Hello, my friends,
We've met before. I'm Envy. I've been around since the Garden of Eden. You can't help but be attracted to my lovely shade of bright neon green. There are few who don't love to bask in the light of my glow. Whether by day or night, I will get your attention. It's what I do. My sole purpose is to take your focus off your path, your work, your family, your friends, and especially off of God. It is easy to do. I simply give you a glimpse at what is just beyond your reach.
Look, just over there--that path across the way.
And, there. Your buddy's job is quite prestigious, isn't it?
Who's that across the street? Isn't that your neighbor's wife and three adorable boys. She's stacked, seems built for pleasure, if you know what I mean. Her husband is buff, no wonder he has a wife like her. You could use some time at the gym, don't you think? And those boys always win trophies. Your boys seldom do. Such a shame.
Wow, what was that? Oh, yes, it's your brother's flashy, red Porsche. What car do you drive? A Honda CRV. Hmm, well, I suppose it is practical. At least it's red.
Where's your boss, today? In Switzerland, skiing in the Alps? Didn't he fly there in his own private jet? When was the last time you took a vacation? Oh, that's right, you took the family on a camping trip to Turner Falls, Oklahoma. I guess you were surrounded by mountains if you can call those hills mountains.
Are you catching on, yet?
I enlighten you on all the things which you don't have, which you should have, which you must have! I disparage every good blessing you experience, by comparison. God's will in the matter is no longer important. All you see is what I put before you through selfish eyes of mortal finite sight. Ultimately, as I did to Adam and Eve, I draw you to God's Power, Dominion, and Creations, but away from Him.
I am your Master, and a good one. I drive you to work longer hours to get that raise that will enable you to afford that new Porsche. I encourage you to get that higher education even if you have to take out student loans of nearly insurmountable debt to gain the degree and skills to obtain that grand salary like your brother Bill. I will convince you to take out a second mortgage to pay for that mountain cabin. I will insist that you max out your credit cards to take that European Vacation. It will, after all, be so educational for the kids. Then, I keep you striving for more, always trudging to pay off your debts--so that you don't ruin your credit.
When the opportunities run out to achieve greater success, the credit is shot, the economy has gone south, or you just don't want to work that hard--I whisper in your ear that it's okay to appropriate that envelope of petty cash in your bosses drawer, to funnel some of the corporation's funds into your own anonymous account, to steal your friend's dress and a neat pair of shoes out of her closet the next time you visit, to beat up the guy who lives two doors down, whom you never liked, and take his $150.00 basketball shoes that you noticed happen to be your size.
I started the First Truly Worldwide Green Movement. They have it. We want it. Let's take it. Slaves, land, villages, towns, cities, states, kingdoms, countries, nations, and empires were overcome by my green glow, painting the streets with the red blood of my subjects. Too bad the innocent get in the way. Red is such a complimentary color to green, don't you think?
I have helped raise trillions of dollars for all those lovely, irritating commercials that interrupt your shows and sports games. Because of me, trillions more are raised to cover the medical expenses of my stressed-out servants. You know, all that anxiety is bad for the heart, causes cancer and increases the size of your waistlines. With more things comes more responsibility, and the need to protect what you have from those other people who want your stuff and aren't afraid to take it.
Of course, I am also the one who stimulates the growth of law enforcement; the legal system; the prisons; the emergency rooms; the hospitals; the latest greatest drug to cure those stress-related illnesses or numb the pain of a frantic or shallow existence. I am at the giver of the best high and dangle false hopes of the promise of youth.
I am the reason for the necessity of military spending. The size of the trade deficit and the National Debt of the Greatest Nation Under God on this planet are two of my grandest achievements. Soon I hope to bring down all governments through my influence upon the younger generation whom I have convinced that they are entitled to higher wages, welfare, healthcare, fancy clothes, tasty delights, fast cars, bling, cell phones, entertainment, higher education, housing, drugs, and alcohol--whatever they fancy really. Doesn't this seem reasonable?
I've convinced even my hardest workers that this is only fair. They don't mind, and if they do, no matter. They will keep working for me because they can never be satisfied. Even if they should find satisfaction, the rest of my restless, selfish clan will force the best and brightest to keep up the pace or suffer the consequences.
Yes, Yes. I know this will wreak havoc and chaos, but so it must to reset the game. Throughout history, I have been the catalyst of the collapse of even the greatest of Empires. Me! Little old Envy. Who would have thought?
