Legal Questions

I just read an interesting news item online in which a small town in Texas is upset with the way the NBC show, To Catch A Predator, was filmed there. Apparently, the taping lead to the suicide of a prosecutor from a nearby town and a bunch of protests from neighbors and other towns people over the show's concept. Even though some 30 people were arrested, the D.A. has decided not to press charges and is releasing all of those men who were caught.

I thought I was the only one disturbed by this show. While I am 125% behind the idea of throwing these bastards behind bars for life, I always thought the show set some questionable legal precedents. They might as well call the show Entrapment, even though it doesn't meet the legal definition as such. But, what next? What other crimes can we set people up for and then watch as they are arrested? Why send the COPS chasing after the bad guys when we can gurantee the ratings and the bad guys by bringing them to us? I've always been uncomfortable by this kind of justice and its potential abuses. And really, one airing of the NBC taping, and how are these guys ever going to get a fair trial?

It was with that in mind that I had a thought, but I'm not sure about several legal aspects of this thought. What if, as a professional s**t disturber, I went trolling on the internet to find the Catch A Predator lurkers? If I were to document such a search on the web so that I had definitive proof of what I was doing, what crimes would I actually be breaking? While I know its not right to pretend to be a pedophile in order to stop a TV show that pretends to be a pedophile victim, when it all came down to it, what laws would anyone be breaking if you showed up at the sting operation and they started to question you and you said, "Actually, Dateline, I'm so and so from ToStopDateline.com, and I'm here to bring your charade to a stop." Would you actually be breaking a law of contacting a child with the intent of doing pedophile acts if you knew all along that the person you were contacting was in fact only pretending to be a child? Would you be breaking any laws if you then showed up at this pretend child's house and walked into a sting operation, especially if the sting operation was being run by the television program and not the police?

I'm just curious. Since I can't possibly imagine wasting my time on such a project, no matter how much these shows irritate me, I would never entertain such a notion (besides, I'd make a terrible pretend pedophile ;). Still, this is the sort of hypothetical exercise that our world has been reduced to the more we let entertainment breach our everyday existence.

Personally, I'm waiting for the new FOX Reality Show, Mob Justice, where they lure a pedophile into a house and then turn the craze audience loose upon him. I've asked to be a member of the audience when the show airs. ;)

Minor Irritant #3

I can't leave you without a non-movie related minor irritant. So, Minor Irritant #3 - Stupid Telemarketers.

There are stupid telemarketers and there are stupid telemarketers. But the one who called the other day really takes the cake.

The phone rang. I picked it up and said, "Hello." I heard the unmistakable sound of the phone bullpen in the background and knew immediately that it was a telemarketer. "Hi there, I was wondering if I could speak to..." Click! I had already started forming the rejection on my tongue when I heard the line go dead. The telemarketer had hung up the phone before I could even reject him. Either the Psychic Friend's Network people are moonlighting, or the telemarketer accidentally cut me off.

Talk about stupid.

Minor Irritant #2 - The Brom

I hadn't intended to start a series of blogs about things in movies that irritate me. Lots of other things irritate me as well... but I'm not sure they're minor. So maybe this should be considered an addendum to Minor Irritant #1 - since it deals with lazy screenwriting as well.

This is something that my friends and I call The Brom after a major character in Eragon (the movie, not the book). In the movie, Eragon and Brom - his wise Jedi Knight like mentor - have just discovered the location of the Princess. Eragon, being young and foolish, hops on his dragon and flies off to rescue the Princess despite the fact that Brom warns him against a trap. The dragon covers the three day's distance in minutes and Eragon charges boldly into the trap to rescue the Princess. Sure enough, the bad guy is waiting for him. There is a fight. And then, despite the fact that the kid has been trained to defend himself and that his mentor is Jedi Knight wise, when the bad guy throws a spear at Eragon that will surely kill him, out of the clear blue leaps Brom - taking the spear in Eragon's place and, of course, dying. Nevermind the fact that Brom was three days behind Eragon, or that he could have simply knocked the spear aside, or thrown Eragon a shield, or... well, you get the idea, Brom decides to spare his pupils life by leaping in front of the "bullet" himself. He dies, so that Eragon might live.

