My friends and I are avid watches of "The Office." It's set to "Keep until I delete" on the DVR. This past season, however, not everyone was totally pleased. It seemed pretty alright to me, but Rebecca complained that it just didn't seem right. The reason for the show's decline, in her opinion, was the fact that Jim and Pam finally got together. For those of you that don't watch the show, it's atypical in some ways, but Jim and Pam's relationship follows a classic sit-com arc. When the show begins, they're best friends at work who spend a good chunk of their time talking to each other and joking around. There's obvious chemistry there, but Pam is engaged to a jerk who works in the warehouse. It takes a few seasons, but eventually Jim confesses his love to her, she breaks up with the douche, and they end up together. Now they're happy and, as far as the relationship goes, more or less problemless. There's still conflict on the show, but the Jim and Pam "Will they or want they?" that was once the center of the show has been replaced by the much more tame, "When/how will Jim finally propose?" Rebecca thinks Jim and Pam's relationship has caused the show's decline. And, while she loves them both individualy and agrees that they're perfect for each other, she wants them should break up for the good of the show. I strongly disagree. In fact, I think it's a completely horrible idea.
One of my least favorite things in movies and TV shows is when a couple gets together and they're obviously right for each other, but in order to stretch things out and create conflict, the writers send some ridiculous, unrealistic circumstance or misunderstanding their way to break them up. It's that kind of thinking that ruined "Friends." During the early years, I considered it one of my favorite shows, but then, after the audience had waited years for Ross and Rachel to get together, the stupid writers broke them up. I didn't have such a strong attachment to the characters that their split upset me, but it didn't make sense and it sent the show into a whole new direction. What had once been a show about quirky 20-somethings and their misadventures became basically a soap opera with the friends taking turns hooking up with each other and whatever celebrity they could talk into making a cameo. A few years after the break-up, the writers gave Ross and Rachel a baby, but defiantly refused to let them get back together. They finally reunited in the pilot with what I believe was one of those cliche airport scenes and I guess that was the idea all along. By that point, however, it was anti-climatic and the damage had been done. The ratings stayed high, of course, but what was once a show with across-the-board appeal became a show that guys refused to watch. "
It got me thinking about men and women. Maybe women just like for things to be complicated. I think every guy has been asked a question that seems like a trap. Every guy has seen a woman freak out and start a fight over something that seems insignificant. That's not to see that men don't do a myriad of things to ruin relationships as well. We're just as stupid if not more so. But I still wish that women could learn to be happy when things are good.
I've picked up another key gender difference during my time at Toys [backwards]R Us. Women have children as an outlet for nurturing and a source of unconditional love. Men have children to give themselves an excuse to play with toys.
On a completely unrelated note. Do we know for sure that Pac-Man and Ms Pac-Man were husband and wife? She used the ubiquitous-in-the-80's "Ms" that's specifically designed to be unspecific. She may have been his sister for all we know. I do remember a Pac-Man Jr at one point, but they certainly wouldn't be the first couple to have a child out of wedlock and it's perfectly possible that, 80's supercelebrity that he was, Pac-Man knocked up Samus from Metroid or the blonde girl in the ferrari from Out Run. Maybe the fact that her name was Ms Pac-Man and not Pac-Woman means they were probably married, but either way I'm pretty sure she was sleeping with Q*bert.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
push it back?
I found this article interesting. Seems that a bunch of college presidents got together to push for the drinking age to be moved back to 18. It's definitely weird to me that you can be a legal adult in so many other ways and not be afforded all the rights of adulthood. I also understand that it's difficult for colleges to treat some students differently than others. It's a weird situation. On the other hand, nobody wants more drunk driving deaths. I don't drink personally, but I don't think it' morally wrong if the drinker is legal and the intent is not to get drunk. I'm not sure how I come down on this particular issue, but I'm tempted to go with the college presidents. I usually favor more freedom over less. What do you guys think?
Sunday, July 13, 2008
best seller
Every two or three years or so, there's a Christian book that really catches fire. Whether the circumstances are ordained by God or if these books happens to contain something that a lot of people are looking to hear is debatable, but whatever the cause, these books seemingly go from unknown to everywhere over night. Despite the fervor, or maybe because of it, I've always chosen to avoid them. I never read The Purpose Driven Life and I've never prayed The Prayer of Jabez. I've never even opened a Left Behind book and I didn't see the movie, my love for "Growing Pains" not withstanding. Recently, however, my parents gave me a copy of the latest Christian sensation (and weekly fixture in the New York Times Best-Seller List), The Shack. I'd read about the book in USA Today where they'd mentioned that many evangelical leaders had negative things to say about it and I was interested to see if the controversy was warranted, so I decided it was worth a read. It's currently the suggested book of the month at my church and they asked for comments on the church's blog, so I thought I'd turn my thoughts into a blog of my own and share it.
For those of you that don't know me, I have an English degree and most of a master's, so I tend to be critical of the things I read. This isn't the kind of book that can be judged simply by technique, but I find that it's valuable to study any work analytically and break down its strengths and weaknesses. If you happen to be completely enamored with the book and would be offended by any criticism of it, you may want to stop here. For everyone else, as the Apostle Paul said, "I hope you will put up with a little of my foolishness; but you are already doing that."
[By the way, for those that haven't read the book, know that there will be spoilers galore. Come back later perhaps.]
First of all, let's get the negative out of the way. From a purely aesthetic point-of-view, I had a few issues with The Shack. Young's writing is mostly smooth, if unimpressive, but there are a few plot points that get skipped over and some misplaced modifiers here and there. For example, the narrator says early on that Mack[the main character]'s two oldest children are away at "camp or college. " Okay. So which is it? Does the otherwise-omniscient narrator not know? Most likely, Young (the author) meant that one was at college while the other was attending summer camp, but the mistake was enough to make me pause. While it doesn't seem like a huge flaw, little mistakes like that can ruin the flow of the narrative and take the reader out of the moment. After Missy's disappearance, the book goes into great detail about what each family member does in response, but the oldest children are completely left out of the picture. One would assume that they returned from camp or college to be with the rest of the family, but Young doesn't mention them again until much later in the book and never really tries to develop them as characters. Honestly, I'm not sure what purpose the older children serve and if I were the editor, I would have simply cut them from the narrative. Again, it's not the kind of thing that ruins a whole book, but when I'm reading a novel I'd prefer not to have a stop and think about why two kids just pulled a Chuck Cunningham. There are some other missing details throughout the book that bothered me (such as the kids' ages never being mentioned). These things could easily have been fixed with a sentence or two and I hope the poor editing is due to the book being published by a smaller company and isn't indicative of Christian fiction as a whole.
Next, let's get down to the meat of the book. What does it say? Well, it says a lot actually. When Mack meets up with "Papa" God, it's not all hugs and cake baking. They get into some pretty deep theology. A lot of it is pretty basic and mainstream. I thought, for example, that it was a bit odd for a former seminary student to not know that the purpose of the old covenant law was to point out our sin and inadequacy, but that's being a bit nitpicky I realize. Some of the theology, on the other hand, was a bit unorthodox. I don't have the book in front of me right now because I let someone borrow it, but I remember being struck by several statements that I would characterize as debatable at the very least. And there's certainly nothing wrong with that. I'd much rather read fresh ideas than hear the same boring take on things that I could already recite verbatim. It did strike me as a bit arrogant at first that Young had those statements of theology coming from the mouth of God. But people claim to be hearing directly from God all the time and Young never says his book is a true story or that his fictionalized "Papa" is an exact replica of the real creator of the universe. In fact, it bothered me a bit at the end when Mack immediately wrecks his car upon leaving the shack and questions whether his weekend was all a dream. The Alice in Wonderland/Wizard of Oz ending has been done to death and I didn't see the point in backpedaling and undercutting the rest of the book. Then, of course, Mack's best friend Willy reveals that he's been the narrator all along. It was a hokey ending that didn't seem necessary and left a bad taste in my mouth.
All that being said, I actually did enjoy the book. You'd have to be made of stone to not be moved by the death of a child and Young renders it well without straying too far into sentimentality. Beyond that, I think there are three common issues that the book addresses with a good deal of depth and grace:
1) Mack, like many people, has a problem dealing with God as father. Because of the unhealthy relationship he'd experienced with his earthly father, the word doesn't have the positive connotation for him that it should. God chooses to reveal himself to Mack as a woman, while still going by "Papa," to ease Mack into the concept, but he doesn't stop there. He also reconciles Mack with his natural father and deals with the issue of fatherhood head-on. By the end, Mack is much more comfortable with God as a father and I imagine many readers have made the journey right along with him.
2) Mack is devastated by the loss of his daughter and not only carries around melancholy and hurt, but also holds a grudge against God for allowing her to die. Mack and Papa work through the anger and, again, deal with the issue directly until he is able to forgive both God and himself. We've all had times where we're angry at or frustrated with God and Mack's story, while extreme, is a great model both of what not to do in the beginning of the novel and eventually of how to accept those emotions and move past them.
3) Mack also suffers the common problem of seeing God as Old Testament judge rather than loving creator and friend. I felt like the book could have done a bit more to reconcile the seemingly harsh God of the Torah with the Abba Father that we all know is one and the same, but it does paint an excellent picture of God in that loving, nurturing role. It's a role that's often relegated to the more camera friendly Jesus, but it's an aspect of God's personality as well and one that many readers may not have grasped. "God is love." It's a simple statement, but when that's the center of your equation, everything else falls into place.
Finally, let's tackle the controversy. I don't claim to speak for the book's detractors and there may be other criticisms leveled against the book that I haven't read. From my understanding, however, the main complaint is that the book doesn't really speak favorably of organized religion. Truth be told, the critics are right. The Jesus character is particularly critical of the modern church and Mack seems to be disillusioned by things he's seen go on among supposed Christians. Really, though, if we're honest with ourselves, don't we have to admit that we, the church, deserve a bit of criticism? So many individual churches are filled with lifeless Christians and two-faced unbelievers and the church as a whole has been infected with all sorts of rogue doctrine and some downright heretical beliefs. We've become the lovers of ourselves that Paul warned against and we're long overdue for a wake-up call. The Shack may not be the alarm bell that we need, but it's certainly not out of line in its criticisms. Despite the fact that Mack spends a lot of time in nature, his visit with God is a very specific event and the book doesn't advocate a transcendental, Walden Pond communing with nature. While the characters don't talk a lot about Mack's specific church, I think the fact that Mack shares his story with his wife and his best friend shows that Young recognizes the need for Christians to be in a community of other believers. I can see why some church-leaders are upset about the book, but any church built on sound doctrine with strong, God-seeking leadership should have nothing to fear.
