969, or How the New World Order Faced Lucretia and Failed - The Fourth Episode: Flight

In all of her years of work, she had never found herself so flustered. She had used up all the time that could be stolen from her duties in the crew rest compartments. She sighed deeply and slapped another nicotine patch over her collarbone but so much wanted a long drag from a cigarette a few thousand miles away. She heaved herself up and slogged her way back to her assigned station.

She hated being called a flight attendant. Once upon a time, she was a stewardess with a miniskirt on smoke-filled planes full of businessmen, choosing her next boytoy from among them, secure in the fact that her looks and charm claimed every eye and opened every wallet. She has seen rooms and laid in beds in every airport hotel on two continents. It went without saying that every woman on every plane either loathed her or wanted to be her. Those were happy times.

She still stays fit with aerobics and no one suspects with her east asian perfection that she is now something over 40 years old. She would have never felt the need to break this cardinal rule in the past but something ruins her sultry composure today and she has spitefully checked the itinerary of the female passenger in 32B. The journey this passenger is taking simply makes no sense and that makes the flight attendant hate her all the more.

Everyone near row 32 let out yet another collective groan as the sound of heaving and the splatter of vomit hitting the bottom of yet another air-sickness bag. A previously sallow-faced young man is now white as a sheet except for a green sheen about the eyes and mouth. If there was ever a way to escape the dreaded window seat and distance himself from the woman to his side, he would have paid any price. From the look on everyones’ faces, no one is willing to accept the offer.

The flight attendant squeezed her mascaraed eyes shut and took in a slow breath as she took another small stack of sickness bags to row 32. She was the vision of graciousness by the time she leaned over the bulky bear of a man that occupied the aisle seat and exchanged the empties for newly-filled bags. The bear had been talking non-stop since San Francisco in a none-too-quiet voice and surely there were a close passenger or two who could quote several statistics from the humanprogress.org database as he was on his way to Pitcairn to expand its deficient data entry. She deserved a finely-sculpted Adonis but the full-bearded and thickly pony-tailed beast steadfastly ignored her in favor of the hated woman in 32B, far too engrossed in a book to be listening to her seatmate. The former stewardess only snarled slightly and threw a packet of peanuts into the transiting woman’s lap and moved off.

“In spite of all the press from child abuse cases, there have also been reports of an expanded access to the internet,” the bear offered to the interest of no one in particular. “They even enticed a man to move in and set up shop.” His voice never modulated past a slight Scandinavian accent. “Our data needs to better reflect current conditions, so I need to do a survey from the ground as it were.”

Lucretia responded by turning a page in her book. She will be connecting at Papeete to a puddle-jumper to Noumea in New Caledonia, allowing both the men in her row to move on with their lives. A further ticket is held there going to Auckland then Kuala Lumpur. There was a direct flight between San Francisco and Kuala Lumpur, but the woman (or rather Antonio) must like hanging out in seedy backwater transit lounges, because she won’t be seeing much else on this bizarrely elongated voyage. One book to read is probably insufficient.

This is irrational, the stewardess tells herself. This bag-woman who looked incapable of buying a ticket to Tahiti should have been easily overlooked by the smoothly automated labor of serving drinks and showing off safety features. Yet, there was no denying the prickly hatred, as if this creature was some sort of competition to her man-hunting.

“The boat ride will be nearly two weeks and I haven’t done a boat for a while. I hope I don’t have much sea-sickness,” the big man said under his breath. As if to punctuate the sentiment, the man on the far side of Lucretia heaves again. To the joy of all, the stomach of the man in the window seat is finally empty and dry-heaves are heard instead.

Our flight attendant shuts her eyes again with spasms of anger and spins about on her stylish heels, racing back to the drinks station. She nearly throws aside a woman coming out of the lavatory, locks it fast behind her and tears out a packet lodged under her bra. Swearing quietly, she shakily lights up a hidden cigarette with her secreted lighter and thanks the gods of flight that the sound of the misaligned auto-flush mechanism’s near-constant and useless triggering was covering the noise of her hyper-ventilations and some considerate passenger had already dismantled the toilet smoke alarm.

