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(The following is an excerpt from the blog Talk to Action and written by Bruce Wilson...)

If Sarah Palin may hold apocalyptic end-time beliefs or believes that she has a divine mandate to initiate an end-time conflict, American voters have the right to know about the doctrines taught in Palin's Alaska churches. These churches are closely associated with a movement, called the Third Wave or New Apostolic Reformation, which holds views that are highly controversial, particularly among other conservative Christians who are most aware of this fast growing international phenomenon. The activities of the movement have been condemned as heresy by the General Council of the Assemblies of God, to which two of Palin's churches currently belong. Accusations even stronger than `heresy', decrying the "Third Wave" religious movement, have been launched from Fundamentalist and Evangelical Christian groups.

Our focus on Palin's churches does not "bash religion" and has been praised by conservative Christians for its academic rigor. We are examining the religious views promoted at Palin's churches because the Third Wave / New Apostolic Reformation movement rejects pluralism and its followers believe they have been anointed by God to lead a unified superchurch into the final age - both of which have public policy implications.



Sarah Palin has every right to hold whatever religious views she chooses but, by the same token, the American people have every right to know what Palin's religious beliefs are - especially to the extent that they may include the view that all other religious and philosophical views but her own are under the influence of demonic powers and that believing Christians must conquer the Earth and cleanse it of evil in this final generation.

Palin's Churches and the Holy Laughter anointing
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LAUGHTER'S GRIP


They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing,
Wait on His voice to destroy the golden temples of man,
Hold my tongue until His powerful breath was upon me,
And from His loving casualties I’d at last know the Savior.

They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing,
Wait for His followers to die away their persuasive babble
And the murder of Islam to breach the walls of the earth
As the many damned souls drowned under holy laughter.

“O! The Lord God is looming! On his way with God’s wrath!
We are to take up swords and send evil howling back
to die their well deserved and slow death!
Their faces popped and spattered these words as they fell back,
Caught in His fiery presence, twisting their tongues into drivel
And thrashing their minds in the glory of an Eden unlike any other.

And then the snake planted his venom
Through the laughter of their gyrating madness.
Tears emptied their pockets, spirits came crashing,
And the anointed rapture of their making grew tired,
Weary of such euphoric trotting and wheezing
And falling over one another in ecstasy.

I did not wait.

© 2008 mrp/tpm


A tip of the hat to Talk to Action for their post on Sarah Palin's church

A fine read- Spiritual Warfare and the Third Wave Movement. A Critique.

Side note that might or might not be relative...
The Third Wave was an experimental demonstration of Nazism movement undertaken by history teacher Ron Jones with sophomore high school students attending his Contemporary History class as part of a study of Nazi Germany. The experiment took place at Cubberley High School in Palo Alto, California, during first week of April 1967. Jones, unable to explain to his students why the German citizens allowed the Nazi Party to exterminate millions of Jews and other so-called "undesirables", decided to show them instead. Jones started a movement called "The Third Wave" and convinced his students that the movement is to eliminate democracy. The fact that democracy emphasizes individuality was considered as a drawback of democracy, and Jones emphasized this main point of the movement in its motto: "Strength through discipline, strength through community, strength through action, strength through pride".

The experiment was not well documented. Of contemporary sources, the experiment is only mentioned in Cubberley High School student newspaper "The Cubberley Catamount". It is only briefly mentioned in two issues, and one more issue of the paper has articles about this experiment, but without much detail. The most detailed account of the experiment is an essay written by Jones himself some six years afterward. Several other articles about the experiment exist, but all of them were written after a considerable amount of time had passed.

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Remember it well.
(Me? I remember it.)
Not the day, the date, or the event. This moment.
(The anniversary. I remember.)
No. The moment’s passing.
(This day, five years ago?)
This. This. This moment. This one.
(I do. Of course I remember this day.)
No. No. No.
(Of that moment the shutter snapped slowly. I saw it all.)
Not the pictures. Not the continual loop. Now.
(I hold them inside me.)
No.
(Yes. Probably a reflex.)
Not the tears. The dread. The flying flesh. This moment. Now.
(I was in shock then, but I remember the planes and the death.)
This moment! This! This! This! This one! Now! Terror! Now!
(I knew we had changed and I remember the dead.)
Now! Now! Now!
(Yes! 9-11 is etched in my mind! I remember this day!)
Are you an idiot?
I am talking about this moment now! Two-thousand and eight!
Not the moment of impact!
Not the moment of plummeting!
Not the moment of being unable to breathe!
Not the excruciating video of the jumpers!
(Jumpers? I don’t recall. Really?)
I mean this moment! This one, as we speak!
(I remember the numbing hum all about us.)
I am talking about now!
(Believe you me I’ve tried to forget.)
Are you insane?
(Evil crashed into America!)
This moment. This one. This moment.
(What amount of time? In terror?)
What did you say?

