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Epistle to the Americans

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  An Epistle to the Americans A rebuke of the Baptist churches in America Hi, my name is Joshua Coffman. I am an Independent Fundamental Soulwinning Baptist. I love hot preaching and I love seeing souls saved. This letter is an open letter to all Baptist churches, not because the issue contained within ONLY applies to Baptist churches, but because I know with great detail many Baptist churches who are in need of the reproof with which I will give in the next paragraphs. The churches in Clinton MD, Syracuse NY, Abilene KS, Fairbanks AK, Long Beach CA, Longview TX and Hammond IN are specific but not the only churches I see responsible for this terrible failure to follow sound doctrine. The Baptist church is greatly decentralized. I cannot speak to what each pastor practices or believes individually, but just as the great prophets of old spoke, responsibility starts with us, not our erring brother, not our wicked politicians, not our spouses or our parents. It starts with me. And that is

Basil and Gonz Go to NASA

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Basil and Gonz Go to NASA A fan-fiction novella short story by Joshua Coffman Faces looked out their windows in the quiet suburban neighborhood. A loud metallic clang rang out in the early morning hours of the weekday and the coffee hadn't quite kicked in for the suburbanites. Passing by their houses was a sight that none of them would have expected. A giant robot was walking down their street. But to the average American, this was just another advertising stunt, so the grumpy early-risers returned to getting ready for the day. If they would have looked a little closer though, they would have noticed that this was no robot, instead it was a manned vehicle: a glorious mech suit, taller than most of the single story homes in the neighborhood. Basil navigated into the driveway of his best buddy, Gonz's, house. A cat jumped off of the mechanical beast of a suit and ran up to the front door. With a quick jump and twist, the cat rang the doorbell of the unassuming southern Californ

How To Get Started in a Public Relations Career

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I will tell you the best strategy to get a career in public relations. But first I want to help you be a PR expert for your own self and your loved ones. Public relations is a powerful tool of some of the most wealthy individuals and institutions in the world today. How can we harness that power and use it for good in the world? Keep reading to find out, I've included some of my most important tips. As a content consumer, I've pulled from many different resources, including free video content online, resources from my local library, podcasts on infosec and opsec.  This is a culmination of years of rejecting social norms, a delayed and shortened use of social media in general. I personally never even went to school beyond a year at the age of 6. Instead I was homeschooled and learned from an early age to be information sufficient. I was raised in a "sheltered" home and even Disney movies were not allowed in our home. These ideas come from an outsiders view.  Later i

Free Will

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  Free Will a poem by Joshua Coffman "Protect the children!"  Salty waves roared loudly back.  Bearded men swore epithets into the wind.  "Protect the children!" Dark vomited its perfume, God's just anger raining down on those who sinned. "Throw out the tackle!" Desperate authority penned. But they were not on the sea or in a boat. "Throw out the tackle!" They felt no heroism. Propaganda fed their soul, lines tyrants wrote. "Jump into the sea!" What?! The novel turned abrupt. Plunging men into confused and angry state. "Jump into the sea!" Surely the author amused. His words divorced from thought, only feeling hate. "Drown! ye bastard minks!" The men look'd round their dark envire. Then looked at eachother, inarticulate. "Drown! ye bastard minks!" The paper showed grease-stains now Sweaty palms. The angry man throwing a fit.

Fiction - Scientological Part 1

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Scientological a fictional short story by Joshua Coffman Part 1 Evan stood in the darkness. It was silent. He imagined himself in a different year, a year where people rode horses to the city to get items from the town shop. He closed his eyes and heard the cars far away driving on the highway. If he didn't know what cars were, he imagined the sounds would make him think of ghosts in the woods. The night sky was covered with clouds obscuring everything but the bright aurora of the moon. No guiding stars, no mythical figures to protect over him as he walked down the railroad tracks leading out of the industrial part of town. There was no trash here. The unmarred landscape surrounding him held no white highlights in the darkness. No plastic Walmart bags caught in the trees. There were no empty Chinese takeout boxes framing the treeline along the tracks. Evan thought it was strange that there was a place untouched by the invasive touch of litter. He remembered his home, trash was all

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