The Best of Times, the Worst of Times

Talk about dichotomy. The Celtics are very, very good. The Lions -- after a promising start -- are still the Lions. Check some of this out:

1) The Celtics played their first game on November 2. Since then, they've played a total of 22 games, while the Lions have played a total of 7. Despite playing less than one-third the number of games, the Lions have lost three times as many games as the Celtics (6 to 2).

2) In the same period of time, the Celtics have won 20 times as many games as the Lions (20 to 1). I can't make this stuff up, kids.

3) Lions opponents come close to outscoring Celtics opponents. The Knicks scored 59 points against the Celtics; the Eagles scored 56 and the Chargers 51 against the Lions. Typically, of course, an NBA team will score roughly 3 times the number of points of an NFL team.

4) Despite playing 3 or 4 more games every season, the Lions have had fewer wins than Oklahoma football every single season this millennium. Not only that, but twice (the current season will likely make three) in that time they've won MORE post-season (Big 12 Championships and bowls) games in a single season than the Lions have won since the inception of the Super Bowl.

5) In the last 6 weeks, the Dolphins have won more games than the Lions. In the same time, the Phillies have won the same number of games that the Lions have, and they're not even in uniform. In fact, I -- by myself (that is, not only without teammates, but also without a uniform, pads, a ball, or 150 total lbs of body mass) have won the same number of games as the Lions. Come to think of it, my dog, my grandmothers (I love you!), and John-Jacob Jingleheimer Schmitt (sp?) have also won as many games as the Lions in the past six weeks. In fairness, however, my dog is surprisingly nimble for being overweight. I've never actually tried to tackle my grandmothers, so I'm not able to speak intelligently to their athletic prowess or lack thereof.

And do you know what? Really, it isn't even the worst of times. The Lions STILL have as many or more wins than any Lion team since '01. Wow. I truly never thought that the best of times would be so . . . below .500.

Impending Draft?

So I saw Impending Doom last night. It was cool! On top of being insanely brutal, they seemed like fun and genuine people. I'm a bigger fan of theirs today than I was yesterday, and that's always better than those times that you go away thinking that your image of a band in your head (or on your cd insert) was way better than the real deal.

Do you know what's even nicer, though? I didn't get hit in the face! Call me pansy or old or whatever, but bloodless shows are a plus for me. The "dancers" DID, however, manage to knock out a window. That's right, they didn't break it, just completely popped the bad boy out of the wall and onto the sidewalk. Good times, good times.

It was so much fun I'd like to do it all over again . . . and so I check their page and sure enough, they'll be back . . . on Valentine's Day? DANG! That's a tall order for married guy. Impending deal with the wife? How many chick flicks will that cost me? I don't know, I mean I'm pretty hardcore and all, but Mandy Moore movies just don't move me, you know what I'm saying? Impending decision, I suppose.

Whatever. Sorry this post is so lame. I'll try to do better next time (but no promises).

Just a couple random thoughts in the meantime:

1) Professional athletes often put their bodies through massive amounts of abuse. Not Celtics back-up center Scot Pollard, though. He's missing time because of a bad back that he hurt getting out of his car at Starbucks. Huh, and I thought that $4 for a white chocolate mocha cost ME a lot, but I guess not compared to him. Anyway, he thought it was better until he apparently aggravated his injury by putting on socks. My goodness. Seriously, what makes a guy (or a front-office, not that I'm going to be at ALL critical of Danny "bring me number 17" Ainge) think that he's going to be able to compete at a world-class level athletically when getting coffee and wearing socks puts him out of the game? My good golly-gosh. Seriously, you can't make this stuff up -- click here and read it right from the globe.

2) There's a preliminary version of what will become a Life Pointe promotional dvd (as well as the full half-hour performance at 4th Street Live as broadcast on the CW) on here. It's pretty flippin' cool, y'all, and if you're in the Louisville area, reading this, and STILL haven't checked out a service, you're missing out. Make it happen, you won't be sorry!

4 Channels, and . . .

It's the holidays, and for a bit Laura and I discussed not doing individual gifts for each other, but rather buying something big for "us". The best idea we had? A nice, new flat-panel or hd or plasma screen or whatever (I don't know the details of what's what and don't particularly care) tv. In fact, most of the obvious ways in which we could upgrade our "stuff" is in the tv family. We could get a home theater surround-sound deal, that sounds cool. Or an HD or Blu-Ray player (by the way -- come ON Sony -- is there a ration on "e"'s that you had to leave it off of "Blu-Ray"? Did Life Pointe take your "e"?) would look nice in our entertainment center. And of course if we DID get a cool tv, we should really look into ditching the rabbit ears and hooking up cable to be able to enjoy our newest purchase.

WHAT?! You don't have cable?!

Nope. And we're not getting the tv. Do you know why? Not only are they still WAY too expensive for cheapskates such as ourselves, but no matter how great your tv is, there's still nothing on. Hook up more channels? No it just takes longer to realize that . . . there's still nothing on. Get an awesome HD dvd or Blu-Ray player? Movies -- not all of them, but far too many -- still suck.

Hey -- like everybody else, I think that plasma screens have awesome pictures, and I love the newer higher-tech devices that deliver better resolution and more powerful sound and all that. I really do -- I love that stuff enough that every few months I think we should buy some of it. But then I ask myself the next question -- what will I watch on it? Football. That's pretty much it, and even then there's at MOST 2 games a week that I REALLY care about, and I can go out and watch those -- and eat buffalo wings -- for the price of buffalo wings. Hook up cable? Now I'm just watching MORE football games that I don't even really care about rather than doing something more productive (like blogging about watching football). HD dvd's are cool, but no matter how beautifully crisp Glitter looks, it's still the same crap.

So here's my deal -- I wish that everybody who is the "entertainment industry" would just go ahead and leave well enough alone technologically for a while. We'll be fine with our tv's the way they are. Now won't you put some of that creative genius that brought us these fine fancy toys into developing stories and plot-lines and witty dialogue that will be worth watching? THEN, my friends, maybe we'll have a more serious talk about those $800 tv's.

"Fiesta" -- Espanol for "Shouldn't Have Lost to Colorado"

So it's Ohio State and LSU. Whatever. Congratulations to the winner, I suppose.

Here's the deal -- OU was beyond spectacular last night in absolutely destroying the #1 (ranked) Missouri Tigers. It was an absolute joy to watch the Crimson and Cream (note the color change -- who reminded the Lions that they were the Lions?) take home another Big XII Championship. Wohoo! And then a little disappointing to come up short in terms of playing for the national championship. But do you know what? They don't deserve to play for the championship because they lost . . . twice. Of course LSU lost twice too, so do THEY deserve it? Nope. But that's what happens when you lose (TWICE) in college football -- close your eyes, clench your fists, and hope for the best. Who DOES deserve it, by the way? Pshhhhhhhh. Nobody, really. Just don't whine about your fate if you lost, that's all I'm saying.

A Big XII Championship, and maybe a Fiesta Bowl, too. That's pretty good. Next year might be even better. And in the meantime, there's still those Celtics . . . .

So . . . Do You Like Bacon?

1. The Celtics lost, in overtime, on the road, to the defending Eastern Conference champions last night, and I'm upset about it. That's WAY better than, say, last year, when the losses were completely forgettable and the wins were shocking. So much better that I had to go order tickets for when they come to Indianapolis. Six years I've lived in Louisville, and never in that time did I make seeing a Celtics game a priority -- until now.

2. On Saturday OU plays the grammatically challenged but athletically formidable and #1 (ranked) Missouri ("Mizzou") Tigers for the Big Twelve Championship. And #1 is a three point underdog! It doesn't mean they don't "deserve" to be #1 -- they've lost one game and we've lost two -- it just goes to show that being the "best" team isn't always the most important thing. Anyway, here's to taking them down (again) and winning (another) conference championship. I know, it would probably put Ohio State in the championship game and nobody (outside of Ohio) wants that, but let's make it happen anyway.

3. Isn't Thanksgiving weekend supposed to be a "down" week for church attendance? Because Life Pointe just had our best attended service since Mother's Day and capped off our best attended month ever! The momentum and excitement are back, and if you're in or near Louisville you really owe it to yourself to check a service out. I really, really think you'll be altogether pleased with your decision.

4. Yep, I like bacon, too.

5. The latest from Nodes of Ranvier? Really quite enjoyable, if not necessarily original or groundbreaking. South Dakota's finest, and doing us all proud, thank you very much!

6. Fans of all things hilarious and worthy of repeated viewing click here. Just make sure you're not drinking anything that you don't want splattered all over your keyboard and monitor as you watch. You're welcome.

7. I desperately hope I have something more substantial to write about soon. In the meantime, if you can place the post title, leave it in the comments. That's right, the gauntlet's been thrown down. . . .

Way Late, But Way Fun!

I know this is out of season already, but drop a note into the complaint jar if you must. I thought that Laura and I were hilarious at the Life Pointe Halloween party and wanted you to share in the delight. Wohoo! (click on them and they get really big)



(for reference sake)

Maybe the funniest part, though, is that we won the best costume contest and were awarded . . . are you ready for this? A gift card to Blockbuster! It's not *quite* as funny now that I changed jobs, but you can't buy that kind of hilarity, right?


