You are now reading what is most assuredly the least important bio known to man.
Think of me as, "Joe the Writer" (except I would have stumped for Jed Bartlett) - just an everyday guy working for you (and "the man").
I'm employed at a local Christian bookstore where I use my four years of Bible college training to help the elderly pick out greeting cards. I like to think I'm making a difference...which is kind of like saying, "At least I don't deal drugs."
In my spare time, I love to think, read, write, and teach. (according to the Wikipedia article I created for myself, I've won awards in all of these areas)
I am a Christ-follower, which is cooler than saying, "I'm a Christian" - but they basically mean the same thing. I'm someone who is trusting in Christ for my forgiveness - which, if true, means my entire life, behavior, and character are being conformed to His image.
I live in Hixson, TN with my beautiful wife, Emily.
Have you ever met someone that doesn't like music?
I've met some people who don't like football, ice-cream, or the Denver Broncos (shocker) - but it seems that everybody likes at least one genre of music.
In a Philippians 4:8ish style of critical thinking, I am presenting four songs for your musement. This week's song is "Winter White Hymnal" by Fleet Foxes. Click to watch on full screen, and watch closely!
The Relentless Nature of Time and Hair:
What is so intriguing to me about this video, and where we can learn the most, is the subject of time (I'll just assume you watched the video closely enough to catch what happened). When I watch this music video, I see a highly contemplative, not to mention long-bearded, man who decides to take a trip through time with all of his other contemplative buddies via the Magic Steering Wheel - and hey, it works!
Time begins to move backwards through the four seasons, and we see our characters gradually shed the classic signs of aging (no, it's not a Maybelline ad). And, is it just me, or do they seem a little bit happier as they traverse back in time? People are smelling flowers, clapping their hands, bobbing their heads, tapping a beat - meanwhile, back at the Wheel of Fortune - our determined no-longer-gray-bearded man keeps turning and turning and turning.
Things seem to be going good when, from 1:40 - 1:55, all the characters glance to the side as if saying, "Oh no, here it comes." (one guy even covers the eyes of a wrong-place-wrong-time bunny) Suddenly, the faithful turner lets go of the time machine, and in a matter of seconds, everything goes "back" to present day, and it's the same as when it started.
It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time:
Have you ever done something, and tried to "go back in time" to undo the mess you made? Me too. It, like the video, works for a while (though I've never had anyone start clapping), but soon the cold fact of the permanence of time comes back with a vengeance. Sadly, there isn't a wheel in the world magical enough to erase our stupid mistakes.
We get to the end of a chapter in our life, and echoing the lyrics, think to ourselves "I was following the pack." I was just going with the flow, and now, it's over. I will never get that time back. I'll never get to live yesterday over again. Ever. Social Security, Golf, Taco Bell and Other Retirement Perks:
I love this song because it's such a sober reminder about the nature of time, the things we try to undo, and the things that will always stay with us.
It reminds me of those things we strain after our whole life, only to realize in the end that it really wasn't all that important.
It reminds me of how painful regret is, and how permanent consequences are.
It reminds me of the story Christ told in Luke 12 about a guy who was really good at life. In fact, he got to the point where he stopped one day and said to himself,
"Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry."
Things were going pretty well for this dude. His social security hadn't been used to bail out the banks, his golf clubs were primed and ready to hit the links, and he was within fifteen minutes of the nearest Taco Bell. He had done what he thought was important his whole life - he was a success.
Then he died.
Right before he died, God had a few words for him,
"Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?"
But it was too late, time had written his story in stone.
Apparently the definition of "Pro-Life" has been expanded to include anyone who uses the words "miracle" and "baby" in the same sentence. THIS is what all the hub-bub was about?
I kind of feel like Charlie Brown in this classic Peanuts cartoon. EVERYBODY was hyped up about this commercial. If you were pro-life then you just had to support this ad, I mean you just had to. It seemed as if Tim Tebow became a household name almost overnight.
If you were pro-choice, you let the expletives fly about that big bad wolf - Focus on the Family. How dare those women-demeaning, gay-hating, fundamentalists try to shove 30 seconds of "politics" down our throat.
Larry King was having panel discussions with all the "experts", watchful Facebook members dutifully created Tim Tebow fan pages, and even the gay rights folks got a little air time.
And then...Lucy pulled the football away. We all, for the first time, actually saw the ad in it's entirety. Epic fail. If you didn't know the back story, the ad would have left you scratching your head. (Actually, I knew the back story and I was still scratching my head.)
