One Hundred Words (45)
(Two-Minute Drill #4)
Hotels.com has a commercial — maybe you’ve seen it? The two shampoos commercial? High-larious.
“It’s working! It’s working! They got me! It’s working!”
I don’t know what it is about that commercial, but it reaches me on many levels.
And GEICO’s new line of commercial featuring “Kash”? I love it. I love the song, I love the character, I love how nonchalant they are about the absurdity.
“That? That’s just the money you could be saving by switching to GEICO!”
“T-tell me who’s watching!”
–JJM
One Hundred Words (44)
(Two-minute drill #3: on Romans 2:5-6)
It’s often said there are no guilty people in prison. Generally, if you ask people caught red-handed if they’re guilty, they’ll answer no: it’s someone else’s fault, or a setup, or the man is keeping them down. But these verses say that every sin stores up not just judgment and wrath, but also revelation.
And at Judgment Day, everyone will know exactly why things happened, as revealed by a perfect God. No denial, no excuses, just revelation and wrath — or mercy.
And all those who demand “why” from God will know, and be silenced.
–JJM
One Hundred Words (43)
I’m really irritated by “global warming.”
In the 70s, it was global cooling, an impending ice age. In the 90s, it was global warming, an impending tidal wave to kill us all.
Now it’s global climate change, because apparently “global warming” makes some places colder. I don’t know how true it is for you, but if I didn’t know spring followed winter, I’d think winter would never end! And summer? Sheesh, I’ve forgotten all about summer by now.
For once, can’t people stop hyping up crap to sell books and push agendas, and admit we’re not as smart as we think?
–JJM
Music by Bweinh! — How Great
Next in the series of reflections on songs written and performed by Bweinh!tributors is “How Great” (© 2005 Dj. Maxon), as recorded live by the band Maxon.
Listen to or download the song here (for a limited time)!
“How Great” is a song I wrote in college, and it’s one of the better songs I’ve written. I’m not a big fan of the song, but other people seem to like it — so I don’t know what to say to them. I’m okay with the chorus, but there’s something about the verses I can’t put my finger on… I just don’t like them.
Looking through an old clipboard, I just found the original blue scrap of paper I wrote the song on, stuffed into the pages of an aging yellow legal pad. A pad, might I add, that’s just full of terrible, terrible songs. Terrible. If you were to look at it, which you never will (because the songs are just embarrassingly terrible and I won’t let you), you could open to just about any page and find the first verse of an unfinished song, or hastily scribbled chords that, by now, make little to no sense.
Ahhhh, the halcyon days of my youth, when scribbling chords and penning songs not fit for human consumption was how I passed the time. I wrote this song in the basement of the music building, Tyler Hall, pretty much in one take. I spent a lot of time down in those cramped, tiny practice rooms. Thank goodness now I have Left 4 Dead.
Anyway, as I said before, other people like the song more than I do, but I do like the chorus a fair amount.
Enjoy, I guess….
One Hundred Words (42)
(Two-Minute Drill #2: on the humble toilet.)
Throughout the useful lifetime of a type of product, a considerable evolution takes place. The automobile started out humbly enough as a Model T, and was revised and renewed until reaching perfection in the form of my 2001 Jeep Cherokee.
But what of the toilet? How did it truly start, and where can it go in the future? Taller? Wider? Softer? Warmer? More water-efficient? Nuclear-powered?
Where are the innovators of tomorrow who will revolutionize the process of personal relief?
–JJM
One Hundred Words (40)
(Two-Minute Drill #1)
In football, a two-minute drill is a regular element in practice. The basic gist is for the offense to march down the field, from end zone to end zone, in two minutes.
But how much can I write in two uninterrupted minutes? Surprisingly little.
Without research or copying and pasting to make my work seem fluffier and more robust, all I’ve got is the meager stream of verbiage that flows from my frontal lobe.
Aaaand, pencils down, class.
–JJM
Super Bowl Haiku Prediction 2.1
True win? Budweiser
Trumping Bud Light once again
It is destiny.
Super Bowl Haiku Prediction 2
As Obama won
So too will his prediction
Steelers, not Card’nals
A Time For Choosing
“As for the peace that we would preserve, I wonder who among us would like to approach the wife or mother whose husband or son has died in South Vietnam and ask them if they think this is a peace that should be maintained indefinitely. Do they mean peace, or do they mean we just want to be left in peace? There can be no real peace while one American is dying some place in the world for the rest of us. We’re at war with the most dangerous enemy that has ever faced mankind in his long climb from the swamp to the stars, and it’s been said if we lose that war, and in so doing lose this way of freedom of ours, history will record with the greatest astonishment that those who had the most to lose did the least to prevent its happening. Well I think it’s time we ask ourselves if we still know the freedoms that were intended for us by the Founding Fathers.” — Ronald W. Reagan, October 27, 1964
Replace the words “South Vietnam” with “Iraq” or “Afghanistan” and the Gipper speaks truth to us 44 years later.
Clicking the picture will take you to American Rhetoric, a site I highly recommend if you’re interested in American politics.
Read the full text, listen to the 29-minute speech in its entirety.
In the midst of uncertain times, a global war with no (good) end in sight, and a liberal government in Washington, remember: it takes a Carter to get a Reagan.
From the Phone 7
“Saint Ronald of Reagan, pray for us and hear our prayers.
And may God have mercy on our souls.”
WWF, WWE… what’s the difference
A commercial for WWF (the World Wildlife Fund) just came on TV, pleading with me to save the polar bears.
Did you know most of them will be dead in “our children’s lifetime!”?
Despite the clear environmental message, I couldn’t help wondering for over half the commercial, “what do polar bears have to do with wrestling?”
From the Phone 6
Overheard at work today:
“If this election goes the wrong way, we should move to Canada.”
“If this election goes the wrong way, we’ll BECOME Canada!”
Presidential Haiku Prediction 2
Lawsuits like raindrops
Lawyers: Biblical locusts
Apocalypse soon
Four More Years…
| Of Jimmy Carter. |
 |
One Hundred Words (36)
I hate 24/7 news coverage of anything.
There’s nothing new to say.
Nobody listens when they say it.
It doesn\’t make any sort of difference whatsoever.
All I know is that today the House passed legislation that will allow the government to further interfere in a credit market the government screwed up to begin with!
And after passing said legislation, the Democratic House leadership went on to publicly suckle the teats of Barack Obama.
Barack Obama couldn\’t find his backside with both hands and a Tom Tom. Obama has absolutely no qualifications to be President, and he knows it.
–JJM
One Hundred Words (35)
With the financial meltdown and $700B ridiculousness eating up the media\’s “Foam at the mouth about how wonderful Obama is” time, illegal immigrants aren\’t in the forefront of our collective psyche.
Illegals “do the jobs Americans won\’t,” like landscaping, housekeeping, bussing tables, and picking fruits and vegetables. Why won\’t Americans ”˜do\’ these jobs? They don\’t pay well enough and they\’re dangerous, so illegals do them for less than Americans are willing to.
Get rid of the aliens, and hotels/commercial farms will have to provide safer environments and higher wages for LEGAL immigrants to work.
A living wage without government interference!
–JJM
Adventures in Puppyhood!
Meet Reagan! (And Gorby the duck)
Official Wife Karen is a glutton for punishment. Whenever we would visit the mall, she would always make sure we stopped at the pet store to look at the puppies. I like dogs, so naturally I agreed to LOOK at the $1,000+ puppies in the mall, but never, ever, ever, ever, ever in a million years would we buy one there.