And just because it's here and I know the world is full of haters and flamers, here's my little diatribe on Christ-followers and Halloween:

"Don't you know the evil origins of Halloween?" the reactionaries ask. "Whether you know it or not, by dressing up (or allowing your children to dress up) and going to a party you're participating in an evil pagan celebration and it's wrong, wrong, wrong!" (The tri-fold "wrong" makes it wrong, then right the second time, but ULTRA-wrong with the third negative.)

Ok, let's just take that train of thought to it's logical conclusion, shall we? If, due to it's origin and original intent, dressing up and getting fun-size Milky Way from the neighbors is participating in evil, what does that mean for Santa and the Easter Bunny? Wouldn't it be consistent, then, to say that "Whether they know it or not, children asking drunk mall Santas for HALO 4 and gangsta rap is participating in the celebration of the miraculous birth of our savior! In fact, every time I see the Christmas ads for Victoria's Secret I just can't help but fall to my knees and praise God for the subtle but real way he's invading our culture! Similarly, Cadbury Cream Eggs bring a tear to my eye, because I know that every child who develops cavities as a result is doing so because of their unwitting but surely monstrously influential celebration of the singular high-point of Christian redemptive history! Oh hallelujah, I'm going to break out into an impromptu chorus of my favorite Gaither song right now!"

Now I ask you -- have you EVER heard the same person who opposes Halloween be in favor of Santa and the Easter Bunny? That's what I thought. Why do people think it's so spiritual to be angry all the time and against everything? My goodness, eat a chocolate Santa, enjoy life, and go love somebody who needs it. . . .


Color change note -- I put the OU Crimson and Cream up when they vaulted themselves into the national title chase, and an invigorating chase it was. They're still having a great season, but that's over now, and the Lions are running down a playoff spot, so Honolulu blue it is!

TTFN, BBOL!

Flogging, But With a "B" isn't necessarily full of "personal notes", but this one is worthwhile: this Friday the 16th is my last day at Blockbuster Online!

It's not that it's the worst job ever, per se. It doesn't pay much and the work is mindless and repetitive, but it's not necessarily unpleasant, at least when it's not 100+ degrees in the summer. That said, I'm moving on.

Laura got me an interview at the pharmacy in the hospital where she works, and the gig is just ridiculously ideal for my life. It's a PRN position, which means that I quite literally make my own schedule and (more or less) work whatever and as many hours as I decide to . . . and then get paid extra for the convenience. Seriously! As you might guess, the pharm is also climate controlled, which will be a very, VERY big plus come summer, and I'll actually know when my shifts will be ending before I go in.

And to top it off, how about this little gem -- at my job interview, the manager was asking questions about Life Pointe to the point(e) where I just couldn't NOT toss her an invite card (as tacky as that felt at a job interview), which she looked at, chuckled, and then ASKED FOR MORE!!! So while I'm desperate to make sure that everybody at BBOL gets invited out (one more time) before I'm gone for good, there's a whole new network of peeps that I'll get to meet and interact with, and hopefully invest in in a more meaningful way than was possible at the warehouse.

Hey, I met a lot of GREAT people and had some good times at BBOL (and also met some gold-medal losers and had some pretty bad days, but whatever), but it's time to turn the page. Friday is it! And then it's off to what I shall, from this point(e) on, affectionately refer to as "the p-pharm." Wohoo!

Democratacisy? Sounds great!

As Americans we treasure -- above all else (with the possible exception of the right to procreate at will and let the government pay for the consequences) the right to vote in public elections. It validates us. It tells us that our opinions matter. It means that we have a voice. And here today, in what *may* eclipse even my BCS post as the most hated in the history of Flogging, But With a "B", I'll tell you why it's a terrible idea.

Let's start with a story. I lived for several years in Minnesota where you can actually register at the polls. When I went to register/vote, I provided the requisite information and verification, and was then instructed to print and sign my name along with my date of birth. With all the care and caution of your least favorite multinational environment-raping oil conglomerate, then, I proceeded to indicate that I had been born, apparently, earlier that day. The poll worker was very nice and helped me correct the obvious oversight, and I proceeded to cast a vote in determining the course of our country, state, and county. But should I have been allowed to, really? My attention and care was so infinitesimal that I put "today's" date where my date of birth was supposed to go, and yet I was somehow qualified to have a say in things? Is that REALLY sound policy?

Here's the deal, though -- I'm a reasonably sharp dude. Even at the time the story took place (7 or 8 years ago) I held a B. S. (that still cracks me up) and had better critical thinking skills than a lot of people. My only conclusion, though, is that there was absolutely NO WAY I should have been allowed to vote! Which led me down a dark and depressing thought highway which dumped me off at the point where I've determined that democracy (representative or otherwise) is officially a bad idea.

Look, if you're anything like me, you're pretty happy that political ads, phone calls, etc. are done for a bit. They're obnoxious, misleading, and intentionally slanted with half-truths and twisted logic. If somebody voted against a bill that would use taxpayer money ([Jack Nicholson voice ON] "Is there another kind?" [Jack Nicholson voice OFF]) to put plasma tv's in every 2nd grader's coat hanger, he's against education and hates children. If he had a plan that would eliminate income tax completely but bump sales tax by half a cent, he's trying to give the rich more tax breaks and take bread from babies. And do you know what bothers me the most about these? That they work!!! Let's face it -- there wouldn't be 8,000,000 ads during every hour of tv if they didn't have effect, and that means that the insipid things are actually effecting people's votes, and the outcome of our elections. What kind of a system is this?

Do you know what, though? Even if we didn't base our votes on manipulated half-truths and emotional appeals, we STILL wouldn't be really qualified to vote. Raise your hand if you REALLY know what's going on in Iraq, or the probable consequences of any course of action? How about economics? Who here REALLY understands the various factors and arguments regarding costs of health care and what socialization would mean? Do any among us understand the implications of big political topics? What about the fact that, even among experts, there's heated disagreement? How does THAT turn into people who DON'T know stuff having a say?

Here's where it gets really bad, though. Yesterday I had somebody with a 10th grade education tell me that they'd just come from the polls. On one particular issue they admitted -- laughing -- that they really didn't understand the question, and so just voted "no". Now, I ask you -- who determined that this was a GOOD way to run a country?

That said, the only better system I've come up with is to just kill the whole deal and put me in charge. Now, who's going to vote for that one?

Belligerant Complaint System

All right -- who wants a college football playoff system, raise your hand. Ok, good. Me too. Glad to get that out of the way. But you know what I want almost more than that? For people to stop complaining about the BCS.

"The BCS kept the unanimous #1 team in the nation out of the championship game in 2003!"

"The BCS is too complicated!"

"The BCS ran over my dog with it's mini-van!"

Wah, wah, wah. I'm legitimately sorry if something happened to your dog, but it's well past time for the rest of you to give some rest to the rest of us.

2003 almost always seems to be exhibit A, so let's look at that. The outcry was thunderous when Oklahoma and LSU played for the championship despite USC (the one in California) being ranked #1 in both the AP and coaches poll. "It's UNANIMOUS!" people cried. Well, half of that sentence is true -- people cried! And it's true that USC was #1 in each poll, but neither was "unanimous". All three teams -- each with one loss -- received first place votes, which is the very definition of NOT unanimous. You know what WAS unanimous, though? That EVERY computer poll used had Oklahoma ranked #1. So how obnoxious is it that everybody was all mad and said that they had to change the computers? It's like this -- people realized that the human polls are subject to any number of biases, weaknesses, and subjectivities, and so intentionally and knowingly they implemented and factored in a computer ranking which -- although subject to it's own set of weaknesses -- would provide clear objective input to balance out the subjectivity of human voters. But when people didn't like what they had to say, you would have thought that Skynet had become self-aware.

Also, do people realize that before the BCS, all three teams would have played in different games and probably nothing would have been resolved? I'm not saying that a playoff wouldn't be better -- it would. But isn't this a whole lot better than it was before? So you're not eating at Morton's. I'm sorry. But yesterday you were asking for "More gruel, please!" and today you're grilling burgers and pork chops. Stop complaining.

Side note -- here's why USC didn't "deserve" to play for the championship, in my opinion. 1) They lost a game. In college football, when you lose, you forfeit any RIGHT to play for the championship. You may still be granted a chance, but you've left it up to chance, and now you just have to hope for the best. Sorry. Now of course this applies to OU and LSU also, but the next criteria does not; 2) What happened in their conference championship game? Oh yeah, they didn't play one. LSU had one loss in their regular season and then won their POST-season SEC Championship game, which gave them one more win -- and a BIG win -- then USC had. Oklahoma had ZERO losses in their regular season (playing the most difficult schedule of the three teams in question!), and then lost their POST-season Big 12 Championship game. People's reaction -- as incredible as it seems -- was that OU should be penalized for losing their extra game for which USC had NO CORRELATE AT ALL when they'd won ALL their regular season games. OU went 12-0 in their regular season. USC went 11-1. Then OU dropped their EXTRA game, which USC didn't play. Now somebody explain to me how that makes USC more deserving.

