Week-ending Update

Traditionally, a best-of-seven series means the first team or individual to win four games wins the series.

For all of the hype (and despite the best efforts of SI to curse us yet again), the White Sox took the World Series in less time than it would take for a laughably histrionic Latin American manager to bodily signal for a really large and wide closer.

But, you already knew that. Unless you've been living under a rock. Or the social equivalent of that, northern South America or Toronto.

And, as if talking about it makes it magically become better, I learned some things about manCHILD and Dust from an interview this week. For one, did you know that they're actually supported by networks of people that give of their resources on a regular basis? I don't know if it's incorporated or not, but Mars Ill is, in many ways, a really cool and down-to-earth missionary organization. Take that, Brian.

Another low-rated post is up and away!

For some reason, my posts about sports, and particularly baseball, and particularly the White Sox, are pretty much ignored. The few sports-related writings that I catch in the blogocosmos tend to focus on college ball. Maybe that's just my neck of the woods. A slight majority of my blogger-friends are girls, after all. For the most part, where younger, so we've been disenfranchised by the corporate and hands-down greed of corporate (read, professional) sports. So, we cling to the highest level of sports purity we can find, collegiate.

I tend to think that that way of thinking is deceptive. Look at the academic, social, moral and sexual scandals that have been rocked from such learned places as the U. of Minnesota, Colorado U., and even the prestigious and Baptist Baylor University. Look at all the monies that come into the NCAA and the top competitive schools through the BCS and March Madness. And then watch where the money trickles. No one can really say that they're getting a fair shake out of the deal. Not the athletes (many of whom can claim to make much more in the pros than their stipend of books and allowances, and many of whom are cheated of a fair education), not the general population (how many regular students in state colleges work their tails off to get a fair share of the educational piece), not the alumni (who are, honestly, being sidewined into helping the school out financially), and not the schools (who lose focus whenever these big events happen).

For all that negative carping I just went on about, there's plenty of positives (school pride, donor funds, the human drama on the stage of the open fields that is sports, unity, healthy outlets for stressed students and alumni, and just plain ol' fun), but my point is that I don't think that the divide between pro- and collegiate- sports it's all that it's cracked up to be.

With that, Sox will continue working their magic tonight. Just as they did with Contreras last night, with his arms of Advil supplements. Crede was, well... no more puns. But he got my player of the game with his tight defensive throwing arm and runs.

And, that's about it.

I'm sure I'll get some comments now.

I don't think Pigeon John's on this one

But that's all right. We'll forgive 'em this time.



LA Sympony has dropped a new one. Record. Full-length. And it's more straight forward - so I hear - than The End Is Now. TEIS was decent, but I had heard so much about L.A.S. that it was a major let-down, with a few exceptions. I expect not to be let down this time.



In other underground genius news, Mars Ill is expecting the retooled, reloaded and (this time) released ProPain to drop in January. Lawyers, let my people go!

ProPain: It's enough to give Hank Hill a cardiac arrest, I'll tell you what.

Still favorite line this year:
I wanna touch the fans like Ron Artest.
Deepspace 5.

Ah, Suffragate City!

Wham-bam, thank you Minnesota!

You've pretty much allowed for a great week in Chicago.

Our dinky little local team - in an area that is go-go baseball first - is going to the semis on Wednesday night. Of course, I'm speaking of the Roberto Clemente Wildcat varsity football team. And the soccer team was in the playoffs, also. Although I didn't hear how they fared.

Minnesota's Vikings are in such woeful predicaments that the Bears gave them a pounding. Arrrrr!!

Sorry, wrong sea-farer.

Whoa! Blow me down!

Ah-ga-ga-ga-ga-gah.

That's more like it.

And then there's the Sox, so positively reaffirming in their handling of the AL that Sports Illustrated had to curse them. Today, as I was checking back issues of SI I noticed the preseason predictions. Cubs = 2nd place in the Central AL. Close, if I recall. Yanks and Red Sox, 1st and 2nd in the Eastern American. Clairvoyant. Sox = 3rd place, just above the Detroit Tigers in the AL Central. Exsqueeze me? The Detroit Tigers are the Detroit Lions of professional baseball.

What iss you @###%^^& lookeen at?

How about best record in baseball coming out of the gate? And never relinquishing that title. How about four - count them, 1-2-3-four - starting pitchers completing winning games, in a roll? During the Finals?

I've already written a couple couple articles about this (edit: including a wild but valid prediction the afternoon of the first WS game) but I just thought it was time to hear the truth again. Team sports are supposed to be about the team.

Go community!

Go Bulls!

I knew that come Monday morning, I would most likely not see my dean, nor one of her clerks. The clerk is a member of my church. And she is expecting. She will be gone for a while. And missed. The dean's sister was in critical condition. We knew to expect her to be gone for about a week and soon. Now was the time.

But what I arrived at on Monday morning, while I was still struggling to shake the scales from my eyes and the sleep from my step, was unexpected. Ladies were crowding around a print-out news article from the internet. Somebody, I knew this much and not much more, on staff, was killed. It would take me a moment to find out that this lady was Ms. Jones, the dean from the floor directly above us.

Now, at this point, I had already heard a lot about the gang violence, including security guards who had to make certain calls to certain people to clear their way before they arrived in their own neighborhoods and homes. I never assumed that that was the issue here. I'd like to thank God and my own raising, which taught me that everyone is innocent until proven guilty. But then I wouldn't be fully honest. I think I was just slow on the draw.

Her husband murdered her, and tried to murder her son. He was known to be violent. She tried to divorce him. She had restrictions on him, based on his violence.

How do we protect ourselves from the evil influences within and without? The days are evil. The revelation is that I'm only seeing what the truth is. Mothers against daughters, husbands vs. wives, sons against fathers. This generation (not just my supposed generation, X or whatever other label we are given, but humanity in general) is wicked.

Yes, there is plenty of good stuff happening in the world. Plenty of those ah!! moments. But sometimes you just have to face the utter terror in the world. It's scary. But it's reality.

And it doesn't need to be.

Father, teach me to love, completely.

There's not too much more I can say at this point but...

I

life now, folks.

I did before, of course. But, you know. It's different now. Even though I'm the king of jerks and Lord of fools. God is gracious. His mercy is everlasting.

More moovies, baby

With a group of friends I went to see The Gospel last weekend. The audience for this late Friday screening largely consisted of two church groups, and we were the dwarfish ones. But that's OK.

So was the movie. Of course, I'm being generous. I really, unfortunately, did not expect a lot out of the movie. It delivered. Now, I first heard of the movie through my East Coast rep, Timi (who has a very intriguing post out now, of which I'll only refer to the first couple - relevant - sentences, but I'll link to here), who promptly reviewed the movie. To borrow from Bart aping Flanders, Timi says the movie "Suck-diddly-ucked." She is right in assessing that this movie is a churchy movie and does not deliver the titular good news.

Alas, very few people understand that the term gospel refers to the good news of the way, truth and life of Jesus Christ and not just to a particular type of music and cultural expression. To even get into that now... I can't just yet. I will soon, though. I might as well explain what I'm all about sometime, eh?

