He’s a policeman, a soldier, a programmer, a farmer, a murderer, a priest and a politician. He is anything that he wants to be. He’s a salesman by day and an author by night.
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Feminist chicks burned a cross in my yard.
They built it in their own shop.
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The best artists write in layers. Each recipient of his blessing finds a layer of familiarity. Each admires the work for a different reason, but when a certain someone receives their portion, only they know the meaning and the reason for the creation.
If it were not for hate, where would the inspiration come from? Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. Listen for the overtones for therein lies the music of the soul.
This is some of his greatest work.
It is doubtful that he will find the truth before it is too late. Until then, the message will float in layers until there is no one left to hear. No one left to care and the layers will fall into the crystal abyss.
Always remember, the one with the greatest talent hides the greatest pain. If you don’t get it, you are the one who is truly blessed because the rest of us struggle to keep the smile from falling off of our face, into the swill that we eat in silence, alone.
Do you care?
To the artist: I got the message. Did you?
Note: Sound file is 6 meg and contains rough language
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If I eat beer bread. will I go to hell, or are there exceptions to that rule?
Shaky doctrines all fall down eventually.
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Husbands of feminist chicks join LaFemme and take aerobics classes because Gold’s Gym doesn’t have free skin softener in the locker rooms.
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Did you go to church Sunday?
That’s nice.
What are your plans for the rest of the week?
He has an openings in His schedule. Why is yours full?
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