This particular cliche is played out and often defies logic. In Spiderman 3, there is another Brom scene. In Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, another Brom scene. In Pirates 3: At World's End - there is like a half-Brom (not quite as dramatic as leaping in front of the bullet, but in effect, the exact same thing). This cliche has been used so many times in the last ten years, or so, that its a wonder that someone hasn't compiled all of the Brom moments into a single YouTube movie.

What happened to truly original ideas - like Spock sacrificing himself to save the Enterprise in The Wrath of Khan, or the way they killed of Wash in Serenity, or the sudden rescue of Ripley in Aliens 2? Surprises are only surprising when less than 10 percent of the audience hasn't already figured it out before you show it. When everybody knows what's coming and its supposed to be a surprise, that's called bad writing.

Just a minor irritant in life...

Minor Irritant #1

Today, I'm going to be making a list of things that just irritate the heck out of me. Not that I'm going to start a mad crusade against them - these are the windmills that you bypass, but that are still in the way.

#1) Lazy movie writers:

Example A) Flyboys - Admittedly not a great movie, but it had some good moments, and for the most part I found it well written and informative. But there were a couple of scenes that defied credibility. First, the love interests farm which is near the airfield is overrun by Germans (our hero rescues the girl, of course) and the girl is sent south to another town. When next we see the girl, she is fleeing the town because it is about to be overrun by Germans. It is war and these things happen, but what irritates me about it is that the entire time the Germans are taking over farms and overrunning towns - they never seem to make a move on a largely unprotected airfield a few miles away.

Example B) Fantastic 4 Rise of the Silver Surfer - this one is just downright annoying because anyone with a sense of geography could have told them how stupid it was. They capture the Surfer and take him to an American military base in Jakutsk, Siberia. Uh, guys, last I checked that was smack dab in the middle of Russia. And, uh, last I checked, we didn't have any military bases there. ;)

And to think, people get paid to write these things!

Minor rant mode off... until later...

World Weariness Sets In

I'm tired. Soul bending tired. Crushed down by the weight of a fallen world, I can barely rise against all that pressure, barely walk, barely stand.

Moments of my weekend life chose to lift me beyond the weariness - being able to see so many of my friends and family this weekend, eating a good meal, spending quality time with my brother. But others chose to highlight my weaknesses and my frailities - the old fears worn like a blanket, the new fears attaching themselves like ticks. It was enough to sap my strength during the high moments and drag me below the waves during the dark moments. I sputtered alot and drank a lot of sea water, and at times, I fell. So far. So far. The darkness engulfed me and there was no light, just the shadow of light from above.

Some days you feel like the straightforward account and some days you feel like poetry. Feelings are easier to describe with poetry. David knew this. He wrote psalm after psalm after psalm. And compared to him, my problems amount to little more than a hill of beans. They wouldn't nearly be so troublesome if they weren't so persistent. I suppose David never had to worry about mounting credit card debt, high gas prices, and how to finish a novel that seems to be taking its own sweet time. But then, I don't have to worry about someone consistently trying to kill me with an entire army. The small trade-offs in life make all the difference.

Oh, Lord,
Be a cool dark place
for resting my head.

When I am weary, Lord,
be a soft blanket
for my bed.

Soothe away the nightmares,
bring on the happy dreams,
awaken in me a powerful soul.

Let my snores be psalms,
and my dreams be prayers,
restore me to life, rested and whole.

For you are my Lord.
I am your servant.
Forever to be led.

Bring It On!

