fast, faster, fastest

You know what? I like The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift. I like it a lot. I watched it Saturday afternoon for the 4th or 5th time. I know it catches a lot go flack, but the haters are just ticked that it's not a Vin Diesel flick. But I love Lucas Black. I don't think we get to see enough of this young man in movies or TV. I know, I know, Tokyo Drift is basically "Karate Kid" with ricers... albeit fast ones... but I love just love this movie.

In all fairness to the film, the second outing 2 Fast, 2 Furious isn't a great film at all. It's a very poor sophomore outing (on it's own*) with a weak plot, though it does advance the mythology somewhat (as did Tokyo Drift), but the way I see it, the first two films enjoyed some continuity in that Paul Walker stars in both. The third outing, Tokyo Drift messes with the continuity thing very differently, in that Vin Diesel shows up at the end, and one main character, Han, dies... which is strange, because Han is in Fast and Furious, the 4th film. The events of Fast and Furious take place before the third film, as one scene shows Han saying he's going to Tokyo where he's heard about an interesting racing scene happening. Strange continuity, but I love these films... especially Tokyo Drift. But Lucas Black is a good actor, and has far more depth than the likes of Shia LeBeouf!

*Strange Continuity - It's all explained here.





One of the most intriguing lines in Tokyo Drift, to me, is what the Yakuza uncle said to his nephew in reprimand... for an "overlooked detail"...

For want of a nail, the horseshoe was lost
For want of a horseshoe the steed was lost
For want of a steed the message was undelivered
For want of the undelivered message the war was lost

Speed-- too much of it --allows for greater slacking in one's attention to detail. No detail is trivial. Every step on any journey of any distance is important.




Scientists have proven wrong, it is feared, the foundation upon which modern physics is built.

Speed of light 'broken' at CERN, scientists claim

The science world was left in shock when workers at the world’s largest physics lab announced they had recorded subatomic particles travelling faster than the speed of light.

If the findings are proven to be accurate, they would overturn one of the pillars of the Standard Model of physics, which explains the way the universe and everything within it works.

Einstein’s theory of special relativity, proposed in 1905, states that nothing in the universe can travel faster than the speed of light in a vacuum. But researchers at the CERN lab near Geneva claim they have recorded neutrinos, a type of tiny particle, travelling faster than the barrier of 186,282 miles (299,792 kilometers) per second.

The results have so astounded researchers that American and Japanese scientists have been asked to verify the results before they are confirmed as a discovery.

If it turns out to be true, don't expect too many people to be banging the drum for the "new world order" in the physical world. Change comes slowly to enlightened thinkers. Especially when said change threatens to alter the established order; careers, fortunes, prestige, and power could be lost. Truth get's blurred when fortunes, careers, and power structures are threatened.

German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer (1788 - 1860) had this to say about Truth...

"All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident."

This is seen even today in the fields of medicine and physical science. As it was in the days of Galileo, so it is today: western medicine, man-made global warming, evolution. Anyone who publicly doubts these canons is branded a heretic, or 'flat-earther,' and no better than a racist.

Regarding Medicine and Physical Science, there is too much money to be made off the fear of the eschewing the former to lift its metaphorical boot from the throats of its victims, and too much ideological capital already spent to allow the latter to ever admit its obvious flaws.

Here's a truth: The unregenerate heart will always seek to build its fortune on fear, be it of the personal or the preying upon variety, and fear will drive it to untold mongeries to build its fortunes higher than mere necessity dictates.

Avarice is king, necessity and truth be damned.

great quote

"You can only eat so much corn..."

--Terri B.

Truer words were never spoken... today, at least.

twenty-seven, dung bEetles, & epitaphs

What do Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Brian Jones, Kurt Kobain, and now Amy Winehouse have in common?

The number twenty-seven... the age at which each of them died-- Welcome Miss Winehouse, you have been unceremoniously ushered into an auspicious, albeit rare, company.

Have you ever seen video of a dung beetle pushing a ball of poop around? That little ball of shit is this particular beetle's lifeline. It defines who and what this particular insect is.

Now look at the above names; members of the 27 Club. Each of them was pushing their own ball of crap around, and in the end that ball of crap is what defines them. Some will naturally protest that and say it was their music which defined them, but I would have to argue against that point. And here's why...

