These Are The People In Your Neighborhood

A recent local gathering of the Minutemen was joined by a local herd of Klansmen. I'm sure I know plenty of racists, but it's a bit disturbing that they can have a party just 15 minutes east of here (although 15 minutes east can sometimes seem like 1500 miles).

I know that my having an interest in the trains running on time does not make me a Nazi. But if my interest in the trains running on time is so they can carry Jews to the death camps more quickly, no matter my protestations, I'm probably a Nazi. So maybe the Minutemen are more duck-like than they care to be. They should look into that. They should ask themselves why something like which side of an imaginary line you are from matters when it comes to surviving.

Or not. I guess I've seen the kind of answer they give to that, and it's pretty lame.

I don't think many white people realize what it is to be white. I don't mean the kind of white that is this erasure or imposition of identity where one was once Italian or Polish but is now "white." I mean just having skin that is the color of a pale cantaloupe or a trout's belly or aged ivory, any shade in the broad spectrum of color that allows one to be called white- almond, pink, the blanched pallor of death. I don't think many white people realize what it is to have the label "white" wash away any type of identity as well, but even the physical characteristics of skin go unnoticed when there is no reason to notice them. That "no reason to notice them" is a type of stealth.

It's the stealth that allows you, if you are white, to be described as "You know he has curly hair, drives that blue car... What's his name?" You're not, "You know, that Mexican chick." You're not a black male, mid to late 20s, slight build. (As if suspect descriptions on the news are ever meant to do anything more than scare you- black male, black male, black male.) You are that guy, or that lady. That tall man. That girl. Not- that black guy, that Asian girl. White people don't need the label because they are "normal."

Normal misses the novelty of walking into a Waffle House and hearing "What is he?" whispered. Normal doesn't get gawked at in a Cracker Barrel parking lot in Missouri by bright-red freckles, a camouflage muscle shirt, cut-off denim shorts, flip flops, and a yellow trucker hat. But Normal probably thinks twice about the walk and bus ride from Union Station to Dodger Stadium. So... maybe that's worth something...

I know color isn't the only normal maker. My penis might makes things normal for me. But it doesn't make it any less problematic (Take that how you will.) Places of birth, money, imaginary lines that divide nations- It seems that whatever we assume to be normal can often put us on the wrong side of some pretty significant conflicts. I tend to think part of God acting in history- in our lives- is the possibility of overcoming the way things are when we say "That's just the way things are."

What an unfortunate thing then that so much of our church life is the way things are. I don't mean how unfortunate that we've ditched our practices, or seem to think we're farmers. I mean, in this time and place- the world, we should find it problematic if we are comfortable or aren't more often on our heels. We should definitely find it troubling if we actively seek a position that is more palatable- easier to swallow, sweeter, chocolatey.

I think.

Oh and one more thing-
Buon Giorno, Roma. Che peccato, odio quei Red Devils.

Cayuco Has a Baby-Making Flute Solo
Tito Puente- Live at Birdland

Bump

Kurt Vonnegut, the satirical novelist who captured the absurdity of war and questioned the advances of science in darkly humorous works such as ''Slaughterhouse-Five'' and ''Cat's Cradle,'' died Wednesday at age 84, his wife said.

LA Times

Ah, well...

Chocolate Chip Cookies Can Give You Diarrhea

We had a handful of visitors with us for worship yesterday, but only a couple of them were "unaffiliated" strangers. The others were a spouse that normally does not come. A family member home from school. A grandchild, a nephew. The like.

We had a larger group than any other typical Sunday, but, mostly, we were more because people who miss a Sunday here or there did not miss yesterday. It was Easter, I know, but I mention this because we did not have an influx of people who only attend church on Easter or Christmas. At least, we were not inundated with strangers. This might be a cause for concern for some, but I was actually happy with that.

The last three Sundays I dressed more formally than I usually do because I planned on wearing a suit, or at least a sport coat on Easter, and I didn't want anyone to make a big deal about it. So I wore a sport coat, big deal.

I sometimes go get a cup of coffee before worship on Sundays, but this Sunday I was reluctant because of this sport coat. I imagined making enough of an impression on others that someone would think "Oh, he's going to church." Even if only in that quick way we register others: early morning public Bible Studier, Skin industries White supremacist, cheerleader, reluctant mom, dog walkers, etc... I didn't want to be "Easter Church." I suppose if I were more Comfortable I could parlay this acknowledgment into a Can I Interest You in a Brochure About Christianity Moment. But I am not that guy. Remember, I am the guy that is glad we did not have too many strangers horning in on our worship yesterday. Especially yesterday. I wanted it to be private.

I should confess. I have universalist tendencies that I think are perfectly orthodox. Though my comfort with that word probably puts me on the outs with people who imagine they hold the keys to the orthodox cage. But I think these tendencies have to be expressed in a very particular setting- and not just any shmo can come along and know what's what. At least what's what for us. I don't believe Jesus died for believers, that is I don't believe He died for the elect- or I believe something along those lines depending on what we mean by elect. I believe Jesus died, but more importantly His life could not be conquered by death, for everyone. Not that everyone knows what that means- or that we can easily state what that means, but we're learning. And I hope we're learning that it's not bland pellet future food. It is everything we need but not in some tasteless, easy to swallow, self contained, nutritionally complete pill. It stinks like boiled cabbage. It's gamey like goat. It picks up a sweetness or heat from the soil where it's grown. (But it's not the soil where it's grown.) It's Scharfenberger, not Hershey's. It's Queso Fresco, not Velveeta.

I guess I can't catch the vision that I be fuel for a worldwide church multiplication movement that our grandchildren's grandchildren will be compelled to expand though I want to know Jesus Christ and make Him known.


That's A Bit Inside- I know
The Bends- Radiohead

That Was My Skull

I wonder how many moments there are like this in one's life.

Death doesn't stalk. It waits. It reads the paper. Plays video games. Stares out the window. It has time to watch infomercials and listen to Top 40. It sits on your couch in a stained gray t-shirt getting high, leaving its crap everywhere. You will die, but death doesn't chase you; it finally bumps into you indifferently.

Maybe the first and last leaves to fall from a tree matter. Someone might take notice of that. But the rest, the mess in between, is compost.

Death is not ambitious. It doesn't have to be. And so, I bet, there are many moments when the President of Ford Motor Co. keeps us from igniting a tank of compressed hydrogen. When the Stater Bros. cashier calls us back to initial a receipt and puts us 3 seconds behind an accident. When our iPod stops a bullet meant for our chest. When a stack of dirty magazines somehow smothers a house fire. When we smoke and drink heavily for 50 years and still don't have cancer.

Remember When Weezer Was Good?
Make Believe- Weezer

No Hope No Harm, Just Another False Alarm

Last night I dreamt that Dick Cheney and I were on Ministry and Counsel together. We had reviewed our membership lists and decided to visit those whom had not been a part of our congregation for some time and tell them they wouldn't be members.

Our first visit was to an elderly couple in Pasadena. Dick was very close to them and was clearly upset. He always seems angry so I couldn't tell if there was something about the visit that was particularly upsetting to him, or he was just being Dick Cheney.

There was plenty to be upset about. We were driving an old Plymouth Valiant with heavily Armor Alled vinyl seats so it took a great deal of effort to keep from sliding around at every turn. It was hot and though the A/C was working, it would blow intensely cold air on just one spot of your body- my feet were freezing while the rest of me was roasting. Dick was experiencing the same thing- and worse. He was wearing a heavy morning coat that was crumpling with all the sliding around and it was soaking with his sweat at the collar. He doesn't normally seem that awkward, but with his coat, sweat, and the sliding around causing him to huff and grumble, he had all the grace of a cockroach, being swept across a kitchen floor... swearing the whole time.

It also could have been he was angry about having to tell his friends they were no longer members. He might have resented me coming along, but we were supposed to do these meetings in pairs and he wanted me to drive.

Even though it was the hottest part of midday for our drive, when we arrived it was dark. We parked on the street and walked up a long curving driveway lined with tall junipers on one side and a series of empty flagpoles on the other. He asked me what we were going to say and I pulled out some notes from our Ministry and Counsel meeting to refresh his memory. He slapped them out of my hand and told me I had better know what we were going to say by now or I could just stay in the car. I told him if he had a problem he'd better get it off his chest now and not take it into our meeting.

He said the whole thing was a problem, he said if anyone should be kicked out of the church it was me, and people like me who didn't deserve to be in the same church as these folks. He said the meeting itself was a problem and said it was a shame, but a typical shame of my generation, that I would go around telling people who does and doesn't get to be a Christian.