Every once in a while a Hollywood movie gets the feeling of religion right. One of my absolute favorite Hollywood scenes, one that sticks with me every single day, is the sight of Lt. Dan sitting at the top of Forrest Gump's boat during a severe hurricane and screaming at the top of his voice into Heaven, "YOU CALL THIS A HURRICANE!" At some point in life, I think we all feel like yelling at God and challenging him with our macho bravado. Of course, deep down we know that God won't destroy us, or else we would never yell what we yell. What we are really yelling is, "Okay, God, I'm ready to be tempered. Do your worst!"

After an incredibly long stretch of life as usual, spinning my wheels and getting nowhere, I prayed to God a couple of weeks ago that I was ready for change, ready to be tempered, ready to be forged. I told God to bring it on.

Well, He sent the hurricane alright. And so, as I sit there, surrounded by the buffeting winds of my life and the rain on my face, I can't help but smile and say, "You call this a hurricane!" I've brought it on myself, and I'm ready for more!

Bring it on, God! Bring it on!

The Way of the Gun

I am now firmly against a certain definition of the 2nd Ammendment to the Constitution that allows for people to own and use handguns. This position now places me directly at odds with about half of my friends and, at least, one brother. I did not start out with this position, but over the years I have been slowly drawn to the conclusion that handguns are dangerous not only to those being threatened by them but also to those who own them and to any society that allows them to remain legal.

I have seen too many lives destroyed or nearly destroyed by ready access to handguns. For my own part, the first time I ever held a handgun was at a friend's birthday party. I had left the party early to take my girlfriend home and when I came back (still completely sober, unfortunately) I was met at the door by my brother with two six shooters. "Here," he said, "Take these home and put them in a safe place. Some idiot brought them to the party as part of his costume and he's getting drunk and dangerous." In the interest of public safety, I took the handguns and walked home. Only about halfway home did I realize that I was a teenager walking around late at night with two handguns in a backpack - not the smartest thing in the world to be doing. I got home and hid them and was pleased when they were returned to their rightful owner the next day (after he'd sobered up). The sobering effect of this incident stayed with me for a long time.

Don't get me wrong. I like to shoot handguns. I scored 39 out of 40 on my marksman test at the Navy Training Base (though I really have to attribute that to luck since the shooting range was quite dark and I wasn't allowed to use my glasses as they interfered with the safety goggles - I just shot in the general direction of the blurry object that was my target and hit it 39 out of 40 times. 39 1/2 actually, since the one that missed was me shooting one of the two clips that held the target in place. ;). I have been shooting with friends before at a variety of ranges. I have shot everything from Mac 10's to rifles, including a variety of handguns in all different calibers. There is a certain thrill to feeling that much power explode in your hand.

When I returned from the Navy, my brother had handguns. He liked them. He took them to a shooting range. He did not tell my parents that he had handguns. He used to sleep with one under his pillow. It scared the hell out of me. It still does. When my step-mom accidentally stepped on his pillow while dusting in his room and discovered his guns, she didn't say anything, but my brother was asked to move out a few months later. He has not been allowed to move back since. Though the guns were only the final straw in an already straining relationship, they are the primary reason he is not allowed back into the house.

My brother moved in with my sister. She told me that my brother had come within an inch of shooting his best friend when his gun accidentally went off while he was cleaning it. It left a hole in the wall that they eventually were able to plaster. Still, my brother did not give up his guns. They were cool. They were fun. They were completely safe, so long as you took every precaution. I can't speak for what his best friend thought at the time. But I know that he remained a gun lover as well.

As I got older and grew more distant, I began to notice a disturbing trend. More and more people that I knew were directly, or indirectly, affected by gun violence. Here a friend's cousin had been gunned down. There a kid I knew in high school killed in a drive-by. Here a friend's father arrested and jailed for owning illegal firearms (ex-Green Beret type). There a friend of a friend blowing his brain's out with a handgun. I kept telling myself that these were all people who abused the use of the gun - that it wasn't the handgun's fault.

