Two Muslim men in France reportedly murder Catholic priest. Motive is no doubt unclear.

Since the American main stream media seems to be under-reporting this rather significant news story out of France this morning, I think bloggers should pick up the slack:

Two knife-wielding attackers who had pledged allegiance to ISIS, shouting “Allahu Akbar,” slit the throat of an 84-year-old priest and critically wounded at least one other person during a Tuesday morning terror attack on a Catholic church near the Normandy city of Rouen, officials said.

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Feminism claims another poor girl’s life.

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Feminism has been a mixed bag for economically privileged women, but it has been a straight up disaster for poor women.   However, feminism is simply a tool that has been used by a global elite to line their own pockets via usurious “fiat dollars” that banks are allowed to create out of thin air and lend out to us.  How to get us to borrow, spend, borrow, borrow, and spend some more?  Destroy marriage and childbearing, and women will seek to fill the hole that remains with stuff, career, travel, and a vapid Sex-in-the-City lifestyle.

The destruction of traditional culture goes hand-in-hand with the destruction of the family unit.  The progressive globalists pulling feminism’s strings don’t really give a shit about women.  If they did, they wouldn’t have been egging this poor stupid Pakistani girl on, knowing what her eventual fate would be:

What is the real story here? CNN wants to spin an epic tale of an average woman standing up to patriarchal oppressors against all odds. CNN wants to turn her into a martyr and a heroine. But she is neither of those things, and CNN’s tale is false on its face.

The real story is a sordid one. It is a story of a number of news organizations and NGOs following Anglo-Saxon ideologies of feminism and progressivism, funded and directed from abroad, working on a long-term project to undercut traditional Pakistani society and remake it in the images of Harvard and Oxford Utopia. It is a story of a lower-class Pakistani woman without a husband who got sucked into the pointless spiral of selfies, clicks, and likes that is Western social media, and was then selected and fueled down that path by those same news organizations and NGOs in order to further their political goals.

When she met her inevitable fate in Muslim Punjab, they eulogized her and blamed the patriarchy. And yet, before Qandeel Baloch was having phone calls with journalists at major left-of-center newspapers, she was not likely fearing for her life, nor twerking half-naked for millions to watch on YouTube. Qandeel Baloch was not empowered, she was a political pawn for organizations that did not care whether she lived or died.

Notice that none of the female journalists encouraging her to pose half-nude on the internet were themselves doing anything so pointlessly stupid.  They were happy to whisper lies about empowerment in the girl’s ear, telling her she was strong and independent when in reality she was just reveling in the attention, as most girls would.  Did they care that she would be almost certainly be killed?  Apparently not.  Her death has been ever so useful for their narrative and the news organizations’ site traffic though.  She served her purpose for them, poor stupid girl, and she won’t be the last.

Feminism is the lie that progressive globalists feed gullible girls to celebrate their own debasement and destruction.

Marilyn Monroe in my jacuzzi tub

If it’s not one thing…image

…it’s a freakin’ ‘nother.image

Do you ever stop and ask yourself, “Is my life normal?”  I wondered that today as I was feeding mealworms and frozen corn to a female Rouen duck named (but not by me) Marilyn Monroe, who currently resides in a dog crate in the master bathroom.  When she’s not paddling ’round the jacuzzi tub with her one good leg, that is.

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“How are we going to sleep with all that quacking?” Phil asks me. I dunno, drink ’til we pass out maybe?

But we can’t do that.

Because Marilyn Monroe needs her syringe full of pain meds, that’s why, and I’m starting to get just a teensy bit jealous of the jacuzzi-n-drugs lifestyle the poultry around here lead while Phil and I sweat in the blazing sun working on fences to keep the wild animals from eating the domestic animals and the domestic animals from eating every last berry, vegetable, and herb on the property.

All I can say is these duck eggs, when they start laying in a couple of months, better be the BEST darn eggs we’ve ever tasted to make up for all the hassle these critters cause.

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The real Marilyn Monroe in someone else’s bathtub, quite possibly awaiting her own syringe full of pain meds

Pastor Eggerichs asks an important question

Pastor Eggerichs wonders: Do Wives Live by a Double Standard, and Is That Okay Because They Are Vulnerable Victims?

Pastor recounts the following email from a husband:

Recently, a husband e-mailed me: “My wife relishes the fact that she is a ‘strong independent woman.’ We are a blended family and I love my wife dearly. . . . We joined our lives in 2013 and combined accounts and everything else. I took care of the bills (to her request) and did a fine job.

(However) I questioned her on an issue dealing with her teenage son about the timing of getting his braces. This among some issues of the blending of the family drove her to separate out our accounts. It is a year later and she has no intention of joining our accounts. She keeps claiming that I do not like that she is fully “independent.” She also does not like telling me where she is going, does not want me to be a ‘step-dad’ to the kids (as they already have a dad they see every other weekend).