Music is what they did; they were good at it, and are famous for it. They each made a name for themselves because of it, and made-- or were in the process of making --enough money to change their individual paradigms. But none of the above mentioned 'artists' were able to stop pushing the shit that defined what they thought of themselves. The reason I put it this way is I've been there. Drugs defined who I was for a time-- an addict. I was, of course, much more than that I was an artist too... still am, but back then drugs colored every other thing I did-- just as it colored everything the 27 Club did in their own lives.

'Drugs' was the ball of shit I pushed around. It was the ball of shit they pushed around. But unlike Sisyphus, they weren't 'chained' to the futility of rolling that ball of shite up the hill. Had they only opened their eyes to their own sense of self-worth, they could have abandoned that ball of crap and moved on, and, in all likelihood lived to a ripe old age with many accolades to their name. Now, in spite of their talent, 'overdose' is the one accolade that will color every other accolade they managed in their short lives.

For myself, I managed to see that ball for what it was... when I was twenty-seven. I've been rid of it for more than two decades now.

Amy Winehouse, like every other member of the 27 Club, is now rid of that ball of shit too. But what separates me and Amy Winehouse, aside from fame, fortune, and good looks, is I managed to walk away, and the name I carry today is untainted by the ball I shit I pushed around. Unfortunately, like all the other members in that sad club, her name will carry with it the unfortunate addendum *drug addict; died of an overdose.

That's a very sad legacy to leave behind, and a poor epitaph to the talent she had on loan from God.

May HE have mercy on her soul.

the old man rEmembers what the child once dreamt

For everyone of a certain age who loved Edgar Rice Burroughs; who dreamt of being John Carter, living and fighting on Mars...

Here's the movie trailer for Disney's "John Carter" [of Mars]. It's awesome. It's big. And it's out March 9, 2012.



Here's your link to the official site, where a larger version can be viewed in addition to a couple production stills-- hopefully more will follow.

I never imagined, as a sixteen year old [whose face was buried in anything and everything Edgar Rice Burroughs], that I would ever have an opportunity to WATCH "A Princess of Mars". But now, in eight short months, assuming the country hasn't collapsed or I've died, I'll get to see what I never thought possible a short thirty-five years ago.

july's nuclear drEam

The sky was once blue
Now its a gray ashy hue
And its burned on the memories
Of everyone I knew
Gone are the abbeys
The parks and the bars
Gone all discussions
Of Venus and Mars
Everyone's gone
Or near enough, anyway
Time to start over
If I can just find a way

Did we really think heaven
Would forgive us this day
Or forgive us tomorrow
Have you nothing to say?
Silent as a tombstone
And dead as the sky
Who's now left to ponder
Every dream's dying sigh
Cause I can't find a reason
Or an answer just the same
Why I should stand here living
Amid the dead and the flame

Color me pessimistic
Color me a fool
Things could be better
Wading my feet in the pool
Where the bodies lie floating
Or to the bottom submerge
While the shrill keen of missiles
Sing their hideous dirge
I'm just hoping for something
Some substance I cannot see
Looking for the evidence
Of a greater faith in me

Only I can stop this
I could wake from this dream
Beat my swords into plowshares
Cast my fears in the stream
And let the waters carry them
To rivers and to seas
Give my life to understanding
to flowers and to bees
Show the world I love them
Not in word but in deed
There is nothing in these weapons
We should ever want or need


ELAshley
071211.112535.1

Not my best work. Not by far.

... and halfway through The Voice

Broken

Broken in two
The sky full of blue
Sun shining brightly
On the day I lost you
Heavy as a cloud in the sky
Light as the tears burning in my eye
I'm broken in two
Nothing left to do
But say goodbye

Broken in two
Thought you loved me too
Thought your heart yearned for me
The way I yearn for you
Every bird in its high high tree
Sings a dirge for the heart in me
Broken in two
Nothing left to do
But weep and cry

If my heart were an ocean
There'd be nothing you could do
Oceans can't be broken
They're not in love with you
And if I weren't so tangled
In all the pain you left behind
Perhaps I could forgive you
But you don't care either way, so...
Never mind

Broken in two
I'm broken, it's true
Tomorrow I'll forget you
Or in a year, maybe two
I could take some time to lick my wounds
Try to get my heart strings back in tune
But today I feel broken
With nothing left to do, but
Weep and cry

If my heart were an ocean
There'd be nothing you could do (to me)
Oceans can't be broken
They're not in love with you
And if I weren't so torn and tangled
In the pains you smugly left behind
Perhaps I could forgive you
But you won't care either way
So never mind

Tomorrow I'll forget you
Or in a year or maybe two
But today I'm still broken
Nothing more I can say but...
Goodbye
Goodbye
We were two
Now I'm one
Goodbye


ELAshley
062811.1048.6
Revisions
062911.090545.1

Halfway through the last performance episode of The Voice, I began writing. This song is the end result.

and in the spirit of tEa...

