Kitsch in Circleville

**
Circleville, OH was the fourth stop on Matt and Jason's Bop Til You Drop Tattoo Removal Politically Incorrect Ladies' Man Foot Stompin' Fire In The Hole Road Trip Spring 2007.



Citizens of Ohio, you are officially disqualified from ever making fun of anything having to do with the Beautiful, Dirty South. Ever again. World without end. Amen.

Filed in Pictures

Suburban Beauty in Marietta

**
Atlanta was the third stop on Matt and Jason's Death Rattle Preemptive Strike Rockabilly Go Down Moses Never Say Never Road Trip Spring 2007. We stayed with my parents in Marietta (a suburb on the Northwest side of the city). I was glad to spend time with my folks, have a great meal, and hang out with my best friend from high school (a descendnat of Jonathan Edwards). The following pix are from my parents' driveway.


Dogwood


Tulips


The Infamous Dunno Bush

Filed in Pictures

(Super)Natural in Hobe Sound

**

Hobe Sound, FL was the second stop on Matt and Jason's Worldwind Tire Torturin' Heart Breakin' Finger Lickin' Good Hands of Stone Road Trip Spring 2007. The hospitality was unbeatable. The basketball was personally embarassing. The time was relaxing for one of us.


Yes, the axe, against his Germanic instincts, ventured down to the beach long enough to take a pic to prove he was there. It was corpulent, hairy New Jersey natives and sun-spotted geriatrics frolicking in the sand and surf. Good thing I didn't have breakfast.


A Large Banyan Tree on Bridge Road on the way to the beach - I have no smart aleck comments to make about the tree.

Filed in Pictures

Manliness in Birmingham

**

Vulcan is probably the most recognizable landmark in Birmingham, AL. This was the first stop on Matt and Jason's Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Take No Prisoners Holy Rollin' March Madness Buffalo Wing Eatin' Road Trip Spring 2007.


Vulcan is the prototypical iron worker. If anyone leaves a comment that uses the word "homo-erotic," I will find you and punch you right in the face. True artisans labor with a leather apron and no pants.

Thanks for the pix, Dad.

Filed in Pictures

More Cormac (No Country For Old Men)

**
"Here a year or two back me and Loretta went to a conference in Corpus Christi and I got set next to this woman, she was the wife of somebody or other. And she kept talkin about the right wing this and the right wing that. I aint even sure what she meant by it. The people I know are mostly just common people. Common as dirt, as the sayin goes. I told her that and she looked at me funny. She thought I was sayin something bad about em, but of course that's a high compliment in my part of the world. She kept on, kept on. Finally told me, said: I don't like the way this country is headed. I want my granddaughter to be able to have an abortion. And I said well mam I don't think you got any worries about the way the country is headed. The way I see it goin I dont have much doubt that she'll be able to have an abortion. I'm goin to say that not only will she be able to have an abortion, she'll be able to have you put to sleep. Which pretty much ended the conversation."

Cormac McCarthy "No Country For Old Men"

Filed in Recommendations

Mom's Old Neighborhood

While in Birmingham, AL on Friday my parents and I visited the neighborhood where my mom grew up. I received a great history lesson as we drove around and took pictures. Everything was within walking distance from my mom’s house: the grocery and drug stores, their Baptist church (there were four Protestant churches within walking distance), the community center, the public library, the elementary school and a shopping area with various businesses. All this was helpful since my mom and grandmother did not have a car.

The above picture is the house my mom grew up in. My grandmother and great aunt still lived there when I was a kid. I remember spending time there, playing in the backyard with Dedo and eating Granny’s fried apple pies and fried chicken. There was a lot of love in their home for my sister and I.

I have never lived in a place where I could ambulate to every necessary destination. The students called the University of Richmond (my alma mater) “the Bubble” because you could stay on campus without leaving and pretty much have everything you needed. However, I had a car and went off campus all the time. I have spent most of my life in suburbs where cars are important, as there are usually not public transportation systems that can get you anywhere you need to go in the a timely manner, if at all.

Are there any places in the US where you have everything you need within walking distance, including schools and a public library? Proximity is a necessary, if inconvenient, part of being fully human. I cannot love my neighbor if I’m never tempted to do otherwise.

Filed in Friends and Family

Connecting With Our Past

**
Do you ever have trouble identifying with the characters in the Bible? I sure do. They seem so far away in time and culture. It is hard enough to connect with a contemporary person from another culture. The separation of thousands of years doesn't help.

There is a precarious balancing act that must be negotiated when we begin to put their narratives into our language. Sometimes speculating about their thoughts and motives can be quite anachronistic. I tried it during Advent. You can judge how successful I was. I fear that we end up moving ourselves further from the truth rather than closer to it. I fear making Abraham or Moses or David or Methuselah (you get a shiny penny if you know who he is) someone other than who they were in their time and space.