As much as I love her, Official Wife Karen is what you could call impulsive. So seeing puppies in the mall made her want them, checking account balance notwithstanding. Combine her impulsiveness with her gluttony for punishment and you have a recipe for disaster. I want that puppy, I want it now, and if you loved me you wouldn’t show me puppies we can’t afford.
We had been looking through ads in the newspaper to see the prices for different puppies for sale and had decided that we wanted a chocolate lab puppy named Albert Q. Einstein and a beagle puppy named Sir Isaac Newton. And of course, since we live in an apartment with a no-pet lease, we’d get them once we bought a house.
Yesterday morning, she wanted to look at puppies at the SPCA. LOOK at puppies. Look at puppies. Look, look, look, look, look.
Look, not buy. Continued here!
Best of Djere: Ethical Immorality
Originally published, July 2007.
unethical — not being in accordance with the rules or standards for right conduct or practice.
immoral — deliberately violating accepted principles of right and wrong.
The terms are used almost interchangeably these days, and I don’t know just how fair that is. In case this is your first visit to the planet, welcome to America, land of moral relativism.
Morality speaks to the inherent right-ness or wrong-ness of a given action, thought, or behavior. Regardless of the current pulse of the nation or flavor of the week, Morality exists and has existed from beyond the beginning of time.
Ethics are different. The problem with ethicality is that it changes from person to person, culture to culture, and time to time. I define ethics as the application of your values.
values — the ideals, customs, institutions, etc., of a society toward which the people of the group have an affective regard. These values may be positive, as cleanliness, freedom, or education, or negative, as cruelty, crime, or blasphemy.
Think of the things you value — freedom, money, family. The application of your values — which values take priority over other values — now that’s where you create your ethics. If a business organization places a high value on integrity or truthfulness, part of their code of ethics will reflect that importance. If a member were to deal unfairly with an associate, his actions would be unethical — contrary to the values of his organization.
Personal and organizational ethics are derived from values. Values are based upon two things — both a little farther removed from the lofty ethical ideals we think of as right and wrong. First, we base our values on likes and dislikes, two things which interact, change, morph, and ebb and flow as the years pass. Second, we base them on our experiences and observations.
Likes and dislikes, experience and observation give us the why behind the values which gives us the why behind the ethics. Like a pyramid, many experiences and observations combine into our likes and dislikes. Many likes and dislikes combine into our values. Several values combine into our ethics. The truest state of our ethics come from the bottom up, percolating from our past into our future.
Standing alone are morals. Being a Christian, I cannot believe anything but that morals are absolute. There is absolute supreme truth, and it is real and substantial. If morals are the thing, ethics are the shade, the shadow, the human approximation.
With the regeneration of ourselves through the redemptive work of Christ *should* come the regeneration of our code of ethics. Working in the hearts of men, the Holy Spirit Himself transforms us from the top down.
Nothing can change your past — your experiences, your observations, your hurts and past sins. What changes is your response to them, the forgiveness you receive, and hopefully, your values.
*sigh*
Senator John McCain... in Muppet form
I’m voting for him…
But I wish he were a little more charismatic…
Russia Invades Georgia — Congratulations, Mr. Bush
Ready for an understatement? I’m frustrated.
I know that given the circumstances, invading Afghanistan was the right thing to do. It was clear from intelligence reports that the mastermind behind the 9/11 plot, Osama Bin Laden, was in hiding there, protected by the Taliban. To almost any impartial observer, Al-Qaeda’s declaration of war on America gave us enough of a justification to declare that war.
I know that the people of Iraq are better off today than they were under Saddam Hussein. Any impartial observer would tell you that despite the old reports of sectarian violence and naysayers predicting three-way civil war, a fledgling democratic government is starting to take root.
But none of that stops me from being so *expletive deleted* frustrated by the whole situation. It’s been nearly seven years since I watched over 2,600 people die on national television. Never before had so much pro-American support been poured out on a global scale, and where do we stand today? Internally and internationally, I would say we’re worse off than ever before, with absolutely no glimmer of hope on the horizon. Neither of our presidential candidates are worth their weight in spit and Americans are too busy worrying about what celebrity is anorexic this week and which one should be anorexic the next.
Even in our own back yard, two-bit leftist thugs spew anti-American hate as a platform for election, and have been growing in influence slowly but surely. How many South American countries even like us any more? How many European countries respect America? How many Americans respect America?
Russia invades Georgia, and we’re absolutely powerless to stop them. We have absolutely no pull in the former Soviet republics when we cannot provide aid to the most pro-Western democracy in the region. Sure, we can threaten Russia with long-term effects — raising insurance rates so they can’t host the Olympic Games, blocking Russian entry into the WTO, refusing to play war games with them…
I don’t know what the answer is. I’d love to tell you that a North American Union would be part of the solution (provided it were a conservative, regional government, not like the EU).
I just don’t know and it frustrates me.
What we need is Ronald W. Reagan. :(
Isaiah 44 — Part 2
Tuesday, having come and now gone, brought with it a visit from missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I did my homework before they arrived, reading my copy of the Book of Mormon and jotting down notes from the Bible.
I didn’t want to scare them off or arrogantly present my faith to them. I wanted them to be comfortable, to open up and present their gospel so that I could calmly and rationally present the Gospel.
I certainly didn’t score any slam dunks, but I’d like to think that I got two shots in under their radar… two seeds that I hope and pray will take root and grow.
Seed 1 — God is spirit.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with LDS theology, I’ll bring you up to speed. They believe God the Father is a literal, physical person with a body of flesh and bone who is both physically and literally our father. (Doctrine & Covenants, Section 130:22)
The truth of God found in the Word is this:
John 4:24 (NKJV) — “God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.”
Luke 24:39 (NKJV) — “Behold My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself. Handle Me and see, for a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see I have.”
God, being spirit, does not have a body of flesh and bone.
Seed 2 — No man can see God; only Jesus is immortal.
The missionaries were very excited to tell us that they know that Joseph Smith was a prophet because God Himself, literally in the flesh, along with Jesus Christ, literally in the flesh, appeared to ol’ Joey in the forest. Furthermore, when Jesus preached His Gospel to the Indians in America, he selected twelve disciples, three of whom will never die.
The truth of God found in the Word is this:
I Timothy 6:15-16 (NKJV) — “which He will manifest in His own time, He who is the blessed and only Potentate, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality, dwelling in unapproachable light, whom no man has seen or can see, to whom be honor and everlasting power. Amen.”
Earlier in I Timothy, Paul writes (1:17) that God is the “Eternal King, Immortal, Invisible.” If God is invisible and lives in unapproachable light wherein no man has or can see Him, how did Joe see him? Furthermore, if Jesus is the One “who alone has immortality,” how were three of Jesus’ Indian apostles granted immortality?
As I said, they’re not slam dunks, but the sisters wrote the verses down with notes like “God is Spirit?” next to them. I hope and pray the seeds take root, but we’ll find out on Thursday when they come back for another round.
Photoflash — Midwest Flooding
This just in… Residents living in a Midwestern flood plain continue to be baffled and disturbed by yearly flooding.
Isaiah 44 — Part 1
18 June 2008 WATERTOWN —
Imagine our surprise – Official Wife Karen and I were moving a large appliance onto our back porch when we heard a sharp knock on our front door. We weren’t expecting company, and as we peered through the blinds, Official Wife Karen literally jumped backward when she saw the eyes of two earnest-looking young women peering back at her.
“Man, I hope it’s not missionaries,” she muttered under her breath.
They chimed in unison, smiles beaming above their Latter Day Saints nametags: “Hi! We’re here from…”
Excited, I interrupted them. “SWEET!”
