insert clever s.logan here

"Knocked Up" Blogger

2011-04-15T08:36:00.007-05:00

I don't do much in way of blogging here at Insert Clever S.Logan anymore (obviously), but if anyone (Hi, mom!) is still interested in reading along about the goings on in my life, I've got a new gig as a twice-weekly blogger at Pregnancy and Newborn Magazine. I'm their new "Knocked Up" blogger! And, yes, that does indeed mean we're having a little one! A baby boy to be exact, due at the end of September. Here's the link! http://pnmag.com/pregnancy-blogs/knocked-up

It's a New Dawn, a New Day, a New Life for Me, and I'm Feeling Good

2011-01-04T20:21:00.020-06:00

The Densmore Farm
An impromptu photo shoot with one of the farm's horses.

One of our eight flower girls and a family friend.

The pearls draped on my shoes were a Christmas gift from my parents when I was a child.

Our cake, decorated by my aunt.

Our first dance to Harry Conick, Jr's., "Recipe for Making Love."

My husband works with inner-city youth. Here are a few of the kids at the wedding.

My dad walked my down the aisle and also performed the vows.

A handkerchief passed down in my family for years.

Our rings on top of a wood ring I found in a creek bed moments before my husband proposed:

We set up a photobooth with plenty of props to choose from. There are the actual photos.

And they lived happily ever after.

Wedding Photos and My New Year's Resolution...

2011-01-04T01:00:00.022-06:00

It's been a week shy of three months since Tom and I were married, so I figured it was about time to update. All pics are compliments of the amazing Becca Stanley.

A somewhat unrelated post on my New Year's resolution follows the pics.

Us and our kids!

The new Mr. and Mrs. Palmer!

My amazing new, HUGE family. No extended family here. Only parents/brothers/sisters/nephews and nieces.

My eight flower girls looked like angels!

My beautiful mother.

Those nails are eternal proof that I do have willpower. No nailbiting or acrylics for me!

My dad peering around the corner before walking me down the aisle and performing our vows!

My lovely sister and maid of honor.

Celebrate good times!

We did not plan our layout to be a cross AT ALL. My cousin noticed after it was all set up, and needless to say, we were blown away. God is so awesome.

The front of the barn with our initials and a wreath - brainstormed by me, handmade by my sis!

First dance! I was scared to do it, as my husband hangs in the ghetto (he's a youth pastor) and has some madd dancing skillz. Fortuantely, he went easy on me!

I'm not even a big fan of cake, and this one was absolutely amazing. Some layers were strawberry shortcake-esque and others were filled with a Frangelico Fudge (ie Nutella) filling. To. Die. For. The cake vendor showed up without the strawberries, so my trooper brother in law, John, scoured the area for the right berries and my uber talented Aunt Bev placed them.

May be my favorite photo of the day.

Love the horse...

My husband is oh so handsome!

This was our amazingly talented photographer's favorite photo! So fun!

Swinging in bare feet! Felt good to get the heels off!

The groom with my girls.

Wiping the tears of joy with a handkerchief passed down in my family.

And, they lived happily ever after!

There are TONS and TONS (I mean thousands) more pictures, and I may post more in the coming weeks, but these should most anyone over for a decade or two. :-)

Now, for my unrelated New Year's Resolutions post....

I recently finished up a story on New Year's resolutions for a local media site. While working on the piece, I tried to talk myself into a new diet, reading more books, etc. No matter what goal I came up with, I was bothered by the question that comes to mind every time I think of throwing myself headlong into new goal: "To what end?"

Sure, I can fill my mind with a bajillion new facts by spending all my spare time reading. Knowledge is awesome. Sure, I can lose a few pounds. I wouldn't mind being able to wear my high school clothes again. But, to what end?

Those things aren't bad, and, in fact, can be noble pursuits, but for a resolution that will be my driving force throughout the year, they are not good enough.

I was listening to the gospel station the other night and singer Matt Redman gave me what I decided is a worthy pursuit for 2011. Singing to God, he says:

"Every blessing you pour out I'll turn back to praise."

To that I ask myself, "To what end," and the answer is clear: To bring glory to my Savior

because He is worthy.

I'm blessed beyond measure for my husband, family, friends, home, job, food, and my new suede boots, scarves, and skinny jeans. I want to make sure I'm turning all of those blessings back into praise in 2011 and beyond.

That's a resolution I can stick to.

Blog, BLOG, Who has time to blog?!

2010-08-12T01:35:00.010-05:00

...When you're getting married in (drumroll, please) 60 days?!

Okay, well I guess I do! I haven't had any (okay, many) of the bridezilla-break-downs you hear about. More than anything, I thank God for that. He has blessed us up one side and down the other over the past few months. For example, my ring was exactly what I always dreamed of and purchased from a sweet Christian lady for 1/5th of the price it would have been in the jewelry store. Then, there's the actual place we're having the wedding: He led us to a Christian family with the most beautiful wedding venue--an old barn in the country, and, again, exactly what I wanted--who told us they wanted us to use it for FREE. They also let Tom hold a summer camp for his youth kids there a few weeks ago--a double blessing! Then, there are the vendors who have discounted their services--some up to $700. It's really been amazing to watch Him work.

When I think back over these things and how he has shown Himself faithful throughout my life, leading and guiding every step of the way, it seems nothing short of foolish to ever doubt that He will take care of me. Still, I have found that to be my number one struggle over the last months. With all of the fiancial duties that come your way when you're starting a household, it's so easy to fret. But, just because it's easy doesn't make it right. (In fact, that's often a good sign, it's not right.)

My mom and I discussed something along these lines last night that made me wonder, "How literal am I willing to take the Bible?"

Matt 6:24-34, says, "No man can serve two masters: ... Ye cannot serve God and [your self]. Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on... For after all these things do the Gentiles seek... your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you."

What? So I'm not supposed to worry about my future, my savings account, my retirement portfolio? It's as easy as that, huh, God?! Boy, I have been making it so much more difficult! Of course, it's easy to say, "Okay, God, I trust you!" when there's still enough money in the bank account. But on the day when there is only pennies...well, I hope I'll remember this...

And, the Mark 12 widow woman who gave her last penny.

"Prayers, please!" Love, God.

2010-08-04T21:10:00.004-05:00

When was the last time you read the Old Testament? Not just skimmed over it and appreciated it from a historical perspective, but really sunk your teeth in or dug in your heels and sought revelation? I had always thought the OT was a dry chronology of ancient people, only vaguely applicable to my life. How wrong I have been. Over the last few weeks, I have blown away by the rich life lessons I've found in the OT.

One particular story that has had my attention for awhile involves Elijah. We all know the story of how Elijah built the altar in the contest with the prophets of Baal; he called down fire from God, which consumed the sacrifice. If you will read on to the next few verses, there's an equally amazing story that follows. It concerns the ending of a drought that had plagued the land for three-and-a-half years as a result of Elijah's dealings with King Ahab. (I'll probably talk about the ending of the drought in my next post, but for now, my focus is on how it started.)

Can you imagine you, yourself, praying to God and expecting to change the course of nature? (I will actually be doing this up until my wedding day - No rain, Lord, please!) That is exactly what Elijah did. In response to King Ahab's hardness of heart, he prayed that drought/famine would overtake the land.

For 3.5 years, not a drop fell.

Okay, so let's be real. All of these sorts of "miraculous" stories in the Bible seem super amazing and we marvel at them. We think, "That was them. They had some special gifting. Things don't work like that now." But, should these stories really be so surprising to us? After reading James 5:17, I think not.

Here's what it says: "Elijah was a man just like us. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and a half years."

WOW. Right? I have had that scripture in the back of my mind for about 18 months now, and it is finally starting to sink in. Elijah didn't have some special line to God. Of course, he was a prophet, but like James said, "He was a man just like us." In the next sentence, James explains how Elijah got such amazing results: "He prayed earnestly..." It doesn't say he had such powerful results because "He was a prophet" or because God pointed his divine scepter at him and granted him special power or because it was the year 214. It was simply because, “He prayed earnestly.”

Some days I breathe only a few sentences to God before closing my eyes to sleep. How tragic.

How much power could we see in our daily lives, how much could we accomplish in the Kingdom of God and the lives of others, if only we would follow in the footsteps of Elijah and earnestly pray? I want to find out.

Oh, how I want to be a woman of earnest prayers. God help me.

JOY

2010-08-02T01:14:00.007-05:00

There is no doubt that trusting blindly isn't a wise or desirable trait. But I have realized that my hestitancy to trust stemmed from one thing: self-love. I was more worried about the potentially negative impact that giving my trust would have on me rather than the negative impact that withholding the trust was already having on someone else.

I came to this conclusion after hearing an old song that I hadn't heard since I was a child. The chorus says, "Jesus, then Others, than You, what a wonderful way to spell JOY." What simple but powerful words to live by. There are more in Philippians 2:4: "Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others." When we are willing to lay down our own interests for the sake of others, we are learning to imitate Christ. And, only in that place, will we find contentment.

Others, Lord, yes others

Let this my motto be;

Help me to live for others,

That I might live like Thee.

- Charlies D. Meigs

To Trust or Not to Trust?

2010-07-30T20:10:00.004-05:00

I'm in desperate need of some catharsis. I thought that a jar of Nutella might be the answer this afternoon, but after one too many spoon fulls I felt worse, not better.

The question plaguing my mind is trust. When should it be given and when should it be witheld?

Is it something that you give only if it is first proven that the other is deserving of your trust? Or, do you hand it out blindly and hope for the best? Or, something in the middle maybe? Is it an issue of practicality, spirituality, both?

All I can come up with so far is that God freely gave His Son. In His infinite Knowledge He knew that some would accept His gift, He knew others would reject it. Yet, He gave freely to all. Isn't this the deepest form of trust? On the other hand, trust seems to imply a lack of knowing, and since God is all-knowing, maybe trust isn't the right word. Still, even if he doesn't trust us, He has entrusted us with many things.

Christianity 101 is based on the truth that God wants to form a loving relationship with us. And, in order to accept that love, we have to trust Him and have faith in a Creator that we have not seen. So, how does this parallel with our earthly relationships?

To get a little philosophical here, it reminds me vaguely of Plato's theory of Forms. The principles that God portrays in the God-Man relationship are the one's that we should try to immitate in our earthly relationships. Obviously, we will do so in an imperfect way.

So, how does trust play into this? There are so many verses in the Bible on how we are called to "love" others, but what about trust them? Must the two always go hand in hand? My brain is in spaghetti over this. Part of me wants to trust implicity. The other part of me thinks that's just not practical.

Audience of One

2010-07-29T01:25:00.010-05:00

My last post was one days shy of six months ago. I will bypass all of the life-changes that have occurred in the past months, partly because there's just too many to share (for example, I'm getting MARRIED in 74 days), but mostly because I am not narcisstic enough to think folks are still checking in to see if I'm around.

I have finally faced a fact. I am not now, nor ever will I be, the journaling type. It's just not in my blood. (Ironic considering I majored in "journal"ism.) I have always wanted to be the individual who passes on to Glory and leaves dozens of dusty, leather-bound journals behind. Maybe there's some comfort in knowing your words will live beyond your breaths. Over the years, I have had bouts of success--three days here, five days there--but inevitably my hand fails to keep up with my thoughts, and I decide the process is more laborious than enjoyable.

That is, in fact, what brought an end to my blogging career some months ago. In the beginning, I used my blog as a platform to entertain. There was a constant pressure to put out new information that would keep 'em coming back. I wasn't really sure why I wanted them to keep coming back. It's just what I was told was supposed to happen. Finally, it became more work than fun, so I scaled back.

Then, when I experienced a major life transition--moving to the inner-city--I shared some experiences and spiritual thoughts but soon lost my interest in blogging altogether. The tangible things in my life demanded my attention to such a degree that the intangibles of the Internet had little appeal.

I can't say that has changed. However, after receiving a few emails over the past months from folks who have read through my experiences and been encouraged or felt like my words were an answer to prayer, I have come to realize that there may be something worthwhile in this blogging thing, afterall.

So, from now on, I will be using this page much like a journal, but with an exponentially higher WPM rate and a (regrettable) inability to collect dust. The thoughts will be personal and true, without any attempt to entertain or inform "my readers." I'll be writing for myself and, of course, my ever-present audience of One. If someone stumbles upon me, along the way, wonderful. If not, at least my words will live somewhere beyond my breaths...even if they're not leather-bound.

Stayin' alive, stayin' alive...

2010-01-30T14:13:00.004-06:00

The Bee Gees said it best.

I'm just letting everyone know I'm still alive and well in Atlanta. There have been good days and rough days since I updated last, but all in all, I'm super blessed and have no legitimate reason in the world not to be happy.

"My kids" are still great... and, in fact, was offered one of my very own this morning while hanging out in the projects. I took one of the moms to the grocery store, and on the way, she said I had helped her so much so she wanted to help me. Her offer? I could have her kid. She thought he would help with my taxes. I'm still not clear whether she was wanting to actually give me her child or just give me his SSN. But, either way, it was one of the more unusual offers I've ever received.

Such is life in the ghetto.

More updates soon.

Toys, toys, toys....

2009-12-16T20:04:00.006-06:00

As I type that title, I'm reminded of The Grinch's famous lament. Unlike him, though, it is actually a cheerful chant for me.

I've been sorting through thousands of toys for the last two days at Toys for Tots. I have seen more toys this week than I even knew existed in the world. And, while putting a Tonka truck in this bin and a Barbie doll in that bin for 6 hours straight seems like it could become monotonous, it's actually been a blast. With every toy I tossed in a bin or stuffed into a bag or unloaded from a truck or loaded back onto a truck, I thought of how the little bit of work I was doing would help to bring a smile to a little boy or girl. Pretty neat!

Metro Kidz is helping out Toys for Tots for a few days, and they, in turn, are helping us out. We are collecting about 7,000 toys for the Christmas giveaway coming up this Saturday (!!!). We are halfway there and believing for the other half over the next two days. Yesterday, we brought in 1,000 toys. Today, another 65 garbage bags of toys with about 10 to 20 toys in each bag. And, a few of us went to Walmart yesterday and cleaned out the shelves, purchasing about $,1500 worth of toys for our kids.

I always knew Christmas was about something more than walking into the living room on Christmas morning to see a floor covered in presents. We all believe it's about blessing others, but this is the first Christmas I can say I've been focused on giving to those beyond my close circle of friends and family and doing what I can to bless those who don't have anyone else to reach out to them.

I know I wrote last time about how many of my kids (Metro Kidz) wouldn't have a Christmas without us making a difference, well, over the last weeks, I've found that to be more true than I realized. I have had moms sobbing, telling me that they would have no Christmas if it weren't for the presents we are bringing. And, more families than not at my projects don't have Christmas trees. The ones that do, most of us wouldn't even consider a real tree - tiny, 12-inch tall things sitting on a box on the floor.

Yesterday was supposed to be my last day at Metro Kidz. When I originally signed up, I committed to December 15. Knowing of the families that are hurting, not just for presents, and Christmas trees, and more "stuff", but for someone to show genuine care, concern, and love, there's no way that I could ever leave. When I'm called away, if that ever happens, I'll trust God to bring someone to fill my place. Until then, I consider myself blessed to be experiencing and enjoying a truly meaningful and eye-opening Christmas season.

Ps. I wasn't going to share this, but it's a good indication of my growth, for which I'm so thankful. I've been hit by three pretty big events over the last few days. Yesterday, my laptop died. Not accidentally powered off, but permanently died. (I'm sitting here typing this out on a friend's computer.) I may have lost four years of work and school history, not to mention the hundreds of dollars I will need to find to purchase a new one. Today, a rock flew up and hit my windshield on the way home from Toys for Tots. It created one of those marks with spider legs that make it look like it's going to spread across your windshield any second. Another $250, I figured, for my insurance deductible. Finally, in a few days, I'm going to be driving home for the holidays on completely bald tires. I've been slipping at stop signs and becoming generally more fearful of taking my car out on the road. Those will need to be replaced asap.

Those are the things that are going on. Maybe nothing too monumental to some, but in year's past, these things would have been catastrophic to me. The cost and stress of replacing everything would have been all I could think or talk about for days. I admit that just after my windshield cracked, I couldn't help the tears. But as I thought of how much money these things would require and how I would have nothing when it was all paid for and done, all I could think was "It's only money."

What a turn-around from years past, when money for me was one of the only things that mattered. I still fight my tendency to grab onto things. As I reflect on that, that tendency is not usually out of a "love of money," and I have used that fact to assuage my inner knowing that my focus was off. Instead, the tendency is often borne out of fear--a fear of not having enough. And, we know the Word says that the God is Love (I John 4:8) and that perfect love drives out fear (I John 14:8). We also know that what is not of faith is sin (Romans 14:23), and fear is the opposite of faith, so we know that what is of fear is not of God.

In all this, I'm reminded of a song I haven't thought about for years, a song my mom used to sing so beautifully in church growing up. The song is old-school, and the recording is even more old-school, but the message is so encouraging that it makes me want to get up a shout! I looked for a different recording, but this was all that youtube had to offer of Janet Pascal's version. This is the one I grew up on since my parents ran Jimmy Swaggart's bus ministry (a factoid most of you probably don't know), so I grew up on this style. I don't think there's any type of music that has quite the same effect on me. Try to get past the style if it's not for you, and rejoice in the truth of the message:

Christmas for the Kidz!

2009-12-01T10:27:00.007-06:00

I wanted to share a smile with y'all today, so here is a beautiful one from Jahniya:

I've had the past six days off work, and it's a good thing, because over the next 18 days, things are going to be flying fast and furious. On December 19, Metro Kidz is hosting "A Christmas to Remember." In 2008, it was the largest single-day toy giveaway in the city and we hope the same can be said of this year.

For many of our Metro Kidz, December 25 is just like any other day. Often, their moms or dads don't have the funds to purchase Christmas gifts. Metro Kidz is committed to changing that and making this a “Christmas to Remember” for thousands of families.

Last year, we had over 1,500 children and their parents show up to enjoy gifts, food, and fireworks. This year, we will have a Christmas village, a "Jesus," and a "Santa." I know things are tight for everyone this year, but if you can, please consider providing a child with a toy or clothing, and most importantly, a holiday memory to last a lifetime.

Check out this video about last year's event (you can catch a glimpse of Tom at minute 3!)

If you would like to give a Christmas to remember to an inner-city child who might not have a Christmas otherwise, you can:

· Donate new toys or clothing for children 12 and under.
· Start a toy drive at your local church or business.
· Dedicate your time by volunteering at the event.
· Donate funds for the purchase of gifts.*

*For most of you, this would be the best way to help because of location. Our Metro Kidz website is currently being redesigned, so if you would like to send funds, please direct a check (specify "Christmas fund") to the Atlanta Dream Center Metro Kidz at P.O. Box 54537, Atlanta, G 30308.

Thank you guys so much for keeping up with my adventures here! Blessings to you all this Christmas season!

A pig is a pig is a pig...

2009-11-25T17:41:00.006-06:00

Or not.

Tonight, Tom is hosting a Thanksgiving dinner for about 20 of his youth kids. Like any good girlfriend, I offered to pitch in. He would bring home the groceries, and I would help cook them.

Of the dishes we were doing, I was most excited about the ham. To me, nothing quite says "the holidays" like a ham with a brown sugar and pineapple glaze. So, I prepped the ham, made the glaze and started it to cooking.

After a couple of hours, I decided to take a peek. I wished I hadn't. It was the ugliest "ham" I'd ever seen in my life: brown with random globs of fat here and there. Then, I cut into it and pulled it back to reveal the texture of a steak so tough that even Chuck Norris might have been frightened.

Like one of those horror movies, I started to have flashbacks to how it all came together: it wasn't in the usual elastic netting, it was an odd brown-ish shade rather than a pretty pink, and it was pre-seasoned with paprika. Then, the label flashed before my eyes: boneless pork loin.

I burst out laughing, relieved that the disaster was in the type of meat not my cooking skills, then called up Tom and relayed the story.

His response: "Eh, well, it's all from the same animal."

If that logic were true, I'd be serving pigs feet for dinner. Hey, maybe next year I'll try that ... or maybe I'll just stick with turkey!

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

I want to be broken...

2009-11-20T18:28:00.001-06:00

"It is not your ability but your attitude that determines what I can do through you." - Love, God

That wasn't something I wanted to hear today (or any day really), but God smacked me upside the head with it.

The fact that He did it today was particularly fitting. I've been planning a lesson on "thankfulness" for the kids all day. My attitude when it comes to my work isn't usually one of overwhelming thankfulness. Instead, I have a sense of entitlement to be recognized for my abilities. Working in an inner-city kids ministry, it is not unusual for me to spend entire days coloring or coming up with simple rhymes for learning Bible lessons (i.e. "Keep it cool; don't act a fool" for remembering self-control). More often than not, when my fingers are coloring, my mind keeps insisting, "You are capable of so much more than this." Enter bad attitude.

Rather than being satisfied and thankful that God has placed me in the position where He wants me to be right now, which just happens to involve some pretty mundane tasks, I want more. More responsibilities, more recognition, more, more, more.

It may not be visible to anyone else, but it's an attitude of my heart that is rooted in pride. I have confidence in my abilities, education, and intellect. I feel like 99 percent of that falls by the wayside here. I get frustrated that the things I worked so hard on for years don't seem to matter here.

But maybe that's because they never really did.

It's not my abilities that position me or anyone else to be used by God. It's attitude. And, I write that with tears streaming down my face because it puts me in place of such brokeness. All the abilities that I have strived for years to develop come down to nothing if my attitude isn't one of humility, gratitude, and complete dependence upon Him.

The distinction between attitude and ability is so apparent throughout the Word. God used men whose abilities were less than stellar in the eyes of men but their attitudes were rooted in dependence on Him. Consider Gideon's words:

"How can I save Israel? My family is the poorest in the whole Tribe of Manasseh and I am the least thought of in the entire family." -- Judges 6:15

God used Gideon to save an entire nation, but if you remember the story, it wasn't because of the ability of Gideon's army. In fact, God told Gideon to reduce his army from 22,000 to 300. Can you imagine? Gideon had to know that it wasn't his ability or the ability of his men that would save Israel. God's power was able to operate through one man who had completely subjected himself to His ways.

Gideon was able to be used so mightily because he had no pretense that he was accomplishing things on his own. He was in full submission to God. He had been broken. Not broken in the sense of being crushed, but broken as a horse's will is bent into subjection by his master. A horse is considered broken and fit for profitable use when he learns to submit instantly and fully to the commands of his master. It's a painful process.

Such is the case with us. We can only be used by the Master after we have come to a place of utter obedience. Reaching that place requires us to become painfully aware of how inadequate we are on our own. That is what brokeness is.

My "theme" chapter for the year has been Psalm 51. There is a section that is particularly fitting:

"You would not be pleased with sacrifices, or I would bring them. If I brought you a burnt offering, you would not accept it. The sacrifice you want is a broken spirit. A broken and repentant heart, O God, you will not despise."