(I said what amount of time constitutes a moment?)
Are you sure, because that didn’t sound like what I heard?
(When?)
What you said a moment ago.
(I asked you what constitutes a moment?)
...Time.
(How much time?)
Depends on the terror.
(So a moment can mean- Wait. What did you just say?)
When?
(Just a moment ago. Depends on what?)
Depends on the moment. How much time depends upon the moment.
(...So a moment can be a split second or less or even a bit more?)
Yes.
(I do not recall the day before or the day after, but I commemorate the dead because I certainly remember that day.)
How about now?
(Now?)
Years later, do they smolder as if they're real?
(I choose not to recall in that way.)
Do you recall what the US used to be?
(Yes. Freedom rings here. Bravery. God bless America. It’s still like that now. It’s the world that’s changed.)
No. Nothing has changed. It remains the same...unchanged.
(You lost me… What?)
This day, this moment is not being used as a tool for bettering a hungry world,
nor is it being used to transform, or scrap altogether,
A grotesquely inequitable US foreign policy...
(What?)
It is being used… just not for any good.
(How can you-?)
I would rather remember the fight… the dissent.
(What the hell are you talking about?)
I'd rather it burn, etched into my mind,
So solid inside me that in the future
This day might finally be used for good;
Some peaceful change instead of more warring.
(What are you saying?)
What I’d really like to know is why?
(Why?)
Yes.
Why does civilization permit bloody shrieking war?
Why?
(War came to us on this day!)
No! Now it didn’t! War is not here now!
(We fight them over there so-)
We begin life without weapons
(-we don’t have to fight them here.)
Why not continue bare of them?
(The US without a defense?! Are you crazy?)
THE WORLD! THE WORLD!
(Okay. Relax. Sheesh.)
Be free of them.
After all, the more weapons
and the more lethal the weapons
steps us nearer the turbulent abyss
and hearkens to the extinguishments
of the flames which light our days.
(What?)
Man at birth was naked, not armed
with knives and guns and bombs
for meaningless murdering.
(You lost me at extinguishments.)
Why permit them to flourish? Protect them?
Is it that we might remain free?
Might sideways glance and laughter?
To off the marauding terrorist
with evil in their hearts
because a bomb or gun sent their country
coffins instead of bread?
(Huh?)
Is it that we might sleep in deepness
and wake to a brighter day;
a day that flinches not at the destitute,
a day that nourishes a neglected humanity?
Would we need rid ourselves of transportation altogether,
considering airplanes?
(You’re insane…)
If all weapons were pins and needles
would an acupuncturist be a terrorist?
Might humankind be more blinded from the prick of a pin
than from the penetrating shrapnel of a bomb?
(Okay! You’re not making any sense here! I think you’re suffering from post-traumatic stress!)
Why?
(9-11. Godlessness. Hating America. Take your pick.)
Why do we pay for our government's bombs?
Is it that we can justify the difference,
the shameful, miniscule difference between
Israeli children signing rockets
intended to land upon Lebanon
and our signing tax forms
knowing the money will go for weapons,
bombs meant to kill indiscriminately?
(You need a long vacation…)
Why?
(Trust me.)
Why?
Why do we allow these villains and swindlers
to continue to send others to die;
our children to die for phantoms,
for the insidious sucking sound of greed?
(Oh! My God! I’ll pray for your pitiful soul!)
Why?
(Salvation!)
Is this the culmination of time?
Of life?
Of God?
Shouldn’t we demand they disarm?
Shouldn’t we all be weapons inspectors
dismantling death one stockpile at a time?
Isn’t it our duty to see that the world breathes?
Humanity continues to stride beneath the heavens?
Do we not owe it to creation to root them out?
To oust these warmongering misfits from power,
Every last Goddamned one of them?
(Watch your mouth!)
Why?
(Blasphemer!)
Why be threatened with extinction by God
when we have hellish weapons,
searing sun, depleted uranium and ozone,
sludge filled seas and sapping river,
and oily, mercury tainted fish and the air.
Oh! God! Yes! The air!
(You need to stop this right now!)
Why?
(Because it’s not right! This day is meant for mourning! Besides, you sound like a televangelist, minus God!)
Mustn’t we breathe to enjoy the fruits of our labor?
Mustn’t we leave this world livable at our passing?
Sleep with both eyes closed,
Rest knowing we cared?
Not be forced to recall moments of man made horror
And brushes with prowling, ticking death…
(Of all the days to spout this kind of crap! You should be ashamed of yourself! You! You’re the one who’s the terrorist!)
Why?
(Because!)
Why must I be a terrorist?
(Because, you don’t remember the lessons!)
I REMEMBER THIS MOMENT
I REMEMBER IT ALL, YOU
SELF RIGHTEOUS SYCOPHANT!
Let the world remember it now!
For God’s sake, swim in it!
Bathe in its stench!
This! This! This moment! Now!
(If you don’t love America why don’t you move to France?)
Why?
(They'd love you!)
I remember this moment!
This one now!
I recall its needlessness!
Its uselessness!
(Forget France! You can go to hell, you America hater! Go straight to hell!)

I’ve memorized its wrinkled horror!
Studied our made for TV storyline filmed as reality!
I recall this moment! This moment now!
The moment we bowed our head,
the moment we woke,
the moment we screamed,
the moment we cried,
the moment we bled,
the moment we died!