Nevertheless, someone who is well-versed in Ancient Near Eastern culture and is also a good storyteller can render a great service. Certainly, they were flesh and blood people, like us. They had fears and hopes. I know there are ways to connect their lives with ours. I believe that the Bible can be read and taught in a way that draws us in and makes us sympathetic to the characters whose stories we find there.

With that build-up I am afraid that you are going to be expecting me to do that for you, or at least point you to someone who can. Sorry to disappoint you, but that guy ain't me and I am not sure who to point you to off the top of my head.

The New Covenant is superior to the Old. Nevertheless, the Gospel does not repudiate the Law. The sacrifices of the Old Testament are not insulted by the sacrifice of the New. The person of Abraham, as progenitor of Israel, is not insulted by the person of Christ. As much as it galled the Jewish leaders who were in power at the time of Christ, he was not the enemy of the traditions and observances of Israel, but Israel’s greatest friend, the Messiah.

I certainly do not feel a tremendous connection with the Jewish roots of Christianity. NT Wright is helpful in this regard, as are other writers. Nevertheless, as far as my day-to-day faith is concerned, it is not lived with much consciousness of continuity with the OT sacrificial system.

When I read about how Jesus' sacrifice is so much better than the sacrifices of animals, I have trouble connecting. I have never lived under a sacrificial system. It seems that when we read Hebrews we get some of it wrong. When we hear descriptions of the New Covenant like "much more," "greater," and "more perfect," we hear "much easier," "simpler," and "more convenient." Down with all those troubling and complicated rituals. Up with the Gospel. It makes everything so easy.

I am learning that religion is only simple when you are ignorant of the issues. I know, "the Gospel is so simple, even a child can understand." I'm not so sure. I do think that the Gospel is so accessible that even a child can believe it. But, our faith provides enough matter to occupy philosophers, artists, authors and preachers with thinking, painting, writing and preaching until the end of time.

I was reading a blog yesterday that drew my attention to my own laxity in preparation for the Eucharist. I am not subject to the rigors of the OT sacrificial system. Does that mean that there is nothing rigorous about the New Covenant? Our Christian ancestors were singular in their preparations for the Eucharist. I feel so anemic.

"The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting, it has been found difficult and left untried." GK Chesterton

I read an interview this morning with Richard Winter, author of "Still bored in a Culture of Entertainment." He mentioned that boredom occurs as a result of both understimulation and overstimulation. An addiction to all things exciting can cripple us when it comes time to attend to the disciplines and mundane things of life. It spoils the simple pleasures. It keeps us from drawing apart and being still, where we can know that God is.

Propers for Lent 5, Passion Sunday

Olio 2 - I've Been Everywhere

**
1. I departed on a monster road trip with my best friend on Thursday. I plan to run the blog as normal while I wander (with some additional pictures, reports and ruminations on the journey). Our itinerary is Jackson, MS to Birmingham, AL to south Florida to Roanoke, VA to Ohio to eastern Kentucky to Indianapolis.

2. A satire of class evaluations

3. How does one figure these strange creatures known as "Reformed Baptists?" If you want to take on all the baggage of being Reformed, wouldn't you at least want to also take on the intellectual clout of Presbyterianism, however tenuous that may be. It seems like the RB's settle for a lose-lose situation.

4. Separated from the Trinity, and grace-splendored agape, all eros proceeds in an unbroken continuum toward self-absorption, with its attendant rituals of pornography and masturbation, to the point where even intercourse becomes a parallel soliloquy.

5. Johnny Cash (Road Trip) Song of the Week - I've Been Everywhere

6. Word of the Week - etiology

Filed in Recommendations and General

Related Tags: Johnny Cash, Baptists, Reformed, Prebyterians, Road Trip, Class Evaluations

One Man Thinking

**
For Vin and Fedex

Cletus Hoogerbrudge shifted in his seat. He was in the fifth row of the live studio audience viewing a taping of the Family Feud. His neighbors, the Tartars, were on the stage competing for $20,000 against the Flambeaux clan from Paris, TX. Cletus was invested in this competition. If the Tartars won, his best friends would probably blow most, if not all, of their winnings on a weekend bash out at their farm. They had promised to book Rev. Peyton's Big Damn Band, a blues outfit from Indiana.

Wylie and Francis "Steak" Tartar were identical twins. They had been best friends with Cletus since one afternoon in the third grade when they were teasing him on the playground and Cletus whipped them both with his GI Joe lunchbox. Francis still had a scar on his shoulder from where Cletus bit a piece off of him. That was what cemented the nickname "Steak" forever.

It was their sister Belle who had been the driving force behind the Tartars's appearance on the Feud. One of the reasons Cletus had gone to the trouble of travelling with the Tartars on his own dime had been the fact that he was sweet on Belle. His attention had been fixed on her since she got her braces off and began wearing contacts. It was like she had gone on one of those extreme makeover shows.

Mom and Pop Tartar rounded out the quintet. They had been worn out over the years by trying to manage the chaos that seemed to follow Cletus and the twins around. They would pretty much go along with anything nowadays. Also, they had never been west of Oklahoma and thought it would be fun to see Hollywood. They had visited the walk of fame the day before and had their picture taken at Elvis's star.

