#i’m NOT religious but they really went off with the false idols
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that paper article with chappell roan is so honest and such a good reminder that fans are not owed access to celebrities! it is inappropriate to interrupt their days, conversations, appointments, and commutes to talk at or get a picture of a person you don’t actually know. there is a time and place for these interactions, and parasocial behavior is never okay
#i’m NOT religious but they really went off with the false idols#leave them alone! stop following them! stop talking at them on the street when they’re busy! be nice#put your phones away too that shits disgusting. leave them alone you’re not friends#miles speaks
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Hey hey! So I normally don’t interact off anon because I’m pretty shy, but I feel like I should for this. I’m an ex-catholic and I saw the ask someone sent in, so I want to let them know that I’m always here to talk if they want someone who has had a similar experience! If not, that is also completely okay!
So I just want to share a bit of my experience with that anon. I grew up in an extremely religious household, my parents forced me to go to church every weekend and even made me pray rosaries with them every day. When I was younger, I believed in what my parents taught me about their god and i found comfort in christianity. However, I never felt truly connected to the christian god or even jesus (the trinity confused me back then too). As I grew older, I learned about Greek gods and i was absolutely smitten with them even when i thought that could get me a one way ticket to hell. So i ignored my love for the gods and chalked it up to liking cool stories about them. When I was a teenager, I found out people really worship the gods today and I was 1.) amazed and 2.) scared. I was worried I would go to hell if i even thought of looking into worshiping “false idols”. I wouldnt entertain the idea of them being real for a while. When I finally did consider the possibility, I told myself that I couldnt worship them because I didnt know what would happen to me and was very worried about what afterlife would be like, especially if my parents went to a christian afterlife and i didnt, if that makes sense. So i ignored the urge to make connections with the deities I now love, and I told myself i believed in the christian god because it gave me anxiety to think about it too much. Fast forward a couple years, and I finally told myself that I cant keep letting fear get in the way of something that could be amazing. Yeah, I was scared and guilty at first, but it was the best decision I’ve ever made. The gods have been there for me in ways I couldnt imagine possible before. I feel loved, something I never felt when catholic. And one final piece of advice: if the christian god is all about forgiveness, you can repent and do penance later if you decide this path isnt for you, but i highly recommend trying it. Okay, I gotta shut up now! Definitely feel free to chat with me any time!!
It’s very wonderful of you to come off of anon to offer support and share your experience! I know this isn’t for me but I still very much appreciate it! Always makes me happy seeing people helping others! Keeps my hope alive! So thank you, love! I hope that anon sees this!
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but deliver us from evil
location : the home of bellatrix & rodolphus lestrange tws : religion / religious imagery , death mention , blood mention wordcount : 1671 words
hail mary full of grace
she’d said her prayers before she’d set off . despite everything she was , the many complexities , the many sins , that made up josephine , she always said her prayers . they always helped to calm her , to make her sure in her course . but tonight was different . rosary beads sitting heavy in her pocket as she walked into the room . one last look back at her friends before she closed the door behind her . trying not to think that this could be goodbye if things went … no . to think that could be to wish it into being . she needed to hold her head high . she was a fitzroy-howard for christ sake ! a lady with a title . and all of that counted for what here ? nothing . nothing at all . as much worth as the mud some claimed coursed through her veins . she couldn’t look prideful coming into this . she couldn’t stand there cowering either . respect . that was needed . reverence . the dark lord posed himself as many things ; a saviour , a king , an almost deific image he’d constructed . he presented as almost a god . and so with each step she took towards this false idol she prayed to her own .
the lord is with thee
oh he was , for sure he was . but there was only one lord here in this room … lord voldermort . sat on a lone chair at the opposite side of a room she could’ve sworn was smaller the last time she was here . there was no dais , and with him seated for once she was taller than someone , but as each footstep of josie’s echoed through the air and her mind ran through what she planned to say again and again and again , she couldn’t help the image conjured in her mind . her as the subject , making a plea to their sovereign . it was ancient . years before her time , since royalty had really meant something on these shores . but it was familiar . in her blood . as much as she might’ve been born to be on the other side of things . something close to resolve settling into her as she stopped before him and bowed her head . ❝ my lord ❞
and with those two words out of her the rest came a little easier . there was no small talk , no pleasantries to be exchanged . instead she was told how he was only here to humour another , to repay the request of a loyal servant even if he couldn’t understand what was wanted from it , how he’d been told she had wanted to meet with him — speak with him . and that the prospect was an intriguing one . ❝ after all , what could a mudblood like you have to say that’s of worth ❞
❝ talk is always cheap , my lord , i’m here today for something of more substance . i’m here with an offer . a proposition . i know my place in all this , i know my worth and how little that is . i know all i can give is what i can do for the cause , for you , my lord . and i know until now that’s been … severely limited ❞ she hadn’t even been a spy , just someone with ears that people talked freely in front of . all she did was listen and tattle . ❝ i listen and i tell , and i help with image … or helped rather , because we achieved that aim . but i am willing to do more . willing to play my part , my lord , to do your bidding fully . i just — if i may be so bold to have you humour me , my lord — i have only one thing i ask of in return . safety . not for me , for my sister . despite my —❞ and how the next sickened josie to say ❝ disadvantages , i know how she is seen . i know eyes turn to her to replace me . all i ask of you is to keep her from all of this , and i offer you the most loyal servant in return . myself ❞
but with each word that came tumbling from her lips , her voice trembling all the while , her resolve crumbled . each word missing its mark — she hadn’t offered enough . there was interest there , she could see it on his face , as distorted and animalistic , serpentine even , as it looked on him . she could see she’d offered enough to tempt . enough to maybe secure her own life for a spell but there was always that bigger ask . the one she’d came here today for . this all meant nothing if she walked away without a guarantee about pippa . she had to offer more , not just the words and promises she just had spoken . and she had to do it now while she had his attention , his interest , even just a moment of his patience . but what else was there to offer ? nothing but herself . greater love hath no man than this , that a man lay down his life for his friends . and she was no man . she was something more . a sister . who’d do anything for her sister .
❝ and i’m not just offering to do anything asked of me , i mean it . honestly and truly . i’m offering to give myself over to the cause . completely . yours to use as you see fit , any way you see fit ❞ pausing for a moments that felt like an eternity . her heart thudding in her chest as a few desperate little gasps of air passed her lips . she didn’t want to have time to lose her nerve but even as her panic hit pure desperation she knew how to sell it . like her life depended on it . because something more important than that did — pippa’s life . ❝ if my sister is kept clear of all this ❞ if pippa was kept free of the anything close to same yoke josie was willing to accept . she’d offered up her last gasp , what could just amount to a few feeble kicks as the door closed on her life . but she’d made the offer . she’d let it sink in . grow promising . let little plans about what could be done with her start to form . before she hit in with her conditions . everything in life was a game of seduction , all she could do now was wait and hope she was a good a player as she thought . stare into the face of the devil and pray he’d throw her some twisted salvation she could cling to .
the smile that garnered . of all the horrors in the world josie was yet to see that smile would remain one of the most chilling when the end came for her . as quick as that could be with a life she had just made not her own . and the laugh that followed shook her to her core . to the blackened soul somewhere beneath all the walls that josie had become and that she had just damned . all for sake of pippa . ❝ the things you fools will do for love : muggle , wix or mudblood like yourself . it is a weakness at the core of all of you . but those terms are agreeable ❞ the pause there ; she knew it was for the thanks he was so sure would come , thanks she provided ten fold . words falling from her lips that made about as much sense as the water gurgling up from a spring . falling quiet only when he held a hand up to silence her . ❝ we are done here now , someone will be given the responsibility of you . follow their words as my own . leave now ❞ and with a yes my lord quick on her lips she began that long walk out the room . almost to the door before the rasp of his voice rang out once more . ❝ and send lestrange in next , i know he is out there waiting no doubt . we have other business to attend to ❞
holy mary , mother of god , pray for us sinners now
her hands fell back to her rosary beads the second she was from the room , clinging to them for one last ounce of strength . enough composure that she didn’t have to immediately let on just what she had to offer him to protect her sister . a tiny slip of a smile passing her lips as she met rod’s eye . ❝ he’s asked for you now , says there’s other business to attend to ❞ no one had to be told not to keep the dark lord waiting . and the second she was alone she fell to her knees sobbing . clutching in her hands her rosary as if she were just three hail marys away from redemption . there was no saving her now .
and at the hour of our death
the blood of kings , isn’t that what she so often said ?
the king is dead . long live the king .
josephine fitzroy-howard was effectively dead .
long live little pippa .
amen
some decisions would always be worth it .
#𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐄 : self para . ⧽ — — i only wanted a little love affair .#𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐄 : josie . ⧽ — — her lips suck forth my soul .#religion tw#death mention tw#blood mention tw
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What happened? :o
Warning: sorta long post.
Just so this will be as concise and organized as possible, I'll tell you what happened in N City based on my understanding and if you need extra information you could search on Twitter about it.
1. Colorist claims
Now this one is very controversial because it depends on your own perception or interpretation. In Mtopia there was a remark about the lighting of the vehicle by Taeyong who meant no harm but was just saying that the side which Lucas happened to be on was dark because the sunlight barely shined from that end. Mark and Baekhyun went on to comment how Lucas appeared nearly invisible so it was quite insensitive. Many kfans have interpreted the words and it infact was talking about the setting not the person, however it spiraled off into something else.
- I won't say it wasn't wrong or couldn't have been avoided but my opinion, being a poc, I didn't see anything hateful. I also saw many poc that weren't sending hate to them but waiting for an explanation. Some could say it was nearing on microaggression but to be honest, this is Korea we're talking about. They whitewash and idolize white complexions. The whole nation is brainwashed that way. Some fans (and mostly antis who are using this for fanwars) started calling Taeyong and Mark racists, sending messages on bubble, under their posts and even sent hate comments in their lives and demanding they kts, leave and apologize. The amount of hate comments on Marks live made him shake and Hyuck had to end it.
2. Mudra and desi culture mockery
On the ending stage for Make A Wish on M Countdown, Taeyong and Xiaojun did the meditation Mudra and head bobbed. Some Southeast Asian (?) Fans found it disrespectful and mocking to their culture. Some on the other hand didn't find anything wrong with it.
- (Another thing antis are using to attack.) As I'm not desi I have no right to say it's disrespectful or not. If anyone was hurt it's their right to feel hurt. Many tried to directly inform the members about it and get a response from SM but to no avail yet. As it's a split reaction I don't think SM will do anything about it really. The only thing I want to say is that it can't be considered mockery if they aren't deliberately doing it despite knowing the significance. It might be more ignorance since they've seen these things done and don't realize that they're important. Another thing is, for people expecting them to be educated as a global group is wrong. They can't know every single knick and cranny of every culture. They should be educated further, the right way, in order not to make the same mistakes. Also demanding an apology without educating them defeats the purpose as they won't know what they did wrong.
3. Fat shaming
I don't really know much about this but apparently Lucas made some comments about Baekhyuns weight, but it was blown out of proportion so they say he fat shames especially since he used to call Kun "f*t Kun". So they sent him hate messages on bubble.
4. Fatphobic(?)
So on the behind MV for Misfit, Taeyong was encouraging Johnny to not eat since he had a shoot. As an idol this is customary and normal but many fans twisted his words saying he's telling him to starve. Rather it was so Johnnys body would maintain shape before the shots were taken.
5. SBS Make A Wish Set Design
I don't know much about this but I saw that Inkigayos stage had a sacred arabic prayer for Hussain or his son. It was a religious and very important quote so many fans were enraged, as they should be, however, NCT didn't have anything to do with the set design so the blame was misplaced. They definitely deserve an apology for this one and an official statement.
All in all this is what I know, sorry if it's long and I added my thoughts on it. You can form your own opinions surely. Many antis are having a field day and nctzen just keep making things bigger by using misinterpretations, trusting the words of people without fact checking, gaslighting, spreading false information and just overall hating without just cause. You can want the best for someone without babying them. Nothing's wrong with telling them they did wrong, I'm sure they'll even thank you for it, but the way you do it has to be with the same respect you are seeking. SM isn't going to allow them to feely speak unfortunately but I'm sure they're aware. They see the comments, they lurk on social media. They know what's happening. It's just getting out of hand...
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Ahhh, its just me, typing out this message that i'll never send, requesting yandere idol izuku, if only i weren't so shy I'd send this....unless i were to accidentaly send this- wait...!
