Thursday, May 26, 2011

Casey Anthony Trial and How if it's not the end of the world, it should be.

The trial of Casey Anthony has been trumpeted as being "the trial of the century" and after three days, I need a break. My stress level at hearing Jose Baez, the defense attorney, victimize true victims, to ensure his client will be cleared, and even sympathized with as being a victim, is outrageous, but, apparently legal.

It's possible that Casey was abused as a kid, but, why would she continue living at the largess of said abuser, and subject her child to the same type of abuse?

Only God knows the truth, but, God help these ungodly people who have ruined the lives of George, Lee and Cynthia Anthony by alleging they are the villains, and Casey the "flower in the attic" and subjected to so much torture and pain that she effectively dissociated from the death of her gorgeous three year old.

Baez paints a picture of this child rapist, George, who finds the baby in a backyard swimming pool, and blames Casey for not watching her. Of course, even the fact that the ladder to the swimming pool was not removed by Cindy, the grandma of Caylee, advances the cause of poor Casey.

I don't want to hear of how Casey was a loving mother, blah blah blah. Anyone who disbelieves a psychopath can be an attentive and affectionate person one minute and a cold-blooded killer the next, only has to consider Diane Downs, Susan Smith, and other child-killers who never showed any sign of anything but perfect love.

Sociopaths work hard to perfect images, and learn the roles to play and emotions to emit, but, it's all superficial. That's why it's hard to reconcile that if the child died by an accident, why this loving mother would party and act happy and have a beautiful life prepared for her, in her mind.

I know that defense attorneys are allowed to fabricate stories, and this one was proposed by the legions of crime fans that speculated and rightly so, that there was a huge possibility of the child drowning. A few years ago, a little kid drowned in our canal. It's the big killer in Florida.

HOWEVER, the parents would not behave in any other way than traumatized and bereaved. If George Anthony, a police officer, found the baby, who he adored, dead in the pool, he would have called 911 and done CPR. He would not lead everyone, including the grandmother astray, misleading her into believing Caylee was kidnapped by a nanny.

Yet, the media is so beguiled by these ostensible "Perry Mason" moments, that they fail to connect the dots, and certainly are being disingenuous about how likely any of Baez's assertions are about George, and her brother Lee's rape of Casey since childhood.

What's worse is that while Casey did NOT grieve for this baby that the world fell in love with, George and Cindy, warts and all, DID visibly grieve and suffer. Lee seems like a wonderful young man, and he has to carry the cross of incest and innuendo for life. This family is ruined, and the damage done to them during this process of freeing the psychopathic liar, painting her as a victim of them, is even more astonishingly egregious than losing a precious and loved child.

Maybe the apple didn't fall far from the tree in Casey's case, and my sympathy for the Anthony's at this stage, may be exaggerated by what I feel are intolerable falsehoods, conceived amongst fiendishly evil and demonic litigators, who are allowed to lie, destroy people's lives and get away with it, while a cold-blooded killer gets all the breaks that our system allows.

Everyone deserves a vigorous defense, but, does it mean that every lawyer is allowed to lie and get away with it, when it impeaches true victims and their rights to privacy and slander? Where are the victims' rights in this case, because Casey is not the victim, but, the cause of death and destruction of her entire family. Maybe that's her ulterior motive all along.

Before she was stopped in her tracks, she bragged about being given George and Cindy's nice home, because "they would not be needing it" for some reason. Maybe she was planning to kill them all, but, was stopped, and in revenge is finishing the job with the help of Florida taxpayers paying these unscrupulously dishonest, even satanic attorneya, who are complicit in an evil that's so much greater than the original crime, that it shocks the senses by it's audacity. I believe that once such an accusation puts someone like George Anthony on trial, that the defense needs to back it up with some proof, otherwise, it is bullshit. But, that is not the way the law sees it. The LAW is an ASS.

However, Melvyn Perry, is an awesome judge, under the circumstances. It could be far worse, and the reality of this defense is not lost on him, I would bet my life on it..

