THE TRUTH ABOUT TRUTH:

All truth passes through three stages.
First, it is ridiculed.
Second, it is violently opposed.
Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.



Saturday, September 29, 2012

BARACK OBAMA: KENYAN BY BIRTH, COMMUNIST BY CHOICE


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We interrupt this America-bashing blog bit series – that hasn’t even gotten started yet – to bring you this important commercial announcement:
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For erections lasting longer than 6 hours, take a good look at the stale onion bialy in the following photograph, as this should bring the swelling down:
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[Thanks to Mr. C.H. Freedman for presenting in his excellent book, ‘Manhood Redux’, The Gloria “Preparation H” Steinem Cure for excessive sexual readiness.]
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Hey, there isn’t much I dislike more than those disturbing “erectile dysfunction” commericals, but Barack “Marxslim” Obama’s 666 lies is 666 examples of things that DO make me cringe even more than do those embarrassing, distasteful advertisements broadcasted regularly now that we’ve entered ‘Generation Text’.
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Therefore, I’m always going to interrupt whatever I’ve got going on here (or not going on here) to bring you the latest about the White House’s resident Liar In Chief.
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The following story appeared at WorldNetDaily last week. There are only three legitimate options to choose from: either you believe that 1) Barack “Marxslim” Obama was born in Kenya, or 2) he was born in Hawaii, but he has hidden his authentic birth certificate and shown the Americonned People a fake one because the authentic birth certificate shows that card-carrying communist Frank Marshall Davis is his biological father, or 3) you believe that the liar in the White House was born in Kenya AND that his authentic birth certificate proves that well-known commie Frank Marshall Davis is his biological pop.
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Me? I think I’m going to pick Door Number 3.
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Who Is The Dad Who “Taught Him To Love Jazz”?
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Jerome R. Corsi, a Harvard Ph.D., is a WND senior staff reporter.
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His father taught him to love jazz?
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So claims an email dispatched this week from the Obama campaign soliciting a donation for a chance to have “Dinner with Barack,” with airfare “on us.” But the claim is not credible, contends Joel Gilbert, whose documentary “Dreams from My Real Father” has just been released.
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“How is this possible?” Gilbert asked.
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“Obama’s official life story claims he was with Barack Obama, the Kenyan, only one time, in the early 1970s, and then briefly, for a week or 10 days,” he explained.
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“How was that enough time to teach 9-year-old Obama to love jazz music? Besides, jazz is uniquely American. Besides, what evidence is there the Kenyan dug Coltrane?”
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Nevertheless, on Monday Gilbert received an email solicitation from Julianna Smoot, deputy campaign manager of Obama for America.
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The same announcement also was posted on the campaign website, encouraging voters to try to win a dinner with President Obama.
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Smoot spelled out some of the benefits the winner will enjoy.
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“You can learn a lot: His dad taught him to love jazz, his girls get crazy-embarrassed when he dances or sings in public, his dream job is starting point guard for the Chicago Bulls – and he really looks forward to sharing these meals with supporters like you.”
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[Obama campaign donation solicitation, Sept. 16]
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Gilbert’s first reaction was to assume the Obama campaign was conceding to the major premise of his documentary: that Frank Marshall Davis was the real, biological and ideological father of Barack Obama, not Barack Obama, the Kenyan, who came from Africa in 1959 to attend the University of Hawaii in Honolulu.
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“There can be no arguing that there never was an opportunity for the Kenyan Obama to teach Barry to love jazz,” Gilbert told WND. “However, there was a man who raised Obama who was a jazz aficionado, his name was Frank Marshall Davis.”
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Gilbert viewed the ad as a breakthrough.
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“It appears the Obama campaign is finally admitting I’m right, that Frank Marshall Davis, the Communist Party USA propagandist and Marxist, was his real father. So there you have it, Obama is a red diaper baby.”
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In contrast to the Kenyan Obama, Frank Marshall Davis was widely recognized as a lover of jazz and an expert.
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Davis befriended jazz musicians in Chicago, where he was a DJ for a short time on a jazz radio station, WJJD.
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After coming to Hawaii in 1948 to help organize the communist-controlled ILWU trade union, Davis wrote a column in the communist-run Honolulu Record newspaper in which he regularly wrote about jazz.
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One of his “Frank-ly Speaking” columns can be seen here:
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Davis also maintained a large collection of jazz records.
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In “Dreams from My Real Father,” Gilbert displays nude photos of Obama’s mother, Ann Dunham, taken at what he determined was Davis’ house at 2994 Kalihi Street in Honolulu.
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In the one of the photos, a record player and record collection are clearly visible.
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Two jazz record albums are easily identified – Nat King Cole’s “Love is the Thing” and Stan Kenton’s “Cuban Fire.”
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“Now Obama needs to come clean and tell us what Davis taught him about Marxist ideology and destroying the middle class,” Gilbert said. “I would love to go to dinner with Barack Obama and find out all the things his real father taught him, not just “a love of jazz music.”
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Still, Gilbert does not plan to donate to the Obama campaign to enter into the contest to win the dinner, but he encourages others to do so.
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Borrowing a line from Smoot’s email, he quipped: “If you win, I will expect a full report!”
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See the “Dreams from My Real Father” trailer:
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Dreams from My Real Father: A Story of Reds and Deception
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By the way, last week a friend of mine directed my attention to an old Obama bio produced by his literary agency that stated the Communist Muslim was born in Kenya. I actually learned about that from the World Net Daily website back in May, but it occurred to me that I may not have passed that info on to all y’all. So here is an excerpt, months late, but still valid:
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As WND reported, Breitbart News originally found a brochure from two decades ago in which literary agency Acton & Dystel promoted Obama as the author of the never-produced “Journeys in Black and White” by declaring Obama was “born in Kenya and raised in Indonesia and Hawaii.” Twelve years later, however, the Dystel of Acton & Dystel was busy promoting Obama’s new book, “Dreams from My Father,” and still touting the author as “born in Kenya.”
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Through the Internet archive Wayback Machine, WND found an August 2003 listing of Dystel & Goderich’s author bios, including the following: “Barack Obama was the first black president of the Harvard Law Review. He was born in Kenya to an American anthropologist and a Kenyan finance minister, and was raised in Indonesia, Hawaii and Chicago. His first book is ‘Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance.”
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Even if the original 1991 brochure’s listing of Kenya as Obama’s birthplace was in error, as the agency has since claimed, it apparently was an error Obama allowed his publicist to persist in for over a decade, right until after he was running for president.
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For the full story, click HERE.
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If this had been an actual Constitutional emergency, you would have been told where to go to obtain your free ObamaPhone.
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My biological Pa was not a card-carrying commie, but he did enjoy Jazz vocals, especially the aforementioned Nat King Cole. However, Pa dug Deano quite a bit as well. So, the following song is for my Pa (not for Obama’s pappy), an American male who passed his work ethic down to his sons and who had nuttin’ to hide (no communists in his closet). And that, of course, explains why a free-market Capitalist like me would never be permitted to occupy the White House. If I did somehow get elected to the presidency, I am absolutely certain that the International Bankers who really run America’s system would make sure that “BOOM!” was the last sound I ever heard.
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Nat King Cole & Dean Martin - Open Up The Doghouse (Two Cats Are Coming In)
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We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog bit program in progress.
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~ Stephen T. McCarthy
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YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.
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Thursday, September 27, 2012

