In case you haven't noticed the Vatican is on the move. As the faithful would expect, the Book of Revelation is beginning to make sense in these last days before the Lord's return. It is not the mysterious locked prophecy it once was; It is becoming very clear in respect to the Antichrist and false prophet, and their identity; thanks to researchers like Roger Oakland, Chris Pinto, and the folks at Herescope. Before long Revelation will be an open book to those whose will is to do the Lord's will; it is a promise; even now, we are getting it.

As we see Rome and the nations making great strides in the fulfillment of prophecy, so likewise we can expect our God to make even greater strides in strengthening His elect for the forth coming calamities. There is no question that God will call out His elect and purify them by the infilling of His Spirit in a mighty way, and ready them for his return.

It is an exciting time as our eyes scan the eastern sky, in anticipation of His coming. The words of Scripture coming more and more alive and the trimming of the lamps breathing with a new reality and earnestness of meaning. Separation, purging the old leaven, holiness, faith and truth are words filled with a new dynamic, driving the sheep into new pastures of rest and reassurance.

Below is an article of great interest to those interested in discerning the signs of the times. It would appear that the Vatican is coming out of the closet as to their role in the forming of a one world government and religion. Could it be that they are oblivious to the words of prophecy; are they so blind that they cannot see their own reflection in that great book of Revelation, or is it that they don't care and only concerned with power and prestige. 

Well, for us who see, the following article has been written.

Keep looking up, for your redemption draws near,

Steve Blackwell

Herescope

“The LORD looked down from heaven upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God. They are all gone aside, they are all together become filthy: there is none that doeth good, no, not one.”

Part One

Part Three

Part Two

Now, let’s see, where were we when last we were together? That little sleep has made me stuporous and hazy headed. Oh yes, now it is coming back to me. We were speaking of our dear beloved Stultitia of whom we have all bowed the knee. In a rare exhibition of her generosity she has paraded all of mankind onto the stage of our delusionary life and given us a peep behind the curtain. Here we also met her propmasters and helpers Anoia, (lack of understanding or ignorance), and Lethe, (obscurity, or forgetfulness), with whose help she prepares the costumes and prints the script. It is not at all unusual to find one of her actors totally involved in his or her part, believing that they are the epitome of fashion, the defenders of the faith, masters of their own destiny, the most brilliant, the most beautiful, able to perceive dark mysteries, leap tall buildings with a single bound, or prevent the train wreck that portrays man’s life, teetering on the brink of that great death, the oblivion of outer darkness. The plethora of foolish imaginations and the creative genius of their dementia have provided the gods with infinite hours of entertainment.

We also discovered just how necessary foolishness is to the successful exploitation of our miniscule part in the grand play. Why, without Folly, her children pout and become bored, peradventure some benevolent soul should cross their path with news of life outside the cave and the hope of something more serious strike a root. Yes, yes, foolishness is what makes life worth living, proven by all of her children. From A to Z it is Folly who opens the doorway to bliss. Now, just think about it, remove all the foolishness from this dismal existence and what do you have left? Complete boredom! Veracity occupies only a fly speck in the overall production that only a minutia of mankind are ever likely to recognize it; but Folly, on the other hand, is fruitful and can be found and favored anywhere anytime, and requires but one resolve, i.e. ignore the fable in some ancient moth eaten manuscript, and get on with the show.

Folly has been generous in her perusal and desires to go beyond the general to the exalted. The common person will most readily admit of their foolish life, replete with redundant misdeeds, and ever anxious to test some new life strategy, like Lotto or investments in depreciating commodities. But, let’s go on to those who are the “wise” in this world, and who profess to shun foolishness. It is these worldly wisenheimers who have raised foolishness to an art form, and who have perfected stupidity while thumbing their nose at the common duncical lot of humanity.

Bear with me awhile as we venture into the realm of well-mollified madness. Madness tranquillized and normalized, Insaneness promoted to the status quo. Think not that Stultitia has been relegated to the State Department only; it simply is not true my fellow fool; if Folly is prolific anywhere she is prolific in the pulpit. Now we will pass from the general to the more specific.

