Are Pets Good Listeners?

A poll conducted by the Associated Press and Petside.com found that a third of married women think that their pets are better listeners than their husbands.  Eighteen percent of married men think their pets are better listeners than their wives.  I’m thinking of commissioning a poll to find out why such a poll was conducted. 

I asked my wife who she thought listened better, me or our beagle-basset mix named Emma.  She responded, “no one listens to me.”  Ouch!  She left it at that, too. 

Now, Emma’s a pretty dumb dog.  Remember, she fell in a hole in our yard and couldn’t get out.  And I can’t seem to stop her from rolling around in other dog’s pooh.  I’m told it’s a natural instinct, But I really want her to stop tracking that crap in the house.  It’s really hard to imagine her holding up her end of the conversation, if you know what I mean.  But, I’ve come in on the conversations my wife has with the dog, so I know they happen. (She talks sweeter to Emma than at anytime in our nearly twenty year marriage. Ouch, again!)

Feeling a little paranoid, I thought I’d conduct an experiment and find out if Emma is, in fact, a good listener.  I sat down with her and started the conversation with the usual perfunctories: 

• “How was your day?”
• “Getting plenty to eat?”
• “How do you like the brand of dog food we buy you, anyway?” 

We moved on to more substantive topics like:

• “Is it the thunder or the lightning that scares the crap out of you?”
• “Why do you roll around in dog pooh?”
• So, what do you think about health care reform?”

I didn’t get any reaction.  Just the same expression.  She was very attentive, though.  Every so often she’d nuzzle my hand, hoping I would pet her, but that was about it. 

Then I asked her if she wanted something to eat.  Now that got her attention!  I followed that by asking if she wanted to go for a walk.  She nearly knocked me over as she ran to the door!  The ironic part is, I react pretty much the same way when my wife mentions food or going somewhere to me.  The dog and I have that in common!

Still, Emma gave the impression she was listening.  I have to admit, staring at the TV or working a Sudoku while she’s talking might give the impression I’m not listening.  Maybe the poll had a point, after all.  Dang!

Maybe the Best Advice I’ve Given My Son

Well, probably the best advice I’d given my son since the “Don’t take drugs or I’ll kill you” advice I shared when he was five years old.  News about the former Presidential hopeful and hairspray model John Edwards’ sex tape was on TV, When I looked at him and said, “Son, never…ever…ever…make a sex tape!”  It could be one of the most important pieces of advice he’ll ever get.

Sure it seems to be en vogue to tape your carnal conquests when the likes of Rob Lowe, Pamela Anderson and Kim Kardashian do it.  Somehow they wind up distributed for general viewing, and always against the consent of the filmed (ostensibly, that is).  Some weather the tape’s distribution well, others don’t.  John Edwards is in the “don’t” category.   

The reason for my advice is my boy has some talent.  He’s a really good writer and a smokin’ guitar player.  I’d hate to see something like this ruin his 15 minutes of fame. But, then again, I'm biased. (Of course, it didn’t hurt the likes of Kim Kardashian, but that’s a different matter altogether) 

**Disclaimer**  I, personally, have not seen these acts of coition that have been infamously preserved for posterity.  I was able to do the research on celebrity sex tapes on Wikipedia, the internet’s most reliable repository of knowledge about everything.  Look it up if you don’t believe me.  Also, my wife will confirm I’m the world’s most annoying “goody two-shoes”.  She hates it.

And, as an aside, who wants to see themselves in the throws of amorous affection anyway.  I couldn’t handle it.  I can imagine the thoughts that would run through my head:

“Wow, that looked awkward!”

“Do I really make that face?”

“Uh, sweetie, why do you look bored?”

No, I couldn’t handle it.

How this all turns out for John Edwards, I couldn’t tell you.  Besides, he’s a scumbag, so who cares.  But, if my boy did it, that’s a different matter.  Maybe if I threaten to kill him like I did with the drug thing.  That’s worked so far. 

Sunday Morning Mulling, May 2, 2010: Faith pt. 2

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

Faith is like a favorite shirt.
Even though it’s threadbare and stained, it’s too comfortable to discard.  The thought of not having it to wear on a Sunday afternoon is untenable.  As you slip it on over your head there’s a sense of comfort and nostalgia.  As it lays against your skin it feels right, as it always has.
At some point you look at your favorite shirt and notice that it’s not only threadbare, but pocked with holes.  The stains you ignored before are more noticeable.  The colors have all but faded.  When family and friends visit, you are inclined to go and change into another shirt, one that won’t embarrass you because of it’s poor condition.  You toss it aside, apprehensively, for later consideration.

When you go to launder the shirt, you consider whether it’s time to finally throw it out.  You hold it up to the light and notice it’s so worn you can see through it.  It seems to no longer cover your nakedness, leaving you fully exposed.  You wad it up and hover over the garbage can, ready to finally throw it in. 

Instead, you spot clean the most obvious stains and add bleach to the laundry mix, hoping it won’t further deteriorate the fabric.  A dryer sheet goes in as it’s dried.  You pull it out of the dryer and smell whether it fresh, hoping it is.  You fold it to put away for next Sunday, but then suddenly  you pull it on.  Yes, it still feels right.  The comfort of the shirt is more important than the integrity of the fabric.  You’ll wear it another day. 