Side note two -- to USC people who have "claimed" the championship -- where's your trophy? Huh? Baton Rouge? Why does the inscription say "Louisiana State University"? Boy, if I was the athletic director at USC, I'd have this situation addressed immediately!

For what it's worth, this year the computers hate OU. You know what? That's tough. We lost to Colorado, and so now we have to hope for the best.

Now how about this "it's all too complicated" garbage. Seriously, the people on tv have been saying this for years. The one's who, it's their JOB to know about it? When OU starting entering into the picture, I looked the formula up on-line, read for about 5 minutes, and said "Oh, ok. I get it." My IQ is not in the genius range. Think about stuff, it's not that hard. Goodness.

There are other complaints, but they're all crap too. Some people talk about how a playoff would do away with all controversy. Really? Is that why everybody's so happy and controversy-free after the field for the 65-team basketball tournament is revealed? Or how about "settle it on the field!" Yep, that's what the whole process is based on, is what happens on the field. And now, since the BCS came along, we've had a real championship game on the field, too. See how much better that is!

Again, I'm not saying a playoff wouldn't be better. It would. I'm for that! But you know what else I'm for? Less whining and victimization. Play football. Win your games. Have a good time. Go back home. See? Now everybody wins. (Not you, Baylor.)

Set Those Armageddon Clocks BACK, Everybody!

I work in a dvd by-mail rental distribution center (read: warehouse). A lot of . . . um . . . "questionable" films pass through my hands each day, and I remember how shocked I used to be at some of the viewing decisions that some of you are making. On Friday, though, I came across something that really made me feel BETTER about the state of our movie-watching culture. It was an animated title that I wasn't familiar with, but it had a disclaimer printed right on the disc itself that read as follows (emphasis mine):

"WARNING: Contains nudity and adult situations. May not be suitable for viewers under 18 years of age. Parental discretion advised. All characters depicted in sexual conduct or in the nude are aged 19 years or older. No actual or identifiable minor was used in the creation of any character depicted herein."

"That's nice" I thought to myself, "because if we were watching underage cartoon people doing . . . um . . . 'stuff', well then THAT might be just weird. But since I now know that all the drawings are of characters of 'legal age' there's clearly no need for concern!"

Right . . . .

You Might *Not* Be What You Wear

At a certain point, the old cliche "you are what you eat" is pretty self-evident and irrefutable. Similarly, the truism "you are what you are" has to be considered positively water-proof. But how about people who wear clothing or some other type of message-conveying device that proudly boasts some manner of extraordinary attribute? Let's consider a couple of popular slogans and see if together we can determine if, indeed, people are what they eat, what they are, and also what they wear.

Hottie

Surely you've seen girls running all about wearing shirts with a single-word message that is as simple as it is misguided -- "Hottie". If ever there was a garment that cried out for some analysis, this is the one. In fact, upon seeing said shirt, isn't it all but impossible not to go ahead and make some sort of a judgment regarding the factuality or lack thereof in the message? I'm not saying that I go around checking girls out -- I'm really very happily married (yes, to a hottie!) -- but much like the "World's Best Coffee" sign in Elf, it just begs for verification. Of course, the verdict will be one of two, each with their own set of implications:

Yes! We do, in fact, have a hottie! The bad news, I'm afraid, is that hotties should NOT ever be seen sporting a "hottie" logo. What good can possibly come of it? Girls will just hate them for their arrogance and shamelessness. Guys, as a rule, don't need to be tipped off to the attractiveness of the fairer sex, and generally like for the girl to pretend to be surprised when we graciously inform her that she is, indeed, a hottie. The shirt, of course, short-circuit's the entire process and sends any (sensible) man running for the hills. After all, any genuine hottie who's wearing a "hottie" shirt is going to be positively insufferable to be around and completely unbearable to date. We like to make our female-friend feel like the world revolves around her, but do NOT like for them to act like they deserve or expect it.

OR:

Nope, NOT a hottie! Do people with bad teeth wear clothing that says "Hey -- check out my chicklets!"? Do people with 4th grade educations have pins that say "Ask me about the pythagorean theorem!"? Is White Castle's slogan "You'll regret this in about an hour and a half!"? Of course not. Why is it, then, that about 80% of the people wearing "hottie" shirts are categorically unattractive? Doesn't that scream to the watching, laughing world "Look at me! I'm both unattractive AND delusional!"

Porn Star

Hey, the ladies take the brunt of the "hottie" silliness, but the fellas aren't immune from making bad wardrobe decisions either, as particularly evidenced by the lingering popularity of the "porn star" shirts (sorry, I'm not even going to try to google images that one . . .).

The message could be true, of course. If indeed your profession is what the shirt says it is, what's going to be gained by wearing it on your sleeve (or torso)? A certain type of female may be attracted to that, I suppose. But would you really need that? Isn't it a little like being a professional ice cream taster and then stopping off for a Blizzard on the way home from work? Call me level-headed, but I'm just not seeing it.

Of course, there's pretty much zero chance that anybody wearing this shirt is anything more than a fan of the industry, right? So if my math is right, the shirt then REALLY says something closer to, "Hey -- anybody wanna-be with a wanna-be? Not just ANY wanna-be, though, I'm ALSO completely depraved and shameless and would like to treat you as though you're an ultra-low rent prostitute and then send you on your way empty and dying inside. Come on, now, step right up! . . . . . . . . . . . . Hey Trevor, why is there still no line?"

Bad@$$ Boyz/Girlz Drive Bad@$$ Toyz

Now this is usually a sticker on a vehicle more than a t-shirt slogan, but of course the same principles apply.

Now first of all, do you know any TRULY "bad" people? I do. Guess what? They ain't sportin' this sticker. If you're REALLY "bad", you know it and could care less whether anybody else does or not, right? Think of Mel Gibson in Payback. That was about as bad of a character as you find, right? Could you imagine that character having a rhyming sticker that replaced the letter "s" with "z" in brash public demonstration of his "bad-ness"? Hardly.

Even worse is the female version. Seriously, you know that it doesn't even rhyme, right? Or is that the point? You don't care about spelling OR rhyme, because you're just that eager to have a lame female rip-off of an already lame male slogan? Doesn't that communicate "Oh, me too, me too! I want to be in the bad club too! Please???" more than anything? It's either that or "Whatever stupid thing insecure dudes can put on their Ford Rangers, us ladies can make a second-rate copy and put it on our Geo Trackers!" Come on ladies -- I KNOW you can do better. Come up with something original and clever and you can be a real credit to your gender.


The lesson is simple -- wearing a shirt doesn't change your level of attractiveness, profession, or mental disposition. I can go to Hot Topic, but that won't make me a brooding 14 year-old. I can also go to Victoria's Secret, but that won't give me a classic hourglass figure. And when I go to pastoral meetings, I don't suddenly become bitter, burned out, and humor-less. Whatever you are? Seriously, it's ok (unless you're shirt number 2, but I'm guessing "that guy" is too strung out to be reading this)! Try to be something else and you just look dumb. You are what you are -- just be that and you'll be fine.

Why Are Chocolate Chips "Semi-Sweet"?

I don't know, but this entry might be semi-serious. What can I say? Perhaps I should semi-apologize. Perhaps not! Whatever.

But here's something that I think may be semi-profound that I've learned/had come together for me in the relatively recent past -- we're whole people. I know that doesn't sound profound, but let me explain what I mean.

A couple of years ago, I read a book called "The Emotionally Healthy Church." The premise of the book was that people (who are, of course, the church) can never grow spiritually until they become healthy(er) emotionally. At the time, I thought it was flat-0ut backwards and completely wrong. I thought that people had to grow spiritually and then they would be able to grow healthy(er) emotionally. My mini-epiphany is this -- I think we were both wrong. It seems clear to me now that the whole enterprise of separating the spiritual and emotional is artificial and bogus -- they work together. I don't know exactly how this works, of course, but I'm thinking that it must be true. How can someone accept the love of Jesus (not like "just" to "become a Christian", but to REALLY "accept") when they don't feel/believe they are lovable? And trying to decide which comes first is like the chicken or the egg deal -- they need to move forward together.

Let's even throw one more kink in the garden hose, shall we? Sexuality is worked in there, too. It's tougher to understand and buy into for us fellas who tend to naturally compartmentalize things, but the ladies should have no problem here. With allowances made for the exceptions and apologies for the over-generalizations -- "we" want to get our rocks off, watch Sportscenter, pound some Cheetos, and go to bed. The ladies want to make love and then do the "c" word (I can't say it and don't even want to type it out -- the word just bothers me, I'm not sure why). It's not necessarily that our wives don't like sports or are trying to cut back on their MSG intake, it's that "their" emotions and spirit (read: "soul") are either more integrated into their sexuality or they're just more naturally aware of it. . . or something. I don't know exactly, or why the difference, but I think it must be a difference of degree rather essence, or quantitative rather than qualitative, if you will, as evidenced by exceptions to the rule and the fact that we're all, at our essence, human beings. Sex affects our soul -- that's probably why the Bible talks so much about it and treats it differently from other physical activities like swimming or eating or sleeping, huh?

