Hear Ye, Hear Ye! The Dog Blog Begins!

It's time to make the official announcement that I have my dog...and he has a blog.

Well, okay. I'm the one who has the blog, technically, since his lack of opposable thumbs prevents him from doing much typing. But it's about him, and it's about my journey as a puppy raiser for Guide Dogs of America. I waited a while for this unveiling so I could put up 20 posts or so full of content and photos to mollify those of you who've been...er, hounding me...for new stuff. I recommend starting with the archives (October 2004) and reading your way forward. Meanwhile, this blog will remain in existence for non-dog-related thoughts and writings.

So check it out! Foolishly, I've put a title on it that's different from the actual URL, which will no doubt make it difficult to remember. But we'll all just have to live with it for now. Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you: To Tame the Wild Beastie.

Watch This Space

I know I've been lax in posting. I know. Here's why....

Coming soon: an additional blog, chock full o' fabulous facts and anecdotes (and photos!) related to my puppy raising for Guide Dogs of America. I've been working on it for the last week, copying dog-themed posts from this blog to that one, tweaking the details, filling in the blanks, dealing with photos, etc.

And it's all because I got my puppy today.

Lomax is snoozing at my feet, all tuckered out from a long day of freeways and baths and playtime and being adored. I am all tuckered out from good old-fashioned not getting enough sleep -- a trend which, unfortunately, is continuing tonight.

I'll announce and link to the dog blog when it's ready. Meanwhile, please enjoy this fine website, which should meet or exceed your humor expectations. (Check out "Last Wish of a Dying Man!")

Avast, Ye Scurvy Scoundrels!

Landlubbers, today be International Talk Like a Pirate Day, so enjoy -- but mind yerselves and keep to the code, because dead men tell no tales.

And because I be a stout-hearted wench, I provide this booty for everyone.

Properly warned ye be, says I!

Habemus PUPam!

Those of you who are regular readers know that I've volunteered with a Guide Dogs of America puppy raising group for more than two years now. For a variety of reasons, I've only been able to act as a "relief sitter" up to this point, rather than raising a dog for the full 16-month commitment. My status recently changed and I've been waiting for my own dog....

I thought I would be receiving an 8-week-old puppy at some point before Christmas, but as it turns out, God has other joyous, important plans for me in my favorite area of community service. This new task will be a sacrifice for me in some ways, but a great joy in other ways. For one thing, the dog I'm getting is already old enough to be well behaved in most public places and will therefore make the already busy holiday season less stressful than would a curious sharp-toothed destruction machine with a tiny bladder.

Also, this gives me an opportunity to serve another person who is probably heartbroken about having to give up her dog sooner than she expected.

Today I am ecstatic to announce that sometime in the next couple of weeks, I will be taking over puppy raising duties from another terrific volunteer who unfortunately cannot complete the commitment. My new charge -- and soon-to-be extension of my left arm, as it were -- is a year-old male Yellow Labrador Retriever named Lomax.

Best Morning Show Ever

I've become quite the fan of radio station Indie 103.1, and especially of its weekday morning show, "The Mighty Morning Show" with Dicky Barrett (of The Mighty Mighty Bosstones). Dicky's got a terrific radio voice, a charming Boston accent, a talent for interviewing fellow musicians and a genuine appreciation for fans of the show.

This is not your mom's radio morning show, of course. Dicky plays a goodly amount of punk and ska and other young whippersnapper fare. Each week, he promotes "Tattoosday" ("Tattuesday?"), in which local tattoo artists come to the studio and work on someone during the show; you can hear the needles buzzing during the course of interviews and traffic reports. And yes, the conversation occasionally turns to unsavory topics...but I'm finding that since the focus is on the music and musicians, and NOT on simply being shocking or juvenile or making fun of the listeners, it's not as prevalent or just plain nasty as on other pop/rock/dance music stations.

The best part is, you just never know what you're going to hear in terms of the music. For an "indie" station that's actually owned by a large communications company, the station does a great job of allowing the jocks to do their thing, which keeps things eclectic. Yesterday as I was lamenting my crawl to work in obnoxious and seemingly causeless traffic on Lincoln Boulevard, Dicky played a cut from the new Go Betty Go album called "I'm From L.A." -- the lyrics made me laugh:

They say I'm lazy
I'm always late
Full of excuses
I'm from L.A.

