Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Don't Let The Wife Know...

...or I'll be wearing some of these!!



Friday, May 26, 2006


(From Michael Spencer, The I-Monk)

If this gets too obnoxious, let me apologize in advance. A little.

I’m not trying to sound like a jerk here- I mean, how hard do I need to work at that?- but is there anything more typically mid-life than for all of us to be talking about our career regrets?

When I lost my mind in my mid-life crisis of 2000-2001, I was lethally obsessed with regrets over my life. My career. My marriage. Ministry. Every decision I’d ever made rose up and pointed at me, saying “WRONG!” Of course, the life that seemed the best was writer. Thinker. Speaker. I spent vast amounts of time HATING my seminary classmates who are in big churches. I hated OBI, even though OBI saved my life and let me actually spend it on something significant. I declared Denise the enemy for making me think about money and security rather than doing what I wanted. I wrote so many poems on regret that I could have published an anthology. Happiness, career, relationships— they all infected and tortured me for parts of two years.

One of the many things that helped me through this was to realize that as an American, I have an exaggerated view of the possibilities of my own happiness. I had bought deeply into the idea- promoted by all kinds of “success in life” types- that I should be maxed out on happiness, and if I wasn’t, then I could be immensely tortured with a really good excuse note.

It’s interesting how God showed this to me: the teenagers I work with have the raw material for immense amounts of happiness, but most of them are miserable, angry, bitter, depressed…all because they can’t have what they want. I preach to these kids about real happiness. I talk about reasonable happiness. I talk about connecting the dots between self-knowledge, choices and a workable definition of happiness.

I just didn’t want to apply any of this to myself. I wanted to be angry at God, Denise, fate, life, a thousands things in the past I could no longer get to….and I wanted to be self-consumed in the present. And, of course, to reward myself with the things that made me feel good.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe mid-life career changes are good and wonderful things when they are possible. But I also am growing to understand that I need to revise my definition of happiness into something Jesus would recognize. I really would like to see the sermon series on “Jesus and the mid-life American male.” I need to hear that word. Maybe I need to write that word.

Anyway…you twenty-somethings just shut up. Us old guys are crying in our beer and we don’t want to hear all this cheerful chat. (jn)

I'm here. 40 years old and pissed at myself because I'm going through some sort of mid-life crisis. I've been depressed. I've wallowed in the "what might have beens". I've grown angry at my wife. I've grown angry at God. I've cried at night because my anger is unfounded and brings me shame. I rail at the world and it laughs in my face.

Do I have regrets? Hell yes. If you don't, congrats. You're a better person than I. Can I do anything about those regrets? Probably not unless Doc Brown shows up with his DeLorean. And even then, as I think about it, I don't think I'd change anything.

Why? Because of the stuff I don't regret. My wife. My kids. My jobs. My experiences. My faith. My journey. It wouldn't be the same if I had to go back and "fix" what went wrong. I wouldn't be me anymore. I'd be an idealized version that would, in my mind, be a flat, two-dimensional, Stepford Me.

I bought into what was sold me as the "Victorious Life". Hah. I'm a big, fat sinner who struggles through life like the rest of you. Every morning I drag my weary carcass out of bed and sit down with God and my Bible. Sometimes out of a sense of duty. Sometimes out of excitement. Sometimes I learned nothing and felt that God was far away. Sometimes I was struck by my own sin and cried at the fact that regardless, God loved. Loves me. Will always love me.

For some of you reading this (both of you?), you're probably thinking, "Gee Eric, get a grip! This is life! I know...but it's my life and I'll cry if I want to!

And I wouldn't trade if for anything. This is me. This is my life. The ride ain't over and I don't know where the hell it's gonna take me but I do know the destination and it's worth the ride just to get there.


X3 (Contains Spoilers!)

Kicks Ass!

Piss on critics and uber-geek fanboys who want literal interpretation of their beloved comics...

Singer hits one out of the park!

Fastball Special? Got not one...but two!

Wolverine's lines are classic.

Beast kicks some major heiny.

All your favorite X-Men characters make cameos.

And R. Lee Armey's voice is unmistakeable.

This is a must-have on DVD!

I'll have to see it again.

Wait until the credits are over...they are long but it's worth the wait!

Eric...your humble Reviewer.

The Worst Job

Ok...we've all had jobs that sucked one way or another. I've been a box boy, a checker, and a shelf stocker at a grocery store. I've mopped up my fair share of puke and piss. I've delivered pizza's to half-naked women, psychotic nut jobs and two queers in Tulsa who lived better than most straights! I've dug ditches, been a nightwatchman, an apprentice electrician, a paper boy, and a pool boy. I've worked with teenagers...nuff said there. I've been on radio as a DJ and a reporter/anchor. I've been a flight instructor, a charter pilot, a freight dawg, and an aerial firefighter.

