For those of you who are interested in Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, here’s a link to a paper I wrote for Napenasi.com, a blog I write for Nape Na Si, a mission organization that works on Pine Ridge:
Shaking Up the Blissful Ignorance:
I hope you’ll take the time to read it, and then more time to think about it, especially during this holiday season.
I’ll be writing more on this soon.
Enjoy, and, as always, thanks for reading!
Here’s a link to my latest article for The Odyssey:
Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the (good) News
It’s kind of a follow-up to last week’s That Certain Friend (also available on The Odyssey Online, and here, in last week’s moonsthoughts post, although it certainly stands on its own. I hope you enjoy it, and, as always, thanks for reading!
Hey folks! Here are links to two new articles by me. I hope you enjoy ’em, and that they make you think. As always, thanks for reading!
On Thought and the Diet of Eagles
There is an anecdote, perhaps apocryphal, that G.K. Chesterton once responded to the question, “What is wrong with the world?” from The Times of London with the answer, “I am.” Now, Chesterton was a very, very smart writer, critic, and theologian, so who am I to question him? However, he died in 1936, and the world is still very, very messed up. Clearly he was not all that was wrong with the world or, maybe he was just answering for every single one of us, which begs the question, “What is wrong with us?” Chesterton went on to write an entire book, “What’s Wrong with the World”, in 1910, examining the question more deeply. I don’t have time to write a book, but, I feel that a pretty decent small-scale answer can be found in simply answering the question, “What’s wrong with me?” Sadly, I am also no match for Chesterton’s brevity, so please bear with me.
At first glance, it shouldn’t be too hard. After all, I’m a military retiree, born and raised on an Indiana farm, and raised to behave and live according to the traditional values of my family, church, and nation; all men are created equal, do unto others . . . , etc. I mean, how bad could I really be? Generally, I think I’m a pretty good guy. My wife and friends tell me I’m a good man. Still, I know I’m not perfect. Some of my faults are obvious; I eat too much, smoke too much, don’t exercise enough. I procrastinate both habitually and accidentally (for example, I forgot this essay is due). I am self-destructive in any number of ways. I’m also fundamentally childish, petty, arrogant, vain, judgmental, insecure, wasteful, and, in all likelihood, not nearly as smart as I think I am. I guess I’m probably pretty much just like you and everybody else on the planet.
But all those things are really just the symptoms. They’re the things that I, along with you, and most of the rest of the world are aware of, and work to overcome every day so that we can be the people we’d like to be. To just stop there would really be premature. To get to the root of these symptoms, deeper self-examination is required.
One of the great things about going back to school late in life is that it has really made me at least try to be a critical thinker; to think deeply about things that I would normally just take for granted, or never think about at all. For example, I’ve been thinking about race a lot lately, which led me to ask myself, “Am I a racist?” Normally, I would just say no, of course not. After all, I don’t associate with members of any racial minorities now, but that’s because none live around me, or are in class with me (I really don’t get out much). I did spend 20 years in the Air Force though, working with people of many different ethnicities and nationalities. Many were friends, and I got along with virtually all of them. I did dislike some, but it was based on work, personality, and behavior, not their skin color. Clearly the answer was no. Emphatically no. I felt really good about that.
Then that critical thinking thing kicked in, and I really looked at my life. Just that sentence above about how I don’t associate with any minorities now, essentially admits that I don’t because I don’t have to. That’s kind of disturbing. Do I avoid places that might cause me to have to interact with minorities? Were there parts of town that I avoid? I realized that the answer to both those questions was yes. I’ll drive through the north side of town, but that’s it. When I need a haircut, I go to a chain salon on the east side, even though it made me uncomfortable. It just seemed unmanly (more on that later) to go to a salon instead of a barber, but the only barber shop I knew of is in the black part of town. I’ve driven by it literally thousands of times. It is by far the closest and most convenient barber shop in town, but I had never even considered going there for a haircut. I had to ask myself why not? The more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable I got about myself. Why not go there? I’m not picky about my hair. I just want it shorter. I’d even had it cut by black barbers in base barber shops. I had to face the fact that I’d never considered it simply because it’s a “black” barber shop. This was not a happy realization for me. It undermined a lot of what I’ve always believed about myself, and I decided I needed to do something about it. The next time I needed a haircut, that’s where I went.
I was uncomfortable walking into Wright’s Barber Shop. What would it be like? Would I be the only white guy in there? Would they all look at me? I imagined walking into something like the movie Barber Shop. Rap and Soul music playing, black people laughing and joking and having a good time. Then I walk in, and it all goes dead silent, every face turning to stare at me in shock. Maybe somebody drops a pair of scissors, and their clatter is as loud as Notre Dame’s bells ringing. Maybe it would even all happen in slow motion.
I was a little nervous as I opened the door. I walked in, and one of the ladies there asked, “Can I help you?”
“Yes, please. I need a haircut.”
“Okay, have a seat. It’ll be a few minutes.”
That’s it. No gasps of shock, no funny looks, barely a break in the conversation. I felt like a schmuck. I sat down on a sofa and looked around me. Okay, kind of what I expected; some velvet paintings on the wall, Aretha on the radio. Jet and Ebony magazines on a coffee table. After a few minutes, Mr. Wright came out, and gave me a great haircut. We had a lovely conversation, and he made me feel not only welcome, but like I belonged, like there was nothing weird about a white guy coming into his place for a haircut. Because there wasn’t.
I walked out of there feeling pretty good about myself; Apparently I wasn’t racist after all. But, if I wasn’t at least a little bit racist, then a simple haircut wouldn’t need all this thinking, all these feelings and worries, however small, would it? At least I was only a little bit racist. Of course, being a little racist is like having chlamydia: It’s better than having syphilis, but still not good. That’s a problem I’m going to have to do something about.
Then, I had to ask myself, why would getting my hair cut at a “salon” strike me as unmanly? Why would it even bother me? Deep down, I knew that men go to barbers, and that salons are for women, metrosexuals, and homosexuals. This has led me to realize that I am apparently a little bit homophobic. This is disturbing on a number of levels. Quite a few of my favorite people are gay, both friends and family. These are people that I genuinely love and respect. Even some of my favorite fictional characters are gay. I’m in favor of gay marriage, and I’m completely against these “religious freedom” laws that are so popular now, and seem to be nothing more than a thinly-veiled excuse for discriminating against gay people. I find them (the laws) offensive and distinctly un-American, so to realize that deep-down, I harbor some of these same sentiments, no matter how insignificantly or superficially, is frankly, shameful. It’s not that I have anything against them, I just apparently just don’t want to be mistaken for one of them. I was really starting to feel like a jackass, and rightly so. I’m going to have to do some work on this too. I realize that, if I were to go to a black barbershop for a haircut to explore my previously unsuspected racism, then perhaps I should try a similar experiment to test my level of homophobia. It occurred to me, however, that I don’t know of any gay barber shops. There are salons, but that’s how I ended up with this dilemma. I suppose that the next logical step at this point would be to go hang out at a gay bar. I’m just not sure that that is a step I’m ready to take. For one thing, I just don’t go to bars. I don’t really go anywhere. I like to stay home. Then there’s the whole “being in a gay bar thing.” What if someone asked me to dance? How would I react? I wouldn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings. It would just be an uncomfortable situation. Or, maybe even worse, what if no one asked me to dance? I’m an overweight, greying 50-year-old man teetering on the verge of a mid-life crisis; I don’t need that kind of rejection. Clearly, this is another area I’m going to have to work on.
