. . . What Does The Term 'HOLY GRAIL' Conjure To You? Answers To This Mystery And More From THE SON OF MAN: The ONLY Recorded Contact of GOD & MAN In 2,000 Years



I Told You . . .

It was never My idea.  But, by the time it got too late to say No, there was nothing left but to back away from the most lucrative offer ever tendered an               over-aching, under-achieving, younger-than-old-age-home-fodder Sacrificial Lamb. . . . So, I back away, for  now.  Singed, barely, and eager for more.   But not before the promise was renewed and rescheduled.  I still don’t understand it, but. . . .

Something remarkable happened to me recently that elevated me to a level never before seen by a human being.  I enjoyed unprecedented introduction and extraordinary access with candor from the Supreme One, whom I now call “Dad” — with furtive glances fore and aft to shield onlookers’ stares.  Three months later, I craved death.  At Nine months, the same again.  Death would ostensibly bring me face to face with the God that had so tormented my life.  But, not so fast!

In the meantime, I was Married!  No fly-by-night elopement, this!  . . . The Love Of My Life No Less!  And there’s more!  Much more . . . The Girl Of My Dreams!  Heaven Help Me.  Designed, Deigned, Be-Knighted and Annointed by Almighty God Since Before Time Began!  As extraordinary a young woman as has ever graced the surface of Planet Earth and beguiled it of her humor with grace and charm!  Smitten I Was and Am, but not so fast!  Not before she passed My test with Flying Colors.  Her genes are regal and hale from the Briggs family of Briggs and Stratton piston engines and world renown; the Sherry-Netherland Hotel, Manhattan’s finest; and New Hampshire, the Granite State and home to Mt. Washington: highest point East of the Mississippi and namesake of my latest birthplace, our nation’s capitol.


Truro Beach, Cape Cod, near Marconi Station

Truro Beach, Cape Cod, near Marconi Station

I cannot longer resist the carnal urges that tormented a life robbed so wickedly, nor need I.   No, not robbed callously: Robbed Greadily, Gaudily . . . Lovingly; leaving only their wake of absence; abstinence.  And, not by Life — that rich nursery and asylum — but its maker or His evil twin . . .  Almighty God’s Own definition of wicked: Loveless:  The King of Kings, I Am Come, to assert my claim to riches so long denied Me: in the systematic production of indigo ice in my sacred veins.

Result :  A carefree human existence cannot be had without a price: that would be, IS ME, deprived for over 60 years of romantic love.  But, wait! Consequentially, I AM PROFANITY-IN-THE-FLESH! — Succubus In Vitro Sanctimonious — I Am Come To  Collect.  I Am No Longer Fair Game In Favor of The Poor: I Also Favor The Fair . . . and The Rich.  Change of Heart?  Which?


Baguette Buggy, Paris

Baguette Buggy, Paris

New awareness of, and understanding for, loneliness and miscast lives of congenital distress that elicit none of the applause and jealousy that secretly greeted my own indebtedness has become known to me lately.

I recently learned startling secrets about my personal history; the landscape of my soul.  An intriguing profile, indeed.   Aristocratic bats flew from the rafters of my belfry in spades, Baby.  The King of Kings, I Am no less.  A baby, too, in the wings, er . . .  oven.  So,Please, Follow Me In Upcoming Posts To Read All About The Most Significant Spiritual News In 2,000 Years!

But, I’m cold . . . as a witches tit, in fact, and in desperate need of warm cuddling by a female of maximum hauteur.   My erotic energy is only exceeded by its frustration.  And, that I assume from a painfully wrought predecession  that, basking in the warm light of sacrifice, I should not want for lack of wanting in lust that I took so freely of anyone aloof enough to be . . .

. . . Daniel Joseph McCarthy III, The Son Of Man, The Messiah, The King Of Kings, a.k.a.: Jesus Christ of Nazareth and Bethlehem — in a previous incarnation.  The party Begins . . . .


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