I didn't know anything about the filmmakers until I read the review in the Onion (yes, the news is fake, but the reviews are real, if not extraordinary). Apparently, the writer / director for this seemingly Christian movie also wrote and directed some African American sexploitation movies with the title Trois. I've seen the covers on my visits to Blockbuster. And it has nothing to do with the Count learning French. Interesting, indeed. Apparently, he's a low-rent R. Kelly of movies. Well, at least without the whole child-molestation thing. Hopefully.

The LookingCloser blog is having a little discussion on the difference of acceptance between "White Christian" movies and "Black Christian" movies. I'm debating whether or not I want to jump into that argument. But don't let that stop you. Argue here or there. It's so much fun.

Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrgggggggghhh! Blockheads.

A real forward I received from someone close, who I promptly lambasted. I'm sorry, but it upsets me so. I am leaving the typos intact, as well as my own non-caps reply (with some editing for personal reasons, of course).

Dr. James Dobson, with Focus on the Family, pleads for our action. An organization has been granted a Federal Hearing on the same subject by the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) in Washington, DC. Their petition, Number2493, would ultimately pave the way to stop the reading of the gospel of our Lord and Savior, on the airwaves of America. They got 287000 signatures to back their stand! If this attempt is successful, all Sunday worship services being broadcast on the radio or by television will be stopped. This group is also campaigning to remove all Christmas programs and Christmas carols from public schools! You as a Christian can help! We are praying for at least1 million signatures. This would defeat their effort an show that there are many Christians alive, well and concerned about our country. As Christians, we must unite on this. Please don't take this lightly. We ignored one lady once and lost prayer in our schools and in offices across the nation. Please stand up for your religious freedom and let your voice be heard. Together we can make a difference in our country while creating an opportunity for the lost to know the Lord. Please press "forward."

you are one of the smartest people i know. why are you hoodwinked by this goofiness?

let's presuppose that they got 30 million people to sign a petition like this. that's one tenth of the entire population of the us. is that enough to change fcc regulations so dramatically? no. the fcc is a regulating body that, like the irs, enforces laws. if people wanted to eradicate church services from broadcast (which, if you listen to gospel radio stations in chicago, might be tempting), they'd need to go through congress. and that won't happen anytime soon.

and if it did happen soon? i say good. bring it on, baby! get the Church to take Christ seriously, rather than our preachers and musicians and get-rich-with-God-on-our-side philosophies.

here's the rub. we christians are giving God a bad name and establishing a bad witness by jumping every stinking time someone says 'oppression.' please, we aren't being oppressed. not christians in the US today, the most church-friendly nation in the world. saudi arabia, iran, cuba, sudan, somalia, china, pakistan - those are oppressive countries for Christians.

we need to worry about not falling into the trap of being a blemish to Christ by following after every wift of wind, not grounded in truth or reality.

i'm done sermonizing. but please don't send me any more of these forwards (some of them are all right, but the petitioning ones have got to go.)

By the way, I'm not sure if the FCC is just an enforcement body. But I believe that's true. By the way, Charlie Brown and Co. have just celebrated fifty whole years of entertaining frustrated overaged children the world over.

Jesus loves you, Charles Shultz. You blockhead!

White Sox, Bay-Bay!

Hey, a sports fan is a sports fan. And a Chicago fan belongs, lives and dies by his home town teams. I'm saying this because I'm a Chi-area bandwagoneer to the supreme. Heck, I'm a Colonel in the Chicago Teams Bandwagon. This is not to say that I only support teams when they're good. I'm always first and formost a fan of teams in Chicago and our near 'burbs. (Sorry, no DeKalb County teams for me.) So, I've been rooting for the Bulls from end-on. Back when Dickie Simpkins was the best thing they had goin' for them. And the Bears. And the Rush. Although I'd love to have a professional football team in Chicago soon, it's just not gonna happen. But if one team is underperforming and acting like a bunch of wussies (enter Cubs stage left) about broadcast personalities who tell it like it is while another is scampering and trying hard - regardless of whether or not they're winning (luckily they are), then I'm going for the team that hustles.

Not Matt Clement.

Anyway, I would like to thank a former North Side pitcher for giving us a break today so that our White Sox (empty stadiums during the year and all. Thank you, Scary Jerry!) can open up a gash on Boston's forhead by the first inning and finish them off by the fourth. Those two beans were especially appreciated, seeing as how you walked the league's best base thief.

Tomorrow, I know, will be a different story. But, seriously, Matt, I'm gonna buy you a beer.

dag nab it!

most of the managers in my fantasy football league are women. you'd think i might be able to do something. i was on vacation during draft day. that's ok, right, cuz i got tiki barbar (yes, the elephant king) and peyton manning (cousin, apparently, to water peyton). but, nooo, the colts are putting out their greatest defense possibly ever and somebody forgot to wake up manning.

apparently, they don't need him. well, hell, i do!!

wake the flip up, manning.

these other cats, i never even heard of. no, that's not true. i got t.o. and ricky 'crazy' williams. two most talented flippin' gone overboards the world's seen in a minute.

jack-diddly-squiddly.

edit:

aww heck naw. i was looking at the wrong team. that's blackbottom girl (remember the Queen song) timi-tims' team. ahhh, that's why she's still in the bottom, too! i've got tampa bay's defense (about three years too late) and jimmy walker from good times as my backup rb.

Sizzling Blissing Cake

People, rise to the occasion:

I’m a little off-beat

I swear the newness of the morn

Shimmied in my teeth

And the best way - I swore - being

all it takes

If I could taste a bit of the blissing cake

Hold me from dusk to dawn -

That’s when I shiver most -

I need a touch of reality – Truth – and

the Holy Ghost

I cannot make this stuff up!

One of my supervisors/advisors for teaching (I need a lot of them) was giving me advice the other day. It was a particularly frustrating week. For all of us. I'm just saying that because I was pretty exhausted and I'm wondering if I was able to hold my composure in keeping the laugh inside.

Her: You know, you have to have show your students and have them respect that this is your classroom, that they should walk in and leave out and the room will look just as nice when they leave as when they come. Umm... Have you ever watched "Seinfeld?"

Me: Yes.

Her: You remember that episode, (dramatic breath) Master of the Domain?

Me: (Hopefully without wincing or a trace of irony) Yes.

Her: That's you. You have to tell the students that you are the Master of your Domain. This here (gesturing the entire classroom with a breath of the arms) is your domain. And you are the Master. (Smiles) Understood?

Me: (Hopefully without wincing or a trace of irony. Looking hard at the floor now, only occasionally looking up to catch her eyes. Back down as soon as I think about that phrase.) Yes.

PS,
If you don't get it, there's a cartoon about two posts down that may or may not clear things up for you. In fact, if you don't get it, it's best I not teach you it.

Everyday, Everyday, Everyday I Write the Book

I stole this from a YouthWorker Journal article. It's a quote from a Patricia Hersch. I expounded on it this morning for a small bit in my reading class, though I'm not quite sure anyone knew what I was talking about. Maybe I should've just read the article.

In the vacuum where traditional behavioural expectations for young people used to exist, in the silence of empty homes and neighborhoods, young people have built ther own community. The adolescent community is a creation by default, an amorphous grouping of young people that constitutes the world in which adolescents spend their time. Their dependence on each other fulfils the universal human longing for community, and inadvertently cements the notion of a tribe apart. More than a group of peers, it becomes in isolation a society with its own values, ethics, rules, worldview, rites of passage, worries, joys, and momentum.

