A Modern-Day Paul Revere Not Warning of Noah’s Flood at a Wedding

A Modern-Day Paul Revere Not Warning of Noah’s Flood at a Wedding

December 3, 2018

by Doug “Uncola” Lynn:


They did eat, they drank, they married wives, they were given in marriage, until the day that Noah entered into the ark, and the flood came, and destroyed them all.

– Luke 17:27


Over the last three months I’ve attended three weddings.  Whatever getting married in a barn signifies or portends, it’s trending, because that was the case for two out of my last three invitations.  Although one of the earlier ceremonies was held in an actual barn, the wedding and reception facilities where I attended this last Saturday appeared to have been specifically remade for human mammals because the venue was beyond elegant.

Being the very first nuptials I can recall ever attending in the month of December, it was no surprise the weather was bad given this time of year.  Fortunately, however, all of the important people were there.  Again, it wasn’t the storm that mattered that evening, but rather, more importantly, who showed-up for the feast. The accommodations were first class, and with all of the beautiful people in attendance, I commented to another guest it was like being in a movie or, at the very least, at a television awards ceremony.

The next morning one of my offspring texted me the following:


Was impressed last night by all the people who came up to you just to chat or for your advice and your handling of what could have been an awkward situation


The awkward situation had to do with the groom’s biological father feeling slighted because he was assigned to sit at my family’s table during the reception meal, instead of the front of the room near his ex-wife.  Of course, he was appointed to sit by me because I’m a peacemaker and blessed are the piecemakers (pun intended).  Anyway, I told him to sit down, shut up, and have a good time.

In response to my progeny’s text, however, I wrote back:


Last night was, once again, that typical combination of beauty, elegance, and awkwardness. But once you realize that life is essentially a continuation of high school, it becomes easier to lower your expectations and have a good time 


The funniest moments of the night occurred when an estranged older uncle announced to his fiftyish-aged niece that “she was looking more and more like her mother every day” and when the groom’s father sat down beside me at the reception (after I said “sit down and shut up”).  He squinted back at me and said: “Don’t ask me any questions.”



All in all, it was great night and one I’ll look back to with fondness in the hard days ahead; especially the rye-bread, prime-rib, and horse-radish, as we will no doubt begin our Marxism diets soon.

Is that how it will be?  Will we be rolling along, working, going on vacations, attending weddings and, all of a sudden, the world changes in a moment? In the twinkling of an eye?

Or, will it be gradual like death by a thousand cuts?

Maybe a little of both.

What will our last good day be like?  In the meantime, this waiting to die is killing me.

Sure, I put on a smile and laugh until the cackling mimics the sound of autumn leaves rustling in a doorway.  But, sadly, my sense of doom has become oppressive, tainting my thoughts constantly; the way smoke from a hearth permeates into your hair and clothes.

A lady tried to tell me what she heard on The View regarding Ivanka Trump’s private e-mail account, and I put my palm up in her face and said: “Talk to the hand”.  She was offended that I didn’t want to hear the perspectives of the ladies on The View.  I said they had nothing to offer me. Nothing.

These people have no idea what’s about to befall them. No idea whatsoever.

I want to be a good friend and tell them, but they won’t listen.  I want to explain, but they won’t understand.  I need them hear me, but they can’t, or won’t.

So what will I do when they ask me to save them later?

Dammit, Jim. I’m only one man.”


and the future just keeps coming; While the past leaves us further behind.

Comment by “splurge”, December 1, 2018 3:23 pm


Have you ever met someone that you should have bonded with better?  I have, but it was not meant to be – due to the travesty of accidentally tainted first impressions.  Maybe it was the location, or they said something, or I said something, or any other myriad of infinite variables.  The first awkward failing might be forgivable, the next guides the door near shut, and by the third dis-harmonic contretemps, it’s all over to the sound of bolt-locks clicking on either side; a potential lifetime snuffed out like a candle by an ill wind. It wasn’t meant to be.

Conversely, the same can occur in reverse, when all of the variables sync-up in harmonic convergence with someone who normally would not have percussed the top of the personally-preferenced bell curve of potentially compatible people. For example, during the initial exchanges, the right things were said, and the correct actions taken, until they are left with a higher impression of yours truly, than might actually be the case; and vice versa.

