"I often seek out a quiet place to meditate and pray; a special retreat like Hidden Arbor. This marvelous waterfall, with its myriad rivulets and streams; the climbing flowers on a romantic arbor is a little touch of heaven.
— Thomas Kinkade"
This Kinkade fellow is one praying motherfucker. He prays more than St. Thoman Aquinas. I would LOVE to hear one of those prayers: "Oh Father Satan, Ruler of Hell: I thank thee for creating humans so stupid. When you got Adam and Eve to fuck apes you created a race of morons out of a race of gods. And now you have given them to me to own. I can paint shit and sell it for gold. Jesus really fucked up when he turned down your offer of the world. I thank you for making the same offer to me. I couldn't say yes fast enough. I should really be painting your likenesses, not that ridiculous let's-not-make-a-deal Jew you chatted with out in the desert. Look what his refusal got him: nailed up HAHA LIKE ONE OF MY PAINTINGS! HAHAHAHAHAHA! And looking even uglier. Who thought THAT was possible. I have done very well by you, O Lord of Death; the spirit of your empty soul I have infused into all my work, as you can see. I look forward to our further partnership as we drag the science of aesthetics back to the stone age. Amen, O Mighty Lucy." Why would this be a quiet place to meditate and pray. It's a fucking maelstrom. How can rivulets and streams, even in "myriads," generate so much fucking white-water? It's a fucking Murchison Falls level of
violence being churned-up by what's coming over that ten foot hillock. In case you were not aware just from looking, incidentally, it's, as "Thom" puts it, a "marvelous" waterfall. Well, it sure is. It violates 20 laws of Nature.
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