A community of isolation. A tribe of peers and nothing else. Whereas community is about living together and needing each other. It's about give and take and take and give. It's about sharing, caring, hurting, lifting, tearing, biting, borrowing, lending, sending, receiving. And it's about extending as a basis to (although not necessarily only the method to) receive. Tribality is about extending social needs, based on short-sight vision of what our social needs are. And has been already eloquently stated before, it exists because of the vacuum, the community stepping out of the daily lives of teenagers with expectations that either the youth are raised or are being raised well by the media conglomerates and beaurocracies, neither of which is remotely true or healthy.

This is as true in the urban areas as the suburban or exurban or rural areas. As adults have withdrawn themselves from the youths' lives, we have abandoned them to neglect, and not of the benign sort either. One of my most vociferous (and not in the benign way, either) students took one vocabulary word today and was able to run with it. The word was monitor. I used neglect as an antonym. She knew what that word meant, and although the semantic link between monitor and disown is shaky, it is real for her. The question now is, of course, "Who raises these half-children? Who now supports and gives insight and sends and receives of themselves - and not just financially and not just socially - for the welfare of the 'Not yet a woman, not still a girl?'"

I feel overwhelmed. Honestly, I do. And I care deeply. And I feel like I'm making very little progress. And I don't know where to go from here. I have a mound of papers on my desk that need grading so that my students will receive their feedback, but I'm exhausted. I'm physically sick and have been for the last two weeks now. And may be for some time extended. I, again, barely have a social life anymore. It's been a week since I've posted anything here or anywhere else.

But, God is good. I know that I have to be taken care of in order to care for others. And he cares for me even when I feel that I've neglected him. He will get me through this. Just as sure as he got Timi a new job. As well as Alisahmnotuglylikeyou.

I'll post my drunken co-worker's dialogue about Protestant individuality v. Catholic structure as soon as I can clear it all in my head.

Love y'all.

P.S.
White Sox won the flippin' pennant, baby! Tomorrow, the flippin' World Series (if we can reverse this slide!)

You like me, you really, really like me!!

Being the comments um... attention-gatherer that I am (I probably shouldn't use the word that I feel so natural using. Probably because I feel so natural using it.), every once in a while (translation: everyday) I check out my site meter page to find out how many people come to visit me, where they're live and where they came in from.

Surprisingly, not many are coming, presumably, from porno pages. Which probably explains why I have such sparse traffic. Well, that and the fact that I don't try real hard to bring others in to this page and I don't work hard at maintaining those relationships. Especially now.

One day while doing a less regular search of Technorati.com - where you get to type in the name of your blog and find out who's linked to it, etc., - I was delighted to find out that someone had me linked as a must-read, even though I didn't know her. A friend of a friend of Timi's said she's been a longtime visitor, no-time caller. Since none of the members of the 5-fresh crew's had time recently, she seems like a good sister with some lengthy (a compliment in my view) commentaries on what it means to be a Christ-follower in this generation. And she listed me first on her list (of course because I'm the best of the best. Right??). And she stone-quoted Arrested Development. So, if you ever thought what Mr. Left Cheek might sound like if he were a she and a black she at that, check out Spirit's Footprints in the Sand.

But I was wondering why all this rash of people had come to visit me from the Youth Specialties Blog Ring page. So, a few days later I'm checking technorati again and I spot a link in their page. duh! But check this, I made the list for, quote, "Jason gets the Most Random Post of the Week, I think!," unquote. Turns out that the conversation between Timi and my parents that exists only in my bloggery was fairly entertaining. Although apparently not enough that people would leave comments, but still!

Let me also say, I hate the way this blog looks in IE.

Oh, and Christine-Canada is still on some sort of self-imposed Sabbatical, but she left a riff that could take several enjoyable weeks to read. Bon apetit, mes amis!

the language for it is older
than any tongues, any fodder
any odder than that split in half
that moment where we can't
explain
what is in pain
without living it over again
skeletons eat their own
there's ground dust enough
to prove
blood don't give life
as much as soothes
when there's no life left,
no living outside the flesh

Quickie

Hey, get your mind out of the gutter.

I'm broke. Just got the best-paying job of my life and already I'm broke. Payday's Friday, but it'll still take at least two months before I feel on level ground financially.

I don't have a social life anymore. In fact, I shouldn't even be doing this. But I need to do some grading (finally) and last week I spent a couple hours with my friends. And then I got chewed out for not spending more. Yeah, that really helped.

I'm going to bed at 9 or 10 virtually every night. I don't always sleep straight through. But I wake up at 5:30 exhausted and in dire need of coffee. Which is a whole two blocks - a shower and an hour of rummaging - away. When I get some money, I'm going to hire Mr. Coffee as my personal valet.

We're (my church) in the process of hiring a new youth leader. Thursday we get word on whether or not we can begin the interview process. Of course I want God's timing on this and I want the right man (Yeah, I'm a sexist. Alert the media. A Christian wants male pastors!) , but seriously, my entire youth ministry consists of trying to get dudes to play pickup basketball in the parking lot without actually advertising it and a Sunday School that consists largely of one family of four girls. I'm only partially kidding. There's also a young ladies discipleship that I'm really proud of and certain events and whatnot. And I really love my church kids, but they're too busy with their livestock and property and getting and giving away marriages and all.

Timi stood me up yet again. The funny thing is, she calls me, most the time. She talks. I talk. She's never at a loss for words. Which is cool with me, I don't like doing most of the talking on the phone (Really, even in the class) and she does allow me to speak my mind - usually. But she'll inevitably be caught in an intersection, or at the grocery line or whatever and she'll say, "Can I call you back in a couple?" And I think it's understood that a couple means a moment or maybe, maybe, a couple hours. Well, she doesn't call back. I think one time she tried to prove me wrong on this, but for the most part, she'll pick up a whole new topic and call me again in a couple weeks. Often, she'll just text it. "I got a lobotomy today. It just gets worse and worse."

My best blogger friend Christine went on a bloggatical. I'd email her, but I'm on a emailatical.

Oh, and I was deathly ill (crybaby I am also) this last weekend. I need to do grading. Buh-bye.

This is lame. I'm doing a Gabi. Posting on one blog and then on another. Normally, I would just give a teaser, but Xanga's just so difficult to comment on, and everybody here is scared of it. So, without further ado about nothing, my fifth post about my travels, in full:

I would add Timi to my list of women who denied me dates, except that I don’t remember where I placed that thing.

Timi, I knew this much, lives in Delaware. As I looked at the road map, I noticed the peninsula was right above the Virginia Beach area, where my brother was getting married. Of course, I didn’t realize that she’s north of the peninsula itself and as a result is several hours away still. But she stood me up for family. Which is, after all, a way to stand me up - I suppose.

I’m not sure I would’ve wanted her to meet my family. I already told her about my *ahem* eccentric father. The after-effects wouldn’t be devastating (Timi is a survivor, after all. She’s not gonna give up. And I know I can already take just about anything thrown my way.), but the moment could easily be wrenchingly bizarre and humiliating. Though good fodder for future logs.

Dad & mom size Timi up.

Dad (out loud): Oh, that’s quite a catch you got there son! When’s the wedding date?