At least I’m not sexist. I love women. Most of my favorite people are women. I’m all for equal rights, equal pay, women in any job they want to do. I’d certainly vote for Elizabeth Warren for president. I may even vote for Hilary Clinton. I think of myself as a feminist. I try really hard not to objectify women, although I have to admit that that’s gotten a lot easier as I’ve gotten older. I just don’t seem to have the energy. I even asked my wife if she thought I was possibly just the slightest bit sexist, and she assured me I was not. “If you were, I wouldn’t be with you,” were her exact words, although she did acknowledge my penchant for some sexist jokes. Then I realize that, when I go to a bookstore, I automatically reject almost any book written by a woman. While I have enjoyed a number of books by women, they were virtually all books I was required to read, and not read voluntarily. This is a hard thing to have to admit, and I strongly recommend not having this particular revelation in a college literature class full of aspiring female writers like I did. While I survived that little indiscretion, I am at a loss to explain my dismissal of women’s writing. I know there are a lot of really smart, talented female writers out there. Why don’t I want to know what they have to say? It obviously points to yet another fundamental fault in my psychological and emotional makeup.
I take comfort in the fact that at least I’m not a religious bigot. I am a Christian, but I have no problem with Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, or any other religion. I believe we all have a right to believe whatever we believe, and I see the numerous parallels between most religions and my own, and realize that we’re all looking for the same God. I don’t for a moment believe that all Muslims are either overt, or closet, jihadists, that they are all out to get me. I certainly don’t believe in carpet-bombing countries to kill ISIS. I don’t believe we should have a “kill them before they kill us” brand of foreign policy. Except why do I feel a little frisson of concern when I see a guy in a turban getting on my flight? Why do I feel a little weirded out when I see a woman walking around with a hijab? At this point, I’m beginning to wonder if there is anyone I’m not at least a little prejudiced against.
I guess what’s wrong with me is that I am, to some degree, everything that I loathe people like Donald Trump and Ted Cruz for. I am (apparently) everything that I rail against. Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living,” and I have apparently gone almost 50 years without really examining my life. I don’t think I’m alone in this. Really examining your life takes time. It’s uncomfortable. It, at least in my case, shattered my illusions about myself, those same illusions that we all spend our lives carefully building and protecting. Once you really start thinking, you realize that there are no answers, at least no easy ones, only more questions. Once I realized that I am, in reality, a bigot; racially, genderally (?), sexually, and religiously (and don’t kid yourself, being even a little bit bigoted is like being a little bit pregnant), I’ve had to ask myself why am I all these things, which has led to numerous even less flattering revelations, both about myself, and about those who have, and do, influence me. Even worse, I’ve had to realize that there are no easy answers as to how to fix all these things that are wrong with me. I’m going to have to be an ongoing project.
It has been really hard to write this without providing some sort of defense for myself; like I said before, I like to think I’m a good guy, and at this point, I’m really feeling like a jerk. I know that life isn’t easy for these folks. I’ve been the object of baseless distrust and discrimination myself, although not nearly to the level of minorities, women, gays, or Muslims. As a middle-aged, white veteran attending college full-time, I’ve gotten the hairy eyeball from many of my fellow students. Although there are very few minorities at my school, there are a lot of females and LGBTQ folks, and it took a while for a lot of them to accept me. I made a lot of them uncomfortable. The point, though, is that they did accept me. Many of them have become good friends, and I like to think they feel the same about me. Hearing the stories about their struggles, especially the LGBTQ kids with their families has made me a lot more conscious of the problems they face. I can’t imagine how painful it must be to be rejected by my family just for being me.
Conservatives make a big noise about universities being bastions of liberalism. I say, “Good.” College maybe the last place these kids will be able to let down their guard and openly be themselves, particularly if the vast majority of us don’t get over ourselves and learn to treat those who are superficially different the way we ourselves insist on being treated. If I get a few wonky looks, so be it. I’m a middle-aged white guy. There are lots and lots of people who will be more than willing to accept me and treat me decently, based solely on the way I look. It’s not an issue for me. It’s just that it shouldn’t be an issue for Muslims, LGBTQ folks, minorities, or anyone else. Not in this country.
In the end, Chesterton was right about what’s wrong with the world: I am.
I take some small comfort that at least now, I know it. I’m just one guy. I can’t fix the whole world, but I can at least try to fix myself. I’m certainly going to try. If you should happen to bump into me on the street, have a little patience with me. I’m a work in progress. I’ll try to be a little patient with you too. Maybe that’s the key to the whole damned thing.
This morning I got up, got all the critters fed, and sat down to check my e-mail. Oddly, there were new comments on a post I wrote about my brother Rich Mullins a while back. When I checked the stats on my blog, that post had gotten over 200 views today. Now, that particular post has always been by far the most popular post I’ve ever written, which frankly is a little frustrating because I feel like I’ve written some pretty good posts that had absolutely nothing to do with him (of course, I could be wrong. It happens).
At one point, I had even considered just putting his name in the title of every post, just to try to get people to read my blog, but decided that would be taking shameless cynicism too far, even for me. I would also like to point out, at this point, that there is a point to this post that does actually have something to do with him (also, are there bonus points for getting the word “points” into one sentence multiple times, and if so, do parenthetical “points” count?), so don’t panic. This is merely the Shameless Namedropping bit. I like to ease into these things.
At any rate, I’ve gotta say thanks to all those who commented, both here and on the Facebook. They were all very nice. A couple of people even accused me of profundity, something that would make pretty much everyone who knows me laugh (I know it made me laugh). I am known for a lot of things, mostly involving bad temper and disgusting bodily functions, so it was nice to be considered profound for a change, no matter how far off-base it may be.
Even though the remarks were all nice and complimentary, I still found them disturbing to a certain extent. One of them invited me to join a Rich Mullins group on the Facebook (of which there are at least eight). This seems weird to me. Of course, it is also extremely gratifying, to know that he had, and continues to have, such an impact on people’s lives. However, I’ve got to ask, at what point does all this fan-girling (sorry, but it seems a lot like Tiger Beat for Christians) become kind of Idol Worshippy?