“YOU NAME IT” (Uhm... A Free 'ObamaPhone'?)

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In a video from a fundraising function in May, Mitt Romney said he was not going "to worry about those people." The “people” Romney referred to – by his calculation, 47% of Americans - are what the Republican presidential nominee thinks of as locked-in Barack Obama voters who believe that they are "entitled to health care, to food, to housing, to you name it." (Romney didn’t name the “you name it” part, so I’ll do it for him: How about free cell phones?)
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In response, Barack “Marxslim” Obama said on David Letterman’s show that "I promise you, there are not a lot of people out there who think they are victims; there are not a lot of people who think they’re entitled to something.”
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The Late Show with Dav... : David Letterman - President Barack 
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Well, apparently the po’ dogs on the street never got that memo from Obama explaining to them that they aren’t supposed to go around acting like they are entitled to “you name it” (free Obama Cell Phones?). Below is a video of an actual Obama supporter who was paid $11.00 an hour by the SEIU (Service Employees International Union) to travel around the state of Ohio publicly protesting Mitt Romney’s presidential campaign.
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Obama Voter Says Vote for Obama because he gives a free Phone
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Really, ‘SEIU’? Are you serious? You think it’s a good Obama campaign strategy to pay people like that woman there $11.00 an hour to publicly speak out in support of Barack Obama?
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I think it would be a BETTER campaign strategy to pay people like that woman there $11.00 an hour to pretend that they are voting for Romney and have never even heard of Obammy (or his White mammy!)
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Here’s the truly ironic thing about Barack “Marxslim” Obama. Although he is 50% Black and 50% White, he is 100% Liar!
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~ Stephen T. McCarthy
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YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.
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Saturday, September 15, 2012