God isn't impressed with our sacrifices, with the things we bring to the table, whether those be abilities, possessions, etc. All He desires from us is a broken spirit and a contrite heart.

Am I willing to give that to Him? To be like Gideon? To be like a broken horse?

The good news is, the story doesn't end with us being in a place of brokeness. God is looking for individuals who are willing to lay down their own agendas in order to plug into his infinite power. When the Master commands, this individual will obey. God is searching for people who have humbled themselves and are willing to be broken for Him. It is these that God will be able to depend on for His toughest battles and His most glorious victories.

I pray I will be willing to be one of those people.

Without Further Ado...

2009-11-10T20:59:00.020-06:00

As you have probably noticed, the blog has taken a bit of a backseat for the last month or so.

Turns out, my boyfriend entertains me a lot more than anything I have to say.* That's right! Boyfriend! I'm glad Atlanta doesn't have a high pig population because I'm pretty sure my squeal when I say that would attract every hog in a 20-mile radius.
*(Proof that anything is possible?)

Before you assume I'm getting carried away, let me assure you... I am. But he deserves it. His name is Thomas Matthew Palmer, and he's amazing. Also, awesome, fascinating, incredible, marvelous, wonderful. (Yes, I just pasted all the synonyms for "amazing" from Thesaurus.com. I can't help that they all fit.)

He's the youth pastor and media guy here at the Dream Center where I'm working. He has a heart for God that challenges me everyday, and when he's around, I rarely stop laughing. He's blue-eyed, freckled, and is honestly the coolest person I've ever met. Besides my parents.

And, it's funny, because before I came here, everyone kept telling me, “Maybe you're going to Atlanta to meet ‘him.’” Ya know, "THE ONE." I responded that I was going for ministry and nothing else. I was on a dating hiatus and still had some unhealthy attachments to let go of.

Sitting here, thinking aloud, the expression, “Let go, and let God,” just came to mind. When I finally stopped trying to force my hand in the direction I thought was best for me, God had His way, which turned out to be infinitely more awesome. Yesterday, one of the Master's Commission students said something that really resonated with me: "God isn't interested in living your life with you. He wants you to live His life with Him." How true it is. Following God isn't about having your own plans and thoughts and letting God in on those, it's about laying all of those things down and grasping onto His plans and thoughts in order to live the life He has called you to.

And, from experience, I know there is no better life than that. Since moving to Atlanta, He has opened up a whole new life before me, which I guess would be the time to announce that I am in Atlanta to stay!!!

Originally, I committed to a four-month term. I figured I would move on in January, but God had other ideas. The fact that I have found the man I am going to marry here helps, but even before ever talking with Tom, I knew my time in Atlanta was going to extend far beyond December.

Coming to that realization rocked me. It was another Pivotal Life Moment, for you long-time readers. I wrestled with it. I had a deep and overwhelming sense that this decision would change the rest of my life. And, yet, there was an inner-knowing that I couldn't make any other decision and remain in peace.

A few days ago, I was telling HotMES (who has a great piece up about the sniper death sentence) that my idea of “success” has been destroyed in the last couple of weeks. I used to want to live in the spotlight: have my name on a masthead under "Editor-in-Chief," live in a pretty high-rise apartment, and see and be seen at fancy cocktail parties. I wanted to be somebody, and that's what I thought signified you had arrived. Since, however, I've realized that scenario involves years of chasing the wind or climbing one rung after the next on a never-ending ladder.

And, then, you die.

Sounds depressing, but isn't that the American dream without the spitshine and white picket fence? Reaching a new level of success, in whatever form that is to you, in order to be satisfied for .3 seconds before feeling the pressure to begin striving again for that next level. In this process, true satisfaction always alludes, tempting its followers farther on until the end when their years have been spent and it is permanently beyond their reach.

Here at the Dream Center, people aren’t what the average person would consider “successful.” They don't have a list of degrees and credentials, they will probably never have many material possessions, and no one outside of a 20-mile radius may ever hear their names. But their lives are fulfilled, and they are content.

I know the feeling. I have so much less "going for me" here than I ever had anywhere else, but I've never been more satisfied in my life. The verse, "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee," comes to mind. Don't get me wrong, people in ministry aren't immune to being sidetracked by, at the risk of sounding uber-religious, things of the world. But though the sidetracking does occur, it doesn't seem able to gain control like it did when I was living a "regular" life.

A successful career and material possessions may still appeal to some part of me, but I'm not willing to spend my life pursuing those things, as they are, in the end, just things. Satisfaction isn't something I'm always seeking here; it's something I rest in everyday.

What an incredible gift. I pray the same for you.

Life with God is good in the ghetto.

UPDATE!!!!

2009-11-08T22:00:00.002-06:00

Coming soon...

Hah, a little bit of a letdown, I know, but stay tuned. I'll have a lot coming your way tomorrow.

Reality Check

2009-10-18T19:42:00.015-05:00

"F*** you, ho."

Those are pretty harsh words.

Imagine someone screaming them in your face.

You'd probably be angry, offended, maybe even tempted to yell back.

Now, imagine that someone yelling is a seven-year-old.

Changes things, right? It did for me.

A little boy yelled those words at me today just before saying, "I'm gunna have my dad shoot you," and just after kicking me... a lot.

I don't want it to sound like I'm complaining. I'm not. Watching a child act that way leaves no room for anger--only a weird kind of shock that gives way to sadness. Seeing the intense hatred and hurt flow out of him was a reality check for me.

Working in ministry, it's easy to get caught up in the idea that these kids need more programs, more activities, more stuff. But the truth is that none of those things can change lives. Only through the power of Jesus and His love expressed through individuals can hardened hearts like those of the little boy be softened and changed. So, here's to my getting back to basics in my mind.

I don't know the little boy's name, but pray for him with me that his life would be marked by love not hate, joy rather than hurt, and triumph instead of tragedy.

Question of the Night

2009-10-02T09:59:00.012-05:00

Each evening, while lying in bed, I ask myself a question about life. It usually involves the state of the world and my purpose in it, why I haven't purchased toilet paper in over three weeks, or how guilty I should feel after eating seven chocolate chip cookies in a row.

Last night, I wondered all of those things and something a little ... different:

"On a scale of 1 to 10, what is the appropriate freak-out factor for someone who has just discovered rat poop in their bed?"

This, unfortunately, was not a hypothetical question ....

Life is good (and gross) in the ghetto.

Promises

2009-09-26T22:38:00.008-05:00

Much as I love it, this place isn't so great for my ego.

Five-year-old girl to me today: "You're the very best lady ever."

On a more serious note, her name was Olliyah and her words meant all the more to me after she told me her mom "lived in the sky, up in heaven."

The dad, Walter, takes care of Olliyah and her two older brothers. They're the kind of kids that may live in bad surroundings but the surroundings don't live in them. They were quality kids, and stole my heart from the minute I knocked on their door and met them this morning.

After inviting them to the Braves baseball game we're taking 75 kids to Tuesday (I think I'm more excited than the kids), I told them they should come ride the big white bus with me to church tomorrow morning. (I do bus ministry every Sunday a.m.)

Just before I left, the youngest boy, Jaharra, said, "Now, you'll really be there tomorrow, right? Because you shouldn't make promises you aren't going to keep." He didn't say it in a bratty, know-it-all way, but more like he was asking to guard himself against a promise that might not be kept. He's probably used to too many promises that don't ever come through.

It reminded me of the first little girl I ever met on bus route. (The same little girl who first started labeling me "barbie doll." It's stuck.) Within a moment of meeting her, she admired my necklace and asked if I could bring her a bracelet the next week.

The next week, she was the first one on the bus. She ran up to me and asked if I had her bracelet. I did. She looked up at me with the biggest smile I'd ever seen (I've since seen SO many of those precious smiles) and before throwing her arms around me said, "You remembered... You kept your promise!"

I will never make another promise to someone that I won't do everything in my power (and anyone else's power I can find) to keep.

Just as I expected, these kids are teaching me just as much and more than I could ever teach them.

How Many Stars?

2009-09-23T19:40:00.006-05:00

Me, telling the story of Abraham and Sarah to the kids today: "And God told Abram that someday his descendants would be as numerous as the stars. Have you ever looked up in the sky and tried to count the stars?!"

Little Boy: "Uh-huh. There are one-hundred-and-thirteen."

Me: "You think so? I think there are even more than that!"

Little Girl with an air of superiority: "Yeah. There's one-hundred-and-twenty."

Life is good in the ghetto.

How Much Do You Care?

2009-09-13T18:53:00.014-05:00

Welcome, Creative Minority readers!

"People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care." - John Maxwell

This is one of my mom's favorite quotes. She reminds me of it often, and today I found it to be true.

A man approached me while I was working at my new favorite haunt--a coffee shop filled with the liberal, hipster types. I never turn down a connection, so it wasn't long before we were discussing the plight of Atlanta's underprivileged. Naturally, the conversation took a political turn towards the different approaches of conservatives and liberals to help said group.

More than once, he referenced his belief that conservatives sit back in an arm-folded stance when it comes to reaching out to the underprivileged of society. He got that conservatives don't want government to intervene in aiding these groups, as a general rule, through welfare, health care, etc. My response: We believe it should be individuals and organizations that head up such efforts. His response: "But how many of them are actually doing that?"

It's a valid question.

How many conservatives believe that the federal government should have a limited role in caring for the "needs" of those who are not providing for themselves? Most of us, right? But like he said, are we willing to take an active role in helping these folks see how they can do it for themselves?

I hope so. As a conservative, I think it's a shame that it's the liberal-types who seem to have cornered the market on showing "compassion" towards the underprivileged. I hope that my generation of conservatives can alter that perspective. I think we can--one life at a time.

After sharing my story, he began telling me about a group he founded that could potentially help fund Metro Kidz. Whoa. Wait. A primarily-liberal group offering to fund a ministry-based outreach program? That's change I can believe in! And, it came about not because of my telling him how much I know--touting conservative policies, rhetoric, and such--but because he saw how much I cared.

I wonder how much more effectively we could all work together, if our starting point was showing others how much we cared rather than trying to prove how much we know?

Keep dreamin' those big dreams.

"You Got a Boyfriend?"

2009-08-29T18:54:00.004-05:00

I think it's about time I share an important announcement with you all: I have a new boyfriend.

He's smart, funny, and generally adorable. He's also 7.

It all started last Sunday when he asked me, "You got a boyfriend?"

Me: "I don't have a boyfriend. Boys have cooties."

Him: "Naw, you'se gotta have a boyfriend. He in jail, huh?"

Me: "No, really, I don't."

Him: "Well, can I be him?"

Me: "You got it."

Only thing is, I can't remember his name, which may set the relationship off to a rocky start. Fortunately, all hope is not lost: another boy predicted I would be married by next week. Stay tuned for further updates.

Update... Fo' Realz!

2009-08-28T13:37:00.036-05:00

Really, I'm not sure where to begin, which is odd. For a girl who grew up in white-washed suburbia, moving into what can be unequivocally classified as "the hood" should provide me with plenty of dramatic antidotes about being shocked as I picked up my first crack baggie, heard my first gun shot not meant for an inanimate object, saw my first crack whore (not the dolled-up kind you see in the movies), and lived in my first (former) crack house.

But, you know what, I'm not shocked. It feels like home. A dingy home with rats, a toilet that leaks about two gallons every couple hours, barred windows, and a general feeling of third-world squalor but home nonetheless.

I have many stories to tell, all of which I'm sure I'll share over time. But, for now, I'm offering you a few of the things I've learned about living in the ghetto:

1) Germaphobes need not apply. When I first arrived, everyone informed me a man had been shot and killed a few feet from my doorstep just a few days earlier. Then, they asked if I was scared. Nope. I wasn't scared of the violence in the ghetto, I was scared of something much worse: the dirt. I spent the first five hours after my arrival scrubbing down the kitchen. I lined the shelves with new shelf paper, cleaned the toaster cord, you name it, I did it. Then, I stood back and reviewed my work and realized it all looked ... exactly the same. For the first and only time, tears welled up in my eyes. I would have sunk to the floor in despair ... except for the fact that I refuse to touch the floor with anything but the bottom of my shoes.

Two weeks later, I'm still not accustomed to the living conditions, and, in a way, I hope I never will be, but you know what? I'm almost thankful for it. Almost. I interact with homeless folks everyday who don't have a house that can collect dirt, they don't have a toilet that leaks, and they don't have food in their kitchen cupboards that rats can nibble. Everything may not be perfect here, but everything is a blessing.

2) Your heart must be soft but unbreakable. There is an interesting paradox concerning what the condition of a person's heart must be here. You must be tender-hearted but not faint of heart. I see things everyday that touch my heart deeply, but I don't ever let them break my heart. The people here need love, not pity.

Take Mario, for instance. I begin everyday with a drive to "The Grey House," where I work. It's just a couple of blocks from where I live, and it's the gathering spot for all the folks in the neighborhood. When I arrive, Mario is always sitting on the front porch. He's a man who contracted AIDS as a young boy. From years of crack use, he has only a single tooth left, right in the front, which he shows with a big smile. He talks quickly and unintellegibly most of the time. But you know what I can always understand? "I'm feeling good." He begins every conversation with every person he meets by saying "I'm feeling good." His body is thin; he's wasting away with AIDS; he has no family that cares for him, but he always comes to church and he always "feels good." That touches my heart so deeply, but I can't let it break it. It's not easy.

3) If you ever have a chance to room with a black girl from London, do it. They make the coolest roommates ever.

3) You have to be flexible. I'm heading up what we'll call "business development" of MetroKidz, and there is A LOT to be done. So, I began my day yesterday with a plan. It was all mapped out. But, then, there was a knock at the door. It was Jay, a gentle-natured sixteen-year-old who needed a ride to school. He had missed the bus; it was pouring rain. He had a test that day, and his school was miles away. For a split second, I was annoyed. I had a list. I had things to do. Important things. Then, I realized, "What can be more important than serving others?" Off to school we went.

4) Doing God's work, doesn't double as spending time with God. At the Dream Center, we spend the bulk of our lives ministering to others. All day long, we work with the underprivileged, we provide them with food and clothes, we talk to them, we love on them. We do our best to provide them with anything they need, and we "do it as unto God not unto men." At Metro Kidz specifically, we plan Bible lessons in the morning and go over them with the kids during our Sidewalk Sunday school in the afternoon. But, I've learned quickly that all of this does not substitute as "God time."

Each one of us should be pouring out God's Word and love on those around us, no matter if we live in the ghetto of Atlanta or a Penthouse apartment in NYC. But you can't give away what you don't have. And, here, you can't front. Situations that require love, understanding, and patience are ever-present. If you aren't walking intimately with the only One who can fill you with those things, it will be obvious.

5) You have to keep a sense of humor. Taking yourself too seriously in the ghetto could get, well, seriously depressing.

6) Nothing is as fulfilling in life as a hug from a child. Every Sunday, I ride the bus with Pastor Paul to the housing projects. We pick up the kids and bring them to church. We have rules to keep the kids in order, but last Sunday, there was one boy, Reginald, who just wasn't having it. When I tried to settle him down, he folded his arms and scowled, refusing to make eye contact.

When we got into service, the unruliness continued. He knocked over chairs, kicked the walls, messed with the other kids, and caused a general ruckus. Every time I got close enough to tell him to settle down, he would scowl and run. Finally, I cornered him and sat him down next to me. He was too big to sit on my lap, so I physically held him down to keep him from bolting. I didn't reprimand him harshly. I corrected him gently, then rubbed his shoulders, told him I loved him, and asked him if everything was okay.

All he did was scowl. Still, no eye contact. Eventually, he wriggled loose.

Towards the end of the song service, I was standing up with my eyes closed, praying. All of a sudden, I felt small arms wrap around my waist. I thought maybe it was one of the little girls, who have all labeled me "barbie doll" despite my brunette hair. It wasn't. It was Reginald. That may very well have been the best hug I've ever gotten.

It's moments like that, that make every minute here worth it and keep me smiling ... despite the dirt.

Keep dreamin' those big dreams.

"What up" from Atlanta!

2009-08-18T10:31:00.006-05:00

Things have been flying fast and furious here, so haven't had time to update. Todays' my first "official" day with MetroKidz, and they've put me to work writing the newsletter! I'm excited to combine my two loves for the first time - writing and inner city kids! I'll update more soon with pictures and stories of the kids, the city, and our house mascot, "Little Man," a 12-inch-long rat.

Keep the inner city kids of Atlanta in your prayers and our team, too, as we reach out to them with the love of Jesus!

Keep dreamin' those big dreams.

Dream the Impossible Dream

2009-08-08T14:59:00.011-05:00

En route to Atlanta. (Finally!)

I don't have a lot of time to post, so I wanted to share my theme song of the last few months. At one point in my life, quitting my job to work with urban kids* would have seemed like nothing short of an impossible dream. Hah - actually, at an earlier point, it would have seemed more like a nightmare, but that's the kind of crazy awesome ride God will take you on when you give Him the keys to your life!

Listen to the lyrics and keep dreamin' those big dreams.

Take it away, Elvis:

*Story at the link at top right.

To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell
For a heavenly cause

And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest

Entitled to Succeed? Two letters: BS.

2009-08-02T18:55:00.020-05:00

And, I don't mean Bachelor of Science.

Trina Thompson must think we need further proof of our culture's gimme-gimme attitude. She's offered to be exhibit "A." The 27-year-old graduate of a school in the Bronx is suing her college for not doing enough to aid her post-graduation job search.

That's right. She is demanding a $70,000 tuition refund claiming her school's career center hasn't offered her "adequate job leads" since she received her degree in April. "They have not tried hard enough to help me," she moaned in her lawsuit, filed with the Bronx Supreme Court.

Newsflash, Ms. Thompson, it's not anyone else's responsibility to ensure your success, especially your college, post-graduation. It's your school's job to offer you a competitive education, feed you crappy cafeteria food, and keep you perpetually sleep-deprived for four years. At least those were the rules when I was an undergrad.

Maybe the rules have changed since then? Or, maybe I don't get the girl's beef because my school didn't even have a "career" center. Or, maybe I don't get it because my class schedule didn't include Bogus Lawsuits 101 or the Metaphysics of Whiners.

Hey, at least, those are two areas she seems to have excelled in.

Kid on Conservatism and Me on Cool

2009-07-30T03:30:00.042-05:00

I once read that it's always the truly cool people that tend to be fashionably late. The writer apparently has never met me. I'm never on time. (Ba-dum-cha!) But I make up for it by being self-effacing once I get there.

That's why it's appropriate that I'm five months behind on the Internet meme of a 13-year-old homeschooler explaining his views on conservatism. (Side note: I was also fashionably late on the definition of "Internet meme.") Being a homeschooler for ten years, I felt obligated to share, plus, coincidentally, the kid gave his speech at CPAC in February, where I happened to be. Why didn't I see it? I was--you guessed it--fashionably late that day. (For those who aren't up on their political conference lingo, your coolness factor just went up two points and CPAC stands for Conservative Political Action Conference.)**

Now, speaking of coolness factors, plain and simple, this kid hasn't got 'em. He's sharp–I can tell by his pointed head–but even at such a young age he typifies why the words "conservative" and "nerd" are as natural bedfellows as "politician" and "prostitute." It's too bad, really. Conservatives have got the force of logic and history on their side, but they all-to-often have the force of sweater vests, bow ties (Tucker Carlson, anyone?), and bowl cuts, too.

I've read Russell Kirk. I know that conservatism is rooted in hundreds of years of sound tradition and, by extension, the past, but that doesn't necessitate our leaders looking and sounding like they're stuck there, does it? (That's a rhetorical question.) In fact, I think conservatives have more of a need to present themselves with a modern edge on the surface to counterbalance the aged wisdom that lies at their core.

Just as the Evangelical church has updated its packaging to appeal to a modern culture yet retained its relevance with a tried-and-true Message, so too can conservatives revamp their image without sacrificing principles. Maybe the Republican members of Congress could start showing up fashionably late for their sessions and shimmy to their seats like these folks. (Late Internet meme #2 and fabulous wedding idea #1!)

Without further ado, partially because it's late but moreso because I'm beginning to sound too much like Meghan McCain for my own comfort, here's the video. Discuss.

_________________________________
**Clarification: my body was at CPAC, but my spirit had checked out after the 17th time I was asked, "What do YOU do?" In CPAC-speak, that means, "Why are you important in life, and why should I be talking to you instead of the 600 other schmos in the room?" Fortunately, the conversations didn't last long, likely owing as much to my answer as to the questioner's (correct) sense that I was visually imprinting a large "L" on their forehead as they explained how they were going to change the world ... by working at a non-profit.

Note:I've since reformed and now only visually stamp "Jesus Loves You" on people's foreheads while glazing over during conversation.

Science Says Women Are Getting Hotter

2009-07-27T19:07:00.010-05:00

While counting down the hours to the Bachelorette finale tonight (sure to be "the most dramatic rose ceremony" evah!), digging cookie dough out from under my toe nails (don't ask), and avoiding work like Barry O. avoids common sense (that is, uncommonly well), I came across this:

Psychologists believe women are becoming more attractive ... Men meanwhile apparently remain as aesthetically unappealing as their caveman ancestors. Read more: here.

Maybe we're getting hotter because of global warming? Either way, being on a year-long dating hiatus, I'll take my compliments where I can get 'em. Perhaps there will be more hiding in this bowl of cookie dough ...

Attitude Adjustment, Please!

2009-07-25T11:22:00.046-05:00

With the recent barrage of news on Obamacare, it's been tempting to give into the idea that the country's going to hell in a handbasket ... down the tubes ... on the fast-track to the crapper. Whatever vernacular you choose, you get the idea: All is not rosy.

But then you see this headline: Christian mother executed in N. Korea for distributing Bibles, and realize how fortunate you are to be in a country where news revolves around health care debates not martyrs.

I'm not saying it's wrong to lend your dissent to government. In fact, I think that's the primary way we can prevent headlines like the one above from becoming a reality here, too. What I am saying is let's keep things in perspective in the process. As we carry on a nation-wide dialogue over health care, as irksome as it is, we should be thankful that such a conversation can even happen.

A dear friend once explained it this way: when she's gridlocked in traffic and tempted to get impatient and angry, she remembers instead how thankful she is to have a car to be stuck in traffic in. That principle can be applied to just about everything we encounter in life. If you are mindful of it, you'll be amazed at how often it shifts your perspective.

I've already had to check myself today. I woke up this morning to the sound of my dad pounding nails into our roof that he's replacing. Less than pleasant at 8 a.m. on a Saturday, but I'm thankful there was a roof over my head to pound.

In other words, it's all in your approach. We can't always change our circumstances, but we can alter our attitudes. This morning, the mom who gave her life for her faith is my wake up call that I need to be mindful to do just that.

The world in two links.

