Goodbye 2.0

Okay, so I feel like my blog-resignation should be more purposed. Therefore, here's the dealio: I am not blogging again until I get a book deal. Just can't do it. Sooooo, every time you click over here looking for a new post (all 250,000 of you) and you don't see a new string of wisdom pearls, paragraphs of penultimate petunias, or thunders of thoughtful wisdom from on high... rattle off a quick prayer for me, would you? Dreams are better shared.

In short, I'm pulling a Oral Roberts... light. Consider it a blog fast, even though when and if I return (for real this time) things will be different and I may move to a new address or something like that.

Until my book deal or my next farewell...

Hello There, Goodbye there.

I suppose my viewing friends have dwindled down to two or three, one of them being my mom. Its not that I don't want to blog anymore, its just that there seems to be no time... and I don't really want to blog much anymore. Okay, there, I said it. There's lots to blog about... Inglorious Basterds... Obama's speech to the kids of America... the length of my toenails... all kinds of fascinating stuff.

Whatever the case, I need to officially shut down for a while.

This shut down will either cause me to spontaneously blog 25 blogs in a row, or it will mean just that. I just don't see any light at the end of the tunnel. I've got two concerts coming and a bunch of edits on my dissertation to do.

Oh, I still write every day, and I've even written unposted blogs, but I think I'm better for a while not blogging and taking a break from the internet. Let's just say that I'm informationally detoxing... from the computer. I'm going all Emerson. I need to pour my life into flesh and blood encounters and central park and hot dogs and plays and my wife and my church and my students and scrabble online with my facebook friends... And getting my dissertation looking as pretty as possible so I can finally GRADUATE.

Other than that, Amber and I are having a blast and a half. It is absolutely GORGEOUS up here right now. Allergies: Amazingly bad. Weather: To die for.

So with that... my dear, dear friends, I'm signing off for a good while, maybe permanently... but I doubt it. We'll see. Hopefully, next time you hear from me I'll have a degree and a book deal.

I'll still be peeking in on everyone's blog, but I think I'm laying down my opinions for a while in order to soak it all up.

Much love,

Cuddles,

Au Revoir

Areeva derchie.

See ya, wouldn't want to be ya.

Smell ya later turdagator.

You complete me.

Three Reviews in Three Posts

I've seen three films since my last review and overall, I've been pretty pleased.

First off: Harry Potter and the Half Blooded Prince.

On the whole... not my favorite Potter film.

SPOILER ALERT:

I've always had a problem with this book. I hate the way Rowling kills Dumbledore. I hate hate hate hate it. Dumbledore basically arranges for his Kevorkian-style death. He dies a weak old man, disarmed by a dufus imbecile of a wizard and finally killed by Severus Snape because he wants to die and not get eaten and humiliated by the mean old werewolf.

That is not how a great wizard should die. Let me tell you how a great wizard should die: A great wizard dies plunging down an endless chasm stabbing a Balrog IN THE FACE with an Elven sword, and the sword is so amazing that it is called, "Glamdring, the Foe Hammer."

THAT IS HOW A WIZARD DIES.

Dumbledore should have gone down in a blaze of fire - yes weakened significantly - but fighting off a hundred death eaters, 3 dragons and 10 giants and doing it all to save the life of pansy-boy Harry. But nay. Rowling emasculated the greatest wizard in her tale (as she does every male character in her books - seriously, name one that isn't a wuss, or evil. The one that's not a wuss is a bachelor.) and then outed him later in a press conference. Notice that one witch who was taken out in an incredible duel with Voldemort and a few other powerful witches. Notice that the great duel of the last two books comes from Ron's mother and Bellatrix and the men basically blunder around.

Overall, the film slugged along and there wasn't NEAR enough Dumbeldore kicking butt. What we did get was pretty awesome, but there just wasn't enough magic in this film.

I liked it but I think it was my least favorite of the Potter films. They spent entirely too much time on all that love potion business.

Next Up: District 9.

Pretty Fun

World Science Festival 2009: Bobby McFerrin Demonstrates the Power of the Pentatonic Scale from World Science Festival on Vimeo.

Poem: Ode to MOMA

Some thoughts on Bacon, Francis that is.

Amber and I made our way through an Exhibit of Francis Bacon at the Met Museum of Art this past Saturday.

I had a great time, but Bacon was a sick fellow. A very talented image poet, but ultimately, a sick chap. Of course, people have said the same things about me after hearing some of my "serious" compositions. It is no secret that I tend to gravitate to the macabre and I also happen to like scary movies. But there is a difference here. Bacon was an Atheist. I am not. And that really does make a difference. You can compose a macabre piece without nihilism.

