colmillo's Xanga

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Tue, 21 Nov 2006 16:31:12 GMT

Normally, I hate it when people just post lyrics on their Xangas/Facebooks. Seriously, I despise that. Instead of coming up with your own thoughts, you just steal thoughts from others and claim them as your own. That's annoying. No offense, of course. However, despite my personal convictions regarding this matter, I feel compelled to post some lyrics. This song is called "Turkey Dance," and it is sung by one of my favorite bands called Moosebutter. I figured the song was appropriate with Turkey Day approaching. Here they are:

I found a turkey in my shoe
Doing a turkey-kind of exotic dance
That some other turkey might find attractive
But I don't really find it attractive
Actually it makes me feel strange.

Hey, don't do that in my shoe
Or I might have to call MisterBugEyes^TM
Have him come look at you with his bug eyes
I don't think I like MisterBugEyes^TM
Makes me think of a bug with big eyes
Makes me feel kind of strange.

MisterTurkey^TM ... oh, I'm sorry ...
I'm not sure what is your gender ... turkey tender

Do you wanna dancing turkey©?
Don't provoke the dancing turkey©.
Play charades with dancing turkey©.
Came from Russia: dancing turkey©.
Not salami: dancing turkey©.
Captain Kirk^TM loves dancing turkey©!
Arctic bird dance? Dancing turkey©.
Shiny adverb... dancing turkey©.
Touch... the lightbulb.... dancing turkey©...

Friday, November 03, 2006

Fri, 03 Nov 2006 05:23:31 GMT

I should be doing homework right now, but for some rare reason I'd rather write something on this strange thing they call Xanga.

I've been meaning to get some stuff off my chest for a while, but I can't really remember what all that was at the moment. Maybe it'll come to me.

I'm working at Wal-Mart right now. That's interesting. I work in the dairy department, and it's kept at 30 or 32 degrees at all times, so it's pretty cold. They keep screwing up my schedule, so I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get fired for not coming in to work at the times they failed to tell me I was supposed to work. It's kinda a mess. But the whole ordeal is beneficial in two ways: first, money. I get paid some amount per hour—I'm actually not quite sure how much—and with that money I can buy stuff and go on online shopping binges like I've been doing way too much lately. Secondly, the job is rather humbling. I never saw myself as a person who would work at Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart was always beneath me somehow. Wal-Mart was always for high school students and old retired people in my mind, but no, I guess I can ascend from on high to work with the mere mortals. It hadn't occurred to me that I look down on people who work at such places until I was one of those people. I always try to be nice to cashiers and the people in the cafeteria because, man, I would hate to have that job, and they need cheering up or something. They must be desperate to work there, so I'd better smile at them—maybe that'll give their lives enough meaning not to kill themselves tonight. I was always ready with the "Have a nice day" that would rescue someone from the depths of depression behind the checkout counter. Now I'm one of those people stuck in the depths of depression—and really, it's not all that bad. Sure, the work is boring and numbingly meaningless, but it's honest work, and hey, without Wal-Mart the world's economy would crumble, so the world owes it to us Wal-Mart associates to keep spinning on its axis. You're welcome, world.

And yet again, I somehow turn my admitting a feeling of humility into self-agrandizement. Kind of pitiful. However, one thing that has stuck in my mind is a quote from the 66th chapter of the Tao Te Ching that I flipped through the other day. It said that seas are lower than everything else, and yet the water flows toward it. It said humility was the path to power. The author of the Tao Te Ching said it much more eloquently than I, and I much too lazy to look up the exact quote, but you get the idea. So I'm working on being humble.

I'm also working on actually doing homework. By God's grace alone, I have an A in all of my classes but one, in which I have a B. Not reflected in these cute little letter grades is the fact that I put off everything till the very last minute or don't do it at all. Take reading, for example. I've been playing catch-up with reading books for my classes for weeks, it seems. What, you ask, is the reason for my lack of motivation and work ethic? Two words: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Since the summer, I have been viewing each episode of this marvelous show sequentially beginning with the first season. I just finished the sixth, and I watched about almost two whole seasons of Lost in between seasons four and five of Buffy. TV has taken over my life. I'm getting better, but it used to be that my every waking thought was about that charming blonde girl who saves the world from vampires, demons, and hell gods trapped in the bodies of attractive male doctors. Luckily, I have one season left to view, and then maybe I can get back to living a semi-normal life. Maybe. I'm presently trying to stay away from Grey's Anatomy, because people tell me it's addictive, and heaven knows I don't need another addiction.

