THE UNWITTING MEMOIRIST
August 26, 2021
Cenotaphs & Forgiveness
I recently read this book; and though I didn’t “love” it, it’s a book that I recommend. It reminds me of 2 Corinthians 12:7 and the illusion of strength; how it takes a force beyond human capacity and capability to bring people together in “weird” “whimsical” ways to bring about forgiveness. It inspired quite a bit of writing in me …
Would you still love me
if you knew who I used to be
Or would you flee from me, blindly running
For someone to love you
The way you hated me
Forgiveness is eternal life, God
that is why when you don’t you feel “bad”, guilty
When there is death. You are dead. Deluded, confined to the flesh,
Thinking that it ends there, grievous.
I come from a large family where sometimes when I think back, I can’t tell if my male cousin or his wife was my real cousin: everybody’s just family. But not really.
I grew up with my mom’s family, and the dynamic there was just, you keep going through it with these people even if they are bad, even if they are toxic. No breaks. You talk s**t, throw a few blows. No breaks.
Whereas on my dad’s side, they’d go 5, 10, 15 years without speaking … until a funeral.
Then their eyes would glaze over in deception, speaking of forgiveness and patching things up; and they’d get together again, until they didn’t again, until there was another funeral, again.
It is only because I have come into God, the true father, that I can tell you that Satan, the false father is a liar. Death is an illusion, that happens here on earth, with the living.
Through a haze of deception and emotion, it distorts things: sometimes makes you think that you love people when you don’t. Your heart is stone that squeezes tears from your eyes, as from a rock: a miracle. It makes you sentimental until you get over it and begin to hate again. It makes you in love with your own feelings.
Somewhere in the middle of the extremism of my families, was the truth, the discernment of God. Not the fake sticking it out with people faking like they’re not trying to destroy you, or faking sticking it out with people faking it sticking it out. But dying from it all to forgive all the fake love to make my way back to eternal life, to be real.
I used to think that getting along with someone I hated made me phony. Not understanding that it was my own hatred that made me phony, that made me think that I loved. Satan’s world is so upside down. In the world they teach you that you have anger and you stay there, stew in it, love it, normalize it, it’s understandable. Whereas in God, you feel it. Feel the full force of all that hatred in you, that pain inside of you without doing anything,
a damn thing but sitting there, in stillness
To overcome it
To come back to Him. He will help you to be born, again. You are not strong.
2 Corinthians 12:7:
Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
The Unwitting Memoirist
August 21, 2021
Somebody Go Check on Joe
I used to watch a lot of TV as a teenager; and one of the more interesting and funny weird movies I’d watch was Weekend at Bernie’s. Do you remember that? Whereby two guys pretty much prop up their dead boss everywhere as if he’s still alive. Hey! There goes Bernie at the beach! Hey! There goes Bernie holding meetings! He walks a little drunk and those two guys always seem to be behind him with him, but hey! It’s Bernie!
And now it’s Joe. We’re having national conversations and global shutdowns over an incurable normal viral infection, and blaming a dementia patient for the state of the world. Does anybody see anything wrong with this? Every day, someone wakes up Joe Biden with some sort of injection, puts on his clothes, and helps him tie his shoes and props him up at a podium. Is it Andrew McCarthy and Jonathan Silverman? Hardly. But same difference. I’d call for Jill Biden to check on him if only she were a real doctor.
Sure, his mentor was once some sort of grand dragon or wizard of the Ku Klux Klan,* but weren’t all our mentors in some capacity? This is hardly funny. I tweeted almost 2 years ago that Joe’s middle name is Robinette; and that what they were doing to him was elder abuse. I mean, can you imagine? Both my grandparents lost their cookies before dying. My grandmother refused to eat anything but Oreos; and when I stepped into the house one day, she greeted me at the door, bouncing on her toes and snapping jabs at me, saying C’mon, c’mon. In all honesty, I wanted to drop her, but I could hardly imagine getting a better idea by then dressing her up in that condition and making her run for president. Actually, I shudder to think. Americans have been so demoralized that they probably would’ve voted for her, simply because she was black and old and a woman and “spicy”. You’d better get your s**t together Americans.
