Hey Look. I found Dew's Christmas present.

What it takes to get me to blog again...

Yes, I know my blogging has been supermodel thin lately and not as fun to look at but I have found another outlet for my nuggets of literary gold. My insatiable appetite for expressing myself was for years what also fed my adoring throngs of blog followers. At one time I think I was up to 4 or maybe even 5 people who read this ever-offending opus and I realize their lives have been hollow and void without my wry compositions in the past few months and I am forever sorry about that. I have been a pastor and preacher for a whole year now and all 6 of my active brain cells are fairly smoking with activity since I was called, much to the detriment of Blog, I thought dog...thing..whatever it's called (and why?). I have been content studying, writing and delivering sermons and since my church flock is nearly double my blog followers I owe them my best but I am taking some time out to make known to you all how I feel about Barack Hussein Obama "coming out" (as the headline read)in favor of gay marriage. I know that ten years ago before anybody ever heard of BHO that if you had heard that the guy on the bike in the above pic was coming out in favor of such it would be no surprise. He might as well be wearing a rainbow helmet and a leather vest with no shirt, but I digress. Even after I have had 3 long years to figure out this guy, I'm not surprised by his support of it. I am, though, offended at his reference to Jesus and the Golden Rule as his basis for his decision "evolving" into this support. I would never expect a man of his character to support a ban on same sex marriage just because the Bible says that homosexuality is a sin but when he says he is a practicing Christian and realizes that this view for the rights of gays to marry "might put him at odds with others of his faith", I start to get my hackles up. Then when he says that "Jesus died on the cross" and that we should all do as "the Golden Rule says and do to others as we would have done to us", I start to get mad. First off, what does Jesus dying on the cross have to do with this at all? He didn't even tie it in to anything. He just threw that out there. Secondly, I am all for treating homosexuals "fairly and equal" as he said just like I would treat any other person who chooses to sin, whether that sin is lying, cheating, stealing, murder or doing mean things to puppies. It's all sin and one is as bad as another. But the Golden Rule does not say we should rationalize away sin. My next thought goes to the end of all of this. Just where does it end if we throw away our moral compass and allow same sex individuals to mutilate the sanctity of marriage? Can I now marry my dog? I love her and she loves me. We both want the best for each other and want to have all the same rights as non-K9's do. Or how about if all 3 of my dogs and I want to marry a lovely squid? What's wrong with that? Don't be hatin' on me and mine because you're jealous of our male/canine/marine love affair. I'm sick of this nasty, nasty old world and I look forward more than ever to my real home. Heaven will be better than we can imagine and I'm sure Hell will be worse than we can imagine. In fact, I understand the Book of Revelation to say that in Hell everybody has to ride blue touring bikes with rainbow helmets. Really. Go look it up.

Update

Just in case you were wondering...I Glocked.

To Glock or not to Glock?

At Cabela's tonight:
Me: I want the best pistol for the money.
Friendly Employee: How about the Glock? I have 5 of them.
Me: Why do you go with Glocks?
FE: I don't just go with Glocks. I have about 40 pistols but the Glock is the best pistol for the money.

So, I'm asking for your opinion. I feel the need for something concealable but with stopping power. I'm thinking the Glock 23 in .40 would serve the purpose and they retail for about $550. (Not that I would buy retail. I don't trust the gubmint to have my name on a piece of paper saying I have a gun.)

What do y'all recommend? I have a budget but also want a good gun when the end of the world as we know it comes.

A long time ago...

When I first heard this song I was still young and naive enough to think it was being sung by a young man wanting to do something nice for his mother.

stole off the interwebz

For my 700th post, let's play, "Who's that Stud?"

About the only thing that didn't happen at church yesterday.

Maybe next Sunday...

Dr. Dewgood said I should write this.

Two years later and I still miss her every day and wish I didn't. In a life with more than my share of regrets, my greatest regret is getting married. My second greatest regret is not trying harder to stay married. There ya go, Doc. Your check is in the mail.

Doggie Door

This is my little princess, Sara.

Normally she is perfect in every way. But lately she has decided she doesn't like to stay in the back yard with Bo and Dori.

She was pretty persistent in her digging out and so I finally had to put up an electric fence. I got it completely installed yesterday knowing i would be gone to a meeting all day today. I came home to find this:

The door has had a few scratches on it but Sara did 99% of this today including ripping out a panel so she could get in and wait for me to get home. I guess Dori is not big enough and Bo is too big because only Sara was inside. Just inside the door a kitchen chair was knocked over so when she went in she must have been going fast.

Get a job.

Unless you live under a rock you don't need a link from me to know about the protests in Afghanistan over some burned Islamic religious material. I know all of us are outraged at their outrage. The difference is, obviously, we don't protest in the streets. We don't throw rocks or jump up and down shouting the name of our God. And while I can't for the life of me remember why we are even in Afghanistan, I think, like most of you, that this makes it obvious that we should be out.

But the first thing I think of when I see these folks protesting day after day is: Don't you people have jobs to go to?

Headlines make me crazy.

Do you ever feel like this is really just an episode of the Twilight Zone that we are living? Surely this can't be really happening. I just went to a favorite news site and thought I was going to lose my mind. Please tell me these headlines are not real:

Obama: I'm getting 'better as time goes on'...

Husband of missing Utah woman kills self, two young sons in gas blast...

Girl Caught Selling Pot Brownies at Middle School...

Did Madonna put on the greatest show on earth?

Special ed student set on fire...