Ohhh noo,,, I accidentally wrote out a 3-page response,,, how tragic,,,
Izuku wasn’t meant to be in the spotlight.
Sure, he loved singing, composing, and everything that came along with being a performer, but he simply couldn’t endure the attention. He couldn’t say ‘no’ when someone asked him for an autograph, regardless of how busy he was. Izuku’s schedule was filled with interviews, just because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he turned one down. His assistant was damn-near incompetent (he hasn’t had a good cup of coffee in months), but Izuku would rather stab himself in the stomach than lay-off that poor college student.
The live-performances had to be the worst, though. His throat would tighten, breathing suddenly impossible, tunnel-vision and cold sweats following shortly after. Fortunately, he’d gotten used to the panic attacks. Soon enough, they were just another part of his life. It never stopped him from performing… Izuku just wasn’t made for the attention.
But, you were different. You thrived off the attention your fans gave you, exuding a confidence that rivaled with Katsuki’s. At first, he found it frustrating. Why did you get to be perfect?! How did you do everything he struggled with so effortlessly?! It was a repressed hatred, the kind that forced him to grit his teeth whenever someone brought you up. Despite this, he nurtured his hatred like a mother looking after her infant. He actively sought out news that involved your name, listened to every song you released, and religiously followed your social-media accounts. By the time his resentment reached its peak, it was a bright, burning flame. One that you managed to put out in less than a minute.
His manager had called it a ‘publiciy stunt’, which did nothing to ease Izuku’s nerves. He’d make a cameo at one of your concerts, walking onto the stage behind you, messing around for a few seconds, and getting your attention as you finished your final set. You’d be shocked, and your fans would love it. The plan went off flawlessly… to the audience, at least. As you gave your ‘final bow’, an over-dramatic flourish you seemed to be rather fond of, he shyly put a hand on your shoulder, visibly shaking at that point. He expected you to smirk when you saw him, call him a few not-so-nice names, then brag to your audience before pulling him off stage, but you just smiled and pulled him into a hug. Like the two of you were good friends. Like you’d even met him before.
“Relax, I’m nervous too,” You were whispering, voice too quiet for your mic to pick-up. “Just keep your eyes on me. The audience isn’t there. Trust me, it helps.”
He was in awe, but you just acted like it didn’t happen. Of course, you ran through your standard, ego-fueled routine. This time, your confidence didn’t seem unappealing, it was… an act, for lack of a better phrase. A hard shell protecting a soft, understanding interior. For once, he enjoyed seeing you, listening to you. He enjoyed rewatching your interviews that night, too, and replaying to your newest album the next day. He still went through his ‘daily routine’, but it wasn’t out of malice. Admiration, maybe. Curiosity?
He was already so invested in you, finding your address almost felt natural. Bribing someone to access your security feed, jotting down your habits and quirks, memorizing every aspect of your real personality… this wasn’t stalking, it was studying. An innocent hobby, one that wouldn’t hurt you if you never found out. Watching you was how he relaxed, something he could do for hours at a time. It was a part of his day-to-day schedule by the time he noticed that his hobby wasn’t… well, normal.
But it was harmless, he told himself. No one would get hurt, as long as he stayed content with watching from a distance.
Then, he was unlucky enough to meet you. The event itself was unimportant, Izuku was too flustered and overwhelmed to retain most of it, but you touched him. You touched him, and joked with him, and talked to him… it was so different than seeing you on a screen, so much better. He wanted more, he needed more. Of course, he could barely bring himself to ask for your number, and even that was done through breathless mumbles and incomprehensible stutters. Izuku was self-aware enough to know he’d never get your attention, not like this,.
You were out of his reach. But things can change, right?
The renovations took a little over two months, but he really wanted to spoil you. The restraints were all bought second-hand under a false identity, and no one cared that a millionaire was buying an entire room’s worth of furniture. The newest security system, plenty of books and movies, gags and a shock collar… It certainly wasn’t what you were used to, but you wouldn’t be there for very long. He just needed a chance! As soon as you understood his feelings, he was sure you’d stay with him willingly!
And you will, won’t you? Izuku’s already put so much into his confession… he’s not sure what he’ll be forced to do if you reject him.
#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere prompt#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere oneshot#yandere drabble#yandere headcanons#idol au#boku no hero academia imagines#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia imagines#my hero academia imagines#bnha imagines#yandere bnha#izuku x reader#yandere izuku#yandere izuku x reader#midoriya x reader#yandere midoriya#yandere midoriya x reader#yandere deku#yandere deku x reader#deku x reader#possessive#obsessive#obsesion#jealousy
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i don’t know why but even though i’m not catholic i really identify with the catholic guilt thing? anyway this song makes me think of dex, so here.
warning for internalized homophobia and religious turmoil
The church looks the same as it always did.
Rays of stained light cast over the deep, dark wood of the pews, smooth but always a stiff seat. The green carpet muffles Dex’s footsteps as he makes his way down the aisle, candles littering the end of the path, the pulpit dressed in drapery and symbolism. Christ hanging on the wall, head bent, humble, thorny bronze crown reflecting the light.
Dex’s hands get caught in his pockets when he goes to light a candle, but no one is there to watch his fumbling. He picks up the wooden stick and tucks the end of it into the flame, waiting for it to catch.
He doesn’t know why, but he always took a moment to pick the right candle for the right prayer. There’s no criteria, or logic, but he looks across the array of candles, some lit but most dark. It’s early, he stumbled in after his morning run, and only the most devoted come in before the sun.
He ultimately decides on the candle three from the end, second row, and dips the lit end of the stick in to touch the wick. Half delirious, he thinks the word “kiss” as the ends touch, and then crosses himself hastily as he makes his prayer.
Forgive me, Dex thinks. He doesn’t think what for, as he would assume God would already know whatever Dex is asking forgiveness for. Dex isn’t quite sure, which is the other reason why he leaves it at that. Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.
Dex nearly scoffs. You have some part in this too, then, he thinks, wry, before the guilt floods his mouth, bitter.
It has been a long while since he’s taken communion. The papery taste of the wafer is hard to forget, the sweet wine even more so. The other boys in Dex’s religion class snickered at the prospect of drinking. Dex was never that excited about it.
For one, he’d overhead Ma talking to Aunt Julie about how Father Paul was a recovering alcoholic so he used wine without much alcohol. More than that, though, the thought of sipping from that huge glass, looking up at Father Paul, the man who baptized him and would hear his first confession-- Dex never saw the novelty in it.
Dex turns and sees the confessional, old and white, the same one Dex sat in as a kid, the same one Dad did, too. He stares at it for likely too long before he takes a seat in one of the pews. His running shorts ride up, as he sits, and his bare skin brushes the lacquered wood. It’s a foreign feeling in a familiar space. Dex doesn’t know what it means that he takes comfort in it.
He’s supposed to take comfort in the church. In the scripture. In God and His forgiveness.
“Man, they screwed you up,” Nursey said, in what should have been a laughing tone but was darker, honest, when Dex explained confession, finding solace in forgiveness. Dex didn’t know what his face did when Nursey said this, but it must’ve been pathetic because Nursey’s anger softened in his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, laying his hand on Dex’s chest, over his heartbeat. Skin bare, unbearably warm, all the apology Dex needed. “I just don’t like seeing you like-- this.”
Dex understood that. It’s why he didn’t invite Nursey to come home with him for Spring Break. Nursey didn’t like seeing Dex uncomfortable, uncertain, and he always became defensive on Dex’s behalf, which Dex appreciated at Samwell but couldn’t have in Maine. In Maine, Dex has to be quiet, dutiful, nod along to whatever is given to him. Penance, maybe, for being such a loud thing otherwise.
That’s another thing Nursey would think is fucked up. How Dex reconciles his queerness by being a good son otherwise. He wouldn’t believe, maybe, how Dex is here, compared to how he is at Samwell. “A Poindexter that doesn’t talk back?” Dex can imagine him saying, grinning. “Doesn’t flush at every single “wrong” thing someone says? Is silent?”
Maybe that’s it, too. Why Dex didn’t bring Nursey home. He doesn’t want Nursey to see who he is here. Who he has to be. It’s closer to how he was their frog year than Dex ever wants to be, and he doesn’t want to give Nursey the reminder.
Another thing Dex probably gets from his childhood: the fear that Nursey will realize that Dex doesn’t deserve him and leaves. If Dex was truly the good Christian he ought to be, he’d let Nursey go on and find what he does deserve, or at the very least Dex would confess the selfishness.
Dex hasn’t gone to Confessional since summer break, after his frog year. Even then, he wasn’t being honest. He hasn’t been honest in confessional since he was a freshmen in high school, came to church the morning after drunken parties where he always managed to slip away from the crowd, the watching eyes, press himself between a beer-laden boy and a wall strong enough to hold him up through the tremors.
“Do people confess sex stuff?” Nursey asked. “That seems so awkward.”
“If it’s a mortal sin.” As Dex said this, Nursey’s head rose and fell with the cadence of the words. They were both bare, save for briefs, in the heat of the Haus during an unexpectedly hot spring day. Nursey was using Dex’s stomach as a pillow because his actual pillow was in the freezer so that “all the sides will be the cool side!” Dex stared at Nursey’s curly dark hair, slightly damp with sweat, and told him about mortal sins and sins of the flesh and tacitly told him all the ways Dex was wrong and broken and no good.
“Crazy,” Nursey said, after Dex was finished. “I’m gonna go grab my pillow.” He hopped up from the bed and turned back to Dex, smiling a little. “Want an ice pop?” Dex nodded and Nursey’s smiled widened. “I’m gonna get you a blue one,” he said, bent down, and kissed Dex before he could object to the color of the popsicle. Nursey knew Dex hated the blue ones.
There were things about church that Dex missed. He missed the people, generally, their kindly complaints about their lives and questions into his own, their pride in his successes and encouragements in the face of his failures. He misses the songs, the sound of deep old men voices mingling with the off-key children’s, all of it pursuit of one goal, one God. Dex took comfort in the rules, even when they restricted him. He liked having a set answer: this was good, that was bad.
Samwell made it harder to ignore the parts Dex didn’t like. Like how some of those bad things weren’t, actually, and how the evidence for their conclusions were perverted, cruel, sometimes. How Dex had been taught to crave forgiveness before he could breathe fully, but every time he begged for it to Samwell, to the team, to Nursey, he refused to even acknowledge the need for it.
“Don’t ask me for forgiveness,” Jack said, once, early early on, after Nursey and Dex got in a fight during practice and flubbed a play. “Just be better.”
Dex measured “better” in the wideness of Nursey’s smiles, the blatancy of honesty in Bitty’s laughs. He got addicted to it. Worked for it constantly until he felt like he would never stop being better as long as he lived.
Then he’d come home, where smiles were short and laughs clipped. The lingering looks and pointed questions filled up tallies in the worse column of Dex’s mind and he felt desperate for the easiness of instant forgiveness. He returned to school full of apologies and took all the chances he could to add more of them. The more there was to apologize for, the easier the forgiveness, right? The more available?
“What are you looking for here?” Nursey asked, once, after a long fight, before they were together, after Dex had moved out. “What is the goal of all this?”
Dex blinked back, not knowing the answer.
Forgiveness? If it was forgiveness, why did he never feel good after he got it? Being better felt good. Tasted like warm pastries, felt like an arm over the shoulder on a walk to class.
By that time, Dex hadn’t been to confessional in two years. He wasn’t seeking forgiveness the way he should’ve been. Why?
If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you withhold forgiveness from any, it is withheld.
It was a final kind of thing. With the team, with Nursey, it didn’t end when Dex failed to be better. He kept trying. In confessional, he confessed the sin, did his penance, and was expected to go on and be clean. He never felt clean.
“It’s the Catholic guilt,” Nursey said, mouth blue around the popsicle he’d faked Dex out with. “I know that and I’m agnostic.”
“What’s that mean?” Dex asked, quiet, chewing around a bit of red popsicle. Nursey’s eyebrows went up, ready to chirp, and Dex clarified, “I know what it means generally. I want to know what it means to you.”
Eyebrows down, eyes soft. “For me,” he said, swallowing his bite to speak clearer. “It means that I believe there could be something. Something-- beautiful. Kind.” He curled his popsicle cold fingers around Dex’s wrist. Dex imagined he could feel his own pulse rebelling against the cage of Nursey’s fingertips. “Something that loves coincidences. That hurts when we hurt. Something that wants to be perfect and falls short sometimes. Something good.”
