Quote of the Day, 11/20/07

11/20/2007, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

“It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall have not died in vain, that this nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” — A. Lincoln, who delivered it seven score and four years ago yesterday

The Council’s Ruling — Best Toy

11/19/2007, 1:15 pm -- by | No Comments

This and every Monday, the Bweinh!tributors, having convened in secret for hours of reasoned debate and consideration, will issue a brief and binding ruling on an issue of great societal import.

This week’s question — What is the best toy of all time?

Tom delivers the ruling of the Council, joined by Josh, Steve and David:

The ball forms the nucleus of nearly all pick-up sports, and its versatility and dependability make it a plaything useful either alone or with friends.

 

Chloe joins in the holding, but writes separately:

A ball. It’s everything!!!!

 

Connie and MC-B dissent:

The yo-yo. Portable, inexpensive, suitable for all skill levels, with a little destructive power thrown in. It doesn’t need batteries, yet can entertain for hours.

 

Mike dissents:

Electric Football: nothing else brought the painted green of artifical turf home to our living rooms quite like it.

 

Erin dissents:

Lincoln Logs. Creativity plus learning about the pioneers.

 

Djere dissents:

Legos — you can build anything with Legos.

 

Job played no part in the determination of this issue.

Next week: Who is the most influential American ever?

Boaz Bloom and Tumble-Down Row, Part Four

11/19/2007, 1:00 pm -- by | No Comments

The last of the Best of Job, continued. Lost? Read part one, part two, and part three.

I learned that Boaz’s main mission in life was the collection and redemption of aluminum cans, which he placed in the basket of his brown Ross bicycle. That was how we first talked. He had rested his bike along his path (He never rode off his trail; he’d tenderly dismount, carefully lower the bike to the ground, and hoof it in search of cans, which he’d turn in at the IGA for the Iowa 5-cent deposit. They had some arrangement, I guess. His bike was crap in a succession of crap — Becky said he got a different one every year or so from a yard sale, and some people in town made it their tradition to throw old bikes on the lawn in front of his trailer. They were always funny-looking and sometimes funny-sounding but he kept pretty good care of them. Too long an aside? Sorry. Patience with me?…) and walked over to pick up some Coors cans from the well — and he nodded at me in a very kind way. I nodded back and his face exploded into a smile.

What a reward, a smile from Boaz.

Every time he smiled, he drew in a satisfied breath that made a little wheezing sound. He wasn’t a serial smiler but he wasn’t stingy with them either. As he returned to his bike with an armful of cans, I asked him if he wanted my Sprite can. He peered at me through his thick glasses, standing over his bike. “You betcha,” he said, drawing in a breath and smiling widely, as he looked around excitedly for a place to put his silver haul. I still had over 1/2 of the soda left but successfuly had it finished by the time he had walked over.

And it was thus. I built a bridge to Mr. Bloom over a river of Sprite.

 

Boaz, for all my affection for him, was not well. I mean, aside from over 30 years of compulsively riding the same route day in and day out in search of cans, he had some very interesting and unconventional ideas. He told me on more than one occasion of his absolute certainty that Hondas were meant to destroy America. He wasn’t racist against the Japanese or anything, but he had an elaborate theory that every Honda was rigged as a bomb, set to go off at the same time. Rush hour, probably, he posited, they’ll all go off, killing their occupants, creating roadblocks and confusion. Garages would be blown sky high, and fires would engulf everything the Hondas were near. Mass carnage, dontchaknow?

Then, while we were all scurrying around dealing with exploding Hondas, the Japanese would invade. “But I don’t mind sushi,” he’d say with a grin.

And oh…the Wrigley’s sandwich. As he got to know me better and found me to be a willing ear, he’d spend pretty much my whole lunch break with me. He religiously turned down anything I offered him, but would instead pull from his pocket a fistful of gum wrapped in newspaper and sit next to me. He did this thing, see, where he’d make a Wrigley’s sandwich — sticks of Doublemint, Big Red and Juicy Fruit placed back to back, then stuffed into his mouth.