The game was up for grabs going into the final round. The topic was phrases that begin with the words "One Man." The Flambeauxes won the face off when the mother buzzed in and guessed "One Man Band," which was the number one answer. There were three more slots on the board.

The daughter in law got the third slot right with "One Man Show." Cletus and the Tartars hopes were raised a little when the single brother missed with "One Man, One Woman." This got a chuckle from the crowd.

The father, who had been the anchor for the Flambeaux family, guessed "One Man Gang." Cletus winced when he heard the "ding" and saw "Gang" in the second slot. They only had one more strike but they only had one more answer to guess. However, it was the last slot, which is always the hardest.

The married son guessed "One Man's Treasure." "Dang you, sidekick from 'Home Improvement,' get to it," Cletus thought as the host dragged out the suspense.

"One Man's Treasure!"

Eeeerrrnnn!!!

Cletus's hopes for a big blowout bash featuring Rev. Peyton's Big Damn Band were still intact.

The Tartars came out of their huddle looking perplexed. Even Belle, who had been unflappable throughout, looked shaken. The team was quiet and the host asked Wylie for their answer.

Cletus did not even have to hear the buzzer sound to know that Wylie's guess had missed the mark badly. He sat in the audience in a daze. He didn't even notice whether or not the Flambeauxes won the $20,000. As the show ended, he fished his backstage pass out of his pocket and went to meet his friends. He was not in a consoling mood. He wanted a party.

He expressed his sympathy to Belle and her parents. Steak smiled weakly. Cletus pulled Wylie behind some scaffolding.

"Think Tank!? One Man Think Tank!? That's the best you could come up with? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You can't have a one man think tank. A tank implies that there's a group of thinkers. If you only have one guy, then it's not a tank; it's just one guy ... sitting by himself ... thinking."

"I know, man. I was just so sure that was the right answer. I talked everyone else into it."

"What did Belle want to say?"

"One Man, One Vote."

Cletus felt himself losing it. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the building rage. Deep breath, deep breath. "One Man, One Vote" was the correct answer that filled the fourth slot on the big board.

Cletus walked back to the family hoping to salvage something from the trip. Belle looked heartbroken. He tried to talk to her, but she only offered one syllable responses. Cletus did not imagine that she would be interested in joining him at the Sonic for an extra long cheese coney, tots and a route 44 cherry limeade any time soon. That might have been the biggest tragedy of all.

"One Man Think Tank," Cletus thought to himself, "that is just ridiculous."

It was indeed, Cletus. It was indeed.

Filed in Stories

Part 7 of Kate and Buster coming soon

Lagniappe 12 - Mose by Adam Cohen

**
Reading a few comics after slogging through some dense reading might be like standing up and stretching after being slumped over a desk for a few hours. Mose by Adam Cohen is a new comic with some chuckles. He had a series early on that I loved about Personal Jesus (here, here and here).

(click on image to enlarge)

A few of my other favorites were the ones on youth culture, marital hopes, creativity and profanity.

[HT: Drawn}

Filed in Recommendations

Related Tags: Mose, Adam Cohen, Cartoons, Comics, Religion, Illustration, Humor, Satire

Las Vegas Odds

**
Who do you think has the best chance to counteract, resist, overcome and/or fight the good fight of faith against

Universa-Porn (both ubiquitous and agressive in making disciples of all nations),

The Tower of Babel - Part 2 (as built by the bastard offspring of Enlightenment rationalism and Darwinian materialism)

and

The Travelling Snake Oil Salesmen (all those therapists and counsellors who seek to heal the individual without reference to creation in the Imago Dei and salvation in the Triune name)

???

Is it the Orthodox, Catholics and/or Anglicans? Is it the Reformed folks? The Pentecostals and Charismatics? The Emergents? Someone else? I know that this is a terribly open ended question but give it your best shot. I want to hear from you. I am hoping to elaborate some more on these themes in the future.

Filed in General

How Can I?

**
How can I, who am fit for wrath,
Comment on your deeds,
Presume to tell others what to think about them,
Search with words places unknown,
Poke my head in sacred places?

Relieve me this burden.
Not of speaking,
But of wrath-worthiness.
You bring comfort
When the sound of you approach
Should only terrify.

Our forebearers glanced over their shoulders.
They flirted for a moment with a disastrous return.
What is it that we pine for
From the closet of our past,
From the storage box under the bed?

In the debate between bondage and freedom
With whom do we side?
Who gets our "Amen's?"
When we see freedom
Is it really bondage with a mask?

When God turns things right side up
Does the blood rush to our heads?
When we survey our home
Do we feel out of place?
When we look at our siblings
Are they strangers?

You ask me a question.
I think I know the answer.
I know you already know.
Every once in a while I guess correctly.
Mostly, I am wrong
But still learning.

So I get to give someone
A fish sandwich.
And clean up after lunch.
And hear people say,
"I believe in Jesus."

