Recently, I left the following comment on the very well-written blog of a new Christian friend (John Feeney) with whom I had become acquainted on Facebook:
In your blog post you refer to distortions promoted by "fundamentalist" Christians.
The trouble is that that term has been co-opted by certain believers who are by no means true fundamentalists in the classic and historic sense.
Example: Fundamentalist Baptists often teach things which are nowhere to be found in the Bible. For example, I knew Christians at Baptist Bible College in my hometown of Springfield, Missouri. They believed that dancing was a sin (never mind those troublesome OT verses about David dancing before the Lord), and they believed that good Christian women would never wear pantsuits or jeans.
Folks at BBC were so strict that, believe it or not, they argued that they should not invite Jerry Falwell to speak at their campus (where he was an alma mater) because he was too "liberal". Wow! You know that Christians are too conservative when they think that Jerry Falwell (infamous for the Teletubbies episode) was a liberal.
Needless to say, the long-haired Jesus people with whom I hung out at the New Wine coffeehouse downtown were not cut from the same cloth as the BBC administrators or students.
Thursday, January 03, 2013
A Lifetime of Learning
People used to comment, when they would see me carrying my book bag, that I must be a student. Sometimes it was true, but often it was untrue, at least in terms of formal learning. But I would reply that I considered myself to be a lifelong student, and I prayed that I never stopped learning.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Mobile Brothels Then and Now
I was looking at a copy of the latest free issue of Entertainment News just now while sitting at the Community Food Co-op, and I was reading an article about a local professor at Western Washington University who had written a book about the history of jazz music here in Bellingham, WA. There was mention in that article of a book called The Brothels of Bellingham, by author Curtis H. Smith. That reminded me that the Old West in general was known for its brothels and its saloons with prostitutes aplenty. (Miss Kitty in the TV show Gunsmoke may have seemed wholesome in the days when I was a kid, but basically she was a cowtown ho, even if Matt Dillon seemed like a fine upstanding officer of the law.)
When I went online, I did a Google search on the phrase Old West Brothels, and I found the phrase "cat wagon", which gave new meaning to an old movie I had seen (with Jane Fonda and Lee Marvin) named Cat Balou. Of course, the "Cat" in the movie's title was the shortened version of the name of the Jane Fonda character, whose first name was Catherine, so it might be stretching things to suggest that it had anything to do with the "cats" (prostitutes) who lent cat wagons their nickname. I do recall that a wagon seems to have played a role in that movie, and the Wikipedia summary of the movie says that Cat, who has become an outlaw, "poses as a lady of loose morals" as part of the movie's plot, so it isn't a huge stretch to suggest that if she did indeed ride in some kind of wagon, it was in one sense a "cat wagon".
Anyway, I got to thinking that if cat wagons were traveling brothels or bordellos in earlier centuries, that might still be a valid business idea today, especially in places (e.g., certain counties in Nevada) where prostitution is legal. I checked GoDaddy.com, and the domain name www.hotogo.com (as in "whore to go") is currently available. Register that domain name, forward it to your discrete free blog, get a QR code for the Domain name, get yourself a mobile house (such as the ones from Tumbleweed Tiny House Co. or Portland Alternative Dwellings or Zyl Vardos), find some ladies willing to compromise their moral standards, and take your bordello on the road, taking care to visit only those Nevada counties where you are unlikely to go to the hoosegow as punishment for your actions, as long as you obey their regulatory laws.
The way things are going here in the state of Washington, what with the legalization of marijuana and gay marriage, and what with Bellingham's well-documented history in relation to whore houses, it's surely only a matter of time before bordellos are once again legal in Bellingham. Meanwhile, you will have to content yourself with the photo here of a couple of young ladies who go under the name of The Good Time Girls, and who give guided tours of places of historic notoriety in the City of Subdued Excitement. Maybe if prostitution ever becomes legal here again, the excitement will not be so subdued!
When I went online, I did a Google search on the phrase Old West Brothels, and I found the phrase "cat wagon", which gave new meaning to an old movie I had seen (with Jane Fonda and Lee Marvin) named Cat Balou. Of course, the "Cat" in the movie's title was the shortened version of the name of the Jane Fonda character, whose first name was Catherine, so it might be stretching things to suggest that it had anything to do with the "cats" (prostitutes) who lent cat wagons their nickname. I do recall that a wagon seems to have played a role in that movie, and the Wikipedia summary of the movie says that Cat, who has become an outlaw, "poses as a lady of loose morals" as part of the movie's plot, so it isn't a huge stretch to suggest that if she did indeed ride in some kind of wagon, it was in one sense a "cat wagon".
Anyway, I got to thinking that if cat wagons were traveling brothels or bordellos in earlier centuries, that might still be a valid business idea today, especially in places (e.g., certain counties in Nevada) where prostitution is legal. I checked GoDaddy.com, and the domain name www.hotogo.com (as in "whore to go") is currently available. Register that domain name, forward it to your discrete free blog, get a QR code for the Domain name, get yourself a mobile house (such as the ones from Tumbleweed Tiny House Co. or Portland Alternative Dwellings or Zyl Vardos), find some ladies willing to compromise their moral standards, and take your bordello on the road, taking care to visit only those Nevada counties where you are unlikely to go to the hoosegow as punishment for your actions, as long as you obey their regulatory laws.
The way things are going here in the state of Washington, what with the legalization of marijuana and gay marriage, and what with Bellingham's well-documented history in relation to whore houses, it's surely only a matter of time before bordellos are once again legal in Bellingham. Meanwhile, you will have to content yourself with the photo here of a couple of young ladies who go under the name of The Good Time Girls, and who give guided tours of places of historic notoriety in the City of Subdued Excitement. Maybe if prostitution ever becomes legal here again, the excitement will not be so subdued!
A Regular Gal
I was just looking at a screen capture I had created while I was visiting the Urban Dictionary web site in order to look up their definition of "glamping" (defined as a combination of the words camping and glamour). In the sidebar area, there was an ad with a woman wearing a t-shirt
was imprinted with the words "I pooped today." It showed a stick drawing.
Wow! Can you say TMI (too much information). I mean, first of all, if it was a normal day for the woman, chances are pretty good that she either defecated or urinated at some point in the day. But why in the world would she want people to know that?
Why not come out with a whole line of fashionable t-shirts, conveying similar informative messages regarding a wide range of bodily functions? I can only imagine visiting a store specializing in shirts with the following messages:
Maybe TMIS is synonomous with "too much time on my hands" syndrome. But that acronym would require 2 more letters.
I know that we now live in a society where nothing is really private anymore, but really, people, some things should be kept to one's self. No one really cares whether or not you did such things, and if your life is so dull that the only way to connect with the people around you is to talk about such aspects of your life, that would seem to be a wake up call, or an invitation to stick your head in the oven when the gas is on.
was imprinted with the words "I pooped today." It showed a stick drawing.
Wow! Can you say TMI (too much information). I mean, first of all, if it was a normal day for the woman, chances are pretty good that she either defecated or urinated at some point in the day. But why in the world would she want people to know that?
Why not come out with a whole line of fashionable t-shirts, conveying similar informative messages regarding a wide range of bodily functions? I can only imagine visiting a store specializing in shirts with the following messages:
- I Picked My Nose Today
- I Cleaned The Wax Out Of My Ears Today
- I Vomited Today
- I Farted Today
- I Belched Today
- I Clipped My Toenails Today
- I Changed My Bloody Feminine Napkins Today
Maybe TMIS is synonomous with "too much time on my hands" syndrome. But that acronym would require 2 more letters.
I know that we now live in a society where nothing is really private anymore, but really, people, some things should be kept to one's self. No one really cares whether or not you did such things, and if your life is so dull that the only way to connect with the people around you is to talk about such aspects of your life, that would seem to be a wake up call, or an invitation to stick your head in the oven when the gas is on.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
A Brave New World Indeed
In a previous blog post, I published an article about a movie entitled Lars and the Real Girl. The plot of that movie involved a young man and his anatomically correct sex doll, which he treated as if it was a real woman.
