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. ;)
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
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.
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...
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...
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
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...
#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...
Monday, June 25, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
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!
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!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, June 18, 2007
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.
"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.
Friday, June 15, 2007
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?
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?
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
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 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).
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, June 11, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, June 08, 2007
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! ;)
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! ;)
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Doomed To Repeat It...
Apparently, I did not learn the lessons of World War I. I have tied myself into a horrible alliance from which I can not break free without straining my credibility and my honor. This horrible alliance will quickly spiral out of control and be the death of me.
I made a pact of non-agression with myself.
As the end of the school year approached and I could see the desolate future on the horizon, as a means to motivate myself towards a brighter future of harmony and wealth, I made a pact with myself to force my hand into finishing my novel. I had three chapters that constitute the bulk of new material in this rewrite. I gave myself plenty of time (three or four weeks) to finish this new material before the end of the school year deadline. To give this pact teeth, I combined the effort to finish the novel with my new effort to get back into shape. I agreed that if I did not finish the three chapters by the appointed deadline, I would go on a diet until the novel was finished.
I only finished one of the three chapters. And so, as of Tuesday of last week, I have been dieting. I figure that like much of Europe, I shall be sending most of myself to death before this war with the Novel is over.
May God have mercy on my fat cells!
I made a pact of non-agression with myself.
As the end of the school year approached and I could see the desolate future on the horizon, as a means to motivate myself towards a brighter future of harmony and wealth, I made a pact with myself to force my hand into finishing my novel. I had three chapters that constitute the bulk of new material in this rewrite. I gave myself plenty of time (three or four weeks) to finish this new material before the end of the school year deadline. To give this pact teeth, I combined the effort to finish the novel with my new effort to get back into shape. I agreed that if I did not finish the three chapters by the appointed deadline, I would go on a diet until the novel was finished.
I only finished one of the three chapters. And so, as of Tuesday of last week, I have been dieting. I figure that like much of Europe, I shall be sending most of myself to death before this war with the Novel is over.
May God have mercy on my fat cells!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
You Can't Always Get What You Waaannntttt....
Lord, I try to be more grateful, but sometimes it is hard. I have a tendency to be grateful to a point and then whiny and complaining after that. My sister and Mom bought a pie for dessert last night from Marie Callendar's. I should have said, "MMM Pie..." and let it go at that. But sometimes I want more than just a gift, I want a specific gift. I want the gift I receive to be something extraordinary. And so I asked, "What kind of pie?" See, I'm an ungrateful bad person. And all along I was thinking to myself - Self, whatever she answers, be grateful... unless its something absolutely horrible like Blueberry pie. "Its Double Cream Blueberry," she answered. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! That was not what I wanted. In fact, I knew that if I ate it, I'd probably be sick (blueberries and me do not have a good history - probably psychological, but still). I ended up having the best Chocolate Cake I've had in months, but I felt bad for being ungrateful for the initial gift.
We can't always get what we want. We have to live with that knowledge and we have to accept the gifts we do receive and learn to accept even the mistakes made on our behalf.
To be upfront, I am against the War in Iraq. I was against it at the beginning and I am against it now. We can sit here and cast blame around for how we got into the Iraq war, but the truth of the matter is, no matter how much support we gave the war to start, the blame falls squarely on the shoulders of our Commander In Chief, who sent in the troops. He is not souly to blame, but, as the saying goes, the buck stops with him. To have him turn around and blame the intelligence community for getting us into the war shows a clear lack of understanding of his role as President of the United States. The intelligence community says, "There is smoke over that hill." The analysts say, "It could be enemy troops." The wise President says, "Let's go investigate until we know its not a trap." The bad President says, "Let's charge over the hill and attack." We charged before we knew what the smoke was. To then turn around and say that it was the intelligence communities fault is to admit that you don't know what your role is in the grand scheme of things. Or, you do know what your role is, but you did it anyway and then blamed the intelligence community for your own faulty decisions. Invading Iraq had reprecussions and so far, we've done little to handle them.
That's neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is, we are ensconced in a war of our making and there is no easy way out of the war. We have blown things up, killed thousands of soldiers, and basically disrupted an entire country. We have also planted a seed of hope in rocky soil. The weeds of terrorism are trying to choke that seed to death, and unless the seed is transplanted, it will die. There are reprecussions to that decision as well. The truth of the matter is, no matter how much we want to get out of Iraq, that is exactly the wrong decision at this time.