“That sounds nice,” Dex said, keeping his voice smooth even though he knew Nursey could feel his heartbeat echoing through his veins.
“It is.” Nursey said it intently, but kindly. Hopefully.
Thou shalt have no other Gods before me.
That was at the root of it, maybe. Dex had touched boys before Samwell. He’d lied in confessional long before he stopped stepping within its confines. But committing a mortal sin of the flesh and worshiping a false idol were very different things.
Most of the time, recently, when Dex spoke to God, he spoke to an understanding one. One who delighted in Dex’s adoration of Nursey, eased him through his fears.
Being here, in a pew in his childhood church, it was difficult to imagine his prayers going to his kindly God. This God peered down at him through the stained glass windows, frowning at the pale freckled boy within His house.
I hope you can understand, Dex thinks at the frowning figure. I hope you can love this thing you created despite all its broken pieces. Dex smiles at that. I am trying to.
The candle, three from the end, second row, flickers with a draft of wind from a nearby window, left open accidentally. Dex watches the flame for a few moments before standing and making his way down the green carpet aisle. The brightness of the sun, unstained, makes Dex squint, but he keeps going down the steps until the church is behind him.
He doesn’t look back once, even if he feels it looming. He figures that must be progress.
#nurseydex#dexnursey#check please#dex#william poindexter#really it's dex centric#i love me a character study#but i'll tag#nursey#derek nurse#my writing#sort of fic#ficlet#angst#religion#if any of the catholic things are wrong#oops#but i'm not catholic#so what can i say#except blame wikipedia#enjoy this i guess?#it's kind of sad#idk why#i'm in a not-sad mood lately
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so. i havent really written here in a long time, i mostly share my mundane thoughts and daily happenings on my twitter anymore. lately though, i’ve had a lot on my mind in regards to a large number of things, one of which being my relationship with religion and my faith in general. i don’t really think i can talk about it on twitter simply because there is too much for me to say just for a tweet chain, and these feelings are kinda... i don’t know, more intimate? i’m a little more hesitant to share them with a larger audience anyway.
and so, after many years of not really talking much here at all, i am going to dive into my relationship with religion and i will probably post here every so often about it as i try to connect with a goddess who reached out to me, isis.
i’ve spent my life in the bible belt of the us. i grew up in a very christian environment and i was involved in several different sects of christianity that are all kind of really fucked up. when i was a very young child, my mother and us were apart of a mormon church and though i cannot remember a lot, i do remember how utterly bizarre the “culture” was. even after my mother left the church, people from that mormon church would still come to our house and even followed us to our new address when we moved. it was very surreal.
my oma is catholic, too, and took me to plenty of services when i was young. i didn’t go a whole lot because i was rather restless as a kid and i could not stand how long their services were. the decorum of the catholic church and the sense of catholic guilt has followed me in life.
primarily, though, i grew up a baptist, and that is... its own can of worms. it was not a good experience. i have described my relationship with god and christianity in the past to a friend as “god haunts me” and that remains to be true. i feel it most when i see small, old abandoned churches in the countryside. little tiny, one room building. plain white walls with crosses. its not a comforting feeling or sight. it really does feel like being haunted. it make me feel afraid. so much of christianity’s teachings, especially those of the baptist faith, are rooted in the principal of fear. when i think of god and christanity i feel nothing but fear, fear of judgement, and just.. i dont know. theres a lot.
but at the same time, this is made ever more complex because i truly do feel i had very religious feelings and experiences where it was... it was a deep moment? im not sure how to explain it. it mostly happened during worship through gospel / song when i’d sing and i’d feel so... im not even sure how to describe it. but i could feel goosebumps rise on my skin, i would feel light, like my soul was touched. in rare moments, i did feel “closer to god.” acknowledging those feelings, in my mind, means i would have to acknowledge that god as he is, is real, but if i acknowledge that then that means... there can be no other gods, as christianity teaches.
some distinct memories i have with my experience in the baptist church i went to as a child is, once, when i was very young, i remember hearing the verse that “for god is a jealous god” in relation to the worship of idols / other gods and why we should not do so and you must worship him and him above all others during one sunday school session. when i was young, that struck me as something so very... off. jealousy is a flaw, as i understood it when i was young, but god is supposed to be perfect, and therefore... if he is jealous, then he cant be perfect. i dont remember all of what was exactly said but i do remember not being satisfied with the answer i was given in sunday school.
the last sunday school i ever attended and what drove me away in the end was when i was a teenager, and the lesson somehow pivoted to how people who worshipped different faiths (i.e. the islamic faith, the jewish, buddhists, etc) were wrong and needed to be shown the right path. that did not sit well with me at all and i vocally argued that. more or less, i spoke of tolerance and acceptance of other religions. this went against a core ideology of the baptist sect of christianity, which is conversion more or less. baptists believe very strongly in preaching the word of god to others, to the point of being intolerant of other religions. the topic of lgbt people came up too and how they were not “right” either but we could/should still tolerate them despite their sins. after that sunday school class, i received a book from the church tilted “god in other religions” and i was so pissed off and offended that i threw it away and never went back.
and now, here i am, in my mid 20′s, and i am trying to understand and explore my relationship with religion. despite my vague interest in paganism, i haven’t truly really tried to explore it. i was afraid, to be honest. i was afraid of being one of those “sinful” people who ‘worshipped false gods’ or whatever. there was too much drilled into the back of my mind, and i still could not quite shake those feelings i had where i did feel ‘connected’ to god. now though, i am starting to feel, i guess, a stronger pull.
in about october of last year, 2020, there was a strange little happenstance that occurred with me where, while i was away and caring for my grandpa after his surgery, i had gone into his kitchen on a whim. i was eating something and aimlessly looking out his back window when i looked down and in his sink, there was a bird. a wren, to be specific. it was uninjured and i have no idea how it got there, the door and windows had been closed, but i picked it up in a paper towel and set it outside. later that day, it was gone.
it was so bizarre that... i felt like it had to be a sign of something, from someone. two of my friends, nat and magda, asked their pendulums each and were able to tell me it was isis who was reaching out to me. since then, that has been in the back of my mind but i have yet to truly act on it. ive been... kind of afraid to, i suppose? i am just unsure. nat said something that profound stuck with me that relationships with gods in paganism was not just blind faith like with christianity, but a relationship where you work with them. that was hard to wrap my head around at the time. like! it makes sense. but my upbringing has made it hard for me to approach.
i have just been thinking about this more and more lately. i want.. to try, but i dont really know where to begin. do i build a shrine? do i pray? is it too late for me to reach out to her? im not sure. im struggling with taking the first steps and it feels like trying to learn how to walk all over again. i dont have much more to expand on this other than that... i want to try and connect with isis. to really form that relationship, but now i am afraid i have waited too long and she might reject my faith or whatever. i dont know. i feel so alone and like a baby trying to navigate all this.
#dont really know how to tag this but its just my struggles with religion#sharing a lot of my fears anxieties and concerns#dont know what to do in the end still.
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Ten "Suggestions" For A New World
I was raised in the Roman Catholic faith. Went to church every Sunday with my family from the time I was four until the age of 19. I was baptized, received my first communion and attended CCD classes (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine). And just for fun and out of curiosity, I've read the bible (New Testament) three times. [I want to quickly share with you the meaning of the word "confraternity": 'a lay brotherhood devoted to some purpose, especially to religious or charitable service'. Already its clear women are not really welcome.]
Once I was free to make my own choices, I stopped going to church. To be honest with you, I couldn't hear myself think over the constant propaganda being served to me by an elderly ornery priest wearing a $2500 robe and asking me to kneel at a $10,000 marble alter while attempting to guilt me into giving the church money to help feed the poor. I've never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but I knew something wasn't quite right with this religion. A friend of mine introduced me to the term "recovering Catholic" and I've adopted it as my own.
Do I believe in God? What... a terribly complicated question. In short, yes. In length, I believe in something I can't put my finger on and it has a name. I know I talk to this Universe character a great deal, maybe that’s it? Anyway, the God I believe in... that something with a name I can't accurately put my finger on - is about kindness and compassion, respect, acceptance, tolerance and love. And I mean, for real. Not just because it sounds good in your mouth.
Have you ever looked up the meaning of TOLERANCE?
‘allow the existence, occurrence, or practice of (something that one does not necessarily like or agree with) without interference’
The fact I’ve not yet killed anyone, means I am a highly tolerant being. Ego stroke.
You may have your own opinions and beliefs; in fact, I encourage you to form your own opinions and sift through what you do and don't believe. But let other people find their own way. Be who they are to be and if it's a different path than yours... don't tell them they're going to Hell. All that does is stress Satan right the fuck out.
I was taught to pray from an early age. Kneel down beside the bed at night, make the sign of the cross and talk to God. Ask him to bless the people you love, show compassion for those who wronged you and be thankful for everything you've been given. End with the sign of the cross. Although I no longer kneel at the side of my bed or make the sign of the cross, I do still pray. I've never had an issue with prayer. It's a form of communication and communication is king. Even if you believe no one is listening, it truly does help to just have raw dialogue with yourself.
Have I ever used prayer to help me out of a tough spot? Absolutely.
Have I ever prayed for something and promised something else I knew I most likely wouldn't follow through with? Yes. Have I ever prayed then become angry when things didn't go my way? Definitely.
Have I asked for forgiveness, mercy and wisdom? Yes.
I'm not ashamed of any of those admissions. But I'm not going to print them on a t-shirt and strut around either. I don't feel I am any different than anyone else when it comes to prayer. Evidence of this are the religious contestants on Survivor who ask God for assistance in winning a million dollars so they may do good with all that money.
Currently, for me, prayer is an open-ended conversation that takes place in my soul. There's yelling and screaming. Blame. Crying and swearing. The launching of projectiles and ever so often... peace, laughter, approval and cookies. There's chaos and harmony and somehow, I manage to cultivate enough intelligence to string together a bunch of words to make a half decent sentences from time to time.
This brings me to: The Ten Commandments. Take a quick gander at this so you can get your bearings:
https://www.bibleinfo.com/en/topics/ten-commandments-list
In a nutshell, these are "God's standards" which he wants you to live by.
Going to confession was the worst. Especially as a typical 15-year-old girl. "I am not telling you shit" was pretty much my life's motto so to expect me to open up to an old priest and share my sins and secret thoughts so he may shame me with a mini lecture and an act of contrition, was insanity.
Every time I went to confession, I used the same three "sins":
I disobeyed my Mother and Father
I took the Lord`s name in vain
I lied
I figured this to be believable for a girl my age. If you look at the commandments, I wasn't going to covet my neighbor`s wife or his ox and I certainly wasn't going to get myself another God to worship considering I already couldn't figure out the one I'd been given. And murder? I probably didn't even know what that meant. I mean, until the guidance counselor at my school pointed out to me what suicide was, I had no idea it was even possible to do that to yourself. I wasn't stupid, but rather innocent. And isn't it funny that it took a person of "authority" whose intentions were being governed by a higher power, to bring those kinds of ideas into my brain where they once didn't exist? Something to ponder.
Let's be honest, the Ten Commandments... as they stand right now in current society... a little outdated, right? Technology is rapidly changing how we communicate and behave. And it's time to modernize in order to keep up. I'm not proposing we abolish the original document. I'm not trying to offend anyone or stamp out their beliefs. I know the Ten Commandments is a sacred collection of words that many believe is straight from the mouth of God. Attempting to rip up or shit on something with that much power over so many people... is suicide. (Look Ms. Foster! I learned another way one can harm themselves other than dragging a razor over one's wrists! Your job wasn't meaningless after all!)
I'm merely proposing that someone (ME ME ME) take a stab at writing up a new set of standards which people (YOU YOU YOU) should SERIOUSLY consider following if they wish to achieve a pleasant after life. And the only person you must believe in - yourself.
The first thing I want to do is change the word "commandments" to "suggestions". It's less aggressive and more light-hearted, even though you're still expected to comply. No one wants to be told what to do, not really, and by "commanding" them in a preachy way to curb behavior... well, you're just asking for trouble. Imagine the success rate if Moses had come down from the mountain and said:
“Hey... hi everyone, look, God spoke to me and mentioned something about these ten suggestions He'd like us to seriously consider if we want to get into Heaven. He was pretty adamant that we pay attention and do our best to not ignore this list. I think He spent a lot of time coming up with this stuff... so we really do owe it to Him to try and give this all we got. Ok, thanks everyone... back to not raping women and making false idols out of gold".
