Good Morning, Digital Neighbors! Happy Sunday Friends & Refugees, Early Birds and Later Dayers, Conversants and Lurkers, on the Report, ADD Irregulars, WSN Curators, Crusty Curmudgeons at Padre’s , and finally all you Misfits, Politically Homeless and Phamily basking in the light and laughter of the Phetasy!
When I started roaming on the Report, Phetasy and Triggernometry I usually posted Far Side cartoons, memes, music, humor, quotes and an occasional rant about the Cabal. The Cabal consist of the Enemedia (you don’t hate them enough) Academia (where learning goes to die) Wokertainment (more cultural preaching than you get on a Sunday morning) Political Careerist (who truly think they are the best of us and the most entitled), Big Tech (championing mind rot and soul poisoning since 2004) and Big Pharma (just here for the money folks, take your medicine and shut up) and smaller agents of cultural decline. I never expected to see the Cabal on the defensive, but at the moment it appears to be.
While I could go on ranting on a frequent basis, there is more to life than complaining about the current state of affairs. I have found that the more I complain, the less I enjoy and appreciate everything, myself, others, the whole of creation, which is wonderous even on a terrible day. Constant complaint is the most bitter of consolation and the erosion of joy in my life. Back in that first Autumn of 2020 I decided to post autumn photos lifted from the internet, I tried to attribute where I can, but often not. I do have a fondness for old barns and old homes. I look at them and wonder about the lives that animated them in the past, the stories of those people who filled those spaces.
I have moved away from posting daily on the Report, Phetasy and Trigger is no more. Also with the addition of At Padre’s Local community, I tend to spend more time there than venturing to other communities. I have not forgotten how Local’s was the avenue of meeting so many great people I may never meet in person. It is one of the more redemptive aspects of the internet. I know Phetasy is on Substack and I am not sure I am crazy about its format, but I happily followed Bridget and her happy Pham over there. You never know when you may encounter someone who becomes a blessing in your life, even if the window of interaction is small and limited. In that moment, on that occasion, God is using them to bless you. It is one of the things I have truly enjoyed about the time I have given to this sector of the internet. It is much more soul-nourishing and life rewarding than X, Youtube or any other place to spend my time.
During Autumn I hope to post some photos with a quote and a small reflection. I am guilty of testing the limits of TL;DR and grammar. My proofreading was never that good and these spontaneous posts often suffer from it. It drives some people crazy. But then again, I am writing it and they are correcting it, bless their hearts. On this last day of Summer I leave you with one of my favorite quotes and no commentary since I have rambled on long enough. If you made it this far, thank you.
Today marks the three hundred and thirtieth birthday of the Frenchman François-Marie Arouet, better known by his nom de plume, Voltaire (1694-1778).
Born into a bourgeois family during the reign of Louis XIV, the “Sun King” (r. 1643-1715), Voltaire suffered tragedy at a young age when his mother died. Never close with his father or brother, Voltaire exhibited a rebellious attitude toward authority from his youth. His brilliant mind was fostered in the care of the Society of Jesus, who introduced him to the joys of literature and theater. Despite his later criticisms against the Church, Voltaire, throughout his life, fondly recalled his dedicated Jesuit teachers.
Although he spent time as a civil servant in the French embassy to the Hague, Voltaire’s main love was writing—an endeavor where he excelled in various genres, including poetry, which led to his appointment as the royal court poet for King Louis XV. Widely recognized as one of the greatest French writers, and even hyperbolically referred to by ...
Padre - Tom Miller invites you to a Coffee Talk, Speakeasies, Schmoozes, Tea Times, Afterhours and other gatherings.
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2026 Coffee Talk with the ADD Irregulars
Thursday, January 1, 2026
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Coffee Talk - Daily beginning at 6:00 AM Central Time Zone - USA
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XIII
The Proud Minister
One day there came into the Garden a man in torn clothes badly bruised and cut, who said to the Lover, “In the name of the Beloved I demand your help.”
So the Lover and the Disciple let him in and dressed his wounds and prepared the best of the vegetables from the Garden for him to eat. When his wounds had been dressed and he had eaten and rested the Lover asked him how he had fallen into this plight, to which the man replied, “I was Minister of the Beloved in a city near this place, where I preached His gospel and expounded His doctrine to the people. I pointed out to them how their sins had made them wholly hateful to the Beloved and how therefore they were utterly beyond the range of His love and He would condemn them to eternal torments, whereon some fell into despair and wept bitterly but many were angry. One day the magistrates called me before them and begged me to leave the city and preach elsewhere for they said I had made many people so angry and desperate that they feared there might be a riot and they might not be able to protect me but that I might suffer some injury. I, however, very zealous for the Beloved and believing that the magistrates only feared that their own sins might be proclaimed, preached the more vehemently, denounced the magistrates and made it abundantly clear that the whole wicked city was foredoomed to eternal punishment by the just provision of the Beloved. Whereon a mob, stirred up no doubt by the corrupt and venal magistrates, fell upon me with sticks and stones, nearly killing me and driving me out of the city in the state in which I came to you.”
“My friend,” said the Lover, “this was not a good deed of yours, for besides denying the unfathomable compassion of the Beloved, you have by your obstinacy caused these people to commit a grievous sin, and this cannot be pleasing to the Beloved, that through you who profess to be His minister the people should become worse. Surely you remember that He Himself said, ‘If they persecute you in one city flee to another.’”
Therefore the man was very angry, and cursing the Lover, said, “I see that I have had a very false report of you and I do not believe that you are a servant of the Beloved at all. When I came to you so injured for the Beloved’s sake you set before me only herbs and fruits although the garden is full of birds which you could have killed to make me a worthy meal. I shall proclaim everywhere that you are no true servant of the Beloved but a mere falterer who dares not suffer in the cause of the Beloved. Be sure that you are foreordained to eternal torments who suffer nothing here.”
For the man was so blinded by his own pride that he could not perceive the scars on the hands and feet and the brows of the Lover nor how the cloth beneath the armpits of his tunic was dyed with a red dye. So he went out of the Garden cursing and shouting.
But the Lover looked sad and said, “A man like this does much harm to the cause of the Beloved, for by thus speaking falsely about the Beloved he may bring men to fear Him but none to love Him, and by love alone can any man approach the Beloved.”