I looked up the phrase Sex Doll at Wikipedia, and I found the following quote when I read the article to be found at that page.
I looked up the phrase Sex Doll at Wikipedia, and I found the following quote when I read the article to be found at that page.
In June 2006, Henrik Christensen of the European Robotics Research Network told the UK's Sunday Times that "people are going to be having sex with robots within five years."
Hmmm, something tells me that the robots will not look much like R2D2 or C3PO from the movie Star Wars. By the way, if Christensen's projections are on schedule, then we should soon start to see these sex robots at the local mall, or more likely, on a website where such robots will be sold.
To those who think that sexual intercourse should be something involving two real human beings, not something involving one human being and a robot, the prospect of a sex robot (or a sex machine, to quote an old James Brown song title) may seem positively frightening and repugnant.
But look at it this way: A robot will never, ever, ever get pregnant. So a sex robot will never "need" an abortion (not that there aren't plenty of viable alternatives to abortion for women who find themselves pregnant with babies they do not want).
Maybe sex robots will save a lot of human lives which might otherwise be snuffed out at local abortion clinics. And frankly, the kind of men most likely to have sex with women to whom they have made no lifelong commitments are, in a sense, treating their real biological women as if they are machines which exist for the sake of giving physical pleasure to men.
But look at it this way: A robot will never, ever, ever get pregnant. So a sex robot will never "need" an abortion (not that there aren't plenty of viable alternatives to abortion for women who find themselves pregnant with babies they do not want).
Maybe sex robots will save a lot of human lives which might otherwise be snuffed out at local abortion clinics. And frankly, the kind of men most likely to have sex with women to whom they have made no lifelong commitments are, in a sense, treating their real biological women as if they are machines which exist for the sake of giving physical pleasure to men.
The problem is not men who treat sex dolls as if they are real women (as did Lars in the aforementioned movie). The problem is men who treat real women as if they are sex dolls. Or sex robots, as the case may be.
Ideas For Low Budget Movie Makers
We live in an era in which extravagant CGI effects have become commonplace, whether one is talking about the depiction of real world events like the sinking of the Titanic or the depiction of fantasy worlds like the worlds described by JRR Tolkien in the Lord of the Rings books and their predecessor The Hobbit. Such effects are undoubtedly expensive, though, and not all filmmakers have access to budgets that big. What's an aspiring movie maker to do if he can't raise the capital?
One idea is to make a movie like The Blair Wolf Project. It looked like an amateurish video, but that was part of its realism, or so I've been told. (Other than seeing brief clips from the movie, I never actually saw it, but I hear that it sold well enough to justify the money the movie makers spent making it. $248 million dollars worldwide isn't chump change. Not bad, considering that it cost $35,000 to make.)
Another movie which had a feel of realism was the 1972 movie The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith. Or Jimmy Blacksmith, depending on whether you prefer the spelling on the cover of the book on which the movie was based. The movie depicted the horrid murder committed by an Australian aborigine and his friends, and the thing which impressed me the most about the scened in which the murder was portrayed was the fact that it was shot from a middle distance, almost as if it was a documentary, rather the normal way of filming such scenes in most American movies. Of course, the perception that it was similar to a documentary may actually have been enhanced with some fairly sophisticated movie special effects. It felt very real when one of the murderers chopped of the head of a person attempting to flee the scene. (Well, actually, "chopped off" might be overstatement. As I recall, he more or less scalped the guy.)
Another idea is to make a movie which is totally driven by dialogue (in other words, by ideas), as was My Dinner With Andre. That was a movie which would have worked just as well as a stage play, although the movie makers chose to make a movie instead. I remember being impressed with the fact that there were no chase scenes, no special effects, and pretty much no action scenes. Even if one had been comparing it to old-style movies such as the ones made by stars like John Wayne or Audrey Hepburn, that was a pretty impressive feat. I couldn't help but think that such a movie might have worked well as a means of presenting a scene or story in which a Christian believer would attempt to share the gospel of Christ with an unbeliever like Penn Jillette, the atheist who stupidly wants to be allowed to keep his Christmas even though he denies that there was anything special about Jesus Christ (or at the very least, that there is or was any real God).
One idea is to make a movie like The Blair Wolf Project. It looked like an amateurish video, but that was part of its realism, or so I've been told. (Other than seeing brief clips from the movie, I never actually saw it, but I hear that it sold well enough to justify the money the movie makers spent making it. $248 million dollars worldwide isn't chump change. Not bad, considering that it cost $35,000 to make.)
Another movie which had a feel of realism was the 1972 movie The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith. Or Jimmy Blacksmith, depending on whether you prefer the spelling on the cover of the book on which the movie was based. The movie depicted the horrid murder committed by an Australian aborigine and his friends, and the thing which impressed me the most about the scened in which the murder was portrayed was the fact that it was shot from a middle distance, almost as if it was a documentary, rather the normal way of filming such scenes in most American movies. Of course, the perception that it was similar to a documentary may actually have been enhanced with some fairly sophisticated movie special effects. It felt very real when one of the murderers chopped of the head of a person attempting to flee the scene. (Well, actually, "chopped off" might be overstatement. As I recall, he more or less scalped the guy.)
Another idea is to make a movie which is totally driven by dialogue (in other words, by ideas), as was My Dinner With Andre. That was a movie which would have worked just as well as a stage play, although the movie makers chose to make a movie instead. I remember being impressed with the fact that there were no chase scenes, no special effects, and pretty much no action scenes. Even if one had been comparing it to old-style movies such as the ones made by stars like John Wayne or Audrey Hepburn, that was a pretty impressive feat. I couldn't help but think that such a movie might have worked well as a means of presenting a scene or story in which a Christian believer would attempt to share the gospel of Christ with an unbeliever like Penn Jillette, the atheist who stupidly wants to be allowed to keep his Christmas even though he denies that there was anything special about Jesus Christ (or at the very least, that there is or was any real God).
Lars and the Real Girl
Sitting here just now at The Woods (a Bellingham coffeehouse), I overheard several women talking about a movie I had never heard of. I thought it sounded like a very funny premise for a movie, so I looked it up on Wikipedia, and I found a summary of the movie. It was called Lars and the Real Girl. The movie apparently was about a young man who was so cut off from the real world that he had developed a "relationship" with an anatomically correct blow-up sex doll. (And people think I am bad off because at age 56, I am still a virgin.)
Apparently, the guy in the movie wasn't the only one to find a use for such blow-up dolls. Here's a link to an article about Miley Cyrus, who apparently took such a doll for a ride in her car. She asked, "Does this count for the carpool lane?"
Funny, but that was what one of the women at The Woods suggested.
To see a funny YouTube video about a guy who falls in love with his lifesize "love doll", click here. Notice that Davecat's loved one has purple hair.
Apparently, the guy in the movie wasn't the only one to find a use for such blow-up dolls. Here's a link to an article about Miley Cyrus, who apparently took such a doll for a ride in her car. She asked, "Does this count for the carpool lane?"
Funny, but that was what one of the women at The Woods suggested.
To see a funny YouTube video about a guy who falls in love with his lifesize "love doll", click here. Notice that Davecat's loved one has purple hair.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Reading Between The Lines
I recently visited Benevolent.net, a website which uses crowdfunding and videos to raise funds for people in need. They like to call it Kickstarter For Real People (which begs the question of why they don't think artists deserve to be described as "real people", but never mind).
I like the basic concept of Benevolent.net, and I hope to use that site in order to present my own needs to potential funders. But I downloaded Megan Kashner's bio from the website. (She is the founder of that website.) The bio says, "A New York to Chicago transplant, Megan and her partner live in Evanston, IL where they raise their two children, attend more than their fill of soccer games and play frequent games of Mario Kart before bedtime."
Sounds like utter domestic bliss, right? Well, not to conservative Christians, who believe that people who live in "common law" relationships with one another are still "living in sin". People who are married describe one another with phrases like "her husband" (or "his wife"), not phrases like "her partner". Yes, I believe that marriage ought to be a partnership, but first and foremost, a marriage is a covenant.
