"Glory-to-God in the Highest and peeeace to His people on earth! Lord God, Heavenly King, ALL-mighty God and Father!! We worship You, to give Youuu thanks, we praise You for Your Glory! Lord Jesus Christ, only Son of the Father, receive our prayer... For You alone are the Holy One, You alone are the Lord, You alone are the Most High, Jesus Christ, Only Son of God the Father. Receive our prayer... Amen."

(repeat as many times as necessary)

Dunno where I first heard this - probably at St. Jo when Fr. Trompeter and Popculture were still in Topeka; nevertheless, this is a succinct and joyfull prayersong to God: we only have a certain number of years to fulfill this existence finite and it would greatly help for U.S. to say this, too. God remembers every good saying or deed WE accomplish and the Trinity shall reward you greatly - don't let this go to waste, child (I only use that pejorative term because a lotta youse don't give a rat's ass nor care where your indelible soul goes after this lifelong demise). We can only do so much then I'll croak; rather, let U.S. not put our hope in things which are passing-away quickly, like gorgeous, dysfunctional-soap-bubbles which are carried on the wind of the world, they're utterly vibrant without Jesus, yet pop and disintegrate into nthn vs. eternity Upstairs: invest in that certain promise of Jesus where He sez, "I Am the Alpha and Omega, the First and the Last" - in one eyeblink, like a sandcastle, like Janet, we're gone and the days pass-away like we're never in them; time ebbs away as a puff of smoke, just like the Daylight Savings Time of eternity is but a heartbeat in our frail, mortal skeletons and, thus, every. single. soul wises-up to return to their Maker. "Crossing the bar" (Tennyson) which sez it all. Choose it, dude, or lose it. Chop, chop. And, no, I'm never arrogant; I'm conFIDent. Why? Because I don't sit around growing fat watching the boob-tube every freekn night, watching allah them dead-heads controlled by moolah. 

So, let Almighty God establish His permanent evidence in YOU today, where you're not afraid nor are you squeeemish at the put-downs, cut-offs, or whorizontal diss-loyalty to YOU or anyone. Say a short prayer, "For them, sweetheart, for U.S." and let it go (make the sign of the Cross, too: the cranium of our Mary, the feet, and two hands). Why should YOU care? Aren't they mortal? Aren't they gonna croak just like you??? [profoundly puzzled] Aren't they just a taaad immature, schtuck in this horrible, dead-level-residue? Alas! I had trouble fathoming this all through grade school, then, I grew outta this when I found the Dude. I could AB.SO.LUTE.LY care lesssss after, dude; I could sooo absolutely care less I pick-my-nose regularly in public (and, after a bike wide, I toot undiplomatically frictional). Die for Jesus everyday; live for Seventh-Heaven: only as the Light of His Knowledge shines through our transient minds, does the wisdom of this o-so-passing world have the proper objective and perspective.

   The early morning last week was damp and foggy; mist abounded covered everything. But, yet, when I opened my front door, I saw zillions of these cool, trapdoor spiders spread all over me lawn: their nests sparkling withe dew, yet low and hidden, perfect for the unwary, promptly provoking a palatable morsel. Puh-leeze don't git caught in a trap door anymoe, girls, or I might never see you again. How then can I snuggle with you Upstairs? Everyone is totally gorgeous in Seventh-Heaven; everyone is totally repugnant in the Abyss: once we croak, how we lived our lives determines where. Remember that, bud, and once you're IN, you don't gotta see me anymoe! for! the length and breadth of eternity!!! How cool is that?? [once you're in Purgatory, you're eventually in Seventh-Heaven - let's hope Jesus has mercy on his soul]

Finis Coronat Opus

(Latin: end crowns [the] work)