Poor Joe

Joe the plumber. Joe the Plumber. Joe the Plumber. Joe the Plumber. Joe the Plumber. Joe the Plumber.

Hey, I heard that if you say Joe the Plumber 50 times in the mirror you'll see Barack Obama's face! Say it a hundred times you'll see McCain's face. If you put on a wig and drink a bunch, you just might see Sarah Palin.


This poor man. Thank the Lord it wasn't Joe the Proctologist, or Joe the underarm-deodorant-tester. The fact is, that all the foo-foo-fa-fa guffawing media is acting like being a plumber is some funny profession, when it is not. My grandfather had a successful plumbing business and though most of the time you associate plumbing with the crapper, that makes up about 5% of what plumbing entails. (However a well-functioning crapper is a daily must.) Let's just say that if it weren't for the plumber, we'd all be stinking, thirsty, and dropping the kids off in the wooden out-house instead of in our candle-scented granite-tiled bathrooms. We would also fry if a fire broke out in our building. So there.

Second, I heard this poor man, because he is picking up steam for the McCain camp, is being investigated by the media for any tax evasions. What in the h-e- double-hockey-sticks is up the media's rump? Know they no decency? I am so sick and tired of the Media-Obama love affair I could just puke. First off, I'm not an Obama hater. Many of my southern friends are, but I'm not. There. Also, I'm not a McCain "lover." I think he's alright, and the better of the two, (right now) but I've always said that I felt that underneath that flashy grin is a Ross Perot waiting to play Morris Code with the nuke button.

As for Joe... For crying out loud though, just leave the man alone. He didn't ask for this. He was just minding his own business when Barack came a' knockin'. Leave the man alone. Go bother my buddy, Joey, the unemployed violinist. I can't imagine a person who would like to have his name called out on national television 1000 times a day more than Joey.

Madonna Spews Forth Her Sweet Kabbalah Palin Looove

After comparing John McCain to Hitler, Madonna went off last week on Sarah Palin in the Madison Square Garden stop of the Queen of Pop’s “Sticky & Sweet Tour”.

Madonna made her feelings quite clear by declaring that Sarah Palin isn’t welcome in her concert or party and should get off of her street. Madonna goes as far as threatening to “kick her ass”.

Madonna brilliantly ends her rant with, “It’s nothing personal” and “I love her soul”.

When asked about her aggressive heckling on the red carpet of the NY screening of her directorial debut, Filth & Wisdom, Madonna downplayed the whole thing.

“It’s a metaphor,” Madonna said. “She’s in the Republican Party, I’m in the Democratic Party.”

Madonna, Madonna, Madonna. Wilt though ever grasp the height and depth of thyne stupidity? A metaphor??? You tell Sarah Palin that you want to kick her ass off your street and you expect us to think it was a metaphor? Even if I do concede that you meant it so, it was a horrible metaphor, at best. We are all a little smarter than that. A trial lawyer, you would not make. Why has every word that hath proceedethed from thyne sullied lips been so completely mongoloidian in scope? Stop the madness. The world figured out long ago that all you eighties stars were just a bunch of goobs with the intellectual prowess of a toenail, and that whole clothing/hair style you started stands as one of our culture's most embarrassing memories. There have have been more pictures burned or hidden from that era than any other era. Your doing. We learned our lesson. You are officially a Halloween costume.

Second of all, even if Sarah were interested in attending your goofy event to watch you gyrate your cosmetically altered parts, I SERIOUSLY doubt that you could take the moose-killer in a one on one. I'm thinking you couldn't slut-dance your way out of a Palin headlock. Yes, my dear, she could take you. Maybe in one of your West Side Story fight-fantasys in which Micheal Jackson sings "You Wanna Be Startin' Something" while you fake-dance your way through a bunch of half naked gay guys who've been paid handsomely to act like they want you desperately. Maybe there, in that fantasy world... you might win.

This brings me to a close. I am absolutely frightened at the unbelievable hatred that some women have for Sarah. Most are wanna-be prom queens that always took solace in their intelligence, and in the hope that maybe someday they would be president, and that the prom-queen they despised would be styling their hair for their next national news briefing. Whatever the case, Fem-Palin-Haters are a scary bunch of loons. They need to seriously chill. Anytime you are spewing violent rhetoric about a presidential candidate, you've got probs. Chill-out. Drink a Martini. See a doctor about a lower dose of hormones. Whatever you gotta do. If anyone is resembling the Nazi Party, it is you.

An Illustration From the NCS Bible.

Genesis 3:6. When the Hen saw that the corn on the ground was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for scratching, she pecked some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, Foghorn, who was with her, and he pecked it. (7) Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; "BAKAAAWK!" they said and ran around like they had no head and hid in the corn stalks from the Great Farmer.

"I've been waiting so long for the New Chicken Standard. The attention to detail is peck-tacular!" - Jim Eggbert, Newsweek.

"It's about time that someone wrote a translation from the chicken's perspective. How in the heck-fire can we call ourselves relevant without this postmodern approach?" - Jeff Winglet, Relevant Magazine.

What's Your .com Name?

ASHEVILLE, N.C. - You can call her CutoutDissection.com, Cutout for short, but just don't call her Jennifer. The former Jennifer Thornburg — now legally CutoutDissection.com — wanted to do something real to protest animal dissections in schools.

The 19-year-old's new name is also the Web address for an anti-dissection page of the site for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, where she is interning.

I guess I can slightly relate to her anti-frog-killin' passion... I really hated dissecting those frogs in Biology. Stank. Slimy. Guts. Gag. Plus, I always got stuck with the one guy who seemed to love slicing-up kermit more than he liked bathing.