Delusions of Grandeur, the Breakfast of Champions

Folly declares that she is so much more tempered and not like those other gods and goddesses who send curses and lightening, draughts and plagues, and all kinds of suffering when improperly recognized. She demands no temple or sacrifices. “Why should I require a goat or a wafer when men everywhere pay me homage in their minds and manners continually.” She would be the first to remind us that even the Christians follow this rule. How many of them do such foolish things like burning candles, even during the day when they are not needed, or becoming a wholly different person with a completely different persona on a certain day of the week, sometimes twice a day, and practice rituals, doing this, that, and the other, then revert back to their common everyday self for the conduction of business and life outside their religious building. And especially, those Catholics with all their sacraments, pretending to be holy by doing certain things certain ways and invoking the names of Apostles and mere men, weeping at scratches on walls, worshiping the virgin Mary instead of Jesus through so many Hail Mary recitations and bead counting, and believing they are accepted of God by these, and never actually imitating the Apostle’s holy lives with selflessness and humility. “Good lord, why would I want a temple, the whole world is my temple, dedicated to me, Folly?”

And, those Protestants, they are no better. Thinking they made great strides with Luther and Calvin. Their followers through time set up whole institutions of religious practices, dampening the light and darkening the path with the leaven of foolishness. Even the Peasant’s War, although the product of the madness of a malicious sort reflected the same folly as Popery, promoting vanity, pride, and the conceit of selfish-fulfillment, and rang the death knell for many local Catholics. Calvin also, with his great influence, was unable to forgo the sentence of death, for the poor fool Servetus, by his own followers. What was it that the Protestant church protested anyway if it wasn’t the complete foolishness of corrupt popery with its thousands and thousands of butchered humans because of their differences in beliefs on thousands of possible points? Madness never ceases. Christ’s command for them to go back and do their first work over again was translated by the Reformers as only going part way back to maybe the third or fourth works, which allowed faith and foolishness to remain a mixture.

Having taken a peek into the vortex of madness, which is madness of the grossest sort, Folly now fast forwards us into our present foolishness. Today the word “Protestant” is rarely used, and this is due to Folly’s apt assistant Lethe a.k.a. forgetfulness, which she administers with sophistication; a quality of which the whole world belies. Pray tell, what is there to “protest” today, aren’t we all becoming one. What better unity and ecumenism than the universal adoration of Folly? I, Folly, am the fulfillment of all the hopes of Hippies, the existential hinge on which the whole world turns; the universal, ecumenical, experiential focus point that every generation has sought; I, Folly, am above all gods, beloved of my children. To wake-up into my sleep is eternal, blessed, bliss.

The Reverential Face of Folly

Folly is often found in the pulpit imitating the “divines” who are confident that they have risen to Lordship, Father-hood, Reverend, or Most Reverend, or some other self-ingratiating title, and let’s not forget our esteemed Doctors.

Certainly, though no one is less willing than our religious leaders to recognize my good will toward them, but they are still obliged to me for no little benefit of importance. Who, but I, have blessed them with so much selflove that they are wholly persuaded that they are dwellers of the third heaven, looking from their lofty perch, declaring mere recipients of revelation as only kitchen table theologians, and not fitted for understanding the deep things of a Schoolman? And, those of popish persuasion declare proudly of their ability to see meanings of words not apparent to the vulgar cut of mankind; projecting penance for repentance, indulgence for grace and free gift, or judging Jesus’ own words “it is finished” to mean that it is not finished. Do you see the absolute foolishness of this? and it goes on and on, and they are lucky enough to find whole troops of gnats and flies to believe them, never questioning this popish poopery. What total moronity and my own foolishness exceed even me, in their own declaration and separating out of venial and mortal sins. Why, this madness alone accounts for the complete blessedness of millions to enjoy booze, bingo, and casino night for the price of a few good deeds. Little do they know, because they are held by an inebriated elation, that venial sins are a mere fantasy and are not to be found anywhere in all of creation. What they don’t know is that all sins are really Mortal, and there is nothing they can do to get rid of them, so “eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” Yes, yes, oh for the joy in it all that even Jesus has been reduced to a wafer and taken captive in a bird cage. Please, let’s not stop this joy fest just now; please indulge me this further foolishness. Truth has been so far forgotten that men dressed in black open their mouth and gnats and flies fall prostrate licking their feet insisting that they have fulfilled the rule and deserve “forgiveness” from the authorized divine, according to the mandate of men. The Protestant crowd is no different; they just haven’t had as much practice.