Faith is like a favorite shirt.

Fun With Scientologists

I’ve been playing through Dead Space Extraction on the Wii game console.  It’s a survival-horror game in which you must survive an onslaught of reanimated creatures called necromorphs by escaping from a mining planet to an orbiting ship, only to have to survive yet another wave of necromorphs there.  The majority of your weaponry is mining equipment and the only way to dispatch the necromorphs is to dismember them.  Yeah, that’s a far cry from Wii Sports bowling.  It’s like watching a horror movie that you participate in.  It’s gruesome, gory and full of what my daughter calls “F-bams.  It’s also a whole lot of glorious fun!

The plot centers around the extraction of an artifact called “The Marker” that is of interest to a religious group called The Church of Unitology.  I did a little research and there seem to be some similarities between Unitology and the Church of Scientology.  The most obvious correlation is that both find their genesis in science fiction.  Isn’t that interesting?  My first association between the two was the fact they sound alike!   As I played through each level dispatching necromorphs, the story line developed to the point that it was obvious Scientology influenced the plot. 

I tell you all of that to tell you about my day of fun with the Scientologists.  Playing the game made me think of it.  It happened while I still lived in Southern California with my new bride at the foot of Saddleback Mountain.  It was a Sunday afternoon when we received a knock at the door.  A couple of pleasant, smiling faces asked my wife and I if we would like to take a “personality inventory.”  It seemed pretty innocuous, and maybe a little fun, so we went for it.  They left it with us to complete, and returned early evening to collect our finished work.  They presented a small caveat on their return; our inventories could only be interpreted by a Church of Scientology auditor.  Without hesitation I set up an appointment for the two of us.  I thought it could be an adventure, and my wife thought I was nuts.  She’s usually right.

I arrived on the day of the reading high with anticipation.  My bride arrived with trepidation.  Being male, I hardly noticed and walked in with her trailing behind. 

We both were introduced to our auditors and led to different partitions within what looked like a book store.  L. Ron Hubbard books were everywhere.  I had to push Hubbard’s books to the side of the desk I sat at for some elbow room. 

My auditor examined my personality inventory results and said I seemed to be pretty well adjusted, but there were a couple of areas he’d like to discuss.  He showed me a printout, in graph form, of my results, pointing out a couple of dips that he was concerned about. I asked him how those dips might indicate problems and he assured me their system of evaluation was reliable.  The dips seemed to indicate some past trauma in my life that was adversely affecting me.  He went through a litany of potential problems; abuse, divorce, drugs, maybe illness.  None were in my past.  He asked if there was a traumatic experience that I think of that might have caused the dips in my reading.  None.  He did pull out of me that I had lost a dearly loved family pet a year earlier and that it was his opinion that perhaps I hadn’t dealt with it properly.  No, I assured him I was fully aware of the circle of life.  No trauma.  That’s when I started challenging the whole program.  The conversation went something like this:

“I’m starting to think this is kinda hokey.”

“Mr. Muller, I can assure you this is a well researched and effective program.  And it’s my religion.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I’m in a book store.”

Mr. Muller, we’re here to help, not to try to sell you books.”

“Well, could I buy one of these books?”

“Of course.”

“Then this is a book store!”

“I can see you’re beyond our ability to help.”

“OK, thanks anyway!”

I got up and went looking for my wife.  I found her red faced and in a heated debate with her auditor.  I don’t think she used any expletives, but I’m not so sure about the auditor.  She finally shot up from her seat and rushed past me to the exit.  When I caught up to her she was crying at the car.  She’d also called their religion hokey and her auditor didn’t take that without a fight.  Her auditor also told my wife she was one dip away from the loony bin and she didn’t take that without a fight.  I went back in to the book store and thanked my wife’s auditor for all the help.  Some help.

You know, my day of fun with the Scientologists is still causing me marital strife.  In fact, I’ll hear about it after posting this.  Yet, it was a really fun day!

This is not a picture of Tom Cruise or John Travolta.  Nor is it a picture of the great dictator of the Galactic Confederacy, Xenu.  He’s up above.  This is a necromorph.  Dismembering necromorphs with the wave your Wii-mote is fun.  Arguing with Scientologists can also be fun.  Just make sure you’re properly armed for the encounter. Armed with facts, that is.  A Wii-mote won’t do a thing to a Scientologist.  Well, I guess you could throw it at them, but I don’t advise it…from what I hear, they’re lawyered up…

Sunday Morning Mulling, April 25, 2010: Faith

“Unthinking faith is a curious offering to be made to the creator of the human mind.”  John A. Hutchinson

I thought it curious that as I researched this quote online it’s used by quite a variety of different groups to support their contentions on faith; Christians, interfaith groups, skeptics and atheists alike.  I wanted to get information on it’s author, John A. Hutchinson, to get context for the purpose for its writing, but instead of biographical information I found it’s wide ranging application instead.  It made me take a deeper look at faith.