He would just giggle and bounce his B.O.'d self around every time he found a new organ. I tried really hard to think of a name to secretly call the guy, but no insult could ever match his... whatever it was. It was his fault that I got a C- in Biology. I did my best to be involved but this guy would just take over every time I tried to label something nasty in the peeled-open frog. Granted, I was always wrong in the labeling, or I would simply label the organ, "guts," but he sure wasn't too interested in sharing his mad scientist frog-lust knowledge.

Anywho... So this frog-hugging girl decided to change her name to Cutoutdissection.com. I'm sorry, you got national press and all, but that is pretty dumb. If you are going to be named a dot com, then think of something better. I know for darn-sure what mine would be:

SendMeTenThousandDollarsNowOrTheLordWillTakeMeHome.com

That's what I'm talking about. Make the .com name work for you. Make your name into something that will pay you in your sleep. Make your name into something that will inspire people in their faith. Either that or name yourself something that will insult anyone who calls out your name. For instance, I'mATurd.com. Just imagine, your pastor, your teacher. "Hey, ImATurd." and you respond, "Yes, yes you are."

Ah to be a teenager again...


What would be your .com name? (You can take this seriously. You will be laughed at. But this is a free-speakin' blog.)

Halloween Approacheth for Upper West Side Pets... I Pity Them

Worship and Art: God Likes A Good Beat

Three things I thought about in church today: (Wrote Yesterday... got sick.)

1. Art is both uniquely human and supernatural. It expresses our "humanness" like nothing else. It is man creating for the sake and joy of creating. It is also man creating to honor God, exalt God, to commune with God. (Whether the man knows it or not) To create is the most uniquely God-like quality that we have. We create, not things from nothing like God, but we create from the materials he has given us. The farmer, the lawyer, the housewife, the plumber... we are all poets in our own way. Might sound stupid but it is not. Our entire agriculture and civilization is built upon man's ability to think creatively. It uniquely separates us as a race.

Yes, there is a difference between functionality and beauty, but there is still no distinction between functionality and art. Art may not express the beauty of something as its main purpose; it may be something created to till the earth, but a man makes it. He conceives it. He shapes it and puts the thing to work. A great quote from an upcoming film about the guy who invented the windshield wiper, or something about it. Someone said to inventor, "Its just a windshield wiper." The inventor replied, "Yeah, but to me, it's the Mona Lisa."

There is something artistic in everything about our culture. From the windshield wiper to the cold blocks of concrete that the Communists liked to call "buildings." Even those boring communist structures had their own cold artistic statement embedded in the heart of their minimalist architecture. There is no escaping it. Even the accountant, or mathematician is an artist at what he does. There is an elegance to math and the mind that shapes it that is beyond words. Math is the language of the created universe. Or the lawyer, in his deposition, he/she has to shape an argument, win a jury with a skillful turn of words, a dramatic pause... The great trial lawyers are in their own ways, actors. The stay at home mom... I can't begin to number the ways in which a stay at home mom has to think creatively to both stay sane, and keep her kids from killing themselves. The list goes on and on.

2. Each church wants to communicate with God in their own unique and artistic way. Believers flock to like-minded believers so that they can communicate through their preferred medium and worship. This is not a bad thing, but it can become a bad thing when we think that artful worship alone is responsible for spiritual movement. We are conditioned from birth to be more closely related to certain types of art, music, poetry, literature- and in the church, we gravitate towards attending where the medium most closely resembles those influences. This is okay as well, as long as one group does not judge another's worship.

3. Even though there are different modes of worship in churches, one should not forget, that the spirit does not necessarily live in the great thunders of the timpani or 4-on-the-floor kick drum, praise choir, brass section, or in the soaring voices of the St. Thomas boys choir that I heard this morning at communion. (Which was beyond words beautiful.) It can and will speaks in spite of those things and if it is present, it doesn't matter how fancy the song or medium, it will move you, if you let it. Hopefully the people singing or speaking have this intent in their hearts. But it may move in spite of those things as well. That movement can happen in a tone-deaf farmer's church or in the angelic lines bouncing off the stone walls of the St. Thomas Episcopal Cathedral. The still small voice of God does not need a fire or earthquake or great wind to announce His coming or presence.

The condition of a man's heart always trumps the level of excellence in any offering of praise. After-all, when God found us, we were dirty and filthy and full of pride and sin. What makes us think that perfectly harmonizing chords will matter a hill of beans if our heart remains un-offered? The sole purpose of any art (music/art/dance/preaching/building-architecture/graphics) in church is to aid in breaking through to the heart of man, and a church's pursuit of excellence can many times distort that or worse, distract completely. However, it is always a cherished and unforgettable moment when both are present. For that to happen, we have to be extra careful that a striving for excellence will not overshadow the beauty of simple honesty. Pride can so easily wrap its nasty tentacles around the effort if we are not careful and we find ourselves blaming one another for the missing spirit, or we just spend more money for new spirit-ushering gadgets, bigger speakers, bigger orchestra and bigger jumbotrons.

We cannot afford to fool ourselves into believing that God can be bought or that He appears in some settings and not in others. There is no magic worship band potion to make the Spirit move. The Spirit is not formulaic, He is mysterious. No style of worship holds rights to His movement; He cannot be contained. The beating heart is the Spirit's only conduit into the life of man.

Dog Dream

Three guesses on what the dream is about...

1. "Oh sweet Princess Fifi, my Pug-pooch dream. How I love running with you in the great wide fields of scattered bones. Oh how you frolic. What's that you say? I jump so high? You flatter me with your talk! Share with me, oh love of my life, my water bowl. Drink with me. Jump in the long grass for the frisbee thrown only for me. Yes! I said it, I share my toys with thee! You, so sensitive, so sweet, my portly pooch... my angel... my ham on stilts... my Immortal fleeloved."

2. I can't... stop.... running.... can't.... stop.... must.... find... man in blue shorts who brings small square papers... must sniff his .... .... .... can't resist... smell...

