Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?

Greetings, Friends!

Blessings on everyone, I'm sure.

Friends, have you noticed, have you been watching, the earthquakes in Haiti and Chile, all the talk of Snomaggedon, and Snow-pocalypse?

It seems we are obsessed, as a society, with the notion of the End of All Things. Natural disasters are no longer natural disasters, but the Finger of God, wagging at a sinful humanity, Lord have mercy; we are the baby boomers, dagnabbit, and our bad weather is not just bad weather, but a prelude to the impending apocalypse!

It's 2010, only 2 years till the Mayans say the world is done. A huge movie was just made about that, starring that young fellow from High Fidelity, which your humble homilist believes was quite underappreciated.

I have not seen 2012 yet; I'll probably take a glance at the DVD.

But friends, with all due respect to the ancient Mayans, the Reverend Buddy is not one of those preachers who is always castigating his flock about the imminent end of all things. No, friends, I am more concerned with helping us navigate the here and now, believing full well that if we take care to surf into the Light now, we will always be able to ride that Next Wave on in, when the time comes, Praise Jesus.

Children, we none of us know how much time we've got. And you, know, my dear flock, it's not how much we've got, but what we do with it that counts. And friends, remembering that these days will go a long way towards helping you find the way home from work, when according to the multiple megaphones muttering from that towering tower of babbling baloney with the plasma screen in the living room, when those voices are constantly screaming at you that today is the day you should load the rifles and bolt the compound door behind you.

Take a deep breath.

When you're feeling that way, children, you need to take a moment.

Remember:

There are false prophets everywhere.

Your pal the Reverend Buddy, well you know that I ask nothing of you.

I don't want your money, I'm not looking to sell you anything.

All I want you to do is, when you feel like it's all going to heck in a handbag,

all I want you to do is,

Take a breath.

Breathe.

It don't matter what time it is.

God loves you, whether you're in your first moment , or your last, or anywhere in between.

You are loved, sure as night turns to day.

Folks, you should feel a little bit better then, and that's all Reverend Buddy wants.

Now, it seems that our Evangelical friends, and some embracers of the survivalist philosophy, are being singled out for particular scorn by some of our brethren in the blue states. That is unfortunate, but, friends, not unexpected, for we as humans often mock that which we fear or fail to understand.

I have a message from a Ms. Becky Dautrive, of Ganglion Springs. Miss Dautrive writes,

Reverend Buddy,

Do you know if the end times are upon us, and if so, do you endorse any specific course of action?

Friends, I have received many such queries in recent days. I have been perplexed to note that many august members of the Wall Street money changers fraternity have taken to predicting a breakdown in society, urging their fellow wealthy rascals to abandon hope in society's civil conventions, urging them to buy generators, seeds, and self-sufficiency gear, and set off for the wilds, where they might establish compounds of safety in advance of the chaos they feel certain is coming.

Now, friends, I say I'm perplexed by this behavior because the very people who have endorsed this new survivalist strategy are themselves the perpetrators of the events which they now claim shall lead to the sundering of our social fabric. Reckless borrowing, and speculation on the debts of unreliable debtors, has led us to this point; and those who have enabled these fiscal disasters, after having been rescued by your tax dollars, have now taken the evil millions in bonus money they awarded themselves, and are attempting to skulk off into the woods to create their own little utopias.

Reverend Buddy says, Dear Miss Dautrive and friends, let the money changers go. They have mocked the militias in the past, and now are endeavoring to imitate those whom they ridiculed; the evil ones are creating their own apocalypse, and will rise or fail on their own. Let them go.

Bless your faith, for it shall give you strength. We abandoned by our betters will be left to fend for ourselves. Left among us are the nurses, police, firefighters, and other employees of civilization.

We'll have to make the best of it, and we will. Have no fear. Turn off your TV, and take a can of soup out of the pantry.

And don't worry.

No matter what time it is, you've got to keep doing your best.

Breathe, Becky.

You are loved.

And, friends, that is what I wish for you today:

That, should you find yourself outside the door of a compound in the woods, someone will open said door, and invite you in for a can of soup, no matter what the hands read on the civilization clock;

and that, should a knock come upon your door, that you will be able to open it and give aid to your fellows in their time of need.

For that is what we all need, my children: Friends whom we may rescue, or who may rescue us, in times of peril and need.

May you always find friends in your time of need, and may you always be a friend in such times to others.

