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Night Light

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
  — Hopkins

Stepping outside after the fall of first dark. Rose and gold leaves shrugged off the Copper Beech and the Japanese Maple glimmer on the damp pebbled walk in the soft light from the porch. I turn west along the sidewalk towards the corner and glide into the brief shadows of the cedars. There, beyond their edges as I glance up. There, behind the nimbus of mist haloed around the streetlight. There the new moon rises tilted like some open, supplicating palm against the darkening last faint line of day far away.

Cupped in the upturned arc of the new moon I see, faintly, the disk of Earth’s shadow — dark against darker dark.

I’m out on a very small errand for a quart of milk at the corner store. Only a few seconds in the night. Only a few steps in the night when going either to or from. Ordinary. Unremarkable. Mundane.

And yet here I am. Here we all are. Here we prepare with milk and bread for one more day of the Earth turning before the sun; for one more cycle of the moon turning around the Earth. Waning and waxing, in and out of shadow, obscuring and then revealing, and then again obscuring its face. And this cycle (Ordinary. Unremarkable. Mundane.) is one of twelve cycles that adds up to one more cycle of the Earth around its single star. A star that is utterly unremarkable. ( Ordinary. Unremarkable. Mundane.) And that star moving inside its own revolving galaxy, moving at 514,000 miles per hour towards Vega in the constellation Lyra. And from that home star, at only an 8 million mile remove, I — or you — or someone else entirely — steps out into the night and goes to the corner store for a quart of milk. (Ordinary. Unremarkable. Mundane.)

You say you don’t believe in a Creator?

You say you don’t believe in grace?

You say you don’t believe in miracles?

Walk with me to the store for a quart of milk. Walk in star shine from the night lights forged in the impossible fury of the First Moment.

Open your eyes.

Open all your eyes.

Look outside — look beyond — yourself.


Vega in Lyra


“Whatever happened to wishes wished upon a star?”

As performed by Balin in the 75th year of his age. So long, Marty, see you a little further down the road.

As recorded by Balin with the Jefferson Airplane in 1966.

Jefferson Airplane vocalist-guitarist Marty Balin, who co-founded the San Francisco psychedelic rock band in 1965 and played a crucial role in the creation of all their 1960s albums, including Surrealistic Pillow and Volunteers, died Thursday at the age of 76. Balin’s rep confirmed the musician’s death to Rolling Stone, though the cause of death is currently unknown.

“At my age my world is starting to be surrounded by passing. I will miss my friends who rest on the banks of the River Of Time and I am reminded to make the most of every moment as I am swept downstream! Marty’s passing reaffirms the power of love, the power of family, the power of possibilities.

“So many of our brothers and sister from that time are gone. Skip Spence, Spencer Dryden, Joey Covington, Paul Kantner, Signe Anderson and now Marty have all joined the Heavenly Band as Rev. Davis would say.

“We were young together. I would like to think we made a difference. As for Grace Slick, Jack Casady and myself…

“Now we are three…”  — Jorma Kaukonen Cracks In The Finish [click to continue…]


The Grand Inquisitor

El Greco– Portrait of Fernando Nino de Guevara, 1600

Your answers to the Grand Inquisitor
In his wine-stained satin lace,
Are irrelevant as answers
Deduced from deepest space.
Your presence in his universe
Confirms him of your crime.
He seeks to seal all passage,
All escape from space and time.

Behind the science of his spectacles
Lives a mind reduced by power.
A gesture from his languid wrists —
All’s over in an hour.

“We seek to keep our faithful
Baptized, confirmed and saved
From those dark, unknown questions
That live beyond the grave.

“Hunched within my velvet throne,
My pen controls the Door
That opens to the vaults of night
Above the killing floor.” [click to continue…]


Government by Flake

As stated by Scott Adams just now on his Periscope, “Did we have a government last week? Nope. We had a Jeff Flake. He’s a lame duck. He doesn’t have to run anymore. The voters. The committee. The Senate. All had their say. And in the end, his was the only voice that mattered.”

Jeff Flake Says He Was Moved By ‘Emboldened’ Women, Drive To Make Process ‘Fair’ | HuffPost Flake reached out Friday to Sen. Chris Coons (D-Del.), who’s a fellow member of the Senate Judiciary Committee, and discussions began. After joining  Republicans on a party-line vote to advance Kavanaugh’s nomination out of the committee, Flake then called for an FBI investigation into the accusations against Kavanaugh before a final Senate vote. He made clear that he wanted a probe of “not more” than a week.