Based on the Propers for Lent 4.

pic axe 11 - Lexington, MS

**

A disease worth having, an animating wind by which one may be refreshed


Lex, MS has a nice town square with a roundabout and this tower crowning the town hall.


The Church of God in Christ (COGIC) was founded in Lex. Their flagship church, St. Paul's, is a block from the college.

I have no personal connection to Lex. It is a small town in the delta that is on the way to Cruger, MS where a friend of mine pastors.

Filed in Pictures

Kate and Buster - Part 6

**
Kate and Buster, or Buster and Kate, Depending on Who's Making the Introductions - Part 6

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)
**

Buster watched Uly wobble off to the restroom. He laughed. Then, he decided to grab a bite to eat. Uly's exhortation had strangely relaxed him about talking to Kate. Plus, he knew the food was going to be great.

"You're a misogynist." Kate had come up behind Buster as he was gathering a few items from the decadent spread provided by the host's French caterer.

"Actually, I have been told that I give amazing back rubs but I think the word you're looking for is 'masseuse.'"

"FYI, Mr. Wise Guy, it's 'masseur' when referring to a man, and you know that's not what I am talking about, though I can't deny your excellence in the back rub department."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Now, where were we?"

"Discussing your misogyny."

"Oh, right. I prefer the term patriarchalist, Miss Andry."

"Don't call me that."

"I see. So it's perfectly acceptable for you to call me a misogynist, but when I turn it around it becomes a horse of a different color."

"Not a horse, a jack ass."

"Well put, m'lady. How have you been?"

"Tempted to boredom despite being really busy."

Buster wondered if Kate meant this to be as flirty as it came across. It was all in the look. He was able to read her: coy and comfortable. There was something else at work in the midst of their banter, and he hoped it was mutual.

They had been so good at reading one another while leaving emotions and intentions between the lines. Buster felt alive around Kate. What in the world possessed him to back off? At the moment he could not remember. What he did know was that he was going to win her back. His confidence was high in her presence.

"Sounds like you need a day hike."

"More like a week. But I need someone to carry a load of books for me. I've got some reading to catch up on. Eggers and Pynchon both have new stuff I haven't had a chance to peruse. Some vigorous hiking followed by a couple hours reading without fear of a ringing phone or emails to answer is just what the doctor ordered."

"You carry Eggers. I'll carry Pynchon. We'll trade when we finish."

"That could work."

Filed in Stories

Part 7 coming soon

Lagniappe 11 - Like Ice Picks In My Ears

**
Touchstone has a post dealing with words and phrases that are annoying in the way they are currently used based on a post from the UK Telegraph. [Update: This isn't bad, either.]

Language and its use in writing and speech is a subject that interests me, so I offer below a few phrases and words that annoy me. Please contribute your own in the comments.

All academic-speak that relieves one of the burden of actually saying something
(ex. "On the one hand ... on the other hand")

All office-speak that patronizes employees by trying to make them feel better about the mundaneness of their jobs
(ex. "Kudos to Brad for forwarding that email to the entire support team. Way to go, Brad.")

Every sports interview in which the interviewer asks predictably boring questions and the interviewee gives predictably vanilla answers.
"So, Mike, what does your team have to do to win."
"We've got to go out there, give it our best, work hard, play smart, be a team and have fun."
Thanks for that pearl, Shakespeare.

"Hate Speech" - The definition of which, of course, depends upon who's in power.

"Get my (game, swerve, groove, etc.) on." - Needless to say, I do not think ebonics is a productive way for blacks to establish a unique culture.

One from the South - "I'm gonna get me a fudgesicle, Laverne. You want one?" - Guess which of the two errors bothers me.

Some that were mentioned in the other articles with which I heartily agree:
"I need you to do this for me."
"He has issues with thus-and-so." - Ah, therapy-speak.

What words, phrases and modes of speech bother you?

Filed in Recommendations and Rants

The Mystery of Iniquity

**
An Investigation into the Motions of Sin

How does it start?
A Fall into Darkness
A deliberate walking out of the light
Is it trickery?
Colusion?
Just how much agreement is there
Between myself and my adversary?

Sometimes it is a lack of watchfulness
(Im)moral sleepiness
Inattentiveness in the wheelhouse of my soul
Though I cannot claim that the ship has been hijacked
No terrorist has taken command of this plane
I woke up long enough to say
"Get lost," but I didn't.

I protest too little.
It is a violation
With which I am complicit.
It is a plot
With which I go along.
It is a conspiracy
Sometimes hatched in my own heart

Like some bastard vulture
Gnawing at my innards.
A caterpillar spoiling my plant.
Time and water and darkness
Rusting away my strength.
I am left holding the bag
More embarrassed than ashamed.

The next time I am disgusted by
Any reference to mardigrasgirlsgonewildpornostrippersxxx
"Show us your ..."
I will remember that I have exposed myself
Before the serpent
Who helped end our naked innocence
Felix Culpa or not

Filed in Poetry

Why Bother With Holiness?