In other news, I changed my major the other day. I'm now a TEFL (pronounced "teffle") major, which stands for Teaching English as a Foreign Language. I'd always hated literature but loved grammar, and I love foreign languages, so I decided I should be a TEFL major, and I'm actually excited about it. I'm taking a literature class—two words that in high school would have sent shivers down my spine—about Chaucer, and I'm looking forward to it. Weird what this academic atmosphere of college will do to you. So when I graduate, I may go to Latin America or Japan or China or something like that. We'll see.

Halloween was the other day. Halloween is my favorite holiday ever. I dressed as a werewolf again, so that was fun. I had intended on making a fursuit to wear with my mask, but finding matching fur was impossible, and faux fur is outrageously expensive anyway. Less than the real thing, I'm sure, but thirty bucks a yard? Ouch. Yeah, but, Halloween night, some friends and I went to a cemetary and watched The Skeleton Key in a mausoleum. It was kinda creepy, though not nearly as much as I expected. Plus we didn't get arrested, so that's good.

Christmas is coming up. I like Christmas, too. At work today when I was on break, I saw a stand of Christmas CDs, so I investigated and stumbled upon a Larry the Cable Guy Christmas CD, and one of the tracks was called "Oh Holy Crap," and that really made me laugh. Holy Toledo, that's funny. Don't care who you are, that's funny. "Crap" is such a funny word anyway, though. I don't like saying it, but when you use it in a comical setting, it's quite the knee-slapper. It's similar to "friggin'." I generally try to refrain from using "friggin'" in everyday language, but sometimes, it's funny. Like you could say Buffy the Friggin' Vampire Slayer, and that's funny. In fact, I was going to say that earlier, but I forgot. Which is why I said it now.

In Greek tomorrow, we will crack open our Greek New Testaments for the first time. I'm way excited.

Hm. "Way excited." That's a very Meagan Armstrong thing to say. I miss her and Melissa and Jed. I hope y'all're having fun in Europe. I intended to write y'all letters, but I haven't gotten around to doing that yet. However, I did have a dream Sunday night in which the Vienna group came home for Halloween, and Meagan was crying because I never sent her a letter. So, just in case the dream portends a dark future, I think I will get to writing that letter. But not tonight. I have homework still.

There's oh so much I could talk about. I didn't even go into the religious topics I have in the back of my head, but there's always time for that another time. That is, there's always time until time ends. Which is a redundant sentence. Anyway, have a good evening, all, and I will see/eat/talk to you later. Chao.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Tue, 22 Aug 2006 15:42:42 GMT

Yes, I'm still alive.

Man, I haven't updated in forever. And today was the first day since forever ago I actually the subscriptions that arrive in my inbox. Maybe it was the first day ever. I dunno.

I'm back at OC now, staying in the University House, room 102A. I was going to be staying in Wilson East with a guy named Johnnie, but when my family and I arrived, we found a room full of crickets (dead and alive), candy wrappers, and all-around ickiness. The furniture was beat up and old, and the dorm was just plain ungood. So I suggested to my mother that we go check and see if there are any rooms elsewhere, and we headed off to housing and got me changed over to the UH. Which is extremely nice. It's like a 5-star hotel. Except they don't give you towels. Or leave chocolate on your pillow. Or have room service. The cable in my room doesn't work as of yet, but I'm hoping to get that fixed pretty soon here. It works in the common area, so I'll live.

Plus, having lived at home or camp all summer sans cable, I missed out on quite a few episodes of The Colbert Report, so I'm catching up on those on Comedy Central's website. Great stuff, that.

My roommate moved in yesterday night. He seems nice. He's one of those—what do you call them?—oh, yeah: "social types." As soon as he got here, he went to hang out with his friends. I tagged along for a little bit, but he seemed to know everybody, and I seemed to know only Keisha, so I felt awkward. But my roommate likes Creed and Alter Bridge (which are basically the same band), so that's cool.

Pretty soon, I'll have a long post about my thoughts on religion of late. Maybe you'll want to tune in to that. I don't know.

Over the summer, I spent five weeks at Camp Lu-Jo, which was great 80% of the time. The other 20% was Peak Week, which I didn't like at all, but I don't feel the need to go into detail in a public forum like this. Ask me if you want to know why I hated it, and I'll tell you. But, yes, I enjoyed the other four weeks, especially the last one. Rodger is such a great guy, and he and his staff put a lot of work into that week, and it showed. I can't wait for next year.

So why the poop did I spend five long weeks at camp, you ask? I was the Ropes Course Director. Lu-Jo has a low ropes course that is the rival of any in the great state of Oklahoma, and I had the privilege of running it. It was weird and hectic at first, but later on, when I got to work with groups personally, it was really fun. We had this element called the Meuse where the group had to get from one island to another using boards and the other islands in between. The problem was that none of the in-between islands reached to the final island. They could get to every island but the last one—that is, until they used their heads and made a T across two islands and stretched the long part of the T to the final one. It was really cool. I would sit the group down and pull back the long part of the T to make a cross, and I told the group, "The cross is the way to get there. Always the cross." That was my favorite element.

