Political Stuff. Obama and Palin... I mean, McCain.

I just watched Obama and McCain give their shpeal to America via a forum at Columbia University. It was pretty good. What astounded me was that... I know this is blasphemy... Obama kind bored me. Look out! I feel the thunder upon me.

No seriously, I like both candidates. I do. About the only thing that I don't like about Obama is his views on abortion and in the end, that just might put me over the edge as far as the voting goes, but I don't know.

What surprised me was McCain. I found that that was first time that I actually "connected" with McCain. He's always been a bit of a mystery to me and I've always said that I felt that underneath the war hero rhetoric was a Ross Perot waiting to charge the Nuke button, but not after tonight.

Just some evening political thoughts from an Okie who's just trying to figure this all out.

What I really want is another J.F.K. But I'm thinking, unfortunately, not happenin' in my lifetime. A few quotes from Kennedy to help us to remember the days when a President could inspire us to do great things as a country and dream big things as a free people.





A man may die, nations may rise and fall, but an idea lives on.

Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men.

As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.

A child miseducated is a child lost.

Domestic policy can only defeat us; foreign policy can kill us.

I look forward to a future in which our country will match its military strength with our moral restraint, its wealth with our wisdom, its power with our purpose.

If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.

Mankind must put an end to war, or war will put an end to mankind.

We need men who can dream of things that never were.

Let us call a truce to terror. Let us invoke the blessings of peace. And as we build an international capacity to keep peace, let us join in dismantling the national capacity to wage war.

Houston Hurricanes 101

Jagged lines of cars at every gas station. Sitting in unending traffic jams, waiting for the car to run out of gas and the hurricane to slaughter you whilst you idled. Entire families peeing in the woods. Old women fighting old women for the last lonely Dasani bottle at the Krusty Mart. Oh the sweet memories of Houston Hurricanes...

Oddly, the last Houston hurricane debacle was one of the most traumatic experiences in recent memory. And for what? Nothing but a few overturned palm trees and a gentle sprinkle here or there. I've seen harder rains coming from the raised leg of a Chihuahua. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was one of the biggest Nature-fake-outs in the history of the United States.

Now that I've said all of this, I'm sure that this hurricane Ike will be doing much more damage to Houston, and I'm in no way saying that you should ignore that big glob of swirling clouds that has taken over all of your normal television programming, but I am saying... possibly consider staying at home instead of bolting for the nearest gas station. Or at least consider finding a nice comfy storm shelter... cause sitting in a traffic jam for 26 hours (no exaggeration) with a "deadly" hurricane approaching your stranded arse off the port bow... S.U.C.K.S.

I'm pretty sure that Houston has been hit by several hurricanes in its hot and humid history, and I'm pretty sure it survived. How could it not? The whole darn place is concrete.

If we were still there, instead of running for the hills, we'd pop some popcorn, kick back, get the candles ready, (in the safest place we could find- the Holtzman Fortress) and watch the show.

But hey, I'm the guy who used to get into a Ford Pinto with my buddy James and go Nader-chasing. Don't listen to me.

Irreverence Is Boweliss

An oldie but goody.

Oops

Can you imagine how hard it would be, day in and day out to have to be so unbelievably conscientious of every. single. word. you say? One wrong turn of the phrase and you might as well have flashed the camera.

This one, though... Almost as bad as Bush's "It's a crusade..."

Maybe The Best Thing I've Seen All Year

Thank you Vitamin Z, thank you.

Give It A Rest...

WARNING! THIS BLOG IS RATED PG-13. THIS BLOG IS NOT FOR EVERYONE. CONSULT YOUR PARENT BEFORE READING THIS BLOG

I'm really getting tired of commercials about erectile dysfunction. See, I'm a visual guy. Metaphors and words are powerful things for me. And when I sit down in front of the tube, after a long day of... church, to eat my delectable chirping chicken, the last words I want to hear, the last thing I want to visualize is a dysfunctional erection. I mean, didn't these guys ever learn manners from their parents?

What if I sat down to the table as a youngster, with my family, and right before my dad put that first bite of mashed potatoes and gravy in his mouth, I blurted out, "ERECTION!" What do you think would happen? A good smackin', that's what.

But that happens every day folks. I wonder how many parents have had to explain what the heck an erectile dysfunction is to their young sons or daughters over Superbowl popcorn.

And the music in these commercials... It is really just one step up from porno music. Is that supposed to elicit some sort of pheromone in the poor man watching and help him garner the courage to strut to the pharmacy-counter and ask for blue pill with a studly wink? Me thinks not. And if that ever happens to me, lord of Hosts forbid it, I'll be going to the pharm looking like inspector gadget, with Groucho Marx mustache to boot.

I don't know. I understand Pharmaceuticals advertising and I am truly glad there is something out there giving the world of men such a beautiful hope, and I realize that the word must get out somehow, but they should really start putting ratings on these commercial... Gross-out ratings. Or, "don't-take-that-bite-of-your-corn-dog-just-yet ratings."

Because it's really getting out of hand. This year, I've watched more sports than I have in many, many years and I'm not sure how many men are aware of how-out-of -hand it has gotten. Talk about a downer. How can these commercials not dampen the mood of watching your favorite sporting event? Whatever happened to the funny beer commercials? Cheery Dr. Pepper Commercials? Dancing Gap commercials? I don't drink beer, but they sure were funny. Now all I see is the grim future ahead of me. As if I needed yet another reminder of how much older I'm getting as I watch tennis players who look like they should be going to driver's ED.

I don't care how much you spruce-up the commercial with pseudo-porn music and video clips of middle-aged footsies and hammock snuggling or barefoot walks on the beach... the notion of erectile dysfunction will forever be a bonefied downer.

And So It Shall Be

Finally, from the ashes of failed ruling men, tired of watching the big boys turn the world into a idiotic war-zone... arises...

The Soccer (hockey) Mom.

We knew it would happen. Same thing happened to us guys when we couldn't get along while growing up. Mom steps in, grabs an handful of ear and hair, and creates peace, sanity, and order.


And the Soccer (Hockey Mom) shall rule the earth. Looks like the Republican party has finally caught up with CCM radio.

She's got my vote. Just saw the footage of Sarah firing off a rifle. I hate to say it, but something about that was slightly awesome, possibly even a little, dare I say it?

While we are talking about mothers... One of the earliest memories of my mother: I was probably 5 years old. We were walking back to the house from the river. Between the wooded river bank and our house was a semi-wooded pasture area. As my mother and I walked, three or four heifers and steers appeared from nowhere and began charging us. Now, I know cows don't sound very scary, but just try getting charged by one, let alone three to five.

My mother picked up a big stick, grabbed me by the shoulder, put me behind her and every time a cow charged she would yell and take a whack at the cow's forehead. She was like some viking warrior-mom of old. It was awesome. It wasn't to me at the time though; I think I peed my pants.

Anyways, after the 5th or sixth charge, the cows gave up.

I have never been so scared my whole life. I'm still to this day a tad wary of cows. My mother barely mentioned it to my dad when we returned home. All in a days work for a country-girl-preacher's-wife/mother.

Election Junkie

Here it comes folks. Old Sethie is about to get obsessed. I can't help it. I love election season. It is probably the most patriotic that I ever get. The democratic election process is uniquely American. We are a democratic republic. Genius. As Jefferson put it, we are a republic "bound by fixed laws, which the people have a voice in making, and a right to defend."

The election is a time where character is tested, and great men rise or fall. It is a grueling process but one that has been tested by fire. It exemplifies much of the freedom that we hold dearly in this nation. Yes it is flawed, yes it gets nasty, but by golly, it works.

But before you go bashing our political process of election, (which is popular among young, emergent Christians these days,) remember that things used to be a lot nastier. In 1804 Aaron Burr challenged Alexander Hamilton to a duel and shot him dead. Thankfully, none of that goes on today.

So, bring it on. Bring on all the smut and mud-slinging and biased and unbiased opinions. Because like it or not, the freedom for anyone to be able run for office is flat-out amazing. The freedom for anyone to be able to stand outside the stadium and protest a candidates views is amazing. But freedom is something you have to fight for, and the election is a part of that fight and it is a part of the beauty of this country. The good and the bad.

My favorite thing that Bill Clinton ever said was in response to a particular time where a speech from a member of his cabinet was met with hostile jeering and taunting from the audience.