INTRODUCTION TO AN ‘ANTI-AMERICAN TUNE’ (Or, BEGINNING OF THE McEND)

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Many’s the time I’ve been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and I’ve often felt forsaken
And certainly misused
Oh, but I’m all right, I’m all right
I’m just weary to my bones
Still, you don’t expect to be
Bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home
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I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered
I don’t have a friend who feels at ease
I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered
Or driven to its knees
Oh, but it’s all right, it’s all right
For we lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the road
We’re traveling on
I wonder what’s gone wrong
I can’t help it, I wonder what’s gone wrong
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And I dreamed I was dying
And I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of
Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying
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Oh, we come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age’s most uncertain hour
And sing an American tune
Oh, it’s all right, it’s all right
It’s all right
You can’t be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow’s going to be another working day
And I’m trying to get some rest
That’s all, I’m trying to get some rest
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"American Tune" (Paul Simon/slide show by Ilana)
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Many’s the time I’ve alluded to the ‘Ferret-Faced Fascist Friends’ forthcoming magnum opus, piece de resistance, tour de force, or multi-part penultimate blog bit. I have even spoken/written somewhat specifically about it to a few of my friends over the last couple of years, giving them a basic idea of what topics it will address, and forewarning them that it will alienate piss off many people – Democrats AND Republicans, Liberals AND (so-called) Conservatives, Enemies AND Friends of mine – perhaps it will even piss off some of those few persons who have “Followed” my blog over the years. Nevertheless, the time has arrived for the ‘Ferret-Faced Fascist Friends’ grand finale.
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If you’ve been a regular reader of this blog then you’ve noticed that there have been fewer and fewer posts lately during these ‘dog days of blogging’ at F-FFF. Fact is, “the thrill is gone” and I’m more than a little burned out on blogging. But I would never be able to forgive myself if I did not conclude this *yawner* of a blog without composing and posting the grand finale I’ve hinted at so many times over the last couple years.
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I am still unsure exactly what form the multi-part blog bit will take - how it will unfold (I’ll let the Spirit dictate that) - although I do have a general idea about the topics I will address. The many books and magazine articles I intend to reference, as well as the quotes I intend to use, have been collected and stored for a couple of years now in certain specific places where I could find them when needed. Likewise, the majority of the first installment of my big bang denouement has already been written and is champing at the bit, ready to burst forth into the light of day.
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But before unveiling the first segment of the end, I want to somewhat prepare you for it - to set the proper mood designed to ease you into the necessary mind-set for what is to come. With that as my goal, I am posting below, links to a couple of blog articles penned by a writer I have read and admired for many years:
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Some time ago, in those years when I subscribed to (this country’s very best current events magazine) The New American, my favorite regular contributor to that periodical was William Norman Grigg. Mr. Grigg eventually had a falling out with ‘The New American’ management and left in a huff, but I still have a copy of his book ‘FREEDOM ON THE ALTAR: The UN’s Crusade Against God & Family’ sitting on one of my bookshelves.
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Mr. Grigg’s blog (here at Blogspot.com), ‘PRO LIBERTATE’, is one of those that I regularly read. The only (minor) negative comments I have to make regarding Grigg’s blogging is that he really ought to cease using the fifty dollar words and the occasional ego-stroking Latin expressions. 
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[Mr. Grigg, your intelligence will be just as apparent to your readers without the high-octane fuel you think the $50. words and Latin expressions bring to your writing. Let us never forget the important writing lesson that Douglas Hyde teaches his readers on page 132 of his valuable little book ‘Dedication And Leadership’.]
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At any octane rating, I hope you will read two of William Norman Grigg’s recent blog postings as a general preparation for where I intend to travel during the course of the ‘Ferret-Faced Fascist Friends’ final multi-part blog bit. I do not necessarily agree entirely with Mr. Grigg’s viewpoints in the articles that follow, but there is definitely far more agreement than disagreement in the way he and I perceive these issues.
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In this first article, William Norman Grigg compares the son (Senator Rand Paul) to his father (Congressman Ron Paul), and finds the son’s political positioning terribly inferior (apparently the apple fell too far from the tree!)
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Click here:
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In this second article, Mr. Grigg explains why we should not be surprised that BOTH Democrats and Republicans routinely misrepresent Constitutional limitations and promote bigger, more intrusive, more liberty-infringing government policies against the American citizens.
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Click here:
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The first installment of the final multi-part blog bit at ‘Ferret-Faced Fascist Friends’ may be posted as early as tomorrow (and maybe not). Nevertheless, it will take some time for me to compose all of the concluding blog bits in my big bang finale. But regardless, . . . the end is near.
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Someone once said, “ . . . you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free”.
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I intend to share some truth in this blog’s final installments, although I’m sure this truth will be ridiculed, if not violently opposed. When was the Truth ever popular?
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~ Stephen T. McCarthy
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YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.
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Tuesday, September 4, 2012