Have you heard about Dell recalling a ton of their computers? I'm typing on my laptop now, hoping the battery doesn't explode. Wouldn't that be a bummer. Maybe I'll get my battery replaced today. I need to buy books, too. I guess that's my to-do list for the day. Yay.

Okay, well, I'm gonna go take a shower. If you read all of this, you have my thanks, because that's more courtesy I showed to you during the summer, me having cut myself off from Xanga and all. So I apologize for my lack of Xanganess, and for not reading all of y'all's entries. Maybe I'll do some catching up while I have nothing to do. Anyway, chao.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Sun, 26 Feb 2006 03:14:52 GMT

Okay, this should be a short and quick entry. I'm reading a book by one Marva Dawn called Reaching Out without Dumbing Down: A Theology of Worship for This Urgent Time. In this book, Dawn quotes from a couple people who actually made me laugh out loud. Enjoy:

Modern technology and media have proved to be Valium for our leisure time. They have turned the United States into a nation of spectators, more eager to watch life than to participate in it. We want out art, for instance, to provide distraction rather than require concentration, asking it for either escape or knee-jerk political messages. We want shock or sleep. Period. . . .
Perhaps Jean Baudrillard is close to the truth after all when he characterizes ours as the age of simulation. For just as shopping malls simulate the outdoors, replacing sun and trees with flourescent lights and green plastic "plants," we simulate danger with amusement parks, friends or enemies with talk-radio hosts, rebellion with torn jeans and black boots, sex with lewd phone conversations, revolution with improved fabric softeners, and freedom with the newest panty liner. We simulate real life by eliminating risk and commitment, and end up mistaking what is real for what is artificial. We exist, that is, encased in a giant cultural condom. (Horstman, Joey Earl. "Channel Too: The Postmodern Yawn." The Other Side 29.3 [May-June 1993]: 35.)

Daily flossing and Right Guard, it seems, rather than truth or justice, are the weapons necessary to defeat Satan and his decidedly unsanitary and uncouth army. We decorate Sunday school rooms to resemble the cozy artificiality of morning talk-show sets. We adopt the sound-bite techniques of political advertising to avoid offending or even challenging our constituency, and we evaluate our ministers on their ability to convincingly imitate network news anchors. "And now over to brother Jim in the choir loft for an update on 'The Old Rugged Cross.'"
And then we wonder where our youth get the idea that worship and entertainment are inseparable. (Alexander, John. "Jobs against the Church." The Other Side 29.4 [July-Aug. 1993]: 53.)

Of course, the subject matter mentioned is very grave, but the manner the authors presented it is rather humorous, methinks. Perhaps I'll rant about worship some other time, but I'm kinda tired right now. Plus I need a shower; I need to get sanitary again. Gotta use that floss and Right Guard to fend off Satan's army, doncha know. Chao.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Tue, 21 Feb 2006 02:23:13 GMT

I just got through looking at a magazine called Children's Ministry, and it was really interesting. There were quite a few ads for VBS programs, featuring hip action heroes and fun activities to instill biblical values in kids. I kinda miss those days. You know the ones I'm talking about—the ones where you accepted what you were told without any hesitation because you trusted people, the ones where there was no doubt in your mind about God, the ones where all of life was reduced to a simple black-and-white decision without any grey area. The days before strife, conflict, doubt, pain, and hormonal fluctuations. The days when you could sing "I'm in the Lord's Army" and not feel silly. The days where you had all of life ahead of you, and all you wanted to do was grow up and get your driver's license. The days when God was allowed in school (which, granted, God was banned from school before I was born [the 70s, wasn't it?], but at my elementary school, we had a Baptist principal who wouldn't hear of not having prayer in school). The days with playgrounds and books with colorful pictures. I miss those days. Why can't we all have the faith of a child? I think that's a great thing to desire.