Well, at least Megan seems to have a heterosexual partner capable of helping her to give birth to children without the help of sperm donors from some anonymous sperm bank. That's something to be grateful for, I suppose. But I'm one of those dinosaurs who still think that men and women should marry one another as a prelude to having children. I would prefer that they stay with one another, even in an unmarried state, rather than aborting their progeny, but that is not the ultimate state of existence.
I like the basic concept of Benevolent.net, and I hope to use that site in order to present my own needs to potential funders. But I downloaded Megan Kashner's bio from the website. (She is the founder of that website.) The bio says, "A New York to Chicago transplant, Megan and her partner live in Evanston, IL where they raise their two children, attend more than their fill of soccer games and play frequent games of Mario Kart before bedtime."
Sounds like utter domestic bliss, right? Well, not to conservative Christians, who believe that people who live in "common law" relationships with one another are still "living in sin". People who are married describe one another with phrases like "her husband" (or "his wife"), not phrases like "her partner". Yes, I believe that marriage ought to be a partnership, but first and foremost, a marriage is a covenant.
Well, at least Megan seems to have a heterosexual partner capable of helping her to give birth to children without the help of sperm donors from some anonymous sperm bank. That's something to be grateful for, I suppose. But I'm one of those dinosaurs who still think that men and women should marry one another as a prelude to having children. I would prefer that they stay with one another, even in an unmarried state, rather than aborting their progeny, but that is not the ultimate state of existence.
Make Your Own Music Video with Sims
If you visit YouTube, you can see music videos made with the music of stars like Nicki Minaj and Katy Perry. It won't really look like the real musicians, but that isn't the point. Still, it seems to me that it would make sense to use animated characters somewhat like the music stars. I could be wrong, but last time I checked, Katy Perry was known for her large mammaries, more than Nicki Minaj. Then again, I am not hip to the music scene, so maybe it's appropriate that the Nicki Minaj animation shows a character with larger "endowments" in that area.
Zentangle
Zentangle is the term now being applied to an art form created by the folks who run the web site http://www.zentangle.com/. No one would ever claim that this stuff is great art or particularly profound, but it could be fun for people with time on their hands. And it might be useful as a means of generating patterns and textures for use in other art projects.
If you want to create Zentangle, I would suggest the use of a Wacom Inkling; that way, you can more easily create digital art, and the images can even be output as scalable vector art.
To get an idea of what is involved in making Zentangle art, watch this video. As you can see, it's basically doodling, but with particular aspects which lend it to the creation of line art patterns.
I think that the term Zen is used by the inventors of this form of art because they wanted to emphasis the meditative aspects. It's possible that doing this might have some serious art applications, in the sense that it would enable practitioners to get into the "right brain" thinking mode so crucial to the teaching methods of Betty Edwards, author of Drawing On The Right Side Of The Brain. For those who want to learn to draw more realistically, I highly recommend that book, which is very helpful to those willing to wade through a bit of text which explains the scientific basis for Edwards' teaching method. The text itself might be a bit of a turnoff for people who eschew theoretical knowledge in favor of hands-on knowledge, except that it is accompanied with before and after drawings which show that her teaching method works.
If you have ever fallen prey to the false idea that artistic talent is something you either have or don't have, and if you've ever felt frustrated by you inability to draw things realistically, you should pick up a copy of that book. Even better, if you have a chance to take a drawing class based on the theories and exercises in the book, you should do so, just as I did in the 80s at the Boston Center for Adult Education when I still lived in Boston. If you cannot take such a class, then at least get the related workbook. Or watch Betty in the video at http://youtu.be/U5xG2ieSe_w.
If you want to create Zentangle, I would suggest the use of a Wacom Inkling; that way, you can more easily create digital art, and the images can even be output as scalable vector art.
To get an idea of what is involved in making Zentangle art, watch this video. As you can see, it's basically doodling, but with particular aspects which lend it to the creation of line art patterns.
I think that the term Zen is used by the inventors of this form of art because they wanted to emphasis the meditative aspects. It's possible that doing this might have some serious art applications, in the sense that it would enable practitioners to get into the "right brain" thinking mode so crucial to the teaching methods of Betty Edwards, author of Drawing On The Right Side Of The Brain. For those who want to learn to draw more realistically, I highly recommend that book, which is very helpful to those willing to wade through a bit of text which explains the scientific basis for Edwards' teaching method. The text itself might be a bit of a turnoff for people who eschew theoretical knowledge in favor of hands-on knowledge, except that it is accompanied with before and after drawings which show that her teaching method works.
If you have ever fallen prey to the false idea that artistic talent is something you either have or don't have, and if you've ever felt frustrated by you inability to draw things realistically, you should pick up a copy of that book. Even better, if you have a chance to take a drawing class based on the theories and exercises in the book, you should do so, just as I did in the 80s at the Boston Center for Adult Education when I still lived in Boston. If you cannot take such a class, then at least get the related workbook. Or watch Betty in the video at http://youtu.be/U5xG2ieSe_w.
An Insightful and Somewhat Sad Stamp
I used to enjoy visiting the Paper Source store just west of the Lawson House YMCA where I lived for 19 years in Chicago. They had a wide selection of rubber art stamps, as did the Pearl art supply store right across the street on Chicago Avenue. I would periodically stop in that store and browse through the latest issue of RubberStampMadness magazine. I was interested, as a person who enjoyed creating line art drawings with ultrafine pens on Claybord, in seeing how people were making money by making and selling rubber art stamps. Some were quite nice, and used stippling, crosshatching and other line art techniques to simulate gray tones. Of course, they were fairly small, and the resolution which was possible with rubber stamps was fairly limited, but within those limitations, some nice pieces of art could be created for use by scrapbookers and so forth.
Just now, I visited the website for Rubber Stamp Plantation, a Hawaiian store carrying rubber art stamps. On this page, they had a rubber stamp saying, "Art is Anything You Can Get Away With". That is so true! And I can't help but think that it's very unfortunate.
There are no standards anymore in the world of art. Now, I'm all for freedom of expression, and I do not by any means advocate a repressive, Nazi-like society which tells artists how to use their talents. But a little bit of self-policing would not be such a bad thing, it seems to me. I could not believe the trash I saw during one art show they held out on Navy Pier in Chicago. (In all fairness, it was not ALL worthless, but some of it was downright childish, and not in a good way.) Just because there are no laws or legal penalties which would circumscribe what artists can and cannot do does not mean that art does not suffer, or that the society does not suffer, when artists impose no limits on themselves.
Just now, I visited the website for Rubber Stamp Plantation, a Hawaiian store carrying rubber art stamps. On this page, they had a rubber stamp saying, "Art is Anything You Can Get Away With". That is so true! And I can't help but think that it's very unfortunate.
There are no standards anymore in the world of art. Now, I'm all for freedom of expression, and I do not by any means advocate a repressive, Nazi-like society which tells artists how to use their talents. But a little bit of self-policing would not be such a bad thing, it seems to me. I could not believe the trash I saw during one art show they held out on Navy Pier in Chicago. (In all fairness, it was not ALL worthless, but some of it was downright childish, and not in a good way.) Just because there are no laws or legal penalties which would circumscribe what artists can and cannot do does not mean that art does not suffer, or that the society does not suffer, when artists impose no limits on themselves.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Pat Boone on Facebook
One of my Facebook friends is musician and actor Pat Boone. I just sent him the following message:
Years ago (when I was a freshman in high school in 1970), you visited the Howard Johnson in Springfield, Missouri, at an event billed as The Jesus Experience.
I had just returned from Teen Challenge St. Louis, where I'd been a volunteer. There were a lot of long-haired "Jesus people" (some called them "Jesus freaks") playing folk music on guitars.
They announced that you would be visiting, and that you'd be baptizing people in the swimming pool.
