(The First "Snowman-Splatter" Story In Literary History)
(c) 1989 by Zeke Krahlin
Christmas in Pennsylvania is always bitter cold...and white as virgin linen spread across the dinner table of an Amish homestead. The excessive snow is a terrible nuisance to most adults, but to children it is a playland policed by smiling snowmen with button eyes and skinny arms. In the early part of the Holiday Season, thousands of kids in hundreds of Quaker State towns and suburbs, simultaneously roll the icy lint of God's Great Quilt into legless, roly-poly men of snow.
These Rubens-ian parodies stand silent vigil before each picture window blessed by a child's smile...until the first thaw of a false spring, some time in late February or March--if a big brother doesn't knock them down much sooner (usually the case). However, this story is not about all children and snowmen, nor about some children and snowmen...but about a particular snowman who, one recent winter, terrorized the good citizens of northwest Pennsylvania with bloodshed and tragedy.
By the time Timmy put the finishing touches on his snowman-- with poker chips, checkered hunting cap, two lengths of an old vacuum hose, and a Groucho Marx false nose--his L.L. Bean mittens and outer garments of recycled wool were soaking wet. And it was dusk...at which time, all over the vast state of Pennsylvania, children just like Timmy stepped into a warm kitchen and left their boots and thinsulate jumpsuits piled in a puddle by the door.
Timmy, like all these other kids, ate supper and played Nintendo or Etcha-Sketch, or read the latest Fabulous Four adventure comic book, or listened to David Seville and The Chipmunks on a transparent red 33-1/3 rpm, or did his homework (unlikely); then peered out the living room window at his new snowman, before slipping into bed beneath several layers of Pennsylvania-Dutch-style comforters from J.C. Penny's. Shortly after 2 a.m., while he slept the untroubled sleep of a six-year- old boy, a red light suddenly blinked on the computer console of the control center of a nuclear reactor too near the border of the suburb in which Timmy's family lived.
It was a leak! But the reactor shut down so fast, and the problem rectified itself so quickly without human intervention, that the alarms never sounded, and the leak did not flow beyond the yellow zone of the third outer wall of lead casing. It was a brief accident of the lowest priority, and cleanup was a simple, automated process. Not even so much as one-millionth of an increase in rads was detected by the geigers; so the foreman on duty was not required to report this leak to his superiors--only log it in the calendar, then put his feet back on the console and resume snoring.
But several radical ions did manage to escape into the atmosphere, and, had they just floated into the upper strata instead of being blown by a random breeze onto Timmy's snowman several blocks away, there would be nothing more to tell, and all would still be right with the world and northwest Pennsylvania.
"The more advanced a technology, the more it resembles magic," goes the famous quote (or something like that: I can't remember it verbatim, nor can I recall who said it). And this is exactly what happened. Somewhere, in the dimension that crosses the border between physics and sorcery, those several radioactive ions (completely harmless in the usual order of things) touched Timmy's snowman and, like the wand of a Fairy Godmother, brought it to life. But a most unfortunate coincidence turned this miraculous curiosity into a hideous curse, for a rabid dog happened to be pissing on the snowman when it suddenly came alive. As the snowman took its first breath, the mad canine jumped in shock, bit off a chunk of living snow, then ran away.
By the time Timmy's snowman learned how to slide around (since it had no legs to walk), it was Christmas Eve... and he was now delirious with psychotic fantasies and frothing at the mouth (not particularly noticeable, as the bubbling saliva camouflaged itself quite well around a snow-encrusted mouth and face).
The nearest habitat was, of course, that occupied by the presently-slumbering Timmy and family. The rabid snowman managed to break in, and find the master bedroom. Without a moment's hesitation, he bludgeoned the parents to death with a small Edwardian night table recently purchased at an auction in downtown Philadelphia. (This was not an easy thing to do, as the snowman had no hands to speak of, just two uneven lengths of vacuum hose for arms. But he was very strong, very clever, and very mad. He was a cold S.O.B.) Timmy's sister was next. The police discovered some parts of her stuffed in the trash compacter, and other parts stuck to her bedroom wall with Crazy Glue...though her complete remains may never be found.
Timmy was awakened by his sister's screams, and had just enough time to leave a message on his pillow, with the PlayDoh he was using to create miniature snowmen: "IT'S THE SNOWMAN"... before the snowman smashed down his door and dragged Timmy from the house. (There was also evidence that the snowman tore apart the Christmas tree and destroyed all the presents around the tree, before leaving the scene of the crime.)
