Another BEST OF the epistle - This one makes me laugh.

Speaking on condition of anonymity, a high level Administration Staffer confirmed," All our worst fears are now realized. Apparently toying with FELIX and POINDEXTER is no longer sufficiently EVIL for MASTER CYLINDER and he has joined OSAMA BIN LADEN in declaring war against the Infidel."

What could this UNHOLY ALLIANCE mean? An endless supply of 1930's automobile parts to begin with...


...also...why does MASTER CYLINDER have nipples? Does that worry anyone but me?

Part II - Timothy, On The Sofa To Damascus, Again

The sputter of the coffee maker came from the kitchen.
"So how do you take your coffee?" Timothy asked from the kitchen.
"None for me, thanks" Christ replied.
Timothy leaned in from the kitchen, "I have an assortment of teas. Some are de-caf if you're avoiding caffeine?"
"It's not the caffeine. It's just, well I'm not entirely corporeal right now?" Jesus explained.
Timothy frowned, "I don't understand..."
"Corporeal is just another word for Physical, made of flesh -"
Timothy interrupted," I know what the word means. I'm just confused that you're not 'entirely corporeal' - we just arm-wrestled. I felt your hand."
"Why do you think you won so easily?"Jesus asked.
"You don't get to the Gym very often..."
"Very cute. I'll forgive you for that one." Jesus smiled.
"Thanks, I mean sincerely, thanks Lord."
An awkward silence was broken by Jesus," I'm just partly physical right now. I'm not supposed to manifest myself fully until my Second Coming. 'Til then. I can make these semi-corporeal appearances. See, I'm just physical on the outside today...no guts for coffee or musculature for arm-wrestling."
"So why did you challenge me to arm-wrestling? You even wanted to go two out of three?" Timothy pressed.
"I was hoping to psych you out. I'm Jesus, some people are more overwhelmed than you."
Timothy reentered, coffee mug in hand. "I guess I have a high 'awe threshold' or something. Plus there was the guy yesterday, with the same 'I am the Lord thy God' routine. Come to think of it, he had a lightning and thunder show that was pretty impressive."
"What made you think He wasn't Me?" Jesus asked.
"He had curly red hair and he wasn't wearing robes and sandals. He was wearing a black skin-tight body suit, knee-high boots. More MATRIX than First Century Galilee."
"I have a lot of imitators." Christ shook his head.
"I guess I never gave that much thought," Timothy sipped at his still hot coffee.
"So what have you got planned for the day?" Jesus asked.
"Usual Saturday stuff - TV, grocery store, write on my blog...nothing exciting. Why?"
"I just thought I'd hang out with you for the day. Should I change out of these robes?"
Timothy thought," Naw, I buy my groceries at a co-op, very hippie-dippy, earth-shoe, granola crowd. You'll fit right in."

Timothy, On The Sofa To Damascus

Saturday Morning 6:59am

The rustle of feathers,"I am the Lord thy God!." the bearded man sat across from Timothy in the lounge chair in his living room.
"Well you certainly look the part." Timothy replied, "A lot more convincing than the guy yesterday."
"Yesterday?" Christ furrowed his brow.
"Yeah, yesterday a guy in robes and ...hey, don't you know all about my yesterday? You're like God, and all, right?"
"I am the Lord thy God, yep, sure am." Jesus scanned the room,"Sorta dark in here."
"It's barely seven am on a Saturday," Timothy offered,"I usually sleep in. Uh, pardon my asking but you don't seem all that God-like, all-knowing and all..."
"I am the Lord-" He began.
"...yeah , thy God, I got that, "Timothy replied." Maybe you should get that printed on a T-shirt or embroidered on a pillow you could point to, less repetition that way."
Christ gestured and a small card-table appeared between them. "Let's arm wrestle." Jesus began rolling up the sleeve of his robe.
"How could that be fair?" Timothy pressed."Allmighty God, etc., etc..."
"Would you just humor me?"
"Jesus needs humoring? Is this a typical Saturday for you or are you feeling a little off?"
"Just put up or shut up!"Christ planted his right elbow on the table.
"Whatever."Timothy grasped his hand and slammed Jesus' hand on the table.
"Best two outta three?"Jesus asked.
"I need coffee."Timothy went to the kitchen.
"No seriously, I wasn't ready."
Timothy re-entered the room. "I've got to tell you that this isn't how I pictured you, uh...behaving, Lord. I guess I thought, I don't know, more flash and thunder clapping."
"I'm trying a new approach," Christ absently stroked his beard,"More 'down to Earth.' No pun intended."
"You're not doing yourself any favors."Timothy ducked back into the kitchen.
"D'you need any help with the coffee?" Jesus asked.
"No thanks, I've got it."

Dog's Worst Enemy

Charming.

A Multi-Millionaire Sports figure Franchise Superstar of The Atlanta Falcons (with a bit of a 'tude?) is indicted by the Feds for Felony Illegal Dogfighting and raising Pit Bulls to dogfight and betting huge piles of money on dogfights and the Falcons, the NFL and a major Michael Vick sponsor, Nike, took the strong moral position to "wait and see." Of course they wrapped themselves in the Judicial Branch of the Constitution with lofty phrases like "innocent until proven guilty" and "let justice take its course" but they really just chicken-shitted all down the inseams of their very expensive tailored slacks.

Dogfighting, in the 21st Century, by Millionaires? Like I said, charming.

And the bold moral stance taken by the Executives with shit running down their legs? Inspirational - it stinks from here.