Now I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with fan pages, or sharing your admiration/fanship of somebody with like-minded people. Far from it. However, I do think it’s something that we all need to be careful about. This has been bothering me for a while, but one of the commenters kind of brought it all home for me. This person wrote that in all the videos of Rich, he was “always clean and usually upbeat”, but the movie “Ragamuffin” portrayed him as “looking pretty bad, and usually in a kind of downer mood, or like there was a cloud over him. Any problems Rich had, aren’t talked about out there. So I feel like someone is being deceptive.”
I think the simplest way to address this is to tackle the four different points separately:
The way he seems in the videos: He was the way he seems in the videos; smart, caring, sensitive, intellectual, spiritual, funny, and clean. But you also have to understand that in those videos, he was onstage. He was at work. How many of us are the same at work and at home? A large part of a job is image, whether you’re a rock star, or a Walmart greeter. You’re expected to look a certain way, to act a certain way, to talk a certain way. There are things you are supposed to do, and things you’re not allowed to do. I’m no authority on Rich Mullins, I pretty much only knew Wayne, but I know he struggled with that “Image” thing a lot. I remember him complaining that the record company was always trying to get him to lose weight, dress a certain way, wear his hair a certain way, etc., and he found it very disingenuous. Rich Mullins’ “job”, to him, was pointing people toward God. His job, according to the record company was to sell records and make money. Sadly, it seems like, to way too many people, his job is to be a kind of substitute Messiah, a kind of, “Well, I know he’s not Jesus, but he’ll do until the real one comes back,” kind of thing. Again, I’m not accusing you, or anybody, but I’m pretty sure you know somebody like this. Think about it.
The way he seems in the movie: He was the way he seems in the movie. First, of course, you have to realize that IT WAS A MOVIE! It was an attempt to tell forty-some years of one man’s life in two hours. I don’t want to say that parts of it were made up, but PARTS OF IT WERE MADE UP! That in itself does not make it untruthful. The bits that were “made up” were representative of actual events compressed into a form that made narrative sense, just like some of the characters were composites of multiple people. Think of it like this: Take a drop of water. Try looking at it atom by atom. It doesn’t look anything like a drop of water. If, however, you step back and look at all those atoms collectively, it’s a drop of water. The job of the movie was to show you the drop of water, not it’s atomic composition. I hope that makes sense.
As far as the difference between Rich in the movie and Rich in the videos, that was a decision arrived at early on, by both our family and David Leo Schultz, the director. None of us were interested in making a movie that glorified Rich Mullins. Now a movie that did that would probably have made a whole lot more money (and frankly, in my weaker moments, when I’m worrying about the car payment or the property taxes, I wish it’s the movie Schultz had made), but it would have been antithetical to his whole life. As stated earlier, I really believe that he believed his job was in pointing people toward heaven, and he tried to do just that. We all wanted the movie to try to do the same. Schultz could have painted him as some kind of saint, kind of a Christian Yoda who’s got it all figured out, but that movie would have only glorified Rich, and Rich would have hated that (of course, he probably would have loved it too). Schultz took a braver approach: to show the other side, the private side. The side that only a few ever saw. I almost said were privileged to see, but frankly, there were a lot of times when it was no privilege, I’m sure. The movie Schultz made shows him as we all are; flawed, fallible, and frequently a complete asshole, but a complete asshole who never stopped loving God, who never stopped trying to please God. His struggle was not with God, but with himself, just like the rest of us. If you want the squeaky-clean, family-friendly Rich Mullins, watch the videos. If you want a man who accomplished remarkable things through the grace of God, in spite of his own shortcomings, who struggled daily, just like you and I, then watch the movie. If you really want to get to know him, watch them both.
I guess the best way to put it came from Rich himself. He once said something along the lines of, and I’m paraphrasing from memory here (I’m sure many of you are more familiar with it than I am), “People talk about how open I am, how I say just what I think. If they knew what I’m really thinking they’d say ‘Oh man, we gotta burn this guy’.” Feel free to correct this version.
Rich’s problems aren’t talked about: No kidding. Nobody wants to take potshots at RICH MULLINS! He’s our hero! In fact, I know that Dave Schultz has gotten some pretty incendiary hate mail for even attempting to show him as flawed. Listen, you want to know what problems Rich Mullins had? Look in the mirror. He had all the same problems you and I have. It wasn’t his problems that were extraordinary, it was his life. His problems and flaws, for the most part, were pretty mundane. He was poor, he was lonely, he had weaknesses and flaws, just like everyone who ever walked the face of the earth, except One.
Somebody’s being deceptive: Simply put, no one is being deceptive. First of all, deception requires intent and there is normally something to be gained through the deception. The videos are amateur videos of a man at work. They don’t purport to represent every facet of the man. If you think they do, then the mistake is yours. Nobody gains anything from posting them. The movie was professionally made and expensive. The approach was intentional. Schultz is not a stupid man. If he wanted to be deceptive, then he would have made a movie that would make money. Instead, he made a movie that glorified God rather than Rich Mullins, a movie that, instead of making people say, “OOOOH, that Rich Mullins! What a great Christian!” tried to make you say, “Okay, I’m not the only one who’s screwed up. God loved him, I’ll bet he loves me too.” Plus, I’m not even sure they’ve broken even yet.
The difference between the popular perception of RICH MULLINS! and the reality of Rich Mullins can best be seen, I think, by looking at one of his most popular songs, “Awesome God”.
Here is the song’s lyrics as he wrote and performed them:
When He rolls up His sleeves
He ain’t just putting on the ritz
(Our God is an awesome God)
There’s thunder in His footsteps
And lightning in His fists
(Our God is an awesome God)
And the Lord wasn’t joking when
He kicked ’em out of Eden
It wasn’t for no reason that He
she’d His blood
His return is very close and so
you better be believing that
Our God is an awesome God
Our God is an awesome God
He reigns from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love
Our God is an awesome God
Our God is an awesome God
He reigns from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love
Our God is an awesome God
And when the sky was starless
In the void of the night
(Our God is an awesome God)
He spoke into the darkness
And created the light
(Our God is an awesome God)
The judgement and wrath He
poured out on Sodom
The mercy and grace He gave
us at the cross
I hope that we have not too
quickly forgotten that
Our God is an awesome God
Our God is an awesome God
He reigns from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love
Our God is an awesome God
Our God is an awesome God
He reigns from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love
Our God is an awesome God
Our God is an awesome God
He reigns from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love
Our God is an awesome God
Our God is an awesome God (God)
He reigns (He reigns…) from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love
Our God is an awesome God
Our God is an awesome God (Our God is an awesome God)
He reigns from heaven above (He reigns from heaven above)
With wisdom, power, and love (With wisdom, power, and love)
Our God is an awesome God
Our God is an awesome God
Our God is an awesome God
Read more: Rich Mullins – Awesome God Lyrics | MetroLyrics
Now here is the version we sing in church:
Our God is an awesome God
He reigns from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love
Our God is an awesome God
See the difference? The version we sing is like the perception of RICH MULLINS!; Powerful, true, and above all, simple. The version he wrote is more like Rich Mullins; still powerful and true, but also awkward, kind of weird, thought- and question-provoking, and, I think, fairly deep, juxtaposing God’s vengeance with his Grace.