Oh, I know, don't tell me. A child's faith is a blind faith that resides not in logic but in trust, not in empirical evidence but in hearsay. And in this day in age, we should take everything we hear with a grain of salt—we should always test the spirits. But a child's faith is based on truth. If you tell a child that Jesus came and healed people and fed people and made everybody happy, then he'll believe that. For a while. But in that child's life, there is a center, a truth, a focal point that he go cling to. A anchor against the winds (and whims) of society. Roots that hold him fast against the ebb and tide of atheism. I wish we today had that same center. It seems that everything now is subjective—if a religion fits you, go with it. Until something new and better arrives. It's like computers: You can buy either a Mac (which only sinners and graphic designers use) or a PC, so you have a choice right there, and neither selection is the right one. There's no correct computer to buy. It's subjective. And then, in five minutes, they'll have another computer, a better one, one that can kick your computer's tail. So you go buy the next model, and your cyberlife is always changing, fleeing from one form of obsolescence to another one. There's nothing in computers we can anchor ourselves to. Nothing that works regardless of what platform you use, what browser you use, what peripherals you own, or how many gigs you have. We can cling to calculators as the ultimate truth because they're outdated and obsolete in the light of computers. Faith is like that. People use to be content to be Christian or pagan, but then they wanted combine the two religions, and they came up with Catholicism. And after a couple of centuries, people became unhappy again, so they invented Islam. Then Lutheranism. Then Calvinism and Presbyterianism. Then Baptists, Methodists, Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses, Church of God, Church of God in Christ, Church of Blah Blah Blah, Blahism, and so on. It seems there's no real, true religion to cling to. No truth in the face of all these opposing viewpoints and beliefs. You might say, "You can always cling to the Bible," but there's even more than one of those. Catholics include the Apocrypha, Jehovah's Witnesses have their ridiculous New World Translation, Mormons have their Book of Mormon, Episcopalians have their Book of Common Prayer, and, more inclusively, there's the Qur'an and every other religion's "holy" book. And, excluding all of those examples, we can't even agree on a Bible to use. Some hold the KJV as inspired ("If the KJV was good enough for Peter, it's good enough for me."), some say the NIV is more like a New International Perversion, some pronounce anathema on the TNIV for its gender-inclusive wording, and there's The Message which rewords everything God already said. The times are filled with subjectivism—if ABC book/religion/political party/computer/hooker/cabbage/toothbrush/(insert anything here) isn't right for you, try XYZ etc./etc./etc. Let me say now that if you get to choose your religion, that invalidates it right then and there. You can't choose what's objective for you. Objective truth is objective for everyone everywhere at all times. And because people don't want to accept this, our society is riddled with subjectivity. I want to return to the days of childhood where the Bible was the Bible, the church was the church, and God was God. I want the faith of a child that clings to Truth unquestioningly.

On different yet similar note, I'm kinda tired of watching religious TV. Here at OC, we get TBN and DayStar, and they're both a disappointment. TBN is full of crazies—hands waving, "amens" and "hallelujahs" flying everywhere, miracles, female preachers, you name it. DayStar is a little less scary, but no better. I'm tired of Joel O'Steen's ridiculous "wealth gospel" (if you follow God, you'll get riches and power and fame and hookers or something), I'm tired of people thinking they can do miracles and fooling others into thinking the same (I don't deny that miracles don't happen today; I deny that they happen through laying on of hands and other similar means—that power died with the apostles), I'm tired of allegedly religious people being so physically minded (some seem to preach that the only thing God is good for is a cure for arthritis—how 'bout we preach spiritual healing first, and then physical healing?), I'm tired of stuff about our "Jewish brothers" (some seem to think that God will still save the nation of Israel), I'm tired of watered-down theology (by this I mean that some seem to preach only happiness, fluffy clouds, and pink bunnies, as if sadness is an emotion Christians don't experience), and I'm tired of people just plain skipping over the truth (as in denying that baptism saves, teaching the unbiblical "sinner's prayer," and so on). On Sunday mornings on channel 9, a show called The Gospel of Christ comes on, and it's clear, plain, simple biblical truth. I like that. 'Tis a good show. I want religious TV that's worth watching—not necessarily something that will make me feel good, but something worth my time.

While I'm on the subject, let's discuss these physically-minded "spiritual" folk. I am not saying that we shouldn't pray to God for physical healing, because we most definitely should. After all, He's kinda in charge of the universe; if you want to talk to anybody, He's the Man. But some shows are all about physical healing. "Miracle" services, "victory campaigns," prayer cloths, prayer . . . I don't know, prayer cabbage probably. I saw this one show last summer, and they wanted people to take a piece of cloth about a foot long and mail that cloth to Such-and-Such Ministries. All the cloths they received would then be placed in a few piles on the front of the stage, and some woman, during their healing service, would pray over the cloths. Then Such-and-Such Ministries would mail them back to their owners, and the owners would place them under the pillows so they can be healed overnight. What a bunch of bull-honky. Ree. Donk. You. Lus. They treat God like He's a good-luck charm, as if having a cloth blessed by some "holy" person will heal your infirmities. God is not your Vending Machine in the Sky, your Cosmic Coke Machine. With a vending machine, you insert some coins and receive a beverage. With God, if you insert a cloth, you get a cloth back! Not a miracle. God owes us absolutely nothing, so when we expect God to give us something, why don't we go by biblical expectation? Insert faith, receive an eternal home in heaven.