Oh what vanity my dear prelates in Rome have, fools of the highest order, creating a schooled system of salvation by works. It offers salvation on the installment plan, and then ensures that the pathetic evildoer is perpetually behind in his payoffs, so that when he croaks there is a prodigious unpaid balance, and he must continue payments by sufferings in purgatory, or until the debt is paid by the prayer, contributions, and sufferings of his living relatives and friends. Oh, what thumbs must have become sore, sucking this from their deepest innards. The whole system and plan calls for blindness, merit, and moolah, from the cradle to the grave and even beyond. Surely the sapience that drew such a plan of salvation is from Stultitia. These foxes have so many holes they can run to that their joy is never ceasing, and their blindness never healing. If boredom sets in then a mere question is set in their mind, like “is it possible for the Father to hate the Son?” Or “could it have been possible for Christ to have been born a woman, or a devil, or a donkey, or a cucumber, or a rock? Then how the cucumber would have preached, performed miracles, and been nailed to the cross? Or, will it be permissible to eat and drink after the resurrection, seeing how much we love to eat and drink? And, the Apostles, they all knew Jesus’ mother, but which one of them could show how she was preserved from original sin as well as any of the learned Catholic theologians of renown, or how she could remain a virgin after having other offspring? The Apostles cannot hold a candle to these puffed-up beetles with all their volumes of publications and prescriptions, their holy robes and clerical collars, setting them off as excellent vessels of the Lord. And, “it is hardly clear how it was revealed to them that a charcoal sketch on a wall should be worshiped with the same worship as Christ Himself, provided that the picture has two fingers extended, long hair, and three rays in a halo stuck on the back of the skull.” Only the immense education, (the Apostles being ignorant, naïve, and uninitiated) of elite men with keen brilliance and intellect have achieved such insight. Little, will they admit, that it is Folly who has awarded these dustballs with crowns and gowns.

Pleassseee, give me my credit in this madness, the whole crowd draws it pleasure from me. The deliciousness of Stultitia’s spiritual concoction, a little holiness, a little profanity; nectar and naughtiness, mixed by pope and pastor, with an open invitation to belly up to the bar, and experience the emergence of euphoria with its new relaxed dress code. Catholics and Evangelicals coming together, pondering the last great social question; the question of human solidarity. It was my idea; give me a little credit; the conjoining of all in one. The whole idea is so exciting I get a little goosey. The world’s most immoral governing body (the Vatican) leading the way in social justice. Only Folly could have empowered the most notorious trull, wenching with kings and princes, to coach the world concerning chastity; and cover it in the vesture of charming words, “Caritas in Veritate,” charity in truth.

Imagine with me for a moment the potential of being driven by this purpose. Whole worlds of possibilities are opened up. Baptist taking vows of silence and monasteries created for no other purpose than to paralyze the tongue. Methodist stuck to the top of a pole like a sponge, not eating or sleeping, the epitome of sacrificial righteousness; protestant pillar saints; what a concept. They could even have some fun with the flogs; rent them out right next to the coffee bar and have Wednesday night workouts while contemplating how much I love them. I am beginning to sound like a mother, am I not? I am so pleased with them all; all except for those others; they refuse to play along. They are not mine, neighbor children, but I have succeeded in getting some to come over and play; funsuckers, that’s what we have nicknamed them. We can’t have them spoiling the party, can we? Our motto is “Come along, to get along,” catchy wouldn’t you say?