In contrast, the church version is just a mantra; essentially repetitive and hypnotic, requiring no thought at all, all too often just a mindless parroting of a slogan. Sure it sounds great, but there’s nothing there that isn’t said in a thousand other hymns.
I’m not saying that one is better than the other (for my part, I cringe at the thought of either version), but if I have to choose, I choose the one that makes me think.
This brings me back around to my original point: the Cult of Personality. It seems like people may be taking RICH MULLINS! way too seriously. The fact that he was deeply flawed should not detract from our opinion of him, or what he had to say. Our opinion of him is a matter of complete inconsequence. If we say we are Christians, then the only person we should be fan-girling over is Jesus Christ.
Well now . . . that got a little preachy, didn’t it? Sorry. Sometimes I get a little carried away. I trust you’ll all have the good sense not to take anything I had to say too personally, or too seriously. To any of you who managed to slog all the way through this: Thank You! And now you know why I have no reputation for profundity.
Merry Christmas everybody! Right now, I’m sitting here feeling sorry for anybody who isn’t me. Last night, in an effort to minimize the cooking over the next couple of days, I whipped up another huge batch of Slopbucket; arguably the greatest and deadliest meal known to man (the recipe is in another post entitled “Adventures of a House-Husband: Home Cooking Edition”). It was, in a word, AWESOME!!!!! That knocking you heard last night? That was the sound of my arteries (and possibly my colon as well: there’s a LOT of Velveeta in this stuff), slamming shut and reverberating around the world. That weird and ominous thundery yet kinda gurgly noise you heard this morning? It was probably just weird and ominous gurgly thunder (but there are a LOT of peppers and chili seasoning in this stuff too).
Even more awesome is the fact that there’s enough left over for supper tonight, and it just gets better with age, like wine, whisky, and my wife, the lovely and gustatorily adventurous Jess (although she’s still just 27, as far as I’m concerned). I haven’t looked forward to supper this much since . . . well, last night, I guess. Still, I’m really looking forward to it. A lot. You might want to sleep with your earplugs in though. But enough about that.
I decided to try something different this year; cooking dessert stuff. Every year, my wife, the ever-more-awesome and eternally lovely Jess, makes Christmas candy, primarily Buckeyes, Peanut Clusters, and what she calls Moose Balls (don’t knock ’em ’til you try ’em). They’re basically Buckeyes, only instead of peanut butter, it’s cream cheese and crushed Oreo cookies rolled into balls and dipped in chocolate. They’re awesome, and I love ’em, but I got to thinking that she might enjoy something new. Plus people keep posting videos of how to make all this stuff on the Facebook, and it looks so simple. Seriously, watch the videos: it’s almost like the stuff makes itself.
I mean it combines two of my favorite meals; Chocolate and Lasagna. What could go wrong?
And then there was this: Cinnamon Roll French Toast Bake. The sweet-toothed and just plain sweet Jess loves her some Cinnamon Rolls. I figured she’d enjoy this for breakfast Christmas morning (Sorry, I can’t figure out how to link the video, but here’s one to the recipe).
The Chocolate Lasagna looked to be the most complex, so this morning, I started with that. It went pretty well, although the first step was to mix some stuff up and set it aside. I did that, but then it was really kind of unclear as to what to do with it. I also learned that using a mixer is a skill. A skill I do not possess, apparently. Those little whirligigs can really fling the heavy whipping cream. You’d think that something like that would come with some kind of cover, or they’d make mixing bowls with deeper sides, or something.
Fortunately, I had Dude, Mattie, and Molly, a highly efficient and enthusiastic cleanup crew. They had my back. And my chest and legs, as well as the walls, countertops, etc (yeah, it got a little freaky in the ol’ kitchen this morning). Anyway, I got everything mixed up and ready. I put down the first layer of Graham crackers, and started smearing the cream cheese mixture over it. Now in the video, it smeared right along, with no problem at all. Not in my kitchen though. In my kitchen, it was like trying to get rid of snot. That stuff stuck to everything, and wouldn’t spread out at all. I ended up with the Graham crackers piling up and shattering into pieces which I then had to try to put back into something resembling a layer, like a frustrating (but delicious) jigsaw puzzle.
Finally, I referred to the recipe. Yep, I was doing just what it said. Oh wait . . . remember that bowl of stuff I’d mixed up and then set aside? Yeah, neither did I. There was a sentence in the middle of a paragraph that said to “fold” it into the cream cheese mixture. Now, I don’t have any idea how to fold a liquid, so I “dumped” it in, mixed it up, and everything went fine after that. It really makes me wonder about who wrote that recipe though. I mean, you just don’t stick something like that in the middle of a paragraph. There should have been a separate step in there. Were they pressed for space? Were they limited to a certain number of steps? Or, were they just expecting the people who used that recipe to know what they were doing? If that was the case, then they were wrong. Very, very wrong.
At any rate, I got that done and put in the fridge, and tackled the Cinnamon Roll French Toast Bake. Now that one really looked easy. Twenty minutes later, I was still trying to get that first can of cinnamon rolls open. Poppin’ fresh, my ass. They might be fresh, but there was very little poppin’ going on. I’ll admit, I was a little worried. The instructions warned me to make sure I pointed the ends of the can away from myself to prevent injury. Apparently those things are under a lot of pressure. I could not get that thing open to save my life. I even read the instructions. They said, “Push spoon against seam. Unroll tube.” I tried a spoon. No luck. I tried a butter knife. Still no luck. Finally, I resorted to a steak knife. That did the trick. Apparently (happily) the Pillsbury people are laboring under an extreme misunderstanding about how much pressure that cardboard tube contains. There was no pop, not even when I stabbed it with the steak knife. A little oozing maybe, but certainly not the explosive blast I was led to expect. I’ve got to say, I felt a little silly (and kind of disappointed, too).
Anyway, I got it done, and both dishes turned out great. Well, at least they look great. We have yet to try them. Still, I’m feeling pretty optimistic about it.
Of course, Christmas isn’t just about food. It’s also about presents.
Now I don’t know about you, but in my family, traditionally, it’s the grandparents who give the worst gifts. Don’t get me wrong, when I was a kid, I always looked forward to going to my grandparent’s houses for Christmas, but it was because I looked forward to seeing them and all my cousins (plus, my Dad’s folks lived in Florida, and Pa had a huge collection of Louis L’amour and Max Brand westerns). It was not for the gifts, which were normally underwear and socks, or their equivalent.