Sorry, I just had to get all that off my chest. I didn't intend on being so deep in this post, but there it is. In other news, we had a Japanese Night at OC tonight. It was pretty fun. I got to eat some Japanese food (prettty tasty, I must say), and a girl wrote my name in Japanese: じゃれっど. For some reason, she wrote it in Hiragana, but it's really pretty nonetheless. Thanks, Japanese girl, whoever you are. Oh, by the way, what that actually says is "jah-reh-(pause)-doh" for you non-speakers-of-Japanese. Don't ask why the "doh" is there. It just is.

My Psalms teacher Niccum is in Germany right now. I really like that class, so I'm kinda sad. Oh, well. Hey, I should start working on that paper that I have to do for that class. All right, well, here are my Video Picks for the Week:

America’s Funniest Videos: Slides
Tango Commercial
Star Wars: The Empire Brokeback
Top Gun 2: Brokeback Squadron
Brokeback to the Future
The Brokeback Samurai

Okay, yeah, I know, that's very hypocritical of me to talk about Christianity and then post mock trailers about gay people/driods. But I thought they were funny. Chao.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Tue, 14 Feb 2006 15:46:04 GMT

I saw a hypnotist last night (or "hypnist," copyright Keisha Golden). I totally believe in hypnotism now. I saw about ten people cowering in fear of a rubber chicken, strutting about with feather boas, shoving napkins down their pants because they think they're hundred dollar bills, and asking audience members to return their stolen belly buttons. That's amazing. It kind of makes me want to be hypnotized, but kind of not, because that's scary that somebody could have complete control of you like that. The hypnotist could have said, "Plunge this spoon into the heart of your best friend," and they would have done it without a second thought. As someone has wisely said, God is "tricksy"—it's amazing what the human mind is capable of doing.

Lately I've been pondering the incompatibility of evolutionary theory and the Christian faith. Besides the fact that Genesis says God made man from dust (and not from a common ancestor of the ape), there are many other reasons why evolution is foolishness. Consider this: If man, being made in the image of God, was creation's crowning acheivement, why would God wait so long to make him? Why would God sit through 4 billion years of evolution until man came? And even then, when was man human enough and un-ape enough to be considered man and not monkey? Wouldn't this be a sign of weakness, if it took God this long to get the universe up and running, and to put His children on the earth? But, you say, God waited five days to make man in the biblical account. True, but to me, creating a universe in a week is a sign of a strong, almighty God, but creating a universe in billions of years is a sign of weakness. Granted, I couldn't create a universe in a google years if I tried, but if He's God, why would He need to stretch out the creation process to impossible lengths and delay in creating the one creature He would breathe His holy breath into?

Moreover, besides taking so long to create the universe and mankind, why would Yahweh wait countless millenia to send Jesus? To give the Mosaical law? Why did He not care for the spiritual needs of prehistory's cavemen? Were they unthinking, nonsentient animals that were soulless? When did a man become sentient enough not only to be considered human, but to be considered worthy of salvation?

Last summer I saw a book in a book store that supposedly predicted the coming trends in evolution. It said that octopi will grow legs and become smart or something, and it foretold other such nonsense. Ab. So. Lute. Ly. Ridiculous. First of all, this is preposterous because even if evolution were remotely plausible, it would be impossible to predict. Prophecies of growing extra limbs and increasing body parts are fatuity. But considering this, when would Jesus come back? In millions of years when humans look different? Would He come back in whatever form humans were in at the time? Because if He returned as a human when we all look like Klingons, that would be weird.

The conclusion of all that rambling is that Christianity is a religion based on ideas of a short amount of time: creation, the giving of the law, and the coming of the Messiah all within a few thousand years. Evolution and Christianity are completely and totally incompatible. So choose one or the other, and don't balance on the fence. If you're gonna do this God thing, do it wholeheartedly, and don't believe the wisdom of man.

My Video Picks for the Week:
A Not-So-Smart Kid
I Love Pandas
Ameriquest Superbowl Commercial: Dead Fly
Hummer Superbowl Commercial: Monsters
Kitty Flip
Evil Penguin
Evil Penguin 2

Enjoy, and have a wonderful Valentine's Day! Chao.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Tue, 07 Feb 2006 05:48:00 GMT

I've been told it's high time I update, so here I am. Updating. Tonight, we're going to have a great show for you, so you'll definitely want to watch. But for now, here's Max Weinberg and the Maxweinbergsevenmax! (If you've ever watched Conan O'Brien, you'll get that.)