Afterwards Clinton was asked what he thought of the rude crowd. Clinton responded, "Hey, just sounds like a good old-fashioned American town hall meeting to me."

You got to love it.

Sarah Palin

Ladies and Gentlemen, Introducing the future First Woman President. I have started this first sentence over 5 times. There are so many things about this whole situation baffling me. I'm just going to start spouting them off.

Palin THE FIRST WOMAN eeeeeEEEEEEEVER (or, who eeeeeEEEEEVER had a chance) nominated for the VP in HISTORY OF OUR COUNTRY and what is the media doing????? (recently corrected by Vitamin Z, Geraldine Ferraro first woman to run for VP. Sadly forgotten by moi, and the rest of the world by the wallop her and Mondale got from Regan. So a modifer is in the parenthesis before this parenthesis.) They are somehow criticizing this woman for not being an attentive mother????? Does ANYONE not see even the slightest HINT of hypocrisy in this claim??? Is the right to be nominated as a woman only allowed to over-the-top liberal crocadile-tear producing x-first ladies??? Are fathers just some sort of meat-sack that shovels food into mouths? Has this question EVER been asked of a single male???

I tell you what I like about Palin. Besides the fact that she can skin a moose, and I can't. She is all woman. That's right. Yes, it's true, she's got some metaphorical balls, and I wouldn't want to trade punches with her, but she also has grace, charm, and wit. She is darn close to being the American version of Margeret Thatcher. She is like Hemingway's dream-woman. She stands up to the bullies by serving them a stout "up-yours" drink with a slice of wit sluicing the cup's rim. She is also a mother. Not only is she a mother but she is an advocate for motherhood. She honors her husband, but you better believe that she'd throw his ass out on his ear if she ever caught him shopping for cigars with another gal.

I think the Lib media hates here because they cannot find the proper angle for which to attack her. It is easy to attack a man about any pro-life stance he might take, but it be damn hard to attack a woman who has popped out 5 kids and refused to abort number 5 because it was going to be a child with special needs. Not only did she choose to keep the baby, she said she would be an advocate for the weak. How dare the media attack her on her pro-life stance and turn around and tell her that she isn't being a good enough mother to her special needs baby. They are the bastards that thought she should have killed the poor little tike before it could be mothered.

I'm even flabbergasted at the WOMEN in the media!!! I think it is because she just isn't their sort. The women in media are used to rising to the top by playing slime-ball right along with the big boys and somehow slithering by them and slicing their throat in the night, to even out the odds. Palin is different. She rose to the top by out-pitching the big boys. She grew up in a state where women are outnumbered by men 2-1 and she learned that to beat the boys, you just gotta outrun, out-punch and out-shoot them. She beat them fair and square.

Now, I have not doubt that McCain picked her strategically, but I also think McCain was just being McCain. He saw a great running mate, no, the BEST running mate for our Country right now, and, well, ran with her.

For crying out loud, the least we can do, as a country is take a moment, and revel in this historical moment.

Palin has won my vote in the past week. Obama the Lord (as my friend Forky calls him) needs a little more seasoning, not to mention a lesson in the concrete.

Here is some of her speech from last night, if you missed it.

Not a bad day...

I can't believe how flabbergastingly beautiful it is here in NYC. I know what some of you are thinking. "Oh shut up you typical NYC-braggart." But I just can't help it. It is so beautiful that I almost skipped down the street today. Then I realized just how gay that would look (not that there's anything wrooong with that,) and settled for whistling.

Today's chores included:

Getting up at 7-ish and walking my heck-of-a wife to the subway. I took the long way home around Columbus Circle and by Central Park.

Stopped to pick up a NY Times from a street vendor.

Went home and sat on my deck and read said NY times under the baby-blue sky and in the soft, cool breeze.

Drank coffee.

Researched Literary agents.

Drank more coffee.

Worked on dissertation.

Responded to Superchurchlady's fun blog.

Made an omelet.

Gobbled down the omelet.

Read 20 or so pages of the Sound and the Fury. (It's growing on me, finally. 9000th attempt at reading it.)

Called future employer. (Hopefully...)

Life was rough today. (Famous last words.)

Life is full of different moments. Some suck and some are heavenly. Some are tiresome (getting evicted and moving 3 times in 3 months) and leave you feeling like crap (or smelling crap, see post about poo-tub) and some make you want to go hand-gliding, or skipping. Sometimes it seems that just when everything is going great, you get a big kick in the crotch.

Today, the crotch wasn't bothered and there was no poo-tub. It was only coffee, omelets, NY times, and blue skies. When you have have those kind of days, you just gotta shout about them.

Therefore, I shout. Thank you Lord for this good day!

The trick is to somehow be thankful during the crotch-kicks too. I'm still learning that art of that, and have a looooong way to go. They are really painful. But I think it was Jesus that said, "in this world, you will have crotch-kicks, but my peace I leave you." -The Message Bible.

Seriously, I hope everyone reading this here blog experiences one or two of those days this week, despite of your circumstances.

Peace love and joy, people. Feel it. Own it. Claim it!

I'd like to teach the world to sing... a perfect harmony.... (Quick, music trivia. Who wrote that jingle?)

E.D.O.R.K.

All husbands have this talent. It can be conjured at any moment. It can be summoned no matter how weary we are.

I call it: The Emergency Dumb Outfit Reflex Kinaesthesia. EDORK, for short.

Say, your wife hears something in the night. The wife, slightly scared, wakes you up. You mumble something about the carrot juice, earwax and spaceships - something that made TOTAL sense in your dream - leaving your wife more spooked. Annoyed, she shakes your arm and tells you to listen. Then you hear hear the darn noise. (Some sort of "click" or something that the brain can't quite place.) So, you reach for the light and grab a shirt. Not just any old shirt, but the shirt that would clash the worst with your boxer briefs. Most times, that shirt is inside-out or backwards. Then comes the shoes... At first you MIGHT think "Flip-flops," but Flip-flops are rarely chosen, because they can rarely be found in these moments. After all, you might be called upon to go outside. So, your brain turns quickly to the cowboy boots, front and center, because they provide the most all-around protection and are best for stomping mice and spiders and all other things that are enemies of the wife.

Then, dear friends comes the strange pedestal factor of EDORK. Somehow, we always find ourselves standing on a chair, reaching for something, on one leg, with our wives safely on the ground or couch, watching.

Then we hear it. The chuckle. We turn and view the wife, still in her perfectly matching pajamas, pointing and chuckling at our EDORK attire. It is then that we notice that our judgment might not be what we think it is. It is then that the wife is proven superior in judgment and we are left with a strange alternative. Either get down, immediately and fix the clothing ensemble, or we act like we don't care at all and continue on our pedestal in wife-late-night-entertainment.

Most times we blaze on, and act like we knew how goofy we looked the whole time, but other times... I wonder if the wife secretly set the whole thing up. You see, it alllllllll goes back to Eden. They WANT the power. And how do they GET the power??? By slowly chipping away at our manliness. See, I wonder if our wives don't set the whole darn thing up. I wonder if they wait till we are talking nonsenical in our sleep to sneak out of bed, turn our shirts inside out, unmatch our socks, hide our pants, and strategically place the worst looking boots at the FRONT of the closet.

I just wonder...

Regardless, EDORK is a true gift. It shows that we are truly fearless. It shows that no matter what, we are not afraid of humiliating ourselves to return to our dreams.

Can I get a witness.

Top Of The Heap

Back in the Apple. Feeling good. Feeling really good. The weather is exceptional right about now.

However, during my summer travels, I did grow accustomed to being transported places and not using my limbs unless completely necessary. Meaning: Four flights of stairs, carrying my sweet wife's luggage/anvil-collection almost flat-lined me. "Clear!"

After I laid down for a few minutes to calm the ole' ticker, we headed out to eat at one of our favorite restraunts.

Heavenly sunlight, heavenly sunlight flooding my mouth with cobbler diviiiiIIIIIINE. Hallelujah, I'm almost bloating...

Okay, tired of the hymn-perversion.

Going to church in the morning. Looking forward to it.

Spirituality Rant Alert!:

I have decided that I am no longer an Evangelical Christian. I am simply, a Christian. Seriously, why don't we have Apostlical Christians? (I guess we do, they are called Catholics.) Prophetical Christans? Pastorical Christains? Teachical Christians? Healical Chrisians? Administrationical Christians? Those are all Spiritual gifts, right? Why do we teach all Christians to be Evangelists when maybe, just maybe they haven't been given that particular spiritual gift? Maybe that's why we're in the schtick we are today? Maybe that's why "Evangelical" has become synonymous with "close-minded and irritatingly pushy." People are trying to be evangelists to their neighbors when they should be cooking their neighbors dinner.

