Category: Religion

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Tuesday, October 3rd Update On The Future Saint Swift


Not In My Lifetime, Kiddo!

The Question Everyone Wants To Know…

Doe’s Taylor Swift use Autotune when she talks?

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We All Could Use A Little Mercy Now


My granddaughter recently introduced me to the music streaming service Spotify; I am officially hooked on this application that is now on my laptop and my iPhone. John Prine, Emmy Lou, Willie and Waylon, and Lyle Lovett, they are all on there. One artist I had not heard of is Mary Gaither, a grammy winning folk singer. I thank the good Lord for helping me find Mary and her music.

One song, in particular, grabs me by the heart. ” Mercy Now.” She came to write this song by living it or knowing someone who has walked that path. I think we all have walked that path at one time or another; I know my trail is well-worn like the wagon tracks on the prairie.

Lyrics to “Mercy Now”

First Verse;

My father
could use a little mercy now
The fruits of his labor fall
and rot slowly on the ground
His work is almost over
it won’t be long; he won’t be around
I love my father; he could use some mercy now

My father has been gone for a long while, since 1995, my mother since 1998, and my oldest son since 2012. I still think of them, but not as often as I once did or should, but this song washes me in their memory. My father started his life as a country musician and ended it as a successful home builder. He became ill in 1994, struggled, and fought a mighty battle, but passed from brain cancer. When he passed, he and I were at odds on a few things that we never resolved, and I deeply regret that. I, if anyone, should have shown him and my son a little mercy; it should have been me. My failure to forgive is my burden to carry. We all are flawed people. God made us that way so he could lead us back to him and give us our faith or let us ride the express train to hell. It’s our decision. Fathers, mothers, sons, sisters, and daughters should put aside their pettiness, interferences, verbal battles, and self-righteous beliefs. Some, too soon, will leave this world, and it should be on good terms and wrapped in forgiveness and love. We will all die, and mercy is our gift to our loved ones.

Third and Fourth Verse That Sums Up Our World

My church and my country
could use a little mercy now
As they sink into a poisoned pit
it’s going to take forever to climb out
They carry the weight of the faithful
who follow them down
I love my church and country,
they could use some mercy now
Every living thing could use a little mercy now

Only the hand of grace can end the race toward another mushroom cloud
People in power,
they’ll do anything to keep their crown
I love life and life itself
could use some mercy now
could use a little mercy now

I know we don’t deserve it
But we need it anyhow
We hang in the balance
Dangle ‘tween hell and hallowed ground
Every single one of us
could use some mercy now
Every single one of us
could use some mercy now

Not since World War II has our country teetered on the verge of war, not just two enemies, but many that will come at us from all continents and within our own country. Our leaders, hungry for power and greed, have let us become weak and lost. Our Churches and our pastors try to appease everyone instead of leading their flock by the word of the Bible and leading us in the right direction. People are angry at one another, some for a good reason, but many are taking their anger and misfortunes out on the innocents, family, or strangers around them.

We all should show a little mercy now.

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The Day After Easter


And Nothing Has Changed?

I don’t expect much these days. My childlike visions have long since faded into the past. Reality is a daily awakening that greats you with your morning cup of coffee and the news. I didn’t expect the world to be a better place this morning, but I held hope that it would be. My coffee tasted the same, the birds ate their seeds, and I was once again disappointed in the failures of humanity. There should be a religious name for the day after Easter Sunday. Any ideas?

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A Few Final Thoughts Of Easter Weekend


Another Easter weekend is fading into the last hours, as I am.

I remember, as a small child going to the Poly Baptist Church and being told I was a sinner and going to hell for two hours. I was six, so sin wasn’t on my radar, and the preacher told us hell was right below our seats, so I kept my legs up most of the time. I was an easy target to be pulled through the wooden floor.

After Easter service, it was home or to relatives for food, easter egg hunts, and enough sugar to keep me humming for days. I didn’t quite connect between what Easter Sunday was and what it had to do with a rabbit delivering eggs hidden in odd places for us to find and put in a basket. Christianity and Paganism clashed at that point. I know in church, I was miserable in my white shirt and clip-on tie but was happy as a town dog hunting for candy eggs in a backyard. I never saw the rabbit, and after a few years, believed it to be BS. I caught my father hiding the darned eggs so that “jig” was up ( oops..a bad word, I’m canceled, I guess). For the love of Davy Crockett, it was the 1950s, so get over it.