I could say so much more if I weren’t dancing, jostling, juggling, and joking. Why should life be so “straight” after all, it’s unnatural; and black is never black, or white, white; statutes were made for statues, stone men, and laws were built to be busted, they’re all cracked from the get-go anyway; foolishness is never cast in concrete.

Well, children, it is past my bed time. Tomorrow we will embark on an adventure to the abyss of the absolute; a field trip to the house of absurd relics: truth, holiness, perfection, and eternity, to name a few; they’re all party favorites, so come dressed-up if you like. It should be a fun time, so let’s all get a little rest; you’ll need it.

Coming soon to a Blog near you………….

The Christian Fools Paradox, Black Is Black? and White Is Actually White?

An offering of bliss, or an intolerant assault on insanity?

"WHERE IS THE WISE ONE? WHERE IS THE SCRIBE? WHERE IS THE DEBATER OF THIS AGE? HAS NOT GOD MADE THE WISDOM OF THE WORLD FOOLISH? … FOR THE FOOLISHNESS OF GOD IS WISER THAN HUMAN WISDOM."

Part Two

Part Three

The Bible has gone to great lengths to show that all of mankind, I say again, all of mankind, are deluded. Solomon has said conclusively, “Vanity of vanity, all is vanity,” and also that “Folly is bound up in the heart of a child.” Men upon the face of the earth are all men chasing shadows, all the days of their lives, and men, at the very height of their glory, are all mad. The domicile of delirium, i.e. worldly happiness, is the home of Folly, and is better known as common “foolishness,” and we could say stupidity, silliness, asininity, absurdity, imbecility, or mild mannered craziness, but let’s not get particular. This Folly, who loosely closes her fist and allows her many jewels to be heisted, with only a pretense of resistance; and sheepishly hides her face from our insanity, while attaining a howling good time, is the same goddess of this world who freely dispenses those things which, we suppose, make us happy. In our madness the pretense becomes the reality, and to unveil the charade is to spoil the whole production. To remove the actor’s make-up is to ruin the play; and to expose the play as a travesty, could well earn you a lashing, if not literal at least of the tongue. This foolishness is what those of the world call logic, wisdom, and intelligence, and that is the great delusion of mankind, and the great entertainment of Folly.

This idea of exposing the folly shut up in the bodies of men is not new with me, so I’ll take a minute to give some credit where credit is due, to Desiderius Erasmus of Rotterdam, who wrote the renowned work, The Praise of Folly, in the year 1511. I have loosely followed his lead without quoting him directly, while trying to retain his method of delivering a needed message through irony.

It seems that Erasmus was on his way back from Italy to England where he was visiting Vanity Fair, i.e. the Italian Renaissance (def., re-birth) himself being a Dutch Renaissance humanist Catholic Priest, having seen firsthand the bud of humanism opened in full bloom, the fruit of which are the likes of Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo, along with grand new ideas of literature, science, art, religion, and politics. Simultaneously with the Renaissance there was occurring the Reformation. Erasmus lived during the Reformation period, but while he was very critical of the Catholic Church, as is evidenced in The Praise of Folly, he could not bring himself to join the cause of the Reformers. In relation to clerical abuses in the Catholic Church, Erasmus remained committed to reforming the Church from within; bad idea, which has never worked.

The Reformation, now having seen five hundred years of progress, has fallen into a similar situation as the Catholic Church,  a severe degradation of both the clergy and the laity. Here again, trying to reform from within is probably not going to work, but only a strict obedience to Scripture to, “Come out from amongst them and be ye separate,” will work. As in the Catholic Church most will remain within, because that is the easiest path. And also, as during the Reformation, there is a heavy cost of swimming against the tide of the prevailing religious sentiments.

During Erasmus’ prolonged trip of about two months, and incited by his disgust of both secular and ecclesiastical corruption, he allowed himself a little levity and penned his famous book The Praise of Folly, Morias Enkomion (Μωρίας Εγκώμιον). Sometimes the book is called “In Praise of More,” since the book was dedicated to Sir Thomas More, whose title is a play on the name of More, Morias meaning folly.