2009-07-23T12:07:00.005-05:00

Remember those games you played as a child where you had to find "what's different" in each picture? Well, today we're going to play the grown-up version. After browsing news sites for the last hour, I have come to the conclusion that there are only two noteworthy things happening in the world, which can ironically be summed up in (almost) the same way:

A rump that's not too big...absurd eyelashes fluttering...long legs...and rubbery lips, from which dribbles a stream of thick cud.

A rump that's not too big...absurd eyelashes fluttering...long legs...and rubbery lips, from which dribbles a stream of slick crud.

Oh, I'm sorry, I thought God determined my gender.

2009-07-20T12:34:00.021-05:00

Welcome Instapundit readers!

Apparently, that job actually goes to Health and Human Services Secretary and Kansas Governor, Democrat Kathleen Sebelius. Via CNS News:

"The Senate Health, Education, Labor and Pensions (HELP) Committee’s health care legislation will give the Health and Human Services secretary the authority to develop 'standards of measuring gender'-- as opposed to using the traditional 'male' and 'female' categories."

Can't you just feel the ooze of political correctness? Not yet? Here's more from the World Health Organization:

"Sex refers to the biological and physiological characteristics that define men and women. Gender refers to the socially constructed roles, behaviors, activities, and attributes that a given society considers appropriate for men and women."

In other words, having woman parts doesn't actually make me a woman. I'll be waiting for Sebelius' approval on that, but in the meantime, why stop at gender? Let's take the no-objective-realities idea to its logical end and start declaring race and age classifications at will, too.

That way, if we Republicans have another old, white dude run for President in the next go-round, we could have Sebelius declare him a young, wise, ethnic woman first.

H/T: Villainous Company.

God, Guns, Guts, and CNN's Idiot Reporters

2009-07-19T20:37:00.031-05:00

Greetings, Instapundit readers!

"You don't have a problem with God, do ya?"

This is a question posed to CNN reporter Carol Costello during a recent interview with Mark Muller, a Missouri car dealer whose company is offering an unusual incentive: a free AK-47 with the purchase of a vehicle.

Thanks to Muller, we now know Costello doesn't have a problem with God. (She answered in the negative). We also know she's, for lack of a more dignified term--not because I can't think of one but because she doesn't deserve it--just plain dumb.

In CNN's true journalistic fashion, she throws in a requisite number of liberal jabs after screwing up her guest's name and before attempting to engage him in a theological battle of wits, asking "Would Jesus carry a gun?" Muller responds to her jabs and ludicrous questioning with the kind of down-home common sense that make me proud to be a Southerner. "No. They didn’t have guns back then, but I do believe He’d carry a sword if he needed it. But He was so powerful he didn’t need any weapon."

Frankly, I'm suprised that CNN even aired the clip. I'm sure they expected "country bumpkin" Muller to come out with the short end of the stick against "city slicker" Costello. What the producers didn't realize was that the stick was lodged so far up Ms. Costello's hind end that Muller wouldn't have had a shot at it ... not even with an AK-47.

But don't take my word for it. Watch for yourselves:

H/T: Newsbusters.

*Disclaimer: Dumb as they are, I still love liberals in an, as Ms. Costello would say, "WWJD" kind of way. And speaking of moronic liberals ...

Update:

At its own thread at Memorandum. Nice. Or, as Ms. Costello would expect me to say since I am a backwoods Southerner: golly gee whiz, neato.

Robert Stacy McCain over at American Spectator weighs in with the classic stupid is as stupid does argument, (especially when the “does” involves watching CNN).

Pundit and Pundette declares a winner, in case you didn't already know: “Neanderthal” American male: 1; Snotty common-senseless reporter: 0.

I have to say it, and I'm not sure why.

2009-07-16T00:48:00.019-05:00

After posting my vacation photos a few hours ago, I had no intention of blogging again for awhile, but I felt prompted to post about this so here goes:

Buying a ticket to see Bruno* is paying to grieve God's heart.

*The link includes a detailed, stomach-churning description of the movie. I glanced through it enough to get an idea of the content. If you're planning on seeing the movie, read through the description to be an informed consumer. You need to know what your money is supporting, and more importantly, the kind of material you are opening yourself up to.

As I type this, I'm sitting a few feet away from an antique wall hanging inherited from my Grandma that says, "Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God." The full verse in Ephesians 4:30 reads like this in the Amplified, "And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God [do not offend or vex or sadden Him], by Whom you were sealed (marked, branded as God's own, secured) for the day of redemption (of final deliverance through Christ from evil and the consequences of sin)."

In one sense, it's incredible to me that we finite human beings have the ability to grieve God's heart. In another, it's so clear: God gave His Son to secure not only eternal life but our ability to live a holy life, walking in victory over sin and the ways of the flesh. When He sees His children--those who claim to have accepted the work His Son did on the cross--opening their hearts to the wickedness and depravity of the world rather than seeking to "be holy as He is holy," it grieves Him. I can imagine Him saying with a crest-fallen look, "Is this, this what I sent my Son for?" as Christian after Christian settles into their theater seats to watch Bruno.

I may get angry comments about how I'm judging, moralizing, etc. and please understand that is not my intention or my heart. I type this with tears in my eyes, knowing that I have friends who will choose (and have chosen) to watch this immorality in action on Saturday night and wake up the next morning to attend church service. The verse that comes to mind for me is James 4:8, "Purify your hearts, ye double minded."

Those that can indulge their senses in the corruption and filthiness of the world and movies like Bruno without remorse one day and yet claim to know God the next, those are the double-minded. It grieves God's heart, and it grieves mine because I know they are either wilfully or ignorantly rejecting God's command for their Christian walk in order to fulfill their own want of temporary amusement. Ultimately, there is no true satisfaction, only sadness and destruction, at the end of this choice. (I've been there. I know. But, praise the Lord, I'm not there anymore!)

Consider the words of Psalm 101:3: "I will set no wicked thing before mine eyes: I hate the work of them that turn aside; it shall not cleave to me." And, the oft-quoted Philippians 4:8: "Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things."

Does choosing to "entertain" yourself by attending a movie like Bruno fit the criteria of the above verses? (If you have any doubt, clink the link at the top of the post. Also note that an entire country, Ukraine, just banned the movie, stating it was "immoral.")

I have heard Christians describe this movie as "hilarious." But is something really funny if it's grieving God's heart? That's a serious, serious assertion to make. So serious I doubt any Christian would dare to actually make it in so many words. But individual after individual are choosing to make the statement with their actions when they purchase a ticket to Bruno (and movies like it) and add their implicit approval with laughter. It's a statement I wouldn't care to account for on judgment day.

Please understand, this isn't just a tirade against Bruno. It has much broader ramifications that extend generally to a Christian's entertainment choices and even more generally to the state of a believer's heart and spiritual health. I prayed a few months ago that God would give me a tender heart towards Him. That He would make me sensitive to how things made Him feel--not how they made me feel.

This hit home with my blog. A few months ago, I was writing some things that were "funny" to me, but they were in direct contradiction to Ephesians 5:48, "Let there be no filthiness (obscenity, indecency) nor foolish and sinful (silly and corrupt) talk, nor coarse jesting, which are not fitting or becoming; but instead voice your thankfulness [to God]."

My coarse talk, the off-color topics, those things "vexed" and "saddened" the Holy Spirit. Yikes. As loyal readers will have noticed, my blog has changed. Is it as "funny"? Nope. Is God happier about that? I think so. I think He was happy, too, when I bulldozed through my movie collection a few weeks ago. All of my favorites--gangster films-- they're gone. My favorite Dave Chapelle stand-up routine? History.

I tell you that not because I want you all to conclude, "Hey, look at how holy she thinks she is!" It's so that you know I'm not just blowing smoke with words here. I'm living what I'm talking. I have an intimate understanding of what pursing God and holiness with all you've got can do to a person's life: It can 180 your direction. I'm living proof.

If you're considering seeing Bruno, you may be tempted to write off everything that I'm saying as moral proseltyzing. Maybe that would make you feel better, but if you claim to have given your heart to Jesus, then you are, as I Corinthians 6:19 says, the "temple of the Holy Ghost." When you pay your $12 for a two hour verbal and visual barage of graphic sexual perversion, obscenities, and a mockery of all that is right, just remember you're not alone.

The Holy Spirit will be walking into that theater with you. And, while you're laughing, He will be grieving.

If even one Christian reading this realizes the tragedy of exposing their heart, mind, and the Spirit that lives within them to moral degradation under the pretense of "entertainment" (not to mention wasting precious time and resources), then the hour of sleep I just lost will be worth it.

Of course, I'll never know who reads this or what they choose to do. But God will. And, in the end, that's all that really matters.

Vacation Photos!

2009-07-15T22:36:00.046-05:00

Because I'm convinced that blogging during vacation ranks with the cardinal sins, I'm going to "tide" you over with a few pictures I took yesterday of California's coast. (Haha.)

Despite growing up hours from where these photos were taken, I'd never seen these views. In fact, until now, Italy's Amalfi coast was my favorite seaside spot. Turns out, equally stunning scenes were practically in my own backyard. (Isn't it always that way? You'll tour another state or country sooner than you explore your own. So silly.)

I'm glad I finally made the trip. If you're ever in California, make sure you do, too! For now, enjoy vacationing vicariously through a few of my photos.

Sandy feet make me happy. An actual conversation with my mom regarding this photo? Not so much. "Wow, Mom, why do I look so fat here?" "Well, honey, because you are, of course." Nothing like a little brutal honesty to jumpstart that summer diet plan. Thanks, mom.

Maybe if I had to fight tourists for my food, I'd be as thin as this squirrel. Hand-feeding the squirrel Wheat Thins (reduced-fat!) might have been the highlight of my trip. Not getting rabies from hand-feeding the squirrel equally awesome.

I love old people, almost as much as I love squirrels. Especially adorable ones like these who wear straw hats, carry canes, and speak with British accents. (Old men in sweater vests may trump even the squirrels. Take note future husband of mine, if you ever discover this blog.)

If there's anything that makes the ocean better, it's flowers. Actually, flowers make most anything better. (Second helpful hint to future husband.)

Love the dark silhouette of the trees against the blue. I plan to recreate this in oil pastels one of these days...

And, finally, my favorite:

This picture doesn't do this scene justice. Absolutely breathtaking. If you look closely, you'll see a natural waterfall pouring onto the shore on the upper left hand side. It was much larger in person. Ironically, I wrote about this scene last summer for Coastal Living, without having seen it. I now feel the need to apologize to nature for my sorely lacking description.

That's all for the moment. Now back to my regularly scheduled vacation.

"He's a communist."

2009-07-12T00:22:00.013-05:00

That, apparently, is the answer to the question, "What does my dog have in common with Fidel Castro?"

Inquiring after the qualities my dog shares with world leaders isn't something I do often. Or ever, until now, although that might make for an entertaining blog post when both you and I are either very drunk (which is never for me) or very bored (which is obviously right now for you).

While getting ready to hit the road tomorrow morning for what I expect to be an awesome road trip up the Pacific Coast Highway, I began to worry about leaving my Havanese, Buddy, outside. His breed is sometimes described as "velcro," meaning he rarely leaves my side, and, therefore, never ventures out of doors during the heat of the day.

Worried for his life (and my own considering California's hopped-up animal cruelty laws that include allowing your animals to die from heat exhaustion*), I began researching the Havanese' ability to withstand heat.

Turns out, they hail from Cuba, originally bred to be the lap dog of kings. (I decided this was fitting.) As such, they are supposed to be stalwarts again tropical heat. I relayed the information to my father sitting nearby, who isn't exactly thrilled about the reality of inheriting a "grand dog" for the next six months while I'm in Atlanta. Especially a grand dog that likes to ~~snap at his hands~~ reward him with love bites when he tries to pet him.

My dad's response went like this:

"Hmmph. The dog's from Cuba? No wonder he's weird. He's a communist."

So, I'll be on the road (again) for the next few days, but I'll be leaving my little communist behind. Hopefully, I don't return to find that he has taken over a small country or become Obama's new mentor.**

*For the record, as progressive as it sounds, this conservative animal-loving girl is all for tight animal-cruelty laws. And, for those of you concerned, Buddy's not really going to die. Unless maybe there's a proletariat uprising.

**So what if I'm 18-months behind on the news cycle? I've got a life to live, folks.

You mean like VACA?

2009-07-08T14:17:00.014-05:00

For all of you non-Legally Blonde fans, the title means "I'm like totally on vacation in California! /insert vacuous giggle/." (When in Rome...)

I've been doing the requisite summer thing: sun, bathing suits and drinking ... it all in. (Not the other kind. I've reformed.) I've also been doing the writer's thing: having the classic dilemma of so much to say and so little motivation to say it.

Why am I not motivated? Possibly because it's glorious out by my pool and I prefer the glow of the sun to the glow of my computer screen. Or, more possibly, because I don't get paid for this, (which is usually the writer's second classic dilemma.)

Fortunately, I have some great editors that actually give me money to do what I love. I realize it's hard for some of you to believe I get paid to write. It's hard for me to believe, too. That's why I keep an online portfolio - for self-validation. In fact, I just updated my portfolio with some new magazines and stories, so while I'm not posting and you're not reading my writing here, click the link to not read my writing there instead.

And, hey, I might as well put a plug in while I have your attention. If any of you know of a great house you'd like me to pitch to one of my magazines or have some other rad story idea, send it on over to my email.

Happy summer.

PS- Since I've reformed, go drink a pina colada for me. (Actually, I'd prefer a Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, the "alternate" version." At least it has a Bible name, right?)

PS 2 - Note the new "summer" profile pic!

It's a Small, Wonderful, Creepy World. Tales from the Road.

2009-07-02T00:22:00.026-05:00

Greetings from [undisclosed location].* I'm near old Route 66, en route to California, and having the most glorious time of my life. I've spent all day with my windows down, my radio up, and my "free spirit setting" on high.

I have no schedule, no itinerary. I call locals at random restaurants, police stations, hotels, and visitor's centers to ask what I should see as I pass through their cities. Then, I stop at anything (and everything) that I think I may want to tell my grandkids about some day. (I've done the World's Largest Cross, National Route 66 Museum, and the Oklahoma Riverwalk just today!) Of course, by that time, it will sound much more precarious (and more awesome) than it actually is: "When I was a young whippersnapper like you, I had to ~~walk two-feet in the sun to buy a snowcone at a roadside stand from a native American with a mohawk~~ run two-miles-in-the-snow in the middle of summer while being chased by an Indian with a tomahawk. D'ja hear that kids? A tomahawk! In the snow!

Uh, where was I? Oh, right, the undisclosed location wandering around aimlessly and talking with random locals. I have met some great people out on the road today, but it's funny, the one questionable person I met was from back home. (It's California. Why am I even surprised?)

I had stopped at a Wal-Mart to pick up dog food around 11 p.m. It was an ... ethnic ... part of town. I'm not judgin'. I'm just sayin'. As I stood in the checkout line, the Mexican man in front of me answered his phone and spoke English, which somewhat allayed my fears that 1) I had actually taken a wrong turn in Texas and ended up in Mexico or 2) they had moved the border. His conversation went like this, "Hey, dude, I'm in Texas. Yeah, Texas, dude." In other (less slang-y) words, the stranger I happened to be right behind in the Little Mexico Wal-Mart also wasn't from Texas.

How random, I thought. I struck up a conversation. I shouldn't have.

Me: I gather you're not from around here either.
Wal-Mart Creeper: Naw. You're not from here?
Me: No. I'm just traveling through.
W. Creeper.: I'm from Los Angeles, on my way back there now. Where're you headed?
Me: How crazy! I'm from an hour east of LA, and headed back! Small world, isn't it?
W. Creeper: Are you traveling alone?
Me, now realizing the guy is a creeper but still not willing to lie: Yes, well, with my dog. (It occurred to me later I should have said, "No, Jesus is always with me." I'll use it on the next one. There's always a next one).
W. Creeper: Where you staying at?
Me (thankful that my procrastination habit was finally good for something): I have no idea. I haven't picked a place yet.
W. Creeper: Oh yeah? Well, I'm up at the Motel 6 right around the corner. Nice place.

After that, nothing more needed to be said. Of course, there was more said. He went on to introduce himself as Daniel, at which point I squelched an urge to tell him I hoped he got lost on the way back to the Motel 6 and found himself in a ... lion's den.

As long as we're on the topic of road trips and Bible-references (you thought you'd escaped them for a post! *Cue losing sound from game show*), you've got to read this story. Not long ago, a Florida man went on a cross country journey--in a covered-wagon. Why? Read the whole story:
Man, Mules, and a Message.

These words appear at the end of the story. I couldn't think of a better note to end the day:

“A trip ends. But a journey goes on forever. It’s all about an eternity with Jesus. I will continue this journey until I die, telling other people about Jesus.”

*My mother fears I have blog stalkers who may try to kidnap me en route to California. I tell her that she doesn't need to worry--even if they did take me, it wouldn't be long before they'd realize the mistake and put me back.

Lessons in Love from Mark Sanford

2009-06-29T13:21:00.018-05:00

Unless you live in a bubble (and sometimes I wish I did), you’ll know that there are two things going on in the world right now. And, only two, judging from national news coverage: Michael Jackson is dead and Mark Sanford wishes he was.

Like the rest of America, I’ve got a penchant for scandal and voyeurism that I make a general effort not to indulge. Still, in a moment of weakness last night, I found myself reading through the exchange of emails released by the government between Sanford and his lover “Maria.” For the most part, reading them was like watching a train wreck, a rubber-necker’s delight: tragic yet titillating.

Having the requisite amount of star-crossed references and drooling over each other’s “glorious” qualities, they were run-of-the-mill as love letters go. (Or, at least as I imagine they go: I also seem to have a penchant for Northern men who aren’t “good with words.” At least the sappy kind). Run of the mill, that is, until I got to this paragraph by Sanford, which I had to re-read a few times to make sure my spiritual side wasn’t taking over and interjecting Bible verses where there was actually some illicit, scandalous phrase:

“I looked to where I often look for advice and counsel, and in I Corinthians 13 it simply says that, 'Love is patient and kind, love is not jealous or boastful, it is not arrogant or rude, Love does not insist on its own way, it is not irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice in the wrong, but rejoices in the right, Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things and endures all things'.

In this regard it is action that goes well beyond the emotion of today or tomorrow and in this light I want to look for ways to show love in helping you to live a better — not more complicated life. I want to help (one of Maria’s sons) with film guys that might help his career, etc.”

Right. So, the guy is quoting Scripture and talking about what true love means to the woman he’s having an illicit affair with while his wife and sons are probably hanging out in the next room talking about what a great guy dad is. The irony is almost too much. Before getting to the end of the paragraph, I had already picked up my first figurative stone and was ready to cast away … when it hit me:

I’ve been rather Sanford-esque in my own life. And, recently.

No, I’m not about to admit to having an affair with an Argentinean named “Maria.” (While I'm known to have a propensity towards ethnic types, I hope, if I were to admit to such an affair, my lover's name would be “Mario” instead.) What I realized is that, to borrow a colloquialism, Sanford, like myself, was unable to see the forest for the trees.

He was determined to show “love” to this woman on another continent, presumably by directing the traits of 1 Corinthians 13 towards her and making her life “better," but while he talked of doing so, he was failing miserably at loving the woman in his own backyard.

Seems awful, right? But how often have I been willing to show “love” to those who aren’t close to me, while acting badger-like to those in my own backyard? For Sanford, I venture that it was easier for him to love “Maria” than his wife, as he had not had to live through the real world ups-and-down with her that magnify flaws and exacerbate tension. It’s easy to point out his hang-ups, think “I would never do something like he did,” and revel in the fact that at least if our lives aren’t perfect we’re not as bad as the next guy, especially when that next guy happens to be a governor. But while the temptation for that was there, I had to ask myself, “What about me?” Have I been guilty of the same thing, if not in practice at least in principle?

It seems I have been, and just this week.

As regular readers know, I spent the last week in Pennsylvania with family at my grandmother’s funeral. I drove up from Alabama with my sister and brother-in-law. (For anyone looking for a great recipe for civil unrest—three people with vastly different personalities spending twenty-eight hours straight in a 10-by-6 compartment is a great one.)

To say the least, my love fountain wasn’t exactly overflowing. And, it surprised me. I’m quick to share care and concern for random people I come into contact with at the grocery store, gym, etc., and I can’t wait to begin sharing in the lives and showing love to the kids in inner city Atlanta. But, stick me in a car with my sister and brother-in-law and suddenly it seems like someone has pulled the plug on my love generator.

I can imagine that’s something how Sanford felt. (Yes, I realize there are deeper issues of marriage, infidelity, etc, but I’m focusing on this one principle). It was easy for him to show “love” towards Maria but not as easy for him to show love towards those at home who likely tested his patience and ruffled his feathers.

I still feel mildly ashamed for having spent valuable time reading through his emails, but at least I was able to glean a life principle from the philandering governor. First Corinthians 13, isn’t about us just showing love towards those it is easy for us to love, it’s also about loving those in our own backyard (or in my case, front seat) who are usually harder to love.

Another life principle: if I ever have a love affair with that Argentinean named Mario, it will be only carrier pigeons and message-filled bottles for me.

Pray for Me

2009-06-20T15:06:00.010-05:00

Hi y'all,
This a personal request for prayer. Mostly that I don't kill myself in the next 24-hours or end up bald from having pulled out all of my hair. Without indulging my hyperbolic tendencies, I can say I'm more stressed right now than I've been in all my 23 years ... combined.

So, why in the heck am I blogging, you ask? Great question. Darned if I know. Maybe I'm just a sucker for punishment so I'm wasting precious minutes procastinating. Maybe there's something cathartic about getting all down in writing. Or, maybe I just feel like whining. Take your pick.

I've been getting ready to move out of my apartment, packing up 23-years worth of crap (excuse my french, but sometimes there are no other words...actually, there are, but I dont use that kind of language anymore) and trying to figure out how to spread it across four states.

I am making a cross-country move back to California for a month, which I'm driving by myself from Alabama. Some of my things are going to Arkansas, where I'll be stopping to see family, some of it will stay in Birmingham with friends, some will go back to CA with my parents, and some of it will need to go to Atlanta where I'll be working with the urban ministry beginning in August. I was set to leave next Saturday.

All of this was overwhelming enough, until my 92-year-old grandma's funeral was added to the mix. She passed away yesterday to be with Jesus, so now rather than leaving next Saturday, I'm trying to get my apartment packed up and ready for inspection so I can get my $1200 deposit back by ... tomorrow.

Last-minute tickets are so dang expensive so I need to be out of here tomorrow so I can head to Arkansas and drive up to my grandma's funeral in Pennsylvania with my sister on Monday. All of that will save me about $500, but it's also costing me an entire week of packing time .... and my sanity. Part of me wonders if it's worth it, and the other (cheap) side of me knows it is.

So, all of this to say... HELP.

Prayers are awesome. I know they work. And, I need as many as I can get right now. Peace in the midst of the storm, a supernatural burst of energy, 16-extra hours in my day are all good ones.

Thanks to you all.

