There are two things on my mind as of late and I think both of them need to be expressed in blog form in order for me to free my mind of the maddening rants swirling around inside.
(By the way, I'm writing this from the comfort of Lindsey's living room....AWESOME!)
NUMBER ONE: Movies are too long.
Vee and I saw Pirates of the Carribean on Thursday night, and despite my brother's high opinion, I thought that it was a great movie turned mediocre by the length of it. The special effects are amazing, the stories great, the action is awesome and Johnny Depp's the man. Those are all givens. But, here's the thing, in between all those things, I was bored.
Note to director's everywhere: Longer is not always better. King Kong, 30 minutes too long. Spiderman 2, 20 minutes too long. Return of the King and it's three seperate endings, 45 minutes too long.
Just because you think you're a visionary and you want to put the full force of your artistic mind into your work, doesn't mean do it. It's your job to give the audience the best experience possible not feed your egotistical urges. Especially in the age of the DVD, save it, ladies and gentlemen, that's what bonus features are for.
A person's enjoyment of a motion picture is directly porportional to the severity of their ass ache. Two hours, folks. That's it.
NUMBER TWO: Royals' Executives are idiots.
Lindsey and I took Wesley and Cori to the Royals' game last night and while the game was good, (I swear we're lucky charms, all four games we've been to have been wins) the whole experience was just rediculous. Four hot dogs, and a Jumbo hot dog, three sodas=$34.75. Cotton Candy, Two Ice Cream, Peanuts, and a Water=$15.00. Not to mention 7 dollars a seat in the nose bleed section.
But here's the kicker, baseball fans. We are sitting in a half empty stadium, watching the worst team maybe in baseball history, and the Kaufmann staff are throwing people out of seats left and right. I thought perhaps that it would end after a few innings, but it lasted to the absolute end of the game. We're sitting next to a completely empty section and when some people in front of us moved just across the aisle, the staff girl runs of the stairs to kick them back out.
Seriously people, who are you saving these seats for? Who's rushing to the stadium to see what the abysmal Royals are doing in the 7th inning?!
Royals' Execs, you worried about money, worried about moral, and filling the seats? Lower prices everywhere, all the time, not just crappy hot dogs on Buck Night (of which I had 7 the last time!) and STOP BEING TICKET NAZI'S!!!!
Alright, I think I'm done, except to say that the kids were awesome and Fireworks Friday is the only thing that makes the Royals Stadium crap worth it.
'Ello Beastie....
Brad
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Wired Up
Hey everybody,
I'm currently posting this blog from Lindsey's couch watching King of the Hill on FX. That's right, I'm the proud owner of a Dell Inspiron E1505 Notebook computer and the proud stealer of someone's wireless connection somewhere in this building. I'm also going to LEGALLY purchase wireless for myself. So, within the next couple of weeks expect major advancements to the blog of the misspelled ZepplinRules.
thanks mom and dad,
Brad, or my new hacker alias, Orephus
I'm currently posting this blog from Lindsey's couch watching King of the Hill on FX. That's right, I'm the proud owner of a Dell Inspiron E1505 Notebook computer and the proud stealer of someone's wireless connection somewhere in this building. I'm also going to LEGALLY purchase wireless for myself. So, within the next couple of weeks expect major advancements to the blog of the misspelled ZepplinRules.
thanks mom and dad,
Brad, or my new hacker alias, Orephus
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Arrested Development
Hey everybody,
Thursday of this week I will be arrested. The MDA is holding me for an undisclosed charge at the Brio Tuscan Grill unless I raise the bail money. My bail has been set at $600 dollars, the cost of sending one of Jerry's Kids to summer camp.
Please give all that you can, 25, 50, 100 dollars. The kids need your help and so do I, 'cause I don't really want to spend my afternoon in a restaurant with a bunch of strangers. I've got work to do!
Make checks payable to MDA and mail them to Brad Bryan c/o Central UMC 5144 Oak Street Kansas City, MO 64112.
Thanks for the help, Brad
Thursday of this week I will be arrested. The MDA is holding me for an undisclosed charge at the Brio Tuscan Grill unless I raise the bail money. My bail has been set at $600 dollars, the cost of sending one of Jerry's Kids to summer camp.
Please give all that you can, 25, 50, 100 dollars. The kids need your help and so do I, 'cause I don't really want to spend my afternoon in a restaurant with a bunch of strangers. I've got work to do!
Make checks payable to MDA and mail them to Brad Bryan c/o Central UMC 5144 Oak Street Kansas City, MO 64112.
Thanks for the help, Brad
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Old Man Rant
Alright, so as I was proofreading my blog yesterday, as I do on a regular basis since I want to give all of you who take the time to stop by the best product possible, I read something that might need some further explanation.
When I say that going to the water park made me feel like I was going to hell every three seconds, I want the world to know that I was not checking out 14-18 year old girls. I don't think anyone who went on the trip read it that way, we joked about it all week, but I can see clearly how someone else could read it wrong. I wasn't checking anyone out. To look around at Blue Bayou Water Park and not see a 14-18 year old girl in a bikini would be kinda like looking around Blue Bayou Water Park and not seeing WATER!
So, here's the rant. Most of my girls' arguments against one piece swimsuits is that they're impossible to find, and I have to respect that. So, they ended up wearing tank tops over their bikinis, which is NOT just as good. But I have to wonder how difficult it is to try and raise a young lady in today's world who respects herself and her body and those around her.
Look at the TV and the movies. Everywhere we look we see that dressing like this and acting like this is OK, is actually the cool thing to do. Lindsey Lohan, Paris Hilton, even squeaky clean Hilary Duff, I would never let my daughter out of the house in the things they wear. But, everyday on the TV or in the magazines there they are, hanging out all over the place, teaching young girls who want to be like them that it's ok to wear clothes that don't cover 90% of your body.
So, I understand, it's not my girls fault! You can't find a shirt that's not tight or doesn't show belly. You can't find pants that don't come down so far you can almost see...well...you know. They don't make them. So, even if girls wanted to they couldn't.
So, I guess this message is to clothing designers as much as it is girls. Anyone remember how mystery is sexy? I'm not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but ya know what sometimes its what you DON'T see that's the turn on. For example: I think Jessica Alba is the hottest girl around simply because she hasn't shone her boobs in a movie to get to the top.
OK, so I felt like I was going to hell at the water park because of what my eyes saw. And I would have to be blind and my eyes ripped out with a soup spoon to not see it.
These days you tell a girl she looks like a prostitute and she says thank you!
Alright, a couple of "Get off my lawns", "Turn down that music's", and "This is a street not a racetrack's" and I'm officially my grandfather.
See ya, everybody,
Brad
When I say that going to the water park made me feel like I was going to hell every three seconds, I want the world to know that I was not checking out 14-18 year old girls. I don't think anyone who went on the trip read it that way, we joked about it all week, but I can see clearly how someone else could read it wrong. I wasn't checking anyone out. To look around at Blue Bayou Water Park and not see a 14-18 year old girl in a bikini would be kinda like looking around Blue Bayou Water Park and not seeing WATER!
So, here's the rant. Most of my girls' arguments against one piece swimsuits is that they're impossible to find, and I have to respect that. So, they ended up wearing tank tops over their bikinis, which is NOT just as good. But I have to wonder how difficult it is to try and raise a young lady in today's world who respects herself and her body and those around her.
Look at the TV and the movies. Everywhere we look we see that dressing like this and acting like this is OK, is actually the cool thing to do. Lindsey Lohan, Paris Hilton, even squeaky clean Hilary Duff, I would never let my daughter out of the house in the things they wear. But, everyday on the TV or in the magazines there they are, hanging out all over the place, teaching young girls who want to be like them that it's ok to wear clothes that don't cover 90% of your body.
So, I understand, it's not my girls fault! You can't find a shirt that's not tight or doesn't show belly. You can't find pants that don't come down so far you can almost see...well...you know. They don't make them. So, even if girls wanted to they couldn't.
So, I guess this message is to clothing designers as much as it is girls. Anyone remember how mystery is sexy? I'm not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but ya know what sometimes its what you DON'T see that's the turn on. For example: I think Jessica Alba is the hottest girl around simply because she hasn't shone her boobs in a movie to get to the top.
OK, so I felt like I was going to hell at the water park because of what my eyes saw. And I would have to be blind and my eyes ripped out with a soup spoon to not see it.
These days you tell a girl she looks like a prostitute and she says thank you!
Alright, a couple of "Get off my lawns", "Turn down that music's", and "This is a street not a racetrack's" and I'm officially my grandfather.
See ya, everybody,
Brad
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Louisiana BaYOO!