The Shack, like any book, has its flaws. The writing could use a touch up in places, but it's not so terrible that it prevents the book from serving its purpose. Not everyone who reads The Shack will be amazingly touched and write glowing testimonials, but I feel like any Christian who looks should be able to find at least one or two nuggets of truth worth holding onto. Thankfully, most of us will never go through an earth shaking tragedy like the one in the novel. Still, there's still a bit of Mack in all of us and sometimes we need a special visit with Papa.
For those of you that don't know me, I have an English degree and most of a master's, so I tend to be critical of the things I read. This isn't the kind of book that can be judged simply by technique, but I find that it's valuable to study any work analytically and break down its strengths and weaknesses. If you happen to be completely enamored with the book and would be offended by any criticism of it, you may want to stop here. For everyone else, as the Apostle Paul said, "I hope you will put up with a little of my foolishness; but you are already doing that."
[By the way, for those that haven't read the book, know that there will be spoilers galore. Come back later perhaps.]
First of all, let's get the negative out of the way. From a purely aesthetic point-of-view, I had a few issues with The Shack. Young's writing is mostly smooth, if unimpressive, but there are a few plot points that get skipped over and some misplaced modifiers here and there. For example, the narrator says early on that Mack[the main character]'s two oldest children are away at "camp or college. " Okay. So which is it? Does the otherwise-omniscient narrator not know? Most likely, Young (the author) meant that one was at college while the other was attending summer camp, but the mistake was enough to make me pause. While it doesn't seem like a huge flaw, little mistakes like that can ruin the flow of the narrative and take the reader out of the moment. After Missy's disappearance, the book goes into great detail about what each family member does in response, but the oldest children are completely left out of the picture. One would assume that they returned from camp or college to be with the rest of the family, but Young doesn't mention them again until much later in the book and never really tries to develop them as characters. Honestly, I'm not sure what purpose the older children serve and if I were the editor, I would have simply cut them from the narrative. Again, it's not the kind of thing that ruins a whole book, but when I'm reading a novel I'd prefer not to have a stop and think about why two kids just pulled a Chuck Cunningham. There are some other missing details throughout the book that bothered me (such as the kids' ages never being mentioned). These things could easily have been fixed with a sentence or two and I hope the poor editing is due to the book being published by a smaller company and isn't indicative of Christian fiction as a whole.
Next, let's get down to the meat of the book. What does it say? Well, it says a lot actually. When Mack meets up with "Papa" God, it's not all hugs and cake baking. They get into some pretty deep theology. A lot of it is pretty basic and mainstream. I thought, for example, that it was a bit odd for a former seminary student to not know that the purpose of the old covenant law was to point out our sin and inadequacy, but that's being a bit nitpicky I realize. Some of the theology, on the other hand, was a bit unorthodox. I don't have the book in front of me right now because I let someone borrow it, but I remember being struck by several statements that I would characterize as debatable at the very least. And there's certainly nothing wrong with that. I'd much rather read fresh ideas than hear the same boring take on things that I could already recite verbatim. It did strike me as a bit arrogant at first that Young had those statements of theology coming from the mouth of God. But people claim to be hearing directly from God all the time and Young never says his book is a true story or that his fictionalized "Papa" is an exact replica of the real creator of the universe. In fact, it bothered me a bit at the end when Mack immediately wrecks his car upon leaving the shack and questions whether his weekend was all a dream. The Alice in Wonderland/Wizard of Oz ending has been done to death and I didn't see the point in backpedaling and undercutting the rest of the book. Then, of course, Mack's best friend Willy reveals that he's been the narrator all along. It was a hokey ending that didn't seem necessary and left a bad taste in my mouth.
All that being said, I actually did enjoy the book. You'd have to be made of stone to not be moved by the death of a child and Young renders it well without straying too far into sentimentality. Beyond that, I think there are three common issues that the book addresses with a good deal of depth and grace:
1) Mack, like many people, has a problem dealing with God as father. Because of the unhealthy relationship he'd experienced with his earthly father, the word doesn't have the positive connotation for him that it should. God chooses to reveal himself to Mack as a woman, while still going by "Papa," to ease Mack into the concept, but he doesn't stop there. He also reconciles Mack with his natural father and deals with the issue of fatherhood head-on. By the end, Mack is much more comfortable with God as a father and I imagine many readers have made the journey right along with him.
2) Mack is devastated by the loss of his daughter and not only carries around melancholy and hurt, but also holds a grudge against God for allowing her to die. Mack and Papa work through the anger and, again, deal with the issue directly until he is able to forgive both God and himself. We've all had times where we're angry at or frustrated with God and Mack's story, while extreme, is a great model both of what not to do in the beginning of the novel and eventually of how to accept those emotions and move past them.
3) Mack also suffers the common problem of seeing God as Old Testament judge rather than loving creator and friend. I felt like the book could have done a bit more to reconcile the seemingly harsh God of the Torah with the Abba Father that we all know is one and the same, but it does paint an excellent picture of God in that loving, nurturing role. It's a role that's often relegated to the more camera friendly Jesus, but it's an aspect of God's personality as well and one that many readers may not have grasped. "God is love." It's a simple statement, but when that's the center of your equation, everything else falls into place.
Finally, let's tackle the controversy. I don't claim to speak for the book's detractors and there may be other criticisms leveled against the book that I haven't read. From my understanding, however, the main complaint is that the book doesn't really speak favorably of organized religion. Truth be told, the critics are right. The Jesus character is particularly critical of the modern church and Mack seems to be disillusioned by things he's seen go on among supposed Christians. Really, though, if we're honest with ourselves, don't we have to admit that we, the church, deserve a bit of criticism? So many individual churches are filled with lifeless Christians and two-faced unbelievers and the church as a whole has been infected with all sorts of rogue doctrine and some downright heretical beliefs. We've become the lovers of ourselves that Paul warned against and we're long overdue for a wake-up call. The Shack may not be the alarm bell that we need, but it's certainly not out of line in its criticisms. Despite the fact that Mack spends a lot of time in nature, his visit with God is a very specific event and the book doesn't advocate a transcendental, Walden Pond communing with nature. While the characters don't talk a lot about Mack's specific church, I think the fact that Mack shares his story with his wife and his best friend shows that Young recognizes the need for Christians to be in a community of other believers. I can see why some church-leaders are upset about the book, but any church built on sound doctrine with strong, God-seeking leadership should have nothing to fear.
The Shack, like any book, has its flaws. The writing could use a touch up in places, but it's not so terrible that it prevents the book from serving its purpose. Not everyone who reads The Shack will be amazingly touched and write glowing testimonials, but I feel like any Christian who looks should be able to find at least one or two nuggets of truth worth holding onto. Thankfully, most of us will never go through an earth shaking tragedy like the one in the novel. Still, there's still a bit of Mack in all of us and sometimes we need a special visit with Papa.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
reunited and it feels...?
It came in the mail on Tuesday. The invitation to my high reunion. Lumberton Senior High's class of '98 will be living it up at the Black Water grill on June 21. Make your calendars. As for me though, I might just skip it.
First, there's the price. It's fifty-five dollars, which seems like a little much to me. I think the homecoming queen might be skimming a bit off the top (just kidding, Kelly). I'm not so destitute that I can't afford it, but when you factor in the forty bucks it'll cost me to drive there and back, it's a lot of money to pay for one meal and some cocktails I won't drink.
Secondly, there's my current life situation. Everybody wants to be doing something cool by their reunion and I like my current life for the most part, but it's not exactly impressive. "I almost got my master's and now I work at a toy store" isn't likely to wow. I like my job a lot some days and I make enough to get by on, but I could have done the same thing I'm doing now at 19 or 20 and I'm 27.
Lastly, there's my classmates. I wasn't exactly popular in high school. I talked to all the popular kids when we had classes together, but I never hung out with any of them outside of school. In fact, the only people I really hung out with at all were other theatre people and friends from church. I certainly don't hold any animosity towards anyone I went to high school with. I didn't dislike many people then and I've never been good at holding a grudge. Thing is, I always figured I'd go to my reunion just to satisfy my curiosity, to find out what everybody's up to. Thanks to the interweb, though, I've already satisfied that curiosity. I'm MySpace or Facebook friends with a good chunk of the people I'd be interested in knowing about. I can see what they're all doing now via the worldwide-superhighway-net and there's no awkward, forced conversation. There's still a few people I'm curious about, but I have no idea if they'll be there or not and I don't know if it's enough to make the whole thing worthwhile. Right now I'm leaning towards no.
First, there's the price. It's fifty-five dollars, which seems like a little much to me. I think the homecoming queen might be skimming a bit off the top (just kidding, Kelly). I'm not so destitute that I can't afford it, but when you factor in the forty bucks it'll cost me to drive there and back, it's a lot of money to pay for one meal and some cocktails I won't drink.
Secondly, there's my current life situation. Everybody wants to be doing something cool by their reunion and I like my current life for the most part, but it's not exactly impressive. "I almost got my master's and now I work at a toy store" isn't likely to wow. I like my job a lot some days and I make enough to get by on, but I could have done the same thing I'm doing now at 19 or 20 and I'm 27.
Lastly, there's my classmates. I wasn't exactly popular in high school. I talked to all the popular kids when we had classes together, but I never hung out with any of them outside of school. In fact, the only people I really hung out with at all were other theatre people and friends from church. I certainly don't hold any animosity towards anyone I went to high school with. I didn't dislike many people then and I've never been good at holding a grudge. Thing is, I always figured I'd go to my reunion just to satisfy my curiosity, to find out what everybody's up to. Thanks to the interweb, though, I've already satisfied that curiosity. I'm MySpace or Facebook friends with a good chunk of the people I'd be interested in knowing about. I can see what they're all doing now via the worldwide-superhighway-net and there's no awkward, forced conversation. There's still a few people I'm curious about, but I have no idea if they'll be there or not and I don't know if it's enough to make the whole thing worthwhile. Right now I'm leaning towards no.
the San Francisco threat
I'm going to talk about other things now, but I did want to add my opinions on the weekend's candidate happenings. The biggest news obviously was Barrack's gaffe in San Francisco. At a fund-raiser there he said, "You go into some of these small towns in Pennsylvania, and like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing's replaced them. And they fell through the Clinton Administration, and the Bush Administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not. And it's not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations." Not surpisingly, the Clinton campaign seized on the comments and began painting him as an elitist who's out of touch with the middle-class. She's definitely right that he comes off as elitist sometimes and his comments were extremely condescending, but there's probably some truth to them as well. People without jobs are bitter. The middle and lower classes tend to be more interested in hunting and religion than the rich and many of them are racist. All of those things are true. If someone else had said them, Marilyn Manson perhaps (he of the God, Guns and Government World Tour), they might have even been seen as inciteful. Problem is, they're not something you can say as president. Obama can sit around with his friends smoking cigarettes and talking about how uneducated and racist the poor are all he wants, but he can't make speeches doing the same. True or not, there are some things you're just not allowed to say.