At any rate, my point is this -- emotional, spiritual, sexual -- they all work together. They're all parts of the same deal, and how we deal with one affects the others, too. I can't back it up scientifically or even scripturally to a terribly weighty degree, but I think it's true, and I think understanding this truth can be helpful and open the doors to a great deal of healing and freedom. Further, "the church" needs to do a better job at addressing emotional needs and other things that aren't overtly spiritual, and the spiritual will be helped along greatly. And no wonder why so many churches that DO address issues that aren't overtly spiritual are flocked to by people who have heard the "Christian" message 1,000 times over but just never had it mean anything to them. Let's make sure that we don't drown in pop psychology to the detriment of Jesus -- but "Jesus loves you" doesn't mean much to a person with a shattered conception of what love really is.

Now . . . how do I integrate things like that into a blog that's about sports, metal, comedy, and Buzz Goertzen? Oh, who cares, where are the Cheetos?

u r my bff lol

If you know me at all, you already know full well what I'm about to admit to you all -- I'm a dork. There. I'd say that was liberating, but . . . whatever. It's really not news. And just because I have little better to do, here's a rant on one thing that really gets under my skin: intentional mis-spelling.

Now -- let me begin by saying that I have a lot of grace for people who just don't know better. Not everybody had good educations, English really is quite a confounding language, and some people are just concerned with more important things. But when it's overt and intentional? I just don't get it, but DANG does it get me.

Just so you know that I'm not trying to be personal here, let's start out with one that I really, truly love. Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Mmmmmm. Like many of you, I'm a big fan. There is absolutely no denying the delicious tastiness, and with it I can find no fault. But the spelling? What's with the gratuitous K's, y'all? It's not even like they HAD to do it for alliteration's sake -- "Crispy Cream" still works! And while I'm at it -- there IS no "Kreme" (at least in any doughnut that's worth getting there) and if there was, I don't think I'd like it to be "Krispy", thank you very much. Maybe that's the whole deal, though. Maybe the mis-spelling is to deflect any potential lawsuits for improper labeling or whatever, much like the way salad topping and dog snack companies use "bac'n" for lack of genuine bacon, or merely "moderate" metal bands use Megadeth for lack of genuine death. What we're left with, then, is an apparent intentional mis-spelling (and a double at that!) for which the best explanation that I can imagine is to cover up and mis-lead regarding the actual content of a -- luckily -- extremely tasty confection.

How about band names? Look, I know it's hard. Pretty much every band name is taken. I've been there and I've suffered with you. Creativity, however, is still a better answer than mis-spelling. And IF you're going to go the mis-spelling route, can you at LEAST mis-spell a cool word? I understand, to a certain extent, Trapt. I'm sure that Trapped was taken long ago, and the word at least connotes some degree of fear or intimidation, especially if you're prized for your coat. But seriously now -- Korn? Really? You're going to take a kernel-bearing plant, replace the c with a k and turn the r backwards, and then try to be tough? As if to shout from the rooftops: "Hey -- we're SO from the streets that we don't care about your commonly accepted rules of spelling and grammar! Ha ha -- take THAT, 2nd grade spelling teacher!" Admittedly I can't argue with the results -- I'm no fan but clearly they've done well for themselves -- but I HAVE to believe that it's more in spite of than because of the name. (Side note -- if, rather than the leafy kernel-bearing plant, they're distorting the word for a growth of tissue typically on the toe, than that IS pretty tough and I take back every joke I've ever made. And am now legitimately intimidated, just a little bit.)

Finally, let's look at one more example that actually comes from -- gasp -- one of our institutions of higher learning. "Wait!" you may be exclaiming. "Surely there can be no intentional mis-spelling at the very bastions of learning and grammatical correctness . . . right? Wrong. Take a look here. The University of Missouri, perhaps daunted by the throngs who insist on pronouncing an "a" where the "i" goes at the end of their state name (mis- pronunciation, of course, is another blog for another day), opt to print "Mizzou" as often as "Missouri." Now I don't necessarily mind if something's abbreviated or shortened for practical reasons. Hey -- I'm a practical guy, right? But call me nit-picky if it be the case, but surely I'm not the one who's noticed that "Z" is a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT LETTER from "S"! Hello -- it's backwards and pointy instead of curvy! The sound is similar and it can be confusing if you're trying to read in a mirror, but as a state university is getting the right letter really too much to ask?

Anyway, all these examples aside, do you know what bothers me the most about all of this? That it bothers me. Really, who cares? What's it to me? Isn't it all just about my own obsession with always being right anyway? And it probably is. So people are creative in their grammatical constrctions. So what. When I see it in others and it triggers something in me, it's only my own ugly side coming out that makes me angry. And that, my friends and internet-stalkers, is worse than being a dork.

A Plea for . . . Rhinoplasty?

So I go to a hardcore/metal show (side note -- which is it, hardcore or metal? The answer depends on who you ask. Metal kids would call them hardcore. Hardcore kids would call them metal. I, of course, am not a kid.) in E-town on Friday night. GREAT bill -- a new favorite (A Pea for Purging), an old favorite (War of Ages), plus others. I'm there with my buddy Kyle and his 8-year old Jacob (how hardcore is that!), and we're ready to get crazy. Sure, as the token old dudes at the show "get crazy" pretty much means stand in the back and maybe head-bob, but still, we're ready.

Now -- as the old dudes, we look out of place. And it's not JUST that we have ten years on everybody there, it's that we're kind of like normal guys. Our forearms are tattoo-free, our ears don't have holes that you can see through, and our hair's the same length all the way around. I said we get crazy, right? But just because we may LOOK like rookies doesn't mean it's the case. I've been going to shows since '92, and obviously a lot of things have changed . . . but I've seen most of it happen. I have some idea how things roll. I understand pits and dancing and all that. I've even done my share, albeit not since the first Bush was in office.

All that to say we weren't taken off guard when the dancing began. Now as you might guess, this isn't "dancing" like on those tv contest shows, right? It's more like this (fair warning -- a couple of f-bombs in the song here). Anyway, the dancing started, and we all backed up . . . and up . . . and up . . . and . . . . There were like 60 people in the building -- which was a gym -- and there were about 8 people actually dancing. Which is fine, except those 8 people were given a space big enough for about 40. If we were at Keswicks, I would have had my back to the wall. If we were at the Bulldog, I would have been at the merch table. Seriously, I was about 40 feet from the band, and we were exactly 1 deep all around the perimeter. I actually thought to myself, "Why are we still backing up? How much room do they need?" I've literally been at shows with several hundred people where the dance areas were smaller. It's ironic, I suppose, that that was my last thought. BAM! Watch that video again if you want to, and check out the backward windmill action shots at 0:28 and 0:46. I took a fist flush to the nose. HARD. Hey -- it's a hardcore/metal show, and we've all taken our shots from either overly aggressive or just stupid dancers, but this bad boy was different. I felt something wet drip on my hand. I touched my hand to my face and saw crimson. Holding it to stop the bleeding I staggered to the restroom and let go of my nose . . . WHOOOOSH. Faucet, baby. I've never seen even close to that much blood come out of my body, to the point where I was a little woozy and could only half-way think straight.

For the next half-hour, let me say "thanks" to the dude who had been an army medic who helped know what was going on (seriously, I couldn't hardly think), the drummer from War of Ages for helping clean up the sink (that was cool man, but really -- it's somebody else's blood and it's nasty and you don't have to do that!), the guy who ran out to get me a bag of ice (it helped a LOT on the drive back -- really, that was huge bro), Kyle for wiping my blood up off the floor, Jacob for being cool about a ruined evening, Greg for caring enough to check in the next day, everybody who cared to ask me if I was ok (well let's see . . . I'm not dying, I have health insurance, I'm convinced that the God of all creation loves me personally, I have a ridiculously amazing wife, a church that I absolutely love, and probably the over-all best life of anybody in the building, so on a certain level I'm doing really quite well, thank you . . . but on another level, I just got blasted in the face, I've lost a sink full of blood, an ex-army medic's telling me that my nose is broken for sure, I'm going to miss the show, and all the "attention" is making me feel like a 2nd grader who fell down and skinned his knee on the playground, so on another level no, I'm not as good . . . now how am I supposed to answer the question?), and everybody who did NOT ask since I really had no good answer and honestly just wanted to be left alone.

Now the story would be a lot better if it was actually broken. Turns out it probably isn't (x-rays haven't been read by a real radiologist yet since it was the weekend). So that means that I'm just a wuss who bled like Niagara Fallls and had to leave the show (and, to follow Dr.'s orders the next day, had to sit and continue to ice it and miss a friend's wedding!) without any really legitimate injury. How lame is THAT!

As the silver lining and completely unforeseeable twist, though, check this out. Later that night I'm sitting on the couch with Laura watching tv and icing my wound. We're watching the news because I'm curious to see whether UofL was going to be able to come back and take care of Utah, and they do one of these "human interest" features on a woman who's been hiccuping for something like 20 years. Nothing will make it stop, but there is one thing and one thing only that, in legitimate fact, grants her temporary reprieve. I can't make this stuff up, y'all. Laura saw it too, and you KNOW she doesn't lie. The hiccups stop if the woman engages in . . . yodeling. Buzz, your powers clearly extend far beyond what I would have thought possible. I don't know how, but I know you have done this. There simply exists no other explanation. I used you for my own purposes, and now not only has your music taken up permanent residence in my mind, but you're drawing me further and further in to the ugly under-belly of the yodeling subculture, and now there's no escape, no surrender. Everywhere I go, when I least expect it, yodeling finds me. Like a heat-seeking missile or an IRS auditor, it just knows. It just knows.