I do not support the President. He got us into this war foolishly. But, at the same time, I think we are taking the wrong approach in Iraq. The war is, at this moment, another Vietnam. And we, at this moment, are a nation that has grown weary of the toll and sacrifice of this war. But the answer is not to leave Iraq.
No, much as I hate to admit it, the answer is to throw everything we've got at Iraq. The things that make America great are many, but one of the biggest is our unswerving loyalty to those nations seeking liberty. Vietnam was a different animal in that respect because we entered the country under a false theory - trying to stop the advancement of the communist ideology. But communism can't ever succeed. So, when we pulled out of Vietnam, it was bad for a short time, but eventually Vietnam began to realize that it couldn't thrive as a communist nation. Its still communist, of course, but the capitalist reforms in that country are on par with those in China. Only North Korea continues to stick to the strict Cold War theory of communism and it is completely isolated from the rest of the world. We succeeded in Vietnam by departing. That same approach will not work in Iraq. To succeed in Iraq, we must win and win convincingly.
We must prove to the world that no petty group of thugs can stop the mightiest nation of the world. We must prove that, God Willing, we can bring peace and prosperity to any nation that asks it from us. This isn't the reason we went into Iraq, but it must be the reason that we stay.
We need to send more troops, better weapons, and build a new coalition of nations to bring about change in Iraq. We must enlist the aid of regional partners in these changes. We must be a leader of peace and freedom. And we must eliminate any threats to that peace and freedom.
This is not a Republican thing. This is not a Democratic thing. This is an American thing. Our pride is wounded. Mistakes have been made. But the people of Iraq deserve to live in a world of peace and freedom just as much as we do. And we need to show the world that we can not be pushed around.
So, I'm not for the War in Iraq. I'd be perfectly happy if they brought the troops home tomorrow. However, I'm willing to support the war if we really make an effort to win it. If not, then we are wasting our time and our efforts and our lives for nothing more than political expediency. And only a foolish President would do that.
We can't always get what we want. Sometimes, we have to embrace the bad in order to find the good.
We can't always get what we want. We have to live with that knowledge and we have to accept the gifts we do receive and learn to accept even the mistakes made on our behalf.
To be upfront, I am against the War in Iraq. I was against it at the beginning and I am against it now. We can sit here and cast blame around for how we got into the Iraq war, but the truth of the matter is, no matter how much support we gave the war to start, the blame falls squarely on the shoulders of our Commander In Chief, who sent in the troops. He is not souly to blame, but, as the saying goes, the buck stops with him. To have him turn around and blame the intelligence community for getting us into the war shows a clear lack of understanding of his role as President of the United States. The intelligence community says, "There is smoke over that hill." The analysts say, "It could be enemy troops." The wise President says, "Let's go investigate until we know its not a trap." The bad President says, "Let's charge over the hill and attack." We charged before we knew what the smoke was. To then turn around and say that it was the intelligence communities fault is to admit that you don't know what your role is in the grand scheme of things. Or, you do know what your role is, but you did it anyway and then blamed the intelligence community for your own faulty decisions. Invading Iraq had reprecussions and so far, we've done little to handle them.
That's neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is, we are ensconced in a war of our making and there is no easy way out of the war. We have blown things up, killed thousands of soldiers, and basically disrupted an entire country. We have also planted a seed of hope in rocky soil. The weeds of terrorism are trying to choke that seed to death, and unless the seed is transplanted, it will die. There are reprecussions to that decision as well. The truth of the matter is, no matter how much we want to get out of Iraq, that is exactly the wrong decision at this time.
I do not support the President. He got us into this war foolishly. But, at the same time, I think we are taking the wrong approach in Iraq. The war is, at this moment, another Vietnam. And we, at this moment, are a nation that has grown weary of the toll and sacrifice of this war. But the answer is not to leave Iraq.
No, much as I hate to admit it, the answer is to throw everything we've got at Iraq. The things that make America great are many, but one of the biggest is our unswerving loyalty to those nations seeking liberty. Vietnam was a different animal in that respect because we entered the country under a false theory - trying to stop the advancement of the communist ideology. But communism can't ever succeed. So, when we pulled out of Vietnam, it was bad for a short time, but eventually Vietnam began to realize that it couldn't thrive as a communist nation. Its still communist, of course, but the capitalist reforms in that country are on par with those in China. Only North Korea continues to stick to the strict Cold War theory of communism and it is completely isolated from the rest of the world. We succeeded in Vietnam by departing. That same approach will not work in Iraq. To succeed in Iraq, we must win and win convincingly.