CHICAGOLAND: Burglars Torture Man With Red-Hot Spoon...

I'm not wanting to alarm anyone but...we're doomed. Seriously, no country can keep on rowing furiously toward the falls without pretty soon going over. It started with family and marriage being replaced with entertainment. That led to a greed mentality which led to an "I deserve it" mentality (Occupy Wall St.) which is leading to an economic collapse.

I'm not a very dramatic person but I do want to be prepared. I'm not going down without a fight and I'm not going down without telling everybody that will listen about how to have a life-changing relationship with Jesus because that is the ONLY way this country will turn around. Until that happens though, you might want to check out a website like this: http://www.survivalblog.com/

Oh good. Valentines Day is coming up.

I really just couldn't stand Roseanne Barr being the first thing to see on my blog so I fixed it.

I'm moving to Canada. Or Greenland. Maybe a houseboat in uncharted waters.

The day this happens...http://washington.cbslocal.com/2012/02/02/roseanne-barr-seeks-green-party-presidential-nod/

I even have a vice president for her.

Sometimes I just don't have much to say here.

I repeat, don't touch me.

How many times do I have to tell you freaks? I enjoy hugging my close friends and family. I might even be called kinda touch-feely when it comes to people I know well. A touch on the arm or shoulder as we converse is welcome and shows that we are interested in each other, that we are listening. But if I don't know you really well, let's talk without touch. Period.

Our church hired a company to do some roofing work for us this past week and the owner of the business is a wonderful, older, Christian man who was so nice. We got along really well and everything was going just peachy until, as we were sitting and talking, he reached over and cupped his hand over mine that was on my desk. Several other people were there and I know he didn't mean anything weird by it but I instantly quit hearing whatever he was saying and all my focus went to my hand.

"Why is he touching me? Is he going to keep it there? How long should I leave my hand under his? Really, why is he touching me?" All that was running through my head. Later on he even hugged me, just a friendly kinda side-arm thing but it weirded me out. I know I flinched when he did it too and I didn't want to make him feel bad but I couldn't help it.

I know he didn't mean anything by it and probably felt like a bit of a father-figure but as he was leaving he even did what my grandmother used to do to me and he reached up to my cheek and gave a little squeeze with his thumb and fore finger. I felt my hand come up to swat his away and tried to control it by grabbing his hand and shaking it but I don't know how well it worked.

I know, it's just me. The guy is completely normal. I just don't think we will ever hire Sanduskey Roofing again.

How it really happened.

I know, I know. It looks really bad for me but it's not what it seems. I had gone to South Carolina to visit some family and work on my tan, which as you can see by my pic here has really improved. Besides, I heard the cops were really cool there. So, anyway,I borrowed a friends' card and went to Buffalo Wild Wings, had a few drinks and went to the bathroom to clean my fingernails with my knife. Evidently some guy in there thought I was trying to rob him see he took off all his clothes. People are crazy, huh? So, see, it's not all that bad but maybe don't say anything to my church, ok?

I thought hackers were supposed to be smart.

I just got this email:

Due large number of new members joining to our website we decided to do a review of our members , to see our inactive users.
There before you need to Click Here to login in your craigslist account .
If you choose not to login your craigslist account will be deleted.

Thank you for your understanding.
Craigslist Team



Now even though I taught Dew everything he knows about computers, that does not mean that I am a computer guru. Nevertheless, I caught on pretty quickly that this was not really an email from Craigslist. First, Craigslist would not send an email like this. Also, even Craigslist can spell and they know grammar. Lastly, when you hover over the link where it says, "Click here" the domain name is devildesign.org. C'mon folks. It's 2012. Don't insult me.

Unintended irony

"With all due respect we don't need God on our sidelines." - Terrell Suggs

With all due respect? I don't know who Suggs is but evidently he was bashing Tim Tebow, who I only know because he has made the news for stuff besides football.

Speaking of Tebow, am I the only one who thinks it's a slam to "do the Tebow"? To get down on one knee and pretend to be praying sounds to me like you are making fun of the guy. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. What do you think? Anyway, it's all just one more reason not to watch that stuff on TV.

Old enough to nose better.

Dinner time with friends. Nothing fancy but enjoying their company at a local restaurant. One of the men is old enough to be my dad and is evidently to the point in his life where he feels comfortable enough to pick his nose during dinner. I don't mean a quick swipe with the side of a finger. Not an irritable little itch that needs the tip of a fingernail at the nostril opening. I mean he's knuckle deep, pushing his head back and wishing he had some pliers kinda nose-picking.

I know, you think I'm exaggerating. Surely it wasn't that bad. Surely if it was he must have gone to the bathroom to take care of this business, right? Nope. I promise. Right there sitting across from me at the restaurant table. He even finished his wife's story at one point with one whole fingernail completely involved in this dark business. I tried to not look but when he is talking it's hard not to notice.

Nauseated yet? Hang on. Let me just tell you how he finished up. At one point it literally took two fingers to unload this cargo and when he had given a good yank and was pleased with the effort he (I promise this is true, every word) commenced to rolling the treasure between his palms like Play-doh until it dried up and fell probably into his lap. He wiped his hands on his pants and sat back and gave a satisfying sniff. Mission accomplished.

I did not shake hands with him as we left.

Just be glad I did not include a picture for this post.

Emmanuel

This time of year it is common to hear the name "Emmanuel" when speaking of Jesus. Most of us even know the meaning of the name, thanks to some popular songs. But what does it mean to you? If "Emmanuel" means "God with us" then what does it mean to have God with you? It might be very comforting to know that God is with you and it might be very discomforting, depending on what you are up to.