I just feel that by changing the wording and therefore tone of this document - you're not alienating the more cantankerous, free-spirited or stubborn people of the world with a menu of demands you expect them to blindly obey.
The second thing I want to do is provide a brief explanation for each "suggestion". There is nothing worse than treating people as though they don't deserve further information when you'd like them to do something that wasn't their idea. Communication is comforting and reflects respect. You can't say: "Because I told you so" or "Just do it" and expect to be well received. All this is going to get you are responses such as: "You're not the boss of me" and "Go fuck yourself".
So, without further ado, I give to you:
The Ten "Suggestions" For A New World
Please do not update your Facebook status message more than once a day: This is a sign of vanity, a deadly sin. And it's really annoying to the point where people secretly want to kill you for repeatedly mugging their news feeds with updates in increments of 32 minutes, on the broad details of your existence. No one actually cares here, on planet Self Absorption.
Please do not kill: This is the only original "commandment" included on this new list because it has stood and always will stand the test of time. There are loads of shitty, stupid, selfish & servile individuals in the world and relieving them of the burden of breathing seems like an all-around great idea, but it's actually a terrible idea. Why? Well, for starters... it's not your place to end a human life. It's just not. Life is special. You - not so much. Plus, it causes debilitating pain for a great many people. When you take someone's life away you create a hole inside the people who love them. This hole can never be filled. It will never get smaller. These people will never heal. They might be able to carry on... eat food again one day, maybe buy a new couch, laugh at a joke - but they will never heal. They will walk around, unhealed and with a hole in their heart till their dying day. Don't make holes in other people.
Please resist from being a complete douche bag: (Traditionally the term 'douche bag' is usually gender specific and applies to men, but for this "suggestion" it also applies to women, because women can be douche bags as well. This does not apply to cats. The lives of cats are based upon douche-baggery, but it's cute and therefore exempt) Being a total jerk is in your bloodline. Eve was a jerk to Adam. Adam was a jerk to God. The snake was a jerk to Eve. God was a jerk to the dinosaurs. And the dinosaurs were jerks to everyone. So... this "suggestion" is going to be a difficult one not to fail at from time to time. The idea here isn't to be perfect, because that isn't unachievable. But rather, genuinely compassionate and generous when you see someone who wouldn't benefit from you running your truck into their fence and then driving off like a douche bag coward. And the state of being a douche bag isn't always limited to actions befitting a little scamp, no it can also be in the way you dress (Underwear above the pants line? Come on!) Or how you tell uninterested parties about your drunken antics and the loss of your favorite pair of really expensive shoes. Or tweeting/texting the person next to you while you're in a group setting. Now you can see why pretty much everyone will be unsuccessful at this "suggestion". We're douche bags.
If you open a bottle of wine - please finish it: This really shouldn't require much explanation. Drinking two-day old wine is the equivalent of sucking on week old doughnuts. Even hobos understand this concept. If you save your wine, you're stealing food out of the mouth of a grape stomping child. Is that what you want? No. Drink your damn wine already.
Please flush the toilet after you poop / wipe the seat off if you urinate on it: No list of "suggestions" would be complete without a mentioning of bathroom etiquette because so many people are unable to recognize and execute proper manners in this area. I reckon 74% of the population does not want to see your excrements. And the other 26% need to seek out some counseling. Immediately. Leaving your shit in the toilet for others to view does not make you regal, it makes you a filthy barnyard animal. And it's not funny or clever. Neither is urine on the seat. And this applies to both men and women. Take ten seconds, grab some toilet paper and WIPE THE SEAT OFF. Your pee is not liquid gold. No one wants to bottle it to sell on eBay or Etsy.
Please do not use social media to draw attention to your drama: This is a tough one, I know. We all suffer from drama and when we feel severely slighted by the Universe, a person or even a business... we just want to share our pain in hopes of others being able to relate to us and provide some words of comfort. And what better way to reach your 472 "friends" than screaming out on Twitter or rapidly posting about your discomfort on Facebook. But the problem is... you're not actually connecting to anyone. Not really. You can't see their expressions. You can't hear the tone in their voice. And you definitely cannot count on their sincerity if they don't contact you privately and not in an open forum for all to witness. And, it's awkward. Once people see your drama, they can't un-see it. Even if you delete it, you don't get to delete it from their minds. And as a sub-section to this "suggestion" - also try to avoid saying stuff on social media that you wouldn't say to a person's face. This is just a fancier version of talking behind someone's back while doing it in front of their face without them actually realizing that it's being done.
Please do not text and drive: If you own a car you probably spend a decent amount of time in that car, driving. Probably so much time that it feels automatic, like blinking. And because it's automatic you will rarely think about what you're actually doing - operating a 4000-pound killing machine. What is more important than taking your eyes off the road to check in on your game of choice? Or answering that text about where you're going on your vacation? Your life. The lives of others. (please see "suggestion" number two) Chances are you're already deeply distracted by your real life, there is no reason to add to that list fumbling around with a cellphone so you can tell someone what you thought about last night's episode of Spring Baking Championship (is that just me?).
Please leave your ego at the door: People love confidence; they hate arrogance. Arrogance is phony. Intimidation and strutting around like an erect penis OR vagina won’t hide the truth - that you’re afraid and maybe a little underwhelming in your own mind. There is nothing wrong with having flaws... accepting those flaws... flaunting those flaws. It builds character. But if you must insist on being an arrogant tool, then you must also accept that you're not only unhealthy to yourself, you're toxic to others.
Please do not give others false hope: If someone has posted an ad on Kijiji or Craigslist - don't express interest and give them a date and time of when you're going to show up to purchase the item if you have no intention of making an appearance. Forget about it being rude and full of atrocious manners; it's downright cruel to let someone believe they've just sold their dining room table when in fact - they haven't. (Yes, I’ve been scarred).
Please remember, you're not always right: Unless you're me. And even then, you’d only be operating at a success rate of about 32%.... so, just be yourself.
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I'm not a particularly big fan of many of our other national landmarks, but I think the SOL is by far the most egregious example. I'm disinclined to say that depicting pagan deities is inherently wrong; the trouble comes from granting them importance. So when you depict a pagan deity, you need to be careful not to vault over the line from "retelling ancient stories" to "identifying with a false god and making it synonymous with your nation". The SOL was actually created to do the latter.
Hm. So the difficulty comes when we grant pagan deities symbolic importance, even if we don’t “worship” them. I don’t think I agree that that’s necessarily a sin, but it strikes me as the sort of thing that reasonable people can disagree about, and I grant that using pagan deities as national symbols is the sort of thing that could certainly lead to trouble.
I suppose I have to admit that if I didn’t have any sentimental attachment to the statue (and the poem), building a giant statue of a Roman goddess and making it a symbol of the country would seem like a bad idea.
God is the only one who creates things ex nihilo, so all sin is only a corrupted form of something God created to be good. Much sin or perhaps all of it can be defined as putting something before God. It is good to be endlessly forgiving of your spouse, but it’s bad to “stand with your spouse right or wrong”, because God is the right thing, and doing the right thing should come before your spouse, or before anything else; it’s the same way with patriotism.
There is both figurative and literal idolatry. Many Christians believe that idolatry is what I’ve described, putting something else before God, but that’s only figurative idolatry. Literal idolatry is something we’ve forgotten, blocked out of our minds, even though it’s obvious - the creation and worship of an inanimate deity intended to represent what we put before God. We’re all figurative idolators, ie, sinners, but America does both in parallel; this is certainly and harshly condemned.
Hm. We’ve established that neither of us has an “America, right or wrong” attitude, so we haven’t actually put our country before our moral system (which I would hope, in our case, is founded on our understanding of the will of God). I suppose my specific objections here are 1) I think you’re exaggerating the importance that people place on the SOL, and 2) I don’t see how people “worship” it, even as a lesser deity than God. As I said, I like the Statue of Liberty (….I will admit that I liked her more before I realized she was meant to be a Roman goddess, but I still love that poem). I probably like her more than the average American, but I’d say that the way I interact with God and the way I think of the Statue of Liberty are very clearly different. I don’t think of the statue as an entity that can do anything for me, I don’t ask it for help, I don’t tell it how great it is, I don’t often tell other people how great it is, and I’m not trying to please it or do what it wants. I don’t think of the statue as having a will. It doesn’t even represent something that has a will, except insofar as it represents America. I guess America has about 300 million wills.
The point is, I care more about my mom and my friends and my job and the novel I’m writing than I do about the SOL. I don’t see why caring about the SOL should be idolatry if those other things aren’t, even if the statue is meant to depict a deity.
I think that in the foundational documents of our country, you can find a truly good ideal of liberty, something that’s fundamentally true and consequently is Godly wisdom. But the SOL is a physical manifestation of our twisting that ideal and putting it before God; as long as it stands, we can know that we are fundamentally on the wrong path. One could see it as a message from God through sin that we have made a terrible mistake.
I will admit that I don’t know enough about what went into the creation of the SOL in order to agree with or dispute the idea that it’s celebrating something different than the right referenced in the Declaration of Independence.
I only partly intended the abortion connection as evidence that the SOL is an idol; rather, my primary intent was to demonstrate that if you accept a Biblically-informed view of the nature and consequences of idols, the otherwise-inexplicable sudden-onset insanity of the sexual revolution, legal abortion, and abortion culture all suddenly make sense: that’s just what idols do; that’s a common historical symptom of idolatry, that’s why idols are bad, all kinds of sin are done in their name.
I don’t think the sexual revolution or abortion came out of nowhere, and I think it would be very weird if the consequences of the idol didn’t occur until almost a hundred years after its design. Everyone involved in the SOL’s creation was already dead by 1970! Why should the consequences hit us that decade?
As I said, I don’t think all of the sin the US has committed is a result of the SOL; that’s obviously, trivially false. I mostly think that it’s a dark beacon of our sin, that it’s such a stupidly blatant sin that of course we’d be cursed by God to commit worse sins than the ones whose cessation we were celebrating, and that in the unlikely event that we get wise to it and tear it down, our national lifespan would increase as a natural result.
I don’t know that God curses people to commit sins. (I know the verses in exodus where God “hardened Pharaoh’s heart”, but that’s the only relevant example I can think of.)
I’m glad you acknowledge that plenty of awful things happened before the Statue of Liberty was erected.
And most of all, when I realized how the SOL is the exact sort of thing the Bible most harshly condemns, that induced the realization that a depressingly low number of people historically have been as spiritually observant as they’d said. If we’ve really gotten so much less religious in the past century and a half, how on Earth did an ostensibly very Christian nation allow a new pagan idol to become one of its chief symbols?
Oh yeah, I definitely agree with this assertion. We were never as Christian as the right-wing Christian patriots want to believe we were. If anything, I think the way that I was taught American history as a child comes closer to idolatry than anything I was taught about the Statue of Liberty. We were told we were a chosen people, a new Israel, the greatest country in the world, and that we’d taken the lands of the Native Americans and broken all our promises to them because God had “blessed us with expansion”. If that’s not the sin of pride, what is?
A lot of our Christian heritage was a skin-deep cultural thing, I think. That’s not to say that the Puritans in Massachusetts or the Quakers in Pennsylvania or the Catholics in Maryland weren’t sincere in their belief–certainly it takes sincere belief to risk your life for the sake of being allowed to worship freely. It’s just that in any culture where a certain religion is expected, people will go through the motions for the sake of their neighbors, not for God. Just as giving the Church earthly power leads to people claiming faith to gain power, giving the Church social power leads to people claiming faith to avoid ostracism. These aren’t mechanisms that lead people to genuine faith very effectively.
I agree with you on the cosmic insignificance of America; in fact, though I desperately want to save it, I don’t believe it’s going to happen, and I currently hope to move out sometime in my lifetime - I just worry I’ll put it off too long.
I don’t know what’s going to happen. Nobody down here does, I don’t think. But that’s OK; I know the important things, and there’s plenty of work left to be done down here, for as long as God gives us to do it. I’m not looking for opportunities to leave–I think I can help more people by working here than I could if I worked anywhere else.
I hope things go well for you.
I also agree with you about the corruptibility of combined spiritual and political power - though that’s the primary reason I’m not a Catholic! (I’m not one of the types who thinks Catholics aren’t saved or that they’re the final boss, though.)
I like to think we’ve learned a bit since the middle ages. The modern Church doesn’t hold anything close to the level of political power it once did, and I think that’s for the best.