**
Why Bother With Holiness?

Is it because you will go to hell if you don't? Is it because Jesus died for you? Is it because God commands you to? Is it because you will live longer if you do? Is it because you will secure a place on the God Squad All Star team if you do?

I think that the readings for today help to clarify the motivations for our pursuit of holiness.

Jesus loved us by giving himself for us. That is to say, he was a sacrifice to God for us. That is why we bother with holiness.

Contrast the "sweet aroma" of Christ's offering with the stench of sexual immorality and covetousness. They do not belong together. They cannot abide in the same heart. Devotion to God and idolatry will exclude one another.

There are people who say that a person can be a follower of Christ and still participate in sexual immorality and covetousness. Such people will usually not use terms like "sexual immorality" and "covetousness." They will use terms like "sexual orientation" and "a taste for the finer things." They will call for "tolerance" and "acceptance" of "alternative lifestyles" and the pursuit of the "American Dream." They will curse you if you hinder anyone from "self fulfillment."

Language is a powerful tool. We need to be responsible about who defines terms for us. It is perilously easy to fall prey to "vain words."

St. Paul is very plain when he says that God's wrath is upon those who are disobedient to his commands. He tells us not to stand too close to such folks. We only want to be close enough for them to observe goodness, righteousness and truth at work in our lives.

After casting the devil out of a person, people argued about whether or not Jesus was in cahoots with the devil. The Lord used their debate as an occasion to make a point about the very real nature of evil. Satan has a kingdom and God has a kingdom. One is a place of darkness. The other is filled with light.

There are places in between, shadowy places where allegiance has not been declared. These are the most dangerous places of all. The shadows are where a great number of people live. Maybe they are observing the (apparent) struggle between the two kingdoms. Maybe they are playing cards. Maybe they are clipping their toenails. How should I know?

Such people may feel very secure, but it is the security of ignorance rather than informed confidence. They are not strong enough to defend themselves against evil. It will overwhelm them eventually.

I do not believe that God is coercive. I think that the Lord's words are a comment on the nature of things, rather than a threat. Christ is not saying, "If you don't get it together I'm going to sick the devil on ya." He is warning us about dwelling in the shadows of spiritual indecision, halfway between light and darkness.

I lived in Dayton, Ohio for about 18 months when I was a kid. I went through half of kindergarten and all of first grade there. My sister is 3 1/2 years younger than I. During that time, when I wanted her to do something, I had a way of manipulating her. I would tell her that if she didn't do what I said I was going to call the devil and get him to take her away. Don't ask me who put that idea in my head, probably the devil.

One time we were sharing a lollipop while watching TV. I fell asleep and my sister finished the candy off. When I woke up and discovered that my candy had been consumed, I faced a dilemma. I knew that I could not make good on my threat to summon the devil. I ended up keeping my mouth shut so as to preserve my chances of using the threat of the Prince of Darkness in the future.

The devil is not God's hit man. Nevertheless, he is real and is no friend of mankind. The kingdom of God is a place of light, goodness and safety. It is a place where we can know God's love for us. It is a place where we can be free from the tyranny of our greatest enemy, our own sins. It is a place where we can live as we were intended, in holiness and righteousness all the days of our life.

Propers for Lent 3

Olio 1 - I Got Stripes

**
Line of the week goes to Fr. Jonathan Tobias:

Counter-inhibitional anti-western egalitarian hyper-materialistic de-mythologizing tenure-lusting mummers (i.e., the New Human)

*

When I want to know about sports I don't ask a preacher or a theologian. When I want to know about religion I don't ask an athelete. When I want to know about politics I don't ask an actor. The cult of personality is the death of meaningful public discourse.

*

Ben Donald (aka Moretben) addresses Fundamentalists once and twice.

*

The Johnny Cash song of the week is "I Got Stripes."

*

Olio

Filed in Recommendations and General

Related Tags: Conservatism, Hollywood, Cult of Personality, Fundamentalists, Evangelicalism, Johnny Cash

pic axe 10 - Mama, I Don't Wanna Go To Daycare

**


You'll be happy to know that Mr. Ed's is no longer in business in Pearl, MS. That has to be the creepiest daycare I have ever seen. I drive by it regularly to visit friends and have wanted to take a pic of it for a long time.

Filed in Pictures

Kate and Buster - Part 5

**
Kate and Buster, or Buster and Kate, Depending on Who's Making the Introductions - Part 5

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)
**

"I am going to find Kate if it kills me," Buster thought as he spied Uly Jackson's wobbly approach. Uly, as usual, was three sheets to the wind. When he got close enough to recognize Buster through the haze he slurred an affectionate greeting.

"Buster, it is most fortuitous that we should encounter one another on such an auspicious occasion." Uly's vocabulary became absurd when he was sauced, which was at every party. "I need to confer with a gentleman of equal intelligence about a matter of grave importance. But first, how are you, my friend? Tell me your tale."