Bob Dylan: 'Cause I Believe in Him

2009-06-19T20:03:00.030-05:00

I've always thought of Bob Dylan as a drug-addled hippie--not exactly the type you'd think would be a source of spiritual inspiration and encouragement, right? But yesterday I came across the fact that Dylan became a Christian in the late 70's. Of course, there is talk of whether or not his conversion was lasting, etc. That's not for me to judge.

What struck me was his willingness to share his newfound faith after his conversion. He released three gospel albums that are still popular among black gospel artists. (I'm a huge fan of black gospel so I thought this short documentary on the ties between the genre and Dylan was fascinating.) Too, for some time, he refused to perform his secular songs, saying in the trailer of the documentary Inside Bob Dylan's Jesus Years: Busy Being Born ... Again: "The old stuff's not going to save them," meaning, of course, his audience. Ironically, the trailer shows some of that audience walking out of his shows, blasting his gospel repertoire, saying they could have gone to church if they wanted to hear about "that."

I think that was the point for Dylan. He knew that most of his audience would probably never darken the door of a church. He recognized the opportunity he had to reach the un-reached. He used his platform to share what God had done in his life with an audience who recognized him as a poster boy for the rebellious, drug-using, free-loving spirit of their generation, an audience who had heard him paint pictures of a world that was gray, without meaning or hope. All of a sudden he was sharing a concrete vision of a world ruled by God and thought-provoking messages like "You've Gotta Serve Somebody."

It's easy to think of famous figures in an abstract sense, divorced from normal human emotion. But thinking through the courage it took for Dylan to do what he did—proclaim Christ to a generation who knew his "dirt"—inspired me. How many times have I've been timid to share my love for my God with those who know my "dirt" because I thought they would doubt my sincerity? Too many. They did that to Dylan, but he shared the gospel anyway. He faced ridicule and his crowds dwindled, but he must have known this one thing:

But whoever denies and disowns Me before men, I also will deny and disown him before My Father Who is in heaven. - Matthew 10:33

The Message version reads this way:

Stand up for me against world opinion and I'll stand up for you before my Father in heaven.
I like that phrasing because it shows the battle that is taking place when we speak the things of God. We are not just proclaiming Him in a moral and spiritual vacuum. We are doing so in a world that is controlled by all that is the opposite of Him.

In meditating on this verse, it occurred to me that the things of God are the fruit of the Spirit - love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Like Dylan, we can stand up for Christ by proclaiming his message with our words, but when we choose to exhibit these characteristics with our very lives, we are also standing up for Him against world opinions.

When the world is distraught over the economy, we exude peace and joy. Where there is strife and dissension, we are marked by patience and kindness. Where there are harsh dealings and judgment, we speak gentleness. Where there is indulging of the flesh, we show self-control.

Standing up for God isn't just throwing a little "Hallelujah, praise Jesus!" into our conversations every now and again. It's letting Him live through us - in our words and actions. As the apostle Paul wrote to the believers at Thessalonica:

“Our gospel did not come to you in word only, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction; just as you know what kind of men we proved to be among you for your sake.” - 1 Thessalonians 1:5

In other words, it wasn't just the words they were speaking it was how they were speaking them—with power and in the Holy Spirit with full conviction—and how they were living—what kind of men they had proved to be. Standing up for Him is a three-pronged act that involves 1) the words we speak 2) how we speak them and 3) who we are.

I don't know enough of Bob Dylan's life to know whether he fulfilled all three prongs. I hope so. What I do know is that he didn't let his past stop him from sharing his eternal future. The song he wrote entitled "I Believe in You" explains what it meant for Dylan to stand up for Him. He faced some heavy consequences, but he cared more about what God thought of him than what his audience thought of him.

As you read these lyrics, ask yourself, "What is different about my life 'cause I believe in Him'? Has believing changed the words I speak, how I speak them, and who I really am?"

They ask me how I feel
And if my love is real
And how I know I'll make it through
And they, they look at me and frown
They'd like to drive me from this town
They don't want me around'
Cause I believe in you.

They show me to the door
They say don't come back no more'
Cause I don't be like they'd like me to
And I, I walk out on my own
A thousand miles from home
But I don't feel alone'
Cause I believe in you.

I believe in you even through the tears and the laughter
I believe in you even though we be apart
I believe in you even on the morning after
Oh, when the dawn is nearing
Oh, when the night is disappearing
Oh, this feeling is still here in my heart.

Don't let me drift too far
Keep me where you are
Where I will always be renewed
And that which you've given me today
Is worth more than I could pay
And no matter what they say
I believe in you.

I believe in you when winter turn to summer
I believe in you when white turn to black
I believe in you even though I be outnumbered
Oh, though the earth may shake me
Oh, though my friends forsake me
Oh, even that couldn't make me go back.

Don't let me change my heart
Keep me set apart
From all the plans they do pursue
And I, I don't mind the pain
Don't mind the driving rain
I know I will sustain'
Cause I believe in you.
- Bob Dylan

Because I've never been able to wrap my head around what made Dylan popular (I've heard my dog make better noises when I step on his tail), I prefer reading the lyrics, but if you like his sound, here's the video:

Finding Your Place of Destiny

2009-06-17T13:17:00.037-05:00

I want to share something a little different with you today. It’s a podcast of a message called “Finding Your Place of Destiny” by Jentezen Franklin. I’ve listened to it five times (I’m listening again as I type this) since yesterday afternoon. No, I’m not that bored, it’s that good. If you are struggling to determine your next step in life, or especially if you're not and feeling comfortable where you’re at, you need to hear this message. If you have a son or daughter who is in high school or college, please share this with them, as well. Young people need to hear that God has plans - great big, awesome plans - for their lives beyond what they see if they'll just trust Him:

Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God has prepared for them that love him. (2 Cor. 2:9)
Trust me, I wouldn't suggest you listen to this message unless I felt compelled and thought it could have an eternal impact on your life. I value my time, and I value your time. I know everyone who reads this blog is busy, you come here to spend two or three minutes skimming through my writing. You weren’t preparing to spend 30 minutes listening to a sermon from some guy you’ve never heard of. But if you will spend that half an hour listening to his message, it may change the rest of your life.

I don’t believe I found this message by chance, and I don’t believe I feel the burden to share this with you by coincidence. I have listened to probably 20 messages in the past week, and this is the only one that I felt compelled to share. Do I think it was Divinely ordained that I hear this message? Absolutely. Maybe you, too, are divinely ordained to hear this. Please don’t pass up the opportunity.

I have been hearing messages in church since before I was born. Assuming I’d only heard one each week, I’ve heard well over 1200. (I’ve heard far more than that. We had camp-meeting last week and I heard just ten that week alone). Of all those messages I have heard, I have NEVER come across one that has impacted me like this one. If you want to know where I’m at in my life right now, listen to this message. I've listened to it with tears streaming down my face each time.

I had transcribed some of it, so I’m going to include parts of his message interspersed with some of my story below. Come and read through it afterwards, if you care to, but please, PLEASE don’t just read this in lieu of listening to the actual podcast.

Listen now.

No, really.

LISTEN NOW!

The five dynamics of finding your place of destiny, as told by Jentezen Franklin:

1) You must have the ability to hear God. You must have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ for Him to be able to speak to you. Fortunately, it's simple. All that is required is that you "confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus, and believe in your heart that God has raised him from the dead and thou shalt be saved." (Romans 10:9). Once you do this, then you will find the words of this old song true, “He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own.”

As you surrender your life to God, he will begin to speak to you and the Holy Spirit "will guide you into all truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come.” (John 16:13). Pastor Jentezen explains this verse in a way I had never thought of before. I won't tell you what he says. You've got to listen for yourself.

Franklin doesn’t mention this next verse, but it’s one that has meant so much over the past months as I am seeing my destiny unfold before my eyes:

“And your ears will hear a word behind you, saying, This is the way; walk in it, when you turn to the right hand and when you turn to the left.” (Isa. 30:21).
When I turned down a position in DC to volunteer with the kiddos in Atlanta instead, it didn’t make a lot of sense to anyone else, but I knew beyond the shadow of the doubt that I had heard a voice behind me leading me where to walk.

2) Not only do you have to hear His voice, you have to believe what you hear. When you hear His word, faith has to grab hold and you have to believe. “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.” You can’t second-guess God. When God speaks, the enemy will try to talk you out of that Word. The Bible says, "A double-minded man is unstable in all of his ways – let not that man think he shall receive anything from the Lord."

He will confirm what He’s told you. I know this for a fact. I have had confirmation after confirmation on my move to Atlanta to work with Metro Kidz. But it wasn’t like that at first. I had to turn down the job by faith. Then, the confirmation began to come.

Franklin offers this warning that made my blood run cold: it is possible to lose your destiny. You can lose your destiny by being comfortable, refusing to push forward out of your comfort zone. Or, it could be as a result of sin. If you think about it: Adam and Eve touched one thing - the forbidden fruit – and it destroyed their destiny. There is one thing for everyone – could be pornography, drugs, alcohol, even pride. There is one thing that the enemy knows you have a weakness in and he will try his best to tempt you with it and get you bound to it because it can cause you to miss out on your destiny.

I can identify with this firsthand. I know what my “one thing” is, and having laid that down over six months ago, I can clearly see how it was standing in the way of my moving towards my destiny. I’ll never go back.

3) For me, this was the most powerful concept of the five, probably because I recently lived through it. The third key to finding your destiny, is to go through a season of denunciation. This season is about moving out of the “safe” zone into the “faith” zone. (I did a post about venturing outside your comfort zone a few weeks back).

Franklin explains that sometimes, you have to denounce the present blessing to get to the future promise. This is a divine denunciation. It happens when you cry out to God, “My life is yours. Everything I have is yours, and whatever you want me to do I’m willing to do it, even if that means releasing some things. I’ll lay them down so that I might gain your eternal destiny for my life.”

All of the great figures in the Bible (he explains many of them), went through this season. Each of those figures had to take a step down in the flesh to take a step up in the kingdom.

I know how gut-wrenching this season can be. I had my season back in April when I layed down a job, a sure paycheck, doing what I had always wanted to do in order to give myself up to His plans . Now, I shudder to think of the direction my life would have taken if, in that moment, I hadn’t had the courage to make heed His call. I’ll warn you of this: when you tell God you’ll go where He wants you to go, you’ll do what He wants you to do, that everything you have is His, be ready for Him to act on your surrender. Don’t expect to say that, mean it, and have things stay the same. It just won’t happen. I’m living proof. And, I praise Him for that everyday.

4) The fourth step in reaching your place of destiny is having the courage to take the step towards it. A lot of folks talk about doing it, but few people have the courage to actually move forward. Most people want the full picture, all the answers, before they move on to the next thing. But if God has to give you every answer to every question you’ll never move any higher, you’ll never grow any further, you’re all you’ll ever be. Remember, you’re not doing it alone. “It’s not by might nor power but by my Spirit saith the Lord.” (Zech. 4:6).

I came to a point where I realized this a few weeks ago. I had been struggling under a burden of inadequacy. Feeling so incapable of doing what I know I’m going to be called to do in Atlanta – sharing hope and love with kids and adults as a full-time ministry. I thought, I’m not that naturally positive, I’m not that loving, I don’t have enough of my Bible memorized. I thought, “I haven’t been through the situations they have, how can I possible identify with them and encourage them?”

And, this is where I may lose some of you, but God spoke to me through two people at church recently. It was the end of service two Sunday’s ago. The man in front of me turned around and said, “I’m supposed to tell you that the Paraclete, The Helper, is coming with you on this journey. He’ll be walking right beside you.” I knew that was confirmation from God, as I had been praying for peace about the situation. Then, a few minutes later, my pastor’s wife came up to me and said “God wants me to tell you something. The Paraclete, the Helper, is coming with you through these next steps of your life.”

As much as I’ve read my Bible and been in church, I had never come across the word Paraclete. That was one way I knew it was God confirming Himself. The wording of both the man and the woman to me was nearly identical. Of course, now I know what the word means having looked it up. Paraclete is a reference to the Holy Spirit, specifically used to imply the meaning of “Helper” when accomplishing a task. Often, the Bible talks of the Holy Spirit as a “Comforter” to the Christian, but in this case, God spoke “Paraclete” to both of those individuals because He wanted me to know he would be my Helper. I wasn’t doing this alone. You can tell me all day long that was a coincidence. I know it was God.

A day or two later, he led me to this passage in II Corinthians 3: 5-6:

Not that we are fit (qualified and sufficient in ability) of ourselves to form personal judgments or to claim or count anything as coming from us, but our power and ability and sufficiency are from God. It is He who has qualified us (making us to be fit and worthy and sufficient) as ministers and dispensers of a new convenant of salvation through Christ..." (emphasis added mine).

As I mentioned earlier, when He gives you a word about your destiny, He will confirm what He’s told you. But it may take time. For me, I had to make the choice and move on faith. And, that took courage.

5) I have gone through the first four phases over the last few months. I heard Him. I believe what He told me. I went through the season of denunciation. I had the courage to take the steps forward. And now, I’m preparing to go through step five. This last key isn’t about reaching your destiny; it’s about staying focused on it. You do this by determining to focus on the promise and not the problems during the journey. He explains this in terms of Peter stepping out on the boat to walk on the water towards Jesus. It’s an awesome explanation, unlike any I’d heard before.

As he closes, Franklin captures my heart by reiterating the three words I’ve lived by since my dad began telling them to me 20 years ago: “Dream Big Dreams.” He says it this way: "Dream no small dreams for they stir not the hearts of men. The bigger the dream the more people want to get behind something. Opportunity is a visitor. Don’t assume it will be back again tomorrow. Move while the door is open."

The door opened for me. I’m heading to Atlanta in six weeks. It’s the beginning of my finding my place of destiny, and I pray (really, I do) that everyone who reads this will be spurred into seeking your place of destiny.

Hello? Taps Mike HELLO?

2009-06-15T20:20:00.041-05:00

Oh, there you are. All three of you.

As you may have noticed, I'm not too into the blogging thing lately. It's for some pretty heavy reasons - like God's wrecking my world in a really awesome way. I have stories upon stories to tell, and I'll probably share them on this blog some day of how God is moving and working in me and in so many lives around me. As a result, I can't in good conscience sow my time into things that won't have a lasting spiritual effect (i.e. my former bloggey nonsense). There are SO many people capable of writing about politics and random events of life much better than I ever could. That's not my gig. What I long to do is ... well, just keep reading.

The whole thing in Galatians 6:8 -- "For he who sows to his flesh will of the flesh reap corruption, but he who sows to the Spirit will of the Spirit reap everlasting life" -- really hit home with me this week. While thinkin' on that verse, I realized that only those thing that are of the spirit are eternal. Everything else in this life is "but a vapor."

Think about that.

What we spend 80 percent of our lives doing - the American dream of working our way up the corporate ladder so we can have better houses, better cars, etc - is all "but a vapor." Stops you in your tracks, right? It does me. Investing in things that are going to amount to nothing when I take my last breath is not what God's called us to do. At least, I know for danged sure it's not what He's called me to do.

What God's been pouring into my heart is that our time here is so short, so precious. I'm going to account to God for the time I've spent rambling on about silly things on this blog, talking about things that are neither "true, honest, just, pure, lovely, or of good report" (Phil. 4:8). (Newsflash, Clever S.Logan: God doesn't care if it was "funny at the time.") That's energy I could have put towards sharing the hope and peace that comes only from Him with a troubled world; energy I could have used to show love - the love of Jesus - with people craving to be noticed and loved by someone who truly cares; energy I could have used to share the gospel that will bring sinners down the narrow path of salvation.

Although I'll never get back those hours I've spent on here, it's not too late to change things up. And, I have. Y'all, I've given God the reins to my life. And, it's awesome. Although he's huge, he's the best jockey you'll find. He's directing my life in ways I never dreamed possible. He's given me a burden to share Him - with the big dude on the street corner wearing chains, the lady on the side of the road who had just gotten into an accident, with you on this blog, it doesn't matter. If they've got a soul, they're going to hear about Jesus from me or smell Him on me. I know what you're thinking "smell Him on you?" Sounds weird, I know, but check this out:

"For we are the sweet fragrance of Christ [which exhales] unto God, [discernable alike] among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing." - 2 Corinthians 2:15)

It's incredible that God entrusted US, as Christians, with the responsibility of being the fragrance of Christ, of emitting His love, joy, peace, hope, etc. everywhere we go. Makes you want to be sure you're smelling good all the time doesn't it?

I haven't always smelled good. (I still do have this sweating issue, but I digress). As some of you know, I grew up in church. I was the preacher's kid, which meant I was bound and determined to be as rebellious as possible. I lived some rough years, caused my parents a lot of heartache. Then, for awhile, I lived a "good, clean" life for the most part, but it was a life I was living for me. Everything I was sowing - my money, my time, my thought life - was for myself, not for Him. To advance my cause, not His Kingdom.

Things have changed. I sold out. Jesus isn't only my Savior; He's my Lord. I think it's weirding some people out who knew me before. They're not quite sure what to make of this "new" me, and you may not be either. But you know what? I don't care. I care more about what God thinks about me than what any person thinks about me for the first time in my life. As someone who was always concerned (read: borderline obsessed) with having everyone else's approval, it's a breakthrough that came straight from God. Let me tell you, the freedom is incredible.

I want to encourage everyone reading this in this one way - don't be discouraged. Your mind may be running through how far you feel from God, the laundry list of thou-shalt-nots you've committed, the lack of love you've shown to those around you, the lack of commitment and faithfulness to Him, how you've presented your body in every way but as a "living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God." (Romans 12:1.)

But, I'm living proof God can take what's wrong and make it right. He can restore what's broken with the "glue" that is His grace. All you have to do is surrender. And, when he puts you back together as a new creation, you won't be what you were before. He will have formed you for His purpose - to fulfill Matthew 22:37-40:

"Jesus said, "'Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence.' This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: 'Love others as well as you love yourself.' These two commands are pegs; everything in God's Law and the Prophets hangs from them."

Some of you may not know much about what God wants for your life, so let me share one of my favorite words of encouragement with you:

"I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for." - Jeremiah 29:11

The future I hope for is one in which God is able to use me to love on folks who need His love, share the light of truth with those in darkness, and ignite a passion and fire for Him in a generation of spiritually-starved young people.

He's got the path all planned out. He's my jockey. And, I'm looking forward to the ride.

Daily Dose of Butt-Sniffing

2009-06-08T10:45:00.030-05:00

Some of you may have noticed that my post frequency has plummeted in the last week (which, ironically is in direct proportion to my post quality. Sorry about that). I've been in a bit of a funk, having dropped my new cell phone in a cup of water last week. Okay, a bowl of water. Okay, a toilet. I'll spare you the details of whether or not it had been used. (It had.)

Being off my electronic leash for a few days, I now know how my dog, Buddy, feels when I let him loose in the park to wander. (And by wander, I mean "pee on and sniff everything in sight.") He feels cut off from the world and handicapped. He feels helpless and alone. He discovers that his thumbs are good for something besides sending intellectually-stimulating texts like, "Omg, the world's worst boob job is sitting next to me at the pool." (Actual example of text sent last week pre-toilet incident.) ... Or, maybe that's how I feel. Come to think of it, I'm sure how he feels can be summed up in five words: "Oh boy! Park! Squirrels! Butts!"

Of course, Buddy does the requisite amount of butt-sniffing while we're at the park. He's short, so the butt buffet is limited to small dogs and children. It was something I thought I should be mildly embarrassed about until I came across an article citing that America's Cesspool of Progressivism, Berkeley, CA, has commissioned an artist to the tune of $196,000 of taxpayer funds to make three "decorative medallions depicting dogs sniffing, dumping, and humping each other." Here's the least-offensive of the three medallions:

The artist says he's "showing what dogs do at the dog park." This begs the question: if we can see them doing it live for FREE why spend 200 grand to see them do it on a five-inch, yes, five-inch medallion? Of course, it begs the even bigger questions of why Berkeley exists and why I didn't take up medallion-making instead of writing.

On a related tangent, I also came across a brief Politico piece about Mary Matalin slobbering (figuratively) all over Dick Cheney's labs. The piece was titled "How Dogs and Politics Are Alike," so I was disappointed when I didn't find a single reference to butt-sniffing and a correlating picture. I thought a photo of Brian Williams going after Obama's behind might have been nice. He was already on the right level during his bow. That would have made his hero-worship complete.

You know what would make my hero worship of you complete? If you would vote for Buddy! I entered him in a weekly contest that offers cash prizes up to $250 for the picture with the most votes. If enough of you vote, I could buy a new cell phone and re-enter the land of the living, at which point I'll be more connected to the outside world, happier, and blog more. Everybody (mostly me) wins.

It may have been true at one time that a dog was man's best friend, but then they invented cell phones. If I can use one to get the other, so much the better. Help me win, and I promise to use my phone to post pictures of Buddy "doing what dogs do" in the park. Then, maybe I'll submit them to Berkeley. That should be worth at least one or two grand, right?

"A Very Nice Set of Tatas"

2009-06-06T22:23:00.012-05:00

As those who've met me (or spent more than 3 minutes on my blog) know, I'm a nerd. I love black and white television shows and make few colored exceptions. For the PC-minded among you, I do mean colored television, not the, uh, other kind of colored.

Thanks to some great parenting (and the fact that we were the only family in Southern California without cable), I grew up on shows like I Love Lucy, The Andy Griffith Show, and Leave It to Beaver: sitcoms made in an era when the new world's cheapest car made by India's Tata motors would have fit in the glove compartment of the Cadillac convertible the Ricardos drove to California.

I'm not alone in my appreciation of the good ol' days of television and particularly Beaver love. It seems Grandpa John has seen an episode or two. He's also heard about the new near-microscopic vehicles and offers this hilarious, spot-on scenario, "from the lost episodes":

Eddie Haskell at the Cleaver front door: 'Ding-dong'.

Mrs. Cleaver: "Why hello, Eddie. Wally's upstairs. He'll be right down. Did you see our two brand new cars in the driveway?"

Eddie: "Why yes, Mrs. Cleaver and I must say that you have a very nice set of Tatas."

I've got nothing to follow that, so go read more from Grandpa John. He's got some funny stuff A good sense of humor runs in his family.

Democrats = ?

2009-06-05T00:18:00.006-05:00

For the answer, watch the video. Bob Hope tellin' it like it is.

Venturing Outside Your Comfort Zone

2009-06-03T01:49:00.059-05:00

*Updated at the foot of the post.*

This post is different than anything I've put up in a while. I've been staying away from long-form writing, knowing most folks (i.e. myself) who browse the blogosphere have the attention spans of a housefly. Indulge me this once, if you will. As a reward, you may be inspired to do something completely ridiculous in the coming weeks. If you do, please come back and let me know so I can applaud your efforts ... or laugh ~~with~~ at you, as the situation warrants.

"We've got to leave everything on the floor. We can't take nothin' home with us."

Those were the words of a Boston Celtic's player (who missed the memo on double negatives in grammar school) during last year's NBA finals. The Celtics did indeed leave it all on the court and went home with the championship. A coincidence? Methinks not.

