what's that smell?

Why, it's the smell of "The Thought Gestapo."

Tony alerts us to a silly mess of a problem, dealing with this BC cartoon, penned by Christ-follower Johnny Hart:



One "scholar" in the group says he doesn't get the joke, that it has to be hate speech. "Interpretations" of the six crescent moons and the word "slam" are the proof of its "anti-muslim" rhetoric.

So, for all you braniacs out there, let me explain what your intellectual minds couldn't grasp:

1. He's going to an outhouse (the crescent moon)
2. It's dark (the big moon in the sky)
3. He's "working on a whopper float."*
4. He's smells something unpleasant.
5. He punnily says, "Is it me...or does it stink in here?"

You see, its funny because he's not sure if the smell is ambient to the room, or if it originates from him. This is a double entendre because of the phrase which typically is used to convey a thought of "am I the only one who thinks this, or is it obvious to everyone?" Get it?

All together now....."Ohhhhhhhh."

As I mentioned at Tony's, somebody at work cut this out and pasted it in a stall at work. I saw it there (I was just getting some tissue to blow my nose....really), and it caused me to laugh out loud. And not a muaah-ha-ha "anti-muslim" laugh, but a HA! "boy humor" laugh.


*my sincere apologies to any fans of Whoppers Malted Milk Balls. No offense was intended.

weird? not really

I don't know what that means, other than lots of you are weirder than me.

(thanks to the colorado conservative for the link -- who's weirder than me, by the way)

congratulations!

Friends and former church members (back in Colorado) welcome a new baby daughter!

This precious little girl, just like her older brother, are wonderful answers to prayer.

achtung, baby!

Irene discusses the "risks" of being outed as a blogger. I'm not worried about my parents reading my blog. I wish they'd do it more often!

Interestingly & coincidentally, today we were informally informed of "blogging policy" in our corporate structure. I had to make a couple of very minor adjustments accordingly.

Bloggers are not permitted to provide overt links to my professional employment, presented in any context in which it might imply a corporate endorsement of my content. My links to the right are permissible because they are context-free. A syllogistic example was provided: that blogging is the equivalent of a private business. If I were a pizza shop owner, and if on my pizza shop billboard, I announced my professional employment, it implies a corporate endorsement of my pizza. The same thing applies to my blog entries. In our organization, we have one person who is permitted to speak on behalf of the entire group. Either that person does the speaking, or "green lights" the voice of others to be heard. And that is appropriate, because it ensures that the message is consistent, and not unnecessarily redundant.

It was also strongly suggested that bloggers avoid the use of names, simply because of the way libel laws are constructed (that someone could get torqued if I wrote something that implicated a colleague by name, thus making that person unfairly and potentially inaccurately liable to libel). So while I have made casual first-name references in the past, I'll be more ambiguous in the future (referring only to my made-up hierarchical titles).

That's all cool with me. I respect and agree with the corporate position. I hope that my thoughts and writings are always in agreement with my employer, given the spiritual nature of my work and my primary accountability to the Christ. Even if I'm doing and writing all the right things, theologically and organizationally speaking, I am not am not being paid to represent my organization in all matters of faith and practice -- just in one specific area. It would be entirely inappropriate for me to overstep those areas just because I wanted to speak on an issue, and have it be misconstrued that I was pontificating on behalf of my employer. For example, I was in an incredible meeting yesterday with our leader in mentoring. I intend to disseminate that information over time here, as an individual, not in my "official capacity." To attempt to do so would be disingenous, usurping, misleading, and altogether inappropriate.

A word of caution in this vein, to you writers out there who are spouses of corporate organizations. Whether secular or otherwise, your opinions on your spouse's employers (and/or their corporate practices) could very well cost your spouse his or her job, especially if those thoughts and opinions are not in accordance with the organization (especially if your employer has privacy/nondisclosure/character & conduct clauses in its terms of employment), and if you choose to publish those thoughts and opinions in a public forum (which is the internet, no matter how private or how small of a readership you think you might have).*

and that's one to grow on.

*disclaimer: Kelli has not written or stated anything publicly or privately that is not in accordance with my employer. I've just seen some comments of others out there in our (meaning 'Christian') corner of the blogosphere that fits in this area of attention.

proverbs #147

It is far easier to build a temple than to be one.

proverbs #146

Some men are known by their deeds, while others are known by their mortgages.

that's what friends is for

If you caught the eponymous show last night, you witnessed Joey emulate Crazy Pregnant Lady from the Cabbage Patch Hospital.