Slipping the Grip of Morpheus, God Of Dreams

SWEET DREAMS (ARE MADE OF THIS) - Eurythmics

Lately I dream and dream. Often I must kick my legs to shake off the paralysis of sleep and rise. Sometimes I stick in the space between conscious states. I've never feared that place, half in Dreams, half screaming to wake up. Mixing realities. Stirring Here with There. But lately the bonds of Morpheus, God of Dreams, have strengthened.

He lies atop me, my muscular deity, pinning my arms at my side in his hug. I feel the stubble on his chin, the soft butterfly of his lips as he whispers me back toward sleep. Below, his sex presses hard against my own - aching but never released.

While awake, part of me yearns for the crush of my Dream Lover's grip. Thoughts of down pillows, cool cotton sheets and the muscular arms of the Dream Lord who nightly fills my head with Adventures - Mystery, Sex and Chaos.

As I lay me down to sleep, I pray that dreams well from the keep of my subconscious. As the flood of dreams begins, Morpheus arrives to take me. He holds me tightly so that I don't lash out as my nightly Adventures unwind.

Bind me tightly Morpheus and whisper fantasy in my ear. Eyelashes tickling my throat. Arousal two heart beats pressed together below.


Illustration Maria J William

Better, stronger, faster...

When I was just old enough to read the DC and MARVEL Comics of the 60s and 70s I knew that I was only days away from discovering my own super powers.

In the Comics, the onset of puberty always heralded the arrival of the "super power" and pimples, body hair, wet dreams, locker room hardons...but I digress. I was 11 going on The Human Torch. The kind of comic geek that wrote letters to the editor when ridiculous plot devices saved the day.

Day by day I prayed for the arrival of my power(s). Flight? Super Speed? Telekenesis? Most of all I wanted a Death Ray to shoot out of my eyes.

Instead, I got a "Bore You To Death Ray" that I shoot from my mouth. Effective, but probably not super.

Daily They Starve In Darfur

MADWORLD - Tears For Fears


These Are Human Beings! Children! Deserving NO LESS than our most technicaly advanced and outrageous attempts at healing.

The G8 PROMISED to end Poverty and AIDS in AFRICA while they took their photo ops with BONO in 2005. They have only managed to trickle out a pittance of the Billions pledged.

The dying have no time for world wide Legislators to drag their feet making laws that make the promised funds available. The Dying don't care if "beta testing" has to be absorbed into Human Trials - the dying want whatever chances are available NOW.

In this life I've learned that PAIN is Inevitable. SUFFERING is Optional. We can't end WORLD PAIN, but we in the West are wealthy and advanced enough to mitigate SUFFERING. As Americans we owe the Third World our First World Medical Knowledge. Charity on behalf of Individuals, philanthropists and all of the fearless health care workers working in the dirt and heat saving one life at a time. Those are the heroes.

I am not a believer in JUDGMENT DAY for Individuals but someday I believe our Nation's willingness to render aide will be judged when the final tally's are derived.

Our great wealth in the First World cannot exist simply to grow itself or to be spent in prolonged military conflicts. We are fighting two wars currently at a cost of $10,000,000 (ten Billion) a week. Our Iraq tab is well over $500Billion. Just a shaving of numbers that large could fund the World's fight against poverty, HIV/AIDS, malaria...Instead we spend hundreds of Billions killing those who forgot to welcome us as liberators and shower us with rose petals.

Hey, Mr. Vice President! You want roses? Invest $500Billion to find a cure for the Worldwide HIV/AIDS epedimic. The women will weep at your feet and the air will be filled with flowers and joy.

Amazing Grace

It is with some great sorrow that I lament the passing of former first lady, and fellow Texan - Lady Bird Johnson. How sad that we live in a time when no one would dare be saddled with as quaint a nickname as "Lady Bird." Sad that we live in a time when wild flowers fall foolish in the glare of Global Climate Change.

This Lady knew a Texas scorched by sun and dust, beautiful with bluebonnet, sipping at the slow poison of segregation. In a time of hats and white gloves, soft voices and charm she stood solid behind her President as he signed the death nell of institutional racism. Campaigning by train through eight southern states to reelect her husband, the Secret Service had to sweep the tracks the bomb threats were relentless. "BLACK-BIRD GO HOME!" The signs read, their naked rage aimed at her. She stared them down and promised that all segregation could give the South was the swift delivery of its death in this latest birth of freedom.

May she lie in peace, daffodils, bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes.

The Curse of VERSE (for better...worse) III

I rode the bus with Don King's hair.
White cotton candy, blue vinyl chair.
Took all my will just not to stare,
Afraid my rudeness would buy his glare.
But on we rode, him sitting there,
Amazing 'do blowing in the air.

Some Blasts From My Past

A Long, Long Time Ago, In A Galaxy Far, Far Away - Named Houston - A younger, leaner Timothy performed in a dozen or more Musicals at Theatre Under the Stars...
A CHORUS LINE (cast photo). I'm down front.

MAME with Juliette Prowse THAT'S HOW YOUNG I FEEL. I'm in the lower right corner.

THE BEST LITTLE WHOREHOUSE IN TEXAS, WHOMP AND STOMP (the Aggie Football Team). Yup, that's me.

THE BEST OF the epistle #5. SOL, Miss Sun If You're Nasty Original Post Tuesday, April 24, 2007

NOW WITH MUSIC! THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS "WHY DOES THE SUN SHINE?"

I don't know what that meant.