Today, just because it's his best friend Mickey's birthday, Dicky ignored the groans of his co-workers and played a Spanish version of Toni Basil's "Mickey":

Oh, Mickey, como estas?
Como estas? Me gustas mas!
Ey Mickey! Ey Mickey!

Despite the fact that this is now stuck in my head, it was brilliant. Started my day off just right.

25 Years and Counting

This month marks the 25th anniversary of my introduction to Amy, who has been graciously tolerating my sarcastic ways and willingly participating with me in random acts of geekiness since the third grade.

Many of you who know us well have had this experience with us at least once.

In lieu of something silver, which despite being the traditional "25th anniversary" gift would do significant damage to our crusade to convince people that there are indeed some fine heterosexual 30-something single women living as roommates in Los Angeles (also in lieu of a "Jenny & Amy: Neither Spinsters Nor Lesbians for Over 25 Years!" t-shirt), I have decided to post this brief tribute:

Thanks, Aim, for your many years of matchless and indescribably important friendship, which along with the grace of God has sustained me through many a difficult time. You are the best human being (who is not also fully divine) that I have ever known.

Also, nobody beats us as a comedy team.

Important Things Past, Present and Future

I realize I've been a bit lax in posting recently; some of you have even brought it to my attention. I've been meaning to put something up here for several days now, but a promise to be more prolific soon -- and sure, maybe funnier -- will have to suffice.

Today being September 11th, I'd like to encourage you to spend some time in reflection. A terrorist attack killed many people four years ago today. Just within the last few weeks, many more have lost lives due to natural disaster, and some of you also know that a member of the church I used to attend just lost her husband in an unrelated circumstance of personal tragedy.

Between moments of contentedness, between appreciating and enjoying the season of wonderful gifts you have been given, these are the times to contemplate the truly important things. Who are you, really? Why are you here? And what will it mean to anyone once you and every physical trace of your life have been wiped from the earth?

If it seems I'm hammering on these themes lately, all I can say in my own defense is that it's been a sobering, contemplative couple of weeks. The proud accomplishments of humankind are all too easily demolished, and even the memory of a great man or a horrific incident dissolves into a fine filtered mist as the years pass. Where there is such thing as permanence, as lasting legacy, the wise will seek and cling to it with all great hope and finally satisfied yearning.

Web Searches That Apparently Will Lead You to My Blog

Unemployed agency
The Jester Agency
jenny 8675309
fatalbert
MonsterCard
benefits of volunteerism (this person was searching from the Philippines!)
southern california Morris minor
photophobes
catholic tough love

(and my personal favorite):

impractical cowboy boots

Da Return of Da Vinci

Not to take away from this weekend's "Blog for Relief" efforts, but I felt the need to post.... Tell you what: why don't you go donate some money, then come back? I promise the following post will still be here when you return.

****

I've blogged on this before...but wait! There's more!

Dan Brown's novel The DaVinci Code is a bestselling work of fiction. Unfortunately, many who lack an education in the history of the church and the historicity of New Testament events (or even an education in what the Bible itself says) are taking Brown's book as fact, and conspiratorial fact at that.

My fellow blogger Tyler has penned two excellent posts, which contain not only a fair-minded review of the writing, but also responses to several of Brown's claims. If you have read the book, and are wondering where lies the fiction/nonfiction overlap on Brown's take on historical events, these posts are well worth your time.

The first post contains discussions on Christology and Gnosticism, and the second deals with the sacred feminine, Judaism, and other concerns.

Blog For Relief Day (UPDATE: Blog For Relief WEEKEND!)

Today has been designated Blog For Relief Day. Join me in supporting the relief effort, and if you have a blog -- especially one with high-volume traffic -- check out the Blog For Relief Day site.

When you donate, if you'd like to have your donation amount added to the grand total tally for Blog for Relief Day (or say that my blog sent you), record the information here. Get the update on how much money bloggers have raised so far.

My charity of choice is Feed The Children, where every dollar you send enables delivery of seven pounds of already-donated relief supplies (water, "MRE" meals ready to eat, diapers, infant formula, etc.) to families who have been displaced by Hurricane Katrina. Feed the Children has been given the highest rating by Charity Navigator, and has excellent accountability (read: you know your money is going where it should go).

