Repenting of Rebelliousness
A couple people have complained about the time of dusk in this story. This took place early in the summer and the evening twilight does linger until around 10 PM. For the record, many people would consider me to be a geek. I have to disagree with that label because the dictionary definition says a geek is a circus performer who bites the heads off of live chickens. I have never done this. Regardless, when I was in high school I was probably more of a nerd than I am now and I write computer software for a living. Depending on how you mark the school year, you can call yourself a senior as soon as the junior year is completed. I had just completed the second-to-last year of high school and was out for the summer so I considered myself a senior. Life should have been good. That is the year when most of my friends were relaxing because they had practically made it through the years of required schooling. Unfortunately my affinity for odd facts gained me a lot of ridicule. I got tired of others picking on me so one week I decided to do something about it. I talked to a guy I knew about getting into a gang. Now, this wasn’t just any gang. It was the gang. My family lived on the coast of SC and this was the group that everybody knew ran the islands. It was what I needed to toughen my image. A couple days later this guy called me and said to meet them behind the local Dairy Queen on Sunday night at 8:30. I skipped church so I could be there at 8:00. Yes, this was very bad rebellion and I wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to miss anything. The parking lot behind that Dairy Queen was surrounded by trees so I mostly just sat in the shade and watched the customers while trying to pick out which ones might be in the gang. The meeting time came and went and I began to wonder if I had been stood up. Even the gangs didn’t want me. At 8:45, I decided that I would wait 15 more minutes before forlornly heading home. The time crept on – 8:50; 8:55 – and I was tired of watching the customers. It was like watching your computer get destroyed in slow motion. It was painful. Even the trees, which I normally enjoyed being around, did not offer any comfort because of why I was there. At 8:59 and 30 seconds I got up and began to walk back to my car. Perhaps I was too much of a nerd to time it so precisely. Just then a dark red van came screeching into the parking lot. I paused where I was, uncertain if I should run the other direction to get out of their way. The vehicle practically flew straight toward me and came to a screeching halt. If I had thought to look at the driver, I’m sure he was enjoying every minute of it. As soon as the van stopped three guys with masks on jumped out of the van and threw a hood over my head. My reaction time was a bit slow that day. They opened up the back of the van and tossed me in. The front doors closed and the van took off again with another squeal of the tires. From the pull of centrifugal force (yes, I know the theory has been replaced), I was able to gauge the which roads we were on. We passed over the main bridge into town, which was easy to mark because it was the only thing that resembled a hill for miles around. I wondered what would happen if the police pulled over the speeding van and I was discovered, then slowly began to hope that would be the case. We sped around the main loop and out into the countryside. After a while we left the paved roads and I became hopelessly lost at that point. I got so turned around that I just gave up. Nobody had said a word yet. Finally, the van came to a stop and all three doors opened up. I had not dared to take the sack off of my head but I could hear the four guys get out and close the doors again. Then there was silence. I waited. And waited some more. Nobody opened the back door so I gradually worked up the courage to take the sack off of my head. Since they hadn’t bound my hands I began to wonder why I hadn’t done that earlier. Nobody was in sight. My watch showed that it was just after 9:40 and it was very evident that the twilight was fading. I crawled over the back seat and let myself out the side door. There was probably a handle on the back, but I knew where the one in the front would be since my family had owned a van several years earlier. Before letting myself out, I did check – the keys were not in the ignition. It surprised me that there was nobody crouched beside the van waiting for me and I thought maybe they had moved into some of the clumps of trees nearby. I didn’t care. It was late and I knew I would have to call my parents to come get me. This was just like a prank someone would pull on a nerd. There was a single farmhouse that I could see. It sat about half a mile away and I knew it would practically be dark by the time I got there. When I got to the old building, it turned out that the windows had been boarded up. I knocked anyway and while waiting for a response took a look around. It was one of the old style southern plantation houses with a wrap-around porch. There was another story above it and I could just make out that one of those windows was open a few inches. I hoisted myself onto the roof of the porch by using the railing and support columns and found that the window could be opened very easily. My biggest problem was that as dark as it was outside that the inside was even more dark. I really hoped the house was vacant. At the same time I also hoped that it had a telephone line that still worked. My grandparents had a house like that once. There was a working telephone even though the phone company had no record of its existence. I crawled through the window carefully, not sure what the floor would be like. It was still sturdy. After a moment I was able to make out a dresser with a candle on it. That was lucky. I had grown up going to a group similar to Boy Scouts and they had instilled into my head to be “Ready for anything.” I may not have followed those words much that night but I did have a pack of matches in my pocket. I struck one and lit the candle. With help from the light that the candle generated, I began to explore the upstairs. In one room was an old bed. If worse had come to worst, I could have turned the mattress over so that I wasn’t sleeping in two inches of dust. I moved on. There wasn’t much I could use so I moved back down the hall. As I walked past the room I had come in through I heard a soft rustle and poked my head in. The room was exactly as I had left it but I wondered if the guys had followed me over from the van to have a bit more fun. I took the stairs down to the first floor and took stock of the furniture that had been left. There were several chairs that had legs which could serve as clubs if need be. Strangely, the front door was boarded over from the inside. Sadly there was no telephone on that floor either. I decided to head back out and follow the road to another house but at the top of the stairs I had reason to pause. The dresser that I had picked the candle up off of was standing upright in the doorway of the room I had intended to use. It shifted forward a couple inches.