I’m gonna need someone to check on Joe. I’ll never forget reading an article awhile back that talked about how such was commonplace. A high-ranking government official who’d been suffering from some sort of mental deterioration had been forgotten by his staff ironically by the dock of the bay. Somebody had to double-back and get him where he still sat serenely looking out over the water. I mean the minimum age for presidency is already like elderly. Let’s not have a Part II; there’s actually a Weekend at Bernie’s II. Over 2 hours in 2 parts of propping a dead guy up just to convince everyone that … COVID is worse than it is so you gotta mail-in vote oh my god this is so crazy terrible. Please, somebody go check on Joe. I’d say vote em out, but that would imply that he was voted in in the first place. Rather, let’s check em in somewhere … out of Washington.
The Unwitting Memoirist
*In 2010, Joe Biden eulogized former Democrat senator Robert Byrd as a “friend” and “mentor”. Byrd was a former leader and “Exalted Cyclops” of the West Virginia chapter of the Ku Klux Klan. But weren’t we all? Some purveyors of hate at one point in time? Byrd was in his 20s and later described it as a great mistake in his life. Fine. The eulogy is noted mainly because Democrats and the Biden administration frequently lambasted former president Trump for “racism”; and the Ku Klux Klan, a white supremacist hate group of Satan, is historically Democrat. The organization was formed in 1865 (initially as a social club by Confederate veterans) to oppose Republican Reconstruction-era policies aimed at establishing political and economic equality for blacks. Violence and intimidation were directed at both black and white Republican leaders and voters. They of course hid their identities behind ridiculous looking masks.
August 15, 2021
COVID-19 REVISITED a Year Later: The Science Still Isn’t There
I’m not really sure what people mean when they say “science”, or “trusting the science”. Science, quite simply, is the study of what God has already made. And God didn’t make COVID in a Wuhan Lab. What He did make was like a kijillion people who walk around His earth doing all kinds of horrible things (to their bodies), but put a mask on because … well the verdict is still out on that one. Andrew Cuomo just resigned as New York governor, for example, but not because he lied about the number of old people he allegedly killed by exposing them to COVID in a nursing home, but because of sexual harassment allegations. I’d say we’ve got to get our priorities straight, but we’ve even got the wrong priorities.
I just want to see proof. Not of COVID, but of evidence that warrants mask, vaccine mandates or the shutdown of the economy. I don’t need to see that COVID exists, you see; we’re asking the wrong questions here; because I know that it does. I know that COVID exists just like the common cold, just like the flu, like croup or bronchitis, or some ear infections or LIKE ANY OF THE OTHER GAZILLIONS OF NORMAL OR SEASONAL VIRAL INFECTIONS THAT OCCUR LIKE ALL THE TIME, LIKE SIMULTANEOUSLY, LIKE EVERY YEAR WHEN WE’RE TALKING ABOUT 300 MILLION WALKING SACKS OF DISEASED FLESH JUST IN THE UNITED STATES ALONE! You wanna know where about 60,000 Americans were during the Hong Kong Pandemic of 1968? At f**king Woodstock, getting s**t-faced and rolling around in the mud. I’d like to see COVID stand up against LSD in a China wet market. Ha!
I’m losing it here, I’ve got to pace myself. Can anyone give me any evidence? Because numbers are just not doing it anymore. Cause, see: 700,000 people have died in the Himalayan Sea, see? There’s no Himalayan Sea and I just made up that number. Can you see where I’m going here? To this day, COVID has an over 90% recovery rate. Not so much ever with your 80-year-old aunt Matilda or my almost 40-year-old cousin who somehow died of COVID from not taking his kidney medication for like 10 years. Oldness? COVID. Heart disease? COVID. Motorbike accident? COVID. Cancer, or like any other leading causes of death in the U.S. that are not actually COVID? Well that’s COVID. Turns out you can go to any qualifying hospital that gets funded for issuing COVID positive deaths, and you too can get a diagnosis.