Greetings and Salutations One and All,
I'm back. If you weren't yourself presently aware, my grammer sucks. Also, I've been gone for a week on a mission trip to Louisianna. Here's the recap.
Unbelievable, horrific, rewarding, amazing, hilarious, heart-wrenching, exhausting. If you're interested in more detailed info, read on.
Well, a week ago Saturday I was in a wedding and Mrs. Caldwell was in another so we drove the I-70 Train together later that night. Mustoe and Adam were waiting for us at the door and after about a half an hour I was out on the floor. Not a big day, although Dru and I did have some good talks.
Sunday we drove and drove and drove and drove. I have to hand it to my van rental guy, 'cause we had a sweet ride. On the way down we watched Meet the Fockers, Karate Kid Part. 1, Ghostbusters, Star Wars: A New Hope, and some SNL dvds. We arrived in Kenner (See ya in Kenner) LA around 6:30 or 7:00. Had dinner and met with our work groups for the first time.
Monday was a short work day because of orientation. There were mainly three guys in charge, Darrel, Warren, and Tommy. Tommy moved down from Detroit or somewhere and has been sleeping on a cot in a Sunday School room for ten months. He was just recently given a part time position, before that he was all volunteer. Anyway, the orientation was not exactly uplifting. Lots of "wear your masks all the time" and "watch out for snakes". Also, a lot of "the bad element has returned". But it was good and these guys really know what they're talking about. So, we headed to work.
...And got lost. The guy in the lead, Vince, has never heard of "Being in the lead etiquette". Changing lanes without signaling, turning right on red. It was impossible. But, we eventually got to our worksite around lunch time, so we ate before we got work.
We split up the youth groups into 6 work teams for the week, which, MUSTOE, I think was a great idea. My work group was Leah, Caldwell's sister, Andy, an adult from Mustoe's church who attends Dad's church when he's in school, Anna, Tim, Sexy Lexi (Alex), Niky and Renee from Mustoe's church, Galen and Emily from my church, and Danielle from Florida. Great bunch of folks that I'm better off for having met.
Our first house, due to a not-out-fault mixup, was to be worked on by three teams until a dry wall job could be found. That's a lot of people for a tiny house. We carried out ruined furniture, the fridge, old pictures of kids birthday parties and posed by the Christmas tree. Then we started tearing down the destroyed drywall. Which, with all the reverance to a person's home I can have. Was FREAKIN' AWESOME!!!!!! So, that was fun, and that was pretty much our first day.
Like usually happens with me, everybody I first met, especially NicNic and NayNay (the girls from my group), thought I hated them at first. Although this was not the case, I spent most of the first night with my kids, joking around and playing cards. Later I explained to the girls that if I were nice to them, I could go to jail, so they understood, after telling me they thought I was a grumpy 84 year old man trapped in a 24 year old body, which sounds about right to me. But, by the end of the trip, we all loved each other like it should've been. Being down there, in LA i mean, with people you don't know, is a good way to get to know them pretty quick.
Alright, it went on like that for a two more days. One group went off to be drywalling experts, Dru!, and my team and Dustin Bryson's team continued with the house. So, within the recap, I will recap some funny/touching stories from our house.
We never met our lady, which was sad, but we did meet her mother. The first day, Galen, of course it's one of my kids, decided to help two other guys get the kitchen counter down. The other two guys knew the water was off, Galen didn't. Galen took a big old sledge hammer swing to the edge of the sink and a steady stream of water about an inch in diameter sprayed all the way across the room to the opposite wall. We took the fridge out of the kitchen window, which was kinda fun. The three muskateers, Alex, Galen and Nathan took down the cealings and had to wear funny "ET" suits that, judging from the sweat pouring off them at break time, hot as hell. It was good getting to know Dustin, he's a cool cat, although he sucks at the Cajun pronunciation game. He's kinda like Babe Ruth: he strikes out a lot, but when he gets a hold of one, it's out of the park. Niky and Renee found a bunch of change, which I said throw out of course (remember, grumpy old man) but they kept it and counted it and when it came ot 49 dollars, added a dollar of their own, which I thought was pretty cool of them. My relationship with my group solidified at the end of the second day when a water fight broke out waiting for the other group. They learned that I wasn't grumpy all the time, I'm just quiet and have that look. They also learned that about half of what I say is not to be taken seriously.
So, that's our house. From Monday to 1:00 Wednesday we completely cleaned out, gutted and swept up a house, bringing our lady one step closer to moving back into her home.
Wednesday afternoon was really cool. We took 7 vehicles, bad idea, on a tour of New Orleans. Our first stop was the 17th Street Canal, where one of the levees broke. The most fascinating thing was a row of town houses. There were three townhomes connected to each other, a hundred yard gap where nothing stood, and then four more identical townhomes on the other side of the levee break. A FOOTBALL FIELD SIZE STREACH OF HOMES, GONE. But, it was amazing to see the rebuilding process in this area, the rich side town, and compare it to where we were working. It was great to see my kid Dylan in his element, which is photography. Dylan is Dennis the Menace, Bart Simpson, and the squirrel from Over the Hedge, rolled into one and dipped into a bathtub of liquified Speed. But put a camera in his hands and he could be mistaken for an adult.
From our stop in the rebuilding rich, white neighborhood, we drove to the Ninth Ward, one of the poorest areas of our NATION let alone New Orleans. We saw the infamous house-on-top-of-a-truck. We saw a tree growing inside a car. We saw a lone tricycle in the front yard. I cannot explain to you in words what it felt like to be there, or even what it truly looked like. It looked kinda like a movie set, which Caldwell and I made a joke about which I'm sick to my stomach thinking about still. Surreal is only part of it. It's the most surreal place I've ever been, yet at the same time, it's more real than anything I've ever seen.
The Ninth Ward will not be reconstructed. It will be bulldozed. Acres and Acres of neighborhood, gone forever. Turned into a greenspace, a park across the river from the real neighborhoods, the ones worth rebuilding, the white neighborhood, the rich neighborhood.
The Ninth Ward is where we met Roosevelt. Roosevelt came riding up on his bike and asked one of our girls (who was not by herself, don't worry) if we were a church group and could we pray for him. She got an adult, and the adult found me. I thought that myself and the other adult would put our hands on Roosevelt and move off to the corner and say a prayer. But as we moved about twenty-thirty kids got in a circle around Roosevelt. We joined hands and I said a prayer. The girls were crying, the guys were trying not to and failing. As Roosevelt thanked us and turned to ride off he said, "Now I gotta go find somewhere to sleep tonight."
I need a minute after typing that, and I was there, so take a minute, there's much much more!!
After the Ninth Ward we went down to the still-intact French Quarter, which seemed to me like a dirtier Las Vegas with more culture. I didn't like it. It was 7:30 on a Wednesday night and there were guys stumbling drunk in the streets and girls in bikinis handing out jello shots on the corners. Not for me.
Thursday was another work day, and, I think, the best. Mustoe joined our work team of two groups, so I got hang out with him all day, which was nice. I'd've (that's right, the double contraction, what are you gonna do about it?) liked to work with Caldwell some but we didn't get a chance to, except of course for THE FRIDGE which I'll get to in a second. The owner was there on Thursday. She was Thai with a name like Mena, or Myna. It was pretty but I couldn't pronouce it. She was a widow, not from the flood, who lived alone in the big house. She had driven from Dallas just to be with us as we worked on her house. We only had one day here so we made a plan and got to work. Highlights: cutting my finger and actually feeling like I did something that week, the rats in the kitchen, and , of course, demolishing the bathroom in the garage. There was this built bathroom our in the garage, literally like a Water Closet. Mustoe, Nathan, Galen and myself totally smacked that thing up like Ike Turner (sorry old joke for mustoe). The ax worked the best. We swung at the wooden doors of the closet with all our might, throwing out sholders and tearing down the wood frame. Mustoe had a mis-hit, and immediately went into the Colossus Power-Up from the old X-Men video game. The next time I"m with any of you, ask me to do it for you but it looks like this aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAARGGH!
And then took off the whole door in his next swing. I tell, if there was a soundtrack to my life, it would've been playing "Damn It Feels Good to be a Gangsta" or "O Fortuna" (that opera music that's played when the ringwraiths are chasing Frodo on that elf chicks horse). It was beautiful. After we were sure that the bathroom was dead, we came out to find Mena, her son-in-law, and Dustin in the backyard looking at us like idiots.
One more story and then the water park and then we're done guys, lower your sholder and power through to the end.