We must prove to the world that no petty group of thugs can stop the mightiest nation of the world. We must prove that, God Willing, we can bring peace and prosperity to any nation that asks it from us. This isn't the reason we went into Iraq, but it must be the reason that we stay.
We need to send more troops, better weapons, and build a new coalition of nations to bring about change in Iraq. We must enlist the aid of regional partners in these changes. We must be a leader of peace and freedom. And we must eliminate any threats to that peace and freedom.
This is not a Republican thing. This is not a Democratic thing. This is an American thing. Our pride is wounded. Mistakes have been made. But the people of Iraq deserve to live in a world of peace and freedom just as much as we do. And we need to show the world that we can not be pushed around.
So, I'm not for the War in Iraq. I'd be perfectly happy if they brought the troops home tomorrow. However, I'm willing to support the war if we really make an effort to win it. If not, then we are wasting our time and our efforts and our lives for nothing more than political expediency. And only a foolish President would do that.
We can't always get what we want. Sometimes, we have to embrace the bad in order to find the good.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Summer of '77
30 Years Ago I saw a movie that changed my life in a way you might not expect. It was the summer of 1977 and I was 7 years old. I had been going to movies for a chunk of my life already and considered myself, already, to be somewhat of a movie buff. But the movie I saw that summer made me think that I, too, could be a film maker - though it wasn't readily apparent for some years after the fact.
Now, I should note one thing to those of you who think you know what I'm talking about - I didn't see Star Wars until January of 1978.
The movie was Laser Blast. It was a low budget film about a guy who finds an alien artifact in the desert and decides to start using it. The artifact in question is an alien gun. It blows stuff up. But the use of it exacts a terrible price - those who use it are slowly transformed into evil monster like creatures themselves. This normal teenager with normal problems quickly finds himself becoming a homicidal monster with an alien gun. Really cool. The special effects were good and the alien work at the end of the film was done by a stop motion animator by the name of Phil Tippet. Phil went on to bring most of the original Star Wars stop motion creations to life, but is perhaps most noted for the Velociraptors in Jurassic Park (which were not done with CGI).
The movie was cornball. The movie was low budget. But, interestingly enough, its the only other movie listed with Star Wars in the Cinemafantastique Star Wars Special Double Edition (the magazine of that era that looked especially at Special Effects). To think that Laser Blast which was low budget, cheesy, and still entertaining, is a direct contemporary of Star Wars which was mid budget and ballstothewalls fun is not only mind boggling, but also a perfect example of how much Star Wars changed the film universe. Up until Star Wars, Laser Blast was a perfectly acceptable bit of special effects fluff entertainment. After Star Wars, only Roger Corman could get away with doing Laser Blast type stuff.
The reason this movie changed my life is that I remember it. I remember liking it. I was 7 and I knew it wasn't the greatest movie I'd ever seen, but I remembered it all the same. It was a perfect example of what someone who didn't have ILM in their back pocket could do with film.
Star Wars created a whole generation of film makers. But Laser Blast reminded us all that we didn't have to be George Lucas in order to make films. Star Wars made us believe, Laser Blast kept our dreams down to earth.
So, on the 30th Anniversary of the launch of Star Wars, I've got to give a shout out to the film that really made the summer of '77 special to me... Laser Blast.
Now, I should note one thing to those of you who think you know what I'm talking about - I didn't see Star Wars until January of 1978.
The movie was Laser Blast. It was a low budget film about a guy who finds an alien artifact in the desert and decides to start using it. The artifact in question is an alien gun. It blows stuff up. But the use of it exacts a terrible price - those who use it are slowly transformed into evil monster like creatures themselves. This normal teenager with normal problems quickly finds himself becoming a homicidal monster with an alien gun. Really cool. The special effects were good and the alien work at the end of the film was done by a stop motion animator by the name of Phil Tippet. Phil went on to bring most of the original Star Wars stop motion creations to life, but is perhaps most noted for the Velociraptors in Jurassic Park (which were not done with CGI).