God knew all along what I could do, would do. He established a commandment against me. Oh, you know. the tenth. Do not covet? Remember? No? So few of you guessed it. I'm not surprised. My dazzling neon green self has distracted you from even caring what God wants, you only care what you want. In fact, because of me, more and more of you have forgotten God. Many others never saw Him, don't believe He exists. And, without His light in the way--my light is ever so much brighter.
It's such a shame, really, that so few know Him. He's awesome in wonder. He did create the entire universe with a word. His inspiration is behind true innovation, wisdom, and knowledge. He is Love--not the wishy-washy, fickle affections and lusts that I tantalize you with, but real unconditional, sacrificial, steadfast, eternal love.
Get this, (even this brings tears to my eyes), He sent His only begotten Son to be born as one of you, a human, mortal, but perfect in obedience, love, and faith, to die as a sacrifice for your sins, an excruciating, humiliating death on a cross, that all of you can have eternal life with Him. That's how much He loves you.
You are a pathetic lot. I don't know what the Almighty sees in you, let alone understand how He can love you. He's so perfect, so radiant. In Him is the fulness of peace and joy. He is Love. How can He stand you? I don't get it.
I, Envy, envy those who find Him in spite of my distractions. I don't, however, envy the rest of you who sell yourselves short for a lessor light like me. Hell is what's in store for you. Hell is where I'll be spending Eternity, so you, who bathe in my light, will also be serving me there. We can be miserably unsatisfied and tormented over this unfathomable love and mercy that such a God would give to wretched humans. Until then, keep up the hard work, and live the impossible, never-ending dream of more and better.
Lori Vidak
Revised 3-12-20
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Friday, May 16, 2014
Is Your God Green?
Whether you think that marijuana should be legalized or not, if you smoke the weed, has it become your God? Think about it? do you spend more time smoking it, thinking about it, growing it, fraternizing with fellow pot smokers and talking about it than just about anything else. Do you spend more money on pot than you can afford? Perhaps more than on dates with your significant other, on gifts for your mom, on your education? Do you spend more on pot than you give back to help others?
Can you walk away from that next hit, with not another thought as to if you'll ever take another?
Anything that controls your life, becomes the center of your life, or influences your life to the point that you identify with it and others identify you because of it, has become an idol in your life--a green one. Maybe you don't care. Maybe you do. But, I personally wouldn't want to rely upon the almighty weed to help me put my life in order, to supply all my needs, or give me eternal life.
Maybe you think you hear directly from God because you smoke weed, but I tell you that the Creator God doesn't need weed to enhance communication. In fact, being under the influence of any intoxicant makes you open to the voice and influence of demons and dark spirits, not God. If you want to hear from God, clear your head, and open your heart to Him, don't clutter up your brain with green fog.
If you are simply a casual smoker, as some people are casual drinkers, I do not say that pot of itself is evil or that it will keep you from your salvation. I only say that when we play around with anything that can interfere with our thought processes and open us up to making dumb decisions, we reap what we sew.
If you smoke marijuana, or are considering it, think on what it is really doing for you. Would your life be more or less fulfilled without it? Only you can answer that question. Leave a comment and let me know your answer. You can tell me what you think is good about the plant, or you can leave a comment about a bad experience with it.
Lori Vidak
5-16-14
Can you walk away from that next hit, with not another thought as to if you'll ever take another?
Anything that controls your life, becomes the center of your life, or influences your life to the point that you identify with it and others identify you because of it, has become an idol in your life--a green one. Maybe you don't care. Maybe you do. But, I personally wouldn't want to rely upon the almighty weed to help me put my life in order, to supply all my needs, or give me eternal life.
Maybe you think you hear directly from God because you smoke weed, but I tell you that the Creator God doesn't need weed to enhance communication. In fact, being under the influence of any intoxicant makes you open to the voice and influence of demons and dark spirits, not God. If you want to hear from God, clear your head, and open your heart to Him, don't clutter up your brain with green fog.
If you are simply a casual smoker, as some people are casual drinkers, I do not say that pot of itself is evil or that it will keep you from your salvation. I only say that when we play around with anything that can interfere with our thought processes and open us up to making dumb decisions, we reap what we sew.
If you smoke marijuana, or are considering it, think on what it is really doing for you. Would your life be more or less fulfilled without it? Only you can answer that question. Leave a comment and let me know your answer. You can tell me what you think is good about the plant, or you can leave a comment about a bad experience with it.