3. Blue Jean baby... (I'll stop there.)

Come On...

This is getting so unbelievably stupid. For starters, okay, its cool that Palin is related to Princess Dianna. I guess. Maybe Elton John could sing at the inauguration. What's cooler is that she's related to FDR. I guess. What's dumb is that any of this would sway a person's vote, and that the media went and dug up some unbelievably distant relation to Brad Pitt to boost Obama's poor wittew self-esteem. Whew! Obama not only has is very own bracelet to match McCain's, he's got his very own celebrity relative, twice removed, on his 16th great aunt's step-cousin's side.

What almost FLOORED me was an article claiming that Dianna was a dumbass, just like her 13th cousin, Palin. They didn't come out and saaaaay it, no, they wouldn't dare. They sure did imply it though. HEAVILY imply it. They were conspicuously silent on the FDR relationship.

But who cares? The whole thing is getting so stupid. And the media... CONTINUES its love affair with Obama. So, I'm sorry Obama, you threw a party at a terrorist's house. Bad decision. You had to know that that would come back to bite you in the arse someday. No, I don't think you are a terrorist, (okay, I'm going to admit that your middle name creeps me out, just a little,) but own up to the association, brother. Yes, you did it. Yes, it was poor judgment. Why is the media so upset about the Repub's coverage of it? Because it might make a difference in the voter's mind? I doubt it, if he owned up to the mistake.

But there I go again. Getting all caught up. No more!


So... ladies and gents, I quit. I know who I'm voting for... I think. I won't know until I punch that ballot. But I'm pretty sure at this point.

I Want One

Worthy of a Post (For you Mac Users)

The rest of you (bone clankers/pc-users) will find this unbelievably boring. You may move on and go about your business, (dragging your women around by the hair, peeing out in the open air and grunting at the moon-god.) For the Mac users, as you know, the mighty mouse scroll mechanism is one of the only problems you might run into when using a mac. The only thing mighty about it, is that it gets dirty and unusable mighty fast. This young brilliant lad has discovered a surefire and simple way of fixing that problem. If only a PC could be fixed so easily... I just did this and it works like a charm. Enjoy.

October

October is hands-down my favorite month of the year. I do believe that NYC is in a dead tie with Springfield MO as far as beauty and ... well those "things" that make October what it is: Changing leaves, crisp cool air, pumpkins, candy, pulling out the winter clothes, kids scuffling around with their parents in the fallen leaves, Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin. Then after Halloween, it's a straight shot to Christmas.

For me, it may be the most "fun" time of the year. Could be because it is also the month that happens to hold my birthday. I am a Halloween baby. And yes, it is the BEST day to have a birthday. Built in party.

I suppose it's one of the reasons why I don't mind kids dressing up as scary things. (Within reason.) My parents got all fundamental on my 6th birthday and made us dress up as Bible characters. Lame. Lamola. (sorry for those of you that do this.) Of course when I wanted to dress up as the Beast of the Armageddon, (my older sisters had been secretly reading me Revelation to scare me,) my parents said no, so I dressed up as Noah. Only problem? Every single man in the bible looked the same. I tried to argue with my parents, "it feels like Christmas or Easter, not Halloween." To me, Christmas and Easter were the Church Halloweens since we got to dress up then too.

The Church Halloween party that year displayed one of the most unbelievably boring array of costumes in the history of Halloween. Every single boy wore a robe and fake beard (the poorest of us just markered-in a beard,) and every girl looked like Mary (all three Marys.) One kid got lucky and dressed up as a Centurion, cool plastic sword and everything, but when he wouldn't stop taking swipes at the Jesus' with his sword, his mom took his sword away.

One poor girl tried to dress up as Sarah and dressed up pregnant and old, but when she told us who she was, she got cold, blank stares, and "who the heck is Sarah?" (We were pretty young and I doubt she even knew until their parents explained it the week before.)

So, we were all different characters, but we all looked the same, except Sarah, who nobody knew and she got tired of explaining it to people by end of the night, especially to other grown-ups who at first mistook her for Mother Mary... They must have thought it was weird idea for the parents of that girl to make Mother Mary look all old and ghoulish.

To top-off the good times, we had to SIT THROUGH A SERMON... before we could get our dadgum candy. Yes, it sucked all for one and one for all. Finally, the candy made it alllll(most) better.

So what about you guys? Are you into the "dressing up your kids." I understand if you are not, seriously. I know I just jabbed at my folks, (after that year it was all star-wars costumes) but I get it. Some people get all antsy about their kids going in for the ghost and goblin, or just dressing up in general, but for me - I was naturally inclined to be horribly afraid of things - dressing up always served as a way of realizing that all that stuff wasn't really waiting underneath my bed or looming just outside my window. Somehow seeing the neighbor boy, Chester, dressed up as Dracula de-fanged my nightmares.

Things I've Been Reading

Faulkner's "Sound and the Fury."

I've tried to read this book a couple hundred times but failed each time. Mostly because I am a Hemingway and Steinbeck fan and I HATE making myself read something. That's why I’ve read the LOTR trilogy 24,000 times. It's not Faulkner's long paragraphs; I really don't have a problem with really long paragraphs. It's not the long sentences either; most of his sentences are a kind of mid-way poetry and prose hybrid. It is just tough reading through the eyes of an idiot, and I suffer greatly from ADHD anyways, so it is almost like a bat leading Steevie Wonder. (for the first chapter anyways.)

What has surprised me about The Sound and the Fury is how funny it is. I didn't expect to chuckle my way through the book, but any southern family is bound to be funny, especially if it includes a black nanny who has more sense than the whole bunch.


Bukowski's "Post Office."