I have long believed that sin is a kind of madness. It causes madness. I also believe that Judeo-Christian ethics have serve as the greatest moral compass that mankind has ever known. I also believe that man, though fractured, is capable of good things. This is because man was not totally ruined when he chose a path that was opposite to the will of his creator. This remnant of good is still a reflection of the goodness of our creator, as we were and are made in his Good image. I believe that man needed help to show him this path and he can chose again to take that path. That means, even at our absolute worst, we can still be compelled to do a good thing. Salvageable. Redeemable. Savable.

Good and Evil. There is a difference, we all know it exists, but we can't really explain it scientifically. Bacon tries to embrace a Darwin outlook and say: there is no good and evil, only animal. All Darwinian explanations break down at Stephen Hawkings. Hawkings should have been killed long ago as he is weak and drains the pack of resources. Therefore, I believe that every act of man to disprove the existence of God ends in a kind of pure nonsense. It never works out.

But like it or not, I also believe that Darwin was the most influential mind of our time. He is a great and magnificent peak in humanity's vast range of scientific minds. Sadly, his influence is responsible for more mass deaths than any man in the history of the world. Man is reduced to simply another in a line of animals, and what's good for the pack is good for the individual. This of course is contrary to the idea of Christian love. If we were to abide by Darwin's idea of a perfect world, the weak would die, the less intelligent would be killed, and unattractive would be exiled. Now, no matter how much my instinct says, "YES, YES!" at times - as far as stupid drivers go - this is a tyrannical mindset. And some would say that it is me at my most animalistic.

And what about those animals? Even the animals aren't totally mad.

But take a painting of Bacon: Man is reduced to a sack of meat and bloody teeth. Cool looking, but no beast or bird thinks so madly. Just the opposite. Only one or two monkeys in the pack will go crazy and eat a baby monkey. Only a rogue lioness will secretly kill other cubs in the night. These are exceptions. According to Bacon, we are all exceptions and a vision of the mutilated is at the core of our real thoughts. To be "animal" is to be savage. Well, excuse me, my wife's dog Cromwell is far from your kind of savage. That dog wouldn't bite a flea. And there is no beast or creature that willingly bathes in piss (because he likes his piss more than water,) fantasizes about bloody teeth emerging from slabs of mutilated meat, or revels in the homoerotic blood of man's animal desire. There are a few exceptions to this; they are called necrophiliacs.

There isn't space here to examine the atheism of Darwin and its contradictions, but no matter how badly Bacon wishes to cling to this idea in his art, I say here and now: No art can convince me of an absence of God. The very God-despair that a painting of Bacon is meant to inspire, brings me instead to a meta view his sanity and the knowledge that there is such a thing as sanity, or deterioration of it, beauty, and creation.

Justice is Served on the Buffet

Sweet, sweet, Old Country Buffet... I can still remember me and my dad, we are both sitting in his car. It was the day I got that first job serving as busboy beyond your scummy geriatric gates. And there sits my dad, behind the steering wheel, grinning ear to ear as I unwrap my new busboy apron. He looks a little mischievous in his smile. His hand reaches over the armrest to shake mine. "Good for you, son. Your first job. I'm proud of you." I remember that good feeling. That feeling of how easy it all seemed. "Just scrape a few dishes and get paid for it."

How young and stupid I was.


And do you remember that one manager, Mike? Yeah, you know the one. He's your first manager at your first job. You are just a lowly, pimply busboy and he's the big cool manager working on his third divorce. He's got one of those big German mustaches and he's always flipping his wavy, dyed-blondish hair. He claims to have a back problem so he can't lift any heavy trays or anything that resembles help. He always seems to find a worker to belittle when there is a pretty girl going through the buffet line. Yeah, you know the one. The one that's being super sappy nice to you one minute and you think that you are going to keep your job so you can pay for your car insurance so you can take out that pretty girl in your gym class but then the next minute he's berating you for missing a spot on a salt shaker in front of the whole staff and you feel like you just might be single for the rest of your life.

Most nights, as you fall asleep, you have visions of kicking him in the nutts and spitting in his putrid blonde hair, but at the end of the fantasy, you are still alone, and dreading the next day. Your only comfort is that its not just you he seems to hate/like. He hates that guy in the dishroom too... It's the middle aged guy doing dishes that everyone calls "disher-dad." Disher-dad. Yeah, there was always disher-dad who got it the worst. Ah, sweet memories. I would have felt sorry for you, disher-dad, but you would give us busboys dirty looks and murmur profanity and kick the cup racks whenever we would bring in our full carts of dishes, as if we dirtied those dishes ourselves. I wonder whatever happened to disher-dad.

Ahhhh. Sweet, sweet bankruptcy. Good old Buffet. Good old, terrible, disgusting, nightmarish, I-wish-I-could-blot-out-that-16th-year-of-my-life Old Country Buffet.

Why I've Been Less Around

NT Wright on Blogging/Social Media from Bill Kinnon on Vimeo.

I've been trying to communicate this in different posts but N.T. sort of sums it up beautifully without being condescending or snarky.

