Sarcasm and commentary

Nothing

2007-02-19T15:53:00.001-08:00

Nothing

Is nothing the same as not anything?
What about not nothing?
That's a double negative.
Which means it's something.
That depends on the meaning of "it", though.
I bet they know.
Who are they anyway?
It's a quandry.

Not quite on the moon, but...

2006-09-12T14:23:00.000-07:00

So, another retreat down the chute. This time there was no cabin on the moon, but they made up for shear altitude by putting the building on the outskirts of the camp and having you walk down a two lane mountain road risking life and limb. Also there was a steady 35 degree incline, and oh yeah we were on the second story, and the climb was up a rotting wooden staircase, bitchen. All in all, a pretty nice place to flop.
As usual, there were some very good words shared. I was, and I mean WAS, looking forward to having some ale, and meeting up with Mr. Patron on Friday night but... dang, I don't often hear from the Lord, but I did Friday night after evening prayer. I really wanted the afore-mentioned fellowship, but again the Lord said that after hearing His word I was not to drink, but was to go to bed. You know I want to hear God speak into my life, but I want it to be at a time more to my liking. Wah.

OUR SHAMEFUL COUNTRY

2006-08-14T20:21:00.000-07:00

As I drive around Los Angeles, the Valley, Santa Clarita I see various things and people. Some good and some not so good. We live, for the most part, in very comfortable homes. We have nice properties and are generally doing quite well by most worldly standards.

My point in this is that there are people that are less fortunate than ourselves, and we should do what we can to assist, to lift them up, to make, or help make them productive members of society. These people are not bad people, but we turn away when we see them, we try not to make eye contact, we don't want to admit that we are part of the problem. In a country as afluent as ours, why are there people who stand on street corners and freeway offramps with signs that state "hungry homeless vet". It is an abomination, with the way we tend to pamper our pets, that we cannot get these "vets" employed and off the street. Why, with their training and expertise, can't they open a vaccination clinic, or maybe get involved in the grooming industry. Yes, brothers and sisters, gather you animals and take them to a street corner near you TODAY! Let them apply their training in the veterinary arts, that they may get the heck off the darn corners and stop giving me guilty feelings.

Sarcasm and commentary

2006-08-14T13:34:00.000-07:00

Thought I'd pass this on

A frog goes into a bank and approaches the teller. He can see from her nameplate that her name is Patricia Whack. "Miss Whack, I'd like to get a $30,000 loan to take a holiday." Patty looks at the frog in disbelief and asks his name. The frog says his name is Kermit Jagger, his dad is Mick Jagger, and that it's okay, he knows the bank manager. Patty explains that he will need to secure the loan! with some collateral. The frog says, "Sure. I have this," and produces a tiny porcelain elephant, about an inch tall, bright pink and perfectly formed. Very confused, Patty explains that she'll have to consult with the bank manager and disappears into a back office. She finds the manager and says, "There's a frog called Kermit Jagger out there who claims to know you and wants to borrow $30,000, and he wants to use this as collateral." She holds up the tiny pink elephant. "I mean, what in the world is this?"

(you're gonna love this)

(its a real treat)

(a masterpiece)

(wait for it)

The bank manager looks back at her and says... "It's a knickknack, Patty Whack. Give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling Stone."

(You're singing it, aren't you? Yeah, I know you are........)

Things you need to know

2006-06-26T14:14:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of public service...

The Florida Department of Fish and Wildlife is advising hikers, hunters, fishermen, golfers and tourist in general to take extra precautions and keep alert for alligators while in : Alachua, Marion, Lake, Collier, Lee, Seminole, Osceola, Polk, Brevard, Putnam and Orange counties. They advise people to wear noise-producing devices such as little bells on their shoes or clothing to alert but not startle the alligators unexpectedly.They also advise the carrying of pepper spray in case of an encounter with an alligator. It is also a good idea to watch for fresh signs of alligator activity. People should learn to recognize the difference between small young alligator and large adult alligator droppings. Young alligator droppings are smaller and contain fish bones and possibly bird feathers. Adult alligator droppings have little bells in them and smell like pepper spray.

Thought for the day

2006-06-21T15:13:00.000-07:00

Some people are like Slinky's... They're not really good for anything, but they still put a smile on your face when you push them down a flight of stairs.

