12/31/2003
in 2004...
In honor of my beloved dog Holly (so named because I brought her home on Christmas Eve in 1989 from a "Free to a Good Home" box in front of the local grocery store), who climbed up into the mountains and presumedly died, I offer this humor from my inbox:
firing in the new year
We'll be shooting off fire works tonight. The 8 inches of snow on the ground give us assurance that the fire danger is indeed low.
I hope everyone has a happy and safe new year, and that you ring in 2004 with all your fingers attached!
I hope everyone has a happy and safe new year, and that you ring in 2004 with all your fingers attached!
a request
I'm heading into town to meet with a friend who has some serious issues going on in his life. Please pray for him, that the Lord would give him direction, hope, confidence, and protection.
12/30/2003
finish the analogy
In writing the previous post, I attempted, but eventually aborted a metaphor. So tell me, how would you finish this:
Remember, I was being complimentary.
- And if her husband were any more down-to-earth, he'd...."
Remember, I was being complimentary.
mad cow disease
We dined last night at Friend's house. She is a wonderful hostess, her children are a delight, and her husband is as down-to-earth as any man could be. We had a fantabulous time. My parents joined us, as did the hostess'. The only "touchy" time came when politics came up and her dad -- very GOP -- and my dad -- very Dem -- clearly disagreed.
I left the room.
Their home is very Northwestern Colorado-ish in its design. They have wall mounts of mountain lion, bear, pike, and mule deer. It really is a very warm, rustic, welcoming home.
This same ambience extended into the kitchen, albeit with a caveat. Again, no reflection on the folks themselves, whom we love. They just have chosen to accent the food preparation room with a bovine motif, Holstein variety. Random black splotches on white background.
On everything. Potholders. Pictures. Utensils. Pottery. Cream Dispenser.
I was moooooved by the experience.
I then went to use the restroom, and was confronted by a wallpaper border of a bunch of cows, one of which was pictured sticking its tongue out at me, quite possibly in disdain for my disagreement of the decoration decision.
To each his or her own, I suppose.
On a related note, I'm pleased to announce that I received a John Elway commemorative Miniature Wheaties Box -- that will look quite nice next to my John Elway bobblehead doll and John Elway Football Card Wall Clock.
I'm just glad I'm not obsessed like some people.
I left the room.
Their home is very Northwestern Colorado-ish in its design. They have wall mounts of mountain lion, bear, pike, and mule deer. It really is a very warm, rustic, welcoming home.
This same ambience extended into the kitchen, albeit with a caveat. Again, no reflection on the folks themselves, whom we love. They just have chosen to accent the food preparation room with a bovine motif, Holstein variety. Random black splotches on white background.
On everything. Potholders. Pictures. Utensils. Pottery. Cream Dispenser.
I was moooooved by the experience.
I then went to use the restroom, and was confronted by a wallpaper border of a bunch of cows, one of which was pictured sticking its tongue out at me, quite possibly in disdain for my disagreement of the decoration decision.
To each his or her own, I suppose.
On a related note, I'm pleased to announce that I received a John Elway commemorative Miniature Wheaties Box -- that will look quite nice next to my John Elway bobblehead doll and John Elway Football Card Wall Clock.
I'm just glad I'm not obsessed like some people.
12/29/2003
morbidity
FYI -- 29 percent of my most recent referrers have come from a single reference to the celebs who died in 2003.
call me mcblogver
Until I can dedicate more time to renovating the site by taking it off blogspot...I'm hoping to appease the angry masses with a new color scheme and a couple new rotating tags. I realize this is little more than keeping things together with duct tape and bailing wire, but its the best I can do for the time....
okay, i hear you
I'll be changing off blogspot soon, which includes a new look...away from the green (a decision that was instrumental in my defeat in the KOB tourney).
leaving the details to someone else
I think one of you out there who gets a lot more traffic than do I should host a "Post of the Year" competition. There has been many "best of" competitions around the blogosphere, but they tend to focus on contestants' blogs as a whole.
I further recommend the following categories (with links to my nominations, should someone actually pick up this fumbled ball and run with it toward the proverbial end zone:
I assume there's sound logic to limiting the nomination period so as not to become overwhelming, but this could introduce some people to quality they'd otherwise not discover.
Okay...as a "big picture" person, I've planted the seed, now somebody cultivate it into the beautiful crop of linkage and good reading that this idea could become.
I further recommend the following categories (with links to my nominations, should someone actually pick up this fumbled ball and run with it toward the proverbial end zone:
- humor (June 9 entry)
- world events
- inspiration (Sept. 22 post #1)
- satire
- opinion
- theological
- personal
- storying
I assume there's sound logic to limiting the nomination period so as not to become overwhelming, but this could introduce some people to quality they'd otherwise not discover.
Okay...as a "big picture" person, I've planted the seed, now somebody cultivate it into the beautiful crop of linkage and good reading that this idea could become.
the changing face of the blogosphere
The challenge of being a cartographer is the continual risk of publishing material that is outdated as soon as it hits the public.
Thanks to recent efforts of Adrian, this map has proven to have gone the way of the 33 cent stamp, for its lack of recognition of The Blogdom of God.
Thanks to recent efforts of Adrian, this map has proven to have gone the way of the 33 cent stamp, for its lack of recognition of The Blogdom of God.
nw colorado blogging
We showed up in Craig two days ago, but my parents computer had crashed. So I finally got around to hooking up my laptop today and checking out the pulse of the blogosphere, which tends to resemble a tryptophan-induced post holiday feast late-afternoon nap on the couch.
We drove through near white-out conditions on Rabbit Ear Pass. That was lots of fun. Nothing like white-knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel to make one appreciate arriving a destination.
We went to church yesterday at Calvary (where I had my first [associate] pastorate). It was such a good day. Hugged so many people, saw so many good friends. Listened to a tremendous message on "now is the time" (Romans 13:11-14). We then spent some additional time with some dear friends before returning home to my parents'. Today, snow-mobiling is on the agenda, followed by an dining with Kelli's best friend from high school (and her family).
We drove through near white-out conditions on Rabbit Ear Pass. That was lots of fun. Nothing like white-knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel to make one appreciate arriving a destination.
We went to church yesterday at Calvary (where I had my first [associate] pastorate). It was such a good day. Hugged so many people, saw so many good friends. Listened to a tremendous message on "now is the time" (Romans 13:11-14). We then spent some additional time with some dear friends before returning home to my parents'. Today, snow-mobiling is on the agenda, followed by an dining with Kelli's best friend from high school (and her family).
12/27/2003
i'm in the lead
Yesterday, we finished stage three of the Tour of Insanity®. I'm wearing the leader's jersey, which coincidentally is a straightjacket, after twenty hours and 1000 miles in the Durango (the automobile worn by football-playing lingerie models). Actually, it was a very good ride. No hurling. No real fights amongst anyone. The only rough stretch was when I was trying to take a catnap and the kids were in the back watching The Sound of Music on DVD (yes, my oldest daughter -- 6 -- loves this movie). In that funky world somewhere between reality and Slumberland, I was trying to incorporate the former into the latter. So I was dreaming that I was married to Julie Andrews, and we were fleeing from the Nazis on our way to visit grandmothers. All of a sudden she shouted out, "Watch out, a DOE, A DEER, A FEMALE DEER!" Of course, I swerved, because that would be something you would expect from me (a name, I call myself), but not before a horrendous collision with a van filled with the Von Trapp singers. I told Ray to get help, but in my southern drawl, he didn't understand that he'd have to go "fah...a long long way to run."
That's when I decided it was time to leave Slumberland and have a double shot of Starbucks.
Today is a relatively short jaunt from Denver to Craig, over the snowpacked and icy passes Eisenhower and Rabbit Ears. The next time you hear from me, I'll be in Snowy Northwestern Colorado.
That's when I decided it was time to leave Slumberland and have a double shot of Starbucks.
Today is a relatively short jaunt from Denver to Craig, over the snowpacked and icy passes Eisenhower and Rabbit Ears. The next time you hear from me, I'll be in Snowy Northwestern Colorado.
12/26/2003
travel day
leaving Kingwood for Colorado, with a stop in Weatherford. Hopefully, everyone will be at the malls and not on the roads.
Please pray for our safety.
I'm sorry Tony...I'll be checking my calendar for a trip to Austin as soon as I return. I will have a face-to-face Starbucks conversation with you about everything that's wrong in the world.
Please pray for our safety.
I'm sorry Tony...I'll be checking my calendar for a trip to Austin as soon as I return. I will have a face-to-face Starbucks conversation with you about everything that's wrong in the world.
12/25/2003
merry christmas
May you and yours have a day filled with the love of God, the blessings of family, and the shared joy that the Christ has come from heaven so that you could be reconciled to your Creator for eternity.
12/24/2003
this is cool
A guy who went to the same church as did I when I was at seminary has contacted me with news that his Sunday school director wants to buy a case of The Servant Principle to give away to others. How cool is that?!?
If you're interested in the book, please send me a message and I'll see what I can do about getting you info on how to buy a copy. I wish I had copies to give away, but I've already given away all I had, and we're a one-income family with limited resources for such benevolence. Really, though, it is a good book with an important message to those who would be Christ-followers. If you want more info on the book, click on the link on my right column.
If you're interested in the book, please send me a message and I'll see what I can do about getting you info on how to buy a copy. I wish I had copies to give away, but I've already given away all I had, and we're a one-income family with limited resources for such benevolence. Really, though, it is a good book with an important message to those who would be Christ-followers. If you want more info on the book, click on the link on my right column.
announcement
I'm still just a very small fish in a very big pond, but Christmas Eve 2003 marks my best month of visitation since starting this little hobby.*
Thanks for coming...and returning (most of you).
*not that I check, chart, nor obsess over this information. really.
Thanks for coming...and returning (most of you).
*not that I check, chart, nor obsess over this information. really.
oops
Cotter: Mommy...I need to tell you something.
Kelli: Yes....
Cotter: Zach and I were hiding from the monsters. He yelled out "WATCH OUT HERE THEY COME!"
And that made teetee come out into my underwear. Just a little.
Kelli: Yes....
Cotter: Zach and I were hiding from the monsters. He yelled out "WATCH OUT HERE THEY COME!"
And that made teetee come out into my underwear. Just a little.
discovery
The nephews lose interest in playing with the uncle when the uncle -- by sheer accident -- captures the snitch and unintentionally wins the Quidditch match. He is only a fun playmate when he repeatedly subjects himself to 290-10 defeats.
snl-icious
The Comedy Channel is airing the 50 favorite episodes of SNL (1980-2001). I don't have time to go through an entire list...but some of my favorite episodes (as compared to an earlier post of favorite guest stars' specific skits) are:
and as an aside, here's a link to the video of what may be my favorite SNL skit of all time, Harry Shearer and Marty Short as male synchronized swimmers.
Renee Zellweger (2001) -- Jerry McGuire 2, A Wedding Story
Christopher Walken (2000) -- The Continental, Behind the Music: Blue Oyster Cult
Ray Romano (1999) -- ESPN audition, Shirt in a Can, Roberto Benini
Alec Baldwin (1998)-- Delicious Dish (Schweaty foodstuffs)
David Duchovny (1998) -- Spartan Cheerleaders at camp, Celebrity Jeopardy
Pam Anderson (1997) -- Spartan Cheerleaders at the beach, Goat Boy
Jim Carrey (1996) -- night at the roxbury, hot tub lifeguard, spartan cheerleaders, Jimmy Tango's Fatbusters
John Travolta (1994) -- Tarantino's Welcome Back Kotter, Grease redux
Patrick Swayze (1990) -- Chippendale's competition, Ghost redux, Hans & Franz
Wayne Gretzky (1989) -- Waikiki Hockey, Wayne Gretzky meets Wayne Campbell
Eddie Murphy (1982) -- Gumby Christmas, Velvet Jones
and as an aside, here's a link to the video of what may be my favorite SNL skit of all time, Harry Shearer and Marty Short as male synchronized swimmers.
dateline kingwood
We arrived in Kingwood yesterday...behind schedule. We had to stop at Lifeway Christian Bookstore (the name of which is kinda silly, but that's only because I'm of the opinion that "Christian" can not be appropriately used as an adjective for inanimate objects such as bookstores, schools, and even some people). Kaylyn got car sick, but managed to keep from vomiting until we got to the front entry of said bookstore. It really was a Norman Rockwell moment, entitled Child Yelling at Christian Sidewalk. Proprietors were no doubt appreciative.