Now my wife, the cool and generous Jess, and I have always tried to get the grandkids something pretty cool for Christmas, but this year, I decided it was time to go traditional. I do, of course, remember the expected disappointment of opening deceptively festively wrapped packages of underwear and socks, so I decided to go a different route. We got them books. Now, when I was a kid, I would have been thrilled to get books (yes, I was a weird kid), but I’m not sure my grandkids will be equally excited. Still, they’re good books, and they’re smart kids, so who knows?
I got the oldest boy Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee. It’s a great book, and full of stuff that he’s almost certainly not going to learn about in school. Plus, he’s gone with me to the Rez a few times now, and I feel like to understand the present situation out there, you have to have some understanding of the history.
I got the oldest girl My Name is Malala, the story of an Afghan girl, Malala Yousafzai, who was shot in the head for insisting on going to school, survived that to face her attackers, and won the Nobel Peace Prize by the age of 16. I figure in a world full of Kardashians, Britney Spears’es (she’s still a thing, right?), Miley Ray Cyrus’es and various other assorted females who seem to be mostly famous to for their ability to vibrate their posteriors faster than the speed of sound, as well as the scarcity of their clothes, she could do worse than learn about a girl only slightly older than herself who stands for something good, does it fearlessly (or maybe in spite of fear), and is trying to make the world a better place. I also figure that if nothing else, it would be good for her to learn that not all Muslims are psychopathically religious headcases who want to kill her.
Jess got the younger boy The Indian in the Cupboard. Hopefully, it will induce a love of reading like Jess and I have. I don’t think it’s particularly heavy or inspirational, but we both started out reading fantastic adventures, and we figure it’s a good way to get him started.
At the very least, it should be less disappointing than socks and underwear.
Of course, gifts aren’t even what Christmas is really about, they’re just symbolic.
If you really want to know what Christmas is all about, you’re looking in the wrong place. This is a silly place (mostly), for silly ramblings. The real meaning of Christmas is beautiful, and deadly serious. Look around you. All those people of different races, creeds, colors, lifestyles, etc.? They’re what Christmas is all about. They’re why He came. Well, them, and you, and me (that’s what I believe. You, of course, are welcome to believe what you believe as well). If you need more information than that, go to church tonight.
At any rate, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy Kwanzaa to all.
All day now, actually, for the last two days now, I’ve been trying to write a post on capitalism. Before you panic, I was neither condemning nor condoning it, just discussing it, with a couple of ideas/suggestions that I thought might make it work a little better. I had in my mind a very measured, reasonable, calm, even kind, kind of post; the sort of thing that might make folks on both sides of the fence at least think about both capitalism and socialism in a new light. I didn’t expect to change anybody’s mind, just wanted to throw a few things out there as part of a rational and reasonable discussion.
Sadly, I find myself unable to write that post: I offer instead what is neither a reasonable nor a rational solution to much of what ails our country.
Okay, not just Shut Up!, but
Seriously. Just shut up. Please. And this includes you meme-sharing drones who think that just because something sounds reasonably witty and agrees with your position that it’s right. And that goes for both sides of the fence. NO MORE MEMES! Whether you think I would agree with them or not! Just SHUT UP!
The other day, somebody shared a meme that was a close-up of a snarling lion’s face, with something about Jesus written over it, I can’t remember exactly what. I do remember that the context was to remind us all that Jesus wasn’t just about love and grace and forgiveness, that he’s coming back soon (apparently in the next couple of weeks), ready to rain down some righteous judgement and retribution. Basically, it was to make Jesus look like a badass. As if being GOD isn’t badass enough. As if forgiving the numbnuts who crucified him WHILE HE WAS HANGING ON THE CROSS wasn’t badass enough. As if CONQUERING DEATH ITSELF wasn’t badass enough.
Yeah, that stock picture of a lion’s gonna convince people.
The same goes for posting and forwarding videos of celebrities who are spouting stupid shit that you agree with. Just because they’re famous (more or less) doesn’t make them either smart or right. I just saw a video with Chuck Woolery – that’s right – Chuck Woolery, the Love Connection guy, in which he purports to prove why he needs an assault rifle. Seriously. Chuck F-‘in Woolery, the “I’ll see you in two and two” guy needs an assault rifle because . . . THE CONSTITUTION! Granted, there’s more to his argument than that, but I had to stop before my head exploded. Don’t get me wrong, Chuck seems like a nice guy, even when he’s fondling a rifle, but he’s just spouting the same tired old shitty arguments that are getting us nowhere. And I’m not saying that Chuck doesn’t need an assault rifle – I’m just saying that there’s room for discussion.
This goes for all you knuckleheads on the left, as well (I just couldn’t think of any memes or videos that annoyed me as much from you guys). Still, just knock it off. Give it a rest. It’s not helping.
Anyway, so that’s step one: Shut Up!
Sign out, close your laptop, whatever it takes, but get off the internet!
This is an absolutely critical part of the plan, as the odds of people ceasing to post memes and videos and whatnot are pretty damn’ slim. So just turn it off. Get away from it. I’m not saying leave it forever. Just take a week off. A few days, anyway. Take a walk, get some air. Talk to someone. Have an actual conversation with someone who doesn’t agree with you. Listen to what they have to say, and say what you think without yelling it at them. Believe it or not, not all liberals are drooling, zombified sheep who are planning to take all your guns and freedoms and money away and give it to criminals. Not all conservatives are mouth-breathing, moronic fascists who want to stuff all brown people into cages and shoot everyone who doesn’t look or think like them.
So, let’s review:
Step One: Shut Up!
Step Two: Log Off!
When you come back to the internet (because you know you’re going to. I know I will; how else am I going to waste time that I should be spending writing?), don’t fall into the same trap we’re in now. Refuse to share memes (unless they have cute, non-partisan cats or dogs, like the “thiberian huthkie” one; That one cracks me and Jess up.). The same goes for videos: if it’s not critters doing something funny or adorable, or people falling down, just don’t share it. If you absolutely must share something, share something you wrote, or something that actually says something, something that is not just parroting back talking points. Actually, we should all probably stick to a blanket critters-and-people-falling-down sharing rule. I’d also like to point out that that whole, “When you point a finger at someone, you’ve got three pointing back at you,” thing totally applies in this case; I’m just as guilty as the rest of you, and I know it.
Sorry, I almost forgot the most important step. Let’s call it Step A.
If you look back after taking a few days away from the internet and realize that, indeed, you may have been an asshole, then stop, and avoid the temptation to continue being an asshole. Also, when you see a meme and wonder, “What asshole shared that?” remember that it was probably shared by someone who is really an essentially decent, caring person, albeit one who doesn’t have the sense to follow Step One.
