A Letter From Us to Your Wife
Dear Mrs. X,
I hope this note finds you well. You might sometimes wonder what exactly your husband is up to on Tuesday evenings. I'm writing to share a bit about where he is and what he's doing. He's in a safe place, surrounded by good people who genuinely care about him—perhaps even more than he realizes himself. We're a group who sees value in each other's lives, inspired by the spirit of support found in Philippians 2:3. We're all rooting for him, celebrating his progress and feeling for him when he's down on himself.
Your husband has shown remarkable honesty with us, the kind that only comes when someone feels truly accepted and secure. Our discussions dive deep into meaningful topics, and he's right there with us, sharing openly and trusting the group. He occasionally reaches out to check in or to share a struggle, reinforcing the importance of mutual support and the healing power of confession. I hope you feel a sense of pride in his journey.
He's demonstrated a strong character, openly discussing his challenges and showing a sincere commitment to improvement. He's sought out positive influences and wise advice, and we're all committed to supporting him in any way we can.
As a son of God, he's working on deepening his faith and reliance, learning to balance effort with trust in divine support. His attempts to live up to expectations, sometimes trying too hard, are a testament to his desire to grow and improve.
In speaking of you, his respect and love are evident. He speaks highly of you, grateful for your grace and support. It's clear he values you immensely, and any disrespect is unimaginable in our gatherings. He aspires to be the husband you deserve, Faithful and True and better than any country song you hear on the radio.
I consider your husband a dear friend, brought into my life for a purpose. My affection and prayers extend to him, as well as to you and your family, especially during times of need. His commitment to bettering himself for you and your family is admirable and not something every man is willing to undertake.
Thank you for supporting him in his journey with us. It's evident how much he cherishes you. Please continue to stand by him. He’s a kind soul who greatly appreciates your partnership. Rest assured, his Tuesday night friends hold him in the highest regard.
Warm regards,
A Tuesday Evening Friend
Philippians 2:3 "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,"
Just a Little Longer
A Love Letter From Our Addiction
by GYE
Dear Friend,
I have come to visit once again. I love to see you suffer mentally, physically, spiritually, and socially. I want to make you restless so you can never relax. I want to make you jumpy, nervous, and anxious. I want to make you agitated and irritable so everything and everybody makes you uncomfortable.
I want you to be confused and depressed, so that you can't think clearly and positively. I want you to feel guilty and remorseful for the things you have done in the past and you'll never be able to let go of. I want to make you angry and hateful toward the world for the way it is and the way you are. I want you to feel sorry for yourself and blame everything but me for the way things are. I want you to be deceitful and untrustworthy and to manipulate and con as many people as possible. I want to make you feel fearful and paranoid for no reason at all. I want to make you wake up all hours of the night screaming for me. You know you can't sleep without me, I'm even in your dreams. I want to be the first thing you think about every morning and the last thing you think about before you black-out.
I'd rather kill you, but I'd be happy enough to put you back in the hospital, another institution, or jail. But you know that I'll be waiting for you when you get out. I love to watch you slowly go insane. I can't help but sneer and chuckle when you shiver and shake; when you freeze and sweat at the same time; when you wake up with the sheets and blankets soaking wet. It's amusing to watch you ignore yourself; not eating, not sleeping, not even attending your personal hygiene.
Yes, it's amazing how much destruction I can be to your internal organs while at the same time working on your brain, destroying it bit by bit.
I deeply appreciate how much you are sacrificing for me. The countless good jobs you have given up for me; all the friends that you deeply cared for, you gave up for me.
And what's more, the ones you turned yourself against because of your inexcusable actions. I am eternally grateful, especially for the loved ones, family and the more important people in the world that you have turned yourself against. You threw even those away for me!
But do not despair, my friend, for on me you can always depend. After you have lost all these things, you can still depend on me to take even more. You can depend on me to keep you in living HELL, mind, body, and soul. For I will not be satisfied until you ARE DEAD, my friend.
Forever Yours,
Your Addiction
A Riddle
_I am gross and perverted_
_I’m obsessed and deranged_
_I have existed for years_
_But very little has changed_
_I am a tool of the government_
_And industry too_
_For I am destined to rule_
_And regulate you_
_I may be vile and pernicious_
_But you can’t look away_
_I make you think I’m delicious_
_With the stuff that I say_
_I’m the best you can get_
_Have you guessed me yet?_
_I’m the slime oozing out_
_From your
I'm The Slime from the 1973 album Over-Nite Sensation by Frank Zappa and The Mothers.
