SO MANY HAVE WEIGHED IN ON THIS SUBJECT, I HAVE DECIDED TO LINK SOME OF THE BETTER ARTICLES ABOUT IT IN A SPECIAL EDITION, AND SOME GREAT PAST IMAGES OF THE DAY ON FAUCI!!!!
Acts 26:6 And now I stand and am judged for the hope of the promise made of God, unto our fathers:
IMAGE FOR THE DAY
LYRIC FOR THE WEEK
Come you masters of war You that build the big guns You that build the death planes You that build all the bombs You that hide behind walls You that hide behind desks I just want you to know I can see through your masks
You that never done nothin’ But build to destroy You play with my world Like it’s your little toy You put a gun in my hand And you hide from my eyes And you turn and run farther When the fast bullets fly
Like Judas of old You lie and deceive A world war can be won You want me to believe But I see through your eyes And I see through your brain Like I see through the water That runs down my drain
You fasten all the triggers For the others to fire Then you set back and watch When the death count gets higher You hide in your mansion’ As young people’s blood Flows out of their bodies And is buried in the mud
You’ve thrown the worst fear That can ever be hurled Fear to bring children Into the world For threatening my baby Unborn and unnamed You ain’t worth the blood That runs in your veins
How much do I know To talk out of turn You might say that I’m young You might say I’m unlearned But there’s one thing I know Though I’m younger than you That even Jesus would never Forgive what you do
Let me ask you one question Is your money that good Will it buy you forgiveness Do you think that it could I think you will find When your death takes its toll All the money you made Will never buy back your soul
And I hope that you die And your death’ll come soon I will follow your casket In the pale afternoon And I’ll watch while you’re lowered Down to your deathbed And I’ll stand over your grave ‘Til I’m sure that you’re dead
Ezekiel 5:17 So will I send upon you famine and evil beasts, and they shall bereave thee: and pestilence and blood shall pass through thee; and I will bring the sword upon thee. I the Lord have spoken it.
BREAKING – Farmers Must Kill 4.2 Million Chickens After Bird Flu Hits Iowa Egg Farm – Blazing Press – DON’T UNDERSTAND THE LOGIC OF CULLING ANIMALS WHEN ONE ANIMAL GETS THE DISEASE UNLESS THE SOLE PURPOSE IS TO GET RID OF THE FOOD SUPPLY. AFTER ALL, WE DON’T KILL MILLIONS OF HUMANS WHEN ONE PERSON GETS THE FLU. AT LEAST NOT YET, BUT THEN AGAIN, MAYBE WE DO IN THE LONG RUN WITH THE FLU JAB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jude 18-19 How that they told you there should be mockers in the last time, who should walk after their own ungodly lusts. These be they who separate themselves, sensual, having not the Spirit.
Jeremiah 50:9 For, lo, I will raise and cause to come up against Babylon an assembly of great nations from the north country: and they shall set themselves in array against her; from thence she shall be taken: their arrows shall be as of a mighty expert man; none shall return in vain.
Woke Jesus (VIDEO) – The Babylon Bee – ONE OF THE BEST SATIRICAL VIDEOS THE BEE HAS DONE THAT IS MENTIONED IN WINSTON’S ARTICLE ABOVE WITH THE SAME TITLE!!!
2 Timothy 4:3-4For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears; And they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables.
IMAGE FOR THE DAY
LYRIC FOR THE WEEK
You get a shiver in the dark It’s raining in the park, but meantime South of the river, you stop, and you hold everything A band is blowing Dixie, double-four time You feel alright when you hear the music ring
Well, now you step inside But you don’t see too many faces Coming in out of the rain to hear the jazz go down Competition in other places Ah, but the horns, they’re blowing that sound Way on down south Way on down south, London town
Check out guitar George He knows all the chords Mind, it’s strictly rhythm He doesn’t wanna make it cry or sing Yes and an old guitar is all he can afford When he gets up under the lights to play his thing
And Harry doesn’t mind if he doesn’t make the scene He’s got a daytime job, he’s doing alright He can play the honky tonk like anything Saving it up for Friday night With the Sultans With the Sultans of Swing Yeah
And a crowd of young boys They’re fooling around in the corner Drunk and dressed in their best brown baggies And their platform soles They don’t give a damn About any trumpet-playing band It ain’t what they call “Rock and Roll” And the Sultans Yeah, the Sultans, they play Creole Creole
And then the man, he steps right up to the microphone And says at last, just as the time bell rings “Goodnight, now it’s time to go home” Then he makes it fast with one more thing “We are the Sultans— We are the Sultans of Swing”