The Spiritual Nuttiness That Exists Among Us
By James Donahue
Over the years, and especially during the
strange time we lived with and wrote about some of the peculiar ideas pontificated by our son on his Internet radio show,
we received communications by some peculiar folks. I began collecting them, and discovered that there was a series of letters
sent by the same person. He referred to himself as David Son of God.
David was an obvious Christian who was offended
by the anti-Christian statements made by our son, and extrapolated on this website as we delved into interesting new ideas,
researched their validity and turned them into stories of possible interest to readers.
The problem with David, however, was that
he was threatening us. We decided in those days to keep our place of residence somewhat a secret in case David, or people
of his ilk, might try to carry out such threats.
If you think such letters were idle threats,
consider the following paragraph:
As I whet my glittering sword, as my hands
take hold of judgement (sic). That I might lift up your head from your shoulders and set it on a pole so that the fowls of
the air might pluck out thine eyes. Then hew your flesh into pieces that the beast of the field might feast on you. And take
your bones and burn them into lime to be crush under the soles of my feet , crushed into dust and scattered to the winds.
David also sent the following, complete with
incorrect grammar, poor attempts at Biblical quotation and misspelled words:
Thou child of the devil, I clicked on
your picture.... and laughed! Because I canst(sic) smell their fear too, just as I sense yours. Ye blind guide, ye son
of perdition, the wicked flee when no man pursueth:(sic) but the righteous are as bold as a lion. How long shall ye flee?
Where shall ye escape to? The grave? There is no escape there, because at the voice of the Son of God thou shalt stand upon
thy feet in that great day. Selah
Indeed, how does one interpret what this
man was attempting to say, other than he was assured that we were doomed to a final judgment, a fear-based story that is part
of the Christian dogma. And, of course, David sent this worn old phrase, which appears to have been drawn from some Bible
verse except he failed to copy it correctly. Thus many of the words are misspelled. It is hard to take someone seriously when
the least he could do is run his letter through a computer spellchecker.
Verily, Verily, I say unto you, that the Lord Jesus shall be revealed
from heaven with his mighty angels in flaming fire taking vengeance (sic) on them that know not God, and obey not the gospel(sic)
of our Lord Jesus Christ: who shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presense (sic) of the Lord and
the glory of his power when he shall come to be glorified in his saints in that day. Saleh.
Yet another letter, this one unsigned, accused
our son of “talking like a god acting like a fool.” He correctly stated that our son “is no super
occultist like Mr. James Donahue is telling masses, cause, this suck (prophetic . . .) he is telling is knowledge from . .
. it’s called books.”
While it was awkward in the way the writer
stated it, he made a point that we later found to have been quite correct. Almost all of the so-called prophetic proclamations
were taken from information and projections by scientists, economists and other specialists found somewhere on the web. This
appears to be continuing even to this day.
Yet another strange letter was received from
a woman who began her long epistle: “Meliora Volens greets you, Mr. Donahue, by the grace of the Peacock God; my Beloved.”
The letter told a somewhat scary story about how she sent a letter to President Bush and called herself “Bitch Woman
of the Universe.” She wrote:
It's certainly possible I was misled,
and according to entities I call "Elder" and "Evil" (my Beloved) and a dead man named Shoghi Effendi and the
original members of my Ramsay genetic line (as well as my father's line which is thousands of years older and produced predominantly
seers and architects and astronomers and other kinds of magic wielders among the much fewer royalty); I'm told to inform you
of my talents and capacities and to give you all my "evidence" -- I see myself handing over my disks and hand written notes
and things and beginning from there -- so that you are led to my Beloved... or that my Beloved is already near you and you
are led to place me in my Beloved's powerful grasp; it's a complicated vision. And, yes, I'm certain you are the one to whom
I should divulge whatever information you can glean from me. I am at your service.
We have to admit, this woman keeps a website
and we took the time to investigate a little more about her. We were even tempted to answer this strange letter, just to see
where it would lead. We have little doubt that if my wife, Doris, can tap into information of vital interest to humanity,
there may be others out there doing the same thing. But in the end, the Meliora Volens letter was filed with the other peculiar
documents collecting in a file simply called “Fan Mail.”
As you might guess, this is a somewhat quiet
day and we have chosen to clean out this file and send these odd communications off into the air for whatever they are worth.
One final piece of poetry was sent by a
person who identified him or herself as “Sparedsunset.” The piece reads:
Is it a shame we have no morals? Lead
to undivided truths in a land so small, that the heart cannot rule its content. Speak forever the untold lie where many
men have tried to conquer, although wary of the angels of truth. The hunt for equality has spoken its ugly wisdom, for no
one will hear. It’s the silent thoughts that break through a violent wind that swims its way into your heart. Darkness
of the soul rules the divided, but bears fruit in its riddle.
Indeed, every once in a while we find a jewel
amidst the rocks.