When I was a young lad, I used to tremor something FIERCE when I was forced to go door to door and hand out tracts. My words would jumble and the four Romans road turned into to something very unorthodox. To be honest, I hated it. Later I discovered that that wasn't my particular spiritual gift, and good Lord, what a relief. I thought I was just a no good un-born-again heathen.

Maybe, just maybe, teaching our kids to love their neighbor when their neighbor is mean or nasty to them is a better witness then telling them to cram the four spirchal laws down their throats?

The bottom line for me is this: The Holy Spirit is in the business of drawing a soul God. The Holy Spirit is in the business of giving the gifts to those who are there to close the deal. That may come through evangelism, preaching, teaching, cooking a meal, being a good and kind boss, or being a true friend. God speaks in a still small voice, and when done through the properly allotted gifts, they take on that attribute. When done improperly, it becomes a still obnoxious voice.

Evangelical? Who are we to claim the market on any one of those gifts.

I wanna run, I want to hide.

I've started a morning regimen of sit ups and push ups and let me tell you... wait a second...

By gum... I think I don't mind it! WOW!

That may be the first time I've ever said that about any sort of organized or self-inflicted calisthenics.

(Pausing to review my life-working-out history.)

Let's see... I despise running with a passion. (I would just assume sniff a trucker's rhoid-cushion to running a mile.) And, as I remember back to my educational prison sentence... yes, I still have a black burning coal of hatred behind each knee-cap for high school gym class.

Now, sports, that's another thing altogether. I love a good romp on a court or in the dirt and always have. I love football, baseball, tennis, racket ball, volleyball, aerobic walking if I am walking with someone because you can talk and pass the time, monopoly... (That's right, folks, monopoly is cardio when I play it. Especially for the "other players," otherwise known as "My future tenants/slaves." muhaha... muahahahaha... muuuHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

About the only sport I hate playing is basketball. That's because I pretty much suck at it, and I ain't exactly a human skyscraper, and call me prideful, but when some 14-year-old kid in the youth group blocks my lay-up -or even my alley-oop for crying out loud - all of my faults and/or awkward memories, from childhood to present, go rushing before my eyes.

Anywho, other than basketball, as for just doing something for the sake of doing it, "working-out" sucks. It sucks bit poo-covered cow utters.

Seriously, if you think about it, working out is torture. I know, that isn't really a terribly original epiphany, but hang on a second. I know we say, "oh, wow, this is like torture!" But do we REALLY ever consider it to actually be torture??? Does torture REALLY have to be administered by the Japanese or a militant Islamist to be considered authentic, Grade-A torture? What does torture do and work to achieve? Here is the definition of torture, according to good old Webster:

1 a: anguish of body or mind : agony b: something that causes agony or pain
2: the infliction of intense pain (as from burning, crushing, or wounding) to punish, coerce, or afford sadistic pleasure

Sounds pretty much like the friggin StairMaster, Nautilus, or treadmill to me. Suuuure, we listen to music to take our mind off the pain, but I have a theory that eventually, hearing "Where the Streets Have No Name" is someday going to be to the Christian-weight-lifting-enthusiasts what Beethoven's 9th was to the psycho-rapist in A Clockwork Orange: a form of torture in itself.

Yes, I can see it now. Someday, Chris Tomlin is going to start singing "Where the Streets have No Name" (a song he covers) at a concert, thinking he will surprise all his avid worshipers by cleverly enlightening thousands unto spirit-U2-ality, but instead, he will choke on the chorus as he sees several thousand men writhing on the ground covering their ears and screaming for their mommas. Tomlin's last thought before he stops singing the song? "Why didn't any of big fellas eating chili-dogs writhe around on the ground when I started to sing the U2? Maybe momma was right... Maybe it really isn't a praise and worship song. Maybe it IS of the Devil."

Welp, arms are getting tired from all the push-ups. Gotta go. Chick-fil-a is 'a calling.

Et' tubes Guglie?

I suppose everyone has heard about the guy, pastor Michael Guglie-manilli singing healing songs with the oxygen tubes in his nose. Am I the only person who finds that mildly funny? (Now I said, "mildly.") I'm sorry, I keep remembering the Conan O'Brien skit "Dudz'a'plenty" in which Conan invented a boy band. Conan insisted that there be some cool handicap guy in the boy band as all famous boy bands tend to have someone sporting a cane. So Conan made one of his Dudz'a'plenty boyband members sit in a wheel-chair and sing with an oxygen mask. He called it a "Vanity Respirator." It was hilarious.

I suppose I should be a little more judgemental about ole' Guglie, but I really just can't. I'm more prone to rolling my eyes and chuckling. I've done my fair share of stupid things in church. Like the time I stood in front of the entire church, spoke my bible verse (one of 4 bible drill winners) and flipped-off all my friends sitting in the balcony, especially the ones who kept giving me phantom golf claps. Now, it wasn't an all-out "hanging of the bone" on my part. It was gently tapped on my arm as my arms where crossed. However inconspicuous I felt my little birdie was, my tapping foul finger sent a shock wave through rows and rows of the very people who shine the buckle on the bible belt. When I got home, I met my dad who was clutching a very different kind of belt. It was fun. My mom barely spoke to me for two weeks. I think it was the only time my parents actually stuck to a grounding.

Now, some of you might be saying, "well, you were just a kid then." Well, I suppose so, but grown up men make little boy mistakes every single day. Just ask their wives. And I guarantee you that not a sermon or service goes by when a pastor or music minister isn't flipping someone off in their minds from the pulpit. "Well, there's that old crabby bastard just a' sittin' in the back with his arms folded. It's because of him that nobody can hear back there. He has been the biggest thorn in the ass of the budget committee." or, "There's old such and such. Scowling as USUAL over the Anthem I picked. He can just kiss my butt and smell it."

The point of this post is this: We aren't so disgusted with the sin, really. I mean, he didn't really "harm" anyone. He wasn't banging the secretary or laundering church money. He was just doing a grand bit of faking. And yes, Pastor Michy Vanilli may have dashed a few sick people's hopes who admired him for his battle with cancer (fake-cancer.) But come on, there are plenty of other role models who have fought and beaten cancer. And if they can't listen to his songs anymore then they better just stop quoting David's psalms since David killed a man so he could get freaky with the man's wife.

We are disgusted because it makes Christians and Christian Music look so dumb and gullible. It is also a tad sickening that this guy played upon the illness of others to get money. But don't all songwriters do that in smaller, more acceptable ways? Do they reeeeally feel all their emotions towards their daughters when they write those wedding songs? Now WAY they are thinking -just a little bit - "holy Osteen, this could make me richer than M.W. Smith and Amy Grant's lovechild!" Don't ya think that when Chris Tomlin or D. Crowder or Mercy Me writes that perfect praise melody, that for a brief little second, along with hearing the voices of angels they hear, "ca-ching?" Yeah, I'm suuuuuure ole' Bart doesn't regret selling the publishing rights to Only Imagine to Amy Grant for a 100 grand. And I'm suuure Amy really regrets that deal. Yeah. Riiiiight. But that's OKAY! Nothing wrong with making an honest days wages.

The dangerous bottom line is this: There is a pretty penny to be made in the CCM world and it is a business. Brody once asked the lead singer of Switchfoot for me "what's the difference between an "artist who is a Christian" and a "Christian Artist." The lead singer replied, "The Christian Artist makes more money."

The man with the tubes in his nose, faking cancer was just doing what we've all done on time or another when we cheat on our taxes, or what the Chinese volleyball player did when she was about to lose to the Americans... they fake it. They go overboard. They take advantage of the system. This man was doing what everyone of us do, except on a grander, more ridiculous level. He was just doing it from a church stage... with oxygen tubes in his nose. I will admit, that's pre-----tty low-down, but sin is sin and we've all done it and will continue to do it.


In the end I think I'll cut the tubes-in-his-nose-cancer-faking guy some slack. I'm sure he's got many-a'-night to sleep on the couch and ponder his decision. We can pick the sin, but we sure as hell can't pick the consequences.