Me: Catch? No, dad. Don’t.

Timi: Me, catch? Exkyooze me?

Dad: Hommina hommina! She’s a fiery one!

Me: No! Listen. We are not an item. She is not my girlfriend…

Mom: Ohhhh… Is she your special friend, Jason?

Me: No! She is not my special friend. We are not in any way romantic relationship or anything. Today is my first time meeting Timi...

Mom: Jason! Did you call for a… (Looks back at Timi. Almost whispers.) escort?

Me: Mama!!!

Timi: What?? Jason!!

Brothers and sisters-in-law (Laughing so hard they’re spitting out lunch): Jason knows her from the internet.

Dad: (Looks at Timi) How old are you?

Me: No!! I know her from our blogs.

Dad: The frogs? What the heck are your frogs?

Mom: Jason, does the FBI know about this? Are they going to come looking for you?

(Timi has already left.)

Me: See what you guys did? She left!

Mom: Well, if she would already leave you, she wasn’t your real friend anyway.

Brothers and sisters-in-law: Oh man. We haven’t laughed this hard since we don’t know when. Thank you, Jason. Thank you, Timi.

Hmmm…

Maybe I should work on some of these other issues before the next family wedding. You still in, Timi?

Let's roll back the clocks and...

pretend that this is still Saturday, September the 10th, 2005 and our friend Gabrielle Brown was still celebrating, one way or another, her 23rd birthday. At least for this moment. Let September 11th worry about itself.

Below is a cheap variation of a card I gave the Weezer about an hour ago, just before the ultimate deadline. It might go behind the one she got from her insurance company, but still...

Happy birthday Gabzilla!

You always bring the house down.

If you hadn’t noticed, I used fancy schmancy Broadway [actually, Georgia here] font and put it in size 23 [actually, huge font].

The things I won’t do for internet friends. And now, of course, this looks like internet stuff from the mid-90’s, back in the day!

Love and peace,

j.

Michelle Watch

After the weeper that was the "Shelter from the Storm" (apparently, not from the old hymn, but from the Credence Clearwater Revival song that Garth Brooks managed to mangle, but only after Dave Grohl and the Foo Fighters tried their hand at a similarly uninspired read from the same band. The names of the respective songs escape me. But what was Robert Randolph doing in the background for the Dixie Chicks and their lame and irrelevant politics?), I started flipping around the idiot box. Yes, Friday nights alright for idiot-ing at the Cheek house.

I briefly stopped at another awards show long enough to find that it's called "Fashion Rocks." The name is a misnomer. It's like how Christian radio used to (if it doesn't now) mute the guitar parts. The first act was DC, who promptly performed a strippers medley in maternity wear. But I could barely hear what they were singing. Or the music. CBS used to be the geezer station, right? Are they still worried about suffering someone's eardrums? Because if they are, they should've lowered Beyonce's level to Michelle Williams and whatsherfaces combined levels. Must have been a big mistake by some rookie to actually put Ms. Knowles-Z's voice all the way in the front, no?

Yes, another one. Before long I'll have my own lame Michelle Williams page and there's nothing you healthier nerds can do about it.

Somebody gave David Bowie a black eye and apparently left him shaken. Like to meet that sissy who has no respect for effeminate, miming unbelievably gifted songwriters.

Then again, it was probably just another stunt. What an artist.

Time may change me... indeed. It's a losing battle.

update:

This is bogus. i don't have time for capitals anymore. i wrote this originally at my xanga. so, how's that? you actually get leftovers from my xanga. i swear, i'll have real writing up again soon. but until then:

teaching, first few days:

the kids are some work, but i'm liking them and the whole working thing. what i'm NOT caring for is the scheduling and all that. in our large school, the whole operation voted and decided that they should go for longer but fewer periods. which was probably a good thing for them. fewer prep periods, but longer lunch and prep periods (the periods between teaching periods that the teachers are able to actually prepare for teaching another class - or else go to meetings. or poo. whatever's of necessity.) and longer times teaching with fewer distractions. it all works out so that they're not actually working more hours or anything.

but that's for the other teachers. we have to teach six periods out of the seven. they have to teach five. yeah. and our students are supposed to have an extra period for art or gym (we're all pulling for gym. dang, they need some excess energy valves.) they don't have that either.

so, we stay late to get our meetings and preps and all that. which, in itself, isn't bad. if i didn't want the extra hours, i probably wouldn't want to be a teacher. but i need some breaks in the middle of the day. it's a bit of work, being in charge and letting them know i'm in charge, right alisa?

oh, and all told, every day we're teaching an hour longer than the other teachers and an hour longer than we're supposed to and an hour longer than the program wants us to. all of our classes are double-periods, so that means that we are in front of the same kids for close to two hours when it's supposed to be, tops, an hour and a half.

ehhh, enough complaining. most of my kids know, by now, that i'm there to be their teacher and i will fight to give them a fair chance at education, everyone in the class starts out with A's (a purely mental approach, i assure you), and i'm a pretty funny guy who can't stop speaking in AAVE (ebonics for the layman or lame woman)

so, it's everything is everything now.

gotta go. love y'all. bof of you.

Top 50 from the year I graduated high school

1993, baby!!

Truth of the matter is, I didn't listen to the radio much in high school, or for a while afterwards. There wasn't a lot that got me by the collar. And I was getting deep into some really good, underground, but Christian stuff. I had already known for a few years about Steve Taylor, but about this time Brainstorm Records was releasing some of the best records I had ever heard in my life. No joking. Adam Again's Dig is still my personal favorite record. Daniel Amos recorded the Beach Boys / Beatles-influenced Motor Cycle, the 77's finally had a terrific album out called Pray Naked (we will not talk about the controversy that generated with the Christian record distributors). And radio was doing what radio's generally best at, pap.

1. I Will Always Love You, Whitney Houston
I used to be a big pop junkie. I loved sentimental crap like this. Honestly, I don't think I've changed too much, except I don't care for
2. Whoomp! (There It Is), Tag Team
Hey, my t-shirt!
3. Can't Help Falling In Love, UB40
Who better to refashion classic pop into raggae? Heck, my first versions of quite a few songs were by UB40.
4. That's The Way Love Goes, Janet Jackson
Ok, was this from Rhythm Nation? Didn't care as much for that album. "My name is Janet. Jackson if you're nasty."
5. Freak, Silk
?? Ok, I lied. I like pop music. But, honestly, I don't know everything. Or even near it.
6. Weak, SWV
Sisters With Voices. Always got 'em confused with N***** with Attitude and Single White Female. I think they were somewhere in the middle.
7. If I Ever Fall In Love, Shai
OK.
8. Dreamlover, Mariah Carey

