“CONTINUE TO WRITE ABOUT THE TRUTH”
by OPOVV, ©2014
(Jun. 15, 2014) — There’s no disrespect here and, then again, there’s no “political correctness,” either. There’s no “spin” and there are no excuses. There are no “fair winds” and there’s no “let’s all just ‘get along’ and hide our heads in the sand.” There’s no made-up anything, even the conclusions. What you are about to read is an (almost) actual event. Stay tuned:
I checked the oil, filled the fuel tank, sharpened the blades, checked the tire pressures and policed the lawn by removing the fallen branches from last night’s storm. I was mowing the back 1/8 acre on my riding lawn mower when the engine sputtered and died. Now what? No chirping of the birds; no rustling of the squirrels through the brush; no dogs barking at the deer. Then from out of the 4,000 acres of dense forest from my back yard came a bright light followed by a nice-looking girl in a white robe and small wings, the kind angels have.
There were no words spoken, just telepathy.
Me: “Hey, did I just miss something here? Did I die and wasn’t paying attention? Are you going to escort me to St. Pete? Look, can I have some time to get my story straight?”
Angel: “Relax. Everything is okay, well, not really okay, but okay enough. First, you didn’t die. Time has kind-of slowed-down for you. Remember when those two guys had that knife to your throat and you’re still here to talk about it?”
Me: “I don’t hear any birds, and how’d you stop my lawn mower; it was working great.”
Angel: “Look, mister, you’re having a visitation by an Angel and you’re worried about your lawn mower?”
Me: “You’re the one interrupting. Look, I don’t want to be rude, but what did I do to warrant an Angel visiting me while, excuse me, having a lawn to mow.”
Angel: “That’s pretty good, really, even for you. That’s all you do is wait for the grass to grow so you can ride around in your version of a working-man’s Go-kart. But I haven’t much time, so pay attention.”
Me: “Okay, okay. I’m sorry if I was rude.”
Angel: “ ‘Were’ or ‘are’?”
Me: “I’m all ears.”
Angel: “You ran for president in the Year of Our Lord, 2012.”
Me: “Yes, and my VP was Larry Meyer who, sad to say, passed away on Christmas day of 2013.”
Angel: “Yes, I know. Sorry. Larry and you were quite a team. We were rooting for you two.”
Me: “You were? We could’ve use some Divine Help, you know.”
Angel: “To our regret we didn’t. By the way, your idea to have all your campaign contributions divided between the ASPCA and the USO was well-received, so much so, that we’ve erased a few of your previous transgressions from the record.”
Me: “Thanks, I appreciate that. So, how can I help you?”
Angel: “And thank you. You’re doing good, and so is the whole idea of The Post & Email. You’re getting read all over the globe, which is a good thing. All I’m here is to tell you to keep fighting the good fight, for Freedom is worth it. Obama and his legions of millions of minions are out to force the total destruction of the USA and force Sharia Law down the throats of all of you.”
Me: “That’s nice, but there sure used to be a lot more comments.”
Angel: “Yes, that concerns us, too. You people can’t be afraid of the traitors: you’ve got to be united, including the Obots if you want a country in the future. We can give you the courage but, in the end, you got to do it yourself, and that includes whatever they have planned to do to you, do it to them first.”
And then she turned around and started walking back into the forest.
Me: “What’s your name? How come you have to walk? Watch out for the poison ivy. You need mosquito repellant?”
The Angel turned and said unto me: “I told you you’re on the right track. Don’t become discouraged. Lead the people, or at least show them the way. Continue to write about the Truth. My name rhymes with Carol. I’m embarrassed to fly in front of people because I’m afraid of heights. Now, go mow your lawn.”
And then she was gone and the lawn mower magically started back up, all by itself. A miracle! And then I heard Elvis Presley singing “I’ll Remember You” in my head as I started mowing.