We have the German immigrants that arrived in the late 1700s to thank for the pagan rabbit-egg dealing thing. Those hearty saurkraut-cooking farmers brought it to us. Makes you wonder if little Adolf liked to hunt eggs too? I can’t imagine a tradition and stories of a German Hare making a deal with a German hen to purchase eggs so he can deliver them to children; that’s about as senseless as banning “Matilda” and “To Kill A Mockingbird” from public school libraries. Fortunately, our small town bookstore in Granbury carries those books on the banned list, and our local H-E-B had an abundance of plastic eggs, marshmallow, and chocolate Bunnies this year. MoMo’s grandchildren are likely still awake from all the candy they ate.

I listened to Glenn Beck’s interview with Pastor Gregg Laurie this morning on YouTube. Greg, now an older man, is the young man portrayed in the movie “The Jesus Revolution” that came to Jesus as a seventeen-year-old and became the senior pastor of the Calvary Church along with the help of Lonnie Frisbee, a hippie Jesus freak turned into a powerful preacher, and Pastor Chuck Smith of the Calvery Church in Southern California. It was an hour of enlightenment and awe. Pastor Laurie truly believes that as it happened in the late sixties and early seventies, another Jesus Revolution is taking place among our young and old if we live long enough. This started in Asbury, Kentucky, a few months back and has grown into a nationwide movement, just as it did in 1969 through 1972.

All the same, signs are there; the disillusionment with our government, the decadent lifestyles being pushed on our young via Hollywood and special interest groups, the drug culture that is killing our teens, the threat of a World War, the works of their parents and their schools. It’s the same formula that birthed it in the late sixties, only now the world is a more vile place than it was then. The Hippie movement was never the answer to anything. It was a pipe dream, an experiment, a cop-out. Nothing good could have come from it, except some very good music, but the rest of it was bullshit, and I know I was one of those long-haired freaks that smoked dope and played rock music. Lived it and done it, and so was my wife. We both knew Jesus then but were floundering in our faith. She rediscovered hers before I did. It took me a while longer, but it happened, and now it’s happening again, and it may again before I depart this earth.

Have a blessed Easter weekend, and remember that nothing has changed when you awaken tomorrow morning. God still loves you and to be the person he expects you to be.

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Remembering Late Night Television of the 1960s


Mark Twain’s Visits With Johnny Carson On The Tonight Show

Of Course it didn’t happen, but let’s assume it did.

Johnny Carson was as big as entertainers get in the 1960s and 1970s. I watched his show with my father many times a week, staying up past my bedtime, but hey, I was in high school, so it was allowed. He picked the best comedians as a guest and gave many their boot to fame by allowing them a few minutes on his revered stage. Just for fun, let’s assume he invited Mark Twain back from the dead as a guest. No, I haven’t been smoking hand-rolled ciggies, but wouldn’t it have been eye-opening.

Carson; “Please welcome to the show, Mr. Mark Twain.” Twain, wearing his trademark white Panama suit, enters from behind the multi-colored curtain with a lit cigar in his mouth, makes his way to the stage, shakes hands with Johnny and Ed, and then sits his lanky frame on the holy sofa.

Carson; ” So Mark, just how hard was it to get a pass to visit the earth and be a guest on my show? I assume you came from above and not from that other place?

Twian; ” Not hard at all Mr. Carson; Father God enjoys your humor and likes Doc and his band. I never watched your program until Clarence the Angel told me I was coming down for a night to guest on your stage. Is this in color or black and white? We don’t have many of these new televisions in Heaven, and I refuse to own one because they are too much of a distraction from my work. Did I mention I am writing another fifty novels, all in longhand, can’t stand those new-fangled typewriters. Huck and Tom are all grown up now and doing quite well in the riverboat business, so I am continuing their life’s story. We have rivers up there too, so pilots are in short demand. We don’t have many comedians. There’s this Lenny Bruce feller, he’s a hoot but a bit blue with his language, and he’s always in trouble with the council.”

Carson; ” So back when you were on earth, all those years ago, you were quite dour when it came to politics and outspoken about the men that ran the country, do you still hold those views?”