Everything was going smoothly at Mena's house, until we went 'round the corner and saw a giant fridge laying on its back. We tried moving out long ways, side ways and upside down. We took the doors off the house and tried again. Nothing. When Mena said in her thick Thai that she had to take to door off to get the fridge inside, we thought she meant the back door to the house. She didn't. This fridge was not leaving the house with its doors on. Let me set this up a little. This fridge had food inside it, Milk, Mayo, Eggs, that had been through a hurricane, through a flood, and then had sat for ten months in LA heat and humidity. We decided to wait for the end of the day to get the fridge out. So, when everything else was done, and everyone else was in the vans with the air on and plenty of water, Adam Caldwell, Mustoe, Dustin, Jake and I went back inside to get the fridge. We came up with a plan and executed. Dustin pulled the doors off, we tipped it over on it's side and Jake and a kid named Tyce hoed out all the rotten, disgusting food onto a tarp. When they started hoeing, and got all that riled up and moving again, it wasn't overwhelming, it was worse. Every few breaths you'd get a mouthful of the most fowl smelling, putrid thing in the whole world. Then you'd have some ok breaths, and that fowl monster would come back. Truly gut-wrenching. We pushed the doorless beast out the back door and to the curb. Got in the trucks and drove away.
The next day I thought I was going to hell about every three seconds. We went to the Blue Bayou Water Park and all of Mustoe and my girls put on their swimsuits. My girls were prepared with t-shirts and tank tops to where over them but when I saw that Mustoe's group had not apparently heard him when we said no two-pieces (something "He just wouldn't think of") I told my girls they could do as they pleased. And so, for the next 6 hours I thought I was going straight to hell about every three seconds.
The water park, exept of the hell part, was awesome. Adam, Mustoe, Jake and I, weighed so much that we got the most air on this one ride that the lifegaurd had ever seen. And then, the most amazing three hours of my life ensued. Mustoe, rented tubes, Lazy River, Three and a Half hours. That's right, Mustoe and I spent three and a half hours after lunch innertubing round and round the lazy river. It was glorious. Different groups of kids and adults would come to see us (I'd feel like going to hell some more). We talked about stuff, and nothing. We talked and not talked, we not-talked for hours. It was awesome.
Alright, everybody, the longest blog entry in the world is finally complete. If you have a chance to go on a trip to New Orleans, go right away. It was unbelievable but I'm glad to be home.
"You must be the change you seek" -Ghandi
Too summerize this whole entry in Cajun:
Salutation
Transportation
Introductions
Communication
Deconstruction
Devastation
Repulsion
Completion
Anticipation
Damnation
Exhaustion
I'm outie 5,000, take it sleazy,
B
I'm back. If you weren't yourself presently aware, my grammer sucks. Also, I've been gone for a week on a mission trip to Louisianna. Here's the recap.
Unbelievable, horrific, rewarding, amazing, hilarious, heart-wrenching, exhausting. If you're interested in more detailed info, read on.
Well, a week ago Saturday I was in a wedding and Mrs. Caldwell was in another so we drove the I-70 Train together later that night. Mustoe and Adam were waiting for us at the door and after about a half an hour I was out on the floor. Not a big day, although Dru and I did have some good talks.
Sunday we drove and drove and drove and drove. I have to hand it to my van rental guy, 'cause we had a sweet ride. On the way down we watched Meet the Fockers, Karate Kid Part. 1, Ghostbusters, Star Wars: A New Hope, and some SNL dvds. We arrived in Kenner (See ya in Kenner) LA around 6:30 or 7:00. Had dinner and met with our work groups for the first time.
Monday was a short work day because of orientation. There were mainly three guys in charge, Darrel, Warren, and Tommy. Tommy moved down from Detroit or somewhere and has been sleeping on a cot in a Sunday School room for ten months. He was just recently given a part time position, before that he was all volunteer. Anyway, the orientation was not exactly uplifting. Lots of "wear your masks all the time" and "watch out for snakes". Also, a lot of "the bad element has returned". But it was good and these guys really know what they're talking about. So, we headed to work.
...And got lost. The guy in the lead, Vince, has never heard of "Being in the lead etiquette". Changing lanes without signaling, turning right on red. It was impossible. But, we eventually got to our worksite around lunch time, so we ate before we got work.
We split up the youth groups into 6 work teams for the week, which, MUSTOE, I think was a great idea. My work group was Leah, Caldwell's sister, Andy, an adult from Mustoe's church who attends Dad's church when he's in school, Anna, Tim, Sexy Lexi (Alex), Niky and Renee from Mustoe's church, Galen and Emily from my church, and Danielle from Florida. Great bunch of folks that I'm better off for having met.
Our first house, due to a not-out-fault mixup, was to be worked on by three teams until a dry wall job could be found. That's a lot of people for a tiny house. We carried out ruined furniture, the fridge, old pictures of kids birthday parties and posed by the Christmas tree. Then we started tearing down the destroyed drywall. Which, with all the reverance to a person's home I can have. Was FREAKIN' AWESOME!!!!!! So, that was fun, and that was pretty much our first day.
Like usually happens with me, everybody I first met, especially NicNic and NayNay (the girls from my group), thought I hated them at first. Although this was not the case, I spent most of the first night with my kids, joking around and playing cards. Later I explained to the girls that if I were nice to them, I could go to jail, so they understood, after telling me they thought I was a grumpy 84 year old man trapped in a 24 year old body, which sounds about right to me. But, by the end of the trip, we all loved each other like it should've been. Being down there, in LA i mean, with people you don't know, is a good way to get to know them pretty quick.
Alright, it went on like that for a two more days. One group went off to be drywalling experts, Dru!, and my team and Dustin Bryson's team continued with the house. So, within the recap, I will recap some funny/touching stories from our house.
We never met our lady, which was sad, but we did meet her mother. The first day, Galen, of course it's one of my kids, decided to help two other guys get the kitchen counter down. The other two guys knew the water was off, Galen didn't. Galen took a big old sledge hammer swing to the edge of the sink and a steady stream of water about an inch in diameter sprayed all the way across the room to the opposite wall. We took the fridge out of the kitchen window, which was kinda fun. The three muskateers, Alex, Galen and Nathan took down the cealings and had to wear funny "ET" suits that, judging from the sweat pouring off them at break time, hot as hell. It was good getting to know Dustin, he's a cool cat, although he sucks at the Cajun pronunciation game. He's kinda like Babe Ruth: he strikes out a lot, but when he gets a hold of one, it's out of the park. Niky and Renee found a bunch of change, which I said throw out of course (remember, grumpy old man) but they kept it and counted it and when it came ot 49 dollars, added a dollar of their own, which I thought was pretty cool of them. My relationship with my group solidified at the end of the second day when a water fight broke out waiting for the other group. They learned that I wasn't grumpy all the time, I'm just quiet and have that look. They also learned that about half of what I say is not to be taken seriously.
So, that's our house. From Monday to 1:00 Wednesday we completely cleaned out, gutted and swept up a house, bringing our lady one step closer to moving back into her home.
Wednesday afternoon was really cool. We took 7 vehicles, bad idea, on a tour of New Orleans. Our first stop was the 17th Street Canal, where one of the levees broke. The most fascinating thing was a row of town houses. There were three townhomes connected to each other, a hundred yard gap where nothing stood, and then four more identical townhomes on the other side of the levee break. A FOOTBALL FIELD SIZE STREACH OF HOMES, GONE. But, it was amazing to see the rebuilding process in this area, the rich side town, and compare it to where we were working. It was great to see my kid Dylan in his element, which is photography. Dylan is Dennis the Menace, Bart Simpson, and the squirrel from Over the Hedge, rolled into one and dipped into a bathtub of liquified Speed. But put a camera in his hands and he could be mistaken for an adult.
From our stop in the rebuilding rich, white neighborhood, we drove to the Ninth Ward, one of the poorest areas of our NATION let alone New Orleans. We saw the infamous house-on-top-of-a-truck. We saw a tree growing inside a car. We saw a lone tricycle in the front yard. I cannot explain to you in words what it felt like to be there, or even what it truly looked like. It looked kinda like a movie set, which Caldwell and I made a joke about which I'm sick to my stomach thinking about still. Surreal is only part of it. It's the most surreal place I've ever been, yet at the same time, it's more real than anything I've ever seen.
The Ninth Ward will not be reconstructed. It will be bulldozed. Acres and Acres of neighborhood, gone forever. Turned into a greenspace, a park across the river from the real neighborhoods, the ones worth rebuilding, the white neighborhood, the rich neighborhood.