#$&%*!!!

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#$&%*!!!
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[from FRASIER, Season 1 - 'The Crucible']
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Pithy profanity never goes out of style.
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~ Stephen T. McCarthy
Doggtor of Alcohology and King of Inebriation Nation 
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YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.
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Sunday, September 2, 2012

HOW I’M GETTING OVER (THE HELL THAT IS 2012)

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If Yer Gonna Be Stoopid,
Ya Gotta Be Tough.   

I found the message immediately above printed on the underside of the beer cap from a bottle of Big Sky I.P.A. Its relationship to the theme of this blog bit is tenuous, but it’s funny, so I decided to start with that ‘cause there ain’t much humor left in Me, Myself, and I. Methinks, Myselfthinks, and Ithinks we’re all laughed-out for now. (We’re also a little concerned that we may be suffering from a multiple personality disorder. Well, I and Myself are, anyway; Me doesn’t think so. But then again, Me always thinks it’s all about him – the selfish son-of-a-bitch!)

2012 – What a year it’s been! With only a few exceptions, everyone I personally know thinks 2012 has been hellish. You can put me on that list too, near the top. Oh, sure, it could be worse - I could be literally starving to death in India - but it’s been pretty bad nonetheless. All year I’ve felt like I was buried alive, upside down in a coffin way too small for me; it's been a black and claustrophobic 8 months.

One part of my problem is that my job of 14+ years has turned into a living nightmare in which all I see for about 44 hours a week are sick and hurting people, welfare addicts, drug-seeking taxi cab passengers, and strangers vomiting into plastic trays. 90% of the people I encounter are more than 100 pounds overweight, and more than 100% of those overweight people have their fat bodies 90% covered in tattoos. (Don’t question my math.)

NO! None of that is exaggeration; it’s the truth, it’s my reality while I’m “on the clock”, and I have my brogue-yakking, Budweiser-swilling, Ireland-born boss to thank for it. He did, however, inspire me recently to compose a limerick which I actually wrote on one of my official work reports. (If anyone in authority ever reads my reports, I’ll get fired. Actually, “fired” is not such a terrible thought – unemployment line here I come – money for nothing and your time is free!)

LIMERICK  FOR  AN  IRISH  BOSS

There once was a man named McPrick

Who pulled off a pretty neat trick:

He brown-nosed his way

Into a job with more pay,

Though he didn’t know his a_s from his di_k.

Yeah, as a person who tries to follow the teachings of Jesus, I know I’m supposed to forgive my Irish boss and all the welfare addicts, drug-seeking taxi cab passengers, and tattooed fatties. But the thing is, although I’ve often said I’m attempting to follow Jesus, I NEVER said I was good at it!

“PEACE ON EARTH begins with peace within yourself.” (Of course, there’s also something to be said for a well-placed bullet.)