First on the list of things to talk about: I spoke with Curt Niccum today. This marks the first time I have spoken with the man, and I find I have a lot of respect for him. He's a real inspiration both spiritually and academically. He stands there in class (I'm taking Psalms with him) reading right from a Hebrew/Greek Bible, translating in his head. There aren't many who can say that. That's pretty cool, if you ask me, and I hope someday to be able to do that. In my lust to learn all of the world's languages except German, Greek and Hebrew are next on my list.

Which brings me to our next topic: Japanese. I am really intimidated by the alienness of the Japanese language. It's just so incredibly different from English. For instance, you don't say, "My major is English," you have to say, "Concerning my major, English it is." It's that whole "wa" particle thing that makes it so strange—not to mention the Klingon-esque word order. Subject-object-verb—what's with that? But I digress. (I've always wanted to say that.) Anyway, to talk about your major, you say, "Senmon wa," which basically means, "The topic we're going to be discussing from now until somebody says 'wa' again is my major." Roughly translated, of course. And then once you've established the topic, you procede to describe it or clarify it with "eego desu" ("it is English") or something like that. You don't just come right out and say it. Theoretically, you could say, "Watashi no senmon ga eego desu," but you wouldn't hear that, probably. The "ga" means "the word that I just said is the subject of the sentence." But you wouldn't use "ga," you would use "wa." Not to mention the concept of particles is completely absent from English. Japanese is just really tough, so after this semester, I'll probably focus more on Spanish and Greek, and leave Japanese as a hobby. We'll see.

And now on the show we have a very special guest. I want everybody to put their hands together to welcome the country of Botswana! (Applause.) [Botswana comes from behind curtain, waves to audience, and takes a seat.]

Me: Welcome to the show, Botswana.

Botswana: Thanks for having me.

Me: Y'know, it's not often that we have an entire country on the show, so we're doubly honored tonight. But tell me what's been going on with you lately. I see you've gotten a new haircut.

Botswana: Yeah, it's for a movie I'm doing called, Dangeresque 4.5: Mission to Botswana. I had a mohawk before, and I decided that now was a good time to get rid of it and do something a little more tame for this role.

Me: I see. Tell me, do you support the Patriot Act?

Botswana: I don't know; it doesn't really concern me. I'm over in Africa, y'know, and y'all are over here in North America. It's a little too far apart for me to be putting my nose in y'all's business.

Me: But isn't it true that you and the Dixie Chicks are in league to overthrow the Bush administration? Why do you hate freedom?

Botswana: Um, I don't know where you heard that, but, no, it's not true. I'm actually in league with Hilary Clinton, Hilary Swank, and Hilary Duff. The four of us were in a band in high school called Four H Just Kidding Because That's Some Kind of a Club and We're Not It So We're Instead Called Three H's and a B, or just Four H's and a B for short. So after college, we decided to get back together again and overthrow America.

Me: That's nice. I've heard you didn't like the movie Forehead Shavecut. On that note, why are rain?

Botswana: Why are rain?

Me: Yes, why are rain?

Botswana: Whoa, I think you're barking up the wrong asparagus there. There aren't no rain. Nowhere.

Me: ああ、そうですか。　あなたは　いかですか。

Botswana: Yes, in fact, I am.

Me: All right, well, thanks for coming, and I hope you come back to the show sometime. Everybody, Botswana! (Applause.)

And that's all of that. I really don't know where that came from. That was really random. That was more than random. That was like random squared: randared? Squandom? Yes, it was squandom.

Did you know they released a Bambi II? Now I'm not against making sequels because I am one of the few folk who actually like (or at least don't mind) direct-to-video sequels. But making a sequel for a movie released half a century ago? Isn't that stretching it a bit? I think so.

The Super Bowl was last night. I went and watched it at Memorial Road Church of Christ. They said there would be a devo at halftime, but they lied. Instead we watched the Rolling Stones, which, I must say, was rather disturbing. They're—how should I put it?—friggen old. Pardon my French, but "old" doesn't describe them. There was a wrinkly old man shaking his boo-tay in front of millions of people, and that just isn't right. Get somebody younger next time. Like Cher.