Folly praises self-deception and madness and moves to a satirical examination of pious but superstitious abuses of Catholic doctrine and corrupt practices in parts of the Roman Catholic Church—to which Erasmus was ever faithful—and the folly of pedants (including Erasmus himself). Erasmus had recently returned disappointed from Rome, where he had turned down offers of advancement in the curia, and Folly increasingly takes on Erasmus' own chastising voice. The essay ends with a straightforward statement of Christian ideals. (From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)

More, who consequently, is recognized by the Catholic Church as an English Saint and martyr was beheaded by Henry the VIII for his part in opposing the Reformation and Henry’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon.

One last note of consequence is the fact that Erasmus fully expected to be attacked for his satirical uncovering of the foolishness within the Catholic Church, and mankind in general. It has always been the gift of the Court Jester to present truth immersed in the roar of laughter. A character trait of the true worldling is the ability to laugh at himself while not allowing any of the reality of truth to impinge upon his understanding or bring light into his darkness. When truth registers with an individual it inevitably brings a change of life, or it can bring an uproar and condemnation.

I’m not here to make anyone angry, but to exhibit some of the things which we wise and intelligent humans mistake for genuine wisdom, and pride ourselves in accomplishing. So, grab a cup of coffee and let’s take a look at a few of the jewels that Folly toys herself with.

Folly is not partial, because every flesh covered human is her offspring, and all of humankind has inherited, and is afflicted with, her madness. For men to try and define her foolishness, in all of its complexity, is like a fish trying to comprehend wetness; it can be done, but Folly’s way is to just simply abandon yourself and enjoy it, and to see it in it ridiculous outfit knowing that we all walk around in our own custom tailored clown suits.

A Note From Folly

You may ask, “Is there a value in foolishness?” Of course there is value! Isn’t it your laughable illusions that enable you to live a happy life? Even your own marketers know that if you perceive something as valuable, then who is to say it isn’t? and everyone values a good time. It is only those intellectual types and Puritans who would destroy the illusion, and bring discontentment, with a display of matters-of-fact; it is the wise man that disturbs the peace; but the wise man in doing so becomes a wise fool. The wise man, Solomon, warns us not to “…answer a fool according to his folly, or we will be like him.” A modern translation might say, “Don’t argue with a fool; those who pass by can’t tell the difference.” He who is madder laughs at him who is less; the wise man is only a well-to-do beggar, or an ingenious jughead; and the best you can hope for is borderline sanity. Ignorance is bliss.

Stultitia-

The Jewel Pouch

With that introduction let’s go swimming in the lake of madness. Let it be known that we are not talking about truth, I mean true truth; but rather the truth inherent in madness, the truth of this world, the truth of apparent reality. We will not separate the madness of religion from all the other forms of madness, because in the final analysis they are all the same, but we will distinguish between two variants of madness, as expounded by Plato, one being evil, and the other being divine or good. Plato, not knowing anything divine except the plethora of divinity ignorantly worshiped by the masses, speaks of this good type of madness as from these gods; but it is Folly’s madness none the less, and not really divine, but merely a matter of degree, and exhibited in a more peaceful manner. So, what we really have is evil madness and good madness, both of which show up in religion and the world. Our goal is primarily to expose the madness or foolishness that we call happiness; the other madness, of mayhem and murder, should be apparent without comment.

Our dear Stultitia will:

1. Endeavor to show, and provide, the necessary illusions to render life in this world tolerable and pleasant.
2. Show how she makes the professional churchmen and statesmen blind enough to be happy while conducting their various irresponsibilities.
3. Enable the Christian fool to see how incompatible the happiness of this world is with Christian joy; and to inadvertently provide a way of escape.