The first biblical mention of the name is in Isaiah 7:14. Isaiah tells King Ahaz to ask God for a sign that God was on his side but Ahaz refused. He said he didn't want to test God which sounds noble enough but what he really was saying was "I got this. I don't need God." Not a good choice when several armies had allied against him but he made his choice.

Even though Ahaz rebelled, God still sent the sign, a sign that was fulfilled by Jesus 700 years later. That's good news for you and me. It's good because it shows God's grace, that even when we rebel, He is faithful. There are consequences to our rebellion but God will always be faithful to protect and provide for our sake and for the sake of His Kingdom.

So, this Christmas season be aware that God is with you. He is with you when you are doing stupid stuff and causing Him grief so be mindful of that but he is also with you when it seems like everybody else is celebrating. He is with you when your own grief at not having that special person in your life is overwhelming. He is with you when your wife leaves, the boss fires you and your friends are taken from you. He is with you. The question is, are you with Him?

What really happened...

Ok, I know it looks bad but I can explain. My new girlfriend was at the Walmarts in Tulsa and was so shocked by how dirty it was she started mixing up some ingredients to clean the place. When the cops showed up, she told them she was making up a batch of "Death", which is what she calls her homemade mixture, as in, "Death to Dirt". It was not Meth, NOT METH, as is reported in this totally false news report: http://www.fox23.com/mostpopular/story/Woman-caught-making-meth-inside-S-Tulsa-Walmart/Rgu31vt1m0me-p0WwKsN_w.cspx

December 7, 1941

I know I have posted this before but I love it and it is appropriate for today. This picture was taken on December 7, 1941. My friend, Dorky, is on the front row with the funny smirk and her arms crossed. Her mother made all the kids go out to the front yard for a picture because she heard they had been bombed and thought the world might end aand so she wanted the kids all together for a picture.

Our "guest speaker" today at church.

Have you ever had a crazy dream? A dream that seems so real but too crazy to have really happened? I want to tell you about a night I thought I must surely be dreaming, but it really happened.
My name is Hank. Hank the shepherd. I’m one of the shepherds mentioned in the second chapter of the book of Luke, verses eight through twenty. My name is not in the Bible and I’m not terribly important in the scheme of things and yet I had something wonderful happen to me many years ago. Allow me to tell that story in my own words.
Being a shepherd is hardly glamorous work. It is long hours and low pay and we are generally looked down upon by most people. I do not have much education nor much money and most of the time I smell like a sheep. One can see that with all of that going for me that I do not have many close friends.
There have been a few of us shepherds to go on to bigger and better things with our lives. King David is probably the most notable example. But most shepherds live and die in poverty and obscurity and to be honest that was fine with me. I never expected anything of note to ever happen in my life. I had gone to work when I was very young to support my mother when my father died and shepherding was the only thing I could do.
They were not even my own sheep. A man hired me to take care of his sheep but I took my job very seriously. During the day we would let the sheep graze on open land but at night we would round them up and put them in a makeshift corral and we would guard them there.
Nighttime was when thieves and wolves would come out so we would sit in the doorway of the corral and protect the sheep with our bodies. The secret was to have another shepherd there with you at night to talk to you. Not only did it keep you from getting bored and falling asleep but the noise kept away the thieves and wolves.
The other shepherds and I would talk about anything and everything during the night as one can imagine. Some of the other guys liked to talk about God and religion But I was not much into that. I had a hard time believing that there was more to this life than eating, sleeping and sheep.
The ironic thing about this one special night was that some of the other guys and I had just been discussing some of the prophecy in scripture about the coming of the Christ. They had been sharing with me that several prophets had predicted Christ’s birth. Moses, Micah and Isaiah had all predicted the coming of the Christ and that could be something I could get excited about if only I could really believe it.
They told me about the passage in Isaiah chapter seven that says, Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel. Also, Isaiah chapter nine says, A child will be born to us. A son will be given to us. He will rule over us. And he will be called Wonderful Adviser and Mighty God. He will also be called Father Who Lives Forever and Prince Who Brings Peace. The authority of his rule will continue to grow. The peace he brings will never end. He will rule on David's throne and over his kingdom. He will make the kingdom strong and secure. His rule will be based on what is fair and right. It will last forever. The Lord's great love will make sure that happens. He rules over all.
That passage says that Christ will reign on David’s throne! I like that. I can relate somewhat to David because he was a shepherd - a lowly shepherd. Then in the fifth chapter of Micah it says that the baby will be born in Bethlehem. That is where I am from. That is my hometown! I started to feel some hope where previously there had been just despair.
We were, in fact, camped just outside of Bethlehem that night. I will never forget it. It was a beautiful, quiet, starry night. Some of the others were talking and I heard a noise. It started out like a low hum and gradually built up to a sound like a huge herd of horses were stampeding across the hills.
My first concern was for the sheep and so I stood up and listened and waited. On a typical night the most exciting thing to happen might be a shooting star so one can imagine how shocked I was when a bright light flashed and an angel was right in front of me.
I thought it must surely mean I was about to die! My heart was pounding, my knees almost failed to hold me up. I thought I should avert my eyes but I could not quit staring at this incredible creature.
The first thing out of his mouth was, “Do not be afraid!” Easy for him to say! One minute I am counting stars and the next minute I am face to face with Gabriel himself. And yet, while he was an intimidating and exciting creature, huge, powerful and stunning, he was at the same time strangely calming. He was like a good military commander who knows what is going on and knows what to do. I felt immediately like I could trust him.
He said, “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people”. He could have stopped right there. He could have said no more and I would have been thrilled! “For all the people” included me! Nobody had ever included me and here I am being included to an invitation by no less than an angel of the Lord!
The angel continued, “Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; He is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
Before I could catch my breath, and to my continued amazement, more and more angels appeared. Millions and millions of angels dressed all in white and with a glow like the sun spread from one horizon to the other and they began singing, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom His favor rests.” They were the brightest, loudest most perfect celestial choir and I was the audience.
Over and over again they sang “Glory to God in the highest!” Gloria in excelsis deo! “Glory to God, Glory to God!” I cried. I laughed. I sang with them! I worshipped. I hoped it would never end.
It felt like a dream but it was real. When the angels left I could not wait to accept Gabriel’s invitation to find the baby so we all left the sheep and ran into Bethlehem. I think I expected it to be easier to find the baby. After the unplanned angelic choir program I expected there to be long lines of people crowding to see a baby king laying in purple robes with bright lights and flying angels but there was none of that.
When we finally found the baby he was just…a baby. His parents were pleasant but looked a bit overwhelmed like every parent feels the first day and when we told them everything that had happened to us I was afraid they might not believe it. Joseph thanked us and Mary smiled with a mix of pride and gratefulness.
There is another passage in Isaiah chapter 61 that says, The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners. to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn.
I feel like that passage might have been written about me. I could not keep from telling other people about what I had seen and heard that day. I wanted everyone to know about the Christ. I did not know much about this baby Jesus but I knew that he was the savior and I needed a savior. I needed the Prince of peace in my life.
The time in which I lived was undergoing what they called the ”pax Romana” or Roman peace which was a good thing in that we were not involved in any war at the time but I had no peace in my own heart. In the quiet times in the field with my sheep I often felt like there must be more to this life! The starry nights and snow-covered mountains fairly screamed of a divine creator but I had no joy and no peace in my heart until I met Jesus.
One more passage from the book of Isaiah chapter forty: He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.
Being a shepherd has it’s rewards sometimes. Sheep often stray off and are easily in danger of wild animals or malicious people but when I find them safe and bring them back to the herd I know it is for their good. It lets me relate to other shepherds like David but I now realize I have a greater connection with the Good Shepherd since that special night in Bethlehem all those years ago.
I will never know why God chose to reveal himself to me the way He did or why He wants me to have a relationship with Him like He does but I know now that I have that peace and joy that He promises as well as life forever with Him in Heaven and I will continue to celebrate that as the true meaning of Christmas and the meaning of my life everyday.