People start taking photos of theirselves with masks on, and it’s a wrap. People start selling masks and making money from masks, forget about it. I got strep throat like 75 times as a teenager, once for each time I came up with a novel way not to take my medication correctly. Then, when I’d unwittingly finished creating like 150 new strains from not taking my medication properly, I started taking it correctly and made a new strain from my recovery. This science has been around forever and somehow we’ve still managed to show up for work with the flu that they still say is killing us anyway, but they haven’t found a cure for that either.
Hey, did you hear? Former Hawaiian Kenyan white president Barack Obama just threw a huge birthday bash down Martha’s Vineyard to celebrate what socialists do: exploit and control you for capital gain. No masks lockdowns or social distancing for them unless they’re on camera. You? Not so much. Lol, they look like they’re having a great time.
I just don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe a beady-eyed doctor scientist named “Tony” Fauci was right when he basically told us that masks and vaccines were ineffective only during the Trump administration. Maybe it’s right to make a grand proclamation of caring for people, only to shut down their livelihoods and make them live off a government check for a 90% recovery rate. Maybe it makes sense that businesses help the government put them out of business by paying people more money to stay home and block their evictions with CDC declarations. Didn’t it used to be illegal in some states to enter a business with a mask on? Didn’t that used to mean get down on the floor don’t look at my face and put your hands up because this is an armed robbery? Hell, even coverings about the face are called evil in the Bible. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it just makes sense for me as a 39-year-old otherwise healthy woman with no known medical conditions or illnesses to be forced to put a foreign substance in my body for an incurable normal viral infection with a 90% recovery rate, but it’s only ‘my body my choice’ when it’s OK to kill a kid in the womb. Maybe… But maybe I’m wrong.
So why does it feel like I’m being gaslit? That’s the term, right? For flipping something around on another person to make them think that their logic is illogical by the person who is illogical. You ever argue with someone lying so hard that you had to stop because you knew you’d wind up dead because this lie was like their whole world?
Yeah, that’s Satan.
The Unwitting Memoirist
P.S. For my earlier reportings, See
May 7, 2020
COVID-19: The Breakfast of Champions
May 18, 2020
COVID-19: The Quarantined Exhibition &
August 13, 2021
Idiosyncrasies: The Happy Birthday Song
3. That’s me, Here I am: I’m the birthday girl.
2. I told the person that I think I’m this way from growing up in a large family. Before everybody moved off and started creating their own sub-units of family, we functioned like a unit for a time: and because there were a lot of people, it was always someone’s birthday. It’s like that Seinfeld episode, or if you’ve ever actually worked in the hell of an office environment like I have like that where the office is literally singing happy birthday or orientation to someone every week. Like the dysfunctional family’s strategy for family member retention. Birthday cake and ice cream every week. Singing that damn happy birthday song every week, Stevie Wonder version cause I’ve got a black family.
1. I told someone recently that I guess that was my idiosyncrasy: Remembering people’s birthdays. And they thought that was funny, but I’m serious. I talk to you once and maybe never again, but if you’ve told me your birthday, good chances are that I’ll remember your birthday for the rest of my life. Even if I don’t talk to you anymore, even if I ever hated you I’ll say, Oh, it’s February 2, I wonder what Frank is doing for his birthday today? If I know what day or month it is that is. I’ve never been good with days of the week, or months of the year, or years, really: time; I thought I’d be turning 39 this year; but turns out I lost track and made myself 38 for like 2 years and surprise! I’ll be 40. But I’ll remember your birthday. I’m long gone, but I’ll still remember the party every week.
The Unwitting Memoirist