In any case, I’m glad to hear you count us as part of the faithful. It’s a bit of a relief; I’ve spent too much time with protestants whose first association with idolatry is “you know, those Catholics make wood carvings of Mary sometimes.”
I’m glad that you’re intrigued by my position; it’s been very pleasant interacting with you, and I hope to do so more in the future, though I’ll be very busy for the next few days. I’m also a writer; I wish you good luck in those endeavors. :) Praise God. +
I’m glad you’ve found it pleasant! I love interacting with people who believe things I’ve never heard of, especially if they have reasons to back them up. I used to get a lot of that from the Catholic forums I’d visit (for a group with more official teachings than perhaps any of the Protestant sects, faithful Catholics hold a very wide range of opinions when it comes to specific questions that fall outside those official teachings), but I haven’t had the energy to read those threads lately. So this has been nice, and I want to thank you for sharing your perspective with me.
Best of luck to you, too.
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‘Columbine destroyed my entire career’: Marilyn Manson on the perils of being the lord of darkness
He has been called an emissary of Satan and falsely blamed for one of the most notorious shootings in US history. But the singer has never been afraid of outrage. Is that really an excuse, though, to flick our interviewers testicles?
It is while discussing the difference between his stage persona and his day-to-day life that Marilyn Manson leans over and flicks me in the testicles. This comes as quite a surprise: I have encountered a lot of unusual things as a journalist, but have thus far managed to get by without an interviewee touching my genitals. More surprising still is that leaning over and flicking my testicles appears to form part of his answer to a question about whether he has ever felt consumed by the character he created a quarter of a century ago, in the same way that Bowie struggled to separate himself from Ziggy Stardust or the Thin White Duke. Certainly, the way he says: “That’s the difference!” immediately afterwards suggests it is, but I’m not sure.
For one thing, I am distracted by my sore testicles, and, for another, I wasn’t really following his line of argument at the time. First, he took my notepad, wrote “person” on it and added an “a” at the end. “I’m this and I’m this,” he said. “A person and a persona. But I can’t really divide the two. There’s a difference on the stage; people I don’t know I just seduce, in a lot of ways. You go offstage and people … even me and you now, talking …”
His voice trailed off and, while I was trying to work out whether he had just said that he did inhabit a different persona on stage he flicked me in the testicles.
It’s all a bit peculiar, but then the interview has been peculiar from the minute I stepped into the Berlin hotel suite where Manson is receiving the press. He is midway through a European festival tour and promoting his forthcoming eighth album, Heaven Upside Down, a work he describes as “hard, punk rock, Killing Joke, Joy Division, Bauhaus, Scary Monsters”, and which reunites him with Tyler Bates, a guitarist, producer and soundtrack composer best known for his work on Guardians of the Galaxy. Manson seems surprised that Bates agreed to work with him again after 2015’s The Pale Emperor, or rather its ensuing tour, during which relations between the two deteriorated to such an extent that Manson pulled a box-cutter knife on Bates.
Heaven Upside Down was announced the day before the US presidential election, in typically understated Marilyn Manson style, with a short video that was widely reported as showing the singer decapitating Donald Trump. “Well, there was no actual decapitation shown,” he demurs. “It was implied. And no Trump. There was just a guy in a red tie. Could have been a preacher. It’s funny that people see what they want to see.”
Marilyn Manson on stage in 1997. Photograph: Rob Bartholomew/Associated Press
I have been warned that, as per Manson’s usual requirements for meeting journalists, the room will be both dark and cold, which it certainly is: air conditioning up full, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun, the only light coming from a television tuned to one of those ambient channels that broadcasts endless footage of landscapes and animals. But I have not been warned that Manson will be hiding behind his hotel room door, from where he will jump out – black-clad, in full slap – pointing a gun at the back of my neck. Not, it transpires, a real gun, but a realistic enough replica for me to greet him with a startled bark of, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” rather than the more traditional “hello”. Manson laughs, shakes my hand and asks if I’d like a beer.
Thus begins an extremely diverting hour during which Manson will offer to wrestle me to demonstrate his physical and mental wellbeing; inquire, in the middle of discussing the difficulty of meeting your childhood idols and, apropos of nothing as far as I can gather, whether I am “a poop man, a scat guy”; suggest his partner, photographer and model Lindsay Usich – who wanders into the room in search of a drink – expose herself to me on the grounds that “the Guardian is an important periodical”; and flick me in the testicles.
It is difficult to work out whether all of this is done in a kind of spirit of collaboration – perhaps he is keen to ensure a journalist goes home with an incident-packed story, the better to promote the new album – or simply because Manson has, entirely understandably, chosen to enliven a long day of interviews with the European media by having a few drinks along the way. Certainly, something about his speech and gait strongly suggests the tumbler of neat vodka in his hand may not be his first of the day.
If it’s the former, then he really needn’t have bothered. Manson is a fascinating man even without the accompanying theatrics. Over the course of my time with him, he is variously funny, insightful, frank and preposterously self-mythologising: “I wake up in the morning and I just realise that I am chaos. That’s my job – I am a goddamn tornado,” he announces at one juncture. “You look at it, behold it, you get caught up in it, it tears off your roof – and I’m from Ohio, so I know about tornadoes”.
He is also, on occasion, wildly contradictory and incomprehensible, his answers veering so wildly off-road that I have no idea what he is talking about. Indeed, after one particularly unfathomable response, I find myself asking him if he’s OK. “I don’t know – check my pulse,” he laughs, but it’s a genuine query. His father, a Vietnam veteran, died days before this tour began. They were close – his dad would come on tour with him and the pair posed together for an amazing Paper magazine shoot, both in full Marilyn Manson drag. No one would have blamed him for cancelling his shows and promotional schedule to grieve. He looks aghast at the idea. “My dad would have hated me for that. He’d have kicked me in the dick. He would want me to be the best I could be right now. That’s what he raised me to be. Dad was a fucking fighter, a killer in Vietnam, but he was not a quitter; he just didn’t want to be here any more. He didn’t give up, he just wanted to be with my mom, and I respected him for that. So I wouldn’t miss a gig. It was not easy – I had to go see him a week before we went on tour. It was tough, but it made me stronger.”
Besides, he is bullishly proud of his new album, which he says “is about confidence, of fucking believing in yourself more than ever, which is something I may have lost along the road”. He is also theatrically furious at his record label for suggesting he put out a censored version for sale in the US’s Walmart stores. “It denies the legitimacy of it. If your parents give you money to buy a clean version of my record at Walmart, you might as well go there, buy a gun instead, take it into your own hands, do whatever you want.”
Listening to him talk, it’s tempting to wonder if he hankers after the era when he was American rock’s public enemy No 1, the primary source of outrage for conservative watchdog organisations. It’s easy to forget how much controversy Manson managed to cause in the late 90s, when his name was linked to the 1999 massacre at Columbine high school in Colorado, whose perpetrators were alleged – erroneously as it turned out – to have been fans.
He warms to his previous point. “Give them the money and let them make their own choice: guns or records. If [the Columbine killers] had just bought my records, they would be better off. Certain people blame me for the shootings at schools – I think my numbers are low, and hopefully they go up on this record.” It’s unclear whether he means numbers of shootings or people blaming him, but it’s provocation either way. “That’s going to be a great pull-quote for you. But, honestly, the Columbine era destroyed my entire career at the time.”
He was raising hackles long before Columbine, though. In Britain, his 1996 breakthrough album Antichrist Superstar was largely viewed as hugely entertaining glam metal in the grand gothic tradition of Alice Cooper. In the US, however, religious conservatives seemed to think he really was some kind of emissary of Satan. A succession of demented sworn testimonies on the American Family Association’s website claimed his concerts involved bestiality, satanic altars, ritual rapes and the distribution of free drugs. Some towns threatened to pass legislation banning him from performing on state property; schools in Florida threatened to expel students who attended his shows; the state of South Carolina ended up giving him money – $40,000 – not to play there.
“Well, I asked for it,” he nods. “You don’t make a record called Antichrist Superstar and not expect people to hate you. But I wanted to do something that made a difference. I wanted to put a fucking dent in the world, like my heroes: [Salvador] Dalí, Jim Morrison. I knew that there were people who would take it at face value, and that there were people who would see into it more deeply, and it would be that dichotomy that would cause chaos.”
After Columbine, the chaos ratcheted up even more. His concerts weren’t just being protested or picketed: during the 2001 Ozzfest tour, he says, he received daily death threats; “hundreds” when he played in Colorado. “I would just get on stage and smash beer bottles and cut myself and go, ‘Fuck you, bring it,’ – I’ve got scars all over my chest – I can show you. I would jump into the crowd and punch people. It wasn’t even those people who were at fault. But my dad gave me the best advice: ‘If people are going to kill you, son, they wouldn’t tell you in advance.’ No, I don’t miss that at all. It made everyone around me upset. And I discovered that police bomb dogs are also drug dogs. So when there were bomb threats, I had a very difficult time hiding my narcotics.”
It didn’t destroy his career as he claims – he still fills arenas around the world and has parlayed his notoriety into an acting career in the US TV series Salem and Sons of Anarchy, playing “a murdering barber and a paedophile white supremacist. Typecast.”
Performing in Argentina last year. Photograph: Santiago Bluguermann/CON/LatinContent/Getty Images
He has also found his fanbase extending into some unlikely places, not least the world of hip-hop. Gucci Mane and Rick Ross are fans; Lil Uzi Vert wears a diamond-encrusted pendant of Manson’s face. “I don’t know why rappers like me, other than what Gucci Mane told me,” he says. “He said I was ‘the only shit that’s real in rock’n’roll’. Rappers are hardcore and they’re real; rock’n’roll is so pussy and so lame. But I’m not saying I’m the realest thing in the world.” He sighs. “People say: ‘You’re the last rock star.’ Don’t say that to me – shut the fuck up, man! I don’t need that shit on my shoulders. But I’ll take it. I’ll own it.”
Perhaps they mean you’re the last rock star who could create the kind of controversy you created in the 90s? It’s hard to imagine anyone being shocked by a rock band now, in a world when you can see anything, no matter how gruesome or offensive, with a click of a mouse.
He nods. “I know. Fair enough. You just have to say what you’re saying with certainty, and look good when you’re saying it – that’s how you do your job.”
But if times have changed, he says he has changed, too. He used to be “angry, confused and upset”, he says. “Now, I think I feel more happy. Not like, Shiny Happy People. I think I’m just happy being myself. I think now, I’m much more charming and likable. I notice you’re enjoying yourself.”
Well, I am. He’s hugely entertaining company.
“And I’m sure in a moment you’ll take your pants off and I’ll smash you in the nuts with a beer bottle.”
No, I say, you’re OK. So instead, Manson opts for taking a selfie of us, showing me his ringtone (it’s Hot Love by T Rex), shaking my hand and asking me to write nice things about him. Of course, I say. “Good,” he smiles, ushering me out into the corridor. “Or I’ll find out where you fucking live.”
Source: http://allofbeer.com/columbine-destroyed-my-entire-career-marilyn-manson-on-the-perils-of-being-the-lord-of-darkness/
from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/02/05/columbine-destroyed-my-entire-career-marilyn-manson-on-the-perils-of-being-the-lord-of-darkness/
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‘Columbine destroyed my entire career’: Marilyn Manson on the perils of being the lord of darkness
He has been called an emissary of Satan and falsely blamed for one of the most notorious shootings in US history. But the singer has never been afraid of outrage. Is that really an excuse, though, to flick our interviewers testicles?
It is while discussing the difference between his stage persona and his day-to-day life that Marilyn Manson leans over and flicks me in the testicles. This comes as quite a surprise: I have encountered a lot of unusual things as a journalist, but have thus far managed to get by without an interviewee touching my genitals. More surprising still is that leaning over and flicking my testicles appears to form part of his answer to a question about whether he has ever felt consumed by the character he created a quarter of a century ago, in the same way that Bowie struggled to separate himself from Ziggy Stardust or the Thin White Duke. Certainly, the way he says: “That’s the difference!” immediately afterwards suggests it is, but I’m not sure.
For one thing, I am distracted by my sore testicles, and, for another, I wasn’t really following his line of argument at the time. First, he took my notepad, wrote “person” on it and added an “a” at the end. “I’m this and I’m this,” he said. “A person and a persona. But I can’t really divide the two. There’s a difference on the stage; people I don’t know I just seduce, in a lot of ways. You go offstage and people … even me and you now, talking …”
His voice trailed off and, while I was trying to work out whether he had just said that he did inhabit a different persona on stage he flicked me in the testicles.