Over the weekend, my brother was arrested. Depending on which version of the events you hear, the charges range from serious to very serious. They all involve a handgun in some capacity - whether concealed or what not. I know that my brother and his guns are usually around each other at all times - sometimes legally, sometimes not. My brother has told me stories, I think to try and impress me, and I have warned him again and again to be cautious, but my words continued to fall on deaf ears. I will reserve judgment on my brother and just try to be supportive of him during this trying time, but I am downright adamant that my brother would not be in this position if he didn't have access to handguns.

The Way of the Gun is quite seductive as we've all seen. It gives us the power to defend ourselves without really setting any firm guidelines as to what that means. It may come out of a belief of the right to self-preservation - that you are buying the gun to protect yourself. But then it begins to extend itself the longer you own the gun. First its you, then its your home, then its your family, then your friends, then your property, then your honor, then your way of life. With a gun in your hand you feel emboldened to "protect" more and more things until you no longer know where you end and where someone else begins. Without even thinking about it, you begin to believe that might makes right and that you are entitled to such rights. What starts out as a simple handgun locked safely in a cabinet, becomes an obsession with larger calibers, more ammunition, shooting ranges, concealed weapons permits, and street cred. Those of us who don't have guns can only watch as those who do continue down this long, spiral, path.

I have seen or witnessed too many people being destroyed by hand guns and by their attendant lifestyle. I have had enough. It's time we put guns back in the hands of the police and criminals where they belong and let this Hollywood Cowboy American image of handguns die a quick death before it bleeds us all dry.

On this, for a change, I can not be swayed.

The Twelfth Somewhat Annual Burrito Night

It started out innocently enough. While working for a movie theater one summer, I was house sitting for my parents and looking after the dogs. I would often get off work at 1am and not had dinner yet. My usual haunts at the time included Denny's and 7-11 and Jack In The Box, as they were pretty much the only places opened at 1am. But with nobody in the house but me, I knew I had the luxury of being able to cook at 1am and not disturbing anyone. So, I thought long and hard about it, and realized that I wanted to make burritos.

Now, anyone who has ever made burritoes knows that there is no such thing as burritoes for one. Sure, you can buy the crappy frozen kind that you nuke, but that's really not much better for you than a 1am Jumbo Jack with Cheese. If you want to make a fresh burrito you need a minimum of tortillas (at least 10 to a pack), grated cheese (8oz, minimum), refried beans (one can), hamburger (at least three quarters of a pound minimum), and salsa (mimimum 8oz jar). That's a lot of food for one burrito and one person. But I was determined to make burritoes. So, after work, I went to an all night grocery store and I bought the fixings - hamburger, cheese, refried beans, rice, lettuce, tomatoes, salsa, guacamole, sour cream, tortillas, etc... and I went home.

I started cooking about 1:30am and I immediately had help. At the time, my parents owned a rather large and friendly St. Bernard named Valentine. She was little more than a puppy then (still large, though). They also owned a little yappy dog named Bingo. The two dogs camped out at my feet as I started preparing all the elements of the burritos. They looked up at me with big soulful eyes and whined occassionaly for bites of food.

After a short amount of whining, I finally turned around to the St. Bernard and said, "Don't worry, Valentine, tonight is burrito night and on burrito night, nobody goes hungry." Within minutes, we were wolfing down burritos and burrito fixings to our hearts content until we were all completely full (which is hard to do with a St. Bernard ;)Thus started an annual tradition that has grown in size and complexity ever since.

The next wrinkle to this story occurs about five years later after Burrito Night had already started to morph into this annual party where I invited friends and family to join the St. Bernard and I eating burritos (at a much more reasonable hour, I assure you). It was during the 150th recitation of the Burrito Night motto, "Nobody goes hungry on Burrito Night," that I realized that what I was saying wasn't entirely true. There were lots of people who were going hungry on Burrito Night, and I couldn't possibly feed them all. So, starting that year, I required one thing from my guests as "payment" for the delicious burritos they were about to receive - a donation for the San Francisco Food Bank.