The Ninth Ward is where we met Roosevelt. Roosevelt came riding up on his bike and asked one of our girls (who was not by herself, don't worry) if we were a church group and could we pray for him. She got an adult, and the adult found me. I thought that myself and the other adult would put our hands on Roosevelt and move off to the corner and say a prayer. But as we moved about twenty-thirty kids got in a circle around Roosevelt. We joined hands and I said a prayer. The girls were crying, the guys were trying not to and failing. As Roosevelt thanked us and turned to ride off he said, "Now I gotta go find somewhere to sleep tonight."
I need a minute after typing that, and I was there, so take a minute, there's much much more!!
After the Ninth Ward we went down to the still-intact French Quarter, which seemed to me like a dirtier Las Vegas with more culture. I didn't like it. It was 7:30 on a Wednesday night and there were guys stumbling drunk in the streets and girls in bikinis handing out jello shots on the corners. Not for me.
Thursday was another work day, and, I think, the best. Mustoe joined our work team of two groups, so I got hang out with him all day, which was nice. I'd've (that's right, the double contraction, what are you gonna do about it?) liked to work with Caldwell some but we didn't get a chance to, except of course for THE FRIDGE which I'll get to in a second. The owner was there on Thursday. She was Thai with a name like Mena, or Myna. It was pretty but I couldn't pronouce it. She was a widow, not from the flood, who lived alone in the big house. She had driven from Dallas just to be with us as we worked on her house. We only had one day here so we made a plan and got to work. Highlights: cutting my finger and actually feeling like I did something that week, the rats in the kitchen, and , of course, demolishing the bathroom in the garage. There was this built bathroom our in the garage, literally like a Water Closet. Mustoe, Nathan, Galen and myself totally smacked that thing up like Ike Turner (sorry old joke for mustoe). The ax worked the best. We swung at the wooden doors of the closet with all our might, throwing out sholders and tearing down the wood frame. Mustoe had a mis-hit, and immediately went into the Colossus Power-Up from the old X-Men video game. The next time I"m with any of you, ask me to do it for you but it looks like this aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAARGGH!
And then took off the whole door in his next swing. I tell, if there was a soundtrack to my life, it would've been playing "Damn It Feels Good to be a Gangsta" or "O Fortuna" (that opera music that's played when the ringwraiths are chasing Frodo on that elf chicks horse). It was beautiful. After we were sure that the bathroom was dead, we came out to find Mena, her son-in-law, and Dustin in the backyard looking at us like idiots.
One more story and then the water park and then we're done guys, lower your sholder and power through to the end.
Everything was going smoothly at Mena's house, until we went 'round the corner and saw a giant fridge laying on its back. We tried moving out long ways, side ways and upside down. We took the doors off the house and tried again. Nothing. When Mena said in her thick Thai that she had to take to door off to get the fridge inside, we thought she meant the back door to the house. She didn't. This fridge was not leaving the house with its doors on. Let me set this up a little. This fridge had food inside it, Milk, Mayo, Eggs, that had been through a hurricane, through a flood, and then had sat for ten months in LA heat and humidity. We decided to wait for the end of the day to get the fridge out. So, when everything else was done, and everyone else was in the vans with the air on and plenty of water, Adam Caldwell, Mustoe, Dustin, Jake and I went back inside to get the fridge. We came up with a plan and executed. Dustin pulled the doors off, we tipped it over on it's side and Jake and a kid named Tyce hoed out all the rotten, disgusting food onto a tarp. When they started hoeing, and got all that riled up and moving again, it wasn't overwhelming, it was worse. Every few breaths you'd get a mouthful of the most fowl smelling, putrid thing in the whole world. Then you'd have some ok breaths, and that fowl monster would come back. Truly gut-wrenching. We pushed the doorless beast out the back door and to the curb. Got in the trucks and drove away.
The next day I thought I was going to hell about every three seconds. We went to the Blue Bayou Water Park and all of Mustoe and my girls put on their swimsuits. My girls were prepared with t-shirts and tank tops to where over them but when I saw that Mustoe's group had not apparently heard him when we said no two-pieces (something "He just wouldn't think of") I told my girls they could do as they pleased. And so, for the next 6 hours I thought I was going straight to hell about every three seconds.
The water park, exept of the hell part, was awesome. Adam, Mustoe, Jake and I, weighed so much that we got the most air on this one ride that the lifegaurd had ever seen. And then, the most amazing three hours of my life ensued. Mustoe, rented tubes, Lazy River, Three and a Half hours. That's right, Mustoe and I spent three and a half hours after lunch innertubing round and round the lazy river. It was glorious. Different groups of kids and adults would come to see us (I'd feel like going to hell some more). We talked about stuff, and nothing. We talked and not talked, we not-talked for hours. It was awesome.
Alright, everybody, the longest blog entry in the world is finally complete. If you have a chance to go on a trip to New Orleans, go right away. It was unbelievable but I'm glad to be home.
"You must be the change you seek" -Ghandi
Too summerize this whole entry in Cajun:
Salutation
Transportation
Introductions
Communication
Deconstruction
Devastation
Repulsion
Completion
Anticipation
Damnation
Exhaustion
I'm outie 5,000, take it sleazy,
B
Thursday, June 15, 2006
What John Saw
Inspired by the dismal remaking of The Omen and, partially, the politically apocalyptic V for Vendetta, both of which I saw last weekend, I have decided to make a movie.
I'll do this in my spare time of course, between finishing school and starting a heavy metal church. (Andy, thanks for putting heavy metal and ecclesiology in the same sentence!)
The movie is entitled "What John Saw". We have had movies about the Anti-Christ (The Omen 1-4), we've had movies about the end of the world (The Day After Tomorrow, End of Days, and the dredfull Left Behind series), but we've never had an actual literal translation of the book of Revelation.
Picture it:
The movie opens with a bronze, iron, gold Jesus decending from the heavens with AN ACTUAL TWO SIDED SWORD coming out of his mouth. The four horsemen of the Apocolypse come flying in on their quad-colored steeds. The beast with seven heads comes lumbering out of the sea to terrorize the villagers. And the battle between Satan's minions and the Good Souls.
Who wouldn't come to see that movie? The Book of Revelation, literally, is a great horror movie.
The trailer's the best part:
Close up on man's face watching something behind camera. His eyes keep getting bigger and bigger as the horror of what he's seeing sinks in. His terrified expression on his face, we mouths the words "Holy Shh-" Quick cut to movie title "What John Saw"-Find out Summer 2012.
Awesome, Awesome,
Brad
I'll do this in my spare time of course, between finishing school and starting a heavy metal church. (Andy, thanks for putting heavy metal and ecclesiology in the same sentence!)
The movie is entitled "What John Saw". We have had movies about the Anti-Christ (The Omen 1-4), we've had movies about the end of the world (The Day After Tomorrow, End of Days, and the dredfull Left Behind series), but we've never had an actual literal translation of the book of Revelation.
Picture it:
The movie opens with a bronze, iron, gold Jesus decending from the heavens with AN ACTUAL TWO SIDED SWORD coming out of his mouth. The four horsemen of the Apocolypse come flying in on their quad-colored steeds. The beast with seven heads comes lumbering out of the sea to terrorize the villagers. And the battle between Satan's minions and the Good Souls.
Who wouldn't come to see that movie? The Book of Revelation, literally, is a great horror movie.
The trailer's the best part:
Close up on man's face watching something behind camera. His eyes keep getting bigger and bigger as the horror of what he's seeing sinks in. His terrified expression on his face, we mouths the words "Holy Shh-" Quick cut to movie title "What John Saw"-Find out Summer 2012.
Awesome, Awesome,
Brad
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
More Thoughts on Metal Methodism
I can't get this out of my head. Maybe that means I'm on to something.
Here's some more reasons I think Metal Edge United Methodist Church would work:
1. There is need. Despite popular belief, not all metalheads are Satan-Worshipping, Violence-Loving, Beer-Swilling Neanderthals. For the most part, metalheads are mostly-white, blue-collar people who are fiercely loyal to the music they love. While good heavy metal music is always aggressive, it is not, neccessarily, violent. It expresses anger at political, social, and, yes, religious structures that have left an entire group of people forgotten and outcast. And, if you think that there's no need because you've never had anyone at your church who cares about heavy metal music: A. you're wrong, every church has metalheads in it already. and B. when they aren't there, it's because the church doesn't speak to them.
2. The Gospel speaks to headbangers too. Jesus' message of a life-changing grace and mercy given to all people, especially the outcasts, is exactly what metal fans need to hear. Heavy metal is about fighting the power, it's about venting frustration, it's about being in community with strangers with a common love and it's about anger, frustration and revolution against any power stucture that does not lead to the betterment of everyone. That sounds like Jesus to me. It seems to me that people have just sort of given up spreading the message to metalheads, resorting to simply boycotting and protesting concerts like Marilyn Manson (who, by the way, is simply a man playing a role who, sometimes, writes good songs [remember Beautiful People], stop taking him so seriously. He's acting, and everytime you protest, he sells more records.) Jesus calls us to spread the message to all the world, and metal fans need to hear about grace and redemption just as much as the rest of us.