If you're reading this Gregg, I'm sorry, because I was rooting for the Seahawks. I don't particularly like either team, so I had to choose one, and I chose the Seahawks, just because I am less fond of the Steelers. Plus, Seattle was the underdogs, and it would've been cool for them to win. Which brings me to a rant about how I choose my favorite teams: We begin at the top with, of course, the Miami Dolphins, who are my favorite of all time. Then, how does one go about choosing the other teams? There is no set system to speak of, so I go by my system: animals, colors, and people. If I have to choose teams besides my very favorite, I'm gonna choose an animal team, just because animals are cooler than people. If there are two teams playing that are not animal teams, I will then look at team colors. I detest the Raiders because of their colors, and for the fact that they're not animals. But if neither animals nor good colors are present, I may look at the people playing. Take Brett Favre, for example. The Packers have hideous colors reminiscent of regurgitation (and MacArthur, my alma mater), but they have Favre, and he's a cool guy, so I'll root for them if I don't like the other people. But we must always keep in mind that the one team we should all despise like we despise toe fungus is . . . America's Team, the Dallas Cowboys. I have no use for them. If anybody is playing against them, I'll most likely root for their opponent. Unless it's the Browns, because they're dumb for being called the Browns when they have orange helmets. Besides, what's a Brown? Yeah, those are my bottom three: the Cowboys, the Raiders, and the Browns. If any of those three play another, I will root for no one. Actually, I take that back. I'll root for the asteroid that might be hurtling toward Earth at impossible speeds, ready to crush their stadium and destroy both teams. And maybe the third team from the triad will be watching; then we can get rid of them in one fell stroke. That would be great.

I'm just kidding. Kind of.

And now for my Video Picks of the Week—Super Bowl Edition! You heard it, folks. This week all my video picks are Super Bowl commercials. And forgive me for including beer commercials, but some were too great to pass up.

Budweiser: Streaker
Budweiser: American Dream
Emerald Nuts
FedEx
Degree: Stunt City

And that's all for now. Tune in next week—same bat time, same bat place!

Saturday, January 28, 2006

Sat, 28 Jan 2006 03:02:09 GMT

If Discovery Channel showed documentaries about ancient Egypt all day long, I would never leave my room. Never.

There is a person I want to find. His name is Justin Case, and he's very popular. Everybody uses his name in all kinds of circumstances. My mother says it when packing for vacation: "I think we should take the grapling hook—Justin Case." President Bush said it: "Let's go bomb Iraq—Justin Case they have WMD's." Who are you, Justin Case? I will find you. I will hunt you down because I'm mad at your ubiquity. Nobody says, "I'll call the paranormal psychologist—Jared Beverly." It's always "Justin Case." You better watch your back, Justin. I'm after you.

Video Picks of the Week:
Fetal Scooby Doo
Baby Fart
The World's Dumbest Dog

Chao!

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Sun, 15 Jan 2006 05:09:17 GMT

Wow. It's been a while since I've updated. I've almost forgotten how. Okay, so not really.

The first week back at school went okay. I like most of my classes. I dread Comm III because it's a class about putting together a conference with guest speakers and stuff, and I really couldn't care less. It's one of those things that when I need to know it, I'll find out how, but I don't want to take a class about it. That's just dumb. With a capital B.

String Ensemble was bad my first day. I'm very out of practice on bass, so I really stunk up the place. In fact, there was probably a literal stench emanating from my bow as it weeped over all the wrong notes I was playing. However, by the second class period it got better, so with practice, I'll be back in shape.

Now for the classes I like: First, Basic Japanese I! I am so excited about that class. The teacher—or should I say sensei?—is a genuine Japanese person. Her English is hard to understand, but that makes it all the more interesting. We learned how to introduce ourselves Monday night (with hajimemashite and such) and Thursday night we went into some hiragana. It's very cool, and I actually look forward to doing homework for that class. Last night I watched the movie Steamboy in the Nowlin Center with fellow students of Japanese and actual Japanese students. We watched it in Japanese with English subtitles, and I understood a word here and there, which was nice. But this Japanese business brings me to a fork in the proverbial road of my life, a point at which I must make a decision. But we'll get into that later.

I'm taking Psalms with Niccum (or Curt, as he prefers—he said when he makes his biological brothers and sisters call him "Dr. Niccum," he'll make his brothers and sisters in Christ call him "Dr. Niccum"). But I love that class because it's like a fountspring of knowledge where I can bask in the glory of learning. Or something. It excites me because we have to do a project-type-thingy for the class wherein we must write a psalm ourselves and set it to music, after which it may be sung at View 63. Purdy cool.

I'm also taking Intermediate Spanish II and The Life of the Early Church: Acts, and I enjoy those classes. American Political Economy isn't as bad as I thought it would be. It should be easy.

Tuesday I audition for New Reign, the campus acappella group. The previous bass signed a contract with the band Acappella, so he's no longer at OC. I don't know if he's actually singing with Acappella or with one of their subsidiary groups, but he's gone, so I'm gonna try to snag his spot. As far as I know, there is only one other guy trying out, so I have somewhat of a chance. I hear that members of New Reign get a full ride, so cross your fingers.

At this point, I will discuss the fork in my steak. I mean road. The fork stuff is making me hungry. Just kidding.