Without Christ and God

We all hope desperately that God will not abandon us. There are plenty of scriptures that say that we can put our trust in the Lord and he will accept and help us if we turn to him in humility. From my perspective, the Lord's forgiving nature is real.

However, any of us can go too far and have Christ turn his back on us forever. I know, it doesn't sound right, but you have to understand the concept of repentance.  If we change our evil natures toward the good, Christ will forgive us and help us in our changing. You can depend on this, of course.

What I am talking of is those who reject Christ and do NOT repent (or make a change for the better). This doesn't apply if we are just wanting to avoid punishment without changing our natures. I worked in a prison once and I am very familiar with people who just want to do or say *anything* to get out of prison. Many will insincerely act good and try to "game" the system to get what they want.  These don't actually change and don't want to. They only want to trick you.

You need to understand that Christ isn't a soft-hearted sucker, ready to be fooled. That doesn't take away from the generosity of God is accepted those who really change in their hearts, but you can't "trick" him by acting like you might change (without really doing it).

16 For behold, the Spirit of the Lord hath already ceased to strive with their fathers; and they are without Christ and God in the world; and they are driven about as chaff before the wind.

https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/scriptures/bofm/morm/5?lang=eng&id=p16#p16

The spirit stops striving with people at some point. If someone isn't going to change (and Christ can know this), he will "cease to strive" with them. The idea of "driven about as chaff" is not pleasant, but it is the fate of those who God "hath already ceased to strive with".

So, my warning is this:  Don't think that you can walk away from Christ and he will come running to redeem you anyway. It isn't true. You must turn to him, and thank goodness, he will give you more than ample time to do this and will reward efforts to change in his direction.  Don't put off the day of your repentance too long - It is not an unlimited, never-ending offer!

Obituary for Don Lancaster

I spent many of my young adult years reading Don Lancaster in several technology magazines, I bought and devoured his TTL Cookbook as a teenager, and kept up with his website over the years.  He was a constant source of inspiration in electronics. He passed away today.

https://gilaherald.com/obituary-for-don-lancaster/

"Think not that I am come to send peace on earth..."

I have heard some lately that say a Christian walk brings peace in our lives, which I have experienced at times. I don't want to appear contrary (but you know that I get a bit of a kick out of being contrary anyway), but Christ himself said that peace wasn't going to be his particular purpose.

Matthew 10:

32 Whosoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven.

33 But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven.

34 Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword.

35 For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law.

36 And a man’s foes shall be they of his own household.

37 He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.

38 And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me.

39 He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.

I see a lot of folks that put their love of spouse or children or parents above devotion to God.  I just watched a video yesterday of a woman who was excommunicated from the church and tongue-lashed the leaders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for not bowing to political pressure to ordain women to the priesthood.  She said that she was buoyed up by her own immediate family distancing themselves from the Church in support of her campaign.  What an example of family members putting each other ahead of God!  Personal hubris tears many from the path that Christ has shown us.

Some of my own children have chosen divergent paths, rejecting their upbringing and even God himself. I made it clear that I follow God and that I won't go down strange roads of deviance with them. They don't talk to me lately and hurtfully say that I don't love them because I won't accept some new lifestyle they have manufactured for themselves. Again, I follow God and his Agenda more than I seek the acceptance and love of my children.

I didn't set out to have "foes shall be they of his own household", it just happened.  I pray for my children, even the ones that have strayed from their Savior. I will continue to strive to be "worthy of me (Jesus)" though it pains me that some of my family members are not interested in the same way at this time.

I will continue to not be diverted from my course to please the sensibilities of others, even family members.  Christ will reward those who choose him over divergent devotion.