This is why I have yet to contact Tony, and may not yet be able to. That, and I have seem to have misplaced my celluar telephone. Hmm....I probably ought to start getting concerned about that.
Lots of stuff going on around blogdom, which surprises me since this is the time to slow down and celebrate Jesus. Even so, I apparently lost the KOB tourney (I'll link later), but haven't seen the summary results. Also, Adrian's developing an evangelical alliance that is designed to increase traffic (read: opportunity to witness) to blogs written by followers of the Christ.
Well, you'll have to excuse me, I have an important appointment to go get trounced by my nephew in Harry Potter's Quidditch World Cup competition. I promise, this in no way implies my endorsement of the dark crafts.
This is why I have yet to contact Tony, and may not yet be able to. That, and I have seem to have misplaced my celluar telephone. Hmm....I probably ought to start getting concerned about that.
Lots of stuff going on around blogdom, which surprises me since this is the time to slow down and celebrate Jesus. Even so, I apparently lost the KOB tourney (I'll link later), but haven't seen the summary results. Also, Adrian's developing an evangelical alliance that is designed to increase traffic (read: opportunity to witness) to blogs written by followers of the Christ.
Well, you'll have to excuse me, I have an important appointment to go get trounced by my nephew in Harry Potter's Quidditch World Cup competition. I promise, this in no way implies my endorsement of the dark crafts.
ode on a battle of the network stars
THOU canst express the constraint frivolity
discovered upon Trio's aforeday fame
pop, culture, television, nee virility
Scott Baio be thy name
Wherefore canst competition abound
between the ilk of Larry Wilcox from CHiPs days
vying in arms opposed on ground
to Cathy Lee Crosby regarding Simon Says
Howard Cosell with integrity lost
complementing Randi Oakes for her course
filled with obstacles yet not toss'd
claiming a title with no remorse.
Robert Hays at odds with Chad Evrett
Greg Harrison truly be Trapper John, MD
he alone conquers the tall wall of threat
off'ring CBS 25 essential marks t'ward v'ctory
Linda Carter, a Wonder Woman's weighty anchor
in the medly relay swim race warfare
Charlene Tilton filled with Dallasian Ewingish rancor
mayhaps unaware their suits be threadbare
Network braggadocia the vyers' true laurel
more important than renewal this title behold
back in the day when flag football was moral
and FOX, WB, UPN's whereabouts untold
This day long passed, our tears doth descend
satisfied instead by the marks of sweeps
Battle of the Networks stars forever portend
without such Grant Goodeve still weeps
discovered upon Trio's aforeday fame
pop, culture, television, nee virility
Scott Baio be thy name
Wherefore canst competition abound
between the ilk of Larry Wilcox from CHiPs days
vying in arms opposed on ground
to Cathy Lee Crosby regarding Simon Says
Howard Cosell with integrity lost
complementing Randi Oakes for her course
filled with obstacles yet not toss'd
claiming a title with no remorse.
Robert Hays at odds with Chad Evrett
Greg Harrison truly be Trapper John, MD
he alone conquers the tall wall of threat
off'ring CBS 25 essential marks t'ward v'ctory
Linda Carter, a Wonder Woman's weighty anchor
in the medly relay swim race warfare
Charlene Tilton filled with Dallasian Ewingish rancor
mayhaps unaware their suits be threadbare
Network braggadocia the vyers' true laurel
more important than renewal this title behold
back in the day when flag football was moral
and FOX, WB, UPN's whereabouts untold
This day long passed, our tears doth descend
satisfied instead by the marks of sweeps
Battle of the Networks stars forever portend
without such Grant Goodeve still weeps
12/23/2003
12/22/2003
mayberryvangelism
I needed a haircut. I didn't get one earlier, prior to leaving for the TOI®, for two basic reasons:
1) because every spare penny was necessary to pay for our home closing on the 19th.
2) because every spare penny was necessary to pay for our home closing on the 19th.
Even so, I was looking a bit like Doug Llewellan from The People's Court, with a raging case of helmet hair. Saturday, after some much needed slumber from the actual marathon drive across the nation, I set out on the mission to get my haircut.
Weimar, Texas, is not a buzzing metropolis of assembly-line haircutters that can be found at Fantastic Sam's or the slightly less popular Not-So-Fantastic But Still Pretty Decent for a $10.95 Haircut Frank's.
I asked for and received excellent instructions on how to locate the Weimar barber shop:
So, at ten till eleven, I embarked. Two trips through the two-stoplight town, and there was no barber shop to be found. No striped pole to alert me to its locale. No tell-tale odor of Barbasol lingering in the air.
Unable to orienteer my way to the Machu Pichu that is the Weimar Barber, I instead hopped figuratively onto Highway 90 and drove on over to Schulenburg, seven miles away. If Schulenburg is the big brother to Weimar, it's only a metaphorical 10 or 12 months more mature. Driving through this town, though, I quickly located the barber shop. It was as if it had a glow about its striped pole, a beacon calling me to its services.
Entering, it was as if I had walked through a portal in time, albeit one with contemporary subscriptions to Esquire, Ebony, and Field & Stream. The barber wore a white smock and was engaged in a deep conversation with a customer over how the Swedes and the Germans settled in this area so long ago. This customer was soon completed, and the barber accepted his payment using a highly complex financial hardware system that was a wad of bills bound by a rubber band.
The next customer sat, and the barber took out a fresh pair of snips and a black comb that had be sanitized under a radiant lamp that I think just might induce sterility with prolonged exposure. They got into a similar discussion about immigration, but this one introduced the Poles. I read my magazine, looking up and nodding and smiling often enough to appear like I fit in here. Clearly, I could not have fit in less than if I were instead waiting my turn at Ice Cube's barbershop.
Again, this customer was done, and the barber took his payment.
"Seven dollars," he said.
Seven dollars! Ka-ching!! I thought. I nearly pushed my geriatic predeccessor out the door in my hurry to take advantage of discount grooming.
He draped me in an inexpensive off-white cloth cover (that I think he used on the previous two clients, but since they were both gray-haired gentlemen, I really couldn't gather conclusive evidence) and asked me how I liked my hair cut. I gave him the same instructions I gave anyone who cuts my hair. His response, "you like it close, then, right?"
"Umm...right," I said. I think this was the only affirmation he needed to go about his plans exactly as he had intended even if I had said nothing at all.
He began shearing my locks using a clipper that hadn't been sharpened since 1957. This implement was not clipping so much as it was "gripping and rending." His right hand that held the clipper shook with an unsteady shake that overwhelmed me with a confessionally pride-filled sense of "oh my goodness what have I done?" discontent. Obviously more content with these conditions, he commenced to clipping, and, accordingly, to conversing:
He: so, are you from around here?
Me: No, actually, I came in from Georgia last night.
(abridged version for the purpose of getting to the point)
Me: Actually, I like Texas very much. I went to seminary in Fort Worth.
He: Oh! Are you a missionary?
Me: Well, I'm not a missionary, but I am in the ministry.
He: Can you baptize me right now?
Let me pause here to convey that this is not the type of thing that normally occurs when I mention my involvement in the ministry. As such, I was taken a bit off guard. Back to the conversation;
Me: Well, let's talk about that a bit...
Let me pause here to just note that we talked for a bit about the influence of his personal theology by his wife, who was "raised Catholic." Finally, we arrived here...
Me: So what about you...when you die, do you think you are going to go straight to heaven or straight to hell?
He: Well, I've got some things to work out pretty soon...I'm getting up there in years.
Me: I've got some good news for you...you don't have to wonder, worry, or wait any longer. The Bible has a good word that you can know...right now...for ever...that God loves you, that He forgives you, and that you can heaven and eternal life.
He: Show me!
Let me pause here that his statement was more of a challenging tone than it was an "I can't wait to buy your product"-in-an-informercial tone. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a hidden Daily Devotional Bible.
He: I've been reading this lately.
Me: Let's take a look at this.
Let me pause here to tell you that after a few minutes of figuring out how this Bible was laid out, I showed him Romans 10 and John 3:16. I had the honor of praying with him and he called upon the name of the Lord for salvation, based on faith in Jesus Christ. The moment after the 'Amen,' he had a question for me:
He: So, can you baptize me right now?
Let me pause here to comment that his question caused me to be challenged by church tradition, and my own experiences in ministry. I was troubled that this wasn't taking place in a congregation, in front of a group of others, in response to an invitation. But then I was reminded of this passage from the Bible. So I answered:
Me: Yes. Yes I can.
On Saturday December 20, on or around 11:40 a.m. at Loyd's Barbershop in Schulenburg, Texas, I had the distinct honor and privilege of baptizing Loyd Hemphill, immersing him in a full basin of water filled in his hair-washing sink. His was an act of biblical obedience, symbolizing death to his old life, and his resurrection as a child of God through faith in Jesus. This fine 68 year-old man has confidence in his eternal security not because of who he is, or what I said, but because of who God is, and what His word promises.
If you want to know what Floyd looks like, all you'd need to do is look at me (plus about 37 years and minus 100 pounds). We have the same haircut -- and its the same style of those two fine gentlemen who preceded me. I couldn't care less. He didn't want me to pay for my hair cut, and I refused to let him take less than $10. We exchanged contact information and have promised to stay in touch. I was so overjoyed from the experience, that I got lost three different times in the effort to return to my in-law's home. A ten-minute trip journey took me 45 minutes and 4 "now where am I again?" phone calls.
I think this may be exactly why Philip was found at Azotus. In his joy, he too got lost on the way home.
Only God could be so cool to take something so mundane as a haircut and turn it into an adventure of faith.
1) because every spare penny was necessary to pay for our home closing on the 19th.
2) because every spare penny was necessary to pay for our home closing on the 19th.
Even so, I was looking a bit like Doug Llewellan from The People's Court, with a raging case of helmet hair. Saturday, after some much needed slumber from the actual marathon drive across the nation, I set out on the mission to get my haircut.
Weimar, Texas, is not a buzzing metropolis of assembly-line haircutters that can be found at Fantastic Sam's or the slightly less popular Not-So-Fantastic But Still Pretty Decent for a $10.95 Haircut Frank's.
I asked for and received excellent instructions on how to locate the Weimar barber shop:
So, at ten till eleven, I embarked. Two trips through the two-stoplight town, and there was no barber shop to be found. No striped pole to alert me to its locale. No tell-tale odor of Barbasol lingering in the air.
Unable to orienteer my way to the Machu Pichu that is the Weimar Barber, I instead hopped figuratively onto Highway 90 and drove on over to Schulenburg, seven miles away. If Schulenburg is the big brother to Weimar, it's only a metaphorical 10 or 12 months more mature. Driving through this town, though, I quickly located the barber shop. It was as if it had a glow about its striped pole, a beacon calling me to its services.
Entering, it was as if I had walked through a portal in time, albeit one with contemporary subscriptions to Esquire, Ebony, and Field & Stream. The barber wore a white smock and was engaged in a deep conversation with a customer over how the Swedes and the Germans settled in this area so long ago. This customer was soon completed, and the barber accepted his payment using a highly complex financial hardware system that was a wad of bills bound by a rubber band.
The next customer sat, and the barber took out a fresh pair of snips and a black comb that had be sanitized under a radiant lamp that I think just might induce sterility with prolonged exposure. They got into a similar discussion about immigration, but this one introduced the Poles. I read my magazine, looking up and nodding and smiling often enough to appear like I fit in here. Clearly, I could not have fit in less than if I were instead waiting my turn at Ice Cube's barbershop.