“œThis country is being ripped apart here, and we’ve got to make sure we do due diligence,” he told the committee.


A Deeper Look at the Insect Who Is Not President

Every day in every way be thankful to Trump and to God that this insect in STILL NOT PRESIDENT! They say this is a “bad lip reading,” but it is really just reality. “It was just the best jungle party. Bill was drooling all over the table.”

And in case you have mercifully forgotten how this insect, Hillary Rodham Gump, rolls here’s a review: [click to continue…]


“I am the mob” by Don Surber

I am the mob.
I am filled with anger and self-righteousness.
I am sure that my numbers prove me correct.

I ruin men’s lives.
I hang the innocent as well as the guilty.
I exterminate entire races.

I am brainless.
I am educated.
I am drunk on power.

I burn crosses.
I wear masks and hoods.
I storm the house at midnight.

I care not about justice.
I care not about the facts.
I care only about feeling good.

I worked the guillotine till it dulled.
I lynched 4,743 Americans.
I killed 6 million Jews.

I crucified Jesus.

To those who empower me, I must warn:
Once started I will not stop until I consume you.

— Don Surber: I am the mob


The Code of the West vs the Code of the Left

“A man’s got to have a code, a creed to live by, no matter his job.” — John Wayne

Once upon a time, there was “The Code of the West.” That was long ago, far away and in another country. In the US today “The Code of the Left” seems to prevail in a large swath of the population. I’ve compared the two here.

WEST * Never shoot an unarmed or unwarned enemy. This was also known as “the rattlesnake code”: always warn before you strike. However, if a man was being stalked, this could be ignored.

LEFT * Always smear a blameless or dangerous political enemy. Lying and innuendo are approved and rewarded. Be the rattlesnake. Unless the man is stalking the same office you are. In that case smear early and smear often. Lie big and lie long.

* Don’t inquire into a person’s past. Take the measure of a man for what he is today.

* There are no “people,” only “social policies.” Don’t inquire into a social policy’s past or that policy’s likely consequences for the future. Take the measure of a policy by how closely it maps to the Socialist Utopia that has already killed and crippled hundreds of millions of people. Dream big nightmares.

* Never steal another man’s horse. A horse thief pays with his life.

* Always look to steal another man’s money with a “tax.” Always ask your fellow citizen to reach for his wallet. All tax thieves are rewarded with a fat government pension and fatter health plan. [click to continue…]


God Stalks the Kavanaugh Hearings | Roger L. Simon Nothing was as expected. A real rape had taken place but it wasn’t the one everyone was talking about. It was simultaneously a rape of Judge Kavanaugh, his family, and the American people themselves. The collateral damage was Dr. Ford, her friends, and her family. And the perpetrator was the Democratic Party, principally their Judiciary Committee members, their ranking member, and the minority leader.

Raconteur Report: Squadron Property And Cultural Rubicons   We’re witnessing the destruction of the entire rule of law to salve the tortured psychoses of sluts with daddy issues, and to pander to their impotent ravings. The only way this stops is to stop catering to it, and failing that due to a surplus of invertebrate RINOs, this is going to be rectified in the traditional manner, When a man’s reputation is sullied so casually, it ends with someone’s teeth on the pavement or a bullet hole in their liver on the dueling field. When you try to do the same thing to half of society, expecting it’ll stop anywhere short of heads on pikes is a pipe dream. And I’m not speaking metaphorically in the slightest.

“Brave New World” – A Book Review | Joel D. Hirst’s Blog There are many planners today, who believe we are only one technocratic “fix” away from a new utopia. They are part of the 9.9% – James Burnham’s ‘managerial elites’. They are dangerous, because while they believe they are creating Huxley’s “World State” where people are free from work and hunger to have limitless sex and take drugs with no hangovers; we now know from our experiences in the 20th century that their efforts will end in Gulags, death marches, famines and mass exodus. [click to continue…]


“You have nothing to apologize for. When you see Sotomayor and Kagan that Lindsey said hello. I voted for them. I would never do to this what you have done to this guy. In is the most unethical sham since I’ve been in politics.”

