What goes around comes around

It looks like the self-righteous Rev. Phelps and his band of weirdos at Westboro Baptist Church (no link will be provided) owes a few bucks to the family of a marine killed in Iraq. Apparently, the award is greater than the church is worth. Perhaps the good Reverend and his followers could help bury fallen servicemen to repay their debt.

As a funny side note, I went to the online home of Westboro Baptist Church in doing my due diligence for this post and found that they now present their site en español! Classic.

Current favorite song

I wanted to post something...anything... Nothing witty or clever comes to mind, so I thought I'd share my latest favorite song, John Hiatt's "Dust Down a Country Road" from his 1995 album Walk On. Enjoy.

Awkward...

So, there I was, in my friends' house, taking care of their cat. Yes, it was 8 PM. Yes, I was a little late. I had forgotten to take the keys to their home with me to work so I had to come back much later. And, to make matters worse, I couldn't remember whether they were coming back that night or the next day.

So, I was watering the plants, and the garage door suddenly opens...and there stands my friend, fresh from two weeks in the great American Southwest, rested, tanned, and finding me in her house at 8 PM.

Now, it wasn't like I was stuffing anything in my pockets, or going through their drawers. But I was in their house. And they were home. But they hadn't been when I first arrived. And I had let myself in.

Of course, I had permission to be there. They knew I would be taking care of the cat and the plants. But, still, I was in their house, when they got home. I felt dirty. Like I had been caught doing something I shouldn't have been.

So, I was caught red-handed, and started babbling like an idiot:

• "Oh! You're home!" (Duh!)
• "I am feeding the cat!" (Right...that's what we arranged....)
• "I swear, this is the first time I came this late! I forgot the key! I promise I have been feeding the cat the entire two weeks!" (By the way the cat is running around she's obviously not dead.)
• "I just got here" (As if to say that I hadn't been sleeping there.)

Now, when someone is caring for your home while you're away, you know they are in your house from time to time. But it's pretty much theoretical. Meaning, you don't actually see them there. It's kind of a personal thing, letting yourself into someone else's home. And when they come home and find you standing there...it's just strange. I would wonder why they were in my house, knowing why, of course, but wondering all the same. Then, I would ponder why, if they knew I was coming home, they didn't clear out beforehand.

Thankfully, my friends are quite calm and sane, and only laughed about it. And it looks like I'll never have to take care of their cat again, either.

Good news!

I just received a call from my brother, fresh off the plane from Iraq (via Kuwait and a few other minor stops, including Charlotte). I am glad to have him home finally. Let's remember to pray for all the other sailors, soldiers, airmen, and marines still doing what they have been called upon to do.

James, I am proud of you. Let's hurry up and have that cigar...preferably over a victory by our beloved Redskins.

Interactive, musical fun

I read this Q&A with U2 axeman (I've always wanted to refer to a guitarist using that term) The Edge (I think he capitalizes the "The") and thought it would be fun to recreate it with my own music memories. I want to note right up front that I'm no rock star, so some of the categories don't apply to me. In those cases I either fudged it so I could answer, or threw out the question altogether. I don't actually own all of the albums I have listed below, but I can assure you that I either did at one time, or had enough friends that owned it that I heard it plenty.

As a bonus to this post, I thought that it would be fun to open it up to you, the discerning reader, to add your own memories in the comment section.

So, here are The Rules. I will answer the same questions posed to The Edge (with the aforementioned exceptions). After you read my post, you can click on the "Comments" link and answer the same questions. Fun, huh?

And so, here you have it:
My Life in Music: Wastebasket Confessional

The first single I bought:
Can I Play With Madness b/w Black Bart Blues
Iron Maiden, 1988

I didn't buy many singles. I preferred getting the full album, mostly because I didn't buy music unless I liked more than one song. iTunes has since alleviated this hang-up. I am assuming Edge was talking about 7" 45 RPM records when he was talking about singles, and since I'm old enough to have purchased my fair share of vinyl, this one qualifies. It was hardly my first ever music purchase, but this is the first single. As I think back, I did buy some 12" singles. I remember buying an extended version of Duran Duran's Wild Boys, but I don't think that quite fits the spirit of the question. Plus, I would prefer to forget about that period in my life.