The talkative one laughed, while the quiet one scanned the inside of our living room, looking for clues to our eternal fate. “We don’t hear that very often,” said the first. “We’re here from the Church of Latter-Day Saints. We…”
I interrupted them again. “Uh, yeah, I can see that on your tag there. I didn’t know they sent women out into neighborhoods like this.”
Turning to my lovely bride, I asked, “Do we have time for this right now?”
“No,” Official Wife Karen replied. “We have an appointment in a half-hour.”
A few schedule wranglings later, the mormon missionariettes and the Maxon family had an appointment for this coming Tuesday at 4PM!
When I was a younger man, living on campus at Oswego State University of New York, I actually invited the local mormon missionaries into my dorm room for a chat. Official College Roommate Jacob was *not* thrilled.
With the Oswego-mormons, I played along with them, playing dumb, making them define their terms, taking my time… like a chess match.
Like a game.
But I don’t feel like playing games any more, because it’s not a game. Frankly, Mormonism is a cult, it’s dangerous, and adherents are going to a very real hell.
Needless to say, Official Wife Karen was less than pleased. “Why did you invite them back here!?” she growled sweetly whispered to me after the door was shut and locked.
“Because they’re going to hell, Karen. Instead of having to go out and find somebody to save, the devil brought them to our door, and by the Holy Spirit, you and I are going to do something about that,” I said, kissing her forehead.
She smiled. “Oh. That’s why.”
I’ll keep you posted.
One Hundred Words (17)
Attention Lowe’s customers: the time is now 9:45 p.m. and our store will be closing for the evening in fifteen minutes. Just a friendly reminder: Lowe’s hours are 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. Monday through Saturday, and Sunday 8 to 8. At this time I’d like to ask you to make your final selections and bring them to the lighted registers at the front of the store where our friendly cashiers will gladly ring you through. As always, thank you for shopping and saving with Lowe’s.
Attention customers: the time is now 10 p.m. and our store is closing for the evening. For your shopping convenience, we will reopen tomorrow at 6 a.m.
–JJM
Bweinh! Goes to the Movies — Kung Fu Panda
Jack Black in the feel-good movie of the year this… is!
Though my brain can hardly believe it… I… actually… liked… a Jack Black movie.
Uncharacteristic of our movie-watching habits, Official Wife Karen and I watched this 92-minute romp on opening day. And while usually admitting you have a problem is the first step, Jack Black as Po, the laziest panda in ancient China was laugh-out-loud funny. From the opening sequence and the one-liners straight through to the end, something about this movie just worked.
Stunned civilian one: He’s so awesome!
Stunned civilian two: And attractive!
Stunned civilian three: How can we ever repay you?
Po: No charge for awesomeness. Or attractiveness.
By far, the funniest scene was between Po and Shifu (Dustin Hoffman): an elaborate kung fu battle between master and student… over the last dumpling in the bowl.
The cast is surprisingly star-studded, if you consider Jack Black a star, but that may be the most disappointing part of the movie. With creatures voiced by Jackie Chan (Monkey), Lucy Liu (Viper), Angelina Jolie (Tigress), Seth Rogen (Mantis), and Ian Cross (Crane), you really don’t hear a whole lot out of them. I really wish there had been more memorable lines to take away from the movie.
Adding to the humor was that we saw it on opening night. Sure it’s funny to laugh at a cartoon, but it’s funnier (for me) to notice that Official Wife Karen laughs when the adults laugh, and I laugh when the audience full of children laughs. To enjoy the laughter of children, catch this movie at around seven, and do so within the first week. Hilarious.
In all, I give it an astonishing bweinh! out of BWEINH! (6.5 out of 7).
One Hundred Words (13)
In America, Christians spend too much time dying of thirst in the desert.
Oh, if only the rain would come”¦ if only I could feel the next move of God I would have life.
Have you ever seen pictures of the desert days after the rain? It\’s beautiful: life springs up overnight where there was nothing before.
Have you ever seen that same desert a month after the rain? Desolation.
He shall be like a tree
Planted by the rivers of water,
That brings forth its fruit in its season,
Whose leaf also shall not wither;
And whatever he does shall prosper.
(Psalm 1:3)
Don\’t wait for it — dig for it.
–JJM
News Analysis — Ted Kennedy
Conservative scientists were stunned today to learn of Sen. Ted Kennedy’s (D-MA) condition upon being released from Massachusetts General Hospital. Doctors diagnosed the aging Senator with a malignant glioma in his left parietal lobe — brain cancer.
Though details of his prognosis have not been released, speculation centers less around what they said, and more on what they did not say.
Listed as possible options for treatment were radiation and chemotherapy, but not surgery, leading many medical experts to believe the tumor is inoperable. Differing sources estimate the Senator has between one and three years to live — around 50 years longer than Mary Jo Kopechne.
Newsday reports that damage to the left parietal lobe can result in difficulty with words, math, and hand-eye coordination — symptoms most politicians suffer from. Gliomas are the most commonly diagnosed brain tumors — around 9,000 a year — but not common enough to explain away liberalism.
Bweinh! Goes to the Movies: Horton Hears a Who
Jim Carrey in the feel-good picture of the year, this ain’t. But if you’re looking to be diverted from your troubles with a non-canonical Seuss-ish movie, drop the nine bucks on a ticket and kick back.
The movie follows the hapless Horton (Carrey)
, an elephant who teaches the strangely shaped children of the Jungle of Nool (including the terrifyingly bizarre “Katie,” a multi-colored, sheep-like creature who can float). Horton discovers a speck of dust, on which lies the city of Whoville. They’re not the Whos of Grinch-related fame, but Whos they are nonetheless.
The mayor of Whoville (ably portrayed by Steve Carrell) requests Horton’s help in saving his Whovilization from almost certain doom, but Horton is met with resistance from the stifling censorship and closemindedness of Kangaroo (Carol Burnett).
The two most famous Seuss lines in the movie are: “I meant what I said and I said what I meant; an elephant’s faithful, one hundred percent,” and “A person’s a person, no matter how small.” For the record, the first line doesn’t even appear in the original Horton Hears a Who, but rather in Horton Hatches an Egg. What’s that? Who cares about which book it was in? That’s right. I care. Me, the guy who wrote a 30-page paper on Dr. Seuss for his 20th Century American Literature class!
It’s still true, though. A person’s a person no matter how small, whether 4 or 40, a blasted liberal or a blastocyte. Except for emo kids. Yuck. They turned the “shirker named Jo-Jo,” who taught in the book that “every little bit helps” and “everyone needs to work together to be productive,” into the mayor’s whiny emo son.
I call it Seuss-ish because the good Doctor’s books are just so short, it’s difficult to make a feature-length flick out of them without a good deal of fluff, so know what you’re getting into: an 88-minute diversion with several laugh-out-loud jokes, but no real staying power.
I give it a “Bwei” out of “Bweinh!” (4 out of 7).
Best of Djere — Squeaky Clean
Originally published August 20, 2007.
At some point, and I don’t honestly remember when, I had to put some serious thought into showering. I know it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you need to think about, but applying some thought and reason toward bathing allows you to clean yourself more thoroughly and efficiently than could otherwise be possible.
Sins are gross, vile, and filthy stains that require cleaning. And while I certainly believe that, as the Bible says, whoever calls on the name of the Lord will be saved, we still have sins to deal with. You know, the process of becoming righteous… personal holiness and all that.
I’ve been a Christian for a long time now, saved at an early age, raised in a Christian home; a third-generation Christian, if you will. But I still struggle with sins in my own life. And it bothers me that after this many years, I still struggle with this problem.