Another 'Tea' poem from last summer... The notes below are from that day in July.


The Zebra Tree

We drank our tea 'neath the zebra tree
All eyes upon our riche aree
Amber creams amid darjeeling hues
The crackled skies and fields our views
We didn't mind what minds should think
Easing in our honeyed drink
Caring much less what eyes might see
There beneath the zebra tree
We spoke ~ Our eyes! What heralds we sang!
Two hearts a'thunder in pealings rang
Love and tea caring naught for eyes
Not lips kissing, nor delighted sighs
What need have we to e`er look up
When upon tea and love we choose to sup?


ELAshley
071910.044526.6
Revisions:
071910.045220.6
072010.094406.1
050511.021352.6
051711.051216.6 (punctuation/spelling)


Unable to do any work because of virus scanning, and unable to even play Hearts, I resorted to doodling. A 'zebra tree' (if there is such a thing), coupled with the soft pleasure of tea still on my tongue... what else could I have written of? This is the first real bit of poetry I've written in months.

And for the record, the italicized words 'riche aree' were meant only as 'holding' words until proper replacements could take their seat. They mean nothing in real world terms, but my intent was to convey a sense of 'rich ease' as in a 'luxuriant taking of' one's ease. I don't wish now to remove these words, and, as I figure it, if Carroll could get away with this device, why can't I?

an affair over tEa

An Affair Over Tea

I came for the tea,
Said I. And she
With eyes like kohl
In diamond lit dew
Smiled. Whereas we,
'neath our lush camellia tree,
Sojourn singly, the soul
Of this deep amber brew,
Bids us sit. The bowl,
To its subtle brim,
Where ripples swim
Sings, 'Drink deep of me.'

Our cup is empty
Said I. Then she
Lips blush like figs
Bright softly wet,
On this lets agree...
I'll fill you, if you fill me;
My soft petal to your stout sprig!
Our engagement now set,
'forget the din,' * quoth she
Then plunging ladle deep and up
Smoothly filled my empty cup
Singing, 'Drink deep of me.'

I came for thy tea!
Spoke I. And she
Cup shy to tongue
And a lilt to her gaze
Answer now, I challenge thee...
Lovest thou my heart more than tea?
For though we are yet young
Wilt thou love me all my days?
Stay thy cup! Thy troth unsung!
'Neath stars, moon, sun, camellia bowers
Pledge thou me thy love's endless hours?
Ne'er tiring to drink deeply of me?

Of thee, thy tea?
Asked I. And she 
'Yes' in her eyes,
Come drink of me
Of mine own heady brew!
You sing to me, and I'll to you
Of our live's desires 
'neath the circling sun!
And I smiled, filled with its fires 
I would that our cups never empty
That your lips soft and chastely
Ever desire to drink deep of me!

I came for the tea!
She said. And she,
A dapple of sun
On her soft silk brow,
Smiled, I would drink thee
Daily, nightly, bold and lightly
Oolong, White, Matcha, Pu'er
Hot, cool or chill,
Wherever you are
And her lips kissed the brim of her porcelain cup
Brow softly down, her eyes looking up
Come, drink only of me!
For an age of me!
Forever of me
Come, my love, let's tea!


ELAshley
062411.044007.6
Revisions:
091211.105641.1
102011.125103.6 [including last two stanzas]



Only me?
Then come, let's tea...

-----



* "Tea is drunk to forget the din of the world."

     --T'ien Yiheng

e's improving on E

The Fundamentals/Basics:

1. Who do you listen to?
2. Teachability Index
3. Training/Balance Scale
4. Four Steps of Learning Information

Thoughts on the Foundation:

"If you know and do not do, you do not know."


"If you want to be a master, you must be a master of the basics."


"You can only build as high as your foundation is deep."