I asked him if he really thought that's what we were doing. I explained to him what I thought membership was and though this couple would no longer be members, they were welcome and encouraged to come worship with us or find a place where they could pursue active and vital membership. He wanted to know why I thought that was something we could ask of people. He asked who I thought I was that I got to tell people better and older than me what it means to be a part of a church. I tried to answer him but the words started condensing and falling out of my mouth like heavy objects. They slowly fell to the ground like a dying helium filled balloon but they were dense. They hit the ground, leaving a crater but were carried off by the wind, chipping the stairs and driveway, and knocking over potted plants until they were out of sight.

An old man answered the door. He was thin and gray. His eyes were cloudy but he could speak and move faster than his appearance suggested. He invited us in. The house had not been redecorated since the early 1970s. It still gave the impression of wealth. But it was a wealth that had stagnated or happily settled on recreating a villain's lair from Thunderball or Live and Let Die.

We went into a living room and the old man's wife quickly entered with milk and Ritz crackers. Dick and I sat on a love seat and our hosts sat across from us in a couple of square, low-backed, yellow velour armchairs. We were separated by a smoked glass coffee table. They were all speaking with each other but I couldn't hear what they said. None of their sounds, gestures, or looks were clear to me. I couldn't tell if they were talking about me, why we were there, the weather, the crackers, or what. Then Dick spilled his milk and he told me to clean it up. When I stood up I saw sugar had been falling out of my pockets and left two piles on the love seat. I asked Dick if he would clean that up while I looked for some towels. "Oh, it's going to be like that?" he said.

I found the kitchen. They had white metal cabinets and bright red countertops. There were towels on the counter by the sink, but all the counters were shoulder height and I couldn't reach anything. I pushed a chair to the counter and its feet dragged on the kitchen floor- screeching and echoing. I grabbed a towel and turned on the kitchen faucet. The pipes started rattling and squealing. Dick came in and tried to tell me something. He was frantically slapping his thighs and his mouth was moving like a cow's chewing cud. His lower jaw just rotated up and down while choked gurgling sounds stuck in his throat. I started to disappear behind a curtain of suffocating steam and then I woke up. How lame is that?

I was woken up by the screaming of a neighbor's cat gettin' it on.

So I took the puppies out to go pee.

I Don't Mean To Be Hip But This Album Rules
The Arcade Fire- Funeral

Public Speaking 101

I know someone who often backs up the emptiness of his words with a quivering voice. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him publicly speak and he has not started crying or whispering as if all ferklempt. I can't decide which is worse though: pretending to cry to make your point, or pretending to be angry.

A Confession For The Deaf

I get that the cup size naming system at Starbucks seems a bit pretentious, but there is a reason for it. There used to be only two sizes: Short and Tall. Short was smaller and Tall was larger. But we're not Americans if we're not turning blessings into curses, so enough coffee wasn't. We wanted more, we want more, so the Grande was introduced as an even larger size. For a time it was the largest.

Still, some Smiths were having trouble keeping up with those Joneses who were making a great go of cancer and vascular disease via their consumption habits. So in submission to the demands of the market, Starbucks came up with yet an even larger size: the Venti. Now confusion might come about because grande sometimes means large and we often think large is... large, but in the Starbucks world Grande seems to mean medium. Well, okay it might seem like that, but a Grande is large (16 oz. of whatever it is you drink). A Venti is simply larger (20 oz. of whatever it is you drink). A large is large, but a Big Gulp is larger. That's one way to imagine it.

But we can also pretend that we don't know grande means large. In the world of Starbucks, it (especially as Grande) is just a symbol that means "a hot 16 oz. drink." Similarly, Venti is just another that means "a hot 20 oz. drink."

Italians mean twenty when they say "venti." Starbucks means something like a 20 oz hot drink, though it could mean something like "extra large." Italians mean big when they say "grande," and as I said, "Grande" was the first attempt at making a larger size for fat 'mericans. The naming motif was all a part of that emulating Italian coffee culture bit. In any case, you can have 8, 12, 16, or 20 oz. of hot drink at Starbucks.

So there, you can understand what those words mean.

Well...

As a Starbucks employee I didn't care if someone didn't know the history of the size names. Nor did I care if they said "large" when they meant "Venti" or "small" when they meant "Tall." I would care if they said "Tall" but meant "large." I would care because it would cause a problem for me- the problem starting with the statement, "That's not what I ordered..." I wouldn't care so much that I would need to give anyone a comment on names, only enough to remake a drink or retake an order with a crooked smile.

So...

One time, a particular customer asked for a plain Grande coffee. He made a point to tell me that he didn't drink those "froo-froo drinks." A lot of men found it necessary to point that out- that there was something not masculine in espresso mixed with milk and various flavored syrups. Sometimes they would tell me their wives ordered their fancy drinks. Sometimes they stumbled over the name of a drink- demonstrating how unfamiliar they were with ordering it, and also showing me how a real man doesn't need to make himself clear or meet someone halfway.

Ahmadedijad... Ahmendijad... Ahmadijad...

Other real men would emphatically order a regular drip coffee, "Can I just get a regular coffee- d'you still make those?" They would point out how silly the whole coffee culture was and explain to me how none of the other drinks counted as coffee. Whatever the specifics, they had made ordering coffee an expression of manliness.

So because he said Grande I grabbed a 16 oz cup and started serving his coffee. And he repeated, "Can I get a Grande coffee."

I paused, and asked if he wanted another in addition to the one I was already getting. He said he just wanted a Grande coffee.

Okay.

"Oh," I said, "You want the largest size. Sorry about that." I got him his "large" coffee and handed it to him saying, "Maybe it's silly but we call our largest size a Venti- we were just speaking different languages there."

That could've been the end of it. But he wouldn't be manly if it was. He had to say, "I know, that's because it's French." "Actually, I think it's Italian," I said.

"No. It's French." And he walked away.

I was mostly struck by the confident ignorance. There's a lot of that going around and it's largely tolerated, excused, or even honored. At least it seems honored in certain quarters- quarters where "not knowing" is a virtue. Where book-learnin' is snobbery. Where listening to others is weakness. Where not staying the course is cutting and running.

So I tried an experiment with a friend the other day. I decided I would say things that are completely and verifiably wrong to see how people would respond. I said a lot of things that I thought would count. I was called on one and, like a real man, I stood my ground.

"Such and such is in this place."
"Isn't it in 'blank?'"
"No- It's not.'"

...

It wasn't easy. I'm not suggesting that I don't frequently say something incorrect. I do it all the time. That's easy. But I'm sure I often don't know if I'm saying something wrong, and those times when I am told I am wrong, I'm correctable. What was difficult was knowing that I was being a jerk, both through my experiment, and for insisting that I was right. Or rather, for playing the role of the jerk by equating being right with self-assuredness, confusing being right with an inability to be wrong.

My friend didn't press the issue. In part because I was pretty good at making it clear I would not yield. And I'm sure, in part, because he's not a dick. But for that time, I was.

So there you go. I might be a jerk. But I learned something. (Something I probably already knew or could have learned without being a jerk- but what are you gonna do?)

Where can we go when I say something is this and you say it's this? We're not talking about the same thing and it's not just a matter of confusion.

So some guy insists Venti is French.

I insist Tubingen is in Switzerland.

Big deal. We move on.

But someone says "Liberty is 'This'" or "'Such' is the Word of God." Those might be the very things around which we cannot move- the kind of things that put an end to we. We say no such thing, and if we can, we become something else.

So what? We're always becoming something. I became a someone who knows Venti means something. Maybe that's worth something; maybe it isn't. Who's to say we shouldn't be a people who mean, "You handle snakes and I have five spouses and it's all good" when we say, "The Lord may direct each of us in different ways. We also know that individuals cannot and should not manage every decision that a group may face. So, we trust one another to hear and follow God's direction?" Maybe that means something to some "us," but it seems like the kind of statement that seeks to undermine the very idea of any "us" that can say anything. It seems like the kind of statement that says, "I say this and you say this but at least we're both talking about color... though we'd never know." Sure, words can mean anything; but for them to mean something, they can't mean everything. There is some we that says, "this is this." Otherwise we're not saying anything to each other, let alone saying something.

"This is God's Kingdom we're talking about." This is indeed.

-Venti is French
-Venti is Italian
-No. It's French.
-Really? Uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque, sei... venti. That's Italian. Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six... vingts. That's French.
-Venti is French.

What more is there to say? A nylon Bible case, a Bluetooth earpiece, a silk shirt, and spiked hair= impenetrability. We don't mean the same things, and similarly, we don't do the same things. "Venti Is French" doesn't want to know. "Venti Is French" practices not knowing. Not knowing makes his world stronger. But his is a world no more possible for me than one wherein I sacrifice my hypothetical children to the moon or being filled with the spirit means I do holy jumping jacks or the holy seated-cabbage patch (?)

We have to be a we that means something. We have to be a we worth being.