On a side note, I'm not sure which clip I saw today was more disturbing: Hillary talking about the Holy Spirit or Hillary taking shots of crown royal.
On a side note, I'm not sure which clip I saw today was more disturbing: Hillary talking about the Holy Spirit or Hillary taking shots of crown royal.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
a very old man with enormous wings
After a short haitus, it's on to section three. Let's see who's with me still.
Part 3 - John McCain
John McCain's a war hero. We all know that. Pretty much everyone who's not a Moveon.org pseudo-commie, half-insane liberal seems to agree that he's a man of strength and courage who loves his country dearly. He also has a vast amount of experience and more than enough commander in chief credentials. None of that will be enough by itself to win him the nomination, however. Let's take a look at how he stacks up otherwise.
Since its release in 2005, historian Doris Kearns Goodwin's Lincoln biography Team of Rivals has gotten a fair amount of press. The main theme of the book is that Lincoln's true political genius came from the way he set up his cabinet. Rather than appointing only men who agreed with him on everything or repaying favors to his cronies, Lincoln selected four of his most bitter rivals as attorney general, secretary of state, secretary of treasury, and secretary of war respectively. Lincoln, according to Goodwin, looked beyond friendships and affiliations and, during a difficult era for our nation, wanted to be advised by the absolute smartest men he could find. I've seen Ms. Goodwin interviewed by both Tim Russert and John Stewart and they both discussed the idea that modern politicians should follow the Lincoln model. One of the problems with the Bush white house, as many people see it, is that he seems to insulate himself from the world and only listen to people who are telling him what he wants to hear. Of the three remaining candidates, I feel like John McCain would be the least likely to do that. Like Bush, he can be stubborn and tenacious on matters of principle, but unlike Bush, he has close friends and allies from both sides of the aisle and he's not afraid to change his position when he comes across new evidence. Many republicans frown at the fact that John McCain has sponsored bills with the Ted Kennedys and Dianne Feinstein's of the world, but I think it's great. If he's elected president, I'm confident that McCain will pick the most knowledgeable people he can find to be his sounding board, whether that means Mitt Romney or Joe Leiberman, Chuck Hagel or Lindsey Graham. But that's a bad thing to some people. According to many conservatives, John McCain is a dirty liberal. On both social and fiscal issues, however, he's solidly conservative. He has a 100% pro life voting record (for a somewhat nuanced explanation of why I think that's a good thing, read this post) and has never voted for a tax increase. So why do hardcore conservatives seem to hate him so much? Well, that's slightly complicated. For one thing, he's never sucked up to the talking heads. The Rush Limbaughs and Ann Coulters of the world like to think they have their listeners wrapped around their fingers and if their enormous egos aren't placated, then they're quick to turn against the man or woman who slighted them. John McCain has always refused to kowtow to them or apologize for disagreeing. When conservative radio host Bill Cunningham was brought in my Cincinnati republicans to "warm up the crowd" before a McCain rally, he repeatedly used Obama's middle name, Hussein, in an obvious attempt to link him to Islam. As soon as he found out what had been said, McCain immediately repudiated Cunningham's statements and made it clear that that's not the kind of campaign he's running. Cunningham responded angrily to McCain's chastisement and said that he was going to join Ann Coulter in voting for Hillary. Tiffs like that have been occurring throughout McCain's career, so next time you hear some talk radio guy railing against him, remember that he's probably doing so with a built in bias based on some perceived slight against his fraternity.
That's not to say though that the conservatives don't have fair complaints about McCain's policies. There's two main issues on which the far right and John McCain strongly disagree. First, there's immigration. I haven't done intensive research on McCain's immigration views, but here's the gist as I understand it: McCain gave support to a plan that would allow illegal immigrants to earn citizenship. In order to do so, they would be required to turn themselves into authorities, return home for a period of time (I believe about two years) and pay a somewhat hefty fine (it was about $2,000 if I remember correctly) before they would be fast-tracked to citizenship. Critics have said that the plan amounts to amnesty. While one of Webster's definitions of amnesty says, "the release from the penalties of an offense" (remember when you were in junior high and started every paper with "According to Webster's Dictionary, [the thing I'm writing about] is..."?) and the plan would indeed forgive certain individuals of the current penalties for illegal immigration, another definition contained there is, "the excusing of an offense without exacting a penalty." If that's the definition we're going with, then McCain's plan is definitely not amnesty. A couple thousand dollar fine and a bus ticket back from may not be the punishment many conservatives would prefer, but it's most certainly a punishment. I don't want to put words into his mouth, but I think that McCain's plan is mainly a function of his realistic viewpoint. Sure, we could hypothetically round up all 15 to 20 million illegal aliens and send them back home. Anybody on the far right have a solution of how to do that logistically? As far as I can see, it would be pretty much impossible. That's not to mention all the families that would be screwed up. Any child born here is an American citizen and I'm sure a lot of parents would choose to leave their kids behind to a better life. I can already see the TV footage of little kids crying as they're ripped from their parents' arms. Think Elian Gonzalez times a million. I'm all for upholding the law and tightening our borders and I think McCain is too, but sometimes you have to admit that your reach has exceeded your grasp and do anything you can to stem the bleeding.
The other major issue of contention between hardcore conservatives and McCain is the Bush tax cuts. When the tax cuts first went to congress, McCain went against the majority of republicans and voted against them. As you can imagine, that pissed a lot of people off. His reasoning was pretty solid, however. If you know anything about McCain's legislative history, you know that wasteful government spending has always been one of his favorite issues. Since he first arrived in the Senate, he's done everything he could to stamp out pork barrel spending, which is the euphemism given to the common practice of legislators inserting clauses into a bill that give their home states money for things that had nothing to do with the main thrust of the bill. It's the reason that a lot of people support a line-item veto and it's something that, according to McCain, was abundant in the tax cut bill. While he's generally for lower taxes, he couldn't in good conscience vote for a bill that was a textbook example of the very thing he's railed against for years. Since then, McCain has said that he thinks the Bush tax cuts were good for the economy and he supports making them permanent. Really, he's on the same page with conservatives on this one. Some of them just don't want to admit it.
Marisa commented that she feels like she has to pick the lesser evil this year. That's how I felt in 2004. I'd voted for Bush the first time and he'd proceeded to champion the godawful bad No Child Left Behind act, fail to make a convincing case for war and spread half-truths in the process and then completely mismanage said war to the point that people were already starting to compare it to Vietnam. I flat out refused to vote for him again. That left me with flip-flopping, soulless, liberal Kerry and I knew I couldn't vote for him either. I almost didn't vote at all, but then I decided that I'd use my vote to make a statement (albeit an unnoticed, mostly insignificant one). I voted for the Libertarian candidate because, while I don't necessarily agree with the Libertarian viewpoint on everything, I think it would be great if we had a few more parties to choose from. I got a lot of grief from my roommates for my decision, but I stand by it and I'd do it again faced with a similarly dismal choice. I don't, however, plan on voting Libertarian again this year. Anyone who's discussed politics with me will testify that I don't make any attempt to hide the fact that I'm a McCain fan. I dig the whole straight talker/maverick attitude and I agree with the majority of policy decisions he's made. We don't always see eye to eye and I don't blindly follow every word he says, but I happen to think he'd make an excellent president.
So there you have it. I'm going with door number three. Feel free to choose another option. Just don't say I didn't warn you.
Part 3 - John McCain
John McCain's a war hero. We all know that. Pretty much everyone who's not a Moveon.org pseudo-commie, half-insane liberal seems to agree that he's a man of strength and courage who loves his country dearly. He also has a vast amount of experience and more than enough commander in chief credentials. None of that will be enough by itself to win him the nomination, however. Let's take a look at how he stacks up otherwise.
Since its release in 2005, historian Doris Kearns Goodwin's Lincoln biography Team of Rivals has gotten a fair amount of press. The main theme of the book is that Lincoln's true political genius came from the way he set up his cabinet. Rather than appointing only men who agreed with him on everything or repaying favors to his cronies, Lincoln selected four of his most bitter rivals as attorney general, secretary of state, secretary of treasury, and secretary of war respectively. Lincoln, according to Goodwin, looked beyond friendships and affiliations and, during a difficult era for our nation, wanted to be advised by the absolute smartest men he could find. I've seen Ms. Goodwin interviewed by both Tim Russert and John Stewart and they both discussed the idea that modern politicians should follow the Lincoln model. One of the problems with the Bush white house, as many people see it, is that he seems to insulate himself from the world and only listen to people who are telling him what he wants to hear. Of the three remaining candidates, I feel like John McCain would be the least likely to do that. Like Bush, he can be stubborn and tenacious on matters of principle, but unlike Bush, he has close friends and allies from both sides of the aisle and he's not afraid to change his position when he comes across new evidence. Many republicans frown at the fact that John McCain has sponsored bills with the Ted Kennedys and Dianne Feinstein's of the world, but I think it's great. If he's elected president, I'm confident that McCain will pick the most knowledgeable people he can find to be his sounding board, whether that means Mitt Romney or Joe Leiberman, Chuck Hagel or Lindsey Graham. But that's a bad thing to some people. According to many conservatives, John McCain is a dirty liberal. On both social and fiscal issues, however, he's solidly conservative. He has a 100% pro life voting record (for a somewhat nuanced explanation of why I think that's a good thing, read this post) and has never voted for a tax increase. So why do hardcore conservatives seem to hate him so much? Well, that's slightly complicated. For one thing, he's never sucked up to the talking heads. The Rush Limbaughs and Ann Coulters of the world like to think they have their listeners wrapped around their fingers and if their enormous egos aren't placated, then they're quick to turn against the man or woman who slighted them. John McCain has always refused to kowtow to them or apologize for disagreeing. When conservative radio host Bill Cunningham was brought in my Cincinnati republicans to "warm up the crowd" before a McCain rally, he repeatedly used Obama's middle name, Hussein, in an obvious attempt to link him to Islam. As soon as he found out what had been said, McCain immediately repudiated Cunningham's statements and made it clear that that's not the kind of campaign he's running. Cunningham responded angrily to McCain's chastisement and said that he was going to join Ann Coulter in voting for Hillary. Tiffs like that have been occurring throughout McCain's career, so next time you hear some talk radio guy railing against him, remember that he's probably doing so with a built in bias based on some perceived slight against his fraternity.