“Um, guys, the joke’s over. This isn’t funny anymore.” It moved forward again. Then I realized it wasn’t a dresser. It was a coffin. That sent a couple chills up my spine as I backed down the stairs again. At least a coffin couldn’t follow me down – no legs. At the bottom, I set the candle down on a little stand and started trying to rip the boards off of the door. I got one of the boards loose then turned around to see what was happening with the coffin. As expected, it had stopped at the top of the stairs then, while I was watching, it began to elevate itself off of the ground. I couldn’t see anyone behind it so I ran over to one of the chairs I had been eying earlier and ripped a leg off. By now the coffin was half-way down the stairs. I used the club for leverage to pull the board the rest of the way off. I would rather leave than get tangled up with a floating coffin but didn’t have much room to act. I turned around and the coffin was at the bottom of the stairs. It was still floating as it advanced toward me. The silly thing didn’t stop when I told it to so I attacked it with my club. The club broke. I decided that the coffin was moving slowly enough so I tried to run around it. However fast I ran it dodged equally as fast in the same direction. It was worse than a game of American football. Finally it dawned on me that this coffin was floating about 8 inches off of the ground. It wasn’t much, but maybe I could squeeze under it. I backed up and ran, then dove. The coffin dropped and I hit my head. It felt a bit like I had just dove into a corner head-first and I had to back away while trying to regain all my senses. I was out of options so I turned back to the only thing I could think to do. No, that wasn’t the candle on the little stand (though that might have been a good idea too). I started pulling boards off of the door with a greater ferocity than before. I had two more off before the coffin inched its way over to me. All was lost. There wasn’t anything I could do. It seemed to know my predicament and took great pleasure in it as it slowly began to press me against the wall. All of my efforts to use leverage or any other tricks could not push it back. I began to have a hard time breathing. The coffin was pressing me hard and I knew it was the end. Just then I remembered something. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a cough drop and managed to get it into my mouth. It stopped the coughin'.
Ezekiel 33:26 - ... ye defile every one his neighbor's wife: and shall ye possess the land?
Tonight I was attempting to finish up a website for one of my customers. Nothing too unusual about that except that one of the advertisements was pornographic and I do my best to avoid such images. Normally I use the AdBlock Plus plugin for Firefox and everything disappears. That wasn’t possible tonight.
The job involved working on the advertisements for this particular website and making them rotatable. I installed OpenX and replaced the code for almost every advertisement with the proper zone created in it. So blocking the ads was out of the question. I had to be able to find them on the page and in the HTML code behind the page.
This advertisement I am complaining about was not there the last time I had worked on the site.
To further complicate matters, Firefox wasn’t loading the script or style information for OpenX for some odd reason. Instead of tracking it down tonight, I just switched over to using Google Chrome (which I like so far except for the lack of Linux support). Cut off from my favorite plugins, I didn’t see a way to block just a single image.
For the three hours that I was flipping between pages and coming back to this ad, the image bugged me. It is so representative of how our culture sells things. We try to hook into their emotions instead of offering a product that will improve their lives. The idea is to make them unhappy with what they have. Compound it with the way that men are hard-wired to notice a naked woman, and you have an advertisement that very few men can ignore.