The Brah Conundrum: A letter to my Best Brahs

Listen Brahs, there's been a lot of fussing about who is my number 1 Brah lately and well, I'm getting a little tired of to be honest. Totally tired of it. So here's the deal: All my Brahs mean something different to me, each and every one ya. I love that about you guys. You are all so different, even different in your color. I've got my Latino brah, dark brown and a serious danger to women up north, and my yellow brah, tons of fun and totally serves as a cheat-sheet for any math problem... etc. etc.

But some of you have been demanding that I declare my favorite and number 1 Brah... and I just can't do that. Honestly it works better if I divide you into subsets of number 1, as each of you are totally suited for different occasions.

So, you are all number 1, but...

Bob, you are my "A" Brah. I love to hang with you when I'm feeling heavy and need to get some things off my chest. You are totally a born psychologist.

Fred, you are my "B" Brah. I love just hanging and going to a killer action movie with you man. Just good clean fun all around.

James, you are my "C" Brah. You really are the master at having fun right up to the line of crazy. But let me remind you: I AM A MARRIED MAN. I don't like certain attention to be drawn to myself. You are a single guy and its just hard for you to get that sometimes. But I still love you Brah.

Ned, you are my "D" Brah. You are just ridiculously funny. You can't help but draw attention to yourself. You are just naturally over-endowed with too much personality. But you've got a real modest side to you as well and its that slightly embarrassed-about-your-personality side that is just so durn cool.

Joey, you are my "training" Brah. I can truly attribute all my physical fitness to your relentless training. But no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get as ripped as you. How does someone that is only 5 feet 5 inches get so ripped? I think you should quit wearing those sole-inserts to be taller by the way. Be proud of your height brah.

And last but totally not least, Aaron, you are my "Sports" Brah. There isn't a sport that I can win playing you. Somehow you just keep things together no matter how wild the game gets or how hard the play is. Amazing.


So there it is, fellas. I hope that puts to rest the "Main-Brah" questions. You are all my Brahs. And each one of you is cherished and appreciated.

Your Brah,

Seth.

Monday Off

Monday is my day off. Well, not really. I teach a lesson or sometimes a few make up lessons on Monday, but compared to the other days of the week, it is my day off.

I have been a pretty sparse blogger in the past few months because the level of busy-ness has gone through the roof. I spend most Mondays answering emails and trying to get caught up.

Today, I FINALLY returned my friend Tan's camera. Every time I've tried to return it... well, it doesn't happen. The man has been nicely reminding me now for 4 months. If I were him, I'd be sending me a summons. Well today, I returned that sucker. And boy oh boy, does that feel good. It was becoming a little pile of black guilt. But no more. Sent that sucker. The end.

NYC has been pretty dreamy this summer. Barely above the 80 marker for the whole month of July. Of course now that I've said that, it will probably turn into a giant grill and cook us all in the next two days. I've refrained from bragging to my Oklahoma and Texas friends because the weather has been downright dangerously hot where they are. I think it was over 100 for two weeks straight in Houston. Old people dropping like flies.

Amber has been busy auditioning and Nannying and other than that, we've been having a hay old time.

Well, that's about it for today. Nothing more to report other than I am now living 99% sugar free. I've felt better and haven't been so moody, and I now rarely need naps. Plus I've lost weight.

Anywho, here is the last picture I took with Tan's great camera before it went back into the box. This is me, very tired, very oily, guilty, post-workout sweaty and three days overdue a beard trim. Also a little scary. Do I really look like this all the time? Sheesh. Seems a little intense and brooding. Maybe I should lighten up a bit.

Iphone 3.0 Review

Okay, someones got to say it. Just like some one had to say it about the 3rd Indy installment:

3.0 ... IT SUCKS.

I hate hate hate it.

Landscape Typing: I've used the landscape typing a grand total of 3 times. Mainly, because it takes 3 minutes for the friggin screen to adjust to landscape. I could have typed the ENTIRE alphabet by the time it adjusts. Besides, I'm so used to typing the other way now, the landscape seems like I'm using the blind man feature.

Search Feature: The search feature is a good idea (duh, its been standard on every piece of apple equipment for the past 8 years) but its location is totally annoying. Why in the world they decided to give it its own screen directly LEFT of the home screen is beyond me. It should be as simple as spotlight is on OSX. Instead it is irritatingly in the way. I've accidentally scrolled too far at least 100 times now and I haven't MEANT to use it once. I am happy about the search feature in the mail. Finally. But again - something that should have been included in the first go around. And the search feature is a simple entry box in the mail feature. Easy. Chellooooo???

Voice Recording: I've used it twice, both times just to say that I've used it. I suppose its good feature but nothing to write home about.