“What’s that taste like?” I asked, trying, lazily, to hide my grin.

“Big Red is the winner usually,” he responded, as he sucked the sugary saliva to the back of his throat. “But Doublemint won once, so I keep waiting to see if he can repeat.”

 

“About 40,000 nickels,” he said in response to my question about how much he paid for his first car. He always had a complex way of saying simple things. And he’d never had a pickle, but he’d had a few pickled cucumbers. I think he resented the notion that being submerged in brine for long periods of time changed the essence of what a cucumber was.

 

Boaz was from Florida, I learned, and had come to Missouri with the Forest Service to dismantle old railroads and return the ground to its natural state or whatever. He told me about finding fish fossils under the railroad ties. When they were done fixing the fields, he stayed in Chap.

I coaxed from Ginnie, the gal at the post office, that the reason was lost love. Some girl back in Florida had married another man while he was gone, a real spurious event. Her family was in severe financial trouble, and a suitor with all the answers, and all the shekels, had come along.

Boaz never had a chance to fight; she had a new last name and zip code by the time he’d heard anything about it. He had been notified through a letter Ginnie had sorted. He was crushed, and the town was pretty hushed in talking about it. They were always pretty protective of their little oddity.

I guess Boaz and that girl were really in love. But these things happen sometimes, right? Romance can be a cruel world sometimes, and I pity the person who loves without thick skin. But if you knew Boaz, a spent man tinged with remarkable intelligence, whom you knew would die where you met him, you’d wish you could get some answers.

–TO BE CONTINUED —

Clash of the Titans LX: The Simpsons

11/19/2007, 11:00 am -- by | 10 Comments

In this corner, arguing against The Simpsons, is Erin!

 And in this corner, supporting The Simpsons, is Djere Hoss!

During my time on the camp ministry team this summer, I learned a few valuable lessons. One was never to buy flip flops that you don’t think can take some serious wear ‘n tear. Another is that, not infrequently, teens’ misbehavior is an expression of much deeper psychological issues, not just rebellion.

The third is — I can’t stand the Simpsons.

There, I said it. Bring on the criticism of my sense of humor, my taste, my ability to see a classic. Of course, the Simpsons has endured for almost 20 years — so why on Earth can I not see that it’s what the people want? If you want, bring on how much I actually laugh at the Simpsons’ rendition of Hamlet. Yes, I do find it funny.

So why can’t I get into the concept, appeal, and vast majority of this apparent masterpiece?

When the team arrived at Jumonville — the Laurel Highlands quite near Pittsburgh, PA — it was four days before the Simpsons movie premiered. I had seen a few commercials (especially during David Beckham’s first game in the USA) and thought only that it looked like something I’d probably eventually see, most likely in a situation where I was extremely sleep-deprived, sugar high, and coerced by my dearest (and most insane) friends.

During the four subsequent days, I honestly can say, I don’t think I heard a certain refrain less than forty times —

“Spider pig, spider pig, does whatever a spider pig does…”

And this didn’t stop on July 27th when the movie came out, as I had hoped. If anything, it intensified. We moved onto our next camp in Maryland, a family camp. Certainly, a family camp in the practically-seaside town of Denton wouldn’t have such a great population of Simpsons devotees, would it? I stand corrected. Vast numbers of kids and teens (and a few adults) seemed to have only one thing on their mind: The Simpsons Movie. Or perhaps two things: the Simpsons movie, and its relation to the grand overarching metanarrative of the Simpsons. You’d think that after a point, they’d realize its sheer inanity, that they’d stop being enthralled by a cartoon whose beer belly and doughnut fetish borders on disgusting. That they’d get it.

But no, unfortunately, that was not, and most likely never shall be, the case. So I’ll just mind my own business (unless, of course, I’m writing Clashes) and not criticize other people’s preference in humor or movies or whatever. I’ll ignore the fact that “d’oh” (or, phonetically, doh) has been rather ridiculously added to Webster’s Dictionary (roll over all you want, Noah). And I’ll still giggle at “Nobody out-crazies Ophelia.”

