Party. As the piles of silent and butchered children mount in clinics across the land and as our scientists begin to brutally and methodically harvest the young; so that we, the old, might mumble 'Yet, I live' for a few more precious moments, before we must go wailing forever into eternity.

Party. As God is mocked and faith outraged by the increasingly vacuous and hedonistic world culture, the glory and crown of this, our generation.

Party. As belief in the existence of Good and Evil, as belief in right and wrong, as the understanding that there is a Standard and a Law which is beyond our capability to mold as we see fit - are all casually and with contempt swept away to make way for an rigid and mandatory conformity in unbelief and in the unthinking acceptance of evil and perversion of all kinds. Our itching burning desires are now OUR gods, we have no other gods before them, these, our own itching lusts. And sacrifices of scratchings do we offer, in vain frantic attempts to satisfy the maws of these insatiable and terrible gods. Funny how the itching never stops, no matter HOW much we scratch. It just gets worse and worse and worse . . .

So go on and party.

One thing, though.

A very long time ago, others, very much like us, partied just as hard. And just like us, sneered at the angry sky, sneered at the very thought of an actual Accounting to a 'God', how ridiculous, how utterly QUAINT, the very idea, a foolish and hopelessly outdated notion INDEED!

And, then, one night when the cup was quite full and overflowing, the rain began. And that rain kept falling for a very very long time, long after the parties had stopped and the voices had fallen silent.

So party on, like a good soldier, whether you be Republican, Democrat, Independent - whatever. But remember, as you party - keep an eye on the clock. The clock is ticking. Count on it.