This year's Burrito Night is going to be held this Sunday. The dogs have changed. The house has been remodeled. The backyard now sports a deck and a garden railroad. But beyond that, the evening has not changed its focus nor its menu. We will offer the usual fixings - beef, chicken, steak, shrimp, and sausage - as well as all the trimmings - rice, beans, chili, lettuce, tomato, jalapenos, cheese, etc... - for all our guests to make whatever combination burrito they choose. This is all provided free of charge to all who bring a donation to the San Francisco Food Bank. The food is good, the company is good, and the atmosphere is low key. B.Y.O.B.

I mention all this not only as announcement but as a suggestion to all of you readers out there who are looking for a way to foodraise for your own local food banks. Its not complicated. Its not hard. And it gives you an opportunity to eat great burritos. I'd love to see the Buritto Night movement spread around the country so that one day the Burrito Night motto might be closer to the truth than not.

So, remember, on Burrito Night nobody goes hungry.

A Rebuttal

"Dude, it's Andy. Listen, I've got tickets to tonight's Giants game. Can you go?"

"Let me check my busy schedule. Yes, I can go."

"Great, can you come by Glide Memorial Church to pick up the tickets?"

"Yeah, man, no problem... I'm practically already there."

"See you soon, man."

Click.

"Woo Hoo! That's the fifth set of tickets this month!"

"That's awesome, Will. Where'd you find that guy to impersonate Jesus?"

"What guy? What are you talking about?"

"Andy keeps giving up his tickets because Jesus tells him that He has more important plans for Andy."

"Wait... you mean that guy... long scraggly hair, camel hair robe, powerful eyes... that's Jesus?"

"You've seen him too?"

"Yeah, he used to ride with me to work as well."

"What happened?"

"I thought he was a ticket scalper! I've seen Jesus, my Lord, He was here in plain view, and I kicked Him to the curb!"

"What are you going to do now?!"

"There's only one thing I can do... Hello? Andy? Yeah, listen, do those tickets come with free parking... No, wait, that wasn't I was calling about. Um... I can't go. I have a powerful urge to join you tonight at Glide. (mumble grumble mumble) Yes, I know Barry might break the record tonight, but some things are more important. Okay. See you soon. Bye."

"That was very good, Will. I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, whatever... say? Who are you anyway?"

"I'm Jesus."

For some of us, the message takes longer to sink in.

Will Almighty

Okay, I finally saw Bruce Almighty last night and it was annoying in parts and really touching in others. I thought Bruce was maybe a little too much of an archetype to really be believable, but it made for some effective storytelling. And when Bruce finally learns his lesson, I admit that it hit me pretty hard. But that's not what this blog is about.

It got me to think, what would I do if I had God's power for one day. And then I narrowed it down to what I would do if I had His power for one moment, one action, one "wish" so to speak.

And so, here, in no particular order are the "injustices" I would fix if I were embued with God's power for a moment...

1) I'd like to teach the world to drive. Can you imagine if suddenly everyone knew how to use their turn signals and be courteous?

2) I'd like to uninvent cell phones, and home video game consoles, and the last eight years of Republican rule.

3) I'd like the Giants to win a World Series in my lifetime (maybe just one of those biblical promises sort of things - a Isaiah like prophecy! And the Lord said, "Lo, the sun shall not set on Will Robison's life before the San Francisco Giants win the World Series!")

4)I'd make chocolate a cure for depression.

5) I'd allow some scientist to discover cold fusion with seawater in a matter that could never be perverted into a weapon of any kind.

6) I'd repopulate the world's oceans with fish.

7) I'd add a few mandatory religious holidays to the calendar.

8) I'd rewrite portions of the Bible to make it clear about my stance on telemarketers.

9) I'd find worthy parents for all orphans.

and, finally,

10) I'd send a small person sized meteorite down upon any Hollywood executive that suggested a classic movie be remade.

I'm not sure my movie would be all that interesting though. Just for curiosities sake on this Friday afternoon, what would you do if you had THE POWER for a few minutes?

American Protections.

I came across evidence today on a bumper sticker that there is a new benevolent god out there looking out for our concerns as Americans. It seems that the Bush Regime may have finally built that unbeatable coalition of forces to protect our shores.