Again, this customer was done, and the barber took his payment.
"Seven dollars," he said.
Seven dollars! Ka-ching!! I thought. I nearly pushed my geriatic predeccessor out the door in my hurry to take advantage of discount grooming.
He draped me in an inexpensive off-white cloth cover (that I think he used on the previous two clients, but since they were both gray-haired gentlemen, I really couldn't gather conclusive evidence) and asked me how I liked my hair cut. I gave him the same instructions I gave anyone who cuts my hair. His response, "you like it close, then, right?"
"Umm...right," I said. I think this was the only affirmation he needed to go about his plans exactly as he had intended even if I had said nothing at all.
He began shearing my locks using a clipper that hadn't been sharpened since 1957. This implement was not clipping so much as it was "gripping and rending." His right hand that held the clipper shook with an unsteady shake that overwhelmed me with a confessionally pride-filled sense of "oh my goodness what have I done?" discontent. Obviously more content with these conditions, he commenced to clipping, and, accordingly, to conversing:
He: so, are you from around here?
Me: No, actually, I came in from Georgia last night.
(abridged version for the purpose of getting to the point)
Me: Actually, I like Texas very much. I went to seminary in Fort Worth.
He: Oh! Are you a missionary?
Me: Well, I'm not a missionary, but I am in the ministry.
He: Can you baptize me right now?
Let me pause here to convey that this is not the type of thing that normally occurs when I mention my involvement in the ministry. As such, I was taken a bit off guard. Back to the conversation;
Me: Well, let's talk about that a bit...
Let me pause here to just note that we talked for a bit about the influence of his personal theology by his wife, who was "raised Catholic." Finally, we arrived here...
Me: So what about you...when you die, do you think you are going to go straight to heaven or straight to hell?
He: Well, I've got some things to work out pretty soon...I'm getting up there in years.
Me: I've got some good news for you...you don't have to wonder, worry, or wait any longer. The Bible has a good word that you can know...right now...for ever...that God loves you, that He forgives you, and that you can heaven and eternal life.
He: Show me!
Let me pause here that his statement was more of a challenging tone than it was an "I can't wait to buy your product"-in-an-informercial tone. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a hidden Daily Devotional Bible.
He: I've been reading this lately.
Me: Let's take a look at this.
Let me pause here to tell you that after a few minutes of figuring out how this Bible was laid out, I showed him Romans 10 and John 3:16. I had the honor of praying with him and he called upon the name of the Lord for salvation, based on faith in Jesus Christ. The moment after the 'Amen,' he had a question for me:
He: So, can you baptize me right now?
Let me pause here to comment that his question caused me to be challenged by church tradition, and my own experiences in ministry. I was troubled that this wasn't taking place in a congregation, in front of a group of others, in response to an invitation. But then I was reminded of this passage from the Bible. So I answered:
Me: Yes. Yes I can.
On Saturday December 20, on or around 11:40 a.m. at Loyd's Barbershop in Schulenburg, Texas, I had the distinct honor and privilege of baptizing Loyd Hemphill, immersing him in a full basin of water filled in his hair-washing sink. His was an act of biblical obedience, symbolizing death to his old life, and his resurrection as a child of God through faith in Jesus. This fine 68 year-old man has confidence in his eternal security not because of who he is, or what I said, but because of who God is, and what His word promises.
If you want to know what Floyd looks like, all you'd need to do is look at me (plus about 37 years and minus 100 pounds). We have the same haircut -- and its the same style of those two fine gentlemen who preceded me. I couldn't care less. He didn't want me to pay for my hair cut, and I refused to let him take less than $10. We exchanged contact information and have promised to stay in touch. I was so overjoyed from the experience, that I got lost three different times in the effort to return to my in-law's home. A ten-minute trip journey took me 45 minutes and 4 "now where am I again?" phone calls.
I think this may be exactly why Philip was found at Azotus. In his joy, he too got lost on the way home.
Only God could be so cool to take something so mundane as a haircut and turn it into an adventure of faith.
down goes frazier...down goes frazier
Cotter has a big fat upper lip. Last night, he was walking with both hands and his full attention wrapped around a "Barney Sings the Classics"-type toy. His sock snagged on to something invisible, and the hard plastic Barney toy did a poor imitation of an airbag, protecting his face from full-on contact with the hard floor. Even so, he completely split the upper frenulum (at least this is the story we're telling to CPS).
This trauma, of course, led to hysterical outcries of alarm and dismay.
Cotter was pretty upset as well. Dr. Internet has assured us this will all heal quite nicely on its own, so we have undertaken the arduous program of aftercare mocking and teasing.
When we all gather in a couple days, we should have a veerrry interesting family photo.
And just as an aside, make sure you include terms like "oral," "lip," "mouth" and "teeth" as mandatory variables when you google frenulum, else you'll retrieve a whole bunch of disturbing frenula infomation that is not mouth-specific.
This trauma, of course, led to hysterical outcries of alarm and dismay.
Cotter was pretty upset as well. Dr. Internet has assured us this will all heal quite nicely on its own, so we have undertaken the arduous program of aftercare mocking and teasing.
When we all gather in a couple days, we should have a veerrry interesting family photo.
And just as an aside, make sure you include terms like "oral," "lip," "mouth" and "teeth" as mandatory variables when you google frenulum, else you'll retrieve a whole bunch of disturbing frenula infomation that is not mouth-specific.
dr. google, md
I must be griping about my recent ulnar compression too much, since my banner advertising promotes devices to ameliorate common workplace injuries due to repetitive motion (which, is, of course, a misdiagnosis). Duly noted, I'll not whine about this any more.
Until the next time.
Until the next time.
checking in
I'm in Weimar, Texas....I'll write more soon. Lots of stuff to talk about, including the journey across the country, Cotter's fat lip, and baptizing a barber.
12/19/2003
and just to be clear
Dear Mr. or Mme. Bankteller, Customer Service Representative, Business Associate, Neighbor, Grocery Clerk or Total Stranger:
This is the time of year that I happen to celebrate the birth of the Messiah of YHWH God, called the Messiah, who is Jesus of Nazareth. The reasons why I celebrate the commemoration of this event have nothing to do with Santa Claus, family traditions, the 'spirit' of the season, of the autumnal equinox, of trimming the trees, hanging the lights, wrapping the gifts, or even seeing the look on little ones' faces as they annually fight the growing temptation of unbridled avarice.
I celebrate the birth of Jesus, not Kwanzaa, not Channukah, not Hissmas, or even Festivus. And I celebrate it because in doing so, I honor my Lord and my Savior who was born expressly to die as a remediation and propitiation for my transgressions. I celebrate it with joy since, because of the birth which led to His sacrificial death, I have been reconciled back to God. I celebrate it with joy, with hope, and in the spirit of worship. As such, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't presume that I, like so many others, believe Christmas is all about family fights and crass commercialization. Unfortunately, those things have become a focus for so many who have lost perspective. However, for me, Christmas has nothing to do with these matters, and is instead on something gloriously and eternally more significant.
You may disagree with me. If you do, that is your right. Everybody is allowed to be wrong. I respect your right to be wrong, and will even fight for it. I only ask this -- please respect my right to be right, even if you think I'm incredibly wrong. The fact of the matter is, my saying "Merry Christmas" to you is an act of worship, an action of praise. These words are not merely empty sentimental verbiage of seasonal frivolity -- they are literally an encouragement and exhortation from me to you based in the faith-driven belief that God became flesh so man could eternally be with God. Literally, in saying "Merry Christmas," I am imploring you to receive the good tidings of joy that can be found by placing your faith in Jesus as the Messiah. As such, you have no right to try to keep me from worshipping God in this way. You do not have the constitutional right to be protected from my speech, but I do have the constitutional right to offer these words with gladness. If you disagree, please try not to take offense, just please take the benediction with the spirit in which it is given, which is a sincere offer to receive the abounding love of God.
Truth be told, I am not really concerned if I do offend with you my overt actions and attitudes that "keep the Christ in Christmas." If you haven't placed your faith in Jesus as the Christ, it's not like I can offend you to somewhere worse than the default where you are currently oriented. My hope and prayer is that you will be offended enough to investigate the claims of the One who claims to be both God and man. The reality of the matter is simple -- the only way you'll really have the "happy holidays" you offer as an alternative, is if you actually leave that politically-correct one-oared canoe that is paddling around in circles, and take a step atop the fascinating waters of faith, and discover why Jesus is indeed the reason for the season.
Merry Christmas, my friend. Jesus loves you, and so do I.
This is the time of year that I happen to celebrate the birth of the Messiah of YHWH God, called the Messiah, who is Jesus of Nazareth. The reasons why I celebrate the commemoration of this event have nothing to do with Santa Claus, family traditions, the 'spirit' of the season, of the autumnal equinox, of trimming the trees, hanging the lights, wrapping the gifts, or even seeing the look on little ones' faces as they annually fight the growing temptation of unbridled avarice.
I celebrate the birth of Jesus, not Kwanzaa, not Channukah, not Hissmas, or even Festivus. And I celebrate it because in doing so, I honor my Lord and my Savior who was born expressly to die as a remediation and propitiation for my transgressions. I celebrate it with joy since, because of the birth which led to His sacrificial death, I have been reconciled back to God. I celebrate it with joy, with hope, and in the spirit of worship. As such, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't presume that I, like so many others, believe Christmas is all about family fights and crass commercialization. Unfortunately, those things have become a focus for so many who have lost perspective. However, for me, Christmas has nothing to do with these matters, and is instead on something gloriously and eternally more significant.
You may disagree with me. If you do, that is your right. Everybody is allowed to be wrong. I respect your right to be wrong, and will even fight for it. I only ask this -- please respect my right to be right, even if you think I'm incredibly wrong. The fact of the matter is, my saying "Merry Christmas" to you is an act of worship, an action of praise. These words are not merely empty sentimental verbiage of seasonal frivolity -- they are literally an encouragement and exhortation from me to you based in the faith-driven belief that God became flesh so man could eternally be with God. Literally, in saying "Merry Christmas," I am imploring you to receive the good tidings of joy that can be found by placing your faith in Jesus as the Messiah. As such, you have no right to try to keep me from worshipping God in this way. You do not have the constitutional right to be protected from my speech, but I do have the constitutional right to offer these words with gladness. If you disagree, please try not to take offense, just please take the benediction with the spirit in which it is given, which is a sincere offer to receive the abounding love of God.
Truth be told, I am not really concerned if I do offend with you my overt actions and attitudes that "keep the Christ in Christmas." If you haven't placed your faith in Jesus as the Christ, it's not like I can offend you to somewhere worse than the default where you are currently oriented. My hope and prayer is that you will be offended enough to investigate the claims of the One who claims to be both God and man. The reality of the matter is simple -- the only way you'll really have the "happy holidays" you offer as an alternative, is if you actually leave that politically-correct one-oared canoe that is paddling around in circles, and take a step atop the fascinating waters of faith, and discover why Jesus is indeed the reason for the season.
Merry Christmas, my friend. Jesus loves you, and so do I.
Friday5
Jen started it.
1. List your five favorite beverages. Whole milk, coffee, Vanilla Coke, Mountain Dew, and nonsweetened iced tea.
2. List your five favorite websites. I only read a couple blogs daily -- Jen's and Tony's. I read several others often (near daily), but fluid pudding is always good for at least one laugh out loud statement per post (to wit: "Who am I to judge a foot picking doughnut muncher? After all, I’m just a freelancer"). And since I'm being honest, I make a daily stop at uproar and play a single game of bounce out at lunch time, and espn to see if the Broncos' playoff scenario has changed due to any odd variables such as Paul Tagliabue's biorhythms, the winter solstice, golden globe nominations, or the capture of Saddam Hussein.