His advice isn't just relevant to ballerz. Swap out the basketball court with life in general and you've got yourself great words to live by. To have the best shot at success, you've got to put it all out there and hold nothing back. And why not? Like the man says, in the end, you can't take it with you.

For the past few months, I've been putting his advice into action: pursuing new experiences, new relationships, and new opportunities without abandon. Every night, I ask myself, "What did I learn today that I didn't know yesterday? In what ways am I better than I was the day before?" Sounds simple enough, right? It is, but how many of us can truly say we make a conscious effort to grow every single day? I know I didn't for years. It takes a commitment to move beyond your comfort zone. It doesn't come naturally.

Stretching yourself beyond your comfort zone—putting everything out there and leaving it on the floor, if you will—is a crucial part of personal growth. Of late, I have forced myself to do things that make me uncomfortable, nervous, even sick-to-my-stomach because I know in the end, I'll have broadened my life experiences and, at the very least, have a good story to tell.

Just this week, I've done everything from hip-hop dancing in front of a group of black youths to singing karaoke to doing an interview on a nationally-syndicated political radio show. (The radio interview taught me that much like some folks have a face for radio, I have a voice for print.) Those three things may not sound like much to someone else, but I've been painfully self-conscious about my dancing, singing, and public speaking skills (or lack thereof) for years. As a result, these are precisely the types of experiences I choose to pursue.

As a general rule, the value of moving out of your comfort zone probably won't be found in the act itself. (I don't intend to become a break dancer or the next singing sensation. I know. You're disappointed.) The value lies in the fact that you're pushing yourself outside of the box.

While I believe there is an additional benefit that comes from doing those things you dread the most, there can be value in most any new experience, whether it's using a new word, trying a new food, starting a new business, or talking to a stranger in line at Walmart. (Especially if that stranger turns out to be fabulously wealthy, goes home and stumbles across your blog, and overcome by a spirit of generosity, hits the "donate button" ... Oh, sorry, I must have been daydreaming for a minute.) The key is to take yourself off cruise control. Take the time to reflect on what you learned and how you can apply that knowledge to improve your future.

It's an obvious fact, but I'll state it anyway: everyone likes doing what they're already good at, and no one likes looking ridiculous. But it's the people who pursue life without abandon, leaving everything on the floor knowing they can take nothing home, who have no regrets. Having put it all out there, they never have to look back and wonder "What if?" Instead, they wonder "What if I don't?" To these types, the reality that who they are, what they love, what they're good at (and what they're not) may go forever unknown if they don't lay it all out is enough to make living through those first awkward moments of a new experience not just bearable but desirable.

I wonder how many of us have hidden gifts, passions, or purposes left unnoticed and unused because we haven't done the requisite legwork to discover them? How much untapped potential is lying dormant that could radically change our lives and the lives of those around us if we'd only venture beyond our limits and leave it all on the "floor"?

Just something to think about.

UPDATE:

Loyal readers (hi, mom!) know that HotMES and I have had our share of tiffs (jello-wrestling, anyone?), but we’re calling a truce, at least for now. HotMES agrees that life is much more awesome when you’re willing to take chances. She has a carpe diem approach to life which I think puts the “hot” in the “HotMES.” Read her thoughts here. All the cool kids are doing it.

Obama and Olbermann = Marx

2009-05-31T22:48:00.009-05:00

Equating the two with Karl Marx would be appropriate enough but too predictable. I'm going with the other Marx on this one: Groucho.

I'm old-school enough to know who Groucho Marx is (grew up watching "You Bet Your Life" when it still came on television), so I love this photo comparison of Groucho and Keith Olbermann.

Also worth a watch is this video of Obama. Set to a song from the Marx brothers' 1933 film, Duck Soup, which lampooned authoritarian governments (it was banned by Mussolini), it's both funny and depressing at once.

Get through the first few seconds of the soprano chick, and the rest is spot on.

OM G. Gordon Liddy on Sotomayor's Menstruation

2009-05-30T15:17:00.011-05:00

We already know that "America's Wisest Latina Lady" has a tendency to talk out of her ... you know where.

But now G. Gordon Liddy wants us to think about what else comes of her ... well, he puts it this way:

"Let’s hope that the key conferences aren’t when she’s menstruating or something, or just before she’s going to menstruate. That would really be bad. Lord knows what we would get then." (Hear it for yourself in the clip below - around 25 seconds.)

The liberal media is up in arms over the quote, calling it "sexist," but I'm a woman, and what I call it is hilarious. I'll be interviewing on Liddy's show next Tuesday, and for his sake, I can only hope I won't be "menstruating or something."

What Have They Got that I Haven't Got?

2009-05-29T00:14:00.036-05:00

Mad spelling skillz, that's what.

*Welcome Instapundit, readers! Glenn probably linked here so you could learn how to spell laodicean, but I'd like to think it was so you could hear how I aspired to be a porn star as a child.*

For those of you who don't know (i.e. those of you less geeky than I am), last night was the Scripps National Spelling Bee. It's the Super Bowl of the super smart. Middle-schoolers from across the country compete for the prestige of knowing how to spell words that are completely unusable in conversation, unless of course the conversation is with Noah Webster's ghost. For instance, laodicean, which apparently means lukewarm or indifferent to religion or politics, was the final word that scored the 13-year-old winner $37,500.

Because I was watching King James tear it up on the court last night, I missed the Bee. (The link, from the NYT, makes an interesting connection between LeBron and Kavya's victories.) But I did watch the semi-finals on ESPN, and noticed these kids have something else that I haven't got:

Mad-crazy-hard-to-spell names. Kavya Shivashankar (winner), Anamika Veeramani, Neetu Chandak, Sidharth Chand ... the list goes on. In fact, I think it stretches all the way to India. Reminds me of the yo' momma jokes of my youth. You know: "Yo momma's ~~so fat~~ name is so long the phone book has to list her in two area codes."**

I think these parents may be onto something. By giving their kids monikers that sound like they got caught in a clothes dryer on the way to their birth certificates, the kids are forced to be spelling prodigies. Half the words these kids are asked to spell are no more difficult than their own names. Case in point: champion Shivashankar and her final word laodicean.

Not surprisingly, if you read the career aspirations of these brilliant Indian Americans, er, kids, you will see a common theme. You know what they all want to be when they grow up? Neurosurgeons. You know what little white kids want to be when they grow up? Porn stars*** or criminal masterminds, at least in the case of me and The Other McCain. Unfortunately (or would it be fortunately?), neither of us suceeded, so instead we blog.

At least we can take heart in the fact that neither of us are laodicean, and that we now know what that word means and how to spell it ... thanks to a sixth-grader.

_______________________
**That's right, when I was a kid, we sat around telling each other yo' momma jokes, which explains why I didn't place first in the only on-stage spelling bee I ever participated in. It was second grade, and I went out on the word "rasberry." Yes, rasberry. The silent "p" is as unecessary now as it was then. Maybe if my parents had gone with a last name like Loganquacious (Logan + loquacious, a word that fits me well, as you all know), things might have gone differently that day. Who knows, maybe I'd be a neurosurgeon right now.

***For those who didn't click the "porn star" link. Good for you. As a reward, I'll re-post the story here:

Confessions of a child wannabe porn star.

As a small child, my family used to drive past a giant billboard bearing (and baring) a pretty blonde girl. I didn’t know what she was advertising, but I did know I wanted to grow up to be just like her. True story, folks.

It was years later that I realized growing up to be just like her would mean working nights at the local "Nutty" club. Yeah, at the time, my mom told me that N-U-D-E was pronounced "nutty," and so a “nude club” was actually a comedy club where you went to hear nutty jokes. Nice, mom.

Back to the billboard: keep in mind that we were on our way to church when we passed this sign. Also keep in mind that my dad is a preacher. Makes it even better doesn’t it?

In hindsight, it’s no wonder that his hair had fully grayed by the time I was 5-years-old. I suppose the fact that it’s now white also can be added to my list of daughterly accomplishments. That's almost as good as being a champion speller, right?

I Like My Men Big. Also, Various & Sundry Links That You Should Click.

2009-05-27T08:12:00.033-05:00

I had a thing for basketball players in high school and apparently still do.** The blogging has been light lately and will continue to be until after the NBA finals next week. What? A girl's gotta have her priorities. And watching Kobe and King James ball it up takes precedence over, well, just about everything.

While I haven't been writing much, these folks have, so I'll leave you with their collective brilliance:

Troglopundit is talking about sex, lies, and videotape. Okay, really, he's just talking about two of those, but to find out which ones, you'll have to click the link. (For all of you hoping it's the sex and videotape combination, I won't say it's not, but shame on you.)

Moe Lane highlights the hypocrisy of the save-the-whales-and-everything-else-except-the-humans types, and lets us in on his last meal request with you can have my gyro when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.

Last night, I was running at the gym while watching the Cavs and Magic OT nail-biter. I had to stop the treadmill a few times so I could jump up and down and yell profanities at the television. Little Miss Atilla is yelling profanities, too, but for a more noble reason. She says in an email:

"Yes. I posted on this issue SIX times today; I'm furious. I love my Cruiser, and I hate seeing people's livelihoods ripped away from them for no &#%$!@# reason at all."

What's raising her ire? The administration's move to shut down Chrysler dealerships.

Pundette is throwing some profanity, Little Miss Atilla style, into her posts, too. (I tried doing the characters-as-expletives thing at the gym but it just didn't have the same effect.) And, she reveals that apparently the Obama administration and I have something in common ("The Obama admin is into BIG") with her post on national sales tax.

The Other McCain has a post up about the difference between the North and South Bronx. New York City is dear to my heart, but even if it's not yours, it's still a hilarious read.

Jimmie Bise shows his wit with his title Diplomacy So Clever, You Could Pin a Tail on It and Call It A Weasel.

One of my favorite bloggers, Paco, had his one-year-blogiversary a few days ago. I like him because he's funny, and pictures like this prove it.

Being from California, I should be watching the same-sex marriage Prop 8 saga a little more closely, but my parents are keeping me updated. For those of you who don't have the good fortune of having Californian parents (who are awesome, btw): Legal Insurrection and American Power are the go-to guys for the latest responses to the state's decision to uphold the ban on same sex marriage: federal lawsuits and ... kissing protests?

Stephen Gordon, who is a wonderful man with a wonderful wife that I have had the pleasure of knowing outside the blogosphere, has drawn up a Contract for a Free America, a suggested direction for the conservative movement. He explains the purpose this way:

"Instead of spending all of our time making ad hominem attacks on the left, I thought I'd try to begin a process of coming up with a new plan for the right."

And, he wants your input:

Please rip this apart with the goal of coming up with a winning collection of ideas designed to start moving our country back in the direction intended by our Founding Fathers. Let the Ripping Begin.

That's all, folks!

**Because inquiring minds want to know. Yes, Big Sexy is a baller (and a spoilsport because he won't let me post the link that proves it. Use your google search, people). Also, he is, uh, big ... and ... sexy.

Memorial Day Remembrance from a Veteran

2009-05-25T14:50:00.004-05:00

I received this touching email from a dear, 76-year-old reader and veteran, Don. He served during Vietnam, as did my own father. I want to publicly thank both of them for their service, and share Don's email with you all:

"I'm an emotional old man, and at times I become so emotional that I can't speak coherently, so I didn't call anyone to say what I want to say for fear I would choke up and not be able to speak.
Perhaps writing it will suffice.

On Memorial Day in 2009 I unfurled Old Glory and placed her in her stanchion on a post of my carport to wave in the gentle breeze in honor of those men and women who gave their lives in uniform so that all of us can enjoy our liberty.

Then I went about my daily routine, all the while mourning those who died for us.

I've known people who died in service of our country since the days of World War II.

One of my best friends who was a year ahead of me in high school was drafted shortly after he graduated, soon sent to Korea, and killed within a week. I served on our high school ROTC honor firing squad at his funeral......one of the toughest things I have ever done.

My oldest brother served under combat conditions when American forces returned to liberate the Philippines from Japanese forces. He survived that war and is still alive. My next older brother, now deceased, also served in WWII without seeing combat and also survived that war My next older brother served in the Air Force during the so-called "conflict" in Korea, but was never sent there, so he also survived and is still living. I served during the war in Vietnam, but was never sent there.

I think the three of us were blessed to have been able to not only serve our country, but to have survived that service.

I hope that on Memorial Day 2009 every American took at least a few moments to in some way honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice for them, and to reflect on how blessed they are to live in freedom in the USA."

Thank you for sharing, Don. I hope we'll remember to not just reflect today but everyday.

Remembering Those Who Never Came Home

2009-05-25T09:01:00.009-05:00

I know that many of us, including myself, are enjoying this three-day weekend, getting together with friends and family at barbecues, etc. But amidst all of the fun, please take some time to remember that Memorial day isn't just another day off. It's a day to honor the thousands of soldiers who have made the ultimate sacrifice - their lives - so that we can live on in freedom.

I've included two videos in remembrance. The first video includes the refrain, "Please remember me." The second, the song "I Will Remember You."

For the soldiers who never came home, please take a moment to watch the videos, and while you do, say a prayer of comfort for the family's left behind who will be struggling through this day.

"Please remember me":

"I will remember you":

Today and everyday, God bless the families left behind and the men and women who are still fighting on.

Swimsuit Fear and Self-Loathing in Alabama

2009-05-22T23:11:00.018-05:00

(H/T to Hunter S. Thomspon for the title.)

My dear blogging buddy Jimmie Bise over at Sundries Shack has (not so) subtly requested that I post pictures of myself wearing everyone’s favorite summer garb – a bikini. Uh, make that everyone who didn’t just spend the last hour looking through the latest Victoria Secret catalogue. Those folks (me) may never leave the house again. And, if they (I) do, it will be to go to the gym and they (I) will be outfitted in a muumuu — a long-sleeved muumuu.

Don’t believe me that it’s that bad? Check out the photo below to see what I (and every other woman in America) has to measure (heh) up to. Don't get me wrong. I love me some Adriana Lima, but she’s fit to kill … meaning she’s so fit all of us women would like to kill her with an overdose of cheeseburgers. Okay, maybe just induce a mild coma.

Envy aside, here's your Rule 5 for the week. And, before you complain, all you're getting is a one-piece. My preacher father reads this blog.

Update: WJP over at the Liberty Drum thinks that I should join the Atlanta Steam edition of the Lingerie Football League. Maybe I'll try out ... and then in a show of comraderie buy the whole team cheeseburgers.

Dems Prove Success at One Thing: Truth FAIL

2009-05-22T00:47:00.016-05:00

As we all know, we currently have "the most honest, most open, and most ethical Congress in history." How do we know that? Because Ms. Pelosi told us so, and we all know, she doesn't lie.

Oh, wait, that's right. We have one of the most dishonest, underhanded and corrupt Congresses in history, and she does lie and rather poorly at that. I mean, if you're going to lie, make it something believable. In Pelosi's case she could have said she was a person of integrity and character rather than a deceitful old hag. Nevermind. That's even less believable than the waterboarding thing, isn't it? (Sorry. It's late and my snark dial is set on high.)

At least she's not a lonely old hag. Deceit runs in her party, like a snag in a woman's pantyhose. The Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW) recently released a report showing 12 of the 16 Congressional members under investigation are (drumroll, please) Democrats. If you're not shocked, you must have got The Other McCain's memo that "the Democratic Party is a conspiracy whereby liars advance the cause of evil with the assistance of fools."

At least the Dems have proved they can succeed at something. Too bad that something is a truth fail.

Update:

The Other McCain further elucidates Democrat deception with these stats from his 2006 book, Donkey Cons: Sex, Crime, and Corruption in the Democratic Party:

In Chapter 2, "Rap Sheet," [co-author] Lynn took on the task of counting every serious charge of corruption or criminality involving members of Congress since 1976, and found 46 Democrats to 15 Republicans. So it's certainly true that Democrats are the more criminal party -- by a 3-to-1 margin! Read the rest.

Some Like it Hot: Marco Rubio vs the NRSC

2009-05-21T14:43:00.020-05:00

Jimmie Bise says Marco Rubio is the new hotness. What do I say? Hell yeah he is.

Proof: his farewell address to the Florida House Representatives where he served as Speaker:

The dreamy Mr. Rubio is sure to make any red-blooded conservative woman swoon with his talk of natural rights and the God who granted them, limited government, and the greatness of the American people. Of course, his perfect teeth and tan don't hurt either. Note the standing ovation he receives for the "God is real" portion of his message beginning around 5:30. Can this guy get any more perfect?

The National Republican Senatorial Committee must have been smoking something when they decided to back RINO extraordinaire Charlie Crist over the (young, hip, Hispanic, and magnetic) truly conservative Rubio. As a twenty-something, I can tell you that guys like Rubio who can articulate a conservative message clearly and with passion are exactly what my generation need. The NRSC's decision is a tragedy and warrants every last bit of the vim and vigor they're getting from the thousands of folks who are banding together right now to boycott them.

From the new anti-NRSC blog, Not One Red Cent:

Republicans across the country were outraged by this action [to endorse Crist over Rubio], which is only the latest betrayal of grassroots conservatives by the out-of-touch GOP elite in Washington.

I'm with Rubio and the Not One Red Cent folks on this one. I just have one question: Is he married?

Update:
Pundette shares excerpts from Rubio's recent interview with the NRO, which covers his stance on everything from tax reform to the borders.

The Other McCain offers a great rundown of Rubio-related links. You all know what I'll be doing for the rest of the day ... scheming up a plan for having Mr. Rubio's babies, according to The Other McCain. I had been planning on just checking the links, but his suggestion may be more fun at that...

No Sheeples Here has more on the anti-NRSC, grassroots rebellion.

Update II:
It's come to my attention (thanks, Pundette--sort of) that Mr. Rubio is married. Oh, well, I can still drool can't I?

Awkward Moments, Tony Danza Edition

2009-05-21T01:19:00.006-05:00

How time flies. It's been a week since the first installation of my regular new blog feature: "Awkward Moments." I had my own story to tell (shocking, I know), but it will have to wait until next week. I'm nominating the video below starring Tony "Who's the Boss with the big fat foot in his mouth" Danza for the Awkard Moment of the Week award.

(Ps - Notice the thick Brooklyn accent. I'm gunna get myself one of those someday.)

Via Mental Floss.

Football and Politics

2009-05-20T11:33:00.027-05:00

Anyone who knows me well knows this: my blood runs black and gold. So, when my dad called to say that Pittsburgh Steeler's linebacker James Harrison wouldn't accompany his Super-Bowl-winning team to the White House to meet Obama (he didn't attend the 2006 meeting with Bush either), I was looking forward to talking about two of my biggest loves at once - politics and Steeler football.

Alas, Troglopundit beat me to it. Smart man that he is, I don't agree with Trog's conclusion that Harrison's position means he thinks "merit sucks." Considering Harrison was the defensive player of the year--a meritorious achievement, indeed--I think we can safely say that's not the case. Watch this awesome video for further proof.

Merit aside, what is particularly interesting about all this is a question posed to reporters by Harrison himself:

"Let me ask you a question. Why is it a big issue now that I'm not going if it wasn't a big issue the last time?"
Why indeed.

I don't want to turn this into one of those "because the media has a permanent ticket on the Barack Obama Bandwagon Express" rants, but in this case, that may be the most logical explanation. Harrison doesn't want to meet the Big O! A pox upon him, says the media. Where was their outrage when Harrison turned down the opportunity to me G.W. in 2006? As Harrison himself notes, it was noticeably absent:
I'm surprised they're making a big deal about it. 'Oh my, James Harrison isn't going to the White House, he must be a devil worshiper.'
(I'm sure the media would love to attribute the move to racism, buuuuut since Harrison's black, they've got to go with the devil worship. Of course, it makes sense: he is refusing to meet with the "Messiah.")

Further to his credit, he goes on to say that he's a football player who has nothing to do with politics. Hat tip to Mr. Harrison for recognizing that fame and fortune do not a political savant make. Someone should pass the memo along to all those red-carpeters turned liberal spokesmen.

Harrison sums up the story with this: "Really, I could care less about the reaction. That's my decision and I'm sticking with it."

And, while we're on the subject of Pittsburgh, this is too weird not to share: Pittsburgh teen uses biology class snake as a jump rope.

Kindergartners Get Ready to "Go Gay" in CA

2009-05-19T14:52:00.021-05:00

(Yes, that is a boy. No, it's not a joke; it's a tragedy.)

When I attended kindergarten, I ate glue and played with play dough. I also kissed red-haired boys named Matthew Zuki on the playground and picked my nose (not at the same time).

In short, I was a 5-year-old homophobe.

At least, that's what one California school district seems to think of all California kindergartners (of which I was one so many years ago):

"The Alameda Unified School District announced it was considering a supplemental curriculum to eradicate 'homophobia' in kindergarten children."

Yes, because the problem IS so rampant. So while we're teaching kids how to read, we can also teach them how to be gay. If we end up with an entire generation that reads with a lisp, don't say I didn't warn you. Read the whole makes-you-sick-to-your-stomach story here.

On a related note, Hanna Rosin's story on transgendered children from The Atlantic last fall entitled A Boy's Life (where the above photo was taken) is a fascinating, albeit cringe-worthy read.

This explains a lot....

2009-05-19T00:41:00.005-05:00

My mother called me tonight. Having read my blog post from earlier today in which I accuse her of force-feeding me bread as a child thereby causing my breadphobia, she was determined to clear her good name. The conversation went like this:

Mom: I remember your sister chasing you around the house with bread, but that was probably because I told her to.
Me: Gee, thanks, Mom.
Mom: But I never made you choke on the bread. Okay, well, I'm pretty sure it was only that one time.
Me: Oh, is this like how you only went to the grocery store and left me home alone as an infant that one time, or how you locked me in a dark garage on purpose when I wouldn't go to sleep as a toddler that one time?
Mom: Oh, no, I did those things way more than once.

Explains so much, doesn't it?

Childhood traumatization aside, she's still the best mom ever and the funniest woman that I know. And she's one of those rare ladies who manage to make it all look effortless. I propose a "toast" to my mother; made with white bread, of course.

How to waste the next four minutes of your life...

2009-05-18T10:57:00.017-05:00

... Otherwise known as "Eleven Facts about Me."

Apparently, there’s a new disease circulating around the blogosphere – filthy blog pox. I caught it from Dave. To get rid of it, you have to post eight random things about yourself.

Random fact number one: I am egotistical enough to a) have a blog and b) think you care enough about my personal life to read the following seven facts. Or, maybe you don’t care, and you’re just bored. If so, you and I have a lot in common.

2) I know you think I spend all of my time writing for free out of the goodness of my heart, but I’m quite the mercenary and enjoy writing for money much more than writing for the thrill of a blog comment here and there. I do a lot of home design work – one of my latest is this amazing firetower.