Thanks to our system of justice, these lawyers make a mockery of real justice, and there's nothing we can do about it, except hope and pray 12 common people can see through it. Even so, these parents' lives are ruined forever. What's worse than being accused of being a child rapist and even a possible perpetrator in Caylee's death, maybe NOT from drowning, but, from duct tape asphyxiation that was in  George's possession, even though Casey is a thief and liar.

God help them all.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

In The Evening -NO CUBE NO FLY today :(

With an hour to go, EST, until Harold Camping's vision of the first great exodus, I am crestfallen and certain that I will still have the same headache in two hours, as I've had all afternoon. The media is making a mockery of this dear fellow, who for some strange reason feels he was given insight that doesn't seem to be resonant with all of us, while a good many will be bitterly disappointed, for sure.

What's ironic is that I am one of a majority of Christians and Jews who believe that it will occur within the next decade, or could definitely take place sooner, in our lifetimes. I realize Harold is 89, and who like my father, doesn't want to wait much longer to go (I sort of promised my dad that *something* big will happen in 2012, and he's going to live to see Christ's return) and he's holding my feet to the flame saying he doesn't want to wait until he's 100. They're ready to fly, and so am I, but, we have to await the pilot's timing.

I try to encourage my dad to think of it this way, that scripture says a man of 100 will be like a child, although he can't grasp what it's going to be like to live 1000 years like Adam and Eve. But, that's what's going to be, according to Bible, and I don't care if I look like the biggest jerk in the world, I know in my heart and soul, that this is possible when Christ returns. 

And so he shall.

I guess the time/space thing, portals, and who knows what else, is a part of the hard wiring of the Master's Great Plan and programming, and we're jots in that notation, but, certainly not the keys. It's got to be more precise for me to believe, although the USA turning on Israel this week was monumental for me, and one of the biggest signs, even bigger than the Japanese FUK-U-earthquake and nuclear meltdown. These are signs and judgments, without a doubt, and the time is drawing nearer,..

I will encourage dear Brother Camping to take heart, and tell him what I tell my father, how Moses was 90 years old and leading a vast and impatient nation into the Promised land, which left him without resolution for 40 years because of their impudence and misunderstanding.

I remember how Harold loved Psalm 90, and I offer him this beautiful sweet prayer of Moses, on the eve of this day, and go in peace, with faith that what will be will be:

Psa 90:1  [[A Prayer of Moses the man of God.]] Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.
Psa 90:2  Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou [art] God.
Psa 90:3  Thou turnest man to destruction; and sayest, Return, ye children of men.
Psa 90:4  For a thousand years in thy sight [are but] as yesterday when it is past, and [as] a watch in the night.
Psa 90:5  Thou carriest them away as with a flood; they are [as] a sleep: in the morning [they are] like grass [which] groweth up.
Psa 90:6  In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth.
Psa 90:7  For we are consumed by thine anger, and by thy wrath are we troubled.
Psa 90:8  Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret [sins] in the light of thy countenance.
Psa 90:9  For all our days are passed away in thy wrath: we spend our years as a tale [that is told].
Psa 90:10  The days of our years [are] threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength [they be] fourscore years, yet [is] their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.
Psa 90:11  Who knoweth the power of thine anger? even according to thy fear, [so is] thy wrath.
Psa 90:12  So teach [us] to number our days, that we may apply [our] hearts unto wisdom.
Psa 90:13  Return, O LORD, how long? and let it repent thee concerning thy servants.
Psa 90:14  O satisfy us early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
Psa 90:15  Make us glad according to the days [wherein] thou hast afflicted us, [and] the years [wherein] we have seen evil.
Psa 90:16  Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their children.
Psa 90:17  And let the beauty of the LORD our God be upon us: and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it.

