Who's Watching Who? by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Who’s Watching Who?

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Christian

The Inner Voice of a Revelation-Focused Christian

The world is not just flesh and stone; it is a battlefield between light and darkness. Revelation unveils the hidden war, where angels and demons contend, and where every soul must choose allegiance.

I am not here by accident. God has placed me on earth as His witness, His servant, His soldier; to wield the sword of iron, and the sword of truth. My mission is to eliminate the evil ones, expose lies, resist temptation, and stand firm against the powers of evil.

The evil ones are not even people, but perverse animals, from principalities and powers that corrupt hearts. My fight is not only against flesh and blood, but against the darkness that seeks to devour. The sword, prayer, scripture, and steadfastness are all my weapons.

The visions of John remind me that time is short. The seals, the trumpets, the bowls; they are warnings. I must live as if the end is near, because for each soul, the end may come at any moment.

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Though the dragon rages, though Babylon intoxicates the nations, I know the Lamb triumphs. My role is to endure, to eliminate the evil, to testify, and to keep my garments white until the day when Christ returns in glory.

This way of thinking emphasizes battle rather than tolerance of evil, which is much closer to historical, mainstream Christian theology. Revelation is currently often read as merely a symbolic drama of good versus evil, where believers are called to resist corruption and remain faithful, not to literally kill. ........ Hahaha. There is no denying the source.

The hour feels late, and my heart trembles as I write. Each day I wake with the words of John echoing in my mind; 'Behold, He comes with clouds, and every eye shall see Him.' I cannot shake the sense that the veil between heaven and earth grows thinner, that the trumpet is poised to sound. The world rushes on in its distractions, yet I see signs everywhere; wars, rumors of wars, the earth groaning as if in labor pains. These are not random; they are reminders that the Lamb who was slain is also the Lion who will return in glory.

Sometimes I feel torn between dread and hope. Dread, because the bowels of wrath are not allegory to me. They are warnings. Wake up calls. Hope, because the New Jerusalem gleams in my

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imagination, a city where tears are no more, where death itself is swallowed up. I confess that I am weary of Babylon. Its glitter blinds so many. Its merchants boast of their power, but I hear the angel's cry; 'Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great!' And I long to be among those who overcome, who keep their garments white.

I write these words not to frighten but to awaken. If the lampstands are inspected, will we be found faithful? If the scroll is opened, will our names be written? My soul aches for the righteous warm, those who march as though eternity were a given. I want to be like those few; to plead, to choose the narrow way, for the broad road leads to hell. Christ is not just a symbol to be admired. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Judge and Redeemer. His eyes are flames of fire; His voice is like rushing waters. How can we remain indifferent?

Tonight, as I pray, I imagine myself among the multitude, clothed in white, singing, 'Worthy is the Lamb!' And I resolve that whatever comes; tribulation, persecution, the mockery of this age-I will not bow to the beast. My allegiance is to the One who was, who is, and who is to come. Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly.

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Beloved, the hour is late! The trumpet is not yet sounded, but can you not hear its echo in the distance? The signs are upon us; wars and rumors of wars, the earth trembling, nations raging. These are not accidents, they are reminders; the King is coming! The First and the Last, He who was, and is, and is to come!"

Do not be deceived by Babylon's glitter. Her merchants boast, they buy and/or blackmail the politicians; her towers gleam, but the angel has cried: 'Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great!' And if Babylon is fallen, why cling to her? Why drink from her cup of abominations? Come out, come out, lest you share in her plagues!’

I tell you, lukewarm faith will not stand in the day of fire. The Lord Himself said; 'Because you are neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.' Oh, church, awaken! Trim your lamps, keep them burning, for the Bridegroom comes at midnight. Will He find you ready? Will He find your garments white?

Lift your eyes, for the New Jerusalem descends like a bride adorned for her husband. No more tears, no more death, no more night; for the Lamb Himself will be our light. This is our hope, this is our inheritance! And so I say; cling not to the beast, bow not to his image, take not his mark. For those who overcome shall reign with Christ forever.

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Hear me now: the Lion of Judah roars, the seals are breaking, the scroll is opening. Choose this day whom you will serve! As for me, I will serve the Lord. Even so; come, Lord Jesus, come quickly!"