And there you go; problem solved! Well okay, not all of them, there’s still terrorism and mass shootings and abortion and racism and religious bigotry, etc., etc. However, I feel fairly confident that if we could all take a step back and talk to each other, then maybe the whole slash-and-burn-and-salt-the-earth-all-or-nothing-if you’re-not-with-us-you’re-against-us-not-only-that-but-you’re-going-to-hell-too-but-only-after-Jesus-lays-a-major-ass-whuppin’-on-you-personally-first attitude will seem at least a little bit extreme and counterproductive. Maybe then we can tackle some of that other stuff.
” ‘Cause every little thing
Gonna be all right”
That Bob Marley was a smart guy.
Happy living is an elusive bird. We all want it, but it seems like no one wants us to have it. It’s kind of aggravating.
Lately, I’ve been kind of worked up about things. It seems like the world is just spinning out of control. Confederate flags, gay marriage, dozens of people shot over the July 4th weekend in Chicago, violence of every sort run amok, churches burning, terrorists, conspiracy theorists screaming that Obama’s invading Texas, it’s just nuts. And everywhere you look, somebody’s got the answer: Take down that flag, leave it alone, give the gays equal rights, gay marriage will destroy traditional marriage, ban guns, make everyone carry a gun, stricter laws, we need better prisons, we need worse prisons, seal the borders, do what I say, I’m the one with all the right answers. It doesn’t matter where you look, FOX, MSNBC, CNN, NPR, the Facebook, Twitter. Everyone’s got the answer, or knows someone who does. Just watch this video . . .
It’s kept me stirred up for several weeks now. I’ve started several posts presenting powerful arguments capable of crushing all opposition to my viewpoints. Being predisposed toward irascibility and somewhat pugnacious in temperament, I just can’t seem to help myself. I seem lately to just be looking for things to make me angry. I read articles that I know are biased, and often blatantly false, and then, just in case I’m not angry enough, I read the comments too. Sometimes I think there is something very, very wrong with me (and those of you who know me will probably agree). Unfortunately, rage is the one emotional I am truly comfortable with. Also unfortunately, I’m not alone in this. Everyone seems to be angry about something, or several somethings, usually at least one or two from the list above, or something that someone else said about something from the list above.
In fact, anger is a growth industry right now. There’s gold in them thar internet flame wars. Frankly, that’s one of the things that makes me angry. Vast fortunes are being made by making people angry, and I can’t seem to get a piece of the action. My last post was, I thought, at least fairly controversial. I even went so far as to actively solicit responses. I did everything but beg people to comment. Now I’ll admit that my intentions were good, and I genuinely wanted to hear what people thought, but still, I thought I’d at least get some hot interweb troll action. I mean, if there’s one thing I’m usually pretty good at (besides telling fart stories), it’s pissing people off.
I have to say that the response was pretty disappointing, overall. First of all, there really weren’t many comments at all, and those that I did get were uniformly civil, well-thought out (even the ones that disagreed with me), and even loving. Even the woman I had offended (the basis of the post), messaged me on the Facebook, a very civil, kind, and generous response. It was really kind of disappointing (admittedly in a sick and twisted way).
On the other hand, it did confirm what I had always suspected; that the vast majority of people are generally kind, generous, and decent. Even those with whom I vehemently disagree. I hate to admit it, but I think Anne Frank was right: “Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.”
It troubles me that I see and hear so many swearing that we are in the End Times. That God has abandoned us because we have abandoned Him. The sentiment that, because of gay marriage, “persecution” of WASPS by minorities, and the fact that, okay, maybe you should think about what that Rebel flag bumper sticker on your truck really stands for, the world just can’t get any worse. It’s just not true. The world can get worse. It has been much worse. Yes, there are still a lot of things that are wrong. There are still a lot of things that need to be fixed. But my feeling is (and I know I’m no kind of religious expert) that if God didn’t abandon us because of 400 years of genocide, 300 or 400 years of slavery, 150 years (give or take) of institutionalized racism (complete with lynchings, rape, and murder), along with a number of land grabs, imperialism, and war profiteering, all committed frequently in His name, or according to His will (or rather our interpretation of it), then letting a few gays get married is probably not going to put him off of us, either.
I see and hear a lot of Christians hollering, “Please Jesus, come back soon,” and I can understand the sentiment, but if I’m honest, I’m not really in that big a rush for it. When he does come back, we’ll have eternity, but for now, I’m not through with this life yet. There are way too many books I haven’t read, too many fart stories I haven’t written. I haven’t told my wife, the lovely and all-round best woman ever, Jess, how much I love her enough times yet. I haven’t lain awake at night listening to her snore enough. I haven’t hugged my grandkids enough. There are too many places I haven’t been, too many things I haven’t seen. I haven’t written enough, or worked enough, or played enough yet. Maybe I’m wrong for feeling this way, but God gave me this life for a reason. He gave us this world with all its wonders for a reason, and I don’t think it was to just mark time until he came back.
Anyway, I know that you probably only read this blog for the fart stories (don’t worry, I’ll get back to ’em), and I didn’t mean to get all heavy with my half-assed theology. Sorry. This is all just stuff that I needed to get off my chest. The thing about being angry all the time is, it’s exhausting. It saps your energy, your will to live. I don’t know about you, but it wears me out, and really makes it hard to write the fart stories, which are, frankly, much more fun.
So last night, I was in bed (calm down ladies), reading The Ball and the Cross, by G.K. Chesterton, and I read a passage that really brought it all home to me; “The whole peace of the world was pent up painfully in his heart. The new and childlike world which he had seen so suddenly, men had not seen at all. Here they were, still at their old bewildering, pardonable, useless quarrels, with so much to be said on both sides, and so little that need be said at all.” That seems like a pretty apt description of today, with the fear-mongering 24-hour news networks blaring out their prophecies of doom, and alleged “satire” news websites promulgating panic-inducing videos, and ourselves buying into it all, and joining in by smearing our fears and petty hatreds across the Facebook, insisting that “everyone needs to see this”. Well, guess what. We don’t. Neither do you. Give it a rest. Give yourself a break. And trust me, I know I’m just as guilty of this as you are, but I’m working on it.
I think that’s why I never finished any of those argumentative posts I wrote about earlier. Deep down, I knew it was pointless, and that it would just add to the problem. It would be a better world if everyone quit arguing, and spent some time actually thinking, because, believe it or not, not everyone who has a Rebel flag bumper sticker is a racist. Liberals who point at the south and jeer them as racist rednecks should listen to Randy Newman’s “Rednecks” (a word of caution, it contains offensive language, but it’s contextually necessary, not gratuitous. Also, you have to actually LISTEN to ALL THE LYRICS in order to get the point he’s getting at.). Also, if you are a proud displayer of the Rebel flag, you probably should spend some time thinking about what that flag really means, what it is telling people about you, and whether it’s true.