Twain; ” Hell, yes, I do. You show me a politician, and I’ll show you a scoundrel, a thief, and a liar. So, who is this Lyndon Johnson moron? Why are we over in Viet Nam helping folks who don’t like us? I see a lot of our young soldier boys in Heaven. They’re as confused as I am, and not happy to be dead. We got no dog in that hunt, and you all are pissing away good money and destroying our countries morals with all these Hippie people running around smoking plants and marching around carrying signs. I can’t pretend to understand you folks down here on earth.”

Carson: “Well, Mark, you certainly don’t hold back; why don’t you tell us how you really feel. (audience laughs), Ed looks uncomfortable, and Carson plays with his pencil.

Twain; ” I gotta go now, but let me give you some parting advice, in 2022, which is a good bit away, you idiots down here are going to be right back in a Viet Nam situation, but it’s going to be in a country called Ukraine, and you will be fighting Russia and the Chinese, it it ain’t going to be a pretty show. How do I know this? Well, fellas, God tells me everything when we play our chess game every Thursday over cigars and brandy. Oh yeah, Johnny, you’re going to get divorced real soon, and that gal is going to pick your bones clean as a whistle.” Twain blows a smoke ring with his Havana cigar and exits the stage. Doc and the band play “Dixie.”

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It’s A Philly Thing


“The thing is, win or lose… philly still gonna be philly bc ITS A PHILLY THING,” Twitter user @Annie_Wu_22 wrote, sharing footage of a crowd yelling, “F— the Chiefs.” Words of wisdom from the city of brotherly love and high-cholesterol steak and cheese sandwiches. Ben Franklin is begging God to send him back down to earth, like Clarence the Angel, so old Ben can kick some ass, ring a bell and get his wings. While here, he should spray a large can of kick-ass on that devil dog-worshiping Illuminati princes Rihanna and her little demon children. Up there on stage, strutting around in her rubber red devil attire, surrounded by dancers in hazmat suits. It’s a wonder she didn’t go into labor on live television; it would have increased the ratings.

What’s so special about the Super Bowl? Why is the winner called world champions when the United States is the only country in the league, and they compete against themselves? The rest of the civilized and uncivilized parts of the globe play “football,” also known as soccer. I am unimpressed with the “big game” and have been for decades. But that’s only my opinion, which doesn’t count for Jack Shit, who I met back in the 70s. Come to think of it, no opinions from senior citizens count for anything. All we are good for is keeping big pharma in business. I take so many pills I forget what they are for.

I used to be a Dallas Cowboys fan, but I overcame that communicable disease a few years back. My son had it bad, but he’s slowly recovering, like a Catholic that escaped from the church but can’t stop eating fish sticks on Friday. It’s a slow process. Now, it’s 28 years since a super bowl appearance, and if Jerry Jones doesn’t check out soon, it will be 30-plus years. Please, Elon Musk, make Jones an offer he can’t refuse; we saw you on the television, sitting there in your expensive seat drinking a can of beer, so we know you like American football. Sir Paul McCartney was also in attendance and could afford to buy the team, but he would have to play every half-time show, and he’s about done with music because he sounds like Carol Channing when he sings. Lennon and Harrison are up in the clouds looking down and saying, ” hey mate, give it up and come for a visit?” Of course, the downside of a celebrity buying a team like the Cowboys would be if Adele purchased the franchise. She is caught in a continuous state of mental breakdowns, and her auto-tune machine is unrepairable. Besides, she cries too much.

I likely said too much because my filters are gone, and my opinions don’t count.

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“Down On The Corner, Out In The Street”


At 73 years of age, I still have all my hair. Not only is it all in place, but it’s also solid white, luxurious, and flowing. I use a secret shampoo from ” Dr. Squatch,” a medicinal shaman that lives in a remote mountain cabin above Colorado Springs. I have men, women, and barbers stop me on the street and comment on my massive amount of follicles. My wife says I have ” TV Preacher Hiar,” which brings me to this idea.

Since my rock band disbanded in 2019, I have missed playing music. A few nights ago, at a birthday party for our former drummer, Jordan, who turned 75, I approached the idea of making music again with him and our former bass player and singer, Danny, who is 77. Our good friend and guitar player, John, passed away a few years ago, but I’m confident he would be all in if he were with us.