So what’s the big deal if someone wants to denude herself for a camera? The woman in the ad is somebody’s daughter and more than likely somebody’s wife or mother. She is a person and sex is so much more than just a fun activity to engage in. It affects us very deeply. I can recount dozens of stories off the top of my head of how much hurt sex adds to a relationship when it ends. Paul said in his first letter to the Corinthian church (1 Corinthians 16:18) that every sin is external to us except for fornication. Sexual sin goes deeper than any other in how it affects us.
The verse that is quoted in the title for this post (Ezekiel 33:26) asks if, among other things, we expect to still own our own land and be free when we make the wives of other men our whores. This woman in the ad tonight is somebody’s wife. If she isn’t, she will be one day.
What would I think of somebody desiring my future wife enough to click on an advertisement in hopes of seeing more of her? The thought is reviling.
Addendum: It seems that AdBlock Plus was trying to do its job in Firefox and was the reason that OpenX wasn’t loading properly. If you ever have to work on OpenX, try disabling AdBlock Plus. Smart plugin.
Hello World
Nearly a decade after the first blogs appeared on the internet, I have finally been convinced to create one. I will try to avoid being so egotistical as to assume that this will be fully random (though my interests are diverse). This will also be anonymous enough that only those who know me should be able to gain any insights into who the posts might refer to. I hope you enjoy what you find.
Repost: The Shack
The book “The Shack” has been sitting on my bookshelf for a few months and I finally read it this past weekend. It has some good points and bad points. I’m trying to decide if it is much better than what a lot of people already think about God. Some of it is made up of American-isms that appeal to most Americans but are not very good in reality.
Mr. Young does a good job of capturing where most people, especially in the western world, are at (although the “theological training” that “Mack” received is very worrisome). It demonstrates well how much we walk all over God and then expect him to answer a 30-second prayer. The story of the indian princess is a good illustration of how little most understand of what Jesus really did.
But then the book says that God does not have a hierarchy. Almost all Americans despise the idea of being under another – from liberals to conservatives. Isaiah says that God gave his holy one the authority to judge. That Authority comes from the Father. It is stated that way all through Scripture. Even in the garden of Eden, before the fall, it is evident that God had left it to Adam to relay his commands. God told Adam that he was not to eat from the tree. Adam told Eve not to even touch it. We do tend to create more hierarchy than is good, but some is necessary.
Another problem that particularly worries me is that the book says Jesus now continually limits himself since becoming fully human. That completely ignores the implications of the mount of transfiguration and the way that Jesus appeared to John on the isle of Patmos. There is also one point in this book where “Jesus” says that he had been a part of the creation “when he was the Word before he became human” (I may have the wording off a little). While Jesus’ humanity is extremely important in our faith, that statement is wrong too. When Jesus returns on the white horse, a great sword comes from his mouth. He is still the Word. Hebrews talks about how penetrating that double-edged sword is.
One extension of this view of “Jesus” in The Shack caused him to make mistakes such as dropping a bowl that contained part of the pla
ed dinner. We need to be careful about such analogies since Jesus is the Word and without him nothing was made that has been made (John 1). To make him a klutz is akin to saying he could make mistakes in how the world has come into being. Granted, that offered a good view of how love operates, but we need to be careful…
That “Papa” would hold the gun at arms length as though it were contaminated is laughable. (And did you notice that it was not returned at the end of the story?) This is the same God who slew the firstborn of the Egyptians. Who ordered the death of many Israelites because of David’s census. Who killed Ananias and Saphira for lying to the Holy Spirit. Etc. Ezekiel 18 says that God has no pleasure in anyone’s death, but it is evident that he does not shy away from it when necessary either.
It is also strange for Mr. Young to write that God purposefully limits himself in what he knows when he listens to our prayer. My, that would get annoying. To have to tell God every day the reason for why I would like for something to be a certain way. I think it would be better said that God enjoys hearing what we have learned, come to understand and to desire.
On a side note, another book that I have been reading makes the point that unanswered prayer is perhaps one of the greatest gifts to the church. Because God worries about the consequences, we don’t have to.
To a lesser degree, I do wish that The Shack didn’t have female characters to represent the trinity. The author made the observation that male examples were needed in our world, but then denied them to Mack when he needed them the most – at the beginning of the story. If any of the trinity were to be portrayed as feminine in the book, this is the way it had to be done. If it were the holy spirit only, the story would fuel the ideas of some that Jesus was born because of a sexual union between the father and the holy spirit. That is as heretical as the contrasting belief that the virtues we see as “feminine” are ungrounded in God, though the latter is a little more accepted.