This House Is Ours, This House Is Ours
Mars, The Bringer of War- Gustav Holst
I Held Her in My Arms- Vilent Femmes
Gardening at Night- REM
How Deep is The Ocean- Stan Getz
Shelter From the Storm- Bob Dylan
Do You Realize??- The Flaming Lips
Light and day- The Polyphonic Spree
The Great Wall- Dead Kennedys
Let's Go to Bed- The Cure
Gotta Jibboo- Phish
Virtual Insanity- Jamiroquai
Mr. Syms- Jon Coltrane
Hot Cha- They Might Be Giants
The Holiday Song- The Pixies
On a Holiday- Brian Wilson

The Media Are Not Telling The Whole Story

I love those moments of ironic truth one sometimes finds in the Bible- like after Jesus rescues Lazarus from the grave and was becoming dangerously popular, Caiphas says, "You do not understand that it is expedient for you that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation should not perish," or some such. Another is when Pilate seems to know Jesus has done nothing wrong and tries to clear his conscience of killing him with the whole washing his hands bit, he hands him over to be crucified with the crowd yelling, "His blood be on us and on our children!"

Ha ha- those are good ones, God.

So I wonder what it means that Political Maverick John McCain says the media don't give us the whole story on Iraq. What does he really mean to show during his recent Iraq junket; is this one of those God's ironic truth moments? Does it mean despite his worst efforts, little bits of honesty will keep interrupting his campaign? Does it mean he will be dogged by the truth like some latter day Peter?

If that's the case, maybe he still is a political maverick.

Some people may take issue with me seeing the scriptural and political intersecting like this, but some people have no more sense than a baby.

Tonight We Dine In Hell...

... and talk about movies.

skybalon: It looked really cool but it was so over the top, I don't even know what it was about
Osama: That doesn't surprise me... It was about passion, and freedom, and being willing to die for what you believe in.
skybalon: Homoeroticism?
Osama: You see? This is why your people are weak, this is why you will destroy yourselves
skybalon: "your people?"
Osama: Yes, "your people." You believe in nothing. You're so cynical, and that's just a pathetic mask for your fear to care about anything or to keep you from seeing the extent of your moral depravity. You can't recognize zeal or are so afraid to attach yourself to anything that might have meaning you laugh at and attack those who believe in something
skybalon: Because we're not a comic book?
Osama: Fine- go ahead. This is your passion, making fun?
skybalon: Really- you're saying that 300 was about anything more than abs, blood, and a handful of boobs? It had nothing to do with passion, humanity, or even anything real. It was all about video game caricature and-

Tiffany: Hi, guys. Here's some refills
skybalon: Great, thanks.
Osama: Tiffany, could I get less ice next time? That would be great.
Tiffany: Oh, of course, I'm sorry- would you like me to get you another Sprite?
Osama: No- I'd rather drink this now- just remember for next time.
Tiffany: Sure. Your food should be right up
skybalon: Okay, thanks.

Osama: No one dies apart from Allah's will- so it is a shame to die cowardly. This movie is about the great reward for those who live and die for freedom and virtue- He would not allow their deeds to perish and this showed the greatness of their strength
skybalon: You're serious?
Osama: Yes-
skybalon: It was about freedom and virtue?
Osama: What? It showed us that those who are not willing to die for freedom are not worthy to live with it. It showed us-
skybalon: Come on-
Osama: I beg your pardon- I wasn't finished
skybalon: ...
Osama: It showed us the free man does not surrender to infidels and sinners. It showed us that without blood- no degradation or humiliation can be removed. It showed us that freedom isn-
skybalon: If you say, "Freedom isn't free." I'm going to vomit.
Osama: What- why?
skybalon: What, "why?" You're not saying anything. It's just like the movie- It's supposed to be inspirational or spine-steeling but it's just propaganda for chest waxing and puffy nipples. It's not about real freedom or strength- it's not even really about violence. And what you're saying is just as meaningless- you might as well just sit there and say, "freedom is good," and leave it at that.
Osama: Well it is good and I think this shows us how weak you are.
skybalon: Maybe. But what you're talking about isn't worth much. It's just a tossed off gesture like a yellow ribbon magnet, and you're just as shallow and weak as that is.
Osama: I'm shallow!? I'm weak!? I live in a cave- a cave! I've given up everything for my people's freedom. What have you done? What? Nothing!
skybalon: Settle down people are looking.
Osama: Good, I want them to look
skybalon: No- you don't-

Tiffany: BBQ Chicken Sandwich?
skybalon: Right here, thank you
Tiffany: Taco Salad- bleu cheese on the side?
Osama: Thank you
Tiffany: Can I get you anything else right now?
Osama: No, everything looks great, thank- El khara dah! Tiffany, There's Green Leaf in this.
Tiffany: I'm sorry...?
Osama: Do you put Green Leaf lettuce in a taco?
Tiffany: Oh, I see- I'm sorry, would you like me to get you something else or...?
Osama: No. I'd like you to answer the question- Do you put Green Leaf lettuce in a taco?
Tiffany: Uh... No- I guess not.
Osama: No you don't. If it's not in a taco, why would it be in a taco salad? I thought I was ordering a taco salad.
Tiffany: Of course, let me take it back and I'll get you another.
Osama: Yes please. And have it made right. Something like that really should be mentioned on the menu.
Tiffany: Absolutely. I apologize and I'll make sure it's out here as quickly as possible.
Osama: Thanks, Tiffany- you're terrific.

Osama: Next time we come here I'm just ordering a cheeseburger, In shah Allah.

Now Sit... I Said Sit!

A dog owner in the US state of Maryland says her golden retriever Toby saved her from choking to death by performing the Heimlich manoeuvre.

Debbie Parkhurst, 45, said she was eating an apple at home last Friday when a piece became lodged in her throat and she began to choke.

"The next think I know, Toby's up on his hind feet and he's got his front paws on my shoulders," she told Associated Press.

"He pushed me to the ground, and once I was on my back, he began jumping up and down on my chest."

Ms Parkhurst is recovering from chest and stomach wounds from Toby's jumping.

"I literally have paw print-shaped bruises on my chest. I'm still a little hoarse, but otherwise I'm OK," she said.
...

"The doctor said I probably wouldn't be here without Toby. I keep looking at him and saying, 'You're amazing'."

Ms Parkhurst and Toby have now been asked on to numerous US chat shows.

BBC News

That's garbage-

So she gets to be on TV because her dog is so poorly behaved it knocks her down and jumps on her?

I don't believe it. I believe her dog is poorly behaved, but I don't believe her dog saved her life. Well I don't believe it saved her life as she describes it. Her dog may certainly keep her from taking her own life out of loneliness and desperation, but I don't believe her dog saved her from choking.

But let's suppose it might be true. Forget how unverifiable this is. Her dog did knock her down and jump on her chest, sure.

Her bad dog raising and lonely gluttony led to the happy accident of her eating alone, choking, and her dog jumping, not only on her chest- because that won't quickly dislodge an object from your trachea, but also on her abdomen- hard enough to get that chunk of apple out. And then her dog licked her face because, as I Like Girls could tell you, that's the best way to keep someone from passing out or dying from asphyxiation.

Big deal.

We'll say it's true- but why is it a good story to tell? Dogs have been to space. Dogs have called 911. Dogs built the Eiffel tower. My dogs kept me from bleeding to death and reattached my severed thumb.

I nearly sliced off my left thumb while learning to juggle. Thankfully Chelsea had the presence of mind to knock me down, elevate my arm and apply pressure to my radial artery. Then Lily licked my wounds clean, (their mouths are cleaner than ours) applied a local anesthetic to my thumb, reconnected the internal structures, and did one of the cleanest suturing jobs anyone has ever seen on the top side of my thumb, though you can clearly see the suture tracts on the ventral side. What do you expect? She's a dog.

That's a dog saving your life story.

I have a scar on my thumb and dog hair on my shirt to prove it.

Why The Oblique Face?

WARNING: The following may cause some readers' monocles to fall out as they gasp, "Well- I never!"

If I say so and so is a pussy to mean so and so is weak or lame, I don't mean so and so is like a vagina- I don't know if that's what you think it's supposed to mean- but that's not what I mean. I mean someone is weak and lame. I also don't mean the "weak and lame someone" is womanlike by being weak and lame or that womanlike is weak and lame.

It might be that someone or someones used pussy to mean weak and lame because they thought vaginas were weak and lame and so connected the two ideas. Or it might be that some men identified all women as weak and lame, and since women have vaginas- perhaps it is vaginas that make women women- some men decided to call someone- most likely another man- weak and lame by identifying them as that which they thought made a woman a woman. So for some, pussy may be shorthand for "woman," which is itself shorthand for "weak and lame." I don't think there is anything essential to women that is weak and lame, so for me that connection doesn't make sense. I understand it, but it doesn't make sense.

Or maybe someone or someones used pussy to mean soft and effete and some other one or ones used it to mean vagina so they needn't be explained in relation to each other. Oh homophones- the confusion you can cause.