Debate thoughts

I just got through watching the GOP debate on CNN and here are my thoughts. If you didn't see it you can quit reading and go back to watching Dancing With Idols or whatever it is. I happen to believe the Republican field is much stronger than it was 4 years ago and we should have no problem defeating BHO.

Newt Gingrich continues to impress. I say again that he could do this in his sleep while some like Ron Paul look like they are asleep. Newt is obviously a better debater and smarter all around than the others. He had a controversial idea tonight that I don't remember hearing before about illegal immigration. If the illegals meet certain qualifications they can stay here without becoming a citizen for a while but will no longer be illegal.

I think that's smart. First, there is no way we are ever going to deport 10-12 million people. That's a pipe dream. It hasn't happened yet and never will. This also curries a huge Hispanic vote that Repubs desperately need. Staunch conservatives may make noise about it being amnesty but it's time to make a bold step like this.

Ron Paul is out for several reasons but mainly, for me, it is because of his lack of support for Israel. The Bible makes it plain that Israel's friends are God's friends and its enemies are God's enemies. Go home Ron.

Santorum and Huntsman can go home too even though Santorum supports Israel and made some good points he is obviously out of his league here. Cain didn't do himself any good in this one and Perry looks like he is, as we say, all hat and no cattle. Perry wants to look tough but he can't make correct decisions. I don't care about the gaffes. He just doesn't have what it takes.

That leaves Bachman, Newt and Romney. I will take the heat for saying that this is no place for a woman. She's a strong woman and has some good ideas but she's going to get run over in the long run and she knows it. Go home Michelle. My prediction is that it will be Romney and Gingrich in the final with Newt becoming president. Run, Newt, run!

Why I'm not preaching on Genesis 13:12...

I am preaching through Genesis and have made it up to this point but I'm skipping this whole section altogether.

Veterans Day

The man that took this picture has more courage in his camera-clicking finger than everybody "Occupying" their tents in parks combined. Thank you to all my friends and family (known and unknown) who have served. Thank you.

Happy Belated Birthday USMC

Sorry I missed it yesterday.

MJ's kids

Am I the only one who realizes that there is no possible way Michael Jackson is the father of these kids? I know mama was white and Michael changed to white later but these kids look nothing like any of the Jacksons. Probably Conrad Murray's fault.

My Cain bimbo theory.

Anybody else sick of hearing about Herman Cain supposedly doing something improper to somebody sometime somewhere many years ago? Yes, me too. Now I have said recently that

Newt is always going to be the smartest man in the room but I have a theory that Cain is the shrewdest. Everybody wants to know if Obama put these women up to it or was it Perry or Romney or who? I think Cain is doing it to himself and here is why I think he's the shrewdest guy in the room.