But for heaven’s sake, people, can you stop singing about Spider-Pig?

I, Hoss, personally love the Simpsons, because it provides high-quality entertainment for the masses — just like Djere (who failed to write this Clash, so his 15-year-old brother had to do so).

The Simpsons may be an old cartoon (19 seasons), but I still need my daily fix. The Simpson family is made up of:

Homer — a mean, abusive drunk who never ceases to make you laugh, whether he is creating art for Eurotrash or sneaking into Canada to buy drugs to bring back home.

Marge — a loving mother of three and an enabler, who picks Homer off the cold laminate floor and still loves him just the way he is.

Bart — a little “heck raiser” and the class clown, who does whatever is needed to get a laugh, or else he’ll beat you up and ride off on his skateboard.

Lisa — the gifted child, a book-smart Buddhist who never backs out of an evolutionary debate.

And finally, Maggie — our gunslinging baby.

Then they add a slew of townsfolk to make the thirty minutes so very magical. New this past summer was The Simpsons movie, which — in my opinion — was one of the greatest movies of all time. Homer saved a pig and started singing:

Spider Pig, Spider Pig,
Does whatever a Spider Pig does,
Can he swing from a web?
No, he can’t, ’cause he’s a pig!
Watch out — here is a Spider Pig.

Meanwhile, he was holding the pig to the ceiling and there were hoof prints everywhere…

Another great part was when Maggie went through a sinkhole and escaped outside a fence. When we were watching it, a woman in the audience yelled, “Oooooh!!! That’s how she got out there!,” and everyone else started laughing. Clearly, the Simpsons movie is best watched on a big screen.

In conclusion, I strongly believe that the Simpsons reign supreme over all animated cartoons, and will live forever in the hearts of many.

{democracy:165}

Football Results (Week Eleven)

11/19/2007, 10:00 am -- by | No Comments

This year, the Bweinh!tributors shall compete each week by proxy on the mighty gridiron!

The eleventh week’s results
New York def. Detroit; Philadelphia def. Miami; Jacksonville def. San Diego
New York def. Pittsburgh; Houston def. New Orleans

Bweinh!tributor This Week Overall GB
Mike 0-0 37-13 —
Josh 3-2 36-14 1
Tom 4-1 38-17 1.5
Djere 3-2 38-17 1.5
Steve 2-3 38-17 1.5
Connie 4-1 37-18 2.5
MC-B 3-2 35-20 4.5
Erin 1-4 23-12 6.5
David 2-3 31-24 8.5

 

By category
Avid fans: 123-52 (.703)
Uninterested: 157-93 (.628)
Slight fans: 69-41 (.627)

Joke of the Day, 11/19/07

11/19/2007, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

What’s big and grey and writes gloomy poetry?

T.S. Elephant.

Why We Believe: Vol. 6

11/17/2007, 9:49 am -- by | No Comments

This and following weekends, we will share the brief salvation testimony of each Bweinh!tributor. So far we’ve heard from David, Steve, Tom, Connie and Djere. Next in line is MC-B.

Unlike a number of my fellow Bweinh!tributors, I did not grow up in a household where baptism, regular prayer or even church attendance were presupposed. I was encouraged largely to ‘do my own thing’; if I wanted to do any of those things, that was fine, but if I wanted to stay home and read or sleep on Sundays, that was fine as well.

I still went to church most weeks anyway; they had the best food (at least the best that was available to me on Sunday mornings), and it was an excuse to talk to people and make friends. I also got involved in a number of church activities like camps, summits, retreats and conferences. The summer before my senior year of high school I was invited to go to the Presbyterian Youth Triennium, the biggest event that the Presbyterian Church throws for its young people. People come from all over the world to spend a week in Purdue University for fellowship, prayer, miraculous experiences, etc.