The Weight

The Band

Count thirteen

Right, right, right

Here we go

I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin' about half past dead

I just need some place where I can lay my head

"Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"

He just grinned and shook my hand, "No" was all he said

Take a load off, Fanny

Take a load for free

Take a load off, Fanny

And you put the load right on me

I picked up my bag, I went lookin' for a place to hide

When I saw Carmen and the Devil walkin' side by side

I said, "Hey, Carmen, come on, let's go downtown"

She said, "I gotta go, but my friend can stick around"

Take a load off, Fanny

Take a load for free

Take a load off, Fanny

And you put the load right on me

Go down, Miss Moses, there's nothin' you can say

It's just old Luke and Luke's waitin' on the Judgement Day

"Well, Luke, my friend, what about young Anna Lee?"

He said, "Do me a favor, son

Won't you stay and keep Anna Lee company?"

Take a load off, Fanny

Take a load for free

Take a load off, Fanny

And you put the load right on me

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Crazy Chester followed me and he caught me in the fog

He said, "I will fix your rack if you take Jack, my dog"

I said, "Wait a minute, Chester, you know I'm a peaceful man" He said, "That's okay, boy, won't you feed him when you can?"

Yeah, take a load off, Fanny

Take a load for free

Take a load off, Fanny

And you put the load right on me

Catch a cannonball now to take me down the line

My bag is sinkin' low and I do believe it's time

To get back to Miss Fanny, you know she's the only one

Who sent me here with her regards for everyone

Take a load off, Fanny

Take a load for free

Take a load off, Fanny

And you put the load right on me

Written by Jaime Robbie Robertson.

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Lezbe “Special”

“We don’t say retarded anymore. We say special.”

“Fuck off, retard.”

Ranney never had any particular feelings for lesbians, one way or the other. He leaned a bit, as he thought it likely that if he was born female, he’d be one; as guys repulsed him. On the other hand, the big fat ones with the 2020’s buzz cut, reminiscent of Mr. T’s seventies mohawk were difficult not to stare at derisively.

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Un-doctored ad for something on MSM, ostensibly female in the traditional sense of the word.

Ellen Degenerate and Rosie O’Donnell just embarrass themselves, the former being “kicked out” of her UK relocation by English neighbors who tolerate most any kind of crap. One supposes that it is not easy being ugly. Ranney recalled when his mother told him; “If you’re good looking you can get away with anything. If you’re not best tow the line and foment sympathy. That goes for both sexes.”

So much for Ranney’s “interest” in the old subject.

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Chimpout at Chuck E Cheese

Ranney once had a neighbor - supposed friend who told him of his morning march to Chuck E Cheese, on the outskirts of town. His alarm went off at 7:00 AM, the tinny jingle of a forgotten pop song rattling out of his phone. He groaned, rolled over, and stared at the ceiling. Another day at Chuck E Cheese. Another day of pizza grease, blinking arcade lights, the faint smell of animatronic fur, and the strong smell of the chimp customers.

He showered quickly, humming the theme song from “The Merry Mailman” as if it might armor him against the expected daily chaos to soon come. His uniform shirt was bright red, with a cartoon mouse stitched over the heart, and was wrinkled but clean enough.

He stuffed a pair of black sneakers into his backpack, knowing the ones he wore would be ruined by the end of the shift. Breakfast was a single slice of re-heated pizza, a grim rehearsal for the day's menu.

The drive was short, but he felt like he was crossing into another dimension. The strip mall loomed, neon signs flickering in the morning haze. Chuck E Cheese's marquee glowed faintly, as if the mouse himself were already awake, waiting.

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Inside, the air was thick with the smell of dough, BO, and disinfectant. The animatronics-Chuck E., Helen Henny, Mr. Munch-stood frozen on stage, their plastic eyes staring into nothing. Eddie clocked in, grabbed a rag, and braced himself.

What Happens Next - The Birthday Horde

By 10:15, three birthday parties had arrived simultaneously. Balloons tangled, kids screamed, parents demanded tokens. He found himself refereeing a fight over a skee-ball lane.

At noon, Chuck E himself lurched to life mid-song, then froze with one arm raised like a dictator. The children cheered; he unplugged the mouse before he could start smoking.

A tray of pepperoni slipped from the oven, splattering onto the floor. He skidded, caught himself, and declared it "performance art." The kids applauded. But the B&B adults were less amused.

By evening, he was sticky with blood and soda, his ears ringing from arcade machines. He clocked out, looked back at the silent mouse on stage, and whispered: "See you tomorrow, boss."

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These are the foolish zealots; the actors, most inadequately paid. They act and act, make the news regularly, and get noting for it. Nothing ever changes, except the number of retards who put themselves in harm’s way for nothing. The dopes blame trump; apparently blind to the fact that he is just another Uniparty-Israel agent, distracting you from seeing that he’s no different from the globalists.

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