Middle Finger

2006-05-28T21:35:00.000-07:00

Middle Finger History Well, now......here's something I never knew before, and now that I know it, I feel compelled to send it on to my more intelligent friends in the hope that they, too, will feel edified. Isn't history more fun when you know something about it? Before the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, the French, anticipating victory over the English, proposed to cut off the middle finger of all captured English soldiers. Without the middle finger it would be impossible to draw the renowned English longbow and therefore they would be incapable of fighting in the future. This famous English longbow was made of the native English Yew tree, and the act of drawing the longbow was known as "plucking the yew" (or "pluck yew"). Much to the bewilderment of the French, the English won a major upset and began mocking the French by waving their middle fingers at the defeated French, saying, See, we can still pluck yew! Since 'pluck yew' is rather difficult to say, the difficult consonant cluster at the beginning has gradually changed to a labiodentals fricative F', and thus the words often used in conjunction with the one-finger-salute! It is also because of the pheasant feathers on the arrows used with the longbow that the symbolic gesture is known as "giving the bird." IT IS STILL AN APPROPRIATE SALUTE TO THE FRENCH TODAY! And yew thought yew knew everything!!

Sick and Tired

2006-05-27T19:22:00.000-07:00

Man, I'm sick and tired, both literally and figuratively. I can't sleep, and I'm frequently pissed off because of it. And I'm definetely not going to take multiple classes in a semester again, this just contributes to my sometimes surly but otherwise sunny freakin' disposition. I have too many irons in the damn fire. I'm freakin' overwhelmed, and I can't find more time in my day. Even the simple things take all dang day now. I really want it to stop. Yeah, I know this sounds normal for a stay-at-home mom, but I do get to leave the house. Now I have cellulitus in my leg, big fun, bigger antibiotic crap to take. This getting up at 3:45 a.m. crap and getting to "sleep", CPAP not working properly, at or around 10 p.m. isn't doing wonders for my attitude either. The way I see it, since I haven't posted in so long, I can just piss, whine, and moan here and nobody will ever see it. Oh, here's something funny, I just got a B in a class where I have no clue what I was doing or what I learned. So now I get to take a course that I'm completely unqualified and unprepared for, COOL. I don't condone violent outbursts, but I believe I understand them...

Cabin on the Moon or pizza delivery people are from GOD

2005-11-13T17:21:00.000-08:00

Mens' retreats are always interesting for their own reasons. This year several of the men went to the retreat. I believe it was about a 130% increase over the prior retreat. We of course got a late start and then the various map services from the net pretty much torpedoed our best efforts to get there before dark. After getting lost in the fog, and driving back and forth over the same few miles of road (after asking directions at a local market, you know the locals say "just a bit down the road around the corner past the crooked tree, two streets past the rock that's shaped like Bob, and turn right at the old Stetson place, YOU CAN'T MISS IT!" Well we did.) We finally stopped and asked someone else (at a liquor store, cause you know they're reliable) and they gave us directions that actually had references in miles. We got almost there before getting lost that time. Then, out of the fog (oh, the fog, yes! Bitchen fog. It was great, we couldn't see more than ten feet in front of us at best at any given time. Mountain road driving, everybody looking to see just when we would plummet to our death, and we of course were lost because of those cool internet map sites previously mentioned.) comes an angel sent by GOD, or Dominos. It was the pizza delivery lady. She stops in front of two vehicles filled with us men and asks us if we're lost (of course not, but if we were, and I ain't sayin' we are, but if we were, how would we get there from here?) and proceeded to give us exact instructions on how to reach our destination. Like WE needed the help of some WOMAN! heh! Pizza must make you smarter or something. O.K. so this woman from the fog saved us. We are on the right road now heading in the right direction (confirmed by the directions that my wife supplied and if I had read them back in Pasadena we would have never been in the position of needing to be saved by Pizza Girl)
and when we finally get to the edge of the camp (at the sign on which had a cross) the dense fog stopped! I mean, like clear skies, unlimited visability, perfect. At the camp we were standing around in the dark trying to figure out where we should go, when again someone from out of nowhere told us where we needed to be. How cool, whenever we were lost someone would show up to provide us with directions.