If vagina's the only thing pussy could mean then I wouldn't use it. I would instead say pansy. Of course I wouldn't mean a flower when I say pansy- I would mean someone who is weak and lame- and by that you may think pussy. And if you're still thinking vagina- I can't do anything about that. In fact, you should probably avoid the interwebs if your mind so quickly goes to vagina.

I also don't mean penis if I say dick, or anus if I say asshole.

So, I will purposefully say pussy, and you might take issue with it. If you do, I think it perfectly appropriate that you say something- only make sure you're saying something about my use of the word and not something else.

That said:

I finally brought myself around to trying to finish John Eldredge's Wild at Heart. I started it a long time ago when a friend of mine said it had changed her life. This change was evident by the fact that she continued looking for romantic relationships to provide her some sense of worth, only now she would no longer try to convert gay men and instead focus on finding fulfillment in the comic book masculinity of Eldredge's Christian men. I still couldn't do it- read it that is.

I looked up bullet ants after reading a pain scale for bug bites on BOING. They're the worst. I've been bit by fire ants and didn't think they were so bad- now I know why. They actually aren't so bad. Here's what I found about bullet ants though:

"Bullet ants are used by some indigenous people in their initiation rites to manhood (Bequaert, 1926). The ants are first knocked out by drowning them in a natural chloroform, and then hundreds of them are woven into sleeves made out of leaves, stinger facing inward. When the ants come to, boys slip the sleeve down onto their arm. The goal of this initiation rite is to keep the sleeve on for a full ten minutes without showing any signs of pain. When finished, the boys' (now men) arms are temporarily paralyzed because of the venom, and they may shake uncontrollably for days."

That's some expectation isn't it? Being a man means being bitten and poisoned by ants. I don't think that I could do that- I also don't think that has anything to do with being a man. But then, I'm afraid of bees.

So some five years later and I still haven't finished Wild at Heart and I don't think I ever will. That being the case perhaps I am not qualified to say if you think being a man is about being a literary type while somewhere else in the world children become men by being bit thousands of times by bullet ants, you're a pussy. But I'll say it anyway; if you think being a Christian man is about being a literary type while somewhere else in the world children become men by being bit thousands of times by bullet ants, then you're a pussy.

It's not that being bit by ants is more manly than wanting to be Batman. If you're a Christian, it makes as much sense to become a man by being Batman as it does being bit by hundreds of bullet ants. So in addition to the above, I should say if you think being a Christian man is about being a literary type even if nowhere else in the world children became men by being bit thousands of times by bullet ants, then you're a pussy.

Of course stoically being bit by bullet ants for ten minutes is more painful and requires more self-control than trying to be the movie character William Wallace. And post-ant-bites, there's probably strong connections from the shared experience that only the ant-bitten know that is stronger and likely more meaningful than the men who share the desire to be Robin Hood. But I wouldn't say it's more "manly." I would say it's more painful, requires more self-control and a sense of trust before and, builds camaraderie after.

I certainly think we should be able to endure much more than we do without complaining, and I'm all for the "spirit of camaraderie that exists between men, like you'd find only in combat maybe or in a pro-ball club in the heat of the peenant drive," but it's nothing to do with manliness.

But then, my point is not to compare the two. It's about what it might mean to become a man in light of being a Christian- or if it can even make sense to pose the question like that in light of being a Christian.

There is a difference between an adult and a child- there is some becoming involved but is it the Christian man's calling to become manly let alone more manly? Or, El Guapo, could it be that once again we are using words and categories that do not make sense for us as Christians to use?

I'm sure I am way behind the curve on this whole Eldredge nonsense, but the gender roles we idolize and the meanings Christians give to words like masculine and feminine are timelessly stupid, as are the things we say and do in light of these concepts. Our ideas of what makes someone a good leader or how one might perceive their own leadership could be a couple of those stupid things.

And now, true to form- I will leave this idea hanging there- underdeveloped. Ha ha.

You Say You Love Your Wife- You're Such a Woman
This Guy's In Love- Burt Bacharach
Adagio for Strings- Munch, Boston Symphony
Who Made You So Smart- The Briefs
I Wish I Had An Evil Twin- Magnetic Fields
Red Rain- The White Stripes
Island In The Sun- Weezer
Gimmie Some Salt- Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Misty Mountain Hop- Led Zeppelin
Blue In Green- Miles Davis
'Tis Autumn- Stan Getz
Painter Song- Norah Jones
How Could I Just Kill a Man- Rage Against The Machine
It's Magic- Sarah Vaughan
3 Speed- Eels

In Fact, They're A' Peeling Him Off The Sidewalk

I don't think he cares, but MY PRESIDENT appeals to me when he talks about Latin America...

No...

I find MY PRESIDENT appealing when he talks about Latin America. Even though I distrust the neo-liberal model of the world that equates democracy with capitalism and capitalism with US economic colonialism, I find his thoughts on Latin America to be one of the few areas where he is speaking about something for which he has actual thoughts and cares. I don't buy almost anything he says about the region, but at least it is one of the few times he is not talking out of his butt. Or even if he is, at least his butt has given it some thought.

That appeals to me, though I don't think he is trying to appeal to me, or people like me.

I think this is a reason he appeals to so many Evangelicals.

By his design, or that of his handlers, he surrounds himself with like-minded loyalists who have no time nor need to consider any view but their own because they are right. I guess it's not just him- I know it's not just him. It's an entire culture.

Tom Delay has been on radio and TV lately hawking whatever it is the Devil has him hawking. He said things that were very telling. Tom Delay said it's been four years since America has been attacked by "these" terrorists and that's why we have to be in Iraq.

Really.

On national television- the former House Majority Leader called the Hammer for his reputation of disciplining those not in agreement with him said the US was attacked four years ago (?) and we had to strike back (?) and that's why we're in Iraq(?).

That's absolutley not true but that is his justification for why we are who we are.

He also said on NPR that he had a responsibility to destroy those that didn't see the world as he did and create a governmental structure that would prevent them from having any say in government.

His job was to eliminate those that did not share this false sense of the world?

John Bolton was on the Daily Show explaining this regime's conception of democracy: MY PRESIDENT- or any president- only has to represent those that voted for him. People that don't share or support your agenda are not Americans, at least they're not the right kind of Americans.

In case you didn't know, that's not democracy. Even if it's hard to define as it's actually experienced- it's not that.

Okay, maybe you say Tom Delay is an aberration and doesn't represent MY PRESIDENT or his ideology. And John Bolton's lost his job, so he isn't representative of what MY PRESIDENT is all about either. I'd say you're wrong and the whole history of MY PRESIDENT valuing loyalty over competence, dismissing and discounting alternative perspectives, fabricating and/or selectively believing and interpreting "facts," and the IGMFY mentality would say so as well.

Do you remember how Dick Cheney said, "simply stated, there is no doubt that Saddam Hussein now has weapons of mass destruction?" The being wrong part isn't as problematic as the "no doubt," because, well, there was a lot of doubt. At least others doubted it, questioned it, wanted to understand it. But there was no room for doubting the earth was created in six literal days- I mean, no room for doubting the existence of weapons of mass destruction because it did not fit in with their agenda or sense of what they wanted the world to be. Though I wouldn't guess Cheney actually believed there were weapons of mass destruction- it was just something necessary to affirm to get along.

And this current mess with the fired USA's fits right in with that. Doesn't it? I mean even if you think it's okay to fire otherwise competent federal prosecutors just because you don't like that they are investigating your criminal friends, isn't MY PRESIDENT's stonewalling and saying he and his employees have no obligation to tell the truth, and has no responsibility to anyone else leave you with a bitter taste in your mouth? It should.

America is only for those people who support them. They only need to address the interests of those who match up with their way of thinking. The world is for those who share their vision of what the world is and for. What a weird sense of America that is. What a weird sense of the world that is. But what a sense of America that seems to match up so well with what Evangelicals seem to think churches are for.

Is that where we are- is that what we value? Leaders who's greatest strengths are disregarding others and surrounding themselves with yes men? Presenting a world of cosmic war where you're either "we" or "other?" Creating a sense of fear and persecution and setting the truth of your claims on various types of coercion?

Our country's... and churches are being run by high schoolers- a certain type of high schooler anyway.

Tonight We Dine In Hell...

... and have quesadillas.

I'm never going to finish my anniversary letter to Iraq. It was a great idea though- a love letter from a crazy man.

Oh well.

On to things I can finish- like my review of 300. I love blood and physics defying fight scenes. But more than that I love narratives that put into clear contrast the divisive ideologies and issues of our times.