Timmy's body was never found until April, when the snow thawed, and a Mennonite farmer was plowing up his field for the first planting. Naturally, Timmy's message made no sense to the police, until reports started coming in about a man disguised as a snowman lurking the streets at night and breaking into houses...some witnesses (with binoculars) claimed to have seen saliva frothing from the suspect's mouth, as he suddenly turned and glared in their direction. (Needless to say, many folks believing in Bigfoot and/or UFO abductions, had a field day with the media, and were the center of attention at American Legion and John Birch Society events.)
After several more families were brutally killed, in three counties across northwest Pennsylvania, the police realized they had a serial killer on their hands--now dubbed "The Rabid Snowman." He was never caught, and the homicides continued, until, by March, over twenty-five families and Christmas trees (with their attendant gifts) had been wiped out. Suddenly, it was spring; the snows thawed, and the murders stopped...forever.
The case of The Rabid Snowman remains unsolved, as the only evidence of the suspect is circumstantial. In a vacant lot in one of the formerly-terrorized suburbs, a little girl playing hopskotch found the following items in a clump of weeds: five poker chips, a red-and-black checkered hunting cap, two long pieces of an old Kirby vacuum hose, a false nose with eyeglasses and a moustache, and one L.L. Bean mitten with a piece of orange PlayDoh stuck in the fabric. All these items, except the last, match the neighbors' description of Timmy's snowman. And, thanks to a revealing speck of PlayDoh (in the shape of an "i" or, as some investigators suggest, part of an exclamation point), the mitten was identified, beyond question, as having once belonged to our tiny Timmy: God rest his soul.
Yummy tidbit for those who appreciated my anti-Xmas tale:
On Fri, 14 Dec 2007 07:17:28 GMT, chief_thracia...@SPAMyahoo.com
(Chief Thracian) wrote: >"The more advanced a technology, the more it resembles magic," goes >the famous quote (or something like that: I can't remember it >verbatim, nor can I recall who said it).
I have since recalled who said it: Arthur C. Clarke:
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."
It's the THIRD law from his "Three Laws of Prediction". Reference:
I will edit my tale accordingly...though it's still fine as it is. AND:
Like all my OTHER tales, Frothy is FREE to distribute anywhere at any time, as often as you'd like...so long as it remains INTACT w/o any changes to any part of my tale, including title, author's name, and signature ('cause it includes my URL). And as long as no financial PROFIT is gained in the distribution.
> FROTHY THE RABID SNOWMAN > -or- > IN FROZEN BLOOD
> (The First "Snowman-Splatter" Story In Literary History)
> (c) 1989 by Zeke Krahlin
> Christmas in Pennsylvania is always bitter cold...and white as virgin > linen spread across the dinner table of an Amish homestead. The > excessive snow is a terrible nuisance to most adults, but to children > it is a playland policed by smiling snowmen with button eyes and > skinny arms. In the early part of the Holiday Season, thousands of > kids in hundreds of Quaker State towns and suburbs, simultaneously > roll the icy lint of God's Great Quilt into legless, roly-poly men of > snow.
> These Rubens-ian parodies stand silent vigil before each picture > window blessed by a child's smile...until the first thaw of a false > spring, some time in late February or March--if a big brother doesn't > knock them down much sooner (usually the case). However, this story is > not about all children and snowmen, nor about some children and > snowmen...but about a particular snowman who, one recent winter, > terrorized the good citizens of northwest Pennsylvania with bloodshed > and tragedy.
> By the time Timmy put the finishing touches on his snowman-- with > poker chips, checkered hunting cap, two lengths of an old vacuum hose, > and a Groucho Marx false nose--his L.L. Bean mittens and outer > garments of recycled wool were soaking wet. And it was dusk...at which > time, all over the vast state of Pennsylvania, children just like > Timmy stepped into a warm kitchen and left their boots and thinsulate > jumpsuits piled in a puddle by the door.
> Timmy, like all these other kids, ate supper and played Nintendo or > Etcha-Sketch, or read the latest Fabulous Four adventure comic book, > or listened to David Seville and The Chipmunks on a transparent red > 33-1/3 rpm, or did his homework (unlikely); then peered out the living > room window at his new snowman, before slipping into bed beneath > several layers of Pennsylvania-Dutch-style comforters from J.C. > Penny's. Shortly after 2 a.m., while he slept the untroubled sleep of > a six-year- old boy, a red light suddenly blinked on the computer > console of the control center of a nuclear reactor too near the border > of the suburb in which Timmy's family lived.