“Jesus” said that the world would be a much better place, with fewer children sacrificed to the “gods of greed and power” if women ruled instead of men. Wow. Among homeschool families there is a big push for what is called “patriarchal leadership.” They have been growing in popularity but most of the ones that are problematic seem to really be “matriarchal” in how they operate. That has been reported by men such as Michael Pearl and confirmed by his readers – many of them daughters in such families. C.S. Lewis wrote about how “love” can be abused in a selfish way in The Great Divorce and, I’ve heard, in The Four Loves. Men find their value in the sweat of their brow “Jesus” had said (just a few pages earlier) while women find their value more in their relationships with others. Both of those points are true, but they also mean that men are (or should be) more willing to make the harder decisions that life requires. “Jesus” was right about men and women being equals, however.
The book states that Jesus’ life was not meant to be an example for us. What else did Paul mean by “Follow me as I follow Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1)? Our lives our examples too.
It is said in the book that marriage is not an institution but is instead a relationship. That is not fully true either, unfortunately. Marriage is supposed to give stability for the spouses and their kids. If God did not see families as institutions, why was the whole of Noah’s family saved from the flood? It is obvious that Ham was heavily influenced by the pre-flood world. God said that only Noah was righteous before Him. Family is a unit and an institution. While Mr. Young is partially right about governments, a small amount is actually commanded by God also. Consider how Genesis 9:6 would have to be implemented. If in doubt, ask and I’ll expound a little about the safe cities that God set up in Israel despite there not being a central government.
Independence is another fun topic. There is a balance beyond what the book admits. Imagine if Adam were so reliant on God that he could not walk without his creator propping him up. How would this image of the final, crowning creation reflect on God? Yes, this is a ludicrous example intended to demonstrate a fault in the arguments used in the book. Just as you can be overly independent, you can also lack the abilities we were designed to have.
While it is easy to hide behind the rules to judge others, there are legitimate uses for those rules outside of demonstrating how far we fall short. How many commands did Jesus, Paul, or the other authors of the New Testament lay out? One verse that is often referenced is John 14:15. Or what of the commands for the types of men we should have for bishops and deacons in the church (1 Timothy 3)? Mr. Young says that we are not bound by any rules. Let me ask this: Should we let the man who brutalized Mack’s daughter be a pastor? Do you think that such a lawless man knows God and would be in heaven unless he turned his life around? Because we fulfill (most of?) the law out of love does not mean the the rules are not still there.
Responsibility – the idea does occur in the Bible actually. Just because one particular word is not used does not mean that the idea is absent. Consider Micah 6:8. It uses “required.” The topic of responsibility leads to the conversation about expectations. In this part of the book, the characters said that no expectation has ever been laid on any human. OK. Were the prophets not expected to say anything then? Jonah was forcefully taken to Ninevah when he did not want to. God fully expected him to proclaim the destruction of that great city if they did not repent. Do you somehow think that we are better or different from the prophets in that nothing is required of us if we truly profess to know Christ? Near the end of the story, “Papa” says that the the man who abducted and killed the young girl was his (“Papa’s”) son. A few moments later he said that he did not have a relationship with the man. In the first chapter of John, it says that those who received Jesus were given the power to become sons of God. One who is not walking with God is not his son; no, not even by his being a creation. If you do want a God that does not cast into hell, you need to read 2 Peter 2:4-22 again. Sadly, these are about half of the points that are made in the book. There are other points made that are very well explained, and several others that I don’t feel qualified to judge yet on one side or the other. I understand the reason that the author makes the points as he does, but they are as unbalanced as what others believe already. Any thoughts?
More Youthful Shenanigans
This was turned into story form from a chat transcript that is a little over a year old. All names except for my own have been changed to protect the less-than-innocent. Enjoy:
Chris wandered by the gaping doorway and poked his head inside. Next to the fireplace were three huddled figures. The one closest to the leaping flames was seated on the raised hearth. He was in the middle of a tale involving strange and mysterious creatures to two girls seated in front of him who occasionally urged him to get to the good parts faster. The figure in the dark doorway interrupted. “Are you still telling the same tale?”