When I was in woodshop in high school I built a footstool for my mom. It was for her birthday and so I wanted it to be perfectly smooth so I would sand it down real good and then wet it. Wetting it made all the rough spots stand out and then I would sand them down again and then repeat it. That's what Cain is doing. He hired a few bimbos to say something completely untrue knowing that the media would have a feeding frenzy trying to give him a "high-tech lynching" as he called it.

What's in it for him, you ask? Well, it's a gamble but since it is completely untrue it will run its course and be proven false but then he can sand down the left-wing media for jumping on him but letting Bill Clinton get away from proven and admitted sexual crimes much worse than the ones leveled against Cain. So, hiring the women (who admit they need money so it wouldn't cost much especially since they have no shame) is just "wetting the board" (Dew, add your joke here) and now we just wait for him to sand down the rough media.

Pretty clever, I think. Either that or he's a pervert scumbag. What do you think?

Don't let your babies grow up to be Cowboys.

Somebody should "Occupy" Bausch & Lomb.

I told the Bausch & Lomb manager that I was going to tell all my friends about their scam so here goes. My eye doc told me that if I bought 4 boxes of contacts instead of 2 that I would be eligible for the mail-in rebate. I hate mail-in rebates because it is usually too much work and takes too long to get the money back but I went ahead and did it.

Six weeks went by and I got a letter in the mail saying my rebate was denied because I didn't send in all the required bar codes but they wished me a good day. I immediately called them back and politely told them that I had indeed sent in the correct number of barcodes. The nice lady looked up my account and said that it was not really because I hadn't sent in the barcodes but that it was because I was a new customer.

I politely explained that I had gotten a rebate from them last year for the same deal. She explained that was more than 12 months ago (14 to be exact)so I was considered a new customer. Mind you, 4 boxes of contacts is one year's worth and it takes 2 months to get a rebate so that doesn't make sense. Still polite, but with more urgency I explained the situation to the nice lady's manager who had the compassion of one used to dealing with customers that she could just blow off.

I proceeded to then explain that I knew where she lived and that I had seen where she slept and that her family would weep over what had been done to her but to no avail. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if she really did wish that I would have a nice day at all. Oh well. She will pay for it now. I'm boycotting B&L forever and that's gonna hurt them. Just ask Taco Bell.

I don't miss that.

Every so often I miss my wife (no jokes about my aiming getting better here). I really do...sometimes. You know, sometimes I have something funny happen and wish I had somebody handy to tell or sometimes I just need to vent, although she was never much of a listener in times like that. Her day was always worse than mine. Whatever.

Lately, though, I have counted my blessings a couple of times. I was walking through the Walmarts the other day with a married couple walking behind me about the same speed. I never turned around to see them but I knew the expression on the guy's face. His wife was droning on and on and on about some lady at work doing something and how she shouldn't have done it and that this woman told another woman and that woman didn't think she should but when they told Betty in Accounting...Oh, shut up!!!

I thought my head was going to explode as I remembered all the stories just like that I had heard and thought about all the hours of my life wasted listening to what sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher after a while. Whah, whah, whah. Whah whah. I wanted to turn around and tell her that just because her husband was saying, "Yes, dear. Yes, dear" didn't mean he was listening but I wouldn't do that to such a poor soul as him.

The great blogger Chupacabra has a post here about 8 words women use and what they really mean. I can't help but think this world would be a better place if when a woman said, "Nothing" when asked what was wrong, the man should just say, "Oh good. I thought you were going to whine about something meaningless again" and then go play golf.

My nightmare

I'm not sure which part of this I hate more. I've said here before I can't stand for someone to talk over me while I'm still talking and I would not tolerate being touched by someone in this scenario. Bad on Romney. Bad on Perry. Newt is obviously the smartest man in the room and did not have to stoop to any of this.

Now, here's my personal problems with this picture. To start, did your parents not tell you it was extremely poor manners to interrupt someone when they are speaking? There is nothing more rude. What you are saying is that what I have to say is more important than what you have to say and so I'm not even going to show you the courtesy of listening. That is immature and rude and shows your lack of debate skills.

The second issue is just my phobia with having someone touch me. Now you have to understand, this phobia is only in certain settings. I am very touchy, huggy friendly at church or with my family. I like to just stand with my arm around my mom or sister or even nephews. It's not gender-specific for me. My problem is if I were in Perry's position, I would have to remove his hand because in the back of my mind I know that a left hand on the shoulder comes just before the right hand uppercut. I know, I know, it's just my phobia. Maybe I grew up with the wrong friends. Maybe I didn't get enough hugs from strangers or maybe I got too many. Who knows? Just don't interrupt me and none of you freaks reading this better touch me either. So...run, Newt, run!

Baby Jessica

It has come to my attention that we just passed the anniversary of an event that we have forgotten about but we all remember. On October 14, 1987, Jessica McClure fell down an 8-inch pipe and was stuck there for 2 days. Anyone old enough remembers the saga of workers trying to get down 22 feet to rescue her. The scene gained world-wide attention.

I did not know that there was a trust fund set up for Baby Jessica (I understand most folks still call her that) paid for by anonymous well-wishers from across the globe. People wanted to help and so, completely unsolicited, money came pouring in for months afterward. The trust fund was set to mature on her 25th birthday which was March 26, 2011 and on that day she received an estimated nearly one million dollars.

That says a lot about the goodness of people. It says that there is an innate will inside people to want to help. It also tells me that if you have a small baby...and a pipe..."C'mon baby, walk over this way. Walk toward your college fund!"