3) I am terrified of white bread. As a small child, my mother found my phobia odd. Convinced I would like it the more she tried to make me eat, she would shovel it into my mouth without abandon (also without awareness as to whether or not I was actually swallowing). I think I choked a few times, and it scarred me. My older sister, who undoubtedly watched all this while rubbing her hands together in fiendish glee, used to chase me around the house with bread for fun. Or was it for torture? Either way, also scarring. Then, I grew up. And my friends in high school and college who discovered my fear would cover my car in the filthy stuff – windshield, door handles, everything – at which point I was reduced to a (walking) blob of bread-centered neurosis.

4) While I can't eat white bread, I can eat Mexican food everyday of my life … and often do. Sometimes for breakfast. Now, I could leave this random fact at that, but like the doting dog-mother that I am, I'll use any excuse to talk about Buddy, or "Doggie" as my mom calls him when she forgets his name, which is usually every time we talk.

The other night, I was sitting on my bed eating a plateful of chicken enchiladas, rice and beans. I mean, I was sitting properly at the kitchen table. Who eats in bed? Gross. Anyway, to the right of my plate was a Kleenex with the evidence of my three-week long cold/strep throat/personal hell (otherwise known as impressively large snot globules). Doggie walked up, sniffed my plate for a second, and shot me a look that says, “You’re going to eat THAT.” As I sat there, reflecting on the fact that my culinary sensibilities were being judged by a creature who frequently licks where the sun don't shine for fun, Doggie grabbed the tissue and swallowed it whole. Obviously, he is not a fan of Mexican food, which I’ll remember when planning the menu for his next birthday party.

5) Speaking of parties, I haven’t always given my dogs birthday parties, but we always gave them Christmas presents, which leads me to the fact that…

6) I never believed in Santa, or sat on his lap in a mall. Actually, I think my parents tried to make me once, but I told him he wasn’t real. Also, I told all of my little friends he wasn’t real. I got coal in my stocking one year. No one was surprised.

7) I was homeschooled for eight years, at which point I transitioned into a private high school where I got into exorbitant amounts of trouble, so my parents decided to ship me off to a (tiny) strict, Christian school for homeschooled kids just outside Washington, DC. I don’t want to make it sound like I was forced, though. They gave me options: it was that or one of those boot camps for rebellious teens. Being the academic that I am, I chose the former.

8) Until college, I had only made one “B” in my life. It was in penmanship. I cried, a lot. When I made a couple more in college, I cried again. Bonus: I can cry on command. Useful for getting out of a speeding ticket, making a man feel uncomfortable and panicky, or cleaning out your tear ducts.

Overachiever that I am, and to be sure I’m properly immunized, your facts now come with 37% more bonus randomness:

9) I love wit and sarcasm. If you can banter with me, you’ll be my friend for life. In conjunction, I love Stephen Colbert; I hate The Office.

10) I’m a pastor’s kid and grew up thinking I would marry a pastor. Speaking of marriage, I broke the “family code” by not marrying at 22. This bothers my mother greatly because she fears I’ll become a bitter old maid. It bothers my father because he wants me off the family’s phone plan.

11) I’m heading to Atlanta to volunteer with kids over the next six months, after which I’ll need either a job or a husband. I’ll be accepting suggestions for both over the coming months.

Now, I’m off to infect Paco, Becky, and Liberty Drum and see if they’ll play, too.

You'll Like This Girl

2009-05-15T08:41:00.006-05:00

My best friend (who is more like my "statistically significant other") is coming into town this weekend, so the blogging will be light.

Instead of reading my nonsense, spend your time reading her. She's a bright new light in the blogosphere and her blog's subtitle alone makes you want to read: "Wearing heels, packing heat, and saving babies..."

Today, she goes after Obama. Yesterday, it was Pelosi, or was it the Wicked Witch of the East? Eh, same dif. She also tells it like it is in What a girl wants. Hint: it includes leather, guns, and... pink?

Go pay her a visit, and leave a comment!

Awkward Moments, Installation 1

2009-05-14T09:36:00.020-05:00

This will be a new recurring feature on my blog in which I will exploit, er, highlight someone's awkward moments. Because I'm short on time today--I have writing to do, the kind that actually pays me--you get me for Awkward Moments installation (AMI) #1. I have approximately 1, 347 of these in my personal memory arsenal so if I share one a week that means you can keep reading until at least the year 2034, at which point I'll have at least that many more, so you'll be able to keep reading until that Final Awkward Moment when you die.

Awkward Moments. We've all had them. You say or do something that provokes an awkward silence. You know, the kind that forebodes a lonely and painful death-by-embarrassment. Or, rather the kind you wish would forebode a lonely and painful death. Immediately. Because who's going to hold an awkward moment against a dead guy? Sadly, in the cruel, Hobbesian way of the world, death rarely comes when you'd like it to, and you're left standing (awkardly) alone, a husk of a man with only your embarassment to keep you company.

Yesterday, my moment happened in a library, which until yesterday, I had always thought of as a place for the advancement of my mind rather than regression of my ego.

It all started harmlessly enough. My computer was dying and I needed to plug my power adapter into an outlet. The nearest outlet happened to be located underneath a table where a man was sitting. Without thinking (the perfect beginning to a perfect awkard moment), I got down on my hands and knees and looked up at the (nice-looking) man and asked, "Sir, would you mind if I got underneath you?" He said nothing. I'm hoping because he was deaf, but more likely because he wanted the awkwardness of my question to sink into my soul as deeply as possible. Bonus awkardness ensued when the man sitting nearby (also nice-looking. Why are they always nice-looking when you're making a moron of yourself?) began to snicker.

That's when I decided my computer battery wasn't dying that quickly after all, at least not as quickly as I was on the inside, and I retreated to the safety of the (empty) magazine section.

Awkardness: 2, Dignity: 0.

These Guys Mean Business

2009-05-13T08:08:00.007-05:00

Some bloggers take their writing seriously. In other words, they don't rely on "Cheerios as drugs!" as post-worthy content. This makes me happy, because it leaves that niche for me to fill. Here are a couple of today's great examples:

Stephen Gordon over at the Liberty Papers crafts an apology speech from the Republican leaders to the American people. I wasn't sure whether to say "Oh, snap!", cry, or stand up and applaud. So I did all three.

The Other McCain is in Sherlock mode, asking Is Rush racist? The answer is "no," but you should read the post anyway because it might not be long before someone is asking the same of you:

Every conservative discovers, sooner or later, that to criticize liberal ideas is to be adjudged guilty of some "-ism" or diagnosed with a "phobia." Nowhere is this more true than in the realm of race. Read the rest .

Jimmie Bise proves how seriously he takes his writing by turning down the doobie: No, Senator Cornyn, I Don’t Want What You’re Smoking. He goes on to say, "I don’t know what John Cornyn sees in Crist, but it’s not the same thing I see." Um, maybe his deity? Oh, right Crist, not Christ. It's 9 am, and I dont actually start using my full brain capacities until ... well, they should be kicking in any day now.

Cheerios As Drugs and Sugar-Coated Serial Killers

2009-05-12T20:47:00.032-05:00

Some people are addicted to fun things like heroin or meth. The really lucky ones get hooked on gambling or sex. You know. Things that make people for feel sorry for you when you say "Hi, my name is [Insert Clever S.Logan] and I'm addicted to...."

Turns out, I'm addicted to something that until today I didn't even realize you could be addicted to: Cheerios.* (See the bottom of the post for addiction #2.) The FDA just released a statement noting that Cheerios are actually “a drug,” and who am I to argue with the federal government? It makes sense: That's why they're called cheerios. The logic doesn't stop there: cocaine comes in a clear plastic bag. Cocaine is a drug. Cheerios come in a clear plastic bag, therefore ...

According to a letter from the FDA, General Mills' advertising violates the federal Food, Drug and Cosmetic Act. The agency claims that Cheerios can lower cholesterol within a certain amount of time while providing cancer-fighting and heart-healthy benefits makes Cheerios "a drug" by FDA definition. No drug in the United States can be legally marketed without an approved new drug application. (Hat tip: Blackfork)

Huh. And, all that time I thought I enjoyed Cheerios because they were so tasty.

Excited about something new and ridiculous to blog about, I immediately turned to google to see if I could find any politicians who claim to have an overt love of ~~drugs~~ Cheerios. My search results were not quite what I had expected:

*"Jailed shooter excited about getting to wear his favorite color all the time." Too bad it won't be for very long since he is on death row and all. An orange-shrowd, perhaps?

* The Myspace headline of a guy who has branded himself as America's favorite serial killer. Adding to the oddity, his entire wall is filled with Bible verses, such as Philippians 3:13-14: "Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal..." Somehow, I don't think that becoming America's favorite serial killer was the kind of goal Paul was talking about.

*The story of Kevahn Thorpe, “a fashion fanatic and a serial shoplifter for whom jail was not too steep a price to pay for the labels he loves.” Apparently, his brother commenting on his high taste in fashion said, “He got no hood in him at all.” Well then. I don’t know anything about the “hood” (at least not yet) but I am guessing he doesn’t have any cheerios in him either, which makes him irrelevant to this post, although an interesting six-page read if you click the link.

*"All we're saying is that many of the world's most terrifying serial killers are in fact roaming free, and could be outside your door right now ... I'm not worried. I'll just invite them in for a bowl of Cheerios and then have them join me for a Cheerios Anyonymous meeting. If they refuse, I'll sic my ferocious attack dog on them.

By now, you may have figured out what i was figuring out right about now: I had mistakenly googled "serial" rather than "cereal." It makes for an interesting five minutes on the Internet, but I don't suggest you make the mistake tomorrow morning. "Sugar-coated serial killer" isn't likely to get your day off to a great start. Although, as soon as you got your Cheerios fix, I'm sure you'd feel much better.

*I've 'fessed up to one addiction, I might as well admit the second. Big Sexy, this is all for you. And, for the record, Buttercup, that thirty-second comment was supposed to read thirty-hours.)

My Dog is Holier than Your Dog

2009-05-11T01:41:00.003-05:00

I'm on the Protestant side of things, religiously speaking, but I've got to side with the Catholics on this one. (Hat Tip: Little Miss Attila.)

"Yellow" Fever Epidemic Sweeps through Blogosphere

2009-05-11T01:23:00.026-05:00

William Randolph Hearst Would Be So Proud. Moe Lane is calling for a return to yellow journalism:

... Based on the historical record, what the American people want [reporters] to do is to go out and alternatively tweak and praise local power structures via proudly and openly biased articles that make no secret of their own opinions, and that offer no pretense to an objectivity that never really existed anyway. In short the American people want ‘honest’ yellow journalism for their day-to-day news. Read the rest.

For better or worse, human nature is drawn to the sordid and the sensational. In its heyday, yellow journalism explored and exploited the heights and depths (okay, usually just depths) of human nature. Then, newspapers known for the style read like a mix of Hannibal Lecter meets Girls Gone Wild. Today, they're often as intriguing as reading the full transcript of Press Secretary Gibbs' briefing on swine flu. (I did, and I think contracting swine flu would have been less painful.)

In those days, the mantra was the more violent, sexier, and scandalous the better, and people loved it. They still do; the fascination reader's have with sex and scandal (and speedo pictures) helps explain why Stacy McCain's blog is so popular. Incidentally, Stacy recently lamented that sensationalism is all but gone from today's dailies.

While neither Moe, Stacy, nor I am suggesting that newspapers go willy-nilly in indulging the base tendencies of their readers, it couldn't hurt and would probably help if newspapers, as one Slate reporter said it, "contained a little more blood, took a position without being partisan, yelled a tad more, and brushed some yellow from the palette while painting their stories."

In fact, I think the willingness of bloggers to jazz up journalism is precisely why more folks are turning to them for their news fix. They have tapped into the irresistible appeal that cut-and-dried, faux-objective news stories just don't have. Here are a few links that are just the tip of the sometimes-outrageous, sometimes-sex-ridden, sometimes-scandalous, but always-opinionated iceberg out there in the blogosphere:

Stacy McCain: Carrie Prejean Sideboob Jailbait?

Troglopundit: A 15000-pound threesome

Pundette: Obama is a Good Liar

Classical Values: Imagine Giving Birth through a Penis

Jimmie Bise: GOP Killed Jack Kemp

Legal Insurrection: Thou Shalt Not Mock Obama's Mustard

Paco: The Rich Are Different (And Not Necessarily in a Good Way)

Stephen Gordon: Alabama Is King When It Comes to Weird Politics

Donald Douglas: Mainstream Bigotry and Racism on the Democratic-Left

Little Miss Attila: What the Fuck? Whither James Lewis?

Cynthia Yockey: Activism Wasn't the Only Thing Barack Experimented with in College...

HotMES: That's a Really Small, er, Scalpel, Mr. President

And, last but not least (seriously, this may be my favorite), Protein Wisdom shares a yellow-journalism-esque photo of Obama and the Dems with appropriate headline: Somewhere, H.L. Mencken Is Laughing.

I'm sure you want to click ALL of the links above so I'll leave you to it.

Oh, wait, one more thing: I'm with Moe on the whole yellow journalism thing, but I have to take issue with the "PS" to his post:

"And we can stop requiring specialized college training for journalists any day now. From what I can see, it’s pretty much wasted on them anyway."

Wasted? My dear Mr. Moe, had I majored in something other than journalism, I would probably have spent the last half hour doing something other than writing this blog post and ... er ... touche.

UPDATE: Welcome Instapundit readers! While you're here, check out some of my own recent yellow-journalism-esque posts:

The American Entrepreneurial Spirit ... and Sex Toys?

President Obama Acknowledges He's "The One"

Why Conservative Women Are Hotter

UPDATE: Jimmie Bise discusses how local television stations and city newspapers first dropped the ball on "honest" yellow journalism.

Obama Acknowledges He's "The One"

2009-05-10T16:34:00.014-05:00

At the White House Correspondent's Dinner last night, Obama had this to say:

"I believe my next hundred days will be so successful that I will be able to complete them in 72 days. And on my 73rd day, I will rest."

Of course. He is "The One," afterall.

Proceeds from the dinner go toward feeding the hungry and funding journalism scholarships.

To streamline the funding process, they could just use the money to feed the hungry journalists. It's getting rough out here, and if we all waste away from starvation, who will be around to attend next year's dinner? Of course, I'm probably biased ... which considering I am a journalist is appropriate.

The American Entrepreneurial Spirit ... and Sex Toys?

2009-05-10T00:26:00.024-05:00

For the past little while, I've been mulling over the Barack Obama dildo. (You know you need a new hobby when ...) I'm obviously not personally interested—if they made a Mitt Romney version on the other hand, uh, of course I wouldn't buy one—but my entrepreneurial spirit is intrigued.

(As an aside, here is a little obligatory Rule 5 goodness. Mitt possibly suggesting how large his, er, version would be?)

Everyday, folks get a great idea, or in the case of the Barry O dildo a greatly disturbing idea, and run with it. So many times I've seen products and thought, "Huh, I so had that idea," or "I so wish I'd had that idea." Thankfully, neither of these crossed my mind when I ran across the presidential sex toy.

The difference between those who are capitalizing on their ideas and me (and probably you, too), is that they've been willing to take a risk and follow-through. And, sappy as it sounds, isn't that the heart of the American spirit, the backbone of our economy—to have the confidence and courage to pursue your dreams?

Ken over at Red Dot in a Red State has put his ideas into action and is selling some pretty cool conservative gear. You should visit him. While you're there, check out the t-shirt I just ordered, and pick one up for yourself.

People like Ken inspire me. I have a pretty awesome (I think) idea that may or may not involve Mitt Romney... I'd like to start the ball rolling on it while I'm unemployed/working with the inner city kids over the next six months, so if anyone has tips or inspiring stories about making the transition from great idea to great product, please share!

If you're one of those, like me, who's got a dream and is trying to figure out how to make it a reality, you might find these quotes as inspiring as I have over the years:

Often the difference between a successful man and a failure is not one's better abilities or idea, but the courage that one has to bet on his ideas, to take a calculated risk--and to act. -- Maxwell Maltz
The galleries are full of critics. They play no ball, they fight no fights. They make no mistakes because they attempt nothing. Down in the arena are the doers. They make mistakes because they try many things. The man who makes no mistakes lacks boldness and the spirit of adventure. He is the one who never tries anything. His is the brake on the wheel of progress. And yet it cannot be truly said he makes no mistakes, because his biggest mistake is the very fact that he tries nothing, does nothing, except criticize those who do things. -- Gen. David M. Shoup
If you want to succeed you should strike out on new paths, rather than travel the worn paths of accepted success. -- John D. Rockefeller
Take a chance! All life is a chance. The man who goes the furthest is generally the one who is willing to do and dare. The sure thing boat never get far from the shore. -- Dale Carnegie

Those are some sexy... elbows?

2009-05-09T21:49:00.009-05:00

Pundette is contemplating suicide having been sufficiently sickened by the slobber-fest going on over Michelle Obama's "burnished and beautiful" yet "threatening" arms.

I'd be tempted to do the same, but frankly I don't give a damn about her arms. I prefer her derrierre, myself.

I don't know how Little Miss Attila feels about Michelle O's caboose, but I do know that she doesn't discriminate against a good pair of biceps. Men, women, and transgendered persons', she likes 'em all.

Speaking of sexy, I had no intention of ever talking about sex toys on my blog, but for a Barack Obama dildo I have to make an exception. (Also willing to make an exception for Mitt Romney version). Having seen this, I'm a little tempted to join Pundette in ending it all. I might as well, I think a little bit of my soul just died anyway.

President Obama Isn't a Hypocrite, After All

2009-05-08T11:04:00.022-05:00

Because, starting next month, I'll be doing my part to increase the unemployment percentage, I feel obliged to comment on this:

Stats just released by the Labor Department show that the jobless rate has shot up to 8.9 percent - the highest it has been in over 25 years.

On the flipside, the department also released figures showing that the month of April showed fewer job losses than in any month since October. That's progress, right? Not exactly.

Over at Hot Air, Ed Morrissey reveals that the reduced job-loss rate was a result of Obama directing stimulous money to hire 72,000 workers, mostly for "temporary Census jobs."
Once those jobs dissipate--and being temporary, they will--we'll be back to square one.

I have no doubt that Obama's intentions are noble, but his methods are tried-and-untrue. And, it's the results of his skewed tax and spend tactics, not his motives, that are affecting ordinary Americans.

An interesting write-up over at the New York Daily News, sheds some light on Obama's bound-for-failure financial policies:

It is no surprise that President Obama supports unprecedented spending and borrowing in the federal budget since he has never suffered any consequences from the excessive spending and borrowing in his private life.
Like most of you, I’m no longer shocked when stories of Obama’s personal hypocrisy surface – as they always do. (I’m less shocked not because he’s a Democrat but because he’s a person, and it often just goes with the territory, rather like breathing and avoiding family reunions like the plague.)

But this time it isn't about Obama's hypocrisy but his consistency. He's attempting to handle the country's finances as he did his own—by relying on increased spending and borrowing.

One blogger, with a funny name, writes:

"Obama showed in his personal life that he doesn't have even a vague understanding of money. He showed that the desire for pretty ponies and cool shoes outweighs a prudent view of current income, reasonable debt, and required savings and investment. This personal defect is borne out in his public policy to our detriment."

Of course, it was a book deal that eventually saved the Obamas from financial chaos. Maybe that will work for America, too. The book could center on how his stimulous bill has stimulated nothing except the demise of the free market. We could call it, The Audacity of the Obama Presidency: Thoughts on Ruining the American Dream.

Update: Sundries Shack has more on the Obama’s “rags” to riches story, which stars the First Lady, or as she is more properly known, a "rich woman playing at being working class."

Update 2: Well, that was short-lived: It seems that President Obama IS a Hypocrite, After All.

Kitty Cats, Puppy Dogs, and Me: Oh My!

2009-05-08T00:02:00.033-05:00

Ever since I was a little girl, I've loved animals more than most people. And, I don't mean that I like animals more than your average person; I mean that I've liked the animals in my life generally more than I've liked the people in my life.

Much like every other kid who wasn't going to be a doctor or a fireman, I was going to be a veterinarian. Much unlike every other kid, I would sob at the sight of roadkill and carry my goldfish Silver (I know what you're thinking. Yes, I was an exceptionally creative child. Also exceptionally colorblind.) around in his bowl in case God decided to take me home. As the reasoning process of a four-year-old goes, if I went and I was holding my fish, he would go with me. Things got even more interesting when we added a cat and cocker spaniel to the mix. But I digress.

The point is I love animals, and that I just came across a super simple way to help them. By clicking on the link below you can help feed rescued animals. The sponsors record the number of clicks and donate food to rescue shelters accordingly. Just today, nearly 300,000 bowls of food were donated!

Click this link, The Animal Rescue Site, then click the purple button. Pretty please? It's for the furries!

If you don't, my sweet little Havanese, Buddy, who normally looks like this:

Will turn into this and hunt you down:

Terrorists Coming to a Neighborhood Near You!

2009-05-07T14:31:00.006-05:00

As a follow-up to my earlier post on Hawaii's decision to declare an Islam Day, here's a video that suggests where all those Islamic terrorists will go now that Obama has declared his intent to shut down Guantanamo Bay. I've watched it three times, in part just to hear my favorite movement (O Fortuna) from Orff's Carmina Burana.

H/T: Creeping Sharia

The video highlights a number of states, but Hawaii is suprisingly absent. Considering the state's recent declaration, I think we should ship them all there in time for the September 24th festivities.

Mark Your Calendars for Islam Day!

2009-05-07T00:58:00.023-05:00

If you don't have any plans for September 24th, Hawaii's state Senate would like to cordially invite you to join them in commemorating Islam Day!

From Fox News:

Hawaii's state Senate overwhelmingly approved a bill Wednesday to celebrate "Islam Day" -- over the objections of a few lawmakers who said they didn't want to honor a religion connected to Sept. 11, 2001.

You know why it was "overwhelmingly approved"? See for yourself. You'll notice just two of Hawaii's Senators don't have the dirty little "D"-word after their names. The same two voted against the bill on the grounds that celebrating the religion of the Sept. 11th terrorists two weeks after the anniversary of the attacks would be in poor taste. Coincidence? I think not.

This is just one more example that Democrats are willing to sacrifice anything on the altar of tolerance. Justifying his vote, Democrat Senator Will Espero proclaimed, "We are a state of tolerance." Tolerant you may be, Mr. Espero, but you may recall the words of the great G.K. Chesterton:

"Tolerance is the virtue of the man without convictions."

I can only imagine the liberal response had this vote not passed: "How bigoted! How old-fashioned!" Instead, how about: "How American!"

I realize that our national collective memory is embarrasingly short-term, but it was only eight years ago that bombers in the name of Allah murdered nearly 3,000 Americans. And, now we have a state-sanctioned day to celebrate the religion they represented? All while our kids are forbidden to pray in school and anyone who speaks out against gay marriage comes under intense personal scrutiny and derision. The Democrats may be the "party of tolerance" but only if the ideas in question are rooted in liberal ideology.