“Of course,” said one of the two listeners. The features of her young face melted into the darkness as she turned away from the fire’s glow.
“It won’t ever be possible for me to catch up on the whole tale, will it?” The other three laughed. The story teller stood up and announced he needed to get going for a little bit anyway. “It’s Chris’ turn to tell a story for the young ladies.” The dark figure chewed his lip for a moment. He was busy, but the cheers of the two still seated in front of the fire convinced him to stay for just a few moments. Fifi, the youngest, even clapped. Chris moved toward the coveted hearth seat as Amos, the one taking a break, slipped out the door without another word. The eldest of the two, a lass by the name of Maybelle who was still younger than Chris, urged him to begin immediately.
“What kind of tale? Shall it be a true-to-life story?” The two girls considered for a couple seconds and then consented. They just wanted to hear something.
“When I was younger, before Fifi was even born – even though it was likely to be around that time,” Chris began. The eldest, whom we will call Maybelle, interrupted. “How old were you?”
“I was about 7, the perfect age.” Maybelle giggled.
“My parents had just moved into a new house, the first they had ever bought.” Maybelle interrupted again. “Where was it,” she asked bright-eyed.
“South Carolina. It was in a brand new subdivision that was surrounded by woods. There were a few lots that were overgrown because the builders had not had a chance to build yet but not too many. As all kids have to do, I had to explore them.”
“Of course,” interjected Maybelle.
“This area was well-known for the attachment some of the people had to voodoo. There were floating lights seen out at ‘Land’s End’ occasionally (which, admittedly was several miles away, but still…)” As Chris’s voice faded and he considered how to continue, there was a comment about it being a little creepy.
“Perhaps, but this particular day everybody else was occupied with… I don’t remember what. So I grabbed my bike and headed off by myself.”
“Uh-oh,” Maybelle laughed in anticipation. Fifi, who had been listening quietly, interjected a question. “Is this another coffin story?” Chris continued. “I rode around the loop that was our neighborhood a few times and quickly became bored. The thought of climbing a few trees sounded like great fun, which is probably obvious from the story so far.” Maybelle affirmed that last bit.
“Well, the bike seemed to head in that direction. I chose to tag along (while pedaling, of course). At the edge of the woods were several thorny bushes and it was almost unthinkable to ride the bike through them. Had I not been preoccupied, I probably would have had a hard time leaving it there all by itself. With my imagination running wild through the trees, I didn’t hear one complaint from it.” Fifi commented on how pitiful it was when they begin to call your name and Maybelle agreed.
“Only if you are within earshot,” Chris whispered as though it were a grand secret. The two girls laughed, and the story continued.
“I climbed several trees and ran around in circles – even threw piles of leaves into the air.”
“Sound like a grand old time,” observed Maybelle.
“It was so much fun that it started to get dark before I realized it, and Mom was very strict about us being home before then.” Maybelle remarked on her dismay.
“I looked around to find the best way back out of the woods.”
“Ooh, Chris got lost in the woods,” Maybelle said, still wide-eyed.
“Well, I did try calling my bike but it refused to answer. I think it was simply mad at me.” Fifi jumped in compassionately. “That’s what you get for leaving it.”
“At last I saw a strangely-shaped tree that I remembered seeing earlier and that helped me to know which way to go. With a direction in mind, I set off more determined than ever. It worked out well, too. I ended up on the wrong side of the neighborhood.”
“Uh-oh,” said Maybelle again. Chris winked at her. “I was 7, so I raced across the neighborhood to my bike. It was exactly where I had left it and only had a couple more scratches (which were probably from it trying to climb through some of the thorns to follow me).”
“Aw, poor thing.”
“To make up for leaving it all afternoon, I rode it home.” At this point somebody from a dark corner of the room yawned and greeted everyone. All three of the figures around the fire welcomed him in return and a small side conversation started about greetings and when they should be given. Chris thought about the tasks he was neglecting for this tale. “I’m going to pretend that was the end of the story and get back to work.” Maybelle protested quickly while Fifi informed Chris that she was waiting more patiently for him to resume than she had for Amos when he paused. The one telling the story looked unconvinced for a moment until Maybelle threw a pillow at him. That was not a wise thing to do with how close he was to the fire. He thought how ironic it was. Nevertheless, the tale wasn’t complete so he allowed himself to be talked into finishing it. The stranger in the corner laid back down and, from the sounds of it, rolled over. Chris sighed in a playful manner but continued. “Oh, alright. I rode the bike home and went to put it into the shed, because that was where it belonged when not in use. Through gate we went and over to the door, but when I opened it the room was pitch black. I remembered that there were matches on a shelf near the door…”
“Oh, my,” said Fifi. “Perfect,” interjected Maybelle.