That's not to say though that the conservatives don't have fair complaints about McCain's policies. There's two main issues on which the far right and John McCain strongly disagree. First, there's immigration. I haven't done intensive research on McCain's immigration views, but here's the gist as I understand it: McCain gave support to a plan that would allow illegal immigrants to earn citizenship. In order to do so, they would be required to turn themselves into authorities, return home for a period of time (I believe about two years) and pay a somewhat hefty fine (it was about $2,000 if I remember correctly) before they would be fast-tracked to citizenship. Critics have said that the plan amounts to amnesty. While one of Webster's definitions of amnesty says, "the release from the penalties of an offense" (remember when you were in junior high and started every paper with "According to Webster's Dictionary, [the thing I'm writing about] is..."?) and the plan would indeed forgive certain individuals of the current penalties for illegal immigration, another definition contained there is, "the excusing of an offense without exacting a penalty." If that's the definition we're going with, then McCain's plan is definitely not amnesty. A couple thousand dollar fine and a bus ticket back from may not be the punishment many conservatives would prefer, but it's most certainly a punishment. I don't want to put words into his mouth, but I think that McCain's plan is mainly a function of his realistic viewpoint. Sure, we could hypothetically round up all 15 to 20 million illegal aliens and send them back home. Anybody on the far right have a solution of how to do that logistically? As far as I can see, it would be pretty much impossible. That's not to mention all the families that would be screwed up. Any child born here is an American citizen and I'm sure a lot of parents would choose to leave their kids behind to a better life. I can already see the TV footage of little kids crying as they're ripped from their parents' arms. Think Elian Gonzalez times a million. I'm all for upholding the law and tightening our borders and I think McCain is too, but sometimes you have to admit that your reach has exceeded your grasp and do anything you can to stem the bleeding.
The other major issue of contention between hardcore conservatives and McCain is the Bush tax cuts. When the tax cuts first went to congress, McCain went against the majority of republicans and voted against them. As you can imagine, that pissed a lot of people off. His reasoning was pretty solid, however. If you know anything about McCain's legislative history, you know that wasteful government spending has always been one of his favorite issues. Since he first arrived in the Senate, he's done everything he could to stamp out pork barrel spending, which is the euphemism given to the common practice of legislators inserting clauses into a bill that give their home states money for things that had nothing to do with the main thrust of the bill. It's the reason that a lot of people support a line-item veto and it's something that, according to McCain, was abundant in the tax cut bill. While he's generally for lower taxes, he couldn't in good conscience vote for a bill that was a textbook example of the very thing he's railed against for years. Since then, McCain has said that he thinks the Bush tax cuts were good for the economy and he supports making them permanent. Really, he's on the same page with conservatives on this one. Some of them just don't want to admit it.
Marisa commented that she feels like she has to pick the lesser evil this year. That's how I felt in 2004. I'd voted for Bush the first time and he'd proceeded to champion the godawful bad No Child Left Behind act, fail to make a convincing case for war and spread half-truths in the process and then completely mismanage said war to the point that people were already starting to compare it to Vietnam. I flat out refused to vote for him again. That left me with flip-flopping, soulless, liberal Kerry and I knew I couldn't vote for him either. I almost didn't vote at all, but then I decided that I'd use my vote to make a statement (albeit an unnoticed, mostly insignificant one). I voted for the Libertarian candidate because, while I don't necessarily agree with the Libertarian viewpoint on everything, I think it would be great if we had a few more parties to choose from. I got a lot of grief from my roommates for my decision, but I stand by it and I'd do it again faced with a similarly dismal choice. I don't, however, plan on voting Libertarian again this year. Anyone who's discussed politics with me will testify that I don't make any attempt to hide the fact that I'm a McCain fan. I dig the whole straight talker/maverick attitude and I agree with the majority of policy decisions he's made. We don't always see eye to eye and I don't blindly follow every word he says, but I happen to think he'd make an excellent president.
So there you have it. I'm going with door number three. Feel free to choose another option. Just don't say I didn't warn you.
Friday, April 04, 2008
going to the candidates' debate
Shortly before I began yesterday’s post, I noticed that Barack Obama was a guest on "Hardball" and I watched a bit of the interview. Today, about an hour before I started this post, my mom called to tell me that tomorrow, Bill Clinton is going to be in Pembroke, a little town about fifteen minutes from my hometown of Lumberton. She jokingly asked me if I was going out to see him and I responded, "Nah...I already saw Dan Quayle in person. That’s enough greatness to last a lifetime." And it’s true. At least the first part. My mom and I went to see Dan Quayle speak in 1991, in the midst of Bush 1’s reelection campaign. I don’t remember anything he said at this point, but I do remember the crowd chanting, "Bush Quayle ’92!" and towards the end of his speech switching to a rousing "Quayle ’96! Quayle ’96!" I think the humor speaks for itself.
I did want to add a follow-up note to my post about Obama. The conservatives that support him seem to be blind to the fact that he’s been consistetnly rated as one of the most liberal democrats in the senate. While I haven’t heard him promise publicly funded abortions like that bastion of conservatism Rudy Guiliani (note the dripping sarcasm), he has said some scary things on the subject, most notably his proclimation in a recent stump speech that if one of his daughters was to someday make "one mistake," he wouldn’t want them to have to be "punished with a baby." Wow. On to Mrs. Clinton...
Part 2 - Hillary Clinton
Contrary to the belief of many of my conservative brethren, Hillary Rodham Clinton is probably not the antichrist. There’s no reported evidence of her stealing babies’ souls to keep herself youthful or sacrificing goats to Satan and I’m pretty sure she didn’t kill Vince Foster personally. She’s a smart, capable woman and I’m sure she’d do an excellent job of managing many things. I just don’t happen to think the country is one of them. It’s funny to me that she’s touting herself as the candidate of experience in her fight against Obama. This is only her second term in the Senate and before that she’d never held elected office. But Hillary would have you believe that being first lady should count as experience. She lived in the White House after all, right? She was advising Bill at the dinner table when all sorts of important stuff happened. She’s been to state dinners and visited other countries and shaken hands with all the important world leaders. That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it? And maybe it does. She was definitely a different kind of first lady than Laura Bush and people made jokes at the time about her being the real president. But they were only jokes. Recently released documents from her time in the White House show that she wasn’t present for the super-secret cabinet meetings she’d like you to think she chaired and her slate of activities really didn’t differ all that much from most first ladies after all. Hillary may have a slight edge over Barack in the experience department, but if so it’s only slight. And unlike Mr. Obama, Hillary hasn’t managed to convince anyone that she’s not a liberal. But honestly, while she’s definitely liberal enough that I’ll never vote for her, she has a slightly more middle-of-the road voting record than Obama and has shown a willingness to work with Republicans on a few occasions. Her problem isn’t her policy; it’s her personality. She often seems stiff and too rehearsed and never manages to appear as confident, comfortable, or friendly as Obama. You can call it sexism, but John Kerry and Bob Dole faced the same problem. After the ’96 election, the country found out via SNL and Daily Show appearances and the infamous "little blue friend" Pepsi commercial that Bob Dole was actually had a great sense of humor, something that may have helped him dethrone Bill. Maybe Hillary will lose this year’s election and afterwards appear on Oprah and cry and we’ll all discover that she’s a warm, loving, vulnerable person. If she does possess those traits, however, she may want to go ahead and let them out because Obama is charming and spending his way to the nomination. As many pundits have pointed out, Hillary and Barack differ only slightly on policy and most voters aren’t all that nit-picky. Since they both lack long-term governing experience, the primary is coming down to personality and trustworthiness. Hillary could never beat Obama on the first one and being married to a man commonly referred to as "Slick Willy" really doesn’t help her case on the second. It’s still too early to count her out completely, but it’s certainly not looking good for our old pal Hillary. Just like you remember in high school, elections often come down to simple likability. There’s a reason they call it the popular vote.
I did want to add a follow-up note to my post about Obama. The conservatives that support him seem to be blind to the fact that he’s been consistetnly rated as one of the most liberal democrats in the senate. While I haven’t heard him promise publicly funded abortions like that bastion of conservatism Rudy Guiliani (note the dripping sarcasm), he has said some scary things on the subject, most notably his proclimation in a recent stump speech that if one of his daughters was to someday make "one mistake," he wouldn’t want them to have to be "punished with a baby." Wow. On to Mrs. Clinton...
