Several days ago a guy stopped by the community garden and gave David three pieces of broken machinery—a tiller, a mower, and a power washer. Because the garden provides for the local food bank, the giver, and also David, considered these to be charitable donations. Of course this brought to mind Genesis 4: 2-5, the story of Cain and Able and the way God rejected Cain’s offering and liked Abel’s. There are several interpretations as to the meaning of this passage, but the one I’ve always preferred, and works for my purpose here, is that Cain gave fruit that he picked up off the ground, subtext: the fruit was overly ripe and wormy; while Abel gave the juiciest pieces of lamb. Yum.
Skip to Acts 10:4 “—your prayers and gifts to the poor have come up as a memorial offering before God.”
These verses teach that when you give money or stuff to someone, whether the receiver is a great God or a penniless migrant, you should give your best.
Oh, I’m not claiming that I always get it right. Like most, I haul my old stuff to Goodwill without giving it a thought. Also, I’m stingy with my time because I’m impatient and sharp-tongued and I don’t work well with others. But even I think that handing over broken-down garden machinery as though it’s valuable, and getting a tax reduction because of it, is less than virtuous.
This was meant to be a light-hearted essay on charitable giving. I was going to tell about how my horizons were broadened when I volunteered in a soup kitchen in Houston; how I learned that the majority of the homeless are mentally ill with no social or familial safety net; how they’re feared and abhorred because they’re unable to conform; and how, more than anything, they long to be able to live productive lives. What I didn’t learn was how to tolerate the forceful good will of the other volunteers—domination, it seems, is seductive in every realm.
Then I was going to editorialize about how judgmental it is to hand a ragged man begging on a street corner a pre-packaged meal because you fear that if you give him actual money he’ll spend it on something you deem inappropriate. If you’re going to give, the least you can do is give the guy what he asks for, and whatever he does with it is his business, not yours.
But then I got a text from a woman I’ve known for years and have always viewed with respect and affection; and now my self-righteous rant has been interrupted. Read this:
Are you hearing about the news out of Italy?
Court date in Rome was Jan 5th with reporting on the 6th. The Italian Govt and PM, as well as US Defense contractor, Leonardo SPA, used Leonardo’s computers and satellite to upload data to fix our election. Signed confessions and testimony in court. CEO of Leonardo DRS was formerly the undersecretary of defense during Clinton’s administration.
Our CIA is involved and had representatives in Italy for the election. According to the article “...at that point while the fraud was already widely initiated, the Leonardo SPA hackers realized that Trump stood above Biden for a very large and unexpected number of votes, so much so that manipulation was in vain and not enough to make him lose.”
The Department of National Intelligence informed our nation on Dec 18th that we had massive foreign interference in our election!
The rat bastards in Washington knew of the interference from foreign countries. They have Italy cold, and the joint session of congress refused to hear evidence from the key swing states. Pence led the whole shit show.
They voted to certify the electors anyway. The crime is now complete. You might want to invest in a rope company because we are looking at an awful lot of treason.
I’m not one to assess harshly, but this is wacko. It seems my dear friend has gone down the rabbit hole, chasing intrigues and treacheries with so many others. I’ve read the text several times and can’t make sense out of the quote in the third paragraph, which seems to contradict itself. Maybe someone else will have better luck in interpreting. To me, persuasion is lost when communication is poor. Most notable—they have Italy cold! Those crazy Italians. It’s a country full of wild people.
I’m deeply sad that so many of my friends have fallen down this same dark pit, and I don’t understand why. Is their discontent so deep that they feel a need to worship black shadows? What is it they fear? Do they hate, and if so, whom do they hate and why? What hunger is this conspiracy glut feeding?
These last few days several of my Facebook contacts have posted about how tragic and horrifying the footage of the riot was. Ninety percent of these bemoanings have been posted by the same people who’ve been praising the Inciter in Chief for the last four years. This seems disingenuous, as they knew who and what he was when they voted for him.
I suppose we’re all dumb beasts, but let’s try not to be this dumb again.
On the upside, it’s snowing in Marble Falls. Unusual and lovely. I’m indoors drinking apricot tea, which makes me think of the Arabic phrase, fill mishmash, which translates as “when there are apricots,” colloquial for “it’s never going to happen.” And now you know that.
