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Morning AB, All

I should be sitting in the center of a roiling storm named Hermine but here I sit on a lovely morning, sun shining, not a raindrop in sight.

Meanwhile the last thing I needed is another cat, more on this later.

Thank you AB for doing this thread on Sunday so reliably, even on a hurricane-embraced Labor Day weekend Sunday. Thank you Bray for weekly wisdom. Thank you yon commenters for fleshing it all out for me.

Someone commented last week that my weekly mostly unimportant dialogues is a form of a diary and I must agree. Not much of anybody cares about the shade of my lipstick but folks, that ripe red does look great on me. And I have decided against a tattoo but might ask for one more consideration from yon thread participants? How about a tattoo of a cross with a white scarf draped around the top? We’ve all seen that image before, right? How about that tattoo somewhere discrete, maybe a shoulder?

Or do you want to hear the story of the priest in his underwear which my eyes cannot unsee?

Heh.

And please don’t forget my rant on Hillary just to pretend this is a political thread and, of course, there’s Mother Theresa, who was canonized last night which brings us to the story of the priest and the underwear.

I don’t know what got into Father Thomas Flowers’ mind but let me right now assert that he was NOT in his underwear but hand to God they looked like boxer shorts and that old saying, “that which has been seen cannot be unseen” applies here.

So me and Diane Feinstein pull into the church parking lot which is FILLED with people even though we were early because Hermine was supposed to be upon us causing us pain, fear and terror. So far I have not even needed an umbrella. I find a great spot and start to pull in but there is Father Tom’s car. I back out abruptly and tell Diane Feinstein I don’t want to park near that man. Whenever I am around Father Tom I get in trouble.

Evidently I did not park far enough away but for now, Feinstein and I go into the church, sing and get blessed by grateful parishioners around us. Man me and Diane Feinstein do more to lead those parishioners than the Cantor up front, yes we do, you may smile. Once again we must assert that NO, we are not sisters.

After the mass we get into my Jeep to pull out and both of us needed to bleach our eyeballs. Because coming out of the sacristy was Father Tom, wearing Bermuda shorts, big ugly shoes, socks, and a Tshirt. I shout to Feinstein that I really need to get a picture of that. For about ten seconds in time me and Feinstein look to what appeared before us and ponder if we are seeing things. Bear in mind, and I say this with love, Father Tom comes in at over 350 lbs.

I just don’t know what he was thinking but it was the funniest sight I’ve seen all week. And it’s not like Father Flowers was trying to be unobtrusive, no. He was waving to everybody who too stopped and stared with disbelieving eyes.

I didn’t get the pic because I thought it would be rude to be taking pictures of the priest in his underwear but what on earth was he thinking? He’s just conducted a mass robed in mighty vestments with tributes to Mother Theres and moments later he appears in public looking like a goofy tourist, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.

Well maybe you had to be there.

Meanwhile, on a Hurricane-riddled Labor Day weekend the FBI releases notes on Hillary’s interview and I am SHOCKED…..SHOCKED I tell you.

They took hammers and busted up several of Hillary’s cell phones! Hammers!

This doesn’t show intent to deceive? Help me out here people!

Also, just released, the costs for posing with Hillary, for a signature….man do these people have any class at all?

Finally, there’s Shadow, a kitten, of all things, that showed up on my front porch, what the hey?

I don’t know where she came from but just herself, a kitten, maybe 8 weeks old. So I started leaving her food because of course people I am not going to let a little kitten die for want of food, which I have plenty.

She’s all gray, as you must know from her name. I did manage to get her to come into the house and as I type she is in this house somewhere. But I got cats so there’s litter pans and a container of dry food protected from the dogs.

But I have not seen Shadow since yesterday around noon.

But hey, I have had lots of cats. For whatever reason Shadow is in my life.

Carry on folks and later I will share my big plan and next Blog project.

Meanwhile your friend Fay Voshell has another brilliant piece of work over at AT:
http://www.americanthinker.com/articles/2016/09/globalism_the_religion_of_empire_.html
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here are some clips.
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Replacing the beatific vision of Christianity is a new universal, but secularist world order ushered in; an order in which human beings’ allegiance is to a global City of Men ruled by elite priests who act as gods for the masses. Preachers of the globalist vision present an ersatz kingdom that is the opposite of the City of God.
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But to be a unit detached from nation, faith and even one’s individual humanity is to be nobody. It is to be a drifter in a sea of nothingness even more surely than Philip Nolan was adrift at sea; who was, yes, a man without a country, but a man nonetheless.

To become a unit with nothing to believe in, not even one’s own humanity; to have nothing to be loyal or faithful to; to be a nonentity without family, nation or faith is be become a slave. The new globalist world order would make slaves of us all, fit only to serve a cabal of superiors.

So I found Shadow this morning. She came out and I fed her and even managed to play with her with a favorite cat toy.

Meanwhile the two hoodlum dogs, who you can dress up but can’t take out, are barking and carrying on like this kitten is Satan dressed like a cat.

Gerald, the resident tuxedo cat, is very curious, but of course, and he too played with the cat toy, which the cats do love.

I have yet to lay a hand on Shadow as she is obviously wild.

How on earth did she get on my porch? How did she know I would, but of course, take her in?

Which brings me to my future endeavor which will make you all smile.

Before I leave, Pence is on Meet the Press. I hear he plans on releasing his income tax soon. This will make Trump look bad, I must ponder.

Or maybe Trump will say he will release his tax returns when Hillary releases her health records.