Irony of Irony; A Fools Life is the Best Life, and You Can Have “Your Best Life Now”

Stultitia, also known as Folly, has a very bad reputation, even amongst them who should know better, her loftiest students, the wise. They would even call her stupid, but not to her face. When she walks into a room everyone, including the snobs, become perky and giddy, because it is she who pours into the hearts of men the delight they crave. It is Folly that transforms them when they come forth out of their winters of melancholy boredom into the spring time of ecstatic ignorant elation. What their stuffy preachers couldn’t achieve in two hours of chatter, Folly accomplishes by just entering the room.

There is a reason that she wears the cap and bells of the certified fool. Take a moment and listen carefully, but not like you listen at Church, half asleep, but the way you listen to the saleslady or man who’s wrapping you around their little finger, or the low brow comedian telling off color jokes. What you will hear from her, is not nonsense, but a rational argument exhibiting untold treasures. She’s not at all ashamed of self-love either, or to pat herself on the back, after all, who knows her better than herself.

Folly keeps the best of company. Who is the company that Folly keeps? Isn’t it obvious? It is those who feed on flattery and all who practice the fine art of self-love. We may think it a shame for others to praise one self, and the wise men teach it also, but tell one of them they’re mistaken on some issue and see how quick they come to their own defense. Folly’s self-praise is considerably less offensive and more modest than the run-of-the-mill human author or speaker who pays good money to have someone else endorse him or sing his praises, or speak sheer lies, and elevate him to Heaven itself, and set him as the model of all virtue. Do you see how very modest Folly is compared to these guys; she would never make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. She is very open and honest about it all!

But, there is that other company too, the common man. He will go to any length to hear his name mentioned in some praise worthy way, whether on the dock, or in the office, from the pulpit, or in the newspaper. He will spend countless hours pouring over some thing: an article, a canvas, an idea, some grueling work, and swear he knocked it out in an hour, or had his company’s best interest in mind, just to earn a little applause. Yes, she keeps company with common folk, and they give her the greatest honor, and eagerly identify with her through their speech, which is, “that truest mirror of the mind,” never mind that they are not outwardly adorned with cap and bells, they foolishly lie, saying one thing and thinking another, something Folly would never do. She cannot be hidden even by those who think themselves wise, strutting around like geniuses, movie stars, or millionaires. The raw fact is they are some of her most ardent followers, even when they are throwing her name around at others as a mark of disgrace and something to be avoided.

Stultitia is fond of imitation; after all, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, as every fool knows, I mean, as we all know. A whole day can be consumed and privileges gained in this pastime. Call it schmoozing or sucking-up if you like, but how wonderful the perks when a compliment is rightly used in a conversation or golf game, geared to open a door or two. How delightful to win at this game of flattery and imitation. Volumes have been written on how to do or say just the right thing to bring down a kingdom or pick up a girl. From top to bottom it is foolishness, and Folly is the mother of all these blessed children.

And, speaking of children, let’s speak first of marriage and its encumbrances. Would any man in his right mind ever submit to it even once, not to mention two, three, four times, (as they do these days) if he ever listened to all the wiseacres forbidding this unthinkable thing with all of its drawbacks? What woman would ever yield to the advances of any man if she stopped to consider the perils of childbirth, and the labors and trials of raising children? This game, as ridiculous as it is, is the fountain of so many disdainful philosophers and schoolmen, and pious priest, and pope-holy pontiffs, that the continent of Europe can scarcely contain them. It would be such a little thing for Folly to assert her role in the very production of this fortune, but she would rather commend her handmaids Anoia (lack of understanding) and Lethe (forgetfulness) for their small part and service. In any case, how can you characterize this life as sane; can you even call it a life, without this associated pleasure? On the contrary, is there any part of life that is not pure misery if not seasoned with the delight of foolishness?