Part 2 - Hillary Clinton
Contrary to the belief of many of my conservative brethren, Hillary Rodham Clinton is probably not the antichrist. There’s no reported evidence of her stealing babies’ souls to keep herself youthful or sacrificing goats to Satan and I’m pretty sure she didn’t kill Vince Foster personally. She’s a smart, capable woman and I’m sure she’d do an excellent job of managing many things. I just don’t happen to think the country is one of them. It’s funny to me that she’s touting herself as the candidate of experience in her fight against Obama. This is only her second term in the Senate and before that she’d never held elected office. But Hillary would have you believe that being first lady should count as experience. She lived in the White House after all, right? She was advising Bill at the dinner table when all sorts of important stuff happened. She’s been to state dinners and visited other countries and shaken hands with all the important world leaders. That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it? And maybe it does. She was definitely a different kind of first lady than Laura Bush and people made jokes at the time about her being the real president. But they were only jokes. Recently released documents from her time in the White House show that she wasn’t present for the super-secret cabinet meetings she’d like you to think she chaired and her slate of activities really didn’t differ all that much from most first ladies after all. Hillary may have a slight edge over Barack in the experience department, but if so it’s only slight. And unlike Mr. Obama, Hillary hasn’t managed to convince anyone that she’s not a liberal. But honestly, while she’s definitely liberal enough that I’ll never vote for her, she has a slightly more middle-of-the road voting record than Obama and has shown a willingness to work with Republicans on a few occasions. Her problem isn’t her policy; it’s her personality. She often seems stiff and too rehearsed and never manages to appear as confident, comfortable, or friendly as Obama. You can call it sexism, but John Kerry and Bob Dole faced the same problem. After the ’96 election, the country found out via SNL and Daily Show appearances and the infamous "little blue friend" Pepsi commercial that Bob Dole was actually had a great sense of humor, something that may have helped him dethrone Bill. Maybe Hillary will lose this year’s election and afterwards appear on Oprah and cry and we’ll all discover that she’s a warm, loving, vulnerable person. If she does possess those traits, however, she may want to go ahead and let them out because Obama is charming and spending his way to the nomination. As many pundits have pointed out, Hillary and Barack differ only slightly on policy and most voters aren’t all that nit-picky. Since they both lack long-term governing experience, the primary is coming down to personality and trustworthiness. Hillary could never beat Obama on the first one and being married to a man commonly referred to as "Slick Willy" really doesn’t help her case on the second. It’s still too early to count her out completely, but it’s certainly not looking good for our old pal Hillary. Just like you remember in high school, elections often come down to simple likability. There’s a reason they call it the popular vote.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
teenage politics
I’ve posted several blogs about political issues in the past, but I’ve never taken the time to lay out my position on the broader political spectrum. At some point I may write a blog explaining why I’m a conservative or lay out the planks that would make up my platform were I a candidate for something. For the moment, however, I’m going to spend a few days sharing my views on the candidates for president. Sure, it would have been more interesting to do this before the field was parsed down to three candidates, when there were Huckabees and Pauls and Kucinicheses to write about, but I’m lazy and this is free. Sue me.
Part 1 - Barack Obama
As we all know by now, Barack Obama is a fantastic orator. An African-American Clinton supporter recently claimed that, within the black tradition, Obama would only be considered a mediocre speaker. If that’s the case, every black preacher in the country must be Martin Luther King because whatever mojo Obama’s got going, it’s taken America by storm. He first burst onto the national scene with a speech at the 2004 Democratic Convention and since then he’s been gaining supporters and fans every time he’s opened his mouth. Obama almost never fails to present himself as intelligent, forthright, thoughtful, and trustworthy and on top of that he’s run a fabulous tactical campaign as well. Every time he’s been attacked, he’s responded almost perfectly. Obama’s done such a great job that he’s even won supporters among those that typically vote Republican, but are hungry for the change that the senator offers. The problem is, Obama simply does not have the credentials to back up his eloquent words. He says the right things, but there’s no proof that he has the wherewithal to implement the "change" he speaks out for or that he’ll even attempt to follow through on his commitments. Even if you consider his four years in the Senate (most of those spent campaigning) and his seven serving the state of Illinois to be more than enough experience, his actions during those tenures don’t seem to match up with many of the statements he’s making now. He says he’s all about ending partisan politics and reaching across the aisle, but he’s never worked with Republicans on any legislation or voted contrary to party lines and he refused to join the Senate’s "Gang of 14" that brokered a cross-party compromise on judicial nominees. He claims he knows how to get things done in Washington, but even his staunchest supporters can’t come up with one thing he’s ever accomplished other than "inspiring." He claims he’s a man of virtue and integrity, but he refuses to reaffirm the pledge he made to use public funding in the general election now that he’s amassed a fortune in donations. Don’t get me wrong: I think Obama is probably a good guy. I liked what he had to say in his speech about race. I agree with his opinions on gay marriage and No Child Left Behind. It doesn’t bother me that he bowls like a girl. Thing is, all of my opinions on him, and everyone else’s as well, are based solely on his words. Call me cynical, but in politics, actions very seldom mirror words. Voting for Obama is like getting excited about a Christmas present that’s still wrapped up. Under that crisp paper and shiny bow, there may be that Wii you’ve been asking for since August or it may be another sweater from Aunt Ruth.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
interesting article
I can't say I'm a regular visitor to oprah.com, but I found this article on CNN and I must say that I really like it. It reminds me a bit of my rant against Romantic Comedies. While I think most people would agree with the things the article says, we all need reminders from time to time not to get carried away and let things turn unhealthy.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
boredom
What if time really is an illusion. All these memories of change are false, implanted. All the world is stiff, solid. Staid. There is only now. This moment; this instant. There is no need for seconds. No breathing. There is no reason to separate, demarcate. No lineation without motion. No trends or observations. There is only this. The is. The present stands alone, forever. We exist, but never live. We are, but never will be or were. This is it. And still is. And still is. You're not reading, only being. I'm not writing, only dreaming. I'm not here or I'm only here. Reality is stone and so am I.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Pennies from Heaven
If you don't know what's going on, here is one of the many articles about the current investigation being conducted into the spending practices of several nationally known evangelists. Among them are some people my parents have enjoyed like Joyce Meyers and Kenneth Copeland and of course there's the infamous Benny Hinn. I hadn't actually heard about the investigation until I was visiting my parents over Christmas and they mentioned to me that they didn't think Joyce Meyer was guilty, that people were starting rumors about lavish spending and they hoped it was nothing than falsehoods. And they may be right. It may turn out that Joyce, Kenneth, and even Armani-suit loving Benny haven't spent a dollar that wasn't accounted for and earmarked for their personal use. If so, that's great. I don't have a problem with preachers living in nice houses or driving nice cars. But I think it's sort of missing the point. I'm not willing to call any preacher a false prophet or a heretic without doing my homework and having specific evidence to back it up. What I will say though is that there are many evangelists out there who lead people to focus on the wrong things.
The prosperity gospel, as it's often known, is the idea that God wants his followers to be rich. He has blessings ready and waiting to pour out on each and every one of us as soon as we have the faith to believe they're coming. And there are verses to back that up I suppose. There are many places in the Bible that talk about being prosperous and living a blessed life. However, there are also many examples in the Bible of godly men who lived extremely rough lives. The article points out Job and mentions the apostle Paul as another good case study. The Bible never talks about Paul having money or owning nice things. Instead, it tells us how he was shipwrecked and bitten by a snake and repeatedly jailed and beaten. Was it because he didn't have enough faith? Did he just forget to call God up and demand his share of the good life? Or maybe the blessings the Bible speaks of aren't necessarily material. There are Christians that God blesses financially and others that live in squalor. The difference isn't that the rich ones have more faith or "name it and claim it." They didn't get rich by sending 50 bucks to Benny Hinn or Creflo Dollar. They were blessed because they worked hard and they followed sound financial principles. They used the money they had wisely and ended up with more. That's how it works for everyone, believer or not.
Again, the televangelists may be innocent. Maybe they believe that God wants to bless us all with fortunes, but that's no excuse for losing focus. If they're talking to Christian audiences, the people need to hear exhortations, how to live a godly life and why we must reach out to the unsaved. If they're talking to an audience of nonbelievers, they need to hear honest facts about God and what it's like to be a Christian, not pie-in-the-sky fantasies about Rolls Royces and gold swimming pools. If having a permanent relationship with the creator of the universe isn't enough to get someone interested in being a Christian, then they're not really interested. They shouldn't have to be made extravagant promises by some over-the-top TV huckster. I meant to keep the tone of this civil, but it's something that's irked me for a long time. I go to a pentecostal church, but it's one that's fairly grounded and Christ-centered. It seems like one of the few. Everywhere I look it seems like churches are caught up in financial matters or in searching for the next big miracle, endless signs and wonders. It's all about what God can do for me when it should be about what I can do for God. About serving Him and serving other, reaching the lost and discipling the young. You don't always have to be lie to be misleading.
The prosperity gospel, as it's often known, is the idea that God wants his followers to be rich. He has blessings ready and waiting to pour out on each and every one of us as soon as we have the faith to believe they're coming. And there are verses to back that up I suppose. There are many places in the Bible that talk about being prosperous and living a blessed life. However, there are also many examples in the Bible of godly men who lived extremely rough lives. The article points out Job and mentions the apostle Paul as another good case study. The Bible never talks about Paul having money or owning nice things. Instead, it tells us how he was shipwrecked and bitten by a snake and repeatedly jailed and beaten. Was it because he didn't have enough faith? Did he just forget to call God up and demand his share of the good life? Or maybe the blessings the Bible speaks of aren't necessarily material. There are Christians that God blesses financially and others that live in squalor. The difference isn't that the rich ones have more faith or "name it and claim it." They didn't get rich by sending 50 bucks to Benny Hinn or Creflo Dollar. They were blessed because they worked hard and they followed sound financial principles. They used the money they had wisely and ended up with more. That's how it works for everyone, believer or not.
Again, the televangelists may be innocent. Maybe they believe that God wants to bless us all with fortunes, but that's no excuse for losing focus. If they're talking to Christian audiences, the people need to hear exhortations, how to live a godly life and why we must reach out to the unsaved. If they're talking to an audience of nonbelievers, they need to hear honest facts about God and what it's like to be a Christian, not pie-in-the-sky fantasies about Rolls Royces and gold swimming pools. If having a permanent relationship with the creator of the universe isn't enough to get someone interested in being a Christian, then they're not really interested. They shouldn't have to be made extravagant promises by some over-the-top TV huckster. I meant to keep the tone of this civil, but it's something that's irked me for a long time. I go to a pentecostal church, but it's one that's fairly grounded and Christ-centered. It seems like one of the few. Everywhere I look it seems like churches are caught up in financial matters or in searching for the next big miracle, endless signs and wonders. It's all about what God can do for me when it should be about what I can do for God. About serving Him and serving other, reaching the lost and discipling the young. You don't always have to be lie to be misleading.
so I was thinking...
As I was lying in bed the other night, it occured to me that almost everyone I've been romantically involved with or interested in throughout my lifetime has either gotten married, gotten engaged, or had a baby within the past year and a half. The girl I dated over the summer got engaged a couple of months ago. The girl I dated in 2004/2005 got married a week or two ago. My first girlfriend in high school got married this year. The girl I liked after her who I went back and forth with and almost dated several times got married and had a baby. A girl I had a huge crush on when I was a sophomore in college had a baby with her husband. A girl I liked a lot a few years ago had a baby with one of my friends. Maybe it just means I'm getting old. Maybe it's all a coincedence. Or maybe it's a gift. You heard it here first, ladies. If you're looking to get married and/or knocked up, date me for a while and you're on your way. Or at least lead me on for a bit. You won't regret it. But I might.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
words I've been playing around with
Apparently I post everything these days. The first one is a story-poem I made up for Jenny when she challenged me to use the word "municipal." The second two sound angry, but they're not actually aimed at anyone. I promise.