Now quickly, since I know this was long, a word on the color change. The Phillies got swept out of the playoffs, and I didn't necessarily change out of disappointment with their play (poor though it was). They gave me a GREAT season and, sadly enough, the best post-season in 14 years. But on that same day, OU beat the team from the state to the south and vaulted back into the national championship picture. Sadly they have only two colors to play with, but Crimson and Cream it will be. Nice work fellas, VERY nice work.

By the way -- with only two colors, you'll have to move the cursor over the text to find the links. I hope you do though!

And here's my face, post-bashing/mid-swelling/under-eye-bruising:

I Just Can't Hold My Post-Season

First off -- apologies. This is NOT a "sports blog" per se. But for the next . . . indefinite period, if you're not a sports fan (I'm not sure which is more amazing -- that I have readers at all, or that I have readers who aren't sports fans, or that there are even people who bothered to learn to read at all with, apparently, no intention whatsoever to read about sports), you're going to have to hang with me (or not, really, it's your choice). NOW . . .

You remember Christopher Lloyd at the bar in Back to the Future 3? He's standing there holding a drink, wide eyed and rambling about the future. An on-looker asks the bartender how many he's had, and the keep replies with something like "None -- he's just been holding that one for hours!" Finally Lloyd tosses it back, and immediately passes out and falls flat. "Now there's a man who just can't hold his liquor," somebody quips. Well here's the deal -- for about the last 30 hours, I have been Christopher Lloyd. I'm stone blasted drunk on post-season baseball . . . and it hasn't even started yet.

Don't get me wrong -- I've had a great life since the last time the Phillis went to the playoffs. Let's see -- I graduated from high school, "left" home, had my first girlfriend, went to college in Minnesota, discovered the internet, bought my first car, got cold, transferred to college in California, played in a bad rock band, went to the Philippines for half of a summer, the band got better and changed names twice, came "back home" for a summer, graduated from college, moved to Minnesota, got cold again, got engaged, got married, got a dog, took a full-time job in the table pad industry, watched Oklahoma win a National Championship, jumped out of an airplane, bought another car, saw the Lions make the playoffs (!), was still cold, moved to Kentucky, went to seminary, ran a marathon, played in a death metal band, took a couple trips back to California, "inherited" my wife's car as a hand-me-down, began calling my Dad "Doctor", turned 30, graduated from seminary, bought my first house, recovered from seminary, started investing for retirement, helped plant a church, celebrated my 8th wedding anniversary, began blogging, and just spent a week in Colorado, to hit a few of the high points.

In the last year in which the Phillies were in the playoffs, Bill Clinton took over from George Bush I, the Bills lost their 3rd straight Super Bowl, Jurassic Park was released (the first one!), John Wayne and Lorena Bobbit were . . . in the news, Clinton taught us the phrase "Don't ask, don't tell", Varg Vikernes was arrested for murder (that's an interesting one -- google it if you dare, aren't easily disturbed, and won't blame me for any potential psychological fallout), Late Night ended and The Late Show was birthed, we learned who Conan O'Brien was and that he wasn't funny (oops, I guess we haven't all learned that second part yet), Michael Jordan retired from basketball . . . for the FIRST time, Unforgiven won Best Picture, Eric Clapton's Tears in Heaven won Song of the Year, and a stamp cost .29.

So we're back where we started; I'm positively drunk on post-season baseball -- just the aroma of it. Just holding it in my hand, anticipating. I was so drunk last night that I couldn't hardly sleep and went in to work on 4 measly hours. You know what? I was still drunk when I woke up, and I went in in said condition. I was at work for about 10 hours, but I was so drunk that it seemed like the twinkling of an eye. And, if you haven't guessed, I'm still drunk hours later.

At heart, the issue is tolerance. Over the years, my baseball kidney simply has built up exactly ZERO tolerance for post-season play. This is just like it's all new, you see, like my very first time. It's a shock to the system, and the way it all went down was definitely 90-proof. If they go to the Series, I may end up in the hospital! What can I tell you? I just can't hold my post-season.

I AM Enjoying the Excitement, Thank You!

. . . in answer to the eternal question that haunts us all (when I'm feeling awkward and have nothing pseudo-clever to say, anyway).

Friday's post was a spur of the moment quickie, so here's a little more detail. There are 162 games in the Major League Baseball regular season. The Phillies -- my dearly beloved Phillies -- trailed for the first 158, tied for the division lead at 159, and now -- just 2 hours ago -- after game 160, they lead by one full game. Seriously, unless you're a real baseball fan, you have no idea how epic this will be if they hold on. Click here to read an article from a New York newspaper who declared the Mets winners and the Phillies losers on August 26 (a full two weeks before I changed from Phillies to Lions colors, for those of you who may consider me to have been of little faith). The Mets led by a massive seven games with only 17 remaining -- EVERY team in history to have that large of a lead with so few remaining games has won out. The Mets collapse (I'd really like for you to click that one) -- which is very, very nearly complete, will literally be historic. And they've been playing baseball for a very, very long time. Am I giddy? Yes, yes I am. Seriously, we have a magic number!

How does it get better? The Mets play early tomorrow, and they'll probably lose (that's all they've been doing lately). Then the Phils play on broadcast tv, and I stand a VERY good chance of seeing them celebrate their first playoff birth in fourteen LONG years at roughly 6:30 EST on Saturday the 29th. Wow.

For what it's worth, I'm not convinced that they have the pitching to have a great shot to win the Series, but at least they'd have a shot, and just to be playing in October would be, as I said, fourteen LONG years in the making. Again, wow.

Ok, but it gets better. The Sooners also start Big XII play at Boulder. West Virginia lost to a directional school Friday night, so an OU win should move them at least up to #3 in the national polls and set up fantastically phenomenal Red River Shootout for the 6th. Get ready, Jeremy. I mean get REALLY ready. The Crimson and Cream look GOOD for '07 (and '08, and '09, and . . .). and we're no Arkansas State or Central Florida.

Then, after missing my first service ever last week, I get to go be a part of Life Pointe. I LOVE Life Pointe.

And now here's this -- on Sunday, the Lions get a chance to go to 3-1 with a home game against the Bears. Now their defense did give up 42 first-half points last week and I'm not sold on them yet -- to be honest I think they probably drop this one -- but who knows? Maybe they'll surprise me just like the Phillies. And even if not, they've already won nearly as many games as last year (note -- setting the bar low can be helpful).

So am I enjoying the excitement? Like you wouldn't believe.

Sometimes I LOVE Being Wrong!

So on September 7, I changed the colors here from a Phillies scheme to a Lions motif. Now it's back. Here's the skinny:

1) It has nothing to do with any disappointment in the Lions. Sure, they gave up 42 first-half points to a mediocre Eagles offense last week, but they're 2-1 and at least beating the bad teams so far. That's great improvement, you see, because we used to be the bad team that the mediocre teams beat. Maybe they've moved up! I'm optimistic, really.

2) The Phillies surge and coinciding Mets collapse was virtually unforeseeable! The Phillies are a ridiculous 11-3 over their last 14 games, and the Mets an even more ridiculous 4-10. That all adds up to: 3 games remaining, and they're now TIED!!! This article actually calls New York's now probable demise "historic":

NEW YORK -- The New York Mets' lead is gone, leaving them on the brink of a historic collapse.

The free-falling Mets managed just three hits off Joel Pineiro and Jason Isringhausen in a 3-0 loss to the St. Louis Cardinals on Thursday night, dropping New York into a first-place tie with Philadelphia in the NL East.

Not even Pedro Martinez could save New York, which had led the division alone every day since May 16. The Mets (87-72) were ahead by seven games on Sept. 12 with 17 remaining but have lost 10 of their last 14, a monumental tailspin for a team that counted on being in the playoffs.

No major league team has failed to finish first after having at least a seven-game advantage with 17 remaining. But with three games remaining in the regular season -- a weekend series at home against Florida -- the Mets might fail to win the division or the wild card.

Anyway, the Phillies color scheme will now positively remain until their season is positively over, and maybe longer if the unthinkable happens. But for now, I'm absolutely THRILLED to have been so wrong to give up on them.

Fate. I Blame Fate.

Life changes in many different ways. Some are dramatic, some are subtle. Some are intentional, others are purely accidental. Sometimes the results are immediate, and sometimes the larger picture becomes clear only in hindsight.

I'm not exactly sure when yodeling become legitimately important in my life, but it's now positively undeniable that it is. Yep. Yodeling.

I just spent a week in Colorado, you see, and I had many experiences. I got to spend a lot of great time with my awesome wife, and it was great. I got to connect with my old buddy Shannon, and it was great. I got to hike to Mills Lake in the Rocky Mountains, and it was ridiculously fabulous. I got to hang out for a few days at a ministry conference, and it was generally pretty lame, but I got to meet and hang out with a whole boatload of great guys, and it was great. But all of these things were, more or less, expected.

