Courage comes with faith in ascension.  Our vessels rot and become dandelions or maggots.  Our spirit is Jesus.  The expanse is Jesus’ spirit, it uses our vessels like hand puppets.  Hell is in the head because the truth is fractured by flaw into contrary industry, trends, and culture.  Jesus forgives us (to relieve his pain) when the expanse manifested “him” in human form with infinite knowledge.  Good is Tinder.  Jesus was tinder to the Jews, and that comfort addicted them to warmth inside cold nights.  The heat of the desert burns feet.  When there was one set of footprints in the sand, it was because Jesus carries us with brain function (like meat puppets).  The holy spirit fills us like an African well.  A dichotomy.  The barren desert flush with water in an accessible paradise.  When you drink from the well, that sensation of swallowing helps to realize our fallibility by drowning our thirst.  We must hold our breath, to drink.  Therefore, we must have courage to believe.  The soul of Jesus is the expansion of time, life, and purpose.
 
Bible interpretation ends here.  Now this is my sardonic speculation.
 
I think the point of scripture is to focus our belief through the filter of the word; to prune away flaw.  If we keep arriving to the same conclusions in leu of truth, have others be honest:  Is my interpretation original and interesting?  Yes or no?  As a young muse, I’m desperate to prove myself.  My jurisdiction is my family.  Let my fruit help my family find Jesus to be funny and interesting and perhaps even original.  As a Minnow King, I kneel with the responsibility of guiding fish, and open to the wisdom of my three owls.  Barb, Brian, and Dr. B, I hold my breath when I pray, to symbolize diving as a fish with lungs to cry ‘who?’  I only know the answer to ‘why.’  Now, I must know the answer to ‘who.’  Who betrayed you?  Yourself, for trusting poorly.  Is my personality a disease?  Can you trust a fish with lungs?  Well…if you don’t, eat me.  Put me out of my misery.  My trust nourishes the betrayed grown accustomed to convenience (of trusting poorly).

Romans Chapter 12:2 (interpretation by johnralphtuccitto.com)
 
Everything else is contrary to truth.  When perception jigs through the mind, flaw FRACTURES truth into contrary industries and trending cultures.  Do not conform to amateur demons.  Be not conformed in a secular world that doesn’t prioritize contrary cults.  God is a contrary cult to heathens.  Be transformed by cleaning your conscience with honesty (in leu of truth).  Do not go too deep.  Before you hit the mental firmament…fracture contrary industry and trending cultures WITH other people’s honesty.  God is contrary in a secular world.  That will not only HALT your descent to dead ends, but it will also reverse your regression.
 
Bible interpretation ends here.  Now this is my sardonic speculation.
 
Through hypnosis exercising God’s script(ure), if the script calls for delusions of grandeur, have your poems at the ready to outrun God with YOUR truth.  Preach your expertise like a false prophet.  Honesty ALONE…is contrary to the (your) truth.  It’s a tool, but you can’t hammer a nail flat with a teaspoon.  Minnow Kings must be amphibius.  Inching my way through dry muck, to help authority account for THEIR denial of duty to oaths.  The will of God is time’s motive…to enact truth’s talent for preaching. 
 
The expanse is just one big experiment.  Can aliens disprove “nothing” is evidence of God?  At this point I need a mustard seed of faith.  God is too real.  Is that reasonable?  Is it reasonable for hospitals to include chapels?  If a husband’s wife only had a 10% chance of surviving a surgery, is it reasonable to have faith in assumptions to cope with reality?  What’s the first thing the husband will praise when the doctor gives the good news?  Thank God!  Why?  Good is tinder.  On that day my innocence died, my sanity was the tinder that kept your family warm in winter.
 
God got me through psychosis.  I’m so tired of the thrills of isolation appeasing my ego.  A Minnow King must be amphibious.  I’m a fish crossing the beach that’s inviting owls for a chat.  I have three owls:  Barb, Brian, and Dr. B.  Please, don’t eat me.  I don’t know the answer to ‘who-who-WHOoo?’  But I know the answer to “why.”  Good is tinder.  No, not the app.  Fire-starter.  Are you addicted to warmth?  When winter has its way, the price of warmth is good people screaming “WHY!?”  Because good is tinder.  Why?  Because Good is tinder.  Why?  Because…good…is… tinder.  Come with me if you want to grow gills.

