There is a time to laugh.Â
War is rarely that time.Â
Not when the standards are raising. Not while the arrows are flying. Not when the lines crash to meeting in a hazy violence of flesh and metal.
Laugh the barracks as you have need, but do not laugh on the field.
At the very least, in this age of memes and branding, in this time of mass formation psychosis under the image of the Beast, this means that vain laughter is a distraction at best, and an addiction at worst. In the war to liberate souls from the regime of Molech and his lies, the quest to be sober-minded, to pay attention, to wake up is its own kind of joy, sweeter in flavor than all the sweetly flickering blue-light nostalgia of programmed chuckles that you can imagine.
I am not saying that laughter is not enjoyable. I am only saying that honor is not fitting for a fool.
Be careful, or you may become enlightened. That is what comes of reading the Bible like it is true. This is the path of believing that you are part of what it says, a thread in the tapestry, a member in the body, a Son in the King’s army, here to wage the beautiful resistance against Baal of Nimrod, lifting up holy hands in prayer that God would the lop of the bough of our Enemy like the heads of Oreb and Zeeb, and fleeing through this wilderness for time, times and half a time in full assurance that the river will not drown you, the dragon will not eat you, and the fire shall not have you.
Remember the true lore and walk out of your grave. This is what you’ve been missing. This is what you are after.Â
But I’m oh so very very tired and often sad