3. Heavy Metal lends itself towards powerful, creative worship experiences. Heavy metal music is about theatrics (I know, I just said heavy metal was about anger, frustration, revolution. I'm talking about Heavy Metal as a movement above, here I mean the music and concerts themselves). The imagry, the lyrics, the symbols, it's all there already. Imagine, as Alice Cooper threw a live chicken into the crowd and pieces of said chicken began being thrown back to him, imagine throwing a blessed loaf of communion bread into the crowd. As Ozzy sprays the faithful with water from a hose, imagine actually, literally, washing the congregation in the blessed juice, the symbol of Jesus' blood. OK, those are extreme. But I'll tell you what, Metalheads would love it.
All this sounds very performance oriented, I know. I am the first to say that the main problem with "contemporary" worship is that it's not worship but performance. However, metal shows are full of liturgy, call and response from lead singer to crowd, and message, James Hetfield talked at length about how much better Metallica sounded now that they were clean and sober and happy. It is not at all that hard to quickly and powerfully convert a rock show into a worship experience.
4. The most successful cross-over Christian music is heavy metal music. As I Lay Dying, Atreyu, Avenged Sevenfold, Norma Jean, P.O.D, Project 86, and lest we forget, Stryper. All metal bands. All extrememly successful in terms of cross-over from Christian lists to secular lists. Why is this? Because metal music is real, it's honest. Stephen Curtis Chapman doesn't have anything real to say to you unless your an upper-middle class, white, suburban, preppy mainline Christian. Christian metal can speak to Christians but also secularists because of the honesty in the music.
I envision a church that is based on inclusion, community, loyalty, discipleship, mission, conversation, passion, sacrifice, learning, and evolving. (positive voice)
I envision a church in which the music isn't boring, the message isn't irrelevant, the connection isn't superficial, the mission isn't self-serving, and the goal isn't numbers. (negative voice)
Metal Edge United Methodist Church
"We Pray in the Pit" (for those of you who are unhip, that's mosh-pit, but its unhip to call it that)
"Shreading the Gospel to the World" (again, shreading is the art of playing metal guitar)
I like the sound of that. Let me know what you think Blogosphere.
In the immortal words of Kirk Hammet, guitarist for the biggest band in the world, Metallica,
"Metallica's all about music, not the length of our hair." (check out Metallica Behind the Music from VH1)
It's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock'n'roll,
Brad
Here's some more reasons I think Metal Edge United Methodist Church would work:
1. There is need. Despite popular belief, not all metalheads are Satan-Worshipping, Violence-Loving, Beer-Swilling Neanderthals. For the most part, metalheads are mostly-white, blue-collar people who are fiercely loyal to the music they love. While good heavy metal music is always aggressive, it is not, neccessarily, violent. It expresses anger at political, social, and, yes, religious structures that have left an entire group of people forgotten and outcast. And, if you think that there's no need because you've never had anyone at your church who cares about heavy metal music: A. you're wrong, every church has metalheads in it already. and B. when they aren't there, it's because the church doesn't speak to them.
2. The Gospel speaks to headbangers too. Jesus' message of a life-changing grace and mercy given to all people, especially the outcasts, is exactly what metal fans need to hear. Heavy metal is about fighting the power, it's about venting frustration, it's about being in community with strangers with a common love and it's about anger, frustration and revolution against any power stucture that does not lead to the betterment of everyone. That sounds like Jesus to me. It seems to me that people have just sort of given up spreading the message to metalheads, resorting to simply boycotting and protesting concerts like Marilyn Manson (who, by the way, is simply a man playing a role who, sometimes, writes good songs [remember Beautiful People], stop taking him so seriously. He's acting, and everytime you protest, he sells more records.) Jesus calls us to spread the message to all the world, and metal fans need to hear about grace and redemption just as much as the rest of us.
3. Heavy Metal lends itself towards powerful, creative worship experiences. Heavy metal music is about theatrics (I know, I just said heavy metal was about anger, frustration, revolution. I'm talking about Heavy Metal as a movement above, here I mean the music and concerts themselves). The imagry, the lyrics, the symbols, it's all there already. Imagine, as Alice Cooper threw a live chicken into the crowd and pieces of said chicken began being thrown back to him, imagine throwing a blessed loaf of communion bread into the crowd. As Ozzy sprays the faithful with water from a hose, imagine actually, literally, washing the congregation in the blessed juice, the symbol of Jesus' blood. OK, those are extreme. But I'll tell you what, Metalheads would love it.
All this sounds very performance oriented, I know. I am the first to say that the main problem with "contemporary" worship is that it's not worship but performance. However, metal shows are full of liturgy, call and response from lead singer to crowd, and message, James Hetfield talked at length about how much better Metallica sounded now that they were clean and sober and happy. It is not at all that hard to quickly and powerfully convert a rock show into a worship experience.
4. The most successful cross-over Christian music is heavy metal music. As I Lay Dying, Atreyu, Avenged Sevenfold, Norma Jean, P.O.D, Project 86, and lest we forget, Stryper. All metal bands. All extrememly successful in terms of cross-over from Christian lists to secular lists. Why is this? Because metal music is real, it's honest. Stephen Curtis Chapman doesn't have anything real to say to you unless your an upper-middle class, white, suburban, preppy mainline Christian. Christian metal can speak to Christians but also secularists because of the honesty in the music.
I envision a church that is based on inclusion, community, loyalty, discipleship, mission, conversation, passion, sacrifice, learning, and evolving. (positive voice)
I envision a church in which the music isn't boring, the message isn't irrelevant, the connection isn't superficial, the mission isn't self-serving, and the goal isn't numbers. (negative voice)
Metal Edge United Methodist Church
"We Pray in the Pit" (for those of you who are unhip, that's mosh-pit, but its unhip to call it that)
"Shreading the Gospel to the World" (again, shreading is the art of playing metal guitar)
I like the sound of that. Let me know what you think Blogosphere.
In the immortal words of Kirk Hammet, guitarist for the biggest band in the world, Metallica,
"Metallica's all about music, not the length of our hair." (check out Metallica Behind the Music from VH1)
It's a long way to the top, if you wanna rock'n'roll,
Brad
My Calling
Every year on the drive home from Annual Conference my head is full of ideas. Mainly, ideas about how to make Annual Conference suck less. But, sometimes, however, I get real ideas. Last year, on the way home from Conference I solidified my calling to young adult/college ministry.
This year, I was drinking Mt. Dew and listening to some Iron Maiden to stay awake and it hit me. I think perhaps I have stumbled upon something real for my life OR have come up with an idea solely based on sleep deprivation and Hwy 13 wind in my ears.
Metal Edge United Methodist Church
"We Pray in the Pit"
"Shreading the Gospel to the World"
That's right, Iron Maiden, Mt. Dew and perhaps a God-nudge, have lead me to the dream of creating a church, a UNITED METHODIST church, for the heavy metal community. We would set up in an abondoned warehouse downtown or an old storefront saloon or something. We would sing our praises in drop D tuning and double bass drums.
Picture this, a come as you are church, communion every week, covenant discipleship groups, homeless outreach ministry, and, every Sunday morning worship is a rock show. With a mosh pit, with pyrotechnics. But, MORE IMPORTANT, also with a relevant message to the group perhaps most shunned by modern mainline Christians, the metalheads. Metalheads are the most loyal people on the face of the planet. They rejoiced together when Metallica finally won the Heavy Metal Grammy. They cried together when Dimebag Darrell was shot and killed at his own concert. Why can't they worship together? Every church has at least one youth that dresses in big black pants. That's fine in high school, but when they grow up, they're still metal fans, and since being a metal fan as an adult is kinda looked down upon, I think a lot of these people leave the church or are going to churches that really don't facilitate any kind of discipleship.
Christian Metalheads deserve a place of worship that speaks to them, where they can come freely and be themselves, and where they can listen to killer heavy metal music.
When I went to see Metallica from five feat away from the stage, I was amazed. 50,000 people knew every word, every lick, every fill. I saw 50,000 people doing absolutely everything that James Hetfield told them to. Imagine that kind of devotion and dedication in your church.
Metal 'til I die, Brad
This year, I was drinking Mt. Dew and listening to some Iron Maiden to stay awake and it hit me. I think perhaps I have stumbled upon something real for my life OR have come up with an idea solely based on sleep deprivation and Hwy 13 wind in my ears.