Then one wonders how such decisions are made.  Could it be by simple comparisons?  What if all our interactions and preferences could be distilled down to personal coding, like computer binaries of 1 and 0. “I like this better than that. Or what she said more than what he said. And that more than this.” And so forth.

Moreover, if that does actually represent “Human Basic 1.0”, then, perhaps, it becomes a choice between the following binaries (and within our inherit programming designed to acquire all of our favorite things):


1.) To thine own self be true




0.) What does it profit to gain the whole world but lose your soul?


Certainly, honesty may be the best policy, but who decides?  In fact, maybe the “who decides” is the most important binary of all?

The Bible says King Solomon’s temple was built under Solomon because his father David had “shed blood and fought in many wars” (1 Chronicles 22:8). That was the reason God gave why His temple could not be built under David. But, at the same time, the Bible says David was a “man after God’s own heart” (1 Sam. 13:14; Acts 13:22).

How does one reconcile such things?

I’m within my rights to defend my family with lethal force; if not my material property. But what if my material property is necessary to defend my family? And what if offense becomes my best defense, will I, then, become a wolf in sheep’s attire? Will it matter? Who will care?

For the most part, I consider myself a businessman who’s found a late-in-life catharsis with writing; and just before the Stormtroopers come ‘round. I’m a nobody. A ghost in the machine.

But I’ve come to believe in the strategy of Three Ways. Like the mind, body, spirit, the three branches of government, the Holy Trinity, or three dimensions.

The concept of risk management is an important consideration:  We, and those we love, will either live, die, or become disabled.  How do we prepare?


When it comes to stuff: We will keep it, lose it, or release it on our own accord. This means 3 is 2, 2 is 1, and 1 is 0. In other words, a spare is good, but a spare spare is better.

In the future, if surrender isn’t an option, then we will fight, flight, or stay out of sight. How do we prepare? Portability (i.e. bugging out) could be advantageous in any of those three scenarios. Or, it could be jumping from the proverbial frying pan into the fire.

Ones and zeros, indeed. Reality, choices, consequences.

Realistically, though, we can only prepare so far, and via the measurement of probabilities, and with an inclination toward adaptability (i.e. resilience, flexibility, fluidity, portability). Above that, Mike Tyson’s maxim comes to mind:


“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face”.


After all, how do people prepare for a flood meant to asphyxiate the entire world?

Although “nationalism” is trending around the globe currently, it could all be part of a plan. What a perfect way to expedite the Great Reset by compartmentalizing the nations into their respective regions.  Nationalism triggered by illegal immigration followed by economic collapse (via war – trade and actual).  Then, after the collapse, there will be chaos, calls for globalism, and, ultimately, a new world order; as simple as 1, 2, 3.

“The Marxists are coming! The Marxists are coming!”

Can you hear me?  Hello?  Anyone there?  Anyone?


8 thoughts on “A Modern-Day Paul Revere Not Warning of Noah’s Flood at a Wedding

  1. As a conservative, Christian man in his mid-fifties, I identify so readily with what you have penned in this article and others. I have given up trying to convince my wife that things are ever so close to coming unraveled. (I kinda blew all credibility with Y2K and then the 2008 financial meltdown…statements like “We probably only have a couple of years to get our act together before it all comes down” did not go over well after spending thousands of dollars “prepping” without an ensuing crisis.) So, I go about my daily routine now trying to act “normal” and enjoy what I think are probably the last 5-10 years of prosperity and comfort as we navigate this fourth turning.

    I have never witnessed the level of vitriol coming from the left as what has been poured out over the last 2 years. It feels like a slow motion train wreck, but my life looks very normal. I’m starting to put Trump in the “Trojan Horse” category as it all is starting to look too well scripted. I have never liked trump, especially after reading this book “The Art of the Deal” back in 1990. It should have been more appropriately titled “The Art of the Steal” since that is what he was bragging about in the book. There is a special place in hell reserved for Mr Trump, I believe.