The bumper sticker read:

Flying Spaghetti Monster Bless You.

(It took me a moment to figure out what it was trying to say.)

Combined with news straight from the Weekly World News that Angels have now joined Homeland Security to protect our skies, I feel fairly confident in the divine might of this country. Between a bunch of anti-terrorist Angels and a giant Flying Spaghetti Monster, its a good time to be an American.

Now if only I can awaken that giant purpleheaded snorklecack who likes to eat anyone wearing Dodger Blue, then my raison de maison will be complete. (Sorry, its been over 25 years since I had a French class).

The "I Can't Take Life Seriously" Mood

After reading Randall's last comment, any pretense I may have had about being a moody, serious, and brooding intellect went out the window. I just don't feel like it. I want to party, siesta, forever... come on people, let's sing this song!

So, I'd thought I'd ask a question that really matters to us all and that hopefully, in the form of a categories type question, we might collectively come up with the answer.

Considering Disney's new penchant for creating Franchises out of rides, I was wondering about the plots for some possible new franchises. So...

What would be the plot for a new Disney movie entitled, "Matterhorn"?

Give your best (or worst) answers in the comments.

The Blind Spot

We all have a blind spot. Our eyes only focus one direction. We cannot see what is directly behind our eye... i.e. what is in our own brains. This is the main problem with humanity. As Jesus reminded us, we have a log in our own eye.

As a White Male in these United States, I have been born into a position of supremacy and become a guardian of cultural purity. Now, nowhere have I been told this directly, but it has been intimated to me many times.

I was raised in San Francisco - one of the most diverse cities on the planet - and I was taught from the earliest age that we all live in a big melting pot and that we are all Americans and that differences don't matter. As a young kid, you nod your head and say, "Uh huh." Because being diverse is just as difficult as learning to tie your shoes and learning the multiplication tables. In other words, its just another subject to learn. We soak it all in at a young age and we learn things that we can't even put into words - like the fact that there are book facts and fact facts, and the world is divided into these two realms that often don't see eye to eye.

My young existence was marred by my mother not being around. I was raised a great deal by my grandmother and by my step-mother. But for a long chunk of time, there was just my Dad. My Dad was struggling with three kids and bills to pay, but he managed to keep us sane, if not entirely well off. I remember distinctly having a series of "baby-sitters" during tax seasons that would look after the three of us in different ways. One had a house down by the beach and we would spend our afternoons in a basement watching old reruns of the Mickey Mouse Club. One of them was an elderly black lady who lived in the Projects down off Fillmore and who liked to punish kids the old fashioned southern way ("Go outside and find me a switch... and it better not break when it hits your backside!") In grade school I saw it all. My friends were Chinese, Hawaiian, Filipino, Black, White, Blue, Jewish, Swedish, Hindi, you name it. I never once questioned it. Not once.

Which doesn't mean I wasn't aware of intolerance. We all found gay people to be strange. And as this was the 70's and the Harvey Milk movement was in full swing, it was hard not to notice them. But, at that age, what we knew of gay people - they might as well have been martians. Still, I remember using all the slang of that era to talk about them. I remember loving dirty racial jokes as well - the white one's as much as the one's about other races. Quite frankly, I just liked jokes. But this was another example of the book world vs. the real world. We were told that we were all the same, but the battle lines were already being drawn as we headed off to Jr. High School.

And this is where I began to learn of a casual racism that pervades most of society. It is the racism of "those people". Those people, over there, who are not like the people here - whom I know. The idea that the black people I know are cool and I'm cool with them, so that means I'm not racist, but the rest of black people are shiftless, lazy, etc... I did not understand it at first. And I don't think it a recent phenomenon. I admit, in darker moments, to being a strong proponent of similar views. Situational racism is the most common type. It seems to be a part of human nature to view those around you with one set of eyes and those who are not near you with another set - so that if someone near you is behaving poorly, it reflects on everyone like them. But if a person near you is being friendly, well, that only reflects on the person near you. Everyone becomes suspect, then, until they prove themselves acceptable.