I know I’m not alone, though. Everyone still struggles with sins after they are saved. So if it bothers me that I struggle after two decades of Christianity, it bothers me even more that after two MILLENNIA, Christianity is still permeated with the cancer of sin.
What have denominations been doing since the Reformation? Arguing over eternally worthless doctrinal statements, what day of the week Sunday School should be on, or whether or not ties are part of Heaven’s dress code (along with halos).
I know I’ve put thought into showering because I shower well — I come out of the shower clean, I don’t stink at the end of the day, and I’m relatively well-groomed. By examining the end product, you can tell I have a good process. Can the same be said for some Christian denominations? Spiritually, Christians are washed by the blood of Christ, the Spirit, and by the soap of the Word, right? Is their metaphorical showering doing them any good after they leave church?
Catholics — First, enter a booth and tell your priest what kind of dirt you have on you and where it is. Though you have a bar of soap at home, fully wrapped, you shouldn’t open it because laity couldn’t possibly understand how to use it properly. As you leave the booth, he’ll remind you to ask people, long since dead, who were clean while they lived, to bathe on your behalf.
Pentecostals — Cram as many people as you can into a tent and turn on the shower heads. Get them all riled up: running around in circles, flopping around on the tiled floor, working up a good sweat. Don’t bother learning how to use the soap: the apostles ’tweren’t learn-ed neither! Eventually somebody will show up with a snake. Just go with it.
Baptists — Which type? Does your congregation use the “King Jesus Version” of soap or are they “Nearly Inspired Version” heretics? How long, specifically, should you spend in the shower? Should you wash the right hand, the left hand, or your chest first? What temperature should the water be? For as many complaints or differences of opinion you may have, you can find a Baptist congregation out there tailor-made to your spiritual hissy-fits. Northern, Southern, Conservative, Cooperative, Primitive, Independent, General Associative, Regional, Ecumenical, American (sorry Mike), Progressive… you name it, we got it.
Me? I’d just like to stay grounded in the Word, submitted in the Spirit, and never too proud to see how I’m nothing without Him.
Bweinh! Goes to the Movies: Rambo
I’ll tell you one thing — Rambo is by no means Sylvester Stallone in the feel-good picture of the year. But he has his moments.
The story revolves around sexagenarian John Rambo and a squad of mercenaries who rescue missionaries from the evil clutches of a brutal, dictatorial, oppressive, homosexual, Southeast Asian general and his raping, pillaging, murderous goon-filled death squads. Overall, the plot itself is fairly standard for 1980s-level action films, just with a higher production value.
Rambo himself is as murderous a killing machine as he is inventive, eliminating enemy soldiers with knives, bows and arrows, pistols, truck-mounted machine guns, and even by attaching a Claymore to an unexploded WWII British bomb. Oh, and he also rips out a man’s throat. Wicked. But it’s all for a good reason, so he’s kind of a nice guy at heart, you know?
Other characters lack depth (unlike the ever-multifaceted Rambo’s two sides — kill and slur). The missionaries are presented as pigheadedly bent on complete nonviolence as they infiltrate the border of a war zone for “the greater good.” The mercenaries are completely off the handle, screaming and swearing at Rambo, one another, trees, boats, rain, missionaries, enemy soldiers… in this movie, just about anything that can be screamed or sworn at is.
The death squads are believably evil, but why Stallone chose to include a scene of a young boy’s private late-night visit to the general is beyond me. I mean, seriously. We just watched this guy order a village hacked to bits and pieces, we get that he’s kind of a bad dude. Why add that he’s also into little boys? Is genocide not bad enough? Will American audiences think, “I still see the good in that man, even past his 1970s sunglasses and creepy mustache — but now that they’re implying he’s gay, I think he deserved to be hacked in half with a machete by John J. Rambo.”
The action scenes at the end of the movie were intense, too intense. I had no clue who was killing whom or why, except when the head missionary avenged all the others by bashing a soldier’s head in with a rock. Very Cain and Abel-esque.
Overall, I don’t think anyone should be exposed to the violence of Rambo, but I’m not going to lie to you. I enjoyed it.
Yo, Adrian!!!
Rules of the Road: Winter Edition
If you’re an honest, God-fearing American, you live someplace where winter means snow. Some place like New York, Missouri, or Canada. Here’s what you’ll need to know.
â”” Contrary to popular belief, snow is neither divine dandruff, nor the byproduct of an angelic pillow fight. Snow is actually a Venezuelan conspiracy to drive up oil prices.
â”” If on the road during a snowstorm, be patient. It’ll all melt eventually.
â”” Practice makes perfect! Practice handling your vehicle in snowy conditions in the nearest empty parking lot, or handling blizzard conditions at your nearest Dairy Queen. Better yet, kill two birds with one stone at your nearest empty Dairy Queen parking lot.
â”” Every other vehicle you’ll meet on the road will be piloted by morons. They’ll either try to drive 5 or 65. Don’t worry, you’ll pass their vehicles, immobile and abandoned in the snowbanks just a few miles up the road. Pointing and laughing comes at no extra cost.
â”” Always travel in a vehicle with all- or four-wheel drive unless a vehicle with six-wheel drive or tank treads is available.
â”” If you’re cursed with unsafe travel (read: motorcycle, car, minivan, or airplane), be sure to keep bags of sand in the trunk. It will help you gain traction, and, in a pinch, you can throw it in your enemies’ eyes and yell “NINJA VANISH!”
â”” If the unthinkable happens, and your vehicle goes off the road, above all else, REMAIN CALM! Think to yourself, ‘At least I’m not watching that godforsaken A Christmas Story . . . again.’
â”” If you want a snow day, turn your pajamas inside out and wear them backwards. It’s empirical data, verified by men in scientific-looking lab coats, that this will help. Light from the sun, in the form of photons, bounces off the moon and is transformed by… I don’t know. It’s science, and it works.
Countdown to America Electing Yet Another Self-Centered, Self-Serving Egotist 2008
There are more than three weeks until the official start of the Year of our Lord 2008.
Already there are over 7,100,000 hits on google for election 2008. Contrast that with fewer than 3.9 million for Britney Spears, and even a walrus can see that FAR TOO MUCH has already been written about an election over 300 days away.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy politics as much as the next guy who minored in Political Science (Poli-Sci, for those in the know). I’m just not a glutton for punishment. Not that the news media are going to let us off the hook. They’ll be all up in our collective grill, telling us either what we already know or what they want us to know, creating and destroying buzz words faster than Dan Rather can give a frog a handgun.
Flashback 2004
Djere is seated in JLM 319 – Editorial, Opinion, and News Analysis. The assignment was to inform the professor which Presidential candidate you support (thus splitting the class in half), and as editorial boards, write an endorsement for your candidate. After tallying the slips of paper a sigh, and a slight pause, Professor Karadjov speaks.
P.K.: “I’m going to need five volunteers. Contrary to national polling, Mr. Maxon here is the only student in the class supporting President Bush for relection.”
So clearly the *next* generation of Journalists is as liberal as you thought they’d be.
Thank God for democracy and all that, but if this election crap keeps up, it’s going to take more than Twiggy water skiing around a kiddie pool to keep from losing my mind.
Swiftboating, leapfrogging, gerrymandering… aww, crap for crap.
On the bright side, it was my (unbeknownst to me) Al Capone quote that got my endorsement voted best in the class.
“And remember: this election day, vote early, vote often, and vote for Bush.”
P.S. So far, only one reply… from the RON PAUL campaign!
History in Making
I may have made history on my lunch break today.