Before you go out and buy this booger, know that it is a smidge on the racy side. Make that a good dollop on the racy side. However, it is extremely funny. Again, I tend to teeter on the edge of dark-comedy cliff, and things that are funny to me are not sometimes funny to other people, especially my fellow Christians. (Just wait till my novel hits the shelves someday - before I croak, hopefully. I'm sure I'll be ruffling a few Christian feathers, unintentionally, I might add. Have mercy.)

Anyways, about my weird tendency to laugh at things... In my constitutional law class in undergrad (too many years ago to say) the teacher announced to the class that a man in California (I think) had been sentenced to several years in prison because, when a very wealthy lady cut him off in L.A. traffic, he approached the her open window on the passenger's side at a traffic light, grabbed her poodle, and threw her poodle off the bridge. (Sorry for the clunky run-on there!)

See, I know it's not funny, or shouldn't be funny, but in context, (bored off my rocker stuck in a required elective) I laughed out loud, very loud, and couldn't quite stop. It didn't help that the prof. was a hybrid of a football coach and twinkle-toes. I was the only one laughing. I had to pull a hair out of my leg to get myself calmed down.

Essays of E.B. White

This is a book for the whole family. White is of course most famous for his children's literature but these essays show the enormous talent of a great writer for any age. In fact, I think E.B. White is one of the funniest writers since Twain. He is (was) just naturally funny, and whether writing serious or comical, those are the best kinds of authors in my opinion. I'm so tired of depressing literature I could puke. I think you'll be surprised at how much you'd like this selection White's short stories and essays.

Theology and Sanity, by Frank Sheed.

This is probably my favorite, all-around theology book. That's saying a whoooooooole lot, because I loves me some theology and I've read truckloads of theology and have grown up being mentored by some wonderful theologians (who showered my hungry mind with books and books and books.) However, some of you might have noticed that I sort of burned out of the theological-discussions-embers and lately I keep most theo-thoughts to myself, (as far as blogging goes) but I really think you can't have a better theological book in your layman library, besides the collected works of Lewis. It is truly amazing. I'm serious. The best, on so many levels. You'll never hear the Doctrine of the Trinity described more clearly. Get it. You have to order it online because it isn't in most Barnes and Noble stores. Sheed (a contemporary of Lewis) wasn't interested in the public eye as Lewis was. (P.S., if you are Protestant, just ignore the chapter on Mary. Or read it. At least you'll have a correct understanding of the Marian doctrine. Hint: It ain't NEAR as strange as you think.)

The only problem I have with the book is the title, well, speaking the title. Every time I try to verbalize the title it sounds like "Theology Insanity." A pain in the butt to enunciate over and over but a small price for such an amazing book.

(Sorry subscribers for the extra amendments here.)

So what books have been on your nightstand/by-the-toilet lately?

Seth's Saturday Wise Sayings

"Life's too short for Politics. Let's eat!"

"If at first you don't succeed, cheat!"

(I didn't mean for those to rhyme, which brings me to my final wise saying...)

"True genius can make all things rhyme, but if you can't be a genius, why not be a mime?"

Ponder upon these, my fellow Americans. Be filled with their wisdom, I mean it. Anyone want a peanut?

One more bonus saying: "A heavy lisp does not necessarily mean you are speech-impaired, it could mean that you are deeply Episcopalian."

iPhone: Only One Complaint after One Year of Bliss...

It's the text messaging, my fruity ingenious friends. Not that it is clunky or hard to use. It is not. It is easy. Easy as key lime pie. Toooo easy. HOWEVER...

Because of the touch screen interface, one can easily chose the WRONG person to send a text message to.

This is a problem... oh say, when you think you are sending a... ahem... text message to oh say... YOUR WIFE, and you send the text message to YOUR MOM, or even better YOUR MOTHER-IN-LAW instead. Imagine the horror of a certain man as he notices that he is sending a message meant for his God-given wife to his MOTHER. Imagine... You stare at the "sending-text" moving bar, completely helpless. You begin to scream over and over and over "NO!" - punching any and every button to ease the horror, but to no avail.

Then, because you've made this mistake, you wildly try to thumb-out another message to YOUR MOTHER and try to essplain your rouge message, but because you are frantic, and because of the auto-spell-correction - standard in all iPhones - the new and improved message takes on a life of its own. And while you meant to say (in your second message) "that message was not meant for you," the auto-corrector delivers "that massage was now meant for you!"

With sweat accumulating under your arms, a tear welling in your left eye, and after after another fit of screaming "No's," you begin slowly typing your third text. Then your MOM calls you, mid texting. You are slightly annoyed at how seamlessly your iPhone goes from the text screen to the phone screen, displaying the lovely picture of your MOTHER.

For the next 3 hours you are blushing five shades of red because of the hysterical laughter that ensued when you described the folly to your MOTHER. She now has the ammo that she has always wanted to embarrass you at any moment during future Christmas holidays and you are her dinner-and-dishwasher-slave, forevermore.

Anyways, dear Apple... my friend, buddy ole' pal. You might want to consider a "cancel-the-catastrophic-message-meant-for-my-wife" button in your next design.

Your faithful friend and buyer.

Sam.

Biden and Palin, tonight... who will be left standing? (Plus CCM ultimate fighting matches.)

Oh wait, they will be sitting down. Whatever... No, wait a cotton-pickin' mininte. Not "whatever." I really don't like that sitting down business. I want to see them standing up and squaring off. This is not a deacons meeting in the conference room, this is a Vice presidential-gladiator-slaughter-fest. It's the Barracuda and the Lion of the Senate. (Even though the "Lion of Senate" was shanghaied from Ted Kennedy. Maybe Ted is loaning it to Joe for now.) "Barracuda," that's what they call old Sarah. Hmmm. Suddenly "Barracuda" by Heart is firing up in the noggin. I'm trying to think of a song for Joe that is something about "The Lion." Maybe something by Avalon... "The Lion and the Lamb." Ha!

