Hey, guy in the stall in the office building bathroom: I appreciate your working so hard to be discrete, but we all know the score- you've got work to do. It's no different that the work we urinalites will be engaged in sooner or later. This restroom isn't a place for daintiness or etiquette or unnecessary decorum. Do what you came to do, buddy. No hard feelings.

If anybody can find a way to condemn, accuse, or not pity Courtney Love, then maybe you should have a little talk with God. If I may speak: the enemy's goal is not to make you lie, or look at porn, or talk back to your boss. The enemy wants to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10, see also I Peter 5:8). He wants to steal your life, destroy your family and relationships, and ultimately wants you dead. Is it just me, or is this what it sounds like is happening to Courtney? I love people who are so honest that they cut through all the polite, political garbage, as Courtney seems to do. My ears are sometimes offended when people are like this (and my comfort certainly is), but oh!- the refreshment of earnestness! To hear her say "I need to be fucking saved." makes me want to cry and exult at once. She's dead on, never mind the profanity. Her anxiety, hopelessness, and fear are all indicators that she's been had. Man, my heart aches for her. Pray for Courtney, won't ya?

Jaff and Didi and I ran into Ozzy Osbourne last year in Westwood. He was a ravaged crook of a man, shuffling and mumbling and looking completely taken. He said something to me about the Evil Eye he wears around his neck, to ward off some of the evil spirits with which he consorted in his Black Sabbath days. But, as Jesus said, "if Satan is divided against himself, how can his kingdom stand?" In other words, you can choose one evil spirit over another, but they're all in league. Ozzy has no hope outside of the saving power of Jesus. Period.

And while I'm waxing on about celebrities (and as part of my job here at AWP&STFM is finding ads in popular magazines- no, really), I keep seeing junk about Madonna and Demi and their ilk and their Kabbalah fetish, or their Buddha fetish. I don't know much about this Kabbalah god, nor about the Buddha god, but they masquerade as angels of light. The celebrities all say they're becoming much better people (yipee!), are much more balanced, giving, etc.- and there you go. I can only assume that, in the authority structure of the kingdom of darkness, Kabbalah, Buddhism, and Humanism work on the same floor.

I'm just saying, fellas, that there's a very present reality of a multiplicity of spiritual powers around us, all the time. Yes, all the time. May our eyes be opened to see things as they really are. Do you think your church is a sanctuary where spirits of pride, greed, lust, religion, self-righteousness, idolatry, etc. aren't allowed? On what grounds? The fact that the mortgage is held by a charitable organization? Does the enemy know that rule? Do we assume that our co-workers aren't plagued by fear, accusation, drunkenness, anxiety, depression, or guilt? Why would we think this? We don't like them for the very reason that they're held captive by these things! I interact with my co-worker's pride, then walk away hating him for it. But we have to remember that we're not to be warring with people. Our enemy is unseen (and are "the rulers, authorities, and powers of this dark world and are the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms"), and our enemy works in a very carefully orchestrated, military arrangement that is specifically designed to hold the entire world hostage, and take us out.

Yeah, yeah, yeah- I'm being all dramatic and maudlin. Maybe you didn't read the Courtney Love article.

You ever seen these guys who have some amazing physical disability but are seemingly getting along just fine in spite of it? These people are all acrobatic wonders, to me, like the little black kid I saw with Chris Havard on late night teevee who, because of his odd bodily proportions, could flip about as easy as I can snap my fingers. Take the incredible (and somewhat macabre) woman, Joni, who painted (paints?) with her feet. I was pretty disturbed as a tot by seeing Joni talking about Jesus while hiking up her feet and painting like Christi Moore, that My Left Foot guy portrayed by Daniel Day-("O")-Lewis (who also shone in the stirring In the Name of the Father, with cool featured music by Bono avec Gavin Friday, both made-up names).

I just saw a guy who had maybe 3 inches of flesh past his elbow; this is exactly what my elementary school pal, Brandon Yvonovich, had. These people are so agile and apt at physical tasks that it sometimes seems they're showing off, or eternally auditioning for something. Like they really want you to know that...