I spent my hour of personal freedom emailing each of the major presidential campaigns with an identical question. I will share the question now, but I’ll wait to see how many replies I get before sharing the candidates’ OFFICIAL opinions.
Jeremiah Maxon wrote:
Subject: Question on an Issue
To Whom it May Concern:
There are many who are convinced that Zombies are the most convincing threat to national security. Where does your candidate stand on the issue of Zombies?
Sincerely,
Jeremiah Maxon
bweinh.com
This could be the best election year EVER!
Why We Believe: Vol. 5
This and following weekends, we will share the brief salvation testimony of each Bweinh!tributor. So far we’ve heard from David, Steve, Tom, and Connie. Next in line is Djere.
“Now salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of His Christ have come, for the accuser of our brethren, who accused them before our God day and night, has been cast down. And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives to the death.”
–Revelation 12:10b-11
There’s an old self-actualization exercise professors use in just about every field of coursework — writing your own obituary. It’s supposed to help you focus your studies onto long-term goals and help get you there quicker.
I was reflecting on that verse Friday, thinking that of all the verses in the Bible that I want to be true in my life, that’s one of them. And when all is said and done, I earnestly hope to God that is my verse.
As much as a three-year-old can understand sin, damnation, repentance, and eternal life, when threatened by my older brother with eternal hellfire, I made my first — and last — tearful bedside conversion. But the problem with being second of six siblings is that I quickly got fed up with the crowd. My “rebellion” was not simply agreeing to whatever I was told. I wanted to explore it first, tear it apart, chew it, and discover it was as true for me as the Bible said it was.
Early one summer Dad told us, matter-of-factly, that his sons were all to be baptized. No discussion, no debate — just a cool statement of fact. But unlike my ovine brothers, I wasn’t letting my father — or anyone else — make my decision for me. So baptism day came and went with a sopping wet Stephen, a sopping wet Thomas, and a remarkably dry Jeremiah. Once I had made up my mind, I was baptized the next summer.
My teenage years were spent learning about spiritual leadership from our pastor and leading a youth small group. Once I left home for Oswego State University, I helped re-grow the BASIC college ministry from a sparsely-populated club to one of the largest organizations on campus.
But a testimony is more that a recollection of facts — it’s how we overcame and how we overcome. I’ve seen healings, I’ve seen miracles, I’ve seen lives changed. And I will see more.
Here lies Jeremiah ‘Djere’ Maxon (1983 – 2023)
Beloved Prophet, Pastor, Missionary, Itinerant Worker of Miracles — all around hep cat.
Revelation 12:11
“But Brother… it’s the Lord’s day!”
One person esteems one day above another; another esteems every day alike. Let each be fully convinced in his own mind.
Romans 14:5 (NKJV)
How is it that we, post-modern, sophisticated, intellectual American Christians still can’t decide which day of the week to meet together for worship? How is it that we, post-modern, sophisticated, intellectual American Christians still don’t fully grasp that the day of the week doesn’t matter?
“Well, brother, Jesus is the Son, so we meet on Sonday!” exclaim the same people who advertise in the Yellow Pages: “All Soldiers Welcome — KJV Only!”
Almost.
We call it Sunday because it was a day dedicated to the Sun god, much in the same way we call it Monday after the goddess of the Moon. SUNday… Monday… See the connection?
But what about the other days of the week? Surely those Seventh-Day Adventists have it right. But let’s just progress through the week.
Following the Moon Goddess’s day we come to Tuesday. If you’re an English speaker (and who isn’t these days?) you celebrate Tuesday, from the Old English Tiwesdaeg from the Norse god Tyr. If you’re a Romantic, it’s some variation of Mars’ Day – both Pagan gods of war.
Holy Odin on a pogo stick, Wednesday, to Anglophiles like Chloe, stems from the Norse god Odin (Wodan). Other Europeans celebrate Mercury’s day: miércoles, mercoledi, or mercredi.
Personally, my favorite day of the week is Thor’s Day, followed by Frigga’s Day, both Norse in origin. TGIF, indeed.
Rounding out our list of pagan dieties is ancient Rome’s Saturn. Poor, old, decrepit lovable Saturn, devouring his children… Makes Saturday morning cartoons seem tame by comparison.
For even if there are so-called gods, whether in heaven or on earth (as there are many gods and many lords), yet for us there is one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we for Him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, through whom are all things, and through whom we live.
1 Corinthians 8:5-6 (NKJV)
What days we meet don’t matter, what days we work don’t matter — it’s that we do work, and more importantly, that we do meet.
Local Car Commercials
I’d forgotten why I don’t watch local news anymore.
It’s not the quality or nature of the broadcasts — it’s the car commercials.
And it’s not the quality or nature of the commercials – all those liars have the same thing to say. It’s how they say it.
“Hi folks, it’s Tom Parks’ here…”
It’s how HE says it.
Though I’ve never met the man, I’d have no qualms about putting a boot through his face.
And I think that when I go back to work after lunch, I’m going to invent a new word.
Billy, you’re HUGE-tarded.
…we met in the middle…
So what, did my insurance claims adjuster and I *actually* have this conversation:
Insurance Claims Adjuster: “So you’ll be using your collision coverage to replace your tail light, right?”
Djere: “No, I think I’ll just buy one.”
ICA: “Oh, good idea! I mean, you have a thousand dollar deductable anyway, so yours seems like a pretty good idea…”
:( Man, I hate Wal*Mart parking lots.
News in Brief, 9/7/07
In Freeze-dried pollenator news, scientists have discovered just how complicated the humble honeybee is – identifying eight species of bacteria, four lineages of fungi, and seven different viruses.
Scientist turning on honeybee grinding machine – “Uh huh, life’s like this…”
Bumblebee Man – “¡Ay, Dios no me ama!”
In psychotic, self-important murderer news, everybody’s favorite terrorist struggling to stay relevant Osama/Usama bin Laden released a new diatribe today. Thank God for the New Testament.
Osama – “All praise is due to Allah… and from His Law is retaliation in kind: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth and the killer is killed.”
Jesus – “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.”
Labor Day my eye
Maybe those sissy unionists are taking the day off, but since they’re not here in the palacious bweinh.com boardroom, I’ll take this opportunity to tarnish their collective reputations.
Djere presents ‘Strange and Untrue Cutthroat Rumors!!‘
* Josh Jones let our love fern die. He is not to be trusted.
* Tom cries himself to sleep at night because he can’t remember the words to ‘Livin’ La Vida Loca.’
* Steve cries himself to sleep at night because he can’t forget the words to ‘Livin’ La Vida Loca.’
* Connie only loves one of her children. This humble reporter knows which one… do you?
* David only got into the copier business as a cover for his $2 bill counterfeiting ring.
* Until early this year, MC-B‘s facebook profile listed his religious affiliation as ‘Frisbyterian.’ Non-practicing, I’d bet…
* While the name ‘Michael Jordan’ may hint at his athletic talent, don’t be fooled. The movie ‘Glitter’ is loosely based on Mike‘s tumultuous teens.
* Job can neither swim nor tie knots. What kind of sailor is he, you ask? The Village People kind.
* Not only is Chloe Steve’s girlfriend, he’s the only one who can see her.
It’s all true; a gypsy told me so.
WHAT ON EARTH IS YOUR PROBLEM!?!?!?!
Looking for family-friendly fun and excitement? Looking to eat deep-fried Snickers bars? Looking to blow through too much money?
If the answer to any of those questions is “maybe,” the Great New York State Fair is for you!
As recently as Sunday, I was at the Great New York State Fair with Karen, official girlfriend of Djere.