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At whose behest?
Were they certain of your brilliance and aim,
assured that your bullet would find its flesh?
Who sent you there with gun and grenade?
Did they know that you were a skilled assassin?

Who brought you to such hunger?
A profound reverence for the motherland,
or payment for her freedom's wonder?
Can you even recognize her, is she the same
as before you sent another soul to grave?

Who moved you to it?
Some grand leader, father, teacher, God?
Did they too have your hardy thirst for war?
Did they follow you there, to the foreign pit,
into the fray, ready to exterminate their foe?

Who sent you to kill?
Did they ready your legs for such a slaughter,
prepare you to painfully die for your country?
Did your victims go staggering alone into the swill
or did they put their filthy mouths to the lips of war?

© 2008 mrp/tpm



The Hollow Men... A tip of the hat to Crooks and Liars.

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(Read the poem)

Loved everything and everyone worth hating
And hated everyone and everything worth loving

Recognized everybody we’re ever going to know
With a sideways glance in a dime store trench coat

Memorized all the arrogant words to our country’s anthem
Forgetting how to say “thank you” and “you’re welcome”

Neglected to learn the golden lessons
Shared by the old whore’s toothless hum

Found new enemies easier to make
Than keeping old friends along the way

Become invisible under our own skins
(Within a cubicle is no place to expect miracles
We’ll find God in a sandbox, breathing in the oil that holds us there)

Succumbed to freedom’s aneurysm
Wrist sliced open like a vanilla sky
On a September morning's baptism

Fallen, flailing to the ashen ground
Like a Raggedy Ann doll
Tossed out the mouths of a pair of tall clowns

“Is that a bird?”

“No! It’s a child dropped from God’s hand!”

“Move along, folks. Nothing new to see here.
Move along now. Next stop- Disney Land!”

Died several times over
Our corpse a twisted metal frame
Smoldering at the foot of consumption

Inhaled a snout full of a white, powdery substance
As we lingered a bit too long in the airport terminal
Waiting on our own delayed wings to come in
Waiting to feel them burst through our flesh and bone
Only to run screaming, like a suicide bomber, to the nearest pharmacy
In search of painkillers and a magazine for the long flight home.

© 2008 mrp/tpm


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(View the photomontage and read the poem)

(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)


250 Protesters Arrested, Including Amy Goodman

Looking from the opposite side of this other world
Wondering what it is that they must truly think of us

The mind awakens to their jarring ovation
And thoughts swoop in like dark winged beasts

I see them calling, “God damns you to hell!”

They shouldn’t tell peacekeepers that their voices can’t soar
They shouldn’t try breaking those who see the ugliness of their fears
They shouldn’t damn an outstretched hand while offering raging teeth
in exchange
And smile as they bring such reckless blades to neck
Because we will not kneel down and wait

Lions charging across the plains
Feel their razor claws as they seek the fearful ground
And thrusting wild boars come crashing
A victim’s quivering lips that have turned their hearts pale
Of cradling fear held up like a frozen hand

And their god will return to find them this way

© 2008 mrp/tpm


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(View the photomontage & read the poem)


(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)

It was foretold that a redeemer would come with ice under her wings! It was said
that we’d bow to her charge, to her spellbound occasion and her frozen loyalty.
She came at the behest of the old man’s superiors, shaking the waters with her wing.
I have heard of this legend in books from a simpler time, back before the battle,
Before the ice came, after the storm of the century when this land was asleep.
Back when ghosts bumped along the tundra like herds of muskox, and the humans
were timid and easily gunned down by noble hunters with time on their hands.
Ghosts stalking ghosts, wandering pickpockets in a land that never again moved.

Sky-churned rage pushed by the rousing-deep and talons
Of blind eddies crept closer, carrying their god-awful devotion,
Pawing greed and desperation over any miserable wretch in their way,
Screeching “America is here!” and then severing her unfolded appendages,
Splattering their power over everything, warring, hanging, sucking
The very life out of weedier mongrels, slamming their godless love, raping,
Weeping their control and mercy, only to stack our heroes in the sand,
And consume Dear John letters demanding they give more of themselves;
Ordering them to smack evil’s round rump so the good and the righteous
Could remain innocent and the wicked could swill their unjust desserts.
It was a time to churn out flag-wavers and anthem choirs and flyers
With USA emblazoned on the sleeve of an eagle, and the limbless plea
Of soldiers in the wrong war for the wrong reasons with a heroes’ gaze
And a love of country and a hate of the world, spewing blood for ink, ghosts
For paper, and nationalism as lexicon while slumped in Superman’s wheelchair.
Audiences were rapt by the lies forced out of their mouths, dancing reality
Sucked under by the force of the flood and discolored by the blood-filled waters.
The storm of the century, manmade and ugly, smacked its oily lips over child,
Over everyone’s god, over love and honor and bravery and light!
The plummeting eagle was expected to make landfall and pierce the heart,
Tossing down its watery prayers as the people cried out from their sleep,
“Stay, naughty bird, your rape is done!”

© 2008 mrp/tpm

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