Now THAT... would be a great ultimate fighting match. Avalon vs. Heart. I would pay a serious premium to see that showdown. As a matter of fact... I would pay several of the old-and-sticky-pennies-in-my-car-cupholder to see some CCM artists square off with each other even just in a good burn-out competition. (Burn out is that game where you play rock paper scissors and the winner smacks the losers arm with two fingers, once per match, until someone quits.) Lets see... A few ultimate fighting/burn-out matches that would be fun:

M.W. Smith vs. Bart from Mercy Me. (I'd bet on Bart. Sidenote: I guess M.W. grew tired of the old Hallelujah.)

Lead singer of Casting Crowns vs. Lead singer of Third Day... (Casting Crowns guy.)

Petra vs. Stryper.... (Stryper)

Shaun Groves vs. Larry ... (Larry.)

Derrick Webb vs. Shane Bernard... (Shane. Cool website, btw.)

Jeremy Camp vs. Bebo tag-teaming with these guys. (Jeremy Camp in the 4th round)

Okay, I've about exhausted my mental CCM ultimate-fighter library for moment, besides a few dearly departed, now its your turn. Ultimate fighting match... Christian artists.... "Go for it." (Ten sticky-nickels-from-my-car-cup-holder for the first person who guesses which Rocky movie that last phrase came from...)

Btw, if you are against such CCM violence, you may turn it into an ultimate thumb wrestling match. The winner gets this bible.


So that about raps it up for now. Come 9:00, I'm going to pop a bunch of popcorn, grab a couple of pounds of m&ms and holler at the television for a few hours, cuddled up with my hot and fiery wife. Tonight should be interesting. I'm already tense about it, as you've probably noticed.

Really, Oliver???

"W." A film by Oliver Stone

I'm thinking it's a bit too soon for this one, huh? It's kinda like grandma talking about her gynecologist appointment as we are putting our napkins in our laps for dinner. How bout one on Clinton, for crying out loud? At least its been a few years. W's not even out of the oval office yet. Sheesh. However, I sorta still wanna see it.

Btw, if you want to see a GREAT documentary, see "Frontline: Bush's War." You can download it on iTunes. I know, I know. It sounds all liberal and stuff, but it is not. It is a cool-headed inside look at the real puppeteers behind the Iraq war. It interviews the real people: Colin Powell and Condy Rice to name a few. People who were and are there. I was blown away when at the end they didn't make Bush out to be the evil instigator on this. He was probably just too unsure of himself and trusted too much and too quickly in warmongering men.

Tarantula Tuesday

I'm just trying out new names for the next big Wall Street suck-day. I'm trying to pick something scary opposed to the lame names they pick for Hurricanes. If I were naming Hurricanes I would name them very evil-sounding names. Like "Hurricane Gorgoroth the Horrendous," or "Hurricane Mexelmithrablooddrinker, the Cat-Slinger." Yeah... not after Grandmas, Hurricane Edna. Come on.

So, its been a fun ride here in NYC since the curtain was pulled back to reveal the Wizard was just a bunch of greedy Sons of Pitches preying on the weak and poor. (Holy crap, if I was in a barber shop quartet THAT would be our name: The Sons Of Pitches. Beauty. Don't steal it!) I've got some friends who I think are out of a job... but amazingly, things are holding together. Wall Street has most certainly changed. I saw a well-dressed Wall Street man punching out a panhandling homeless man.

Come to think of it, most of the homeless people in NYC are actually much wealthier than the average American. Just to a quick inventory... how much debt do you have? Like most Americans, we are in the negative. (Mostly my fault: Student Loans. Darn that Baylor. Rice DMA was free though!!!) I just bet the average Joe or Josephine could probably say, "I am worth negative 150,000 dollars, give or take a few hundred thousand after we pay off that super-extended mortgage when we are collectively 153 years old." But the homeless man? I bet nary a credit card. Maybe they've got it down, huh? Maybe camping out in Central Park under the soft, rustling autumn leaves doesn't sound too bad. Hey, if they had a teepee, they'd be Indians.

I don't know though... maybe the place to be is somewhere in the middle: Very little possessions, no debt, helping and serving the neighbor, and letting yourself be helped and severed BY the neighbor...

{This section has been removed. It was a lecture and I grew tired of hearing myself talk.}

As far as this stuff goes, do we really need one? There really isn't a better answer for how we should live than the one found here.

Btw, most homeless people in American aren't homeless because of financial destitution, they are homeless because they are mentally ill. How did I get on this subject? Oh yeah, Wall Street. *yaaaaawn.*

I do hope that they get something worked out here. I'm more afraid of the manic trader these days than I am that weird homeless lady that follows me for a block every time I accidentally run into her at the convenient store. (I made the mistake of making eye-contact ONE time while innocently buying gummy bears. That did if for her. She started asking why I was looking at her and then kept saying "something FISHY was going on around here," as she stared at our matching bags of gummy bears. I assured her that I had no interest in fish and that nothing of the sort was up. This made it worse. Therefore, I no longer darken the door of that food mart. It was a RIP anyways. I mean, a buck-fiddy for a dinky little bag of gummy bears???)

Ah well, such is life.

At least the crazy lady can afford the expensive gummy bears.

Dear Reduced Fat Oreo...

You are evil. Oh, yes... you are. *chomp*

Love,

Seth

This Just In!

We interrupt your casual blogging to bring you this special report...

Yahoo News:

UCLA group discovers humongous prime number
Sun Sep 28, 11:02 AM ET

LOS ANGELES - "Mathematicians at UCLA have discovered a 13 million-digit prime number, a long-sought milestone that makes them eligible for a $100,000 prize."

Wheeeeeeewie! That's a relief. I didn't know what the world would do if that wily 13 million-digit prime number kept slipping through our fingers! Praise the Lord that all those guys weren't busy on a cure for cancer with that elusive 13 million-digit prime number brazenly on the loose.