I am very hurt by this as it is again a separation move by her. It is not about the money to me. I am the majority earner in our family. To me, it’s about trust, becoming one with another person. When I married my wife I wanted the two to become one. That is not to say for her or I to lose our individuality but the two shall become one. Right now there is no way to plan for retirement together or plan for the future. We can’t even pay bills effectively as she pays some bills and I have to ask daily what she has paid. She is very happy with her taking care of her kids and me taking care of mine. This drives me insane. I hate the way she has forced us to live.”

Thankfully, Dr. Eggerichs has begun to notice the unbiblical attitudes that have oozed into Christian marriage. He asks:

Does a wife have a right to be independent like this? Let me answer that with a question: Does a husband have a right to be independent like this?

What would you think if the wife complained, “We can’t even pay bills effectively as he pays some bills and I have to ask daily what he has paid”?

What would you feel if the husband decided to separate the accounts when questioned by his wife, declared that he needed to be appreciated as fully independent, expressed that he did not like being asked where he was going, and asked his wife to stop being a step-mom to his kids?

Many gals would feel disgust about this mistreatment of a wife. They would label this husband as abusive. But how many would label a wife as abusive for doing such things?

Few.

We need more pastors asking these kinds of questions. Desperately. Let us all be in prayer that the Lord will have mercy on us for turning away from His perfect marriage model outlined in the Bible and send us leaders who will be unashamed of His Word.

Dealing with an injured goose bill

We like to let the geese free range around the fruit trees because they eat bugs and graze on weeds, but our gander, Uncle Waldo, just loves to eat the bark off our orchard saplings.   Since this kills the trees, we put some chicken wire around the saplings. This turned out to be a mistake which we have since rectified; however, we didn’t fix it before Uncle Waldo stuffed his big bill through the chickenwire in an attempt to get at that tempting bark, freaked out when he got stuck, and yanked his head up and back:

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Geese’s bills are actually rather soft and the chickenwire sliced right to the bone:

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Off to Dexter Animal Clinic we went, with Uncle Waldo in a dog crate honking dejectedly for his mate, Abigail, who was running about the yard in a tizzy, calling for Waldo, while the quacking ducks ran along behind her.

Protip: a wire dog crate is NOT the ideal way to transport a goose, as they spray poo out of their vent like a fire hose when they are scared.  Luckily we had put a plastic tarp around him.

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We weren’t sure if the vets would be familiar with treating geese, but Dr. Anna, a charming young British veterinarian, put us at ease right away with the knowledgeable way she handled Uncle Waldo.  This clearly wasn’t her first goose rodeo.

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She had Phil hold him in a towel to prevent poo spraying:

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And then proceeded to clean his bill thoroughly with a cotton ball and iodine, soothing our worried nerves by distracting us with commentary about the kind of “gayce” they have in England:

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She used a cotton swab to clean inside the sliced portion of his beak while chatting with him softly in her charming English accent, “Alright then, old man, here we go…”

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She showed us that the slice had gone down to the bone but wasn’t as bad as other damaged bills she’s seen.  She trimmed away the dead tissue with a little scalpel and then used surgical glue to fix him up:

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Uncle Waldo is about nine weeks old and weights 9.1 pounds:image

An injection of antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, and pain reliever was next; good old Uncle Waldo was such a trooper!

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Dr. Anna said the bill will not regrow but that granulation tissue will form and fill in pretty well around the injury.  Until then, Uncle Waldo must remain quarantined in the duck yard, which means the whole flock must remain there as they won’t willingly leave Uncle Waldo.

We had hoped to enter Uncle Waldo and Abigail in the Chelsea Community Fair; we thought they were a shoo-in for a ribbon given how rare Pilgrim geese are (the Livestock Conservancy lists them as critically endangered).  Alas, his days as a show goose are over before they began:

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However, he’ll still make excellent breeding stock.  We plan to breed and sell Pilgrim geese so as to do our part in saving the breed from extinction.

Uncle Waldo has a ten-day course of oral antibiotics now.  Dr. Anna explained to us how to crush the pill, dissolve it in warm water, and inject the antibiotic solution down his throat with a syringe; a goose’s windpipe is right at the back of their tongue in the center, so to give an oral medication, you must open their bill and insert the syringe down the side of their mouth a few inches into the esophagus.  I haven’t been able to get any pictures of us doing this yet, but I will try to and will add them when I can.

After we got home and Uncle Waldo had reunited with the frantic Abigail and resumed his place as Head of the Flock, I treated everyone to a big bowl of blueberries and cantaloupe, which I dumped into their little swimming pool for them to enjoy rooting out:

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It was a harrowing day but all in all Uncle Waldo is one lucky gander!