Whenever I put up a picture of a snake and say it’s a Timber Rattler (common here in Western North Carolina, especially on the road where I was) there are those who say that that’s impossible, a conspiracy theory, an exaggeration, just more unnecessary drama, all in a laudatory effort, methinks – PLOT TWIST – to normalize the presence of rattlers (which, to be sure, I love to see around as well). I don’t want to step on them. But I also don’t want to run over them. I love to see nature in full force.
The fake nay-sayers will say that surely I didn’t see the tell-tale pattern, or if I did, it was merely being sported by an immature Eastern Racer (Black Snake) or some such.
Then they’ll that surely I wasn’t close enough to see if it had a triangular head, you know, like this:
But then, still pretending to doubt my insistence, will say that is surely didn’t have an actual rattle, and add that some snakes can shake their tails with no rattles and make them kind of sound like rattles (true!). But, then there is this:
Now what? Baiting someone to think that this is not a Timber Rattler and so is therefore great for using in a humorous selfie like this?
[In the picture immediately above, that IS a Black Snake. But Father George is wearing a black shirt…] But what happens then – and this is the purposed intention of those deceitfully shrieking about conspiracy theories and exaggerations – what happens then is that I’ll pick up what is really a Timber Rattler and I’ll get bit by that serpent and die. [In speaking with Father Gordon this morning, he quipped that “it is unclear who was about to bite whom.” Hahaha. :-) I walked or rather slithered right into this. :-) ]
ANALOGY TIME!
- “Father George! Father George! You’re exaggerating! You’re a conspiracy theorist! You’re melodramatic! Stop saying that Covid-19 vaccines are taken from living organs of human beings (aborted alive for this reason), because, you know, that means that you, Father George, are taking away our good feelings for getting Covid-19 vaccines! You meanie! You old meanie! Those were miscarriages taken out of dumpsters and, you know, stuff like that! Father George, you’re like that old Serpent, the ancient dragon and Satan, lying about doctrine and morality like you do. Father George, there is no sin, there is no Savior, there is no heaven, no hell, and therefore no Satan, no ancient serpent!”
And these people bait even the elect to fall into sin, getting bit by the demonic rebellion against the Living Truth that the Divine Son of the Immaculate Conception is.
But then, plot twist:
ARISE! LET US BE GOING! 
Seriously, Father, these poor foo er people need help. If they invest in a field guide to reptiles and amphibians and look at the pretty pictures, they will discover that there are timber rattlers in the hills of North Carolina as wellas in the Blue Hills reservation just outside Boston, MA. I will back you up, Father. This is like some people who say that Christ never referred to Judith. How would they know that? They don’t even have that book. Happy Independence Day, Father.. I pray that you are recovering at warp speed. God bless you.
When I was a child, I, and mt siblings had a pattern of behavior when getting ill, being ill, and then recovering. One particular sign that my mother would always observe, carefully, was humor. I do not pretend to know all she knew, but by being “caught out” as it were, I realized that laughing (it’s the best medicine!) is the first sign of recovery of one’s senses – even in the humorless (I would guess). But making jokes was was evidence even more advanced mental recovery.
I am not an MD, so do not put any medical worth to my words, but it seems that our bodies recover at different rates, which can get us into trouble. We “Feel” fine because we have recovered (and recognize) our mental faculties, but are not aware that our other parts of ourselves may still be mending. The TV trope of a person objecting to bed-rest by putting on a display of mental acuity, then attempts to walk, only to fall, comes to mind.
I will hazard a guess that you, Father, have vivid (you forget little!) memories of your dear sainted Mother scolding you with the loving words “get back in bed, Goergie!” Which she (like my own Mother) might have followed with the question “do you want to relapse?”
Good to reed your humor, Father – get back in bed!
OK, this is nagging, sure, but as Telly (Αριστοτέλης Σαβάλας) Savalas said, “who loves you, baby?”
Love tthis