And Tony, you're right about the poor execution of Monica's announcement. They've milked that show for every "aaahhhh" moment they can, and ran out of effectiveness two seasons ago. I was a bit insulted that we were expected to believe that adoption agencies would be making notifications on Thanksgiving Day. In many ways, viewers of this season are like the family members taking their shift at the bedside of a terminal relative that hasn't been healthy for several years. When that last breath comes, there will be two sighs from the crowd -- one of resignation that it's all over, and another of relief for the exact same thing.

unreasonable love

Last Sunday, our church was worshipping to the song The Wondrous Cross.

I've been meditating on these lyrics all week. My thoughts have been on the crucifixion of the Christ. All week long I've struggled with the Father's willingness to send His Son to the cross for someone as sin-filled and unappreciative as me.

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride

I see before me the things that give me pride. To resist the temptation to list them here is but a small victory over the strong desire to use the list itself as a form of bragging. In the shadow of His sacrifice, my accomplishments and successes are merely stones stacked around the cross, ensuring it would not fall or fail in its horribly necessary sin-bearing purposes.

See from His head His hands His feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet
Or thorns compose so rich a crown

As the father of a son, I have no doubt nor reservation that I would receive inflicted pain in my child's stead to protect him from agony. I cannot fathom a willingness...a commissioning...to send my own son to such a destiny.

I cannot comprehend this love, this sacrfice in my human understanding. The Spirit reminds me that the Father and Son are One. The Son wasn't an innocent victim. He was an innocent provision. On His own initiative, in accordance with the Father, the Son left His throne to bear the cross. He willingly and willfully gave up His life for me.

This was the Plan. This was the Way. Sorrow in its necessity. Love in its inevitability. Could any crown ever be so appropriate?

Were the whole realm of nature mine
That were and off'ring far too small
Love so amazing so divine
Demands my soul my life my all

That which I cannot comprehend because my perspective is too limited, I instead apprehend by faith. I grasp hold of this Truth and dare not let go. For within the clench of faith, I possess my portion of God's unreasonable love. Unmerited. Unrequested. Yet altogether unrestrained, unadulterated, and unlimited. To even pretend I can repay such a gift with any portion of sacrifice would belittle the gift-Giver and besmirch the Gift. Rather, my only option is total dedication to the purpose for which the offer was extended. So I give. My life. My possessions. My dreams and ambitions. Not as one who sacrifices. Not as one who labors. Because of the Gift, I am able to give as though I always give from an abundance and surplus.

Oh the wonderful cross
Oh the wonderful cross
Bids me come and die and find
That I may truly live

Paul once said that to live is Christ. Surely, this means that my life will be a sacrifice. My life will be for others. Sometimes it will come at great expense, and may even involve great pain. By grace and mercy I count this expense not as a cost, but as a benefit. To live is Christ which is to experience the reproduced love of God. His will has become mine own. To settle for less is to accept a semblance of life that is in its essence nothing more than a puppetry of death.

Oh the wonderful cross
Oh the wonderful cross
All who gather here
By grace draw near
And bless your name

Lord, may it be your will that my life be a vessel from which your grace flows. May your life flow through my own, as that I was in you on the cross and in the resurrection. May it be that you are seen and glorified by the offering of no less than all that is in me. May it begin with you and end with you, for the sake of your Holy Name.

a little romano

We watched Dr. Romano meet his ignominious end last night. For all the build-up, it was a bit farcical. With all the leads on this show dying/leaving, ER has the feel of sinking ocean liner, with only the "lower class" still on board.

Here's a game in honor of the squashed doc. It has little to do with anything, but if you aim just right, you can't recreate last night's drama.

who moved my cheese?

A little time-wasting game where a rodent eats cheese.

I confess to initially being slightly confused about "moving the mouse with my arrow keys." That seemed a little unnecessary, given that my mouse is completely functional.

i had a feeling it would say this

You're John Ashcroft! Your heroes are Ronald
Reagan, Charles Spurgeon, and Henrich Himmler!
You believe in freedom - including the freedom
to practice totalitarianism while sitting as
Attorney General. Jawohl!