3. List your five favorite snack foods. The new baked Ritz "Chips" (which we affectionately call "being addicted to crack" in our home -- short for 'crackers,' of course); Mint fudge covered Oreos ( a seasonal delight); and that's pretty much it, though lots of other choices will do in a pinch -- or a handful, whichever is available.
4. List your five favorite board and/or card games. Trivial Pursuit, Seven Up Seven Down (cards), 42 (dominoes), Monopoly, Life
5. List your five favorite computer and/or game system games. This really doesn't apply to me...I've always liked Madden Football, but haven't played it in years.
1. List your five favorite beverages. Whole milk, coffee, Vanilla Coke, Mountain Dew, and nonsweetened iced tea.
2. List your five favorite websites. I only read a couple blogs daily -- Jen's and Tony's. I read several others often (near daily), but fluid pudding is always good for at least one laugh out loud statement per post (to wit: "Who am I to judge a foot picking doughnut muncher? After all, I’m just a freelancer"). And since I'm being honest, I make a daily stop at uproar and play a single game of bounce out at lunch time, and espn to see if the Broncos' playoff scenario has changed due to any odd variables such as Paul Tagliabue's biorhythms, the winter solstice, golden globe nominations, or the capture of Saddam Hussein.
3. List your five favorite snack foods. The new baked Ritz "Chips" (which we affectionately call "being addicted to crack" in our home -- short for 'crackers,' of course); Mint fudge covered Oreos ( a seasonal delight); and that's pretty much it, though lots of other choices will do in a pinch -- or a handful, whichever is available.
4. List your five favorite board and/or card games. Trivial Pursuit, Seven Up Seven Down (cards), 42 (dominoes), Monopoly, Life
5. List your five favorite computer and/or game system games. This really doesn't apply to me...I've always liked Madden Football, but haven't played it in years.
i'm dreaming...
Accuweather provides this informative map. We leave tomorrow after work on our Tour of Insanity® -- 4000 miles in 16 days.
We're looking forward to it.
Really.
We'll be seeing Kelli's sister's home for the first time, and we're really looking forward to spending time with them. Then, of course, we'll have a big family get together with her side before heading up to the snowy boot of high "White Christmas" probability in Colorado. Then, we'll beat a path on home just in time to start the new year.
Oh, and our neighbor is watching our home, so don't try to break in.
Nobody's watching our neighbor, though....hmmm...suddenly I'm a little concerned.
12/18/2003
i've fallen and ....ahh, you know the rest
You may have heard/read this, but it's news to me....
The Wal-mart After-Thanksgiving-Day-Sale Squashee is a "frequent faller."
I wonder if you can get miles with that program.
The story is still about greed, but just a different sort of greed.
The Wal-mart After-Thanksgiving-Day-Sale Squashee is a "frequent faller."
I wonder if you can get miles with that program.
The story is still about greed, but just a different sort of greed.
i'm slow....and that's okay
I just now learned (to my stunned amazement) that John Rhys-Davies, the giant "best pal" in Raiders of the Lost Ark, is the dwarf Gimli in the LOTR trilogy.
I'm even more impressed with Jackson's filmmaking, now that I'm aware of this.
I'm even more impressed with Jackson's filmmaking, now that I'm aware of this.
because i'm a lemming?
No, of course not. I'm blogrolling this entire list as a matter of convenience. I'm all about reading good evangelical work...but can't guarantee all will stay on...especially if they don't ping to the top.
I'm looking forward to reading some good stuff in the days ahead.
I'm looking forward to reading some good stuff in the days ahead.
koala burgers anyone?
I'm a marauding marsupial. I'm so glad...I was tired of avoiding the plague. Thanks to y'all for pulling me out of the rodentia class.
juxtaposition
Terms and Phrases I never thought I'd see in my own writing:
and that's only been in the past week.
- tingling fingers
for my elbow's sake
sprinkle your keyboard with faerie dust
some lineman's doodis
and that's only been in the past week.
it only hurts when i breathe
I have just returned from the best doctor's appointment ever. They got me in early. The doctor was on time, checked me quickly and thoroughly, provided me with enough samples of my medication that I won't have to buy any, and sent me on my way. I was in the car on my way back to work one minute before my appointment was actually scheduled to begin.
My tingling fingers are due to a compressed ulnar nerve. I've been provided with anti-inflammatory pills that should eliminate any swelling in the myelin sheath covering the nerve that may be partially responsible for the annoying sensation. If the sheath itself is damaged, I simply have to quit doing the things that are causing the healing to not occur; namely, bending it, resting on it, or putting any pressure on it whatsoever. He suggested I even wear an elbow pad to protect it.
yeah....that's not gonna happen. I'd just as soon wear a bicycle helmet around the office and be known as "Bryan, the 'Helping Hand Up' Employee." But I will make a concerted effort to not do the things that irritate it, like putting weight upon it, listening to Barbra Streisand and watching The Simple Life (those last two things just irritate me, but even with the slight risk of second-hand irritation, I'm going to avoid these activities just to be safe, for my elbow's sake).
My tingling fingers are due to a compressed ulnar nerve. I've been provided with anti-inflammatory pills that should eliminate any swelling in the myelin sheath covering the nerve that may be partially responsible for the annoying sensation. If the sheath itself is damaged, I simply have to quit doing the things that are causing the healing to not occur; namely, bending it, resting on it, or putting any pressure on it whatsoever. He suggested I even wear an elbow pad to protect it.
yeah....that's not gonna happen. I'd just as soon wear a bicycle helmet around the office and be known as "Bryan, the 'Helping Hand Up' Employee." But I will make a concerted effort to not do the things that irritate it, like putting weight upon it, listening to Barbra Streisand and watching The Simple Life (those last two things just irritate me, but even with the slight risk of second-hand irritation, I'm going to avoid these activities just to be safe, for my elbow's sake).
12/17/2003
hey, why not?
Since I'm in the midst of one blogging competition, I figured, why not up the dosage? So, this is my oafish-al entry into the Weblog Review's December competition. You're supposed to click on that link, and magical pixie's will sprinkle your keyboard with fairie dust that will make you instantly more intelligent, more persuasive, wittier, or more interesting -- whatever is your deepest weblog desire.
oh, and if I win...I get a $20 Amazon certificate. It may help me buy the perfect book for a newly crowned monarch.
oh, and if I win...I get a $20 Amazon certificate. It may help me buy the perfect book for a newly crowned monarch.
this christmas link only cost me $8100
Sent to me from my realtor, who just closed on our Colorado home.
wes clark is vogue
Madonna has thrown her considerable political clout to the camp of Gen. Wes "Dutch Oven" Clark.
Couldn't have CNN selected a slightly less vacuous image to make the announcement?
So many options for the header of this post:
Let us close by referencing the profound philosophical political punditry of one Maddonna Louise Ciccone-Penn-Ritchie, set to rhythmic verse in 1986:
Indeed...how will they hear? When will they learn? How will they know?
How will they know?
Indeed...
Couldn't have CNN selected a slightly less vacuous image to make the announcement?
So many options for the header of this post:
- madonna's "lucky (4) stars"
- like a virgin? madonna picks a neophyte
- madonna's new kiddie book: depraved diva displays dimwitted dem decision
- material girl chooses clark bar
- true blue: madonna wants a man in uniform
- madonna to wes: justify my love
- wes clark '04: "keep it together"
Let us close by referencing the profound philosophical political punditry of one Maddonna Louise Ciccone-Penn-Ritchie, set to rhythmic verse in 1986:
- I have a tale to tell
Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well
I was not ready for the fall
Too blind to see the writing on the wall
A man can tell a thousand lies
I've learned my lesson well
Hope I live to tell
The secret I have learned, 'till then
It will burn inside of me
I know where beauty lives
I've seen it once, I know the warm she gives
The light that you could never see
It shines inside, you can't take that from me
The truth is never far behind
You kept it hidden well
If I live to tell
The secret I knew then
Will I ever have the chance again
If I ran away, I'd never have the strength
To go very far
How would they hear the beating of my heart
Will it grow cold
The secret that I hide, will I grow old
How will they hear
When will they learn
How will they know
Indeed...how will they hear? When will they learn? How will they know?
How will they know?
Indeed...
irony
I try to be a sensitive guy about sensitive things that make people sensitive. However, I had to laugh...just a little...over the fox news story about Madeline Albright's attempted backpedal regarding Bush-Bin Laden conspiracies (thanks to Tony for the link). Of course, its a little funny when a person makes themselves look foolish when attempting to appear smug and condescending. But what evoked the laughter, I confess was this unflattering photo:
underscored with the instructions "Click to Enlarge"*
who knew the Farrelly Bros. were sponsoring news reports?
*to her defense, the above is the enlarged image.
underscored with the instructions "Click to Enlarge"*
who knew the Farrelly Bros. were sponsoring news reports?
*to her defense, the above is the enlarged image.
snookered
Today, I press the up button on the elevator. I need to go up one floor, to turn in my housing allowance decration for 2004. While I'm waiting, a coworker* stepped up next to me. She pushed no button. The elevator arrives. I, a gentleman, allow her to enter first. She does. I follow. She has already pushed a button. It is "G" which represents "Goin' down, suckah!" I feebly push "5." Of course, we make other stops along the way, picking up other employees who are intentionally going down, and when everyone gets off on the main level, I stay on, looking like the idiot who is wasting company time by taking wanton elevator joy rides.
Even so, in the life of an elevator, in the end their will be just about as many ups as downs.
*not her real name
Even so, in the life of an elevator, in the end their will be just about as many ups as downs.
*not her real name
pandering to a younger audience
In a blatant attempt to elicit a "cool" from Cotter, I'll later click on this link to the Spider Man 2 Trailer.
And then I'll spend the rest of the evening watching him run around "webbing" everything in sight, drawing all of us into his fantasy, where I'll no doubt become Doc Oc, Kaylyn will be Mary Jane, Kelli will be Aunt Mae, and Kelsi...well, she'll be whatever she wants to be. We pretty much do what we can just to keep her happy.
thanks to the gleeful extremist for the link.
And then I'll spend the rest of the evening watching him run around "webbing" everything in sight, drawing all of us into his fantasy, where I'll no doubt become Doc Oc, Kaylyn will be Mary Jane, Kelli will be Aunt Mae, and Kelsi...well, she'll be whatever she wants to be. We pretty much do what we can just to keep her happy.
thanks to the gleeful extremist for the link.
just a reminder
Its been four days since the media has a Dru Sjodin update.
Honestly, I don't know if I'm complimenting or griping about this. On one hand, I don't want updates like "Yep, she's still missing," but on the other, I would like to know about progress in the effort, about any further pressure that is being put on Rodriguez, etc. This is just a situation where no news is definitely not good news.
Honestly, I don't know if I'm complimenting or griping about this. On one hand, I don't want updates like "Yep, she's still missing," but on the other, I would like to know about progress in the effort, about any further pressure that is being put on Rodriguez, etc. This is just a situation where no news is definitely not good news.
sycophant? gesundheit!
Southern Musings liked my blog challenge answer. And I liked her blog. So she's been blogrolled.
This should by no means be construed as e-brownnosing.
This should by no means be construed as e-brownnosing.
you've got the wrong perspective
I'm glad I blogrolled the sophorist. He's got a yummy little post on reparadigming (I don't think that's a word, until now) political time and money.
similar, yet totally different
I'm on day 16 of the tingling fingers phenomenon. It's as though I have a bunch a pins sticking into my pinky, ring finger, and -- when I bend my arm just so -- completely across my palm.
It feels a little like this:
I'm still planning to go to the doc on Thursday morning. My dad, who's not a doctor, but is a McGuyver-ish maintenance planner for a large coal mine, told me of a mine employee who once had his ulnar nerve get displaced at the elbow and cause him similar discomfort. Hearing this has led me, of course, to assume that this is exactly what has occurred to me.