It always sucks when a Christian publicly screws up, but what sucks more is how the Christian community reacts. We are sooooo embarrassed. Embarrassed about what? Embarrassed that man is flawed? That Christians aren't perfect? I'm not embarrassed. Maybe a little, but more amused, sadly. If we are devastated that a Christian can sin, well, get used to it. Honestly, I'm not so worried about this guy any more. His sin is out in the open. I'm more worried about the millions of Christian men dilly-dallying in front of a picture of a naked lady on their computer monitor, late at night when the wife's gone to bed.

Hopefully we can be a little forgiving to the guy and take this time to examine ourselves and our motives, and try not to be such colossal suckers. Hey, maybe the guy's got a future in a middle-aged boy band.

Kentucky Apartment Chronicles, (abridged verstion.)

So, I had planned to closely chronicle the Kentucky apartment saga/experience, reliving every morsel on this here blog. I have now grown bored with that notion. It's time to move on. I offer you the late-nite cliff-note/Tarzan (or slightly Tanto-ish, I can't decide...)version.

Kentucky remind Sethzan of Jungle where he grow up. Big bugs used to cary little Sethzan accross Jungle. Used to make Sethzan go boom boom in loincloth. Sethzan kill big Kentucky jungle spider to conquer childhood fear.

Kentucky Jungle make me feel at home, until we reach cabin. Bunch of people in the Cabin. Sethzan no like. Sethzan cannot make bathroom thunder sounds without all other man/woman-people hearing.

Sethzan hint to producer to move him and woman to nother tree. Him say, "We'll see." Him give Sethzan a wink. Sethzan think that his man-charm has scored a nice place for him and woman to have some... alone... stuff. Sorry, Sethzan has to stop typing for second to beat chest for woman painting her toe claws.

Back now. Where was I?... Oh.

Producer returns next day and says we stay at apartment. Sethzan and Amber do a little happy dance. Sethzan goes to view apartment. Apartment look like several chimps throw crazy parties on the carpet. Apartment also smell like chimps had pee pee contest near bed and the biggest bubba chimp won.

Sethzan break news to woman. Woman sees for-self. Woman holds nose.

Sethzan and woman complain to winking producer. Winking producer sends young helper to clean it. Young helper was like bad gorilla. Him not do good job.

Sethzan and woman think they stuck in chimp-pee/poo hotel. We real sad. Us spray lots of Febreeze. Too much we thinking. We start having bad dreams and having glowing tinkle water from the fumes.

Then, next day, bathtub fill up with poop water. This last bamboo stalk.

Finally we move into another house. Very nice. Owned by very nice man. Him also own a very nice woman. Rest of summer we sleep gooder.

The End.

We're baaaaaack.

The Ward's have left the building. (Building= Kenyucky... I mean, Kencrusty... I mean, Ken*ucky... WHOA!... I MEAN... KenTUCKY. There. Darn these Strangelove fingers.)

No, seriously, there were many things that I loved about Kentucky. I'm just too interested in being catty right now to list them.

First of all, I'd like to introduce the state to a little thing called, "Evolution." The bugs and critters have not yet discovered that Man, is in fact, the dominant species, and that we will kill if provoked.

Second, I would like to introduce you to a good friend of health-savy, Jenny Craig. Seriously, stop the Maddness. Burn down every fast-food establishment in your town. Throw away the motorcade of remote controled wheel-chairs and start moving your limbs. No wonder no one in Prestonsburg liked Wall-E. They must have felt some royalties were due.

I have so much to say... Sheesh. So much happened when I stepped in to that wrinkle in time. So many funny things happened to me, that have never happened before. New experiences.

So, for starters, we are going to play a game called: "Before I lived in Kentucky I had Never:"

Here goes.

Before I lived in Kentucky I had never: Listened to three Copper-head snakes being decapitated-by-hoe in the soft grass, six feet from where I was sitting in an orchestra pit, while I'm playing "Merry Old Land of OZ."

Before I lived in Kentucky I had never: Experienced the sensation of a large Moth flying down the back of my pants, getting lodged in the top of my crack and flutter for its pinched life while I played "What I Did for Love."

To be continued....

piddly post from my iphone

Hey friends and enemies (i.e. whoever engineered the traffic-light timing system in Prestonsburg, KY,) I will be posting regular in a week or so. We have zilcho Internet. This here post is brought to you via my iPhone. Thus far, this post has taken 30 minutes on the count of the half of a bar of a signal my phone is picking up. Shows end Saturday and we'll be pretty much slammed till then so I couldnt post if I wanted to. Getting a headache now. Off to see the Wizard! (on park and seventy-third, that is.)

Ten points to whoever decodes that last sentence.

Giant Bugs in Heaven?

Giant Moths. Giant Spiders. Starbucks-challenged. Overabundance of Oatmeal Cream Pies. Mullet-laden deer...

Welcome to Kentucky.

I'm a little irritated right now. It partly has to do with Kentucky, but it mostly has to do with my mac... I think. See, right now I'm typing on someone's brand new mac in our house. For some reason, the airport on my macbook pro isn't picking up this wireless signal. The borrowed mac (a simple but new MacBook) somehow has a power that my mac (a sleek but older PowerMac) has not. But see, folks, that is the mental quagmire that Kentucky offers on a daily basis. Prestonsburg is simultaneously modern and primeval. It is turvy topsy in very odd ways. For instance, there are highschools here with daycare. Not because there is a high level of premarital sex, nay, because girls are still getting married in these here parts at 15 and 16. And when they turn 16 they drive their very nice cars to school with little bubba all strapped in behind mom-the-cheerleader and dad the Class-president. That, my friends, is a time warp problem. Through it all, the people are quite possibly the friendliest people on the face of the earth, which leads me to wonder.. maybe everyone else has it backwards.

Yesterday, I was driving behind a fairly new Maxima. However, in proper Kentucky style, the car, albeit new, was missing a taillight, with no other sign of a fender-bender accident, and hanging out the left window was a large dog and a small wiener dog licking at the wind in pure K-9 bliss. Plastered below the taillights on the bumper was an assortment of bumperstickers proclaiming allegiance to Bill Clinton. It was a fast car, but it was moving at a molasses speed. Yes, it is a democratic town yet it is also a tad bit racist. (Tad=a bunch, btw) So see, it is a topsy turvy place, so to speak - a Willy Wonka state that can could cause any good ole' Texas/New-York boy to knaw off his toe in the heat of the night.

However, it is pretty. And, my wife playing the living heck out of all her roles. If you are in the area, I would highly suggest visit the Jenny Wily Theater and seeing a triple-feature. Despite the Twilight Zone-factor, this trip has been on of the most rewarding experiences of my lifed.

There will be much more to tell. Much, much more. Wiener dogs hanging out the window is simply a small ornament dangling off of the Kentucky Kwanzaa tree.

Stay tuned. It might be a few weeks, but I'll be back in the swing of things soon.

I miss NYC, really, really, really bad. I can't help it. I really just like that place, a whole heck of a bunch. Is it wrong to like living somewhere so much? I'm not sure it is. I mean, we've been taught our whole lives that heaven is our real home, and not to get to comfy and such... but that seems to go against our whole nature, not to mention Genesis and Jesus' message of the "The Kingdom is Here." What if THIS is heaven, or future heaven? What if THIS (a fractured version of the old and future earth) is our future home. Yes Earth, a new and improved Earth, is our future. Yes, I believe that someday, when all things are new, Earth will be our home. And something about that makes me happy. More than that, it makes sense.

Still Kickin'

Hello folks. Been a while. Sheesh. I've got a few minutes here so I thought I drop in and let everyone know that we are still at it. Despite all of our apartment shenanigans, (will the Pandora's box of apartment torture ever end for the Wards?) we are having a good time. Amber is just kicking serious butt as Dorothy in Wizard of Oz and as Darlene in Honky Tonk Angels. And, as of yesterday, it looks like she will be playing Morales in Chorus Line as well. The girl who plays Morales (Jennifer, an incredible dancer) injured her knee in the big Jitterbug number in Wizard. Amber was her understudy. The whole scene backstage was just like that scene in the Chorus Line with Danny hurts his knee. It was horribly sad and scary. We are praying for a quick recovery, but sadly, she might just be out for the season. I was very worried about something like that because it is such a huge part, (dancing is I.N.T.E.N.S.E...) but once again... my amazing wife rose to the challenge and dove in off-book. For me, that moment was worth every bit of the sewage and piss-carpet that we had to endure for the past month in our apartment. (More on that later. A big thanks to the incredible Francis family for rescuing us from Poo-motel!!!!)