"God gave you two ears and one mouth. Use them proportionately."


"I am not afraid of the 10,000 strikes you have practiced once. I am deathly afraid of the one strike you have practiced 10,000 times."


"Focus on the fundamentals; master the basics."


"If your attitude is right, facts don't matter."


"How you feel is 99% of success; when your thinking is correct, the how doesn't matter."

of whEels and wind

Received a call yesterday. Surprise! I wasn't expecting a call back, let alone a response, so I promptly forgot about it. I didn't sleep well last night because of it. I'm operating on very little sleep right now. I can't let anyone but Cristal know.

I just called back a bit ago. Made an appointment. I've been a bit like Lennon lately, just watching the wheels turn round and round, never imagining their turning could involve me in any personal way. Times are tough here. Money is scarce; every dollar has a name and none of those names involve any of the things I'm wont to do with my paychecks. No movies, no chai at Starbucks, no books, almost no money for cable.

Can't let anyone know about this, however. I shouldn't be telling you. But there it is. Can't afford to let anyone get wind of this.

e's says, "it's monday!"

Let's start with a beaver. I like beavers. I like Mr. Beaver in the first Narnia movie. I like anything with innate ability to build a house... especially as it has to cut down the forest with its bleeding teeth to do so.

I also like Mel Gibson, despite the all-around angry guy he's become, or has finally allowed us to see. I've loved him as an actor ever since Galipoli, my first Mel Gibson film, a beautifully poignant and tragic historical epic.

I'd title this post as one in a long line of my "Pithy Reviews" but I haven't seen this film. I simply hope to. Judging strictly from the trailer alone it appears to be just what the doctor ordered for Mr. Gibson... both personally and professionally. I can only hope there is a lesson in the sets and dialogs of The Beaver that will give Mr. Gibson some personal clarity and, perhaps, a point in the right direction.

One review I've read claims this is not a drama... and is not meant to be comedic. I can only imagine how uncomfortable some might feel watching a man brought to this depth of depression and not be asked to laugh. The previews takes pains to make us want to laugh, so... how does that work? A drama that's not a comedy but asks us to laugh anyway. What is funny about a man who breaks down and struggles to find his way back? I hope I get to find out.

*    *    *

Pithy Review
(a few years late)

The Wrestler, starring Mickey Rourke. The most depressing movie I've ever seen. I want to say it was also beautiful, but now that I think about it... many of the camera shots were beautiful; the imagery was captivating, but there was nothing beautiful about the story. In short, The Wrestler is a personification of personal despair and flogging loneliness.

I'm not even sure I liked it; I felt enthralled by something I couldn't pull my eyes away from, like a train wreck you see coming but can't turn away from. There wasn't even a Rocky fanfare at the end... not at the beginning, the middle... no where. It opened without a shred of discernible hope, and it died that way. Even at the end with the hope of a Talia Shire moment in the person of Marisa Tomei... Nothing.

Disaster porn. You don't want to see the blood, the tears, or the bodies as you drive slowly by... but neither can you turn away. I've always liked Mickey Rourke, and his performance here was stellar, but a more depressing film he could not have made.

In the end I was, perhaps, more impressed that I sat all the way through it without changing the channel. Which means I'll likely watch it again sometime in the future.

*    *    *

Excerpts from:

The Trouble with Happiness
Alexander Green, Whiskey & Gunpowder, May 16, 2011

"Every life is lived between the poles of joy and sadness. Laughter and love are part of it. But so are pain and suffering. To deny the tragic aspects of the world is to suppress a large part of what it means to be human...

Great artists often try to awaken us — or stir our conscience — by reminding us of the more doleful aspects of life. In response to the 16th Street Church bombing in 1963, an attack by the Ku Klux Klan in Birmingham that killed four girls, saxophonist John Coltrane wrote "Alabama," an instrumental work that expresses anguish and sorrow more eloquently than words.

In 1890, Vincent Van Gogh, overcome by feelings of worthlessness, walked out into the southern French countryside and shot himself in the gut with a pistol. Just 37, he died from the wound two days later. Yet in the previous two years — and despite his bleakness — he completed more than 200 paintings, many of them masterpieces.

Handel, after years spent at the top of the musical world, fell into terrible poverty, ill health, and deep depression. Yet from the depths of profound despair, he completed his greatest work, "Messiah."