Bar Fight
People constantly compare him to Steven Segal
Because he's fat and has a ponytail.
At eighteen Rick joined the marines.
But he didn't really fit in
With the hard drinking tough guys
So he never re-enlisted. His GI bill
Was wasted
On community college
Accounting classes
That he only attended briefly.
Rick never misses the Presbyterian Singles' dance
Held bi-monthly at the municipal building downtown.
He only dances if someone brings their daughter
Perches her feet on his loafers and waltzes in time to an Abba song.
At 36 and four days
He bet a guy down the bar twenty dollars
That the 'Skins would "whoop" the Packers.
When the score was 28 to three
The bald widower began to gloat.
Rick called him a jackass and
Ended up on the ground, his barstool tipped over
In a pile of broken glass. The manager on duty
Yells that he's on the phone with the cops
As Rick slips out the door
Wondering where he'll watch the fourth quarter.
We're completely cool
you and I - me and you.
there's nothing there anymore
you're a ghost
a fading memory
translucent film
the sharpied X on your hand
you can barely make out
the next day after you've showered.
I don't quite recall what we fought about
how it felt when our eyes met
or the fissure that opened
in my chest when you broke the news
like someone just told me
I was dying
or I'd discovered that
the world wasn't round.
I'm no longer a conductor for our spark
not a semi-conductor
I insulate.
when I'm awake at night you're not the cause
it's heartburn
or stress from work
or maybe some other girl.
and that guy you knew isn't here
I pawned him and lost the claim ticket.
he joined the french foreign legion.
the guy left here doesn't care about the past
doesn't wonder what if
doesn't shed a single tear.
he's alzheimer's
he's amnesia
he's empty.
this isn't good-bye
it's a shrug.
Does your hate keep you warm at night?
Does your bitterness tuck you in?
Does reliving every detail
Of every time you've been wronged
Erase a scar, negate a single tear?
Is your anger justified?
Did the world give you plenty of reasons
To take up your cross
Nail your arms to its timbers
On a hilltop for all to see.
Does your pain make the world spin faster?
Does it keep the days from blending into one?
Does it give you at least one thing you can count on
One set of beliefs that won't prove false?
If you grip a bit tighter
Will it scream back at you?
Will it beg you to let go, to go easy
As you smirk and increase the pressure?
Does your fear make you who you are?
'Cause it doesn't do a whole lot for me.
Bar Fight
People constantly compare him to Steven Segal
Because he's fat and has a ponytail.
At eighteen Rick joined the marines.
But he didn't really fit in
With the hard drinking tough guys
So he never re-enlisted. His GI bill
Was wasted
On community college
Accounting classes
That he only attended briefly.
Rick never misses the Presbyterian Singles' dance
Held bi-monthly at the municipal building downtown.
He only dances if someone brings their daughter
Perches her feet on his loafers and waltzes in time to an Abba song.
At 36 and four days
He bet a guy down the bar twenty dollars
That the 'Skins would "whoop" the Packers.
When the score was 28 to three
The bald widower began to gloat.
Rick called him a jackass and
Ended up on the ground, his barstool tipped over
In a pile of broken glass. The manager on duty
Yells that he's on the phone with the cops
As Rick slips out the door
Wondering where he'll watch the fourth quarter.
We're completely cool
you and I - me and you.
there's nothing there anymore
you're a ghost
a fading memory
translucent film
the sharpied X on your hand
you can barely make out
the next day after you've showered.
I don't quite recall what we fought about
how it felt when our eyes met
or the fissure that opened
in my chest when you broke the news
like someone just told me
I was dying
or I'd discovered that
the world wasn't round.
I'm no longer a conductor for our spark
not a semi-conductor
I insulate.
when I'm awake at night you're not the cause
it's heartburn
or stress from work
or maybe some other girl.
and that guy you knew isn't here
I pawned him and lost the claim ticket.
he joined the french foreign legion.
the guy left here doesn't care about the past
doesn't wonder what if
doesn't shed a single tear.
he's alzheimer's
he's amnesia
he's empty.
this isn't good-bye
it's a shrug.
Does your hate keep you warm at night?
Does your bitterness tuck you in?
Does reliving every detail
Of every time you've been wronged
Erase a scar, negate a single tear?
Is your anger justified?
Did the world give you plenty of reasons
To take up your cross
Nail your arms to its timbers
On a hilltop for all to see.
Does your pain make the world spin faster?
Does it keep the days from blending into one?
Does it give you at least one thing you can count on
One set of beliefs that won't prove false?
If you grip a bit tighter
Will it scream back at you?
Will it beg you to let go, to go easy
As you smirk and increase the pressure?
Does your fear make you who you are?
'Cause it doesn't do a whole lot for me.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
the third law
I've never been much of a science fan, but I have to admit that Newton had it right. Life is all about actions and reactions. It's about the things we do and their consequences. The butterfly effect may be hard to visualize, but there are times when it's abundantly clear that the there are two paths before us, that the decisions we're making in that moment will change everything one way or the other.
I remember back in high school thinking about the future. My whole life I'd planned on attending UNC-Chapel Hill. My dad went there and my older cousin, and I'd been cheering on their basketball team through every triumph and failure since birth. They're one of the best schools in the country. Their campus is sprawling and beautiful. They have a great journalism program and I wanted to write. It was perfect. I knew I was smart enough, but I was also lazy. I'd sit there in my room some nights, when I had a history paper to write or a Physics test to study for, and I'd say to myself, "This is important. If you don't get into Carolina, this will be the reason why." And I knew it was true. But I still just sat there. I watched TV or listened to music and I didn't do what needed to be done. Sure enough, when senior year came, I sent in my application and got back the thin letter instead of the thick one. So I went to ECU instead. And in some ways it was perfect. I had some great professors, I met some wonderful people, and I still call Greenville my home. I like my life, but what if it could have been better? Maybe I would have challenged myself more. Maybe my Carolina friends and teachers would have inspired me. Maybe I'd have a career by now and a family and home. Or maybe I would have been miserable and dropped out, be living with my parents and working at the Christian Book Store of Lumberton. The sixteen-year-old me wasn't psychic. He couldn't predict all the details. But he knew there would be consequences.
Two years ago I was dating this girl. I thought it was going to be for real, but things happened and we broke up and I was miserable. In my frustration, I wrote a blog much like this one detailing the things that annoyed me about her. I didn't think she knew where the blog was and I didn't think she'd ever read it. She did and she was hurt and furious. We weren't talking a lot at the time, but I still had hope that we'd get back together eventually. At the end of the post I turned it around. I said that the little things that should annoy me didn't really and that they actually made me smile since they were part of her and I loved her. I'm still not sure if she made it down that far or not, but it didn't matter. No amount of explaining or apologizing or begging and pleading made things any better. Now she's engaged to someone else. Honestly, I'm honestly happy for her. I've moved on and I've kissed other girls and I've realized that we probably wouldn't have worked our regardless. But who knows what would have happened if I hadn't have written that post. Maybe we would have gotten back together and be married right now. Maybe I would have just gotten in the way and kept her from meeting the real love of her life. Maybe things would have happened the same but we'd still be friends at least, we'd have more to say to each other than "how's it going?" Two lives were altered because I made a choice.
Truth is, there's not much point in looking back. It's not that it's wrong to regret. I regret the times I've hurt people. The terrible things I've said and the wrong things I've done. I regret the tears that other people have shed because I made a stupid mistake. But I can't remake those decisions. And maybe I wouldn't want to. What I can do is think more carefully about the ones I make in the future. I can take my time and not act on emotion. I can let God continue to teach me the value of silence and give me a heart that's more compassionate. I still can't predict the future and I won't know for sure where each path leads, but if I do what's right and honorable and decent, then everything will work out for the best.
I remember back in high school thinking about the future. My whole life I'd planned on attending UNC-Chapel Hill. My dad went there and my older cousin, and I'd been cheering on their basketball team through every triumph and failure since birth. They're one of the best schools in the country. Their campus is sprawling and beautiful. They have a great journalism program and I wanted to write. It was perfect. I knew I was smart enough, but I was also lazy. I'd sit there in my room some nights, when I had a history paper to write or a Physics test to study for, and I'd say to myself, "This is important. If you don't get into Carolina, this will be the reason why." And I knew it was true. But I still just sat there. I watched TV or listened to music and I didn't do what needed to be done. Sure enough, when senior year came, I sent in my application and got back the thin letter instead of the thick one. So I went to ECU instead. And in some ways it was perfect. I had some great professors, I met some wonderful people, and I still call Greenville my home. I like my life, but what if it could have been better? Maybe I would have challenged myself more. Maybe my Carolina friends and teachers would have inspired me. Maybe I'd have a career by now and a family and home. Or maybe I would have been miserable and dropped out, be living with my parents and working at the Christian Book Store of Lumberton. The sixteen-year-old me wasn't psychic. He couldn't predict all the details. But he knew there would be consequences.
Two years ago I was dating this girl. I thought it was going to be for real, but things happened and we broke up and I was miserable. In my frustration, I wrote a blog much like this one detailing the things that annoyed me about her. I didn't think she knew where the blog was and I didn't think she'd ever read it. She did and she was hurt and furious. We weren't talking a lot at the time, but I still had hope that we'd get back together eventually. At the end of the post I turned it around. I said that the little things that should annoy me didn't really and that they actually made me smile since they were part of her and I loved her. I'm still not sure if she made it down that far or not, but it didn't matter. No amount of explaining or apologizing or begging and pleading made things any better. Now she's engaged to someone else. Honestly, I'm honestly happy for her. I've moved on and I've kissed other girls and I've realized that we probably wouldn't have worked our regardless. But who knows what would have happened if I hadn't have written that post. Maybe we would have gotten back together and be married right now. Maybe I would have just gotten in the way and kept her from meeting the real love of her life. Maybe things would have happened the same but we'd still be friends at least, we'd have more to say to each other than "how's it going?" Two lives were altered because I made a choice.
