It's early Tuesday morning, I guess the Supreme court is going to rule on homo marriage today. It will pass. I would welcome being wrong about that. The reason for the prediction is to show how obvious the agenda is. This isn't a political process; it's a spiritual one. The country is so far removed from its Christian past that the judges won't be affected by it.
On a related note, I've previously predicted that Hillary would win the Oval office. Things aren't going well for her campaign, but I wouldn't be shocked to learn that she not only stays in the race, but wins. It would be bizarre, but believable. I could wax sarcastic and say that it's comforting nostalgia, a Clinton administration with all the ensuing scandals. Just like the good ol' days. But rather, I see it as a judgment on a people very far from God. People have been running the country without Him for so long that first they became accustomed to the constant scandals, and now, they're blind to them. If she gets elected, there will be non stop scandals, not seen heretofore. Then people will wonder why. Bizarre.
Speaking of which, even I, King of weird, encounter incidents that are too strange for me. I'm very creative, but I don't think I could make this up. Too bad it's in such bad circumstances. Readers here will remember that I've written about the dangerous brother in law. I guess there wasn't enough evidence to hold him in custody for what happened to his neighbor, or he was out on bail, something. I'd rather live with police that were careful about evidence than those who weren't. Anyway, I'll call him the bad BIL. He's had a long standing dislike of good brother in law. So, he shot good BIL. Point blank range with a pistol, just inches away. The bullet passed right through, but not of course, without damage. He had a kidney removed. Three days later he was home again, was walking the day after that. I came to see him a day later, not only was he walking around, but was carrying on a good bit of conversation.
The first thing he wanted to do when I came over was to search for the bullet. He thought that the police hadn't found it. So he decided to get a little technical in our search. He sat on the coffee table where he was shot. He got a couple of wood sticks, and said he was going to place the end of one stick on the entry hole (still a scab), and the end of the other stick on the exit hole. He wanted me to stand away and visually help him adjust the angle of the two sticks so that the exit one would point to where the bullet went. For a split second, this was too strange for even me, the weird neighbor himself. But I realized that one, I have to live up to the name; and two, it's a once in a life experience. So I stood back and assisted. The entry hole on the front was higher than the hole on the rear, so that formed an angle by itself. All I had to do was to tell him to raise the front of the front one, and lower the farthest end on the exit stick. Then it all formed a straight line. We noted where it pointed to on the couch, and took apart all the cushions looking for the bullet, or a hole in a cushion. We didn't find it, but did manage to make a mess of the couch. By the time we were done, he was too tired to put the couch back together, and me, the undomesticated slob, couldn't remember how it came apart. So good sister in law (they're not all good) came and fixed the couch. Typical male operation I guess.
Numerous other things to write about, but now it's REALLY late, so that will have to wait.