We went to the fair to have a good time, but apparently we missed the memorandum that Sunday was ‘Treat Your Unborn Baby to Second-hand Smoke and Alcohol’ Day.
We saw dozens of pregnant women lighting up and pounding beer.
Words inadequately express how angry that made me.
Seriously, if you want to become a drain on our national resources, purposely giving yourself lung cancer and liver cancer, keep on smoking and drinking. In fact, that’s probably where that baby of yours came from. But once you get yourself knocked up after the Kenny Chesney/Taylor Swift concert, things have to change.
STOP KILLING YOUR CHILD!
- Reasons being a no-good redneck hick is bad for your unborn baby’s health
- If all pregnant women in the United States stopped smoking, there would be an estimated 11 percent reduction in stillbirths and a 5 percent reduction in newborn deaths.
- Both nicotine and carbon monoxide are believed to play a role in causing adverse pregnancy outcomes.
- Smoking nearly doubles a woman’s risk of having a low-birthweight baby
- No level of alcohol use during pregnancy has been proven safe.
- Drinking alcohol during pregnancy can cause a number of birth defects, ranging from mild to severe. These include mental retardation; learning, emotional and behavioral problems; and defects involving the heart, face and other organs.
Please, for the love of all that’s good and holy, do your best to discourage this type of irresponsible behavior! Boycott country music! Boycott cigarette companies! Boycott pregnancy! Slap pregnant women you see smoking!
Have I mentioned boycotting country music!
Oye!
Squeaky Clean
At some point, and I don’t honestly remember when, I had to put some serious thought into showering. I know it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you need to think about, but applying some thought and reason toward bathing allows you to clean yourself more thoroughly and efficiently than could otherwise be possible.
Sins are gross, vile, and filthy stains that require cleaning. And while I certainly believe that, as the Bible says, whoever calls on the name of the Lord will be saved, we still have sins to deal with. You know, the process of becoming righteous… personal holiness and all that.
I’ve been a Christian for a long time now, saved at an early age, raised in a Christian home; a third-generation Christian, if you will. But I still struggle with sins in my own life. And it bothers me that after this many years, I still struggle with this problem.
I know I’m not alone, though. Everyone still struggles with sins after they are saved. So if it bothers me that I struggle after two decades of Christianity, it bothers me even more that after two MILLENNIA, Christianity is still permeated with the cancer of sin.
What have denominations been doing since the Reformation? Arguing over eternally worthless doctrinal statements, what day of the week Sunday School should be on, or whether or not ties are part of Heaven’s dress code (along with halos).
I know I’ve put thought into showering because I shower well — I come out of the shower clean, I don’t stink at the end of the day, and I’m relatively well-groomed. By examining the end product, you can tell I have a good process. Can the same be said for some Christian denominations? Spiritually, Christians are washed by the blood of Christ, the Spirit, and by the soap of the Word, right? Is their metaphorical showering doing them any good after they leave church?
Catholics — First, enter a booth and tell your priest what kind of dirt you have on you and where it is. Though you have a bar of soap at home, fully wrapped, you shouldn’t open it because laity couldn’t possibly understand how to use it properly. As you leave the booth, he’ll remind you to ask people, long since dead, who were clean while they lived, to bathe on your behalf.
Pentecostals — Cram as many people as you can into a tent and turn on the shower heads. Get them all riled up: running around in circles, flopping around on the tiled floor, working up a good sweat. Don’t bother learning how to use the soap: the apostles ’tweren’t learn-ed neither! Eventually somebody will show up with a snake. Just go with it.
Baptists — Which type? Does your congregation use the “King Jesus Version” of soap or are they “Nearly Inspired Version” heretics? How long, specifically, should you spend in the shower? Should you wash the right hand, the left hand, or your chest first? What temperature should the water be? For as many complaints or differences of opinion you may have, you can find a Baptist congregation out there tailor-made to your spiritual hissy-fits. Northern, Southern, Conservative, Cooperative, Primitive, Independent, General Associative, Regional, Ecumenical, American (sorry Mike), Progressive… you name it, we got it.
Me? I’d just like to stay grounded in the Word, submitted in the Spirit, and never too proud to see how I’m nothing without Him.
About that election…
What was I thinking?
Sure, it was a hypothetical vote for an election over a year away, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder what I was thinking. I mean: Mitt Romney? Seriously?
Despite the theological differences I have with the church of Rome, they are still “Christians” in a very real sense. I may have a problem with the loose morals of the “Bible Belt,” but as the Apostle Paul would say, “at least the name of Christ is named.”
Mormons are not Christians.
And though for a while I thought it didn’t matter who the president prays to, these people are messed up.
Satan’s M.O. doesn’t change — you want to be like God, don’t you?
Genesis 3:4-5 says:
“You will not surely die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”
Somebody at work asked me if I was a Mormon once. I laughed and replied in the negative. “What’s wrong?,” they asked. “Don’t you want to be a god when you die?”
For the slightest of instants, I thought about how cool that would be. But before any other synapses could fire, from the depths of my spirit, I knew the answer was no, I don’t want to be a god. I already have a God. What point is there in worshiping God if I’m going to demand worship as a god myself? Besides, I played Black and White. I was a terrible, evil, petty god who demanded human sacrifice.
I smiled at my co-worker and said, “No thanks, God does a good enough job on His own.”
There are very, very, very few South Park episodes that I can recommend in good conscience. All About Mormons is one. 
Sorry, Mr. Romney. I’d love to vote for your mainstream conservatism, your family values, and your perfectly manicured coif, but I have trouble voting for a man who thinks God was once human, became a god, had sex with Mary to create Jesus, requires followers to wear magic underwear, plans on working his way to heaven to become yet another god, and will keep his spirit brides perpetually pregnant to populate the planet he rules.
Not cool.
As for me and my household? We’ll vote Freddy Thompson.
More Than Discontent
I just spent a week counseling seven boys, ranging from 16 to 18 years of age at Camp Shiloh.
It’s not boot camp by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s a fairly regimented life. We have a schedule; we stick to the schedule. Counselors have devotions every morning together, we eat three square meals a day (though this year’s food was less than desirable), we have chapel twice a day, and for one entire week, our focus becomes entering the presence of God. Until you see a couple hundred teenagers passionately pursuing God day after day and night after night, you haven’t lived.
To leave that lifestyle is, at the very least, a rough transition.
I returned home to settle back into routine, only to find that I hate my life. Not in an emo way, but in the sad realization way. I thought I liked my job, but I’d trade it for camp in a heartbeat. I’d trade my car for intimacy with God. I’d trade my… just about anything for opportunity to, and intimacy in, worship.
Here I am, having just left work, with this overwhelming feeling that I missed the boat… that I settled for less than there is.
A couple years ago, just before summer break at Oswego, my friends were discussing summer plans and jobs. I said I was working at Lowe’s and they all just stared at me.
“You work?,” they all asked.
“What’s that supposed to mean!?”
My then-unsaved friend Ryan put it best. “I can’t picture you with a real job,” he said, “I just sort of picture you with a stick in one hand and a bible in the other, just walking from town to town preaching the Gospel… you know… like a prophet or something.”
It’s not that I’m unhappy, it’s more than discontent. It’s unfulfilling.
Then again, you try being in the presence of God for a week, then see how well your first day back to work goes. I know where my Bible is. Maybe I should find a stick…
Best of Bweinh! — Virginia Tech
Originally published April 17, 2007.
Nor will anyone hear His voice in the streets.
A bruised reed He will not break,
And smoking flax He will not quench,
Till He sends forth justice to victory;
And in His name Gentiles will trust.”