Lori Vidak
5-16-14
Friday, May 9, 2014
My Dad's Green Fog
Okay, I'm giving you fair warning that this is body humor, maybe vulgar, and definitely crude, but the embarrassing moments of being human gave birth to humor, if you have a sense of it. So, if you are offended by this post, I gave you fair warning. And if you are offended--lighten up!
Before I ever knew a thing about pot, and the literal green fog that those who toke it make, my Dad was the creator of the only Green Fog I had ever heard of until I was 19 years old. Let me tell you a bit about Dad. He was a Texan, from generations of Texans. He was raised on biscuits and gravy for breakfast and beans for lunch and dinner with whatever fruit or veggie relatives could grow. He loved his coffee thick and black. His favorite sandwiches were baloney and peanut butter. He ate garlic on everything, and lots of it, except for the peanut butter. He mostly wore overalls and long-sleeved snap up or button up cotton shirts, sometimes he'd were jeans, but belts didn't always hold up his britches very well. He was a collector of anything he thought might be of some use. And he had an aversion to most types of soap. He was old school when it came to baths, once a month, maybe once a year was fine, with a little bit of washin' in the morning. He was a mechanic and a tinkerer and loved being outside in the heat. Didn't mind a good sweat.
My first memory of Dad's Green Fog was the night he took Mom, my brother Doug and me to the drive-in to see--I don't remember--but it could have been James Bond, John Wayne, Disney or some cheesy Dracula movie. We had beans and hot dogs for dinner. The windows were rolled up so that we could hear the mono sound speaker more clearly. Doug and I were in the back seat. Dad let one rip. At first we all laughed at the sound. It was a classic--what every whoopy cushion hopes to produce when it becomes the practical joke of some kid or grandpa. Then, we gagged when the odious stench hit our nostrils. Tears squeezed from our eyes as our laughter turned into uncontrollable hysterics. This was the worst kind of laughing gas. We began to roll down the windows. Back then we had a Studebaker, with no power windows, but I don't think I've ever seen a power window roll down so fast as our little arms did that night. After we were able to finally speak, we begged to be allowed to sit up on the roof of the car. Dad had to say yes. He had exposed us to the toxic bean gas heavily loaded with garlic fumes. From that night on, my brother and I either sat up on top of the car or brought lawn chairs to the drive-in because Mom always forgot and fixed beans and hot dogs before the movie.
The second memory of Dad's Green Fog B was on Saturday, after he had some home from working the night shift at Navajo Freight Lines. At the time we had two Basenji dogs, Kufu and Fala. Fala usually found a spot near Mom to park, but Kufu owned the coach, that is when Dad didn't claim it and this morning Dad was sitting in Kufu's spot, so Kufu sat at Dad's feet. Dad kicked off his shoes. My brother and I were watching Saturday morning cartoons, when we were suddenly hit with a wave of what smelled like nasty, moldy cheese and rotting corpse. We turned to see the squiggly hot odor lines rising out of Dad's shoes and from his socks. We pinched our noses closed and whined. Kufu, however, loved the smell so much that he buried his nose in one of the shoes. He rolled over on his back doing the happy dog. Then he rolled back over and stuck his nose in the shoe again. He sniffed deep. It was the first time I'd ever seen and heard a dog sneeze, and sneeze, and sneeze, and sneeze! My Dad laughed so hard he cried, and my brother and I rolled around on the floor giggling.
The third memory of Dad's Green Fog C was after Dad had been working in the yard. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the back of a chair. He always wore an undershirt, the classic short sleeved, white t-shirt. His back was bothering him, so he laid down on the floor. This was a chance for my brother and I to tickle him. We crawled all over him, trying to find his tickle spots, and when we found one, he'd laugh then grab hold of us and put us under his arm in a vice. His pungent armpits were a torture trap. We squirmed, cried and laughed, trying to get away. Then when we did, our hair would smell like his pits. We thought it was funny, but when Mom would catch a whiff of us, we would get a bath in Mr. Bubble to wash the stench out. Now that I think about it, the smell of my Dad's pits, a skunk and Pot are very similar, except that my Dad's odors or the skunks never gave me a headache.