A person’s faith is incorporated into every aspect of their life, down to every decision and thought, and how they interact with others.  Faith literally becomes the basis for one’s life.  If that faith becomes challenged or shaken in any way, then a person’s foundation is challenged and shaken.  So, it would seem important to fully understand your faith.

For many, faith is something handed down to them by their parents and practiced out of obligation.  There could be a time when they rebel against their faith, for a plethora of reasons, only later to find their way back.  The faith system itself was never really challenged, just rebuffed for a period, maybe during that time of “sowing your wild oats”.  This could lead to an intensification of faith and perhaps to a narrowing perspective on what it is you believe, leading to a blind, dogmatic, and even bigoted faith.   That’s not a good thing.

So I found this quote by Hutchinson to be quite apropos for a Sunday morning mulling.  I think that our Creator would, in fact, want us to have a “thinking faith”.  Atheists seem to agree with idea of a "thinking faith" as well, judging by the fact they use this quote to support atheism.  Why wouldn’t a person, given the ability, not know everything they could about their faith?  Why wouldn’t they challenge every aspect?  Why practice blindly?  I practiced blindly for years, and when the challenges came I wasn’t prepared to face them.  It literally rocked my world as I found out my faith’s foundation was more like the shifting sand of one of Jesus’ parables.

Have a thinking faith.  You have a mind, so use it.    Don’t be afraid to challenge presuppositions you hold close out of fear they might change.  I think fear is the prime motivation for people not to challenge their faith.  Consider every aspect and know it intellectually, not just emotionally.  It could be a wild ride, but it’ll be worth it.

A Little Decompression

There’s been quite a bit happening for the past several days worth commenting on, like the news of the Obama Administration surreptitiously floating the idea of what’s called a value added tax (VAT) and that Kate Gosselin got booted from Dancing With the Stars.  Judging by the internet news output it would appear that they are of equal importance to Americans.  Also, there’s a continuous stream of Kim Kardashian news, to the point that I know way more about her than I, or anyone, would need to know.  But, alas, she brought it upon herself by abusing that cat…

I’ve actually spent the last couple of days in a decompression mode.  Sometimes you need to unwind and leave the mulling to others. I’ve spent the past couple of days attending concerts.  It was great fun, but I couldn’t help but to file a couple of observations away in the back of my cranium.  The Muller's curse, I guess.  So, indulge me a little as I ruminate on the past couple of nights and not on important things like VAT or Kate Gosselin.

Thursday Night: the Florida Music Festival, Headlining Anberlin

I usually opt out of the Florida Music Festival because the bands typically appeal to younger audiences.  That’s not to say I’m too old (I still play it LOUD!), it’s just the genre.  There’s a lot of what I call screamo/emo bands that play the festival, of which I’m not a fan. Thursday night Anberlin was the headliner and, although a bit like a screamo/emo band, I like their stuff, so I went out to take in the show. 

Good times were had by myself and my partner in crime.  I call him my partner in crime because we somehow managed to get in the show without paying the $10 cover charge.  We fully expected to pay, but circumstances as they were led to a free show.  Serendipity!  Most of the bands did an excellent job. One band in particular stood out to me, Brent James and the ContraBand.  Not screamo/emo.  Check out their MySpace. 

The night belonged to Anberlin and they lived up to the headliner hype.  They played with tremendous energy and passion.  I thought the drummer was on his way to brain damage with the amount of head banging he did behind the kit.  The crowd knew the words to every song, and lead vocalist Stephen Christian seemed truly appreciative and humbled by it.  When the crowd surfing and mosh pit fired up I started to feel a little out of my element.  Fortunately, neither worked their way to where I was standing.  And when Anberlin broke into Feel Good Drag, a gal behind me dropped her beer, drenching my shoe.  I had stinky foot the rest of the night and had to pick the glass out of my shoe after the press of human flesh subsided at the end of the show.  Still, a good night of music and mayhem, of which I enjoyed the music and avoided the mayhem.

And, let me say, although many of the young ladies dressed up like Kim Kardashian, I don’t believe she was there, but do I think I saw Kate Gosselin in the mosh pit.  Simply crazy.

 

Friday Night: Porcupine Tree

I know what you’re thinking; what’s a Porcupine Tree?  I don’t know, but I do know that Porcupine Tree is arguably the greatest progressive rock band, ever.  That’s saying a lot!  Formed by Steven Wilson in 1987, Porcupine Tree’s line-up today boasts some amazing musicians, of which drummer Gavin Harrison is simply jaw-dropping good.  Their music can go from melodically beautiful to peel-the-paint-off-the-walls hardcore metal.  The command of the material and technical prowess of their instruments is truly an amazing thing to behold.  Sorry, Anberlin, you put on a great show, but Porcupine Tree virtually assaulted me musically and made me like it.  It would have been a perfect concert experience except for the fat guy that kept pressing against me all night.  Nothing against fat people, but this guy kept trying to make room for himself and it got a little annoying.  I must have shifted a couple of feet before he seemed situated.  Still, I went away from the concert fully sated with all the goodness one could expect from one of progressive rock’s greatest bands.