Beethoven raged against advancing deafness and his own finitude, yet created immortal works during this period, including his Fifth Symphony; his only opera, Fidelio; his late string quartets; and the Ninth Symphony, with its triumphant "Ode to Joy."

We all want to be happy. But life is also about education, work, courage, honor, empathy, and resilience in the face of hardship. Real contentment comes from a feeling that your life is worthwhile, that it is dissolved into something meaningful and great. That leads to gratitude.

And gratitude, it turns out, is an indispensable part of happiness.

It's worth a read, if you have time.

robots... all is not full of love

Perhaps the strangest music video I've ever seen. I've been a fan (of sorts) of Bjork for years but I never thought to search out a video by her until today. My reason for the search? I'm trying to compile a list of songs that contain the word 'robot' or 'android' within the lyrics.

My list so far:

1001001 - Rush
Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots - Flaming Lips
Mr. Roboto - Styx

Strangely, Bjork fails to make the list, despite her best visual efforts.

Stranger still, Bjork is pretty hot as a robot... not so much in real life.

---

Afterthought ...[11:40am]
Bjork tends to mumble and draw out whole words over long vocal runs so...

All Is Full Of Love

You'll be given love        You'll be taken care of
You'll be given love        You have to trust it

Maybe not from the sources        You have poured yours
Maybe not from the directions        You are staring at

Twist your head around        It's all around you
All is full of love        All around you

All is full of love        You just ain't receiving
All is full of love        Your phone is off the hook
All is full of love        Your doors are all shut
All is full of love        All is full of love!

All is full of love... a nice enough sentiment for those who are in love, surrounded by love, enveloped by love... but what does it mean to the homeless? the hungry? the lonely? the dying? God is love, the spiritual embodiment of love; for some, this is enough. But look at the world. I mean REALLY look at it. All is NOT full of love. It's filled with the longing for love. For those who don't wish to look deeper, this, I assume, is enough.

The world is in love with provocateurism-- lesbian robots fondling and kissing each other. There is something very wrong with the world.

...

I actually love this song. I just didn't know there was a video associated with it. I almost wish I hadn't found it. I say 'almost' because despite my distaste for the imagery, I am human and drawn to it, nonetheless, by both fascination and lust.

pithy rEviews

Sucker Punch
viewed: 040211

Anyone who's seen the trailers? That's pretty much the movie, in terms of action. The creators chose not to tell you that there was another dark, depressing, less visual facet to their film. Nor did they bother to inform you that it is this other facet which propels all the action. Without the part you didn't know about, the rest falls apart.

As a whole, the movie is ultimately tragic; a Romeo & Juliet without a Romeo. You know how it's going to end in the first 8 minutes. They tell you. So don't be surprised or ticked off when it happens. But it's this knowledge that keeps you rooting for Baby Doll. You want her to win. You want her to escape her fate, but with the final rap of a small hammer it's done.

Sucker Punch succeeds very well in this respect; the investment you make in wishing her well. Another plus in Sucker Punch's favor is the music-- forget the art and color, you already knew that was in there. But the music! Specifically, White Rabbit (originally of Jefferson Airplane fame) by Emiliana Torrini.

She totally owns this tune. Before Emiliana all we had was Jefferson Airplanes cheap two-and-a-half minute, albeit great tune. Truly great. But Miss Torrini's version, clocking in at just under 5 minutes 10 seconds... modern, embellished, loud and explosive, is worth the .99 cents I spent to download at Amazon. Jefferson Airplane ends White Rabbit abruptly with little fanfare, leaving you wanting more. It's a shame it took 40 years for someone to explore the lengths to which Jefferson Airplane could have taken this iconic tune.

You may have heard Sucker Punch described as 'eye-candy'. Well, it is. The whole thing, not just the hookerishly-clad chickies. Even the depressing parts. And that's about as negative I can be. Would I buy this on DVD? I haven't decided yet.

But I am pleased with my music download.

capulet

I've got a headache. The kind that shoots spears of lightning down the muscles of the neck and back-- it's a vice that seems to know but one direction. Headaches, for me, cause everything else to grind to a near standstill.

I wrote a poem once, while in the beginning throes of a migraine. As short as it is, it still took more than an hour to get right.

This time around my inspiration came not from the headache, but from a single word which caught my eye while scanning a random page of text... That word?


