Time Flies

Some recent purchases that stick in my mind:

The Last Time I Went To A Movie: 4 years ago
Walked out of 2002's Insomnia. Dreadfully dreadful, even without comparing it to the excellent original. Being directed by the guy who did Memento didn't help.

Prior to that, I'd worked 2 years for Lucas Films doing exhibitor evaluations (they're the guys who check movie prints for stuff like scratches, bad splices, uniform color and print quality, THX sound presentation, and projector focus, brightness & clarity) and ended up being spoiled by seeing movies for free.

I'd been walking out of 3 of every 4 movies I'd paid for, and got tired of volunteering to be ripped off. Also I hated paying four bucks for popcorn, two bucks for a Diet Coke and feeling uggy after eating 3 refills.

Now I do Netflix, and never looked back.

The Last CD I Bought: 3 years ago
The Allman Brothers Live at the Atlanta International Pop Festival
I fretted and frowned for almost two weeks before finally bucking up and handing over the change for this two-disc set at Circuit City.

Then I got home and the CD case was empty. That's right no discs, thanks I guess to a crafty shoplifter who got the case open before I did. Financial bummer, and I never did get over it. In any case I never bought another CD.

The Last Shirt I Bought: 3 years ago
A Willis & Geiger single eagle (black label) bush cotton long sleeved shirt on Ebay. Probably already 20 years old when I got it, still my very favorite. Still proves nobody makes 'em like they used to.

The Last Pair of Pants I Bought: almost 4 years go
A pair of Willis & Geiger single eagle (black label) bush cotton shorts, also from Ebay. Kinda baggy, but then never meant to be fashionable. Built to last. They're older than Johnny Depp so I guess they have.

The Last Time I Went Out to Dinner: more than 2 years ago
At Nami's out at the marina. Excellent as always, but once you get outta the habit of going out to dinner you realize it was a habit after all.

The Last Time An Elephant Was Born In A US Zoo
Yesterday, July 18, at the Dickerson Zoo in Springfield, Missouri.

Shouldn't make any difference she's not African, but it does. Even though Asian elephants remind me of dairy cows with tusks, I still feel awful about saying it. A great African elephant wav file by clicking here.

Turn your speaks up, close your eyes and imagine he's glaring down at ya from 20 feet away. No point even trying to run, not really.

Notes On Critical Question #3

--Part 5--
Denying Imagination

Everytime I meet a commercial airline pilot I gotta ask, "Have you ever seen a UFO?"

Nope , I've never seen one and don't believe they exist. But I always look forward to hearing an interesting or unusual answer.

I used to regularly ask people I'd recently met a question after describing the following scenario:

A friend asks you to drive him in his car to the airport and drop him off. Which you then do, and return back to his house to pick up your car.

But after arriving at his house you notice one of the rear tires is almost flat. Being a conscientious friend, you decide to change the tire as a favor, and unlock the trunk to take out the spare tire.

Inside the trunk you find bundles of used, unmarked $1000 bills. It's impossible to guess how much cash is staring you in the face ... but it's definitely more than you could easily carry off with four trips in a wheelbarrow.

So here's the question: How much cash would you have to find in the trunk that would cause you to pack the entire amount into suitcases, drive straight to the airport and start buying plane tickets, and turn your back forever on every facet of your present life?

That unconditionally means NO more contact ever with your husband, wife, girlfriend, children, family and friends. Absolutely none ... because any traceable connection between you and them might cause harm to come to you both. And there are NO exceptions to this condition!

And no, you can't change the rules either by donating all the money to charity, or sharing it with your sister, because it's not your money to begin with. This is an all-or-nothing proposition.

I got a wide range of answers over the years. One of the ones I remember best came from the husband (of a woman who heard the question at the same time) who, without hesitating a moment, simply shouted, "Forty-five thousand dollars!" Thing is, he was serious.

And no, they aren't married any more.

Folks who tended to answer "No amount of money! None!" even before they'd had time to think about the question simply revealed that they were obviously trapped, and that a protective switch inside their brain had clicked that protected them from punishing themselves by entertaining any possibility of flight and freedom.

The more realistic answers ranged from several hundred thousand to several hundred million dollars. The haggling point, in most peoples' minds, was establishing a price for trading family and relationships for cash.

Several folks said it was a stupid question and wouldn't answer, afraid somehow of being tricked.

No, there's no trick or mysterious point hiding behind the question. Not so far as I know. I only mention it here because some people have a difficult time imagining how they'd deal with situations they haven't already experienced that might require them to make extremely difficult decisions.

And they can't imagine that ever happening.

PS. In case you're wondering "What was Critical Question #2?" this is it:
If you could transport yourself back in time to any specific historical day, what date would you chose?

PSS. If you don't already know Critical Question #1 please e-mail me, and let's talk.

--next Part 6 (Conclusion) --
Puttin' On the Helmet Feedbag

Time Alone with the Single Ladies

A heart is not a play thing
a heart is not a toy,
but if you want it broken
just give it to a boy.

Boys never give their hearts away
They play the girls for fools.
They wait until girls give their hearts
and then they play it cool.

So when you think that you're in love
be careful if you can.
Before you give your heart away
make sure that he's a man.

--Yeah baby!!
Wish I could take credit for that, but the truth is I lifted it (and slightly changed lines) from Pink Cosmopolitan on the Right

Notes On Dissin' Experience

--Part 4--

I Only Like What I Already Know

What stunned me most during film school was learning that your local theater makes no money, I mean Zero, zilch, nada, sifuri ... from selling you $9 admission tickets.

What?! How is that possible?
Because your local theater pays 100% of your ticket back to the distributor in movie rental fees.

Then how do theaters stay in business?
By selling you popcorn, soft drinks and frozen Milky Ways.

But you already knew that. Didn't ya?

Hollywood studios only make movies according to how much popcorn they're expected to sell. So I don't have to keep on explaining why so many movies today ARE SO STUPID and aren't worth watching.

So what? Look, I only go to movies to be entertained and have a good time.
I have no problem with that. But would you consider watching a silent or foreign movie sometime, to see what they're like?

No! That's stupid.
Whaaa? You're reading a blog, but ya won't try reading a movie? Not even once?

-- next Part 5 --
Critical Question #3
(By the way, the popcorn stand's in the lobby ...)

Notes on Living in Wonderland

Part 3:
Why Can't We All Just Get Along?
... or would somebody please change the channel.

If US military theorists learned one lesson from the Viet Nam War, it surely was that the US must fight strategically to achieve a convincing military victory quickly and avoid becoming engaged in a prolonged and indeterminate ground war. Otherwise, the domestic situation starts getting kinda hinky back home.

Thus a new strategy emerged: Hit hard, hit fast and win convincingly with an overwhelming show of force.

Rapid technological advances in sophisticated weapon systems like satellite and GPS-guided smart bombs, armed drones and cruise missiles seemed tailor made to complement this new form of sanitized warfare.

This was the concept behind "Shock and Awe" in Iraq. No matter where you stand politically, it's simply a fact that the US military's stunning defeat of the Iraqi Army was nearly textbook perfect in its effectiveness.

But during the years while the Pentagon was learning from its Viet Nam mistakes and re-writing our strategies, insurgent groups around the world were also evaluating what the US did wrong in Viet Nam ... with one difference: insurgents were scribbling notes in the margins detailing what the Viet Cong did right, and learned to avoid engaging superior forces; that the way to wage war was in the streets, and at times and places of their own choosing.

That's why it wasn't long after declaring Total Victory that the Pentagon experienced an Uh-Oh moment.

If we'd won the war so spectacularly, then why hadn't all the fighting stopped?

The problem is that in our hurry to win quickly and cleanly, we forgot all about winning completely: although we targeted and destroyed "high value" strategic military targets (like airfields, government offices, and military bases) we did little to engage and destroy the enemy's will to fight.