"Hey, you. See this? I'm coping. I can deal. I worked it out. See, I got it!"
"Yeah, I can see that! Look at the amazing tricks you're doing with that nub!"
"I have earned my methods with pain. You have no idea."
"Okay. But geez, that bag looks heavy. Are you sure you should lift that with just the nub? Doesn't it hurt?"
"It all hurts, moron."

Maybe I'm paranoid. I obviously can't tell them when to stop (I mean, painting?? That seems incredibly ambitious to me), but I'm always impressed. I worked with kids at Camp Barnabas who were blind and deaf and had been through strokes and were autistic and were just human marvels. I mean, I sometimes have trouble walking down stairs, and I consider myself an athlete from time to time...

I tend to think of Atlanta as a giant, sweltering, asphalt-covered city with a bad history of race relations, where every other street is called Peach-Something and Olympic bombers are welcomed with open arms. But boy am I wrong!

Atlanta is a giant, sweltering, asphalt-covered city where Olympic bombers are only TOLERATED. Also, if you go far enough north, they have this big lake with a resort stuck in it. If you go to "the ATL", like me and Didi did this past weekend, you can:

-Catch some sun by the pool at Pineisle.
-Enjoy the inner-city efficiency (and odors!) of MARTA.
-Go to school in the bowling arts courtesy of our very own Hav. He bowls, he wins.
-Gorge on the eastern US' own Bruster's Ice Cream.
-Chase it with a burrito and white queso from Moe's which, according to its website, is soon to take over the country. It's not Freebirds, but then again, neither is the bland-but-successful Chipotle. Do I hate the McDonald's-owned Chipotle for horning in on a market that should be monopolized by Freebirds? Yes. Do I hate Moe's? No. What about the Hoang-endorsed Baja Fresh? Shoulder shrug.

First this:

line a small casserole with fresh asparagus, coat with olive oil, season with salt and fresh cracked pepper. Bake in 500-degree oven, uncovered, for 8 minutes. Turn asparagus stalks, and bake for another 8 minutes. Yum.

Then this:

I have been saying this to my engineering/scientist friends (for these are the people who create the world in which we live) for some time, and I will repeat it again here: if they can combine chemicals to make Fritos (tm) taste like chili with cheese, they can come up with something to make my urine smell fruity. Step one: single out the chemical in asparagus that finds its way to my bladder within an hour of consumption. This is amazing and should be further researched.

By the way, I have a friend at Procter & Gamble who tirelessly works on developing tampons. He says that there are actual people in research and development, creating better anti-perspirants (salute, Jef Dav) called Armpit Sniffers. Here's to engineers!

Just for grins (and because Hello! If you haven't fooled around with this stuff already Wake Up! It's going to be 2005 before you know it, and you should have SOME experience on the intranets before your nephew has to explain it to you), I'm going to throw in some fun name-related time-wasters. I enjoy this sort of thing. Want to know what your Hobbit Name is? There's also an Elven option there. How about Smurf? Militant African Fundamentalist? Or, if you're new to this country, you can get an American name (this will be helpful if your last name is Hornak). There's also pirate names, Chinese names (yeah!), or pokemon names. Knock yourself out. My hobbit name is Mungo Hamwich of Buckleberry Fern.

By the way, I commit to everyone that I won't have purely link-based posts ever again. Wait. No I don't.

Here's something that Bao Phuc Hoang might want to consider in the near future: a banana guard. He's been very protective of his produce for as long as I've known him. But this brings up a point that's always confounded me: why will we allow people to call us by our first name, or first and last name, but never by our middle and last name, or first and middle name, etc.? The permutations are sixfold, of course, by why do we only use two of them (three if you're in the army or 6th grade football)? I, for one, will not be swayed by the trends. I choose to stand for Eqality for Middle Names. My EMN handle is Steve Allen, and you may freely refer to me by that moniker. Also, Emperor of All That Lives.