Storytime

I told you earlier I would tell you this story about "The Incident" on the golf course, so here goes. In high school I was on the golf team. Everybody on the golf team, including me, was horrible but we had a good time. It's no wonder we were horrible since the best advice I ever got from our coach was, "Hey, Keebler, hit it straighter and farther."

We often had two-day tournaments where if you made it into the finals the first day you got to come back the next day to play for trophies or ribbons or whatever. None of us ever made it to the finals so all we ever really had were 1-day tournaments. In these tournaments you played with 3 students from other teams so usually nobody in the foursome knew each other.

We were playing at Mountain Valley down by Joshua. It's a beautiful course with a country club full of rich people who don't believe they are rednecks, but I digress. The day was beautiful but windy and a bit brisk. On this first day of the tournament all four of us were playing poorly which made me feel better since I played poorly on my best day. We played a couple of holes with all of us all over the course, taking forever to find our golf balls in the woods, and dropping balls this side of the water hazard that ate the previous shot.

After two or three holes like this one of the other guys jokingly suggested we should all just drop one shot after each hole just so we could save face at the end. We all laughed and agreed, purely joking, of course. The next hole was especially brutal for all of us again and as we got to the end and started to say our scores we all just looked at each other. "I'm in." "So am I." "Why not?", I said. What's it gonna matter anyway?

So, we did that. After each hole from then on we just subtracted one from our score and played the remaining 13 or 14 holes that way. "What's it gonna matter anyway?", right? Well, I'll tell you what it's gonna matter. Evidently, everybody else played pretty poorly and my "adjusted" score was good enough to get me into the finals the next day.

I don't know what happened to the rest of my foursome. I never saw them again because the next day I was playing with three other students, all of whom deserved to be there. This day was a Saturday and it was a big deal at the Mountain Valley Golf Course. Parents were there. (Not mine, I didn't tell them. They probably still don't know this.) There was even some local media there with cameras rolling for the evening news. I wish I was kidding.

I hit last out of my group. The others hit right into the fairway where golf balls are supposed to go. As I got settled in to hit I could almost feel people breathing on me. The excitement was high. The "Silence" sticks were held up by the judges. I planted my feet, wiggled my hips a little and swung for all I was worth. And for about one second that ball was soaring beautifully straight and high. Then it sliced so far right it looked like it must have stuck into an airplane.

I didn't bother wasting my time looking for it. I just calmly teed up another one and let the big dog eat. And then teed up another one...and another one. I seriously teed up four balls and then on the last one I just popped it onto the fairway with a light tap just so I could get off the tee box and out of the way.

I'll save you the play-by-play but what happened after that was even uglier. I have never played so bad in my life. In fact, I've never heard of anyone playing that bad. Long story a little shorter, I lost every one of my golf balls, either in the woods or the water. I was never so glad to lose all my balls because now I could just go home. Except now I had to walk through the rest of the course back to where I started with everybody asking me what happened.

Finally I saw the parking lot and the school bus waiting on me there. Yes, Coach Straighter Farther drove just me to the course on a full size school bus and when he saw me walking toward him after only a few minutes of playing time he bust out in a well deserved laugh and continued it all the way home.

Now, some would say that the moral of "The Incident" would be, "Don't cheat." Me? I'm pretty sure my luck would have been better if I had a gold plated divot tool, but who knows?

If I gain any more weight you could make me into a cannon ball.

http://www.wtsp.com/news/topstories/article/213247/250/Company-will-load-loved-ones-ashes-into-ammunition

What I learned about golf...

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I had the opportunity to go to Colonial Country Club yesterday and be a part of a charity fund-raiser for The Gladney Center for Adoption. No, I didn't golf. I was just there to keep score for the foursome I was assigned. Evidently, somebody had to do it. I mean, any time I have ever been golfing that little task was done by those who were doing the golfing but not on this day. On this day things were different. I've not been much of a golfer since "The Incident" (more of that in an upcoming Storytime) and so I have been out of the loop about some important facts about golf, some of which I will share now. The first thing I learned was that I can't afford free drinks. On nearly every hole there were huge wooden containers filled with ice and all kinds of things to drink. There were cokes, water, Gatorade, and beer all free for the taking. I helped myself of the Coke and water as did the four caddies. The golfers each had maybe one beer during the course of the day but mainly water as well for them. I got to thinking about that. While I'm not much of a golfer I know that very few people just give away much of anything so I quietly asked one of the caddies about how much he thought these guys paid for the priviledge of playing at the Colonial for the Gladney Cup. I'm thinking it is probably something outrageous, like four or five hundred dollars. He said he wondered the same thing and had looked it up online the day before and it cost $10,000 for the foursome! Oh, ok, "free drinks", right. The next thing I learned was that gear don't make the golfer. Three of the foursome were pretty good golfers, each hitting about 4 or 5 over par. The fourth guy, whom you could barely see behind all of his equipment, shot 27 over. That's still better than I'll ever shoot but what got me was the amount of stuff, high-dollar stuff, he had. His poor caddie had to lug that oversize leather bag filled with every kind of club known to man with every pocket filled with gadgets and helps. I wanted to tell him that his laser, range-finding, GPS-enabled, hole-seeker thingee he was constantly using and slowing everybody up with was not going to help when you shank it into the woods every shot. And your golf ball retriever needs a snorkel on it there, big boy. Good thing he had that Personalized Full Grain Leather Bag Tag. It matched his Personalized Gold Plated Divot Tool and Cigar Holder. And I hate to think about how much that driver cost. No, not that one. The other one. (Yea, he had two.) Evidently, if you attach a mule's head to a custom club shaft it helps you hit the nearest tree every time. But the main thing I learned about golf yesterday was very important. In fact, according to the consistentcy of usage, the aftershot encouragement cannot be underestimated. You see, after each and every shot all members of the foursome are to encourage the ball and / or the golfer with two syllables. The ball is usually the first to get the encouragement. Common encouragements (remember, always two syllables) are "get up", "lay down", "get legs" or a simple "baby!". Next, the golfer will get his encouragement. It is always positive no matter what zip code the ball now has. Appropriate terms include "sweet strike", "nice out", "big dog", "boom town" or "Arnold" (Palmer or Schwarzenegger, I assume). I hope this lesson has been helpful. Please tune in later for Storytime when I continue my insistence that a good story needs to be told even if it makes me look bad

Put the WEE! back in Halloween.

