FOR:
gaybratbieber.com
AKA:
tom jones and liberace.

Throw more panties!

Brutal Interference

USELESS, BRUTAL INTERFERENCE

During a personal milestone in any individual's life, birth and death for example, it is a time for absolute peace. But the brutal common media does not respect this… unless of course it’s about the cameraman or the commentator’s personal life. Then perhaps (not likely for long) might they appreciate the need for absolute privacy. With all of this celebrity sucking, don’t count on it. This deep snooping will not abate.

Let Mandela, Prince Phillip and others of good note pass away on a quiet note, you morons among the common media. Consider. Consider your own relationships to the personality of the infinite and then consider how would YOU like it if everybody stuck a camera and microphone in your face during your last moment of prayer… you bloody morons. 

We are the words we hear. We are the words we speak. Speaking is a way of sustaining mental health. Agree or not to agree doesn't matter. Engage and allow your humanity to be engaged. Eventually you may discover peace through words of grace.

Finding a Family

After 40 years someone in my immediate family found a broom and found me. About which I, as a great uncle, uncle, brother etc, am pleased.

Close the zoos.

They are not the healthy environment for any animal. Send the animals back to their familes, their natural territories. Let elephants prance with their cousins. Let the tigers find their prey.

Open more museums and science centres for children and the rest of us to understand the globe we live on. Punishing animals for our minor entertainment and little edification is worse than inhumane.

One day in California by the sea I heard the voice of angels laughing and when I looked upward at the tumbling clouds a face appeared. Wise and etched with compassion. Not a grim countenance but a hint of a smile which that day helped me to recover. That same day I heard – and I’m quite sure – that “still small voice” which spoke the one word which also helped me. That word was “persevere” and that face was yours.

And having persevered, I met you. Thank you for everything since then.

Enjoy your youthfulness and during those moments when you are frightened, perhaps you will recall that “There is no time. There never was. Just your relationship to the truth… and perhaps for you the extreme and intense peace of knowing.”

As always dear: best wishes. - Harry

Honey Did I Miss You?

Honey did I miss you?

Where were you?

Where were you?

I was alone, alone.

Waiting. Waiting. Where were you?

Did you pass me by? Pass me by?

I was there, waiting. Waiting.

Honey, did I miss you?

Be beside me. Beside me. 

I need you here beside me.

I was there waiting, waiting, waiting for you.

And you passed me by. You passed me by.

Hooligans everywhere. Finding excuses anywhere. Soccer games. Hockey cups. Rage drivers. Mobs.

What’s the answer? Police brutality? Kill them all? Will that extreme response rescue us from their moronic conduct?

(See for example: BC coroner rules: Dziekanski death at hands of RCMP a homicide,)

Nope.

With all our science, which is good science brought to us by your neighbourhood geek, can’t we find another response? A response to conclude this outrageous inciviltity?

Yes. Yup, there is an answer.

The sleep bomb. 

Use drones to drop and fumigate these bastards with the consequence of their immediate sleep… and make sure they wake up with a hangover and go home whining to mommy.

Let’s start with a biggie bomb.  North Korea.

Tickee, tickee, boom...

Sleep, sleep sleeee…

The first country to industrialise was the United Kingdom during the Industrial Revolution, commencing in the 18th century.

Here we are in the 21^st.

Since Industrialization, we have, according to economists, progressed.

Our earth and our oceans are now under extreme pressure. No economist is going to resolve that irreversible greed.

The globe we live on needs immediate repair.

Leave it alone.

We may eat again from our gardens healthy food. We may drink delicious water. We may get educated without spoiling this planet we call home.

Stop this madness.

While it may ‘cost’ us three generations, do it now,

De-industrialise.


Good Men Lost

How many more?

No matter their minor sins, they remain committed to goodness… and why can’t the rest of us at least see their goodness?

Who among us, dear reader, can say with ease, “I have tried.”

May we, with your permission, increase or at least allow goodness?

All of us, reading now.

Allowing goodness works.

Encouraging goodness is courageous.

The love of a frightened man is a good love.

Dear Editor:

The 2^nd Amendment was not written by God.

 It was written by men during a time of necessary protection to win a certain war which gave strength and continuity to the United Sates of America.

 This is a different time.

 Now is the time to change or amend the Holy 2^nd Amendment.

 Assault rifles are way beyond the original idea of home protection.

 Just change that amendment. Amend it. Stop sucking up to it… all you REAL men.

 Let President Barach Obama win this point and bring peace.

 And then enjoy hunting, as I do. 

CRAT CALLING

Happy and Prosperous New Year to all and sundry 
- (whomever THEY may be).