They were mildly interested until I told them my idea involved playing on the sidewalks around our historic Granbury town square. The proper English term is “Busking,” which consists in playing and singing for money thrown into a jar, a bucket, or an open guitar case. They looked at me as if a third eye was growing in my forehead. I then dropped the bomb on them; I am becoming a man of the cloth, a pastor, a preacher, a sidewalk hawker for the almighty. It’s so easy; I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. My quirky sense of humor, skill as an orator, and perfect hair assure success in this endeavor.

Go online, send in your nominal fee, and receive a certified, stamped, and legal document, suitable for framing, that says you can perform weddings, funerals, and divorces, bless barroom fights, bless meals for family and strangers in restaurants, give pastorly advice, and heal people’s medical maladies. I am awaiting my credentials which should arrive any day now. My two friends and former bandmates have not returned my calls, but then at their age, they may have forgotten the conversation. I will send them a text and an email as a reminder.

Combine my TV preacher hair and my pastorly presence with our three-piece musical trio, and we should be able to draw a sizable crowd and make some nice donations for my mobile church, which I plan to christen; “The Church of The What’s Happening Now.” All proceeds will go to the “Mission Granbury” food bank and “Friends of Animals.”

Being a Christian, which I am, is advisable. But, if you’re going to spread the word of God, you had better believe what you are spouting. Atheists, Agnostics, and liberals would never make a good street preacher; they would be struck by a bolt of lightning from above and charred to a crisp right there on the sidewalk. God doesn’t watch CNN or The View.

I have better hair than any of those preachers on the TV set, so I should do quite well if my wife lets me out of the house and I can find my car keys and guitar, which I suspect she has hidden with relatives.

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Happy Trails Till We Meet Again, But Only For A Little While


Photo by; Gabby Hayes

Tomorrow morning at approximately 7:15 AM, one of the two surgeons assigned to my medical predicament will be slicing into my stomach on his way to my spinal column. This has been a while coming, and alas, the highly anticipated moment has arrived. I have total faith in both surgeons since they are from foreign countries, attended multiple the bet medical schools, and are highly rated in their field.

The first surgeon, (the general surgeon,) and the stomach expert showed me a beautiful 4K video of the actual operation. Stunning color with sharp close-up photography of what one’s insides actually look like. They don’t use scalpels nowadays, but tiny light sabers similar to the ones used in Star Wars. Funny that his nurse is named Leia and the examination room I was in was labeled Exam R2.

Cutting through the viscera and old muscles, the soft pliable pinkish and rose-tinted innards, pulling back guts, tendons, and vital organs, blood veins pulsing with every beat of my 72-year-old heart, tons of escaping blood, and then driving a stainless steel wedge in between my L5 and S1 disk, that is no longer functional and are bone on bone and constantly fighting about who gets to cause me the most pain. He did mention, in passing, that if a blood vessel or artery burst he would be there to repair it, if possible. But, if I do pass on to the “other side” I wouldn’t feel a thing since I will already be halfway there. I told him “I would rather not wake up dead.” He thought that was witty, and giggled a bit.

He assured me the hardware and the tools are made by Craftsman and have a lifetime warranty from Lowes. I exhaled in comfort knowing that bit of information. He also adores Craftsman tools, so we talked a bit about home improvement. Seems he is remodeling his ranch house in Weatherford and forgot to support the main beam which allowed the den to collapse, resulting in the home being razed. Oops!

He congratulated me for not fainting since 99 percent of his patients do when viewing the film. I gave the presentation a 4 popcorn box rating and continued on to the next surgeon’s office.

My second surgeon, the spinal expert is rated so highly in his field, that he is considered a revered legend. The medical people don’t use his real name, but in the circle of surgeons, he’s called “The Spine Man.” It’s all rather James Bondish.

He’s repaired numerous high-profile and talented sports figures including Dac and Tony. It’s said that the first surgeon in his family tree corrected Qusimoto’s condition after the famous Notre Dame debacle, but that’s part of the legend I assume.

He also uses Craftsman tools and parts and showed me a brief presentation on how he will slice me in three or more places and install stainless plates, screws, rods, and spacers into my spinal column around the spacer wedge assisted by the spinal surgeon. They don’t use real bone for splicing anymore, but bone pieces are taken from recent and highly rated cadavers. He assured me not to worry, the cadaver looked a bit like me and didn’t object to the donation. That’s a good thing, I don’t want to wake up to ” It’s alive!” screaming in the operating room.