Truth is, there's not much point in looking back. It's not that it's wrong to regret. I regret the times I've hurt people. The terrible things I've said and the wrong things I've done. I regret the tears that other people have shed because I made a stupid mistake. But I can't remake those decisions. And maybe I wouldn't want to. What I can do is think more carefully about the ones I make in the future. I can take my time and not act on emotion. I can let God continue to teach me the value of silence and give me a heart that's more compassionate. I still can't predict the future and I won't know for sure where each path leads, but if I do what's right and honorable and decent, then everything will work out for the best.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Sleepless in Peniel
Wrestling with an angel all night
I'm thinking of changing my name
Things I should be done with
Still lie heavy on my chest
It's enough to make me cry
But doesn't quite
I can't even coax out the tears
On those days when all that I want
Is to curl up like a wounded fawn
Admit that I only deceive myself
And stain my stone pillow with saline
I often wish my ladder was an elevator
I rarely even bother to climb it
I'm content with this dirt bed
I keep letting myself get pinned
Half nelson after arm drag takedown
Gripping and grappling to no avail
Strike my hip and let's get this over with
There's no victory if the night never ends
I'm thinking of changing my name
Things I should be done with
Still lie heavy on my chest
It's enough to make me cry
But doesn't quite
I can't even coax out the tears
On those days when all that I want
Is to curl up like a wounded fawn
Admit that I only deceive myself
And stain my stone pillow with saline
I often wish my ladder was an elevator
I rarely even bother to climb it
I'm content with this dirt bed
I keep letting myself get pinned
Half nelson after arm drag takedown
Gripping and grappling to no avail
Strike my hip and let's get this over with
There's no victory if the night never ends
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Subway Story
The subway platform is already crowded by the time I shuffle in. There's a guy by the door playing what sounds like "Radar Love" on the harmonica. I drop the 62 cents change from my lunch into his dixie cup. I've been standing by the second pillar from the entrance for a few moments, when my train arrives and I climb aboard. After riding the subway for a few weeks it starts to become like a college class. There are no assigned seats, but you gravitate towards the same car each day. I notice a couple of the other regulars as soon as I step in. The guy with the sandwich is sitting in his usual spot by the door. Today it's filled with some kind of italian meats and the smell has already filled up the car. The woman who knits is sitting in the front corner and today she's using rather hideous brown and orange thread. The space around her is less tightly packed than the rest of the car as no one wants to get poked. Some days I wish I had the luxury of a bubble. Knit one, pearl two I count in my head as I find an empty enough spot to stand and slip my right hand into the red pleather strap. The doors closed and the train shrugs out of the station. It takes me about thirty seconds to wish I hadn't left my i-pod at home. The new Wilco album I downloaded last night would be a welcome replacement for the sound of shaking, vibrating metal and plastic and squealing brakes that signals our arrival at the next stop.
Only three people leave our car and maybe ten or fifteen pile on. There's a short, sweaty asian kid in a Dominique Wilkins throwback jersey, a nebbish looking woman with cat-eye glasses, and a tallish fellow wearing a seersucker suit and a bowtie. 'Nique settles in right next to me. His b.o. isn't exactly the reprieve I was hoping for from the nasal assaulting power of sandwich guy's oil and vinegar. The train stutters to a start again and the asian kid nearly falls on top of me before deciding he should probably hold on to something. I try to focus on anything other than the smell and stare at the birthmark on the woman sitting next to me's ankle. Before I can come up with an interesting Rorshach response, the train stops again and I look up to watch the comings and goings. Once again, more people get on than off and everyone on board slides a little closer together.
I try to read the front page of the New York Times that's almost touching me, but its owner turns the paper inside out before I can find out what the FBI is currently saying about airline travel. For some reason, Dominique is antsy now. He keeps shuffling his feet and swaying back and forth slightly. I watch his Air Jordans move back and forth, closer and further from mine until he finally steps on my right foot and looks back towards me. "Sorry, bra," he mumbles.
Among the arrivals at the next stop there's an old man with a stuffed cockatoo and a seemingly married couple of undeterminate ethnicity that seem to be arguing in either portuguese or some middle-eastern dialect. Farsi perhaps? At any rate, their volume is already at eight out of ten before they even walk through the doors. My kingdom for an i-pod. Two stops later, 'Nique gets off and so does the sandwich guy. The equilibrium has finally shifted and there are more people going than coming. Enough seats have cleared out that both the old man and his bird are not comfortable, but I decide to keep standing, partially to be polite and let the older folks and women sit first and partially because I sit down all day at work and it doesn't feel so bad being on my feet for a while, even if I've had to switch strap-arms six times by this point. I've lost track of which stop we're on when bowtie and the birdman leave the train and the only person to climb on is a girl in her mid-to-late twenties. Shoulder-length dyed-red hair that curls up a bit at the tips. She's wearing a sea-foam green t-shirt under a faded burgandy cardigan with a tan Walgreen's tote bag slung over her left shoulder. She manages to grasp the pole on the opposite side of the aisle from where I'm standing just as the train rattles to life and into a tunnel. Her jeans have small factory-made tatters on the left hip pocket.
The arguing couple is still going at it. Their volume hasn't decreased even slightly and they don't seem to be aware of anyone else's discomfort. At least they're on the other side of the car. I try to ignore them and think back over my day. Was that e-mail my boss sent out intended for everyone or just me? Ever since I got there, I've felt like the subject of every memo, the cause for each reminder or warning. Two stops later, the angry couple finally exit the train without so much as pausing their conversation. A guy in a Starbucks uniform, sitting across the aisle from me arches his eyebrows in relief and I nod my agreement. The redhead takes a vacated seat and I notice that her brown Dr. Martens are high-tops, but not calf-high.
It doesn't take long before the train is almost empty and I feel compelled to sit. The knitting lady still occupies her corner and a couple of lawyers are discussing a brief one of them submitted on international copyright laws or something equally uninteresting. The redhead is deeply engrossed in a worn paperback. I'm trying to mentally calculate exactly how much time I have left when she looks up for her book for a second and our eyes meet. "Any good?" I ask.
"It's amazing," she answers. "My favorite." She smiles a bit and I notice that she has incredible dimples.
"I sort of wish I'd thought to bring one," I say. "Who's it by?"
"Gabriel Garcia Marquez. One Hundred Years of Solitude."
"I think I've heard of that one. Sounds like a heavy read."
"It is. Most of my favorites are," she says. She dog-ears a page to save her spot.
"Most of mine are too," I agree. "My name's Ben."
"I'm Carly." She stands up to shake my hand and I rise also. When the handshake is through, she grabs onto a strap and I lean slightly against one of the poles. "What's your favorite book?"
"That's a tough question. I just finished reading The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers."
"Nope. I've read it. What else ya' got?"
"Umm...The Unbearable Lightness of Being?"
"Sounds like a winner," Carly says with a smile. "I'll trade you."
"I...uhh...don't have it with me," I mutter.
"Of course not. But you're good for it." She pulls a pen out of her tote bag and sits back down to write something in the front cover. "Give me a call when you get a chance and you can live up to your part of the bargain."
She stands up again and hands me the book and I slip it in the front pocket of my messenger bag. "Thank you. I'll definitely give you a call."
"This is my stop," she says as the train brakes. "It was very nice meeting you, Ben." She shakes my hand again and exits the train. I try not to smile too ridiculously.
It's another three stops before the knitting lady and I finally get off. My mind is on anything but work as I climb the stairs toward the street and saunter down the now-dark sidewalk. I hardly notice the dark-haired man with a mustache and a desert-camo jacket as he walks by, but then calls out nervously towards me. "Hey...hey, man...got change for a five?"
I tell him that I do and as I start to pull out my wallet, he pulls a hunting knife out of the inside pocket of his jacket. "Great," he says. "Hand it over, along with your wallet and your bag."
He seems considerably calmer now and I feel like maybe I can bargain with him. "I'll give you the cash, but let me keep my wallet and my bag. There's no laptop in the bag or anything. Nothing but notebooks and paperwork."
"I said hand it over!" The man is agitated again now and I can't quite tell if he's
trembling or purposely thrusting his knife towards me. I quickly hand him my wallet and the messenger bag and he takes off running.
"Wait! Can I at least have my book back?" I yell towards him. I comptemplate chasing him before thinking better of it. He never turns around.
Only three people leave our car and maybe ten or fifteen pile on. There's a short, sweaty asian kid in a Dominique Wilkins throwback jersey, a nebbish looking woman with cat-eye glasses, and a tallish fellow wearing a seersucker suit and a bowtie. 'Nique settles in right next to me. His b.o. isn't exactly the reprieve I was hoping for from the nasal assaulting power of sandwich guy's oil and vinegar. The train stutters to a start again and the asian kid nearly falls on top of me before deciding he should probably hold on to something. I try to focus on anything other than the smell and stare at the birthmark on the woman sitting next to me's ankle. Before I can come up with an interesting Rorshach response, the train stops again and I look up to watch the comings and goings. Once again, more people get on than off and everyone on board slides a little closer together.
I try to read the front page of the New York Times that's almost touching me, but its owner turns the paper inside out before I can find out what the FBI is currently saying about airline travel. For some reason, Dominique is antsy now. He keeps shuffling his feet and swaying back and forth slightly. I watch his Air Jordans move back and forth, closer and further from mine until he finally steps on my right foot and looks back towards me. "Sorry, bra," he mumbles.
Among the arrivals at the next stop there's an old man with a stuffed cockatoo and a seemingly married couple of undeterminate ethnicity that seem to be arguing in either portuguese or some middle-eastern dialect. Farsi perhaps? At any rate, their volume is already at eight out of ten before they even walk through the doors. My kingdom for an i-pod. Two stops later, 'Nique gets off and so does the sandwich guy. The equilibrium has finally shifted and there are more people going than coming. Enough seats have cleared out that both the old man and his bird are not comfortable, but I decide to keep standing, partially to be polite and let the older folks and women sit first and partially because I sit down all day at work and it doesn't feel so bad being on my feet for a while, even if I've had to switch strap-arms six times by this point. I've lost track of which stop we're on when bowtie and the birdman leave the train and the only person to climb on is a girl in her mid-to-late twenties. Shoulder-length dyed-red hair that curls up a bit at the tips. She's wearing a sea-foam green t-shirt under a faded burgandy cardigan with a tan Walgreen's tote bag slung over her left shoulder. She manages to grasp the pole on the opposite side of the aisle from where I'm standing just as the train rattles to life and into a tunnel. Her jeans have small factory-made tatters on the left hip pocket.
The arguing couple is still going at it. Their volume hasn't decreased even slightly and they don't seem to be aware of anyone else's discomfort. At least they're on the other side of the car. I try to ignore them and think back over my day. Was that e-mail my boss sent out intended for everyone or just me? Ever since I got there, I've felt like the subject of every memo, the cause for each reminder or warning. Two stops later, the angry couple finally exit the train without so much as pausing their conversation. A guy in a Starbucks uniform, sitting across the aisle from me arches his eyebrows in relief and I nod my agreement. The redhead takes a vacated seat and I notice that her brown Dr. Martens are high-tops, but not calf-high.