The cast here is so incredibly talented and nice. They just welcomed Amber into the fold of Chorus Line and were so helpful with the the bazillion steps.

Sooooo, Ward-friends, if you were planning to come, now you have THREE reasons to come. Amber gets to sing a great tune in the middle, dance a bunch and then sing that awesome song at the end, "What I Did for Love..." Do I sound proud? I don't know... maybe just a tad. Plus the rest of the cast is just awesome too. They will all have great careers, no doubt about it.

I have butt-loads to tell. Mucho buttloads. Good lord. Next week the shows will all be open and I'll have a little time to do a little blogging and more writing.

It feels good to write a little. My Lord do I miss writing. There are a couple of Editors at the humongo publishing houses right now reading my Novel write now so keep your fingers crossed for me, would ya?

Peace out little chillin'. Happy Fourth of July, and eat lots of Freedom Fries.

(The first pic is just one of Prestonsburg. The second is one I snapped of a Chorus Line rehearsal.)

Kentucky Update

I'm tarred. I'm not used to 14 hour work days... Yes, that would make me a wuss. My dad used to get up at 3 in the a.m., milk cows till 6 in the a.m., go haul hay for 4 or five hours or any other farm chore that required 12 eggs for breakfast. (No kidding, the man ate a pan of biscuits and a dozen eggs for breakfast to prepare for his day.) And for those of you that haven't had the pleasure hauling hay, it is probably the sweatiest work on the face of the planet. The last time I hauled hay, it felt like I had been kicked in the groin, excepted all over. Kind of a full body crotch kick... or something.

Anywho... that little digression just put a stop to all my plans for whining about working 14 hour days... playing the piano while watching my hot wife dance and sing. Poor little me. Thanks dad. Dangit.

Other than that, I saw a few people today at the Mcdonalds that looked like their foreheads were juuuuuust a tad on the broad side, if you know what I mean. I also talked to a local that just about make me leak in my underoos with his southern wit. "We're just a bunch of hillbillies up her, although we prefer to be called "Appalachian Americans." Southern humor is the best.

Oh, and I get to wear a cowboy hat and a cowboy shirt for the show. The two ladies that came to fit me asked me if I had any jeans. I looked down at the jeans on my lower half and said, "what the heck do you call these?" The taller one replied, "Sugar those ain't jeans." The southern boy in me wanted to return the cattiness with a comment about how her hair was a fire hazard, but then I remembered how darn funny REAL southern people are, and when they give you a verbal lashing, it just means they like you. I laughed and reluctantly agreed. She asked me if I had any Wranglers. I paused and said, "yes." I lied through my city-slicking teeth. They knew I was lyin' but I stood firm against their suspiciously raised eyebrows.

Wranglers are an offense to geometry. Worst of all Wranglers look make you look like you've got a hungry butt because they always ride up your crack and make your arse look three times as big as the good Lord made it. And I don't need any help in that area thank you kindly. The best thing about designer jeans is they sort of hide your butt, or make you look like you've got a butt if you don't have one. It sort of like, "hey, there are the pockets but wait... wait... ooooooh, there's the butt, or is there? Whatever the case, they must work out."

Well, time to turn in. I hope you have enjoyed this update.

We Made It

The Kentucky mountains have two things in great abundance:

1. Trees.
2. Men sporting Mullets.

It is really beautiful up here. We are sharing a cabin with several young and enthusiastic people in the show. I fell just a tad like a camp councilor. The cabin where we landed houses most of the tech guys. They are all outside by the woods right now, burning scrap wood from the set and smoking... stuff. They seem to be pretty nice fellas. "Stuff" does that to ya though. I don't think I've ever met a mean "stuff" smoker. I don't know though, they may just be smoking good old home-grown tobacco.

Amber and I got lost in the mountains on our way back from the town food market, creatively named, "Food Town," as opposed to "Food Suburb," or "The Greater Food." Food Town had two things in abundance in its isles:

1. The biggest selection of Little Debbies I've ever seen.
2. Men sporting Mullets deciding on which Little Debbies they want for breakfast.

Getting lost in mountains, in the dark, is a tad creepy. A deer came flying out of the woods and in front of the car. I spared her life, or she spared mine. I think the deer had a mullet. However, it could have been a trick of the light. You know, like when you look at a light and then you look away and still see light? The deer could have just appeared to have a mullet from me staring too long at some dude's mullet whilst he gathered the ingredients for his morning Little Debbie omelet.

Yes, this post is just a tad on the city-slicking snob side.

Did I mention how beautiful it is up here?

New York State of Mind

Amber and I are heading out for Kentucky tomorrow and we are a little sad. We are excited about all the fun stuff we get to do but we have really grown to love our place here in the city, not to mention some new friends that feel like they've been our friends for a loooong time, and a really great church. (Of course it doesn't help that the weather up here has been nothing short of paradisal lately.)

I think part of the sadness comes from the fact that we are just feeling like we are getting settled in. Things are familiar to us and that's always hard to leave.

Everyone always gets a little antsy when they talk about moving to NYC because they can't imagine living in such a big and busy place. But one of the many cool things about the city is that every 5 blocks or so is its own little neighborhood. Pretty much everything you need is within your five blocks and that's essentially how it is for every 5-10 blocks in Manhattan.

Don't get me wrong, Kentucky is beautiful and we get to do some really great music in the middle of the rolling appalachian hills, but this past year has been a bit of a rollercoaster and just about the time we are feeling settled in our new place, we are up and out again. And by golly, there is something to be said about feeling settled. I've moved around my whole life and so has Amber. We know that Kentucky is were we are supposed to be this summer and we'll be so durn busy that the time will fly by like a Subway... sub...way.. AWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

And so it goes in this business.

You can never say never with God, but we have pretty much decided that after this, we doubt we'll be doing something like moving out for 11 weeks again. I'm sure it will be a blast and we'll have lots to share, but after this summer, we're thinking we might want to plant a few roots down here in this big awesome town. (Knock on wood praise the Lord.)

The blog will probably go silent for a week or two but as soon as we can, we'll give you an update!

The Biggest Single "Thing" in our Solar System

Jupiter's Magnetosphere!!! (Although, I'm up to being schooled on this. This was recently learned on my part.)

Jupiter's magnetosphere is very special. It is the biggest thing in the entire solar system. Not only is it big enough to hold all of Jupiter's moons, but the sun itself could fit inside. It goes all the way to Saturn. If it could be seen at night, it would be as big in the sky as the full moon or up to five times as big.

Jupiter has a wind-sock shaped cloud which goes around inside the magnetosphere. Jupiter's magnetosphere is so powerful it also makes radio signals and other waves, called whistler waves, chorus and hiss. In fact, you can tune your radio to an empty station, late at night in the desert, and you would be able to hear the sucker. You would hear a kind of roar or weird science fiction sounding noises. People have been seriously creeped out by it's noise. The magnetic field is so intense and wide, that it influences Earths magnetic field, adding billions of watts of electrical energy to it. Essentially, Jupiter is on big nuclear power plant in the sky.

The magnetic field is generated by eddy currents in Jupiter's metallic hydrogen core. Magnetic fields are pretty interesting and intense things. If it weren't for Earth's big magnetic field, the sun's solar wind probably would have blasted our atmosphere off long ago, evaporating all the water, causing the atmosphere to become very dense and heated, sending the greenhouse effect out of control. In a couple million years, we'd be looking like Venus- a 900 degrees hell pit.

Jupiter's magnetosphere is a dangerous place. If you or I were to venture into any part of that puppy, then we'd be dead in short order. If astronauts ever try to go there, they will have to have some serious lead protected suits, not to mention a lead-lined spaceship. That would mean that we would have to build the space ship to Jupiter in space, because it would be too heavy to blast off! Also, parts of Jupiter's magnetosphere hold the hottest parts of our Solar system. Even hotter than the sun. Jupiter's magnetosphere reaches all the way to Saturn. Huge. If it were say, where Mars is in the solar system line up, we might be living in a very different world. Or not living.

Five Years Ago

Five years ago, my nervous system was on high alert. My hands were shaking and I had managed to down about a half a donut before I slipped my tuxedo onto my overheated body. I had tried to visit the tanning bed the day before... because, well, you know... and stayed a little too long under the lamps. Ahem.

