And The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth
And the Meek shall Inherit the Earth
As he spoke, on a large screen behind him flashed pre–programmed 35 mm slides in five second intervals, photos of UFOs and artist’s renderings of myriad alien life forms.
“UFOs were seen in the skies in both parts of the world just before the rain and the darkness fell, in America and in Zanzibar.”
The caption underneath the picture read:
“This reptile type has cat-like eyes with gold-slit pupils.
This being is sinister and deceptive in manner.”
” Aliens, through exams of abductees seem to be testing for the mystery of goodness in human beings.”
“Why would a G. I. throw himself on a live grenade, to save a group of men in a trench that he had never met ?”
“But the unhappy evidence suggests that most people who have entered an alien spaceship will not remember the experience or ever know what has happened to them except in recollections of so-called dreams or under medical hypnosis.”
“Such strangeness and such mysterious facts, those sudden shadows that fall in broad daylight when there is neither any cloudiness nor an eclipse.
In the sink under a dripping, dripping, dripping faucet, were old sardine tins, cans of half eaten food, half- smoked cigar butts and dirty dishes.
“cassock, dalmatics, tunic, surplice, maniple, amice, alb, and cincture.”
Then despite fear of such intensity that it caused him to shake, he lay down again on the bed to escape his fear.
A planet of waves a thousand feet tall, rolled in on all the battered coasts of the world and drowned all traces of land.
Mountains of green thunder towered onto and consumed Earth and every living thing that could breathe air.
Deluged months of torrential oceans and then calmer years of heavy rain, continuous waves of rain that boiled and whispered.
dry land emerged.
The meek, had inherited the Earth.
IN THE BATTLE OF THE SEXES, CAMOUFLAGE PREVAILS
by Paul Schroeder
Since sex is less than five or ten percent of a marriage, those who marry just for sex, find imposing reasons later on in the relationship, to not confine sex, within the parameters of their marriage, but remain as faithful, as their options and opportunities.
Women wander sexually, as well, as statistics reveal, that every other wife strays to another’s arms, for love making.
I often thought that women had it better than men and that if I were a woman, without any love, I’d be down at the docks, no underwear, waiting for the fleet to come in, with my skirt pulled over my head.
More and more women today, say aloud, that they “don’t need any man, anymore, even for sex, but that they DO need men , sometimes, but then, ONLY, to lift and move, heavy things around…
Sex, is forever something that parents are loathe to discuss with their children; when I was a child of seven, they mentioned the fearful danger of sex, saying, “not to play around with sex, because it was,”playing with fire.”
At seven years old, I recall thinking,
But one who marries, just for sex, is buying a 747 jet, just for the little bag of peanuts.
Surely, there’s other ways to get peanuts, if that’s all that you really want.
Men are more juvenile in primitive sexual drives and emotional makeup, and women are indeed, far better human beings, providential, sensitive, charitable, strong and beautiful.
This DNA primate difference can be demonstrated.
Our lingering social notion that men are more important, more apt and more likely to be leaders, is still a hard social prejudice to quell.
Equality, in mutual passion, is easier to demonstrate:
When a cop on the beat encounters a young couple making love in the tall grass, in a park, he does NOT tap their shoes with his nightstick to angrily demand,
Progress will turn HIStory, into HERstory.
Women remain naive and not the least bit aware of men’s glandular functioning concepts towards all women.
At a party or wedding,
deep within men’s psyches.
For women, few rarely grasp that their public dancing, is clearly nothing but public, overt, symbolic sex.
Each solitary, individual feature on your face always stays its birth shade and original color.
Methinks, that If men wore makeup, most would be disconcertingly prettier than many women.
You can always wear shorts despite how awful your legs do look.
Your last name, regardless of marital -legal battles, stays put.
People do not ever stare at your breasts and your nipples when you’re happily chatting with them.
Calorie intake and belly size are never a crucial consideration.
You always have the consummate and total freedom of choice about the growing of a mustache.
You don’t have to remove all of your clothes just to pee.
You can wake up just as attractive as you were when you went to bed, rather than have your beauty somehow deteriorate, during the night.
Woman, as the pretty sex, is a relatively new idea:
Throughout the animal world, whether it flies or swims, the male is STILL the colorful sex, the female, the drab one.
But since the eighteenth century, sexual and cultural reversals have oddly persisted in human affairs, and women instead have become the pretty sex.
But “pretty” means, slim and skinny, as fashion dictates.
Straight men, do not adorn themselves towards being highly polished- exceptions exist for politicians, actors, sports-stars, head gangsters, and police detectives, for within these men, narcissism, a sinful sense of entitlement, and monumental ego all loom.
‘Beauty’ television commercials and ‘beauty’ magazine ads feature graphics of highly curried women, extolling Western society’s virtues of vacuous, narcissistic women, who gaze back at us, made over into a man’s surreal vision of what ‘beauty’ should look like..
In Maine, at a lobster restaurant, I went to the register to pay and behind the counter, opening the register, was a tall, strikingly handsome, buxom woman, in a formal ballgown who sported a large handlebar mustache.
Men perpetrate this hoax until they themselves believe it.
In truth, a woman is as sexy in bed as that woman was interesting, before bed, and interesting, after bed.
(“No man ever reached up a woman’s skirt, looking for her library card”)
But, for many non-self-respecting men, it’s all just about a woman’s exterior patina, and veneer towards sex.
Yes, men are more shallow than one would imagine, more vain than women and more duplicitous in satisfying their overwhelming hormonal drives.
Women thus feel that loss of beauty means loss of love, and then rush off to plastic surgeons, for tits and ass augmentation, nose jobs and liposuction, mascara and eyeliner alert, to avoid NOT being a love object..