It feels a little like this:
I'm still planning to go to the doc on Thursday morning. My dad, who's not a doctor, but is a McGuyver-ish maintenance planner for a large coal mine, told me of a mine employee who once had his ulnar nerve get displaced at the elbow and cause him similar discomfort. Hearing this has led me, of course, to assume that this is exactly what has occurred to me.
12/16/2003
the challenge
Well, the final round challenge for the King of the Blogs came in yesterday, and I've been conscientiously avoiding addressing the issue. I want my reply to be well thought-out for soon to be obvious reasons.
The challenge:
Knowing that my Queen, my bride, my beloved reads this blog and my relationship with her will exist long after the blog does not, I choose my words wisely.
First, I offer a sampling of poorly-conceived mistakes that others may have made when replying to the question, "Does this make me look fat?" Incorrect answers include:
Also unacceptable responses to this query are any attempts to feign a stroke, a burst appendix, choking on a meatball, tennis elbow flare-up or any other medical emergency. You may not attempt to redirect her attention with compliments to other body features, with the presentation of small baubles or large gemstones, or by pretending to give attention to children who may be imperiled ("What's that Lassie? Timmy's fallen in the well? We better go rescue him!") She will see through your ruse, and you will pay.
ohhh, will you ever pay.
I believe it was Jerry Seinfeld who said something like "the only correct answer to this question is 'no.' Answered quickly, without hesitation, and with emphatic conviction." Jerry Seinfeld or Kofi Anan, I always get those two mixed up. Whoever said it, you have to respect that wisdom.
Now, my bride, who I love very much (and have I mentioned, tends to both faithfully read my meandering thoughts as well as hold me accountable for sharing them with others) have a rather unusual relationship. We have chosen to spice up our relationship with some little-known and rarely-used "Relationship Success Strategies" (RELSUCSTRAT for short).
RELSUCSTRAT #1 -- "Truth" -- You must tell the truth. An untrue response to this question will be fettered out more quickly than Gaylord Fokker in the basement hopped up on sodium pentathol. You can say "no" and even think you mean "no," but if their is even the slightest possibility that your "no" might be more gracious than honest, you are sunk. Unfortunately, some mates are uninterested in this strategy because they'd rather believe that love is blind...and also a pathological liar. My mate however, thankfullly, would rather have me be honest between the two of us, and avoid public embarrasssment from wearing something unflattering, than to go out with a poorly conceived ensemble and blame me for days following for not being more discretionary earlier. If you do not have this beneficial quality in your mate, well, I'm sorry that didn't work out for you.
RELSUCSTRAT #2 -- "Timeliness" -- You must not delay. If you delay and say "no," she'll think you meant "yes" no matter how many nights subsequent you invest pleading your case. If you delay and say "yes" (to any degree or variation), she'll think you must really thought she looks like a double-wide in a single-wide lot, and you will never restore your relationship to health, no matter how many dollars you throw at it.
RELSUCSTRAT #3 -- "Tact" -- "No" is inappropriate, because it is too unresponsive. You see, sometimes you'll be tricked with this question. You might get asked this question when your gal knows she looks *fabulous* in her chosen outfit. And you being asked the question is really your open invitation to compliment her profusely and extravagantly. A simple "no" would be an insult. Instead you should say something like this or this. If "yes" is your answer, follow this oft-overlooked rule:
DON'T, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, SAY "YES"
To review: truth, timeliness, tact. lather, rinse, repeat. learn it. live it. love it.
To illustrate these principles, let's present a hypothetical situation where just such a situation is presented:
To be able to implement this approach, you'll have to do a couple of things:
1. Be observant enough to know a couple of items in her wardrobe that look good and that she likes.
2. Watch What Not To Wear or Queer Eye or OC enough to learn some basic principles of coordination. Better yet, you could even ask her what you should wear that would complement the alternative clothing choice you suggest. This allows her the brief return to her childhood when you become her living Ken doll and she gets to dress you for the magical ball with Prom Queen Barbie.
As you use these strategies and become more comfortable with them, you will get to the point where you can circumvent the dreaded question all together. I realize that I enjoy a quality of relationship that too few men ever experience, but it is not an elusive golden chalice that is forever unattainable. With perseverance, and the consistent application of truth, timeliness, and tact, you can one day have a conversation that resembles something like this (as she is dressing in a questionable outfit):
and....SCENE.
Highlights:
1. By starting off the conversation, I took control of the situation and never allowed the dreaded question to enter into the paradigm.
2. Offer affirmation that beauty is just around the corner, its just not in the unflattering outfit.
3. Even if I don't know what she should wear, or even what options exist, I've learned how to give enough specifically vague generalities to lead her back to the closet to try again.
4. I ALWAYS return to affirm the new selection.
truth
timeliness
tact
a triumvirate of RELSUCSTRAT wonderment, guaranteed to work, or you get triple your money back.
The challenge:
Knowing that my Queen, my bride, my beloved reads this blog and my relationship with her will exist long after the blog does not, I choose my words wisely.
First, I offer a sampling of poorly-conceived mistakes that others may have made when replying to the question, "Does this make me look fat?" Incorrect answers include:
- yes
- kinda
- umm...
- well...
- (pausing for even a moment before any answer whatsoever)...
- AAAUGGH! MY EYES!! SOMEBODY BLIND ME!!!
- No, your cellulite makes you look fat
- No, not compared to most land masses
- It depends on what your definition of "fat" is
- eh?
Also unacceptable responses to this query are any attempts to feign a stroke, a burst appendix, choking on a meatball, tennis elbow flare-up or any other medical emergency. You may not attempt to redirect her attention with compliments to other body features, with the presentation of small baubles or large gemstones, or by pretending to give attention to children who may be imperiled ("What's that Lassie? Timmy's fallen in the well? We better go rescue him!") She will see through your ruse, and you will pay.
ohhh, will you ever pay.
I believe it was Jerry Seinfeld who said something like "the only correct answer to this question is 'no.' Answered quickly, without hesitation, and with emphatic conviction." Jerry Seinfeld or Kofi Anan, I always get those two mixed up. Whoever said it, you have to respect that wisdom.
Now, my bride, who I love very much (and have I mentioned, tends to both faithfully read my meandering thoughts as well as hold me accountable for sharing them with others) have a rather unusual relationship. We have chosen to spice up our relationship with some little-known and rarely-used "Relationship Success Strategies" (RELSUCSTRAT for short).
RELSUCSTRAT #1 -- "Truth" -- You must tell the truth. An untrue response to this question will be fettered out more quickly than Gaylord Fokker in the basement hopped up on sodium pentathol. You can say "no" and even think you mean "no," but if their is even the slightest possibility that your "no" might be more gracious than honest, you are sunk. Unfortunately, some mates are uninterested in this strategy because they'd rather believe that love is blind...and also a pathological liar. My mate however, thankfullly, would rather have me be honest between the two of us, and avoid public embarrasssment from wearing something unflattering, than to go out with a poorly conceived ensemble and blame me for days following for not being more discretionary earlier. If you do not have this beneficial quality in your mate, well, I'm sorry that didn't work out for you.
RELSUCSTRAT #2 -- "Timeliness" -- You must not delay. If you delay and say "no," she'll think you meant "yes" no matter how many nights subsequent you invest pleading your case. If you delay and say "yes" (to any degree or variation), she'll think you must really thought she looks like a double-wide in a single-wide lot, and you will never restore your relationship to health, no matter how many dollars you throw at it.
RELSUCSTRAT #3 -- "Tact" -- "No" is inappropriate, because it is too unresponsive. You see, sometimes you'll be tricked with this question. You might get asked this question when your gal knows she looks *fabulous* in her chosen outfit. And you being asked the question is really your open invitation to compliment her profusely and extravagantly. A simple "no" would be an insult. Instead you should say something like this or this. If "yes" is your answer, follow this oft-overlooked rule:
To review: truth, timeliness, tact. lather, rinse, repeat. learn it. live it. love it.
To illustrate these principles, let's present a hypothetical situation where just such a situation is presented:
She: Say, honey, does this outfit make me look fat?
Me: You make every outfit look great, but that one isn't my favorite.
She: Does it make me look fat?
Me: I just really like the red outfit better. Why don't you wear that one instead? You look really good in that red one. Here, let me get it out of the closet for you. And, if you wear that red one, I can wear...."
To be able to implement this approach, you'll have to do a couple of things:
1. Be observant enough to know a couple of items in her wardrobe that look good and that she likes.
2. Watch What Not To Wear or Queer Eye or OC enough to learn some basic principles of coordination. Better yet, you could even ask her what you should wear that would complement the alternative clothing choice you suggest. This allows her the brief return to her childhood when you become her living Ken doll and she gets to dress you for the magical ball with Prom Queen Barbie.
As you use these strategies and become more comfortable with them, you will get to the point where you can circumvent the dreaded question all together. I realize that I enjoy a quality of relationship that too few men ever experience, but it is not an elusive golden chalice that is forever unattainable. With perseverance, and the consistent application of truth, timeliness, and tact, you can one day have a conversation that resembles something like this (as she is dressing in a questionable outfit):
Me: You know, that's not really the best outfit.
She: why?
Me: Well, the shoulders are boxy, the print is dated...you've got much better stuff in the closet.
She: OK...like what?
Me: Lots of things. That black outfit...or the one with the belt...lots of things.
She: Yeah, I guess you're right...
Me (later, after a change): Wow, darlin', you look smokin!
and....SCENE.
Highlights:
1. By starting off the conversation, I took control of the situation and never allowed the dreaded question to enter into the paradigm.
2. Offer affirmation that beauty is just around the corner, its just not in the unflattering outfit.
3. Even if I don't know what she should wear, or even what options exist, I've learned how to give enough specifically vague generalities to lead her back to the closet to try again.
4. I ALWAYS return to affirm the new selection.
truth
timeliness
tact
a triumvirate of RELSUCSTRAT wonderment, guaranteed to work, or you get triple your money back.
like a rock
my email said this rock used to be filled with graffiti and vulgarities. Now its viewed with respect and honor.
lockerrooms and the media
WFAA Channel 8 in Dallas-Fort Worth was caught with their proverbial pants down recently when, following a Cowboys defeat, they aired video from the lockerroom where a player walked in front of the camera, wearing only...no, I'm sorry, that man was full-frontal naked! Being the family-oriented site that this is, I'll offer no links to anything tawdry.
But I will share this story with you. My first assignment as a news writer for the Southwestern Seminary was to cover a charity game between the Dallas Cowboy Alumni and Southwestern's Shooters (who were missionaries in court shoes, who happened to have surprisingly well-honed basketball skills). The game was interesting, ending in a 101-101 tie. Easy to put an "everybody wins" type of spin on it.
Well, the only thing that was lacking was some feel-good quotes from some of the 'Boys. Their coordinator, who was handling the media, allowed me to go on back to the lockerroom, but only because I was representing the seminary.
Cool, I thought. I'll be the only reporter in here with the guys. I'll get to pal around, cut jokes about Walls' missed lay-up that could have won it. This will be gr...
AAAUUGHH! MY EYES! SOMEBODY PLEASE BLIND ME!!!!
I walked unprepared into a lockerroom full of naked athletes! Heroes of my youth standing around like they had just finished some competitive sporting event or something!
Oh yeah...I saw 'em all...
Tony "TD" Dorsett...naked, laughing with the aforementioned Everson Walls about the aforementioned missed layup. Yeah, Walls was naked, too.
Ed "Too Tall Jones"...walking out of the shower, toweling dry his too-tall and naked self.
Randy White...White and naked.
The list could go on, as it does in my mind like an eternally-looped horror-filled drivers ed "Dangers of Drinking & Driving" video. Suffice it to say, I was just soverythankful that Tom Landry hadn't shown up to give back to the community. Even though I was no stranger to the lockerroom, having grown up fully immersed in sports, I guess I had closed that chapter in the book of my life and I couldn't have been more out of place if my glasses had been taped at the nose and they had hung me to a wall hanger by the elastic of my underwear.