> It was a leak! But the reactor shut down so fast, and the problem > rectified itself so quickly without human intervention, that the > alarms never sounded, and the leak did not flow beyond the yellow zone > of the third outer wall of lead casing. It was a brief accident of the > lowest priority, and cleanup was a simple, automated process. Not even > so much as one-millionth of an increase in rads was detected by the > geigers; so the foreman on duty was not required to report this leak > to his superiors--only log it in the calendar, then put his feet back > on the console and resume snoring.
> But several radical ions did manage to escape into the atmosphere, > and, had they just floated into the upper strata instead of being > blown by a random breeze onto Timmy's snowman several blocks away, > there would be nothing more to tell, and all would still be right with > the world and northwest Pennsylvania.
> "The more advanced a technology, the more it resembles magic," goes > the famous quote (or something like that: I can't remember it > verbatim, nor can I recall who said it). And this is exactly what > happened. Somewhere, in the dimension that crosses the border between > physics and sorcery, those several radioactive ions (completely > harmless in the usual order of things) touched Timmy's snowman and, > like the wand of a Fairy Godmother, brought it to life. But a most > unfortunate coincidence turned this miraculous curiosity into a > hideous curse, for a rabid dog happened to be pissing on the snowman > when it suddenly came alive. As the snowman took its first breath, the > mad canine jumped in shock, bit off a chunk of living snow, then ran > away.
> By the time Timmy's snowman learned how to slide around (since it had > no legs to walk), it was Christmas Eve... and he was now delirious > with psychotic fantasies and frothing at the mouth (not particularly > noticeable, as the bubbling saliva camouflaged itself quite well > around a snow-encrusted mouth and face).
> The nearest habitat was, of course, that occupied by the > presently-slumbering Timmy and family. The rabid snowman managed to > break in, and find the master bedroom. Without a moment's hesitation, > he bludgeoned the parents to death with a small Edwardian night table > recently purchased at an auction in downtown Philadelphia. (This was > not an easy thing to do, as the snowman had no hands to speak of, just > two uneven lengths of vacuum hose for arms. But he was very strong, > very clever, and very mad. He was a cold S.O.B.) Timmy's sister was > next. The police discovered some parts of her stuffed in the trash > compacter, and other parts stuck to her bedroom wall with Crazy > Glue...though her complete remains may never be found.
> Timmy was awakened by his sister's screams, and had just enough time > to leave a message on his pillow, with the PlayDoh he was using to > create miniature snowmen: "IT'S THE SNOWMAN"... before the snowman > smashed down his door and dragged Timmy from the house. (There was > also evidence that the snowman tore apart the Christmas tree and > destroyed all the presents around the tree, before leaving the scene > of the crime.)
> Timmy's body was never found until April, when the snow thawed, and a > Mennonite farmer was plowing up his field for the first planting. > Naturally, Timmy's message made no sense to the police, until reports > started coming in about a man disguised as a snowman lurking the > streets at night and breaking into houses...some witnesses (with > binoculars) claimed to have seen saliva frothing from the suspect's > mouth, as he suddenly turned and glared in their direction. (Needless > to say, many folks believing in Bigfoot and/or UFO abductions, had a > field day with the media, and were the center of attention at American > Legion and John Birch Society events.)
> After several more families were brutally killed, in three counties > across northwest Pennsylvania, the police realized they had a serial > killer on their hands--now dubbed "The Rabid Snowman." He was never > caught, and the homicides continued, until, by March, over twenty-five > families and Christmas trees (with their attendant gifts) had been > wiped out. Suddenly, it was spring; the snows thawed, and the murders > stopped...forever.
> The case of The Rabid Snowman remains unsolved, as the only evidence > of the suspect is circumstantial. In a vacant lot in one of the > formerly-terrorized suburbs, a little girl playing hopskotch found the > following items in a clump of weeds: five poker chips, a red-and-black > checkered hunting cap, two long pieces of an old Kirby vacuum hose, a > false nose with eyeglasses and a moustache, and one L.L. Bean mitten > with a piece of orange PlayDoh stuck in the fabric. All these items, > except the last, match the neighbors' description of Timmy's snowman. > And, thanks to a revealing speck of PlayDoh (in the shape of an "i" > or, as some investigators suggest, part of an exclamation point), the > mitten was identified, beyond question, as having once belonged to our > tiny Timmy: God rest his soul.