As Dad grew old, his achievements in stench became legendary. Now that he's gone, I wish he were around surrounded by his own personal brand of Green Fog to stink up the room and the furniture. I miss him. He was eccentric, but he was a good dad in the most important areas of life. He taught us to love God, believe in the saving work of Jesus, provided as best he could, and studied the bible with us long before we ever entered a church door. I love him.
Before I ever knew a thing about pot, and the literal green fog that those who toke it make, my Dad was the creator of the only Green Fog I had ever heard of until I was 19 years old. Let me tell you a bit about Dad. He was a Texan, from generations of Texans. He was raised on biscuits and gravy for breakfast and beans for lunch and dinner with whatever fruit or veggie relatives could grow. He loved his coffee thick and black. His favorite sandwiches were baloney and peanut butter. He ate garlic on everything, and lots of it, except for the peanut butter. He mostly wore overalls and long-sleeved snap up or button up cotton shirts, sometimes he'd were jeans, but belts didn't always hold up his britches very well. He was a collector of anything he thought might be of some use. And he had an aversion to most types of soap. He was old school when it came to baths, once a month, maybe once a year was fine, with a little bit of washin' in the morning. He was a mechanic and a tinkerer and loved being outside in the heat. Didn't mind a good sweat.
My first memory of Dad's Green Fog was the night he took Mom, my brother Doug and me to the drive-in to see--I don't remember--but it could have been James Bond, John Wayne, Disney or some cheesy Dracula movie. We had beans and hot dogs for dinner. The windows were rolled up so that we could hear the mono sound speaker more clearly. Doug and I were in the back seat. Dad let one rip. At first we all laughed at the sound. It was a classic--what every whoopy cushion hopes to produce when it becomes the practical joke of some kid or grandpa. Then, we gagged when the odious stench hit our nostrils. Tears squeezed from our eyes as our laughter turned into uncontrollable hysterics. This was the worst kind of laughing gas. We began to roll down the windows. Back then we had a Studebaker, with no power windows, but I don't think I've ever seen a power window roll down so fast as our little arms did that night. After we were able to finally speak, we begged to be allowed to sit up on the roof of the car. Dad had to say yes. He had exposed us to the toxic bean gas heavily loaded with garlic fumes. From that night on, my brother and I either sat up on top of the car or brought lawn chairs to the drive-in because Mom always forgot and fixed beans and hot dogs before the movie.
The second memory of Dad's Green Fog B was on Saturday, after he had some home from working the night shift at Navajo Freight Lines. At the time we had two Basenji dogs, Kufu and Fala. Fala usually found a spot near Mom to park, but Kufu owned the coach, that is when Dad didn't claim it and this morning Dad was sitting in Kufu's spot, so Kufu sat at Dad's feet. Dad kicked off his shoes. My brother and I were watching Saturday morning cartoons, when we were suddenly hit with a wave of what smelled like nasty, moldy cheese and rotting corpse. We turned to see the squiggly hot odor lines rising out of Dad's shoes and from his socks. We pinched our noses closed and whined. Kufu, however, loved the smell so much that he buried his nose in one of the shoes. He rolled over on his back doing the happy dog. Then he rolled back over and stuck his nose in the shoe again. He sniffed deep. It was the first time I'd ever seen and heard a dog sneeze, and sneeze, and sneeze, and sneeze! My Dad laughed so hard he cried, and my brother and I rolled around on the floor giggling.
The third memory of Dad's Green Fog C was after Dad had been working in the yard. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the back of a chair. He always wore an undershirt, the classic short sleeved, white t-shirt. His back was bothering him, so he laid down on the floor. This was a chance for my brother and I to tickle him. We crawled all over him, trying to find his tickle spots, and when we found one, he'd laugh then grab hold of us and put us under his arm in a vice. His pungent armpits were a torture trap. We squirmed, cried and laughed, trying to get away. Then when we did, our hair would smell like his pits. We thought it was funny, but when Mom would catch a whiff of us, we would get a bath in Mr. Bubble to wash the stench out. Now that I think about it, the smell of my Dad's pits, a skunk and Pot are very similar, except that my Dad's odors or the skunks never gave me a headache.
As Dad grew old, his achievements in stench became legendary. Now that he's gone, I wish he were around surrounded by his own personal brand of Green Fog to stink up the room and the furniture. I miss him. He was eccentric, but he was a good dad in the most important areas of life. He taught us to love God, believe in the saving work of Jesus, provided as best he could, and studied the bible with us long before we ever entered a church door. I love him.
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