Christians, not every gay person wants to ruin our marriages (admit it, we were doing that just fine without any help from them). Gays, not every Christian belongs to Westboro Baptist Church. We don’t all hate you or want you to go to hell (Sorry, I don’t have a song for this one).
The point is; well, I guess the point is that we all have a point, and we’d be better off thinking carefully about them before taking our hats off and showing them to the world. Get off the Facebook, and read an actual book. Concentrate on the things you love more than the things you hate. In the words of Ray Wylie Hubbard, “the days when I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations . . . well I have really good days.”
Be grateful: Happy living tip #1.
So, I’m sitting here feeling like the world’s biggest hypocrite (of course, I realize that that may be self-aggrandizing. There are a lot of televangelists, politicians, and pundits out there). By the way, this post is probably not going to be very funny. Sorry.
Rich Mullins (with whom I am vaguely familiar) once said, “Christianity is not about building an absolutely secure little niche in the world where you can live with your perfect little wife and your perfect little children in your beautiful little house where you have no gays or minority groups anywhere near you. Christianity is about learning to love like Jesus loved and Jesus loved the poor and Jesus loved the broken.”
So here’s my problem: I am one of the leaders of a mission group that goes to an Indian Reservation every year. Recently, I was contacted by a woman, whom I am pretty sure is a homosexual, about her and her partner going with us. Now, to be clear, I realize that whether she is or isn’t gay is NONE OF MY FREAKIN’ BUSINESS, and, to be honest, I don’t really care, because, again, it’s NONE OF MY FREAKIN’ BUSINESS.
So I talked to some of the other leaders of the group about it, and we hem-hawed around like Christians always seem to do when reality meets our genuine desire to serve God. Well, we beat that horse pretty much to death, and it devolved (as these types of discussions always seem to), into a discussion of whether being gay is a sin or not.
At any rate, I, in my own inimitable idiom, decided that the most respectful approach was the head-on, blunt, bull-in-a-china-shop approach. Earlier, I sent her a message asking her whether she was gay and expressing my concerns and why they exist. I haven’t heard back from her. I’m really hoping that I haven’t offended her, because, as I said before, it’s REALLY NONE OF MY FREAKIN’ BUSINESS, and I hope that she doesn’t take this as a rejection, because it’s not.
Now, just in the interest of clarity, I’m going to let you know which side of that discussion I fall on: I think sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t. I think if you (not YOU in particular, but just a general you) decide/choose to be gay, because it’s becoming more popular/accepted, or to piss off your parents, or as some sort of “lifestyle” statement, then I think it is. But, I’ve known too many gay folks who never “chose” to be gay, it’s just something they are. In fact, I’m pretty sure that all of the gay folks I’ve known (and it’s quite a few of them) were born that way. Just like I was born with brown eyes. They didn’t ask for it, or choose it. It was chosen for them, by genetics, or DNA, or whatever. Regardless of the scientific or psychological, or sociological reason, if you believe, like I do, in God the Creator, then he created them that way, just like some of us were created with blonde hair, or green eyes. The point is, it’s what God chose for them to be. I believe that God is, as the Bible tells us, a loving God. I have a hard time reconciling that with the belief that God would intentionally create some of his children to be aberrations or abominations in his sight. I believe that, thanks to free will, we all have the choice to become abominations, but I don’t believe he makes any of us that way.
Now, I realize that that doesn’t exactly line up with the common views of the Church, or even of most Christians, but that’s okay. There are lots of times when I don’t necessarily like the Church (I have a deep-seated dislike and distrust of any kind of hierarchy. Ironic, huh?), or even a lot of Christians (can YOU think of a more by-and-large, self-important and self-righteous group? I, of course, include myself among them). Besides, I cheerfully and fully admit that I could be wrong. God knows it’s happened before (at least on a daily basis, if not hourly).
The point however, isn’t whether being gay is a sin or not. I’m not trying to convince anyone that I’m right (see previous italics). That is a pointless effort. The odds of me, as feeble as my faith, theological, and philosophical abilities are, of convincing anyone to change their deeply-felt and long-held beliefs are, and should be, slim. Right now, I’m just telling you what I think, and why. Mostly because I hate ambiguity. It’s okay if you don’t like me, or what I say, but I want you to be crystal-clear on why.
The point is, should practicing (and that in itself is a stupid word. I don’t know why it would take any more practice than being straight) gays be welcomed into our merry band of do-gooders, and if not, then why? We have had openly gay people come on the trip before, but they were alone, and it never became an issue (of course they were also relatives of mine, which may have had some bearing on it). I’m pretty sure we’ve also had closeted gay people on the trip, and it never became an issue. We have recovering alcoholics who still take a drink now and then come on the trip. We have people who have been divorced and remarried multiple times come on the trip. I’m pretty sure we have adulterers, and liars, and gossips, and gluttons, slothers (slothites?), and sinners of every other stripe come on this trip every year. I mean, good grief, I’m one of the leaders of this group, and I have successfully resisted the siren call of sobriety for decades. When I was single, I tried to indulge in pretty much every straight sexual sin I could, as often as I could, and the only reason I didn’t succeed was that (believe it or not) I was not exactly an Ace with the ladies. I don’t know that I’ve gotten through a single day in the last 40 years without indulging my penchant for profanity, obscenity, and vulgarity. I’m petty, I’m greedy, I’m a gossip, and a glutton, I’m proud and vain, and I know that my faith is infinitesimally smaller than a mustard seed. I know that Paul claimed to be the worst of sinners, but I’m pretty sure that I’d give him a run for his money.
So, if that’s the case, then why am I worried about a gay couple coming on the trip? Because of what others on the trip might think. We’ve had a hard time keeping this thing going, and we’re afraid that folks might not come back if there’s a gay couple in our group. And I’m not pointing fingers. I understand that many of the folks who come with us (like youth ministers, etc.) bring kids that are not their own, and that, kids being kids, they go home and tell their folks all about the trip, and that could easily have a deleterious effect on their employment and/or relationships with those parents. If nothing else, it’s a matter of pragmatism.
There’s also the point of view that would see it as an endorsement of what many Christians call “a sinful lifestyle”. Okay, fair enough. People justifiably need to be concerned about what their children see, and how it could influence their developing brains. However, I have to ask those people, what effect would it really have on their kids? Could it really be any worse than the “Kill ‘em all” movies and video games that they watch? Okay, it might make them question what they’re taught at home and in Sunday School and Church, but would not the sight of people treating each other decently, the sight of “sinners” trying to do the Lord’s work and help people also reinforce the far more important things we’re supposed to learn, like about loving each other, not judging, etc.?