I really hate to turn this, my first blog bit in over 3 weeks, into a big, whining sob story but . . . I am. In all honesty, I did not think it was possible for me to reach this depth of depression after having accepted Christ as my Savior on April 6, 1994. I truly believed that something like my personal Great Depression of 1986 was impossible now that I had Jesus in my heart. Well, 2012 is starting to make 1986 look like a walk in the park . . . with balloons and cotton candy!

Yes, peoples, family members, friends, lovers, and enemies, I have been battling dark thoughts – very dark thoughts – almost hourly for about 6 months now. And I gotta tell ya, it’s a little depressing to feel this depressed! (Please, no phone calls or Emails; just send money. How about tens and twenties?)

Fifty-three years old now with no career in sight, no sense of purpose, just this utterly unfulfilled emptiness inside.

Sometimes I feel like giving up
Sometimes I feel so very tired
Sometimes I feel like I've had enough

OK, I need to say something humorous at this point to uplift this sagging blog bit. Uh... well... hmmm... Sorry. I got nuttin’.

Don’t worry ‘bout me though, it ain’t like I’m gonna kill myself (in a painful manner), or go on a shooting spree where my boss works (without plenty of ammo). Alright, that was something close to humorous. Thank you, Jesus!

The only real difference between ‘My Great Depression Of 1986’ and ‘My Great Depression Of 2012’ (other than the fact that 2012 has been even worse) is that instead of listening to David & David’s album ‘Boomtown’ and letting it pull me down deeper...


 ...I’ve been listening to Gospel music instead, hoping it will Move Me On Up A Little Higher.


No matter how long this dark mood lasts (until it too passes?), or how dismally I've failed to fulfill my potential, I hope, at the least, God will take into consideration that throughout this Great Depression, I never stopped reading His Holy Bible; and I continued praying for myself and others, even though my prayers are no longer of the higher meditative form.

I haven’t thrown God under the bus. (Although, at this point, if the devil has an offer to make, I’d at least hear him out and see what he brings to the table; my soul is available at a bargain basement price.) UNCLE!” Please let me Up, Father. I’ve had enough!

So, how am I getting over this mood? I’m not. But Gospel music has helped a little. Plus, God talks to a friend of mine, and my friend talks back to God. Uh... I mean that in a good way. And it seems that God has somehow, miraculously (and I may mean “miraculously” literally) convinced my friend that I’m not the jackass I often seem to be; that some of my faults can be viewed as strengths. [I thank you, NWB.] Aside from that, I’m sure God The Father will ultimately save me from myself because “I Knew Jesus [in Jerusalem] Before He Was A Superstar”. When you’re in good with His Son, you’re in good with The Father.

A little embarrassing to admit this, but my first real introduction to Gospel music came at Disneyland in the mid-1970s. One of my very favorite attractions was ‘America Sings’. And at the 4:35 mark in ‘America Sings’, a Southern Baptist choir of animatrons (hens, foxes, and frogs) launches into the song ‘Down By The Riverside’. I always LOVED that – it was my favorite song in the entire attraction - but I was still years away from learning that it was called “Gospel singing” and it was a celebration of God’s salvation.

