half-sheep, half human born in Turkey and Nigeria
Details behind the above photo: [ http://www.theblaze.com/stories/half-sheep-half-human-locals-claim-baby-mutant-born-in-nigeria/ ]
White House recently sought to remove prohibition of bestiality clause from Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ): [http://www.stripes.com/news/language-banning-sodomy-bestiality-to-stay-in-ucmj-1.163380 ]
[Caldwell, Taylor. Dialogues With The Devil. New York: Doubleday & Co., 1967. pp 18-22.] Please see Taylor Caldwell’s Dialogues With The Devil (1967) #1 of 22 for an introduction to this serialization.
GREETINGS to my brother, Lucifer . . .
I have read your letter with sorrow, for I know the anguish of your spirit. I, too, remember you, and your grand appearance and the glory of your presence. How is it possible, I often ask myself, for poor men to resist you, who are so many apparitions, all of them seductive? So small a foe, man! So helpless, so feeble, so confused, so blind, so dejected, so little! I look upon him and weep. The wonder to me is not that he has often rejected and blasphemed God, but that he has remembered Him so long, despite the scorners and the philosophers and the erudite scholars. The wonder to me is not that he resists the tender blandishments of the Lord in such multitudes, but that so many men — though you would deny this — hold Him so preciously to their hearts and adore His Name daily after their death, and they turn from you as they turned from you in life, and they fly like radiant birds to the bosom of their Lord.
You would scornfully call this “simplicity.” But virtue is simple and easily understood. It is only evil that is complex, complicated, twisted in all its ways, and devious. Virtue is a stream of bright water going faithfully to the sea. But evil winds through many passages and gorges and chasms, and it takes on many intricate colors and hides itself in alien caverns. Evil has a thousand conversations and uncountable perverse rituals. It is a thousand undisciplined wheels within a wheel, all zealously spinning. Life, on the contrary, is direct and without guile, and has no arguments, for Life is, and there can be no argument in the presence of order. Evil lives in a multitude of philosophies and controversies and conjectures and speculations. It attempts, always, to argue Life out of existence, and is triumphant only where there is nothingness. In short, it is death.
There is, in evil men, the will to die, to be absolved from the burden of being, to be rescued from seeking an answer — though the answer is so plain and so unequivocal. Evil seeks absolution from the necessity to accept. It shares one thing in common with virtue — the desire for adherents. Man cannot live alone, either in virtue or in evil. As virtue cannot tolerate the vile, neither can the vile tolerate the just. One must perish. You will say that evil is always victorious. No, not always, for does Life not endure? Life cannot exist in the presence of death and midnight cannot be while the suns shine.
The poor men on Terra shout passionately, “Life is not lucid! There is no simplistic answer to being! Life is complicated and involved and has many faces, and who can say which face is reality?” But Life has only one Face, in truth, and that is the Face of God, and before Him there is no torturous path, no concealed passages, no multitude of answers, no confusion, no “This is the way, but on the other hand, this may be the way also.” Man’s mind, assisted by yours, becomes a hive of cells, each with a contradictory life entombed, each with an individual insistence, each with a different clamoring voice, each with a refuting reply. Only in the pure honey of truth is there one flow of sweetness, and there is naught so simple as honey.
Our Father does not dwell in the labyrinthine places. He lives in the sun where there is no concealment. But defiled in soul by you, man exclaims, “Where is God? I do not see Him! All is darkness. He has asked me, in this darkness, to be docile and accept as simply as does the beast of the field, or an infant in arms and at its mother’s breast.”
Yet the Lord has said so plainly, “You must be as children, to inherit the Kingdom of Heaven.” Children do not question obliquely and in large words and in erudite phrases, nor do they accept the words of the old wise and reject the evidence that is before them. They see clearly and in whole, and not obscurely and in part.
You have told man that he has reason, and therefore he is like unto the gods and is aware of good and evil. But you have shown him only his own passions and his own desires and have urged him not to refuse them but to gratify them, for are they not his inherent nature? His reason is perverted by his intimate lusts, which you stimulate, and tempt in delectable form. He has no merit of his own, but only those merits granted by the Grace of God. Instinctively, in childhood, man recognizes this. It is only with learning that he glorifies that which he calls his “reason.” So sad a little creature, so worthy of mercy, in his helplessness! The wisest of the men of Terra are the most stupid, the most refractory, the most blinded. But, are they the wise in truth? No, they are the most absolutely dumb and null. Only the simple are wise in all the ways of wisdom, for when they ask they perceive the answer, and immediately. You have called this infantile, and men have listened to you through the ages. The spiral to them is fascinating and the more it curves about itself the more delighted they are, and they call it subtlety. The straight way is jejune to their contorted spirits. It lacks sophistication. Sad little man, strutting on his dung-heap and crowing defiantly at the sun as it rises, and often believing that without his crow the sun would not come up at all! At the worst, he is convinced that his dung-heap is the center of the universe and that the beat of his wings is heard to the farthest star.
Yet, Our Father chose to take on the flesh of this miserable small creature, this blind little mouse, this impudent manikin. This has angered and insulted you, as you have said so often through the eons. But God did not do this to torment you, as you say. He does not inflict suffering on His children. He had His reasons. You have written that if He does not erase the memory of man from all the planets, not only Terra, you will do it. That cannot be, unless He wills that you have your will. It is true that He sank ancient continents of Terra below the waters, and you exulted that the race was destroyed. But he rescued a few, and raised up other continents for their life and fertility and their ultimate hope. Your thunderbolts did not destroy the ark as it rose and fell on the vast and landless seas, nor were the inhabitants affrighted. It was not the will of Our Father that they be lost, but that they have life. There may come a day when God shall will that you have your way, but that day lives only in His mind, and you cannot know it.
You will have no pity. It was absurd of me to ask it, for I know your loathing for this bloody little ball of mud which committed the great crime of Deicide, and continues to commit it. Nevertheless, your very wrath against it gives me heart, for it was out of your love for Our Father that you have found Terra so outrageous. But even if God had chosen Madra, the most beautiful and splendid planet in all the universes, to be born of her, you would still have been fired with anger, for men live on Madra also, and mankind is your curse. You tempted man to fall ten thousand times ten thousand eons ago, and when he fell you fell with him also. He is your anathema as you are his. When he echoes you and blasphemes, it does not rejoice you. You would obliterate him for the very words you taught him! You would kill him for the evils he has embraced, though you invented those evils and filled his arms with them.
It is man’s weakness before you that fills you with fury, yet you touch him with weakness in his mother’s womb. When you say to him, “I am your only god, your only reality,” and he bows before you in worship, you would smite him unto immediate death. Ah, Lucifer, once Star of Morning, you are the very father of man’s incredible infamy, and while you demand his adoration you simultaneously demand that he die!
This is not a marvel to me, you who are a slave of slaves. But it is my sorrow. It is the sorrow of all your brothers also. But, who knows? One fair noon you may arise to the gates of Heaven on the ladder raised by men, and in striking on them you may cry, “Alleluia!”
Your brother, Michael