I remember buying Can I Play With Madness at the mall because of the novelty of it. I mean, Iron Maiden putting out a 45? Weird. I was an avid Maiden fan and so I had to make it mine. Besides, I had never heard Black Bart Blues, and for about $2.50 I made it mine.

I also bought a Metallica single under similar circumstances, but I think it was after this one. I don't actually remember what was on side one, although I think it was Last Caress. But side two had Breadfan, which I remember liking a lot.

The record that reminds me of being a teenager:
Greatest Hits, Vol. 1 and 2
Billy Joel, 1985

AND

Misplaced Childhood
Marillion, 1985


This was a tough one, so I settled on a tie. Looking back, though, the one musician that was constant among all of my friends was Billy Joel. We all listened to his music. Dan mocked me for listening to the Ramones, John couldn't stand the Sex Pistols, Peggy hated Stryper, everyone hated John Denver--but Billy Joel was well liked by all. And we ALL knew ALL of the lyrics to every single song on this two record album. We all saw him in concert at one point or another. In fact, I heard Piano Man on the radio on the way home from work today, and sang every line at the top of my lungs. The songs on this album always take me back to the parties and other gatherings when my friends were singing along with me.

The selection of Marillion is a bit odd, because it's not an album that I have ever heard all the way through. But I heard side one over and over--and I still love it. The focus of side one is the song Kayleigh, which is still one of my all-time favorites. The songs before and after Kayleigh are Pseudo Silk Kimono, Lavender, and Bitter Suite, but they all blend together to make one long song. This is not a song I ever sang out loud with a bunch of friends, but it must have been on whenever we were on long trips to school competitions ("Blue Crew!"). I hate prog-rock in general, but this album should be in my collection.

The record that made me want to play guitar:
The Power Station
The Power Station, 1985

Okay, well I'm obviously not an axeman (AGAIN!) like Mr. The Edge, so I had to pick an album that made me dream the most of being a rock star. I actually preferred a different instrument on different tracks, but this album was the first one on which I remember playing air guitar. While purists hate the remake of T. Rex's Bang a Gong (Get it On) featured on this album, it was the version of the song on this album that first introduced me to the joys of the air guitar. For those that don't remember the Power Station, this was one of two of the "super groups" that came out of Duran Duran in the mid-80s (the other being Arcadia). It featured Robert "Addicted to Love" Palmer on vocals, the drummer from the 70s disco/funk band Chic, Tony Thompson, and the unrelated bassist and guitarist from Duran², John Taylor and Andy Taylor, respectively.

The record by a local hero that inspired me:
To Hell With the Devil
Stryper, 1986

Neither Sterling, VA nor Washington, DC have pushed out any rock star or other musical act that have especially "inspired" me, so I had use the same standard as The Edge, who chose to look at all Irish acts. Since I'm not Irish, I chose to look at my own home country as a whole, which just happens to be the United States. While that gives me a much better selection, I'm kind of hung up on that whole inspired thing...so I went with one that ultimately inspired my conversion to Christ.

It's hard to tell when I first truly trusted in Christ, but it actually became a memorable experience about 3 to 4 years after I first heard this album. To Hell With the Devil was the first exposure that I really had to evangelical Christianity, and it actually generated more questions than it answered. I trace my search for those answers back to this hair band classic.

My favorite U2 record:
War, 1983


I obviously can't contradict Edge with regard to the album that most inspired U2, since I don't personally know the blokes in U2, and even if I did, I can't "correct" their perceptions of what influenced them. So, I changed this category. If you're playing along at home and don't like U2, you can obviously skip this question. Or, you could be creative and list your favorite album from some other group you like. Say for instance that you like Hanson. You could list your favorite Hanson album. See how easy this is?

I don't like Hanson, but I have liked this album since the first time I ever heard it, which was sometime after I heard The Unforgettable Fire, but before I heard The Joshua Tree. This was the album I used to judge U2 during the 90s (after the release of Achtung Baby, which is a pretty good album) when they were doing all their crappy dance/pop/disco albums. With All That You Can't Leave Behind, U2 returned to their rock sound that is so fabulously exemplified by War, and I forgave them for their output in the 90s.

