How'd You Like To Spend Christmas On Christmas Island?
Christmas Countdown
Welcome once again, friends, to Shecky's House! Life is Good. There's almost always something cooking here, especially at the House Of Eats... and if Shecky weren't such a slacker, it would have been updated faster than any other quasi-dormant site on the Web!
But seriously, we're sure glad to present a site so old, it's now late-1990's retro chic!
Bon Appetit!
If you are a praying person, please continue to pray today for the country after this past Election Season. Join me in the collective remembrance of how it was just after 2001-09-11, when we weren't Red States and Blue States— we were The United States. And let us hope that we can ALL be counted among those with a stake in it, rather than the privileged few. Yeah. Uh huh.
This is the day the Lord has made.
Let us rejoice and be glad in it!
Please take a moment to read my witness of Christ's love in the House of Prayer.
And, as always, enjoy our musical musings in Shecky's House of Noise, where it's always Christmastime. Surf on in for some positive entertainment. Does anyone say "surf" about the Web anymore...? Retro, indeed!
A Christmas Song— One of My Originals.
Led By A Star
A Psychedelic Alt-Rock Christmas tune, as featured on the 2007 album, "tinsel," by surplus population.
Out of the depths to You we cried,
"Do You know how we live and die?"
To see the answer You gave, we ride
We follow the light in the sky
Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh—
chorus: We seek the One of whom they sing
Through the wasteland, we travel so far
To seek the face of the newborn King
Led by a star
A lowly stable, filled with shepherds and kings
The gift received, no price to high
He's honored with song, incense and rings
We followed the light in the sky
Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh—
chorus: We seek the One of whom they sing
Through the wasteland, we travel so far
To seek the face of the newborn King
Led by a star
A humble beginning, but fitting somehow
The greatest of all, starting so small
There comes a day when every knee shall bow,
Lit up by the light in the sky—
spoken: I walked through a county courthouse square,
On a park bench an old man was sitting there.
I said, "Your old courthouse is kinda run down."
He said, "Naw, it'll do for our little town."
I said, "Your old flagpole has leaned a little bit,
And that's a Ragged Old Flag you got hanging on it."
He said, "Have a seat," and I sat down.
"Is this the first time you've been to our little town?"
I said, "I think it is." He said, "I don't like to brag,
But we're kinda proud of that Ragged Old Flag.
"You see, we got a little hole in that flag there when
Washington took it across the Delaware.
And it got powder-burned the night Francis Scott Key
Sat watching it writing Say Can You See.
And it got a bad rip in New Orleans
With Packingham and Jackson tuggin' at its seams.
"And it almost fell at the Alamo
Beside the Texas flag, but she waved on, though.
She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville
And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill.
There was Robert E. Lee, Beauregard, and Bragg,
And the south wind blew hard on that Ragged Old Flag.
"On Flanders Field in World War I
She got a big hole from a Bertha gun.
She turned blood red in World War II.
She hung limp and low by the time it was through.
She was in Korea and Vietnam.
She was sent where she was by her Uncle Sam.
"She waved from our ships upon the briny foam,
And now they've about quit waving her back here at home.
In her own good land here she's been abused --
She's been burned, dishonored, denied, and refused.
"And the government for which she stands
Is scandalized throughout the land.
And she's getting threadbare and wearing thin,
But she's in good shape for the shape she's in.
'Cause she's been through the fire before
And I believe she can take a whole lot more.
"And one September morning she was hit again,
By some mad dogs with some hijacked planes.
Miss Liberty couldn't believe her eyes
and black smoke billowed throughout the skies.
But we said "Let's Roll!" and we saw her again,
Raised to the sky by the firemen.
(John Gifford, 2003)
"So we raise her up every morning, take her
down every night.
We don't let her touch the ground and we fold
her up right.
On second thought, I do like to brag,
'Cause I'm mighty proud of the Ragged Old Flag."