Whether it was a genius marketing ploy by Focus on the Family to draw attention to the issues, or the most expensive way to show a son tackling his mother on TV - this joke, was on us.
Warning, I'm about to do some soap-box preaching (writing, actually). I'm not sure if you are aware of this, but there is a deceptive pandemic spreading through American homes everywhere - it's called, Santa Claus is coming to town.
I'm not talking about the ancient Bishop of Myra, more commonly known as Saint Nicholas. Nope. I'm talking about the widely taught belief that a plump jolly fellow brings presents for the little kiddies during the hours of whenever-they-are-asleep the night before Christmas. I'm talking about the amplification of Sir Santa by retail stores simply to sell some sure-to-break-soon merchandise. I'm talking about the blatant manipulation of a child's behavior based on the premise that someone who lives in the North Pole can actually see them throwing a fit. Ridiculous.
I can hear what you're saying, "Get real, Jason. There are far more important things you could be writing about, such as, what you'd like Santa to bring you for Christmas."
Get real, reader. Unless you can honestly argue for lying (figure that one out), I'll stay on my soap box. I can just picture the conversation some parents must be forced to have with their kids once the cat's out of the bag.
Heartbroken Child: "You mean (sniff, sniff) Santa's not.....real??" Mommy/Daddy: "Oh Johnny, stop crying, mommy and daddy were just lying to you! That's all! I know you get in trouble for lying - but when your an adult you get to make stuff up all the time! It's really wonderful! Now, what did you want for Christmas again?"
So kids, in the rare case that you have internet access, still believe Santa is real, and actually chose to visit my blog - let me clue you in - Santa's not real.
I spent a rather significant portion of time on the road this past week (27 hours to be exact), and I noticed two very interesting, and very different, road signs.
~~~ Each of these diamond-shaped metal things with writing on them is trying to warn us of the danger of icy roads, but they each do it in very different ways. The sign on the right might as well have a big flashing sign that says, "We think you are a complete moron." Are we supposed to watch for ice even if the chance of precipitation is 0% and it's 110 degrees outside? I feel dumber for just reading the sign, like I'm being spoon fed by Big Brother on how to drive. The sign on the left is more explanatory, and at least treats me like my elevator reaches the top floor. It forces me to use my brain, observe the weather conditions, and determine the possiblity that the bridges might be icy - even if the road isn't. The sign on the left offers me information I can use later on, while the sign on the right simply beats me over the head with a rule which may or may not come in handy. Ever heard the old expression, "Give a man a fish, you've fed him for a day; teach a man to fish, you've fed him for a lifetime." - that's kind of how I feel after pondering these two road signs. ~~~
So...if you've ever wondered what I think about while trapped in a car for an entire day, you can sleep at nights now.
Warning: I'm upset. Really upset. (cover your ears, kids) I'm upset because of all the dopey people who are whining that AIG (after receiving $173 million in bailout money from Uncle Sam) spent millions of dollars in bonuses (165 million to be exact) for their employees. Hello? That's like complaining that the drunk bum used your Abe Lincoln handout to buy some alcohol. You dopes, you. If you're gonna complain with how they used your money....don't give it to them. Hey, I've got a bright idea, let's hand out millions and millions of dollars of someone else's money, and then try and pretend like we have strong financial morals. (did I mention that I'm upset?)
It just totally blows my mind that AIG, rather than Big Government, is somehow getting blamed for this. Once you GIVE the money to THEM, it's THEIRS, and they can do whatever THEY want with it because you GAVE it to THEM. I once put about 15 bucks worth of gasoline into someone else's car because their "sister was in the hospital". Did I get ripped off? Probably. But, I knew the risk going in, so I'm not going to whine like I'm somehow naive to evil. Don't blame the guy asking for a handout just because you were foolish enough to give it to them. What did you expect AIG to do with the bailout money? Use it wisely? You dopes, you. Let's take a bunch of money, give it to a company who obviously can't handle money well (that's the claim, isn't it?), and then act like we're shocked that they waste it. As I understand it, that bonus money was part of a contract for these employees. So, Uncle Sam, how about you do your homework and stop shelling out cash to people who have made it known in writing that they plan to (say it aint so) pay their employees.
Imagine I came upon a kid who was throwing quarters, one by one, into a wishing well. Imagine that this kid, after running out of quarters, turned to me and said, "Could you bail me out of this dilemma, and give me a roll of quarters?". Imagine I give this kid a roll of quarters, and the kid takes the whole roll and throws it into the wishing well. Now, imagine that I start yelling at the "stupid" kid for throwing away an entire roll of quarters. Let me ask you, who's the stupid one?