Cut/Copy/Paste: Yaaaaaaaawwwwwn. Something that should have been there in the first Iphone. Its sort of like finally getting a G.I. Joe for Christmas when you are 19. And here, again, it is IN THE WAY. I don't want to see that feature pop up on the screen EVERY SINGLE TIME I press the screen to select a letter. It should pop up after at least 2 seconds of holding the screen, not automatically. I guess they thought we'd be so excited about finally getting to cut and paste that we'd be doing it every time we touched the screen.

Overall, I give 3.0 a big C------ and a barf bag in a pear tree. It is definitely the WORST piece of Apple software designed in YEARS. It has turned my little black monolith of joy into a black monolith of sloooOOOOoooowwwneeesssssss. I'm striking out 5 times as much in my baseball game because it mucks up the program. I have YET to score a perfect score in world cup Ping Pong since I upgraded, and that, ladies and gentlemen, is NOT cool.

I'm downgrading until they work these bugs out and put that dang search PAGE somewhere else.

Shaaaaaaaammmme on you, Apple. Steve is off for a few months buying out some poor slob's place in the liver transplant waiting list and you put this piece of Microsoft-esque CRAP out? I'm Ron Burgandy???

They should have called this software number 2.0 (Cue fart and flush sound bite.)

Been there.

Don't Eat Me.

I'm a little offended by this advertisement. It's a little disrespectful, not to mention unrealistic. If I don't take resveratrol then I am going to look like this? Better yet, its all just going to catch up with me and I'm going to age 100 years in a second and scare the crap out of everyone around me? That would be kind of awesome, come to think of it.

If I were this old lady I think I'd be suing someone for using my image as a warning label. Crap, the old woman looks like she is 200 years old. I imagine she's lived a long and full life. And shoot, she may have lived through a concentration camp. Who knows? And there's just no getting around it folks: WE ARE ALL GOING TO BE OLD. WE WILL ALL GET WRINKLES. WE WILL ALL GET BRITTLE. WE WILL ALL DIE SOMEDAY looking much older than we did at 30.

I'm not trying to build a case for sitting around on your butt and waiting to die, but I am saying this: Old age WILL catch up to you. There is NO escaping it. No botox or nose job or liposuction or new resveratrol pill will save you from the wrinkles or saggy ass. The question is, will you age with dignity and with a determination to stay as healthy and positive as you can? Or will you grow old scraping the dirt as age drags you to each year. Will you make your life miserable staring at the new wrinkles in the mirror and then everyone else's life miserable trying to live out some thing you were too chicken to do when you were young? (Not that doing that is bad; it's good! But you sure can make it easier on the people around you by not trying to do it swimming in narcissism.)

Nothing wrong with staying healthy. And there is nothing wrong with growing older. Those two things can coexist. But sooner or later, we all croak of the latter. And that's just all there is to it. Might as well enjoy the ride to the cliff the best we can. (See UP!)

I think some basic, cliche principles can help you grow old with joy and dignity:

(At least, this is what I've learned from really old and really healthy people.)

1. Love God
2. Eat healthy.
3. Drink some wine every day.
4. EXERCISE ONCE A DAY. Go for a brisk walk, at least.
5. Spend time talking to a friend or family, in person, every day.
6. Be passionate about something. God has made you creative. Make something. Write something. Play something. Whatever it is, do it as if there is no tomorrow.
7. Give freely. Give to others. Give to your church. Give wisely and joyfully. And if you can, give anonymously.
8. Read something. Read a poem, a proverb, the first chapter of a classic novel, a Far Side cartoon.
9. Turn off the tube and talk to each other. So many families never speak 20 words as the whole night is ruled by blinking boob-box.
10. Your turn. What are some of your suggestions? What are some things you are doing that you feel help you in leading a healthier, happier life?

The News from My Couch

It's been raining a bunch up here. Oh great, one of thoooooose posts. Too bad. Its the weather or nothing.

I don't mind rain I suppose. I'd prefer it to the 1000 degrees cooking everyone else I know. But a little sunshine never hurt nobody. Except when you fall asleep in it... naked.

This will be our first 4th of July in NYC and I'm looking forward to it. This time last year I was dodging Mullet-deer, fighting off man-sized moths, and listening to the sweet sounds of decapitated copperheads while I played Merry Old Land of OZ.

Hopefully this year will be a little less prehistoric. Although, I wouldn't trade last summer's adventures for all the money under my couch cushion. I have been keeping up with Jenny Wiley's theater production this summer and it really looks and sounds incredible! Good people down there in that town. Probably the nicest people I've ever met.

Oh, this past week my dad retired from the pastorate after 40 years of pastoring churches. It has been a looooong and fun ride. What a guy.

2 Movies, 2 Lazy reviews.

I saw two movies in the last two weeks.

First off, let me say that having the Lincoln Center Movie theater one block down my street is both amazing and torturous. The grocery store is right across the street from the movie theater so every time I need some dadgum milk, I've got to deal with the yearning pangs of smelling popcorn and seeing all the new release posters. I would probably go to the movies every night if I could. And that would cost about 300 dollars a month. Ain't happening.