    For some strange reason the lyrics from a Jethro Tull song came to mind:

    Meanwhile back in the year one
    When you belonged to no one
    You didn’t stand a chance, son
    If your pants were undone
    ‘Cause you were bred, for humanity
    And sold to society
    One day you’ll wake up, in the present day
    A million generations removed from expectations
    Of being who you really want to be
    Skating away, skating away, skating away
    On the thin ice of the new day
    So as you push off from the shore
    Won’t you turn your head once more
    And make your peace with everyone
    For those who choose to stay
    Will live just one more day
    To do the things they should’ve done
    And as you cross the wilderness
    Spinning in your emptiness
    If you have to, pray
    Looking for a sign, that the universal minds
    Has written you into the passion play
    Skating away, skating away, skating away
    On the thin ice of the new day
    And as you cross the circle line
    Well, the ice wall creaks behind
    You’re a rabbit on the run
    And the silver splinters fly
    In the corner of your eye
    Shining in the setting sun
    Well, do you ever get the feeling
    That the story’s too damn real
    And in the present tense?
    Or that everybody’s on the stage
    And it seems like you’re the only
    Person sitting in the audience?
    Skating away, skating away, skating away
    On the thin ice of the new day
    Skating away, skating away, skating away

    Songwriters: Ian Anderson
    Skating Away (on the Thin Ice lyrics © BMG Rights Management


  2. I hear you, but think they’ve been here quite a while, waiting for the time to emerge and take their rightful place amongst us as leaders and betters. Oh, and when they emerge, they are gonna take your stuff too.

    A long time ago, I went through mock re-education camp after being captured and taken for retraining in a survival school situation. Once you are in that situation, your choices are to live or die. Period. Give it up or die.

    Our training was not to teach how to trick your way out of the situation, but to introduce the uncomfortable notion to us bold and brave young men and women in uniform that sometimes the bravest thing one can do is give it up and reassess your direction.

    Since my state passed the used of medical cannabis oils and I have a condition that qualifies me, I asked him about the process. A crotchety old navy doc (and that’s what I call him to his face), he told me I ought to know gun registration and a script for a federally banned substance were incompatible, regardless of state law. I told him I only own two guns and plan to give the Beretta to my son for Christmas and the 22 rifle is for my beloved husband. End of issue for me. But it is a serious Marxist sneak, isn’t it?

    Now, in keeping with the idea that we are “as in the days of Noah” I would like to add a codicil to my willingness to give up the guns, in name at least, to get the oil. The oil is something I use anyway, having learned from an old herbalist doctor out in the hills of podunk how to distill herbs safely into oil (more like resin) for storage and use.

    The guns?

    Well, when they come to get the guns with their list of who owns what, they really ought to worry less about who owns it than who holds and will use it. But, we are talking Marxists, not rain.

    I don’t know what’s slouching this way, but I think it is emerging from plain sight. And, as for me and my house? Well, you know the rest, right?


    Fine writing, Doug. If I were at the wedding I would have sought out your advice for sure. But, I don’t do weddings any more. And I plan on attending just one more wedding feast.


  3. Assuming my response in the right place (not good at some of these internet blog platforms). Wow, this and other replies is exactly how I feel. I don’t even like going to church any more, its just the same touchy feel good sermons week after week only each one has a different twist on the same subjects of salve for the conscience. I was raised in church and raised my kids in church and they both attend regularly. Last Sunday was our Lords Supper and potluck, could not bring myself to go. Last month I found myself sitting by myself at the potluck in a corner, I realized I have nothing in common with these people that go thru these motions each week. They are so oblivious to where we are as a society, most if not all of them just look at you like you are crazy when you try to broach any intelligent conversation about it, and they just stop talking to you. I write letters to the editor in our local paper about how messed up local government is wasting taxpayer time & money. There are no rebuttals to the letters, and I meet people on the street and they say you should run for office, I would vote for you. Really, people you don’t want me in office!!! 99.999% of these people are completely comfortable with where things are and do not have the gray matter to look back and say ‘Damn how did we get here’. They have all become debt slaves that have no idea that they are debt slaves, no idea that they cannot stop playing the game and can only exit the game one way. It is truly very sad. Guess its a good thing I like being alone and really don’t need any friends, but OK if I have them, etc. Perfectly fine with being one of the few with a light on upstairs.


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