Buster liked Uly. When he was sober, he told funny stories. When he was drunk, he told even funnier stories. People did not mind the fact that Uly imbibed a bit too much and often. He never made a mess. He didn't hang on people. He wasn't loud. He wasn't dangerous. He always had a way home. Somehow he avoided the pitfalls that ensnared just about ever other heavy drinker. That did not stop people from worrying about Uly's liver.

There weren't a lot of people who knew the reason behind Uly's heavy drinking. Buster was one of those people and he marveled at the combination of personality traits, life experiences and actions of Uly Jackson. Uly did not fit into any molds, nor did he make it a point to try and break any. Uly was simply Uly.

Buster did not think that the drinking, at least the excessiveness of it, would last. Uly would deal with it before too long. If not, Buster and Trek had agreed that they would step in. Uly had already agreed to cooperate should they find some type of intervention necessary.

'Uly, there's not a whole heckuva lot to tell tonight. I'm just making the rounds."

Uly leaned in conspiratorially. "That's just fine. You play your cards close to the vest, mon frere. I know the young damsel after whom you pine moves among us on this star-enchanted eve. You have the look of a man with poetry in his heart and a single eye."

"I hope that Maker's Mark is granting you your powers of perception."

"Actually, it's Grey Goose. Don't worry; my impaired senses are twice as keen as a sober man's in a midnight wood. Your secret shall not be divulged by this tongue."

"You have put my mind at ease."

"Oh, I doubt that. The burden you carry shall weigh upon you until you make your feelings know to the aforementioned lady. Might I recommend a dalliance this very night?”

“I think that you may and I think that I might be inclined to acquiesce.”

“Wonderful news. I believe that you have made my night. What has brought about this rising of courage and razing of hesitance?”

“Uly, how in the world am I supposed to answer that?”

“It seems an honest and simple query.”

“I am quite aware that you have enough experience with the fairer sex to know that simplicity rarely enters into any romantic deliberations.”

“Yea, verily. Though I suspect that there may be a reasonably straightforward answer to my question.”

“I see that you’re going to dig in here until I’m forced to admit that I was a fool for not following through with Kate.”

“I just want you to be honest with yourself, Buster.”

“I know. I accept your chastisement and I intend to start down the recovery road tonight, if at all possible.”

“I am pleased to hear of your intentions.”

“Now that we’ve made sure that my evening will not be wasted, how are you?”

“All is well, Buster. I am gainfully employed, drinking among friends and at peace with the world.”

“Have you heard anything from Delila?”

“Nay. If I did you and Trek would be the first to know.”

“We will continue to pray.”

“Yes. Now, permit me a moment to share a tale with you.”

“Absolutely.”

“I was viewing some property yesterday and I saw the most curious sight. Two squirrels were playing poker with a buzzard on a large, low hanging branch.” Uly knew that Buster would listen to the end but he paused anyway to insure his friend’s participation. Uly treasured active listening while he spun his yarns.

“Go on.”

“I moved a little closer so that I could watch the proceedings. The gathering looked over at me for a moment, sized me up, and realized that I posed no threat to them and was only seeking to observe. They obliged.”

“That was hospitable of them.”

“Well, it would have been more so had they invited me to sit in, but I appreciated their tolerance. So, one of the squirrels was way down, while the buzzard and the second squirrel were about even in chips.”

“They were using chips?”

“Of course. Squirrels eats nuts, buzzards eat rotting carcasses. What else would they use?”

“Good point.”

“The squirrel with the short stack got out of the hand I was watching quickly, leaving Squirrel #2 and the buzzard. Did I mention that there was a monkey dealing?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.”

“I thought the same, but it actually makes sense; monkeys are pretty neutral.”

“I see.”

“Squirrel #2 decides to put the buzzard all in before the turn. The buzzard is clearly agitated. He adjusts his perch a couple of times. The squirrel hardly blinks. The buzzard finally pushes his chips in with a resigned look.”

“I didn’t realize that it was possible to read the facial expressions of buzzards. Dogs, yes. But buzzards?”

“I guess it’s a combination of the tilt of their beak and their body language. May I continue?”

“Yes, I apologize.”

“So the cards come out and the buzzard is surprised to find himself ahead. He’s holding two pair, jacks and nines. Squirrel #2 also has two pair, sevens and twos.”

“If the buzzard had such good cards, why was he so squirrelly?”

Uly smiled. “I don’t know, Buster. He didn’t say. So the river comes, and from the monkey’s paw emerges the two of hearts. Full house. Buzzard loses. Now, there was a tense moment. I actually thought the buzzard might attack the two squirrels, but he flapped his wings twice, said ‘See you guys Saturday,’ and flew away.”

“Those squirrels were lucky.”

“It seems that the law of the jungle does not apply when animals and birds gamble together. I only wish the same were true of humans.”

“I agree. Now, what was that matter of grave importance you had for me?”

“Oh, yes. I seem to have forgotten where the restroom is. Could you point me in the right direction?”

“It’s down that hall, second door on the right.”

“Thank you, Buster. Have a nice chat with your beloved, sooner rather than later.”