If "Shock and Awe" fell a bit short of its mark the reason had little to do with the US military: the American people simply will not stand for seeing Iraqi cities like Baghdad, Falluja and Karbala bombed and machine-gunned to dung heaps the same way German and Japanese cities were carpet- and fire-bombed to gravel and ash during World War II.

Our military leaders know we don't have the stomach for it. And maybe that means we don't have the nerve to do what it takes to win a war.

Yet there's another, even more revealing explanation behind the Pentagon's love affair with smart bombs, surgical air strikes and "contained warfare": They believed that by achieving a series of quick tactical victories we would achieve a comprehensive strategic victory and avoid the possibility that massive troop deployments might be necessary to occupy and oversee Iraq's reconstruction.

In other words, our leaders went to war handicapped by the reality that political suicide was inevitable if our armed forces became involved in a prolonged conflict in Iraq that would require reinstating the Draft.

The Draft? Are you serious?

The truth is that we've become so seduced and in love with the romance of fighting bloodless, gallant wars of principle with sophisticated weapon systems that we actually believe real combat must be exactly like combat in video games. And we don't understand why the war in Iraq can't be fought and won the same way.

We want to fight all our wars with technology, because people like you and me don't get shot at or die in video games.

But terrorists fight with real bullets, blow up real car bombs and cut off real people's heads.

That's why it's easy now to blame Bush for "starting" an unnecessary war and causing trouble, and why some politicians have demanded an immediate timetable for withdrawl. They wanna see the Game Over! screen start flashing right now.

But aren't Iraq and Iran so far away that their antics should hardly concern us? Wouldn't the world be a safer place if we just pulled out and brought our troops home?

I'll bet 98% of Americans couldn't find Afghanistan, Azerbaijan, Bahrain, Brunei, Somalia, Malaysia or Indonesia on a map if that's all they had to do to win a billion dollars. Yet each of these countries face daily terror threats from Islamic insurgents, and they're only a handful of the countries you should already be familiar with to be aware of the potential danger to our way of life they represent

We're talking billions of Muslims worldwide, and the Qur'an and Muslim Hadith are the only sacred writings in existence that encourage followers to make war on unbelievers.

We don't wanna dwell too much on tough issues like that because we've never had to deal with unpleasant stuff (including the possibility of being drafted) before. Our idea of a grueling, nightmarish day means spending 40 minutes on the phone waiting for tech support. Or having to wait too long at the drive-through.

We want to forget that fundamentalist Islam teaches young men that slaughtering infidels like Christians is their only guarantee of entering Paradise. Compared to American Idol that kind of mind-set seems too strange, too 8th Century and too totally weird to be taken seriously.

In the meantime, while American men are focused on financing new cars, dating and downloadable porn, Islamic terrorists are focused on the 72 virgins they're expecting to receive in Paradise.

So long as we're living in denial mode, let's also deny that last week North Korea launched a 3-stage rocket capable of delivering Kim Jong il's nuclear warheads to almost anywhere within the continental United States, and that Iran has publicly declared its intentions of acquiring nuclear weapons and using them to incinerate Israel ... wouldn't ya know ... to fulfill an Islamic prophecy.

Earlier this week Former Speaker of the US House Newt Gingrich wrote that with Hezbollah's unprovoked rocket attacks on Israel, we're witnessing the start of World War III.

Nah, that can't possibly be true. The only thing I want to know is How Much Longer Before the Stock Market Goes Up and Gas Prices Come Down. I'll deal with the rest of the world when it gets here, but in the meantime all I wanna see is Lil Kim bustin' out! GOOD TIMES!

Life's too good here in Wonderland to pay much attention to anything else.

-- next Part 4: The Irrelevance of Experience

This Is Entirely My Own Issue

I got sidetracked this morning, and it's my fault.

I only have the best of intentions when I "seek" out blogs criticizing my pastor and my church. I started reading these blogs last year out of curioisity, but their criticisms quickly turned into something else.

Now I check in on these blogs anytime I feel the craving for another Please Make It Stop, I Think I'm Choking Now rib-busting laugh.

I found a new blog this morning that takes aim at my pastor by name. The author, who must be much more clever than his writing lets on, even includes a Seeker-Pastor Starter Kit, which amounts to a list of satirical gripes he's harboring about ministries he either finds threatening, or misunderstands completely.

I know better than to engage in foolish debates and quarrels; that's why the list I made is Just For Fun.

Maintenance Kit
for Stagnant Legalistic Traditionalists (rough draft)

Dress in the most fashionable and most expensive suits, with stylized hair and lots of jewelry, to reflect how much God has blessed and rewarded your piety and faithfulness.

Do not hesitate to fight about small stuff; always struggle to make sure every idea is talked to death before it's rejected.

One of the best ways to avoid growth and the unpleasant consequences of adding new members is by creating an unspoken atmosphere of censorship. Strict dress codes help here also.

Ostracize potential new members who don't dress or think like you do, encourage their doubts and help them realize they belong somewhere else.

Accept that factionalism within your congregation is inevitable if you allow your membership to grow without limits.

If one faction within your congregation gets mad and leaves to start its own church, let everyone in your city know the "real reason" has something to do with sins so heinous they can't be described in a Biblical context, even using Old Testament terms and definitions.

Keep your services separate from the world by adhering to secret cliches and idioms peculiar to your denomination. Include only four hundred year old music and archaic inflections of speech in your worship services.

Make no secret of the fact that only your church knows the right way about everything.

Ignore the word Pharisee.

Encourage your congregation to share suspicions, allegations and any private information they may have about someone else within your church, so that the latest rumors can be compared and improved, and then repeated as often as possible to others as the honest truth.

Keep in close contact with the elderly invalids and the hospitalized members from your congregation; they are more likely to make huge financial contributions to your ministry sooner than anyone else.

Maintain devotion and reverence within your congregation by constantly fine-tuning salvation's minimum requirements, and hinting additional legalism might be involved that you're not quite ready to share and reveal.

Form as many church committees as possible, to make sure nothing in your church ever changes or gets accomplished.

Include as many traditional symbols of your devoutness as possible on the exterior of your sanctuary, as a public announcement of your piety. Some suggestions include self-illuminated giant crosses, huge sculptures of doves in flight, and particularly stained glass windows with plaques clearly memorializing the donors' names and the amount of their contribution.

(Although your church's Number One Priority should be the construction of a steeple tall enough to interfere with and pose a navigation hazard to low-flying aircraft, do not overlook the ministry potential of renting portable lighted signs with sermon teasers like How Hot is Hell? Come this Sunday and See For Yourself!)

Require all visitors to stand during the Welcome, so that your congregation can get a good long look at what real sinners look like.

Leave excellence out of your worship service's equation and announce publicly that we're all equal in God's eyes, while privately acknowledging that some of us are more equal than others, in ways known only to ourselves.

Refuse to consider adding anything to the worship service that's never been tried before.

Rely on tradition and ritual to avoid examining Biblical doctrines you don't understand or agree with.

Always remember that the word "Hypocrite" only applies to the other guy.

Stick with organ music during your services. That's what the apostles used, and the only appropriate instrument to use today.

Each sermon must always suggest that salvation is never a "sure thing," and imply that several secret sins exist which are probably unforgiveable.

Organize highly-visible public demonstrations and protests against movie theaters, book stores, and retailers who don't share your specific beliefs.

Pastors should gain as much weight as possible, as physical proof of their blessings and rewards.

Pastors' wives must set set fashion standards within the congregation. Extend this to include home cosmetic parties and Ladies Afternoon Gossip Socials.

Encourage deacons to scowl, grimmace at and ignore visitors. This helps keep "Seekers" out, and guarantees your congregation will remain cowering, wholesome and pure.

Mistrust the methodology of any pastor with a larger or faster-growing congregation than yours. Do not hesitate to ridicule or be publicly condescending to any pastor younger than you.