Metal Edge United Methodist Church
"We Pray in the Pit"
"Shreading the Gospel to the World"
That's right, Iron Maiden, Mt. Dew and perhaps a God-nudge, have lead me to the dream of creating a church, a UNITED METHODIST church, for the heavy metal community. We would set up in an abondoned warehouse downtown or an old storefront saloon or something. We would sing our praises in drop D tuning and double bass drums.
Picture this, a come as you are church, communion every week, covenant discipleship groups, homeless outreach ministry, and, every Sunday morning worship is a rock show. With a mosh pit, with pyrotechnics. But, MORE IMPORTANT, also with a relevant message to the group perhaps most shunned by modern mainline Christians, the metalheads. Metalheads are the most loyal people on the face of the planet. They rejoiced together when Metallica finally won the Heavy Metal Grammy. They cried together when Dimebag Darrell was shot and killed at his own concert. Why can't they worship together? Every church has at least one youth that dresses in big black pants. That's fine in high school, but when they grow up, they're still metal fans, and since being a metal fan as an adult is kinda looked down upon, I think a lot of these people leave the church or are going to churches that really don't facilitate any kind of discipleship.
Christian Metalheads deserve a place of worship that speaks to them, where they can come freely and be themselves, and where they can listen to killer heavy metal music.
When I went to see Metallica from five feat away from the stage, I was amazed. 50,000 people knew every word, every lick, every fill. I saw 50,000 people doing absolutely everything that James Hetfield told them to. Imagine that kind of devotion and dedication in your church.
Metal 'til I die, Brad
Best Week Ever?
Hey everybody, I know it's been too long since I've graced the world wide web with my presence. I tried to get an entry in between my birthday weekend and Annual Conference but the system was down. Man, I wrote an awesome entry too, so here goes in shortened version.
I've had one of the greatest weeks of my life. Two weeks ago, Lindsey and I saw the Dave Matthews Band (my third, her first) and they were on fire. Three new songs and at least one song from every album. It was awesome.
Then it was off to St. Loius and Sarah and Dennis' wedding. It was a whole lot of fun. There were only about 10 of us at the party after awhile but we had a blast telling the horrible DJ what songs to play next.
The next morning we picked up Mr. Ryan Bates and headed to the Lake of the Ozarks, met by Hilary Alexander and Tyler O'Banion and later Honora Bates. This is where it really got kicked up a notch. Truly one of the best experiences of my life. Just sitting around with good food, good drinks, good water, good tunes, and great friends. We've put the weekend on our calanders for, oh, the next 80 years. We actually halfseriously talked about all moving down there and getting a place together. After that weekend, I'd do it in a second.
So, it's time for the birthday present wrap-up.
My parents gave me a new queen size mattress. Not very exciting I know, but I slept through the night for the first time in years the past few nights so thank you so much.
A Family Guy Chicken Fight t-shirt, a t-shirt from Bradley University that just says "Bradley", an interview book with Bono, the 1000th issue and a subscription to Rolling Stone magazine, a Jack Johnson CD, a Trevor Hall CD, The Toy DVD, Blazing Saddles DVD, and Napoleon Dynamite pens.
And now, the coup de grais, from the Saturday Night Live Best of Collection: Adam Sandler, Cheri Oteri, Christopher Walken, Dan Akroyd, Eddie Murphy, John Belushi, Jimmy Fallon, Mike Myers, Molly Shannon, Steve Martin, and Tracy Morgan. I think I'm forgetting one.
So, there it is. Thanks to everyone for a great birthday. I hope that all who read this can have at least one weekend this summer as good as this.
~Brad
I've had one of the greatest weeks of my life. Two weeks ago, Lindsey and I saw the Dave Matthews Band (my third, her first) and they were on fire. Three new songs and at least one song from every album. It was awesome.
Then it was off to St. Loius and Sarah and Dennis' wedding. It was a whole lot of fun. There were only about 10 of us at the party after awhile but we had a blast telling the horrible DJ what songs to play next.
The next morning we picked up Mr. Ryan Bates and headed to the Lake of the Ozarks, met by Hilary Alexander and Tyler O'Banion and later Honora Bates. This is where it really got kicked up a notch. Truly one of the best experiences of my life. Just sitting around with good food, good drinks, good water, good tunes, and great friends. We've put the weekend on our calanders for, oh, the next 80 years. We actually halfseriously talked about all moving down there and getting a place together. After that weekend, I'd do it in a second.
So, it's time for the birthday present wrap-up.
My parents gave me a new queen size mattress. Not very exciting I know, but I slept through the night for the first time in years the past few nights so thank you so much.
A Family Guy Chicken Fight t-shirt, a t-shirt from Bradley University that just says "Bradley", an interview book with Bono, the 1000th issue and a subscription to Rolling Stone magazine, a Jack Johnson CD, a Trevor Hall CD, The Toy DVD, Blazing Saddles DVD, and Napoleon Dynamite pens.
And now, the coup de grais, from the Saturday Night Live Best of Collection: Adam Sandler, Cheri Oteri, Christopher Walken, Dan Akroyd, Eddie Murphy, John Belushi, Jimmy Fallon, Mike Myers, Molly Shannon, Steve Martin, and Tracy Morgan. I think I'm forgetting one.
So, there it is. Thanks to everyone for a great birthday. I hope that all who read this can have at least one weekend this summer as good as this.
~Brad
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Cheap Little Excuses
Here's a list of cheap little excuses for why I'm not blogging recently.
1. This week: Two days of work, crazy busy planning youth mission trip. Weds. have to pick up a tux after five and make it to the Dave show by seven. Thurs. drive through Columbia, drop off dog, drive to St. Loius, be in wedding. Friday, be in wedding. Saturday, drive to the lake, pick up Ryan Bates in St. Loius, Fiona in Columbia, continue down for birthday weekend.
2. Next week: Three day work week, still crazy busy. Annual Conference in Spfd.
3. Week after: Finalize plans for mission trip, wedding weekend.
4. Week after: Leave on my first mission trip as youth pastor.
So, yeah, I'm not finding the time to get online and rant or rave or muse or discuss or debate or anything else. So, deal with it. I'll see you in July.
B
1. This week: Two days of work, crazy busy planning youth mission trip. Weds. have to pick up a tux after five and make it to the Dave show by seven. Thurs. drive through Columbia, drop off dog, drive to St. Loius, be in wedding. Friday, be in wedding. Saturday, drive to the lake, pick up Ryan Bates in St. Loius, Fiona in Columbia, continue down for birthday weekend.
2. Next week: Three day work week, still crazy busy. Annual Conference in Spfd.
3. Week after: Finalize plans for mission trip, wedding weekend.
4. Week after: Leave on my first mission trip as youth pastor.
So, yeah, I'm not finding the time to get online and rant or rave or muse or discuss or debate or anything else. So, deal with it. I'll see you in July.
B
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
All is Right with the World
Well, my world at least. Tonight, I turn in my final final of my first year at St. Paul School of Theology. Tomorrow night, Lindsey, me and bunch of St. Paul people are going to Dave and Busters, an big arcade with adult beverages, and three great bands put out three great albums.
I'm feelin' fine! The 31st, Vee and I go to the Dave MAtthews concert and then it's off to St. Louis for Sarah's wedding and THEN down to the lake for my birthday weekend. Good stuff all around.
The three great bands and three great albums I refer to are as follows:
Pearl Jam-Pearl Jam
Pearl Jam came out with their best album in 10 years. Matt Cameron is the best rock drummer around. Mike McCready on guitar is unbelievable, again. For someone who never lost faith in the boys from Seattle, I love everything they've ever done, even Binaural, it's great to see a solid rock band put out a solid rock album.
Red Hot Chili Peppers-Stadium Arcadium
Alright, Anthony Kedis can't sing. Ok, some of the songs sound exactly the same. But, I love this album. The Peppers have always been weird and there's no change here. There going in a different direction, a more mature sound, and I like it. Flea, what can you say, best bassist anywhere. And what the hell does John Frusciante take to come up with guitar licks like that, and where can I get some. Clean it up, Johnny!
Tool-Ten Thousand Days
You either love or hate Tool. And I love them. This is probably the last album from the weirded-out, cross-dressing, Pagan-following, cosmic number counting, foursome, and it lives up to the hype. Danny Carey is the most apendage-independent drummer there's ever been. I swear the toe of his foot and the heel of his foot are playing two different times zones. It's unbelieavable heavy but beatiful and melodic. Maynard is pleasingly angry but poingant and elegant. A great, great rock album.
AND I almost forgot.
Rob Zombie-Educated Horses
Rob Zombie stripped down his overtly technical and processed sounds and a lot heavier in the process.
