There are two great lies that i’ve heard/“The day you eat of the fruit of that tree, you will not surely die”/And that Jesus Christ was a white, middle-class republican/And if you wanna be saved you have to learn to be like Him. - Derek Webb, "A Kingdom and a King"
Okay, so I already knew that, but I hadn't heard it so eloqently put. Just some food for thought. And a good chance to quote a song line, which I already love to do.
Flaming Kiwifruit.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
What a Cheesy Christmas
Sometimes, cheesy can be good.
For instance, I decided to try something different as a dessert for Christmas this year. Naturally, my family was quite concerned when I pulled out tortilla wraps, cream cheese, white chocolate, and okra. I quickly explained that the okra was an integral part of the dessert. I then chuckled to myself as they went away horrified and proceeded to use the okra to make fried okra.
The other ingredients formed the most amazing dessert I have ever personally made. You see I wrapped the tortilla shells around a mixture of cream cheese, white chocolate, sugar, and vanilla extract and thane spread butter mixed with brown sugar and cinnamon across it. After baking the wraps, I drizzled some melted white chocolate across the tops, to enhance the visual asthetics of the dish.
They were good.
Also, on Christmas morning, my dad was quite suprised to open a box with, what else, but cheese. Not just any cheese, though, some of the best cheese the world has ever known. You see, he loves cheese, and I figured this wouldn't be an ordinary gift.
So, cheese was very important to my holiday. Seems somewhat fitting.
Flaming Kiwifruit.
For instance, I decided to try something different as a dessert for Christmas this year. Naturally, my family was quite concerned when I pulled out tortilla wraps, cream cheese, white chocolate, and okra. I quickly explained that the okra was an integral part of the dessert. I then chuckled to myself as they went away horrified and proceeded to use the okra to make fried okra.
The other ingredients formed the most amazing dessert I have ever personally made. You see I wrapped the tortilla shells around a mixture of cream cheese, white chocolate, sugar, and vanilla extract and thane spread butter mixed with brown sugar and cinnamon across it. After baking the wraps, I drizzled some melted white chocolate across the tops, to enhance the visual asthetics of the dish.
They were good.
Also, on Christmas morning, my dad was quite suprised to open a box with, what else, but cheese. Not just any cheese, though, some of the best cheese the world has ever known. You see, he loves cheese, and I figured this wouldn't be an ordinary gift.
So, cheese was very important to my holiday. Seems somewhat fitting.
Flaming Kiwifruit.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Be Careful Whom You Fly With
Just because you think someone you know may have liked a movie, doesn't mean you should rent the remake.
I did this a couple of days ago, with "Flight of the Pheonix." I regretted it quickly. For some reason watching a bunch of sweaty, guys in a desert swear at one another is not exactly my idea of good entertainment. Okay, so they weren't always swearing at one another. There were those breif moment of tired, cliched dialogue, and, my personal favorite, the random 'bonding moments' where the character suddenly forgot that they hated one another and became one big happy family.
One particular moment involved the men all blaring some rock music (good thing that guy thought to bring his I-Pod on the flight) and dancing around wildly. Never mind that they had made a big deal about not walking, because it would burn up too much energy and waste thier water supplies. Also, they seemed to have time to put together a nice little kitchen, complete with menus. No wonder they were having trouble finishing the plane on time.
And then there was the ridiculous scene where the nerdy guy who was the only one who could build the plane stormed off, because he got mad. He then made everyone say, "Please." before he would come back out. As if this wasn't bad enough, when the captain came in it went something like this.
Nerd: Who's the boss of everyone?
Pilot: You are.
Nerd: Okay.
Pilot: Please come out and finish the plane.
COME ON! What is this, middle school? But that aside it was just an all-around poorly written movie.
Finding Neverland, on the other hand, was a well-written, well-acted, piece, that completely put me to sleep. I've decided give the choice between a well-made boring film and a poorly made acton peice, I'll take boring.
Flaming Kiwifruit.
I did this a couple of days ago, with "Flight of the Pheonix." I regretted it quickly. For some reason watching a bunch of sweaty, guys in a desert swear at one another is not exactly my idea of good entertainment. Okay, so they weren't always swearing at one another. There were those breif moment of tired, cliched dialogue, and, my personal favorite, the random 'bonding moments' where the character suddenly forgot that they hated one another and became one big happy family.
One particular moment involved the men all blaring some rock music (good thing that guy thought to bring his I-Pod on the flight) and dancing around wildly. Never mind that they had made a big deal about not walking, because it would burn up too much energy and waste thier water supplies. Also, they seemed to have time to put together a nice little kitchen, complete with menus. No wonder they were having trouble finishing the plane on time.