Let’s face it; I’m not advocating some kind of homosexual recruiting program, I’m saying that people who want to serve the Lord should be welcomed, and that their personal relationship with God is between them and God. I don’t believe that any gay folks who might come on the trip would be aardvarking in front of the group, any more than any of the alcoholics would be getting wasted in front of them. Even I, with all of my foibles and propensities for sin, try to practice restraint when with the group (not always successfully, I might add, as anyone who has witnessed me trying to get my Gravely mower up into the truck can attest.)
I guess the question is only partly, “Should gay couples be included in our trip?” A bigger question might be, “What kind of Christians are we when we need to be more worried about what other Christians think, than we are about doing, and helping other sinners to do, the Lord’s work of reaching people?”
Another question is, “What kind of Christians are we that we ask others to live a lie in order to associate with us without judgement?” It doesn’t really matter if homosexuality is a sin. If it’s not, then they should be welcome in our homes, churches, and lives, to join us in fellowship and worship of the Lord, and our own efforts to grow closer to him. If it is, then they should be welcome in our homes, churches, and lives, to join us in fellowship and worship of the Lord, and our own efforts to grow closer to him.
Anyway, I hope this long-winded and rambling blather makes some sense. I really do want to know what you think. Like all of us, I want to do what’s right and pleasing to the Lord. It’s just that in this case, I’m not sure what that is.
Please feel free to use the comment section to let me know what you think. Feel free to disagree with me (you can also agree with me if you want, it’s a free country). I just think that this is something that needs to be discussed, and rarely is.
As always, thanks for reading.
Okay, I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’m afraid that Ted Cruz, Sean Hannity, Bill O’Reilly, Alan West and others, whose right-wing whose grandstanding histrionics I’ve only paid attention to as a source of annoyance and/or amusement, may be right.
Lately I’ve been reading about all this Sharia Law being secretly imposed on us, and Jade Helm, Obama’s secret plan to impose martial law on Texas, using U.N. forces to crush the Lone Star State under his mighty heel, and, to be honest, I thought it was kind of ridiculous. I just really felt that all that stuff was just nonsense being spewed out to scare people and distract their attention from the real problems we have in this country. In fact, the other day, I had started work on a blog post that would have been a well-reasoned but scathing repudiation of it all as far-right fear-mongering.
After all, it all just seems so silly when you really look at it. Allen West was making a big deal about how a Wal-Mart clerk couldn’t sell him booze due to Sharia Law because he (the clerk) was Muslim , but I thought, well, isn’t that the reason for all these religious freedom laws that are getting passed? Besides, it turned out that it wasn’t Sharia Law, it was good old American law; the clerk (who’s name was not Steve, as West pointedly pointed out) was actually just not old enough to sell booze, so score one for the good guys! You can read it for yourself here (granted, you do have to kind of look for the bit about the real reason).
And Jade Helm. People in Texas, and across the country, are freaking out about that. Now I can see how someone who’s never been around the military could find the presence of all those foreign military personnel a little unsettling, but as an Air Force retiree, I have a hard time getting too worked up about it. My last squadron was the Aggressor Squadron at Nellis AFB. We (well, the pilots, not me personally. I was a lowly support troop.) were the bad guys in all of the Red Flag exercises, flying Russian-Bloc tactics so that both American pilots and those of allied nations (that means foreigners) would be prepared. During a Red Flag exercise, Nellis was crawling with foreigners, and yes, some of them even went shopping when off duty. But now people are posting pictures and “news” articles on the Facebook about Turkish pilots in Wal-Mart, and military vehicles on the roads in Texas. The Governor of Texas has called for the Texas National Guard to monitor the exercise to keep the potentially invading forces, both foreign and domestic (because there’s going to be a whole lot of American military personnel involved), from imposing martial law and putting the great state of Texas under the iron thumb of the U.N. and its minion (or evil mastermind, I can never get that part straight), Barack Obama.
Now, on the face of it, it just seems patently stupid to think that. I mean first of all, Barack Obama as an evil, conquering dictator? Come on, the guy wears mom jeans, not a Nehru jacket (the official jacket of evil geniuses from Dr. No to Dr. Evil; unless, of course, it’s just an evil doctor thing. See, he’s not even well-educated enough to pull this off.) Plus, apparently, according to the Interweb, they’re using those mysteriously-closed Wal-Marts as staging grounds (because, if there’s anything Wal-Mart is serious about, it’s the destruction of the exploitative capitalist system).
-Side note: is it just me or do you find it kind of weird how Wal-Mart has suddenly apparently become central to all these things? Something to think about. Or not.
Also, it seems that Texas would be a poor choice to try this sort of thing out. It is home to arguably the best-armed and, well, let’s just call it “excitable” population in the country, and it seems that a large portion of the rest of the country’s gun-toting population is ready and waiting to rush to the aid of Texans (it seems that a lot of people who have never served in the military, and never been closer to combat than a video game or Bruce Willis movie are really anxious to get some foreigners in their sights). One would think that, for an inaugural, partial invasion of the country, they’d want to try it out on Massachusetts or one of those other soft, already socialist-leaning eastern states. You know, kind of work up to a Texas-sized invasion.
Besides, Texas is surrounded on three sides by other states, with Mexico on the fourth. What if it doesn’t work? They’ll have nowhere to go but Mexico, and you know how Americans feel about Mexico. It’s a great place to visit, or relocate your factory to, but we wouldn’t want to live there.
Finally, there’s the fact that the U.N. wants to take over Texas. Seriously. Texas. A state so obnoxious that the rest of the country can barely bring ourselves to claim it. Why would the U.N. want it? Every other nation on earth has enough problems of their own. That would be like the Kardashians adopting Miley Cyrus. Sure it’d be fun to watch, but it’s a ridiculous premise.
Or so I thought, until today. I was taking a break from cleaning up the house, and decided to pour myself a nice, refreshing beverage. I was really looking forward to it, until I glanced at the bottle and saw this:
That’s right read it and weep, America. Our days are numbered. If they can impose Sharia law on our soft drinks, how long can it be before they conquer our snack crackers? Our sugary snacks? Our, God forbid, potato chips? This is even more insidious than the conquest of Texas. At least, with an invasion, you can fight back. But this. This shocking plan to make us all Muslims through our food makes us the enemy of ourselves! Face it, how long can we realistically be expected to resist the siren call of carbonated chemically-enhanced refreshment? The salty and/or sweet enticement of our beloved junk food? We’re doomed. DOOMED, I tells ya! And, not only is it depressing that they’ve taken over one of our most beloved beverages, it also serves as an indictment of our education system. They didn’t even spell Sharia right!
I mean, it’s either that, or I just misread the label, and those conservative protectors of the American Way really are just a bunch of Jack-holes fomenting fear and paranoia for fun and profit. What are the odds?
Of course, on the up side, at least if we fall under the sway of Sharia law, at least we won’t have to worry about having to bake any more gay wedding cakes or having our marriage licenses invalidated by gay marriage. That’s surely one aspect of Sharia law that those guys can get behind.