I was fairly blown away by the whole experience; I had been disinterested in getting too involved in my home church because they were so sleepy. There was little seriousness of purpose about spreading their mission or bringing in new people to hear the good news. The business of the church lasted for an hour on Sundays (two if there was a general meeting afterward) and that was it. Nothing particularly remarkable. At the Triennium, however, I realized that God doesn’t have to be boring and that He’s rarely found without specifically looking for Him. On the first day of the Triennium, I asked God into my heart and my life.

There is a huge amount of finality to asking God into your heart; once you do, you can’t be eternally lost ever again regardless of how temporally lost you may get. In other words, your position and relationship with God have been permanently sanctified. On the other hand, there is also a progressive element to sanctification; allowing God into your heart is a process that a person has to recommit to every day. God may continue to watch over someone who strays from His ways, but trying to get His Spirit to fall when there’s something getting in the way of one’s life with Him is another story entirely.

A salvation testimony is a great story of the triumph of God over man’s weaknesses and over evil, but it is only by examining every day since the commitment of a new heart to Him that an observer could fully understand why I or anyone else believes.

My First Day as a Big Game Hunter

11/16/2007, 10:00 am -- by | No Comments

My wife was born in Tupper Lake, NY, which should tell you, if you know anything about Northern New York, that she’s from the mountains — the Adirondack Mountains, to be exact. That means that when we married in 1982, I gained a father-in-law and some brothers-in-law, well versed in the ways of the woods. They were deer hunters. My dream to finally attain manhood was now in reach.

For the first few months of our marriage, all I heard about were the pastexploits and foibles of the Ferry clan. How Craig and John had once shot a deer five times between them, blowing off an antler and a hoof in the process, while still not bringing any venison home to the table. How Paul Jr. had spotted a buck, jumped up onto a stump and emptied every cartridge from his gun — cocking and expelling shells with frenetic fury — without ever actually firing a shot at the fortunate deer. Buck fever, they called it, the condition of being so excited you can’t even get a shot off. Times had been rough, kills few and far between, but according to my father-in-law, those times were changing.

“Dave is our good luck charm,” he would tell anyone who would listen. “I’ve just got a feeling he’s gonna get us a buck this year.”

Hunting season finally arrived, and we packed into a car in the dark hours before morning, so we could be at our spots by daybreak. There were promises of a large breakfast at some roadside diner, but apparently the restauranteurs in our neck of the woods were smarter than the average hunter, and none of them were open at such an ungodly hour. This was my first tactical error; I didn’t make coffee before I left the house, planning on getting some at the diner. Groggy, hungry and feeling the beginnings of a caffeine headache coming on, I stumbled into the woods of Belfort on the Stillwater Reservoir.

My father-in-law gathered us together and started pouring out marching orders in a nearly unintelligible language, directing people to ridges and ravines, while making wide sweeping motions with his arms.

When he finished I said, “What do I do again?”

He pointed to a tree a short distance way and said “Just sit there, we’re gonna drive the deer right to you.”

He handed me a Winchester 30-30 lever-action carbine rifle and a fist full of bullets, and then they started to scatter. I looked at the bullets, then the gun, and realized I now had my second problem of the day. They were getting away and I had no idea how to load the gun! Me, the hero, the avenger of past defeats at the hand of the Deer clan! How could I play this without dashing their hopes?

“Uh… Wait! What do I do with these?,” I called out. “Where do they go? I mean, in the gun — how do they get in the gun? The bullets…”

I’ve never seen a more confused and scared bunch of men in my life.

“Didn’t you take the 6-hour hunters’ safety course required to get your license?,” one of my brothers-in-law asked.

“I did,” I said, “I took it in about a half hour. The guy teaching the course had a football game to get to. He’s an official. He gave me a bunch of stuff to read, but I haven’t read it all yet… haven’t read any of it yet actually. I will, though!”

After helping me load the gun, they left quickly and quietly. That was the last I saw or heard of them that day until we left for home several hours later. They all scattered, hunted, and presumably stayed as far away from me as possible. I sat under the tree with a growing headache and dozed fitfully.

At one point, as I slept with my back against the tree, my hands in my pockets for warmth, the loaded gun in the crook of my arm, I jerked awake causing the gun to fire very close to my left ear.