Ironically, and to his credit, less than two years ago, Barack Obama warned that Democrats must not ‘equate tolerance with secularism and forfeit the moral language that would help infuse our policies with a larger meaning.’

Maybe the Hawaiian senators missed that memo. Or, maybe they're right. I mean why shouldn't we be tolerant of Islam since it is so tolerant of us. Except, of course, for that one small part about all of us needing to die.

Allah via Mr. Muhammad:

"...Slay the pagans where you may come upon them, and take them captive, and besiege them, and lie in wait for them at every conceivable place" (9:5).

I guess the Dems who voted for Islam Day couldn't see that passage--probably because they were blinded by their tolerance.

Seriously, one has to wonder if these guys have even read the Qu'ran. I have. (Yes, all of it.) It's not often that I wish to find ignorance operating among our elected leaders, but in this case, I can only hope it's sheer oblivion and not something more sinister at work.

I hope you'll all join me in saying screw the Hawaiians on September 24th. I’ll be following in the way of the Spaniards and stuffing fireworks into a Prophet-pinata, while singing God Bless America, eating exorbitant amounts of pork, and drinking gratuitous amounts of alcohol, at which point I may or may not do something that involves 72 virgins. (Hi Mom and Dad! I don't drink. Ever. Not even water. This is all hyperbole!).

As for all you non-infidels out there, mark your calendars for September 24! It's sure to be a good time for ~~everyone~~ who is not a pagan. Entertainment will be provided by women in hijabs and burkas. Refreshments will include non-tasty, non-pork-and-alcohol edibles. To cap off the night, fireworks will be provided by suicide bombers.

Hope (not) to see you there!

Pig Bladder Grows Back Man's Finger

2009-05-06T21:50:00.005-05:00

That's right. Apparently, pigs are good for something other than pulled pork and swine flu, afterall. "Pig powder" applied to a man's severed finger grew it back completely in just four weeks:
Lee Spievack, of Cincinnati, who sliced almost half an inch off the top of his finger described the powder as “pixie dust..."
The “pixie dust” is actually extra-cellular matrix, bursting with collagen and is made from a dried pig’s bladder...
"Extra-cellular matrix" sounds super, high-tech and all, but I have a feeling Tinkerbell may have had something to do with this.

Punk-smacking the Beyotch, er, Behar

2009-05-05T00:05:00.001-05:00

Thanks to Jimmie Bise over at The Sundries Shack (who's also writing for Hot Air's Green Room now!), I have had a major change of heart:

I no longer think Ann Coulter is a bombastic, insulting heiffer.

For years, I've maintained that her style was divisive, alienating to individuals on both sides of the political spectrum, and just down-right unladylike. As a conservative, my position has embroiled me in more than a few arguments. Finally, I'm acquiescing.

Sort of.

I still think she's bombastic and insulting, but she's directing her ire at Joy "Beyotch" Behar, which makes her awesome. The thirty-second Coulter vs. Blabbering Behar video is worth every second.

If there's ever a time to break free from your link-clicking-laziness, do it now. Seriously. It's the best smack down I've seen for awhile. It's also the best thirty seconds I've spent since ... well, this wouldn't be time for a Big Sexy reference would it?

The Dark Side

2009-05-04T12:18:00.011-05:00

X-Men Origins: Wolverine producer Ralph Winter in an interview with Patrol Magazine:

"I think more people than we want to admit live on the dark side. I think that, you know, we are misled if we think that being a Christian means your life is going to be peachy; it’s just not going to happen. There are so many stories to tell, there is so much darkness, unfortunately in our lives, as we don’t get along ... That’s why I think stories like that resonate with an audience that struggles with a world that’s not happy and perfect."

Dude. I haven't seen the movie yet, but I can so relate right now.

Ironically, even (or should I say "especially"?) in the times when life isn't peachy, God is still showing Himself: "As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten." (Rev. 3:19).

The following quote on the subject is from one the best devotions you'll ever read - Streams in the Desert by Mrs. Charles E. Cowman:

"Affliction does not hit the saint by chance, but by direction. God does not draw His bow at a venture. Every one of His arrows goes upon a special errand and touches no breast but his against whom it was sent. It is not only the grace, but the glory of a believer when we can stand and take affliction quietly."

To take affliction quietly. To realize that great pressure means great power. Those are the keys to triumphing even in the dark side of life. A sentiment echoed in this poem, taken from the same devotion:

"If all my days were sunny, could I say,
'In his fair land He wipes all tears away?'

If I were never weary, could I keep
Close to my heart, 'He gives His loved ones sleep?'

Were no graves mine, might I not come to deem
The Life Eternal but a baseless dream?

My winter, and my tears, and weariness
Even my graves, may be His way to bless.

I call them ills; yet that can surely be
Nothing but love that Shows my Lord to me!"

~ Selected

Winter is right. Life isn't always happy and perfect, but I'm at peace with that because I've seen over and over again that my "God is our refuge and strength, a very present and well-proved help in times of trouble." (Psalm 46:1)

Sunday Morning Tradition

2009-05-03T02:01:00.002-05:00

We all know that no one actually reads the newspaper anymore, let alone buys it, but we can still get our Sabbath-day dose of the comics thanks to Paco Enterprises. His regular "Sunday Funnies" feature is, well, funny.

Last week's post.

You'll have to check his site for today's post!

Ps - I'll be on the road all day with no internet access, but will be back first thing tomorrow.

Don't Kiss the Pig!

2009-05-01T05:00:00.003-05:00

Ah, too late:

I'm not a big fan of forwarded emails as a rule, but I received this in my inbox (thanks, Aunt Becky!) and considering the latest hullabaloo over the "swine flu" or whatever we're calling it now, I thought I'd share.

Remember, folks, wash your hands, cover your mouth when you cough, and above all, don't kiss the pig. (But, if you do, do it with gusto like this munchkin. Then, take a picture and send it my way.)

Ps - I'm out of town starting now, so the posts may be scarce this weekend. Hopefully, the ManBirdPig Flu will be, too.

Edmund Burke on Secession, Tea Parties, Obama, and the ACLU

2009-04-30T01:41:00.025-05:00

It was pointed out by a commenter yesterday that many of my recent postings have revolved around hotness, both actual and alleged. Because I read each comment and reflect and sometimes respond accordingly, I checked my recent titles. Three of the last eleven did indeed use the word "hot" in the headline.

Game, set, match, Mr. Commenter.

I would say that you can never get too much hotness, except that I actually think you can. (Proof.) I believe I've fulfilled my quota for a while, so I'll share with you excerpts from my nightly readings, which are always philosophical, political, or spiritual in nature and almost never include the word "hot."

I came across last night's reading yesterday, as I was perusing a ~~junk~~ antique store. Tucked into the far corner of the little shop: English Men of Letter: Burke. (A series by John Morley). Being a sucker for all things old and all things Burke (I kid you not, I'm wearing a t-shirt with a Burke quote emblazoned across the back as I type this), I purchased it. The book is a 1909 edition and has markings and notes throughout left by the previous owner in the most beautiful script. (I almost felt I should apologize to the book as it now has an owner that would lose a penmanship contest to a four-year-old.)

As with all of the truly great writers, Burke's thoughts trascend the era in which they were written, remaining applicable in the era in which they are read. (In other words, blogs do not a great writer make. Reason number #671 why I should spend less time writing blog and more time writing, uh, something else.)

Below, I highlight some of his best quotes against current cultural and political issues of our day.

1) "The revolutions that come to pass in great states are not the result of chance, nor of popular caprice ... It is never from a passion for attack that it rebels, but from impatience of suffering."

One has to wonder if the recent talk that Texas may secede from the Union stems from such an impatience. (If you haven't heard much on the subject, check out Ron Paul's video on the issue in which he says secession is "very American.")

2) No men could act with effect who did not act in concert; that no men could act in concert, who did not act with confidence; and that no men could act with confidence, who were not bound together by common opinions, common affections, and common interests."

Acting in concert, with confidence, common interests and opinions? I think he means Tea Parties!

3) "Revolutionary politics have one of their sources in the idea that societies are capable of infinite and immediate modifications, without reference to the deep-rooted conditions that have worked themselves into every part of the social structure."

"Infinite and immediate modifications." Does that ring a "hope and change" bell with anyone? Those two things may be a worthy goal, but unless Obama takes a long and careful look into the principles that have resulted in our current societal status, for better and for worse, what we end up changing to may be much worse than what we end up changing from.

This next one may be a little inflammatory, but if you feel the need to resort to the commenting section to air your frustrations, please refer to Burke's blog, as these are his words not mine:

3) "The most horrid and cruel blow that can be offered to civil society is through atheism . . . The infidels are outlaws of the constitution, not of this country, but of the human race. They are never, never to be supported, never to be tolerated. Under the systematic attacks of these people, I see some of the props of good government already beginning to fail; I see propagated principles which will not leave to religion ever a toleration."

Mmm, can we say ACLU, much? I can't be the only one that had those four (horrible) letters flash through my head upon reading that final phrase.

And, so you don't feel that the last 2.7 minutes of your life have been squandered, let me affirm you with one final quote from the man himself:

"Reading, and much reading, is good. But the power of diversifying the matter infinitely in your own mind, and of applying it to every occasion that arises, is far better; so don't suppress the vivida vis." (read: 'lively power of the mind and body')

In closing, I would like to say simply that reading is hot, and Edmund Burke is, too.

Why Conservative Women Are Hotter

2009-04-29T10:14:00.019-05:00

Before we can answer why they're hotter, we should probably first establish if they're hotter.

Fortunately, Catholic blogger Matthew Archbold has already done that for me. (Thanks to Pundit and Pundette for putting me on to this with her post, "Hotness Gap")

Archbold writes:

"I mean it's been great all these years telling the libs that we're more moral than them but when we drop on them that we're hotter, that'll hit them where it hurts. Oh yeah."

Even more telling is this:

"When I was a young atheist idiot liberal I always thought conservative women were just prettier and more self confident but I think the idea has now gained a national and undeniable prominence."

"Prettier" or not, what makes a conservative woman hotter isn't her looks it's her gumption.

By necessity, a conservative woman must do the legwork to establish the ideological foundations of her political philosophy. She can't sit idly by like the liberal girls and be ~~taught~~ indoctrinated from grade school through college about the merits of liberal thought.

Too, there's no question that conservatives have been playing defense in the culture war for quite some. A conservative woman has to fight to hold her ground, rather than merely latch on to the coattails of the currently in-vogue political views.

Having to defend your political ideology against the prevailing will of popular opinion may make you an underdog, but it makes you a fighter. And, that's hot.

Obviously, not all conservative chicks are feisty with sound evidence and reasoning for their political persuasions, and not all liberal ladies are spineless and unable to support their political beliefs. I'm generalizing here.

But I've known plenty of women on both sides of the political spectrum and have found that the conservative ones are often able to express the canons of their political persuasion better than their liberal counterparts. Not because they are more intelligent, per se, but because they have not been able to piggyback on the ideas of their professors, the media, and culture at large.

Knowing what you believe and why and holding to it with conviction despite the consquences (see Carrie Prejean as Exhibit A) is hot no matter who you are, conservative or liberal. That's the self-confidence that Archbold was talking about.

Of course, that fact that we're right (as commenter Smitty says our views are formed from "fundamental existential truths") doesn't hurt our hotness factor either.

Update: It's not just conservative women who are hotter.

Not All Republicans Are Cool

2009-04-28T00:03:00.027-05:00

At least according to Eric Ulrich. He is one of only three Republicans serving on the City Council in Queens, New York. He is also a douchebag.

Explaining his Republican status in in New York Magazine, the 24-year-old says:

“Republicans aren’t all religious fundamentalists from Alabama; some of us are just normal working-class Catholics from Queens.”

Newsflash, Mr. Eric “Cool Republican” Ulrich: Catholocism is a religion with some pretty die-hard followers. And, you might be surprised to know that a few people in Alabama are part of the working-class, too. I mean we can’t spend all of our time spewing religious fundamentalist rhetoric and blogging about hypocritical bastards like yourself.

Ulrich goes on to establish his cool cred by saying that he watches Family Guy! Gambles his money away via three-card poker!! Recently bought a Chevy Impala!!! And, may or
may not be cheating on his fiancée with a mistress!!!! (The "exclamation points" are actually "coolness-factor points." )

Great. All the things I know that I look for in my city councilman. Who cares about where he stands on policy issues if he watches Family Guy?

If justifying your participation in the Republican party by disparaging part of it’s core constituency – those types that “cling to their God and guns” – is what’s "normal," then, Mr. Ulrich, I'm glad I’m not normal.

Update 1: Another abnormal conservative with close Alabama ties adds his thoughts on the Young Hip GOP Douchebag.

Update 2: Protein Wisdom just returned from a sojourn down South and has got some things to say on the subject.

Update 3 (my personal favorite, probably because he includes a picture of me): Defending Sweet Home Alabama from a Damned Yankee Republican.

Update 4: Red Dot in a Red State does his part in calling Mr. Ulrich to the carpet. And also gets bonus points for including a picture of me.

Update 5: Linked by the New York Daily News Blog.

Megan Fox is Hot

2009-04-27T13:42:00.021-05:00

Update: One blogger asks the question: "Is Clever S. Logan hotter than Megan Fox?" It's flattering, no doubt, but I'm questioning his sanity a little -- namely because he fails to conclude with a resounding "{expletive} no!"

Since I've gotten a number of hits this week from folks searching for "Megan Kelly legs" (they mean Megyn Kelly legs), I thought I should provide a photo of the Megan's legs they should be searching for. Nothing like a little Rule 5 for a case of the Mondays:

Megan Fox Legs. And, you're welcome.

Update: One commenter questions the "intellectual" and "academic" merit of this photo. Dear reader, I'm sorry if you were too busy staring at her legs to notice all of the books in the background. That must count for something.

Out of This World

2009-04-27T10:58:00.007-05:00

I'm not the science-sort. (Disecting that pig sophomore year and nearly fainting turned me off to it. It has not, however, compromised my appreciation for bacon.) Still, I think these photos are neat.

Crown of Thorns, via Fox News.

Giant Hand, via Fox News.

Now, I'm also not one to go in for the a-woman-wanted-cheese-toast-and-found-Jesus-instead sorta thing. But the photos (of outerspace not the cheese toast) give you the feeling that Someone is out there. Kind of makes me wonder if I should delete that Playboy cover of Ann Coulter. I wouldn't want Him to see that either.

For an almost-unbelievable photo of the heavenlies, see Pundit and Pundette’s Nasa image of saturn.

Stop Reading Now, and Step Away from the Computer

2009-04-25T01:25:00.022-05:00

Apparently, this week was Digital Detox Week, sponsored by Adbusters:

Adbusters challenges you to do the unthinkable: unplug. Say good-bye to Twitter and Facebook. Turn off your TV, iPhone and Xbox. For seven days, reconnect with the natural world and the people around you. You’ll be amazed at how the magic creeps back into your life. Don’t be afraid and don’t find excuses, just take the plunge and see what happens.

The challenge began April 20th and is ending tomorrow. I'm almost relieved I didn't discover it in time. I would have just felt guilty when I caved and re-plugged ~~one day early~~ 37 minutes later.

Escaping the encroaching entrapments of modern life isn't a new idea. Take Thoreau's Walden. He retreated to the woods to rid himself from the dehumanizing impact of the Industrial Revolution. Instead of the Industrial Revolution we have the Electronic Age, and with it Facebook, Sports Center, and, the most grievous of all, "insert clever s.logan here."

Freeing ourselves from the electronic ball and chain would afford us the opportunity for contemplation, spiritual discovery, etc. Besides the deep stuff, it would remind us how to be in the here, now. You know, rather than nodding methodically and only half-listening while checking your BlackBerry as your spouse relays the minute details of her day. (Obviously, I can only imagine this is how it goes. Sigh.)

The idea is noble, but I wonder if unplugging is even possible anymore? Sure, we could pull the cords on our toasters, radios, or alarm clocks, but the computer, television, and phone? I shudder to think. Last week a tornado hit, leaving me without power for three days, er, hours. (It just felt like three days.)

The slogan challenges, "Do the unthinkable." To me, the idea sounds sublime. It's not unthinkable, but is it un-doable? For the love of nature (and our souls), I hope not.

Until today, I had forgotten how freeing the feeling was. I spent the day communing with nature (canoeing, actually), and it was one of the best days I've had in a long time.

After being surrounding by nothing by water, trees, and sky for hours, I'm tempted to live out my own Walden (after I'm done working with the kiddos in Atlanta.) To bask in the light of the sun, rather than the light of a computer screen; hear the sound of the wind rustling through the trees rather than Rush Limbaugh's voice; and watch a squirrel hunt for nuts rather than reruns of Andy Griffith. (I think my nerdiness is showing.)

DDW doesn't end until tomorrow, so I can at least have a Digital Detox Day. Maybe you should, too.

So long until Monday.

Ps - I decided that after my adventure to Atlanta, I want to hike the Appalachian. All of it. Alone. That last one is only because I don't, at present, know any other backpackers I'd like to spend months in the wilderness with. I am, however, open to suggestions.

Headline of the Day

2009-04-24T12:57:00.005-05:00

Let he who has never sat in a long meeting with a bunch of financial executives throw the first coffee bean, says Trogolopundit.

The headline is referencing White House Economic Advisor Larry Summers' decision to take an impromptu nap in a meeting while Obama was talking. (Can we really blame him?)

"Summers appeared to be nodding off near the beginning of Obama's remarks. And then he DID nod off, doing the head on the hand and then head falling off the hand thing. Photographers seemed to be having a field day. All other officials in the room appeared fully awake." Via Think Progress.

Click over to see the pictures then click "People can be boring, you know."

Fuel to the Liberal Fire

2009-04-24T10:35:00.003-05:00

Ugh. This isn't gunna be pretty:

"The Department of Defense ... to make public at least 44 photos depicting potentially abusive treatment of detainees at prisons in Iraq and Afghanistan."

See, I told you we should just give them SoyJoys.

Torture a Terrorist for Less Than a Dollar!

2009-04-24T01:21:00.016-05:00

Forget waterboarding – let’s give ‘em all a SoyJoy! I’m pretty sure those things qualify as cruel and inhuman punishment.

Note: I’m posting this not because you care, but because I’m bitter and have a bone to pick with the makers of the energy bar from you know where. You see, Target’s having a sale on ‘em this week – 47 cents! And, since I’m such a sucker for good deals (it comes from being not spoiled), I naturally stocked up.

Good plan, right? Wrong.

The mango-coconut variety was so bad that I decided to call the customer service and tell them so.

Of course, I got a recorded response – their customer service reps were all in a meeting – probably scheming up some new way to make their product taste even more lethal. I was about to hang up when I heard this: “If you’re calling regarding an overdose situation, please hang up and call the poison control center.”

First, if anyone were to overdose on SoyJoys, it would have to be a suicide attempt so telling them to call the poison control center would be like telling Meghan McCain not to be a moron or Michelle Obama not to look like the poster child for “Diary of A Mad Black Woman.” In other words, pointless.

Second, if the person was actually experiencing an overdose of some less deadly substance I’m sure their thought process would be: “must *groping throat* call *dropping to knees* SoyJoy *eyes begin to glaze* before it’s too …”

Where was I going with this? Oh, right, I’ve solved the whole waterboarding debate. Instead of mock-drowning them (I still haven’t figured out why we’re not actually drowning them), we could poison them with a steady diet of “all natural fruit and soy bars.”

The company’s new marketing slogan could be: “Buy a SoyJoy, Torture a Terrorist.” It has a nice ring, don’t you think?

Facebook Manners and You

2009-04-23T15:52:00.006-05:00

This is awesome. H/T: Moe Lane

Moe said he had nothing to follow this, but I do. (Shocking, I know.)

It just so happens that in the course of the last 24 hours I have had two of the rules broken on me. In the interest of good taste, I'll leave the perpetrators and rules nameless.

The most useful piece of advice:

“No one's going to date you, if you get frown lines.”

Huh. Maybe that's been my problem.

Also, I wonder how much better off society would be if our insults were so genteel as, “Timmy is a wet blanket”?

The Way to a Girl's Heart

2009-04-23T12:48:00.013-05:00

The way to a man's heart may be through his stomach, but the quickest way to a blogging woman's heart is through links and copious amounts of flattery.

This fellow has mastered the art, and has captured my heart with a poem. Here's an excerpt:

"This Northern Alabama Hottie is a bit flirty and sometimes naughty"

Hey, a good, conservative girl's gotta get her kicks and giggles somehow, right? I hear that jello wrestling is also a good way to get them. This place is only 10 minutes from my house. How convenient ... and sketchy.

If you would like to contend for my heart, send donations (button's on the right!), Godiva chocolate, and a (large) diamond ring and proposal to Birmingham, AL.

Hot (?) Conservative non-Blonde from Alabama?

2009-04-22T20:16:00.020-05:00

I keep seeing headlines like this: Hot Conservative Blonde from California?, and it's starting to get a little annoying.

Not because I'm against seeing Carrie Prejean. I like oggling her just as much as the next guy--assuming the next guy is actually a girl. (Gotta squelch those lesbian rumors every chance I get).

Anyway, it's annoying because for a split second, I think they're talking about me. Then, (sadly) I remember that 1) I don't live in California anymore, 2) I don't have blonde hair anymore, and 3) I may or may not have ever been "hot." Somehow still checking the "conservative" box doesn't make me feel any better.

For those having trouble picturing me as a blonde, I'm tempted to offer proof. But I wonder if using photos of yourself as Rule 5 linkage is tacky?

Eh, I've already posted a Playboy cover of Ann Coulter, what have I got to lose?

Here, doing my best "deer in the headlights" impression:

And, two more, just to prove I'm patriotic and not 300 pounds from the neck down.

Me on the steps of the Capitol:

... And for the evening gown portion of this pageant of pictures:

Get Me Off This Planet!

2009-04-22T19:50:00.006-05:00

Apparently, a new earth-like planet has been discovered ... on Earth Day. How appropriate.

Unfortunately, researchers say it's too close to the sun to be suitable for human life.

Damn. I was really hoping that I could move there after running across this cover of Ann Coulter:

Photoshopped or not, I'm not sure I even want to exist on the same planet as that.

Conservative she might be, but Rule 5 she ain't.

Save the Earth! Move to Mars!

2009-04-22T10:09:00.019-05:00

That message is, of course, for my loyal following of liberal readers ... 0h, wait, nevermind.

If you think my suggestion is harsh, you might not want to watch Big Sexy ask an earth-loving couple if they'd consider removing their carbon footprint from the earth by, well, removing themselves. The hilarity begins around minute 2.

(*See more orange-jumpsuit-wearing, liberal-punk-slapping-goodness at the bottom of the post.)

Now, if you're wondering how much all this planet-lovin' is going to cost you, the latest tally from the MIT crowd, via the Weekly Standard, is $3,900. Think that's too much to pay? You do have one one other option: Save the Earth: Commit Suicide!