Matthew 12:19-21 (NKJV)
—
While I sit in a coffee shop in upstate NY, thousands of miles from the Virginia Tech campus, I cannot help but reflect on the events of these past two days. Together, the two attacks constitute the deadliest school shooting in American history and they came only days before the anniversary of the Columbine shooting, our deadliest high school shooting.
Friends, co-workers, strangers in the coffee shop all seem to ask the same three questions.
“Did you hear?”
“Why did it happen?”
“What if it happened here?”
We’ve been created with the ability to empathize with other people, and news this tragic, this life-altering, this profound can often change our view of the world and people around us.
As it was on April 20, 1999, as it was on September 11, 2001, it was today. Collectively and individually, our hearts break for the victims of such tragedies. And though we and our colleagues may be so far removed from the situation physically and socially, we still feel compelled to discuss it. We feel the need to rationalize it. We feel the need to come to sense with the scary world around us.
But some actions can never be understood.
Thirty-three people are dead as a result of the shootings and fifteen are injured. That means nearly fifty families are directly affected by a physical casualty. The attacks left hundreds of first-hand witnesses forever changed as a result of the attack, and thousands more traumatized by the fear that it could happen again.
And though the global outpouring of grief directed toward America and the Virginia Tech campus may bring some small comfort, there is yet again a very real need for inner healing for the victims, their families, their classmates, their peers, and a nation yet again shaken by tragedy. A convocation was held on that campus earlier today toward that end. Speakers included local religious leaders representing the Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, and Christian faiths.
Hearts and lives have been torn open in an unfathomable act, and those hearts need mending. And there’s a great God of compassion and grace ready, willing, and able to mend broken hearts, to repair the bruised reeds and smoking flax in the world. That God is very real and very interested in their healing. But ministering that healing has been entrusted to His servants, through the power of the Holy Spirit. Will those same servants sit idly by while the terrified and brokenhearted among us run for placebo after placebo to cure what cannot be cured by human hands?
As I sit in a coffee shop in upstate NY, far removed from the terror, pain, and chaos swirling around the Blacksburg campus, will I remain idle? Will I fail to offer a prayer of intercession or to comfort someone who, though far removed physically, has been deeply affected? Will I be an ambassador of Christ, offering to heal the brokenhearted and repair a broken reed? Will I offer the only cure to the human condition, though the Buddhists and Muslims of the world offer an appealing placebo?
I will and I must.
Will you?
Ethical Immorality
unethical – not being in accordance with the rules or standards for right conduct or practice.
immoral – deliberately violating accepted principles of right and wrong.
The terms are used almost interchangeably these days, and I don’t know just how fair that is. In case this is your first visit to the planet, welcome to America, land of moral relativism.
Morality speaks to the inherent right-ness or wrong-ness of a given action, thought, or behavior. Regardless of the current pulse of the nation or flavor of the week, Morality exists and has existed from beyond the beginning of time.
Ethics are different. The problem with ethicality is that it changes from person to person, culture to culture, and time to time. I define ethics as the application of your values.
values – the ideals, customs, institutions, etc., of a society toward which the people of the group have an affective regard. These values may be positive, as cleanliness, freedom, or education, or negative, as cruelty, crime, or blasphemy.
Think of the things you value – freedom, money, family. The application of your values – which values take priority over other values – now that’s where you create your ethics. If a business organization places a high value on integrity or truthfulness, part of their code of ethics will reflect that importance. If a member were to deal unfairly with an associate, his actions would be unethical – contrary to the values of his organization.
Personal and organizational ethics are derived from values. Values are based upon two things – both a little farther removed from the lofty ethical ideals we think of as right and wrong. First, we base our values on likes and dislikes, two things which interact, change, morph, and ebb and flow as the years pass. Second, we base them on our experiences and observations.
Likes and dislikes, experience and observation give us the why behind the values which gives us the why behind the ethics. Like a pyramid, many experiences and observations combine into our likes and dislikes. Many likes and dislikes combine into our values. Several values combine into our ethics. The truest state of our ethics come from the bottom up, percolating from our past into our future.
Standing alone are morals. Being a Christian, I cannot believe anything but that morals are absolute. There is absolute supreme truth, and it is real and substantial. If morals are the thing, ethics are the shade, the shadow, the human approximation.
With the regeneration of ourselves through the redemptive work of Christ *should* come the regeneration of our code of ethics. Working in the hearts of men, the Holy Spirit Himself transforms us from the top down.
Nothing can change your past — your experiences, your observations, your hurts and past sins. What changes is your response to them, the forgiveness you receive, and hopefully, your values.
Thanks, Joe!
THIS JUST IN…
In case papal bulls, worshiping Mary, or eastern orthodoxy aren’t your thing, you may have missed Pope Benedict XVI’s recent pronouncement that I don’t go to church on Sunday.
I go to a defective ‘ecclesial community‘ of other like-minded souls destined for eternal damnation (or at least a good long cooling-off period in purgatory).
If only my ecclesial community possessed “the fullness of the means of salvation,” like the Roman Catholic Church says it (and it alone) possesses. You know, like the bible says.
Oh, wait.
Dispatches from the Future
GUN CONTROL DEBATE SHIFTS TO THE HOUSE
Washington, D.C.
Spurred on by the shocking June 14 assassination attempt on Lewis Mitchner, Undersecretary of State for Human-Cyborg Relations, the gun control debate has resurfaced in the House.
The newest proposal would ban all “semi-automatic” tactical lasers and laser cannons, as well as any device that uses mitochondrial drift to specifically target human beings.
“These types of gigawatt-range tactical lasers are built for one purpose, and one purpose only,” a newly revived Mitchner said, in a special visit to the floor of the House. “The complete sublimation of human flesh.”
The Undersecretary was traveling through sections of southern Florida, overseeing the excavation of the former “Florida Keys” from the Atlantic Ocean when he was struck by an assassin’s beam. Mitchner was flown by a fully-automated Air Force helicopter to a reclamation station moored over the remains of downtown Miami. From there, he was transferred to a Cyborg processing facility and transferred into a synthetic body. He was 53.
Earlier in the day, Technocrats in the Senate passed a bill similar to the one proposed in the House by a margin of 63-57. Senate Majority Leader @@Cyrux//014 (T) praised today’s vote, calling the outcome “within acceptable parameters.”
Critics of the measure were outraged. At a press conference on the steps of the Reagan National Monument, Cyberian leader Brock13zzz called the measure an “insult” to “law-abiding humans and cyborgs alike, who only seek to be left alone to practice sport shooting and avian incineration.”
Adding insult to injury, critics were denied a protest permit by the MPD. A spokeswoman for the department cited failure to provide an environmental impact study as the reason for the denial.
Miracle of Life Gone Awry
Lawn and woodland creatures all over Maxon Corners are expressing shock and dismay over the disappearance of Mother Robin and the death of her four young chicks. The chicks were just 8 days old.
“I swooped over the deck early this morning, you know, just to forage by the rose bushes,” said Jason A. Finch, 2. “It seemed too quiet. So I checked the Robin nest… and they were all dead.”
Woodland police say they suspect foul play, but they have no solid leads.
When questioned by this reporter, the orange stray tabby living in the cellar denied killing Mother Robin.
“Don’t you think that if — and that’s a really big if — I killed Mother Robin, I would have eaten her four helpless, tender, juicy, delicious chicks? But instead, there they are, just lying in the nest, going to waste. That’s not my style,” he said.
Police have also questioned the Red-tailed Hawk, but he could not be reached for comment as of publication.