I'd been sprinkled as a baby who grew up in the Methodist church, but I'd come to feel that that was not a true biblical baptism, because I wasn't even saved yet when I was sprinkled as an infant. So I really wanted you to baptize me that night. But I was too young, and I'd told my dad that I'd be ready for him to pick me up at precisely midnight.
Your baptism was scheduled for midnight, so it didn't happen for me. But I did get my immersion baptism eventually, and it was as memorable as it would have been if you'd baptized me in that swimming pool, because it was another midnight baptism, and it took place in Springfield Lake.
I recall I was thrilled to meet you, because you'd just starred as David Wilkerson in The Cross and The Switchblade, which had been extremely influential in my life. Later, I got to meet the real David Wilkerson and the real Nicky Cruz, and I prayed with both of them. That was a very pivotal time in my life.
Thanks for doing such a great job portraying David Wilkerson on the silver screen. We lost a real man of God when David died recently.
Years ago (when I was a freshman in high school in 1970), you visited the Howard Johnson in Springfield, Missouri, at an event billed as The Jesus Experience.
I had just returned from Teen Challenge St. Louis, where I'd been a volunteer. There were a lot of long-haired "Jesus people" (some called them "Jesus freaks") playing folk music on guitars.
They announced that you would be visiting, and that you'd be baptizing people in the swimming pool.
I'd been sprinkled as a baby who grew up in the Methodist church, but I'd come to feel that that was not a true biblical baptism, because I wasn't even saved yet when I was sprinkled as an infant. So I really wanted you to baptize me that night. But I was too young, and I'd told my dad that I'd be ready for him to pick me up at precisely midnight.
Your baptism was scheduled for midnight, so it didn't happen for me. But I did get my immersion baptism eventually, and it was as memorable as it would have been if you'd baptized me in that swimming pool, because it was another midnight baptism, and it took place in Springfield Lake.
I recall I was thrilled to meet you, because you'd just starred as David Wilkerson in The Cross and The Switchblade, which had been extremely influential in my life. Later, I got to meet the real David Wilkerson and the real Nicky Cruz, and I prayed with both of them. That was a very pivotal time in my life.
Thanks for doing such a great job portraying David Wilkerson on the silver screen. We lost a real man of God when David died recently.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
The Legasight Project
When I was still staying at the Lighthouse Mission, I conceived of a new project named the Legasight Project. The name was a combination of the words "legacy" and "sight" (as in "legasee"). It was based on the idea that our legacies are largely the result of whether or not we have the vision to do new and great things which will give meaning to the time we have spent on earth.
I thought about that project just now when I stumbled on Legacy.com. The site is largely one related to obituaries. But obituaries are only meaningful when we have given people good reason to remember us, and only for the right things. Of course, most of us, if we are lucky enough to have been loved by someone on earth, will be remembered by at least a few people. But there are people, such as David Wilkerson, who will be remembered by hundreds, thousands or tens of thousands who were touched in some way by the things we did while we were still here on this earth. Another such person would be Mother Theresa. One could go on and on. Some Protestants might object that Mother Theresa was a Catholic, and that she therefore was guilty of thinking that her good works would get her to heaven. But I do not think that God sees it that way. Mother Theresa may have been imperfect, as we all are imperfect, but the world would be a much better place if everyone gave to the world as selflessly as she did.
The Legasight Project would be conceived as a means of highlighting the work of various visionaries who deserved more thanks and appreciation. The best way to encourage people to make a positive difference in the world is to highlight those who are already making such a difference, as an incentive.
If you think that the Legasight Project is something in which you would like to be involved, contact me. My current e-mail address is mwp1212@gmail.com.
I thought about that project just now when I stumbled on Legacy.com. The site is largely one related to obituaries. But obituaries are only meaningful when we have given people good reason to remember us, and only for the right things. Of course, most of us, if we are lucky enough to have been loved by someone on earth, will be remembered by at least a few people. But there are people, such as David Wilkerson, who will be remembered by hundreds, thousands or tens of thousands who were touched in some way by the things we did while we were still here on this earth. Another such person would be Mother Theresa. One could go on and on. Some Protestants might object that Mother Theresa was a Catholic, and that she therefore was guilty of thinking that her good works would get her to heaven. But I do not think that God sees it that way. Mother Theresa may have been imperfect, as we all are imperfect, but the world would be a much better place if everyone gave to the world as selflessly as she did.
The Legasight Project would be conceived as a means of highlighting the work of various visionaries who deserved more thanks and appreciation. The best way to encourage people to make a positive difference in the world is to highlight those who are already making such a difference, as an incentive.
If you think that the Legasight Project is something in which you would like to be involved, contact me. My current e-mail address is mwp1212@gmail.com.
The Catacoffin
On Facebook, I just saw a hilarious video for a product called the Catacombo Sound System, a/k/a the Catacoffin. See the following link for more information.
http://www.gizmag.com/catacoffin-catacombo-sound-system/25427/
Hmm, something tells me that we will have better things to do in the afterlife than to listen to music using the audio systems people have thoughtfully built into our coffins. But I suppose that vampires (or is that glampires) might enjoy such sound systems.
To buy something like this for one's departed loved ones is to emulate the Egyptians to some extent. They would bury (or rather, enbalm) their loved ones with all the acoutrements they believed would make for a better life in the life to come.
The great thing about the Catacoffin: Since the dead person within the coffin is highly unlikely to ever listen to the thing, blown speakers are equally unlikely. The thing will sound as good thousands of years later as it sounded on the day the coffin was buried, unless people play music through it too loudly during the funeral service.
Postscript: A guy calling himself John A comments, "If I was going to blow 30 grand on a coffin, my first priority would be an escape hatch, not a sound system." I'm with him!
http://www.gizmag.com/catacoffin-catacombo-sound-system/25427/
Hmm, something tells me that we will have better things to do in the afterlife than to listen to music using the audio systems people have thoughtfully built into our coffins. But I suppose that vampires (or is that glampires) might enjoy such sound systems.
To buy something like this for one's departed loved ones is to emulate the Egyptians to some extent. They would bury (or rather, enbalm) their loved ones with all the acoutrements they believed would make for a better life in the life to come.
The great thing about the Catacoffin: Since the dead person within the coffin is highly unlikely to ever listen to the thing, blown speakers are equally unlikely. The thing will sound as good thousands of years later as it sounded on the day the coffin was buried, unless people play music through it too loudly during the funeral service.
Postscript: A guy calling himself John A comments, "If I was going to blow 30 grand on a coffin, my first priority would be an escape hatch, not a sound system." I'm with him!
Highway To Hell Indeed
Back in the 80s, AC/DC sang a song entitled Highway To Hell. They made it sound like going to hell was one big fun party.
Funny, Jesus did not seem to see things that way.
Funny, Jesus did not seem to see things that way.
Impediments to Marriage
I am now 56 years old, and I still remain single (never married or divorced) even after all these years.
How does one explain that fact? Well, I tend to be pretty demanding in terms of what I am looking for in a woman; the mere possession of the requisite sexual organs is hardly sufficient. Worse, I am a person who would like for the woman to be somewhat pretty. (I can hear all the women calling me a shallow cad. But I can't help it. I am a normal guy, and the idea of lying next to a woman so ugly that they make jokes about her. (Example: "You're so ugly, you make blind kids cry.")
Moreover, I am one of those people who believe that marriage ought to be based on commonalities in terms of values. That means that I always looked for a woman who was committed to Jesus Christ, to a degree which somewhat matched my own commitment. Even those two factors alone significantly diminished my chances of finding a good love match.
Even worse, I was serious about making every effort to obey Jesus in all matters. As I read my Bible, I could not help but conclude that Jesus was less than thrilled with the idea of divorce. He was willing to make allowances in cases where one's partner had committed the sin of adultery, but that seemed to be more of a legal concession to reality than an expression of God's ideal.
