Serenity

Park Bench

My fame is vapor.
My riches carried away on wings.
Only one thing endures in life, and that is character.
Find something that excites your soul, and grab hold of it and run.

Take it and fly away.

From here on out I shall be just another disinclined recluse in search of a wandering star and nothing more.  And if and when I do discover this magical place … I will let you know.

No more mountains to climb, rivers to swim, no more battles to be fought and won.
I shut it all down, stick a fork in me, I am done.

Don

Silver Haired Daddy … As Fresh As a Daisy


DAILY READER

There comes a time in every man’s life, when he realizes he has just so many summers left in this world.  As I punch my way thru this day, I will stop at some point, and ponder this age old question, that I am sure many men have asked before I even thought of it.

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It’s About Time … Off The Wall

10561597_10204674105265315_8484038910465730662_nSpring!  This is the time of the year when I put the lawn-chair furniture on the front porch and soak up the best parts of the day. 

This morning I was out there early, real early, sitting in the still of the morning, before the sun had come up.

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I Am Not God – Final Chapter

As my Christianity has come under close scrutiny here lately and I have been even been elevated to the status of God, I felt it would be necessary to go see the Pope for a clarification of my spirituality.

Shortly after genuflecting, and somberly kissing his ring, he said I was okay and not to worry about it.  “Have no fear my son, there are none who are appointed to sit in judgment on you.”  Was the exact quote I believe.

Upon returning from my emergency trip to Rome this week, it occurred to me that it might be appropriate to write my letters to the Internet Heathens.  I realized that with a few minor improvements, this chain epistle internet posting could be a powerful fund raising instrument for the moral doo-gooders who reside over in the dead-zone (MySpace, Facebook AOL), at the cyberspace address of AveryFew.com.

In my memorandum to the Internet Egyptians as my status now as “Apostle to the Pagans” it has come to my attention to reveal an intimate working knowledge of all I survey.  This epistle of the internet post comes to you from the lost land of Texas, home of the really big EZ Boy recliner and the Interstate forty 72 oz steak.

Grace be to you and peace.  Spiritual gifts will be delivered to you within four days of the posting of this information, and you in turn in the spirit of the Internet are to pass it on to all of your friends and family, and anyone else in your address book.  This is no joke.  Send copies to whomsoever among the gentiles you would comfort in all their tribulation.  Do not send material things.  Charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up.

While visiting the household of Thoseofus Whoprotestustoomuch, a Macedonian proconsul received the very same epistle and was greeted by his brethren with a holy kiss.  But he broke the chain, and now he is become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.

Dumbgailylus, a young student of the cloth, bestowed all his goods to feed the poor, and gave his body to be burned, but it profited him nothing.  He failed to circulate the epistle Internet post.  However, before his death, he received the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.

Do not the following have mention?  LittleSugarlips a friend of both, had the gift of prophecy, and understood all mysteries, and all knowledge, and had all faith, so that he could remove mountains.  But he forgot that the epistle of the Internet Post had to leave his hands within 96 hours and now he is nothing.

In A.D. 2009, the epistle of the Internet Post was received by a young Galatians’ woman who put it aside to copy and send out later.  She was plagued by various problems, thrice she was beaten with rods, once she was stoned, and thrice suffered shipwreck.  On the last of these occasions, she spent a night and a day in the deep.  Finally she copied the post.  A trumpet sounded and she was raised incorruptible.

To these grave doings let us put an end

You my good fellows, are pardoned for your acts,

To others, too, my mercy shall extend

Now go, far and wide, report these facts

Stop throwing stones at me, and clean up your own act

Remember, Believeth all things, hopeth all things.

The epistle Internet Post chain never faileth.

Remember, “never — EVER — print a prayer or mention the word religion on the Internet” unless you desire bucket loads of email and unsolicited advice.”   This concludes our series on “I am not God” there will be no book deal or movie rights, just well deserved peace and quiet.

Now I ask you … “Aren’t you glad that I am not God?”

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End quote:   “I am determined that my children shall be brought up in their father’s religion, if they can find out what it is.” Charles Lamb.