Your church's Teen and Childrens Ministry should remain your lowest priority, and receive the least possible funding. They're not tithers after all, and are most likely to cause disruption within your congregation as they get older.

Disclaimer: The above opinions are entirely my own, and are presented here solely as parody and satire for entertainment purposes.

Blue Book Confidential

Whew, you know what I mean. I gotta take some time off and de-blog for a minute.

In case you've been pulling your hair wondering What happened to The Playlist? well, here's your answer:

It's summer. That means it's hot. Even more so upstairs, which is much closer to the sun. The big speakers live upstairs and I won't go near them. That's why I've been wirelessly blue-booking downstairs from the Averatec ... which has worse speakers than my cell phone.

Only I don't have a cell phone.

So tonight's playlist comes strictly from memory. Promise me you'll only apply according to instructions. Consult a physician immediately if you develop the usual symptoms. May cause excitability, fainting and deafness. Repeat as necessary. No re-fills.

The Breeders
Last Splash
Pod

Notes On Wild UH-OH Moments

-- Part 2 --
Uh-Oh Happens.
Sometimes unexpected stuff happens that contradicts everything we've previously experienced, something so entirely different from what we expected that we're forced to re-examine our thinking and consider whether our previous beliefs and impressions were shortsighted and dangerously mistaken.

That's what I call having an Uh-Oh moment. Last year in Africa I had a handful.

On my first afternoon in Tanzania's Selous Game Reserve a young bull elephant standing a few dozen yards away suddenly turned, glanced back in our direction, raised his trunk and began staring at us as though trying to decide if it'd be worth his time to start bouncing our frail little bodies on the ground like rubber balls.

It was like watching a life-sized movie as the elephant threw back his ears, trumpeted a blast that shook the grass at my feet, and started pawing angrily at the ground ... like a gargantuan nitro-fueled dragster spinning its tires before leaving the starting line.

That's a good signal it might be time to say Uh-Oh.

(Here's two important way to tell elephants and dragsters apart: Elephants exit the starting line in a way that makes fuel dragsters look like they're standing still, and elephants reach the finish line carrying a trunk-full of nauseatingly effective and creative methods of finishing you off.)

I love elephants; along with dolphins they're probably the most magnificient and intelligent creatures God created. It's great fun standing behind a tank-proof iron fence at the zoo and tossing peanuts in their direction.

But replace that fence with a few clumps of dry grass as the only thing separating you from 10 tons of angry elephant zeroed in your direction, and you might start wishing the only elephant you'd ever seen was on display in a museum.

You might even momentarily hate elephants while you're wondering what that left tusk is gonna feel like as it twists out the other side of your shirt ... but after Jumbo Junior charged within 20 feet his trunk must've got a good whiff of my perspiration, which caused him to swerve off and disappear down the trail.

A few days later we were walking back to the truck when both our guide and game scout suddenly froze and held themselves in mid-stride, stiff as statues for what seemed like two minutes without indicating why (this kind of behavior from a Professional Game Scout in itself is a minor Uh-Oh moment).

I hadn't seen or heard anything unusual (it doesn't help that I'm practically deaf in one ear) but the vibe was distinctly scary and Bad. I mean, could something out there really be so close that it was already watching us ... and we didn't know it?

Things got more intense in another second when the guide hissed No move. I didn't bother with correcting his grammar; instead I scanned over the thornbrush only a few yards away and tried to figure out what was happening.

Then our guide whispered what sounded like Simba and motioned one finger for us to start moving slowly to the truck.

Simba, in case you missed The Lion King, is Swahili for Lion (I don't know what the Swahili word is for Uh-Oh).

As we climbed aboard the truck even us Americans heard what turned out to be the growling of three lionesses. We just needed the height of the truck bed to finally see them.

I've read several newpapers accounts of what Park Rangers found the morning after tourists on photo safaris got unintentionally left in the bush overnight by distracted drivers and tour guides. Let's say that lions do very thorough work when they want to, because the medical reports were colorfully descriptive in every detail.

I imagine that suddenly finding yourself alone and on foot with night approaching and having no weapon available more dangerous than a water bottle in the same place where you'd been merrily burning film on spectacular lion action-shots only a few minutes ago would create a severely gut-wrenching Uh-Oh moment.

I'm also pretty sure any noble impression you previously entertained about Lions being warm, cuddly and misunderstood big kitty cats would vaporize pretty quickly: without bars, cages and enclosed trucks to protect us, human beings fall straight to the bottom of the food chain ... in pieces.

But still some people will argue and deny what should be obvious: large predators see us as protein, and couldn't care less about friendship or posing for photos. They're yawning and relaxing for the cameras only long enough to see if anyone onboard's stupid enough to climb down and become a human filet.

Most of us have a tendency to consider animals as friends and attribute personalities to them consistent with what we already feel about ourselves. House cats are adorably amusing and cute while they're playing with yarn, but we overlook that Tabby's only practicing with thread till he can get his claws around something squishy and warm that might taste good.

As human beings we assume intelligence and technology assure our domination, and as individuals each of us feels pretty sure we've got a grip on perceiving the world around us ... that we'll never have a terminally unpleasant Uh-Oh moment ... so long as our guide makes sure we're on the truck when it's time to be carried off in safety and comfort to the hot meal waiting back at the lodge.

Start moving slowly to the truck ...

--next Part 3: Life's So Perfect Here In Wonderland! --

Notes on Intolerance and Perception

--Part 1--

A Fire Just Destroyed Everything You Own.
Look Into The Camera And Tell Us How That Feels ...

On a Sunday afternoon in October about 12 years ago I drove over to Wendy's to pick up lunch, came back home and found my house on fire. A real fire with ladder trucks already on the scene, with policemen closing off streets and reporters hissing "Who lives there? Is anybody inside?" ... and lots of strangers with their personal cameras watching from the sidewalks hoping to witness and record something tragic for their scrapbooks.

An awful lot can happen in 10 minutes when you're not expecting it.

A female reporter asked me what feeling helpless felt like, made sure she had all her shots, and rushed off with her photographer to file her story. It was almost dark by the time the fire was out (in my eyes, the Anderson Fire Department are Heroes). Then the firemen re-coiled their hoses, climbed on their trucks and drove back to the station. The spectators had dwindled away long before then, probably disappointed because the excitement was over and no one had visibly suffered too much.

I remember the quiet that flooded into the spaces where police and fire department radios had been squawking only seconds before. I remember walking to the front door in the dark once the on-lookers were gone and what it felt like peering inside the smokey, now unfamiliar hallway.

I'd been slapped with the reality that I was homeless and pretty much like the blank faces of disaster victims you see on the news. I was now one of those people who had no possessions, no place to live and nowhere to go. And I remember thinking "What do I do?"

When we see survivors of tornadoes, floods, famine and earthquakes on TV poking through the rubble of their former homes looking for traces of family members or for any scraps from their former lives, the images fade from the screen and vanish soon as the news story ends.

We feel instant relief once a commercial cuts in and replaces tragedy with a blonde in a blouse promising Easy Credit Terms! ... as though the pain we witnessed magically ended as soon as we stopped watching.

If our private realities remain secure, familiar and predictable we might feel entitled to be indifferent spectators to whatever wholesale suffering we see on TV, so long as it's happening somewhere else and to people we've never met ... particularly if those people don't look, talk or dress like us.

It's too emotionally complicated and disturbing to remember that reality sticks around much longer than a video clip, and any difference we'd like to imagine existing between "me" and "the other guy" only depends on who's doing the looking.

--Part 2: The Big Uh-Oh

Stuff I Think About: Minivans

I HATE minivans. There. I said and mean it.