Well, here I was, fully clothed amidst a bunch of naked giants. I couldn't run out screaming...that wouldn't be professional. Then Touchdown Tony does the most horrific thing imaginable (at least to me, at that moment). He slings his towel around the back of his neck, perches one leg up on a bench, leans down upon it "buckaroo style" and reaches out to shake my hand.
Still naked.
"Tony Dorsett...pleased to meet you."
you have to be kidding.
What else could I do?
I shook hands with naked Tony Dorsett.
I did my best to pretend to be a journalist. I asked questions, never looking up from my note pad. I took notes, never looking up from my note pad. I laughed with them about the game, about missionaries playing basketball, about freaked out reporters who clearly didn't belong in the lockerroom...
...never looking up from my notepad.
I share my traumatic experience with you for this reason. Reporters don't belong in the lockerroom. Cameras don't belong in the lockerroom. And for the sake of all things private and personal, reporters with cameras don't belong in the lockerroom. I don't care if the athletes are exhibitionists at heart or if the reporters are voyeurs in their own heart. I don't need risk seeing some lineman's doodis just so I can get the raw emotion that seems to wan in direct proportion to the time extending beyond the final play. I already have to tell my children to close their eyes so they don't have to see commercials of violently-killed dead people (Thanks CSI!) or of nearly naked models (funny -- I don't think my 4 year-old son needs to know "what's sexy" from Victoria's Secret). Now I have to be afraid of walking-by tallywhackers during my sports cast.
Great....now I'll have flashbacks the rest of the evening.
But I will share this story with you. My first assignment as a news writer for the Southwestern Seminary was to cover a charity game between the Dallas Cowboy Alumni and Southwestern's Shooters (who were missionaries in court shoes, who happened to have surprisingly well-honed basketball skills). The game was interesting, ending in a 101-101 tie. Easy to put an "everybody wins" type of spin on it.
Well, the only thing that was lacking was some feel-good quotes from some of the 'Boys. Their coordinator, who was handling the media, allowed me to go on back to the lockerroom, but only because I was representing the seminary.
Cool, I thought. I'll be the only reporter in here with the guys. I'll get to pal around, cut jokes about Walls' missed lay-up that could have won it. This will be gr...
AAAUUGHH! MY EYES! SOMEBODY PLEASE BLIND ME!!!!
I walked unprepared into a lockerroom full of naked athletes! Heroes of my youth standing around like they had just finished some competitive sporting event or something!
Oh yeah...I saw 'em all...
Tony "TD" Dorsett...naked, laughing with the aforementioned Everson Walls about the aforementioned missed layup. Yeah, Walls was naked, too.
Ed "Too Tall Jones"...walking out of the shower, toweling dry his too-tall and naked self.
Randy White...White and naked.
The list could go on, as it does in my mind like an eternally-looped horror-filled drivers ed "Dangers of Drinking & Driving" video. Suffice it to say, I was just soverythankful that Tom Landry hadn't shown up to give back to the community. Even though I was no stranger to the lockerroom, having grown up fully immersed in sports, I guess I had closed that chapter in the book of my life and I couldn't have been more out of place if my glasses had been taped at the nose and they had hung me to a wall hanger by the elastic of my underwear.
Well, here I was, fully clothed amidst a bunch of naked giants. I couldn't run out screaming...that wouldn't be professional. Then Touchdown Tony does the most horrific thing imaginable (at least to me, at that moment). He slings his towel around the back of his neck, perches one leg up on a bench, leans down upon it "buckaroo style" and reaches out to shake my hand.
Still naked.
"Tony Dorsett...pleased to meet you."
you have to be kidding.
What else could I do?
I shook hands with naked Tony Dorsett.
I did my best to pretend to be a journalist. I asked questions, never looking up from my note pad. I took notes, never looking up from my note pad. I laughed with them about the game, about missionaries playing basketball, about freaked out reporters who clearly didn't belong in the lockerroom...
...never looking up from my notepad.
I share my traumatic experience with you for this reason. Reporters don't belong in the lockerroom. Cameras don't belong in the lockerroom. And for the sake of all things private and personal, reporters with cameras don't belong in the lockerroom. I don't care if the athletes are exhibitionists at heart or if the reporters are voyeurs in their own heart. I don't need risk seeing some lineman's doodis just so I can get the raw emotion that seems to wan in direct proportion to the time extending beyond the final play. I already have to tell my children to close their eyes so they don't have to see commercials of violently-killed dead people (Thanks CSI!) or of nearly naked models (funny -- I don't think my 4 year-old son needs to know "what's sexy" from Victoria's Secret). Now I have to be afraid of walking-by tallywhackers during my sports cast.
Great....now I'll have flashbacks the rest of the evening.
thank you sir may i have another*
always up for a little indiscriminate flagellation, I just signed up to be evaluated by Blog Review.
the good, the bad, and the ugly
Good News: Clinton Portis's injured knee isn't as severe as originally thought. He has a sprain (as well as one to his ankle). This means he's not out.
Bad News: They still have to play the Colts on Sunday.
The Ugly News: My prognosticative disabilities on display:
Bad News: They still have to play the Colts on Sunday.
The Ugly News: My prognosticative disabilities on display:
- Tampa plucks Atlanta
Minnesota raids Kansas City
New England tarrifs New York (Jets)
St. Louis grazes Cincinnatti
Buffalo stampedes Miami
Chicago displaces Washington
Cleveland cages Baltimore
Dallas "stalks" New York (Giants)
Carolina "Roy's Revenge"s Detroit
New Orleans spays Jacksonville
Tennessee "alamos" Houston
Pittsburgh grounds San Diego
Seattle nests Arizona
Philadelphia audits San Francisco
Denver gelds Indianapolis
Oakland freights Green Bay
a chill wind coming
We have rain in our forecast, with temps likely falling below freezing. Apparently, when this happens in Georgia, panic ensues and there is widespread work stoppages. We've seen similar atmospheric situations occur in Colorado. There, though, it's called "a warm December Wednesday morning."
boil your blood to keep the winter chill at bay
Kyle (who claims to have "retired") must knows what makes me tick.
He sends an email that says in the header "blog topic for you"
and the text simply reads...
Let's see...what direction could I take with this tripe:
a) the "Christian Reverend" who hates his own faith so much that he prostitutes the gospel and castigates evangelicals.
b) the pc poison that says a gift is polluted if it is accompanied by the gospel of Jesus.
c) the ongoing manipulation of truth that takes a time-honored principle-guiding account and corrupts it to fit a political, carnal agenda.
d) the subtle proliferation of lies that attempts to present Islam in a favorable light.
We've supported Operation Christmas Child in the past and will again in the future. I will never apologize for a ministry that provides a chance for a child to come to faith in Jesus as the Christ. My heart hurts for all the children who won't receive gifts this year (and by "gifts," I mean fun-but-frivolous toys for war children, such as hair combs, tooth brushes, socks, paper, and pencils) simply because a bunch of UK secularists are afraid these children might be confronted with the good news that God loves them (as compared to what Islam teaches -- that God is unknowable, fickle, and rewards self-destruction).
To "Rev." Fraser, deal with it.
He sends an email that says in the header "blog topic for you"
and the text simply reads...
Let's see...what direction could I take with this tripe:
a) the "Christian Reverend" who hates his own faith so much that he prostitutes the gospel and castigates evangelicals.
b) the pc poison that says a gift is polluted if it is accompanied by the gospel of Jesus.
c) the ongoing manipulation of truth that takes a time-honored principle-guiding account and corrupts it to fit a political, carnal agenda.
d) the subtle proliferation of lies that attempts to present Islam in a favorable light.
We've supported Operation Christmas Child in the past and will again in the future. I will never apologize for a ministry that provides a chance for a child to come to faith in Jesus as the Christ. My heart hurts for all the children who won't receive gifts this year (and by "gifts," I mean fun-but-frivolous toys for war children, such as hair combs, tooth brushes, socks, paper, and pencils) simply because a bunch of UK secularists are afraid these children might be confronted with the good news that God loves them (as compared to what Islam teaches -- that God is unknowable, fickle, and rewards self-destruction).
To "Rev." Fraser, deal with it.
how much do you know
about the real details of Christmas?
Thanks Sari for the link!
(I got 15 out of 20, but would argue the semantics of at least three of my choices)
Thanks Sari for the link!
(I got 15 out of 20, but would argue the semantics of at least three of my choices)
how have i overlooked this for so long
Although I recently pruned the blogroll (Reminder -- It is *such* a help if you ping blogroll, so your "cream rises to the top," so to speak, thus keeping me reading and keepin you from being voted off the island), I today righted a longstanding wrong and added both Citizen of the State and Sophorist to the reading list.
Coincidentally, they both have a link to Howard Dean's newest supporter. And because of that, I'll take a flyer at Backcountry Conservative on the blogroll as well.
Coincidentally, they both have a link to Howard Dean's newest supporter. And because of that, I'll take a flyer at Backcountry Conservative on the blogroll as well.
first things first
I just want to take a moment to thank God for a friend like Tony. When I started blogging, I never thought about what I might gain from the venture. But God has given me a friend, a brother in faith, and a man of integrity. For that I am thankful.
12/15/2003
a sine cera etymology
Yesterday, I heard a beautiful explanation for the word sincere. Unfortunately, it just isn't correct.
at least the person telling the fabricated history was sincere.
Thanks to The Word Dective for solving the riddle for me.
at least the person telling the fabricated history was sincere.
Thanks to The Word Dective for solving the riddle for me.
loco en la cabeza
This news is five days old, but I just came across the link that I had emailed myself. I hadn't remembered why it was so important that I had done so. But after reading it, I was was compelled again to gripe at the insanity that sometimes gets passed as social activism.
Basically, the report of this "study" suggests illegal noncitizens deserve the right to vote. By this reasoning, given the current number of noncitizens already in our country who don't share a love for the country that do say....our citizens, allowing them to vote could introduce a bloc that could conceivably put into office someone who would be an enemy to the democratic republic that has served us so well.
Rhetorical: Why do we work so hard to reward individuals who only want to pluck the fruit of fortune from our nation, without respecting it enough to legally be a part of its constituency? Don't give me the Stuart Smalley "every US citizen came from immigrants" arguement. So what? My family wasn't illegal, as far as I know. And even if they were, I'm not. Beyond that, I love and respect this country enough to abide by the agreed upon rules of conduct and civility.
Truth, I've learned, is simple. There is no need for consideration of a complex system to allow this. Condition: Are you illegally in the US? If yes, leave the voter booth and do not return until residency has been legally obtained. A polite individual wearing the blue jacket with the words "Homeland Security" will escort you to a van that will transport you to a predetermined location.
Basically, the report of this "study" suggests illegal noncitizens deserve the right to vote. By this reasoning, given the current number of noncitizens already in our country who don't share a love for the country that do say....our citizens, allowing them to vote could introduce a bloc that could conceivably put into office someone who would be an enemy to the democratic republic that has served us so well.
Rhetorical: Why do we work so hard to reward individuals who only want to pluck the fruit of fortune from our nation, without respecting it enough to legally be a part of its constituency? Don't give me the Stuart Smalley "every US citizen came from immigrants" arguement. So what? My family wasn't illegal, as far as I know. And even if they were, I'm not. Beyond that, I love and respect this country enough to abide by the agreed upon rules of conduct and civility.
Truth, I've learned, is simple. There is no need for consideration of a complex system to allow this. Condition: Are you illegally in the US? If yes, leave the voter booth and do not return until residency has been legally obtained. A polite individual wearing the blue jacket with the words "Homeland Security" will escort you to a van that will transport you to a predetermined location.
perspective
Lest you get nostalgic and tender-hearted over the US capture of a feeble old man, just because he reminds you of someone from your past, head on over LGF for two pictures that will re-orient your indignation and anger back to the side of righteousness.
and as a matter of fact
It didn't escape my notice that the Broncos won today....a game that never should have went into overtime.
9-5 with two to go. Playoff scenarios look interesting, but much can change with these last two weeks.