God brought Us to a Land of Liberty

When Lehi, who lead his family away from a decadent Jerusalem across the ocean to the Americas, left his final blessings on his children, he made a prophecy about this new land that his children would inherit: 

2 Nephi 1:7

Wherefore, this land is consecrated unto him whom he shall bring. And if it so be that they shall serve him according to the commandments which he hath given, it shall be a land of liberty unto them; wherefore, they shall never be brought down into captivity; if so, it shall be because of iniquity; for if iniquity shall abound cursed shall be the land for their sakes, but unto the righteous it shall be blessed forever.

This certainly happened in relation to the descendents of Lehi, who lived in liberty in the western hemisphere for nearly a thousand years, but were destroyed or enslaved in short order as they turned iniquitous.

It can also be seen that as long as most of the people who came to America were devoted to God and keeping his commandments, this was a land of liberty. The American Revolution is a good study of how a nation shouldn't have survived in the face of so many obstacles, overcome through divine intervention.  It was a point of some strange pride that "God Bless America" could be relied upon to save and prosper the Union.  People traditionally went to church and prayed in gratitude for the gift of liberty and prosperity, which they received.

Now, we are beating a fast retreat from God as a people. More Americans identify as atheists; They seek to prop up government as their protector and guarantor of peace and liberty, which is increasingly elusive and even undesirable to a growing number of urbanites. Many believe that God isn't interested in us, even if God exists at all, so they flout his commandments openly and with a pride in their ability to do so.

Lehi makes it clear that "if iniquity shall abound" (and it surely does), "cursed shall be the land..." The American nation has been so trusting that good things will always come, as they always have. However, the blessings we have always enjoyed will turn into a cursing, to which we have little experience.  I expect the kind of horrors that we have never known in our country.

To counter this cursing, we need to be righteous and encourge our neighbors to do the same.  We all need to study our Bibles again, re-learn what God wants us to do, re-enshrine his commandments to us, and them reclaim the blessings for ourselves that our larger society has rejected.   "...but unto the righteous it (this land) shall be blessed forever."

'... judged of your works,'

Mormon, the man who abridged and complied what we have today as the Book of Mormon, had a pretty tough time of it. His times (4th century CE) were very hard with his nation in decadent decline and enemies working to wipe them completely from the earth. Mormon knew that their salvation from a fate of destruction was turning back to God, both individually and collectively, but all of his efforts were ineffective.

The Lord told Mormon that he didn't have to preach to his people anymore as they had rebelled.

Mormon 3:15

Vengeance is mine, and I will repay; and because this people repented not after I had delivered them, behold, they shall be cut off from the face of the earth.

Although we don't remember it, we actually agreed to come to mortality and to the earth and said we would accept the Lord's offer to make it happen.  This fact is what gives Jesus the right to be vindictive about our ingratitude at what he has and does provide.  It also makes Christ the judge of your behavior (too late, you already agreed to it and you have been mooching off the Lord's generosity for years so you owe him) as below:  

Mormon 3:20

And these things doth the Spirit manifest unto me; therefore I write unto you all. And for this cause I write unto you, that ye may know that ye must all stand before the judgment-seat of Christ, yea, every soul who belongs to the whole human family of Adam; and ye must stand to be judged of your works, whether they be good or evil;

Obviously, Christ judges us based on the commandments he gave us and our obedience to him.  It seems that "teddy-bear-Jesus" isn't making much of an appearance as the time for forgiveness will have passed.  Our opportunity to access Jesus' redemption ends and his judgement comes.

As always, a message to take away is to work out your ultimate reward during life.  Since you don't know how long your life will be, you should get busy doing what is needed to get the reward you desire.  You may be able to make some changes after death and improve your fate, but don't depend on it.  Do it now.