Have you ever been stuck in traffic, found yourself surrounded by minivans and started wondering (a) Why anyone would buy a minivan on purpose (b) Why anyone who'd intentionally buy a minivan is allowed to drive on public streets (c) Is there something creepy about me or my car that makes me a moving minivan magnet? (d) Do minivans have gas pedals?

I'm saying I've seen minivans parked on dealer display floors moving faster than some of the minivan drivers that herd around me in traffic like cows at the feed trough.

And I'm only calling them "drivers" because I don't know the word they call the guys who ride along on garbage scows heading out to sea.

Maybe every minivan ever manufactured came straight from the factory with a defective speedometer that reads 3x faster than the van's actually moving. Which explains why doing 15 in a 45 mph zone seems to press most minivan drivers' nerves (and skills) to extreme limits.

Do minivans come with brakes, or just a big SLOW/SLOWER handle on the dash? I've read that minivans, with their higher center of gravity, are more likely to roll over and take longer to stop than a passenger sedan. So maybe minivan drivers think they're being careful by avoiding sudden manuevers like lane changes.

But the way minivan drivers slow down to snail-speed to make turns makes me think a fully-loaded garbage truck could take the turn faster, and not lose a single fly.

I also loathe getting behind minivans at fast food drive-throughs, because there must be a law somewhere that says minivans are only permitted to enter drive-throughs when carrying at least 12 passengers. The second part of the law says that no passenger in a minivan is allowed to know what they want to order before the minivan pulls up and stops at the the ordering window.

The third part of the law says that each passenger must then ask for their meal to be individually cooked to order; the fourth part of the law requires that each passenger in a minivan must pay for their order separately, and only with the correct change, which must be kept securely stowed in console boxes, between seat cushions, and under floor mats.

I also wonder if minivan owners get factory rebates for plastering silly bumperstickers all over their tailgates. Or maybe it's a secret club among minivan owners, to see who can come up with the silliest-sounding slogans to annoy drivers behind them.

Cutsie minivan bumperstickers are especially distracting because when I'm stuck in a passing zone behind a minivan rocketing along at 40 miles an hour under the speed limit, it pays to watch closely and avoid guessing whether the guy behind the wheel already knows he's fallen asleep.

Some of the bumperstickers I especially despise include:

Honk If You Love Fruit Cake!
Hand Puppets Are People, Too!
My Kid Only Looks Like A Geek!
My Church Is Glad All Sinners Are Going To Hell!

My idea of a nightmare is being stuck behind the same minivan on I-85 all the way from Atlanta to Anderson, then see its turn signal flicker on at my exit, tag along behind till it crawls to the nearest drive-through, and then notice a bumpersticker that reads

My Other Car Is Also A Minivan

Heads Up

French Grand Prix
LIVE 7:30AM Sunday Morning on Speed TV (Eastern Daylight Savings Time)
Replay: 1:30 PM EDST

Papa's Pitside Preview:
-Seven-time world champion Michael Schumacher sits on the pole
Schumacher posted a blistering time of one minute 15.493 seconds, 0.017 seconds faster than Ferrari team-mate Felipe Massa to earn his 68th career pole and fourth in 11 races

People smarter than I still think he drives dirty.

How Do I Feel About Ferrari?
If I drove competitive Formula 1, I'd rather work a concession stand and try to convince tourists that chili corndogs were creme brulee than drive for any manufacturer than Ferrari.

Ferrari is The Man. Always was, always will be.

Wish You Were Here

If you like sci-fi B-movies from the mid-1960s and had your own popcorn, that is.

I've got Planet of the Vampires playing on the DVD with all the lights turned off . Luke's asleep somewhere upstairs, so we could sit back and get real scared (and act like we're not). I had to force myself to hit Pause so I could write this and can't wait to hit POST so I can find out what happens next.

What a great, remarkable overlooked little gem. Alien borrowed heavily from this 1965 Mario Brava effort.

Doesn't even matter that the sets and costumes look silly or that some actors seem to be reciting lines lifted from a thesaurus of English cliches while others stammer through in unknown tongues made worse with bad dubbing.

It's great. It's campy. It's B-movie fun at its best.

All Hail Cornflake

Rooster gonna gitcha! Gonna Gitcha!

From the Friday Bottom of the Blog Bag ...

Sometimes I might be a little slow to catch on, but I'm no dummy. At least not a great big dummy walking sideways in diapers. I hope not anyway. Or maybe it doesn't matter what I think. And besides, you're probably right.

Here's some loose stuff that wouldn't fit in anywhere else:

"Now I Know Why Ken Gave Up the Rooster" Department
The doggone thing won't settle down unless I let him sit with me on the couch! Otherwise he won't give me a moment's peace.

He scratches and pecks at the bedroom door, snuffling like a puppy because he wants in. Leaves feathers everywhere, rips up the trash in the kitchen with his beak and cock-a-doodle-doos his head off at all hours day and night. And every time I try to catch him being a bad rooster he suddenly freezes and glares back, like "What? You mean me?"

The rooster's name is Cornflake, btw.

You Know You're In Kentucky When ... Department
At the end of the NASCAR 2006 Craftsman Truck Series Built Ford Tough 225 race on TV right now, I saw a guy standing in the crowd with a t-shirt that said Snitches Are A Dying Breed.

Hmmm ... wonder if he picked that up at the prison gift shop? Or maybe his mom slipped it out past a trustee during visitation ... just to remind junior what's comin' soon as mama busts outta the slam.

Impressive Performance Department
Tonight I decided to find out what would happen if I turned my new King Butch-Aire AC window unit down all the way. Right now the thermometer beside my desk says its -10 degrees Fahrenheit and I'm stuck to my chair.

That's impressive ... glad I put on a second sweater under my parka.

"And I'm Not Paying For Roaming Charges Either!" Department
Cells phones might be the biggest nuisance in my life. From the time I get up till the time I go to bed, no matter what I start doing, I can't go more than 5 minutes without getting interrupted with Ring A Ding Ding Ding. Whether I'm trying to read, eat lunch or watch TV it's no use cause there goes the cell phone.

Problem is, I don't have a cell phone.

"The Tennis Shoes Have Eyes" Department
I've got an old pair of sneaks I still keep around because I paid way too much 12 years ago when they were new. They smell twice as bad as you'd think and came in real handy whenever the time came to spend an hour or two down at the bank discussing their newest fee structure.

But now something's moved in. Like, something's living inside my right shoe. I know this because every time I put my foot inside something bites. And it's big. I've empirically determined it's BIG based on how hard it bites.

I'm guessing it's one of those spiders that have gangsta colors on their backs, you know the ones I mean.

Maybe I could trick Cornflakes into pecking on over and taking a look inside ...

"Do You Like Cats?" Department
... cause I got a new recipe that uses a quick n' easy honey mustard sauce for double-dippin'.

Notes on Israel's Crisis

"Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight."

Psalms 144:1

I'm Gone On Vacation

Man, I need some time off and doggone it, this time I'm gonna take it!

I'm not talking about spending the rest of the summer cruising the Med, or frolicking (can you imagine a 3-legged turtle frolicking?) on a glassy black sand beach in the Caribbean.

Driving up to Highlands for a long weekend and being car sick for an afternoon would be enough. The problem was I couldn't figure out how to afford it.

Then today I saw a commercial on TV that said I can get the cash I need for my vacation by taking out a title loan on my car. They're actually gonna give me cash so I can sit back and stop worrying about paying off my bills! It looks so easy it's amazing.

And I'm so pumped I can't stand it, because now I've got extra cash to blow on anything I want! Shoot, folks who think you shouldn't take a vacation just because you can't afford to must have all their numbers wrong.

Maybe my brain's what's actually gone on vacation. Geepers.

Stuff You Didn't Know About Diet & Exercise

I hope a few simple facts will clear up several popular misconceptions about both diet and exercise:

1. Don't Confuse Muscle with Fat. Sometime around age 20 our metabolism changes significantly and almost overnight, begins converting excess calories, fat and sugars directly into muscle mass. This helps explain why I "looked thinner" in photos taken when I was 20. Actually I just had less muscle mass.