“I will. Have a good night.”

“I shall. By the way, I think Trek is looking for you. He said he had something important to talk to you about.”

Filed in Stories

Part 6 coming soon

Lagniappe 10 - The Road by Cormac McCarthy

**
Cormac McCarthy may be destined to become one of my favorite novelists. Why do I like him after reading his latest novel, The Road? I am currently attracted to fiction that has a darker tint. I have been a suburbanite for the vast majority of my life. I did a stint in the country, lived in a trailer park, and have hung my hat in a couple of sketchy neighborhoods in Jackson, MS, but nothing too drastic.

For me, McCarthy, at least in The Road, strips off the respectable veneer that masks the darkness of polite society. I'm not a fatalist about the future of the West (or the world) but I do believe that widespread, long-lasting disaster would not "bring out the best in us" but would show us how little we really do love God and our neighbor.

The Road might be likened to the three Mad Max movies without the action and crazy costumes and told in prose that is somehow both beautiful and crushing (I tried to think of a way to desribe his writing that wasn't exactly the same as every other person that writes about him, communicated the effect of his work on me and didn't sound pretentious). McCarthy's novel is about a nameless father and son who are trying to make their way to a safety that may or may not exist through hundreds of miles of desolate landscape following some global trauma. I'm sure the book will not be appealing to everyone who reads this post but I do recommend at least going to the library or bookstore and looking at the first fifty pages.

Here are some excerpts that showcase McCarthy's use of language:

p13 "The blackness he woke to on those nights was sightless and impenetrable. A blackness to hurt your ears with listening. Often he had to get up. No sound but the wind in the bare and blackened trees. He rose and sttod tottering in that cold autistic dark with his arms outheld for balance while the vestibular calculations in his skull cranked out their reckonings. An old chronicle. To seek out the upright. No fall but preceded by a delination. He took great marching steps into the nothingness, counting them against his return. Eyes closed, arms oaring. Upright to what? Something nameless in the night, lode or matrix. To which he and the stars were common satellite. Like the great pendulum in its rotunda scribing through the long day movements of the universe of which you may say it knows nothing and yet know it must."

p66 "In the morning they came up out of the ravine and took to the road again. He'd carved the boy a flute from a piece of roadside cane and he took it from his coat and gave it to him. The boy took it wordlessly. After a while he fell back and after a while the man could hear him playing. A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from the ashes of its ruin. The man turned and looked back at him. He was lost in concentration. The man thought he seemed some sad and solitary changeling child announcing the arrival of a traveling spectacle in shire and village who does not know that behing him the players have all been carried off by wolves."

p75 "He tried to think of something to say but he could not. He'd had this feeling before, beyond the numbness and the dull despair. The world shrinking down about a raw core of possible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds, things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever."

p98 "He walked to the top of a rise and crouched and watched the day accrue. They chary dawn, the cold illucid world. In the distance what looked to be a pine wood, raw and black. A colorless world of wire and crepe."

p157-8 "Years later he'd stood in the charred ruins of a library where blackened books lay in pools of water. Shelves tipped over. Some rage at the lies arranged in their thousands row on row. He picked up one of the books and thumbed through the heavy bloated pages. He'd not have thought the value of the smallest thing predicated on a world to come. It surprised him. That the space which these things occupied was itself an expectation. He let the book fall and took a last look around and made his way out into the cold gray light."

220 “He got up and walked out to the road. The black shape of it running from dark to dark. Then a distant low rumbling. Not thunder. You could feel it under your feet. A sound without cognate and so without description. Something imponderable out there shifting in the dark. The earth itself contracting with the cold. It did not come again. What time of year? What age the child? He walked out into the road and stood. The silence. The salitter drying from the earth. The mudstained shapes of flooded cities burned to the waterline. At a crossroads a ground set with dolmen stones where the spoken bones of oracles lay moldering. No sound but the wind. What will you say? A living man spoke these lines? He sharpened a quill with his small pen knife to scribe these things in sloe or lampblack? At some reckonable and entabled moment? He is coming to steal my eyes. To seal my mouth with dirt."

225-6
"Do you want me to tell you a story?
No.
Why not?
The boy looked at him and looked away.
Why not?
Those stories are not true.
They don’t have to be true. They’re stories.
Yes. But in the stories we’re always helping people and we don't help people.
Why don’t you tell me a story?
I don’t want to.
Okay.
I don’t have any stories to tell.
You could tell me a story about yourself.
You already know all the stories about me. You were there.
You have stories inside that I don’t know about.
You mean like dream?
Like dreams. Or just things that you think about.
Yean, but stories are supposed to be happy.
They don’t have to be.
You always tell happy stories.
You don’t have any happy ones?
They’re more like real life.
But my stories are not.
Your stories are not. No.
The man watched him. Real life is pretty bad?
What do you think.
Well, I think we’re still here. A lot of bad things have happened but we’re still here.
Yeah.
You don’t think that’s so great.
It’s okay."