What took me completely by surprise was the entertainment one night at the conference -- the Colorado Wranglers. Now let me be honest -- I didn't thing they sounded like something that I'd be digging on. At all. And, once again, I was (mostly) dead-on. Hey -- they were good, professional, fun, cheery, etc., but just really, REALLY not my style. Until they began chatting away about some of the unwritten rules and regulations regarding being a cowboy western band. They were as follow: 1) Sing in harmony (check), 2) Have a fiddle player (I thought it was a violin, but they're the experts, and they say "check"), and 3) Have a yodeler (WHAT?!). This was shocking for a couple reasons -- 1) I thought I was the only person ever to come across gospel yodeling, and 2) it was sounding like they were going to be able to meet the criteria . . . and I was not disappointed. They did a yodeling song.

Now before we get too far out of hand, let's get a couple things straight. 1) This was NO Buzz Goertzen. As far as yodeling goes, it was pretty entry level. Now I don't think the Wranglers would mind me saying so -- I think they'd agree themselves. By no means are they a yodeling act, so much as an act that contains a yodeling piece. There's a world of difference there, kids, and we need to be sure precisely where we're standing on this stuff. 2) I didn't "like" it. As in, I wouldn't hear it and think "yep, that's some darn enjoyable yodeling right there, now!" Because it just wasn't. I don't "like" yodeling in the first place, and it was mediocre yodeling even at that. I can't stress the point too much.

Through all of this, though, I can't deny . . . it was AWESOME! Have you ever been at a sporting event and had terrible seats, but something amazing happened? You might not have really even SEEN it, per se, but nonetheless, afterwards you and your buddy are screaming and will forever tell the story about the greatest thing you ever "saw". Or how about your first date? Looking back -- and maybe even at the time -- it was more awkward than anything, and probably the "relationship" went nowhere . . . but DANG! You were with a girl! And she even wanted to be there for part of it! AWESOME!!! And so we remember this moment fondly, right? Well this was it. This was my first live yodeling experience. We'd been making eyes at one another for some time, but in the moment I was caught completely unaware, and the suddenness only added to the amazement. It really happened. I was there. I saw a dude yodel, for real. I would say it was the kind of thing that only happens in the movies, but who's ever seen a movie with yodeling?

Now I'm in too far, and I don't think there can be any retreat. I'm one of them now, you see -- I've seen too much, and if I go to the powers that be I'll be incriminating myself too. The door has been closed behind me, and the only way to go is further in. I'm a part of the yodeling culture now, and I'm only even, like, 85% unhappy about it. That little but growing piece of me is becoming more and more enamored, engaged, enthusiastic.

Now if only ol' Buzz will accept my myspace friend request . . . .

Can You Root for BYU AND Utah?

So I got a call from a buddy Saturday night, and he's having a pretty tough time in his marriage right now. He's a Notre Dame fan, you see. Of course they've had a lot of good years together, but right now times are trying like he just never thought possible. She stays out all night, treats him like garbage, and has become hideously ugly. No two ways, it's not a good situation right now. They're married, though, and so it was still a little bit tough to hear when he asked me "Am I a terrible person if I consider changing teams?"

Of course, I had several thoughts. First of all, I was glad that he called me. There are only too many people out there who would have given him the easy pass and said something stupid like, "You have to do what's right for you!", "There's no sense in being trapped in a love-less relationship!" or "If you're not getting what you need out of the relationship, then I don't see any reason to continue it." This is America, after all, and we've grown all too accustomed to taking the easy way in lieu of the right way. Second, I told him "no." It didn't make him a terrible person for considering switching teams . . . but it would most definitely qualify him if he actually did it.

Look -- "real" relationships are complex and messy and factor in a lot of different things. I don't believe in divorce, but I'm not trying to push anybody's buttons regarding their past or whatever. If you've been through a real divorce then I'm guessing that you have plenty of pain and regret and brokenness, and I'm not trying to pile on. Really, this paragraph is completely serious and joke-free. Part of me hesitates to even use the metaphor because of the tragic nature of all that is entailed in the genuine article.

But sports wives? Here I'm not afraid to throw the book at you. There can be no one-night stand, no girl on the side, and no sleazy liaisons at out of the way motels. You're married my friend, and whether or not you knew what you were doing at the time, you have to deal with the situation you're in.

Look, I married early and have had some rough years. I won't go into extravagant detail here, but you can read all about my pain here (oddly enough it's one of my favorites). For now, let's just say that I have one massive Lion painted on my wall for every playoff win that my favorite franchise has recorded since the advent of the Super Bowl. But you know what? She still has my heart, and no number of first-round wide receiver draft picks can change that. Even if my love was to fail, I'm dead to the wiles of the seductress, promising though she may be. It's sports marriage, and there is no going back.

There have been plenty of times when I've made my team sleep on the couch. Ultimately, it's always cold and lonely. There have been even more times when she's looked incredibly hot and I've gotten all excited, only to have her get drunk and pass out in the punch bowl. Once she even had some cosmetic surgery only to have her body ultimately reject the foreign substance and end up in even worse shape.

But you know what? I'm married. That means I'm in for the long haul and doing what I have to do. If that means my buddies make fun of me, I'll take it. If it means having to sneak away for burgers and brats because "we're making an effort to eat better together," then I'll call you when she's left for work. If it means installing a fun-house mirror on the bedroom ceiling, I'll live my illusion and like it. But it does NOT mean that I'm taking a trip to the courthouse, the bar, or the house of ill-repute.

Look, I'm not saying that you can't ever root for another team. In the Super Bowl two years ago, I rooted for the Seahawks because my buddy Craig's a big fan, and I would have been happy for him. When Louisville lost to Kentucky this weekend, I felt genuinely bad for a few friends who are "good" (intelligent, emotionally vested, and non-obnoxious) U of L fans. Hey -- I have some friends with cool wives, and I think that's great. And I wish cool wives for my single buddies, too. I'm for that! But under no circumstance can my buddy's wife come before mine. I can't get too emotionally involved, I can't take a stronger interest in his than in mine, and under no circumstance can I wear an article of her clothing. It just crosses the line.

Maybe if I lived in Utah I'd be able to pick up more teams. I saw a thing on tv about that once, and there were issues but it seemed to work on a certain level. Even then, though, it seems like an awfully big commitment. Sports wives can be high-maintenance if you want to give them the kind of attention they deserve, and the complications would seem endless.

In the end, I can't blame anybody for considering a sports divorce in an emotional moment. Hey -- that's really a tribute to how much you care in a certain sense, right? But at the end of the day, you know to whom your heart belongs.

There once was a dude (actually, maybe twice, but this one in particular for our purposes today) who was a lot wiser than I am, and had a lot more wives. Like a LOT more wives. It's his wisdom and knowledge and experience, then, with which we'll end today's post:

"For the lips of an adulteress drip honey, and her speech is smoother than oil;
But in the end she is bitter as gall, sharp as a double-edged sword.
Her feet do gown to death; her steps lead straight to the grave.
She gives no thought to the way of life;
Her paths are crooked, but she knows it not.
Now then, my sons, listen to me; do not turn aside from what I say.
Keep to a path far from her, do not go near the door of her house,
Lest you give your best strength to others and your years to one who is cruel,
Lest strangers feast on your wealth and your toil enrich another man's house."
-- Solomon, Proverbs 5:3-10, NIV

What If My Dog Wrote This Post?

So I know I'm not the first to ever have these thoughts, but I have them anyway. And so . . . .

Why is it that a large portion of Americans (and maybe others too, I just happen to know mostly Americans since I live in Kentucky, which I understand to be very near this "America") seem to be so down on anything that is American or even human, as opposed to anything from another culture or the animal kingdom?

Let's start with the American cultural thing. Surely you've heard any number of the following statements, or at least variations/correlates: "You know the Native Americans treasured the elderly for their great wisdom!" "Our founding fathers would surely blush if they could see where our society is today!" "In African culture [fill in the blank with some random positive element from African culture]!"

These are all well and good, of course. Elderly people are awesome. There are some terrible elements of contemporary society. African culture surely has some great facets from which we could all learn. That said, it seems to me the underlying message whenever I hear something of similar nature is "Everything American and modern is bad, and everything old or foreign is WAY better!" Now obviously that's ridiculously over-stated, but you get it, right? If it's "other" it HAS to be superior!

There's trouble brewing, though. Because you know what? Native Americans slept in tee-pees, many of our founding fathers were genocide-promoting racists, and African culture is (like any other) surely as riddled with bad as it is good. Really, who wants to trade?

There are a million things I would change about contemporary American culture. We're incredibly materialistic, insoluably hedonistic, and in practice if not in word, completely atheistic. Equally, there are surely a million things we can learn from other cultures and times, but ultimately I don't think I can call them qualitatively "better" than our own. Please, then, can we escape the charge of ethnocentrism because we live in the world in which we have been born?