Some other organizations -- many of which are listed here at Instapundit -- you may consider:

The Salvation Army: My dad always says they're the one organization that really provided for him and his fellow soldiers in Vietnam. This is a great organization with a long history of service.

Samaritan's Purse: An international Christian relief organization. They're already mobilizing in Mobile, Alabama to bring supplies and volunteers for physical and spiritual comfort. They're helping to rebuild homes in Mobile, and will move westward into Mississippi and Louisiana as soon as it's possible to do so.

Soldiers' Angels Katrina Relief Fund: Included in the ranks of Katrina's victims are the family members of our soldiers serving overseas, many of whom will be returning home in the next few weeks to find that their families have been displaced and their homes and businesses destroyed. This fund is helping the soldiers' families to obtain essential needs, as well as working to provide information to deployed soldiers concerning their loved ones' whereabouts.

The Search Dog Foundation: The mission of the Search Dog Foundation is to produce the most highly trained canine disaster search teams in the nation. The job of these teams is to find people buried alive in the wreckage of natural disasters and terrorist attacks.

Many lives have been lost, many people have been left without hope, and we who were not directly affected by the hurricane have a responsibility to reach out and provide what we can. Deny yourself a luxury this week in order to save lives and bring comfort.

(Almost forgot: Hat Tip to Timbo for bringing the coordinated blog relief effort to my attention.)

Flood For Thought

Recently I've been reading through the book of Luke; the last passage I read was over the weekend, and it was eerily timely. These are the words of Jesus Christ:

"Why do you call me 'Lord, Lord,' and not do what I tell you? Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them, I will show you what he is like: he is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when a flood arose, the stream broke against that house and could not shake it, because it had been well built. But the one who hears and does not do them is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the stream broke against it, immediately it fell, and the ruin of that house was great."

(Luke 6:46-49, ESV)

This week, the ruin of the Gulf Coast is great. Stories pour into the media consciousness minute by minute, depicting what can rightly be considered the basest of human behavior: looting, carjacking, prison riots and hostage situations, shots fired at police officers trapped on a rooftop. The entire region is in chaos, and I haven't yet heard anyone express surprise.

I've been seeing reprints of disturbing, long-ago-published news articles and scientific caveats that forewarned of the situation in which New Orleans is currently (and literally) mired. "You live below sea level, surrounded by water. When the hurricane hits -- and it is a question of when, not if -- there will be nothing you can do."

People chose to ignore the warnings. Understandably so, if you consider the charm and uniqueness of the city's culture and history, coupled with passing decades free of incident. Still, there was awareness in the background: New Orleans is a city of above-ground mausoleums because the water table is simply too high to allow below-ground burial of the dead. And now, tragically, many houses of the living have also become houses of the dead. No one yet knows how many desperate souls have perished, trapped inside the homes they could not or would not leave.

It's a cautionary tale for those of us who deem ourselves immune to disaster. Floods, tangible or metaphorical, will come. Devastation will come. Destruction and despair and desperation will come. This, too, is a "when, not if" matter.

In the above passage, Jesus was not warning people to build a literal foundation for their literal dwelling place. He was not warning them to live somewhere else in a physical sense. For as we have seen, even a strong physical foundation won't necessarily save a building in a hurricane, and even people who move to avoid hurricanes may face other destructive natural forces.

Instead, Jesus' admonition, His forewarning and exhortation, is this: build your life on the only foundation capable of withstanding the worst thing that you will ever face. So what is that?

Maybe you will lose your job, or your house, or your loved one, or your health. Maybe you will lose your entire community. Maybe your entire city, your culture, your way of life. Can dependence on Christ and the true inner peace He brings help you through these earthly trials? Absolutely. But to say only that, I think, would be missing the point.

Because someday, you will also lose your life.

It might not be in a hurricane. It might not be tomorrow. You might be one of those fortunate people -- and there will be some -- who will live out the rest of your existence in comfort and privilege, never in need or even in want, seamlessly transitioning from stage to stage of life until you die peacefully in your sleep.

Then what?