My head has already started its annual Downward Tilt brought on by the wacky world of NBA playoffs. Houston blew its big chance at actually having something over the Lakers (an opportunity that won't be presented again) and Dallas found a way to shoot miserably, not guard Peja or Webber (something that maybe they should consider), and feature the brainless Antoine Walker at center. Antoine Walker is 6'9".

ps- I have just learned how to include links. This is goode.

Just the good ol' boys, never meanin' no harm.
Beats all you never saw! Been in trouble with the law
Since the day they was born

Staightnin' the curves, Flatnin' the hills
Someday the mountain might get 'em
But the law never will

Makin' their way the only way they know how
That's just a little bit more than the law will allow.

Just them good lo' boys- wouldn't change if they could
Fightin' the system
Like a true modern day Robin Hood

Observations:
1) No, there WERE times that they intentionally meant for harm to come to some of their enemies- men like Boss Hogg (a name that was often used as an epithet, I regret to mention), Roscoe P. Coltrain, and Cletus Hogg. Partially due to these incidences, I began to believe as a youngster that, if my purpose (or "justice" as I saw it) was served, hurting other people was okay, even approved. I can tell you, I wish I'd never believed that lie.
2) I have seen volcanoes and the Eiffel tower and the melting of hard hearts. Incorrigible rednecks, however "cool" they may be, do NOT beat all I've seen. Time to rethink that one.
3) Spare us the hyperbole, Waylon! How could they have been in trouble with the law on the days of their births? Must they be condemned to outlaw status before they can talk? We should never rush to judgement on anyone like that.
4) Flattening the hills? Are we talking about Paul Bunyan here? I think we've all seen that the Duke boys were real men, no different that you or I. They're not mythical characters, and I think something is taken away from what they were when we talk like this. We should all be warned from idolizing them in this way.
5) I saw the fabulous Disney film "Robin Hood", which featured a dashing red fox as the hero, and a stirring soundtrack by Roger Miller. Robin Hood was articulate, cunning, and scrupulous to the end. Bo and Luke Duke, sir, are no Robin Hood. Yes, they helped people, and yes, sometimes it seemed that Right was on the side other than that of the government-appointed officials. But again, comparing them to Robin Hood goes too far. Why can't we just appreciate people for who they are, instead of making them out to be heroes or villians?

Just some thoughts, fellas. I find that, as I grow, it's necessary to challenge some early presumptions of mine that were based more on fable than in truth. I appreciate any input of yours on this subject.

The shady Maple trees in my area produce those whimsical, delicate seeds that drop in circles, like little helicopter propellers, in the later months of winter. In much the same way, there are people out there who, when they're waiting for something to load on their computer, or are looking for a particular file, move their mouse in such a way as to produce circles on their screen. They do this instictively and patiently, whiling away the time, like buzzards circling their dying prey. These people are perhaps of a different ilk than am I: when I have nothing to do, I sit there and study the cuts on my hands. Perhaps they are more creative and whimsical, like the aforementioned seedlets. Could this also be said of those who fill their language with colorful 'extras' (so..., yeah..., well..., aah...)? Perhaps. Myself, I guess I'm too task-oriented for this sort of thing. I may wait for 5 minutes, trying to generate a working sentence (and okay, yes I do this. Often.), but I can't manage the walking/chewing gum tandem that is the thinking/doodling these people pull off with such aplomb. How do they do it?

Let this blow your brains today, in this post-Easter season. It's from Colossians 2-

13When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your sinful nature, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, 14having canceled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross. 15And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.
16Therefore do not let anyone judge you by what you eat or drink, or with regard to a religious festival, a New Moon celebration or a Sabbath day. 17These are a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality, however, is found in Christ.

Git down, git down!