“It didn’t take much fumbling to find them and the short bursts of light let me see where to put my bike.” Chris paused for a moment uninterrupted. “Now, the shed was attached to the house. You might say it was an outside room, and I had forgotten that there was a light in the shed with a pull string that would turn it on.” Maybelle giggled, expecting something to happen. Chris winced slightly. “Well, the match accidentally contacted the string and caught it on fire. The flames lept up above my head before I could think of what to do.”
“Oh no!” said Maybelle. Fifi laughed as if getting pleasure from some mental picture.
“The flames seemed to go out when they reached the light fixture.” The ever-sharp Maybelle commented on the use of “seemed” which brought a slight smile to Chris’ face. He wasn’t managing to keep the surprises very well.
“I was already late and was expecting to get into enough trouble for that, so I turned and left. It seems that the string went into the fixture where it eventually caught the ceiling on fire… though it was slow at first.” Here there was another exclamation of horror.
“It wasn’t all that surprising that I was sent to bed without dinner, but my room was next to the shed…” One look at Maybelle’s face was enough inform the story teller that she was trying to think of all the various possible ways that things could turn out. Chris asked her if she had seen his scars, but continued the story before an answer could be made.
“Thankfully I was hungry enough that it energized my brain instead of sending it to sleep. As I lay watching the ceiling, a strange thing started to happen. It began to warp. Now, if I had been a normal teenager at the time I may have thought it was the effect of drugs.” Fifi jumped in. “But you weren’t a teenager and you aren’t normal, so…” she prodded teasingly.
“Exactly! Since I was such a smart little kid, it occurred to me that it should not be happening.” This brought laughter from the two listeners.
“When I got up to tell my parents about the ceiling, they sent me back to bed.” Maybelle commented playfully, “They thought it was just a ruse to get you out of bed.”
“Yeah, and they probably had good reason to think that.”
“Of course.” Chris stared at her for a moment. “Anyway, it got worse. My little imaginative mind thought there must be a whale on the roof.” Fifi laughed. “Oh, my… this reminds me of so many things I thought up when I was younger. And still do.”
“Yep, sneaking out has never been condoned but it wasn’t difficult either. As I opened my blinds, the second realization hit me – the back yard was pretty bright.” Maybelle attempted to interject a comment, but Chris was already explaining what that second realization was. “It could only mean that superman was on the roof and spying on the neighbors with his X-ray vision.” The comments to this part were excellent, and if you could get Chris to admit to anything he would have to say that he enjoyed hearing them.
“Just then the sirens came within earshot… the police were going to attack Superman! (Or maybe he was helping them?)”
“Prolly the latter,” deduced Maybelle. Two others in the room suddenly commented that they didn’t know what was going on but disappeared back to dreamland after a moment. Chris continued. “There were child locks on the windows to keep them from opening too far, but I knew how to take them off.” Fifi replied slyly, “Of course.”
“Hey! I was defeating child safety locks on car doors at the age of five.”
“Resourceful kid that you were,” commented Maybelle. Chris chuckled for a moment and another girl came into the room. It was too late to start over, so he simply continued with the tale. “I took the locks off of the window by standing on the window sill and opened it. I performed a somersault over the sill itself to punch out the screen (it really doesn’t take that much weight).” Fifi and Maybelle laughed.
“To my surprise, Superman had been attacked and then left. Our house was on fire because of it! My first thought was to warn mom and dad, so I ran over to the back door…”
“They didn’t know?” interjected Maybelle incredulously.
“… but they were at the front door with the firemen.”
“Ah,” said Maybelle. The new girl commented on Maybelle’s commentary.
“My dad ran to the back to get us kids, ‘cept I wasn’t in my room. Whether I was in the house or had slipped through the window he had to consider quickly. He assumed (rightly) that I had slipped out.” Maybelle commented again. “He knew you well.”
“ApPARENTly,” said Chris, stressing the parent part. “He got my brother and sister out so I went and sat on the swing in the back yard. That was where the firemen found me… They really got the fire out pretty quickly and only the shed, my room, and the kitchen were damaged.”