The question of years of practice came up and he told me he got his start at ten years old repairing mopeds and motors so he gained expertise early on with repositioning wiring harness, to accommodate nuts, bolts, and screws. Another good thing to know.

I will likely not be able to write on my blog since I will be as doped up as a San Francisco street person for a few days, then in excruciating pain which will require more drugs. I will not be in any state of mind to write about subjects that will surely offend every one of my readers and friends. My wife says I cannot have my laptop until I am reasonably sane again.

All kidding aside, I have complete faith in my surgeon’s skill and the care of the nurses and staff at Medical City Fort Worth. After all, it’s God’s gifted hands working through these two blessed surgeons.

Let’s hope all ends well and I’ll see you on down the trail in a short while. Happy Trails until we meet again.

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A Friday Rant From The Cactus Patch That is Visiting in Colorado for a few days !


Well oil my musket, wipe my ass and call me Davey Crockett. Things in the Cactus Patch are so off-kilter I can’t walk straight without a good shot of Jameson Irish Whiskey.

Now the whales are pissed off and jumping onto boats. The boat was owned by a Democrat Greenpeace Pot Smoking Transgendered Fishing Captain attempting to coax a throng of weekend mariners to join his cause. The whale was obviously a conservative and was enraged by the rainbow flag flown aftward and the “Little Mermaid” sticker on the hull. Let’s hope the Great White Sharks off Lon-gilend don’t catch on.

If Martha Stewert went to prison for insider trading, why isn’t Pelosi, her husband, and most of the congress receiving the same treatment? The only reason she is still alive is that she has enough money to buy black market spare organs to keep her going. If she farted, her face would explode.

Merrick Garland is going to prosecute Trump? WTF? How about he starts with Hunter Biden, his wife, his father, his hookers, and then all the Antifa and BLM trash that ruined Seattle, Portland, Minneapolis, and other smaller cities? Garland is a worthless human unit that uses Dippity Do on his hair and hasn’t had a good bowel movement in years.

Biden releases another 20 million barrels of oil from our national reserve. Who is he selling it to this time? He will try and take a victory lap, but will likely be held up by Jill and the Secret Service. The corpse doesn’t know what planet he is on. This is the result of putting an old man that has shit for brains in office. Although Scarlett O’Hara wore her dress made from her curtains better than Jill does.

Biden’s machine is in full swing. The cute little Barbie black lesbian is now a historian. She and her lemmings now tout that he is the new Winston Churchill. At 79 years old, Mr. Churchhill knew his time was up. Health and mental issues had rendered him a shell of the ferocious lion-hearted warrior he was in the 1940s. Biden is only an 80-year-old feeble man with a small quadrant of his brain that occasionally functions. Don’t insult the world by comparing Biden to Churchill. It’s sacrilege.

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Deep Thoughts From The Cactus Patch; Things That Make You Say WTH? Updated 5/25/22


Most of my posts are comedy, poking fun at the ineptness of our government and our off-the-rails society; as both are so deserving of ridicule.

I didn’t watch television or listen to the radio yesterday until around 6 pm, and that is when my wife and I saw the tragedy unfold in Uvalde, Texas. 18 elementary school children and 2 or 3 of their teachers, and a grandmother, all killed by an 18-year-old deranged psychopath. The reports indicate the death toll may rise, let us pray it will not.

As a nation, in unison, we must mourn these innocents, but we also must find the reason why these mass killings are growing. What as a whole, are our society and our leaders missing? Is it gun control? likely not, any fool can buy an illegal gun from an individual or from someone in the wrong part of town. Is it the mental health of our nation? Partly, yes. Violence comes at us from everywhere. Video games on X Boxes or on our phones, music and music videos, movies, and television. An already unstable person could see this behavior as normal and acceptable, with no repercussions. It’s part of our society that now seems to be a surreal video game playing out 24-7. The final piece is social media. Facebook, Tik-Tok, Instagram, Twitter, and more are quick to fact-check and ban what they feel is misinformation, religious views, or the questioning of vaccines, yet they leave the crazed recorded rantings of killers to be shared with others, which in turn emboldens their actions. For the moment, they are the star of their own demented reality show. Millions will view the post, and some will agree, but most will cringe in disgust and question why is this allowed to be there for viewing.