Anyways, I saw The Hangover, and the new Transformers flick.

The Hangover... hilarious. I'm not going to suggest this film for the faint-of-christian-heart, or for kids that are still living with their parents, or for the general female population. This is sort of a guy-flick. THIS NO DATE MOVIE. You have been warned. Don't misunderstand me; it isn't some gratuitous strip-club movie - you all know me better than that. Its just full of "guy" humor, but somehow, still a really, really good movie.

I probably laughed a big belly laugh every 10 minutes or so.

But that's not what I liked best about the film. I liked that it was just good old fashioned movie making: Good acting, character development, plot, and clever editing. It was just a well crafted film. Crude? Yes. Over-the-top crude? Hellck yes. Knee-slapping-yell-out-loud funny? Yes, yes and a large yes with butter. And that's all I'm going to say about it. Anything else would make my mother mad and cause you to judge me.

Then I saw the Transformers. This film is getting filleted by critics around the world. Ebert gave it ONE STAR. Now, come on. Ebert gave Garfield more stars than this film. Get off the high horse. IT'S A TRANSFORMERS FLICK. By default it isn't going to be believable.

All that said, I'm going to list my reactions as I experienced them in the theater for a little change up.



Opening credits: What happened to the John Williams Dreamworks music??? Transformer music made the kid fishing off the crescent moon look slightly evil.

Oh dear lord. Primitive man meets primitive transformers. That looks hilarious. It looks like a farce of 2001...

Modern day now.

Riiiiiight, she is going to be sitting on that motorcycle like that with her booty in the air, wearing basically blue-jean underwear, working at a motorcycle shop... and NO ONE is going to notice? Riiiiiight.

Jive talking transformers? One of them has a gold tooth. Wow... and they can't... read... the ancient transformer writing. Al Sharpton anyone? Oh man... how did they get away with that little bit of robotic racism?

Again with the color saturation.

This looks more like Armageddon than the last Transformers. Where's Bruce?

Please, can you just keep the camera moderately still for at least ONE of these r-he-he-heeeeally ridiculously boring and stupid conversations? I'm getting dizzy here with all this 180 degree camera action.

Enough with the adolescent freshman LDR angst. Get to the robotic butt-kicking.

Freshmen can't have cars? Is this school in the USSR?

A Chihuahuas humping a Pug will always be funny.

Wow. Loud. Ouch.

Wow, double-loud. Pretty fun though.

Okay, Optimus is a badass.

Okay... why our sun? It's not like our sun isn't the MOST common sun in the Universe or anything.

Wow... That transformer is metallically bearded. Makes sense.

This is truly dumb. Dumb... but still fun.

Jerry: Slow motion does not equal E-motion.

I have never seen such gratuitous slow motion in my LIFE.

deus ex machina anyone?

Awwwwwe, I love movies!

ALRIGHT. DIRECTORS ACROSS THE PLANET. QUIT PUNKING YOUR AUDIENCES WITH SUDDEN CLOSE UPS OF ZITTY MALE BUTTS. NASTY. THIS LITTLE PRANK HAS BEEN IN THE LAST THREE FILMS I'VE SEEN AND I AM WEARY OF IT. STOP. IT.

The Pyramids... It's ALLLLLLLWAAAAYS about the pyramids.

Suuuuure that's Orion's Belt. If I saw three objects that bright in the night sky, I'd be saying my prayers.

Okay... do they think that this is the friggin Lord of the Rings? We are pushing 2.5 hours here folks. Let's wrap this up.

Sweet mother of mercy... Angelic transformers back from the dead. I think I just choked on a whopper.

Finally over. Waiting so see if the credits are in slow-mo.

I think if Jerry would have cut out the slow mo, or just played the film in real time, the movie would have been perfectly timed.

Ahhhhh, summer movies.

All in all, that was fun. Good clean fun. A bit much on the slow-mo, but all around worth the 12 bucks.

But Do You Have Town in Texas Named After You???

This is no photoshop folks. It's confession time. Yes, there was a time where so many people considered me awesome that I had to lead them into the Texas wilderness to set them straight.

Something about my beboxing (short for "beatboxing") abilities... its just too much for people to handle. Amber tries to get me to do it at parties and so forth, but all I have to do is say, "Remember Seth Ward," and she drops the subject. People look at us strangely after that discourse, but I quickly move on to my amazing but psychologically harmless underarm-toot-pitch-matching skills and they forget about the beboxing altogether.

Someday I'll tell you of the great pilgrimage of the thousands that followed me to that big chunck of nowhere that is now Seth Ward, Texas, but right now the memory is too near and drear.