9-5 with two to go. Playoff scenarios look interesting, but much can change with these last two weeks.
a compendium of saddamondium
Cap'n Ed spent the day having a one-track mind.
And I thank him for it. Lots of provocative, interesting stuff.
And I thank him for it. Lots of provocative, interesting stuff.
which blogger will get a rose, and which will go home....broken-hearted???
In a world where melana+fatsuit=monica-chandler=trista+ryanwedding=ratings, I've been thrilled to see that I wasn't the first guy voted "back to the bus" on the blogging equivalent of Average Joe. The results are in from the preliminary round of King of the Blogs.
I finished second, only 1.25 points behind some other guy to whom I refuse to link, simply on the pride filled reasoning that if I do, you might actually go to the link and think he's prettier than me. I work hard to be so vacuous and distant that you might inaccurately perceive that I am something other than a poor attention starved hack. The exciting news...at least to me...is that I've made it in to the final round. Little does my competition know that I've been working on my flaming baton routine to the tune of Dueling Banjoes just for this opportunity.
As I mention in my comments at the KOTB site, I'm thankful to have been involved in the process, even if I get beaten like a '04Democrat. And I'm not just saying that because I'm hoping flattery will extend the grace of the judges, or even because in the prelim round I got more strokes than a three-legged long-haired kitten in PETA's assisted-living facility. It's been great to receive feedback and input on the actual words I hammer out here, on the style, content, and design of this medium of propaganda.
On a related note, though it will likely be after all final voting has completed -- I'll be making the switch over to a blogspotless system in 2004. I have a good friend who is working with me on some space, and he brings some tech savvy and an eye for design that will no doubt take the Q level up a notch or four. Now I just need some recommendation on to which platform to migrate.
I finished second, only 1.25 points behind some other guy to whom I refuse to link, simply on the pride filled reasoning that if I do, you might actually go to the link and think he's prettier than me. I work hard to be so vacuous and distant that you might inaccurately perceive that I am something other than a poor attention starved hack. The exciting news...at least to me...is that I've made it in to the final round. Little does my competition know that I've been working on my flaming baton routine to the tune of Dueling Banjoes just for this opportunity.
As I mention in my comments at the KOTB site, I'm thankful to have been involved in the process, even if I get beaten like a '04Democrat. And I'm not just saying that because I'm hoping flattery will extend the grace of the judges, or even because in the prelim round I got more strokes than a three-legged long-haired kitten in PETA's assisted-living facility. It's been great to receive feedback and input on the actual words I hammer out here, on the style, content, and design of this medium of propaganda.
On a related note, though it will likely be after all final voting has completed -- I'll be making the switch over to a blogspotless system in 2004. I have a good friend who is working with me on some space, and he brings some tech savvy and an eye for design that will no doubt take the Q level up a notch or four. Now I just need some recommendation on to which platform to migrate.
this is what i meant
I stated earlier that if you fail the litmus test you could just leave. Here's some perfect examples, provided graciously through the work of WSJ BOTW*, of some who are heartily encouraged to expatriate to France:
and
I'm willing to be called a pollyanna for this, but it literally baffles me that any American can feel this way, much less write it. I was so thrilled by the news that I headed for church with my Bible left atop the Durango. I at first thought another patriot was giving me a "God Bless the USA We Got Him!" wave, but it turns out he was just alerting me to my oversight. In our Sunday school class, I wanted to talk about it -- not for the whole time, but long enough to at least acknowledge a victory, a cause to celebrate!
And even while I extend praise to the soldiers and the intelligence gatherers and our President, I confess to feeling the same pity for Saddam that I felt for his sons when they were killed. I don't feel sorry for him. But I pity him. What a pitiful existence that will end in ignominy rather than inspiration, notoriety rather than nobility. What a waste. A man who could have given so much spent his whole life taking. A man who could have led graciously ruled mercilessly. He could have established a legacy a of beneficence but will instead be remembered for a patriarchy of tyranny.
What a waste.
*I will gladly link to the BOTW, but I refuse to link to traitors. If you really want to give them traffic, you can do the work yourself.
and
I'm willing to be called a pollyanna for this, but it literally baffles me that any American can feel this way, much less write it. I was so thrilled by the news that I headed for church with my Bible left atop the Durango. I at first thought another patriot was giving me a "God Bless the USA We Got Him!" wave, but it turns out he was just alerting me to my oversight. In our Sunday school class, I wanted to talk about it -- not for the whole time, but long enough to at least acknowledge a victory, a cause to celebrate!
And even while I extend praise to the soldiers and the intelligence gatherers and our President, I confess to feeling the same pity for Saddam that I felt for his sons when they were killed. I don't feel sorry for him. But I pity him. What a pitiful existence that will end in ignominy rather than inspiration, notoriety rather than nobility. What a waste. A man who could have given so much spent his whole life taking. A man who could have led graciously ruled mercilessly. He could have established a legacy a of beneficence but will instead be remembered for a patriarchy of tyranny.
What a waste.
*I will gladly link to the BOTW, but I refuse to link to traitors. If you really want to give them traffic, you can do the work yourself.
12/14/2003
get a free order of breadsticks with every captured dictatorial potentate
Maybe it's the white tee-shirt under the pseudo hooded sweatshirt, but after Hussein got his shave and a hair cut (TWO BIIIIIIIIIIIITS)*, he looks eerily like an aged version of the dad of a friend of mine that I used to run around with in my early teen years. The guy's name was Dick, and he ran a pizza joint in town. Best pizza ever -- he did the whole cheese in the crust a decade before Pizza Hut did. And he'd add meat, too.
Dick was an athletically-built short New York Italian who played hoops against Kareem when Kareem was still Lew Alcindor. He used to say silly things like "farm out" and "radular," and we actually thought he was cool.
Dick left town when I was a freshman in high school. I just talked with him last year, after losing touch. He got remarried. His new wife was named teacher of the year for the whole country a couple of years ago. His oldest son, who was my good friend, is a mess now. His younger son is now a video game designer.
Wow...I had no idea that capturing Saddam would make me so nostalgic.
When they put him to death for his crimes, I'll find solace knowing that its not you, Dick, who did all those horrible things.
*name the movie.
pass/fail
The litmus test is simple:
Did your heart leap at the news of Saddam Hussein's capture?
If no, you are welcome to exit the country immediately.
Did your heart leap at the news of Saddam Hussein's capture?
If no, you are welcome to exit the country immediately.
the sad, inevitable question
Which Dem is going to be the first to say something stupidly unpatriotic (and possibly treasonous) about this, making it about politics rather than freedom?
I'm thinking Dean.
I'm thinking Dean.
psst....
Wanna know Victoria's secret?
She doesn't mean the same thing you do when you say "change your undies." (link is safe)
Here's a teaser:
She doesn't mean the same thing you do when you say "change your undies." (link is safe)
Here's a teaser:
12/13/2003
tidying up...
Humor passed along to me and recently posted here was commented upon by Irene. She has since added more at her site detailing the origin of it.
It is reported that this is a true story. Well, much like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is only based on the true story of Wisconsinian (Wisconsan, Wisconsonoid? throw me a bone here!) Ed Gein (as is Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs and "Mother" Bates from Psycho), so too is this story based on the true premise of the MyKad card in Malaysia.
Here, though, is the original story, by the original author, Terrance Victor Smith. No slight was intended by my unatributed posting.
It is reported that this is a true story. Well, much like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is only based on the true story of Wisconsinian (Wisconsan, Wisconsonoid? throw me a bone here!) Ed Gein (as is Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs and "Mother" Bates from Psycho), so too is this story based on the true premise of the MyKad card in Malaysia.
Here, though, is the original story, by the original author, Terrance Victor Smith. No slight was intended by my unatributed posting.
ok, i'm serious this time
Promo Guy links to a real Santa game. It's really only for those of you with DSL or better, because of its size. And its engaging enough that it caused Kelsi to squeal "SANTA!" when I gave it a shot.
Really.
No tricks this time.
I promise.
Oh, and if you haven't played the game two posts down...
...forget everything you just read.
Really.
No tricks this time.
I promise.
Oh, and if you haven't played the game two posts down...
...forget everything you just read.
and they say span is bad for you
in my inbox:
and I thought I had just stuffed one of Cotter's action figures in my back pocket.
and I thought I had just stuffed one of Cotter's action figures in my back pocket.
conceding...advancing
I removed the banner for the 2003 blog awards. The profound thumping I've taken motivated the decision. In its stead has been placed the code to check my progress (or regress, whatever the case may be) through the blogging ecosphere.
I'm sure all of this means nothing to you.
I'm sure all of this means nothing to you.
a north georgia blizzard
Yesterday, my wife and two youngest children accompanied me on my drive to work, so they could see the office decorations. On the way there, we saw that the sky was dotted with gently sashaying, large snowflakes.
or so we thought.
"What is this?" my lovely bride asked incredulously.
"It can't be," I said, but silently hoping that it was.
It wasn't.
As we continued driving, we soon made the connection. About four cars ahead of us was a large tractor-trailers, stuffed to the brim with Tyson chickens, making their seasonal migration South to the slaughterhouse.
As that Piedmont stormed down GA400 at 75 mph, molted feathers flew everywhere. And as we passed, I had to look at more than one frightened Henny Penny in the eye, acknowledging the possibility that we'd one day again meet...
ahhhhh....makes you want to cuddle up around the warm hearth and sip a mug of wassail, doesn't it?
or so we thought.
"What is this?" my lovely bride asked incredulously.
"It can't be," I said, but silently hoping that it was.
It wasn't.
As we continued driving, we soon made the connection. About four cars ahead of us was a large tractor-trailers, stuffed to the brim with Tyson chickens, making their seasonal migration South to the slaughterhouse.
As that Piedmont stormed down GA400 at 75 mph, molted feathers flew everywhere. And as we passed, I had to look at more than one frightened Henny Penny in the eye, acknowledging the possibility that we'd one day again meet...
ahhhhh....makes you want to cuddle up around the warm hearth and sip a mug of wassail, doesn't it?
passion-ate news
A Catholic and an athiest review The Passion of The Christ. Remember, this is the Internet and not the mainline press, when (if) you read these reviews. The language is a little rough, but their reviews are insightful -- to the movie, to the message of Jesus, and even to these two reviewers' spiritual journey (and everyone is on a spiritual journey, even if they realize it or not).
Here are two more from other reviewers at the same filming. One is an agnostic (who has written a review that would get Five Fabulous Fiery stars from John F Kerry, iF yaknowwhadimean) , and the while the other doesn't disclose his
own spiritual orientation, he does talk extensively about how others are affected by it. I find it interesting how this film has drawn out such candid self disclosures. It's not like you see this in other movies. You'll not see, for example, a critic write, "as a Wiccan, I loved Return of the King!" or "I may be a Mac user, but the Matrix trilogy was an obvious cautionary tale about the dangers of using the Microsoft OS platform." Clearly, the person of Jesus draws this out of every person. Just by who He is, we are compelled to relate ourselves to Him -- positively, negatively, or otherwise.
On a related note, the promotion team of The Passion of The Christ is making online ticket purchases available. You can buy individual or group tickets. Some groups are buying out entire showings. The idea is the more pre-purchasing that occurs, the greater the distribution. Maybe this is necessary, but I have a hunch this movie is going to open #1 and will take in a $200 million+ box office (in North America). The message of the Christ's sacrifice has a global appeal, and this particular rendition of it has received so much preliminary hype that it will be viewed and re-viewed, by those who love it as well as hate it.
Here are two more from other reviewers at the same filming. One is an agnostic (who has written a review that would get Five Fabulous Fiery stars from John F Kerry, iF yaknowwhadimean) , and the while the other doesn't disclose his
own spiritual orientation, he does talk extensively about how others are affected by it. I find it interesting how this film has drawn out such candid self disclosures. It's not like you see this in other movies. You'll not see, for example, a critic write, "as a Wiccan, I loved Return of the King!" or "I may be a Mac user, but the Matrix trilogy was an obvious cautionary tale about the dangers of using the Microsoft OS platform." Clearly, the person of Jesus draws this out of every person. Just by who He is, we are compelled to relate ourselves to Him -- positively, negatively, or otherwise.