Having watched a few episodes of Duck Dynasty I was inspired to create my own whistle call.

Background: In case you didn't know, Duck Dynasty is based on a real life entrepreneur whose family is making a fortune selling duck call whistles.

So here's my fortune coming along: I have invented (patent pending) a 'Crat Call.' Very simple: next time you're dealing with (either in person or on the phone) a bureaucrat, and are getting much frustrated, just blow my Crat Call. It sounds like a troublesome and ineffective series of grunts related to your worst bowel movement.  

Blow it long and hard. 

Send me a cheque. Or am I supposed to send a bill first? GST? HST? 

Pucker up.

A Modern Interpretation

Our Father, who art in heaven;
And here by us,

Hallowed be thy Name.

Thy Kingdom come.
Thy will be done on earth,
As it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

Excuse our trespasses as is Your Way,
That we may excuse them who trespass against us this day.

And help us not to be led into chaos and temptation,
And deliver us from ignorance and conflagration.

For thine is the kingdom,
The power and the glory.

Here with You,
For ever and ever.

Amen.

EASY ANSWER FOR THE STREETS

All of us can stop the killing of minds from drug sales by making one quickie change in the law: All solicitors of crack cocaine, "rock, powder" etc. will be charged and jailed. Any voice soliciting, needs to get off the street. That will stop the suppliers - Hell's Angels who send their kids to private schools while poisoning your children with $2 hoots.

Stop the solicitors. Charge them. Jail them ... and if we had any guts, charge the Hell's 'Angel' every chance we get no matter how many Super-Valu's they control or how many laundries they use to wash their dirty money.

So we survived December 21st. Say good-night to the Mayans. We can survive the wrath of the Hell's Weanies.

AND THEN MY LOVER SAID:

He asked me to write him a poem on the spot so here it is:

All ways,

Your ways,To my happy surprise
Young men awakening wise. 

STOP

JUST STOP.

STOP killing children and civilians.

And find a will for peace.

Israelis and Palestinians are Cousins.

REMEMBER?

Crab Park Encounter

Last summer, strolling through Crab Park, I encountered people carrying paper plates of hot food and then saw the cue, at least 100 strong. Having time to kill I opted to join the freebie feed-in and just as I did was informed by a young woman that it was for abused native Indian lesbians only – some sort of support protest against deadbeat or violent men. I felt a little foolish for not noticing that the line-up was indeed all women with dark hair. (But I suppose the hot dogs might have been a giveaway.)

Oh well, something good did come out of this rebuke of my presence in line there. An inspiration I can only describe as profound and meaningful descended upon me with the weight of a pregnant dove. In keeping with my deep sense of social justice for all, next summer at Crab Park I will be hosting a freebie feed-in (pulled pork) of my own: for stuttering, beakless Jewish homosexual grandfathers with hairlips. (No ringers please.)

Donations of looky-loos will be gratefully accepted on site on behalf of the Foundation to Establish a Retirement Home for Exhausted Hollywood Vampires and Zombies and to offset the cost of memorial services for spotted North Korean lab rats.   

Lest We Forget

Today’s hero is Malala. This 15 year old spoke out on behalf of the girls and women of her homeland and around the world where they are oppressed and refused an education. A member of the Taliban crept up behind her and shot her in the head. Thankfully, she is recovering. The creep who shot her hasn’t been apprehended yet. Maybe we should look behind his mother’s skirt? Or the robes of his Taliban pals? In what dark dimension of thought do those a-holes actually consider the shooter a hero?

SPECIAL NOTE TO TALIBAN WANNABES: A free course in Suicide Bombing is now accepting applications. Come and meet your fellow fanatics on a remote island off British Columbia's beautiful west coast where privacy is assured and free bombware provided. Don't miss this once-in-a-lifetime event!  

Dear Editors

While rows and rows of nicely attired soldiers, cadets and veterans all handsomely parade in front of cenotaphs around our country this Sunday, would it surprise any veteran or members of veterans’ families if the Veterans’Affairs bureaucrats were throwing an in-house Bureaucrat Appreciation Party for their effective stonewalling of veterans’ services? The party bill, of course, to be picked up by the taxpayers who are naive enough to believe that their taxes are there to assist these war heroes and their families.

      With so much largesse to be had, maybe the ‘crats would also appreciate their own uniform to parade in? Maybe a flashy t-shirt emblazoned with a bird-flip in the shape of a cenotaph?  I have the design here. To order, given your usual time schedule, I’ll place inventory in all sizes in my warehouse of mothballs.

-Harry Langen, son of George (war hero),still waiting after seven years for Dad’s war record.