Of course, as many people will point out, we live in a world which is far from ideal. But even if this life is not ideal, it seems to me that Jesus meant it when he said, "Be ye therefore perfect, as your father in heaven is perfect." (Matthew 5:48)
Am I perfect? No, of course not. But I came from a broken family, caused by the fact that my father reneged on his marital promises to my mother. (Not that she was totally blameless in the matter.) I had spoken my mind on the matter at the time; I had very plainly told my father that I believed he had sinned against my mother, and also against me and my brother Matt, when he had had the affair which led to his second marriage. (Statistically speaking, second marriages are less likely to succeed than first marriages, and my dad's second marriage was true to form in that respect; while his marriage to my mother lasted 15 years, he divorced his second wife after a much shorter period of time.)
Therefore, I'd have felt a bit like a hypocrite if I had openly sought a love relationship with a divorced woman. The older I got, the more that became a problem for me. There just weren't many single women or widows from whom to choose. I became aware of that fact when I started looking at personals ads in publications designed for men and women looking for relationships with compatible people of the opposite sex. Even in my thirties, I had begun to despair of ever finding a loving woman with whom to create a lasting marital bond.
Now it's even worse. I am now 56 years old. Even if I did not now have a physical disability, the mere fact that I am 56 is a significant impediment. I suppose that I ought to be realistic enough that I am opened to the idea of a relationship with a woman who is divorced. But I would be very demanding in that respect. I would want to know, number one, that the divorce was not caused by marital unfaithfulness on the part of that woman, or that she had repented of any sin of hers which had led to the divorce, if that had been the case. I have never committed fornication or adultery, so I do not think that it would be too much for me to ask these things of any woman who hoped to become my husband.
Like I said earlier, I am not a perfect man. On occasions when my loneliness became too much to bear, I have occasionally yielded to the temptation to look at materials I ought not to have looked at, if one is to believe what is often taught by my fellow Christian believers. Even if chances seemed incredibly slim that I would ever find a loving wife, I wanted to at least think that it might be possible.
Some would say that I should feel depraved on account of these occasional lapses. But truthfully, it would be more accurate to say that I have felt as if I was unfairly deprived. I am not a eunuch (a castrated man), and I have the same sexual desires as any other normal man.
Actually, I'm not sure that castration would normally result in a man with abnormal sexual desires. Lack of ability does not necessarily translate into lack of desire. Do you think that people who are paralyzed from the neck down would not be thrilled if they woke up tomorrow and learned that they could run like gazelles?
Steve Carell once starred in a movie entitled The 40 Year Old Virgin. I have thought, "Steve, buddy, if you think 40 is bad, try 56. The desires do not get any less intense as the years go by."
Carell's celibacy was described as "involuntary". Mine has been, too, in the sense that I would have much preferred marriage. On the other hand, one could argue that my condition was voluntary in the sense that my standards were so high that I significantly cut my own chances of finding the woman I had been looking for.
St. Paul, when writing about the single life, tried to console those who had failed in the game of love by pointing out the spiritual benefits of a life unencumbered by obligations to spouse and children. I'm sure that that's true, but it still doesn't compensate for the feeling of unfair deprivation, especially when one is living in a sex-saturated culture where practically everyone else seems to be "doing it".
How does one explain that fact? Well, I tend to be pretty demanding in terms of what I am looking for in a woman; the mere possession of the requisite sexual organs is hardly sufficient. Worse, I am a person who would like for the woman to be somewhat pretty. (I can hear all the women calling me a shallow cad. But I can't help it. I am a normal guy, and the idea of lying next to a woman so ugly that they make jokes about her. (Example: "You're so ugly, you make blind kids cry.")
Moreover, I am one of those people who believe that marriage ought to be based on commonalities in terms of values. That means that I always looked for a woman who was committed to Jesus Christ, to a degree which somewhat matched my own commitment. Even those two factors alone significantly diminished my chances of finding a good love match.
Even worse, I was serious about making every effort to obey Jesus in all matters. As I read my Bible, I could not help but conclude that Jesus was less than thrilled with the idea of divorce. He was willing to make allowances in cases where one's partner had committed the sin of adultery, but that seemed to be more of a legal concession to reality than an expression of God's ideal.
Of course, as many people will point out, we live in a world which is far from ideal. But even if this life is not ideal, it seems to me that Jesus meant it when he said, "Be ye therefore perfect, as your father in heaven is perfect." (Matthew 5:48)
Am I perfect? No, of course not. But I came from a broken family, caused by the fact that my father reneged on his marital promises to my mother. (Not that she was totally blameless in the matter.) I had spoken my mind on the matter at the time; I had very plainly told my father that I believed he had sinned against my mother, and also against me and my brother Matt, when he had had the affair which led to his second marriage. (Statistically speaking, second marriages are less likely to succeed than first marriages, and my dad's second marriage was true to form in that respect; while his marriage to my mother lasted 15 years, he divorced his second wife after a much shorter period of time.)
Therefore, I'd have felt a bit like a hypocrite if I had openly sought a love relationship with a divorced woman. The older I got, the more that became a problem for me. There just weren't many single women or widows from whom to choose. I became aware of that fact when I started looking at personals ads in publications designed for men and women looking for relationships with compatible people of the opposite sex. Even in my thirties, I had begun to despair of ever finding a loving woman with whom to create a lasting marital bond.
Now it's even worse. I am now 56 years old. Even if I did not now have a physical disability, the mere fact that I am 56 is a significant impediment. I suppose that I ought to be realistic enough that I am opened to the idea of a relationship with a woman who is divorced. But I would be very demanding in that respect. I would want to know, number one, that the divorce was not caused by marital unfaithfulness on the part of that woman, or that she had repented of any sin of hers which had led to the divorce, if that had been the case. I have never committed fornication or adultery, so I do not think that it would be too much for me to ask these things of any woman who hoped to become my husband.
Like I said earlier, I am not a perfect man. On occasions when my loneliness became too much to bear, I have occasionally yielded to the temptation to look at materials I ought not to have looked at, if one is to believe what is often taught by my fellow Christian believers. Even if chances seemed incredibly slim that I would ever find a loving wife, I wanted to at least think that it might be possible.
Some would say that I should feel depraved on account of these occasional lapses. But truthfully, it would be more accurate to say that I have felt as if I was unfairly deprived. I am not a eunuch (a castrated man), and I have the same sexual desires as any other normal man.
Actually, I'm not sure that castration would normally result in a man with abnormal sexual desires. Lack of ability does not necessarily translate into lack of desire. Do you think that people who are paralyzed from the neck down would not be thrilled if they woke up tomorrow and learned that they could run like gazelles?
Steve Carell once starred in a movie entitled The 40 Year Old Virgin. I have thought, "Steve, buddy, if you think 40 is bad, try 56. The desires do not get any less intense as the years go by."
Carell's celibacy was described as "involuntary". Mine has been, too, in the sense that I would have much preferred marriage. On the other hand, one could argue that my condition was voluntary in the sense that my standards were so high that I significantly cut my own chances of finding the woman I had been looking for.
St. Paul, when writing about the single life, tried to console those who had failed in the game of love by pointing out the spiritual benefits of a life unencumbered by obligations to spouse and children. I'm sure that that's true, but it still doesn't compensate for the feeling of unfair deprivation, especially when one is living in a sex-saturated culture where practically everyone else seems to be "doing it".
Pretentious Or Strange Modern Art
When I lived in Chicago for 19 years, staying at the Lawson House YMCA at 30 W. Chicago Avenue, I was right down the street from the building occupied by the Museum of Contemporary Art. I went there once or twice just to see what kind of art such a museum might display.
One of the most memorable pieces I saw there was a piece of installation art involving a continuously looping video showing a woman very erotically sucking on her own big toe! That was all there was to the art. I hope she had washed her feet before making the video. Athlete's foot is bad enough, but transferring it to one's own mouth would be gross.
Another similar looping video I saw there showed a topless woman with a bucket on top of her head, preventing her from being able to see where she was going. The entire video just showed the woman walking back and forth with that bucket on her head.
I remember thinking, "So this is what people do with their time when they want to think of themselves as artists but they have no actual artistic talent which would enable them to draw or paint!"