I’ve avoided watching the hearing itself because my rage is so complete and so cold it is all I can do to keep from visiting the professors teaching various “Studies” classes at the local college for a full, frank, and high-impact exchange of views as my “thanks” for their work in shaping this travesty.

This excerpt is a more peaceful summing up of what has happened to this great, good man. Note the brief shots of Feinstein and the other insects sitting tohis left. Observe their death masks and their barely concealed shame. Not enough. Those heads need pikes and not necks.


Not a single knee was down, and I wiped a way a tear.


A video from the distinguished essayist Richard Fernandez of The Belmont Club. I’ve met him a couple of times in New York City. Never seen him on video before. It’s a first. I think that’s Sydney and the Sydney Harbor Bridge in the background which adds to the authenticity.


Prediction for before the hearing – The New Neo “Ford is a MacGuffin at this point, as are the others. She has served her purpose for the left even before she testifies.”


Boomer Anthems: American Woman

If only ALL American women were like these American women. But like rock-star-parking rock-star-American-women are mostly available only to rock stars.

American woman, stay away from me
American woman, mama let me be

Don’t come hanging around my door
I don’t want to see your face no more
I got more important things to do
Than spend my time growing old with you

Now woman, stay away
American woman, listen what I say

[HT: Jen]


AN EXCERPT of what is really believed by the next country to attempt to become the global hegemon… A very long reminder that there is another system, and it plays for keeps.


Today, we gather here filled with reverence to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the birth of Karl Marx, remember his strong character and historical achievements, and review his eminent spirit and brilliant ideas.

Marx is the revolutionary leader of the proletariat and the working people the world over, the principal founder of Marxism, the founder of Marxist parties and of the international communist movement, and the greatest thinker of the modern era. Two centuries have passed, during which human society has undergone massive and profound changes. However, Marx’s name continues to be met with respect around the world, and Marx’s theories continue to emanate their brilliant rays of truth…. [snip… looooong snip]

At present, the importance of reform, development, and stability, the number of contradictions, risks, and challenges, and the tests of our capacity to govern are all at an unprecedented level. It is essential that we continually improve our ability to utilize Marxism to analyze and resolve practical problems, and continually improve our ability to utilize scientific theories to guide us in responding to major challenges, withstanding major risks, overcoming major obstacles, addressing major contradictions, and resolving major problems; doing so will enable us to gain the upper hand, seize the initiative, and secure our future. In this way, we can reflect on and fully grasp a range of major issues facing China’s future development from a broader and longer-term perspective, and continually strengthen belief in Marxism and the ideals of communism…. [snip]


Today, we are commemorating Marx to pay our respects to the greatest thinker in human history, and to proclaim our firm belief in the scientific truth of Marxism.

Engels once said that, “The prospect of a gigantic revolution, the most gigantic revolution that has ever taken place, accordingly presents itself to us as soon as we pursue our materialist thesis further and apply it to the present time.” On the road ahead, we must continue to uphold Marxism, and ensure that the wondrous prospects which Marx and Engels envisaged for human society perpetually unfold across China.

[End Excerpt. The whole speech, with critical notes, is found HERE Xi Jinping’s Speech China Rising Radio ]



“Modern life has broken too many women. They have been on birth control pills for 30 years, their hormones are shot, they have had multiple abortions, they live with the regret of killing their own children.

“They drove away any man who ever loved them or tried to love them. Their grown children (if they have any) can’t stand them. They are pleasant to their face but they feel like strangers. They tried to find love in wild sex and found it hollowed them out like empty shells.

“They take medication for their depression. When the vegan restaurant down the street gives them food poisoning they are all alone, with no one to care for them. They vomit into an apartment toilet among silence.

“They own nothing. They have built nothing. They cry every day.

“They look at younger women who didn’t take the feminist path and fume with hatred. They can’t stand their sweet children, their loving husbands, or their happy life. Their hate consumes them. Co-workers and family members whisper behind their backs. These people avoid the woman’s phone calls and mute them on Facebook, sick to death of their ranting and lunacy.

“They have become a joke. They are desperate to hear the words “mama” and “grandma” but the words never come and so they fill the empty place with binge eating and more hate. They thought they fought all their lives for “love” and for women to have it “better” than it used to be. They cannot confront the truth and so they double down, becoming more extreme, more irrational.