An interesting thing came to mind after something Steven Wilson asked the audience.  He asked, “is the show worth your $25?”  I wanted to tell him that I paid that and an extra $12, but yeah, it was worth it.  It made me think about this value added tax idea key Obama henchmen are floating about, but that the White House says they aren’t considering right now (right!).  Would my concert ticket price potentially increase because of VAT?  Maybe…and wouldn't that somethin’.  But I digress… 

So, The Muller is fully decompressed and ready to take on the trials and tribulations of life again.  And it’s grand!  I have to admit that two all-nighters of head banging has taken its toll.  I should sleep well tonight.  Well, that’s if the ringing in my ears stop!  Dang!

Kim Kardashian and the Kitty Incident

It seems the ubiquitous reality TV star Kim Kardashian has ignited a bit of controversy over this photo of her holding a kitty.  A representative for the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA), told NYDailyNews.com, "Kim Kardashian isn't the only person who mistakenly thinks that because a mother cat picks up her kittens by the scruff of the neck that a supportive hand under the rump isn't needed.  But I'll bet plenty of fans have let her know - nicely, we hope!"  I’m sure they have!

OK, follow this train of thought:

1. Why is it unethical to hold a kitten by the nape of it’s neck if it’s mother can?  Kim assured her fans by twitter that she received instructions from a vet and permission from the kitten’s owner to do so, so what’s the hub-bub?
2. Is carrying a kitten this way mistreatment because its a human doing it and not a cat?
3. Could it be unethical to continue to allow mommy cats to carry their cute and cuddly bundles of kitty joy this way?

Perhaps what we need is PETA to launch another group to deal with animal-on-baby animal cruelty; People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals by Their Parents; or PETATP.  It doesn’t quite role off the tongue like PETA does, but the service it provides could be invaluable.  Not only could they stop a cat’s cruel manner of carrying their babies, but maybe they can end the infanticide perpetrated by hamsters, or even the heinous act of a mommy or daddy bird kicking their hatch-lings out of the nest, only to fall to their deaths.  I'm thinking a lot of baby animals could potentially be saved because Kim raised the awareness of this type of cruelty by posting that picture. Maybe we should thank her for mistreating that poor kitten, much like it's own mother would do.

Pretty silly, isn't it?

Seriously, with all the real evil being perpetrated in the world, do we really need to be incensed by a photo that actually doesn’t depict an animal being mistreated?  Do we think this photo will lead otherwise sane people to start mistreating kittens?  I don't think so. Let’s get a grip.

From What I Read, it Doesn’t Taste Like Crap

I once heard  a comedian mull over the idea that someone actually thought to pour hot water over coffee beans and make a beverage out of it.  I wonder what he'd say to the fact that someone would pick through some mammal’s pooh to retrieve undigested coffee beans in order to pour hot water over them and make a beverage out of that.  It could be because they sell the stuff for $75 for a quarter pound.  Profit is a great motivator.  

I write this because a friend of mine recently announced that he wants to drink some monkey butt coffee.  His only deterrent is the exorbitant price.  I suspect that he will try to budget it in somehow.  That’s just the way he is.


It’s actually not a monkey at all, but a cat sized mammal named an Asian palm civet.  They call south-east Asia, parts of China and India home.  Indonesians call the little guys luwak.  They also consider them pests.  That is until they drop their #2.  After harvesting that golden feces and shipping it off to market, I’m sure they think of them a little differently.  Just sayin’

The little crappers are quite fond of the ripest coffee cherries.  Coffee in Indonesia is called kopi.  Through the digestive magic found within the bowels of the luwak, the coffee beans, upon defecation, are found somehow altered, making them more aromatic and less bitter when hot water is poured over them.  This makes for a more desirable cup of joe, judging by people’s willingness to fork over big bucks to savor it’s (butt cheeky) goodness.  The coffee is called kopi luwak, hence my reference to the Indonesian words for coffee and the Asian pine civet.  (That’ll be all the Indonesian you’ll ever get from this blog.  Promise.)  This picture to the left was actually used on a website advertising kopi luwak.  Makes you want a cup, doesn’t it?  Or perhaps to flush it?

If you do a little research online, you will find many people have tried kopi luwak and have blogged or otherwise written a review about their experience.  it would seem that it doesn’t taste like crap, as one might think it would.  I personally like Kona for the same reasons people like kopi luwak; aromatic, less bitter and very tasty.  It’s also a lot cheaper (but, still quite expensive).  Perhaps my friend could persuade me to try a cup.  Maybe.  But, if he calls it monkey butt coffee, I’m not sure I could.  We’re talkin’ crap here…

Sunday Morning Mulling, April 18, 2010: Jesus Interrupted

I recently read, Jesus Interrupted: The Hidden Contradictions in the Bible (and Why We Don’t Know About Them) by Bart Ehrman.  It’s not something I would have read a couple of years ago while I was still within the constricting embrace of fundamental evangelicalism.  Since becoming what I call a recovering evangelical I’ve broaden my scope of acceptable reading.  Perhaps to some it’s strange to think of a book as either being acceptable or unacceptable reading, but within the Christian circles I used to  run in, it’s not.  The title of the book would be enough to persuade many fundamental evangelicals to shun it, unless they were reading it to discredit it.  If you don’t believe me, just ask an evangelical.