The record that restored my faith in rock:
Vol. 1
Traveling Wilburys, 1988

Faith in rock? Umm, that's a bit esoteric for me. I always believed, like Huey Lewis, that the heart of rock 'n' roll was still beatin' even when the old boy was barely breathin'. I chose the Traveling Wilburys due to the eras that were represented by this ultimate super group: Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Tom Petty, and that other guy (Jeff Lynne from the Electric Light Orchestra-the definite yawn factor in this otherwise great lineup). You had the old and new all represented...okay, even Tom Petty was pretty old when this came out, but he was still current.

I think this album did a lot to reintroduce people my age to the rock and roll that our parents loved. There were precursors to the Wilburys, most notably the success of George Harrison's song I've Got My Mind Set on You (1987), and the re-charting of the Beatles' version of Twist and Shout after it was lip synced by Matthew Broderick in the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off (it went to #23 on the charts in 1986). But this album introduced a whole new generation of fans to new music from guys that they didn't know much about outside of the local oldies stations and their parents' record collections.

The last record I fell in love with:
Tigerlily
Natalie Merchant, 1995

I only heard this album in its entirety this year since I lived under a self-imposed rock throughout most of the 90s and never bothered listening to anything other than the hits from it before. There is no one that can match the voice of this chanteuse, and this album is absolutely beautiful. This was Merchant's first project after leaving the 10,000 Maniacs, and I would say that it was a good move. For you discerning readers that are regulars here, you have no doubt seen this album displayed prominently in the "Music Currently in Rotation" area located in the right margin. It's been there since I made this fine purchase.

The record I couldn't live without:
Unchained (American II)
Johnny Cash, 2002

This album absolutely rocks. And if you ever watch TV, you've already heard part of one track (I've Been Everywhere is featured prominently on that insipid hotel commercial).

Sonically, it is different from the other, more acoustic, arrangements on the other American projects (those produced by Rick Rubin on American records). This album features a backing band (Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers), and they really let it all hang out. Considering Cash was in his seventies at the time, and was in and out of the hospital quite a bit, this album sounds incredibly lively and crisp. It has everything on it that you could want--spirituality (Spiritual, Kneeling Drunkard's Plea, Meet Me in Heaven, Unchained), excellent covers (Beck's Rowboat, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' Southern Accents, Dean Martin's Memories are Made of These, and a most excellent version of Soundgarden's Rusty Cage), and classic Cash (Country Boy, Mean Eyed Cat, I've Been Everywhere). If you never pick up any of Cash's newer stuff again, check this out. It's been in my disc changer pretty much since I've owned it.

The record I'd like played at my funeral:
Sanctuary
Claire Holley, 1999

The Pope's declaration notwithstanding, my funeral will be a homecoming celebration. I found this little gem several years ago through some free downloads at Paste Music's site. It's a simple collection of old spiritual standards (and one original) accompanied by guitar, Hammond B-3, dobro, and mandolin. Her elderly father even contributes background vocals on Higher Ground. Clean, simple, and not the regular CCM schlock.

Let's hear how you would answer...click the Comments link and let 'em fly.

Of Papal Bulls and Papal Bull

Whatever.

15,000 Square Feet of Total Elvis!

I spent last weekend in Sevierville, TN with my wife's family. The company was great, but the location was not what I expected. While I knew we'd be in the vicinity of Great Smokey Mountains National Park, I had no idea that we would also be right around the corner from Dollywood and the aforementioned King. It was a redneck wonderland, complete with a NASCAR Speedpark.

Who knew that the road getting into town would be as busy as Myrtle Beach on Biker Week? To make the traffic worse, the town had a Super Wal-Mart, which turned out to be the busiest spot in town.

My brother- and sister-in-law (BIL and SIL) own a time share with a resort--one of those deals where you have your choice of several locations--and this was where we decided to go. As part of our incentive was the promise of free gifts for going and listening to the "90 minute presentation", which included a discounted room at the Governor's Inn (which, come to think of it, was located on Nascar Dr.). For you discerning readers that have experienced similar deals, you know about The Presentation. You go and the nice people try to convince you that you need to buy into the time share because you own it and can pass it on to your children. The most insulting part was where they told us that if we bought one and passed it on, that could be our "legacy". Gag.

I hope that I pass on more to my children than that.