2. Never Eat Just One Dessert. Nibbling at desserts is guaranteed to make you gain weight. Your digestive system can only handle a limited amount of sugars and fat at one sitting and after reaching that amount, any excess goes "straight through the pipes" because it's too much to be absorbed all at once. That's why when I'm in the mood for doughnuts or peanutbutter pie, I eat the whole box (or three pieces) at one time ... without worrying for a moment about where it's gonna end up.

3. Weight Training Does NOT Increase Muscle Mass. Any "muscle gain" from weight training is deceptive, because anabolic muscle "gains" are nothing more than fluid retention. You start sweating when lifting weights, ... and what you haven't sweated out by the time you finish your workout is trapped there under the skin, making your muscles look big and unnaturally swollen.

This is easily proven: Do you feel stronger, or actually weaker, after you've finished working out with weights? All you are is extra thirsty. Nuff said.

4. Diet Coke Dissolves Calories. Everybody with an e-mail account knows Diet Coke dissolves stubborn toilet stains, so just imagine what Diet Coke can do to food waiting to be digested inside your tummy. Calories are instantly destroyed and reduced to harmless gas ... and every burp actually burns off 5000 calories and eliminates up to 65 fat grams.

5. Increase Your Energy By Eating Fewer Leafy Greens and Vegetables. The African Cheetah is the world's fastest land mammal ... and when's the last time you saw a cheetah chowing down on a salad or a bowl of green beans?

Deep-fried sugar is aggressive, and actually attacks wimpy trans-fatty acids, converting harmful cholesterols into pure oxygen on contact while we’re chewing. It’s the additional oxygen released by foods like french fries, pizza and peanutbutter pie that gives us the happy "rush" we feel when we eat them.

On the other hand, stuff with excessive green color (salads, spinach and green beans) actually raises our chlorofill levels to dangerous proportions, which causes our bodies to start photosynthesis the next time we're exposed to sunlight. Our skin starts releasing oxygen like trees and shrubs, which leaves (get it?) us feeling drained and tired.

And that's all I know.

Charismatics Gone Wild!

I really need to get a grip on my Googling.

Lots of folks either go the gym & lift weights, do aerobics, run extreme distances or actually do all three to get their cardio going. Then there's me, who achieves maximum intensity by reading the bloggers I disagree with the most.

That's how I came across this item from a blogger complaining (this time) about Charismatics.

"He reports on some recent jaw dropping incidents within nationally known charismatic churches, including one church where the pastoral staff convinced all its wives and staffers to get breast implants."

She's not clear about whether the "staffers," as in most churches, includes men ... which leaves some pretty ugly images left to our imaginations.

The point here has nothing to do with breast implants or Charismatics (like emerging/emergent churches, definitions and distinctions don't make much sense to me). My point is that after Googling for 45 minutes I failed to find the original source for this story, or a single documented reference to where this much-linked "jaw dropping incident" actually took place.

Guess it could've been anywhere, or it might've been nowhere ... it doesn't matter so long as the allegations and rumors are consistent with that blogger's worst fears and confirm her suspicions that folks who don't believe the way she does are bad apples indeed.

PS. Wonder what they called their capital campaign???

Somebody Slap Me

I wouldn't know Joe Sangl if he walked up and slapped me in the face.

But I wish there was a time when he'd come up and knocked me flat silly. That's why now I'm hoping he'll lay one upside your head, too. Joe blogs about personal finances and how to become (and stay) debt-free.

It's not a gimmick or get rich quick scheme. Joe presents solid, 100% reality-based insights on how "only a little" debt snowballs, affects our choices, takes over our lives and turns us into slaves. Joe's blog is packed full of solid advice about getting your finances under control and keeping them there.

It might be hard to believe but there was a time when being a "debtor" carried a social stigma ... sorta like being an alcoholic who couldn't function without a drink, or an addict hustling the streets looking for the next fix.

Be Honest with Yourself: If racing down to the mall with a wallet (or purse) full of plastic is your idea of fun or recreation then you need to listen up.

Being out of financial control and accumulating DEBT is Not Fun. Paying 22% finance charges is isn't just STUPID ... it's a hint you might be addicted to spending.

We've been brainwashed with temptations like 0% interest and No Money Down Easy Credit Terms. But credit cards don't convey social status and aren't proof of your financial success, no matter what their advertising claims.

A credit card is your Debt Slave ID Badge and only impresses other people that you're a debt "ho" who's borrowing money from a credit pimp to buy stuff you really can't afford.

And pimps don't care about anything except getting their money paid back with 22% interest.

You need to start getting out of debt today ... and there's no better time to take the first step than right now.

Insomnia

WHAT am I doing up at 2:54 AM?
I messed up earlier by fslling asleep for an hour around 6 PM.

What's there to do here in LA [Lower Anderson] at 3:00 AM?
Not much. I had the idea of disguising my voice, calling DJ's house and demanding he let me speak to Elvis, until I realized DJ's probably already up editing. Or still up editing. And DJ probably knows somebody who knows somebody in Nashville who knows how to get in touch with Elvis. So I dropped that idea.

What'd you do instead?
Stopped by the AVClub, and checked out the movie reviews. It's really surprising how few people there are up blogging between 3-4 AM.

Any chance now of ever falling asleep?
I much doubt it.

Any thing you're particularly happy about now that it's almost 3:30?
Yeah ... I'm glad roaches don't chirp like crickets.

You'd better get some sleep.
Ok, but I think I heard the new rooster go off ...

Our Small is Your Mall?

When I moved to The Electric City seems like the mall had about four stores and a twin-theater ... including a Sears on one end and a Belk's on the other. All that's changed now: I think there's 10 stores and a foodcourt.

Consider that West Edmonton Mall in Edmonton, Alberta Canada is the world's biggest shopping mall:

over 800 stores
58 entrances
20,000 parking spaces
26 movie theatres
23,500 employees
In floor space, it takes up 115 football fields

Adds a whole new dimension to squinting across the parking lot and mumbling, "Honey, do you remember where we parked the car?"

How Much Does It Hurt?

Oh, what an ouch it is ...

In case you ever wondered (as I frequently do), somebody put together a Pain Index to compare how much different insect bites hurt:

• 1.0 Sweat bee: Light, ephemeral, almost fruity. A tiny spark has singed a single hair on your arm.
• 1.2 Fire ant: Sharp, sudden, mildly alarming. Like walking across a shag carpet & reaching for the light switch.
• 1.8 Bullhorn acacia ant: A rare, piercing, elevated sort of pain. Someone has fired a staple into your cheek.
• 2.0 Bald-faced hornet: Rich, hearty, slightly crunchy. Similar to getting your hand mashed in a revolving door.
• 2.0 Yellowjacket: Hot and smoky, almost irreverent. Imagine WC Fields extinguishing a cigar on your tongue.
• 3.0 Red harvester ant: Bold and unrelenting. Somebody is using a drill to excavate your ingrown toenail.
• 3.0 Paper wasp: Caustic & burning. Distinctly bitter aftertaste. Like spilling a beaker of Hydrochloric acid on a paper cut.
• 4.0 Pepsis wasp: Blinding, fierce, shockingly electric. A running hair drier has been dropped into your bubble bath (if you get stung by one you might as well lie down and scream).
• 4.0+ Bullet ant: Pure, intense, brilliant pain. Like walking over flaming charcoal with a 3-inch nail in your heel.

Bullet Ant image from www.sasionline.org/antsfiles/pages/bullet/ant.html

Time to Laugh and Relax

Dear Reader,

I know I tax your patience with long blogs about silent movies, recipes you wouldn't eat on a dare and photos of how I trim my toe nails. But now it's time to say Thank You to everyone who writes in ...