Filed in Recommendations

Related Tags: Cormac McCarthy, The Road, Novels, Fiction

Spiritual Side Effects and Ecclesial Warning Labels

**
"I don't agree with everything that is said on the 700 Club, but they are certainly doing some good."

"I know TD Jakes has some problems theologically, but he has helped a lot of people."

"Sure that church believes some things that I don't, but I work with a woman who's son was healed of diabetes at one of their meetings."

"When I listen to that praise album I feel closer to Jesus. I really sense the Lord's presence."

*

I'm sure you've seen the commercials for certain drugs that are supposed to help you sleep, or cope, or have an erection, or lose weight, or avoid pregnancy, or resist the urge to kill the tailgater behind you, or whatever. You know what's coming at the end of every one of those commercials: the list of possible side effects.

"Taking this drug may cause irritability, loose stools, memory loss, vertigo, heart palpitations, bad breath, gender reassignment, vomiting, numbness of the extremities, or monkey butt."

So much of the time the side effects seem to have the comic potential of being worse than the condition that they are supposed to treat/cure/alleviate/mask.

*

I think that Christian preachers, authors, ministries, churches, et al should be subject to receiving warning labels that list possible side effects that may result from exposure to them.

"Prolonged exposure may induce despair of hope for the human race."

"Aural ingestion may lead to the inability to discern beauty, the coarsening of taste and a general sense of ennui."

"Participation may cause loss of memory, paranoia and excessively high opinion of one's own ability to come to a knowledge of the truth."

Do you have any warnings or side effects that come to mind?

Hack away.

Filed in Rants

Related Tags: Prescription Drugs, Warning Labels, Side Effects, Church, Christianity

The General (Lent 2 2006)

**
Lent 2 - General B. H. Clendennen

pic axe 9 - Some Like It Hot

**


Filed in Pictures

God Loves Kittens

**
I got this forwarded email and felt compelled to share it.
*

Francesca Williams was recently contacted by her local Humane Society representative about the possibility of adopting a kitten. The Omaha, Nebraska branch had rescued a large number of kittens from an illegal kitten ranch that was raising the diminutive felines for sale on the black market. These poor animals would have been used for all manner of nefarious purposes, including, but not limited to, training targets for underground paintball leagues, use by cat jugglers (long thought to be an extinct brand of entertainment in northern Mexico), and practice run stand-ins in the service of magicians-in-training. Obviously, the Omaha Humane Society representatives were working 24/7 to place these needy animals in loving homes.

Francesca is a busy woman. She is in charge of hiring for largest manufacturer of silly string, whether you’re talking the continental US or the international market. As everyone knows, the demand for silly string has risen astronomically in the last 2-3 years. Needless to say, the last thing on Francesca’s mind was taking on the responsibility of caring for a rescued kitten.

Somewhere in the recesses of Francesca’s mind were painful memories about a family pet and its untimely passing when she was 10 years old. Bootsy was Francesca’s constant companion during many, long summer days when she was growing up. Bootsy was named for famed funk bass player, Bootsy Collins, a favorite of Francesca’s grandmother. Bootsy also received her name due to the darker fur on three of her feet. Bootsy and Francesca would lounge down by the creek, snack on tuna and graham crackers in the afternoon and curl up in her bed to share the warmth of her comforter in the winter months.

Tragically, Bootsy encountered the wrong end of a moving lawn mower blade while chasing a chipmunk in the family’s back yard. What made matters worse was that the family was unable to find Bootsy’s fourth paw, the one without the darker fur. Francesca found the paw months later while climbing an apple tree in the front yard. Her screams could be heard a half-mile away.

Although these memories were very painful for Francesca, she agreed to make a trip down to the Humane Society’s detention center. There was a little hesitation as she entered the main cat and kitten area, but Francesca overcame her past and began looking at the kittens. As she rounded the head of the second aisle her heart skipped a beat, for there was a kitten that was a spitting image of Bootsy, even down to the three darker colored paws.

Francesca was filling out the adoption papers five minutes later with a name already picked out. She would call her new friend Bootsy Two-tsy (or Too-tsy) in honor of her childhood pet.

Life with Bootsy Two-tsy was relaxing when it needed to be, playful when it was time to recreate and thoughtful during those more reflective moments. Bootsy Two-tsy entered seamlessly into Francesca’s life and filled it out wonderfully. They were so happy together.

One of Francesca’s neighbors in her apartment complex had just lost his job, his wife and his new Toyota Hybrid about the time Bootsy Two-tsy moved in. This poor soul was contemplating suicide.

Bootsy Two-tsy got out one day and began scratching on the neighbor’s door. The neighbor had decided that morning to go through with his suicide. Before he was able to bring an end to his life, he heard the scratching at his apartment door. He opened the door and found Bootsy Two-tsy on his welcome mat. He was so overcome by the transcendent cuteness of the animal that his will to live was completely restored.

A few days later Bootsy Two-tsy got out of the apartment again and made her way over to the apartment of Janelle and Warrick Thompkins. They had been having some marital problem