When everyone re-assembled, the conversation went kind of like this:

“Craig, did you shoot at something?”

“No, wasn’t me.”

“Paul? Did you get a shot at one?”

“Nope, never saw a thing.”

All eyes turned to me. “Did you shoot at something?”

“Uh…yes and no… It’s kind of a funny story. Let me turn this way, I can’t really hear anything out of this side right now… See, I was sitting where you told me to sit, and . . .”

Quote of the Day, 11/16/07

11/16/2007, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

“The bed is a bundle of paradoxes: we go to it with reluctance, yet we quit it with regret; we make up our minds every night to leave it early, but we make up our bodies every morning to keep it late.” — O. Nash

An Even Newer Chick Tract Answer!

11/15/2007, 4:00 pm -- by | No Comments

What’s Grandma gonna do to Lamont??

 

If you picked “Deflect his attacks with supernatural power,” you’re a winner!!

OOPS! There’s Baphomet again!

©1984-2007 Chick Publications, Inc. Reprinted without permission as fair use (parody).

Why Mitt Romney Will Be Our Next President

11/15/2007, 11:30 am -- by | 6 Comments

The next in a series. Read the Hillary side here.

I like Mitt Romney, but I don’t love him. I don’t care for his record in Massachusetts or how his changes in position smack of political pandering. I understand why his religion makes many of my closest friends and family nervous. I am fluent in his shortcomings.

But I support him still. And I believe he will be the next president of the United States.

Here’s why.

Soon this interminable season of pre-primary campaigning will end, and states will start picking delegates. Millions of voters who have studiously ignored debates and speeches for the past year will awake once actual elections start. And what will be their alarm clock?

The Iowa caucuses, where Mitt Romney currently leads by an average of 9% over silver-tongued Southern populist Mike Huckabee. The New Hampshire primary, where Romney has a 14% average lead on liberal NYC mayor Rudolph Giuliani, and Huckabee actually trails anti-war libertine Ron Paul in a few polls. The Michigan primary, where Romney is the native son with a small lead over Giuliani (while Huckabee sits on the edge of the margin of error), and the South Carolina primary, where Romney and Giuliani are effectively tied, and Huckabee is in fifth.

Back in 2004, when John Kerry won Iowa and New Hampshire on the Democratic side, he shot from national support of 9% to a whopping 52%. So after the first two primaries, it becomes increasingly likely that Romney will begin to pick up momentum and improve his numbers in those that follow. Large states like Florida and California will likely still stay in the Giuliani camp, so he very well might be able to withstand an early Romney sweep — but at this point, the other Republican candidates are auditioning for the VP slot. Barring a gaffe, the math says it’s gonna be one of these two guys. Huckabee needs a miracle. Thompson needs a resurrection.

So if I’m right, and it’s effectively down to Giuliani and Romney, all the conservative Christians currently backing the Baptist minister who (to his credit) has been pro-life his whole life, should think about his imminent withdrawal, and whether they will then prefer a man who changed his mind to agree with them, or one who takes pride in saying he never will.

Oh, and back to Huckabee for a second. As MC-B’s friend Jonah Goldberg wrote today:

“If the Christian right — diverse though it may be — starts to become more sympathetic to using activist government as a instrument to impose God’s teachings — or one interpretation of them — then the largest and most reliable voting bloc in the Republican Party will become merely rightwing progressives, using government at all levels to do what they think is good, regardless of whether it’s constitutional or federalist or liberal in the classical sense. Huckabee’s support for a national federal ban on workplace and/or public smoking should be very scary to believers in limited government.”

This is the truest thing I’ve read all week. Huckabee is not what we need.

Anyway, let’s say Romney gets that bounce from the early primaries and beats out Rudy. What about the Democrats? Barack Obama would be the most challenging opponent, but he is currently unqualified and woefully inexperienced. John Edwards is a utopian joke — throwing out nonsense about paying for everyone to go to college and taking away Congressional health care if they don’t do what he wants. I pray the Democrats nominate him.