Two doors. The first door is wide open and welcoming, and scores of good, charitable, generous, loving, kind, gentle, community-serving, justice-seeking, churchgoing people will pass through the portal to live an eternal life marked by the common denominator they shared on Earth: a rejection of God, His precepts, and His mercy. The other door is locked, the only key being acknowledgment and acceptance of the gift God offered, which is the humbling forgiveness (through Jesus Christ) of everything bad or wrong you've ever done, a slate-wiping grace. The thing is, at this point, you will have already chosen your door. It's the point of no return. What's behind door number one isn't as pretty as things are here in this life, and forever is a long, long time.

I know some of you who read this blog don't agree with me, don't believe as I do in the claims of Christ. That's your decision, the outcome of which doesn't mean I'll love you any more or any less. You can say I'm full of it, a fool, that I have no good reason to believe these things or to present them to you in this manner. You can say you don't need God. You can even say you don't believe in Him at all.

Just don't say He didn't warn you.

Thinking? Different.

My Powerbook (little Gordon, as he is affectionately known) has been getting really hot lately, just above the keyboard, near all the little ports in the back.

It's not a battery problem, not part of Apple's recent battery recall. I'm not doing anything that's different from my usual routine. So I called Apple Care and talked to some tech guys, who -- after about thirty minutes on the phone with me -- recommended I take the computer to an authorized Apple service provider. "Here's your case number. Have a technician measure its heat output to make sure it's within recommended limits."

Fortunately, we live near an Apple retail store, which has a "Genius Bar." You make a reservation, you take your computer in, you sit at the bar and have a chat with an alleged genius.

My genius was nice, and quite complimentary. "You've kept this in great condition," he said, as though he were accustomed to serving vast unwashed masses of "creatives" who belly up to the Genius Bar with expensive laptops coated in nicotene residue and Jackson Pollack inspired splashes of four-dollar nonfat organic latte.

After we let Gordon run and play for a few minutes, my dear little genius took him to The Back of The Store to talk to some of The Other Tech Guys. Verdict?

"I've never owned this model, but I knew a few of The Other Tech Guys In The Back have. They said theirs always got really hot, too -- sometimes so hot you couldn't touch the power button. This one's a little warm, but there's nothing technically wrong with it that we can fix."

Mmkay. So I asked him if there's anything specific I should be on the lookout for. His genius answer:

"Smoke."

Oh, well. At least when everything catches fire, it'll still be under warranty.

If My Friends Were Medical Conditions

The Timbola Virus
Scamies
Parallison
RonorrTina
Brian tumor
Paulera
Johndice
Irritable Bill Syndrome

"How, o how (on Earth), did I miss -- completely miss -- THIS?!?"

Alas, the official celebration has passed; I missed it by a couple of days. That won't stop me from putting it on my calendar for next year.

For me, every day is Punctuation Day. And I may buy a t-shirt to prove it.

Jesus Plus Elvis Equals...?

I'm amazed at the kind of things that get by me, sometimes. This is old news, I suppose, but anything that brings me a hearty laugh is usually worth passing along, even if you've already heard about it.

Here's a brief quote from a 2003 USA Today article on the Rev. Dorian Baxter of Toronto's Christ the King, Graceland Anglican Independent Church of Canada:

"The church doesn't have official status, so contributions are not tax-deductible — at least not yet. But how many other services include Elvis gospel tunes or a rendition of Blue Suede Shoes with the lyrics 'Well, it's one for the Father, two for the Son, three for the Holy Spirit, and your life has just begun. You can do anything but don't turn Jesus away?'"

There's a "Jesus has left the building" joke in here somewhere, but I should really get back to work.

Have You Read The DaVinci Code?

Unfortunately, I haven't yet read it myself...it's perpetually on my list of get-around-to's.

At any rate, there's an excellent post on Tyler's blog today that's worth reading whether or not you've finished the novel. Those of us who are not theologians or seminary students will appreciate Tyler's articulate treatment of the differences between documented history and Dan Brown's misunderstanding of the significant early church events upon which he has based his work of fiction.

It's a fair review/critique, taking into account both the strengths and weaknesses of the book. Rock on, Tyler, and happy reading!

CyberGardening

I stumbled across this lovely little time waster today. Who knows what the site's real agenda is (it's sponsored by GE), but it's fun. Make some flowers grow!