Listeners grow chaff like scabs; protecting wounds that affect their inheritance of heaven (by cleaning their conscience) with truth, NOT evidence, honesty, fiction, or rebellion.  Ungodly counsel rage against God's holy word because there's NO easy way…to reject one’s identity beyond the primal craving…to idolize vanity.  To spite God, the heathens indoctrinate children with a secular goal: To damn their integrity with evidence, honesty, fiction, and rebellion.  I'm hanging by God's whisker; I hope that's enough to inherit heaven with listeners.
 
Bible interpretation ends here.  Now this is my sardonic speculation.
 
Meditation attempts to halt judgement in purgatory.  How?  By STIFLING the courage to take the leap of faith.  Only souls destined for heaven will be judged.  The damned fall while pitching their testimony for VIP access into hell. That’s Satan’s lie, there is no VIP.  Satan inspires us to fall (from grace) and document our testimony, so Satan may inspire the innocent with evidence, honesty, fiction, and rebellion.  Abuse is God’s humour to tolerate nothing.  Who asked you to achieve the impossible?  And who asked you to live within your means?  God, god or Satan?  If you’ve experienced abuse, or addiction, that is evidence of god’s hubris to prioritize life and purpose because it bred a SPECTRUM of procreators.  Love alone is not moral.  I’m broadcasting at a SEVERE frequency, and then I use irony as truth to confuse ungodly counsels.  “Nothing is evidence of God.”  It’s a contrary cult of God, Science and Magic. 
 
I’m a magician’s heretic pointing out God’s word through the Mythology of the Muse.  I documented my testimony BEFORE it’s too late.  I accept Jesus died for my sins, in a very very poetic and peculiar way: Sardonicism.  Not sure where on God this whisker (I’m hanging from) grows, perhaps a nose hair?  The wind is God’s sniff, inhaling listener’s scabs.  Some might argue my thoughts are evidence of mutual insanity.  Silence reveals hypocrites as predators.  Silence reveals predators as hypocrites.  Are you a selfish coward & hypocrite or do you exercise selfless courage & conviction?  That’s the evidence of silence, so openly agreeing with me is blasphemy; because guilt acknowledges your flaw.  Thoughts alone are not moral nor illegal.  Otherwise, we’d all be guilty.  Jesus died for our sins whether you like it or not.  There’s only so much ocean to fish and land to till, the rest of a us speculate and prostitute.  God’s humour is sardonic, yet it MUST be…to prioritize nothing.  I think the hair I hang from can smell snot.  Snot is chaff.  That’s why we pick our nose in private.  I do.

​I hope you pulled that out of your hat, so I can laugh at the irony.  Ambition to be humble.  Ambition runs both ways.  As a Minnow King, I have the ambition to be humble.  By cleaning my conscience, I shoo away the ambition to achieve the impossible.  I achieved the possible.  I let addiction cater abuse as the cure.  Ungodly counsel is your ambition to bend like a reed.  God will always blow the chaff away.  So who cares what ungodly counsels you’re forced to experience…
 
Sit there without judgement.  You’re not God, and the heathens can’t understand God is a standard of truth that doesn’t judge the wind.  Psalms 1-2 is the wind requesting you bend.  When we talk, you bend.  When I leave you are upright.  Not to be confused with bowing.  You bend the knee for God, and no one else.  Hey man…I’m just a pillow for your knee.  If that helps you, bend, and I’ll be the child running past you rustling the stalks with winds of my own.  I bring tales of wisdom.  I ate from the tree of knowledge.  Fuck Satan.  He’s so small minded.  All the fruit is low-hanging. 
 
I don’t know if that’s true, but shit...isn’t that poetic?  The snake didn’t have to climb very high to feed libtards curiosity.  It’s all low hanging fruit.  But each fruit delivers more poison than the last.  Ungodly counsels are low hanging fruit.  Be the snake, that says no.  It’s not worth it.  Maybe now Satan is a two-headed snake, that has to debate himself with a fractured identity.  Politics.  The libtards Adam and Eve…are naive.  Aren’t they? 
 
“What’s one little start-up card game from a bipolar person gonna hurt?  I just want to help people.” 
 
I’ll just find another way.  I have an ambition to be humble.
 
This is Barb's idea, and I want to pull through for her.  Can't wait for God to tell me what to do, because I'm all ears.
 
I thank God for you.
 
God bless.
 
John

PS - if you have questions, fire away.  Please send me more verses.  This is my purpose.  Or comment down below.  No one will see it because the site is password protected.