Let's just say that it all started at a church potluck... there were various games being played there, and through a serious of strange words spoken by two different people... one said "Hit it!", and the other cheered on a child and said, "RUN!"... the combo being, "HIT IT, RUN!" And I started beboxing, uncontrollably. I can now control that impulse, but back then when someone said, "Hit it, Run," it triggered in me a trance-like state of pure beboxing hypnotic power.

People started break dancing that had never break danced before... one large child tried to do the "worm" and ended up doing push ups instead as the worm was not possible for his prodigious young build. He is now the captain of football team and very "cut" because of his ongoing passion for push ups. He is now a full Aggregate Scout. (One step above Eagle Scout.)

There, there. No further. Let's just say that having a town in Texas named after you is a curse, not a blessing. It took quite a bit of finagling to get the Wikipedia article the way it is.

America, America, God Shed His Grace on Thee...

Sometimes I read the news in TOTAL awe. I shall bold the parts that are extra special. It just makes my skin aggregate.

NEW YORK – The nation's newest texting champion has a message for parents across the land — although they might not want to hear it.

"Let your kid text during dinner! Let your kid text during school! It pays off," 15-year-old Kate Moore said Tuesday after winning the LG U.S. National Texting Championship.

After all, she said: "Your kid could win money and publicity and a phone." For the Des Moines, Iowa, teenager, her 14,000 texts-per-month habit reaped its own rewards, landing her the competition prize of $50,000 just eight months after she got her first cell phone.

Moore, with a speedy and accurate performance, beat out 20 other finalists from around the country over two days of challenges such as texting blindfolded and texting while maneuvering through a moving obstacle course.

In the final showdown, she outtexted 14-year-old Morgan Dynda, of Savannah, Ga. Both girls had to text three lengthy phrases without making any mistakes on the required abbreviations, capitalization or punctuation. (Seth insert: I believe the phrase was, "like totally! :-) Like,,, did you see the way he just dissed me totals?!?!?! He trted me like I was total preggers with a fat baby!!?!?!? LOL.) Moore squeaked through by a few seconds on the tiebreaking text, getting the best two out of three. As she anxiously waited for confirmation of her win, tears streamed down her face.

The teen dismisses the idea that she focuses too much on virtual communications, saying that while she has sometimes had her phone taken away from her in school, she keeps good grades, performs in school plays and socializes with friends — in person — on the weekends.

In between, she finds time to send about 400 to 470 texts a day. Among her uses of the text messages? Studying for exams with friends, (BS!!!) which she says is better done by text because she can look back at the messages to review.

The finalists, all 22 or younger, were among 250,000 people who tried to get spots in the competition. Some won their spots at the Manhattan finals by being the fastest people to text responses to televised ads.

It's the third year for the texting competition, sponsored by LG Electronics Inc.'s mobile-phones division. But it's the first time that it was held at a flashy sound stage with an illuminated platform and surrounded by TV cameras. LG, based in Seoul, South Korea, is considering using the footage in a televised special of some kind.

Twenty-year-old Jackie Boyd, who came in fifth in the competition, said she usually prefers text messages to phone calls because they get through faster and they're more private — leaving her unworried about other people listening in.
"You can get more of what you really truly want to say" across with texting, said the Syracuse University psychology major. "Especially if it's an argument, you don't have to worry about saying the wrong thing.
"And if you don't want to respond, you can always say, 'Oh, I didn't get your text.'"

Spinal Tap in Real Life

On My Mind

Do the guys in Green Day ever get old?

I could give two craps about John and Kate + 8 or whatever the name of that show is.

If husbands (my age-45) want to turn their wives on then they need to turn their friggin' video games off. (A direct quote from my dad today.)

I really want to see Year 1.

UP! was good but almost a little too sad for a Pixar movie. Plus that sucker cost me 17 DOLLARS.

The new Star Trek flick was decent but they ruined Spock. They turned Spock into some kind of lip-locking, hot-headed imbecile. I thought Spock was going to freak out Fight Club style. I liked Bones.

I was surprisingly entertained by the Tony Awards the other night. I think I'll venture out and see Shrek. I can't believe Depression Musical beat Billy Elliot. Billy Elliot was fantastic. Over the top and amazingly loud, but fantastic. Sir Elton was robbed. Btw, Billy Elliot was so loud that when my dad came to visit and I took him to see August Osage County, he was certain that there was a thunderstorm going on outside when it was just Billy Elliot next door doing its thang.

This guy with the Lobsters... I'm really surprised this has stayed several hours on Yahoo! News headlines. Seriously. It's neat and all... but... ... ... WHO CARES??? I was more interested in the black Lobster. (Evidently a native Red lobster is as rare as a pure thought in Clinton's noodle.) But really, most Americans think all lobsters are red. (They turn red after cooked.)

It was one crazy day today. I had to provide an itemized budget request to a bunch of men at church who know a WHOLE lot more about finance than me. One guy kept using the word "aggregate" over and over on the phone and I kept saying, "uh huh, uh huh" every time he said it until I literally opened up my computer and looked it up in the dictionary. its just one of those words you hear all the time but you never really need to know unless you took a finance class and if you know anything about me, a trucker's underwear sniffing class would be preferable.