However, when the sanctuary doors opened and the woman of my dreams started to walk down the isle towards me, my hands stopped shaking. My leg stopped wiggling. Every ounce of energy went into my smiling muscles and tear-generators. I thanked and praised God for the beauty that was walking my way, and since then a day hasn't gone by that I haven't repeated that ritual of praise and thanks.

Five years ago today, I married the most incredible girl on the planet. It has been nothing short of an adventure ever since.

In the past five years I have come to know that there isn't anything that my wife cannot do. I am constantly amazed at how kind, loving, encouraging and mesmerizingly talented she is. In about the span of two months, the girl had learned the guitar and was playing it on tour with me, on stage, in front of sometimes-thousands of people. I am constantly surprised by what she is capable of. Last time I was at her parent's house in Tulsa, I watched in amazement at the young Amber, all of 9 years old, playing piano, WITH AN ORCHESTRA.

The first time I saw her was when she was playing Rosemary in "How to Succeed in Business." She lit up the stage. I turned to the person sitting next to me and said, "Lord have mercy." From that moment on, I was always smitten with her. I didn't start dating her until three years after that, but I was always looking for her. In the halls, in choir, in the practice rooms at Baylor... I can still see her coming in late to Choir with her wet curly hair as she had obviously just woken up maybe a half an hour before.

I talked to her a few times through those years but I can only remember saying things that made little sense and thinking, "what in the heck did I just mumble?"

Then finally one day, I was asked to play for the Gospel group she was singing with. I internally said "Hallelujah" and soon after, I began to put together coherent sentences while talking to her and we became great friends.

But it was Harry Potter that did the trick.

When I toured with her Gospel group, Amber was in charge of calling the band and making sure we had the itenerary. One night she called me and I asked her how she was doing. She told me that she had picked up the first Harry Potter book and was reading it because the "chap" (a highly edited and re-typed word) she was dating had told her Harry Potter was straight from the Devil's pen. She told me that after reading it, she didn't see what the big deal was and that she was just loving the book. Then, for some reason, I asked her to read a little of it to me. I think it caught her off guard but she said "okay," with eternal cuteness and began to do so. She read about a half a chapter and I remember thinking... "I wish this woman would read to me every single night for the rest of my living days." It wasn't long after that... we were hot on the trail to the altar.

I love that girl of mine like I never thought I could love anyone. Sure, we get in fights every once in a while and we argue and we aren't perfect, (mostly me on the "not perfect" side) but these past five years have been the most exciting, blessed, and just downright happy days of my life. Every day she inspires me to be a better man and one of these days I might come close to deserving her, but I doubt it.

Happy anniversary to my incredible, captivating, wife.

Next stop: Kentucky.

Indy 4: (I Slump As I Type This.)

I'm sorry... I'm going to have to say what everyone is thinking but too reverent to speak a bad word.

Indy 4... kinda sucked. This picture sort of says it all for me.

Now, I use the word "sucked" in a relative sense. Not toooo relative, but certainly relative. Lucas and Spielberg have forced me to grade this film on a curve that they have set for adventure-sci-fi films. We are talking about the men who created E.T. We are talking about the man who wrote and directed Close Encounters of the third Kind when he was 29. We are talking about the man who created Chewbacca, Yoda, Obi-wan, Han Solo. But most importantly, we are talking about the wonder-duo who created INDIANA FRIGGIN JONES.

SPOILER ALERT: This review will contain plot elements that you may not want revealed until you see the film. But, I'm telling you, it won't matter. Everybody knows its got something to do with aliens, so make one up yourself over your ham and eggs, you'll probably come up with a plot that equals this smouldering poop-ball of a plot.

I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't. And maybe it is because we watched it right after we say August Osage County on Broadway- one of the most amazing plays I've ever seen. I know all those people in my play. They are all members of my extended and immediate family. (Some of my family still live in Osage County, Oklahoma.)

Back to the task at hand.

My problems with the flick:

A swash-buckling Indy was no longer believable, sadly. I don't know if it was the directing or the lack of build-up... but every punch that Indy gave or received was just hard to swallow, considering the man is 65. Granted, the dude looks friggin awesome for 65. If I look that good, and I will, at 65, I'm going to come back in time and kick my 33 year old but right out of this chair...

Then there was Shiah Beowulf, or whatever the crap his name is. (One of the two Hollywood names that I'll never get, and and I'm too lazy to look up. The other one is M. Night Shamalamadingdong.) I guess he was alright; he was no River Phoenix, but talented enough to like. But come on. I could see his sonship to Indy coming a million miles away.

Okay, okay. You know what this movie reminded me of? A Disney re-enactment. You know at Disney Land when they are re-doing a scene from Indy and then Harrison Ford makes a surprise appearance? Then he says his lines with a grin on his face as if he knows that you know that he's really not Indy, but that you really love Indy and him showing up is bringing you great pleasure? You know what I'm saying? I never felt like that Harrison really bought his Indy-ness. I think he had fun. But more fun because he was still able throw some punches at 65 without being rushed in for a quadruple bypass. Hooray for him and his superior genes. What I wanted was magic, and magic... I did not get. Sure there were some "fun" moments. Sure it was great to see Indy running around old ruins, but overall, it was Indy by the numbers.

Indy 4 was to Indy 1,2,3 is what Star Wars episode 1 was to Star Wars 3,4,5. I wasn't even thrilled about the return of Marian. It was all just too hokey. I know, I know. It's an Indian Jones movie. It's supposed to be a little corny. But the great thing about the original films is that you could really tell that the creators believed in the material. Here, not so much. It was like dear old dad dressing up like Santa Clause and going through the Santa Clause motions and we all play along. The difference being, it was much cooler when Dad really made an effort to help us believe that he WAS REALLY Santa Clause, thereby causing the whole latter-day charade to be a little... depressing. Depressing because, "wow, dad is looking older in that Santa costume. That means I'm older too. Wow. Old. There's really no such thing as Santa Clause. I'm old. Pass the eggnog, the eggnog WITH the liquor."

Here, the director and creator said that they made this movie for the fans. Mistake number 1. Any time you make a work of Art for any other reason than the sheer joy of it, for yourself, then it turns out a little unbelievable.

Everything seemed a little bit lazy. From the Roswell stuff to the CGI flying saucer bit at the end. Even the trick-designed temple. The crystal skull even looked dumb. Come on. Something that size, solid crystal? No way they'd be able to toss it around like a plastic football. Shoot, the original Crystal Skulls look ten times better. Kate Blanchet was even one-dimensional and comical. No wonder the Ruskies are ticked about this film.

I don't know. I hate to be such a party pooper. I would still recommend seeing it. It is some good summer fun. But nowhere NEAR the fun of the first three films. I would even prefer seeing the Mummy films over this one. And THAT, ladies and gents, is something I NEVER thought I'd say.

In the end, I applaud the creators and actors for giving it their all. These guys are my heroes. But on a scale of 1-10 on the Spielberg/Lucas chart... I'd say it scored about a 4-6. (I can't think of a Spielberg film that has scored lower than 4 on that chart, btw) Up their with maybe Hook. But even Hook had more magic than this. Maybe because it was missing Sean Connery or Saula or Marcus. Don't know. It just lacked the charm, wit, and bravura that the originals had, even at their worst. (Temple of Doom.)

I'm pretty sure I won't be buying this film when it goes to DVD. If I do, I'll buy it for the special features. I'd like to compare the enthusiasm that the filmmakers had in the first films to the enthusiasm they had on this film. I'd like to compare the skinny, nerdy Spielberg and Lucas of Raiders, running around like a giddy teenagers, reveling in every moment of torture and danger that they were putting the squirming actors through with the bugs and snakes, to the fatter and richer directors of today zooming around the sets in their jeeps telling the actors to jump around at the non-existent ants and stuff that would be added later at the Skywalker Ranch.

One thing that the newest installments of Star Wars and the lndy 4 has taught me. CGI is still nowhere as good or as believable as good old fashioned models and puppets, or real snakes and real bugs. Nothing will ever top the first 30 minutes of Raiders. Nothing. Ever. Just good old fashioned filmmaking at its best. From the lighting to the editing to the acting to the directing.

Lastly, I'm pretty sure this was all shot digitally. Film looks so much better. It just does.

Final Grade: C. I hate giving that grade. I really do. I feel like I'm talking bad about my father or something.

Science Trivia!

This could be very tricky or very simple.

Either way, you may NOT use the internet for help. That's cheating, and zero fun!