969, or How the New World Order Faced Lucretia and Failed - The Second Episode: Antonio's Arrangement

The offices of the Mundane Insurance Company were nondescript in an almost painful way. Some sort of tan hessian weave covered most of the walls, though not to the floor or ceiling, but in the perfect placement to tear the skin if a hapless employee decided to rub against it while flopping over from exhaustion due to overwork or, more likely, catatonic boredom. The floors were covered with grey industrial carpeting so thin that it often revealed seams and exposed metal sub-floor where it wasn't held together by spilled coffee stains and liquid white-out streaks.

Above the thirteenth floor was a standard dropped ceiling with panels that have browned along the seams. In keeping with corporate custom, every fifth panel was substituted for a buzzing translucent panel that blinked on-and-off with light at a cadence which could have been carefully designed to zombify the floors occupants if company executives could gin or vodka up the interest in being the least bit careful. More fortunate souls worked under panels that had gradually burned out and failed to be replaced by what appeared to be a non-existent maintenance staff.

The labyrinth of lavender cubicles was punctuated by attempts to add color and personality to the endeavor. Not too far from the elevator doors was a bunch of three silvered Mylar balloons tied with ribbons that were stuck to well-chewed gum at the corner of a space assigned to Harriet Cornish, according to the nameplate. The balloons variously read 'Happy Birthday George' and 'Chinese New Year 2005' along with faded stars and fireworks. These were hard to read as the helium seemed mostly depleted and each rolled back and forth along the cubicle wall as the inadequate ventilation system blew around them. The balloons added a bit of color and movement that an abandoned pair of crumbling banana antennae headgear and walls festooned with sarcastic Dilbert cartoon strips failed to provide.

Harriet Cornish, or the woman who was sitting in Harriet's apparent cube, looked quietly furious. She would sit up very straight every few moments to glare at her bow-tied manager, who was cowering a few cubicles away while still remaining visible over the four-foot-high cubicle walls. The cubicle he was sitting in was labelled with 'Lucretia Vordonis', giving us the impression that nameplates rarely matched people in this organization. To further reinforce this thought, the woman who we will tentatively name Harriet, once she gets her manager's attention, clamps her teeth down hard and thumbs at one of the offices that line the wall on either side of the floor's elevator. It is one of those offices with a glass wall that allows us to see its occupant. The nameplate on the wall seems to be the managers name, which I won't bother to disclose as he is as inconsequential as the beginning of the story made clear. As 'Harriet' and the manager can clearly see through a glass wall, Lucretia Vordonis is sitting at the mock-impressive desk in the office with the manager's name on it. The cubicle woman glares back menacingly at the manager who readjusts a new bow-tie and hides behind Lucretia's former computer, feverishly speeding through the process of converting Lucretia from an hourly worker to a salaried professional and justifying her new office space by a change in title and grade. Unfortunately, both he and several dozen people are interrupted by a jangling ring from Lucretia's phone, all the heads pop up from their work like a prairie-dog convention, as the manager sitting in Lucretia's cubicle dutifully answers.

The call comes from the finely-appointed and properly-maintained executive offices and reception area of the Mundane Insurance Company one floor down: An important customer wants some technical information on their account and the executives want the best analyst to help him. After the manager breaks into a cold sweat and whispers some phone conversation, the call ends. Harriet sneers at her boss and he simply hunkers back to the task of elevating Lucretia. There is a sour feeling in his stomach but that is nothing compared to the experience of being alone with that strange woman. Anything is worth avoiding that.

Shortly, the doors of the elevator slide open and a smartly dressed man of unspecific ethnicity steps out, squinting at the visual assault of the cubicle farm at its perpetual haze of angst and sweat hovering to some unseen horizon. Mylar balloons rattle about in an artificial breeze nearby as he approaches the nearest supposed human and inquires regarding a Lucretia Vordonis.

A red-faced woman begins to hyperventilate and can barely manage to motion a shaking finger toward an office a few doors away from the elevator. The man pivots with his fine leather shoes and glancing back to notice the name on the cubicle's plate, he says "Thank you, Harriet" in an off-handed yet pleasant way.