America Sings - Happy 4th of July
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Below are videos representing some of the songs I’ve been listening to recently, hoping that the music will save me, even if the The Father and Son team who inspired them are dragging their feet. (Oops! Forgive me, God. Help me, Jesus!)
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First, a group called The Malibooz from an album titled ‘LIVING WATER (The Surfer’s Mass)’. You get a real feel for the sort of world we’re living in when you consider that Lady GagGag and Afro Dogg can become multi-millionaires turning out vacuous disco and rap crap respectively, while the gorgeous music contained on ‘Living Water’ goes uncelebrated:
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Mountains and hills and seas and rivers, bless the Lord
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Benedicite
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Found in letting go
Is where control resides
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Caught A Wave
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Here are a couple of Gospel tunes from the soundtrack of the movie ‘LEAP OF FAITH’. (One of the rare times in this modern age that Hollywood managed to make a movie about God and Christ without mocking Them.)
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I've been lonely, I've been cheated, I've been misunderstood; I've been washed up, I've been put down, and told I'm no good. But with You I belong, 'cause You helped me be strong. There's a change in my life since You came along. 
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John Pagano "Change In My Life" from the film "Leap Of Faith"
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Said, “He who has ears, let him hear”
He told the multitudes
And blessed be the pure of heart
For they shall see The Truth
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Patti LaBelle-Are You Ready For A Miracle ?
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Joel Chernoff is a “Messianic Jew” – that is, a Jew who still values some of the ancient traditions but who also recognizes that Jesus was indeed the Messiah sent to Israel, and who has accepted Salvation through the Blood of The Lamb. I think Joel has a beautifully smooth voice and he means what he sings.
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I Didn't Know (I Was Missing You) Joel Chernoff with lyrics
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Here’s Joel Chernoff in a hard-rocking mood and rejoicing because of promises from God to Israel. There’s bad news for the Muslim extremists: Not only is Islam a false religion and allah a demon, but Israel will NEVER be wiped off the map like they want. (Oh, gee, I sure hope I haven’t offended any assassins from “the religion of peace”. You gonna take me out? By all means, please do!)
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And one mo’ thang: Barack Hussein Obama is a Christian to the same degree that I’m a Muslim. (Has he ever, even once, told the truth about anything? Oh, wait. Yes, he has. He finally came out and told the truth about his support for gay marriage. Good for you, President Marxslim.)
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You tell those Muslims, Joel, you tell ‘em! . . .
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No Weapon Formed
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Saved the best for last. Mahalia Jackson, “The Queen Of Gospel Music”. I recently finished ‘Just Mahalia, Baby’ by Laurraine Goreau, the most disastrously presented biography I’ve ever read. It was written in this terribly tedious Ebonics style and was so poorly edited that it literally contained hundreds of pages of the most mind-numbing minutiae imaginable! The reader will come away from this gigantic book aware of every single time Mahalia had gas, swollen feet, or even thought about calling a doctor. I got to the point where I was wishing Mahalia would just die already so the damned book would come to an end!
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Nevertheless, there was of course some really good information in ‘Just Mahalia, Baby’. (How could there not be when every single moment of Mahalia’s life was chronicled in it?) I found Mahalia right after I found Jesus in 1994. I had gone into a little Christian bookstore that used to be in L.A.’s Westwood Village because I wanted some of that good ol’ Gospel music (like I’d heard in Disneyland’s ‘America Sings’ ride) to go with my newfound Salvation. (Thank you, Jesus!)
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I bought two double-CD boxed sets of Mahalia’s music and was simply blown away. At times, her singing (especially ‘Elijah Rock’ and ‘How I Got Over’) really did bring me to tears – tears of gratitude. Our gratitude: it’s the ONLY thing that we can give to God that He can’t get for Himself.
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Below are some favorite moments excerpted from the book ‘Just Mahalia, Baby’:
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When she was just 14 years old and dirt-poor in New Orleans, Mahalia said that Jesus “told me to open my mouth in His name.”
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I totally believe her, because she obviously had a God-given gift; how could one sing that well without any vocal training, and sing in that manner without any Divine inspiration deep inside of them?
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Anybody heard Mahalia, heard “Hallelujah!” whenever the spirit moved, and that’s the God’s truth.
~ Laurraine Goreau
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Yes, and over the years I also came to recognize on my own that when you find Mahalia starting in with that out-of-sync clapping, she is in the process of being filled by the living Holy Spirit of God; the clapping starts when her cup starts overflowing with the Spirit and it needs to be expressed even beyond her voice.
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Mr. Russell showed up. … He just wanted to tell her again how wonderful she’d been, how remarkable ‘Silent Night’ was; had everybody in church in tears. “How do you do it?” Mahalia fixed the full force of her being on him. “DON’T YOU KNOW?” she said in disgust. This man been around her all this much, and don’t know her singing’s from God.