Here tis'

What is the biggest "thing" in our solar system? (Thing=1 thing, or object.)

One More German Post: A BIG Thanks

I just wanted to say again how darn happy that I passed that test. I also wanted to say a quick word of thanks for all the good folks in Houston and abroad for their prayers and for putting up with all my trips and making me feel welcome and loved.

Thanks to the Holtzmans for their constant love and warmth. You guys made my trips feel like a visit to my folks. You've been there prodding me along from the start and I can't express how much I love ya.

Thanks to Josh and Elise Moore, for your constant encouragement and inspiration. You guys are just a powerhouse of a couple.

Thanks again to Greg Stahl for all your encouragement and understanding throughout my whole degree process. I can't thank you enough for always telling me that my degree comes first but at the same time using me at WTBC in the ways that always emphasized my strengths. I'm sorry I didn't get to catch lunch with you last time I was there, but you are loved and appreciated.

Thanks to Cary and Popcorn for letting me use Barney (their spare car!) on my visits. You guys saved us a truckload of money on my visits and you've also been a constant fount of prayer and encouragement. Cary, your project is one of the most enjoyable things I've ever worked on. I can't wait to hear the finished product.

Thanks to Tim and Angela Boone... these guys have been quietly helping Amber and I since we've known them. If it weren't for them, we wouldn't have been able to complete our last CD or move to NYC. I'm not sure if they want people to know all that but I just had to include them into the mix. I have hardly met kinder people. When I needed testing for dyslexia this past month, Tim (a well known surgeon) and his wife went out of their way to find a friendly neurologist for me to take the exam. Also, the man saved a friend of mine's life one time at church when Tim noticed the staff infection on my friends arm and how it was swelling. My friend's doctor had prescribed the wrong antibiotic and Tim called in the right prescription right then and there at church! Just salt of the earth people I tell ya.

Also would like to thank my Mother and Father-in-law. (and Baca and Tinydancer too!) I don't know what I ever did to deserve to be welcomed into such an amazing family, but they have been nothing but flat-out-incredible in their constant love and support of a such a odd-ball son-in-law. Along with my family, they are the most incredibly wonderful people I have ever known. When I first came to visit them at their house while courting Amber, I had to take a walk because I was overwhelmed with love for these people. I say a quiet prayer of thanks every time I hear a horror story from one of my buddies about their in-laws. I am truly, truly blessed beyond comprehension.

Another big thanks goes out to my Dad and Mom... if I get going here, I might not stop. A quote from my mom after I failed my German test the second time: "Son, I don't want to hear any of that business about dyslexia or ADD. Attention deficit disorder? How about attention DISCIPLINE disorder? If there is anything I've known about you since I gave birth to you, is that when you set your mind to something, hell or high-water won't stop you. Just like when you decided to get into all the honors classes in the ninth grade because that's where the pretty girls went. You just have to WANT to do it. So, buck up and get a tutor." Yes Mother. Needless to say, I got a tutor and passed. (I also got a cover letter written to the German department, not to mention an incredibly pretty wife.)

Of course, my wife... Off the charts. She deserves a truckload of diamonds and a hundred love-songs for all the encouragement and support she has given me. More on that later. (Five year anniversary coming up in three days!)

Of course there are a ton of people who have been encouraging and who have been praying for me all the way... Joan and Rick, Susan and Dave, Michael and Jean, Susan and Rick, Phil and Brenda... the list goes on and on and on.

All of that sounds like I just won the Nobel prize or an Academy award or something, but for me, I might as well have. It has been a looooooong haul with this here degree and this German test just about kicked my but in the 11th hour. (Cue Rocky music.) So I'm feeling mighty good right about now, and sometimes you just need to give thanks. It feels like a giant German Waterbuffalos' hoof has just been removed from my crotch (Or something like that,) allowing me to FINALLY graduate. Oh the eloquence of a DMA candidate...

Thank you guys, and thank you JESUS! Hallelujah Howdy-doo-ya!!!

Now lets all hold hands and join in the Doxology...

Lately

Soooooo. How's it going? Been slam-busy here learning three honking scores. The music I have to learn in about a week:

A Chorus Line
Wizard of Oz
Honky Tonk Angels.

Don't get me wrong, I like the music. I LOVE the Wizard of OZ. Its just that... that's a dang buttload of music to learn in a week. A crap-blasted-drive-me-to-smoke bunch of music.

Other than that, I just haven't been in the mood to blog lately. I can't figure out why either. I've read plenty of things blog-worthy. Like, the Pope declaring E.T. as our alien-brothers and sister... things in Christ. I found that to be both a tad weird and cool as heck.

Speaking of cool, Iron Man was cool... Prince Caspian was cool as well, although, Iron Man was cooler...

I've been reading a bunch about how people are ticked off at the deviations from Lewis' book. Come on. What do you expect? Personally, there were only two things that annoyed me about the movie, the rest I enjoyed a great deal. Here goes: 1. Prince Caspian's hair. He had way to much hair and it made me envious. 2. Kids fighting battles. Not that I think kids shouldn't fight and kill, I do. But it's just not realistic. I can't get into toddler blood-battles, only because I really don't believe that they can kick butt. Maybe if they were some sort of cybertronic terminator kid. Now, that would be a bad-a munchkin. (Okay, as I wrote the second annoying thing I remembered a third annoying thing.) 3. Aslan was cooler this time around, but they made the lion smile when he hugged Lucy. I thought that was a little gay. (That is not meant to offend any homosexual reading this, and is purely a slang term, meaning I thought Aslan smiling was lame. In fact, I tried to think of another word to use, but gay just sort of best wrapped up what I was feeling about the smiling lion, so there you have it.)

But there is something about those Narnia books... they remind me of something. Sort of reminds me of Christianity. Hmmm. I wonder if they are Allegorical?

Truth is, they are not. There are parallels for sure, but Lewis did not set out to write an Allegory. He set out to write a fantasy world, the Allegory was incidental/more intentional as time went by. I do love the parallels to Christianity, but first I want to see a fantasy. I figure that God gave us this big ole' imagination... and we've already got the Bible stories, which are great. So why not make up some new stories?

Ironman: Kicked A-S-S. Bigtime. Roberto Downy Jr. is one of our generation's most amazing talents. I am so glad that guy is done visiting the slammer. It's about time. More detailed review of that coming...

Anywho, that's about it for me tonight. Sorry I don't have much more to offer for your evening pleasure. I apologize for the grotesque overuse of the word "cool" but my window is open by my desk and the air that floweth througheth it is nice and... cooooooool. I suppose I could have substituted cool with "neatopaskeeto" or "fantastilicious" but I'm too lazy and this is a blog. You get to read it for free. That gives me the right to overuse cool until it morphs into a giant fingernail craping down your cranial chalkboard. cool cool cool cool cool cool cool. CoooooooooooooooOOOOOOoooooOOOOOooooL.

I sure will miss NYC. Man, will I ever. It has been a sunny 65 degrees steady for the past two weeks. Central Park has been downright dreamy.

In the immortal words of Kip Dynamite, "Peath Out."

Planet X (Or Nemesis Star)

When I was about 7 years old we had this globe. I loved that globe with a passion. I don't know why, but I just did. I used to spin it around and run my fingers across the fancy raised mountain ranges and dream about going other places.

One day, I was staring at the globe and I said, hey mom... the earth looks like a big puzzle. I think that maybe all the continents were together at one time. Don't you think? I just remember my mom and dad looking at each other.

Two years later we moved. I lay in bed one night and added up the age of the earth. I had just learned that the earth was supposedly billions of years old and yet, the bible seemed to only add up to several thousand years. And then there was all that flooding business and the rainbow. Well, according to my science book, the rainbow was just light refracting off of water. And good lord, what about the dinosaurs?

A year after that, my dad gave me Cosmos by Carl Sagan. I don't think there has been a book that has more captured my imagination. I used to lay in bed and study all the cool pictures and imagine what it would be like to go there. We had just moved the second time to Indiana, and I'm not sure if you know this, but Indiana has some spectacular starry skies. So I would sit out on the back porch and pick a big glowing star and imagine going there in an instant.

Then of course came all the other celestial stories in the bible that didn't seem to make senses. The sun standing still, fire from the sky... the star of Bethlehem... They always bothered me because I had learned that things like that... well, the don't just happen.