The killer in Ulvade had a presence on social media; it’s not known at this time how much, but it was there and known, yet no one came forward with a warning. Friends and the authorities did nothing. The school was left unprotected because of budget restraints within the district. Everyone gets that reality until it’s too late. There will be hearings, firings, and lawsuits, and the state of Texas will likely introduce new laws and protocols for schools. But, it’s too late and has been for decades. Every administration has dealt with mass killings on their watch, only to kick that can on down the congressional road. Unfortunately for our resident president, there have been numerous attacks, and still nothing except speeches, rantings, and blaming the other political party and conservative Americans. There is no unity in this nation, and until there is this type of evil will fester and grow.

Biden praises ballooning gasoline prices and says, “Americans have to go through a transition to learn their lesson.” Well, Joe, the electric so-called car experts, believe we are approximately 20 years away from having a minimal infrastructure to support electric vehicles. So what does Joe do? The minute he gets his Mont Blanc fountain pen in his shaky hand, he attempts to kill the oil and gas industry, the main lifeblood that drives the country and our economy. America doesn’t run on Las Vegas magic, Unicorn Pee or Fairy Dust. I hear that Jill ( not a doctor ) and AOC are working on a children’s book that claims it does.

“Mommy, you don’t need gas for our car anymore; just fill it up with Unicorn pee-pee.” It will be a New York Times bestseller.

Signing one after another freshly printed order, Joe remarks,

“I’ll show those gas-guzzling, Trump-loving deplorable racist how it’s done; Oh, Nancy dear, is there anything else I can sign that will turn our country into a third-world nation by tomorrow morning?” Nancy brings another stack of executive orders and leans in close so Joe can sniff her freshly washed hair. The American public doesn’t know, or will ever know, what the dementia-wracked old man signed. He thought he was approving checks to pay the utility bills.

Is the White House green? Do they have solar panels and windmills in the backyard? Nope, I believe they still use good old coal-fired electricity transmitted through a building-mounted meter. Makes one wonder about that monthly charge.

The Catholic Archbishop banned Pelosi from taking communion, causing the green-haired fishing- tackle-faced Wokies to organize and go after the church. Now he may have to reverse his order. He may want to phone God or perhaps the Popester on his magic red phone for this one. The problem is, Sir Archbishop, the Wokies don’t attend church and are not Christians, so does it matter what they think or do?

How about sticking to your holy-six- guns and having some big gonads like you possessed back in the good old inquisition days when the church didn’t take kindly to Heretics (a 14th-century term for Wokies) and burned them alive tied to a nicely carved wooden stake, threw them over cliffs, and, while still alive and protesting, tore their limbs off and fed them to the hounds. It worked wonders back then.

Since Pelosi’s religious practices are in the news, did anyone notice how during Lent that she and Biden wore their forehead ash blessing for days so the easily impressed public would believe they were “real Christians?” There will be a unique dinner table in Hell for them, right next to Hillary and Bill Clinton’s table. Jeffry Epstein will be their Maitre-d’ and everything will be burned to a crisp.

Trying to pull a fast one on the local school mothers of the country, State Farm Insurance backed a “secret squirrel” program to put LGBQRSTUVWXYZ-themed books into our elementary school classrooms. Unfortunately, some sensible employees at the “Farm” spilled the beans, and they were forced to end the program before the company imploded. Too bad for Flo, I’ve Seen a Thing Or Two, and the lizard; they missed out.

The greatest scandal hit Washington since Watergate; Hillary Clinton has been outed for orchestrating and paying for the Trump Russia BS smear. Where are Bernstein and Woodward? Where is Forest Gump? Old NBC Lester hasn’t said a word about it. Old Joe is filling his diaper, knowing he and Hunter are likely next.

That cute little press secretary is such a moron that she can’t answer a question without sounding like a 4-year-old caught telling a lie. Her stock, circle back answer is; I’m a proud black immigrant lesbian woman; I don’t need to answer anything, just marvel at my perfectness. She checked all of Biden’s boxes except the one for IQ. Bring back, Peppermint Pattie.

Did I say too much? Probably so.