On a related note, the promotion team of The Passion of The Christ is making online ticket purchases available. You can buy individual or group tickets. Some groups are buying out entire showings. The idea is the more pre-purchasing that occurs, the greater the distribution. Maybe this is necessary, but I have a hunch this movie is going to open #1 and will take in a $200 million+ box office (in North America). The message of the Christ's sacrifice has a global appeal, and this particular rendition of it has received so much preliminary hype that it will be viewed and re-viewed, by those who love it as well as hate it.
what does a holiday rimshot sound like?
What do you call people who are afraid of Santa?
Claustrophobic
pa-rum-pum-pum-PUM *CSSSHHH*
Try the eggnog. It's delish. And don't forget to tip your elf. He's been working all year for this.
Claustrophobic
pa-rum-pum-pum-PUM *CSSSHHH*
Try the eggnog. It's delish. And don't forget to tip your elf. He's been working all year for this.
12/12/2003
who are you supposed to be?
Though it may seem a little out of season, I was compelled to step away from the normal Christmastime cheer because of a recent quote that came floating into my inbox.
This quote struck me as profound because recently, I heard something from Kenny Luck, leader of everyman, basically say that the reason men do not integrate into church life is because they are not compelled to take off their masks.
The argument is that every man -- and dare I say, every woman, too -- wears a mask. There are two sides to every person. There is the side that is revealed, that everyone knows about and that most would approve and/or like. This side is the "good spouse, good parent, good employee, good churchgoer, good volunteer, goodie good gooder."
Then there is the hidden side. This is the side that knows sin. This is the side that lusts, that is tempted, that gets mad, that experiences jealousy, that likes to gossip, undermine, and subvert. This is the side that is shameful and shame-filled. It is the side that others would look down upon and scorn. And whether this side of you is 1 percent of who you really are, or 99 percent, you've got that side.
This is the hidden side. And what hides it? The other side hides it. The "known and shown" side masks the hidden side. Why do we mask? Because we don't want others to know who we really are. We are afraid it won't meet the approval of others. We're afraid that we'll be like Frankenstein's monster, that once the mask has been removed, everyone around us will either want to flee from us, or to destroy us.
Not only do these masks become our poor covers for the hidden self, and they also are used to cartoonishly convey who we hope to be. In effect, the "known" side actually becomes a caricature because of the ugliness of the hidden side that inevitably peeks through.
These are typical masks I see among people, whether they be in the church, in the office, in the family, or in the neighborhood.
The Tough Guy -- This person portrays the image of being mean, unapproachable, and intimidating. If you're scared of this person, you can never get close to him.
The Jedi Master -- This person knows more than you about the whatever topic is being discussed. Smug and superior, this person belittles others with intelligence that "everyone should know."
The Village Idiot -- The opposite of The Jedi Master. Often acts foolishly in every arena of life, and claims to not know any better. Every once in a rare while shows just enough perception to show he really "has a clue" if he'd take the time to be real.
The Fanatic -- Can't talk about anything other than a favorite sport, team, or game.
Mr. Angry Man -- This person is mad at every thing, and is going to let you know about it. Must be exhausted at the end of the day because of the amount of energy expended being so angry.
I'm Here to Save You -- This person thinks its his/her job to rescue everything. Has often said, "If I don't do it, nobody will." So busy filling the gaps, "holding the rope together" that important things are falling apart elsewhere.
Check the Toe Tag -- This guy doesn't get excited about anything, and you often wonder if he even has a pulse. Speaks up every once in a while, but only to complain. Causes you to privately wonder if he'd be happier six feet under.
The Sour Puss -- Much like the Check the Toe Tag, but gripes a lot more often.
Mr. Devious -- Likes to be "cutting edge," thinks being bad is good because it keeps everyone else on their toes. Likes to see people agitated at his behavior.
The World Is Mine -- Always chasing the mighty dollar. Always talking about getting a billion million dollars. Would be happy if he could get the next new "toy" whether it be boats, surround sound systems, or sharks with laser beams attached to their heads.
The Victim -- Everything always happens to this guy. Don't you want to pity him?
Mr. Happy -- Believes that the 11th Commandment is "Sadness is a sin." Will tell you everything is wonderful, even if his world is falling apart.
The Critic -- Not only doesn't have anything good to say, but says how he'd have done it better, faster, sooner, and/or cheaper.
The Comedian -- Always working for a laugh. Never gets serious.
-- The Ambiguous -- Doesn't reveal anything about self. Just very generic, very detached.
I'm sure there's other masks worn. Sometimes we might wear one mask for a while until it becomes uncomfortable. Eventually, the mask becomes a prison. The only way to be set free from the mask is love. Love accepts the real you, the hidden you. Love is light. And light shone upon the hidden reveals that which it truly is. When the light of love reveals that which is hidden, there is no more room for fear.
Before I came to faith in Jesus of Nazareth as the Christ, I was a man of masks. I at times was the Party Hound, the Jedi Master, the Comedian, the Critic, and the World is Mine. I wore masks because I thought the part of me that was hidden was unknowable, unlovable, and unforgivable. It was only when the love of God, expressed in the atonement of the Son, shone upon the hidden parts of my life that I could finally be real -- Free to be who I was created to be.
If you wear a mask, you're not fooling anybody. That's what so funny about masks. Most people can tell within the first few minutes if you're hiding the "real you." It's a big step, but for your own good, let the love of God take off the mask that you fear you cannot live without. Only then can you really start living.
This quote struck me as profound because recently, I heard something from Kenny Luck, leader of everyman, basically say that the reason men do not integrate into church life is because they are not compelled to take off their masks.
The argument is that every man -- and dare I say, every woman, too -- wears a mask. There are two sides to every person. There is the side that is revealed, that everyone knows about and that most would approve and/or like. This side is the "good spouse, good parent, good employee, good churchgoer, good volunteer, goodie good gooder."
Then there is the hidden side. This is the side that knows sin. This is the side that lusts, that is tempted, that gets mad, that experiences jealousy, that likes to gossip, undermine, and subvert. This is the side that is shameful and shame-filled. It is the side that others would look down upon and scorn. And whether this side of you is 1 percent of who you really are, or 99 percent, you've got that side.
This is the hidden side. And what hides it? The other side hides it. The "known and shown" side masks the hidden side. Why do we mask? Because we don't want others to know who we really are. We are afraid it won't meet the approval of others. We're afraid that we'll be like Frankenstein's monster, that once the mask has been removed, everyone around us will either want to flee from us, or to destroy us.
Not only do these masks become our poor covers for the hidden self, and they also are used to cartoonishly convey who we hope to be. In effect, the "known" side actually becomes a caricature because of the ugliness of the hidden side that inevitably peeks through.
These are typical masks I see among people, whether they be in the church, in the office, in the family, or in the neighborhood.
The Tough Guy -- This person portrays the image of being mean, unapproachable, and intimidating. If you're scared of this person, you can never get close to him.
The Jedi Master -- This person knows more than you about the whatever topic is being discussed. Smug and superior, this person belittles others with intelligence that "everyone should know."
The Village Idiot -- The opposite of The Jedi Master. Often acts foolishly in every arena of life, and claims to not know any better. Every once in a rare while shows just enough perception to show he really "has a clue" if he'd take the time to be real.
The Fanatic -- Can't talk about anything other than a favorite sport, team, or game.
Mr. Angry Man -- This person is mad at every thing, and is going to let you know about it. Must be exhausted at the end of the day because of the amount of energy expended being so angry.
I'm Here to Save You -- This person thinks its his/her job to rescue everything. Has often said, "If I don't do it, nobody will." So busy filling the gaps, "holding the rope together" that important things are falling apart elsewhere.
Check the Toe Tag -- This guy doesn't get excited about anything, and you often wonder if he even has a pulse. Speaks up every once in a while, but only to complain. Causes you to privately wonder if he'd be happier six feet under.
The Sour Puss -- Much like the Check the Toe Tag, but gripes a lot more often.
Mr. Devious -- Likes to be "cutting edge," thinks being bad is good because it keeps everyone else on their toes. Likes to see people agitated at his behavior.
The World Is Mine -- Always chasing the mighty dollar. Always talking about getting a Mr. Happy -- Believes that the 11th Commandment is "Sadness is a sin." Will tell you everything is wonderful, even if his world is falling apart.
The Critic -- Not only doesn't have anything good to say, but says how he'd have done it better, faster, sooner, and/or cheaper.
The Comedian -- Always working for a laugh. Never gets serious.
-- The Ambiguous -- Doesn't reveal anything about self. Just very generic, very detached.
I'm sure there's other masks worn. Sometimes we might wear one mask for a while until it becomes uncomfortable. Eventually, the mask becomes a prison. The only way to be set free from the mask is love. Love accepts the real you, the hidden you. Love is light. And light shone upon the hidden reveals that which it truly is. When the light of love reveals that which is hidden, there is no more room for fear.
Before I came to faith in Jesus of Nazareth as the Christ, I was a man of masks. I at times was the Party Hound, the Jedi Master, the Comedian, the Critic, and the World is Mine. I wore masks because I thought the part of me that was hidden was unknowable, unlovable, and unforgivable. It was only when the love of God, expressed in the atonement of the Son, shone upon the hidden parts of my life that I could finally be real -- Free to be who I was created to be.
If you wear a mask, you're not fooling anybody. That's what so funny about masks. Most people can tell within the first few minutes if you're hiding the "real you." It's a big step, but for your own good, let the love of God take off the mask that you fear you cannot live without. Only then can you really start living.
yule love this link wreath
First, Julie linked to my post about Santa's letters. Then the Lopsided Poopdeck (which has lots of good stuff) linked to it, and to her. I'm completing the circle by not only linking to both of them, but to an itemized compendium of all previous holiday thoughts*:
What I really think about Santa.
Three gifts for Jesus this Christmas.
O Tannenbaum: A provocative look at the Christmas Tree.
The Christmas Tree: a devotional.
The Gospel According to Cotter.
Two presents: A Christmas message.
Is Santa a Man or a Woman?
Spreading the Christmas cheer
A Shepherd's Story: a devotional
Perspectives on Christmas: using art to tell the story (note: This is just the first of several links for this meme. Just scroll up for the series -- If I redid this today, I'd do it all as one post, but I didn't then, and I'm not going to now -- Merry Christmas).
Christmas Carols for the psychiatrically challnged It was funny then. It's funny now, and it's still available.
The names of the Christ
One present that matters A Christmas message.
Rather than going back and forth, you can just go to the December 2002 archive and read through the entire list. Whatever trims your tree or frosts your berries.
*Not actually all previous thoughts. Actual thoughts included are the ones from 2002, recorded in this blog. This post was sponsored by the Ghost of Christmas Past.
What I really think about Santa.
Three gifts for Jesus this Christmas.
O Tannenbaum: A provocative look at the Christmas Tree.
The Christmas Tree: a devotional.
The Gospel According to Cotter.
Two presents: A Christmas message.
Is Santa a Man or a Woman?
Spreading the Christmas cheer
A Shepherd's Story: a devotional
Perspectives on Christmas: using art to tell the story (note: This is just the first of several links for this meme. Just scroll up for the series -- If I redid this today, I'd do it all as one post, but I didn't then, and I'm not going to now -- Merry Christmas).
Christmas Carols for the psychiatrically challnged It was funny then. It's funny now, and it's still available.
The names of the Christ
One present that matters A Christmas message.
Rather than going back and forth, you can just go to the December 2002 archive and read through the entire list. Whatever trims your tree or frosts your berries.
*Not actually all previous thoughts. Actual thoughts included are the ones from 2002, recorded in this blog. This post was sponsored by the Ghost of Christmas Past.
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