I found the book to be a good and accessible read.  Many of the Biblical contractions and difficulties Ehrman sights are things I’ve run across in my own studies, so although not a lot of new information for me, I believe he does a good job of culling the plethora of available problematic texts and providing a great introduction to the subject.  I know many will disagree with me saying there are a plethora of available problematic texts, but for now let’s agree to disagree and perhaps we can have a separate discussion on that point later.

His parenthetical sub-title is pretty provocative; why don’t more people know about this stuff?  My guess is because many Christians aren’t interested in knowing more than they have to about their faith.  This is my own position, not something put forth by Ehrman in this book.  I find that most active, church–on-Sunday-morning Christians are pretty darn Bible illiterate, and are happy that way. They seem to know just enough to say the right things at the right times and how and when to perform the right rituals.  When it comes to understanding the origin of the Bible or the historical framework and underpinnings of the Christian faith well, “ignorance is bliss”.  It’s a shame that the evangelical community allows it’s adherence to believe that a “magical prayer” is all one really needs to understand in order to reap the benefits of heaven.  “Just forget about all that Bible stuff, we’ll tell you what you need to know.”

In the last chapter, Ehrman asks an intriguing question; is faith possible?  Although he’s an agnostic, his answer is yes and uses this chapter to promote the idea of liberal Christianity.  I know many will see this as a direct attack on conservative Christianity and assume this to be Ehrman’s soul motivation for writing the book, going so far as to even offer an alternative.  I don’t think so, but even if it was his desire to persuade people to leave conservative Christianity, do you think it could work?   I don’t know.

I think an even better question is; should books like this one be shunned by conservative and fundamental Christians?  Should the person of faith be afraid to challenge their faith?  I would contend that considering positions that challenge one’s beliefs would; 1) give you a better understanding of what you believe, and 2) help you develop a deeper faith.  It stands to reason that if you believe the Bible to be the inerrant word of God and you put your faith in it’s testimony about Jesus dying for your salvation, then knowledge of it’s origin and veracity would be important to your faith.  Armed with that knowledge one would then be able to defend her faith in the face of a  challenge, leading to a deeper faith experience. 

The crux of the problem is books of this nature can lead people to a different understanding of their faith, something different than what is spoon-fed to them from the pulpit of their church.  As Ehrman explains in his book orthodoxy was something fought over long and hard by the early church, and to differ from orthodoxy is heresy.  To the average church goer this is tantamount to damnation in the eternal pit of fire.  One does not choose to go to hell easily.  It’s much easier to toe the line of orthodoxy.  As I stated earlier, many just don’t care to know more than they have to about Christianity, but for those who do care, fear is a powerful motivator.  The idea of losing one’s salvation because they might see things a bit differently from their pastor can act as a deterrent from books like Jesus Interrupted.  And that’s a shame.

OK, enough about Jesus Interrupted.  I did find it to be a provocative and good read.  As I continue to try to understand Christianity I will continue to read books like it.  I aint scared. Inevitably I’ll have a better understanding of Christian faith.  And that’s where I want to be.

A Paranormal Encounter (and a Lesson Learned)

We were newlyweds and living in beautiful Southern California.  Some of our fondest memories are from our time spent there.  After marrying we moved from Florida and everything in California seemed to offer a new perspective and a new adventure.  One day we might stroll along Laguna Beach and the next watch the swallows return to San Juan Capistrano.  We would take drives to the top of Saddleback Mountain and watch the sunset beyond Los Angeles.  Newport Beach offered a fun day of shopping and interesting boardwalk cafes, while Muscle Beach offered a completely different set of novelties.  We were happy.

I remember the night of the encounter quite well.  We had a particular Mexican restaurant that we enjoyed more than any other restaurant we’d tried.  I can’t remember the name, but I remember why we liked it so much.  The food was always delicious and the service exemplary, but what we really liked was the ambience of the place.  We would always request a table over looking the water.  The lights of the Southern California night danced on the water’s surface as quiet flamenco guitar music serenaded us.  I remember most her smile as she would take in the place, and that made me like it even more.  To us, it was romantic.

Being young and only familiar with the Tex-Mex usually served in Florida, I ordered a combination platter while she ordered the shredded beef chimichanga, her favorite. Each meal started with chips and salsa, of which I’d always eat too much, as I’m sure I did that night as well.   I can’t say for sure about the night of the encounter, but I typically would clean my plate and if she left anything on hers, well I’d clean that one, too.  I think what made us appreciate their food more than other Mexican restaurant was their use of spices; food was never bland and always flavorful.  Great ambience, great food, and young love.  It was the best of times.

It was later that night we had the encounter.  I remember being startled awake by the bedroom light.  She was startled by what she perceived to be a malevolent spirit that had entered our room.  At the time my wife thought herself somewhat of an expert on the paranormal.  She’d taken paranormal psychology courses in college and had a particular interest in it.  Her interest in the paranormal even led her to visit Cassadaga, Florida, considered to be the “Psychic Capital of the World”.  She used to enthrall me with ghost stories from her studies.  I loved them!  I loved to be scared and she seemed to love to scare me!