It’s all a bit peculiar, but then the interview has been peculiar from the minute I stepped into the Berlin hotel suite where Manson is receiving the press. He is midway through a European festival tour and promoting his forthcoming eighth album, Heaven Upside Down, a work he describes as “hard, punk rock, Killing Joke, Joy Division, Bauhaus, Scary Monsters”, and which reunites him with Tyler Bates, a guitarist, producer and soundtrack composer best known for his work on Guardians of the Galaxy. Manson seems surprised that Bates agreed to work with him again after 2015’s The Pale Emperor, or rather its ensuing tour, during which relations between the two deteriorated to such an extent that Manson pulled a box-cutter knife on Bates.
Heaven Upside Down was announced the day before the US presidential election, in typically understated Marilyn Manson style, with a short video that was widely reported as showing the singer decapitating Donald Trump. “Well, there was no actual decapitation shown,” he demurs. “It was implied. And no Trump. There was just a guy in a red tie. Could have been a preacher. It’s funny that people see what they want to see.”
Marilyn Manson on stage in 1997. Photograph: Rob Bartholomew/Associated Press
I have been warned that, as per Manson’s usual requirements for meeting journalists, the room will be both dark and cold, which it certainly is: air conditioning up full, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun, the only light coming from a television tuned to one of those ambient channels that broadcasts endless footage of landscapes and animals. But I have not been warned that Manson will be hiding behind his hotel room door, from where he will jump out – black-clad, in full slap – pointing a gun at the back of my neck. Not, it transpires, a real gun, but a realistic enough replica for me to greet him with a startled bark of, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” rather than the more traditional “hello”. Manson laughs, shakes my hand and asks if I’d like a beer.
Thus begins an extremely diverting hour during which Manson will offer to wrestle me to demonstrate his physical and mental wellbeing; inquire, in the middle of discussing the difficulty of meeting your childhood idols and, apropos of nothing as far as I can gather, whether I am “a poop man, a scat guy”; suggest his partner, photographer and model Lindsay Usich – who wanders into the room in search of a drink – expose herself to me on the grounds that “the Guardian is an important periodical”; and flick me in the testicles.
It is difficult to work out whether all of this is done in a kind of spirit of collaboration – perhaps he is keen to ensure a journalist goes home with an incident-packed story, the better to promote the new album – or simply because Manson has, entirely understandably, chosen to enliven a long day of interviews with the European media by having a few drinks along the way. Certainly, something about his speech and gait strongly suggests the tumbler of neat vodka in his hand may not be his first of the day.
If it’s the former, then he really needn’t have bothered. Manson is a fascinating man even without the accompanying theatrics. Over the course of my time with him, he is variously funny, insightful, frank and preposterously self-mythologising: “I wake up in the morning and I just realise that I am chaos. That’s my job – I am a goddamn tornado,” he announces at one juncture. “You look at it, behold it, you get caught up in it, it tears off your roof – and I’m from Ohio, so I know about tornadoes”.
He is also, on occasion, wildly contradictory and incomprehensible, his answers veering so wildly off-road that I have no idea what he is talking about. Indeed, after one particularly unfathomable response, I find myself asking him if he’s OK. “I don’t know – check my pulse,” he laughs, but it’s a genuine query. His father, a Vietnam veteran, died days before this tour began. They were close – his dad would come on tour with him and the pair posed together for an amazing Paper magazine shoot, both in full Marilyn Manson drag. No one would have blamed him for cancelling his shows and promotional schedule to grieve. He looks aghast at the idea. “My dad would have hated me for that. He’d have kicked me in the dick. He would want me to be the best I could be right now. That’s what he raised me to be. Dad was a fucking fighter, a killer in Vietnam, but he was not a quitter; he just didn’t want to be here any more. He didn’t give up, he just wanted to be with my mom, and I respected him for that. So I wouldn’t miss a gig. It was not easy – I had to go see him a week before we went on tour. It was tough, but it made me stronger.”
Besides, he is bullishly proud of his new album, which he says “is about confidence, of fucking believing in yourself more than ever, which is something I may have lost along the road”. He is also theatrically furious at his record label for suggesting he put out a censored version for sale in the US’s Walmart stores. “It denies the legitimacy of it. If your parents give you money to buy a clean version of my record at Walmart, you might as well go there, buy a gun instead, take it into your own hands, do whatever you want.”
Listening to him talk, it’s tempting to wonder if he hankers after the era when he was American rock’s public enemy No 1, the primary source of outrage for conservative watchdog organisations. It’s easy to forget how much controversy Manson managed to cause in the late 90s, when his name was linked to the 1999 massacre at Columbine high school in Colorado, whose perpetrators were alleged – erroneously as it turned out – to have been fans.
He warms to his previous point. “Give them the money and let them make their own choice: guns or records. If [the Columbine killers] had just bought my records, they would be better off. Certain people blame me for the shootings at schools – I think my numbers are low, and hopefully they go up on this record.” It’s unclear whether he means numbers of shootings or people blaming him, but it’s provocation either way. “That’s going to be a great pull-quote for you. But, honestly, the Columbine era destroyed my entire career at the time.”
He was raising hackles long before Columbine, though. In Britain, his 1996 breakthrough album Antichrist Superstar was largely viewed as hugely entertaining glam metal in the grand gothic tradition of Alice Cooper. In the US, however, religious conservatives seemed to think he really was some kind of emissary of Satan. A succession of demented sworn testimonies on the American Family Association’s website claimed his concerts involved bestiality, satanic altars, ritual rapes and the distribution of free drugs. Some towns threatened to pass legislation banning him from performing on state property; schools in Florida threatened to expel students who attended his shows; the state of South Carolina ended up giving him money – $40,000 – not to play there.
“Well, I asked for it,” he nods. “You don’t make a record called Antichrist Superstar and not expect people to hate you. But I wanted to do something that made a difference. I wanted to put a fucking dent in the world, like my heroes: [Salvador] Dalí, Jim Morrison. I knew that there were people who would take it at face value, and that there were people who would see into it more deeply, and it would be that dichotomy that would cause chaos.”
After Columbine, the chaos ratcheted up even more. His concerts weren’t just being protested or picketed: during the 2001 Ozzfest tour, he says, he received daily death threats; “hundreds” when he played in Colorado. “I would just get on stage and smash beer bottles and cut myself and go, ‘Fuck you, bring it,’ – I’ve got scars all over my chest – I can show you. I would jump into the crowd and punch people. It wasn’t even those people who were at fault. But my dad gave me the best advice: ‘If people are going to kill you, son, they wouldn’t tell you in advance.’ No, I don’t miss that at all. It made everyone around me upset. And I discovered that police bomb dogs are also drug dogs. So when there were bomb threats, I had a very difficult time hiding my narcotics.”
It didn’t destroy his career as he claims – he still fills arenas around the world and has parlayed his notoriety into an acting career in the US TV series Salem and Sons of Anarchy, playing “a murdering barber and a paedophile white supremacist. Typecast.”
Performing in Argentina last year. Photograph: Santiago Bluguermann/CON/LatinContent/Getty Images
He has also found his fanbase extending into some unlikely places, not least the world of hip-hop. Gucci Mane and Rick Ross are fans; Lil Uzi Vert wears a diamond-encrusted pendant of Manson’s face. “I don’t know why rappers like me, other than what Gucci Mane told me,” he says. “He said I was ‘the only shit that’s real in rock’n’roll’. Rappers are hardcore and they’re real; rock’n’roll is so pussy and so lame. But I’m not saying I’m the realest thing in the world.” He sighs. “People say: ‘You’re the last rock star.’ Don’t say that to me – shut the fuck up, man! I don’t need that shit on my shoulders. But I’ll take it. I’ll own it.”
Perhaps they mean you’re the last rock star who could create the kind of controversy you created in the 90s? It’s hard to imagine anyone being shocked by a rock band now, in a world when you can see anything, no matter how gruesome or offensive, with a click of a mouse.
He nods. “I know. Fair enough. You just have to say what you’re saying with certainty, and look good when you’re saying it – that’s how you do your job.”
But if times have changed, he says he has changed, too. He used to be “angry, confused and upset”, he says. “Now, I think I feel more happy. Not like, Shiny Happy People. I think I’m just happy being myself. I think now, I’m much more charming and likable. I notice you’re enjoying yourself.”
Well, I am. He’s hugely entertaining company.
“And I’m sure in a moment you’ll take your pants off and I’ll smash you in the nuts with a beer bottle.”
No, I say, you’re OK. So instead, Manson opts for taking a selfie of us, showing me his ringtone (it’s Hot Love by T Rex), shaking my hand and asking me to write nice things about him. Of course, I say. “Good,” he smiles, ushering me out into the corridor. “Or I’ll find out where you fucking live.”
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/columbine-destroyed-my-entire-career-marilyn-manson-on-the-perils-of-being-the-lord-of-darkness/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/182571050402
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‘Columbine destroyed my entire career’: Marilyn Manson on the perils of being the lord of darkness
He has been called an emissary of Satan and falsely blamed for one of the most notorious shootings in US history. But the singer has never been afraid of outrage. Is that really an excuse, though, to flick our interviewers testicles?
It is while discussing the difference between his stage persona and his day-to-day life that Marilyn Manson leans over and flicks me in the testicles. This comes as quite a surprise: I have encountered a lot of unusual things as a journalist, but have thus far managed to get by without an interviewee touching my genitals. More surprising still is that leaning over and flicking my testicles appears to form part of his answer to a question about whether he has ever felt consumed by the character he created a quarter of a century ago, in the same way that Bowie struggled to separate himself from Ziggy Stardust or the Thin White Duke. Certainly, the way he says: “That’s the difference!” immediately afterwards suggests it is, but I’m not sure.
For one thing, I am distracted by my sore testicles, and, for another, I wasn’t really following his line of argument at the time. First, he took my notepad, wrote “person” on it and added an “a” at the end. “I’m this and I’m this,” he said. “A person and a persona. But I can’t really divide the two. There’s a difference on the stage; people I don’t know I just seduce, in a lot of ways. You go offstage and people … even me and you now, talking …”
His voice trailed off and, while I was trying to work out whether he had just said that he did inhabit a different persona on stage he flicked me in the testicles.
It’s all a bit peculiar, but then the interview has been peculiar from the minute I stepped into the Berlin hotel suite where Manson is receiving the press. He is midway through a European festival tour and promoting his forthcoming eighth album, Heaven Upside Down, a work he describes as “hard, punk rock, Killing Joke, Joy Division, Bauhaus, Scary Monsters”, and which reunites him with Tyler Bates, a guitarist, producer and soundtrack composer best known for his work on Guardians of the Galaxy. Manson seems surprised that Bates agreed to work with him again after 2015’s The Pale Emperor, or rather its ensuing tour, during which relations between the two deteriorated to such an extent that Manson pulled a box-cutter knife on Bates.
Heaven Upside Down was announced the day before the US presidential election, in typically understated Marilyn Manson style, with a short video that was widely reported as showing the singer decapitating Donald Trump. “Well, there was no actual decapitation shown,” he demurs. “It was implied. And no Trump. There was just a guy in a red tie. Could have been a preacher. It’s funny that people see what they want to see.”
Marilyn Manson on stage in 1997. Photograph: Rob Bartholomew/Associated Press
I have been warned that, as per Manson’s usual requirements for meeting journalists, the room will be both dark and cold, which it certainly is: air conditioning up full, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun, the only light coming from a television tuned to one of those ambient channels that broadcasts endless footage of landscapes and animals. But I have not been warned that Manson will be hiding behind his hotel room door, from where he will jump out – black-clad, in full slap – pointing a gun at the back of my neck. Not, it transpires, a real gun, but a realistic enough replica for me to greet him with a startled bark of, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” rather than the more traditional “hello”. Manson laughs, shakes my hand and asks if I’d like a beer.
Thus begins an extremely diverting hour during which Manson will offer to wrestle me to demonstrate his physical and mental wellbeing; inquire, in the middle of discussing the difficulty of meeting your childhood idols and, apropos of nothing as far as I can gather, whether I am “a poop man, a scat guy”; suggest his partner, photographer and model Lindsay Usich – who wanders into the room in search of a drink – expose herself to me on the grounds that “the Guardian is an important periodical”; and flick me in the testicles.