But none of these jobs were as bad a the ones Tony Robinson found throughout history. Check it out at The Worst Jobs in History.


So It's Kilt Friday At Work...

...well not really. I'm the only one wearing a Utilikilt. I saw on the internet a bunch of teachers in Colorado had a "Kilt Week" at school. Jokingly, I said I would wear mine on Friday. I did. To raised eyebrows.

First I dropped off a frou-frou coffee to the wife at work. She called her co-worker out, a lady in her late 50's, for a look see. Her eyes grew big and she asked if it came with a little pair of shorts underneath. I held my tongue as my favorite answer to what I'm wearing under my kilt is "a blue ribbon"! Instead I flashed her a bit of my long boxer-briefs!

Then came work. Patsy, the Customer Service wench, also of the same generation as my wife's co-worker, with whom I've worked with off and on since 1991, wouldn't look at me. She giggled and said I was a goofball. Liz, the new girl behind the counter (20-something and kinda cute) was giving me the once-over wondering in her mind, "Just what is that man wearing under his kilt?"

Now my boss, whom I've known since 1989, told me I looked "Sweet"...complete with a lisp. (He's a baby-boomer...need I say more?)

Like I've said in previous posts, on other boards, it's the most comfortable piece of clothing in my closet...and I'll wear it whenever I feel the need to be free!!


Monday, May 22, 2006

Those &^%&$ Words

As you all now...most of us around here let out the occasional expletive. (For those of you in Rio Linda, them's cuss words!)

Growing up Baptist, "Thou Shalt Not Take Thy Lord's Name In Vain" was the catch all for not cussin'. (And it had to be quoted in the King James and captitalized when written.) There was also the "Let thou not hast any unwholesome speech cometh out of thine mouth" (Again with the KJV.) So as a kid, when I said "Gosh Darnit", I got a lecture about it being short-hand for God Dammit. "Jeez" was short-hand for Jesus' Wisdom, which was blasphemy. We tried "crap" but that didn't cut the mustard either. So we made up our own cuss words. You know them, frickin', freakin', fudge come to mind.

So what's a boy to do when he really want's to say, "Aw Shit!"? "Aw shoot" just doesn't carry the weight does it? And who's really gonna think you're mad if you tell them to "fudge off!"? Hmmm??

I try to use words, both in written form and spoken form, in such a way as they carry the full effect of their meaning. Not just their denotation but also, at times, their connotation. So I have used, on occasion, with blistering accuracy, George Carlin's 7 Dirty Words you can't say on television. (Ah hell...sometimes I just say them cause they sound cool!)

Many people of the Christian faith get bent out of shape when these words, and some of the more milder ones, are use by other christians. The Internet Monk has a nice little rant about that over at the Boar's Head Tavern.

Follow the link...

Morally Retarded

Edit: Here's another link on the subject... Cussin' Christians


Sunday, May 21, 2006

New Link on the Sidebar Part 2

Tanya...Aussie Chick who used to hang out over at the Door Magazine's Chat Closet (and drops by on occasion), has her own blog now. She's an artist, you'll find the link to her stuff on her blog. She and I had an eerily similar upbringing. So much so that we could have been brother and sister except I grew up in California and she grew up in Australia.

Check it out...she's pretty cool!


Saturday, May 20, 2006

Tell Me, Just How Deep Does the Rabbit Hole Go?

Keep clicking. It's just like the question, "How Many Licks Does it take to get to the Center of a Tootsie Pop?" The world may never know!

The Rabbit Hole


Thursday, May 18, 2006

More Cop Stuff

Courtesy of Foxnews.com....

Laxative vs Heroin

I love this kind of stuff....make the jerk who's being a mule (and probably a user) shite out his sh---er---stuff!


Wednesday, May 17, 2006

What cops would like the public to know.........

(From a cop friend of mine....)

When you see an emergency vehicle behind you with its lights and sirens on, pull to the RIGHT, and stop. We are usually required to pass cars on the left.

When you're driving in the fast lane and you see a cop behind you, don't go five miles an hour under the speed limit. We are not impressed by how safe a driver you can be, we're trying to go help someone (or catch that guy in the SUV that just cut you off). Safely move over and let us pass please.

If you get a warning instead of a ticket from a motorcycle cop, go buy a lottery ticket, because you've already beaten the odds.

When you see an officer conducting a traffic stop, or with a suspect in handcuffs, it is generally not a good idea to approach him and ask for directions. If you do, don't expect the officer to be nice when he tells you to get lost, and don't expect the officer to take the time to explain.