I know there's some tadoo about whether this is an allegory for our current context and who's who, but I don't understand the confusion. Clearly King Leonidas, especially as he is heroically leading his soldiers into battle, fighting alongside them, facing down a technologically and numerically superior force is a perfect picture of MY PRESIDENT. I don't even think metaphor and allegory are correct terms. Leonidas in 300 is an exact representation of MY PRESIDENT. Leonidas is MY PRESIDENT. MY PRESIDENT is Leonidas.

When I think of the Spartan code- the drive, the austerity, the willingness to put tribe before any personal ambition or desire, how could I not think of MY college cheerleading, cocaine snorting, commitment avoiding, mountain biking PRESIDENT?

I was also very inspired by the, pro-eugenics propaganda, tribalism and Sparta for free Spartans. Not to mention the homoeroticism, disdain for religious irrationality, and standing naked in picture windows. That is so us.

So we are the Spartans, a small committed, simple Greek tribe, and the Persians are... everyone else. And everyone else is superstitious, sexually ambiguous, lustful, deformed, pierced, and creepy. Oh wait. We also have allies. But they're gay or wimps. And I suppose I can't say we are the Spartans. I guess I'm the Malian Ephialtes; what with all my contempt for hegemony.

That's cool too though. At least I know place.

So go see 300 and tell me if you don't see everything as clearly as I did.

My Dad Works In a Shipping Yard

Oh so much to say, but the siren song of withdrawn, dead Germans keeps me from home. Home being someday offering an explanation of the previous post and, if it's still timely and, if I'm not seduced by the honey-sweet lotuses, finishing my love letter to Iraq on our anniversary.

But at least there's this. Something for the first day of spring

Springtime Prayer
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

For flowers that bloom about our feet,
For tender grass, so fresh, so sweet,
For song of bird, and hum of bee,
For all things fair we hear or see,
Father in heaven, we thank Thee!

For blue of stream and blue of sky,
For pleasant shade of branches high,
For fragrant air and cooling breeze,
For beauty of the blooming trees,
Father in heaven, we thank Thee!

Oh that's not right...- spring has turned out to be very unpoetic with its gloom. This is better.

De spring is sprung,
De grass is riz,
I wonder where dem boidies is?
Dem boids is on de wing,
But dat's absoid,
I always tot de wings wuz on de boid.

Anonymous until I hear otherwise.

Holding my tongue out of need with some difficulty.

Godless European Humanists Prevent Heterosexual Parents from Getting Married or Raising Their Own Children!!

"I just want to live with my family, and be left alone by the authorities and by the courts," she went on, in a hardly audible voice.
BBC

In a testament to the dangers of BIG GOVERNMENT and how far secular humanism will go to undermine the traditional family and its role in raising children, German authorities have taken children from Patrick Stuebing and Susan Karolewski and placed them in state care.

Patrick and Susan have been living together for the past six years and have four children together. They met and fell in love seven years ago but the state has refused to permit their marriage. And now, three of their four children have been taken from them to be raised by the state. Only their youngest, Sofia knows the love and security of being raised by her birth parents.

Even in the ongoing clash of Islamo-Fascism and the West we cannot lose sight of other battles being waged.It should give us pause to thank God for our CHRISTIAN HERITAGE and remind us of what's at stake in the BATTLE between our Christian American Worldview and the Atheistic Secular European.

It can't happen here? If you love AMERICA and JESUS send your friends this reminder of what we're FIGHTING for.

ed- #1 in the multi-part "This Is Our Faith?" Series. It seems hacky enough, even though I didn't include "definately" or "anyways" in it. There should be more time for that.

Homo Insipien Christianus

It may seem that the other day I was saying Christians are stupid. I bet some are, but is it fair to say that Christians are any stupider than most other people?

There's a lot of stupid out there and it's not all Christian. Skin Industries, Montgomery Gentry, grills, and The Real Housewives of Orange County are all stupid, and not the product of Christianity. So where does that leave us.

I was willing to say, "No," and still am, but we have to account for this. "This" being The Eagle Forum's Conservapedia. It turn's out it's not simply about conservatism, which, in the hands of a Grover Norquist or John Yoo is its own kind of stupid, it's about a particular type of quasi-religious, almost classical in its divine-right imperialist, type of conservatism mingled with Christianity.

If you go to Conservapedia you could learn "faith" is a uniquely Christian concept. It isn't, but you can learn that it is.

We can't always go by the entries alone. They are turning into a hilarious bit of wikicomedy so don't really serve as an artifact of conservative Christian culture. But the debates and rules about what is and isn't an appropriate contribution are revealing.

That whole foolishness to the Greeks bit can cover a lot of ground. But stupid is stupid. And just because there's a lot of stupid that's not Christian doesn't mean the unique stupid that Christians make isn't plenty stupid.

Still, I think it's unfair to say Christians in general are stupid. I qualified my previous post by saying some aspects of American Christian culture are stupid. Classic Grandpa offered the sad perspective that this stupidity goes beyond US borders, but I will not say all Christians are stupid. I will, however, say conservative Christians of the conservapedia type are stupid.

But ever gracious and optimistic, I will say I am holding out for the day when so much of this is revealed as performance art and the artists, Christians no doubt, can be hailed as geniuses who have been prophetically warning us all this time about the dangers of religiosity and legalistic showiness.

ed. note- The conservapedia page may not load and if it does, you may not be able to create new accounts to help out with their entries because the site has become very popular recently

I Like Stories

Last year the QweenBean and I went out of our way to see the Best Picture Oscar nomineees. This year?

M'eh

After Crash won Best Picture I wouldn't trust Academy voters or those in the know to tell me where to spend my 10 bucks. Maybe I should've figured that was the case before. After all, those in the know chose MY PRESIDENT, gave us all that great intelligence about Iraq, and now Iran. And voters? Well, whatever.

Not that Crash was bad. But it was exactly what you expected wasn't it? Kind of an adventure in After School specialdom right?

So we and the Academy aren't on the same page. That's no big deal. I guess it means we don't really have a dog in this fight. I liked Little Miss Sunshine, but Best Picture of The Year? I shouldn't think so.

But we still like movies, and we love Ellen. So here's what it's worth this year:

Cate Blanchett is gorgeous. I can't believe she's not one of my celebrity crushes. She is now.

Even with a backing track- some people cannot clap on the right beat.

Jennifer Lopez looks her age.

I would so vote for Al Gore... And, not that it should matter, I would absolutely rather have a beer with him than the guy who would poke you in the chest when you disagree with him.

To get interpretive dance right- don't give it more than 15 seconds.

Beyonce doesn't know where she is, or at least dresses like she doesn't

I still don't know who Jennifer Hudson is.

Oh, and just like last year, we had to make a trip to Target mid-Oscars. That's weird... And still gay?

Is This Legal

From: [skybalon]
Subject: Re: I did not
Date: February 23, 2007 2:03:54 PM PST
To: c_adams555@yahoo.it

Dear Cynthia,

I apologize if I have been unclear. I hope this does not harm our working relationship.

As I said in my last email, I am happy to help you with your money transfer. I hope that is plain. As for the musical, I will explain again.

In the 1960s, my father and his partners created a musical play called Hair. It has had a long and successful run all around the world. However it has only been produced for the people of Africa once. That was in South Africa.

Before my father died, he asked if I could fulfill his dream of producing the play in Africa again. I want to complete his dream, but up to now I have not known anyone in Africa that could help. This is why I think it is an answer to prayer that I received your email.

He left me a large sum of money to finish this project. I need to know if you can help me to produce this musical play in Africa for my father's dream. If you agree, we have $35,000,000 to work with. I will tell you the next steps necessary to begin financing the project.

I hope this is clear and you are available for the project.

Sincerely-
[skybalon]

What's Not to Understand?

From: c_adams555@yahoo.it
Subject: i did not
Date: February 22, 2007 11:58:45 PM PST
To: [skybalon]

Mr,
 
I did not understand you.
 
Cynthia

Return

From: [skybalon]
Subject: Re: Dear, Respectful One,WE NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE.
Date: February 22, 2007 7:28:34 PM PST
To: c_adams555@yahoo.it
Dear Inquiring One,

It is so very good to hear from you. I am glad you recognize how respectful I am and that my name is very esteeming.

I am only too happy to help you in your simple and sincere business. I previously had a business relationship with Dr. Samailla Nuhu of Burkina Faso, (do you know him?) but that never came to fruition. After praying for such a financial opportunity, it was devastating to my faith for it to all fall apart at the end. But now you have come along as a redeemer in my moment of distress. And it seems that I am the same for you. How wonderfully providential.

I am sorry to hear about the loss of your father, but as they say, "God doesn't close a door, or maybe in this case a coffin lid, without opening a window." I'm sure the death of your beloved father is as sad as Dr. Nuhu never returning my emails. But here we are. God has brought us together for this wonderful financial blessing.

I should add now that you also may benefit from this divine encounter. Not only am I a wealthy American, but my father on his deathbed left me with a special charge as well.