It is difficult to work out whether all of this is done in a kind of spirit of collaboration – perhaps he is keen to ensure a journalist goes home with an incident-packed story, the better to promote the new album – or simply because Manson has, entirely understandably, chosen to enliven a long day of interviews with the European media by having a few drinks along the way. Certainly, something about his speech and gait strongly suggests the tumbler of neat vodka in his hand may not be his first of the day.
If it’s the former, then he really needn’t have bothered. Manson is a fascinating man even without the accompanying theatrics. Over the course of my time with him, he is variously funny, insightful, frank and preposterously self-mythologising: “I wake up in the morning and I just realise that I am chaos. That’s my job – I am a goddamn tornado,” he announces at one juncture. “You look at it, behold it, you get caught up in it, it tears off your roof – and I’m from Ohio, so I know about tornadoes”.
He is also, on occasion, wildly contradictory and incomprehensible, his answers veering so wildly off-road that I have no idea what he is talking about. Indeed, after one particularly unfathomable response, I find myself asking him if he’s OK. “I don’t know – check my pulse,” he laughs, but it’s a genuine query. His father, a Vietnam veteran, died days before this tour began. They were close – his dad would come on tour with him and the pair posed together for an amazing Paper magazine shoot, both in full Marilyn Manson drag. No one would have blamed him for cancelling his shows and promotional schedule to grieve. He looks aghast at the idea. “My dad would have hated me for that. He’d have kicked me in the dick. He would want me to be the best I could be right now. That’s what he raised me to be. Dad was a fucking fighter, a killer in Vietnam, but he was not a quitter; he just didn’t want to be here any more. He didn’t give up, he just wanted to be with my mom, and I respected him for that. So I wouldn’t miss a gig. It was not easy – I had to go see him a week before we went on tour. It was tough, but it made me stronger.”
Besides, he is bullishly proud of his new album, which he says “is about confidence, of fucking believing in yourself more than ever, which is something I may have lost along the road”. He is also theatrically furious at his record label for suggesting he put out a censored version for sale in the US’s Walmart stores. “It denies the legitimacy of it. If your parents give you money to buy a clean version of my record at Walmart, you might as well go there, buy a gun instead, take it into your own hands, do whatever you want.”
Listening to him talk, it’s tempting to wonder if he hankers after the era when he was American rock’s public enemy No 1, the primary source of outrage for conservative watchdog organisations. It’s easy to forget how much controversy Manson managed to cause in the late 90s, when his name was linked to the 1999 massacre at Columbine high school in Colorado, whose perpetrators were alleged – erroneously as it turned out – to have been fans.
He warms to his previous point. “Give them the money and let them make their own choice: guns or records. If [the Columbine killers] had just bought my records, they would be better off. Certain people blame me for the shootings at schools – I think my numbers are low, and hopefully they go up on this record.” It’s unclear whether he means numbers of shootings or people blaming him, but it’s provocation either way. “That’s going to be a great pull-quote for you. But, honestly, the Columbine era destroyed my entire career at the time.”
He was raising hackles long before Columbine, though. In Britain, his 1996 breakthrough album Antichrist Superstar was largely viewed as hugely entertaining glam metal in the grand gothic tradition of Alice Cooper. In the US, however, religious conservatives seemed to think he really was some kind of emissary of Satan. A succession of demented sworn testimonies on the American Family Association’s website claimed his concerts involved bestiality, satanic altars, ritual rapes and the distribution of free drugs. Some towns threatened to pass legislation banning him from performing on state property; schools in Florida threatened to expel students who attended his shows; the state of South Carolina ended up giving him money – $40,000 – not to play there.
“Well, I asked for it,” he nods. “You don’t make a record called Antichrist Superstar and not expect people to hate you. But I wanted to do something that made a difference. I wanted to put a fucking dent in the world, like my heroes: [Salvador] Dalí, Jim Morrison. I knew that there were people who would take it at face value, and that there were people who would see into it more deeply, and it would be that dichotomy that would cause chaos.”
After Columbine, the chaos ratcheted up even more. His concerts weren’t just being protested or picketed: during the 2001 Ozzfest tour, he says, he received daily death threats; “hundreds” when he played in Colorado. “I would just get on stage and smash beer bottles and cut myself and go, ‘Fuck you, bring it,’ – I’ve got scars all over my chest – I can show you. I would jump into the crowd and punch people. It wasn’t even those people who were at fault. But my dad gave me the best advice: ‘If people are going to kill you, son, they wouldn’t tell you in advance.’ No, I don’t miss that at all. It made everyone around me upset. And I discovered that police bomb dogs are also drug dogs. So when there were bomb threats, I had a very difficult time hiding my narcotics.”
It didn’t destroy his career as he claims – he still fills arenas around the world and has parlayed his notoriety into an acting career in the US TV series Salem and Sons of Anarchy, playing “a murdering barber and a paedophile white supremacist. Typecast.”
Performing in Argentina last year. Photograph: Santiago Bluguermann/CON/LatinContent/Getty Images
He has also found his fanbase extending into some unlikely places, not least the world of hip-hop. Gucci Mane and Rick Ross are fans; Lil Uzi Vert wears a diamond-encrusted pendant of Manson’s face. “I don’t know why rappers like me, other than what Gucci Mane told me,” he says. “He said I was ‘the only shit that’s real in rock’n’roll’. Rappers are hardcore and they’re real; rock’n’roll is so pussy and so lame. But I’m not saying I’m the realest thing in the world.” He sighs. “People say: ‘You’re the last rock star.’ Don’t say that to me – shut the fuck up, man! I don’t need that shit on my shoulders. But I’ll take it. I’ll own it.”
Perhaps they mean you’re the last rock star who could create the kind of controversy you created in the 90s? It’s hard to imagine anyone being shocked by a rock band now, in a world when you can see anything, no matter how gruesome or offensive, with a click of a mouse.
He nods. “I know. Fair enough. You just have to say what you’re saying with certainty, and look good when you’re saying it – that’s how you do your job.”
But if times have changed, he says he has changed, too. He used to be “angry, confused and upset”, he says. “Now, I think I feel more happy. Not like, Shiny Happy People. I think I’m just happy being myself. I think now, I’m much more charming and likable. I notice you’re enjoying yourself.”
Well, I am. He’s hugely entertaining company.
“And I’m sure in a moment you’ll take your pants off and I’ll smash you in the nuts with a beer bottle.”
No, I say, you’re OK. So instead, Manson opts for taking a selfie of us, showing me his ringtone (it’s Hot Love by T Rex), shaking my hand and asking me to write nice things about him. Of course, I say. “Good,” he smiles, ushering me out into the corridor. “Or I’ll find out where you fucking live.”
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/columbine-destroyed-my-entire-career-marilyn-manson-on-the-perils-of-being-the-lord-of-darkness/
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Sunday
SUNDAY 6-4-17
Zechariah 13:1 In that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin and for uncleanness.Zechariah 13:2 And it shall come to pass in that day, saith the LORD of hosts, that I will cut off the names of the idols out of the land, and they shall no more be remembered: and also I will cause the prophets and the unclean spirit to pass out of the land.
Fellowship of Oso creek
https://youtu.be/PyIZVUFIx2M
http://wp.me/a4V5qQ-B5
ON VIDEO-
.Quad ride
.Communion
.Facebook suicide story
.Allman brothers
.Order works
.Liturgy
.Media
NEW- [Past teaching- verses below]
Started late today- decided to keep the tradition of reviewing the Church service verses I attend on Sunday.
I usually wait a few days and post it as a teaching video- but for today I’ll post it like one of my ‘roll outs’.
I’ll try and add some of my past teachings below.
The Pastor spoke from Kings 18-19- the story of Elijah the prophet.
How after he had a great victory against the false prophets- then he was ready for God to take his life-
1Kings 19:4 But he himself went a day's journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a juniper tree: and he requested for himself that he might die; and said, It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life; for I am not better than my fathers.
Yes- after great victories- you often experience a low stage.
The pastor shared a story of a friend of his- A.J.- who posted on Facebook ‘See you all- I’m checking out’[words like that].
The next day the boys father posted ‘My son committed suicide’.
Sad indeed.
I shared a few verses from Zechariah 13- and talked some from Kings.
I actually made the video on the spur of the moment- riding the Quads with my son in law- right by the Oso creek- only about a mile from where the Fellowship of Oso creek meets.
Guess it was meant to be?
Ok- that's it for today- I’ll add the links and post in a little while.
God bless all
PAST POSTS [ Past teaching I did that relate to this post- verses below]
https://ccoutreach87.com/christian-recovery-from-addiction-long-version/
1ST KINGS 18- After three years in hiding the Lord tells Elijah to show himself to Ahab, rain is on the way! He appears once again on the scene and Ahab says ‘here he is, the one causing all the trouble’. Elijah says ‘you got it wrong buddy, it’s your wickedness and turning away from proper paths that has caused this trouble’. Elijah sets up a contest ‘go, get all the false prophets of Baal and let them come and set up an altar. Let them place a bull on it and pray and see if Baal will come and show himself alive’. So Elijah has them crying and cutting themselves [pagan ritual] and pleading all day for Baal to come and consume [by fire] the sacrifice. He even mocks them ‘where is Baal? Maybe he went on a trip? Maybe he’s sleeping’? One translation says ‘maybe he’s on the pot’ [toilet] Elijah was not above scathing sarcasm! So after Baal doesn’t ‘act’ Elijah sets up his own altar, puts a bull on it, soaks the whole thing with water and prays for God to reveal himself. Sure enough fire falls from heaven, burns the bull, stones and everything else! Elijah takes the false prophets and puts them out of their misery. These brothers had a bad day, the same day they find out that their religion is false, they meet Jehovah face to face! And then Elijah tells Ahab ‘get ready, the rain is coming’. God ‘showed’ himself thru a great act; he let it be known that the true God made a real difference. I recently read a story about an atheist. He is an intellectual and lives in Africa. Over the years he observed these ‘silly Christians’ coming to his nation and spreading their ‘ignorant beliefs’. He also noticed something else, they were the only real ongoing group of people who regularly gave their time and lives for the betterment of his fellow Africans. Sure, his intellectually arrogant friends would look at the whole thing as a charade, watching these missions groups spending time trying to teach silly stuff like the Trinity, declaring that this Jesus was ‘Gods son, God in the flesh’ but the atheists never organized a community that would actually help his fellow Africans, there was almost a built in bigotry that said ‘why even help these poor blobs of flesh, after all, we all came from nothing. When we die we simply cease to have feelings and pleasure, our lives basically consist of enjoying pleasures and being happy, what eternal significance is there in caring for the poor ignorant masses’. The observant atheist realized that thru out his life, his closet friends, the people who shared his own beliefs. They were the ones who didn’t ‘give a damn’ about his fellow black countrymen, but the Christians whom he and his friends spent their who lives mocking and resisting and verbally abusing, these Christians were the ones who gave of their lives for the betterment of his fellow man. God revealed himself thru Elijah’s ministry on this day, he showed the people that the God [system] you believe in really does matter. In all of our talking and debating between various religions and belief/unbelief systems, at the end of the day look at the results, Christianity has had her faults to be sure, but she has done a lot better than the prophets of Baal!
(1070) 1st KING 19- Ahab tells his wife, Jezebel, about Elijah’s victory, she sends word to the prophet ‘so help me God if I don’t do the same to you as you did to my prophets’. Understand, Elijah did not simply ‘rebuke’ false doctrine here, he actually dismantled an entire ‘religious system’ that was contrary to the purposes of God. It is very difficult to uproot all that you have put in place for the sake of reformation. I find this to be one of the hardest obstacles to overcome when seeking God for true change in the church. Christians too often associate their relationship with God along with the systems of religion that they were brought up with. Now Elijah flees for his life, God will appear to him at Horeb; he is not in the wind, earthquake or fire, but in the ‘still, small voice’. Elijah is told to anoint a king of Syria, also anoint Jehu as king of Israel and go get your protégée Elisha. Elijah is also told by God there are seven thousand who have not bowed the knee to Baal. We see the danger of prophetic ministry; God vindicated Elijah and truly did miraculous stuff with him. It was easy for Elijah to fall into the trap of ‘I am the only one who sees this stuff’. God reassured him he wasn’t alone. These last few years I have been surprised by the number of Christians who have corresponded with me thru our blog, it seems as if the present challenges to ‘church/clergy’ are becoming commonplace to the believers at large. It is no longer a secret. But it is also disheartening to see many of my friends who have served the Lord for years; they seem to be oblivious to the same truths that the church worldwide is seeing. So with Elijah you did have false prophets who were all wrong at the same time. Yes, just because there were so many who held on to the same view of religion [Baal worship] this did not mean they were right. But at the same time it was obvious to at least seven thousand others that the popular religious system was actually wrong! James says that Elijah was a man ‘subject to the same weaknesses as all men’ yet the Lord used him mightily. All Gods servants have feet of clay, many of the greatest reformers of church history also made big mistakes. Luther was a tremendous force for change, but his anti semitic writings would later be used as a justification for Jewish oppression. As we strive for truth and justice in the days ahead, let us all remember that some of Gods greatest voices are ‘compassed about with the same infirmities as us all’ God does use clean vessels, but even clean vessels sometimes have cracks.