Which member of the Bush Administration are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


from Kyle, via WIT

Just remember, I'm a centrist. The earlier quizzes affirmed that.

teenagers are funny

at least when they're the subject of email humor:

Dining out one evening, I noticed six teenagers boisterously celebrating some event at a nearby table. Toward their end of their meal, one of them got up and produced a camera.

"Hey, wait a minute," one of her companions said. "You have to be in the picture too."

When I approached and asked if I could help, the girl who owned the camera was delighted. I snapped a picture of the group and then, being unfamiliar with the camera, I asked her, "Do you want me to take another in case that one doesn't come out?"

"Oh, no, that's okay," she chirped innocently. "I always get double prints."

and on a related note

The Catholic diocese of Cincinatti is in trouble for its Jacksonesque-hiding of sex abuse allegations.

What is this world coming to when you can't let your children sleepover at the neighborhood Pop superstar's home unsupervised, and then let them go to the confessional without getting the same treatment?

Reality TV makes me sick.

hypotheticals

Will Michael have to register as a sex offender?

Who is the Prince of Pop if the King is forced to abdicate his throne over the scandal?

Will he be run out of his neighborhood?

Is this why he's been wearing those masks over his face?

Will he have to get a mug shot without his prosthetic nose?

How many other ways would he rather have spent his $3 million bail?

Would this guy be shown any mercy whatsoever if he were anybody different?

there's some things you just can't explain

Cotter, upon seeing this on television:



"Daddy, what is that?"

another number game

pick a number any number....


and somebody tell me how this works.

tender hearts are easily broken

Kaylyn was just reduced to tears because she walked by the television and saw an advertisement for tomorrow's Dr. Phil show where a married couple was screaming at one another. She couldn't understand why people would be so ugly.

Though I am not weeping, I completely agree.

pondering

Previous Boss¹'s name is Sean. His name is pronounced "Shawn."

Why is this?

Bean isn't Bawn

Dean isn't Dawn or even Don

Jean isn't John...unless you're French, then its "Zhawn" and that's just the tip of the iceberg on the things you've gotten wrong lately (for, say, the past 400 or so years, with only minor exceptions).

Lean isn't Lawn

Mean isn't Mawn

Wean isn't Wawn

If I ever have a Dean for a boss or even a colleague, I'll be hard pressed to resist the temptation not to call him Don, just out of philosophical motives.

well this tastes funny

After my recent experience at the Cabbage Patch Hospital, I was completely unable to enjoy my brussel sprouts at lunch today.

=

moore words from our president

Boss⁵ has an op ed piece in the Atlanta Journal Constitution about the recent removal of Judge Roy Moore.

proverbs #145

A good memory is required to accompany a lying tongue.

proverbs #144

The present moment is divinely set. The present responsibility is the Master's will.

kelsi's expanding vocab

New Additions to her lexicon:

Broncos (which evoked an "she can say 'Broncos' but she can't say 'GMom'" from GMom)

Kayen

Mewk (milk)

choos (juice)

choos (shoes)

choos (chews)

choos (choose)

Bob (the Batchelor)

a house of cards

This website isn't much yet, but I suspect it should be built up to something pretty interesting eventually.

shepherding 101

Here's a great article on how pastors can support the flock.

The adverstising website, though, really ought to take Dr. Bright off the photo for their upcoming conference. To not do so is either to be lazy, icky, or extremely optimistic.

why didn't i think of that?

Time magazine has released their annual list of cool inventions.

Lots of neato-frito stuff, but as a point of order, I must declare that some of these things are not inventions, so much as they are simply innovations.

absolut stupidity

Via Drudge....a man kills self accidentally by drinking one-and-a-half liters of vodka.

This is sad, because a life was lost. But a tragedy? When I think of "tragedy" I think of "boyscout dying from lightning bolt as he rescues stranded kitten from a tree." I don't equate tragedy to "unthinking man drinking self to death."

I suppose stupidity is a tragedy in and of itself. Perhaps its a tragedy that none of his comrades were willing to step in and say "Nyet, Vlad. You've had enough. Know when to say when, dude."

love is ninevah having to say "i'm sorry"

I just read an excerpt of "The Prayer of Revenge" entitled The Jonah Syndrome where the topic covers hoping somebody doesn't repent.