Dear Brother Camping

I have left blogging and the virtual world lately, and retreated into the old ways, without a digital this or that, and holding a real Bible in my lap, while I am transported into a place beyond time and space. Ironically, I have often remembered the salad days of the 1980s, with the spiritual wave that became a tsunami, and I was blessed to be carried out to sea, like a sacred fish, in a net that surpasses the Internet.  I recalled the great evangelical mentoring of Harold Camping, dear old Brother Fisherman, and his impeccable wisdom of the age. Then, he started dating things and like Martin Luther, fell from the divine stage in flames.

Like all men, with feet of clay.

But, today is May 21, 2011, and how I want his mad prophecy to be precise and true. How I would love to soar through the sky, or be transported up and out of this pitiful state, and into the gates where the pearls are the size of mountains, and the emeralds make mansions next to a river of life. I long to pick a peach from the divine blessed tree, growing along the banks of the holy stream,  and then smoke the leaves.

I can almost taste the freedom, as much as any prisoner longs and dreams of steel metal gates opening for reentry into a better place. I have longed to know this freedom and this perfect state.

As I get older, inside, I feel the clock ticking backwards, as something akin to childishness springs up inside me, like soda shaken up and released, or the first sip of champagne making me laugh and making me dizzy. Am I going crazy?

But, dear Brother Camping, who helped build the foundation of Christ's faith in a generation who are now turning grey, I pray you are right, but, I am depressed because I know it's not today.

Even though this week, an American President had the hubris and audacity to call Israel an "OCCUPIER" of Palestinian territory, which turned the key, let's just say, I still know it's not today. Not yet. But, if I'm wrong, I'll end this day in ecstasy, if I'm found to be worthy of the first transport.

I used to dream about flying, and I think it would be the most fun I've had, but, I can't discuss it with anyone, because they think we're all barking mad. I've even lost my taste for meat, knowing a vegan future is awaiting, where even the lions graze like lambs, and snakes are all friendly. No one will hurt or destroy in HIS HOLY Place. I want to spend eternity worshipping his beautiful face, and praising Yahweh forevermore. I want to sing and dance with the saints, and be in a rock band. I want to embrace every promise he made, and I believe in all his words, with all my heart, but, I am depressed today, because I know it will pass without our golden ticket on the chariot of God to the sacred cubic city of grace.

America is primed and ready for the beast. It's already engaged most of the world, look at the EU, and the Middle East. Look at China and the genocide in Africa. Look at the rivers of blood in the jungles of the Congo, and the increasingly chaotic weather. Look at the tsunamis and whirlwinds, we've sown with our godless ways, poisoning the Earth, and worshiping the work of our own making. With America and the UN condemning Israel, Christ told us the waiting is all but over, but, wait, it doesn't feel right yet, and I hate being disappointed because, like you, Brother Camping, I want to fly and leave a place where I'm not wanted.

The world has already expelled and extinguished most of the Jewish race, and Christianity is the new Jew on the block, so, I'm doubly cursed by the world's standards. I know Israel is going to drop some serious plutonium soon, and I'm thinking that this is when we will get our great escape. Why else would we need a "NEW" Jerusalem?

There's no question that the time is coming, but, the hour and the day, only God, the Father knows, and he's flexible, except when it comes to Jerusalem. Because Jerusalem, Ariel, doesn't belong to the Jews, nor the Arabs, nor anyone but HIM. He who touches Ariel, touches the apple of his EYE, and I wouldn't want to be someone who had to face the LORD after spurning or desecrating, or deserting Jerusalem.

Thank you Mr. Obama for making the day and time of our departure more certainly within this decade, but, as for the next 12 hours.... I can only daydream how it will be, wishing and praying to be ready on the actual day.

Still, it gives us all something to think about today, especially with Obama showing his blood-red teeth. I think it's safe to say we know who he may be..... I wouldn't want to be him. To gain the world, to what end? Makes me scared when I think about his fate. Makes me angry, too. How dare he call Israel "OCCUPIERS"? FU Mr. President. I no longer believe in America. The dream is over. The nightmare is just beginning, and hopefully, someday soon, Mr. Camping's yearning and dreams and visions will also come true.