I no longer longer have any money after sending it all to Penny Brown, but that will change once I recieve the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail programs.

I have learned that my prayers will only get answered if I forward an e-mail to 7 of my friends and make a wish in 5 minutes.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica, Uganda, Singapore or Uzbekistan.

I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I have their recipe.

And I can't ever pick up $5 I dropped in the parking lot because it was probably placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my butt.

If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5 PM this afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back causing you to grow a hair lump. I know this will occur because it acually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second hsuband's cousin's beautician.......

[Thanks Paula!]

THIS is Ugly Good Times

Whatever happened to Ken's rooster?

Sure, you're so used to seeing it there above the TV you didn't even notice till now. But it's gone.

Ha ha, hahahahhaha. Ze rooster, she is mine.

[Insert Grief Here]

What am I doing with Ken's rooster?

[Insert Uh-Oh Here]

Ken's ex-Rooster knows secret stuff about Lost Season 3, I'm just saying.

The Rooster rocks. See if it doesn't.

MEN ONLY MONDAY: Stuff Women Don't Want You to Know

Guys, here's a big heads-up on having a quiet and peaceful life.

Sometimes we think it's funny to throw up our arms in front of each other, make a whiney voice and shrug,"That's fine honey. We'll do whatever you want" as though we're in control and actually doing women a favor by "going along."

One of the biggest mistakes you'll ever make is deluding yourself into thinking you've got your girlfriend, wife or fiance "all figured out."

Women let men think they're in charge, which only proves how powerful and smart women really are.

Men, what I want you to do now is go grab a magic marker, stand at attention in front of the closest mirror and jot this down across your forehead:

Today I Have New Respect For My Girlfriend/Wife/Fiance .. And Hope She Lets Me Live

Laugh it up and ignore this wisdom at your own peril, Mr. Mean Macho Man. Examples of females from all species fighting tooth and nail against incredible odds to protect their young simply aren't matched by anything males of the same species do in combat ... and besides, males tend to only fight each other when it comes to deciding mating rights.

I mean privileges.

Unless you've got an engine block for a brain, you should see at this point that women even control the thing Men think's most important to Men, which tells me we're not even in charge of what makes us think we're guys.

You might be feeling scared right now and that's okay. Be very, very scared ... women only keep us around because they feel sorry for us, and understand we need protection from ourselves.

Here's a few women you should be glad aren't nagging you to take out the trash:

Boudica was a sword-weilding warrrior queen of the Iceni people of Eastern Britain who led a major uprising against the Romans between 60-61 A.D.

Fights between Roman gladiators often included "women of rank." Women were also venatores (gladiators who fought wild animals in the Roman arena) until their participation was outlawed by Emperor Alexander Severus in 200 AD ... maybe because so many male gladiators complained?

Mademoiselle La Maupin was an 18th century French actress who had a nasty habit of challenging men who'd offended her to duels to the death. With swords. Apparently Mademoiselle wasn't just wagging her sword through empty air, because King Louis XIV issued her a pardon for killing several men in one evening during a formal ball.

Maybe Mademoiselle didn't like their answers after she asked, "Monsieur, does this gown make me look fat?"

Mary Reed and Anne Bonny were pirates. Like, real swash-buckling pirates of the Caribbean who were "resolute and ready to board or undertake anything that was hazardous in the time of action."

A witness at their trial said both women cursed and swore with the best of men and never cringed at murder. The lady pirates changed into men’s jackets, trousers, with handkerchiefs tied around their heads any time the possibility of action arose. I'm guessing Mary and Anne also knew how to handle their swords.

Mademoiselle Leverrier fought a duel with a naval officer, Duprez, who had jilted her, in 1777. Other lady duellists included Mademoiselle de Guignes, Mademoiselle d'Aiguillon, Lady Almeria Braddock, Mrs Elphinstone, Comptesse de Polignac and Marquise de Nesle.

Mary Hagidorn, armed only with a spear, helped defend a fort against British attack during the American Revolution.

Guys are you starting to see a pattern here? Women like shiny sharp pointed weapons like swords, spears or fingernails ... and history confirms they're awfully skilled at using all three.

So maybe next time you feel like complaining about everything your wife/girlfriend/fiance keeps doing wrong, try taking a deep breath instead ... and remember to keep all sharp shiny pointed objects well-hidden and out of sight.

Notes On Not Knowing Anything About Anything

I don't have claim to any kind of gift of prophecy at all. In fact, anytime I can remember where I'm heading after riding an elevator more than one floor is almost enough to make me throw a party.

Whoever wrote "Hindsight is always 20/20"apparently didn't know about me, because no matter how obvious the reasons my mistakes might seem I still end up squinting, scratching my head and thinking, "Wonder why that happened?"

Am I really that dense? You decide: I'm one of the folks who get credit card offers in the mail and think it's because somebody at the bank likes me. When somebody blows their horn at me in traffic I think it's somebody I know trying to get my attention so they can wave hello.

In other words when it comes to having vision, if I ever had it I forgot where I put it.

So before I forget what I was saying, I want to talk about the old building.

I liked the old building. I really did. It was my "first" building and I loved everything about it. I liked the simple layout, I liked that the donut room had riser seating, and I liked that the old building was only a 5 minute drive from home (if I caught every green light).

I liked the volunteer room because it had desks arranged in a horseshoe with a podium that made KT seem like a busy MC. I liked seeing how every part of the service came together and I loved how the air seemed to suddenly still in the auditorium each time the countdown started.

I even liked what the auditorium smelled like after it was vacuumed. I really did. Maybe what I liked most about the old building was that the green room was made from black sheets hung from the ceiling.

But with 5000+ people showing up every Sunday and overflowing the overflow, it doesn't take a mathmetician to figure out that Bigger Really Is Better, and the time had come to move on.

So I want to be very careful about saying this ... it's nothing more than my own impression.

Sitting 4 or 5 rows back from the stage tonight before the 6pm, I glanced back behind me and had to look back two more times to make sure I was seeing right ... I was shocked at how small the new auditorium seemed. Even with 2500 seats.

Maybe because the new auditorium was packed.

I feel silly saying this but suddenly I felt sorry for the new auditorium ... because I don't think it's gonna be the new auditorium very long.

I had the feeling as real as if I'd been smacked in the face that the new auditorium is gonna get outgrown faster than anybody on earth can imagine.

Name That Tune

Seen the new Pontiac Solstice commercial?

I Love You
I Love You
I Love You

The song's called "I Love You" from "The Dandy Warhols Come Down" cd.

Notes on the cutting edge of "But I Like It!"

Non-Photographers and Non-Artistic Persons Escape: Feel free to skip this post. It's long, it's gonna make you mad as a hornet and besides, you won't miss or find out a thing. PS. This isn't directed at folks who just enjoy taking pictures and have fun doing it ... it's aimed at "photographers" who daydream about being revolutionary undiscovered geniuses.


Even among hard-core "fine art" photographers Edward Weston's name isn't much mentioned any more.

Weston never received the popular acclaim, much less the financial rewards, Ansel Adams [if you really need a link or a wiki to find out who Ansel Adams was, please immediately dig a hole in your backyard and plant your camera in it] enjoyed during his life, which is a pity, considering that Weston's pioneering contributions helped establish photography as "art," an accomplishment largely responsible for painters like Picasso shifting from realism toward abstraction ... which in turn might be part of the reason so much digital photography is not only dreadfully bad, but artistically unforgiveable.

Between the 1920s and late 1940s Weston struggled with his old camera, literally, to find "the essence behind the thing," often staring at his subjects ... peppers, seashells and onions ... for days at a time without exposing a single negative.

Not until he "felt" the thing behind the image.

Then he'd load his rickety view camera with a wood film holder, expose the negative always always always at f/64 and develop the film by hand in a tray, before finally printing an 8x10" contact print (again by by hand) in an extremely toxic Amidol solution from the original 8x10" negative.