But, back to Sevierville. I am constantly amazed at these United State of Generica. I can go to any city in this country and never really leave home. Think about it, you can read the USA Today in the lobby of your hotel as you sip your coffee from Starbucks. You can then go shopping at many fine outlet malls, which aren't really anything special, just strip malls for the impulsive buyer where you can get Nike tennis shoes, Bose speakers, and fine cutlery all at a discount. The difference between this outlet mall and the one near you? The location, because it certainly isn't the merchandise.

Besides the view of the Super Wal-Mart, my hotel balcony overlooked a Books-A-Million, a Texas Roadhouse (at which I did eat because as our parting gift following The Presentation, the little lady and I were given $75 in gift certificates to the place), and a bunch of other chains that just seemed to blend into the background. I cannot for the life of me imagine why anyone would go to such a place for vacation.

Just as an aside, I fear the generic-tization of things has now sadly crossed our borders and into other countries. In July 2001 I was in Dublin, Ireland on business. I asked my coworkers where a good place would be to grab dinner. The first response I got was an enthusiastic, "there's a new TGI Friday's!" Retch.

I mentioned Myrtle Beach earlier in this post. This town was very similar to Myrtle Beach except that a) there was no beach, b) there was no Ron Jon's, and c) the hooty bars and put-put golf courses were replaced with bust-yer-gut-all-you-can-stuff-into-yer-mouth restaurants that had shows. I am not kidding. There was a Chinese restaurant that featured an acrobat show, there was a wild west horse-riding rodeo show, there was a Dolly Parton owned and branded place, Southern Gospel singfests, Uncle Cracker-style comedy revues...and those were just the ones I could remember. To make it worse, when I went by them they were PACKED! Nothing like the smell of horse manure to go with your steak and potato! Ummm, that's good eatin'!

Apparently, this is what people in our country want. They want to get away and do all the stuff they usually do at home, only they want to do it several hours away from home...except for the shows...unless, of course, you happen to hail from Branson, MO.

From the mouths of babes

From a very special almost seven year-old little girl:
"Pandas are my favorite animals because they are so cute. Until you pick up the babies and they scratch your eyes out."

Jack Handy has nothing on her.

I'm no sissy boy

A concerned reader in Virgina writes:

You've got to MAN UP! I put three of your latest blog postings through the gender genie, and it decided that your writing was decidedly feminine. 2 out of 3 times!

The mystical gender genie is an online algorithm that determines, based on the words and number of times each is used, whether the writer is male or female. Who says science can't answer all of our questions?

I looked, and by Jove, it seems that some of my posts do shake out that way. Who'd have thought it was possible? I thought by virtue of the fact that I can grow more facial hair than the concerned reader would count for something.

Not that it's a total wash. I kicked off my blogging career with this uber-masculine post (2715 "male" words versus 1346 "female"). Want to write in a more masculine way? Use the following words often when writing:

• the
• is
• a
• at
• these
• it
• to
• what

This is the key. To write what the genie is looking at. Many have said as much. It is above its expectations to use words that are longer than one syllable (like "Ugh").

What goes around comes around is what I say. It is important to check other sites as well. I Can Ascertain Some Sites are as feminine as others.

(This post is 758 masculine to 171 feminine by the way.)

Blogging is kind of like McDonald's in a way

Greetings discerning readers! Please excuse the hiatus, but there have been some things going on in my life as of late. The main thing is that I moved to a different house. Notice that I didn’t say a “new” house. That would be untrue. This is a 1976, brick ranch. Almost 2100 square feet, four bedrooms, two and a half baths, yada, yada, yada. Of course, I didn’t actually sell the old homestead. We are renting it to a nice family that has the goal of purchasing it from me at some point in the near future. This means that since you last had a fresh post (some dreadful piece concerning paint color about which I can only say I’m sorry), I have a new title: Landlord.

I don’t actually like the term “landlord”, because it gives me visions of this guy. No, I prefer “land baron”. It makes me feel more early twentieth century, more roaring twenties, more Great Gatsby. It also helps me remember that I own not one, but two pieces of Charlotte, NC, and I kind of like that. If the lots were together, I could put a large wall and a moat around them and gaze across the street at my neighbors, whom I would pretend were the serfs in this little make-believe fiefdom. I could do all that, but I won’t, because I like the location of this house much more—although the Lowe’s that’s closest to me here (and trust me, I’ve been there a time or two) is inferior to the one that was a mile away from the former location. You can’t have it all, I guess.

