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We hold the Truth to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that, in addition to unalienable rights, they are bestowed by their Creator with certain unshirkable responsibilities, that among these are to love mercy, to act justly, and to walk humbly with their God. --That to fulfill these responsibilities, Sacrifices are offered by Men, deriving their worthiness from the faith of the created, --That whenever any Form of Sacrifice becomes ineffective of these ends, it is the Right of the Sovereign to alter or to abolish it, and to institute a new Sacrifice, laying its foundation on such principles and displaying its powers in such form, as to the Sovereign shall seem most Proper and True.

There are some Beauties which it is painful to behold. Some scenes which are so above, it strains the mental neck to observe. They are felt like a hot cauterized needle on a frozen numb and blistered hand. Already oozing pus from punctured heart-blisters, one must look away and shield the eyes before being overwhelmed and enveloped, pierced to the core and left pinned through the soul; destroyed for the filth that smudges the art, for the coarse-tongued vagabond that crashes an elegant wedding. And we must cry, “Woe is me!” I cannot stand before this Beauty and live, but rather I would die than never see it again.

Then one of the seraphs flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth…

And we are left to cry, “Woe is me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips and I live among a people of unclean lips and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.”

I'm not going to tell you anything about myself, but if you sit at your computer and ponder the next sentence for about three years, you might learn some interesting things about yourself.

Ahem, here it is: Life is a canary with two heads.

Just sit there for three years and you'll understand it. If you don't have that much time, I think it has something to do with secret government animal testing and radioactive waste. And canarys are yellow. That has deep philosophical import.

God's Alien Zombie Armadillo Warrior Slave

God's because I was bought at a price.
Alien because my citizenship is in heaven.
Zombie because I'm dead to sin but alive in Christ.
Armadillo to do it right now... that's a long story.
Warrior for our struggle is not against flesh blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.
Slave because I want to be great in God's kingdom so I must be the servant of all.

You want to know who I am? That's quite possibly the stupidest thing you've ever wanted. But, since you asked...

I am the compilation of everything I have ever known. I am the voice that clamors loudest in my mind. I am the whole that is less than the sum of it's parts. I am the sharpest pain that wracks my soul. I am surrounded on all sides by wolves thirsting for my blood; they wrest my attentions and desires from my control.

I am the boy wandering in a den of robbers. I am the warrior trapped behind enemy lines; hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. I stand and though my strength drains away and all the forces of evil bear down upon me, something stays, holds me through the flames, and I stand. I am, though I go through strenuous effort to deny it, just me.

I have a key with a chip in it. The chip is not actually in the metallic important for getting the car to start part of the key, but in the plastic casing on the top of the key to make it smoother on your fingers. Now, instead of a uniformly contoured surface, there's a little piece of metal key sticking out from the otherwise plastic-clothed top of the key.

The chip first started as a crack. I'm not really certain how the crack first got there. Perhaps it was tossed heedlessly to the floor one too many times, or unwittingly crushed in the hinges of a large reclining chair. Whatever the cause of the initial crack, a crack there was, and it continued to expand day after day. It expanded slowly, almost imperceptibly, but always growing - loosening and undermining the structure of the key's protective plastic shell. The crack widened and lengthened until one piece of plastic was attached to the rest by only the smallest sliver of plastic.

Then nothing happened for months. The crack, seemingly taking pity on the last shred of plastic still remaining, halted its relentless growth. And the nearly isolated plastic piece clung to the key with admirable tenacity. Then one day, in a seemingly random moment, both crack and dangling plastic piece ceased to be. It seemed that in the past months they had come to an understanding and, aside from outside influences, would have remained as they were indefinitely. But in one careless twitch of my fingers - a simple fidget - the bond between key and dangling plastic was broken. And now I have a key with a chip in it.

The Key Chip Saga: Part the Second

In Part the First, the origins of the "key with a chip in it" were first explained. Here we explore the further adventures of the key and the key chip.

At the end of Part the First, the key chip had just been fully separated from the key. I did not lose the key chip, however. It still fit fairly well into it's old position, it was just no longer attached.

And there I kept it. Every now and then I would reach into my pocket just to reassure myself that the chip still held its proper place.

Then, on starting a frisbee game, I, heedless of key and chip, threw both to the sidelines in order to more quickly return to the game. Later, when I returned for my key, I found, after some searching, that my key chip had been broken into two yet smaller chips.

The key chip, after suffering so much, was to suffer again. Perhaps long-awaited healing will ensue in Part the Third.

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