And it's one of those words that you've heard a billion times and you know its about money or some sum of money- but it is also a word that is too important to get wrong and you look totally stupid if you get caught in the act of fake-knowing the meaning.

I mean, how many times do you hear the word "aggregate" in Star Wars? NONE.

How many times do you hear the word "aggregate" in Lord of the Rings??? NONE. Pale Rider? NONE. True Grit? NONE. And if it's not in there then it isn't important to life.

Therefore, it is only natural that I wouldn't know the meaning of that word and I would have to fake knowing what that word meant and look it up while talking to the man asking me what the projected aggregate is going to be.

Seriously, how... AGGRAGATING...

Waca waca.

Thank you ladies and gentlemen, that's all for tonight. Tip your waiter and drive safe.

Btw, the next 5 posts will feature the word, "aggregate" used in the wrong context.

Smell them thar roses.

Every day I walk to work. I consider myself one of the luckiest guys on the planet that I get to walk through Central Park in order to get to work. However, lately, I've been so busy that I have forgotten to stop and just look.

There is this really amazing meadow in the middle of the southern part of the park called "Sheep's Meadow." The grass is as soft as you would dream grass should be... somewhere where grass doesn't have little sneaky sharp rocks or hidden hoards of fire ants and so forth.

You can walk freely in that meadow with nary a shoe or sock and the whole experience is almost a little bit odd. Odd and kind of thrilling. You forget how sensitive the bottom of your feet are and what emotions can come and go when those nerves are titillated by little vixen blades of grass. And even when I was a little country boy spending half my days fishing, I never walked ANYWHERE outside without shoes.


But today... I made myself stop and do something I always "think" I'd like to do but I never try. I walked into Sheep's Meadow (barefoot) and laid down on the grass under the tree without a blanket and watched the sun go down. I think I need to try that kind of thing more often. (If you are a fellow creature of habit, you KNOW how hard that really is.)

I put my shoes on for the picture. I promise you don't want to see my vampiric feet.

A Quick Addendum to that Last Blog

I suppose I should modify that last blog a bit. I sounded like I was criticizing all my blogging buddies. Honestly wasn't meant to do so.

I read, or I used to read a LOT of politically charged blogs and entertainment-smut/gossip blogs and tech product critique stuff. I haven't read a theological blog in a billion years. And if I am guilty of anything, it is that I haven't been to ANYONE'S blog over there on my friend list with the exception of a few people that I see regularly.

My loss, entirely. One reason being that I've never been a RSS feed person. When I was teaching at Rice I had college students emailing me quite a bit and now with choir and all the stuff that is going on at the church, I usually spend my mornings answering emails. I've already missed two important emails this week.

Blah blah. All that to say, apologies to any friend that was offended...

Pay no attention to the complainer behind the curtain.

I'll be Loud.

I'm John Conner and I do NOT smile. I do scream, quite a bit. I also enjoy screaming into CBs.

There was something about those first Terminator films that really made the films terribly likable and fun: The Govenator.

This film made me remember and miss the campy but HUGELY FUN screen presence of Der Arnold. This film didn't have that presence. Well, not until the end anyways. But even then it wasn't really Arnold, rather, some ridiculous CGI naked ken-doll version of Arnold.

One good thing about reviewing this movie: The plot won't take much summary time. Here goes...

The robots and humans are at war. John Conner (JC initials - okay, people. Enough with the Jesus Christ initial thing. Faulkner pulled it off but it is officially cliche.) is the leader of a rebellion of sorts... But I don't know, you never seem to know who is really in charge. Anyways, they discover that the robots are making hybrid human/machine terminators. The hybrid we get to know thinks he's human and he even has a human heart. Conner of course doesn't believe him. At the end, Conner's heart is damaged in the battle with the cheezy looking Arnold-CGI-Ken-Doll-Naked-Terminator and OF COURSE the hybrid donates his heart. Where's my hanky.

The whole scene is slathered with predictability and I suddenly felt like I was watching an old Stephen Segal action flick, except without the fun. What I used to love about all those old 80s action movies is the moment in which someone describes to the villian just how tough the Stephen Segal character was.

Villian: "Who is this guy?"

Plucky guy who used to know Segal's character way back when: "Well let me tell you... (bombs go off in the distance)... this guy's so bad he could yada yada."

We didn't get a moment like that, of course. What we did get was this: John Conner screaming into a CB "If you don't listen to me then we are dead. WE ARE ALL DEAD." Yawn.

I suppose the Matrix spoiled me to AI movies forever, even though the Terminator was the first great AI action flick. What was great about those first Terminator films was that we were visited by the future and were only given glimpses of the what was to come. Here we are thrust into a future, and unlike Zion in the Matrix, or the make-shift civilizations in Mad Max, humanity is lacking humanity. I was almost rooting for the robots. At least the robots were capable of lowering their voices.