And then there was the ridiculous scene where the nerdy guy who was the only one who could build the plane stormed off, because he got mad. He then made everyone say, "Please." before he would come back out. As if this wasn't bad enough, when the captain came in it went something like this.
Nerd: Who's the boss of everyone?
Pilot: You are.
Nerd: Okay.
Pilot: Please come out and finish the plane.
COME ON! What is this, middle school? But that aside it was just an all-around poorly written movie.
Finding Neverland, on the other hand, was a well-written, well-acted, piece, that completely put me to sleep. I've decided give the choice between a well-made boring film and a poorly made acton peice, I'll take boring.
Flaming Kiwifruit.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
All Roads Lead to Where?
You can't trust roads, anymore.
Yep, it's not like in the old days, when roads progressed in logical patterns. You know you'd see a road and say, "Yeah, that'll take me where I need to go." Then, it did. Well, those days are over.
See, I was trying to get to this sweet shopping plaza (by which I mean CITY) so I turned down this road. It took me over the crest of a hill where I could look heroically down on the center, which spread out before me triumphantly. I quickly realized that rather than bringing me to the valient City of Commercialism, this was bringing me around the back of the Target.
No problem, I thought. What goes around the back of Target surely loops around the front.
WRONG!
No, this road lead to a construction site which led to another road, which led to another road, which led to another road, which led to the City of Commercialism. So, why, you might ask, did I not turn around rather than brave the exhausting maze of tangled non-sensical roads? It's simple: I'm male.
You see what you have to understand about men, is we are never wrong. Even when we are wrong we have to find a way to prove we're not wrong. For example:
A man, whom we will not name, was driving around a lake. Said man, took a wrong turn, going the way which would be longer. A female freind of said man pointed out the mistake. So, I . . . I mean, this man, simply replied that he liked this way better.
You see, that man wasn't wrong. He just liked taking the longer way. Making him an idiot, but a correct idiot.
The moral of the story is it's better to be a correct idiot, than and incorrect genius.
Gee, that's not such a great moral. I need to work on that.
Flaming Kiwifruit
Yep, it's not like in the old days, when roads progressed in logical patterns. You know you'd see a road and say, "Yeah, that'll take me where I need to go." Then, it did. Well, those days are over.
See, I was trying to get to this sweet shopping plaza (by which I mean CITY) so I turned down this road. It took me over the crest of a hill where I could look heroically down on the center, which spread out before me triumphantly. I quickly realized that rather than bringing me to the valient City of Commercialism, this was bringing me around the back of the Target.
No problem, I thought. What goes around the back of Target surely loops around the front.
WRONG!
No, this road lead to a construction site which led to another road, which led to another road, which led to another road, which led to the City of Commercialism. So, why, you might ask, did I not turn around rather than brave the exhausting maze of tangled non-sensical roads? It's simple: I'm male.
You see what you have to understand about men, is we are never wrong. Even when we are wrong we have to find a way to prove we're not wrong. For example:
A man, whom we will not name, was driving around a lake. Said man, took a wrong turn, going the way which would be longer. A female freind of said man pointed out the mistake. So, I . . . I mean, this man, simply replied that he liked this way better.
You see, that man wasn't wrong. He just liked taking the longer way. Making him an idiot, but a correct idiot.
The moral of the story is it's better to be a correct idiot, than and incorrect genius.
Gee, that's not such a great moral. I need to work on that.
Flaming Kiwifruit
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Christmas Will Never Be the Same
Somethings don't work at the last moment.
For instance: I went back to my parent's church today. We just got back from Florida and haven't been around much in the last 3 or4 months. So, imagine my surprise when I find out that my sister and I are supposed to be Mary and Joseph in thier Christmas thing tonight. Aside from the general weirdness of the whole situation and the fact that as hard as we tried we could not get out of it, this wasn't a normal Christmas thing.
You see the whole program involved people getting up and singing with the Christmas story being read inbetween. In fact, Rachel and I were to do the opening song, thus requirking us to get in costume after it. Well, naturally you might think, "Why do you even need Mary and Joseph in this sort of thing?" We're still wondering that.
So, after the song, we hurried away to wrap sheets around ourselves in a biblical type manner. Granted I had no clue how to do this. So I stood around the back room off to the side of the sanctuary, where I found an answering machine. Being the curious, but not so sensible person I am I hit the play button, while Rachel was getting her outfit ready.
It was loud . . . I had no way to turn it off . . .
So, I did what any sensible person would. I flipped it upside down so the speaker would be muffled by the floor. What followed was a freindly electronic voice repeating, "Message deleted" over and over again. At this point Rachel pointed out that I was probably deleting all the messages left for the church. So I unplugged the thing. As far as I know it is still unplugged.