When one scientist was asked what he was going to do with his prize money he replied with a reverent far-off look in his eyes,

"I can finally get busy on my lifelong dream of constructing the largest scale-model of the Millennium Falcon!"

Thank God for that!

Now back to your normal blogging. Goodnight.

The Debate: Candidates Graded While Consuming Large Amounts of Sugar

There are many ways to grade debates. Usually you grade on how well someone attacks there opponents or how well they presented their arguments, blah blah... etc. There will be no such grading here. No sir. This will be a purely aesthetic grading system, sometimes snarky, and but always butt-honest. Here goes.

McCain...

Bad Points

(In no specific order, as they occur to me. This is a blog after all.)

McCain, brother, you didn't acknowledge Obama one time during the evening. Your laughing was a little creepy at times. I did think your suite was a better shade of Blue than Obama's and contrasting with your white hair you appeared a tad sunnier. However, the aging was an issue. You seem old when the camera flashed from Obama to yourself. And, I'm sorry, but the presidency is famous for aging men doubly fast. It is astounding. So, just going off how much Clinton and Bush aged... you are going to be looking mighty ghoulish by the fourth year. I think that some medical records might be in order for future consideration. Maybe a mandatory defibrillator.

Plus, mentioning Palin didn't go so well, did it? It was even a bit embarrassing. You mentioned her, hoping and expecting the applause you have so grow accustomed to, and you got zilcho clippidy-clops instead. Nada. Whole cricket families could be heard. I cringed as the smile melted from your face where you were used to pausing for long periods of time reveling in automatic Palin applause. I do feel for you there. I mean, just mentioning Palin's name at one of your rallies gets the blood pressure up 30 points at least. You never have to worry about people going comatose in your speeches, you've got the equivalent of a verbal Red Bull waiting to inject into your listeners ears. Not so at the debates.

Good Points:

You were obviously more educated in foreign affairs. Every time you mentioned a complicated and scary Arab-sounding name that I didn't know if felt a little safer about choosing you. Plus, you've had a tad bit of experience in the war arena. I think we'd be alright with you at the helm of our forces. I like that whole "you don't understand, business." It made Obama look like the confident but naive upstart in the college class where you are professor. It definitely got under Obama's skin.


Obama:

Bad stuff:

You are slick. No doubt about it. But, your overconfidence is unnerving. You are so slick that you are are almost rubber. You don't seem to open to many things that would go against your established world view. It isn't compromise that you look for, it is total convincing your opponent or nothing. There is a difference between Wisdom and being Stubbornly confident. John's got you beat there.

And, the worst thing of the night... Your tender and touching story... of your very own bracelet. That, my friend, was embarrassing. When you said "I have a bracelet too," after McCain (for the 500th time) told the touching story about his bracelet, I outright laughed. It was hilarious. It was so obvious at that point that you had planned a point-counterpoint to every single one of McCain's strengths, as you should. But here's the deal, we never want to know that or notice it. It has to be smooth as though it is on the tip of your tongue. It was contrived and cringe-worthy. I mightily injured me as far as how I view you as a candidate.

I felt you were disrespectful. You never addressed John McCain as "Senator McCain" but you called him "John." Not only that, you referred to the President as "George Bush." You are a senator and a statesmen, buddy. He is your president. Show some respect, even if you don't feel it. It revealed a great arrogance to me.

Good Stuff:

I'm actually feeling a little riled up about Obama's bad stuff to report the good stuff. And I'm hungry. You all help me out. Seriously. Let me hear some stuff you liked about him. He did tell John "good job" at the end, which I thought was nice.

"Yahoo News: Facebook Profiles Out Narcissists"

My reaction to the article: "duh?"

Let's face it, folks. We are a culture who is fascinated with ourselves. The children of the baby-boomers. Gen-X. Gen-Y. Yeah, us. We can't get enough of ourselves. Just take a gander at what has popped up on the Internet in the past 10 years. "Myspace... Facebook.... and , YouTube, and yes, Blogger."

Everything is about our efforts to be significant. We slap hundreds of pictures up about ourselves and want people to come and look. We post a bazillion facts about ourselves and we want people to come and look. We post thousands of inane stories about ourselves and we want people to come and look... We write blogs for a year or so and suddenly believe that we are Faulkner.

Now, not all of this is bad, of course, but it is a symptom of a total and complete obsession with ourselves. We are insulted if people don't comment. We are insulted if people aren't watching our videos. We keep a close record of how many people are coming to our websites. We enroll in silly surveys to get more people coming so we feel better. We silently compete with other friends for number of friends in facebook or Myspace or even comments. We look with glowing pride at how many links we have.

We are so narcissistic that we raise our kids up to be our friends, afraid that they won't "like" us or think we are cool. In doing so, we destroy their ability to submit to authority, and God help us in 20 years. (I always say that your child should fear you as much as they love you, or at least 25% as much as they love you.)

But enough about the kids, this is about us. This is about our inability to stop thinking about ourselves. My lord, it is almost like everywhere we look we see that mirror, or pool of water for which we can gaze at ourselves. Be honest, how many times do you look into that pool a day? (Pool=facebook, youtube, blogger, myspace) Is it "just for fun?" or is it a symptom of something else? Does it haunt you?

So what do we really want out of life? Is it our dreams? I think most times it is less about dreams than it is about wanting worship, adoration. It is as old as the Garden of Eden, people. It is the seed that we are born with and God must uproot. We want significance. And significance comes from one place and one place alone, my friends - The Good Lord. (The trickiest thing being: When we seek the Lord, I believe God does gives us dreams. When we step out in faith to pursue them, it is a delicate balance of never letting those dreams become idols. It is easy to do something you don't love and "serve the Lord with it." It is much harder to do your passion and constantly, every day, yield it to the Father.) So go for your dreams, but make sure you aren't doing them to be significant. You already are that.