REAL beauty emanates ONLY from within, something not taught in our culture, where women spend very much time on their outsides and little or no time spent, on their ‘insides’…
Women at an early age learn what dizzying effects their bodies have on men, and men’s sex drive, and use THAT against them ; women culturally have been taught guile and deceit from a tender age, to ‘trap a man’, by using their physical, sexual allure:
They shave armpits,
shave legs and mustaches,
dye their hair,
(“Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut, and still think they are sexy”)
tints of rouge blush,
sport uplift brassieres,
go for Botox or plastic surgery to erase facial wrinkles,
install Hershey-kiss silicone fake breasts,
wear high heels,
then, they meet a man,
and they want, …
Can such preoccupation with sexual camouflage avoid extra-marital diversion , and allow longevity and truthfulness towards a meaningful marriage?
Many couples who have lasted together forever, don’t have to work hard, to get along in marriage’.
When George Burns and Gracie Allen were asked how they remained so in love after sixty years, he said:
I remember once being stopped and asked at Disneyland by a graying and aged couple, to “photograph them”, for it was none other than their “fiftieth anniversary”.
I wondered what wisdom and marital advice they might share, for too many, marriages end sadly in divorce.
These too many short-term marriages, for too many men, seemed to me, just like a tornado:
in the beginning, there’s a lot of sucking and blowing , and later on … you lose the house.
Whatever happened to the romantic woman and to the romantic man who said that they could not live without each other?
He went East, and she went West… and they both lived.
My wife went over to speak with his wife to comment on how sweet they looked together, but when
I returned the camera as he made his way over to me, I asked him the $500,000 lulu question:
“What’s the secret to being married, so successfully, for so long?”
He looked confidential and wise and peeked to see if his wife was engaged in conversation before he spoke:
ALIEN MIND CONTROL DURING ABDUCTIONS
By Paul Schroeder
He marvels at the texture and color of his neighborhood, and his movement above it.
He is dreaming, but he is awake.The smaller craft lands near a much larger ship, hiding in plain sight, in a field.
A long ramp extends from and to the ship.
He is told by a small, dark, grey alien, always just out of sight, that he is to wait on line, for a tour of a country estate.
People stand on the ramp and slowly move forward
He is numb and is surreal vividly dreaming, but he feels that he is awake.He moves forward, people in front of him and in back of him, on a narrow path surrounded by a false screen memory of a flat, uni–dimensional static scene, a photograph of an English garden.
It is hot and humid with the rank smell of soil.
People clutch what looks like brochures and move slowly in a single line, towards the country estate, bored, and only mildly interested.
He approaches the door of the large alien craft.
A ticket taker sits at the entrance way, on a stool behind a lectern, observing the entering crowd, a doorway official seen as a slim teenager.
He thinks it odd, that such a young caretaker should seemingly be in charge, and as he lifts his eyes to meet the teen’s gaze, the young boy turns into a kindly old man.
“It’s mind control, not shape-shifting”, he is told, by a sonorous tour-guide’s voice, in answer to his unasked thought.
Everyone is awake and dreaming.
Inside is a waiting room, dirty, dull and round, a white room with no adornments and a black floor.
He awakens, dreaming and feels that the room is in flight.
It is a dream within a dream.
Awake again, briefly, he is dreaming while standing upright, walking in his sleep, climbing a steep metal stairway ladder path-bridge, that leads to a very large room at the top of the stairs.
Someone in front of him dreams, and wakes up dreaming.
He looks to his right, as he climbs, to see an enormous domed -curved window which makes up the staircase’s whole upper wall of the alien craft, and as he climbs, feeling very numb, he pauses, and stops the line of mass abducted people.
Outside is blackness…
Silver and bright, the Moon, far to the left portion of the glass, also hangs suspended in a black nothingness..
Far away, violet splashes of nebulae, and points of red pinpoint starlight, intersperse with millions of white stars.
Chin in his hands, he leans over and says in a wistful, admiring tone,
The small, dark, grey alien tour guide became startled and all at once, the window’s 3-D space scene, becomes a painted uni-dimensional flat portrait, of an English garden landscape.Chin in hands, still looking out of the window, but now at the expanse of poster-like green lawn, of a garden landscape, he dully repeats,
“They DO have a nice view!”
The tour guide, startled to hear him repeat this praise, seemingly unaware that the scene of the garden had already worked to distract him, knee-jerk- reflex -overreacted; he is slammed with a mind control jolt.
The alien creature tightens and magnifies its short psychic leash of control to throw him into a vivid emotional ecstasy, and he feels compelled to look down at his feet, and away from the window’s view.
Powerful awe, love, and wood -admiration, a godlike reverence of wood, flashes through his mind at the mirage of the intricate wood designed staircase, suspended in air.
Complex, gorgeous and lushly constructed, a staircase in multicolored woods, forces an almost religious awe, which courses through his brain, to thrill him, a tsunami of reverent awe for the dazzling wood patterns, and for the unknown artist-architect, overwhelms and distracts him, a gifted attempt to get him to forget what he has seen outside of the craft’s window.
The tour guide, just out of sight, presumes that the delusion is strong enough to have worked and he hears a resonant, deep, paternal, impatient voice, now within his head, “Just keep going; it will be there, for you to see, when you get back.”
“But, things change so quickly, in dreams”, he thinks, “and this gorgeous wood stairway, will likely not be there, when I return.”
He lingers, enthralled.
Abductions and their remnant elusive memories have opened all this for me, a confirmed atheist, UNTIL I saw aliens float me out of my body, in my bed, at night.
Avoid church-based or organized religions and put the Bible on the same shelf as “The Tooth Fairy,” forGod is real, but He’s to be found down a long hall, and somewhere else.