The Slime
by CD
Once upon a modern dreariness, nestled between the flickering shadows of yesterday and the blinding lights of the future, television transformed. That magical box that united families, kindled imaginations, brought stories from all over the world, and invited us to laugh, think and wonder together had morphed, – a chameleon darkened by the passage of five short decades.
In the beginning, its glow was a beacon, drawing in weary souls seeking solace, laughter, and dreams. It was a communal hearth where stories danced like flames, enlightening minds and warming hearts. But as the years rolled by, the vibrant hues of creativity and unity faded into a monochromatic haze.
What used to be a source of joy and unity turned into something ugly. The era of enlightenment decayed into the age of excess. Television, once the dreamweaver, became the dreamstealer. It transformed oh so gradually into a siren, luring viewers with the promise of escapism, only to slime us as portrayed by Frank Zappa and The Mothers.
The screen, once a window to worlds unseen and voices unheard, became a mirror, reflecting and magnifying society's most poisonous underbelly. It reveled in the sordid dance of reality unbound by ethics and we ate it up, slowly turning us into zombies by the process of osmosis.
God has been forgotten and replaced with “I am God. I can solve all of my own problems.” Television nudged that agenda along. Truth was its first casualty followed by the sacrifice of human dignity. Gone were the days of gentle lessons and heartfelt connections. In their stead rose a buffet of chaos, confusion, and shock value. Sensationalism sat enthroned, crowned by apathy.
As the clock ticks toward another uncertain dawn, the television– coupled with the exponential wickedness of the internet, stands, a monument to what was and a warning of what is. It is the Pandora's box of a new era, unleashing untold ills under the guise of enlightenment as we are bombarded with reality shows that make us cringe and news that paralyzes us with anxiety. Walter Cronkite must be rolling over in his grave.
Yet hope—dim and distant—remains. For in the hands of the conscious, the remote wields the power to switch off, to awaken from the trance, and to remember the stories worth telling, those that unite rather than divide, illuminate rather than obscure, heal rather than harm.
SRV Quote
“I’d like to talk to you all for a second if I can, cause you know basically I got to start off thanking God that I'm alive and well enough to be with you today, and that all is as well as it is. You see, less than two years ago I found myself in a real bad situation; I found myself down on the ground, and I couldn't get up, and I mean I was trying, and I couldn't. All I'm telling you about is...you see I thought I could stay at the party forever. It don't work that way, 'cause that shit’ll kill you. That stuff will kill you. What I'm asking you to do is just stay away from them drugs and things, 'cause what they do is they eat you inside out, you know. They make you forget about those people that you really love, and they make you run from love, 'cause you can't stand how good it looks. I'm asking you to take care of yourselves, so you can be there for your brothers and sisters when they need you. Are you with me?”
Stevie Ray Vaughan 1987
One Slip
Songwriters: David Gilmour, Phil Manzanera
A restless eye across a weary room
A glazed look and I was on the road to ruin
The music played and played as we whirled without end
No hint, no word her honour to defend
I will, I will she sighed to my request
And then she tossed her mane while my resolve was put to the test
Then drowned in desire, our souls on fire
I led the way to the funeral pyre
And without a thought of the consequence
I gave in to my decadence
One slip, and down the hole we fall
It seems to take no time at all
A momentary lapse of reason
That binds a life for life
A small regret, you won't forget
There'll be no sleep in here tonight
Was it love, or was it the idea of being in love?
Or was it the hand of fate, that seemed to fit just like a glove?
The moment slipped by and soon the seeds were sown
The year grew late and neither one wanted to remain alone
One slip, and down the hole we fall
It seems to take no time at all
A momentary lapse of reason
That binds a life to a life
The one regret, you will never forget
There'll be no sleep in here tonight
Acceptance
"One of the great tragedies of life is when a beautiful theory is murdered by an ugly gang of facts"Freedom's Just Another Word
George Hanson: They’re not scared of you. They’re scared of what you represent to ’em.
Billy: Hey, man. All we represent to them, man, is somebody who needs a haircut.
George Hanson: Oh, no. What you represent to them is freedom.
Billy: What the hell is wrong with freedom? That’s what it’s all about.
George Hanson: Oh, yeah, that’s right. That’s what’s it’s all about, all right. But talkin’ about it and bein’ it, that’s two different things. I mean, it’s real hard to be free when you are bought and sold in the marketplace. Of course, don’t ever tell anybody that they’re not free, ’cause then they’re gonna get real busy killin’ and maimin’ to prove to you that they are. Oh, yeah, they’re gonna talk to you, and talk to you, and talk to you about individual freedom. But they see a free individual, it’s gonna scare ’em.