Fast forward through about 15 years of doubt and faith... to my geology class in undergrad. I took the class because I thought it was going to be a blow off. Nay, it was not. In fact, outside of my Astronomy lab, it was the most difficult course in my whole undergrad. But one thing stuck from that class. They professor's views on Global warming. He was a published Geologist that would teach a semester and then go out and do... important... geology stuff. His view of mankind being responsible for global warming was this: Hogwash. Before you get riled up, the man was an atheist democrat as well. Anyways, he said that the world's climate goes in cycles. And that civilization has just been lucking out for the past 8 thousand years or so. And even then, a few hundred years ago the earth's climate was about 20 degrees colder. What he did say, was that they really don't know what causes the abrupt changes. They really don't have a definitive answer for plate tectonics. The moon just doesn't have that kind of power, and the sun pulls even less on the earth. That's why they try to explain it all happening in million or billion year time periods. However, even that is full of holes. What' even weirder is that the other planets seem to be heating up as well.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago.

There are two theories about planet x. One the scientists don't have much of a problem with, and the other, well, for some reason, they don't like it.

First is the Nemesis Star theory. It goes a little something like this: One day, the dinosaur big-wig scientists were all sitting around a table and realized that the big extinctions tend to happen on a cyclical basis. Every several hundred million years or so. So, a few scientists came up with a not-so-crazy idea: First, that our sun isn't that much different than all the other stars in the sky in that it is actually binary. Most stars are. We've always thought that our sun is a little weird that way, and if it is a single star, then it is. So these scientist believe that every several hundred million years, our twin star, an failed star called a brown dwarf, makes its way on a long elliptical orbit towards us. It drags along a bunch of comets and meteorites in its wake, and bombards the earth with some big ones. The theory, is quite possible. This, they say, wipes pretty much everything out every several hundred million years.

The second one, scientists don't like. It is the planet x theory: Its proponents say that the orbit is much shorter. About every 3600 years and would put the next fly by at 2012. They say that it could even cause the earth to stop rotating for a day or two. It would also, probably cause quite a bit of earth quakes and probably a huge flood. (Just imagine what the moon does to the tides.) Then, that reminded me of a few story in the bible, Joshua. So, I did a little search and according to the biblical archaeological timeline, Joshua kicked some but about 1480 B.C. And, around the same time, on the other side of the planet, they Mayans wrote of the sun disappearing for a day or two. They cast bets on where it would rise. Weeeeeellll, that pretty much goes in line with the 3600 year fly by. Then of course, there's the flood that was probably about 3600 years before that, and wiped out the ancient Sumerian civilization, which happened to be a more advanced culture than the Egyptians. And I won't even begin to talk about how they talked about a 10th planet, they called, "the destroyer." (They were very advanced astronomers.) It's just gotta make you wonder if Noah wasn't some kick-butt Sumerian astronomer. Sort of like Superman's dad on Krypton.

Anyways, a more recent flyby by a brown dwarf twin on an elliptical orbit, makes some sense to me. It makes sense as to why the sun is throwing big friggin storms our way. It makes sense why the other planets are heating up. It makes sense of our extreme plate tectonics. It makes sense as to why our polar caps seem to take random shifts every 10000 years or so. (That Woolly mammoth they found in Siberia... it had tropical leaves in its jaws. Something froze that sucker where it stood, or it drown and froze quick.) It makes sense of all the ancient documents like the bible talking about these huge, world-wide disasters. It makes sense of the flood, and the sun standing still in the sky. It makes of why civilization is so very, very young.

Also, when the first planet X theories started to rise, scientists didn't want to believe it. Then in about 1983, they pointed a large infrared telescope and the papers where filled with the headlines: "Planet X discovered." Mysteriously, the next week the papers went silent. Then they came out with a report that it was probably just a hazy, un-formed galaxy. Shortly after, the U.S. government started work on a HONKING huge infrared telescope on the south pole, pissing all of our friends in other countries off. I don't know... it all sounds fishy to me.

So what do you guys think? Possible? Thoughts? It is weird to me that scientists don't have a problem with the Nemesis star swinging our way every few hundred million years, but they do when you start talking about 3600 years. Fun to think about...

Headline: "Bush says world leaders should condemn Myanmar junta"

He went on to further explainiate,

"I mean, hey, if I can't smoke it, then nobody else can either."

Freeeeeedooooom

If you own an iphone, stop what you are doing and download iliberty. I just finished playing Super Mario Brothers on my phone. My iphone now records video. My iphone now had GPS. My iphone has a bazillion games. My iphone has an etch'n'scetch. (the image goes away when you shake it.) My iphone now has the entire KJV on it. My iphone can edit photos. I can watch tv on my iphone and listen to satellite radio. My iphone has a guitar tuner on it. (A real one that hears the pitch.) My iphone has a piano on it that records whatever tune comes to my head. My iphone has a voice recorder on it. I can record songs on it with a band simluator. It can do just about anything you want it to. My iphone has guitar hero on it and I can make my own songs.... say like a guitar hero track with just the cello line to Elenor Rigby. Pretty soon, the iphone will change the tech-world, forever. It has been liberated and it is more amazing than I ever imagined it to be. The iphone even can run pro-tools, remotely. That means, when I'm by the mic and by myself, I can use my iphone as a remote controller to the protools. Oh, and its also a phone.

It is truly amazing. Astounding.

Coming Soon To a Blog Near You... (my blog, btw)

Also... New news from the Neuropsychologist... Seth Ward is officially ADHD, slightly dyslexic, and...

Evidently, according to the doc and his preliminary initial assessment of my test results... I'm officially OCD. Been that way since I was a little tike. Furthermore, the ADD acts as a nice little compliment to the OCD. I tend to obsess over the things that I can't remember and mull over them - obsessively until I no longer sleep. Causes ALLLLL kinds of guilt and procrastination. Pretty enlightening stuff. It was one of those moments when someone tells you something and its like a GONG goes off that sort of explains the missing piece that describes your whole life's angst.

I've always playfully suspected OCD because when I was a kid I used to get up 4 times a night to check the oven and door locks, and worry constantly that I had every disease that I would hear or read about, and worry that a fire would consume us all in the night, and worry about my sisters dying, and worry about the end times, and worry that my mom and dad were getting divorced, even though they were and still are hot on each other. It it wasn't for my mom and dad's patient understanding, I'd probably be in the looney bin. It became a weekly routine to wake my dear old dad up in the middle of the night with my new fear and obsession for the week. I can still see my dad sitting across the living room, in his recliner, with his disheveled hair and wearing his robe telling me, "no son, your growth isn't stunted and you don't have a brain tumor. It's all in your mind, well not the tumor just your worryin' about it. You are perfectly fine. Now, lets pray."

I suppose that tendency to obsess never went away.

I guess I just thought I eventually grew out of those old OCD tendencies. Try again. Still there evidently. I'll hear the full report next week after the doc and his crew have had a chance to decipher the code of my noggin. And good lord, what a test. All day at looking at puzzles and answering the MOST probing questions imaginable. Sheesh. However when the real couch sessions started, it turned out to be pretty darn cool.

Anyways, until then, you will get a full update on my theories of planet X and how it will very soon change our world... forever.

H-Town fun: White and Nerdy.

Since I've been back in Houston, I have:

Played for my Church here, and sang one of my favorite hymns with some of my favorite people.

In the process of mixing several tracks of an upcoming record that I produced for my good buddy, Cary. (Gonna rock people!)

Recorded a new song of mine in the wee hours of the morning with Josh Moore.

Taken a German exam for my Doctorate, (and rocked it, I hope... dear Lord please.)

Played with my little niece and nephew until they about gave me a heart attack.

And, last but not least, I got to play on a major up and coming Rap Hip Hop record. That's right, you heard me. It was so darn cool. I don't even like rap music, or didn't... I should say. My buddy, Josh Moore, producer and writer of some of Caedmon's Call's best and most well-known songs songs, not to mention the co-producer and writer of Bethany Dillon's first record, not to mention Bitter Kiss- his greatest opus, is now... producing an incredible Rap record for a pretty darn famous Hip Hop artist. (whose name I am not allowed to tell) This particular Rapper has 3 songs right now in the top ten billboard hits or whatever. Evidently Houston is somewhat of a new phenom when it comes to rap music. Something called the Dirty South. So, old Sethro will have his name listed on this guys next record as one of the musicians.

However, my trip really hasn't felt complete because I haven't managed to fit in some sort of major dental torture. There's always next time.