And remember, at all times, there is love just for you, in the Heart of All Love.

Embrace the Light, my friends, as you

Surf On in Love,

Your Friend,

Reverend Buddy Lee

Reverend Buddy's Vision

Hi Ho Friends!

Let me start by wishing a big old wet sloppy blessing of love upon you all!

Your friend Reverend Buddy is filled with the Spirit, and it has lightened my heart, and yea verily placed a large spring into my step, and a silly smile of joy upon my face.

Friends, I have won no lottery, no jackpot, no daily double; nay, though I have often cast my lot among the gamblers, gamesters, and horse-players, children of God though they may be; no, though I have often played among them, I have no winnings to speak of;

And, Friends, I have no bonanza of stock-market riches, though I have chased penny-stock tips, and speculated on get-rich-quick schemes, spinning Wall Street's Wheel of Fortune, tossing hard-earned dollars into the Big Bank Combine, watching it get shredded into nothing; no, for that effort, I have gotten little but hard-earned, bruising wisdom.

I have traveled through forests full of enchanted herbs; I have lost myself in their foggy fumes. I have drunk magic potions, and have had revealed to me many fantastic visions and nightmarish phantasms; but the next day has always dawned, often in the form of an accompanying headache, and sometimes protracted physical illness; but no matter, each day has dawned, revealing me to be back in the place from which I launched my ill-fated journey of psychedelic-alcoholic-narcotic-hallucinogenic indulgence on the previous night. Sometimes, children, I would find myself in a strange place, in the company of strangers, wearing strange costumes, speaking in a dead language, performing an abominable ritual, ecstatically gyrating in platform shoes in Studio 54....yes, children, such places really did exist.

I have lain with the Bathshebas, Salomes, and Magdalenes, ministering to the fallen angels of the evening, sometimes repeatedly; bringing the cleansing Word to the place of the Easy Action; all of this children of course, before I met the Mrs. Reverend Lee, the estimable Flossirosa Rita Magdalena Fernandez-McThomas Lee,who began the journey by my side which eventually led me out of the Desert, and into the Light.

The Lord appeared to me then, actually, became audible to me , in the form of the voice of Mr. John Lee Hooker, singing in my ear one night in a dirty alley, he sang , Don't look back, with minor and major seventh chords; and during the instrumental break, which was dreamy, very jazzy, kind of free-form, the voice of the Lord came, kind of like a voice-over, and the Lord told me:

Reverend Buddy, you are a fine person. You've screwed up just about every possible way you could, yet here you are, hearing the words of John Lee Hooker, looking forward, opening your mind to my voice.

Reverend Buddy, thou art my child and I love thee. Thy journey is just now beginning. I say unto thee now, with thine own hands, thou shalt build me a virtual church. Thou shalt name this church the Church of the High Beams, and thou shalt bring joy to thy flock.

Speak to thy flock of my love, and its myriad manifestations. Remind them of life's good things, for they will need such reminders often.

When the noise of chaos and turmoil vexes their spirit, remind them of Dick Dale, and Al Green, and Ray Charles;

When the turmoil of politics and power crushes their hearts, remind them of Joe Franklin, Yogi Berra, Soupy Sales, and Uncle Floyd;

When their souls are flagging from their everyday cares and worries, drop your virtual pants, and let them laugh at your ridiculous boxer shorts with the hearts on them;

always remind them, Reverend Buddy, because it's so easy to forget, remind them that I love them, and that I am not mass opium, or a leash to use on a mob; remind them, Reverend Buddy, that life is just a series of waves. Some waves are killers, some are treasures; some we should let pass, some we should swim for with all we got; but no matter, through every and each ride, I am with them.

I am love.

And I love you.

Build me my church, Reverend Buddy, Be the rock-and-roller on whom my church may stand.

Right about then, Mrs. Reverend Lee splashed me with a pail of mop-water, and I arose from my vision.

I followed Mrs. Reverend Lee into the kitchen of the Mess Hall. From down the road, the silver statue of Saint Joseph smiled, and waved his detached hand at me, and I knew that all would be well.

Since then, friends, I have been on a mission, a mission of joy. I smile like a fool, with a Hopalong Cassidy-spring in my step, because I am full of the Spirit, and, children, it lights my way, and lightens my heart so it is like a breeze-borne spore, splashing above the magical fearsome waves crashing at the end of the world.