Funeral arrangements will be provided by Maxon Landscaping, and burial will be in the garden.
Necco’s Sky Bar
On this, Djere’s birthday, we present a post from the Best of Djere, originally written on March 3, 2006.
I was standing in the Sweet Shoppe, a confectionary in the lobby of Hewitt Union in SUNY Oswego. While perusing the aisles of the establishment, a sorry sight caught my eye. Sitting, untouched, was an entire box of what has to be the least popular candy bar of all time — Necco’s Sky Bar.
According to Necco’s website, “In 1938, the Sky Bar was first announced to the public by means of a dramatic skywriting advertising campaign. Necco was the first candy manufacturer in this country to introduce a molded chocolate bar having four distinctly different centers enrobed in chocolate.”
The Sky Bar still claims the “honor” of being the only four-flavored candy bar in the world. But is the bar “a truly unique treat,” as Necco claims? Let’s find out together.
The premise of the bar is its four different flavored fillings: Caramel, Peanut Butter, Vanilla, and Fudge. For this experiment, I purchased a Sky Bar and 1 pint of whole milk. After each flavored section, I will record my reaction to the candy, cleanse my palate with milk, and move onward to the next.
Bweinh! Soundtrack — Keith Green
Every weekend, a different Bweinh!tributor will discuss a song or songwriter that inspires or interests them. Read the first four soundtrack entries here, here, here, and here.
Scene: Three teenage boys huddle together in their dark living room, illuminated only by the colorful strobing of their television. There are three sources of noise in the house: the boys, their television, and a dust-covered record player.
Our parents were involved in just about every ministry our church conducted. Worship, children’s church, youth group, cleaning ministry, “Special Touches” ministry for those who were sick, prayer chain, elders’ meetings, ministers’ fellowship meetings… you name it, they pretty much did it. And it’s not like they didn’t want to be home. But church meetings kept them out of the house anywhere from one to three nights a week.
Sure, we got into our fair share of trouble, but eventually we fell into our groove. And half of our groove was Mario Kart on the Super Nintendo. Still to this day, Steve, Tom, and I are some of the fiercest Mario Karters you’ll ever meet. (P.S. — Don’t even *think* about challenging me to Vanilla Lake 2. Seriously.)
The other half was Keith Green.
Though I’m sure he’ll correct my remembrance, Steve was poking around my parents’ room (like many teens) and discovered a dusty, forgotten box of our parents’ old records — like Bob Dylan, 2nd Chapter of Acts, and Keith Green.
And from the time we discovered the box, it was Keith Green every night we played.
So while other kids were zoning out to 90s grunge rock, we had (and still have) almost every Keith Green song memorized, down to the skipping of the individual records. When we drive and “He’ll Take Care of the Rest” comes on, each of us will sing: “He’ll take care of the rest / bum bum Ju… / bum bum Ju… / bum bum Ju… / bum bum / Just believe, and you’ll receive / that comfort you need…” Just like we learned from the record.
From the orchestral, soaring highs of the Prodigal Son Suite, to the musically minor, theologically major Sheep and the Goats, Keith Green’s influence on my brothers and me cannot be overstated. His were our first and most played CDs. Steve got the entire Ministry Years collection; I bought the Songs of Devotion, Songs of Worship, Songs of Testimony, and Songs of Evangelism collections.
Being told I sounded like Keith Green on the piano was probably one of the greatest compliments I had ever received. Sure, it’s not true by any stretch of the imagination, but it was nice to hear.
If you’re looking to be challenged in your walk, your faith, your devotion, your evangelism, your worship, or your life, listen to Keith Green.
And play Mario Kart.
Virginia Tech
Nor will anyone hear His voice in the streets.
A bruised reed He will not break,
And smoking flax He will not quench,
Till He sends forth justice to victory;
And in His name Gentiles will trust.”
Matthew 12:19-21 (NKJV)
—
While I sit in a coffee shop in upstate NY, thousands of miles from the Virginia Tech campus, I cannot help but reflect on the events of these past two days. Together, the two attacks constitute the deadliest school shooting in American history and they came only days before the anniversary of the Columbine shooting, our deadliest high school shooting.
Friends, co-workers, strangers in the coffee shop all seem to ask the same three questions.
“Did you hear?”
“Why did it happen?”
“What if it happened here?”
We’ve been created with the ability to empathize with other people, and news this tragic, this life-altering, this profound can often change our view of the world and people around us.
As it was on April 20, 1999, as it was on September 11, 2001, it was today. Collectively and individually, our hearts break for the victims of such tragedies. And though we and our colleagues may be so far removed from the situation physically and socially, we still feel compelled to discuss it. We feel the need to rationalize it. We feel the need to come to sense with the scary world around us.
But some actions can never be understood.
Thirty-three people are dead as a result of the shootings and fifteen are injured. That means nearly fifty families are directly affected by a physical casualty. The attacks left hundreds of first-hand witnesses forever changed as a result of the attack, and thousands more traumatized by the fear that it could happen again.
And though the global outpouring of grief directed toward America and the Virginia Tech campus may bring some small comfort, there is yet again a very real need for inner healing for the victims, their families, their classmates, their peers, and a nation yet again shaken by tragedy. A convocation was held on that campus earlier today toward that end. Speakers included local religious leaders representing the Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, and Christian faiths.
Hearts and lives have been torn open in an unfathomable act, and those hearts need mending. And there’s a great God of compassion and grace ready, willing, and able to mend broken hearts, to repair the bruised reeds and smoking flax in the world. That God is very real and very interested in their healing. But ministering that healing has been entrusted to His servants, through the power of the Holy Spirit. Will those same servants sit idly by while the terrified and brokenhearted among us run for placebo after placebo to cure what cannot be cured by human hands?
As I sit in a coffee shop in upstate NY, far removed from the terror, pain, and chaos swirling around the Blacksburg campus, will I remain idle? Will I fail to offer a prayer of intercession or to comfort someone who, though far removed physically, has been deeply affected? Will I be an ambassador of Christ, offering to heal the brokenhearted and repair a broken reed? Will I offer the only cure to the human condition, though the Buddhists and Muslims of the world offer an appealing placebo?
I will and I must.
Will you?
Dispatches From the Future
How? I don’t know. Such things are beyond my understanding. How does any one of us deserve a second chance? But a second chance even before a mistake has been made… a path has been followed? What have I done to deserve a second chance, years before these gears have been set into motion?
Spring to summer, summer to fall, fall to winter. Year after year, winter gives way to spring and the cycle is perpetuated. Backing into my driveway after work, I noticed the silver gleam of a metal box wedged into the snowbank across the road at Maxon Corners.
I took the box into the kitchen to examine it more closely, the child in me still hoping to find a treasure map or kryptonite. Imagine my surprise to find a letter addressed to me.
The paper was foreign to me. Nothing you’d find in a store. It was rough-hewn, of uneven thickness, and a non-standard size. The fibers were thick and visible pieces of hair, straw, and fabric felt rough in my hand.
The paper was deeply creased in quarters. I unfolded the letter and began to read.
Dear Djere,
The number you’re thinking of is 13, your social security number is XXX-XX-XXXX, and more than anything else, you want to retire to Baja California and live out your days in the sun.
I was taken aback. I looked up and around the kitchen, scanning for hidden cameras, microphones… anything that could have been giving away my secrets. But there was nothing. I turned back to the letter.
No, Djere, you are not under surveillance. I know these things because you know these things. Greetings from year A.Y. 27.
My name is Djere Maxon, and in this box — in the letters that will appear for you — is our story. These are my dispatches from the future.
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