The animal thing is almost the same deal. My dog killed a rodent this week, and I don't think anybody could fault her for it. She's a dog. It's "natural"! I actually saw it happen, and she didn't think, calculate, or consider -- she just attacked. BAM! And it was over just that fast. No second thoughts, no regret, no room for re-consideration. What if I had done the killing, however? Are there not those among us who would critisize me harshly? It would have been scarecely less natural for me. To reference the above portion of this post, our ancestors or those in other cultures would surely have no issue with a routine take-down. Yet somehow, because I'm human, my actions are outside the realm of "nature." How is this? How am I less "natural" then my dog? Why is it beautiful when a beaver builds a dam, but environmental rape when a human does? Nobody condemns the leopard for hunting the gazelle, but for a human "meat is murder!" How did "nature" come to be defined as "anything and everything not human?" Did we create ourselves?

Look, I'm not trying to be overly critical of my culturally aware, naturalistic or extra-sensitive friends here. Take the good from other cultures, definitely. Have you chosen to eat texured soy protein rather than bacon? Ok! All I'm saying is this -- in our zeal to criticize that which may legitimately deserve another critic, let's not forget to examine some of our pre-suppositions and find the real root of the issue. After all, the Chinese proverb says "Have a mouth as sharp as a dagger but a heart as soft as tofu."

(I have no idea what that means.)

As the Seasons Change . . .

If you're an observant type, you've already noticed. The colors are changing . . . no, not the leaves yet, but the colors on Flogging, But With a "B".

Here's the deal -- I'm tentatively giving up on the '07 Phillies. They pulled me back in -- hard -- with a 4 game sweep of the Mets, but then they went and gave away back-to-back series's against the Marlins and Braves, in true implosive fashion, and I'm just not seeing it. The previous color scheme, then (which, if you never picked up, was completely Phillies-driven) has been replaced by the sparkling Honolulu Blue of the Detroit Lions! In other words, it's flipped over to football season on my calender.


In roughly 14 1/2 hours, my Oklahoma Sooners kick off against the hated Miami Hurricanes. I can't wait. I'm actually more excited about OU than the Lions right now, which is weird for me because I'm a much more devoted Lions fan and would chose a Lions Super Bowl over another Sooner National Championship anyday. It's just that by about week six I expect the Lions will be nearing mathematic elimination for the playoffs, and OU should still be looking at a strong season, so I'll be able to switch from Lions colors to Sooner colors, but not the other way around. If my Lions prove me wrong, all the better!

Uh, Got Any Gum?

I have no deep thoughts today.

Even worse, I have no comedy.

What I DO have, then, are just a couple random tidbits to make myself feel like I'm maintaining some sort of blogging presence:

As I said, I have no comedy today, but this guy has comedy like I could only dream of. I just recently discovered this, and I have just two words: man crush. A couple of my favorites are here and the bottom one here (Daniel Henderson on this last one, anybody?).

Whigham's just started putting video up on his blog, and it's both entertaining and disturbing. Pop on over and get to know him better . . . maybe better than you wanted!

The back-to-back Buzz Goertzen blogs? By FAR the two most-trafficked days that Flogging, But with a "B" has ever seen. I'm not sure what that says about you, but I'm sure that it says something.

Finally, Michigan has just been toppled by Appalachian State. And I guess I have just a couple quick thoughts:

1) College football is BACK, baby! Wohoo!

2) Appalachian State over Michigan? In Michigan? With a veteran quarterback, even? I'd love to sit her and write "I KNEW it was going to happen!" but I can't say that I EVER could have seen that coming. Just wow.

3) Does that mean that, in theory, OU could lose to North Texas tonight? They ARE the Mean Green, after all. I mean seriously, if they were just "Green" that's no problem. But they have chosen to specifically modify "Green" with the adjective "Mean." Now I don't know exactly how a color can be endowed with personality characteristics, but North Texas IS an institution of higher learning, and I can only assume that they're fully aware of whatever implications might be involved with having "Mean" Green as opposed to the ordinary, garden variety green. Anyway, we have a red-shirt freshman at quarterback and were ranked a bit behind Michigan in the pre-season polls, so are we, in theory, more vulnerable than they were? Is it time to worry for real?

4) North Texas has no chance, however mean they might like to consider themselves (or their green). You probably didn't read it here first, but you read it here, anyway.

5) Just by going over the box score for the Michigan/Appalachian State game, they've demonstrated one more time why I think it's stupid to go for two until *very* late in a ball game. Michigan scored late in the 3rd quarter, went for 2 (to get within three, but with a FULL quarter to play!), and failed. They scored again late in the 4th quarter, went for 2 (now to go UP by three), and failed. Then the apparently completely unforeseeable happened and Appalachian State defied all mathematical probability by *kicking a field goal?* to go up by two and win. If Michigan just doesn't jump the gun and kicks the PAT in the THIRD QUARTER, they then no doubt kick another in the 4th, and play into overtime. Do coaches not watch football? It seems like this happens to somebody every single week. *Sigh*.

Taking On a Life of It's Own

Never before have I posted two days in a row, but some circumstances demand extraordinary action. This, my friends and reader, is one of those circumstances.

You see, yesterday I thought that my previous Buzz Goertzen blog was over and done with, but that was before I checked this joker's blog and had to go change my shorts. And THAT was before I saw his link to Buzz's myspace (even that phrase cracks me up), which features the FULL streaming version of my all-time (tied, at least) favorite Goertzen classic, "Then I Start to Yodel." And really, you HAVE to listen to the full song, because as crazy and out of control as the first half seems, it actually ends with a double-time feel and . . . are those . . . harmonies? I'm not enough of a music guy to really know or pick these thing apart, but one way or another I think it's imperative that anybody who wishes to be anything remotely close to a well-rounded or cultured person have a listen.

It Must Have Been Hot That Day

Honestly, I don't remember it ever happening, but it must have. One day at work I must have told Nick about the crazy gospel yodeler that my dad used to listen to (with that kind of memory, I sure hope that I never told him about that one time when I . . .), as you can see he referenced in the comments of my last post. After seeing his comment and then wiping chunks of partially chewed meatloaf off of my monitor, I went ahead and tried to google this cat, and apparently they have the internet even in Idaho now. And I'm telling you, if you never, ever click on a link from Flogging, But With a "B" again, click on this one. Really.

My thoughts:

1) This cat is serious. He's a real, live, gospel yodeler, and he's totally into what he's doing. And it's yodeling. Can you even make a joke about that? I know my own musical taste is somewhat off the beaten path, at least for a generally well-adjusted 30-ish dude. I know there are potentially a LOT of jokes there. Well and good. But really . . . did you click the link?

2) If you listen to a bit, it's undeniable that he's really pretty amazing. Now note well that there's a gulf a mile wide and 20 miles deep between "good" and "I like it." Shakespeare In Love was "good." Modern art is "good." Not eating 3 bags of butter lover's microwave popcorn for dinner is "good." I'm just not into a lot of things that are "good." That said, after the laughter stops and you actually get through a couple clips (I suggest "Yodel Your Troubles Away," "She Taught Me How to Yodel", and the classic that started it all, "Jesus Put a Yodel in My Soul"), I think you HAVE to admit that it's kind of fascinating. Not maybe quite in the enjoyable sense, but like if you had a crazy neighbor who dedicated her life to whistling showtunes through her nose, or maybe a friend's dog that could jump rope double-dutch style. In fairness it's not quite the same as a train wreck, but there's this strange "disturbing yet amazing" phenomenon at work, right?

3) He apparently named his daughter "Tammy Sue." It's perfect. And -- oh yeah -- his name is "Buzz." This whole thing is starting to make sense now, actually . . . .

4) Why is there no clip available for "Will the Angels Yodel with Me?" Could we petition, do you think?

5) How priceless is this line: "Nothing stirs up an audience like yodeling, and no one yodels like Buzz Goertzen." Yeah, I read an arictle saying that NWA, Hatebreed, and Buzz Goertzen -- their shows are always the craziest. And, maybe almost as classic: "Buzz currently has ten albums, none of which is available in stores."

6) Buzz, if you ever google yourself (LOVE that phrase!) and come across Flogging, But With a "B," I won't deny that I do think the whole deal is pretty incredibly funny. That said, know that you yodeled me through a South Dakota summer or two in dad's Lumina . . . loudly. We laughed, it's true, but we also loved it (sort of, at least). So please know that it's all in good fun -- the kind of good ribbing that you're only comfortable giving to one of the fellas. Yodel on, my friend, yodel on.

Is God in Fargo?

Spirituality is weird and mystical and all that. It's especially difficult for me sometimes because I'm just not a mystical guy. Sometimes I (and, I would guess, people who are like me) feel like I'm un-spiritual or whatever because I don't like to go up into the mountains and eat granola and stare at the sky listening to Yanni for eight days and then come home having had some sort of grand, spiritual experience. It's kind of like Coen brothers movies -- they're great for a lot of people, but they just don't quite do it for me.

Last Sunday at Life Pointe we had a message on serving, and then a church picnic at the park afterwards. During the service, a handful of people were at the park setting things up rather than sitting in the service. Now I ask you -- who was more "spiritual" that day: us good church attenders sitting there laughing at Jamey's jokes as he talked about serving, or the people who weren't there because they were busy preparing the picnic?