The movie was cornball. The movie was low budget. But, interestingly enough, its the only other movie listed with Star Wars in the Cinemafantastique Star Wars Special Double Edition (the magazine of that era that looked especially at Special Effects). To think that Laser Blast which was low budget, cheesy, and still entertaining, is a direct contemporary of Star Wars which was mid budget and ballstothewalls fun is not only mind boggling, but also a perfect example of how much Star Wars changed the film universe. Up until Star Wars, Laser Blast was a perfectly acceptable bit of special effects fluff entertainment. After Star Wars, only Roger Corman could get away with doing Laser Blast type stuff.
The reason this movie changed my life is that I remember it. I remember liking it. I was 7 and I knew it wasn't the greatest movie I'd ever seen, but I remembered it all the same. It was a perfect example of what someone who didn't have ILM in their back pocket could do with film.
Star Wars created a whole generation of film makers. But Laser Blast reminded us all that we didn't have to be George Lucas in order to make films. Star Wars made us believe, Laser Blast kept our dreams down to earth.
So, on the 30th Anniversary of the launch of Star Wars, I've got to give a shout out to the film that really made the summer of '77 special to me... Laser Blast.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
A Veil Me Not!
13We are not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face to keep the Israelites from gazing at it while the radiance was fading away. 14But their minds were made dull, for to this day the same veil remains when the old covenant is read. It has not been removed, because only in Christ is it taken away. 15Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their hearts. 16But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. 17Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 2 Corinthians 3
I have been uplifted by the mighty words of Paul in his second (third?) letter to the Corinthians. Both this passage and the one that follows about the Jars of Clay have filled me with the sort of vital energy that one needs in life. That, and finishing my finals in Film Classes, and I am raring to go for the summer.
I chose this passage however because it reminds me of the fact that it wasn't only Moses that put a veil over his face. I think we all do that whenever we argue or bicker or gossip or talk behind others - especially when it comes to the Church. I know that I have been guilty, if nothing else, of having very negative thoughts about my fellow Brothers and Sisters in Christ. I have been sure that they were on the "wrong" side of an argument. If only they could see it my way, then they would see sense. This veil that I threw over my face kept them from seeing the Christ in me.
I've also been in a Church environment where the veil of tension has rested over the entire building - people and all. Dark times, where the light and the glory of Christ resurrected was very dim, as if at the end of a long dark tunnel. We struggled through those times, dragging ourselves kicking and screaming until we could lift that veil and be renewed by His powerful light.
I am starting to lose the light again. I am starting to feel the veil slip over my head and my eyes. I need to be out, to bask in God's glory again. I want to feel sunlight on my face, see the dust clouds disappear without a trace. I want to take shelter from the poisoned rain... where the streets have no name. And so, I am going back to nature. I am going back to God's country. I am going to taste the air and feel the burn and hear the birds and smell the flowers and touch the dirt. I am going hiking and God is coming along with me.
The veil will be lifted and my sight restored. Thanks be to God.
Monday, May 21, 2007
A Time To Rest
The Ecclesiastes most famous passage - A Time For This, A Time For That - is supposed to remind us all that we are, after all, human - and point to God as the only one who can be all things at all times or one thing all the time. We can't possibly work all the time and we can't possibly rest all the time, but God can do both at the same time forever if He so chooses.
Andy over at Mile From the Beach has forced my hand by choosing the subject of today's blog when he announced this week that he was going to take a quick sabbatical from blogging. Welcome to it, Andy - take as long as you want.
I too am planning a retirement of sorts. About seven months ago, I announced my 18 month plan to change my life - to find something that I could do that was different than what I was doing. I sort of stumbled into film making from left field, but I've discovered that it might definitely be a career option in the near future. If I don't sound gang busters about my prospects of becoming a film maker its not for a lack of enthusiasm - its due to a controlled enthusiasm.
I've also learned over the past painful year that I can become a little too exuberant in my visions of what might be. I am not only a dreamer like John Lennon, I am an exuberant dreamer like Don Quixote. Give me a windmill and I'll tackle it. Put a windmill before me and before you can even say Don Quixote, I'll have picked up my lance and I'll already be charging. This has been about as effective a lifestyle for me as it was for Don Quixote. Most of my friends and family have too often felt like Sancho Panz when it came to dealing with my crazy crusades and my obsession with them. But, even if I had not seen what my obsessions were doing to my personal relationships, I really started to take notice what they were doing to my health.