I don't know if I've ever been in a mental (or spiritual) state where I hoped somebody wouldn't repent. I can think of more than one occasion where I didn't think the person necessarily would repent, but it wasn't my hope.

It can be a significant spiritual challenge, to hope for and want the best for someone who has broken fellowship with the Lord, especially if you personally have born the brunt of it. It also reveals the depths of our sin hoping that another will not be repentant, so they would feel the full wrath of God's judgment. Praise God for His mercy that I do not have to experience the fullness of his wrath, which I rightfully have earned, but instead was paid for by His Son.

tony? he's always right

Tony has fixed my permalink predicament. I can show my face on the blogosphere again.

Thank you thank you thank you!

okay, this drives me crazy

I've confessed before I'm not the world's greatest mathmetician. So I appreciate a good puzzle that makes me feel like an idiot.

Go to Tony's and see how a simple formula belches out your phone number every time, based on your prefix (not your area code...that messed me up in the beginning....remember, I'm not that great at math...or apparently at following directions, either).

now that you mention it, there is a white elephant in the middle of the room

Boss¹ resigned yesterday. Effective immediately.

Work responsibilities have been shifted, with Boss² assuming most of the added work, except for the stuff I'm being asked to handle (mostly just travel/speaking requests).

Boss² will remain Boss², rather than temporarily renaming him as Boss¹ until a new Boss¹ is hired, when he would then return to Boss². Instead Boss¹ will now simply be Boss^1vacant

a two stroke penalty

From wired.com's furthermore (a "pro" website with permalinks as generically bad as mine, but at least I'm working on mine!) read about a golfer (in the last story on the page) who was bit twice -- in the head -- by a seven-foot snake.

This took place in Savannah, Georgia.

This does not compel me to hit the links.

sung to the tune of take these broken wings

The music title has nothing to do wit this post other than it was a work by Mister Mister, and mine is a post of two misters.

The first is a link to make your own Mr. Man. I don't know much about this whole story line, I just remember these books being in the dentist's waiting room (a shout out to Dr. Told). I was too old for these books, but I always took a second to read them while I waited to have my teeth cleaned. Again, I couldn't tell you the story, but to this day I have a nebulous "warm fuzzy" feeling that all is well in Mr. Men's land.

The second mister you need to meet is Mr. Wonderful. Unfortunately, there is no link as of yet. I found Mr. Wonderful in an antique store in Dahlonega, though he himself is no antique. He is clearly a 21st century creation. Dressed in a light blue button-down and wearing khakis, hair perfectly coiffed, and teeth all aligned, Mr. Wonderful is my new perfect prop for men's meetings. I'm still working on how to use him, but the options abound. Mr. Wonderful is great because not only does he look like the ideal man, he says offers sixteen recorded sayings such as:

• I love you


• Let's go to the mall. Didn't you say you needed a new pair of shoes?


• Don't go shopping by yourself. Why don't you let me tag along and carry your bags for you?


• Let's just cuddle tonight


• You take the remote. Just as long as we're together, it doesn't matter what is on TV


• You don't look fat in that. How could you look fat in anything?


• Why don't you just sit back and relax. Let me fix dinner tonight


• I think I'm lost. I'm going to pull over and ask for directions

Truly, Mr. Wonderful is my Charlie, Madame, and Senor Wences all wrapped up in one perfectly nonthreatening quasimasculine stereotype.

this one's for Jamie

My brother and his wife just sold their home in New Jersey, and spent last weekend relocating to a one bedroom apartment near Central Park. Their bedroom is six feet wide.

Their rent is $1500.

Here's a little C&P humor with them in mind:

EXCERPTS FROM LETTERS SENT TO LANDLORDS

1. The toilet is blocked and we cannot bathe the children until it is cleared.

2. This is to let you know that there is a smell coming from the man next door.

3. The toilet seat is cracked: where do I stand?

4. I am writing on behalf of my sink, which is running away from the wall.

5. I request your permission to remove my drawers in the kitchen.

6. Our lavatory seat is broken in half and is now in three pieces.

7. Will you please send someone to mend our cracked sidewalk. Yesterday my wife tripped on it and is now pregnant.

8. Our kitchen floor is very damp, we have two children and would like a third, so will you please send someone to do something about it.