The older I get, the more I realize the less I understand. When I was a kid our church had a haunted house (in the church) at Halloween. We loved it. I know now that we can't do that any more. Too many people get offended by all that and so, in order to provide an option on Halloween, our church will have bounce houses, food and games at our "Fallfest". On October 31. With candy. People will dress up. Some will say, "Trick or Treat!". We don't celebrate Halloween any more though? In case you are one of the few we have successfully fooled with this let me explain. Ok, wait. This is the part I don't really understand. I asked somebody the other day why they believed we shouldn't celebrate Halloween. I told them I know all about its origins as All Hallows Eve and that this was the big day for Satan-worshippers and all that stuff. But if this is Satan's biggest day, I'm not impressed. I never hear anything about Satanists ever doing anything on Halloween. Can't we go back to calling what we do "Halloween"? Their response to my question was that we don't celebrate Halloween because it's not Biblical. Well, duh! Neither is Christmas nor Easter. Those were pagan traditions as well but when anybody tries to call their Christmas tree or Christmas party a Holiday Tree or Winter Celebration we are ready to clobber somebody in the name of the Lord. All I'm saying is that we're not really fooling anybody with this. Even the kids. It's supposed to be about the kids so do they have to keep wearing their Halloween costumes they bought at the Halloween store to get Halloween candy at the "Trunkfest"? Somebody help me understand.

Let's play, "Which one Doesn't Belong" again!

Which one of these people doesn't belong at the meeting of United Nations yesterday? Hmm...could it be the guy at the top left who you wouldn't see at all if he wasn't smiling? Or could it be Ronald Reagan top row third from right? Maybe it's Pablo and Achmed on the lower left who thought this was "business casual" day? Obama, who is doing his best Glamour Shots, tilt-the-head look, seems to think the guy on his right shouldn't be there but I'm pretty sure everybody else in the world seems to think our president is the only one who doesn't belong.

Sunrise in Paradise

For my 666th post I thought about posting something about all the evil in the world but who needs that? How about a beautiful sunrise over the thriving metropolis of Paradise, Texas? A beautiful sunrise or sunset always reminds me of Romans 1:20. For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.

"Fall" is in the air.

Yea, yea, the cooler weather is great but that's not the kind of fall I'm talking about. I'm talking about the kind of fall that hurts your pride and body; the kind of fall you don't see coming and to be honest, don't know if it is really going to happen until you are on the ground.

I went to clean the windows of a house yesterday and got there the same time some tile installers got there too. We were all getting our stuff out of our vehicles and chatting and trying to be cool yet professional. Don't act like you don't do it too. I have my bucket in one hand and my broom in the other. The broom is for sweeping the window sill and clearing out cobwebs.

I set my bucket down on the sidewalk and moved the broom to my left hand at the same time my left foot rested against a small stump in the grass. I'm too busy telling some witty story to the other guys to realize that my momentum was still easing leftward. Not very quickly, but still easing that way. I'm just to the really clever point in the story when I realize I'm slowly starting to lean.

No problem, the broom is there to hold me up and I'm comfortable with that. Ok, maybe too comfortable because now I'm leaning on it pretty heavily and my grip starts to tighten around the wooden handle. Am I falling? Not really sure. Still talking like nothing is happening but now the bristles on the broom start to fold under and I lean that much further over.

Wait, wait, uh oh, yep. I'm pretty sure I'm falling but it seems to be taking a really long time. My hand starts to slide down the broom handle and I see my right leg completely off the ground and rising. Now it's hard to look cool at this point and I don't remember what I was saying which makes me look even stupider as I continue to ease downward and to the left.

A few more minutes of this and I realize that I am for sure falling but the good news is that I only have about a foot to go before my left pocket hits dirt. It's too late to reverse course but I still have plenty of time to make needed adjustments and so I let go of the broom and put my left hand out to help me bounce right back up but there is a freshly clipped bush there and I cut my finger on it.

The reaction is to bring that hand up which now lets me fall even further over to the left and so I tried to squirm to the right but now where did all these bushes come from? I'm a turtle on its back for a couple of seconds thrashing around in a man-eating bush with a bloody finger and a story untold. I don't know what's worse. And the whole process seems to have taken about an hour and a half.

I'm not sure how I got out of there. I may have blacked out from a total lack of coolness, I don't know, but by the time I managed to get out of there most of the guys had politely averted their eyes and had gone to work. Heck, you can't watch a guy fall all day. Anyway, for their sakes I hope to catch up to them again to finish my story. But I may wait til spring.

What I'm afraid of.

