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There are more definitions than I can list, to be sure. But this I know- faith, real faith is imperfect. It is not pristine, it is not a clear shaft of light.

Faith is this:

an awkward child- or an adult, equally awkward, singing a hymn with their eyes closed. Head leaned back, clapping, but not in time. They care- they believe- they have faith. Not because they are supposed to and not because they know what to say or how to say it. They believe only because they do.

That is faith.

I am finally back home in Old Baltimore after two and a half weeks of great deals of hell in a manifestation in my life. While noder golFUR tells me in recent message of my need to confront friend Chopper regarding actions of Bruce and The Slow Kid regarding true nature of friendship, what I have to report will show that acting in a proactive way is unnecessary. My friendship with Chopper is likely at an end which is sad because he was most true friend I had until the end when loyalty ran thin. I also must remind you that certain information contained in this log may not be used for political purposes as it reveals secrets about a certain organization about which many are likely unaware.

In my last log I reported in an edgy position about my travel from Old Baltimore to western Virginia where there is little law to speak of along with friends Chopper, Bruce and The Slow Kid with a well restrained woman who is Dale's wife but rightfully Behr's girlfriend, enough said. From there we went to western Pennsylvania, a coal mining area of note, where the law is almost non-existent except for those in the back pockets of smart industrialists and friends of Terry Bradshaw. We stayed in a Motel 6 the first night and then ate a lot of cold chicken from a questionable restaurant Bruce went out to to get lunch at and reportedly took the young man who waited on him at the register into the bathroom in order to bend him over and do what Bruce likes to do with men of all varieties. It was apparent to your friend Behr at this point that the madman Bruce was insatiable when it came to his cravings for man ass. Chopper reported to Behr that Bruce regularly would prey upon convenience store clerks, fast food employees, church janitors and homeless people in order to satisfy his needs. For some reason he never has any trouble convincing anyone to do this unholy action with him, even though his personal item is the size of a linebacker's forearm and is called The Boss.

During the day we discussed matter of importance to us as we ate the cold and questionable chicken. We discussed the need to fill in pointless swampland, how to speed up the processing of useless rainforests for important industrial uses, how to get the green light to start building high-priced condominiums in Yosemite, falsely called a National Park since it is an overwhelmingly uninteresting place. Then we drank many cans of Light Beer from Miller and laughed our way into our second night, which was when Bruce and Chopper decided we would visit what he called an underground strip club.

It seemed much like the usual kind of strip club, seedy and dirty and filled with a lot of men who did not know how to take care of themselves or get a girlfriend. Chopper informed me that it was actually a front for operations by the militant wing of the neocon movement, of which Behr is a very big supporter. This made Behr enthusiastic, even after he watched Bruce led a skinny drunken boy who appeared to be underage into the men's room for more of his butt shenanigans.

We had a roundish table with Chopper, Bruce, The Slow Kid, your friend Behr joined by a tied up and gagged Dale's wife, who was becoming more difficult as her time with us went on, and with hearing reports that Dale, acting like Harrison Ford in one of his films of the last decade, was pursuing us with a look of great concern and anger on his face, likely shouting out "Get off my plane" and the like from time to time. Since many of the strip club's patrons were into the bondage scene, no one questioned why Dale's wife was being held in this manner, which satisfied Behr, despite his desire for her to give in and start acting like his girlfriend, who she rightfully is.

At midnight, the strippers, bartenders, waitresses and bouncers went through a dramatic change, gaining great strength and power as they shed their skin of seediness and became militant neocons. Your friend Behr watched as they turned on the patrons and quickly attacked and beat the people of inferior breeding into submission and then herded them up and led them to a freight elevator. As a middle-aged man of Middle Eastern descent raised in post-war Germany, your friend Behr was confused with the riff-raff and taken to the freight elevator with them, despite Behr's heavy support of the neocon movement and his participation in multiple battles against the insurgency in Maryland that is heavily financed by the demon Joe Biden.

The freight elevator took us to a very damp and cold basement where men were restrained in a kind of stockade, although these stockades did not leave their heads and hands exposed for mockery purposes, but exposed their bare hind sections for much greater humiliation. Women were kept in a corral where guards whipped them with bullwhips and struck them in a timely fashion with cattle prods while forcing them to watch television programs showing the right place for women, all the shows I was informed were from the time period before Mary Tyler Moore did her inappropriate portrayal of a poorly behaved woman and set a bad example for the much weaker sex.

There were interesting things to note about this chamber, which your friend Behr took note of before he was restrained with exposed buttocks in the kind of stockade that was used by the organization present in this damp and cold cellar. The first interesting thing was that the song "Man in Motion" (the theme from the film St. Elmo's Fire) was played over and over again with no other music being offered, which I hoped was somehow producing kickbacks to international recording star John Parr who made this song famous in the 1980s. The next interesting thing was how the room would be properly lit one moment and then lit by black light the next. This was to make interesting use of the black light posters that were hanging in the room. Now, years ago your friend Behr learned from a great writer's works that the only people who have good ideas and any value to society are born into wealth and priviledge, this great writer, Ayn Rand was shown in different poses in each of the black light posters that decorated this room, which I would later learn was called The Subjugation Chamber.

While your friend Behr protested, and was brought before The Council of Men, who decided most of the important matters in this very sane organization, it was decided that Behr would be required to spend twenty-four hours (a time period also known as ONE day) in the stockade being subjugated. Behr agreed but was nervous, especially after he saw friend Bruce walking around with The Boss out and in a state of erection. In the end, seventy-two men "had" your friend Behr while he was restrained in The Subjugation Chamber, but luckily all of these men were Republicans, so they were heterosexual and free of sexual transmittable diseases. This was good for a sigh of relief after Behr was let go from the stockade and also several more sighs of relief later on.

While the other inferior people were taken down into a mine shaft for some purpose after their subjugation, Behr was allowed to return to the surface world. Feeling uncomfortable, Behr slipped out of the strip club and ran into the woods, where he met a group of tame Injuns. Now you may think that using the term "Injun" is bad form, but I will take time now to remind you that these so-called "Native Americans" arrived from Canada at the same time as the despicable French, long after the real Americans were already here, so I am not going to give them this false name despite their kindnesses to me. The friendly Injuns gave Behr an ointment made from tree bark, which was very good for lessening the pain and burning sensation in Behr's hindquarters. They also made him some food and allowed a squaw to sit on his lap for some time and listen to Behr tell knock knock jokes.

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