From the 1973 horror thriller movie, The Exorcist:
The power of Christ compels you. The power of Christ compels you. The power of Christ compels you. The power of Christ compels you.
That’s correct, DC. Over the past few days, I’ve been thinking about splashing holy water and chanting something over and over again towards EMO, just to rid her of the daily demons in the form of complaining, crying, whining and nagging, all of which in turn torments moi and OCD, whose personality and thick bloodline runs its course more expressly in moi with the other half struggling to make itself presence more obviously nicer.
Today she is much better as she gardened out front, cleaning up her eggplants, tomato and peppers earlier and snips off the good leaves of spinach, a heaping load of which I filled arms with the New Zealand variety growing wildly from our backyard.
Prior to the spinach trimming I went ahead and fertilized the two lemon trees of 3′ to 4′, tilling the soil with a red-colored hoe of many years. I continued to visually send something, anything, positive to her bio-unit and counteract her usual negativity about everything purposely created from her medicated thoughts. The key is to keep her busy and distract her from past pain and sufferings.
Last night and probably for the first time but mostly out of realization for my lack of mercy and understanding to forgiven the poor guy, did I send a boost to OCD from head to toe. The old man needed healing, too, if there is still a chance to rid him of his passive-aggressive tendencies as an un-compassionate, un-cooperative, soul-less humanoid.
It’s difficult for a mutable, Virgo sign of maternal disposition to keep the family together by keeping the peace while holding down her tears to live with a stubborn, bully-headed Taurus, a astrologically fixated sign, of course, who won’t CHANGE.
As we try to learn to cope with each others short-comings, let this blog be a small lesson to y’all that demons do exist to make life unbearable to the point of divorcing love from the former loving, bio-units.
Whereby men are programmed by a predominately misogynistic worldview and woman are scaring the living daylights of his emotional sides, which could be expressed as violence or as silence, leaving the appearance of an uncaring male figure-head, who does what men normally do in their caves with other sports enthusiasts or group-related activities involving bodily sounds meant to offend the most sensitive olfactory.
As for us women, we run the show, seriously from cooking and cleaning to making life for the men either happy or miserable. Without the women, there is no mother. Without the mother, there are no men, who are really little boys in grown up bodies needing comfort for every dents and dings, loving once in awhile to make him happy and acknowledgment for small accomplishments like model making or flying planes.
Demons begone! I compel you, now: Men control yourselves! Women control your mouths! And live happily ever after for being alone is creepy. If not, please move on without looking back. And find new bio-units to create your comfort zones together until the kids move out, if any. Amen. Hehehe!
Copyright © 2009 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
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