They are translated and see things not lawful to utter, and they are now ministering among men.

They are translated and see things not lawful to utter, and they are now ministering among men.
Preface to 3 Nephi , Chapter 28.

Among the worldlings are they hid,

to minister as Christ may bid.

Made immortal and obscure,

their hearts are wholly clean and pure.

What they have seen in vision must

remain with them till Earth is dust.

But know, ye saints, that they are here

to work God's will and banish fear.

Shootings Renew Debate Over How to Combat Domestic Terrorism (NYT)

when I knocked on Crazy Henry's door this afternoon he told me that he couldn't open the door to let me in because he had installed a new deadbolt lock, along with an electronic surveillance system that kept his windows automatically shut and locked and now he couldn't figure out how to work them so they would open. he was trapped inside his own apartment.
"why didja do all that stuff for?" I asked him.
"domestic terrorism" he replied. "I'm trying to keep it out of my life."
and for once, what he said made sense. so I told him to call 911 to come break him out and went back home, where I began looking online for a home security system. but when I saw the prices I decided to bag that and concentrate on never going anywhere where I might get shot, like the movies or work or a shopping mall or a government office. basically, I'm just staying inside like a hermit. I'll be safe as long as I live my life completely online -- until a hacker breaks in and destroys my life. at that point I'll set off to find the Marmalade Fields with my belongings wrapped in a large red bandana hanging from the end of a stick. 

‘No one can avoid capture forever’: Millionaire accused of killing his wife caught after four years on the run (WaPo)

I've been accused of many things in my life, but never of being a millionaire. those men of mystery who leak hundred dollar bills out of the very pores of their skin and wear top hats like the Monopoly Man as they stroll portentously through their mansions that all look like the one in The Beverly Hillbillies. 
Although I once got a check from Wells Fargo for eighteen-hundred dollars. that sure made me feel like a millionaire, cuz at the time I was living with my mother and sleeping on a hide abed. the circus owed me six weeks back salary, which, I might add, they never did pay me. so I was broke and had to stay with my mother -- and I stayed on with her because she was dying of congestive heart failure and didn't want to go in a nursing home so I took care of her in her own apartment until the end -- at which point I wound up homeless, since they wouldn't let me stay on in her apartment cuz it was strictly for seniors. I began sleeping on another hide abed in a friend's basement over in Roseville. I'd like to see just one stinking millionaire sleep on a hide abed for just one night. sleeping on a lumpy hide abed would turn anyone into a killer -- even a millionaire.

In a laundry list of reasons why the United States is grappling with mass killings, an Ohio state lawmaker has settled on immigrants, same-sex marriage, transgender rights, disrespect toward veterans and “drag queen advocates.” (WaPo)

the reason, or rather reasons, I yelled at my dog yesterday include the Bay of Fundy, the Fed's intention to lower the interest rate, macaroni salad, and the loss of hearing in my right nostril.
but of course the main problem here is that I don't even own a dog. I yelled at my neighbor's dog, which is indicative of the fractured polity of things here in the United States. 
I would not have yelled at that particular dog if it had not given me the fish eye while I was out on my patio grilling a large juicy suspect. even then I could have let things slide except that I was daydreaming about the Marmalade Fields, wishing I could go there this fall on a Albanian Cruise Line ship with unlimited shrimp bar privileges -- and then that doggone dog next door had to intrude on my daydreams with its hangdog stare.
only, in the interests of truth, it was not so much a dog as it was a cat -- a stray cat that I had once tried to feed some spoiled liver to. it had turned up its nose at my kindly gesture, which is why I began planning a mass emailing. 

For he is the same yesterday, today, and forever

For he is the same yesterday, today, and forever . . . 

1 Nephi 10:18

Changeless is the God of Hope;

Nothing missing from His scope.

Past and present, by and by,

lay before His sophic eye.

Our perceptions, weak and vain,

of Him either shrink or gain;

but His love I testify

changes not by earth or sky.  

Postcard to the President

Postcard to the President

Close the Curtain on ‘Miss Saigon’ (NYT)

a touch. that's all.
a smile. just that.
anything else and everything else is so much driftwood; cast up on the shore after drowning. when I drowned I floated and sank, sank and floated, until the shore smiled at me. touched my arm. then I shook myself like a wet dog, and began acting like a wet dog. faithful. trusting. a bit of slobber on her cheek. I was the submissive one. so pliable I was turned inside out, with my sleeve on my heart. from driftwood to dog. from dog to demi-bank. so I rented a bungalow with a fishpond and papaya trees. the sun came up on tilapia jumping over snails and little boys weeding orchids. when the smoke of burning rice fields finally cleared she was gone. and my visa expired. I went back to drowning, being pale and waterlogged.   
a touch, just that.
a smile, that's all. 

Pleasing unto God

 Wherefore, the things which are pleasing unto the world I do not write, but the things which are pleasing unto God and unto those who are not of the world.

1 Nephi 6:5

Tis easy pleasing all the world

with fancy words and dress;

to dance with folly and with greed

while seeking for success.

The world applauds the cunning man

and makes of him a star,

while those who humbly quiet stay

do not go very far.

Yet comes the day when worldly fame

will not buy any peace,

and those who pushed the world away

will find their soul's release.

Craving Freedom, Japan’s Women Opt Out of Marriage (NYT)

craving a banana, I set out on a voyage of discovery. first I booked passage on a tugboat bound for Winnipeg. then I worked my way across the vast granite shield of Mumble to the place where library paste flows like wine. I knew freedom would not be mine to enjoy until I found a way into the Marmalade Fields. my path led through the self-righteous tweet bogs and deprecating mothball hills; once I almost gave up my quest when my sturdy Hungarian flutist ran off with the Applesauce Gang -- but I forgave the poor man; after all, his grandmother had been a meter maid. 
sheltering in a cave I accidentally tipped over a large boulder underneath which I found the seven scrolls of Gig. they taught me how to be totally independent and never rely on anyone else. soon I was master of my own ship and set sail for the Marmalade Fields. which turned out to be closed on Sundays. coming back I fell into a terrible storm that shipwrecked me on the Isle of Matchmakers, where I was enslaved for fifteen years until a flotilla of egg cartons slipped into the bay and bombarded the fort into surrender. all slaves were released so I headed for home -- where I found the laundry still waiting for me with open arms.