It doesn't take long before the train is almost empty and I feel compelled to sit. The knitting lady still occupies her corner and a couple of lawyers are discussing a brief one of them submitted on international copyright laws or something equally uninteresting. The redhead is deeply engrossed in a worn paperback. I'm trying to mentally calculate exactly how much time I have left when she looks up for her book for a second and our eyes meet. "Any good?" I ask.
"It's amazing," she answers. "My favorite." She smiles a bit and I notice that she has incredible dimples.
"I sort of wish I'd thought to bring one," I say. "Who's it by?"
"Gabriel Garcia Marquez. One Hundred Years of Solitude."
"I think I've heard of that one. Sounds like a heavy read."
"It is. Most of my favorites are," she says. She dog-ears a page to save her spot.
"Most of mine are too," I agree. "My name's Ben."
"I'm Carly." She stands up to shake my hand and I rise also. When the handshake is through, she grabs onto a strap and I lean slightly against one of the poles. "What's your favorite book?"
"That's a tough question. I just finished reading The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers."
"Nope. I've read it. What else ya' got?"
"Umm...The Unbearable Lightness of Being?"
"Sounds like a winner," Carly says with a smile. "I'll trade you."
"I...uhh...don't have it with me," I mutter.
"Of course not. But you're good for it." She pulls a pen out of her tote bag and sits back down to write something in the front cover. "Give me a call when you get a chance and you can live up to your part of the bargain."
She stands up again and hands me the book and I slip it in the front pocket of my messenger bag. "Thank you. I'll definitely give you a call."
"This is my stop," she says as the train brakes. "It was very nice meeting you, Ben." She shakes my hand again and exits the train. I try not to smile too ridiculously.
It's another three stops before the knitting lady and I finally get off. My mind is on anything but work as I climb the stairs toward the street and saunter down the now-dark sidewalk. I hardly notice the dark-haired man with a mustache and a desert-camo jacket as he walks by, but then calls out nervously towards me. "Hey...hey, man...got change for a five?"
I tell him that I do and as I start to pull out my wallet, he pulls a hunting knife out of the inside pocket of his jacket. "Great," he says. "Hand it over, along with your wallet and your bag."
He seems considerably calmer now and I feel like maybe I can bargain with him. "I'll give you the cash, but let me keep my wallet and my bag. There's no laptop in the bag or anything. Nothing but notebooks and paperwork."
"I said hand it over!" The man is agitated again now and I can't quite tell if he's
trembling or purposely thrusting his knife towards me. I quickly hand him my wallet and the messenger bag and he takes off running.
"Wait! Can I at least have my book back?" I yell towards him. I comptemplate chasing him before thinking better of it. He never turns around.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
today
It's a fairly typical lunch break: McDonald's. Two cheeseburgers meal with no cheese, large sized. Dr. Pepper. Occasionally I get burned out and it's all I can do to choke my burgers down, but today they're tasty enough for the price and convenience. I'm still chewing three fries when I hear someone speak. I look up from the front-page USA Today article I'm reading about the Patreus hearing in Congress to see a blondish woman in her mid-to-late-forties. "Do you have the puzzle?" she's just asked and it takes my brain a second to sync up. At first I think she's asking if we have any puzzles at Toys "R" Us since people at McDonald's often see my uniform and ask me such questions. I start to mumble something along the lines of, "Which puzzle..." but sensing my confusion she repeats her question, "Do you have the puzzle? It's in the 'Life' section" and this time she points towards the disarrayed stack of newspaper on my table. The woman is wearing a camoflauge baseball cap and a white tank top and when she opens her mouth to speak I notice that she's missing all four of her top-front teeth. I realize that she must be referring to the crossword puzzle and, being the stereotyping semi-elitist that I am, I wonder if she's smart enough to actually fill in the right words or she just makes stuff up. As I hand her the middle pages of the "Life" section, I notice that I'm giving up what could be a slightly interesting article about the big Kanye West/50 Cent showdown, but I probably won't lose any sleep over it. Thinking the transaction is over, I look back down, but the woman continues talking. "I love the puzzle. My husband and I fight over it. My son used to watch 'Blues Clues' and he'd always say, 'A clue! A clue!,' but now he's leaving for Iraq tomorrow." She spits all of this out without a pause and I'm taken a bit off guard. "Oh wow," I manage to get out. "I tried to talk him out of it, told him to join the Coast Guard or the forest rangers or the Navy or something instead," the woman says. "There's a lot of people who are pretty gung-ho about the whole thing," I respond. "Pray for Michael" she commands me and I'm not sure whether I should tell her I will because I do, in fact, pray or not answer since I want to be honest and I'm afraid I might forget. I mumble back that I will and say a quick prayer in my head as she continues talking. "He's my little Stinky..." she says, "Do you know why we called him Stinky? Because when he was first potty training he fell in the toilet." "I'll bet he doesn't like that nickname," I say. The woman mutters something back that I can't really hear as she walks away with her puzzle.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
break-up
The worst part isn't the present. It's the future. All the places you planned to travel. The movies you were going to watch. All the stories you never got around to telling. You realize that it's not going to happen. And it hurts. The loss of a future that was so vivid, so real in your head. Even if a part of you knew you were never going to make it there. You constantly check your phone out of habit, but you're not sure who you're expecting to call. Sometimes you wonder if there's anything left to look forward to. Just working and sleeping. Endlessly. And it's not that you lived for your relationship. It wasn't that big of a deal. But it was hope. It was something different. It broke up the monotony. And now life is back to normal. Everything's the same. But you're not quite.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Last Call
Pardon me for saying so, but Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman are idiots. They're the guys who wrote the 1960 Drifters hit "Save the Last Dance for Me." It's playing at Toys [backwards]R Us right now, so I've heard it three hundred times recently, which has led me to overanalyze it. Endulge me. Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman are idiots.
I'm sure you've heard the song, but let me refresh you on the content anyway. The speaker says to an unidentified "you" that we'll assume is his girlfriend, go ahead and dance with that guy who's been eyeing you and smile at the guys who want to hold your hand."Have your fun" and "laugh and sing," but [the chorus]...
"Don't forget who's taking you home
And in whose arms you're gonna be
So darlin', save the last dance for me."
You're kidding me, right? Put yourself in this guy's place. You're dating this girl and you're really into her ("Baby, don't you know/I love you so,") and you take her to some sort of party or dance. And what do she do? She goes off dancing with every guy who winks at her. She flirts and smiles and has the time of your life while you're sitting on a folding chair composing some sappy love song about her. I'm sorry, but if that's you, you're a moron. Even if they're not technically a couple and it's more of a prom date scenario, that's even worse. The speaker bought this girl a ticket and a corsage and spent too much money renting a tux with a pink cumberbund 'cause it's 1960 and to pay him back she goes off and shakes her little tush for every other guy at the party while he's nursing the same glass of punch and eating stale peanuts for two hours. And he says save the last dance for him, so it's not like he doesn't dance. It's not like he's not willing to go out there and live it up. But this girl doesn't want that. She wants to be the star of the party and let every guy there think he's got a chance at bedding her. And poor, stupid Doc and Mort are more than willing to sit back and watch, wait until she's worn herself out and ready for that last dance. Ready for them to drive her home and tell her how much they love her and how beautiful she looked out there. Girls are the devil.
I'm sure you've heard the song, but let me refresh you on the content anyway. The speaker says to an unidentified "you" that we'll assume is his girlfriend, go ahead and dance with that guy who's been eyeing you and smile at the guys who want to hold your hand."Have your fun" and "laugh and sing," but [the chorus]...
"Don't forget who's taking you home
And in whose arms you're gonna be
So darlin', save the last dance for me."
You're kidding me, right? Put yourself in this guy's place. You're dating this girl and you're really into her ("Baby, don't you know/I love you so,") and you take her to some sort of party or dance. And what do she do? She goes off dancing with every guy who winks at her. She flirts and smiles and has the time of your life while you're sitting on a folding chair composing some sappy love song about her. I'm sorry, but if that's you, you're a moron. Even if they're not technically a couple and it's more of a prom date scenario, that's even worse. The speaker bought this girl a ticket and a corsage and spent too much money renting a tux with a pink cumberbund 'cause it's 1960 and to pay him back she goes off and shakes her little tush for every other guy at the party while he's nursing the same glass of punch and eating stale peanuts for two hours. And he says save the last dance for him, so it's not like he doesn't dance. It's not like he's not willing to go out there and live it up. But this girl doesn't want that. She wants to be the star of the party and let every guy there think he's got a chance at bedding her. And poor, stupid Doc and Mort are more than willing to sit back and watch, wait until she's worn herself out and ready for that last dance. Ready for them to drive her home and tell her how much they love her and how beautiful she looked out there. Girls are the devil.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
boycottomy
I've seen a lot of talk on both MySpace and Facebook about staying away from the gas pumps on May 15th. I'm not sure who came up with the idea or set that specific date, but it has definitely taken off, with numerous Facebook groups and MySpace bulletins championing the cause. And that's all well and good. I don't own a BP station and I don't really care who purchases gas or when. But I think it's pretty silly to think this one-day boycott will accomplish anything at all. I don't have any clue what the actual numbers are, but I'll throw out some approximations that sound plausible to me at least. Let's say that, between MySpace and Facebook, the boycotters manage to attract 3 million people that actually commit and agree to not buy gas on the 15th of May. Multiply that by twenty to fifty dollars per tank of gas, you say, and that's a lot of money. Perhaps. However, it's extremely doubtful that all of that money will actually be lost, even for a day. Again, for the sake of argument, let's assume the average person fills up his or her tank about once every ten days. There are some that fill up more than that obviously and some that fill up less, but we'll pick that number as a nice even average. That means that only a tenth of those 3 million people would have filled up their cars on the 15th if not for the boycott. That cuts the number of customers lost from 3 million to 300,000. I would wager that 85 to 90% of those FaceSpacers will end up purchasing gas on the following day since it's not like they can skip work or other obligations when their gas runs out. That means maybe 300,000 (on the high side I'd say) people may buy gas one day later than they would have otherwise. To the trillion dollar oil industry, that's not exactly a noticable dent. It's not even a mosquito bite. So by all means, skip your trip to Shell on the 15th. Just don't expect the prices to lower on the 16th.
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