But seriously, there are two paths I see before me: My present track, upon which I major in Bible with a Spanish minor and go on to be a Spanish minister at some congregation of the Lord's church in the southern United States or some Spanish-speaking country; the other track has me majoring in Teaching English as a Foreign Language with a lot of Japanese education on the side, and I would go on to move to Japan and teach English there. With the one, I stay closer to home (well, at least in the same hemisphere) and lead a life in minstry; with the other, I move to a place a world away and make more money teaching English. With the one, I would travel to Mexico and Central American countries; with the other, I would travel to Japan on the Pac Rim tour and then as an exchange student at Ibaraki Christian. With the one, I would always feel like I missed the opportunity of a lifetime to travel to Japan and live among the Japanese and learn their language; with the other, I would feel guilty for not following my calling in ministry. I can see myself being happy and content on both paths, but I don't know which to take. I know this decision must be made by the end of the semester, because college is preparing me for whatever life I choose, so I need not straddle the fence and dilly-dally when my preparation is at stake. During Japanese class, I want to move to Japan. During Psalms, I want to stay on my present course. I am torn, divided, rent in twain. I just don't know.

And to complicate things, there are things I am unsure of even in staying on my present course. I am considering changing my major from Bible to Bible and Ministry, as that might suit my purposes better. But I don't know. I need to talk to Curt, who is luckily my advisor.

In other news, I said "overexaggerated" the other night. Don't say that; it's really redundant. I should get ten lashes for doing that. Yes, from now on that's the punishment for the use of that word. So don't say it—I'm watching you.

I picked up trash today for Circle K. Not the gas station, but the group on campus sponsored by Kiwanis. You wouldn't believe the kind of stuff you find on a Christian campus: cigarettes out the wazoo, a 12-guage shotgun shell, a condom wrapper, a USB cable, an aluminum cigar case, and tons of fast food cups, just to name a few. Thank goodness I didn't find the condom that came from the wrapper. I think I would have to leave that there. But all in all, I filled my trash bag up and then some, so it was a very profitable experience.

Returning to a previous rant, if I go into ministry, it would be best that I were married, while I could be single if I taught English. I want to be married someday, but I'm kinda getting off on a slow start with the girlfriend thing, seeing as I've never had one. I suppose I could always order one from Russia. But if I went to Japan, I could marry me an Asian, and that would be nice; I think Asians are pretty. The girl ones, that is.

And another thing: I love Japanese culture—the politeness, the bowing, the low tables, the sushi, the meditation, the whatever else they do—but I really don't care for Latin American culture. Zorro is cool and all, but Hispanic culture doesn't fascinate nearly as much as Japanese culture.

Video Picks of the Week:
"The Best Beer" commercial
Monty Python's Fish-Slapping Dance
Funny British commercial
The Matrix Ping Pong

Well, thanks for watching the show. Tune in next time, when we have special guest RuPaul on. On second thought, we won't have RuPaul on the show, because I don't even know who that is. Chao.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Tue, 27 Dec 2005 07:00:38 GMT

Sorry I've been out of the loop lately. It's just that when I go home, the only internet my family has access to is this loathesome, odious, abominable creation called dial-up. So I have almost no desire whatsoever to get online because it takes so incredibly long to load pages, and I can't do squat with Google Video or anything, so I'm just lost. Adrift. Astray. Without hope. Why don't we have DSL or cable modem, I ask. No answer comes.

Nevertheless, my Christmas was good to me. I got a number of DVDs and books, and even a digital camera. I got the book Eats, Shoots & Leaves, and I read it already. It's pretty funny. It wasn't as funny as I thought it would be, but it's entertaining. I also got a Sudoku book, which has become my latest obsession.

Over a week ago, I saw the movie King Kong with Gregg and Emily, and let me tell you, it was awesome. All three hours of it were stupendous. It was real art, raw emotion, tugging at your very being, drawing you into the story and holding you captive until the last name in the credits rolls by. I was not expecting anything fancy, as I equate King Kong with any other monster movie, like Godzilla or whatever. This was completely the opposite. It is not a light movie, a film fraught with numerous explosions and a weak plot. It was an engrossing, engaging movie that takes you by the heart and doesn't let go. Ask Emily and Gregg—my mouth was hanging open in awe for a large part of it.

I don't want to spoil anything, but there was this one part that was so magnificent. It was most definitely the most intense action sequence I have ever seen. Ever. I have never seen a more compelling scene—not in Star Wars, not in James Bond, not in Lord of the Rings, not in anything else. The movie was just so great. Run out and go see it. Right now.

Well, I hope everybody's Christmas went well. Have a wonderful evening or morning or tea-time or whatever time you're reading this. Chao.