While he was dying, he called me over to his bed and told me two things:
He wanted me to fulfill his dream of breeding the world's longest horse, and to produce his musical play, Hair, with an all African cast in Africa.

I attribute his first request to the many pain killers he was taking as cancer ravaged his body, but I know the second was dear to his heart.

He left me a vast fortune so that I could produce his musical. I would be happy to help you but I don't need the money. I received an incredible inheritance of my own and have over $35,000,000 to produce my father's musical.

I hope we can make a deal. I will help you with your foreign investment and I can pay you to help me produce the musical play Hair.

I look forward to working with you-
[skybalon]

To: [skybalon]
From: cynthia adams
Subject: Dear, Respectful One, WE NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE
Date: February 21, 2007 5:54:08 PM PST
Reply-To: XXXXXX

Dear, Respectful One,

Permit me to inform you of my desire of going into business relationship with you.

I prayed over it and selected your name among other names due to it's esteeming nature and the recommendations given to me as a reputable and trust worthy person I can do business with and by their recommenddations I must not hesitate to confide in you for this simple and sincere business.

I am Cynthia adams,the only Daughter of late Mr and Mrs Dickson Adams My father was a very wealthy cocoa merchant in Abidjan,the economic capital of Ivory Coast before he was poisoned to death by his business associates on one of their outing to discus on a business deal. When my mother died on the 21st October 1984, my father took me and my younger brother Vitalis special because we are motherless.Before the death of my father on 30th June 2002 in a private hospital here in Abidjan.

He secretly called me on his bedside and told me that he has a sum of $18.000.000 (EIGHTEEN MILLION, DOLLARS) left in a suspense account in a local Bank here in Abidjan, that he used my name as his first Daughter for the next of kin in deposit of the fund.

He also explained to me that it was because of this wealth and some huge amount of money his business associates supposed to balance his from the deal they had that he was poisoned by his business associates, that I should seek for a God fearing foreign partner in a country of my choice where I will transfer this money and use it for investment purpose, (such as real estate management).

We are honourably seeking your assistance in the following ways.
1) To provide a Bank account where this money would be transferred to.
2) To serve as the guardian of this since I am a girl of 26 years.

We are willing to offer you 20% of the sum as compensation for effort input after the successful transfer of this fund to your designate account overseas.

PLEASE CONTACT US THROUGH MY PRIVATE YAHOO MAIL BOX (XXXXXXX)

Anticipating to hear from you soon.
Thanks and God Bless.
Best regards.
CYNTHIA ADAMS AND BROTHER.

I Hate... So Much About The Things That You Choose To Be

I've mentioned before that Way of the Master is, sadly, not Ninja training. And guess what- Ultimate Battle Update has nothing to do with Ultimate Fighting.

It is instead an Inter-active Christian Reality Show Blog. Never mind that it's not really any of those things or that those words make about as much sense as yellow ping gravy manny, those words sound awesome together.

It is also "Infotrainment." From what I can gather, infotrainment is a mix of an albino Jesus (who doesn't seem to know what an "interview" is), misspellings, animated demon Ben Stiller, and Dominionist propaganda.



(sigh)

Do I ever get tired of complaining?

Probably not today.

Maybe it's because I'm able to temper things with stuff like this.

Panaphonic, Magnetbox, and Sorny

Mexican Grandma Who Was Really French used to give the best worst gifts. A globe. An LED key chain. A coin purse. An eye glass repair kit. A bike lock. Underoos well past the age Underoos were desirable but before the age I would have wanted them ironically. A handheld "drum machine" that clipped to my belt called the "Rap Mate." Drugstore colognes in train and car shaped novelty bottles. A baby blue satin driving jacket.

Those things were awful, but they were possibly wonderful in their oddity. These things were so unique, unexpected, and outside the boundaries of our gifting standards, they were probably the closest things to a gift we could actually know.* In their strangeness they were lovely and exciting.

But just as one takes the miserable lows along with the exhilarating highs of bi-polar disorder, (That's right, I'm comparing wacky gift giving to the emotional chaos and frequent physical danger of mental illness. I'm also going to compare it to the crap Christians create and embrace. How about that?) her gifts could be a disheartening demonstration of loneliness and alienation- a hint at the vacuous reality of relationships and the chasm between generations. They betrayed our distance from each other and threatened all other relations as illusory and tenuous. Many of her gifts to me, and likely mine to her, were intended as gestures of love that instead revealed how little we knew each other.

Or sometimes they just showed how incredibly unhip Mexican Grandma is.

I don't know.

But in addition to the wacky, was the lame. When I was Kid Skybalon, she seemed aware of my life, or at least popular kid's culture, enough to know that I played with changing robot toy cars, but not enough to know that they were Transformers. Oh sure, Transformers represented the corporate takeover and hyper-branding of kids, wherein childhood became one long commercial. But gimme a break- I was a kid. I wanted Transformers. If I was lucky I got GoBots. If I was me, I got "Robotcar With Fast Styling!"

If Transformers were bad, the knock offs were worse. They were parasitic; the cheaply and quickly produced Radio Shack and swap meet copies made you think the artless consumer culture they emulated was worth something.


Oh enough of the set up- this is about Christianity... or one aspect of American Christian culture. We are the Creed of our musical gruel. Walker Texas Ranger. Left Behind. Christian as an adjective is so frequently synonymous with lame.

Why are we so often the 99 cent store of our strip mall culture? A strip mall culture is something to want? We seem to have a vague sense of what is popular- whether it should be or not- and go nuts making lame knock offs and awkward references.

We broadly embrace- not just live in- but value and support a materialistic consumer culture of marketed identity and lifestyle.

Good grief. It's bad enough that there's so much garbage- that so much human effort goes toward creating waste intentionally rather than incidentally, but to create even more- and of a worse quality?! Why do we pour so much of our talent, energy, and resources into some insatiable belly. There is what is worthless, and there are our Christian copies. Maybe both show we don't know what really has value. Why is that?

Any Garbage Here?
Another Demo Tape- Quasimoto
Flauta y Timbal- Tito Puente
Mike Mills- Air
My Beloved Monster- Eels
Working In The Coal Mine- Devo
Caroline No- The Beach Boys
wooden Ships- CSNY
Bridge Over Troubled Water- Simon and Garfunkel
Because- The Beatles
Go to The Mirror Boy- The Who
Clampdown- The Clash

*You can learn more about the aporia of a gift at your local library. Ask your librarian for Given Time by Jacques Derrida.

Children Are The Future, Unless We Stop Them Now!

The United States and Britain ranked as the worst places to be a child, according to a UNICEF study of more than 20 developed nations released Wednesday. The Netherlands was the best, it says, followed by Sweden and Denmark.

LA Times

So kids here are worse off than in the Netherlands, Sweden, and Denmark. Sure, but don't they say you have to wait in line and fill out a bunch of forms to see a doctor there? It's not true, but isn't that what they say? And don't they all live together without geting married? And don't they have boxy cars and cheap furniture? And pickled herring?

So what would you rather have, a greater chance to grow up healthy, literate, well prepared for the future with a sense of social responsibility, but the future is in the Netherlands or take your chances here?

US to Attack US

MY PRESIDENT says that he will do what he has to do to protect our soldiers from Iranians who are killing American soldiers. That might include bombing Iran, kidnapping Iranians, killing Iranians or anything else that Iran might take as an act of war. He says this because Iranian components have been found in a handful of explosive devises being used in Iraq against coalition forces.

This may be the case- it's hard to know when the boy has really seen a wolf. And if he really has seen a wolf- it's hard to know where the wolf came from or what the wolf is doing. After all, the boy has a record of being mistaken or mendacious and as far as the facts go, Iran is largely Shi'ah but in Iraq, Americans are being killed by Sunnis. I know, I know, it's hard to tell who's who- they're all brown.

Think of the Shi'ah as the brown people that clean your house or cook your food and the Sunnis as the brown people you encounter in public. You probably don't like any of them, but at least you know how to handle the brown people that do your dirty work. Those brown people on the street might know their place or they might not. They might rob you, they might not. You don't know. You can't trust them. You'd better call the cops to get rid of them.

So the brown people who do our cooking in Iraq are some of the ones we found to have these components. Eh, maybe you're just as scared about that. That's probably part of the plan. Our war experts and apologists told us that there is no difference or conflict between Sunnis and Shia- they're all brown. The Arab world is largely controlled by Sunni Muslims, and most Muslims are Sunni, it's probably a factor to consider but I don't think we're supposed to care about or consider that. Just be afraid.

Anyway, what's all this for? Well it's probably an excuse for an attack on Iran. I mean if it's Iranian bombs that are killing American soldiers, doesn't it make sense to punish Iran? Sure. But what do we do about the American weapons that are being used to kill Americans?