“Oh, that’s good” said Maybelle. Chris brought the story to a close. “But that was how I taught my bike to answer when I called for it.”
“Did your bike get ruined?”
“It had to be taken to the bike hospital, I mean, repair shop.”
“Aw, poor thing. Did you send it a get well card?”
“Nope, it had to learn who was boss.” Fifi asked, “So you set its house on fire?! You are slightly disturbing…”
“Um… do I really have to answer that?” Maybelle said yes while Fifi shrugged. It was Chris’ turn to laugh. “No, the entire story is fictional.”
“The ENTIRE story?” asked Fifi, in shock. Maybelle yelled, “Are you serious?!?!” She threw another pillow.
“Everything except for the basic layout of the neighborhood and the house.” The two girls looked at each other for a moment and then finally thanked the story teller for his tale. He told them that he needed to get back to work, but that he would have to share some of his true stories sometime.
Repost: A Short (Short) Story
The game was about to begin. I was my own team and confident that I would place well against the other teams. The focus was on me as eight men were brought out. They were lined up and I was told that I must choose one of them to be my companion. He would help me against the other teams.
Each of the men was different. Some were burly with their bulging muscles being very apparent while others had strength that was harder to gauge as they wore longer sleeves. None of them was small, and each would undoubtedly help in some way.
Somehow I could see their temperaments. Some stood calmly and quietly, while the skin of others almost rippled with intensity. It was one of these men that I chose. He would be active in helping me to win against the other teams. Yes, his strength and intensity would help.
The decision was made. Suddenly something didn’t seem right. As the one I had chosen began to walk toward me, I could sense his intensity was focused at me. It wasn’t aligned with my own desires. He wanted to take me down.
One of the calmer men whom I had not chosen stepped forward quickly and put a hand on his chest to hold him back. But this was my new teammate and nobody could stop him when the game started.
Half of the man’s face began to transform in my vision to that of a wolf. Fire flashed deep in the depths of his eyes. It wasn’t a transformation, but instead I was suddenly seeing more clearly the one I had chosen. And the intensity was anger. It was anger directed at me. He was going to destroy me. The game was about to begin.
What had I done?
Repost: A Penny Saved is a Penny Taxed
This was adapted from a stand-up comedy I performed a few years ago and found the notes to recently while going through all of my old junk. Without further ado:
Just the other day I was reading through a history book and found a rather silly idea. You see, it said this country had begun its revolution as a protest against high taxes! See? Told you it was utter nonsense. I had always understood that it was so we could be born free and then taxed to death. Boy, if Patrick Henry thought taxation without representation was bad, he should see how bad it is with representation!
This all became really confusing, you know, the mixed signals, so I did some research. One of the articles that was a great help had been written by Dave Barry. In it he says, “The IRS spends goodness knows how much of your tax money on these toll-free information hot lines staffed by IRS employees, who’s idea of a dynamite tax tip is that you should print neatly. If you ask them a real tax question, such as how you can cheat, they’re useless.”
It took a while, but with a lot more digging, I even found the IRS’s Taxpayer Complaint Hotline. Their top-secret number is 1-800-AUDIT-ME. If you decide not to call, but keep researching even beyond that, you may discover that there is another way to pay your taxes! A guy named Michael McShane said, “I owed the government $3,400 in taxes, so I sent them two hammers and a toilet seat.”
All of that research turned up other information too. Not that it will help you out, but it’s worth reading. Albert Einstein supposedly said that “the hardest thing in the world to understand is the income tax.” And Einstein said this? Ouch. But Will Rogers was there to clarify too, with how “the income tax has made more liars out of the American people than golf has. Even when you make a tax form out on the level, you don’t know when it’s through if you are a crook or a martyr.” Thankfully a guy named William Buckley chimed in and said, “I would like to electrocute everyone who uses the word ‘fair’ in connection with the income tax policies.”
Speaking of being fair, do you know what the difference is between a taxidermist and a tax collector? The taxidermist leaves the hide! But I can’t complain too much. After all, as H. L. Mencken said, “Unquestionably there is progress. The average American now pays out twice as much in taxes as he formerly got in wages.” Besides! Taxes rank as excuse number 17 for “Why I won’t be Coming into Work Today.” All you have to do is tell your employer that you “refuse to commute to your job until there is a commuter tax. You insist on paying your fair share.”