But if they nominate Hillary, they’ve really thrown the election away. Her voice is grating, her past is divisive, and she is everything but likable. Put her on the debate stage next to an intelligent, successful businessman like Mitt Romney, and she might set a record for the lowest percentage of male votes received.

I would — and will — vote for Romney, Thompson, McCain, Huckabee, Giuliani (in that order), or any other Republican candidate except Ron Paul, over any of the major Democratic candidates.

But I honestly believe that the way things are set up, only five humans (Romney, Rudy, Obama, Hillary, Al Gore) have a real chance to be our next president. Fortunately for me, the most conservative one is also the one who’s going to win.

Ask Bweinh! Poll — Musicians

11/15/2007, 10:30 am -- by | 1 Comment

Today’s Ask Bweinh! poll, brought to you by the emotion of relief! Ask for it by name.

Rank Musician Points
1. Phil Keaggy 10
2. Bela Fleck 9
3-5 (tie) Yo Yo Ma; Josh Groban; Rich Mullins 7
6-7 (tie) Maxon; Ben Gibbard 6
8-13(tie) Benny Goodman; Eric Clapton; Phil Sweet; Fernando Ortega; Bond; Keith Green 5
Other Ben Folds; Lyle Lovett; Vanessa Mae; Victor Wooten; Bruce Springsteen; Miles Davis; Mary Chapin Carpenter; Carlos Santana; Derek Webb; Michael Card; Ray Charles; Ryan Clark; Chico Marx; Myron Lefevre; Chanticleer; Mozart; “that young famous violinist” 1-4

 

Joke of the Day, 11/15/07

11/15/2007, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

How many old ladies does it take to change a lightbulb?

Two. One to do it, and another to say, “Look! Agnes is changing the lightbulb!”

Battle of the Bands XXXV

11/14/2007, 1:15 pm -- by | No Comments

Moving on are Holy Lump and Irrevocable! The next contestants are below, from Romans 12.

{democracy:164}

Bible Discussion — Romans 12

11/14/2007, 11:30 am -- by | No Comments

This week, Bweinh.com looks at the next chapter in the book of Romans, Romans 12.

Genesis: 1-4 | 5-9 | 10-14 | 15-18 | 19-22 | 23-26
27-29 | 30-32 | 33-36 | 37-39 | 40-43 | 44-46 | 47-50

Exodus: 1-4 | 5-8 | 9-11 | 12-14 | 15-18
19-22 | 23-26 | 27-30 | 31-34 | 35-40

And the book of Romans: Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5
Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 (I) | Ch. 8 (II) | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11

 
INTRODUCTION:
David:
Chapter 12 marks a complete change in the tenor of this epistle. The main work of dealing with the law, the Jew, and the Gentile done, Paul turns to general exhortation for the body of Christ. It is rich in basic instruction on “How to Live” for the believer.

Chloe:
A wonderfully concise handbook for Christianity.

Connie:
The chapter begins the final section of Romans, a call to practical obedience to God. Christians should live lives that reflect a transformation by our salvation working in us, and we should demonstrate such by good stewardship of our spiritual gifts.

 
SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
Tom:
Under the old covenant, there were two types of sacrifice: the sacrifice to atone for sin, and the sacrifice made for worship. Since Jesus already became the sacrifice for our sin, when we’re exhorted in this chapter to be living sacrifices, we aren’t earning our salvation through good works. Instead, Paul encourages us to make our very lives an act of worship, which IS a pretty reasonable service given the circumstances.

Erin:
Verse 19 says, “Never avenge yourselves.” Never! I had always heard “Vengeance is mine” quoted, but the other side of that statement hits home. We are NEVER justified in “getting back” at someone. Never. Not even if it feels fair.

 
BEST BAND NAME FROM THE PASSAGE:
Erin: Customs of this World
Tom: Place to Wrath, Fervent in Spirit
Chloe: Zeal
Steve: Overcome
David: Abhor
Connie: Vengeance Is Mine
Josh: Humble Associate; Hungry Enemy

Continued here!

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