One of the most memorable pieces I saw there was a piece of installation art involving a continuously looping video showing a woman very erotically sucking on her own big toe! That was all there was to the art. I hope she had washed her feet before making the video. Athlete's foot is bad enough, but transferring it to one's own mouth would be gross.
Another similar looping video I saw there showed a topless woman with a bucket on top of her head, preventing her from being able to see where she was going. The entire video just showed the woman walking back and forth with that bucket on her head.
I remember thinking, "So this is what people do with their time when they want to think of themselves as artists but they have no actual artistic talent which would enable them to draw or paint!"
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Lady Porn: It's Not Exactly High Class Fiction
In a blog article I posted yesterday, I mentioned a novel I had recently found in the laundry room of my apartment building. It was called Ask For It (http://www.amazon.com/Ask-For-Georgian-Sylvia-Day/dp/1469277689), and its author was Sylvia Day.
Last night, I still had the book in my room. I'd already browsed through it enough to land on a few of the steamy sex scenes, but I was curious as to whether or not it actually held together as a story. (I know, I know, curiousity killed the cat.) So I started to read it from the very beginning.
Wow! I couldn't even get past the first page, the writing was so wretchedly bad. The first character made a statement, and then just to make sure we had heard him, he said almost exactly the same thing again. Talk about a good example of why some professional writers need editors! FYI, I returned the book to the laundry room where I had found it.
Maybe "Sylvia" didn't think her readers had read it the first time. Or maybe she was in such a hurry to get to the steamy scenes in the book that she didn't bother proofreading her own writing in the non-sexual sections of the book.
I put the name Sylvia in quote marks, because it doesn't necessarily follow from the fact that that's the name on the book cover was Sylvia Day that a woman named Sylvia Day actually wrote the book.
When I was living in Chicago, I met a black man named Robert. (He never did tell me his last name.) He was a nice enough guy, and we would sometimes spend hours talking with one another. One night, he told me that he made his money partly by writing steamy popular romances aimed at women. He said that he wrote those books under a female pseudonym.
I can't say that I blamed him. I wouldn't want my real name to be publicly associated with such literary crap. (I never actually read one of his books, so maybe it was better than Ask For It. But he honestly told me that he could churn that stuff out with ease, because it was written according to a formula he had mastered. Generally speaking, fiction which is written according to a formula is rarely worthy of an award.)
Robert was an intelligent guy, but he always wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses he held together with tape, because he couldn't even afford to buy a new pair of glasses after he broke the pair he owned. When you come across a piece of literary garbage like Ask For It, remember that the person writing that book may have been a poor-as-dirt black man just trying to bring in enough money to pay the rent, and cut the poor guy some slack.
Last night, I still had the book in my room. I'd already browsed through it enough to land on a few of the steamy sex scenes, but I was curious as to whether or not it actually held together as a story. (I know, I know, curiousity killed the cat.) So I started to read it from the very beginning.
Wow! I couldn't even get past the first page, the writing was so wretchedly bad. The first character made a statement, and then just to make sure we had heard him, he said almost exactly the same thing again. Talk about a good example of why some professional writers need editors! FYI, I returned the book to the laundry room where I had found it.
Maybe "Sylvia" didn't think her readers had read it the first time. Or maybe she was in such a hurry to get to the steamy scenes in the book that she didn't bother proofreading her own writing in the non-sexual sections of the book.
I put the name Sylvia in quote marks, because it doesn't necessarily follow from the fact that that's the name on the book cover was Sylvia Day that a woman named Sylvia Day actually wrote the book.
When I was living in Chicago, I met a black man named Robert. (He never did tell me his last name.) He was a nice enough guy, and we would sometimes spend hours talking with one another. One night, he told me that he made his money partly by writing steamy popular romances aimed at women. He said that he wrote those books under a female pseudonym.
I can't say that I blamed him. I wouldn't want my real name to be publicly associated with such literary crap. (I never actually read one of his books, so maybe it was better than Ask For It. But he honestly told me that he could churn that stuff out with ease, because it was written according to a formula he had mastered. Generally speaking, fiction which is written according to a formula is rarely worthy of an award.)
Robert was an intelligent guy, but he always wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses he held together with tape, because he couldn't even afford to buy a new pair of glasses after he broke the pair he owned. When you come across a piece of literary garbage like Ask For It, remember that the person writing that book may have been a poor-as-dirt black man just trying to bring in enough money to pay the rent, and cut the poor guy some slack.
A Strange Visitation At HoJos
One of the first jobs I had, when I was still a senior in high school, was as a dishwasher at the local Howard Johnson restaurant. (My dad's co-worker in the optometric office where he first worked was an older optometrist named Dr. Hawver. Every Christmas, until my dad got a separate office with two other optometrists, we would visit Dr. Hawver and his wife, and gifts would be exchanged. The Hawvers' home was always a warm and welcoming place, there in Springfield, Missouri. I recall a number of meals with the Hawvers at the local Ho Jo.)
My job as a dishwasher at Howard Johnson was procured via a work study class I took at Parkview High School during my senior year. I would take the city bus from the high school to my job there.
The job was not without its hazards. We ran a lot of glasses and plates through that dishwashing machine, and there were several times when a drinking glass would break in my hands, cutting them and forcing me to run to the management office to get Band-Aids with which to staunch the bleeding.
A young, shorter fellow dishwasher there was a big fan of country music. One day he came into the kitchen, telling me in an excited voice, "Waylon Jennings is out in the dining room". I wasn't as much of a country music fan as he, so my own excitement did not match his.
On another occasion, he came into the kitchen and told me that there were some "really strange" guys checking into the Howard Johnson motel. So after I clocked out, I went to the lobby for the motel and I checked it out for myself. Sure enough, Springfield was the site for a concert in a tour by a band called the New York Dolls. I remember that the band had an album, selling in the record store at the mall at the time. The cover of the album depicted the four guys in the band, sitting on a couch and doing their best to look like women, complete with lipstick and the tall platform shoes which were so popular in certain circles at that time.
Sure enough, the guys checking into the motel were dressed just as they were dressed on that album cover. There was David Johanssen and Johnny Thunders.
Personally, I thought the guys looked like freaks. But I strongly believed, as I still believe, that Christian believers like myself were called to show the love of God to all human beings, not just to those with whom we shared a lot in common. So I approached Johnny, and told him I would like to talk to him. "I can't talk now," he told me. "Me and the boys are going to be visiting the flea markets. Meet me here later, at the pool, around 'fiveish'." He said all of this in his gayest possible tone of voice, with the requisite whiny nasality. (Maybe a proclivity for gay sex causes some weird transmogrification of men's vocal chords, but more likely, the origin of the vocal affectation common to many gay people is repressive laws which caused them to resort to "subtle" but not-so-subtle ways of communicating with other gay people that they were ready and willing to have sex, back in the days when gay bathhouses were often the places where such encounters took place.)
I took that as an opening to go home and get one of my books, which had clearly been written in hippie vernacular, with evangelism as the obvious intent. It was basically a "hippiefied" version of the gospels. I figured it might make a nice gift for Mr. Thunders.
I went back to the motel, and I waited at the pool. Thunders never showed up.
Maybe he forgot about his conversation, or maybe it had something to do with the drugs which eventually killed him at the age of 38 (although Wikipedia states that some people speculated that he had been murdered by drug dealers, which to my way of thinking is pretty much the same thing, since a person is unlikely to be murdered by drug dealers if he or she stays away from drugs he or she should not be taking in the first place).
Anyway, I didn't want my trip back home to be wasted. As I sat at the swimming pool, I heard a rock guitar being played in one of the motel rooms. I thought it might be Johnny, or at least someone else from the band. I was right. It was the band's roadie. I knocked on his door, and he invited me in. I noticed a bottle of Jack Daniels or some other kind of strong liquor. He offered me some, but I declined, since I was an abstemious tea-totaller (a total abstainer).
The roadie and I talked for a while. He told me that the cross-dressing aspect of the band's appearance was "just an act". I didn't buy it then, and I don't buy it now. You know the old phrase, "if it walks like a duck and it talks like a duck, it's probably a duck"?