Honestly. Help me out here. I know it had some high notes in there somewhere.
9. Rump Shaker, Wreckx-N-Effect
That was on my list for years and years. Especially in my work as a janitor. "Make you vacuum." Riley was the stuff. He not only practically invented New Jack, he also helped to forge
10. Informer, Snow
??
11. Nuthin' But A "G" Thang, Dr. Dre
Yes, the beginning of the end of the great hip hop era.
12. In The Still Of The Nite, Boyz II Men
Yeah, buddy. Man, one of the greatest songs of all time. And they did it right.
13. Don't Walk Away, Jade
14. Knockin' Da Boots, H-Town
R. Kelly's really taken pop-r&b up some levels in maturity, ain't he?
15. Lately, Jodeci
Jodeci? Oh, wow. They've always been under my radar. I'm such a putz.
16. Dazzey Duks, Duice
Brought 'em back to the populace.
17. Show Me Love, Robin S.
Is this that "What is love" techno song?
18. A Whole New World, Peabo Bryson and Regina Belle
Oh, wait. This was Disney Soundtrack magic. Ick! Sorry, ladies. Don't care for this either.
19. If, Janet Jackson
Seriously, I'd post a picture. But she just looks TOO much like Michael.
20. I'm So Into You, SWV
You know, if I heard these songs on those commercials for compilations, I would instantly recognize them. Alas...
21. Love Is, Vanessa Willlams and Brian Mcknight
I wonder how many of these tracks BabyFace produced?
22. Runaway Train, Soul Asylum
The funny thing is, almost every one of these songs would be classified as Urban/R&B/Rap. This may be the lone exception - with the possibility of UB40. But neither track would be classified as rock, really. Now, of course, I've noticed that 'country' is hitting the charts. My question is, if the Contemporary Christian Music market lags behind the general market by about 5-10 years, then why are they taking their sweet time on changing their formats? There's definitely enough high quality
23. I'll Never Get Over You (Getting Over Me), Expose
24. Ditty, Paperboy
25. Rhythm Is A Dancer, Snap
Yep. Compilation.

26. The River Of Dreams, Billy Joel
OK. Confession. Loved this crack.
27. I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles), Proclaimers
OK. Confession. Still love and pogo to this track.
28. Two Princes, Spin Doctors
Yeah, I used to love this pablum. Still a bit of a guilty pleasure.
29. Right Here (Human Nature)-Downtown, SWV
I guess they weren't 1 Hit Wonders. Hmmm... Wha' happened?
30. I Have Nothing, Whitney Houston
Right with ya, Whitney. But I ain't following your lead, girl.
31. Mr. Wendal, Arrested Development
Yesssss!!! Dang cursed gangsta rap.
32. Have I Told You Lately, Rod Stewart
'Til we have Faces...
33. Saving Forever For You, Shanice
34. Ordinary World, Duran Duran
What? They hadn't OD'd on coke by now.

We're hungry like the wolf.

35. If I Had No Loot, Tony! Toni! Tone!
Ton-ey! Toani! Toenee!
36. I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That), Meat Loaf
Illll... That was some crapalappa. This song makes me wanna curse.
37. Slam, Onyx
38. Looking Through Patient Eyes, P.M. Dawn
Too patient. Sorry, man. Rap fans couldn't sit down no mo'.
39. I'm Every Woman, Whitney Houston
Good song. I think!
40. Baby I'm Yours, Shai
41. Come Undone, Duran Duran
42. I Don't Wanna Fight, Tina Turner
43. I'd Die Without You, P.M. Dawn
44. Whoot, There It Is, 95 South
The other T-Shirt. That and "I believe in the Big Bang. God said it and 'Bang', there it was!"
45. Hip Hop Hooray, Naughty By Nature
46. Another Sad Love Song, Toni Braxton
Yeah, not that sad? (P.S. Oh my goodness. She done gone pimped out. Like literally. Couldn't find any images that weren't pornographic.)
47. Will You Be There, Michael Jackson
Who's he talking to? I'm too old.
48. Comforter, Shil
49. Good Enough, Bobby Brown
Nope. Not really.
50. What's Up, 4 Non Blondes
And I cry sometimes... and I take a deepbreath

Abridged Traveblogue, Pts. 2 & 3

If you wanna catch it, you gotta go to my xanga site, 'cuz this just don't make no sense.

And somebody do me a favor. I know you're out there. Leave a comment. It just gets so lonely.

I kept asking to go to the lakefront. When I found out, I felt like Charlton Heston at the end of Planet of the Apes.

Some parts did leave me chilled, and the obvious joke of Don Johnston watching Don Juan and running a Don Quixote...

Chris is really cool, and I am so glad and blessed to know her and to befriend her. I would never want to jeapordize that friendship. Not that she'd make a nasty enemy, it's just that I would lose so much.

Don't ask me to convert that to metric.

Toronto also has ugly buildings.

Both times I went through customs they asked how I met my friend.
"Internet," I answer sheepishly.

This time, however, I'm only going at 10 mph over the speed limit... I guess this is my conservation effort. Giving to the cause... I feel so much older...

Small room off the highway. Took me a while to go to sleep with all the passing trucks. It was a good chunk of my budget. I would've peed all over the linen, but it smelled like someone already beat me to it.

God speaks out of the whirlwind?

I'm sure many of us have seen this travesty of news reporting. (If you haven't, pay attention to the circled words and note the difference of the subjects in the accounts.) I do realize that these accounts come from two different news sources. And I don't believe that they are indicative of overt racism. But then again, racism has historically played a large part in the Human Storm - the struggle in the aftermath of the physical storm.

I really don't know what else is left to say of this. Every blog in the English and French-speaking North America by now has something on this. And many are much more educated on it and devastated by it than I am.

Christine has an ex- trying to leave that region. My brother's honeymoon is cut short because his ship is sailing to join efforts to somehow make relief possible.

And the fact of the matter is, I somehow feel less attached and less able to help than with the tsunamis, which didn't directly affect my country. But I saw images there that I could not forget. Much the same as with 9/11 and I was watching on live tv when the second tower was being struck and much later when people were jumping out of windows. Catastrophe. Do I feel less burdened for my own people?

What is it, whenever something horrible is happening in the world, US news media always ask how many Americans are affected? How will we get out of it? How many Americans are in the line of fire?

I mean no offense by this. But there are wars being raged in all parts of the world on a daily basis. Innocent children and civilians are being bombed the hell-over, people are evacuated from their homes because of feuds that rage longer than anyone can dare to speak of, blood-money is the chief currency of the local economies and has the ears of the law-makers and -enforcers (including in this my own Humboldt Park, though to a lesser extent) the world over. And all we care about are a substantially smaller field of Americans?

I know that people will be pissed with me over this, but: how many Iraqis have died in Iraq since the war started v. the amount of US soldiers? I don't want to take life for granted. And I think it's my patriotic duty, as a freedom-loving, hot dog-eating, Coca Cola-drinking, and certainly church-going American to draw our attention to life at all stages, regardless of color, creed, sex, money or even nationality.

The Lousianans who stayed behind largely did because they couldn't afford not to. They were too poor to leave, so they decided to ride it out. The looting began because people were on the precipice of civilization. And while some understood the necessity before them and struggled to provide for their families, neighbors and selves (as in the pictures above, of both blacks and whites doing the same thing, with different judgements made of their actions), others descended on insipid lawlessness like the children from Lord of the Flies. Why? Because that's human nature. I'm not sure that the thin green line between civility and safety and chaos and flood waters is of much comfort and reassurance in the light of such utter sadness and darkness.

First Entry: Abridged Traveblogue

The longer versions can be read at my xanga site and this one, specifically here. But before I begin to bastardize my own travelogue, you know the site meter at the bottom of the page (if you can ever get that far)? It tells me some interesting and sometimes not so interesting facts about visitors to this blog. Now, you know, I love you all and I really want more people to come around, feel at home, feel comfortable, feel as part of a community. Everyone, everyone, is welcomed here. You know, Come as you are. I don't want to put on pretenses or leave people out. But I am who I am and I write about what interests me. And what interests me may not interest others... blah, blah, blah.

