Can anyone remember who won last years Oscar for best supporting camera crew, anyone. Blank faces, the actress in the corner, (sorry actor, the word actress does not exist), her mascara is running, it’s two blocks east of the theater, running. Not even a best supporting role, she saves that for the breast implants and her plastic surgeon. Friends, she promised them a statue, nothing. Pride ways you down, and what you think your friends think of you, does the rest.
No men allowed either it seems, there is a global outcry against inappropriate sexual antics; they focus on the lowest common denominator. The politically correct audience applaud the clever comments, eye each other, as if saying, I told you so twenty years ago.
Meanwhile, every perversion you ever thought of, is there at the click of a button. The brilliant smiles, they might last awhile till the roots go bad, sorry she says, I got a specialist for that, seriously he nods, does she actually believe all that.
Solomon encountered a strange week; the head miners were doing there thing, sowing stress or what they call, self doubt, he listens and wonders where this is coming from, as they all claim to be of God, a surprise, the stuff he heard wasn’t anywhere he looked, it only came out of their heads. But the tricks of the demons, remorseless. He saw two small faces, transform to horror, expressions he did not think possible in children. What were they like at home; the stressed mother knows all about that.