Then Weston began fine-tuning each successive print, until finally arriving at a representation of "the thing" his mind had pictured. Sometimes it took dozens of sheets of papers to get the image "right."

That's hardly the approach photographers embrace today as prétendants seek out the latest, smallest digital cameras packed with the latest technology promising the most mindless, attention-free operation, conveniences which supposedly leave the photographer with nothing more encumbering than pressing the shutter button 30 or 40 times to "inhibit his creativity"... probably the most popular excuse yet for laziness. But digital chips calculating auto-focus and auto-exposure count for nothing more than a digital dispensation for inexperience, immaturity and artistic crudeness.

If you're a photographer, The f-stops Here.

Unless my memory fails me (not unusual), "Two Nautilus Shells" (above) required a 4-hour f/64 exposure. That means Weston could only try once a day to get the image "right" before the light faded, and the sheet film was ruined.

Weston lived in an unheated shack with neither electricity or plumbing, and was known to skip meals to buy the film, chemicals and paper he needed instead.

In his journal Weston describes pushing hunger from his mind as he counted off the hours necessary to expose his last sheet of film, film he'd purchased with his entire weekly food allowance, watching the clock tick slowly past three hours and then crossing his fingers that this negative would be the one ... only to have the vibration from a passing truck cause the shells to topple over, ruining his exposure, leaving him with no film, no money, and no food for the rest of the week.

Bruce Barnbaum recently told me, "Every year more students show up for workshops with digital prints, always excited to tell me how digital photography has made their work so much easier and faster. But none of them tell me how digital photography has made their easier faster pictures better."

John Sexton (who was Ansel Adams's last assistant) told me, "A lot of people want to do the least work they can, and get famous with their cameras." A workprint Sally Mann sent me (her letter was written on the back) again showed me there is no substitute for craft.

Here in The Age of The Cutting Edge, no wonder Weston's diligence and devotion to craft is so easily neglected and dismissed. We don't have time to learn that stuff: THOUGHT-FREE OPERATION helps us hide behind the argument I know what I like because I like it (whether it's any good or not).

The translation is I know what I like when I like it, and don't care about learning anything else.

That's why we see techheads with "shooting vests" and titanium tripods blazing away with the shutter in machinegun mode, crossing their fingers they'll luck-out with an "interesting image." They want to lead the cutting edge, without bothering to learn the first thing about the basic craft of what they're doing.

I see too many photographers today who'd be embarrassed, or even angry, to admit they can't even describe the emotion behind their own work (though they've got the latest gear) ... yet they don't have enough interest or they're too busy to learn the difference between The Zone System and a flash slave.

It shows in their work.

Those are the photographers who're only excited about what's caught their attention for that moment,and once they're done numbing their fingers from squeezing the shutter, they're ready to move on to whatever luck hands them next.

Thanks for your picture, please pull around and have your next image ready at the next window.

Next Week's To-Do List

I'm blocking off next week in its entirety to doing just one single thing from my TO DO list. I've kept putting this one off and putting it off ... until I finally put it off too long.

I'm gonna find out what "Emergent Church" means. Really.

Expedition Ready?

A few years back a new buzz word entered America's marketing lexicon: Expedition.

First associated with high-altitude mountaineering gear like down climbing suits, storm-proof geodesic tents and canned-gas camp stoves, Expedition promised extra ruggedness with a task-specific design ... like climbing Mount Everest or exploring uncharted Amazon jungles.













This Nordhavn 47 Trawler features ocean-crossing fuel range, dual navigation systems, satellite phone, AIS ship location system, radar ... even its own watermaking system. When the ad says Expedition Ready I believe it.

Then Expedition started sounding watered-down after being used to advertise wristwatches and flip-flops. So more robust words like Extreme, Technical, and Performance were introduced.

Wasn't long before we saw "technical sweaters," Performance Socks and Extreme jogging shoes ...and without Peformance T-shirts and micro-bacterial wicking underwear we couldn't hope to jazzercise at our best.

I won't even bring up the Expedition SUV, except that several were made with 4-wheel drive.

So what if we end up wearing our hi-tech shorts to the mall and packing Expedition stoves to the lake? At least we feel confident knowing we're ready for whatever Extreme challenges lay ahead. And isn't that what matters most?

Here's what's got me puzzled: seems like no matter what I'm driving or wearing, why is it I don't always feel Expedition Ready on the inside?

Another of Life's Heady Quandaries

Would ya go with a Mastiff ... or a Pitbull?


WRONG! You'd choose the 2006 Ridgeback!

Me Too DULL for the Cutting Edge

I'm hardly a serious student of cinema, nor have I once been accused of being a connoisseur of fine film-making. Most of the movies I like don't even make sense to me.

Revealed: My Life As A Movie Moron

Here's a few movies lots of folks rave about, but left me shakin' my noggin:

Fight Club (1999)
Being John Malkovich (1999)
O Brother, Where Are Thou? (2000)
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
Magnolia (1999)
The Usual Suspects (1995)
Sideways (2004)
-generally, anything with characters appearing in masks, fur vests or spandex body suits-

Then there's some I like that leave other folks with migraines:

Lock, Stock and 2 Smoking Barrels
Sexy Beast
Snatch
Run Lola Run
Mulholland Drive
Memento

AVCLUB TECH UPDATE
Yesterday I went totally wild, flashed my router, and boosted my xmit power to 135. I'm bold that way, you bet. Still have trouble remembering "righty-tighty lefty-loosey" though.

FRIDAY'S Mix Your Own Playlist:
Are You Looking for Me? - Yoko One
Left Hand Suzuki Method - Gorillaz
Crazy - Gnarls Barkley (only folks who doodle along at 15mph in the left lane with their right-turn signal blinking don't love this song. Let's hope you're not one of them ...:-)

Simple How-To About Toe Stuff

A recent post here described some of the problems and dangerous complications you're likely to encounter using conventional clippers to trim toe nails, and asked for alternatives to this somewhat medieval instrument of torture.

Here's what works for me, based on a technique I picked up while suffering from tsetse fly delirium on the swampy, tick-infested shores of Lake ... well, it really doesn't matter where. Suffice it to say I can wear size 5 shoes now (if I want to).

Disclaimer: Don't Scroll Down to Sneak a Peak. Really.







































PLEASE Stop. Don't Look .....










































Come on, cut it out. You'll be sorr-rry-





























































Pepperoni added for dramatic effect. These toes are trained professionals: Don't try this at home. No animal toes were harmed during this film.

Congratulations ... YOU'RE APPROVED!

Apply Now!

Must be hunting season again ... that time of year when credit card and finance companies take to the field and bait your mailbox with exciting new offers, take aim at your finances and open fire on your future with easy credit.

Trouble is, all the fine print won't fit on the outside of the envelope. The details and loopholes are carefully hidden inside under the bait where, in the excitement of discovering that your signature is worth a $5000 unsecured loan, you're likely to overlook the crosshairs settling on your backside. Meaning, your wallet.

Get your antlers out of the bait ... and don't let them add your personal finances to their trophy collection.

But On the Other Hand ...

When it comes to Salvation it's troubling that so many critics of "new churches with big congregations" embrace exactly the opposite approach, by arguing that applying for forgiveness does not automatically guarantee acceptance.

In other words legalists feel entitled to add their own fine print, and assume a spiritual credit check is required to evaluate your "sincerity score" before your application to The Kingdom can be approved. The legalists imply Grace is like a loan, and if you're approved, must be paid for with works, good deeds, and regular installments of guilt.

And if you (shudder) miss a payment, God's out there waiting to "gitcha" and repossess your Salvation.