Someone could say that we already are punished by war profiteers and the rule of corporate plutocrats. Maybe we have exactly what we deserve by letting it stand for so long. I doubt you are one of the top .5%, so you probably are being punished. But you probably don't feel it as much as these guys. We probably deserve a little bit more than horrible debt, a wholly undemocratic economic system, declining wages, a regressive tax structure, and the illusion of representative government. I wonder what it will be.

(Ooh look how that sentence is tense- do I mean we deserve more because human dignity requires more than what we have- or do I mean we deserve more because we most certainly should be punished? Now why would I go and lift the veil like that? Why coudn't I just let it be? Like I worry about self-seriousness so much- like it's a shame to care about anything.)

Hey, Rocky, Watch Me Pull a Massacre Out of My Hat
Rock Is Dead- Marilyn Manson
Clumsy Grandma...- Ya Lo Tengo
Breed- Nirvana
Here Today- The Beach Boys
Hand In Glove- The Smiths
You Are The Sunshine of My Life- Stevie Wonder
Potshot Heard Round the World- Dead Kennedys
Join Together- The Who

Crap, I Think I'm Overtly Sexual

“She got what she wanted,” said Stokke. “She’s an overtly sexual person.”

A jury of one woman and 11 men—many white and in their 50s or 60s—agreed with Stokke. On Feb. 2, after a half-day of deliberations, they found Park not guilty of three felony charges that he’d used his badge to win sexual favors during the December 2004 traffic stop
OC Weekly

It turns out, if you're overtly sexual, it's okay for a cop to ejaculate on you when he pulls you over. I'm not exactly sure what "overtly sexual" means. I guess you're overtly sexual if someone can tell your sex by looking at you. Too bad if that describes you.

It Could Always Be Worse

You know, if they're going to win (causing us to constantly live in terror seems to be a goal of terrorism) we could do worse than this.

I mean, sure we're paranoid, over-reacting, willing to surrender liberties, hyper-militaristic, increasingly xenophobic and racist, but when this hell of our own making is a foundry for this, it's not so bad.

Story

Everyone You Know Someday Will Die

Since March 19th, 2003, when the US invaded Iraq, there have been 3118 coalition deaths. That's less than the number of liberated dead Iraqi civilians but more than the number of Americans killed by Iraqis on 9/11 or Americans killed by Iraqi WMDs combined.

About 1400 days with 3118 deaths comes to just a tad more than 2 deaths a day (remember, we're not counting the liberated dead, nor the non-fatal casualties). That doesn't seem so bad does it?

I think we can live with that. Better, we can afford that. I mean we're 300,000,000. What's two a day, especially when you consider birth and immigration rates? You don't even miss those people. In fact, if my calculations are correct, for every American death in Iraq, almost 3600 people come into the US- either over a border or through a birth canal.

I guess two a day might seem like a lot if you know those two. I suppose one a day is a lot if you know that one. Maybe if Therrel Childers had been the first and only death in Iraq that would be a lot if you knew him. But you probably don't. And you probably don't know Jay Aubin, or Ryan Beaupre, or Jose Gutierrez. It's not like two people a day are disappearing from your workplace, or school, or congregation. We need to remember this, especially when we hold it in the light of what we've given the Iraqis. Wouldn't we appreciate if someone did the exact same thing for us? And considering how little it costs, even if things don't go exactly right, isn't it still a bargain?

It's important that we get our heads on right because it looks like we'll be giving Iran the same gifts soon. We really need to consider the costs before we do. And it turns out, the costs aren't so great. Unless of course you count the liberated dead... and maybe count the injured... and then other things that are hard to quantify like the damage to our souls. But why would we do that?

Longview
Tear It In Two- The Briefs
Levitate Me- The PIxies
Uptight (Everything's Alright)- Stevie Wonder
Mambo King- Tito Puente
The End Has No End- The Strokes
Everything Is Broken- Bob Dylan
She Watch Channel Zero- Public Enemy
Macho Insecurity- Dead Kennedys

Unironically USA, USA, USA!!

Last night was a tough night for getting things done. There was the US versus Mexico, Duke versus NC, Mythbusters, and a couple of cute puppies all competing for my attention. School work was not in the competition. That is, there was really no contest, only the triumph of will over desire that got things done.

The US beat Mexico again. Though Mexico easily won on swagger and style points, those don't count for a win. If they did, somehow whining and grimacing would have to be factored in too. So with that I still think we would have won. (I'm brown- I hope you'll let me say "we" for the US team).

That's nice to see after their performance in that we do not name, as was the generally confident play of Americans, especially those called from the EPL for this match. But more than anyone else, I was impressed by Eric Wynalda's performance.

I was originally watching this match en español for TV watching reasons too complex to explain, or at least more complex than TV watching should warrant, but I switched over to the Deuce and there was Wynalda sitting in the same room as Arena.


If you watched any of the English language coverage of that we do not name, you would have seen that by the end of the first round, Wynalda was pissed off at the Americans and had little good to say about Arena. In addition to many lackluster performances, it's easy to fault Arena's choices about camp, formation, and starters. It's easy to fault them, because many of them were stupid.

Anyway last night he was quite a trooper and never once punched Bruce in the face. I read this wasn't the first time they appeared together so maybe it's not that impressive, but with so little in the world to give us hope in the possibility of goodness, I'll hang on to this.

That's all.

Sorry to make you wait so long for something so unsubstantial.

Where My Bitches At?

Right Here

The Qweenbeen isn't a big fan of that expression. She needs to take that up with historical convention and the editors of the OED because until I hear otherwise, it's perfectly appropriate for me to call my puppies with that phrase.

So there are puppies. There are my puppies, Chelsea and Lily, but there are also siblings to these puppies. I don't know them. Even though the Qweenbeen and I played with all these puppies to get a sense of their personalities and chose the two we thought most suitable for us, we could have very easily chosen two other puppies. If we had chosen two other puppies, we would be as attached to those puppies as we are to these puppies. It's strange to think of these puppies as interchangeable now, but at one time they were.

They are attached to us now as well, though if I say they feel for me what I feel for them, I'm really just projecting a whole lot of impossible onto these puppies. But here I am; I'm buying their food, waking up in the middle of the night when they cry, cleaning up their crap, paying for vet visits, posting their pictures on my interblog, creating MySpace pages for them and all sorts of other things that I could just as easily have been doing for other puppies.

It seems normal to do most of this for these puppies, maybe some of it is crazy. But it would be really crazy to do this for other puppies, though at another time it could just as easily have been other puppies. That is, it makes some sense to do this for these puppies, but if I were to now go out of my way to do this for their litter mates, that would be weird. If I were to just up and start doing this for my neighbor's puppies that would probably be un-neighborly of me.

I'm the kind of dummy that will run down the road to try to rescue a stray dog and if I catch it, find its home, or failing that, a new home for it. But I don't always do that. Sometimes I just say, "ohh" and keep driving. But I would spend all kinds of time going to find my puppies if they were missing. Your puppy? Maybe not.

Does that mean I don't value all puppy life equally? It seems to. I'll come right and say it. I don't value all puppy life equally. I don't think you need to worry; I would probably never do anything to harm your puppy, if you have one. But it's also very likely I am not doing anything to promote the life of your puppy. I seem to only value puppies that somehow come before me, that is if value is expressed by the effort I put into caring for them.

That's puppies. But it goes further.

The Qweenbeen has had a couple of miscarriages (maybe that's why I invest so much in dogs now). I have felt very nostalgic for things that never were. The first time we knew she was pregnant I felt attached to this strange thing that could someday be a baby. I felt anticipation, excitement, love, fear, protective, hopeful, nervous, unprepared, and on. I imagined an entire life, or at least the entirety of life I could imagine. Things felt as I figure they were supposed to feel.

But then all that was gone.

She's had another miscarriage. We didn't know she was pregnant until she wasn't and that was a very different experience. The sense of loss wasn't as dramatic. I didn't approach the date when a baby could have been born with any sadness- I didn't even think to know when that day could be. And since then, we suspect there have been others.

So I'm clear- I think something begins at conception. I don't think it says anything helpful or clear to say that what begins at conception is life. That is not to say I don't think it's a life- only that saying it is or isn't does not mean much. How much I felt or didn't feel for a zygote did not depend on my seeing it as a life but instead on how much I attached to it.

Now I could be wrong in that. Maybe I'm bad because I didn't value both pregnancies and miscarriages the same. Maybe I'm bad because we continue to have sex knowing that life might be created but likely not sustained. You may have very good reasons for thinking so, just as you might think it is enough to say life begins at conception and that saying so satisfies something.

I don't.

Maybe I think it's actually worse to say life begins at conception and leave it at that- or from that assume that the life that exists at conception is anything like the life that exists at three months before or after birth, or 5 years after birth, or 20 years after birth, or anything like the life that exists with my wife, or the life that exists with some unnamed person on the planet right now at the point furthest from me.

