As usual, when a day arises full of too much anti-Gospel messages being dispersed in parades and by the Martha Firestone gang of post-Akers Detroit Lions, I quietly glided from Marine City to Sombra. I know when I am trusted by border patrol officers on both sides of a narrow border, I have succeeded in eliminating belief in the slander that liars such as Rachel Hendrikson and Shane David Hendrikson have injected into their unholy networks. My reputation of being a fallible police officer with an ability to repent of my own sin results in having a good name in Canada and with those who believe in anti-drug recovery programs based on faith in the Scriptures which lead to a sound mind.
As it should be and contrary to Calvin Coolidge, stores and restaurants were open in Canada, and there were not family members to miss me at my house expecting a gourmet meal. I stopped in Petrolia where I reminded myself aloud that Dale Hunter's excessive penalty minutes is not a good legend for a Milwaukee District number 2 team; poached eggs, toast, potatoes and water is a better start to personal health than Coca-cola, a Terry Redlin picture and Twizzlers for a person with a sound mind. I decided to reject buying items in places that have 'Santa Claus' images if at all possible, and managed to find a store that allowed me to replace a expensive Sylvan with an inexpensive sailboat in this month that I remember the 8th beryl foundation of Zebulon.
Continuing into the cit of Gogebic, I saw a famous name of Bedford, after recalling my wise co-worker Tommy Bedford at 749 West State Street in Milwaukee. I had fought and won many battles with men like Timmy Bedford who are more reliable than Matt Damon when it comes to rational behavior while facing an adversary My 'Michael Bennett 23' MInnesota Viking jersey still fits me very well and I do look good in purple; oddly enough it was another 8-23 day, but not August 23rd. I can easily say 'no' to any white wedding dress again after realizing a holy bride wears blue and does not display her financially bad decisions in front of television crews. I enjoyed a small and tasty portion of lasagna that was not prepared by the covenant breaker named Audrey Hendrikson Szymanski formerly of Merrill, WI and was treated better than I had ever been treated in the Milwaukee County Mental Health Center with the exception of one nurse who brought me tea and read me a Psalm in the anti-Bible prison I was tossed into in 1994. Even though I saw a heathen object of anti-Benjamin tradition in the Bedford building, I did not claim that God was in the false set of lights, since God rather I notice the new moon properly to discern times and seasons. Money was wasted on the Christmas trees, but at least the Christmas tree did not verbally attack me like Bonnie Meyer has in the past.
I opted out of a bakery stop, checked the exterior of a the old 'gaol', and swerved into Ernie King's music store where I bought a reasonably priced glock without a background check. The clock is a model 25, did not have a picture of Max Talbot on it, and I was able to play 'o Canada' on it in a short period of time. Glockenspiels last longer than cigarettes and have a purity of sound that only marching band enthusiasts might appreciate. I then headed toward the shipyard, which had useful ships in it rather than idiotic cruise ships filled with people expecting to see a immoral act or their next topless beach whores in the Caribbean or in the Pacific. The beach in Goderich was a bit nicer than the beach at the Jalousie Hilton in Saint Lucia since it was open to the public rather than being hoarded by a wealthy private company. I still was on a 'mission trip' that was self-funded, but my style has changed quite a bit. I like talking about 'The Friendly Giant' rather than regurgitating the words' Jesus Christ' like a broken Chris Tomlim record. I enjoyed telling a store employee that I am boycotting places that have images of 'Santa Claus' since I know he is the offspring of Molech and does not represent the way, the Truth and the Life of the Church of Philadelphia. She took my prophesy well and considered it rather than calling 911 like the Larry Mizewski gang of cowards decided to do.
At the beach, I found a gold ball that might have gotten sliced from Whistling Straits and of course I studied the natural uncut rocks on the beach. Omaha beach in france is an eyesore compared to Goderich if you are looking for signs of life rather than signs of failure. A beautiful restaurant, formerly a train station, sits near the shore and I found seating in an area that even an atheist would enjoy. The gourmet meal was very reasonable priced, the building architecture interior reminded me of saint Matthew's church in Milwaukee and the men's bathroom was painted a beautiful shade of grey, even though I was not forced to use it since a separate women's bathroom was a luxurious option. Good conversation with brand new friends cooking for me and serving me whom I might never meet again until we get to heaven was better than arguing about child custody placement on a USA holiday with a bunch of hypocritical divorcee such as had occurred in the Wittenberg, Wisconsin swine zone so many times in my past years of long-suffering.
A hurried drive back to Sombra included a full service gas station stop where I used up some loonies and other varied Canadian currency. Once I glided back to Marine City, a border patrol agent did a fast check of my vehicle and we both agreed it was better to go to Canada than go to Martinique; at times it is fine to agree with an adversary who is in the way. I lost my desire to go back to countries such as Saint Lucia, since it seems my labor of love might have gotten lost in some Nicholas Cage crap game, but the Bibles I delivered there were intended to serve a purpose greater than any Disney production ever could. It is hard to admit that my house in Macomb does not feel like home to me and that my Sequoia actually is more like my home base from which I deploy myself into areas that allow some angelic intervention rather than despising the face of an aging angel. I am not the smallest angel, but I do deliver messages to areas that are still very much like Ephasus, Smyrna and Ninevah. Kevin Weekes is not a good spirit guide and neither is Claude Julien if they respect or admire an obvious anti-Christ like the coach of New England Patriots. A good person actually would never take a job coaching a team that has nasty pinped-in cheerleaders, so only Michael Tomlin and the coach of the Chicago Bears have faith the quality and size of a good fennel seed rather than the mind as useless and dangerous to your bloodstream and mouth as a bag of 'Big League Chew'.
As a reminder of my time viewing the Gwinette Gladiators as I evacuated Charlotte on Thanksgiving Day a few years ago, remember this: Choosy daughters choose Underwood Deviled Chicken, not Michael Fisher and Pedigree.'.
I succeeded in making myself laugh today, and that is not always a simple task.
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