“The tradmoms grow happy in their old age, wrinkles do not dull their rosy cheeks, but the bitter women look around and see only people who are waiting for them to die. They are a burden and they know it. It eats at them every day. One more check, one more group, one more protest, one more Tweet, one more lie and they will finally feel whole…..but the wholeness never comes.

“That nice, successful husband and father she knew in high school…ya, he wanted her so bad, he tried to rape her. That’s it. Ya, that makes her feel better. For the moment.”

From Wife With A Purpose (@Wifewithapurpose) | gab

[HT: Western Rifle Shooters Association | Harden your hearts. You will need to kill Commies in a polygonal Yugoslavian-style conflict. Deal with it now.]

[NOTE: I’m on Gab and, if you like that sort of thing, you should be too.]


Thomas Moran, The Mountain of the Holy Cross, 1875 7’x5′ Oil

There is a mountain in the distant West
That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines
Displays a cross of snow upon its side.

— Longfellow, “The Cross of Snow”

The Mountain of the Holy Cross began as a myth and became a rumor. Then it became a report, a photograph, and a painting. In time it became a destination for pilgrims and tourists. Shortly after that, it ceased to exist…

In the beginning, Americans who heard of, traveled to, and documented the Mountain of the Holy Cross believed in omens, signs, and symbols. By the time the sign collapsed and disappeared, those beliefs too were eroded but not lost. We still have the expedition records, the memoirs, the photographs, and the paintings and can sense, distantly, what our ancestors felt when first glimpsing this strange vision that could only be seen from the east covering a mountainside in the far west.

The sign / vision / illusion (choose which one makes sense to you) is easy to explain. On the stone face of a certain mountain deep in the Colorado Rockies over eons of time a pattern of cracks and crevasses held against the melting snow — under ideal conditions and from a certain point of view for 2 to 3 months a year — a large white cross below its summit. It was one of those natural coincidences where happenstance runs into the human mind in search of meaning. It was seen because it was there on the mountain but its meaning bloomed in the minds of the faithful. To them, the sign on the side of the mountain said, among other things, “In hoc signo vinces” (“with this sign you shall conquer”). It was, after all, the era of Manifest Destiny.

Although it was a persistent whisper from the mountain men and others who had pushed deep into the Rockies, the Mountain of the Holy Cross was first written about by Samuel Bowles in his 1869 book, The Switzerland of America. He saw the mountain from Gray’s Peak at a distance of about 40 miles:

“…Over one of the largest and finest, the snow fields lay in the form of an immense cross, and by this it is known in all the mountain views of the territory. It is as if God has set His sign, His seal, His promise there–a beacon upon the very center and height of the Continent to all its people and all its generations…”

Much of the Colorado Rockies were still terra incognita to “the land vaguely realizing westward” in the 1860s, and a report of something strange or miraculous was often followed by an expedition. The exact location of The Mountain of the Holy Cross was not known and was mismarked of what maps existed. In 1869 an expedition headed by Ferdinand Hayden under the auspices of the U.S. Geological Service set out to find and record the elusive mountain. A photographer William Henry Jackson was a member of the team. He made the first photograph of the Holy Cross from the summit of Notch Mountain to the east.
Getting into position to take the photograph wasn’t a walk in the park or an easy shot. Nothing was in the days long before planes, trains, automobiles, cell-phones, GPS and digital cameras. W. H. Holmes, a member of “the Hayden Survey of the Territories, 1873” wrote up his memoir about the conditions of “The First Ascent of the Mountain of the Holy Cross” at a later date:

“This was to be the field of our labors, and we set about the task of identifying such great landmarks as would be necessary to guide us in our future wanderings. An indefinite number of high, ragged ranges could be traced by their lines of lofty summits as far away to the north and south as the eye could reach. But one among all these summits caught the eye and fixed the attention. Far away to the westward, rose a lofty peak that bore aloft upon its dark face a great white cross, so perfect, so grand in proportions, that at a distance of sixty miles, it was plainly seen even with the naked eye.”

Plainly seen but not so quickly gotten to. It took the expedition two months to advance to the mountain’s more immediate neighborhood. Once there they faced more days of trying to find a vantage point from which could make his exposures. What resulted was, for the time, proof in a picture that the Mountain of the Holy Cross existed. [click to continue…]