And last, but certainly not least, there were a couple states who decided it wasn’t in their best interest to have a motto with “taxes” in it. But here are a couple that they considered:
Massachusetts – Our Taxes Are Lower than Sweden’s (For Most Tax Brackets) Missouri – Your Federal Flood Relief Tax Dollars at Work
Repost: A Beginner's Guide to Why English is Better than Spanish
This was my cheap shot at cheering up a friend. Thought it should be posted here for your enjoyment. Enjoy!
It. You don’t have to worry about the gender of random, inanimate objects.
Police. Spanish equates a policewoman to a group of policemen. English gives you “One riot. One Texas ranger.”
Love. Since it is obvious Spanish-speakers like to confuse also, why spoil the fun with “Amar”?
Pez. I thought it was candy.
Shoes. In English, you can’t equate dying with hanging up your shoes on the power lines.
Alphabet. How is “ll” a single letter?
Prayer. In English, you pray to Jesus and no one thinks you’re talking to the guy next to you.
You. It’s foolproof! In English, you can’t call a complete stranger a good friend by accident.
Suffixes. They’re so long that special rules have to be made. You shouldn’t say “el es extremadamente, sumamente, extremadamente grande.”
Names. I would hate to be called Christino because my parents wanted a girl.
Jerk. There is no good Spanish translation when you mean your friend.
Dude. The word just sounds cool.
Repost: What Girls Say and What They Mean
A friend posted a few interpretations of what guys say and what they often mean by it. In response, I’ve put this list together. Some of them aren’t my own ideas, but came from girl [space] friends of mine. Don’t take offense, and I hope you enjoy this little bit of fun being poked at girls. :-)
(When asked what she’s thinking) “Nothing” And what it means: “I’m not about to tell you about even one of these things. Especially after what you did yesterday/last week/last month.”
(It’s 102 degrees and she says) “I’m cold” It means: “Put your arm around me… and you better smell good!”
“I have nothing to wear!” Means: “Everything in this closet is old” (See also “It’s a Girl Thing”)
“Does this dress/shirt/glove/etc. make me look fat?” Means: “I’m not asking for a yes or no answer. Make it good. Your life depends on it.”
“Go away” Means: “I’m building up steam”
“No, you’re wrong” Means: “My girlfriends will agree with me. I am a majority.” (See also “It’s a Girl Thing”)
“What is THAT?!” Means: You don’t really have to answer. She already knows.
“You aren’t listening to me!” Means: “I don’t care if you are listening or not. You don’t LOOK like you’re listening. And it doesn’t matter if this IS the last five minutes of that show. Look at me!”
cries and pouts Means: “I’m better at manipulating than you are”
“It’s a girl thing” Means: “All girls do it this way! How can you (lower life-forms) not know?”
“Where’s your sweater?” Means: “I want to wear it because it smells like you” -or, in the case of a mom,- “I’m cold, and you’re going to wear that thing!” (A sweater is something your mother makes you wear when she’s feeling cold)
“What do you think about this new look?” Means: “I did it for you. You’d better like it OR ELSE!”
“Awwwwww! How CUTE!” Means: “I want one. Now.”
“I’m not emotional and I’m NOT overreacting!” Means: “Yes, I am”
“It’ll just be a minute!” Means: “Might as well go make something to eat. Dinner’s gonna be a little while”
“We’re only going shopping for XYZ” Means: “You have the whole rest of the afternoon free, right?”
“That’s not what I meant” Means: “The rules just changed yet again”
“Come here! Quick!” Means: “You’re in trouble!” -or, more commonly for me,- “I just saw a spider”
“We need to talk” Means: “I need to complain” (OK, this one really means exactly what it sounds like, she doesn’t like a turn things have taken)
“Wow, what are the odds of both of us being here?” Means: “I’ve been planning this all day, possibly all week”
“It’s on sale!” Means: “I can save us enough, by buying what I normally wouldn’t, to avoid going broke”
“Which do you like more? The ivory or off-white?” Means: “Yes, there really is a difference”
Stomps off “Don’t follow me!” Means: “Unless you want to wake up next week in a ditch!”
EDIT: Special thanks to the girls who proof-read this, including one “majority” (see above). They helped to verify and even suggested improvements and new translations before the post.