Anyway, I guess this kid figured that I might have something that would interest him. I thought it was interesting, I don't get too many international visitors, esp. from the other side of the world. But, apparently, I guess I don't have enough "girls, cheeks."

Well, it interested me. So there.

Gary wins the title of Stinkiest Region in the Union. Hands down.

[N]ortheast section of Indiana (not much to brag about here, folks.)

He invited me to a screening of the original Star Wars... Being the nerd that I am, I would've gone in a heart beat. Being as far away as I am...

I am, however, profanely angry.

Michigan... truly is a beautiful state to visit. And spend money in. So many beautiful, old trees. So vibrant in green-ness.

"Abide in me. I will leave. I will send my Spirit. You will remain in me by obeying me..." This is a good part of the Gospel of John's focus for this period. It all seems to work so beautifully, so elegantly, so earthly yet eternally.

[Like Flanders:] "I'm sorry Jesus, I'm sorry Jesus!"

Traveblogue intro

Like the Poltergeist, I'm back.

What a trip. Put some miles into the rental. Got in one minor, minor ummm... skirmish. Saw one of my brothers get married, etc., etc. I'm not going to bore you with all the details, now. I shall later though.

I kept a bit of a travelogue. Over the next few days, I'll transcribe it on to this site, and take some of the highlights (in or out of context) and post them here. But since I didn't bring my notes with me and since I'm tired and have to prepare myself for (and somewhat celebrate) my new job, I'll have to start tomorrow.

I'm the newest addition to the Roberto Clemente Achievement Academy, a school within a school that works with 6th, 7th, and 8th graders who are too old for elementary school but need to be mainstreamed into the high school. It's gonna be tough, don'tchaknow?

More on that later.

Pizza-out.

P.S., if you haven't read Don Miller yet, here's a good place to start, it's an excerpt from Blue Like Jazz.

Ignoramis of the world, untie!

Intelligent Design is being argued against by the ignorants.

Guess who gets the most public air?

The op-ed pages are filled with people who have no footings on science, philosophy or certainly religion yet feel a necessity to opine widely on the first and the last in one fell swoop, namely, thus: science has nothing to do with religion nor religion with science. I'm sorry, but that just breathes and breeds ignorami to the extreme. It insists that they are mutually exclusive and that the realm of one cannot overlap with that of the other. That's Docetic and imbecilic. It also very much belongs in the so-called Age of Reason. Yet, there was another half-witted excuse for a letter-to-the editor in the Chicago Tribune today, arguing that very same airless premise. I will post the article (you can find it here) and try to knock some sense into it while speaking in italics.

Religion should not be used to explain science

A.J. Warland
Published August 22, 2005

Clarendon Hills -- I was baptized a Catholic. One day at 10 years old, I asked my mother, "Why are there no dinosaurs mentioned in the Bible?"

She did not have an answer.

Ummm... yeah. "And the Lord smoten the T. Rex with a terrible infliction as he had the Canaanites." Or, maybe the Leviathan, mentioned in Job. How do you expect the Bible, an ancient manuscript, to describe dinosaurs, something only recently discovered and named in Latin, a language much older than modern English yet far younger than ancient Hebrew?

I knew something was terribly wrong.

Because his mother couldn't answer his curious but childish question? That's how empires fall!

I decided then and there that the Bible was probably written by some old guys sitting around a campfire trying to come up with good stories like one finds in Aesop's fables or other fairytales as a means to relate the rights and wrongs of behavior to the masses.

(Such are the thoughts of a 10-year-old.)

Quite hilarious, man. The remarkable thing is, the author still holds on to this theory. Un-flippin'-believable!

Unlike the ancient people of the deserts and forests, we do not need to invent gods to explain nature's phenomena anymore.

How quaintly 18th Century of you! Religion-as-a-natural-phenomenon-explanation.

We have scientific evidence derived via the scientific method of analyzing the world around us. Just because we have not yet found the "missing link" in the evolution of man doesn't justify the ridiculous suppositions of the creationists.

Creationists? Oh, I see. You've made that common mistake. That's where it all starts. Creationism and Intelligent Design are quite different creatures altogether. Creationism is an account (a supplementary one at that, that never supposes to supplant science) of the order of the physical cosmos and world starting from the presuppositions of the record of creation - and the few thousand years after the initial creation - rendered in the Bible (specifically, the first nine chapters of the first book, Genesis) and interpreted literally. Although it uses scientific elements, it cannot claim to be a science. Intelligent Design, however, is a more philosophical understanding of the natural world. It's stated implication is that the cosmos is too orderly to have been put together through chaos. It argues, often through mathematics and logistics (the law professor Philip E. Johnston being a sort of Godfather of the movement) that the scientific method on its own with its inherent omission of anything outside the natural to explain any of the natural (ergo, God nor his actions can neither be a possibilities or a probability within the natural world).

ID, however, is not theologically coherent or unified. In other words, most Creationists would be classified as conservative Protestants. ID, however, although popular in these camps (hence the confusion of people who don't know the first thing about religion) is much more broad in its base is supported by those who believe that the cosmos may have been , in some ways, crafted, created or helped-along by a Higher Being. A title, by the way, that would never be supported in my church.

Evolutionary evidence is bountiful. Look through a microscope. Witness how bacteria and viruses evolve to adjust to their environment as it changes due to chemicals we throw at them.

Look at the similarity of embryos of different animals. It shows how form and function have changed over millions of years.

And...? No one is arguing against micro-evolution. Intelligent design does not argue that there is no such thing as evolution, but it is guarded against an origin of nature that is solely guided by chaotic evolution.

Intelligent design? This should presuppose that it would be perfect. Unfortunately we have the visual evidence of disease and deformity. Why would "God" allow such imperfections? It makes no sense.

Why would you put "God" in quotation marks? Are you seeking to offend or trying not to offend? What kind(s) of arguments are you making here? Theology can answer those questions. But you argue for a utopia that would sustain itself as utopia (notice, 'utopia' means 'no place'. Although Christians believe in the perfection of the creation, we believe imperfection entered the scene when mankind messed it up. However, outside of theology, your argument doesn't hold up well. Why should everything be perfect in existence just because somebody designed it? Why should everything be understood? Cancer and viruses are not beautiful or perfect. But they are abnormalities. Most everything runs fine in and of themselves.

Evolution, however, does explain the miseries of life. Creatures all, struggling to adapt, is a testimony to "survival of the fittest" . . . it is the mechanism of evolution.

Now the proponents of intelligent design expect us to consider Noah's Ark had dinos onboard. Creationists have gone from ridiculous to insane. There is no science behind intelligent design. It's not worthy of even being a theory.

Oh, there's that confusion again. It gives me hope that I may, too, one day be published in the Chicago Tribune.

They have no geologic or archeological evidence.

They lack any form of "logic."

Really? Such as checking on the facts before opining? Ad hominem attacks? Straw-Man arguments? Please, stop me when you become familiar with your tactics, A. J. Warland.