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on The Man.
I had this bizarre (is there any other kind?) dream last night. I usually don't remember my dreams, and the ones I do remember, aren't all that interesting. This dream was different. For some reason, I couldn't get it out of my mind while I was driving to work today. It's strange how dreams work, sorting and sifting our life while we sleep. This particular dream was the merging of several stories and I'll explain as we go along.
~~~
So there I was, sound asleep, minding my own business, when it hit me like a ton of bricks - a dream. The dream opened with me at an audition for a play. (In High School I was in several plays, and acting was a big part of my life, so it isn't that unusual for me to dream about an audition.) I'm not sure where I was in the dream, probably Ohio. (Usually the location\setting of my dreams default back to my hometown - Xenia, OH.) In the dream, I happened to notice that my parents were in the audience, waiting to watch me audition. (This was a bit odd since family members don't usually come to auditions, especially for a simple High School drama. At this point, you should also know that I've been trying to get a particular job now for several months.)
Right before I was called up on stage, I realized that, for some illogical reason, if I didn't get a part in the play, I wouldn't get the job I'd been hoping for either. Don't ask me how this dream-logic works. All I knew was that I absolutely had to get a part in the play, or it was bye-bye to my budding career. As you can imagine, this caused me a great amount of stress. However, I wasn't too worried because I've auditioned several times, and I know how it works...or so I thought. I went up on stage, was handed a script, and was told that I had to SING my lines! (In the auditions during High School, we were given the scripts in advance so that we could prepare, and we never, ever, had to sing.) When it came time for me to sing, I panicked. I couldn't find my place in the script, I didn't even know what tune I was supposed to sing, and I kept stuttering and stammering as I spoke/sang. I was devastated. I looked out at the crowd, and my parents were so embarrassed that they had quietly exited the building. (I think that this part of the dream stemmed from my need of affirmation from others. I often worry about what other people think about me, nearly to an extreme. When I realized my parents had left the audition, I felt sick.)
After a minute or two of fumbling through the script, the producer (who oddly wasn't the producer I had in High School) told me to "stop wasting my time" and get off the stage. At this point I immediately assumed that Jimmy Whalen was going to get the part instead of me. (Jimmy and I went to High School together, and he always got the lead role in our High School plays. Ironically however, Jimmy and I were, and still are, great friends.) As I took my walk of shame off the stage, I stopped and pleaded with the producer to believe that I had "tried my best".
I was absolutely heart broken. I didn't get the part, and, consequently, I didn't get the job. Once I got home, the director (who, again, was not the director I had in High School) called me and asked, "What happened? Did you just not care about getting the part?" I pleaded with the director to give me a second chance. I explained to him that he should give me the part because I had been in so many plays, and that I had just had a really, really bad day. I was explaining to the director that I had tried as hard as I could, pleading with him to let me have the part when my alarm went off and I had to get up and go to work. ~~~
So that's it. That's about as interesting as my dreams get. I hope that this glimpse into my mind doesn't leave too big of a scar on you. Maybe tonight I'll have a dream that will let me know whether or not I got the part. Oh, don't worry, if I ever dream a sequel, I'll be sure to let you know how it ends.
What's up with Sarah Palin attacking the media lately? She needs to just cut her losses (painful though they may be) and get out of the spotlight for a while. If she wants any chance of running for President in 2012, she needs to stop rehashing her interview woes and just chill out in Alaska for a couple of years. Seriously, who are her advisers? (Hint: Fire them...now!) Palin has been one big public relations flop from the word, "go".
So that I don't come across completely one sided, I totally understand CNN is biased and will over-dramatize anything. That said, some of her interviews were absolutely awful, and I doubt even Sean Hannity could have made them look good. Palin's honeymoon stage with the media lasted for about, oh, six hours. Once the media (an admittedly vague term) turned on her it was lights out for Hockey Mom of the Year. Palin tried to recover, but all her flailing (and winking) just sunk her deeper into the quicksand of the liberal left.
Now, a couple of months after the election, Palin still can't let sleeping dogs lie. Fortunately for Palin, America has an extremely short memory. My advice? Just fade into the background and pretty soon we'll all be talking about items of real importance (like the next Brangelina baby). Then, when you are ready (and I mean really ready), re-present yourself to us. It will be like a re-birth and we'll all say,
You are now reading what is most assuredly the least important bio known to man.