Call me a liar if you want, but isn’t it true that it is the foolishness of youth that makes it so attractive. Aren’t the goo goo’ing and the cuddliness of babies the things that make these little simpletons so alluring, and we encourage silliness as a way to lighten our own burden? Then there is adolescence, those teenagers; full of grace and energy, and appetite. They crave all-things and are ignorant of nothing and everything, all at the same time; one minute playing the fool, and the next, acting as if they’re Einstein. Where does this youthful charm come from but Folly’s handbag? Then there comes the wilting of the flower, our days passing by like falling stars when true happiness is found in a simple place to rest. Youth gives way to seriousness, and the farther they get from foolishness the less they are alive. Stultitia has some precious stones for these primetime grownups also. Like an Indian summer a second childhood recharges those nearly dead batteries, and brings the want of youthfulness. Red sports cars, hair plugs, and tummy tucks are prized commodities of the upperclassmen; if they could only remember where they put the car keys; and wasn’t loud music really made for the old deaf fools. Now, when we consider this advanced period of ripening, wouldn’t you agree that Folly has been most wise, in causing these overgrown nippers to revert to a kind of prepuberty, which is itself identified with a feeble grasp of reality and a meandering mind? Isn’t the primary charm of childhood capsulated in this fact, that it knows nothing? Let a child be a child; a child prodigy is only admired in the company of its parents, never actually; he’s just too smart for his own britches. But, old men and women are loved for their jolliness and feebleness, and not filled with too much wisdom, judgment and advice; but through foolishness, they are made happy. And even so, this phase, toward the end is even better than childhood. Those babes are sweet indeed but they lack the ability to talk, and in that they lack a most enjoyable pastime, gossip, and how that makes life delicious. Old people and infants are so much alike: the wrinkles, gums, whitish hair, a liking of milk, a small bodily frame, forgetful, thoughtless, toothless, loving jokes and tomfoolery; they’re a perfect match.

Now you can understand how those old wise snobs, the scholars, bankers, business owners, and all the wannabes, dry up before their time; devoted to seriousness? They forever worry and beat their brains out trying to untie the Gordian knot, when Alexander’s sword did the trick right nice. As the old saying goes, “A stupid head grows neither gray nor bald.” In this world foolishness is the only way of preserving youth; why else did the Greeks and the Romans have so many gods of pleasure. It is Folly who makes everybody laugh by getting a fool to sing some karaoke, or recite a poem, which the audience would rather hear than a performance at the concert hall, especially when soused on the secretions of madness. We will not mention the foolish things that follow such a feast, when madness has reached its peak; I can hardly keep from laughing. But, I suppose I should put my finger on my lips, lest some tender one be eavesdropping and repeat such things that can’t be spoken-out with impunity, so let’s move on with these two short questions. In this situation, what is there that a man would not give to a woman? And, what compensation would he await in return but, foolishness?

What peace and tranquility comes with perfected folly, and what a treat awaits them at the end of a grueling day, having successfully warded off the assaults of those more foolish than themselves and anyone claiming to know the “truth;” the intolerance of such a thing is repulsive. These intolerant truth fanatics are the arch enemies of Stultitia, and her many defenders deserve to be rewarded with exceptional offerings of madness, and what can this grace be but to drink beer and wine and eat food, and sit stupefied for hours watching television. What better way to end a day in the jungle than to just “tune out” reality, and spend quality time with family. The preciousness of this craziness is testified to by the fact that virtually everyone, 97.5%, partake of this blessing daily, for hours and hours, and most own more than one T.V., and many leave them on all day long. What in the world can excel this madness; a massive troop of fools enlisted for no other reason than to praise Folly, by living out a life of fantastic happiness, laughing or crying on cue. The cheap thrills we receive erratically throughout the day cannot be compared to this programed stupidity, on purpose no less; and even this is not to be compared to the banquet of fools served up for our enjoyment by Hollywood in all of its varied formats; good Lord!, this colossal ignorance takes my breath away. We haven’t even gotten to the fanatical worship of the sports channel, or the religious piracy of TBN; these are a couple of Folly’s favorites, but not to be out done by those wonderful soaps in their dishonest depiction of the life we would love to lead.

Well, my beloved friends I have taken much, too much, of your precious time in silliness and foolish talk, and I have to stop for a while. I know I promised to venture into other realms, like putting my finger on those stick-in-the-mud professional churchmen and statesmen; and to show you a blissful alternative and escape hatch, but I have to stop and get my breath; but stay tuned, the end of the thing is near, I promise.