VERSES- [Here are the verses I talked about or quoted on today’s post]
John 1:11
He came unto his own, and his own received him not.
In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations
Psalm 50:23
Whoso offereth praise glorifieth me: and to him that ordereth his conversation aright will I shew the salvation of God.
In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations
Revelation 5:9 And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation;
Revelation 5:10 And hast made us unto our God kings and priests: and we shall reign on the earth.
Ecclesiastes 12:1
Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them;
In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations
1Kings 18:1 And it came to pass after many days, that the word of the LORD came to Elijah in the third year, saying, Go, shew thyself unto Ahab; and I will send rain upon the earth.
1Kings 18:2 And Elijah went to shew himself unto Ahab. And there was a sore famine in Samaria.
1Kings 18:3 And Ahab called Obadiah, which was the governor of his house. (Now Obadiah feared the LORD greatly:
1Kings 18:4 For it was so, when Jezebel cut off the prophets of the LORD, that Obadiah took an hundred prophets, and hid them by fifty in a cave, and fed them with bread and water.)
1Kings 18:5 And Ahab said unto Obadiah, Go into the land, unto all fountains of water, and unto all brooks: peradventure we may find grass to save the horses and mules alive, that we lose not all the beasts.
1Kings 18:6 So they divided the land between them to pass throughout it: Ahab went one way by himself, and Obadiah went another way by himself.
1Kings 18:7 And as Obadiah was in the way, behold, Elijah met him: and he knew him, and fell on his face, and said, Art thou that my lord Elijah?
1Kings 18:8 And he answered him, I am: go, tell thy lord, Behold, Elijah is here.
1Kings 18:9 And he said, What have I sinned, that thou wouldest deliver thy servant into the hand of Ahab, to slay me?
1Kings 18:10 As the LORD thy God liveth, there is no nation or kingdom, whither my lord hath not sent to seek thee: and when they said, He is not there; he took an oath of the kingdom and nation, that they found thee not.
1Kings 18:11 And now thou sayest, Go, tell thy lord, Behold, Elijah is here.
1Kings 18:12 And it shall come to pass, as soon as I am gone from thee, that the Spirit of the LORD shall carry thee whither I know not; and so when I come and tell Ahab, and he cannot find thee, he shall slay me: but I thy servant fear the LORD from my youth.
1Kings 18:13 Was it not told my lord what I did when Jezebel slew the prophets of the LORD, how I hid an hundred men of the LORD's prophets by fifty in a cave, and fed them with bread and water?
1Kings 18:14 And now thou sayest, Go, tell thy lord, Behold, Elijah is here: and he shall slay me.
1Kings 18:15 And Elijah said, As the LORD of hosts liveth, before whom I stand, I will surely shew myself unto him to day.
1Kings 18:16 So Obadiah went to meet Ahab, and told him: and Ahab went to meet Elijah.
1Kings 18:17 And it came to pass, when Ahab saw Elijah, that Ahab said unto him, Art thou he that troubleth Israel?
1Kings 18:18 And he answered, I have not troubled Israel; but thou, and thy father's house, in that ye have forsaken the commandments of the LORD, and thou hast followed Baalim.
1Kings 18:19 Now therefore send, and gather to me all Israel unto mount Carmel, and the prophets of Baal four hundred and fifty, and the prophets of the groves four hundred, which eat at Jezebel's table.
1Kings 18:20 So Ahab sent unto all the children of Israel, and gathered the prophets together unto mount Carmel.
1Kings 18:21 And Elijah came unto all the people, and said, How long halt ye between two opinions? if the LORD be God, follow him: but if Baal, then follow him. And the people answered him not a word.
1Kings 18:22 Then said Elijah unto the people, I, even I only, remain a prophet of the LORD; but Baal's prophets are four hundred and fifty men.
1Kings 18:23 Let them therefore give us two bullocks; and let them choose one bullock for themselves, and cut it in pieces, and lay it on wood, and put no fire under: and I will dress the other bullock, and lay it on wood, and put no fire under:
1Kings 18:24 And call ye on the name of your gods, and I will call on the name of the LORD: and the God that answereth by fire, let him be God. And all the people answered and said, It is well spoken.
1Kings 18:25 And Elijah said unto the prophets of Baal, Choose you one bullock for yourselves, and dress it first; for ye are many; and call on the name of your gods, but put no fire under.
1Kings 18:26 And they took the bullock which was given them, and they dressed it, and called on the name of Baal from morning even until noon, saying, O Baal, hear us. But there was no voice, nor any that answered. And they leaped upon the altar which was made.
1Kings 18:27 And it came to pass at noon, that Elijah mocked them, and said, Cry aloud: for he is a god; either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he is in a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth, and must be awaked.
1Kings 18:28 And they cried aloud, and cut themselves after their manner with knives and lancets, till the blood gushed out upon them.
1Kings 18:29 And it came to pass, when midday was past, and they prophesied until the time of the offering of the evening sacrifice, that there was neither voice, nor any to answer, nor any that regarded.
1Kings 18:30 And Elijah said unto all the people, Come near unto me. And all the people came near unto him. And he repaired the altar of the LORD that was broken down.
1Kings 18:31 And Elijah took twelve stones, according to the number of the tribes of the sons of Jacob, unto whom the word of the LORD came, saying, Israel shall be thy name:
1Kings 18:32 And with the stones he built an altar in the name of the LORD: and he made a trench about the altar, as great as would contain two measures of seed.
1Kings 18:33 And he put the wood in order, and cut the bullock in pieces, and laid him on the wood, and said, Fill four barrels with water, and pour it on the burnt sacrifice, and on the wood.
1Kings 18:34 And he said, Do it the second time. And they did it the second time. And he said, Do it the third time. And they did it the third time.
1Kings 18:35 And the water ran round about the altar; and he filled the trench also with water.
1Kings 18:36 And it came to pass at the time of the offering of the evening sacrifice, that Elijah the prophet came near, and said, LORD God of Abraham, Isaac, and of Israel, let it be known this day that thou art God in Israel, and that I am thy servant, and that I have done all these things at thy word.
1Kings 18:37 Hear me, O LORD, hear me, that this people may know that thou art the LORD God, and that thou hast turned their heart back again.
1Kings 18:38 Then the fire of the LORD fell, and consumed the burnt sacrifice, and the wood, and the stones, and the dust, and licked up the water that was in the trench.
1Kings 18:39 And when all the people saw it, they fell on their faces: and they said, The LORD, he is the God; the LORD, he is the God.
1Kings 18:40 And Elijah said unto them, Take the prophets of Baal; let not one of them escape. And they took them: and Elijah brought them down to the brook Kishon, and slew them there.
1Kings 18:41 And Elijah said unto Ahab, Get thee up, eat and drink; for there is a sound of abundance of rain.
1Kings 18:42 So Ahab went up to eat and to drink. And Elijah went up to the top of Carmel; and he cast himself down upon the earth, and put his face between his knees,
1Kings 18:43 And said to his servant, Go up now, look toward the sea. And he went up, and looked, and said, There is nothing. And he said, Go again seven times.
1Kings 18:44 And it came to pass at the seventh time, that he said, Behold, there ariseth a little cloud out of the sea, like a man's hand. And he said, Go up, say unto Ahab, Prepare thy chariot, and get thee down that the rain stop thee not.
1Kings 18:45 And it came to pass in the mean while, that the heaven was black with clouds and wind, and there was a great rain. And Ahab rode, and went to Jezreel.
1Kings 18:46 And the hand of the LORD was on Elijah; and he girded up his loins, and ran before Ahab to the entrance of Jezreel.
1Kings 19:1 And Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and withal how he had slain all the prophets with the sword.
1Kings 19:2 Then Jezebel sent a messenger unto Elijah, saying, So let the gods do to me, and more also, if I make not thy life as the life of one of them by to morrow about this time.
1Kings 19:3 And when he saw that, he arose, and went for his life, and came to Beersheba, which belongeth to Judah, and left his servant there.
1Kings 19:4 But he himself went a day's journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a juniper tree: and he requested for himself that he might die; and said, It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life; for I am not better than my fathers.
1Kings 19:5 And as he lay and slept under a juniper tree, behold, then an angel touched him, and said unto him, Arise and eat.
1Kings 19:6 And he looked, and, behold, there was a cake baken on the coals, and a cruse of water at his head. And he did eat and drink, and laid him down again.
1Kings 19:7 And the angel of the LORD came again the second time, and touched him, and said, Arise and eat; because the journey is too great for thee.
1Kings 19:8 And he arose, and did eat and drink, and went in the strength of that meat forty days and forty nights unto Horeb the mount of God.
1Kings 19:9 And he came thither unto a cave, and lodged there; and, behold, the word of the LORD came to him, and he said unto him, What doest thou here, Elijah?
1Kings 19:10 And he said, I have been very jealous for the LORD God of hosts: for the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away.
1Kings 19:11 And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD. And, behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD; but the LORD was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the LORD was not in the earthquake:
1Kings 19:12 And after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.
1Kings 19:13 And it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entering in of the cave. And, behold, there came a voice unto him, and said, What doest thou here, Elijah?
1Kings 19:14 And he said, I have been very jealous for the LORD God of hosts: because the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away.
1Kings 19:15 And the LORD said unto him, Go, return on thy way to the wilderness of Damascus: and when thou comest, anoint Hazael to be king over Syria:
1Kings 19:16 And Jehu the son of Nimshi shalt thou anoint to be king over Israel: and Elisha the son of Shaphat of Abelmeholah shalt thou anoint to be prophet in thy room.
1Kings 19:17 And it shall come to pass, that him that escapeth the sword of Hazael shall Jehu slay: and him that escapeth from the sword of Jehu shall Elisha slay.
1Kings 19:18 Yet I have left me seven thousand in Israel, all the knees which have not bowed unto Baal, and every mouth which hath not kissed him.
1Kings 19:19 So he departed thence, and found Elisha the son of Shaphat, who was plowing with twelve yoke of oxen before him, and he with the twelfth: and Elijah passed by him, and cast his mantle upon him.
1Kings 19:20 And he left the oxen, and ran after Elijah, and said, Let me, I pray thee, kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow thee. And he said unto him, Go back again: for what have I done to thee?
1Kings 19:21 And he returned back from him, and took a yoke of oxen, and slew them, and boiled their flesh with the instruments of the oxen, and gave unto the people, and they did eat. Then he arose, and went after Elijah, and ministered unto him.
Zechariah 13:1 In that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin and for uncleanness.
Zechariah 13:2 And it shall come to pass in that day, saith the LORD of hosts, that I will cut off the names of the idols out of the land, and they shall no more be remembered: and also I will cause the prophets and the unclean spirit to pass out of the land.
Zechariah 13:3 And it shall come to pass, that when any shall yet prophesy, then his father and his mother that begat him shall say unto him, Thou shalt not live; for thou speakest lies in the name of the LORD: and his father and his mother that begat him shall thrust him through when he prophesieth.
Zechariah 13:4 And it shall come to pass in that day, that the prophets shall be ashamed every one of his vision, when he hath prophesied; neither shall they wear a rough garment to deceive:
Zechariah 13:5 But he shall say, I am no prophet, I am an husbandman; for man taught me to keep cattle from my youth.
Zechariah 13:6 And one shall say unto him, What are these wounds in thine hands? Then he shall answer, Those with which I was wounded in the house of my friends.
Zechariah 13:7 Awake, O sword, against my shepherd, and against the man that is my fellow, saith the LORD of hosts: smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered: and I will turn mine hand upon the little ones.
Zechariah 13:8 And it shall come to pass, that in all the land, saith the LORD, two parts therein shall be cut off and die; but the third shall be left therein.
Zechariah 13:9 And I will bring the third part through the fire, and will refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tried: they shall call on my name, and I will hear them: I will say, It is my people: and they shall say, The LORD is my God.
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