Or maybe I don't think it's worse to say that- maybe I just think it's worse if, between taking a petri dish with an embryo and my wife who had succumbed to smoke inhallation, you took the petri dish from a burning building.

Maybe the point is we can say anything we want about valuing life, but the choices we make, even in the choices we don't think to make, say more about what we actually believe. And it seems that we believe life isn't worth all that much. Or at the very least, what I can say about me is: I seem to value the lives of puppies on my porch more than the lives of people that must certainly exist but have made the unfortunate choice to do so far beyond the horizon of my empathy.

Just A Reminder

When people talk about the estate tax being unjust (and for this call it the Death Penalty), they are broadly saying it's not right that, in addition to the loss of a loved one, the wealthy bereft should have the inheritance they are due be treated as income and subject to the same type of taxation you or I would pay for winning a huge lottery payout or even the money we earn at regular jobs.

Often too, the image of a quaint family farm being lost to the IRS after a parent's death is invoked to show how sad and oppressive this tax truly is (though this is not the nature or effect of the estate tax).

That the estate tax can be called unfair at all, or that it is known as the Death Penalty by average Americans should be seen as an absolute PR success and give you a good sense of who's actually turning the screws behind a term like "Death Penalty" and the push to have it repealed.

Counter to this, it would be helpful to remember this is really who would be paying taxes on inherited income.

I'll Be Here All Week

If you sell a car knowing there are things wrong with it but neglect to mention those things or, worse, lie and say those things are, in fact, just fine, you've committed fraud. That's illegal, but even if it weren't, it reveals a lot about what kind of person you are.

Why is it, if you fraudulently sell a car, you're a jerk that can't get invited to dinner, but if you're a president who fraudulently sold a war we pray and thank God for you any way we can?

Maybe a better question is: why do Christians chase after assholes so much?

Dial Tone

So I'm gone forever and when I show up it's just to lazily reference something that is itself a reference to something snarky. I feel like the 14th season Simpsons.



Opie's argument sounds very much like the legal gymnastics Alberto Gonzales [sic] uses.

Originally via BOING

It Could Always Be Worse

Did this really happen?

If it did, is it as bad as it might be?

Well if it is, chase it down with this:

What Could Be Better?

Beckham said: "This week Real asked me to make a decision regarding their offer to extend my contract.

"After considering several options to stay in Madrid or join other major British and European teams, I have decided to join LA Galaxy."

BBC News

This is sure to seem like good news to American fans of soccer and hot guys. Yet...

I'm not one who is afraid to note when a hot guy is really hot, so considering the high bar for hotness in the football world, I don't think Beckham is all that hot. Qweenbeen is a Rio Ferdinand fan. I hate to say I don't see it, since it might reflect poorly on how hot I might be. I prefer a softer, boyish, Cristiano Ronaldo look myself.

Nonetheless, Beckham's a'comin. He may be just slow and increasingly inconsistent enough for MLS but I guess his real appeal lies in his hotness.

I don't think David Beckham is bad, only that he was better. And his value for the sport in America probably has more to do with sexy than soccer.

Still, it could be great news for MLS- if other Americans think he's hotter than I do, and his hotness can overcome how much Americans hate soccer because we didn't invent it. Maybe Beckham and his wife together are hot enough to overcome our general contempt for the world's game. Maybe the kind of attention we usually give heiresses and celebrity baby-doings is the kind of attention MLS needs. Good for MLS... maybe.

And maybe good for the Beckhams. He'll get to watch his Los Angeles academy more closely and with Posh here, maybe she'll become quite the actress. Maybe Patrick Stewart can get his screenplay made.

Hooray For Everything
River Euphrates- Pixies
Respect- Otis Redding
After The Garden- Neil Young
I'm Amazed- Pixies
Nuguns- System of a Down
Spunky- Eels

Words Mean This, Words Mean That

I'm guessing there will be a lot of this tonight:
the stakes
sustain itself
defend itself
freedom, liberty, democracy
brave men and women
sacrifice
global war on terror
forward
September 11th

How MY PRESIDENT has any credibility with anyone right now stretches the meanings of faith and loyalty to the point of offense.

More juvenile skybalon would suggest a drinking game using the above words in MY PRESIDENT's speech tonight. But this is serious and that hardly seems appropriate. In fact to show you how serious this is- when any of those words are used, one of these puppies will be yelled at.

2006 Worsts, Mosts, and Bests

Like every other lazy pretentious slob that imagines their opinions are more than projected insecurities and the barely veiled envy of other's talents, ambition, and willingness to even try, I offer my assessment of 2006's Bests, Worsts, and Mosts.

Most Depressing Day Because My Dog Died and I was Supposed to be Enjoying a Romantic Weekend in Napa With QweenBeen:
October 6th.

Most Frustratingly Horrible Production That Made Me Question the Possibility of Human Solidarity
Citrus College's Christmas Is.... That people were actually laughing at this and enjoying themselves explains why Entertainment Weekly exists and why every TV show I love seems to be cancelled and replaced with a game show that requires no more sense than a Magic 8 Ball has.

Worst Parents That Makes Me Wonder What The Hell is Wrong With Me That God Won't Let Me Have Kids of 2006
Britney Spears and K-Fed.

Runners Up for Worst Parents That Make Me Wonder What The Hell Is Wrong With Me That God Won't Let Me Have Kids
The people that actually took their children to so see Christmas Is... implying this is something anyone should appreciate.

Even Though It Was Released in 2005, The Best Album of 2006 Because That's When I Heard It
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah Self-Titled Album. In fact I can't think of an album released in 2006 that's better than this so even if I had heard it when it first came out it would still rock too well to lose it's position. Man this band rules so I'm giving it Best Album of Eternity after Doolittle by the Pixies.

Best Show I'm Watching Clips of On YouTube Because I Have Only Basic Cable of 2006
Extras

Most Mood Affecting Song of 2006
Life On Mars? by David Bowie.

Best Experience For Understanding How Someone Would Not Want to Leave an Absolutely Hopeless Situation One Should Not Have Volunteered to Enter Into In The First Place Therefore Understanding Why MY PRESIDENT Can Not Ever Bring Himself to Leave Iraq
Spending 48+ hours waiting in a Culver City sound stage waiting to tape for 1 vs. 100 and signing up to come back.

Worst Teacher I Remembered in 2006
My Fourth Grade Teacher- Good grief, why would someone who hates kids so much be a teacher?

Most Hilarious Movie of 2006
That Borat Movie.

Most Anticipated Catchphrase Sure to Become Annoying That Failed to Materialize of 2006
"Very Nice" a la Borat.

Most Encouraging Moment That People Were Perhaps Collectively Better Than I Thought of 2006
I didn't hear everyone saying, "Very Nice" a la Borat.

Most Eye-Opening Moment to How Removed I Am From Fratty Boy Culture Memes of 2006
Realizing people were actually saying "Very Nice" a la Borat.

Best iTunes Party Shuffle Two Song Sequence of 2006
A Commercial- Dead Kennedys --> There Is A Light That Never Goes Out- The Smiths

Best Literary Exchange That Tells It Like It Is: Alcoholism Is Funny
"Did you know her?"
"Yes. How about a drop of something to cut the phlegm?"
"What was she like?"
"Not bad," I said. "She wasn't bad-looking and she had a lot of sense, and a lot of nerve - and it took both to live with that guy."
"She lived with him?"
"Yes. I want a drink, please. That is, it was like that when I knew them."
"Why don't you have some breakfast first? Was she in love with him or was it just business?"
"I don't know. It's too early for breakfast."
I'm about 70 years late on this one but I can't think of anything that encourages me more to have a Martini with a breakfast burrito.

Most Tempting Alternative Career I Contemplated When School Work Started to Overwhelm Me of 2006
Street Musician

Most Popular Self Prescribed Medications in The Skybalon Household of 2006
TV, Leftovers, Rum and Cokes, Puppies, and Blogging

And other stuff...

...re We Came In?

So 2006 began with this. I'm narcissistic enough to want to go back through my posts and see how this was an anchor for the year's posts and then see what should be my first post for 2007. I'm narcissistic, but also lazy so don't want to do the work of reading 2006's posts and see if there really is some sort of tone to 2007's oeuvre. To be honest, I would say there isn't... ever. But for the sake of this post we'll say there is and that the tone suggested by 2006's first post made 2006 a mopey, picturesque, navel-gazey, baby rankling at authority year.

That means the tone for 07, set by this year's first post, will be self-referential, lazy, artificial, circular, and topically comical.

"Oh sure, I see the conceit," you say, "but where's the topically comical?"
Well dig this...

John Mc Cain indicates that he and the AEI are actually compensating for something with their Iraq policy recommendations.

So expect a year of penis jokes.

2007 Does Not Yet Rock
Fashion Nugget- Cake