Creationists should focus their discussions on people showing goodwill toward men and the golden rule of decency because many of their leaders (in all religions) have certainly fallen far from grace.

Some more moralizing. Thankyouverymuch.

That anyone in this day and age would even consider that an old man (though some now imagine it a woman) is sitting above the Earth in the clouds and that only 10,000 years ago decided to snap his fingers and create the enormous complexity of every living creature and plant in just six days is ludicrous.

"Old man"?? Speaking of presumptuous presumptions.

Let the creationists use religion to guide daily behavior with how-to-be-good guidelines. (Personally I and numerous people I know don't need religion to be some of the nicest and kindest people one could ever have the pleasure of meeting.)

Awwww, how nice and pleasant. If only Jesus was about being nice and pleasant. But I digress, namely because A. J. does.

Religion should not be used to explain science.

Amen. I'll back you on that. The truth is, that may be the function or purpose of ID in some supporting pundits' minds.

Besides science, I do believe in historical evidence. For that I do believe that someone named Jesus walked the Earth and impacted enough lives to prompt the fireside storytellers to create the Bible.

Apparently, you don't believe in historical evidence. All right, you need to read a book. Dan Brown's crap doesn't count. Countless men and women died for these "fireside storytellers" even during that period that you would think they were making it up. Sorry, history doesn't support you. The Old Testament was in wide circulation long before Jesus walked. The New Testament was completed (whole) within seventy years of his death. There are no fireside stories in any of the canons of the Bible. You must have the Bible confused with the supposed extra-gospels of "Thomas" or "Q", works which have no historical basis with first century A.D. Judaism, in which Jesus operated or "impacted."

I do have an important question for creationists: If God supposedly created everything, then who created God?

They have no answer because it lacks logic.

You are correct. Your question does lack logic.

Case closed.

(Unless, of course, they change their minds and decide that God is really an E.T. . . . but that's a whole other debate.)

Why not? You're on a roll, A. J.

Why, o why, doesn't the Bible mention me? Is it because I look fat? Am I too ferocious?

Freight Train to Nowhere

Vacation.

Starts tomorrow. I'm taking along my copy of The Idiot. Man, I am loving this book. A lot funnier than I thought it'd be. Imagine Jane Austin on steroids. Okay, now that I've repulsed you (weight lifting in those bikinis and hair growing under her lips): The Idiot is the story, at least in this first quarter, of an inter- and intra- familial tension arising out of an arranged marriage. At the center of it is a simple Prince musician, a man who has no place to call home, no money, is a foreigner in his own land, yet is of royal lineage. A man so stricken that people generally don't regard him, yet one who holds all (servants and generals alike) in the same genuine manner and is able to see them for who they truly are, and loves them - and protects them - all the same. Does any of this sound familiar?

I probably won't update much, if at all, during the next week. I had thought of plugging this site with more stuff to read, but, why the heck? Maybe by the time I come back, there'll be another posting at Further Up & Further In (maybe even done by one of the ladies!). Another week after that, school will start again here in Chicago, so I don't know when I'll be able to post or if on any sort of regular schedule. Until I get a laptop, at least.

I fully expect to be a full-time substitute teacher when the semester begins. Which'll be all right. I can make some headway into my debts again (about time!) while still spending time with my youth group. Although we're still expecting a new youth pastor to come in soon, there is no definite time schedule for that. We're looking for someone who'll come in for the long haul (five years) - no small feat for a youth worker in a fairly small urban church. But since our teens feel a sense of abandonment every time someone leaves a) the church, b) formal youth ministry, it's a necessary thing. Heck, I've been on month-by-month for over a year. They feel I'm abandoning them.

Oh, check out ol' boy Andy Whitman. He writes for Paste Magazine and has been with them since the beginning. I always enjoy reading his stuff, yet it wasn't until recently that I found out he's on blogger. Insightful, music lover (The world doesn't have enough honest-to-goodness music lovers who are short of music-geeks [the difference? I can understand one.]), heart-felt, Christian. Of course, his musical tastes run similar to mine.

I told you I'd post about N.T. Wright. nah nah na boo boo

The Right Reverend Father in God Nicholas Thomas Wright, by Divine Providence Lord Bishop of Durham. Boy, those Anglicans sure have a way with stuffy titles. (Of course, I'm used to the Baptist and non-denominational version. We call our pastors by nicknames. And, ain't nobody above a pastor - except, as the bad joke goes, his wife.) Bishop Wright (or, more commonly, N. T. Wright) is a student of the New Testament and studies both Jesus and Paul within the frame of their Second Temple-era Jewishness and a very frequent lecturer. The following excerpts are stolen from his speech entitled "Jesus and the Identity of God" expressly about Jesus' divine identity and self-understanding.

The death of God's son can only reveal God's love (as in, e.g., Rom 5:6-10) if the son is the personal expression of God himself. It will hardly do to say, "I love you so much that I'm going to send someone else."

The positive reason for studying Jesus within his historical context and using all the tools at our disposal to do so has to do with that still-neglected factor, the meaning of Israel within the purpose of God. If we are to be biblical theologians, it simply will not do to tell the story of salvation as simply creation, fall, Jesus, salvation. We desperately need to say: creation, fall, Israel, Jesus, salvation. If we ask the question of how this particular human being is the instrument of salvation and do not say as our first answer, “because in him God’s Israel-shaped plan to save the world came to fulfillment,” then we leave a huge vacuum in our thinking (and in our reading of scripture). I believe it is because of this vacuum that people have elevated minor themes, such as the sinlessness of Jesus, to a prominence which, though not insignificant, they do not possess in the NT itself. Thus it is not enough merely to say “earthly” or to allude to Jesus’ sandals, and then to proceed to construct a Christ-figure as a back-projection of a fully-formed theology. This approach is unacceptable for the same reason the approach of Crossan and others [The Jesus Seminar, a media circus run by non-Biblical scholars - many of whom would self-identify as 'Christians' - that purport to prove that the historical Jesus is vastly different than the Biblical Jesus, making claims such as Jesus was a simple revolutionary who died a rebel's death, Jesus never really died on the cross, but only passed out, he made no miracles nor claims to divinity, etc., etc,] is unacceptable: they call their Jesus “Jewish” while actually constructing a Jesus out of symbolic features of the wider Mediterranean world, ignoring many crucial elements of Jewish self-understanding. After all, it is precisely the cavil of the heterodox today that the Gospels themselves are the self-serving back-projections of a later, and perhaps corrupted, theology. I fail to see why we should provide such people with more ammunition than they already have.

At the human level, Jesus is like us precisely in this: he did not exist or think or feel or pray in a vacuum, but rather within a continuum, a web of socio-cultural symbolic resonances, a universe of discourse within which deeds, thoughts, and words carried layers of meaning. Orthodox Christians are frightened of letting Jesus belong to a world like this, precisely because we know that if he is like us in belonging to such a world, he will he very unlike us in that his world is not our world. We are therefore, eager to flatten his world out or to declare, it of little relevance, because we want to be able to carry him, his message, and his timeless achievement of salvation across to our world without losing anything in the process. In this eagerness we forget what the NT writers and above all Jesus himself never forgot: that salvation is of the Jews, not in some trivial sense, but in the rich sense that in order to save the world the creator God chose Abraham and said “in your seed all the families of the earth will he blessed.” It is precisely because Jesus of Nazareth is the fulfillment of this promise that he is relevant in all times and places. It is precisely because he is The Jew par excellence that he is relevant to all Gentiles as well as Jews. This is the ultimately humiliating move for Gentile and Jew alike, precipitating an epistemology of humiliation whereby all may know this Jesus as the living, saving word of God, as different from us in the way that makes him the same as us, as over against us and therefore relevant to us.