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Ten days after Martin Luther King Jr. had been killed, Mahalia gave an Easter concert at the Forum in Inglewood, California. In singing the song ‘We Shall Overcome’, on the line “we shall all be free”, something pierced through her voice that exploded the teetering dam and the audience went up! out, over, onto the big stage in a screaming, shouting, crying, hollering, jumping mass. … It was a jubilee. Mahalia was pitched high . . . Weeeeeee shall over – yes!- we’ll overcome! Yes! Lord!”Mahalia was nowhere in this world. Gwen was still playing, tears running down … Yancey and one guard were guiding Mahalia down the long hall to the dressing room. She was still singing, echoes bouncing back on echoes in the narrow corridor … An hour and a half later, calm had come.
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And now my favorite Mahalia Jackson quote. This spoken before an audience in Japan...
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“There have been some very, very intellectual people that have gone around saying ‘God is dead.’ Well, He’s not dead,” said Mahalia, “because I talked to Him this morning.”
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Alright, let’s get on it!
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Mahalia often said that she wasn’t really singing for the audience; she was singing for God. Proof of that can be seen in this first video when she walks away from the microphone and she’s still singing her soul out. Obviously, it had nothing to do with her or those trying to hear her from the audience section; it was “souly” about praising God.
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It’s a fact that a number of people throughout Mahalia’s lifetime reported being healed of serious illnesses, both physical and emotional illnesses, while listening to Mahalia sing. Yes, she had a Divine gift, no doubt about it and no faith required – just listen.
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When Mahalia sings, audiences do more than just listen – they undergo a profoundly moving emotional experience.
~ People Today magazine
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You know, this one’s for the atheists. No one is going to sing like this for cheeseburgers. It’s about spirit and truth, it’s about a living God that created all things. This is the reason she sings, because God has put something special in her heart, and she is happy because of that! Yes, atheist, it’s true. And He loves you! God loves you.
~ Sorrel555; YouTube
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Mahalia Jackson Just A Closer Walk With Thee
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I don’t think this is Mahalia’s best version of ‘Elijah Rock’, although it does rock! (Hopefully this didn’t scare the White folk too much. Ha!) In these next two videos, concentrate on Mahalia’s eyes; when she was overflowing with The Holy Spirit, one can actually detect a strange, unearthly kind of light in her eyes. It’s not just a trick of the stage lighting either, because I’ve seen it over and over again, in live footage and even in still photographs.
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She sings as if it will hurt her if she cant get it out … Her vocal POWER has never been duplicated.
~ Elfeco; YouTube
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...And she was offstage still dancing, skirt hem lifted, head down, eyes closed, face in-drawn with her vision ... a half-shake of her head and Laurraine pulled young Kurt Collien’s arm away: “She’s in the spirit, she has to work it out.”
~ Laurraine Goreau
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Elijah Rock, Shout! Shout!
Elijah Rock, Comin' up, Lord!
~ Mahalia Jackson
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MAHALIA JACKSON Live during European tour late 1960's
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You know I’m gonna sing and never get tired.
~ Mahalia Jackson (song: ‘How I Got Over’)
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Let me sing all day and never get tired.
~ Van Morrison (song: ‘Give Me My Rapture’)
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Saved the best of the best for last. Mahalia Jackson singing ‘HOW I GOT OVER’ in concert. Despite the many visual glitches in the video, it is SO worth watching and listening to.
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In my opinion, this is the most Divinely-inspired vocal performance ever, and hence the most powerful and intense vocal performance of all time! Mahalia’s face is just so beautiful and there’s that unearthly, spiritual light that can be discerned shining in her eyes as this song just pours out of her! When you see Mahalia start in with that odd, non-rhythmic clapping at the four minute and eight second mark (4:08), you know it’s on! Scoot over, baby, ‘cause The Holy Spirit’s drivin’ this Cadillac now. You just ride shotgun and hang on! 
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Mahalia Jackson--How I got over LIVE
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Why did there have to be a heavy cross He was made to bear?
And why did they nail His feet and hands
When His love would have held Him there?
~ Michael Card (1994 song: ‘Why?’)
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Now if I can just ‘Keep My Hand On The Plow’, and if someone will hire me away from my current employer.  Got job?
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Got Jesus? Got God? Got healing? Got peace o’ mind?
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How I’m Getting Over: Great Gospel music, a bottle opener, and multiple 12-ounce doses of medicine. However, I’m keeping my .38 Smith & Wesson revolver loaded and handy just in case those fail me. One way or another, this boy’s goin’ to find his peace of mind, even if that mind winds up sprayed all over one of his bedroom walls like a George Romero movie poster. (Just jesting, Jesus. He'p me, Father!) 
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~ Stephen T. McCarthy
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