That night it was the smell that startled her.  “Evil spirits are often accompanied by a horrible smell,” she said.  “This one is really evil or really mad!”

I have an overactive imagination.  And I am easily scared.  At that point she had already convinced me that we were in the presence of something very dangerous.  And the smell was awful.  My mind reeled as I tried to think of what to do.  I truly had no idea what to do about a malevolent entity that, judging by the smell, was intent on harming us.  it was quite the situation.

I remember I sat up in bed and threw off the blanket in order to get up, when the smell hit me so bad that I thought for sure I was about to face my mortality.  It was then that I realized from where this evil spirit emanated.  That’s when I went to the bathroom.  After a couple of flushes and half a can of air freshener I exorcised that demon from the bowels of whence it came. 

There was a lesson learned in that episode; don’t assume the paranormal when there is a perfectly normal excuse for something.  When I hear weird and eerie sounds in the night now I don’t assume the paranormal, well unless I’ve watched a movie like, say, Paranormal Activity.  Then you have to give me a couple of days and then I’ll settle back down.  So far I’ve always been able to find a perfectly normal reason and I suspect I always will.

Still, from time to time that same evil spirit pays me a visit in the middle of the night.  After I’ve collected my wits about me, I simply shake out the sheets, role over and go back to sleep.  With my paranormal expert for a wife sleeping right next to me.

April 15th

April 15th, the deadline for all Americans to voluntarily relinquish a portion of their yearly earnings to the government in the form of the income tax.  After today they force you to pay up at the point of a gun.  Good times.  I often wonder if this is the “necessary evil” Thomas Paine was referring to  so long ago.   Of course, here’s an opening to segue into a point about the Tea Party movement, but I will refrain.  Still…

My wife and I prepare our own taxes each year.  We like to keep it simple.  This can be challenging since the US tax code is anything but simple.  We figure that our government provides us with the tools and information we need to do this successfully.  And to the best of our knowledge we have been successful, that was until we heard about another deduction we could have taken advantage of, but missed.  It would seem that we could have claimed a $1000 property tax deduction, even though we didn’t itemize our deductions.  The bad part is I read about this deduction on page 34 of the 1040A tax booklet, only I didn’t understand I could tack it on to the standard deduction we claimed this year (it was a lean year).  Silly me.  Imagine not being able to understand a tax booklet.  I hate to say it, but by page 34 I was doing everything possible to stay awake and not drool on myself.  This is some pretty boring reading

But, let me segue into this question; why does our tax system have to be so difficult you need to have an accounting degree to understand it?  It seems that each year our government enacts new laws that further convolute the tax code.  It’s grown into such a behemoth that it takes an army of IRS employees to enforce and a counterforce of attorneys and accountants to help the public to understand.  It may seem pretty silly not to have comprehended the deduction I missed, but when I hear about how difficult filing taxes is for others it simply makes me wonder, why?

There are proposals to fix this monster, of which I like the fair tax.  It’s a simple consumption tax that gives the consumer all the power over how much they pay in taxes. I like that. I think one of the reasons our government continues to force our current tax code down our throats is because where plans like the fair tax empowers the people, our current tax laws empowers the politician.  Controlling the money is where the power in Washington is, so it makes sense they would dislike anything that limits their control.  And I mean this about both political parties.  I think no politician is exempt from this assessment.  Like I’ve said before, all politicians are scumbags.  What the voter has to do is pick the one that most closely represents their principles and values, especially when it comes to tax laws.

You know the ol’ sayin’; if it walks likes a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s a scumbag.  You get my meanin’.

I guess I’ll amend my 2009 taxes even though I like to keep things simple and I really don’t want to mess with the IRS again this year. Dang!  I’m also going to keep trying to vote in politicians (aka scumbags) that agree with me that our tax laws need to be pitched.  I know that there will be a glut of accountants and attorneys out of a job if we did pitch them, but this is America, the land of opportunity.  I’m sure the government will find some work for them.  Last I heard jobs were the Obama Administration’s number one priority; at least for this week.

And I’m sure the government will find new and inventive ways to confiscate the earnings I work hard for.  Give that fair tax thing a look, you just might like it.

Movies Guys Find Romantic

They're called “chick flicks”, romantic themed movies the ladies gravitate to.  What do you call movies guys consider romantic?  It can’t be “guy flicks” because the connotation would never include romantic themes.  Yet, guys do appreciate romance on the big screen, just a bit different than the ladies do.  I dealt with this issue in a past post entitled Women are From Venus, Men Are From Sparta.   That one produced a little bit of marital tension, so I must be glutton for punishment to revisit this issue.  Yet, I intend to delineate that line of demarcation a bit more with a list of movies I think are romantic, even if they don’t seem like obvious choices,  and I’m willing to bet a lot of guys will agree with me.  You might be amazed at just how differently guys and gals think.  Here’s my top five:

5. Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King

The Lord of the Rings movie trilogy is chock full of sub-plots, and a major one is the love affair between Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gongor, and Arwen, Daughter of the Elvin lord Elrond (that’s a lot of weird names!).  Aragorn can’t ask  Arwen to give up her immortality for him and she is grief-stricken without him.  Much to Aragorn’s surprise Arwen shows up at his coronation looking like a Liv Tyler glamour shot.  The look on his face tells the audience that all the preceding carnage and decapitations were all worth it!  There's nothing like reclaiming love you think you’ve lost. 