About the house. It was built in the bicentennial year of this great nation, and that means that it has some quirks anyway—like the pink toilet in the half bath. It also hasn’t been lived in for 2 to 4 years, depending on which neighbor you ask. When you live in a house that hasn't been lived in, you find out stuff is broken as you use it. Thus, I have been in the crawl space a time or two, reconnecting drainage pipes and the like. We've shelled out a few hundred bucks for a plumber, even when we pay only $55 a visit because of the home warranty that came with the house.

We bought it from a nice couple that owned it for almost a year with hopes of making big money with a flip. But it flopped. Don’t get me wrong, I love the house, and they did some good things—new roof, new furnace, and new AC. They also laid some laminate flooring throughout most of the house. Incorrectly. And let this be a lesson to all of you, and help keep people like me gainfully employed:

READ THE MANUAL!

As if this weren’t enough excitement, four days after leaving our former residence, and two days before the new family moved in, some of the kids from the neighborhood decided to break into the shed at that property. The police came and caught some of the kids. Of course, they caught the third-graders that were involved. And the third-graders weren’t about to out their older culprits. Their mother couldn’t get them to talk either. Instead of having them booked, or asking their mother who couldn’t afford to pay for the damage to pay for the damage, I made the agreement with her to have her kids help me repair the damage. We’ll do the handyman thing together and bond and stuff. Perhaps by helping to repair the damage they will learn something about fixing things and also what a pain it is to fix something that you helped destroy. Hopefully it will be a positive experience.

Not to highlight too much drama, but about a week ago my dog was hit by a car. Broke her leg, it did. $1600 for orthopedic surgery. ORTHOPEDIC SURGERY FOR A DOG! I have lost my mind. The needle is only $75, but I had a dog that went that route a few years back, and I didn’t want to do that again (before you flame me, that dog wouldn’t have been out of the woods with one $1600 surgery. We would have been back again and again. Besides, it’s a DOG). She went today to have the staples removed. The doctors are all impressed with her progress (they should, I forked over the money). They did the surgery at half price, which was very nice, but the poor dog is confined to her crate for five more weeks. I tell her she’s lucky to be alive. She just gives me the evil eye.

I preached my first sermon ever a few weeks before the move. I preached part two of a series we were doing at church called Raising G-Rated Kids in an R-Rated World. My topic was “Children Need Memories”. I thought it went well. No one fell asleep. Copies available upon request.

In case you don’t follow football, my beloved Redskins made big news on Yahoo! a few weeks back by signing a punter. Yes, a punter. Are there no free agents they could scoop up? How about a receiver? How about anything? What, they don’t have any more holes to fill? I suppose that when your team is that bad, a kicker will really get your fans fired up, seeing as he’s on the field longer than their offense.

In blog news:
I have added my brother’s blog to my links. Now you can get the perspective of someone in Iraq (in case you don’t know anyone that has been or is there now). This way, you all have a face to look at when you hear our imperial congress tell us that our troops “don’t need no steenking funds”. Oops. Sorry for the politics. I promised myself that I wouldn’t talk politics on this blog, and so far I’ve been pretty good about it. But, when I heard that congress wants to kill our men and women in uniform for political points back home, it about made me sick. Not that I think that W made the wisest of moves with this whole mess, but once our people are there, I think they should be equipped to protect themselves and do their jobs. ‘Nuff said.

Well, that's all I've got. Blogging is a lot like McDonald’s in a way…you are never really satisfied with the food, but you know you’ll be back. If there’s still anyone out there reading, I will try to stay up with this a bit better. I know, this post isn’t very good, and I rambled a bit. I shall strive to do better next time.

Paint colors and the Y chromosome

Like most men, I have a limited grasp of colors. Blue, red, yellow, green, purple, and orange have always done just fine for me. Throw in black, white, gray, and brown, and I am a virtual expert on all the many nuances of color. With a little more qualifying, I have increased my palette to at least triple as I can now identify "light blue" and "dark green". I can go further by mixing two shades, such as "red-orange" and "yellow-green". Thank you Crayola.