(Hint: try some fun words like "dazzle" and "bees"....)

You Tell 'Em, Josiah

I have seen this poem under two different titles: one, the first four words of the first line, and the preferable other, which I'll use here...

WANTED

God, give us Men! A time like this demands
Strong minds, great hearts, true faith and ready hands;
Men whom the lust of office does not kill;
Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy;
Men who possess opinions and a will;
Men who have honor;
Men who will not lie;
Men who can stand before a demagogue
And damn his treacherous flatteries without winking!
Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog
In public duty and in private thinking;
For while the rabble, with their thumb-worn creeds,
Their large professions and their little deeds,
Mingle in selfish strife, lo! Freedom weeps,
Wrong rules the land and waiting justice sleeps.

Josiah Gilbert Holland (1819-1881)

Shock and Awe

I have finally taken a moment to figure out where to put the code necessary for blogrolling. Please hold your commentary regarding my barely-contained Luddite ways. But please do visit some links over there on the right-hand side! Comment on my friends' blogs, donate time or money to my favorite organizations, and take your business to my friends at New Deal Studios and Goldstar Events, so they may become wealthy and prosperous and remember me in their respective wills.

Everybody's Somebody

The city block between parking and the office is usually a cheerful walk, owing to the many garden centers and nurseries in full bloom that scent the air and color the space between my commute and my workday. Some days, like today, it's even better than pleasant.

This morning I was overtaken by the scuttling figure of a small elderly man, folded over and clutching a brown suede bag to his chest. The bag had fringe, cowboy-style, and since I did not catch a glimpse of him until he had run past me, I wasn't even certain at first whether it was a man at all. White turtleneck, black velour pants. A man in black velour pants?

A parking meter was his destination. What caught my eye, though, was the unusual vehicle in the spot; despite having grown up in the culture of the classic car clubs of Fresno, I had never seen one of these before. I slowed my pace to look at it.

And the man (yes, man, I could now see, though the suede bag was still puzzling) noticed my admiration. "You like the car?"

"It's beautiful," I said. And the car was beautiful, in a diamond-in-the-rough sense that I knew my dad would appreciate. It was a little beat up. Original paint for sure. Kind of a greenish...brownish...gray.

"1959 Morris Minor."

"Morris? Wow. I've never even heard of that."

"Oh, yeah," he began, suddenly very much in my personal space and very excited to brag about his baby. "Morris Minor. I like it because it sounds Jewish, and I'm Jewish. Great car. Drives like a dream. I had a Mercedes once -- you didn't drive the car, the car drove you. But this one, you have to shift. Drives beautifully. You wanna take it for a spin?"

I laughed.

"Just kidding, sweetheart. You remember 'Bonanza?'"

"Sure."

"You remember Hoss?"

"Yep."

"He sold me this car. Fifteen years ago, I bought it for $1,800. The next day, a woman offered me $5,000 and I said no. You know what this car is worth today?"

"How much?" I grinned, smelling Hollywood.

"Twenty-five thousand."

After a brief tour of the car -- he pointed out the "Morris" on the front and the "Minor" on the side, and opened the passenger side door to show me that he was in the process of restoring the interior -- he seemed to remember that he had run out here to feed the meter. The quarters plunked in for an extra thirty minutes, which I feared might be spent with my head under the hood of the Hossmobile.

He asked, "Are you just coming from the doctor's office?"

"Um, no." (Do I look sick?) "I'm on my way to work."

"Well, have a nice day. Thanks for asking about the car."

"Thank you for showing me the car!"

I was a few steps away, when I heard, "Oh, wait!"

The man crossed my way, becoming all personal-spacey again, and extended his hand. "Andre Philippe."

"Nice to mee--"

"Ever heard of IMDB?" He still had a grip on my hand.

"Absolu--"

"Andre Philippe. I'm directing my first feature film."

I'm incredibly sorry to say that I didn't catch the title, because he then released my hand and used his index finger to point one by one to the knuckles on his other hand, simultaneously listing a cavalcade of celebrities who are starring in his magnum opus. Unfortunately, the only two I remember as of this writing are Mel Brooks and Nicole Kidman.

And, of course, Andre Philippe himself.