4. Gladiator

Wait a minute you say, Maximus’ wife dies at the beginning of the movie.  How can this be considered romantic by anyone?  Well, nothing warms the cockles of a man’s heart more than sweet revenge for the one’s he loves.  After the murder of his wife and son, ordered by Commodus, the emperor-in-waiting,  Maximus unleashes hell to avenge their deaths.  It's quite moving how Maximus talks about his wife and his desire to be with her again.  As he laid dying after smiting Commodus his thoughts were of his wife and son waiting for him in Elysium.  Mm, mm. That’s love eternal, baby! 

3. 300

You’ll never see a more suited couple than Leonidas, King of Sparta, and his queen, Gorgo.  Only Hollywood could come up with a couple this complementary of each other.  The love and admiration they have for each other is palpable and intense.  I still think one of the hottest lines uttered by anyone on the silver screen is uttered by Gorgo when she  calls to Leonidas as he’s marching off to his demise; “Spartan, come back with your shield, or came back on it.”  Dang!  She really understood her man.  As the Persian Army was making a pin cushion out of Leonidas at the end of the movie, his last thoughts were of his queen.  Brings a tear to my eye.  And guys, did you notice Gorgo didn’t mind Leonidas’ facial hair when he was up oh so close.  Smokin’!

2. The Last of the Mohicans

Beautiful panoramic shots of the Smoky Mountains.  Daniel Day-Lewis and a commanding performance.  Madeleine Stowe before lip augmentation.  What’s not to like.  Actually, I bet the ladies would consider this one a romantic flick.  The romance between Hawkeye and Cora builds throughout the movie and climaxes with Hawkeye and his Mohican Father and brother dispatching Huron on their way to rescuing Cora and her sister.  Except for the Romeo and Juliet-esque  swan dive Cora’s sister takes over a cliff after her lover’s death, It’s just about pitch perfect for the guy romantic.

1. Casablanca

Wait, you say, now you’ve gone too far!  That is a chick flick!  You couldn’t be more wrong!  This movie has everything that makes for a great movie, including one of the great silver screen romances.  Bogart and Bergman simply sizzle.  Bogey’s character Rick has to deal with the return of the love that walked out on him.  Torn between his love for Ilsa and a cause greater than himself, Rick has to make one of the toughest decisions a man will ever have to make; letting his love go.  Besides, this is one of mine and my wife’s favorite movies of all time.  We pop the corn, snuggle up on the couch and hit play.  By the time Bogey says, “We’ll always have Paris”, amour is in the air (I hope)!  It doesn’t get any better than that!

That’s my list.  I’m sure you might have some differing opinions, so share.  I’m sure someone will mention The Notebook and all I can do is refer you to Women are From Venus, Men Are From Sparta again.  Just remember, guys and gals brains simply work different.  I think this list is some proof of that.

Hm, I might see if my sweetie might like to watch Casablanca. Oh Yeah!

Whack-A-Gopher!

I thought someone was playing a joke on me a first.  I found what appeared to be a shovel full of dirt pitched into a flower bed.  There’s nothing but weeds in that bed, but I plan to rectify that soon.  The next day I found another pile of dirt, this time in another bed.  I didn’t think it a joke that time, just kind of strange.  When two days later I found two more piles in the front lawn I became livid.  Someone was intentionally leaving piles of dirt throughout my yard for what I could only imagine was nefarious reasons.  I went to ask my neighbor if he happened to know what was going on, not because I suspected him (yet, it was good to eliminate him has a suspect), but because I hoped he might have seen the culprit.  That’s when I found out it was a gopher.

It would appear that Hollywood has misled us about the nature of the gopher.  Theses aren’t cute, furry little creatures to be loved and adored in animated films or as puppets.  Quite the contrary, they are evil rodents hell-bent on destroying your lawn and all the plants you so lovingly cultivate throughout.  And they’re hideous, just look at this picture!

My neighbor said this particular gopher had traversed his lawn and two other neighbors before him.  He’d attempted to kill it with gopher bait, but alas, he only succeeded in running it over to my yard.  Darn the luck!  I needed a plan.  Fortunately, gophers let you know where they are, I suppose because they are stupid animals. This picture shows not only where the demonic hell spawn's tunnels were, but also the direction it was going in.  Fortunately away from my rose bush!  I figured that if I dug down into the mounds I should be able to find it’s tunnel (how’s that for an example of deductive reasoning!).  Once there, I could then bait the sucker and end it’s lawn destroying life.  And in fact, I  got out my shovel and began to dig.  Unfortunately, the hole kept getting bigger and I wasn’t finding the gopher highway I was looking for.  The hole I was digging was actually more unsightly than the gopher mounds! 

There was another potential problem I hadn’t considered when I started my demolition plan of death.  Holes unattended can lead to unintended consequences.  Take for instance an incident that happened after some soil samples were taken from my yard.  The dog somehow managed to fall into the hole the sampler left and was unable to get out.  Hm.  Not one of her brightest moments.  We shot this picture in order to laugh at her  and ridicule her for the rest of her days.  Funny thing is she doesn’t really care.  Still a good picture.