9. Will you please send a man to look at my water, it is a funny color and not fit to drink.

10. Could you please send someone to fix our bath tap. My wife got her toe stuck in it and it is very uncomfortable for us.

cracker barrel online

Play the peg game.

I'm not so good at this.

more light blogging ahead

Today's itinerary with Kelli's folks includes a trip up north to Dahlonega, then down south to get Kaylyn's glasses. Today's excursions will also likely involve antique shops, Starbucks, diaper changing stations, and naps. The first two locations items listed are for the adults, the third for Kelsi, and the final for all of us...just in case there was any confusion.

calling tony

My permalinks have been messed up for a long time now. I tried to fix it.

I failed.

I need a pro.

(this is my official plea for help)

whaddayahave whaddayahave?

Today Kelli, her parents, our two youngest children and I went to the office where I gave them the 25 cent tour, and then we venture to The Varsity, an Atlanta experience in fast food cuisine. We had varsity burgers, varsity fries, varsity onion rings, varsity chili dogs, varsity Orange shakes and varsity fruit pies.

It was all quite delicious, albeit incredibly greasy. Except the milkshakes.

As per requested, I must share our experience at the Cabbage Patch hospital. In a word....

...surreal.

It, to nobody's surprise, was a glorified gift store. But they had several "babies" in cribs and incubators (because as we saw on a sign "'doll' is a four-letter word'). I learned that the "original creations" had "adoption fees" (because "price tags make our kids nervous") ranging from $170-$340. Then there was this freaky little section where the cabbage patch had a bunch of baby heads poking through. This, I soon discovered, was the "maternity ward." "Mother Cabbage" was beginning to "dilate" and a "baby" was about to be "born." Again, I considered the entire affair a bit "ridiculous."

Well, a nurse came out, wearing full-on scrubs, and administered a shot of imagicillin to the mother, and convinced the entire crowd (of no less than 50 people) to take a deep breath in and help her push.

which, as a sad commentary of our collective intelligence, we did.

This whole time, Kelli, her mom, and I are beltin' out great one liners, one after another, laughing out loud at the inanity of it all. Suddenly, this young woman, who herself was very much in the pregant mode, whipped her head around, and glared at me with the look of a mother badger protecting her imperiled young.

Then....delivery. The LPN (Licenced Patch Nurse) pulled out this naked Cabbage Patch Kid from an unseen location. I quipped that the little tyke must be relieved to be rescued from 18 months in a plastic bag on the second shelf. Nurse Betty asked us to name the newborn. Before she could even complete the request, Crazy Pregnant Lady shouted out, "ASHLYN LEE!!!!!!!!!" The nurse was so surprised she even took a step back. She let her keep the name Ashlyn, but asked someone else for the middle name. A tweenage girl meekly offered "Victoria." This dual naming system explained why some babies in the cribs had unusual combinations like Ashanti Larry and Boutros Boutros Felice. Nurse Betty announced that Ashlyn Victoria would be available for adoption in a few moments, and Crazy Pregnant Lady turned and announced to everyone, "She has brown hair and blue eyes. I named her! I HAVE to HAVE her!!!!!" Someone mentioned that she already was holding a "baby" (an "expensive one," too, from what I could observe), to which she replied "I don't care! Ashlyn is mine!"

At this point everyone gave CPL a wide berth in case she went into wide birth. She was a bit excitable. And clearly, Ashlyn Victoria meant much more to her than to anyone else.

So we ended the adventure by going into the "gift shop" where Kaylyn & Kelsi were gifted with two of the "lesser expensive" "babies." Kaylyn named her baby Emily Jan. Emily was her best friend in kindergarten back in Florence and Jan....well, I can only assume that it is an homage to the middle Brady girl.

We named Kelsi's "daughter" for her. Her name is Elmira Idell, after her two great grandmothers on Kelli's side. We call her "Ellie." Kelsi calls her "Ehwhee," or "Mine!" or "NAAWAA!" This last name only is screamed when Cotter tries to give her the loving kiss of an uncle.

Bizzarre. Fun. Memorable.

You cannot put a price tag on that.

But if you could, it would be $29.95 apiece, with complimentary "adoption papers."

hey, wasn't that...?

The official website for Mel Gibson's The Passion reveals that the producer/director/William Wallace indeed has a cameo in the film.

Follow the link. Trust me on this one.