I'm not down on going to church -- not at all -- and I definitely believe that there is a mystical element to a connected relationship with God, but I think it's getting "spirituality" backward if church attendance or prayer or whatever is the end-all be-all. They should be the catalyst, not the finish line. At some point, maybe actually doing something in the physical world is as "spiritual" as sitting in a redwood contemplating whatever "spiritual" people contemplate.

Eh, or maybe I just need to re-watch "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" now that I understand the South a little bit.

Faulkner's Head-Banging in His Grave

I know, I know. "Metalcore" is too trendy and so nobody likes it anymore (right, like "nobody goes there anymore, it's too crowded"). Still, I picked up the new As I Lay Dying ("An Ocean Between Us") today, and there's some SMOKE on this puppy!

It's not a perfect album. I wish they didn't use the clean vocals in the chorus of every-other song (if I liked clean vocals I'd buy Whitney Houston or Micheal Bolton or something, right?). I'm not into the lame 1:30 intro track or the "radio friendly" track (again, if I wanted radio friendly, I would have bought Korn or Linkin Park or some other band who's music I like about as much as their grammar and spelling). Also, I'm confused by why there are two album covers (makes about as much sense as when they put a cardboard sleeve around the case with the exact same art as beneath the sleeve . . . why?).

Those aside, however, this is maybe (probably?) the best AILD yet. There's no way around calling it metalcore, but where Shadows Are Security seemed "safe," "proficient," and "professional," this one takes more chances, feels a lot more inspired, and is twice as fun to listen to -- like they said, "hey -- let's make an awesome record!" as opposed to "I guess it's time to make another record". [disclaimer -- I'm not accusing them of putting out a half-mulletted album last time, just relaying my listening experience, cool?]

Let's put it this way -- after a promising carreer in the minors (their Pluto Records stuff), they got called up to the show (Metal Blade) and won rookie of the year (Frail Words Collapse) with a .305, 34, 110 type of season. It seemed like a step back, then, when their sophomore season (Shadows Are Security) was more like .280, 26, 92. Well so far, this one sounds like MVP consideration.

Since I'm on metal, by the way, let me just give an equal (or maybe even higher?) recommendation for the less-heralded, less heard of, and (not coincidentally) core-free, pure metal new Immortal Souls, "Winteriech." Oh my! Facedown is releasing it later this month, but you can buy the "original" Dark Balance version here or here right now. Wohoo!

[Edit -- Facedown actually released the Immortal Souls today, as it turns out. Because I KNOW you were concerned. . . .]

Juuuuuust a Bit Outside!

Some issues can't be ignored. Some stories are too big, too important, too real. Some stories just hit us right where we are, and we're compelled to take notice, even in a two-bit blog like Flogging, But with a "B".

And some stories (click here for the better write-up, here for the best pictures, and here for the full video clip) are just too easy. You read that right (unless you didn't read . . . punk), a "batter" (yes, he DID play for the Phillies for a bit, as it turns out . . .) attacked a pitcher (and this is just embarrassing, but he played for the Phillies for a while, too) with a baseball bat in a minor league game, injuring both the pitcher and the catcher, who was apparently attempting to have his pitcher not be hit in the head with a bat. And as you might guess, I have thoughts.

1) Seriously, why is there no video clip? I know it's independent league and nobody cares, but how can something like this go uncaptured? Is this or is this not 2007? Don't they tape pretty much everything? How does a dude attacking a pitcher with a bat turn out to be immune from moving pictures? Sounds like some sort of conspiracy/cover-up to me, a little bit like the whole area 51 deal or Jose Mesa's real age. I demand an explanation.

2) I hope it goes without saying that I don't condone physical violence in an otherwise friendly game of hardball (I guess it didn't go without saying . . .). That said, I have to have a certain surge of admiration for the guy's consistency. After all, my four biggest pet peeves in baseball are 1) walks, 2) failing to drive in a runner from 3rd base with less than two outs, 3) having a runner thrown out at the plate with less than 2 outs, and 4) guys acting all tough but without any real intentions of bringing the hammer. Look, it just doesn't exactly take alloy cajones to look back at your dugout and yell "Somebody better hold me back . . . no really, I'm loco, don't you know, and I mean it . . . somebody really better hold me back soon now before I do something . . .". Everybody gets all excited, the benches are warned, and . . . that's it. Yawn. The way I see it, there are exactly two acceptable responses to getting plunked: 1) brush it off, go down to first, and win the game (preferred); or 2) charge the mound and throw real punches. Well this dude took number two to a whole new level. He really, legitimately intended to do physical harm. Which, again, I don't condone, but at least he threw his whole self into the task with some degree of commitment and legitimacy.

3) People's reactions/quotes are even more priceless than the episode itself. Here's a sampling:

From the dude who swung that bat at the other dude:

"It was one of those moments that you want to forget."
Oops! This, above all else, is what he'll be remembered for.

"I didn't have any intentions and I feel sorry for what happened and the way it happened."
No intentions? Dude, you ran at him with a baseball bat. Swinging! That is the VERY DEFINITION of intentions!

Regarding hitting the catcher: "If he got hit it was because he tried to run behind me and take the bat, and that was an accident. I don't [sic] mean to hit him. I was facing the pitcher and I never went to hit the guy."

First of all, IF he got hit? You mean the guy with the concussion? IF he got hit? Let me help you out here bro -- the concussion wasn't from clapping his hand to his forehead in disbelief -- he got hit. It happened while you were swinging the baseball bat at the other man's head. Also note the way the phraseology subtly places all blame on the guy who got hit in the head with the bat. It isn't "I hit him," it's "he got hit", and it's not "because I was swinging that bat at his teammates head" (taking grammatical responsibility for the bat which was whipping through the evening sky, attached at one end to his own hands), but "because he tried to . . ." (grammatically placing blame -- "because he" instead of "because I"). Still, it's good to know that you didn't mean for that to happen, though. Indeed, it was a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT human being that at who's head you were swinging the baseball bat. Pretty much excuses the whole mess, doesn't it? "Look grandma, I didn't MEAN to knock you off of your hoveround with my SUV -- I was trying to hit that OTHER pedestrian, and you only got hit because you were trying to have me NOT cause him severe head trauma. So your bad and we're cool, right?"


From the pitcher:

"I've never been so surprised in my life. As soon as he got hit in the calf, he raised the bat above his head and ran toward me to hit me with the bat."
I don't exactly know why, but that quote just cracks me up. Like "Really? What in that sequence of events could possibly be considered surprising?"


From a Major League baseball player:

"You take a bat out there, you can get blackballed from baseball. That's deep."
Here we are again -- trying to inflict physical harm is generally ok . . . unless you take measures that make achieving your objective legitimately possible. Now THAT's stepping across the line, buck-o. If you're going to try to hurt somebody, make sure you sabotage the operation right from the beginning.

4) Somehow, I have four baseball pet peeves, but only three thoughts here.

Just Plumb Tickled

So on Sunday there was a volunteer recruitment meeting of sorts after the service at Life Pointe. Wow! A strong handful of people stepped up, signed up, and are going to begin serving. Who wins? Hmmm, let's see.

1) Life Pointe Church wins! If you've been to a service at Life Pointe, you've seen people greeting you at the door, offering you a snack, and providing information. If you have kids that you checked into the kids ministry or nursery, you saw volunteers their helping with the little guys. When you walked into the main auditorium, you saw hundreds of pounds of sound and light equipment all set up and ready to go, complete with custom graphics on the big screen and maybe even customized video segments. If you stuck around after the service, you noticed a ton of people each hauling a ton of stuff from all of the aforementioned, including an enormous amount of nursery gear that had to come from all the way down the hall. Guess what? Not only does all of that get broken down at 11:30, it all was hauled in and set up as well, starting at about 7:00. The graphics and video didn't appear magically either, and those people who greeted you with a smile? They were there before you were because they got up early, too. In short, you're not supposed to be distracted by the massive task that is involved to put on a dynamic, fun, relevant, welcoming service -- you're only supposed to come and want to come back (at least at first!). But the point remains -- it's a massive task each week, and could never be anything remotely worthwhile without a huge team of volunteers.

2) The volunteers win! Turns out it's actually true. When Jesus said "Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever gives up his life for my sake will find it" I don't think he was talking about dying like we so often think. I think he was talking about simply looking outside of oneself to serve him by serving others. That's how we are made to find real meaning and fulfillment. Self-seeking proves to be shallow and vain, but other-seeking proves to be self-fulfilling. It's an ironic twist, but one which I've discovered to be completely true. I've had some small tastes of both prosperity and poverty, acclaim and anonymity. And while the one is surely nicer than the other, there's really no difference. I've been happy and un-happy in either one. When we forget ourselves and serve others -- regardless of our own circumstances -- that's when we discover the truth that Jesus is speaking about. We find ourselves by looking to the needs and interests of others. Brilliant. So thank you, volunteers. Not only are you making it happen for everybody at Life Pointe Church (including -- and to some degree especially -- those who are not yet there), you're going to experience for yourselves a piece of what God has intended for you and made you for.


Hmmmm, no jokes in this one. All right, save your hate mail and click here, if you must.