Then came the robots stealing Humans or harvesting them or some reason. Why in the world they would want to harvest an old women is beyond me. More dramatic, I guess. Then there was the cut to the robot who was surveying the prisoners... the steal-skull-faced robot was WEARING A HEADBAND. ??? ??? ???

Again, what is with the color-jacking of current film makers? Does everyone just HATE the color green? I know its in the "future" and I know the planet's been nuked to smitherines by the robots and so forth, but would it kill the guys to at least slightly color the EVERGREENS???

I don't know... I feel like this review is so disjunct and odd -just like the film. It was just a bunch of chuncks and clunks all slammed together with a lot of screaming stuff like "WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE" and explosions. There was a cool robot who had fast big motorcycles for knees. That scene was cool. I liked the big Godzilla robot.

I hate to say this... but I found the oil driller planting a nuke on an asteroid much much more fun. Dumb, stupid, un-scientific fun.

I will say that the CGI was well done. But who gives a hoot if the story is a loud bore? And event though it was great, there was nothing new offered, unlike the other terminator films which were all cutting edge in their own ways.

I give it C---- I would give it a D or an F if it weren't for that bootlegged cussing outburst that we got to hear and then later as a techno song.

Hello Friends!

Been busy. And I'm a little under the weather. I know I know. Why start your post with that tired old excuse? To be honest, it is better than nothing and the surest way for me to at least post SOMETHING.

A concert pianist friend of mine is coming to play this Sunday for church and I've been trying to whip u an arrangement or two for piano and pipe organ that will break the stained glass windows and blow a few hearing aids.

The weather has been quite euro here in the city and I am liking it: green, cool, lush and pretty.

I've been wanting to write more but between the church and students and fighting off the spring allergy/flu, the time has not allowed. I've been flat-out down for the count since monday.

I've been away from the blog world and haven't had a chance to really read anyone else's blog in quite some time. I have to say... it has been a little refreshing. I suppose partly refreshing because I've been working. But also refreshing because I didn't realize how negative reading a bunch of blogs can make you. I think that the majority of blogs are discourses on things that annoy the blogger, that includes me and my blog too. Sometimes, the things really do need to be said. But overall, negativity, even in small doses, can be a deadly deadly thing. The only problem is that really positive things aren't all that fun to read. I WISH that I cared about hearing about the daily progress of my mom's flower gardens, and I do to an extent... but I'm just not attracted to that kind of reading.

Darned if you do and darned if you don't. I'm not sure that colloquialism works for this scenario, but it felt right to say it.

Oh well... at least I typed a few paragraphs about SOMETHING.

Anyways, here is a post from my Jewish friend, Jenny (a PhD student in Talmudic studies and my guitar student) on the discussion from the "The Eternal Now of Grace" post. I thought it was incredibly interesting:

"A word about Jews getting carried away with "works". You are referring to the Pharisees, as depicted in the Gospels (we have very little knowledge of them outside the Gospels and Josephus, who doesn't talk much about this issue). It would seem that the rabbis, who succeeded the Pharisees as guardians and interpreters of the law among the Jewish people after the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 CE, shared Jesus' concern with an overly rigid or strictly works-centered notion of the law. The rabbis and the early Christians each dealt with the same problem in their own way. Jesus and Paul, followed by the early Church Fathers, stressed less (or no) importance to the practical observance of the law, while the rabbis developed a system of more flexible and practicable law, and concomitantly developed an array of more "spiritual" ideas and practices to buttress the law.

If I may, an example. Deuteronomy 6 says to speak of "these words" (namely, "You shall love the Lord your God...") "when you lie down and when you rise up". The rabbinic response was something like "OK, that's too vague; let's concretize it. Recite these verses ("You shall love the Lord your God...") twice a day - once in the morning and once at night. Of course, if you're sick or incapacitated, or, say, too nervous to concentrate because you've just gotten married and you're about to have sex for the first time [this specific issue, among others, appears in the Mishnah, a rabbinic code of the 3rd century CE], then don't worry about it." The Christian response was something like, "The point of the instruction to "speak of these words... when you lie down and rise up" is to have them on your mind and in your conversation all day long; so do that. Live your life in a way that reflects that commitment and focus." Both the rabbinic and Christian responses have great merit, and each found followers who felt that one or the other response resonated more for them.

Balancing actions and feelings has been on the minds of Jews and Christians, it would seem, for a few millennia. I agree, Seth, that we should just chill about the contrast or competition between the two and see them as complementary and conjoined - even if there are a variety of ways of navigating them. Every love relationship is different; just as every relationship to God - be it Christians and Jesus through the New Testament, or Jews and Yahweh through the Hebrew Bible - is different, and works out its needs, kinks, and manifestations differently."