However, being a married man, I have learned that these adjectives are inadequate. For example, the walls in my room are not "green", simpleton that I am. No, they are "sage". This problem promises to manifest itself even more acutely as we move into our new home in about three weeks and I am forced to make the dreaded trip to Lowes so that we can purchase paint the hues of which are named "desert tumbleweed" and "creamy mocha". Personally, I like the already "tan" walls, although women would probably call this color "taupe" or "beige".

What occurred to me today, though, is that calling a "sage" wall "green" is not incorrect. This is true because the color of a thing is never called that thing's name. For example, while my wife might be duped into believing that our green walls are sage, she can only say that because she knows the color of the herb. But, if I held up a bunch of sage at the store and asked my beloved to identify the color, she would be forced to admit they were green. Consider these other examples:

• Lemon
• Tangerine
• Ruby
• Eggplant
  

Of course, much like the English language, this rule is broken a couple of times. The most obvious is "orange". I suppose they didn't have a better word to describe it when it became necessary to assign its name. Some of you doubters out there are probably thinking "violet". I'll give it to you, but I will always prefer "purple".

I don't know if we need our own civil rights group to fight for our right to call "ruby" "red" or "lemon" "yellow", but I would venture a guess that men are the only ones so afflicted by the inability to "properly" identify colors. At least most men can tell the difference between "pliers" and "wrenches".

Coming out of the closet

The other night, I was driving my friend's truck while moving some furniture. He has on his sun visor one of those CD holders that allows you to store up to 10 discs for easy access while driving. Because of how far in the CDs sit in the holder, you can't see the labels very well, if at all. And yet, a cursory glance revealed enough of a label to allow me to accurately assess what one of the compact discs was: ABBA Gold.

ABBA is perhaps one of the schmaltziest pop groups that has ever been. Despite this sad but true fact, owning one of their CDs is not considered the least bit strange. Not only that, but for some unexplained reasons I hear that many women request "Dancing Queen" for their wedding receptions--a dubious distinction indeed. But this is no wedding reception; it's my buddy's Ford Ranger! Has he no shame?!?

Predictably, when confronted about his CD selection, he blamed it on his wife. "She took my truck to the mountains," claimed he. Since he knew how lame an excuse that was, he called her over from across the room.

"Who's ABBA CD is that in my truck?"

"It's mine. I took his truck to the mountains," was the reply. Either they had gotten their stories straight for just such a time as this, or they were telling the truth. She continued, "Did you look inside the CD player?"

My friend confessed before his wife told. "Hanson!"

I could only shudder.

I guess any guy that will admit to listening to Hanson in his very manly, beat up, Ford pickup truck has no reason to lie about an ABBA CD. He clearly has more to lose by admitting that he likes Hanson. Besides, who doesn't love "Waterloo"?

My friend's boldness confirmed in my mind something that I have kept hidden for a long time.

All of us like sappy music in one form or another. Burt Bacharach has made a career creating the stuff. We all empathized with David Spade and Chris Farley as, with tear-streaked faces, they sang along with the Carpenter's "Superstar" in the movie Tommy Boy. And who doesn't love singing along with Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline" when the DJ spins it at that company party or wedding? I believe that secretly even the most manly of men loves a good, sappy pop song. Something they never would have admitted to in high school. Something that would have brought shame in college. Something even their wives would like in adulthood. And so, with this post, I will open and step out of the closet for the world to read.

I like John Denver.

There. I said it.

To take it further, I don't even just love his old stuff, either. I even like the stuff he did in the mid to late 80s. I have liked his music my whole life, and I was seriously bummed when he died.

It must be a generational thing. My mom and dad loved his music, and now so do I. This must be a much more common thing than I realized at first. Obviously, if my parents listened to music that I grew to love, certainly there must be all kinds of people out there that have the same experience.

Then I remembered an article I read a long time ago about a bunch of tribute albums where some of these artists' songs were covered by alternative bands through the 90s. I guess I should have paid closer attention. Consider the following:

• If I Were a Carpenter
• Take Me Home: A Tribute to John Denver
• A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit Neil Diamond
• Tribute to Barry Manilow
• ABBA - A Tribute: The 25th Anniversary Celebration

As of this posting, there are no Hanson tribute albums out there. But, to my friend that inspired this post, don't give up hope. Maybe someday some indie rockers will think back to their roots, to their parents' CD collections, and to the great influence of "MMMBop" on their sound. In the meantime, I will travel down those country roads with John Denver, one of the great under-appreciated singer/songwriters of all time.