When I tried to talk with the roadie about Jesus, he did his best to avoid offending me. But it was clear from his comments that he just thought of Jesus as a "nice guy", as he said, and not as the Lord of Lords. I tried to remember to pray for him later.
Maybe if I'd prayed more for him and for Johnny, Johnny would not have ended up the way he ended up. But one never knows. Some people are on a path of self-destruction, and there is really nothing you can do about it. Rock and roll is full of such stories.
My job as a dishwasher at Howard Johnson was procured via a work study class I took at Parkview High School during my senior year. I would take the city bus from the high school to my job there.
The job was not without its hazards. We ran a lot of glasses and plates through that dishwashing machine, and there were several times when a drinking glass would break in my hands, cutting them and forcing me to run to the management office to get Band-Aids with which to staunch the bleeding.
A young, shorter fellow dishwasher there was a big fan of country music. One day he came into the kitchen, telling me in an excited voice, "Waylon Jennings is out in the dining room". I wasn't as much of a country music fan as he, so my own excitement did not match his.
On another occasion, he came into the kitchen and told me that there were some "really strange" guys checking into the Howard Johnson motel. So after I clocked out, I went to the lobby for the motel and I checked it out for myself. Sure enough, Springfield was the site for a concert in a tour by a band called the New York Dolls. I remember that the band had an album, selling in the record store at the mall at the time. The cover of the album depicted the four guys in the band, sitting on a couch and doing their best to look like women, complete with lipstick and the tall platform shoes which were so popular in certain circles at that time.
Sure enough, the guys checking into the motel were dressed just as they were dressed on that album cover. There was David Johanssen and Johnny Thunders.
Personally, I thought the guys looked like freaks. But I strongly believed, as I still believe, that Christian believers like myself were called to show the love of God to all human beings, not just to those with whom we shared a lot in common. So I approached Johnny, and told him I would like to talk to him. "I can't talk now," he told me. "Me and the boys are going to be visiting the flea markets. Meet me here later, at the pool, around 'fiveish'." He said all of this in his gayest possible tone of voice, with the requisite whiny nasality. (Maybe a proclivity for gay sex causes some weird transmogrification of men's vocal chords, but more likely, the origin of the vocal affectation common to many gay people is repressive laws which caused them to resort to "subtle" but not-so-subtle ways of communicating with other gay people that they were ready and willing to have sex, back in the days when gay bathhouses were often the places where such encounters took place.)
I took that as an opening to go home and get one of my books, which had clearly been written in hippie vernacular, with evangelism as the obvious intent. It was basically a "hippiefied" version of the gospels. I figured it might make a nice gift for Mr. Thunders.
I went back to the motel, and I waited at the pool. Thunders never showed up.
Maybe he forgot about his conversation, or maybe it had something to do with the drugs which eventually killed him at the age of 38 (although Wikipedia states that some people speculated that he had been murdered by drug dealers, which to my way of thinking is pretty much the same thing, since a person is unlikely to be murdered by drug dealers if he or she stays away from drugs he or she should not be taking in the first place).
Anyway, I didn't want my trip back home to be wasted. As I sat at the swimming pool, I heard a rock guitar being played in one of the motel rooms. I thought it might be Johnny, or at least someone else from the band. I was right. It was the band's roadie. I knocked on his door, and he invited me in. I noticed a bottle of Jack Daniels or some other kind of strong liquor. He offered me some, but I declined, since I was an abstemious tea-totaller (a total abstainer).
The roadie and I talked for a while. He told me that the cross-dressing aspect of the band's appearance was "just an act". I didn't buy it then, and I don't buy it now. You know the old phrase, "if it walks like a duck and it talks like a duck, it's probably a duck"?
When I tried to talk with the roadie about Jesus, he did his best to avoid offending me. But it was clear from his comments that he just thought of Jesus as a "nice guy", as he said, and not as the Lord of Lords. I tried to remember to pray for him later.
Maybe if I'd prayed more for him and for Johnny, Johnny would not have ended up the way he ended up. But one never knows. Some people are on a path of self-destruction, and there is really nothing you can do about it. Rock and roll is full of such stories.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Porn: It's Not Just For Men
There is a place here in Bellingham, known as the Light of the World Prayer Center. The primary person in charge is a man named Jason Hubbard. I first became aware of Jason when I was still attending the Band of Brothers fellowship on Tuesday nights, at Christ The King, a church near the Cordata bus stop in Bellingham.
There were a number of things I liked about the Band of Brothers fellowship. There was tasty free food (although after while, since I couldn't help wondering why they couldn't occasionally vary the menu by offering pizza or fried chicken or something else). There was also a philosophy which seemed designed to encourage people to open up and honestly share their problems and issues. Raul, the guy in charge of Band of Brothers, always made an effort to say, "What happens in Band of Brothers stays in Band of Brothers." There was an opportunity, every Tuesday night, to share one's problems with other men so that they would pray for you.
To see a YouTube video of Band of Brothers Radio, visit this link.
At their Tuesday night meetings, they would often show little videos downloaded from the web, and the videos often underscored the primary beliefs the group wanted to promote. Some of the videos were quite amusing and entertaining, and most of them made good points that needed to be made, particularly in terms of personal responsibility and treating one's family members right.
When I started attending the group, they seemed to be on a bit of a tangent, however. Specifically, they would talk on and on about the evils and dangers of pornography (which shouldn't surprise you if you watch the video to which I linked earlier in this blog post). They brought in Jason Hubbard, who distributed a little study guide he had written on that subject. We were all expected to do the study. Needless to say, Jason also spoke about the subject. He confessed to having had personal problems with porn, and he talked about how he believed that pornography exploited women. He said, in a whiny, weepy voice, "I love women", implying that any person who truly loved women would abstain from looking at porn. (Some guys might reply, "I love women, too, Jason. I really love the way they look when they are naked. Why do you think I like to look at porn so much?")
I understood that Jason meant well, and I understood that the issue was personal for him, so I was willing to cut him some slack. But I was very uncomfortable with his implication: Porn was principally a men's problem.
The trouble is that the facts do not support that idea. Google search the phrase "Christian women addicted to visual pornography" and you will very likely get the same results I got just a minute ago when I ran that web search, which returned 6.130,000 results. Friends, that is an awful lot of search results, for something which is ostensibly a problem which only Christian men have.
Like I say, I am not in opposition to Jason Hubbard, which has a good ministry of prayer, here in Bellingham. But in my opinion, he needs to try to be fairer to men, who have enough problems without being villified because they have sexual urges, and because they occasionally yield to the temptation to sneak a peak when they are presented with opportunities to look at porn.
By the way, I might point out that there are all kinds of pornography, which literally means "printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of sexual organs or activity". Notice that phrase printed or visual. Porn can be visual, but that is not an intrinsic aspect of pornography.
You might also want to give some thought to the fact that Albrecht Durer (the Renaissance artist known for his famous image of the praying hands) also depicted bare-breasted women in some of his prints and works of art. I guess that means that the Christians with lovely recreations of the Praying Hands image in their living rooms are guilty of unknowingly patronizing a pornographer (since the mere depiction of sexual organs is enough to qualify something as "pornography").
So-called "erotic fiction" which many women prefer to the kinds of porn containing photos or drawings, nevertheless fits the aforementioned definition. In fact, the suffix "-graphy" means writing. It doesn't have to be a picture book, in other words, to be considered pornography.
My guess is that Crystal Renaud, the Christian author of the book "Dirty Girls Come Clean", was not just talking about an addiction to erotic fiction when she wrote that book. But even if she was, I am not sure that in the eyes of God, there is any important moral distinction between picture book porn and porn which comes in the form of easy-to-disguise erotic fiction novels with titles like "Ask For It" (a novel I found lying there in the laundry room at my apartment complex while recently doing the laundry). Try reading a passage from that book aloud, next time you're at your prayer group or Bible study, and see if it does not provoke a lot of embarrassed laughter, if you're lucky. (If you are not so lucky, you will very likely be asked or adamantly commanded not to read such materials anymore.)