So, FOUR great bands with FOUR great new albums. This guy's did what all musicians dream of, each album gets better the more you listen to it.
Life is good,
Brad
I'm feelin' fine! The 31st, Vee and I go to the Dave MAtthews concert and then it's off to St. Louis for Sarah's wedding and THEN down to the lake for my birthday weekend. Good stuff all around.
The three great bands and three great albums I refer to are as follows:
Pearl Jam-Pearl Jam
Pearl Jam came out with their best album in 10 years. Matt Cameron is the best rock drummer around. Mike McCready on guitar is unbelievable, again. For someone who never lost faith in the boys from Seattle, I love everything they've ever done, even Binaural, it's great to see a solid rock band put out a solid rock album.
Red Hot Chili Peppers-Stadium Arcadium
Alright, Anthony Kedis can't sing. Ok, some of the songs sound exactly the same. But, I love this album. The Peppers have always been weird and there's no change here. There going in a different direction, a more mature sound, and I like it. Flea, what can you say, best bassist anywhere. And what the hell does John Frusciante take to come up with guitar licks like that, and where can I get some. Clean it up, Johnny!
Tool-Ten Thousand Days
You either love or hate Tool. And I love them. This is probably the last album from the weirded-out, cross-dressing, Pagan-following, cosmic number counting, foursome, and it lives up to the hype. Danny Carey is the most apendage-independent drummer there's ever been. I swear the toe of his foot and the heel of his foot are playing two different times zones. It's unbelieavable heavy but beatiful and melodic. Maynard is pleasingly angry but poingant and elegant. A great, great rock album.
AND I almost forgot.
Rob Zombie-Educated Horses
Rob Zombie stripped down his overtly technical and processed sounds and a lot heavier in the process.
So, FOUR great bands with FOUR great new albums. This guy's did what all musicians dream of, each album gets better the more you listen to it.
Life is good,
Brad
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Sad Day
"The time will come
One day you'll see
When we can all be one"
~Freddie Mercury of Queen
Well, it's a sad day to be a United Methodist. I add my voice of dissention to chorus. The Judicial Council's decision today was a wrong one, a bad one. However, like my brother, I understand the reasoning in the decision. It is not the job of the Judicial Council to make moral decisions for the UMC. That's the General Conferences job, and from what dad tells me about the last couple of those, we'll probably reach a decision in, oh, around the time I retire.
Still, it's sad. A pastor now has the right, the responsibility, to accept or exclude anyone he or she wishes. that's not our job, as I said before, that's God's.
Proud to be American and a United Methodist, but currently pissed at them both,
Brad
One day you'll see
When we can all be one"
~Freddie Mercury of Queen
Well, it's a sad day to be a United Methodist. I add my voice of dissention to chorus. The Judicial Council's decision today was a wrong one, a bad one. However, like my brother, I understand the reasoning in the decision. It is not the job of the Judicial Council to make moral decisions for the UMC. That's the General Conferences job, and from what dad tells me about the last couple of those, we'll probably reach a decision in, oh, around the time I retire.
Still, it's sad. A pastor now has the right, the responsibility, to accept or exclude anyone he or she wishes. that's not our job, as I said before, that's God's.
Proud to be American and a United Methodist, but currently pissed at them both,
Brad
A Little More Conversation Please...
Well, I've decided to get into the mix of conversation surrounding the Judicial Council Meetings here in KC that's been going around the blog world. As many things in my life, my explaination of why I think the Council should overturn the decision will be much simpler than my brother's. He's much smarter than I. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about here's the deal: some preacher somewhere denied a homosexual man membership in his church. That preacher, after a bit of confusion, was backed by his superiors. The Judicial council is voting on whether or not to overturn that backing. that's how I understand it.
So, here's my explanation:
IT'S NOT UP TO US.
There it is. That's all. Who can and cannot come to church, have a relationship with God, or attain ultimate salvation is not our decision, it's God's. In the Wesleyan tradition, we believe in a thing called grace. Nothing you do, no action from you, no set of rules that we check off, get us saved. Nothing but the grace of God. That's it.
Alright, so there's my say. CMU graduation this weekend, me and Vee will be going back to the Alma Mater to see Mustoe, Abby, Crystal, Melissa and other folks walk the line and get the illustrious title of CMU alum. Congrats.
California Love, Brad
ps Rock and Roll is not dead after all. Fans of punk-based, straight ahead rock go get the new Pearl Jam album. Fans of heavier stuff, go get the new Tool album. Also coming this month, Robert Randolph and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Good stuff, good stuff.
So, here's my explanation:
IT'S NOT UP TO US.
There it is. That's all. Who can and cannot come to church, have a relationship with God, or attain ultimate salvation is not our decision, it's God's. In the Wesleyan tradition, we believe in a thing called grace. Nothing you do, no action from you, no set of rules that we check off, get us saved. Nothing but the grace of God. That's it.
Alright, so there's my say. CMU graduation this weekend, me and Vee will be going back to the Alma Mater to see Mustoe, Abby, Crystal, Melissa and other folks walk the line and get the illustrious title of CMU alum. Congrats.
California Love, Brad
ps Rock and Roll is not dead after all. Fans of punk-based, straight ahead rock go get the new Pearl Jam album. Fans of heavier stuff, go get the new Tool album. Also coming this month, Robert Randolph and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Good stuff, good stuff.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
My Life's One Regret
I'm usually not one for self-reflection. I like to think of myself as a stoic, take things as they come, instinct kinda guy. But, this week I've been thinking a lot about my past, present and maybe future.
So, Vee(that's Lindsey's middle name, by the way) and I went to see Martin Sexton on Friday night. He and his opening act, the Trevor Hall Band, were great. He was, actually, unbelievable. The guy used to be a street player, you know, those guys on the Plaza or hanging out in front of the Cherry St. Artisan in CoMO. Just a guy, a guitar, and a cheap little amplifier. Now, he tours the country, has a small but strong and loyal fan base, just a guy, a guitar, and a fancy sound system. Anyway, it got me thinking, I really wish I would have done something with my bands.
I've been in three bands, with a couple of projects that were little more than two guys in a basement. First was Golgotha, Todd Monroe, Sam Giffith and me. Our biggest show, Barnswings, Ozark MO. Then Preserve with some college guys from a pentecostal church but they loved Pearl Jam and U2 and played like them. Our biggest show, playing for one of their church rallys. In between there, Tom and I wrote one song in his basement. OK, one song, but it was a good song, if not a little ripped off from our favorite band at the time, Tool. Our biggest gig, Tom's family and recording our one song onto cassette tape.
Then I went to college, met Adam Caldwell, Ray Malik and our red haired, stage fright ridden quaterback. I don't know what our name was, or if we had one, but our biggest show was the Halloween party in the basement of Woodward Hall.
Then, Adam Mustoe, Ryan McClouth and wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaaddddddeee! came to school and Blessed was born. wwwwwwwwwwwade decided to go be more man than any of us ever will and build trucks with his bare hands or something, and Jamie Diffee, a far better bassist and all around cooler guy joined the mix. Our biggest show, almost 2,500 screaming teenagers and an $1,000 pay check.
I gotta tell ya, we were good. With no real sound, no real style, and really no rehersals, we were good. We could've been great, we could've been contenders.
I'm playing music now with Jen Klein, another pastor, and my brother(something I never thought i'd get the honor of doing) and everytime we play I'm reminded of how much I miss being in a band. Writing songs, perfecting them, performing them. That's it. I don't think I've ever felt as truly in my element, so completly myself, as when we rocked the end of "Blessed" for about 7 minutes at our first WOW. I don't think I've ever felt as whole as when Mustoe said "freeze" and 2,500 hundred screaming teenagers actually did what he said. That place blew up. I don't think I've felt as accomplished as when I heard my own drums on, first of all, cassette with Tom and then CD with Blessed.
So, there it is. I regret, my life's only one, that we didn't try harder in these bands. Really just Tom and Blessed. I miss being in a band, I miss creating music, I miss playing on stage, I miss kids buying my broken and signed drum sticks for 21 dollars. I don't know if I'll ever get the chance again, and that's fine. But I hope I do.
I know it's only rock and roll, but I like it,
Brad Bryan, Drummer
So, Vee(that's Lindsey's middle name, by the way) and I went to see Martin Sexton on Friday night. He and his opening act, the Trevor Hall Band, were great. He was, actually, unbelievable. The guy used to be a street player, you know, those guys on the Plaza or hanging out in front of the Cherry St. Artisan in CoMO. Just a guy, a guitar, and a cheap little amplifier. Now, he tours the country, has a small but strong and loyal fan base, just a guy, a guitar, and a fancy sound system. Anyway, it got me thinking, I really wish I would have done something with my bands.