What, me neo-orthodox?

Karl Barth must have been a great guy to agree with me...

Thanks for the link, fr'nklin!

You scored as Neo orthodox. You are neo-orthodox. You reject the human-centredness and scepticism of liberal theology, but neither do you go to the other extreme and make the Bible the central issue for faith. You believe that Christ is God's most important revelation to humanity, and the Trinity is hugely important in your theology. The Bible is also important because it points us to the revelation of Christ. You are influenced by Karl Barth and P T Forsyth.

Neo orthodox

64%

Emergent/Postmodern

61%

Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan

57%

Fundamentalist

50%

Charismatic/Pentecostal

43%

Reformed Evangelical

43%

Roman Catholic

43%

Classical Liberal

32%

Modern Liberal

7%

What's your theological worldview?
created with QuizFarm.com

Let it snow! Let it snow! Watch them mock?

Growing up in the Greater Washington, DC Metropolitan Area, Northern Virginia division, I have seen my share of snow. Having lived in the frozen tundra of Southeastern Wisconsin, the Halfway-Between-Milwaukee-And-Chicago division for 9 months (the 9 months that took us right through the snowy season of late October through February), I have seen LOTS of snow.

But, I no longer live in the frozen tundra. I don't even live in DC. I live in Charlotte, North Carolina. And nothing says Charlotte, NC quite like a snow storm.

Okay, nothing says Charlotte, NC like "NASCAR", but work with me a little.

Tomorrow, we are scheduled to get a whopping 1-2 inches of snow. That doesn't aggravate me. I like snow. I thought Wisconsin was awesome in the winter. What it means is that Charlotte will get national attention. There is nothing that the city of Charlotte loves quite like national attention. National attention is better still if it involves the forthcoming NASCAR Hall of Fame. But this kind of national attention is not welcome.

I saw this national attention while sipping some exceedingly bad coffee in the lobby of the Comfort Inn in San Jose, CA two weeks ago tomorrow. CNN was on the tube, and they were broadcasting live from Charlotte. The reporter was standing beside what looked like an overpass or road overlooking 485 and talking about the big, bad ice storm that had occurred in the night. He was scratching a patch off of a railing and saying something along the lines of, "all it took was this much ice to close the city down! " No wonder they hate Yankees in the South. All that was missing was for the reporter to talk about how superior they are in New York, Philadelphia, or, heaven help us, Boston.

Yes, that's right. Tomorrow Charlotte and all points in the south that are affected by the oncoming storm will be mocked on the national news: "Stupid southerners can't drive in the stuff." "What a bunch of wimps." Yada, yada, yada.

I gained my first hatred of this attitude growing up in Northern VA, where every time it would snow, the reporters would head out to either Dulles or National (back before it was Reagan National) Airport to interview...you got it, the same goofballs that will be mocking us tomorrow.

Nothing is as annoying as someone with a Boston accent talking about how people "down he-ah" can't operate their "cahs" in the snow, and how New England is so much better because their kids go to school when there's a foot of snow on the ground and they even walk uphill both ways in it and anyone that can’t take it is obviously backwards and they’re so superior that they are going to move to the south as soon as possible to show these backwoods hicks just how to do things.

And so, they move south—trust me, Charlotte is a lot like DC: most people are from somewhere else, and usually from the north—and they then discover that it isn’t the people that can’t handle it. It’s an infrastructure thing. This will be the first snow in three years. You think an area that gets that much snow has hundreds of snow plows at its beck and call?

Now, Wisconsin had the tools. I lived in a town of 3000ish people (literally a village), and I swear they had 5-10 snow plows. Not only that, but before the first flake hit the ground, they were a-plowin’. And not just the main roads, either. No sir, this was a first rate snow removal machine, I’ll tell you what! But, you wanna know a secret? Lean closer and I’ll whisper it to you:

Those folks can’t get their tires to work on snow and ice any better than those of us that reside in the South.