How is it that women get by with promoting the rather sexist idea that porn is just a man's problem? My suspicion is that their preferred form of pornography is a lot less obvious than the kind of pornography preferred by most men. I once spent time in a grocery store, browsing through some of the "innocent" novels which were very clearly aimed at a female audience. I never saw so many references to "throbbing manhood" and "heaving breasts" in my life.
Let's stop lying, folks. People like sex. They like having it, and they like thinking about it. Even if they are lifelong virgins, as I am and have been for the entire 56 years I've lived on this earth, most of them would like to think that they might, in the right circumstances, marry a man or woman (hopefully a person of the opposite gender, although that is by no means guaranteed here in Washington State these days), and experience the kind of sexual ecstasy which motivated the rather descriptive prose to be found in the biblical book known as the Song of Solomon.
Maybe in some science fiction fantasy, there exists a world where sex is not necessary for procreation, but here in this world, in lieu of the development of human parthenogenesis, sex is still necessary for the population of the planet. Look around you, at church, and you will see a lot of people due to have babies, especially if there are a lot of young couples. And if you need further proof of the ubiquity of sex, just look into a mirror. Unless your parents used artificial insemination, the chances are very high that you exist because YOUR PARENTS HAD SEX. I know, I know, people don't like to think of their parents grinding away on a sweaty bed, but the fact is, they did.
I notice that Jason Hubbard has kids. I have to assume that he has kids because he and his wife "did the nasty" at some point. It strikes me as a bit hypocritical for him to actually enjoy doing the deed and then to turn around and condemn those Christian men who have to content themselves with an occasional peek at a pornographic photo because they have never been blessed with wives of their own.
By the way, a note to Raul: If you want to reduce the likelihood that the men in your fellowship would yield to the temptation to have sexual intercourse with women they are not married to, then you might try holding occasional fellowship meetings where Christian men would have the chance to actually mingle with Christian women, including single Christian women they might conceivably marry. I know, you have a women's fellowship similar to the Band of Brothers (I forget the name of that group, offhand), but while that's a great opportunity for men's wives to get together for some "girl time", it's absolutely useless to single Christian men and women who would like to be able to meet people of the opposite sex.
There were a number of things I liked about the Band of Brothers fellowship. There was tasty free food (although after while, since I couldn't help wondering why they couldn't occasionally vary the menu by offering pizza or fried chicken or something else). There was also a philosophy which seemed designed to encourage people to open up and honestly share their problems and issues. Raul, the guy in charge of Band of Brothers, always made an effort to say, "What happens in Band of Brothers stays in Band of Brothers." There was an opportunity, every Tuesday night, to share one's problems with other men so that they would pray for you.
To see a YouTube video of Band of Brothers Radio, visit this link.
At their Tuesday night meetings, they would often show little videos downloaded from the web, and the videos often underscored the primary beliefs the group wanted to promote. Some of the videos were quite amusing and entertaining, and most of them made good points that needed to be made, particularly in terms of personal responsibility and treating one's family members right.
When I started attending the group, they seemed to be on a bit of a tangent, however. Specifically, they would talk on and on about the evils and dangers of pornography (which shouldn't surprise you if you watch the video to which I linked earlier in this blog post). They brought in Jason Hubbard, who distributed a little study guide he had written on that subject. We were all expected to do the study. Needless to say, Jason also spoke about the subject. He confessed to having had personal problems with porn, and he talked about how he believed that pornography exploited women. He said, in a whiny, weepy voice, "I love women", implying that any person who truly loved women would abstain from looking at porn. (Some guys might reply, "I love women, too, Jason. I really love the way they look when they are naked. Why do you think I like to look at porn so much?")
I understood that Jason meant well, and I understood that the issue was personal for him, so I was willing to cut him some slack. But I was very uncomfortable with his implication: Porn was principally a men's problem.
The trouble is that the facts do not support that idea. Google search the phrase "Christian women addicted to visual pornography" and you will very likely get the same results I got just a minute ago when I ran that web search, which returned 6.130,000 results. Friends, that is an awful lot of search results, for something which is ostensibly a problem which only Christian men have.
Like I say, I am not in opposition to Jason Hubbard, which has a good ministry of prayer, here in Bellingham. But in my opinion, he needs to try to be fairer to men, who have enough problems without being villified because they have sexual urges, and because they occasionally yield to the temptation to sneak a peak when they are presented with opportunities to look at porn.
By the way, I might point out that there are all kinds of pornography, which literally means "printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of sexual organs or activity". Notice that phrase printed or visual. Porn can be visual, but that is not an intrinsic aspect of pornography.
You might also want to give some thought to the fact that Albrecht Durer (the Renaissance artist known for his famous image of the praying hands) also depicted bare-breasted women in some of his prints and works of art. I guess that means that the Christians with lovely recreations of the Praying Hands image in their living rooms are guilty of unknowingly patronizing a pornographer (since the mere depiction of sexual organs is enough to qualify something as "pornography").
So-called "erotic fiction" which many women prefer to the kinds of porn containing photos or drawings, nevertheless fits the aforementioned definition. In fact, the suffix "-graphy" means writing. It doesn't have to be a picture book, in other words, to be considered pornography.
My guess is that Crystal Renaud, the Christian author of the book "Dirty Girls Come Clean", was not just talking about an addiction to erotic fiction when she wrote that book. But even if she was, I am not sure that in the eyes of God, there is any important moral distinction between picture book porn and porn which comes in the form of easy-to-disguise erotic fiction novels with titles like "Ask For It" (a novel I found lying there in the laundry room at my apartment complex while recently doing the laundry). Try reading a passage from that book aloud, next time you're at your prayer group or Bible study, and see if it does not provoke a lot of embarrassed laughter, if you're lucky. (If you are not so lucky, you will very likely be asked or adamantly commanded not to read such materials anymore.)
How is it that women get by with promoting the rather sexist idea that porn is just a man's problem? My suspicion is that their preferred form of pornography is a lot less obvious than the kind of pornography preferred by most men. I once spent time in a grocery store, browsing through some of the "innocent" novels which were very clearly aimed at a female audience. I never saw so many references to "throbbing manhood" and "heaving breasts" in my life.
Let's stop lying, folks. People like sex. They like having it, and they like thinking about it. Even if they are lifelong virgins, as I am and have been for the entire 56 years I've lived on this earth, most of them would like to think that they might, in the right circumstances, marry a man or woman (hopefully a person of the opposite gender, although that is by no means guaranteed here in Washington State these days), and experience the kind of sexual ecstasy which motivated the rather descriptive prose to be found in the biblical book known as the Song of Solomon.
Maybe in some science fiction fantasy, there exists a world where sex is not necessary for procreation, but here in this world, in lieu of the development of human parthenogenesis, sex is still necessary for the population of the planet. Look around you, at church, and you will see a lot of people due to have babies, especially if there are a lot of young couples. And if you need further proof of the ubiquity of sex, just look into a mirror. Unless your parents used artificial insemination, the chances are very high that you exist because YOUR PARENTS HAD SEX. I know, I know, people don't like to think of their parents grinding away on a sweaty bed, but the fact is, they did.
I notice that Jason Hubbard has kids. I have to assume that he has kids because he and his wife "did the nasty" at some point. It strikes me as a bit hypocritical for him to actually enjoy doing the deed and then to turn around and condemn those Christian men who have to content themselves with an occasional peek at a pornographic photo because they have never been blessed with wives of their own.
By the way, a note to Raul: If you want to reduce the likelihood that the men in your fellowship would yield to the temptation to have sexual intercourse with women they are not married to, then you might try holding occasional fellowship meetings where Christian men would have the chance to actually mingle with Christian women, including single Christian women they might conceivably marry. I know, you have a women's fellowship similar to the Band of Brothers (I forget the name of that group, offhand), but while that's a great opportunity for men's wives to get together for some "girl time", it's absolutely useless to single Christian men and women who would like to be able to meet people of the opposite sex.
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