Then our cue came. Unfortunately Rachel had mixed-up the rope for our waists and I am considerably bigger than her. So, I couldn't breathe. In addition I almost tripped coming out, while Rachel tried desperately to hold back her amusement with the whole situation. After this we proceeded to do exactly what we were instructed to do.
We sat.
That was it. I dutifully watched the rest of the program while on the verge of passing out from the restrictive belt and trying unsuccessfully to cover my khakis with the sheet. On the plus side, the program actually only lasted an hour and there was food afterwards.
Also, Marion Hodges brought a hammered dulcimer which sounded stupendous. I even got to play a little afterwards, picking out the melody to "Dust in the Wind" on it. It was an interesting night.
Flaming Kiwifruit
For instance: I went back to my parent's church today. We just got back from Florida and haven't been around much in the last 3 or4 months. So, imagine my surprise when I find out that my sister and I are supposed to be Mary and Joseph in thier Christmas thing tonight. Aside from the general weirdness of the whole situation and the fact that as hard as we tried we could not get out of it, this wasn't a normal Christmas thing.
You see the whole program involved people getting up and singing with the Christmas story being read inbetween. In fact, Rachel and I were to do the opening song, thus requirking us to get in costume after it. Well, naturally you might think, "Why do you even need Mary and Joseph in this sort of thing?" We're still wondering that.
So, after the song, we hurried away to wrap sheets around ourselves in a biblical type manner. Granted I had no clue how to do this. So I stood around the back room off to the side of the sanctuary, where I found an answering machine. Being the curious, but not so sensible person I am I hit the play button, while Rachel was getting her outfit ready.
It was loud . . . I had no way to turn it off . . .
So, I did what any sensible person would. I flipped it upside down so the speaker would be muffled by the floor. What followed was a freindly electronic voice repeating, "Message deleted" over and over again. At this point Rachel pointed out that I was probably deleting all the messages left for the church. So I unplugged the thing. As far as I know it is still unplugged.
Then our cue came. Unfortunately Rachel had mixed-up the rope for our waists and I am considerably bigger than her. So, I couldn't breathe. In addition I almost tripped coming out, while Rachel tried desperately to hold back her amusement with the whole situation. After this we proceeded to do exactly what we were instructed to do.
We sat.
That was it. I dutifully watched the rest of the program while on the verge of passing out from the restrictive belt and trying unsuccessfully to cover my khakis with the sheet. On the plus side, the program actually only lasted an hour and there was food afterwards.
Also, Marion Hodges brought a hammered dulcimer which sounded stupendous. I even got to play a little afterwards, picking out the melody to "Dust in the Wind" on it. It was an interesting night.
Flaming Kiwifruit
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Why I Still Insist That I'm From New York
Things really can get worse in Alabama.
I just got back and so, naturally after eight hours of driving, what does a guy do? Go Christmas shopping!
Yes, it's strange, but Rachel really wanted to get started and I needed to get something for my aunt and grandmother who are heading out tomorrow.
The point is I saw the lowest of cheesy commercialized Alabama weirdness while shopping.
It was "Buck" the singing trophy deer head. Yes it's true, he sings 6 of your country favorites. I just wish I could remember them. I know "Freinds in Low Places" was one of the them. It also includes a wireless microphone so you can sing along. Loads of fun. Especially after you've finished of the last of the beer.
On the plus side, it was fun listening to the David Crowder Band's rendition of "Feliz Navidad" on the way back.
Also, I have just been informed that placing Marshmellow Treats in the reach of hungry dogs is a bad idea.
Oh, and apparently "Chocolate Moose Chocolate Milk" and Necco brand candy are essentially reprocessed toxic waste. I sure hope I can't be sued for this . . .
Flaming Kiwifruit.
I just got back and so, naturally after eight hours of driving, what does a guy do? Go Christmas shopping!
Yes, it's strange, but Rachel really wanted to get started and I needed to get something for my aunt and grandmother who are heading out tomorrow.
The point is I saw the lowest of cheesy commercialized Alabama weirdness while shopping.
It was "Buck" the singing trophy deer head. Yes it's true, he sings 6 of your country favorites. I just wish I could remember them. I know "Freinds in Low Places" was one of the them. It also includes a wireless microphone so you can sing along. Loads of fun. Especially after you've finished of the last of the beer.
On the plus side, it was fun listening to the David Crowder Band's rendition of "Feliz Navidad" on the way back.
Also, I have just been informed that placing Marshmellow Treats in the reach of hungry dogs is a bad idea.
Oh, and apparently "Chocolate Moose Chocolate Milk" and Necco brand candy are essentially reprocessed toxic waste. I sure hope I can't be sued for this . . .
Flaming Kiwifruit.
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