If you think you can fan all the pot smoke out of the car before we smell it, good luck.

We know you've had more than 2 beers. When I've had two beers, I don’t hit six parked cars or drive my car through the front doors of a Toys-R-Us, piss my pants, or pass out at a traffic light.

Here's how to get out of a ticket: don't break the law.

If you drive a piece of crap, that is why you're getting pulled over.

In one week I pulled over 10 cars for minor equipment violations:
5 out of 10 had no vehicle insurance.
3 out of 10 had suspended driver's licenses.
2 out of 10 had warrants.
1 out of 10 had felony warrants.
1 was a known sex offender with his 12 year old niece in the car without her mothers knowledge.

If you've just been pulled over doing 70 in a 35, do not greet the officer with "what seems to be the problem, officer?".

We get coffee breaks too, and sometimes we run into stores and do some shopping during those breaks.

When you're the victim of a burglary, take the time you spend waiting for the officer to find the model numbers and the serial numbers of the stuff that was taken.

Some cops are just jerks, but take heart in the fact that other cops don't like them either.

If it's nighttime and you 're driving a vehicle with tinted windows and I pull you over, it's not because of your skin color. I usually can't tell if the vehicle even has a driver until the windows rolled down.

Every time you hear on the news about people running away from a crazed gunman, someone's son or daughter in a police uniform is running TOWARD that crazed gunman.

Yes it's true, cops usually don't give other cops tickets. Think of it as an employee discount, perk or benefit. Other cops are family and you wouldn't give your brother a ticket if you were a cop either

If your local police agency has a helicopter everyone knows it's loud and annoying, but did you know it can cover the same area as 15-20 patrol officers, and safely chase criminals that are driving 90 MPH through city streets. Many times the guy has no idea it's there and slows down.

Your 5 year old kid getting pushed down by another 5 year old kid is NOT a police matter; talk to the other kid's parents, not the police.

If your kid won't do his homework or do his chores, 911 is not the answer for a uniformed parent.

Police work is...writing reports.

If you rob a gas station you're only going to get $20, but I get to see a K-9 dog use your arm as a chew toy. For all I care you can keep the $20.

In one year of patrol work in a large city only about 10 minutes would be cool enough to be on the television show, COPS. But if COPS was about report writing and accident reports each show would be a year long.

Every traffic stop could end in gunfire, but we have to be polite and professional until that time.

I've taken about the same amount of men and women to jail for domestic violence, so NO, it's not always the man.

People love firefighters.

If you find crack pipes in the ladies purse, there is a good chance they belong to her.

If the light was yellow, we wouldn't be having this conversation.

Cops know you pay taxes and that your taxes pay cops' salaries. Cops also pay taxes, which also pay cops' salaries so, hey, this traffic stop is on me. Now sign here, press hard; there are five copies.


Monday, May 15, 2006

All Things Steve Taylor

First...a song.

Steve Taylor - On the Fritz - This Disco (Used to Be Cute Cathedral)

Then...a link.


I've been a fan of Steve Taylor's music and lyrics since 1983 when I first heard, "I Want To Be A Clone". Steve was branded the "bad boy of Christian music" by CCM Magazine, supplanting the first "bad boy of Christian music", one Larry Norman. Steve made musical satire an art form, skewering nearly everybody. (The Wittenburg Door loved him!)

Steve formed Chagall Guevara, a mainstream band, that imploded but created one of the best albums of the early 90's that never got played. MCA dropped the ball in the distribution, not knowing whether to put it in Christian bookstores, the wherehouse, or ???? Too bad...some of the best rock of the 90's was on Chagall Guevara.

Steve produced the Newsboys for several years including writing and co-writing many of their songs with Peter Furler. Furler took the skills he learned at the feet of Steve Taylor and ran with not only the lyrical genius that is Steve but the production savvy Steve brought to the group.

Steve produced some hilarious short films in college and has now produced a major motion picture (okay...maybe not MAJOR...but it was bigger than a Sixpence None The Richer or Margaret Becker video!) Check out the links...


Reel Life

As a fan of martial arts movies (especially the parody known as "Kung Pow: Legend of the Fist" by Steve Odekirk), I give you these...


• “Fatty, you with your thick face have hurt my instep.”

• “You always use violence. I should’ve ordered glutinous rice chicken.”

• “Who gave you the nerve to get killed here?”

• “That may disarray my intestines.”

• “I got knife scars more than the number of your leg’s hair!”

• “Yah-hah, evil spider woman! I have captured you by the short rabbits and can now deliver you violently to your doctor for a thorough extermination.”


Sunday, May 07, 2006

New Link on the Sidebar


Poking fun at the Christian community and what we latch onto...sometimes we're dorks!