About Time!

"Can I get an Amen from the congregation!" Today, after just about a year of slavery and dogged determination (if I do say so myslef), I finally got that stupid green van fixed. It was wonderful (said with seething, dripping, sarcasm). The van itself was given to me about a year and a half ago, maybe two years now, and my wife and I drove it with great satisfaction, thankful for a vehicle that was slightly larger than a match box, you know, those old type where you slide the center of the box out and strike the match on the side. (That's about what our car is like. You have to thread the kids in, feet first, if you're in a hurry) And then, KA-BOOM! Well, alright, it didn't blow up. (Talking about the green van now) It would just die in the middle of intersections as the arrow was turning from green to red, usually in record speed, and you were already committed to the turn. Oh how frustrating that was. Then last March, when I was returning from town: billowing clouds of sweet fragrant smoke poured out of the exhaust and that old temperature gauge spiked, after one complete revolution, in the red. Buried extensively in the red. Now for all of you that do not know what that means, let me explain: Blown Head Gasket. Now, I was recently on my own, numerous Thunder clouds hanging over my head, and I was. noT. PLEASED. "Oooooooooh, I hates rabbits!"
But Thank God! And I mean it! Finally! It is done and it works like it should! Now I can sell it. "But, wait" you say. "I thought that you wanted a car bigger than your cracker box?" Oh, we do, but since it's just the four of us right now, and we kinda need the investment in the van (if you know what I mean) and I got sooo much stinking money and time into the "match book," and it's running just fine, we'll make do for a little longer. Not much longer, I hope. (I've been drooling over this new model for the last couple of years. Oh, that'd be nice.) God knows. Anybody want to buy a van?

Coooooool

So I was doing a little diving this afternoon, in pursuit of one of my deepest interests: bladed implements. Upon visiting this one sight that I bookmarked, but never really looked over,( http://www.shadowofleaves.com/Shinken.htm ) I found this link to a film of a traditional katana (that's a samurai sword) being made. You talk about cool. It's a little long and you probably need high speed to view it, but it's definitely worth the viewing. Check it out. http://video.mpegnation.com/a001786578322021606131719250.html

In other notes, did anyone catch the Oscars? I intentionally didn't watch it but I read about the aftermath. You talk about a bunch of disjointed, disassociated, sycophantic narcissists. And they wonder why their industry is failing? When a film like The Departed wins four awards, including best picture and best director, when others like The Prestige get two paltry nods and no chance of winning anything and it actually conveys a point. Now, I didn't see The Departed. It didn't interest me, mainly because I can't stand Leonardo DiCapitaded (that man's head always looked like it was bout to fall off of his body when he was young), but also because it was R rated and almost always that means lots, no, let me correct that, TONS of language, and sex. And frankly, none of that helps a movie at all. "Evil communication corrupts good manners." "Oh, but it's reality. It's how the world really is. We need that kinda realism in our motion pictures." If we wanted realism in movies, we would not go and see movies like Narnia, or Lord of the Rings. We would get out the lawn chairs and the soda and the potato chips and watch the neighbors fight. We don't want their kind of reality. We want stories about heroes, and redemption, and happy endings, okay we don't always have to have a happy ending, take Zhang Yimou's films which are absolutely beautiful and most end tragically, but I think that that might be a Chinese thing. You know, no hope in their culture, no awareness of a Christ who longs to redeem them. (But that's changing.) More in him later. Now, like I said, I didn't see The Departed, but I read the extensive review at "Hours Later . . ." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Departed and I also read the review for the Chinese movie that it was adapted from and frankly, I would rather watch the Chinese version. It had seemed like it had more hope than Scorsese's!

I mentioned the The Prestige also and how it didn't get anything. This is the single most influential movie that I have seen. See, for a long time I have maintained the opinion that no mater how good a movie is, it can only be entertainment. That it doesn't have the ability to really impact, or even change ones life. This may come as a surprise to some of you, but I think that this also includes the Christian films. All of them. No matter how good they are, all they will ever be is good, on some rare occasions, very good entertainment. It has nothing to do with how well they are made or how well they are written or how well they are acted. It's the format. For so many years, movies and television have been for entertainment only. A diversion. A chance for you to forget, for two hours, that you have a life out there, beyond the double doors, where you are embroiled in trouble. If you want to be educated: you watch a documentary. If you want to be encouraged: you watch a video recorded message from a trusted minister of God's Word. But. The Prestige has got me thinking about changing that position. When I left that film, I was definitely impacted by the message that the Nolan brothers were trying to get across: Obsession will destroy you and everything that you touch. And it was a good. There wasn't any language (that I can remember. Ah, the subjective memory) and no sex, though there is some romance. And it's smart. A movie has to be smart, or it's a waste of time. There was a time when I loved B movies, not so much anymore. But more on that at another time.

So. Okay. I feel better.

Just a little . . .

