This one reminded me of my visit about this time to Borders Bookstore, where I looked over a new copy of Cinefex, a movie maker's magazine devoted to special effects. Simultaneously, an angel swoops down from the West.

Herb Bevan sent me a formal invitation from FPC inviting me to a meeting to discuss a reading including the first two chapters of Genesis in a meeting to be led by Jeff Van Sickle. Of course, this would include "the firmament of Heaven" described on page 1 of Genesis that concerns us in these investigations concerning cloud cover signaling. I replied by sending Herb a picture of Lincoln in the clouds on Election Day, 2002, which I thought was a very remarkable manifestation of the "Firmament of Heaven" phenomenon sometimes visible from the ground in which clouds seem to mythically signal. See below:

Abraham Lincoln Swoops Down on Election Day Like A Visionary Being
from Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow.
The "firmament of heaven" signaling phenomenon is now somewhat more visible from satellites than was formerly true when clouds were viewed from the ground. In (62b) I might be the fellow now in the American Revolutionary hat over the Great Lakes, showing some biceps and triceps. I was exercising both some this morning as part of my routine to improve cardiovascular fitness in the vascular enthothelium by exercising after taking 5-6 grams of arginine, as recently recommended by a Nobel Prize winner Dr. Louis J. Ignarro who investigated the physiology of nitric oxide and reported to the public on it in his popular book NO More Heart Disease. Nitric oxide (obtained via the action of nitric oxide synthase on L-arginine or on a mixture of L-citruline and L-arginine) turns out to activate the telomeric DNA repair enzyme telomerase in the endothelial tissue of the arteries, life-extending the circulatory system where atherosclerosis develops [Vasa, et al., 2000, Hayashi, et. al, 2006, Haendeler, 2006].

Well, sometimes the heavenly reporter asks for a little self-censorship and less loose talk. I had to delete a few lines from a previous description to preserve peaceful balance, or be pictured as a sardonic critic transmitting some hawg-headed alligations to an attentive noble horse while brandishing a smoking fag in hand. "O would some power the giftie gie us to see ourselves as others see us." - Robert Burns.

The Straight-Talking Hog's Head
from Wichita's Horn of Plenty:
It's the Jesus Shittin' Christ State Line

Note that (62c) looks a little like the Hawg in the Garden of Eden putting his head out of the Horn of Plenty to pass on some stories that maybe burn a little. I have been a little worried about First Presbyterian Church, where my parents were married and I was baptized as a child, since it erected a black iron fence out in front to keep desperate souls from defectating in the front lawn flowerbeds, on the church signpost, and to keep them from building campfires in the stone entranceway to the Main Sanctuary. Sometimes it seemed as if the black barricade (seemly featuring pikes for unpopular heads) was promoting the church as a kennel for bad dogs to me when I would drive by, or something that had decided to treat the rest of the world as if it were a kennel for bad dogs. I mean, I can't seem to be behind bars around here, or going to Sunday services inside a shark cage at Madame Tossaud's Wax Museum maybe mounted on dynamite. We automatically avoid the residences of dangerous dukes with black fences loaded with big dogs around their homes, being wary of signs of jealous possession. The First Presbyterian Church of the Forbidden City seemed less like it than the old grand free-standing monument, less like the Peace of God and more like a sight to frighten away all freedom-loving birds. (My father was fond of a number maybe titled If I Had the Wings of an Angel, Over These Prison Walls I Would Fly.) Perhaps it was chosen to defend graves in the front yard alcove next to William C. Little's Chapel apart from the Main Sanctuary. This gives it the air of a post-revolutionary mousetrap that catches its prey at the new front door now at the West, depositing them as ashes under lettered metallic lids now at the nether end at the East within two caged zones where the Grand Old Front Entrance used to catch the rays of the sun unobstructed by mild steel. It was getting to be "black humor automatic" to enter, and surrounded by a dangerous-looking "stay away from the train line" barricade, as if Boxing Day had landed on the Day After Christmas. It worried me. I began to avoid it like Long John Silver avoided The Black Spot in Treasure Island. For some reason, it had an explosive "Guy Fox" day look to it, as if the black bars in the fence were really fuses leading down to big barrels of powder. There is a Scotch demonstration every year featuring men in kilts to underscore that the Presbyterian Church is really the National Church of Scotland, but portraits in the stained glass windows in the Main Sancturary constructed in 1910 (if memory serves) are more suggestive of a more physically diverse congregation of European types. It reminds us of The Three Worlds of Gulliver internally: Home, Lilliput, and Brobdingnag. Socially, it was at least a good cup of coffee over cakes in good company at 10:30 AM on Sunday mornings. My Father used to joke about it: At the end of time, a man went to Hell. He was greeted by a number of other men who had also gone to Hell, and they were all standing around in shit up to their ankles drinking cups of coffee. Why, thought the man to himself, this isn't so bad at all! I could get used to this good company and coffee. Then a devil with a pitchfork pops in and roars: "OK, boys! Coffee break's over! Back on your heads!". Dad seemed to prefer the Sims Park golf course, himself. I note that the feeling of uneasiness and danger associated with cages equipped with vertical black bars has something to do with why prisoners are no longer kept in such conditions at the Sedgwick County Detention Center. It seemed cruelly depressing and psychological malpractice to confine men inside such apparatus. It is suggestive of rule with an iron hand, for instance, rather than of merriment and celebration. I suspected it might mean that conditions were factually more dangerous than usual internally when the Cage appeared as an April Fool joke. Then they threw devil in as a new youth group leader with a Van Dyke and 3 children in blackshirts. Its possible connection with the foxy and intelligent new minister Rev. Dr. Catherine Northrup (2 x PhD), perhaps as a response by critical elements in the congregation, also came to mind. The black barricade reminded me of a black cat crossing my path when I would enter, and of the "Katy Bar the Door" episode in church history, featuring an unfriendly setup for an unfortunate lady that now signifies trouble is ahead. On the other hand, perhaps such jokes are routine in the church, which featured the return from the Crusades of Richard the Lion-Hearted in company with Saracens he was fond of. However, for continuing to speak French instead of English, they buried his heart in France.
Music: You Give Me Love by Faith Hill, from her album FAITH.

In the mystic mystery of the turbulent mirror, columnists cut the mists over the countryside when their news impacts the gentle rain from heaven with enough force to daze the brain.