Discussion subject changed to "Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect Catholacism" by ardadmin...@gmail.com
Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect Catholacism
The Druidic Shithouse to come down
All this Druid Shithouse, not only on Ireland, but everywhere on the planet, will now begin to fall in upon the shitheads involved everywhere - we are going to drag the whole fucking rotten edifice down. Druidry will be made fun of throughout the mass media, especially in Ireland. Droolschool and such projects will be played to the gallery. First off we want the M3 right over the Hill of Tara, with a Conedy Theatre built on top. Circuses will be encouraged in the grounds of Newgrane - just watch us move. TV, Radio etc. Better this than another false religion spring up at the hands of Dwyer and Connor. It can all be rescued in years to come when they are dead and gome, built fresh from the ground up.
So let it be.
IP 89.101.88.37 089-101-088037.ntlworld.ie Michael McGrath 18 Dominick St Kilkenny
Subject: Re: Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect Catholacism
> Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be > 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect > Catholacism
> The Druidic Shithouse to come down
> All this Druid Shithouse, not only on Ireland, but everywhere on the > planet, will now begin to fall in upon the shitheads involved > everywhere - we are going to drag the whole fucking rotten edifice > down. Druidry will be made fun of throughout the mass media, > especially in Ireland. Droolschool and such projects will be played > to > the gallery. First off we want the M3 right over the Hill of Tara, > with a Conedy Theatre built on top. Circuses will be encouraged in > the > grounds of Newgrane - just watch us move. TV, Radio etc. > Better this than another false religion spring up at the hands of > Dwyer and Connor. It can all be rescued in years to come when they > are > dead and gome, built fresh from the ground up.
> So let it be.
> IP 89.101.88.37 > 089-101-088037.ntlworld.ie > Michael McGrath 18 Dominick St Kilkenny
Subject: Re: Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect Catholacism
> On Dec 21, 4:20 pm, ardadmin...@gmail.com wrote:
> > Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be > > 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect > > Catholacism
> > The Druidic Shithouse to come down
> > All this Druid Shithouse, not only on Ireland, but everywhere on the > > planet, will now begin to fall in upon the shitheads involved > > everywhere - we are going to drag the whole fucking rotten edifice > > down. Druidry will be made fun of throughout the mass media, > > especially in Ireland. Droolschool and such projects will be played > > to > > the gallery. First off we want the M3 right over the Hill of Tara, > > with a Conedy Theatre built on top. Circuses will be encouraged in > > the > > grounds of Newgrane - just watch us move. TV, Radio etc. > > Better this than another false religion spring up at the hands of > > Dwyer and Connor. It can all be rescued in years to come when they > > are > > dead and gome, built fresh from the ground up.
> > So let it be.
> > IP 89.101.88.37 > > 089-101-088037.ntlworld.ie > > Michael McGrath 18 Dominick St Kilkenny
The Connors Travelling Shithouse will come badly unstuck at Newgrange tomorrow, we hold Newgrange, Connors is bartred and we're going to make sure he stays barred.
Subject: Re: Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect Catholacism
'Martin Druchan'/Michael McGrath issues death threats to Dan. Only a few days left to carry out this murder: "Anybody who knows where Felber is, please email me. The Cunt won't live to see Xmas. That's a Sacred Vow." Even though he posts it as 'Martin Druchan' he signs it 'Micko' forgetting the continuity of his LIE
I.P. 89.101.89.94 Internet Provider NTL Communications (Ireland) Limited Host on I.P. 089-101-089094.ntlworld.ie Michael McGrath 18 Dominick St Kilkenny
Original Text
Cheerio Yellow Swiss Scumbag. You ain't norhin but a slimy Swiss Toe Rag. Your Dad was a Nazi Your mother a Jewess. What a Fucked Up Combo you turned out to be. You Ignorant Cowardly Mongrel Fox. Any half decent Paddy would soon kick you to fucking death. As will happen, Felber, if I ever get my hands on you Fucking Keyboard Killer Boy. If we ever identify you we'll put your address up on the Web. Then cower, Asshole Merchant Boy Cos Paddy will bne comin to getcha.