So, we got a little snow this last couple of weeks. Well, not this last week, stupid stuff has been melting. Now we just slog around in mud almost up to the top of our dress shoes. I went out to the start the cars so we could go to meeting this morning and without fail, I splattered mud on the cuffs of my almost white pants with the first step. "Maaaaan. Co-me O-n!" I've been here since '95 and this is the most snow that we have ever gotten. 16 inches over like three days, As you can see, this incredible model of male masculinity (yes I know it's redundant) is standing in a trench some feet thick. This snap was taken with Belle's Motorolla Razr (it's hot pink). It is just the right degree of ambiguous fuzzy. Of course this was before the troops arrived and we tunneled our way to freedom from the German concentration camps. Yes all of those attrocities did happen, despite what peopel are trying to say today. That was a good time. The tunnelling that is, not the attrocities. I was tired. I dug my neighbors out and then played with the troops for three - four hours. I was tired. Did I mention that I was tired? Now it's just nasty out. Sleating rain, muck everywere. Why can't this place be more like Colorado. God smiled when He made Colorado.

New Experiance High . . .

It's been two whole hours and not one single post! Come on! Doesn't anyone out there know that THE BLOG is finally on the web?!?
No, I do have a slightly stronger relationship with reality than that. Not much though. I was talking to my little sis, whom we shall call, The Shooter, that's an occupational reference, hmmm, and I thought I would bulk up the posts a little. This is her with the Black Hole of Attetion (it's a term of endearment) in the Jamaican airport.











Also, back in 2001 the Bears' Brian Urlacher was in Papa's Store. Here's some annecdotal info about that. Obviously it's been sanitized.













It was a normal day at the [store] [somewhere]. We were busy. The Chicago Bears were in town for their training camp at the UWP. Consequently, many fans were in town as well, and hungry. I guess the players were hungry, too, for Brain Urlacher was sitting in the lobby with his wife and daughter, enjoying their lunch. We always loved it when one of the players came into the store. We not only got to meet the players ourselves, but we also thoroughly enjoyed watching other customers reaction when they walked in and saw who was there. Today was no exception. Brain Urlacher was sitting in plain view in the middle of the lobby when two young men entered. They didn’t notice him right away, and I started taking their order. The one man, with a #54 jersey on, ordered and turned to get ketchup. He stopped mid-stride, stared, then retreated to the register. He held a quick consultation with his friend as to whether his eyes were deceiving him. I was smiling to myself and confirmed their suspicions. They got their food and sat, not wanting to disturb his lunch. When Mr. Urlacher and family got up to leave, the fans approached and asked him if he would sign the jersey and a picture. Urlacher willingly complied by having the fan turn around so he could sign the back of his jersey. They thanked him and he left. They were quite pumped about the whole experience and came up to the front counter again to ask my dad, the owner/operator, if they could have the tray that Brain Urlacher had eaten off of. Dad happily agreed and complimented him on his jersey. The fan then removed the jersey so that the signature would not be smudged on the ride home. At Dad’s suggestion they put the tray inside the jersey, carefully laying the signed portion on the top of the tray and folding the jersey around it. Thanking us and still excited from their experience, they exited the store, gently laying it in the back seat of their car as if it was the 'holy grail', leaving me with yet another fun memory.
-The Shooter" -article used with express permision from the author.

Okay, so I was just a little excited. There have been some postings. Thanks guys. Er, girls.

Yeah, Whatever

So, my good buddy/little sis/arch nemises finally pestered me into creating a blog. Shows how strong I am. Well, all right, she didn't really make me do it and the truth of the matter is, that despite the fact that I swim outside the mainstream (have been accused of swiming in an entirely different world altogether) I guess that I just wanted to jump on the trendy band wagon while I could. So I could be cool while it was still cool to be cool and not hot when I should really be cool. Huh? Yeah, me too. Actually, I just did this so that I could comment on my friends blogs and not have it be "Anonymous." Jak-Jak was like "if you don't comment on my Blog then I'll never know if anyones even reading it." Well, Jak-Jak, I am reading it, and now, I'm posting on it too!
So what is The After Action Report (AAR - prounced "Arrr!" like a pirate) going to be? I guess maybe some place for me to creatively vent. Kinda like plasma into space, only without the melodrama. "Dum-Dum-Dum" And no, I'm not a StarTrek fan. I'ld like to see StarTrek go up against SG-1 (RDA era). We all know who would be left standing after the dust settled and yes, StarTrek could keep all of their fancy space age gadgets and SG-1 would still come out on top. There are two things that I do like about Startrek and I have, obviously, started using them in my conversation; "Venting plasma" for when things start to get kinda "hairy" and I need to just take a deep breath; and "Scrape Shields" to describe the interpersonal conflicts that sometimes tend to just mysteriously appear without any warning and for absolutely no reason. Of course I'm being sarcastic. As my Daddy always says, "It takes two to tango."
So, we'll just let this thing evolve into what ever it does. (No, I don't believe in Evolution. To be a member of that church is to be a fool) I have a degree in computer programming that I have never used (I have the student loan payments to prove it) and all I know how to use is my Lotus Word Pro and how to play Splinter Cell so this whole blogging thing is going to be a lesson in the learning. So, sorry about the plainness and all those other cheap excuses that nobody wants to hear anyway. "All I have is a pocketfull of excuses, but you don't want to hear them."