[A] central feature of Jewish expectation, and kingdom expectation at that, in Jesus’ time was the hope that YHWH would return in person to Zion. Having abandoned Jerusalem at the time of the exile, his return was delayed, but he would come back at last. Within this context, someone who told cryptic stories about a king or a master who went away, left his servants with tasks to perform, and then returned to see how they were getting on must—not “might,” must point to this controlling, over-arching metanarrative [of the returning YHWH]. Of course, the later Church, forgetting the first century Jewish context, read such stories as though they were originally about Jesus himself going away and then returning in a “second coming.”

Girl friends, are you paying attention?

These are not my words. Oh, how I love relevant magazine's complete cluelessness.

There is a shortage of something that is ever-so-important in this world. A lot of people have it, and others do not. I am a have-not, and I do not wish to be this way much longer. As I near my 23rd year on planet Earth, I hope to find it very soon. But perhaps it's rude to call a girlfriend an "it." My single brothers are familiar with my predicament. It seems as though there are no intelligent, fun-loving and moral girls available. Anywhere. Now there are plenty of perfect girls in relationships, but none are unattached. How is this possible? Did all the lovely young ladies come out of the womb already clutching hands with boys?

They're probably hiding from you, joe.

The point of the article is... Oh, I don't know. But he speaks of using girl friends to sharpen insights into the female mind.

Further signs of immaturity:

Always very clever and quick to laugh, women also possess an amazing sensitivity to others people's feelings. Now this may seem like obvious information to a lot of you, but it is news to me. You're dealing with an individual whose childish loathing of girls just recently died off. Believe it or not, I regularly said, "Girls sure are weird!" in all sincerity until only a couple of months ago.

Twenty-three, huh? Is he pulling ponytails, still? Of course, this is coming from a guy who wrote a poem called "cooties" about, well, you'll get the point if you read it a couple of posts below.

Adam, you need to write for them. Give 'em somethin'. A dose of reality, per se. (No offense, Destiny, but this site sometimes confounds me.)

In related news, Michelle, ma belle...

These are words that go together well,

My Michelle.

Michelle, ma belle.
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble,
Tres bien ensemble.

I love you, I love you, I love you.
That's all I want to say.
Until I find a way
I will say the only words I know that
You'll understand.

Michelle, ma belle.
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble,
Tres bien ensemble.

I need to, I need to, I need to.
I need to make you see,
Oh, what you mean to me.
Until I do I'm hoping you will
Know what I mean.

I love you.

I want you, I want you, I want you.
I think you know by now
I'll get to you somehow.
Until I do I'm telling you so
You'll understand.

Michelle, ma belle.
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble,
Tres bien ensemble.

I will say the only words I know that
You'll understand, my Michelle.

And it's for simple reasons like this that I love my girl friends, right? They're so understanding.

Yes, I created a new blog

I've moved to the dark side. This is the blog for when i don't feel like i need to worry bout punctuatation or spellign or none of that. well, maybe some of it. even in these sentances, i keep going back to rewrite what it is i'm wirting. well, nota alsways.

i write that sloppy. it's all in the editing, i swear.

chekc me out if you ain't scared of xanga and you just wanna hear what i'm sayin'. no what i mean, jean?

cooties

things i can't understand
freeness, newness, ampersand
the way of a woman with a man

the way she touches the hands,
the sweat glands pool and
puruse fingertips to tend the land

finds merely solely the chasm
warm undue, damp too fast
rome's raided, sword in hand

Heard about Heard? (hyuck-hyuck)

Finally getting around to listening to Sufjan Stevens' Illinois (Also known as Come on Feel the Illinoise - yep, a pun, and being a native Illinoisian, a bad one. Please, people, don't pronounce the 's.') Lovin' it. My man Adam has a... I don't know what you'd call it. Maybe you could call it a post. Anyway's he wrote a post on Monday where he reveals that he's been listening to too much folk-rock.

Gross...I fell headlong into folk rock...been listening to a lot of keaton simmons and denison witmer and Over The Rhine and Nick Drake and Sufjan Stevens <---his voice grates my nerves in large doses...

I kid you not. The night previous to this, I put in the order for some old Over the Rhine and new Stevens and Witmer. I also got Mark Heard and Bill Mallonee (not the Godfather of Bluegrass, but the man behind the Vigilantes of Love). I'm somewhat responsible for getting him on this trip. It's a good break from his sola rapa christiana dogma. I plan on getting some Bowie next (why I don't have anything from him yet boggles my mind). But then maybe Nick Drake won't be such a bad idea. Simmons, though? Too many weird Simmonses out there for my taste.

I'm spinning Sufjan's stuff for the first time. I'm liking it a lot. Even the voice. Maybe I'll give some short reviews later, after they've soaked in. (I don't have quite the demand others do for Cross Movement reviews, so I have to create the demand first, right?)

But I do want to speak of Heard's poetic lines, since I am familiar with those. They certainly put me to shame. Mark Heard died thirteen years ago. He was an engineer, producer, musician, thinker, artist, writer-extraordinaire and pretty darn funny. On Satellite Sky he had the privilege of working alongside David Raven (of the Swirling Eddies), Michael Been (the leader of The Call), Buddy Miller (Emmylou Harris' guitarist, and with wife Julie, right hand), and Sam Phillips (Singer-songwriter, T-Bone Burnett's ex-wife). Bruce Cockburn speaks indelibly high of him. But this is what I know. These dang, haunted lyrics.

There's an oasis in the heat of the day
There's a fire in the chill of night
A turnabout in circumstance makes each a hell in its own right
I been boxed in the lowlands, in the canyons that think
I been pushed to the precipice and dared not to blink...
Knock the scales from my eyes
Knock the words from my lungs
I want to cry out
It's on the tip of my tongue
(Tip of My Tongue)

I will rise from my bed with a question again
As I work to inherit the restless wind
The view from my window is cold and obscene
I want to touch what my eyes haven't seen
But they have packaged our virtue in cellulose dreams
And sold us the remnants 'til our pockets are clean
'Til our hopes fall 'round our feet like the dust of dead leaves and we end up looking like what we believe
We are soot-covered urchins running wild and unshod
We will always be remembered as the orphans of God
They will dig up these ruins and make flutes of our bones and blow a hymn to the orphans of God
(Orphans of God)

And, in case you think it's all sad-sack, Heard does recognize beauty-lost ("Long Way Down," which argues that the naked beauty of the world is "lies hidden on the teeming shores beneath the burned-out Chevrolets") and beauty-lived :

Scarlet is the color of her heart against the night
Prism of her innocence fracturing the light
She will take her stairwell down to dark and heartless streets
And spend her season singing songs to infidels and thieves
("Love Is So Blind")

Buy yourself a copy. Let's not bury this treasure. Send it sky-high.

Sorry this post wasn't funny either.
What's wrong with me??