That's a Sacred Promise. And I will fuckin Murder you. All who are with you And burn your fuckin house down around you. You're not dealin with Micko now :-) Anybody who knows where Felber is, please email me. The Cunt won't live to see Xmas. That's a Sacred Vow.
Subject: Re: Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect Catholacism
> 'Martin Druchan'/Michael McGrath issues death threats to Dan. Only a > few days left to carry out this murder: > "Anybody who knows where Felber is, please email me. The Cunt won't > live to see Xmas. That's a Sacred Vow." Even though he posts it as > 'Martin Druchan' he signs it 'Micko' forgetting the continuity of his > LIE
> I.P. 89.101.89.94 > Internet Provider NTL Communications (Ireland) Limited > Host on I.P. 089-101-089094.ntlworld.ie > Michael McGrath 18 Dominick St Kilkenny
> Original Text
> Cheerio Yellow Swiss Scumbag. You ain't norhin but a slimy Swiss Toe > Rag. Your Dad was a Nazi Your mother a Jewess. What a Fucked Up Combo > you turned out to be. You Ignorant Cowardly Mongrel Fox. Any half > decent Paddy would soon kick you to fucking death. As will happen, > Felber, if I ever get my hands on you Fucking Keyboard Killer Boy. If > we ever identify you we'll put your address up on the Web. Then cower, > Asshole Merchant Boy Cos Paddy will bne comin to getcha.
> That's a Sacred Promise. And I will fuckin Murder you. All who are > with you And burn your fuckin house down around you. You're not dealin > with Micko now :-) Anybody who knows where Felber is, please email me. > The Cunt won't live to see Xmas. That's a Sacred Vow.
Again an attempt at Evil Manipulation of the Internet, as in the Geis, now forwarded to ALL ISPs including the biggest on Earth, on behalf of Michael McGrath, Victim of Savage Evil Internet Incitemment, threatening, Blachkmail and Bullying, and Total Lies, Defamation and Slanderous allegationms concerning his mebtal health, sexual orientation, sexuality, even allegations that he murdered the Disappeared imncluding Jo Jo Dollard, all with the Garda too and all relevant authorities via the agency of Mairtin O'Druachain, Quantity Survetor, Lavistown, Dunbell, County Kilkenny.
I have pertsonally too, delivered BOXLOADS of all this material by car to all the said authorities, hard discs, printouts, you name it. And I am gladf to do it to save the reputation of a Good and Innocent Man, Victim of Evil Bastards and Criminal Partners Messrs Dwyer and Connors. For this is only starting. The Lads will have a chat about it with you quietly at Newgrange tomorrow, just to sort it out peaceful-like, when you are allowed in when everybody decent, Garda included, are gone. Sounds good to me,
Subject: Re: Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect Catholacism
Subject: Re: Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect Catholacism
Subject: Re: Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect Catholacism
Welcome! Wikis are websites that everyone can build together. It's easy! Denounces Former Associates
From: "Michael McGrath" <DruidE...@cablenet.ie> To: "Gina McGarry" <ginamcga...@hotmail.com> Cc: "Michael McGrath" <DruidE...@cablenet.ie> Sent: Saturday, June 23, 2007 10:57 AM Subject: Fw: Retirement Today ? Hopefully not.
THIS FELLA LLOYD HAS NOW ACTED DIRECTLY AGAINST THE ARCHDRUID OF IRELAND. HE WILL THEREFORE BE DENOUNCED AS AN IMPOSTER AND CHURCH WARDEN AT OUR PARADE TODAY IN KILKENNY. BY ME.
The Archdruid of Stonehenge, in command of 24,000 ,Rollo Maughfling, will also be moved to denounce Lloyd at the very next CoBDO Meeting. All ODI Druids, All the Gathering, will now defend our Archdruid against the traitorous and treacherous Brit Lloyd, who waited like a hawk until our Archdruid of Ireland fell ill to attack him His "Order" will be banned, His Hawk Grove too, officially in Ireland. And all this will be circulated over the Internet by Archdruid Dr. Dwyer of Connaught, Con Connor will be fully informed about Lloyd's antecedents as a Church Warden - and his failed attempt to hang himself from a tree in Glastonbury - pity he failed !.
Every hand in Ireland will now be raised against this Sleeveen Melvyn Lloyd !
BY ORDER
Druid Commander Martin Gorey, Archdruid's Life Guard.