Before you do that, though, you'll want to have a last meal. Pundit and Pundette says earth day whales are very delicious. I prefer the endangered bluefin tuna myself, while Dave C says that spotted owl is a tasty alternative to the now-not-endangered eagle. Whichever dwindling species you choose, don't post pictures of your feast on Facebook. Apparently, you can get arrested.

Of course, you'll want some music to enjoy with your endangered species. Fisherville Mike shares an Earth Day-appropriate song.

Finally, Jimmie over at Sundries Shack just can't get enough of Earth Day and proposes we extend the celebration to a whole week:

"I think we should rename this week as Unintended Consequences Week, to celebrate all the effects our well-intentioned but panic-driven laws have had on our planet and our lives."

Now, go ye forth into all the world. Be fruitful and multiply your carbon emissions.

*Ready for more Big Sexy? And, I mean, can you ever really get enough? (Uh, actually, I personally know the answer to this: it's a resounding "yes!") In the video below, he convinces the sillies to sign a petition giving Gitmo detainees E-Harmony accounts, Netfix subscriptions, and the Jihad Olympics. The snark factor is through the roof. And, it’s awesome. Via Little Miss Attilla. (She also shares a video of a CNN reporter getting called to the carpet by a Tax Day Tea Party Patriot.)

This Is Too Easy...

2009-04-22T00:12:00.005-05:00

Pundit and Pundette posted this priceless photo of Mr. Obama:

OMG... so many caption possibilities, right? Fortunately, Pundette is running a caption contest, so you can add your best line.

Here's mine:

1) Obama: "Hey, everyone, come check out this awesome grave I'm digging! Do you think capitalism will fit?"

2) He was going to wear his nice things to play in the dirt, but he didn't want to look like an elitist snob.

3) "I thought he was a ~~White~~ house servant ~~of the people~~?

(The non-PC version was much funnier, but since I do live in the south, I figured I better stay away from anything that might cause me to be associated with the white hood and robe types.)

Get Rich or Die Bloggin'

2009-04-21T12:26:00.021-05:00

Want to get rich quick and immunize yourself against a case of the "poverties" going around these days? Start a blog.

Or, so goes the sound (riiiiight) advice of the Wall Street Journal.

The WSJ reports that "Bloggers can get $75 to $200 for a good post..."

As bloggers everywhere have been noting, this is crap. Oh, in addition to those six, there's him, too: Add my name to the list of bloggers laughing sourly on this nonsense from the WSJ.

I haven't had time to laugh yet. I've been too busy doing the math. Assuming that only half of my 44 posts have been good (a generous estimate, I know), I'm already behind between $1,650 and $4,400 in just a six weeks!

But, don't worry, you can help restore my faith in the WSJ--and the generosity of mankind. How? The donate button's on your right.

Once you get the hang of using mine, you can help fund the research of bacon-flavored vodka, feed a starving family of eight, or fund a brilliant blogger's new laptop fund.

Of course, unlike LMA, RSM, and Moe any money donated to me, isn't really for me: it's for the children. (In all seriousness, 2o people giving $5 would pay for an entire month of my housing while I'm volunteering with the inner-city kids for the next few months. So, if you would consider forgoing that Starbucks this afternoon, your blood sugar levels and I would be forever grateful.)

If you don't contribute? Well, I'll keep writing anyways. I gotta follow Curtis '50 Cent' Jackson on this one: I'm gunna get rich or die bloggin'.

I'm Not A Spoiled Brat Either ... Or Am I?

2009-04-20T21:31:00.029-05:00

In response to my earlier lament that my generation has no concept of what it means to sacrifice, HotMES responds with We're Not All Spoiled Brats.

Within the post, she essentially tells her life story, which--and this may come as a surprise--is in many ways like my own.

She had her first job when she was 12. I had my first job when I was 9. (And, I'm not talking allowance people).

Since our childhoods, neither she nor I have not been without a job. For her, it was babysitting and the local grocery store. For me, it was working as the janitor for my local realtor's office and my church. She earned her keep, and so did I.

I can particularly identify with this, so much so that I could have written it myself:

"I was responsible for me. There wasn’t any allowance or “Mom, can I get $20 to go see a movie?” There was me. Whatever I wanted to do was up to how much I worked for it."

She goes on to tell how she carried full loads in college while working two jobs that culminated in upwards of 40 hours a week. Ditto. (I'm beginning to wonder if we were somehow twins separated at birth.)

Interestingly, where we diverge is that I would say that none of that really makes me any less deserving of being grouped into the "spoiled" category. In my mind, the fact that I live in America where excess pervades even the lowest common denominator of society makes me almost automatically deserving of it.

The life pattern that Monique describes and that she and I have both followed is one marked by a forced responsibility beyond our years, a good ol' fashioned American work ethic, and the determination and willigness to make ourselves what we hope to be because we don't expect (and most likely wouldn't allow) someone else to do it for us.

To be willing to work and show a level of responsibility unknown to your peers may make you relatively unspoiled, but it isn't something you should be praised for. (It also doesn't mean you understand what it means to live with only the necessities, and not just niceties, of life.) The kind of guiding principles and decisions that, to Monique, preclude her from the "spoiled" category, to me should be a standard expectation. When they're not met derision should follow rather than gratuituous praise ensuing when they are met.

That said, to those who know my personal background, "spoiled brat" is never a phrase that would come into mind. And, having met Monique – she is a rare, genuine, down-to-earth sort – I would readily say the same for her. In conjunction, she notes, "I have sacrificed, more than, and less than, plenty of others in our generation." I am sure this is true. And, I would say the same for myself. Undoubtedly, most of you would as, well.

But this doesn't really get at the heart of my first post and my follow-up. I admit that Monique and I, because of our less-than-plenteous backgrounds and resulting work ethics, are less spoiled than many of our generation. Nonetheless, I still venture that we have little concept of what sacrifice truly means and meant for those of my grandparent's generation not so long ago. (That was the premise of my original argument, if you recall).

Further, I think the very fact that the natural response to being told we don't know what it means to really be in want--Yes, I do!--highlights our rather narrow perspective. I say "our" because as I was writing my original post, part of me, too, was rising up crying out for acknowledgement that "I do, too, know what it's like to be in need!"

There's something innate in man that demands his sacrifices to be acknowledged - however small - and his accomplishments to be noticed. So, while I would still aver that even those who have sacrificed "much" in our generation have sacrificed relatively little compared with many of the generations before us, I am not so ignorant of human nature that I am unwilling to stroke it politely for the sake of good will on earth, peace towards men, etc. etc.

Here goes: hotMES is not a spoiled brat. And neither am I. At least not in the usual and extreme sense of the word.

In another sense, living in the most prosperous nation in the world qualifies me, Monique, and probably you, too, for the "spoiled" category. (Or, maybe I should say "blessed.") And, if we acknoweldge our good fortune with appropriate gratitude, maybe that's not such a bad thing.

Note: If you would like to give me the opportunity to become a spoiled brat in the usual and extreme sense of the word, my donate button awaits you on the right.

Update: If there wasn't enough reason to donate before, now I'm gunna Get Rich or Die Bloggin'.

Update: In the comment section, a reader who "gets it," illustrates my argument wonderfully. He tells the story of his grandfather, a child of the Depression. In comparison, he notes that his own life, although he has worked hard, has been marked by relative ease.

Update: Troglopundit takes a look at the spoiled/not spoiled issue and comes to a ~~fair and balanced~~ biased and unobjective conclusion. Despite this, as I said before he's a smart man and still worth a read.

The Cutest Girls in the World

2009-04-20T15:49:00.005-05:00

And, I thought he was talking about me:

Wish They All Could Be California Girls

(I may live in the south now, but I spent most of my 23 years in So-Cal. I think that still classifies me as a "California Girl.")

Lesbian Logan

2009-04-20T13:45:00.013-05:00

While I've been pondering the virtues of sacrifice and the merits of poverty, there has been, apparently, a much more important question I should have been addressing:

Is Suzanna Logan a Lesbian?

I came across the question last week, and hoped it would disappear back into the closet where it belongs, but alas it has reered it's crew-cut head again.

I'm not sure how this sort of rumor could have been started. Maybe Big Sexy started it to salve his post-rejection wounds. Or, maybe Cynthia Yockey started it after deciding she needed some company in the conservative lesbian category. Or, maybe those pictures of that one party involving too much Hypnotic got out after all.

According to Stacy McCain, none of these are the right answer. He claims,

"Richard [Spencer] turned Suzanna gay, and everybody knows that this is all part of a right-wing conspiracy funded by a wealthy Greek playboy."

(Go here for the backstory of rejection by Mr. Spencer that may or may not have resulted in my utter rejection of men.)

As much as I'd like to, I can neither confirm nor deny any of these reports at this time. Stay tuned for possible chick-love confessions. In the meantime, you can find me in my closet.

Update: My lesbian status may be up in the air, but at least we know one thing about me: I'm Not a Spoiled Brat Either! ... Or Am I?

Bring on the "Poverty"

2009-04-20T11:22:00.018-05:00

Update: Distinguished author Tito Perdue adds his thoughts on the potential benefits of a recession and notes an unintended (positive) side effect I hadn't even considered: fewer illegal immigrants.

In his response to today's earlier post “Recession: Just What the Doctor Ordered?" Stacy McCain infers that I have a youthful idealism that is causing me to “romanticize poverty.” Maybe. I would counter that he has a middle-aged skepticism that has caused him to demonize it.

Having thrown the P-word into the ring, let’s consider it for a moment. What does it mean – really? You might be surprised. A quick Google search revealed that it has taken on a meaning quite different from what it once had, a reality which may help shed some light on Mr. McCain’s assertion of my naiveté.

According to 1828 Webster, poverty is:

1. Destitution of property; indigence; want of convenient means of subsistence.

According to 2009 Webster, poverty is:

1. The state of one who lacks a usual or socially acceptable amount of money or material possessions.

The discrepancy between the two definitions is telling. The type of “poverty” that I am suggesting would be good for America is the second. I am not wishing for mass calamity but for, as Tito Perdue put it, an end to the "sumptuousnes that dissolves self-discipline."

Mr. McCain seems to be referencing the first. (That he may be old enough to remember the original definition could be the source of the confusion.) He writes:

“It is one thing — and arguably a good thing — for young people to struggle with economic hardship as they try to establish their independence. It is something entirely different, and a very bad thing, to confront a poverty that is permanent, lifelong, inescapable, hopeless.”

I quite agree.

The point isn’t that suddenly he with the lowest bank account balance “wins.” The point is that an economic downturn severe enough to lend us some perspective might be more than a necessary evil. It might be an unexpected blessing. It might return us to a definition of poverty, rightly-understood, where having to choose between dinner out at McDonalds versus a dinner at Applebee’s is a choice we are grateful even to have and by no means qualifies us to claim “lack.” Or, in Mr. McCain’s case, to decide whether to “(a) make the car payment, (b) pay the phone bill, or (b) try to keep the electricity on for another month,” produces more gratitude than aggravation precisely because there is a car, phone, and electricity to be paid at all.

To be sure, I realize that when grouping anything into a collective whole, there will always be exceptions. I have already heard from some of you who are convinced that you are living in need. Maybe so. Maybe not. More than likely, you are referencing the state of poverty in definition 2, rather than that of definition 1. If this is the case, I congratulate you for the opportunity to grow in virtue.

If you think I'm advocating a return to the bare minimum without some vested interest, think again.

My own opportunity to live in a state of general discomfort is not so far away. In fact, the prospect is what prompted me to write on the subject at all. As my regular readers know, I will be soon be moving to the ghetto of Atlanta to work with the inner city kids on a full-time, volunteer basis. For the first time in my life, I'm going to have a chance to learn not in theory but in practice what it means to live with the basic necessities rather than niceties. In the midst of hyperconsumerist, materalistic America (even in a "recession"), I acknowledge this is a rare opportunity.

Right now, as I type, I'm sitting on a feather-down comforter with my pedigreed dog in a 1,000 square-foot apartment in a gated community. When I move to Atlanta, I'll be writing blogs from a dorm room I'll share with who knows how many others. Just outside my door, instead of manicured lawns and bright-faced children riding their scooters, there will be dirty streets and real poverty - the 1828 kind. Instead of spending time with my white, middle-class church friends everyday, I'll be interacting with the homeless, drug addicts, and others whose lives are on a downward spiral of hopelessness.

Call me a masochist with a penchant for self-flagellation, but I can hardly wait.

I may be alone in this, but it seems to me that up to a point, creature comforts are welcomed, but too much of a good thing can be just that. Once you've had your hand in the cookie jar for so long, the thought of one more starts to make your stomach turn rather than your mouth water.

Recession: Just What the Doctor Ordered?

2009-04-20T02:13:00.018-05:00

Update: In response to this post, HotMES writes, We're Not All Spoiled Brats. My response to her response? I'm Not a Spoiled Brat Either! ... Or Am I?

My take on "spoiled brats," the lost virtue of sacrifice, and how an ailing economy may revive a lagging culture.

It's a rainy Sunday afternoon. I'm sipping on a cup of chai tea and watching the drops dance across the lake outside my window. Days like this always put me in a contemplative, reading mood. Having jumped from Democracy in America, to C. S. Lewis' The Abolition of Man, to my own reflections on life in America, I've come to a conclusion:

Sacrifice is the bête noire of my generation. And, it's too bad.

In his epic work, de Tocqueville noted that America was a giving nation: "Every American will sacrifice a portion of his private interests to preserve the rest."

You could argue that current tax policies have ensured the truth of his statement by forcing every American to give up some of what he has for the sake of others, but that isn't quite what de Tocqueville meant. He was referencing not merely the act of giving but the spirit behind it, not just the ability to give when compelled but the willingness to do so when no such compulsion exists.

This is something I confess to knowing very little of. I mean not really. Sure, I slip a few dollars into the red pail outside Wal-Mart around Christmas time, pledge to a few regular charities, etc. But to know what it truly means to sacrifice? Hardly. In conjunction, I have only a vague notion of what it means to "do without." If you're under the age of 50, you can probably identify, and it's no surprise.

Since my grandparent's generation (Depression era), there has been not only little need but little opportunity to learn the virtue of sacrifice. Surrounded by excess, the very nature of our hyper-consumerist society has guaranteed that we rarely have to do without those things we want and almost never have to give up those things we already have. We have not been forced to be in want, so, quite naturally, we have chosen not to be.

A conversation that I had a few days ago during an unexpected excursion to Wetumpka, Alabama, to meet noted author Tito Perdue helped shed more light on the issue. According to Tito, a gentleman whose brilliance was eclipsed only by his graciousness, America's decline in recent years, morally and culturally, has been in direct proportion to the rising number of "spoiled brats": individuals who have no understanding of sacrifice and little understanding of what it means to work for not only their niceties, but God forbid, their necessities. (RSM has another name for them: Meghan McCain.)

Which came first, the denigration of American ideals or the spoiled brats is up for debate. I suspect they worked handily together. As youngsters evidenced an individual aversion to that once-great American tradition of sacrifice, it wasn't long before it came to be viewed as an unfortunate circumstance to be shunned rather than a virtue to be sought.

Tito and I discussed whether an effective antidote existed for a culture ailing for this reason and agreed that an economic downturn may be just what the doctor ordered.

I realize that cheering on a recession while in a recession may raise an eyebrow or two. So, as long as I'm at it, I might as well raise a few more. The kind of economic difficulty that America needs to purge the "spoiled brat" mentality and return to the days of moral and cultural integrity that Tito remembers and I (sadly) do not is one more severe than we are currently having. It cannot be the kind in which people whine about having less money to spend on dinners and movies out. It must be the kind that forces neighbors to band together to meet their bare necessities. (If Obama keeps up his economic policies, which promise to make a bad economy worse, I may get my wish.)

Such circumstances, I venture, would give us the opportunity to embrace a virtue which we have refused of our own free will. Of course, "doing without" only when one has no other choice is not sacrifice in the truest sense of the word. Nevertheless, the effects on our souls and, by extension, society might be very much the same.

To be loosed from the obsessive fascination with the materialism that surrounds us would free us to look inward, to spend our time and energies rebuilding what we have sacrificed of our souls while amassing more "stuff." When one is accustomed to having everything at his fingertips, the idea of having nothing at all, or at least only one's needs rather than wants readily available, certainly sounds primitive but in a thrilling sort of way. After stifling under the excesses of our consumerist culture for so long, a streamlined, if not stoic, existence may be one of the few novelties left. And, doesn't it sound grand?

Were we to experience some of what our parents or grandparents did during the Depression era, we would undoubtedly come away with the revelation that not only do we not need most of the material comforts that consume our lives but we can be just as fulfilled (and maybe even moreso) without them. Such a realization would likely result in a greater willingness to "sacrifice ... to preserve the rest" as an act of the free, not forced, will.

Having returned to de Tocqueville, he warned almost two centuries ago that "the age of implicit self-sacrifice and instinctive virtues is already flitting far away from us." That age is even farther now than when he penned those words, but it may not be too late to return to it once again. The question is how much are we willing to sacrifice to find out?

I'm a Right-Wing Extremist, Are You?

2009-04-16T14:29:00.011-05:00

I'm a little behind on the Tea Party commentary, having had a series of interesting events yesterday that included my nearly joining a chaps contest in a backwoods bar in Wetumpka, Alabama last night (more on this later). Fortunately, I escaped with my dignity intact. And, speaking of dignity...

I may not have risked it and my virginal innocence to become the Lady Godiva of the Tax Day Tea Party, as Stephen Gordon of The Liberty Papers noted. (He also noted I was "cute.") But, I did risk my health. I attended the 'Bama Tea Party wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt (in 50 degree weather) that proclaimed "I Will Not Be Silent!" Ironically, I actually was rather silent, having been diagnosed with severe strep that morning.

Fortunately, there were 7,000 others there to cheer for me, especially when Stacy of The Other McCain delivered his rousing "You Might be a Right-Wing Extremist If" speech. As he so humbly notes, the magic is in the delivery. The fun begins around minute 1.

My personal favorite, "You might be a right-wing extremist if you believe in God, but don't think Obama is the Messiah."

Ps. Still haven't figured out the purpose of the random pitchfork in the background. Maybe they were hoping a lib would show and an impaling would follow?

It's Tax Day! Let the BAR (Bank Account Rape) Games Begin!

2009-04-15T00:10:00.008-05:00

I've always loved games. I've also always loved to cheat at games. I once marked the $90K Salary card in "Life" so I would know to pick it everytime. (Sorry, sis!)

Sadly, in the game of real Life, there are no $90K salary cards to mark. Even more sadly, there are taxes, and you shouldn't cheat on those unless federal prison sounds fun to you. (At least these days, you'd likely be surrounded by CEOS not black drug dealers, suggests this page.)

Because there are no games and probably no blogs in prison, I suggest you play while you can.

I'll be your host for the evening, and I want to know from you, "Whose Money Is It Anyway?!?!" Just to help you out, I'll give you a hint, the answer is three words beginning with the letters. "I" "R" "S".

The rules? Share in the comment section how much of your hard-earned cash you'll be coughing up in taxes this year. Really, "coughing" isn't dramatic enough imagery. Let's go with "hurl", "puke," "barf," or "ralph." (Those should include me in some interesting google searches.)

The objective? To make me, your host, feel better about the $7,000 payout I'll be giving Uncle Sam this year.

Let the games begin and may the ~~best~~ richest man win!

Ps - If you're not planning on attending the Tax Day Tea Party today, for the love of your country, CHANGE YOUR PLANS. I'll be here.

Ps 2 - Before heading to a Tea Party and in between cursing under your breath, drawing a pitchfork and tail onto your favorite Barry O picture, and shoving large amounts of chocolate into your mouth in an attempt to feel better on this grand April 15, try playing Pester the Democrats.

Click the link and you can tea-bag Barack "not Saddam" Hussein Obama, Joe "Not the Plumber" Biden, Harry “Nepotism” Reid, and Nancy “Let 'Em Eat Cake” Pelosi.

What would be even better is if we could actually make them a cup of tea then, say, throw in a little hemlock, hm? What's good enough for Socrates...

UPDATE: My mother's thoughts on all of this: "I think we should tar and feather them first, then make them drink the hemlock tea. If they refuse to drink it, then we could tie them up and give them all ENEMAS!!!" Well played, Mom. Well played. One of the many reasons that I love you.

insert clever s.logan here

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JOY

To Trust or Not to Trust?

Audience of One

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Toys, toys, toys....

Christmas for the Kidz!

A pig is a pig is a pig...

I want to be broken...

Without Further Ado...

UPDATE!!!!

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Question of the Night

Promises

How Many Stars?

How Much Do You Care?

"You Got a Boyfriend?"

Update... Fo' Realz!

"What up" from Atlanta!

Dream the Impossible Dream

Entitled to Succeed? Two letters: BS.

Kid on Conservatism and Me on Cool

Science Says Women Are Getting Hotter

Attitude Adjustment, Please!

The world in two links.

Oh, I'm sorry, I thought God determined my gender.

God, Guns, Guts, and CNN's Idiot Reporters

I have to say it, and I'm not sure why.

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"He's a communist."

You mean like VACA?

It's a Small, Wonderful, Creepy World. Tales from the Road.

Lessons in Love from Mark Sanford

Pray for Me

Bob Dylan: 'Cause I Believe in Him

Finding Your Place of Destiny

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Daily Dose of Butt-Sniffing

"A Very Nice Set of Tatas"

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Venturing Outside Your Comfort Zone

Obama and Olbermann = Marx

OM G. Gordon Liddy on Sotomayor's Menstruation

What Have They Got that I Haven't Got?

I Like My Men Big. Also, Various & Sundry Links That You Should Click.

Memorial Day Remembrance from a Veteran

Remembering Those Who Never Came Home

Swimsuit Fear and Self-Loathing in Alabama

Dems Prove Success at One Thing: Truth FAIL

Some Like it Hot: Marco Rubio vs the NRSC

Awkward Moments, Tony Danza Edition

Football and Politics

Kindergartners Get Ready to "Go Gay" in CA

This explains a lot....

How to waste the next four minutes of your life...

You'll Like This Girl

Awkward Moments, Installation 1

These Guys Mean Business

Cheerios As Drugs and Sugar-Coated Serial Killers

My Dog is Holier than Your Dog

"Yellow" Fever Epidemic Sweeps through Blogosphere

Obama Acknowledges He's "The One"

The American Entrepreneurial Spirit ... and Sex Toys?

Those are some sexy... elbows?

President Obama Isn't a Hypocrite, After All

Kitty Cats, Puppy Dogs, and Me: Oh My!

Terrorists Coming to a Neighborhood Near You!

Mark Your Calendars for Islam Day!

Pig Bladder Grows Back Man's Finger

Punk-smacking the Beyotch, er, Behar

The Dark Side

Sunday Morning Tradition

Don't Kiss the Pig!

Edmund Burke on Secession, Tea Parties, Obama, and the ACLU

Why Conservative Women Are Hotter

Hello? Taps Mike HELLO?