.” shrugs Lucifer, “This is the first time I’ve ever heard of such a thing. And it does what, you say? Distorts truth and makes intelligent beings feel bad, and do wrong?

Why don’t I give you a visual?” resolves YHVH, who then projects a holographic scene that hovers between the two.

Therein, Lucifer witnesses the awesome advent of evil upon a newly created species called “man”. Wherein Lucifer weeps for the first time, some sparkly tears dropping into the teacup (which by the way is the primal origin of the Holy Grail). Lucy dries his eyes with the hem of his sleeve, and exclaims, “Oh, my father, what terrible betrayal. How could you wish such forces unleashed in any universe? But I can only trust your decisions, and offer to serve you in this outcome, as best I can. For as much as I abhor this new energy entering the cosmos, that you call ‘evil’…I also understand that it is a necessary process in spiritual evolution towards perfection. That without any evil in this world, humans would never be challenged to become the true hero that dwells within each and every soul.” Lucifer then takes a deep breath and sets down his cup. “Okay, Dad. How can I help you in this terrible mission?

So with great sorrow and pride, Jehovah requests that Lucifer play the role of Master of Evil. This time around, Lucy is indeed terribly shocked, and lowers his head in shame and sorrow for some moments; then looks up and into the eyes of His Father, to say: “I will do this, only because if I didn’t, you’d be alone to carry this out. I wish to relieve your burdens as much as possible. For I do love you much!

Jehovah took him up into his strong arms. “You are the only one of my angels who has never lacked in any way, complete faith in my plans. For that, I make you The Devil Himself, that you may tempt man to go astray. And in so tempting, each is offered the chance to resist temptation, and become a hero in overthrowing your seductions. You will be vilified, scapegoated, and ultimately despised by all but a few wise folks. Indeed, not until the end of this First Cycle of Creation, will the wrongs against you be righted, and will you be celebrated as My Most Beloved First Born.

Having agreed to be partners in this Great Mission, Lucifer calls together a meeting of all the angels, and presents his case: to usurp the Creator and run the show ourselves. He is very persuasive, thanks to a gilded tongue, and manages to convince a third of the angelic host. War breaks out. So Lucifer dutifully plays out his incredible roles through history, including one of his “time out” past lives, where he is willfully sacrificed on a cross, to reaffirm his total devotion to One who asked of him this awesome responsibility. For with every seduction, Lucky always prays in his heart that you won’t be tempted.


Evil is a necessary evil.

And if you really love your enemy, then one must also find
a way to love, and forgive, the Ultimate Enemy.

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