This is a most destructive view because it allows the idea of racism to continue, but gives everyone the illusion that they are not perpetuating it. It also props up the entire idea of reverse descrimination, which is just another insidious form of racism that hides under the auspices of acceptability. I learned about reverse descrimination as well from Jr. High when it was spelled out to me by people concerned with my educational goals that if I wanted to get into a really good high school I had to score higher on my tests and get better grades than my fellow students of color... or women (which I never understood). In essence, as a White Male, I had to have the best grades and the best test scores to get the best education. Otherwise, I would be passed over by people with lesser grades and lesser test scores because of the color of their skin or because of their sex. Even in Jr. High, I didn't have any illusion that this was another form of racism being propped up by people who thought they were doing the right thing.

So where has this left me as an adult? Confused, mostly. I don't consider myself to be part of a race. I consider myself to be a human being, and a Christian, and an American. It is only when confronted by examples of racism - either being done to me or to someone else - that I even remember that I am a White Male American. At times I feel like I am being punished for the sins of my fathers unto the umpteenth generation. I see things and I hear things and I feel things and I say things that I know to be racist, and it seems like I just can't get away from it. My heart, my soul, bleeds everytime I encounter it, but I know of no way to stop it.

Fittingly, Jesus said not to judge by what we see until we can remove the log from our own eyes, but He did not tell us how we might achieve that. Since perhaps our vision will always be flawed, and we will always have this blind spot that prevents us from viewing our own sins, we should instead seek to find a safe way to conduct ourselves that affords us the ability to look past people's differences and towards some sort of standard of conduct that is universally accepted. We should, instead, seek to forgive each other their flaws, and accept people for who they are, and not what they aren't. We should, perhaps, learn to love them unconditionally.

Its not so much silence as it is keeping my mouth shut!

I have a lot to say.

But I'm not going to say it.

My inner dialogue has been growing increasingly frustrated over the past several weeks as one bad thing after another has been going on around me. Its like the near end of Pirates 3 where the bad guy is walking through a barrage of cannon shot in slow motion. Nothing seems to effect him - he seems lost in thought - as the world around him crumbles into fine splinters of nothing. That's kind of what I've been feeling like.

So, instead of a long litany of compaints that you could all probably guess at, I've decided to keep my mouth shut. Its not censorship. Its not even self-censorship. Its a melancholy boredom. The world sucks... but you've probably heard me say that a thousand times already and even I'm tired of hearing it.

I've been trying, instead, to concentrate on things of import. But my mood has only allowed me to find the faults in the things that I used to enjoy. Food - that's bad for you. Sex - pretty much a sin no matter what you do. Reading - such a waste of valuable time. Movies - they're all pretty much the same these days. Baseball - The Giants suck this year. Etc... I've absorbed so much poison from the toxic atmosphere that I can't seem to get it out of my system. Nothing tastes right anymore.

But this is Friday. Good, wonderful, delicious Friday! A weekend is upon us and a chance to rest, relax, and try to suck the poison from my system. I know God is watching out for me and that in Him there is a cure - but I'm afraid that my infected thinking may be dragged with me into His presence. I've had too much of the world lately. Stop the ride, I want to get off. But I can feel His hand out there in the darkness and I know that eventually I will be able to reach it and be pulled to safety.

Until then... the Giants really do suck! ;)

Some Questions To Keep You Up At Night

Busy, busy, busy... not sure when I'll be able to get back to blogging regularly. But it'll just happen when it does.

For now, a few questions to keep you up at night...

1) After the destruction of the Death Star, where is the first place our heroes run into bounty hunters that we know of?

2) What might you bullseys with a T-16? And how big are they?

3) What are the odds of successfully navigating an asteroid field?

Bonus question:

4) In a religious sense, what do the Ewoks represent?

Full marks and bonus doubloons for anyone who answers all questions correctly.