And so, over the last seven months or so, in addition to trying to reinvent the employable me, I've also been trying to disentangle myself from various "obsessions". I've made some good progress. I put the Novel on a much slower track, working on it only when I felt the urge. Its slow and its trying my patience but it has helped the work immensely and allowed me to start having a somewhat normal sleep cycle again (no more writing until 2 in the morning). I let Andy completely run the Tee Ball team this year (though, at first, I really wanted to help out - I quickly realized that I needed to just let go). I scaled back my committment to the Youth Group at my church, and stopped volunteering for every new project that came up, and, shock! even told them that I was too busy to do certain things! I've learned to say No a great deal lately.
But this weekend was something of a breakthrough for me. On Saturday, I left a committee meeting at my church early to go hiking with my brother. And on Sunday, I voted for the hiring of a new paid Christian Education/Youth Leader - which means that come the Fall, I will no longer be the head of the Lakeside Youth Group.
With each disentangling of my schedule, with every new free minute of time that I have earned back, comes five times the urge to fill that emptiness with some new project - some new quest. Thus far, I have resisted the urge. But I know that I will eventually be sucked back into some committment to my time and energy. In the meantime, I am hoping to committ the ultimate Christian sacriledge. I am planning on spending the entire summer away from my church, away from my youth group, away from my choir. I am planning to spend the entire summer with TWO FULL WEEKEND DAYS in which to hike, bike, and otherwise find means of releasing stress, regaining health - both mental and physical, and getting my own house in order.
For everything there is a season. And this is my season to rest. God must have quite a plan for my future if he is giving me this much time to get my head and body straight. I can only hope that I am up to whatever task He has in mind for me. In the meantime, I will be out at the beach, with a Margarita, sharpening my lance for another whack at all those windmills.
See you tomorrow...
Andy over at Mile From the Beach has forced my hand by choosing the subject of today's blog when he announced this week that he was going to take a quick sabbatical from blogging. Welcome to it, Andy - take as long as you want.
I too am planning a retirement of sorts. About seven months ago, I announced my 18 month plan to change my life - to find something that I could do that was different than what I was doing. I sort of stumbled into film making from left field, but I've discovered that it might definitely be a career option in the near future. If I don't sound gang busters about my prospects of becoming a film maker its not for a lack of enthusiasm - its due to a controlled enthusiasm.
I've also learned over the past painful year that I can become a little too exuberant in my visions of what might be. I am not only a dreamer like John Lennon, I am an exuberant dreamer like Don Quixote. Give me a windmill and I'll tackle it. Put a windmill before me and before you can even say Don Quixote, I'll have picked up my lance and I'll already be charging. This has been about as effective a lifestyle for me as it was for Don Quixote. Most of my friends and family have too often felt like Sancho Panz when it came to dealing with my crazy crusades and my obsession with them. But, even if I had not seen what my obsessions were doing to my personal relationships, I really started to take notice what they were doing to my health.
And so, over the last seven months or so, in addition to trying to reinvent the employable me, I've also been trying to disentangle myself from various "obsessions". I've made some good progress. I put the Novel on a much slower track, working on it only when I felt the urge. Its slow and its trying my patience but it has helped the work immensely and allowed me to start having a somewhat normal sleep cycle again (no more writing until 2 in the morning). I let Andy completely run the Tee Ball team this year (though, at first, I really wanted to help out - I quickly realized that I needed to just let go). I scaled back my committment to the Youth Group at my church, and stopped volunteering for every new project that came up, and, shock! even told them that I was too busy to do certain things! I've learned to say No a great deal lately.
But this weekend was something of a breakthrough for me. On Saturday, I left a committee meeting at my church early to go hiking with my brother. And on Sunday, I voted for the hiring of a new paid Christian Education/Youth Leader - which means that come the Fall, I will no longer be the head of the Lakeside Youth Group.
With each disentangling of my schedule, with every new free minute of time that I have earned back, comes five times the urge to fill that emptiness with some new project - some new quest. Thus far, I have resisted the urge. But I know that I will eventually be sucked back into some committment to my time and energy. In the meantime, I am hoping to committ the ultimate Christian sacriledge. I am planning on spending the entire summer away from my church, away from my youth group, away from my choir. I am planning to spend the entire summer with TWO FULL WEEKEND DAYS in which to hike, bike, and otherwise find means of releasing stress, regaining health - both mental and physical, and getting my own house in order.
For everything there is a season. And this is my season to rest. God must have quite a plan for my future if he is giving me this much time to get my head and body straight. I can only hope that I am up to whatever task He has in mind for me. In the meantime, I will be out at the beach, with a Margarita, sharpening my lance for another whack at all those windmills.
See you tomorrow...
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