Delusions of Grandeur, the Breakfast of Champions

Stultitia is often found in the pulpit imitating the “divines” who are confident that they have risen to Lordship, Father-hood, Reverendship, or Most Reverendship, or some other self-ingratiating title.

The Christian Fools Paradox; Black Is Black? and White Is Actually White?

An offering of bliss, or an intolerant assault on insanity?

Ray comfort has done an excellent job of forcing his listeners to face the reality of government sanctioned murder. Please take  half an hour and watch this video and let it be your 180.

Steve Blackwell

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7y2KsU_dhwI&feature=player_embedded#!

This is a very important event. Americans, and the world have had their heads buried in the sand for way too long, and it is people like David Barton who have turned that sort of thing into a national past time. The old saying, "Ignorance is bliss" has never been more true than today. Politics and religion are the two areas where ignorance is the most blissful. Well a little of this bliss has been has been interrupted with a refreshing case of conscientiousness; let's just hope it is a trend.

 Following is a transcript of an article written by Warren Throckmorton detailing the events of the beginning of David Barton's demise. Also, below is the audio link of Chris Pinto's Noise of Thunder radio show talking about this same event, up to 8:30 mark. Wake-up people, time is running out.

Radio Station in Texas cancels David Barton’s Wallbuilders Live During Show

 by glennchristopherson

 by glennchristopherson

Poor Harold Camping, the whole world has witnessed his fall, and now he must bolster his pride and continue his self-deception or confess and repent. But, let me say this in his defense; he is more honest in his promulgations than the whole camp of liberal Emergents. Harold studied the Bible, in the power of his own mind and reasoning, and boldly stated his conclusions to the world. The liberals, on the other hand, do their studying and then scurry off into shadows, innuendos, insinuation, half-truths, and misrepresentations.

These New Age liberal Emergents come to no absolute conclusions. By making no judgments, they can say everything, without saying anything. They have perfected the Luciferian art of “doublespeak” by virtually prefacing all they say with the preamble “Hath God really said,” or as Rob Bell would say “. . . and someone knows this for sure?”  Harold did no such thing; he boldly proclaimed his error, in the face of truth; he dared to come against the light in the open, and fell. The liberals lay in ambush with snares and pits, and hide in the fog of deceit. Harold was not really honest by any stretch of the imagination; even still, he was more honest than the Emergents.  When Satan initiated the use of Liberal tactics, in the Garden of Eden, he was awarded the title, “Father of all lies,” so what does that make the Emergents?

Harold rejected God’s truth and is condemned. The liberal Emergents reject God’s word and are applauded, proving that it is hard to hit a moving target or put fog in a box. At least Harold tried to be honest in his own deceived way. The best way to deceive is to copy Satan, by muddling, diluting, mixing, melding, stretching, bending, thinning, reducing, cutting, adulterating, or prostituting the truth, and never show your hand. Harold showed his hand, and is now clearly a liar and false prophet. You will rarely get a peek at the hand of an Emergent. Emergents love to engage in mind manipulation and ego massage, and appeal to the desires of the flesh, where the subtle effects of leaven can work unnoticed.

Who should we be concerned about mostly? Harold was a shooting star, his predictions were confined to a small group of followers, and collateral damage was minimal. On the other hand there are the liberal Emergents, whose infectious disease gnaw on and disintegrate the very foundation of truth. Harold Camping’s teaching is unsound, and needs to be exposed, and was mostly accomplished by his own actions; but the Emerging scourge is a wretched curse by which many a soul will be damned.

We love to focus on today’s headlines, and laugh at such foolishness as billboards predicting the return of our Lord, when all the while leprosy is creeping up our legs unnoticed. Satan will keep our eyes on the immediate comic display of a few as the real enemy surrounds the city. Harold Camping is more like a sedative to distract our attention till it is too late, until the last curtain falls on the final act, and the world is carried away in its stupor.