From: "Michael McGrath" <DruidE...@cablenet.ie> To: "Gina McGarry" <ginamcga...@hotmail.com> Cc: "Michael McGrath" <DruidE...@cablenet.ie> Sent: Saturday, June 23, 2007 10:42 AM Subject: Retirement Today ? Hopefully not.
To: Gina McGarry
Dear Ms. McGarry, Michael is resting peacefully in bed, just awoke, I brought him a cuppa. He had the doctor in last night, a slight turn, so he wasn't in attendance at our Council Meeting in the Club House. He signed all our decisions without demur like a good democrat. The Good News is that we decided to make peace with Dr. Dwyer and he is returned to the Fold at our Council decision. Harry has great time too for Dr. Dwyer. I am personally happy about that as I could never quite believe that he was that bad, and I always remained his friend.
Archdruid Martin Gorey, a right hard man who Michael promoted during the "Emergency" yesterday, and I are to take all the decisions, and maintain all communications while Michael is recuperating. His Mother and his sister Betty called here in concern too, also his sister Mary, a multi-millionairess, who told him not to worry, that she will finance anything he wants in the ODI for him, great news for all of us, and his other family members called too, all of them eminently successful, I know them all down through the years, Nice people, one of Kilkenny's leading families. They will not thank anybody who adds to Michael's distress in his present illness ! I have moved back in to look after him here. He was delighted with the news from Melvyn Lloyd of the 24,000 at Stonehenge - and especially the photo including his friends Rollo and Arthur. He has a liver-based problem which is the reason why he does not drink anymore, or at least rarely, on occasion. He did tell me that he expects you to "do the right thing" over the weekend if you still have no intention of carrying out the functions of Archdruid of Tara. He says that the odd report would help - certainly it would put the rest of us in the picture too. Indeed that was the feeling of the meeting, that we were all being excluded at the behest of this English fella Lloyd to you. He's fast at taking people up wrong, he took me up wrong yesterday too, paranoia. . And may I take this opportunity of sympathising with you on the recent passing of your Mother. Michael also states that he hopes your eye will recover rapidly. I was here, looking after Michael, early this morning, when, an incredible accusation came over from this Melvyn Lloyd, who, seemingly, is running a Brit Druid Order in Ireland ? Rollo warned us about this fella Lloyd. This fella also accused Michael of being a mysogynist, he must be daft :-) Michael has just remarked that he STILL has no account of Tara from you. He wants you to know too that this Muireann character is his enemy, for several months now, that she will take over you and your lady Druids, indeed your entire operation, and that is his greatest concern. He especially worries for Annette for whom he has always had great time, she like him, being of the older Druidic stock in Ireland. We shall look after this Lloyd fella - he can be sure of that. Michael says that Vincent O'Brien was a fine Druid and is a great fella and that it is unsurprising that Vincent had to leave Lloyd's company. Gabriel Murray is right - this Lloyd is still, mentally, a Church Warden, wanting to be a Rector. Michael hopes he does not have to send that signal today, concerning your deliberate non-communication with fellow Druids, to Archscribe Gabriel Murray, ODI Master of Discipline. Gabriel will not wear anybody who is bothersome for a second ! As an architect, published author, filmmaker - and a ladies man par excellence, he does not have to. Gabriel told me personally that he has good time for you, and hopes, like us all here, that you will make a decision that will help your fellow Druids to maintain confidence in you, and that you will keep everybody au fait with all that is going on, esp at Tara, and that everybody can work together as a team, which was the Spirit of your appointment. This Llloyd Fella blames me - it was I who staved off a vote of No Confidence in you at the meeting last night, as I said it would be premature, that was, happily accepted. Michael has told me to add a final warning: Beware of O'Bhrolchain ! He sends his greatest respect to Annette, Anne Marie, Carmel and all the great Dragon Women of Tara. Now I have to see the Secretary of the Pipe Band for arrangements for our parade at 2.00 p.m. Michael adds, from his bed - "At least I am not a Womaniser like that Old Man Lloyd going around sniffing at young ladies' skirts ! Should have more sense for his Age! "
McGrath has admitted above that he is MAD. But is there a cure??? Such a simple single word as an admission of his mental challenge - but will the sick fool now get stronger meds??? McGrath, you have made all these choices - are you really mad or is that just a way to get sympathy, a sick pension and a hovel in Kicham St / Demonick St ??? Never even think about the new house in your back garden cause your victims in the housing dept have lost your file... guess who has it now asshole???