I learned this about myself when I went to Kentucky this summer. I had no internet, no TV and darn-near no phone. I was FORCED to interact with other people, and lots of them. Most of you know, I am a little OCD. I've got problems. And no, that isn't cool. People think it is all cool to have some sort of horrible disorder. It is not. Just try worrying about dying until you have to pull your car over from having a panic attack. Try obsessing over something until it completely consumes you and you are thrown in to the pit of despair. Yeah, that's fun. I work my butt off every day to beat it. It is hard, don't wish it upon anyone, least of all yourself. I'd trade places with Mr. or Mrs. sunshine, ANY DAY.

Anyways, Kentucky... After about a month, I wasn't sure if I'd ever go back to blogging or even the Internet altogether. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision. I think so. But I have to monitor it. I only allow 1 hour of Internet a day. I only allow myself to go to some blogs. I don't go to negative blogs or ones that get me ridiculously fired up. I read one or two news feeds a day. (Getting a newspaper subscription, much better. You avoid the endless surfing and worrying. Plus it is a billion times better writing.)

Sorry for the rant, but this particular headline set me off. If you are like me, stop searching for the pool or mirror. Look for other people to pour your life into - your kids, your spouse, your friends, your church... Those are the treasures that don't rust or rot. In every attempt to look in that mirror you only build a false sense of significance and everything is distorted and motives are turned evil. When you seek the face of God, you find that all that crap you were worried about is completely laughable. They don't compare. That's what Paul said when he said "I count them all DUNG in comparison."

Into the Cave

Well, it's about that time.

I've got this big dissertation to finish and I'm down to the wire. Yes, like most professional procrastinators I know my limits and how much work I can get done in any given time. Well, that limit has been reached and nearly breached. I've got one month to finish this massive orchestral work. Wish me luck.

I had written a big orchestra piece when we moved to NYC but after listening to it a few thousand times, I decided to chunk it. It was a hard decision but in the end I think it will be for the best. Composers usually have a big bag of tricks they draw from when under pressure and stressed about being evicted, and though they come in handy, I don't want my dissertation to be a bag of tricks. I wrote the previous dissertation while dealing with a crooked landlord and with dust falling on my computer from all the construction going on. A decent piece, but not good enough.

The finished work will preformed by the Rice Shepherd School of Music Orchestra and since they are one of the best Orchestras in the states... no sense in submitting a B average work. I mean, you don't buy a Ducati and drive it around the block!

So off I go for the next month or so, into the world of orchestral writing. I've already started and it is turning out to be a blast, as it should be.

Hope so see some of you in Houston soon!

Don'tcha Love Church

My favorite part is the lick at the end.

Herbal Essence, Fido?

I claim to be no expert on rights of any beast or bird or any of that business, other than what was offered in the Good Book. And THIS BLOG IS IN NO WAY SUPPOSED TO INSINUATE THAT I AM FOR OR AGAINST SUCH THINGS. IT IS SIMPLY AN OBSERVATION.

Furthermore, it is simply a blog centered around the musings a man, myself, whose casual latrine reading included the back of a shampoo bottle. That being said, ahem.

I wouldn't normally write about things that I read while on the can, but I found this of interest, so interesting, that I checked every bottle all day to see if it had been animal tested.

Now, every time I see a bottle that reads, "not tested on animals" I get a little warm and fuzzy just like everyone else. But what of that? Take for instance the shampoo bottle I observed today on the throne. As I pondered the horrible scene of Fido being washed and messaged all day by a clean strawberry shampoo, I tried to muster a real sympathy but could only achieve a mild nothing. In fact, I felt really sorry for the pooch who missed out on that really nice cleaning experience.

And what about drugs? Every single drug you take has been tested on Fifel. Every. Single. One. Nobody gripes about the cancer given to poor fifel when doused with an insane amount of Sweet'n'low. Nooooo. Nobody cares when they see that picture of the mouse with the human ear dangling off its neck. (Genetically engineered to grow a human ear. On its neck. I crap you not.)

NOOOOOO. But when it comes to Fido's salon treatment we are all tears and picket signs. "STOP THE CRUEL SHAMPOOING OF ANIMALS!"

Give that dog a perm. Give that dog a shampoo'in. Give that dog some drano... no wait. Scratch that last on. But who needs to know if Drano would kill a pooch? DUUUUUUHHHHH??? Of course it would kill him. Use some common sense, goofballs.

That's all for now. Carry on.

P.S., I do not want an education on animal testing. My imagination is sufficient. I am aware that it gets cruel and gross. Please don't post links to incredibly graphic animal maiming. I won't click through. This blog was only a musing, not to be taken too terribly serious.

Long live Fifel.

Ode to the Dachshund

I am sitting here for no other reason, except for the sheer strangle-hold that A.D.D. has over my consciousness, contemplating the creational merits of the dachshund. It is a queer and unfruitful being that God has created in this oddity of the K-9 world. One has to wonder why the Good Lord decided "and on this day, I shall create the dachshund, and he shall be called, affectionately, the wiener dog." (cue thunder, lightning and timpani trills.)

I do wonder what the Lord thought when he created that dog? Was He a tad sleepy?

God: *Omnipotent yawn* "Oh, what was I going to make today? Hmmm, the very long squash or some a kind of hound? Hmmmm, that might be interesting! And so it shall be created... (Again, the thunder and lightning.)

[*dachshund is created. God breaths life into the mess*]

First Dachsund: "Arf!"

God: "Gracious, that... wasn't quite as magnificent as it was one minute ago. Oh well."


