(The Last Ship is good for a laugh.)
Yesterday, I walked five miles to church. No big deal. I need the exercise. I'm thirty pounds overweight. I used to be much skinnier back when I was addicted to cigarettes. Sadly, the game's rigged. You can smoke a Joe and die of cancer. Or you can eat a burger and watch your heart explode. So what's a boy to do? Yet I remain thankful. At least I wasn't born in Djibouti.
I accidentally angered my pastor. He kept talking about justification versus works. The conflict is as old as the bible, itself. He said that I was too legalistic and asked me if Jesus is working miracles in my life. I told him that my salvation is completely up to God. There's no way for a man to be absolutely certain if he's saved or not. He accused me of denying Christ--which probably means that I'm going to hell. His words struck me as a tad harsh. I'm not some biblical scholar. I'm merely an average guy raising a family. No need to spiritually terrorize me.
I took my family to Kentucky Fried Chicken. We had chicken and French fries for lunch. It's a pleasure watching my youngest child eat. His name's Bluce. I've never seen such a small creature shovel that much food into his mouth. He devoured four large pieces of poultry. Then he washed it all down with ice cream while giving his older brother the bird. What a manly specimen. Bluce is quickly becoming an outrageous bad-ass. Good for him.
We walked back to our Soviet-style concrete apartment. I downloaded a show called The Last Ship. The story centers around a virus which is infecting the entire world. This dastardly bug has a hundred percent kill rate. The only survivors are on a boat drifting in the ocean. I've only completed the first episode. I'll let you know how it ends.
I paid homage to the Christ God. I said the Lord's Prayer on bended knees. No big deal. I'm not some filthy atheist. I asked Jesus to heal the muscles in my thighs. Lately, they've been giving me some nagging pain. Nothing too serious. But little injuries often grow into life-threatening maladies. My apartment has no elevator. I have to hoof it up four flights of stairs. I need my legs to remain healthy.
I went to bed at midnight. I didn't dream. I woke up at 6 a.m. and read the paper while enjoying a bathroom break. Twenty South Koreans are currently on death row in the Chinese prison system. The vast majority have been found guilty of narcotics distribution. The rest have been convicted of murder. There's not much the South Korean government can do for the men. Those boys are screwed with a capital S.
Anyway, it's time to don our tinfoil hats. Here's Max Keiser discussing the European Union with Simon Rose.