When I was in high school, one of my teachers asked each of us to tell the class what we were afraid of. Actually, since she was an English teacher she probably asked us to tell of what we were afraid, but, whatever. As we went around the room, there were the expected answers of snakes, spiders, drowning, the dark, etc. At 16 years old, I had to think about it for a while and since none of that stuff scared me (I was, after all, 10 feet tall and bullet proof) I finally answered truthfully that really the only thing that scared me was accidentally running over a person, especially a child, while I was driving.

Now that I'm older (and about 5 feet tall and barely waterproof) I have a few more fears than I did as a kid but truthfully, that fear still haunts me. I think about it often as I drive, especially through residential areas, going slow and watching closely. It has paid off many times as I have seen the ball go rolling into the street and I'm aware enough to expect some little crumb-cruncher to come running after it. I've never even come close to my worst fear. Until today.

I wasn't in a hurry but I was pulling through the gas pumps at the local QT just a hair too fast. I was maybe doing 5 mph when I probably should have been doing 3. Not exactly Indy 500 stuff here but just almost too fast to see the little 2 year old run around the pump and stop literally inches from my front bumper, close enough she put her hand on my grill and then ran off again, continuing across the lanes of pumps until a lady grabbed her and hollered at her mom who was pumping gas three lanes over unaware that her daughter nearly had a really bad day.

I just sat there for a minute or two and composed myself. I wanted to say something to the mom but she had already thrown the kid into the backseat and taken off by the time I got around to getting out.

She will never know.

And hopefully I won't either.

Friday Quote

‎"I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history and naval architecture, navigation, commerce and agriculture, in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelain." –John Adams, letter to Abigail Adams, 1780

"Taps" played here.

It's the end of an era. A sad departure for two old friends who outlived most of their peers. Spicy mustard served me well for many years. Countless sandwiches were made...well, spicy by just its presence. An expiration date of September 2005 couldn't bring an end to our relationship until now and just last week it gracefully added just what was missing to an otherwise forgettable ham sandwich.
Yoplait Yogurt was a sad story. Never used. Never opened. It's sweet, yet nasty taste was never endured for the sake of saying I ate something healthy. It was finally laid to rest after spending what must have seemed like eternity in the back of my now-clean fridge. With its expiration date of last winter, may it rest in peace.

20 seconds with my dogs

Unthinkable

This is happening in my city this afternoon. The 11 year old son of a local firefighter accidently shot himself with his father's gun a couple of nights ago. Many area fire stations are paying tribute to him and his family and I appreciate that. I can't imagine having to go through something like that as a parent without having a relationship with God. I pray for peace for them.

Guess who's not sleeping in the bed tonight?

For the third time in as many weeks my dogs tangled with a skunk tonight. The two bigger ones managed to come out of it without a scent but Dori got it so bad her fur was wet. Luckily, I had stocked up on the ingredients to make a skunk-removal shampoo (peroxide, baking soda and Dawn soap). That stuff works great but there is still a slight odor although it may just be imbedded in my lungs and nostrils. Yesterday, Dori caught a dove that was flying too low to the ground. A few days ago she killed the neighbor cat and her greatest accomplishment was, of course, the feral chicken. I'm pretty sure the skunk made out better but it wasn't for her lack of trying.

Young love in bloom at VBS?

Vacation Bible School is for kids going into 1st through 6th grade, supposedly. I know we had a 7th grader and a couple of kids were probably in kindergarten but we didn't care. I saw this little boy sitting by himself during a break so I went over to him. He looked like he was 4 or 5.

What's your name?
Aaron.
You from around here?
Yes sir.
Got a girlfriend?
No sir.
Why not?
I don't really know.
Hmm...what kind of car do you drive?
I don't drive a car. My parents do.
That's probably why you don't have a girlfriend.

He thought about that and slowly nodded like it was all making sense now. About that time a little girl about his age just came up and sat down next to him sipping on a juicebox.

What about Sylvia?
Huh?
What about her for a girlfriend? She's cute.

The girl and I both waited for his response. He raised an eyebrow.

Eh, maybe.

He moved just a little closer to her and as I walked off he asked her about the flavor of her drink. My work here is done.

Chickens in the Trees

I don't know how many years ago I saw this on Sesame Street. Not lately is all I'll say. For some reason though it has stuck in my brain all these years. I evidently learned to juggle while watching this because every time I juggle I start singing this. No kidding. I'm not a great juggler. 3 balls, no more, no fancy tricks. But I have this catchy theme song and I can't juggle without at least humming, "there are chickens in the trees".

So, that's crazy enough, right? But wait, there's more. I bring this up because at our church this week we have had Vacation Bible School and to keep the kids in place while the teachers prepared something else, I got the juggling balls out and started singing this song (of course). And the kids loved it and sang along louder than any other song.

I should have known they would enjoy it. It even entertains kids who don't speak English. Several years ago I went to Mexico on a mission trip and found myself in a similar situation where there were a lot of kids with nothing to do for a few minutes so I started doing my thing, juggling and singing. And I sing worse than I juggle, by the way but kids don't care so neither do I. Anyway, even though they couldn't speak a word of English they sang "Chickens in the Trees" at the top of their voices!

Our last day in Mexico we were able to go to a market that was about 30 minutes away. We were shopping in this crowded market where nobody spoke a word of English, well off the tourist path. I was glancing at some souvenir potential when from behind some hanging serapes a woman sang out quietly in very broken English, "cheekens in de treees", and she smiled at me. She was evidently the mother of one of the kids at the church and had heard us singing. Now...go listen to something else so you can get the song out of your head.

Oopsie!

Finally, truth in advertising.