And friends, that is what I wish for you today.

May each of you find your lives illuminated by a love, a passion, a purpose so beautiful, that it puts a goofy bounce in your stride, and a silly smile on your face, and an anti-gravity device on your heart;

may your days be animated by joy, even when the work is tedious; may your yoke turn to wings, and may you dance blithely over the sword's blade.

May your next cheeseburger taste friggin awesome, and may the next song on the radio be your favorite.

And may you always keep surfing, goofily smiling,

Into the Light.

Your Friend,

Reverend Buddy Lee

When It's Real Love

Howdy, friends, welcome to our weekly visit. Today is Valentine's Day, and it being a holiday of sorts, well, I figured I'd share with you a riddle:

When it's real, it never runs out;

when it's not, there can never be enough.

When it's true, you can't wait to give it away;

when it's not, it's for sale everywhere.

It's always free; if you've gotta buy it, it's not real.

You can't find it in your pocket, it can't really be kept.

You can't wear it, or eat it, or drink it;

though you can be warmed, nourished, and fortified by it.

When it's real, you show the whole world without a care;

when it's not, you tend to be more...discreet.

When it's real, warts-and-all is still beautiful;

when it's not, even perfection won't conceal that flaw.

We receive it as a gift, often without doing anything to earn it;

it can't be obtained by conquest, or lawful judgment.

The only sure way to get it for yourself is to give it as freely and plentifully as you can, to as many others as possible, without condition, fear, doubt, or reservation; and then you can only hold it for as long as it takes you to give it to another.

When it's real, it shows itself in infinite variety;

when it's not, it's not, no matter how you dress it up, package, wrap, or brand it.

When it's real, it lives on, after you're gone from this earth, lighting the lives of folks you'll never even meet, even though the coroner won't see it among your remains;

If it's not, it'll pass into obscurity, mortal as flesh.

If you have it, my friends, you never really die;

but without it, children, you may never truly live.

Whew! Well, that was a long-winded riddle, there, wasn't it, sisters and brothers?

And of course, you all know the answer, my friends. We all know what it's NOT:

It's not money, or youth, or power, or fame; not influence, notoriety, beauty or sexiness, or wit, eloquence, intelligence, luck, or a Dale-Carnegie-esque ability to engage your fellow human;

no, though we some of us possess some or all of these attributes in copious amounts; possession of these characteristics does not itself translate into happiness;

being 'all that' really isn't what it's about, people; and yea though you may be rich, beautiful, desirable, and a true coochie-coochie-coo cutie; without this one itsy-bitsy word, you're a dried-up pile of forgotten old bones.

What's that word, people?

The word is

LOVE

Say it with me now LOVE

Say it again LOVE

Say it like-a Felix Cavalieri like a Young Rascal at the end of 'Good Lovin''

LOVE LOVE

LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE

what is God LOVE

what are we made of LOVE

What is the

Light LOVE

Truth LOVE

Sword LOVE

Word LOVE

The word is love

the word is love

my people it is real it is true it is me it is you it is

LOVE!

And friends your servant Reverend Buddy has been blessed with the honor of telling you that all real love comes from the Lord, and He loves each of you, no matter what.

Did you not get a greeting card today? God sent Reverend Buddy to tell you, You are loved!

No box of chocolates? No red red roses? No matter!

Reverend Buddy, here to tell you: you are loved!

Every holiday, eight days a week, rain or shine, come what may, you are standing in the Light of the Lord, and your beautiful imperfection is loved in all its magnificence, and you don't have to do anything but be you.

Brothers and sisters, this can be yours, every day, all the time, and all you gotta do is one thing:

What's that you ask, Reverend Buddy, are you making a deal with me on behalf of the Lord?

And I say unto you, no, verily, I, the Reverend Buddy, am but a poor broken down pawnshop instrument of the Lord's loving Light: I make no deals, I sell no indulgences, I strike no bargains; no, dear flock, I may, on occasion, sound like a huckster, a Bible-thumping Billy Mays (may he rest in peace), but that is my own corrupt sad mortal imperfection;

No, my dear friends, my joyous duty is to appear before you today to remind you that the Love finds you everywhere; the Real Love is yours always, whenever you wish it. All you need remember is, Brothers and Sisters, all you need recall, all you need know is that the word Love, the word, my friends, the word LOVE is a VERB!