The retreat for us started with a late arrival as the meeting was in progress when we arrived, Bishop was speaking, and it seemed he was speaking to me. Dang, I hate it when a message means something in my life. After the meeting, we were receiving room assignments, and it seemed that we were all going to be split up amongst various locations around the camp. Then, I was informed that this would be remedied and to wait. O.K. so now it was fixed, we would all be together in the only cabin that had not been assigned. (We later found out why it was empty) Great, I wouldn't have to be with unfamiliar people. I soon found out that unfamiliar people might have been better than previously thought. My priest, my brothers, and two guests accended to the heavens where our infamous cabin #6 was located. I'm glad there was a priest present because I thought I was going to DIE. My FREAKIN' CABIN WAS ON THE MOON! I inquired if anybody knew CPR and was not to happy when not only did nobody seem to know CPR, but since I took too long to get up to the cabin they had closed the door so there was no light outside on the HILLSIDE OF DEATH. It was probably thirty five degrees or so and I was sweating! Also a five thousand plus feet, breathing was fun. I would suck in air and would still be out of breath. I thought I would see my lungs any minute. Funny thing, 5000+ ft., lots of stairs, ice cold steel hand rail, slippery wet leaves on the steps, totally exhausted, bad knees and a dang duffle bag that weighed as much as a Packard. I really needed a Sherpa and a Yak to get to this place. My brothers saved my butt, they took some of my load off me to lighten my burden and would have taken it all if I had let them. My brother in Christ are an awesome group of men. When I got to the cabin, the freakin' heater (one of the few cabins to have a working heater) was on full blast, I mean it was at least 85 degrees in there. You had to walk out of the cabin to keep from bursting into flames. What a view. What the heck inspired someone to look up at this freakin' hill from down in the camp, with all the other flat or near flat spots available, and decide; hey what a bitchin' spot to build! No cell phone service, so calling an ambulance seemed out of the question too. Whatever. The schedule was such that I only had to descend the steps of death once on friday and after evening prayer I ascended the steps of death once again to the cabin on the moon. Friday was unbelievable, I am convinced that even Satan wouldn't have been able to resist worshipping and praising God that night! As a side note, the original arrangements would have put me in a cabin with people I didn't know, but only about half a dozen steps to the door! Oh well, all in all a great retreat experience. Awesome praise and worship, great words from the Lord and I'm glad everything worked out the way it did. Some elements we will be able to laugh at for a while, but the time spent with my priest and my brothers I will cherish for some time to come. An awesome group.

Swimming Pool Humor

2005-11-07T20:58:00.000-08:00

Swimming Pool Humor?

A Baby Ruth...enough said.

Does it know?

2005-10-30T19:56:00.000-08:00

What the heck is up with some pedestrians that feel compelled to badger the traffic control system? When you walk to a corner and push the button on the streetlight, it sends a signal to the traffic control system to give a "walk" sign with I assume (no jokes) the appropriate amount of time to cross the street. But what if you continue to push that button? Like say continuously. Does the system think: Oh this person's in a hurry, I better hurry up and change the freakin' light. Or does it think: What an ass. No probably not, But I was just wondering. Do you think one push of the button is just as effective as say a million? Maybe that if they are pushing that button when the sign does turn from "Don't Walk" to "Walk" they feel as if they are in control or they accomplished something in their otherwise sorry and out of control lives. . . hmm

In over my head

2005-10-30T19:18:00.000-08:00

What the heck was I thinking? I am so completely lost. I am in seminary, just trying to keep from drowning, and it seems that I am doing nothing. It seems that this is Gods little joke, don't talk to Scott and when he gets frustrated enough to want to quit, then give a word to somebody else that will stop him in his tracks. In a fog? No, I'm driving at high speed on a moonless night, in the forest, without brakes, lights, in a vehicle with no defroster, vacuum wipers and it's raining. A wreck seems unavoidable. My priest tells me I need to surrender. I think that I can't take on french lessons at this time. My mind is a mess. I wish I had the faith of that moron with the plywood.

Did I see God?

2005-10-24T22:17:00.000-07:00

The other day I was driving down the boulevard, and I looked and thought: "WOW, the only way to just absolutely defy the laws of physics is if that was God". Well on closer inspection, I realized it wasn't God, it was just some idiot driving down the boulevard at about FIFTY M.P.H. with three one inch pieces of plywood on the roof of his sedan. The three four by eight mammoth sheets of plywood were securely fastened to the luggage rack with state-of-the-art, are you ready? Twine! I don't need no stinking truck, I got me my Yugo and a ball of twine. Stand back and watch me kill people. Oh, wait. Nothing could possibly go wrong, even if the single piece of twine stretched across the leading edge of these unbelievably heavy pieces of wood should fail, and at FIFTY M.P.H., the wood should start to fly violently from the top of the afore-mentioned sedan. . .NO PROBLEM, because he was holding them down with his finger tips! What the . . .

I was sucked in...

2005-10-20T21:53:00.000-07:00

Sucked, sucked, sucked. First, I was sucked in to this church. With a bunch of wierdo, hand raising, praise song singing, way-too-much-hugging, not-very-Lutheran people.

Then, I was sucked into going to Seminary. (I still don't know how that happened, or how it is going to end up.)

I was sucked into wearing a dress at church. At least I don't have to find a purse to match.

Then I was sucked in to this stupid blogging thing. What the heck is blogging anyway? I figure, there's some weird guy with rectangular glasses and a chicken little haircut sitting in some corner somewhere, laughing his butt off...oh, not you Carsten. Some other guy...