I filled in the hole and devised another murderous plot.  This one was less laborious.  I planned to grab a glass of iced tea and my shovel and plant my butt in the rocking chair out front.  Then I would wait.  As patiently as I needed to, I’d wait.  As soon as I saw that incarnation of evil push up another mound I was going to take that shovel and play Whack-A-Mole with it, only it would actually be Whack-A-Gopher.  This plan seemed good to me as it satisfied the blood lust coursing through my veins!  It sated that primal urge to hunt and to kill!  So, I told my wife my idea.  The only problem was I told her in front of my 13 year old, animal-rights activist daughter.  It’s her contention that all of God’s creatures have a right to life.  Dang!  I couldn’t follow through with the extermination after that.  The gopher had it’s stay of execution.  Besides, it looked like he was making his way over to our other neighbor’s yard, so… But, do you know how that gopher repaid me for the mercy I showed it by sparing it’s miserable life?  The next morning, I woke up to two new mounds.  Dang gopher!

Easter for a Recovering Evangelical

Hi, I’m a recovering evangelical.  This is the second Easter holiday that I can say I’m a recovering evangelical.  Thefreedictionary.com’s third definition of an evangelical is:Of, relating to, or being a Christian church believing in the sole authority and inerrancy of the Bible, in salvation only through regeneration, and in a spiritually transformed personal life.  That definition has been my understanding of what an evangelical Christian is.  There is more to it, such as the doctrinal positions taken by a specific denomination and the idiosyncrasies one might find with a specific church, but to the uninitiated this definition is pretty comprehensive.  I’d spent many years within the constricting embrace of the evangelical world and it’s effects will be felt for many year to come, so it’s with relatively new spiritual sobriety that I get to reflect on this Easter Sunday.  With the baggage I carry from years of evangelical emersion, reflection has proven to be a bit more challenging than I would have thought.

Let me start with a confession; I did not attend an Easter service this year, perhaps for the first time in 18 years.  And it was pretty strange. Here's why.  The central belief of the Christian faith is the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus.  Without it there is no Christianity.  It’s the reason for the Easter celebration.    In light of today’s focus on Easter consumerism it would be easy to think that it’s about Easter egg hunts, chocolate bunnies and family get-togethers.  In 2000, Americans spent $1.9 billion on Easter candy.  That’s just behind the $2 billion spent for Halloween!  And believe me when I say that a good part of that consuming is done by evangelicals.  And in full disclosure, I did not miss that aspect of the Easter holiday.  I have eaten my weight in jelly beans today and I’m already paying for it.  My kids received their Easter baskets full of goodies despite the fact that they haven’t believed in the Easter Bunny for quite some time.  No, it has been strange because this Easter hasn’t been about the resurrection for me.  For the indoctrinated that is as blasphemous as it can possibly get.  And I’m okay with it.

Here’s the reason for my comfort in missing the resurrection story on Resurrection Sunday and all the spiritual trimmings that go with it.  I had two choices for Easter worship opportunities.  One church gave me the option to attend one of three services to meet my Easter worshiping needs; one Saturday night service and two on Sunday.  They have a killer praise and worship band that could rival many pop-rock concerts.  If the pastor was to lose his gig preaching he could easily hit the road doing comedy.  There’s an opportunity to grab a cup of coffee and a pasty before or after the show, er, I meant service.  The place simply is awesome.  Then there was the quant, traditional church service.  It offered a more tired, wait I mean tried service, one we would remember from years gone by with piano and organ based music and traditional service elements.  They advertised a Easter morning breakfast for the attendees.  For those who have grown up with this worship experience it held all the bells and whistles they like, and none of those they don’t.  Both advertised their services.  Both offered special enticements to attract attendees.  Both have adopted modern market practices to increase their bottom line.  All of this to share the good news of the gospel of Jesus, the same Jesus who cleared the temple of those selling animals used for sacrifices and those who exchanged money.  Hm. 

So, where’s the resurrection?  Well, it’s part of the package being sold. Now, I’m not trying to say that today’s church is wrong to adopt consumer market practices to increase membership.  Evangelicals would say that it’s not about membership to their churches, but about reaching everyone with the gospel.  Of course church membership is a reflection of how well they are sharing the gospel, so growth is the natural byproduct of effective ministry. What I’m saying is that as a recovering evangelical I don’t really mind missing out on the packaged product being offered this Easter.  It doesn’t seem much different from aluminum foil wrapped chocolate eggs or those marshmallow peeps that are simply everywhere at Easter.  Maybe the Easter message is the resurrection, but the church doesn’t seem to be about the resurrection, just the church.  As a recovering evangelical, I think it’s easy to celebrate Easter without the resurrection package because, either way, you’re buying some product.

Now, I wonder if Jesus would run off the clerks at the coffee shops located in the lobby of the church?  Would Jesus toss pans of scrambled eggs and pancakes used to draw a church crowd?  I don’t know.  I think I’ll mull those questions over with one of those chocolate bunnies and an Easter egg.