Now, I know that God never makes a mistake, nor does he think twice about anything that he does... but sometimes, when you see things like the dachshund, or hear things like Britney Spears talk about politics, or ponder the suspicious joy running rampant on any given Japanese Game show... you have to wonder, does the Good Lord create while sleepy? However, I suppose someone could ask the same question about me. The Polaroid taken of my morning attire at this very moment might ruin my life in politics forever... Thank goodness that's out of the question. (Picture or politics.)

I can't think of anything more strange, bizarre, or un-aesthetically pleasing, (other than the male reproductive organs) on God's green earth. However, like the male reproductive organs, the dachshund serves a greater purpose in this big beautiful world. He/she brings pleasure to their master's already-bizarre world-view just as the man brings children, and every-once-in-a-while, physical pleasure to his wife. A final comparison: And like the male organ the dachshund cares not what the world thinks of him and acts entirely on its own behalf, sometimes to its detriment, yipping, carrying-on like a the worst of childish brats when it doesn't get enough attention... maybe it is a strange and cool irony that they share the same informal moniker.

Final note: I have yet to meet a dachshund owner that does not have strangeness in proportion themselves, whether mental or physical. Not to say that the dachshund owner is ugly, nay, many-a-cosmopolitan model has graced our street holding a rope that dangles off the collar of those little weird dogapillars. But I'm sure, upon further examination, one would easily find in them a "strangeness" that would equally match the oddity of the wiener hound.

That's all for now. As you were.

Dear Government, Show Me The Money. Love, AIG.

The financial world is in crisis... millions of Houstonites are without power... we are a gazillion dollars in debt to countries that aren't considered "friendly"... we are spending one thousand million billion dollars on Iraq every month... and I have heartburn.

Whatever shall we do? I say, we watch the news and get more scared. See, the more scared we are, the less we all spend and live. Yes, yes. Run down to the bank, right now, and get all your money out and stick it in your fridge. (no robber ever looks there, however if you've got kids, good luck.)

The media FEASTS on fear. Now, the financial situation is bad. I go to a bible study full of guys who work for all these places. Or at least they used to work for these firms... we'll see what the situation is tomorrow morning. Anyways, most of them will tell you that whatever is going on, even though it sucks, it is the right thing and the healthy thing for the economy in the long run. They were practicing unethical business practices. From "naked shorting" (stock term. Just know that it is one of most illegal-legal things going on in the stockmarket today. It is the equivalent someone telling lies about you and every lie told about you they get more money.) to giving Bubba and Lora-lee, who make 12,000 dollars a year, a loan for a 400,000 dollar house.

In the end, if you ask anyone, it is good old fashioned market correction. It is reaaaaaaally PAINFUL correction, but a needed one nonetheless. It might take a couple of years to totally recover, but we will recover. I just pray that the government only has to bail out a one or two more of the big boys. AIG looks like it is next. GM is of course lifting a pant-leg and thumbing for a ride, but I don't think the fed goes in for the working man's hairy, chubby leg. I think they are more attracted to the rich, fat, Wall-street crook who have been sleezing-up the world financial markets for the past 20 years. But hey, the gov. and those guys are long time lovers.

Provide the Caption

First couple that come to my mind:

"I bet I could pick you up!"

"I baptize you in the name of the Father the Son, and the Scary Ghost."

Recent Palin Concerns: Blink about it.

"You can't blink..." was the answer Sarah Palin gave when she was asked by an ABC correspondent if she had stopped to think about the VP offer. The same kind of rhetoric was used when talking about attacking RUSSIA. uuuuuummmm.

Sarah Palin - "I -- I answered him yes because I have the confidence in that readiness and knowing that you can’t blink, you have to be wired in a way of being so committed to the mission, the mission that we’re on, reform of this country and victory in the war, you can’t blink. So I didn’t blink then even when asked to run as his running mate.”

Something about this bothered me a little, not the scripted responses, not the annoying overuse of "Charlie" when answering his questions... it was "You can't blink" that has made me reconsider this Palin business. And why shouldn't I? Should we all be so "loyal?" I'll be darned if I am going to simply vote for someone because I like them. I'll be darned if I am going to turn a blind-eye to internal red-flags just because I want to believe in the idea of someone. I won't be one of those ridiculous liberals/conservatives who only vote democratic and liberal or Republican and Conservative because they have chosen idiotic extremism. In my opinion, those folks are one step away from burning books and goose-stepping.

I am also not going to vote for someone based upon their views in ONE area that is important to me. Hell, Hitler loved art. He was good at it. I like art. I make a living in it, or try to...

So, folks, after the aforementioned interview, I am watching carefully and waiting....

See, to me, the words "blink" and "think" are awfully similar. And any human being asked to run for VP, who has a normal functioning brain, would at least stop to consider the possibility. A part of me wonders if that "you can't blink" attitude would somehow seep into all of her other decisions as president. (Come on, that's what we are really voting for here people. If McCain wins, it will be 4 years. Sarah would be the next president.) We've had enough of that "can't blink," pistols-blazing, cowboy crap for the past 8 years.

In other words, please, for the love of Sasquatch... blink, Sarah. Blink several times. Blink when the Russians are attacking Georgia. Blink when your VP tells you that they think that some country might have weapons of mass destruction. Blink about what you are going to do. Blink about it before you go to bed, before you brush your teeth. Shoot, blink about preemptive strikes on a country while you are tinkling. I really won't mind. Blink about every decision you would make as President. Blink about it with your staff members. Blink about it with VP McCain. Shoot, hire Obama and blink about it with him. Even give ole' Bill Clinton a call. I can guarantee he's been blinking about you. (bu-dum-splash!)

As Descartes once said, "I blink therefore I am." So, if you are not blinking, you are gambling. And I don't want a gambler anywhere near the nuke button in the next 8 volatile years...

I haven't written her off, I still like her, I still think there is promise, but I'm just saying that I won't be voting for her on the power of that one speech alone. I gotta see a whooooooooole lot more evidence of careful, and critical blinking on her part.

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?)