See, one day, I was at work, and the snow came. And in Wisconsin, there is no such thing as a wimpy snow. In an hour they could have an inch or two. But I digress…we were house-sitting for my wife’s cousin, and I was even using their car. Then I started getting the comments: “If you need to get home, go ahead.” “Brad, you drive through snow before?” Even my lovely wife called with, “Be careful, please. The snow here is different than Virginia.” Grrrr.

Deciding it would be wise to hit the main roads, I headed straight to I-94. And guess what I saw? Cars in ditches. Cars spun the wrong way beside the road. Cars abandoned by drivers driven to madness by the mysterious white flakes falling from the sky. And what did the license plates say? Virginia? North Carolina, the "First in Flight"? Florida, the "Sunshine State"?

Nope. Wisconsin. But even more satisfying to me, Illinois, the "Land of Lincoln". Lots of Land of Lincoln-branded plates. Yes, the southerner in me gave a wry grin as I successfully made my way to a hot meal in a warm, cozy home.

So, before you start laughing at the smug CNN reporters tomorrow because "the people there just can't handle it," consider this post as a caution...pride cometh before the fall. And next time I'm in Boston, I won't brag about the fact that the roads we have above ground in Charlotte have yet to crush a single "cah".

When pop culture goes wild

I am a fan of U2. I like their music. Like all good music, theirs touches something intangible inside me. I'll even go so far as to say that I feel a certain spiritual connection to God because of some of the lyrics that have been penned by Bono, Edge, Adam, and Larry.

Now I'll up the ante by saying that, unlike other pop stars with a cause, Bono doesn't drive me crazy with his zeal to save Africa. I'll even go so far as to say that I'm more of a bleeding heart than ever due to his appeals to care for the poor in a faraway land. I might go further by saying that I admire him. He has used the message of Jesus to point out to the Church where we have failed those that Christ came to save and serve.

But, I am grounded enough to know that there is a time and a place to listen and dance to the music of U2, and church isn't it. I know, I know, I'm old fashioned, but I think that the "U2-charist" being celebrated by Episcopalians in the US and Anglicans in Canada and the UK is... well, inappropriate. I would be more harsh, but I think this word sums it up.

When I first heard of this about a year or so ago, it was being used as a way to "reach out" to non-Christians and others that are disaffected by the church. The problem is that efforts by men to make the Gospel "hip" will always fail. The Gospel isn't hip--it's offensive. It steps on toes. It enters those places in our lives that we would rather leave alone and moves stuff around. Sometimes it asks things of us that we find hard to do. As Jesus told Peter, it will "dress you and lead you where you do not want to go."

This service points in a different direction: toward the "if it's relevant to you, then it's relevant" aesthetic that is slowly but surely beginning to poison the minds even of the redeemed. It's also ironic: the Anglican Church started championing this trend partly to raise awareness of the plight of the poor in Africa--all while this same denomination is currently in danger of fracturing its fellowship with its adherents in Africa due to its toleration in the US over the ordination of at least one openly homosexual bishop.

Don't get me wrong, I have read statements by Bono that indicate a genuine faith in Christ, and I think it's a good thing that churches in the West (the USA in particular) become more aware of the poor among us in this world. I applaud churches such as Willow Creek in Chicago that even gave Bono a forum during their leadership conference last year to talk about this important issue. But that isn't worship. Worship is separate--communion in particular. We don't come to the table to celebrate our love of U2, but to celebrate our Savior and His sacrifice for our sins. As much as I love U2, they and their music pales in comparison to Christ. I think Bono would agree.

Sly as a fox and strong as a "bertsch"

He's not a tree, but a man. But no mere man. Nay, more beast than man. Regardless of what he is or what he is not, he demanded more consistency in my posting, and more posting is what he will get. It's just the way he rolls.

Venice, the leaning tower of Pisa, and Charlotte's light rail

My pastor's wife, Beth, just called and we had the ensuing conversation:

Brad: "Hello?"
Beth: "Brad! I'm so glad you answered!"
Brad: "Well, I'm glad you called!"
(Laughter because of my great wit and outstanding timing)
Beth: "I have a question for you..."
Brad: "Okay..."
Beth: "Why did they build Venice on water?"

I'm praying for her...