Agreed 100%
Too many Churches have gone astray of Biblical teachings and teaching the Word of God and Jesus. Even when they say a prayer they say, in “your name”. Jesus said to pray in MY name which is of course Christ Jesus.
Maybe I’m just too Conservative to stay the course.
Have you ever been stuck at a party, where a loud and brash “progressive” dominates the conversation, not allowing anyone to get a word in edgewise, and with whom you dare to disagree strictly at your own peril?
It’s happened to me enough times that I occasionally have weird dreams about it.
The Woman, Whose Head Turned to Guacamole - ©2013 by Trevor Patrick
Excuse me for a moment while I tell you a tale,
that came from a feverish dream.
So, I hope you’ll excuse the odd flights of fancy,
from places filled with nonsense scenes.
The first thing I remember was that I was at a party:
You know the type - filled with College folks and hipsters;
where the loudest progressives hold forth,
and always dominate the floor,
Never seeming to care who’s really listening.
Actually, that’s not fair.
The real truth’s clear as a bell;
because when you’re talking to hear yourself talk,
The listener you’re most impressing is yourself.
As for me: I was skarfing down some nachos,
and bored right out of my tree,
when the Queen Bee of the party,
decided to turn her stinger towards me.
Every angry buzz was an ‘ism’,
and every new sting an ‘ist’,
each followed by a rhetorical question,
about why ‘ist’ and ‘ism’ dinosaurs like me still exist.
I just stifled a yawn at it all,
wishing I’d spent the evening bowling,
and as I looked at the angry Goddess once again,
her face morphed into oozing guacamole.
Not a whole avocado, mind you,
though slightly more logical it may have been,
because I understood the truth all too well,
that she’d have needed a thicker skin.
Without even thinking,
I stuck a corn chip in her nose,
and through her goop-dripping mouth,
she said: ‘I’m vegan, don’t you know!’
Rolling my eyes because I’d already guessed that,
I nevertheless crunched the chip and took the first taste,
and I kept on staring with morbid fascination,
at the new crater on her green and goopy face.
I managed one mouthful of her avocado-paste head,
before spitting the half-chewed mess into my hand,
because the Queen Bee’s face-guacamole,
was just like her personality:
It tasted both spoiled, and bland.