Maybe these loan officers of legalism are afraid of seeing their self-righteousness diluted, and feel entitled to appoint themselves the keepers of Heaven's keys to keep out folks who don't meet their minimum requirements (like guys who'd rather wear jeans to church). Some legalists even demand a say-so on who gets to Heaven by re-writing the rules and adding fine print ... like making Salvation dependent upon rituals, dress-codes and organ preludes.

The reason for this sanctimoniousness could be that legalists are more concerned with their traditions and rituals than they are with the idea of getting up from their pews and being turned loose on the world to share Grace and Forgiveness through the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Because it's easier fighting each other in the pews than facing the enemy from the trenches,

Traditionalists might argue they're actually "protecting the Kingdom" by tacking on more fine print like steeples, crosses and stained glass windows to their church exteriors. But that preoccupation with man-made symbols and appearance reveals instead a spiritual stinginess ... and a fear that somebody's self-righteousness is going unnoticed.

So legalists must commit to being very suspicious and finnicky when it comes to deciding who they're willing to allow into Heaven, or else risk getting ignored and lost in the crowd.

That's plain wrong.

Sin was our debt, and no one can deposit enough tradition or legalisms to change our "spiritual credit history" to earn God's approval. God didn't offer a salvation plan with monthly terms, He offered a single, everlasting payment in full through Christ.

Grace is God's gift ... and no amount of legalistic fine print can re-write His promise.

Music Video Bummer

Music videos don't seem to hold up well over time.

No matter how cutting edge your favorite might seem today, in 35 years it's probably gonna look even sillier than this.

Happy 4th

I've been noticing how many political bloggers amuse themselves by trying to convince us that the United States is the most evil, corrupt and iniquitous nation in history. In short, most everything that's been wrong in the world for the past 200 or so years can be traced straight back to our doorstep.

The more these hate-bloggers link to each other, the more audacious their suspicions become. Some of the claims for our collective guilt are so outrageous they don't seem intended to be taken seriously. After all, insulting America is a fun, and fairly safe sport.

For my own curiosity, I'd like to see one of the Hate America First bloggers name one country anywhere in the world, at any time in world history, that could be reasonably argued as having been, in sum, a more desireable place to live for all its people.

In the meantime, I'm grateful for the freedoms we enjoy and too-often take for granted.

Instead of hunting ghosts from our past, I'd like to see the same amount of zealotry that's been devoted to criticizing the US focused instead on ending mass rape in the Republic of Congo, genocide and slavery in Sudan, and religious persecution in Eritrea, Nigeria and Saudi Arabia.

Or would the America Haters think that's too dangerous, and not as much fun?

Your Pastor's A Wussy

Over the past year I've been watching TV preachers.

The scary guys with structural hair and wives in purple wigs who spend 50 tearful minutes trading prayer rugs for prayer seeds got boring, so I tried the new "big time" pastors ... including those who wrote some of the best-selling books you might already have on your shelf.

What surprised me was how many TV preachers act like wussys. I'm serious.

You can sense they're worried about whether or not the congregation likes them, or if sagging ratings signal personal failure and rejection, or whether their new book will be a best-seller. You feel bad for them- for their pleading, for their fake "hipness," and for their willingness to avoid ruffling feathers on their way to becoming famous.

Your skin crawls at every goofy joke the same way you cringed at every thee, thine and art ... so that by the end of the message you're kinda hoping their mansions are waiting in some remote zip code of Heaven (and maybe also that they'll be "relocating" sooner than you do).

I started wondering what would happen if we could tune-in PayPerView on Saturday nights for Bitter Rivals and watch preachers fight Judas Iscariot live in The Octagon. Talk about Ultimate Fighting.

I'm guessing about 90% of our preachers would either get knocked plumb silly in the first round or quickly submit without fighting back ...not because they're clumsy, or badly out of shape, or just too old (like me) ... but because Losing & Explaining was what they expected. Because it's what they do best.

Do we even notice anymore when TV preachers act like game show hosts and blab for an hour about getting rich, being healed and feeling good ... without once mentioning why Christ died for our sins?

If today's churches ever tried explaining why 90% of their memberships are either shrinking or stagnant, I imagine we'd see lots of finger-pointing at explanations outside the pulpit ... without once hearing about a lack of leadership and vision.

The truth is too many churches have wussys in the pulpit.

A church cannot fulfill its commission and see its membership increase according to God's Will with an indecisive, weak-willed wussy loose in the pulpit.

Maybe we think strength and authority are bad words, because as members we're convinced our opinions are essential for helping the pastor stay on track. But a church cannot be effective if the pastor tries to lead by consensus, or if the pastor's waiting for a feasibility committee to reveal a common goal and a vision, or if the pastor flits through watered-down sermons to avoid ruffling the deacons' feathers.

A church committed to expanding God's Kingdom through the Gospel of Jesus Christ absolutely must have a strong, spiritually obsessed and dangerous man up front facing the enemy ... because if he is led by the Holy Spirit, satan will know his name and try everything he can to distract and destroy him. The members of a church devoted to obeying Christ must also accept that tithing, volunteering and following the pastor are not optional, and remember that God does not share glory with ministry partners or steering committees.

If you're content with your pastor's vision, or if you're satisfied and thrilled that your church is "already doing all it can" to further God's kingdom, have you stopped to think maybe the enemy's thrilled about all your church is doing, too?

Most Embarrassing Moments

I'm guessing most guys don't wanna admit it, but there've been times in-between doing "Guy Stuff" ... swapping out cylinder heads on the truck, trying to find out how much trash will fit in a single plastic kitchen bag, blowing up stuff with M-80s (have you tried the new M-1000s?) or watching bowl game re-runs on ESPN, when we've done stuff we're ashamed to admit, even to ourselves.

That includes getting real gushy and romantic, and then trying to write poems ... we've all done it.

Maybe writing poems isn't as bad as it sounds; so long as it's not done very often. Here's one of my worst offenses from those days ... I hope we can still be friends.

still

After the storm we walked down the hill
and crossed the field asleep with poppies

you pressed their heads against your cheek
and said you were enchanted in the moon's silver fire

beside the river we caught stars in our hands
and tossed each one with a wish into the current

and the glow lingered for a moment
flickering among the pebbles you said

stay you said your secrets belonged to me

and alone beneath the starless night
I believed every word.

18 October 1998

Breakfast On Me

UPDATE
Cancelled, Sorry
[UFC airs next Saturday night 7-08-2006]

That's right, tomorrow [Monday] morning I'm doing the cooking and the cleanup.

All you gotta do is show up in the driveway between 5-5:30 AM and honk your horn ... I'll run right out with a steaming styrofoam platter of homemade cream cheese cinnamon rolls and a pressurized can of spray-on coffee. That means each one of us gets four (4) rolls ... and I promise my coffee's so bad it kills squirrels; there's no deal in town like it.

But remember; First Come First Served

I'll stand beside your car the whole time (more on that later), and only ask one of two things in return:

(1) Tell me whether you think so-and-so is the biggest cheater in Formula 1 history (even if he does drive for Ferrari) .... and if not, why not?

Or-

(2) Let me hold a VHS copy of Saturday night's Ultimate Fighting (I'm cheap that way). Still, I'm dying to find out whether the grudge got settled

Cream Cheese Cinnamon Rolls & Coffee is the one true and only Breakfast of Champions.

No Excitement On Earth Like What's Happening Tomorrow!!

I'm awfully excited about tomorrow. Probably even have trouble sleeping, it's gonna be that great. Really.


US GRAND PRIX SUNDAY !! LIVE COVERAGE ON SPEED TV 12:30 PM!!!

Say whatever you want about college football, NBA basketball, golf or NASCAR. No other competition comes close to Formula 1 Grand Prix racing.

Imagine cars weighing less than 1200 pounds with 800 horsepower engines doing 0-200mph in 10 seconds running flat out on road courses two miles long. Wow.

But never mind all that, it's not what's happening tomorrow that's got me excited. This is.