The office door has a man's name but he sees a woman within sitting at an uncluttered desk. Shrugging, he opens the office door just enough to put his head inside. "Lucretia Vordonis?" The woman at the desk looks up from reading a book, which he takes as an acknowledgement. The chair across the desk from Lucretia is of a style and manufacture that you will find in many run-down public institutions, yet this doesn't seem to bother the man, who smoothly loosens the button of his fine suit coat. "I am happy to see you today," as he offers his hand.

The woman across the desk simply looks at him, ignoring both the offered handshake and the crash of some equipment beyond the still ajar office door. The smartly-dressed man flinches slightly at the noise, but the practiced smile never leaves his face as he gracefully slides into the available chair. "I am Antonio Midinar and I have come to consult with you about a property I own in Kuala Lumpur..." His voice was smooth and the accent used was exotic yet very intelligible. He began to talk of the intricacies of Malaysian zoning policy, producing a manila folder about three centimeters thick that he set before the woman.

He noticed the disheveled sense about Ms. Vordonis, however his studied manner in adjusting to perceived cultural standards in any situation allowed him to continue smiling and speaking in a carefully prepared way. The woman's light brown business suit with an antiquated ruffle about the collar and cuff clashed strongly in his mind with the rose-colored poet's blouse, sequined and buttoned up to her throat. He could hear some heated yet indistinct talk from the cubicle farm but he didn't allow it to disrupt his description of the skyscraper in the Malaysian capital that he and a conglomerate of international businessmen jointly owned

His eyes narrowed as it appeared he was losing the woman's concentration on his speech. Her look was almost placid as she seemed to stare at something over his left shoulder. Not missing a syllable in his on-going talk, he casually sneaked a look what Lucretia might be focusing her attention rather than him, but it appeared to be only another section of complete blank grey wall. There was another crash from the cubicles that he strained to ignore but the square-spectacled woman failed to register at all.

"As you can see, I am most concerned about terrorist attacks on my building in the wake of the twin towers..." The man was trying to place Ms. Vordonis' perfume but could only manage to think of mold. He was finding it harder to keep up his blather, which he erroneously attributed to the visual assault of her matted rat's-nest of hair. Incongruously, he felt the familiar sensation of excitement that accompanied the proximity of a sensationally gorgeous and alluring woman, but there was only this one seemly-disinterested and frumpy woman across the desk and the flash of a rather plump and scarlet Harriet assaulting a man with a stapler while shouting about some lost promotion. Yet, the arousal persisted.

He had come to elicit advice, but he felt like he was losing Lucretia's interest and potential insights. Between the unfamiliar sense of impending failure to achieve his purpose and the growing desire to find a more intimate way to understand feelings about this seemingly hideous woman, his prepared script was suddenly abandoned. "You must come to Kuala Lumpur yourself to inspect my building. Perhaps then you can better guide us in adjusting our insurance needs." In a totally unpredictable way, he found himself offering Ms. Vordonis first-class passage to Malaysia and a stay at his private estate. Alarms were sounding in his head, almost drowning out Harriet's shouting from the cubes, but he was powerless to stop the flow of offered enticements that he typically reserved only for international supermodels

Lucretia's attention seemed to wander back to Antonio's face. "Fine," she said flatly.

The man seemed relieved, pulled the handkerchief from his top coat pocket, and dabbed away uncharacteristic perspiration from his brow. "I will make all the arrangements." He rose less than gracefully, offered the woman his hand again, which she again blandly ignored. "Thank you for your help."

With a grateful waning of the peculiar swell of jumbled emotions, Antonio Midinar only vaguely noted his brushing against a wall in his escape and it was tearing a section from his coat sleeve. Going unnoticed in his private consternation, a bow-tied man and Harriet were locked in some physical struggle for dominance in the midst of cubicled and stunned prairie-dog on-lookers.

The slightly less sharp man marched resolutely to the elevator and nearly broke its down button with his fevered and repetitive mashing. 

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