All of ARD knows you are insane, vicious and without Love.
Go to your bishop and confess your chosen evil ways, flagellate daily but take the corset off first... Maybe someone can ask BettieD to wash it for you...
McGrath fake druid neo nazi catholic fascist bully liar and total gobshite...
802. The apostles were either deceived or deceivers. Either supposition has difficulties; for it is not possible to mistake a man raised from the dead...
While Jesus Christ was with them, He could sustain them. But, after that, if He did not appear to them, who inspired them to act?
SECTION XIII: THE MIRACLES
803. The beginning.--Miracles enable us to judge of doctrine, and doctrine enables us to judge of miracles.
There are false miracles and true. There must be a distinction, in order to know them; otherwise they would be useless. Now they are not useless; on the contrary, they are fundamental. Now the rule which is given to us must be such that it does not destroy the proof which the true miracles give of the truth, which is the chief end of the miracles.
Moses has given two rules: that the prediction does not come to pass (Deut. 18.), and that they do not lead to idolatry (Deut. 13.); and Jesus Christ one.
If doctrine regulates miracles, miracles are useless for doctrine.
If miracles regulate...
Objection to the rule.--The distinction of the times. One rule during the time of Moses, another at present.
804. Miracle.--It is an effect, which exceeds the natural power of the means which are employed for it; and what is not a miracle is an effect, which does not exceed the natural power of the means which are employed for it. Thus, those who heal by invocation of the devil do not work a miracle; for that does not exceed the natural power of the devil. But...
805. The two fundamentals; one inward, the other outward; grace and miracles; both supernatural.
806. Miracles and truth are necessary, because it is necessary to convince the entire man, in body and soul.
807. In all times, either men have spoken of the true God, or the true God has spoken to men.
808. Jesus Christ has verified that He was the Messiah, never in verifying His doctrine by Scripture and the prophe
Discussion subject changed to "Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect Catholacism" by Mairtin O'Druachain
Subject: Re: Michael McGrath, the mentally ill Neo-Nazi, who falely claims to be 'Archdruid of Ireland' Vows to destroy Druidism to Protect Catholacism
of his delight for him to occupy his soul with the thought of how to adjust his steps to the cadence of an air, or of how to throw a ball skilfully, instead of leaving it to enjoy quietly the contemplation of the majestic glory which encompasses him? Let us make the trial; let us leave a king all alone to reflect on himself quite at leisure, without any gratification of the senses, without any care in his mind, without society; and we will see that a king without diversion is a man full of wretchedness. So this is carefully avoided, and near the persons of kings there never fail to be a great number of people who see to it that amusement follows business, and who watch all the time of their leisure to supply them with delights and games, so that there is no blank in it. In fact, kings are surrounded with persons who are wonderfully attentive in taking care that the king be not alone and in a state to think of himself, knowing well that he will be miserable, king though he be, if he meditate on self.
history, but solely a book to amuse; he is the only writer of his time; the beauty of the work has made it last, every one learns it and talks of it, it is necessary to know it, and each one knows it by heart. Four hundred years afterwards the witnesses of these facts are no longer alive, no one knows of his own knowledge if it be a fable or a history; one has only learnt it from his ancestors, and this can pass for truth.
Every history which is not contemporaneous, as the books of the Sibyls and Trismegistus, and so many others which have been believed by the world, are false, and found to be false in the course of time. It is not so with contemporaneous writers.
There is a great difference between a book which an individual writes and publishes to a nation, and a book which itself creates a nation. We cannot doubt that the book is as old as the people.
629. Josephus hides the shame of his nation.
Moses does not hide his own shame.
Quis mihi det ut omnes prophetent?112
He was weary of the multitude.
630. The sincerity of the Jews.--Maccabees, after they had no more prophets; the Masorah, since Jesus Christ.
This book will be a testimony for you.
Defective and final letters.
Sincere against their honour, and dying for it; this has no example in the world, and no root in nature.
631. Sincerity of the Jews.--They preserve lovingly and carefully the book in which Moses declares that they have been all their life ungrateful to God, and that he knows they will be still more so after his death; but that he calls heaven and earth to witness against them and that he has taught them enough.
He declares that God, being angry with them, shall at last scatter them among all the nations of the earth; that as they have offended Him by worshipping gods who were not their God, so He will provoke them by calling a people who are not His people; that He desires that all Hi