Most of us are already involved in this cultural phenominon, so I might as well fess up here: Dora and I are hosting an "Apprentice Party" on Thursday night. Can not something strange be said of a culture where even relationships are becoming outlined by entertainment? Probably yes. In any case, we will soon be gathered around our teevee (with our prayer group!), nuts and colas in hand, yelling at the producers for letting Omarosa live, and whining that Kwame is too insipid to make any sort of leader (and bickering with any dissentors in our midst). Then, when Bill is crowned with many crowns, Omarosa is revealed as being a plant, and we are forced to wait until the Teevee Powers That Be give us something new to center our lives around, we will pray for them all.

You guys don't seem too interested in Sport (as we say in England), but I have to throw this out: What about that Phil Mickelson finally winning a Big One? Something awfully satisfying about that, for some reason. I was rooting for the guy. http://www.foxsports.com/content/view?contentId=2301190

Lately I have come ROARING into the 90's. Not only have I commandeered my wife's old Palm Pilot (in full, black and gray, 1 1/2 color glory!), but I have gotten in on the fitness craze that brought us terms like "aerobics", "thighmaster", and "ephedra". Yes, we recently joined the Grunt Union, local 132, where you pay people for the opportunity to hurt yourself on convoluted steel machines. The GU has one futuristic room dedicated to Endless Movie Watching (no surprise there. Many sections of our society, including child care, are dedicated to this pursuit, I note), in which one can sweat while stupefying oneself before culture-shapers like Colin Farrell and Patricia Arquette. "I can run a 10K while watching How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days??!?" Of course, I was IN.

And inside the murky cinematic womb, where my senses were overpowered and confused ("Help me make sense of it!", my body seemed to say. "Body funk + flashing lights + heavy breathing + screaming music... are we at a Jay-Z concert... AGAIN??"), I saw parts of Denzel's underwhelming "Out of Time". While trying not to fall (because I could not, of course, see my feet, nor the treadmill on which I was supposed to be running), I saw a scene including the always-disappointing, never-funny SNL alum, Nora Dunn. And I ask this question to the world (or, more specifically, Jeffrey Davenport): "how do horrible actors (say, Charlie Sheen) KEEP getting roles in films and television?" Or, more to the point, "Why am I watching Nora Dunn movies?"

Is it just skilled agents, who can sell their "talent" [sic] to casting directors? Are producers' lives being threatened if they don't cast Mandy Moore in the next teen flick? SOMEBODY HELP ME UNDERSTAND THIS, because if I have to go into cardiac arrest while being subjected to Hollywood's latest dreck, I'd like to at least have some grasp of why the films have to stink worse than I do.

I'm just asking.

For all you kind people who live in more civilized lands... check out this strangely-written article about what's coming to Cincinnati and our surrounding areas...

http://www.usatoday.com/life/2004-04-11-cicadas_x.htm

Wasn't that NCAA final a ZERO!? Isn't it always!?

Let's get political here. While I was up on the 5th floor yesterday, purchasing a protein-enhanced smoothie (yes, the drones here at All World Products and Selling Things For Money enjoy an on-site smoothie bar, post office, bank, restaurant(s), and DVD rentals. Yes, of course I'm serious), I overheard the African-American women behind the counter talking. They were talking about "us" (the employees who buy from them):

"...oh no, they HATE you talking bad about Bush. They LOVE Bush."
"I tell you, that Bush is the DEVIL."
"Yeah he is! Might as well have horns and a 666 on his head."
"But you right- they don't want you downing Bush..."

And I got to thinking about the fact that we've come to a place where minority groups AUTOMATICALLY align themselves with the soft-sell Democrats. And that's kind of strange to me. I think of welfare programs that are happy to support non-working child producers (because, as a friend of mine told me recently - and his background gives him the right to say this - "Sex is the one remaining recreation and power for the poor". Interesting thought, no?), and how that's ultimately a disservice, as it robs them of producing for themselves. And I think of groups like the NAACP, and how there hasn't been a more overtly racist cause championed by the government since abolition. And I'm bewildered. And I'm reminded that perception is reality.

Then I have a smoothie. Mm! Blueberries!