Capulet

Capulet sing
To the morning sun
Of all the things you haven't yet done
Ask him to stay
A little long 'neath the cover
Give you more time
Alone with your lover
Capulet sing

Capulet sing
To the dark starry night
Sing of the things you haven't got right
Ask them to shine
A little long in the sky
Give you and your lover
More time for goodbye
Capulet sing

Soft-throated murmurs
And sighs on the bed
Clasped and fervent
To the boy you have wed
Oh, Capulet sing
Of eyes deep and burnished
Tongues steeped in honey-sweet dew
Your lips on the curves
Of your dear Montague
Oh Capulet sing
Poison and daggers
Are terrible things

Sing and let go
Without fear or doubt
To your sweet Montague
Unstained and devout
Sing Juliet and maybe you'll see
A life beyond whispers
And cold rosary

Capulet sing
To the cold fates of love
Pray to the God who watches above
For Romeo rises
And Mercury too
Tumult and Tybalt
By the hand of your poor Montague
Oh, Capulet sing

Soft-throated murmurs
And sighs on the bed
Clasped and fervent
To the man you have wed
Oh, Capulet sing
Of dreams for the future
Of love, unembattled and true
Your lips on the breast
Of your dear Montague
Oh, Capulet sing
Capulet ring
Capulet love
Till the morning takes wing
Oh, Capulet love
Oh, Capulet sing
Daggers and poisons
Are terrible things


ELAshley
033111.110726.
.113625.1

in case i haven't told anyone...

...i am a Christian. Really. You'll find all kind of things on this blog; some consistent with that profession, and some not. For the record, I'm not trying to be anyone other than who I am, good or bad alike... This is the most common human failing there is... not trying. Selah.

For those of you who didn't know, it is impossible for a Christian to not commit sin; it's simply not in his nature to be perfect. But being a Christian is not about being perfect but, rather, it's about being perfected. Daily. Assuming of course I allow myself to be perfected. There is still within me the desire to seek my own will, and it wins more often than not. When all you've known, your entire life, is the tactile sensations of your very skin; nerve endings, and the pump and flow of blood rushing; sensations of pleasure and of pain; how does anyone deny the the very thing that tells them they are alive and living in the world? that gives them means of expression and communication? How does anyone die daily to their flesh? let alone a Christian?

It's been said by all and sundry at some point in their vocal lives that truth is relevant, and I have to agree. But allow me to qualify that. When most people hear the phrase 'truth is relative,' what they're really hearing is that my truth is not necessarily their truth. When I hear that particular truism uttered, I hear that truth has specific relevance not only to me, but to everyone, whether I like that truth or not. Every truth is relevant to everyone, whether they recognize it or not. You can say you don't believe in the law of gravity, but try stepping off the edge of a cliff. You can say you don't believe in God, but just wait until you stumble across eternity's threshold.

So, what are you saying E?

What I'm saying is that truth cannot have private, singularly individual interpretations. It is either true for all or it's not true at all. It's either true every time or it's an aberration. Some will argue this distinction, and I understand that need, but I won't argue the point. Except to say that if a thing is true, it is always true; circumstance and geography become irrelevant determinant witnesses in the face of absolute truth.... What's that? You say there are no absolutes?

Too many people-- Christians especially --make excuses for the truth, particularly in the abortion debate. One Christian will call abortion evil in any circumstance, another Christian will make pointlessly arbitrary exceptions for rape, incest, etc., while still other christians [and no, that's not a typo] proudly claim they celebrate a woman's right to choose. Okay...? Many of these latter types are quick to make the distinction that they personally abhor the act; it's only the right to 'choose' that they're celebrating, but this is equivocation. They believe there is nobility in defending a perceived right that, in this arena, only women possess, but even women squabble over this trope... a woman's right to choose. Even women can't agree. But where is this right codified other than in the nebulous 1973 Roe v Wade ruling.

Does man's law supersede God's law? If we are to render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and unto God the things which are God's, in the case of abortion, specifically, who's law do we follow? Caesar says 'Rip It Out!', but God says, 'THOU SHALT NOT KILL.' Who's law is greater? Unto whom are we to render the service of obedience?

So the moral of the story is (assuming there is a story in the body of this post) you should never judge the book by it's cover, or better, by its title. I can call myself a Christian all day long, but that won't make me one.