GORGEOUS June — month of roses and warbling wrens. Month of baby bunnies and lush lawns. Month of wedding bowers and youthful innocence.
June is joy. June is love. June is the best of months.
But, wait.
Depraved June — month of thorns. June is brutal fatsos in leather thongs; Bolsheviks with purple hair, witches with facial fish hooks, corporate managers with approving grins; crayon rainbows, pornographic parades, perverse propaganda, cultural suicide and the theft of innocence.
June is the best of months and the worst of months. June is petals and thorns.
File your petitions and fund your lawsuits. It won’t make a bit of difference. You can’t overturn institutionalized tyranny through legal channels. You can’t overturn a contempt for law by appeals to law. You may live in a remote town, seemingly normal, but the bloodhounds will find that town and force depravity down your throat — and the local police will protect them. The bloodhounds will hunt down innocence wherever it may be — and your employer will cheer them on.
June is brazen tyranny extending outward in a million hidden ripples, revolution installed above, fully supported by your government, its police forces and the giant monopolies that have you by the neck, dangling from a scaffold. They hate your guts. They despise your ancestors. They despise the normal and the true. They despise roses and youthful hopes. They despise children. They despise God most of all. The confused searching for love in a fallen world are their proxy warriors, enlisted in a war that will last till the end of time.
Beneath the talk of love, love, love is hatred, hatred, hatred and the thinly-veiled threat of violence. Hatred of you.
June is a blaring alarm: It is too late for petitions and lawsuits.
Pick a rose. Inhale its promises. Distill your outrage. This unstoppable energy, this life-giving force will burst forth in the days ahead. Victory will come, but at great cost.
June belongs to the only Heart that matters. The leather-clad fatsos, the tree-worshipping witches, the hideous rainbow, the complacent thugs in “Human Resources,” the triumphant Porn on Main Street accompanied by police escort, the workaholics and technocrats who don’t know what love is — all must go.
The little ones dance and laugh in the circle of his outstretched arms. The crayon rainbow sickens by comparison. June is the month of soft petals, an interlude of precious hopes. The sky pulses during sun storms with the indescribable colors of eternal joy. June belongs to everyone. June belongs to no one.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Pick a rose. All the king’s horses, and all the king’s men cannot keep true love back forever.
— Comments —
Fran writes:
The “Pride” rainbow has six colors.
My sister sent me the meme:
That would be the “pride” prism; the normal (straight) prism has ROYGBIV. God’s rainbow is greater than the “Pride” rainbow.
But the state of the culture has been so dumbed down that the population thinks the “Pride” rainbow IS the real rainbow. My sister didn’t know the two rainbows aren’t the same.
If you have time, I’d love to read your thoughts on the two rainbows.
Laura writes:
I’m pretty dumbed down too when it comes to rainbows. The Porn-on-Main-Street rainbow doesn’t look like any rainbow I’ve ever seen. I think the symbol comes from Noahide law. Anyone who doesn’t believe in the Rainbow Covenant is going to be beheaded. Or something fun like that.