You want love? You got to LOVE! Love is Action, my friends! Put love in everything you do, and everywhere around you will be love!

Just love, love is all you got to do. Don't wait for it, or pine for it, or go on-line for it!

It won't come TO you, people; it's got to come FROM you, because it IS you!

The Lord that gave us sunsets and hang-tens and half-pipes also gave us tsunamis and riptides and wipeouts.

We all of us are blessed and cursed with good and bad stuff throughout our time together here on earth.

The only thing we really get to control is what we DO.

The only thing that shows who you really are is what you DO, your actions.

If all your acts are acts of love, then , my sisters and brothers, you are love.

Be the love, people.

Be the heart of the love. Be real, real love.

I wish you that today, my friends. I pray that you, in each of your lives, may be the love that lights the world of your families, friends, and the fortunate strangers you will meet.

Then every day is a holiday.

Every day is joyful, no matter what happens. Every day is happy, when you love.

Reality is yours to make, every day. Make your love a reality, every day.

Every day is a beautiful day, my friends, when love is what you do.

Every day is a beautiful day, when you remember you are loved.

And you are love.

And the love is real.

Yes the love is real.

Surf on into the love,

Reverend Buddy Lee

Hallelulia Sisters and Brothers!

Blessings Upon You All!

My brothers and sisters, I welcome you to the initial message from The Reverend Buddy Lee, Pastor of the Church of the High Beams, coming to you from a cobweb-covered place in your mind, or maybe just somewhere in the ether.

Be advised, my children, the Church of the High Beams is different than any other, for:

No money shall ever be sought from you;

All are always welcome;

Speech shall always be free;

All opinions expressed herein are those of the Reverend Lee, and you need never agree, heed, fear or support them if you don't want to.

Our mission is to bring laughter, light, and the love of our life together into focus for you who may stumble onto our pages.

We believe in God, but all atheists are welcome;

We believe in justice, but we are not judges;

We seek truth, and we take it where we find it,

and if you don't like us, well, bless you brother,

Surf On.

And now, on to Episode 365:

Brothers and Sisters,

I recently read a letter from a sweet young girl. Her heart was heavy, and she faced despair and uncertainty. She was rescued from this despair, my friends, by the light of the Lord's love. That light shined down on her and saved her.

And from where, Reverend Buddy you ask, from whence did come such Divine Intervention, that shined its light on our young darling in her time of woe?

Well, I'll tell you.

Friends, that light came from a young man filled with the Spirit, and I believe, spirits as well, (Jameson probably), a young man who removed his garment in a public place, and sang a song of love and friendship which gladdened the heart of our suffering young lady;

and, yea though he was reviled, mocked, and verily spat upon; though he was called names and mocked by the vicious throng, the young man sang for his friend in distress, and in so doing, gladdened her heart, bringing to her the light of the Lord's love, dismissing her despair as a cyclone dispels cigarette smoke; for love is the most powerful force in the universe AMEN

And our lad bared his soul, and his chest, too, and sang for the sweet heartsick angel, bringing her out of the darkness, and into the light.

And, friends, when I finished reading, I needed a moment.

I became a little verklempt, I admit.

I fell to my knees and asked the Good Lord, Lord, if You ever saw fit to bless me with a son; if you ever deigned to say, Reverend Buddy, here is a little boy of your very own, to raise up and love as your son; well, Lord, I'd want him to be as strong and full of love as the spirits-filled, bare-chested boy who sang to the sweet sad girl in the noisy vulgar coliseum; and, I wouldn't be prouder or happier if he was a big shot, or a rich man, or a lottery winner;

No, Lord, I'd feel like I won the lottery of Life if I had me a boy like that.

CAN I GET AN AMEN!

Because, friends, the best we can do on this earth is to find friends to love us, sweet friends we can sing to, and comfort; it doesn't take money, and you don't have to necessarily be that good a singer; you don't have to strip, unless you're singing a Barry White song, maybe;

but friends, we are blessed when, in our times of trouble, we have someone who will disrobe and sing for us in front of fifty thousand people, just so we smile.

My sisters and my brothers, that is what I wish for you today:

That in your darkest moment, you will have a spirits-filled friend who will gladly sing bare-chested in a public place, a friend to take your hand, and walk with you, and help you find your way out of the darkness, and into the Light, the Light of the Lord's sweet Love.

Surf On into the Light,

Reverend Buddy Lee