I've been in three bands, with a couple of projects that were little more than two guys in a basement. First was Golgotha, Todd Monroe, Sam Giffith and me. Our biggest show, Barnswings, Ozark MO. Then Preserve with some college guys from a pentecostal church but they loved Pearl Jam and U2 and played like them. Our biggest show, playing for one of their church rallys. In between there, Tom and I wrote one song in his basement. OK, one song, but it was a good song, if not a little ripped off from our favorite band at the time, Tool. Our biggest gig, Tom's family and recording our one song onto cassette tape.
Then I went to college, met Adam Caldwell, Ray Malik and our red haired, stage fright ridden quaterback. I don't know what our name was, or if we had one, but our biggest show was the Halloween party in the basement of Woodward Hall.
Then, Adam Mustoe, Ryan McClouth and wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaaddddddeee! came to school and Blessed was born. wwwwwwwwwwwade decided to go be more man than any of us ever will and build trucks with his bare hands or something, and Jamie Diffee, a far better bassist and all around cooler guy joined the mix. Our biggest show, almost 2,500 screaming teenagers and an $1,000 pay check.
I gotta tell ya, we were good. With no real sound, no real style, and really no rehersals, we were good. We could've been great, we could've been contenders.
I'm playing music now with Jen Klein, another pastor, and my brother(something I never thought i'd get the honor of doing) and everytime we play I'm reminded of how much I miss being in a band. Writing songs, perfecting them, performing them. That's it. I don't think I've ever felt as truly in my element, so completly myself, as when we rocked the end of "Blessed" for about 7 minutes at our first WOW. I don't think I've ever felt as whole as when Mustoe said "freeze" and 2,500 hundred screaming teenagers actually did what he said. That place blew up. I don't think I've felt as accomplished as when I heard my own drums on, first of all, cassette with Tom and then CD with Blessed.
So, there it is. I regret, my life's only one, that we didn't try harder in these bands. Really just Tom and Blessed. I miss being in a band, I miss creating music, I miss playing on stage, I miss kids buying my broken and signed drum sticks for 21 dollars. I don't know if I'll ever get the chance again, and that's fine. But I hope I do.
I know it's only rock and roll, but I like it,
Brad Bryan, Drummer
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Monday, April 24, 2006
For Adam Caldwell
Holy crap I'm a Calvinist!!
So, AC, I took your little quiz things I think they may be flawed a bit. I am Chalcedon compliant, no surprise there. I am tied for being Wesleyan and Liberal theologically, again nothing of note. But, then, I take the Which Theologian Are You? quiz and JOHN FREAKIN' CALVIN narrowly beats out mister Paul Tillich. And, I say it's flawed because John Wesley is not a choice for a theologian but Wesleyan is a choice for theological world. How can Wesleyan be a theology if Wesley wasn't a theologian.
Anyway, I'd like to take this oppurtunity to give you all a sample of Bryanian Theology. Now, understand, Barth wrote Dogmatics for about 40 years and never finished it and I have about 15 minutes before I have to go. Here we go.
Doctrine of God: Truly, Wholy, Wonderfully in love with ALL OF CREATION.
Human Condition: Separation. We were created to be with God, our choices separated us.
Christology: Reunion. God became fully human to reconnect the creation with the creator.
Soterilogy(doctrine of salvation): Salvation ultimately rests in the grace of God, nothing we do can save us.
Doctrine of Sin: That which separates us from God further than we are. Choices.
Ecclesiology(doctrine of the church): The church exsists to expose people to the grace of God in Jesus Christ and to actively work towards the social, political, educational, economical, racial, sexual, orientational, and environmental justice of all creation.
Old Testament: Mostly metaphorically, not literally, true in nature, meant to instruct and reveal God's active presence in creation.
New Testament: Meant to first and foremost be seen for its original meaning to its original readers, THEN read for us today. A human product, which in turn makes it seem more real and true to me.
Eschatology(doctrine of End Times): I have no freakin' clue and I don't think we're supposed to know and i don't think it matters one bit to what the church does in this world.
So, there you have it. That's what I think. However, I also think that no human being has ownership of the truth. We won't know for sure until we're on the wrong side of the grass and by then it'll be too late. Conversation and dialogue are key for world religions to bring about the justice that we all seek.
All I have to figure out now is whether it should be BRY-n-e-n (say the letters) or BRYAN-ee-n.
Thanks for the inspiration AC, I'd be interested if you my cohorts in the theological realm of things or any other of my readers would offer similar synopses of their theological stances.
See you in the next world, (except you, lynz I'll see you today, and you andy I'll see you thursday, and you AC/dru/dennis/mustoe i'll see you at graduation, and you mom and dad I'll see you soon, and you tom, i'll see you this summer sometime) But, eventually, I guess, I'll see you in the next world, whatever that might be.
B. James Bryan (my theologian moniker)
So, AC, I took your little quiz things I think they may be flawed a bit. I am Chalcedon compliant, no surprise there. I am tied for being Wesleyan and Liberal theologically, again nothing of note. But, then, I take the Which Theologian Are You? quiz and JOHN FREAKIN' CALVIN narrowly beats out mister Paul Tillich. And, I say it's flawed because John Wesley is not a choice for a theologian but Wesleyan is a choice for theological world. How can Wesleyan be a theology if Wesley wasn't a theologian.
Anyway, I'd like to take this oppurtunity to give you all a sample of Bryanian Theology. Now, understand, Barth wrote Dogmatics for about 40 years and never finished it and I have about 15 minutes before I have to go. Here we go.
Doctrine of God: Truly, Wholy, Wonderfully in love with ALL OF CREATION.
Human Condition: Separation. We were created to be with God, our choices separated us.
Christology: Reunion. God became fully human to reconnect the creation with the creator.
Soterilogy(doctrine of salvation): Salvation ultimately rests in the grace of God, nothing we do can save us.
Doctrine of Sin: That which separates us from God further than we are. Choices.
Ecclesiology(doctrine of the church): The church exsists to expose people to the grace of God in Jesus Christ and to actively work towards the social, political, educational, economical, racial, sexual, orientational, and environmental justice of all creation.
Old Testament: Mostly metaphorically, not literally, true in nature, meant to instruct and reveal God's active presence in creation.
New Testament: Meant to first and foremost be seen for its original meaning to its original readers, THEN read for us today. A human product, which in turn makes it seem more real and true to me.
Eschatology(doctrine of End Times): I have no freakin' clue and I don't think we're supposed to know and i don't think it matters one bit to what the church does in this world.
So, there you have it. That's what I think. However, I also think that no human being has ownership of the truth. We won't know for sure until we're on the wrong side of the grass and by then it'll be too late. Conversation and dialogue are key for world religions to bring about the justice that we all seek.
All I have to figure out now is whether it should be BRY-n-e-n (say the letters) or BRYAN-ee-n.
Thanks for the inspiration AC, I'd be interested if you my cohorts in the theological realm of things or any other of my readers would offer similar synopses of their theological stances.
See you in the next world, (except you, lynz I'll see you today, and you andy I'll see you thursday, and you AC/dru/dennis/mustoe i'll see you at graduation, and you mom and dad I'll see you soon, and you tom, i'll see you this summer sometime) But, eventually, I guess, I'll see you in the next world, whatever that might be.
B. James Bryan (my theologian moniker)
Friday, April 21, 2006
Some things I've learned
Hey everybody,
I'm working on my final paper for Systematic Theology class. It's called, How My Mind Has Changed. So, here's some brainstorming style thoughts that I've learned this year.
The names matthew, mark, luke, and john were put on the Gospels 2oo years after they were written. Call me dense, but I never considered that.
I have power, even when I don't mean to. I have power as a man, as a white man, and as a preacher. Even when I'm trying to be empowering, this power travels with me.
Augustine said on his death bed that everything he ever said was garbage.
St. Julian of Norwich, who wrote about the beauty of God's creation and treating others as children of God, locked her self in a cell with only one servant companion for the last 40 years of her life. She was also kinda crazy, praying for and recieving an illness that almost killed her.
Karl Barth was a smart guy. He wrote a 13 volume theology called Church Dogmatics. The word volume is misleading however, since some of the volume are actually 6 books long!!!! He died before he could finish his masterpiece. The part he never finished: Redemption. God's funny.
Apparently, the New Zealand accent is so strong that living and working in the US for 16 years cannot stop its power.
There were at least four letters to the Corinthians. What happened to the others?
The sect of Jesus followers, sort of, that lived in Qumran (the dead sea scroll place) thought that Habbakkuk was the most important book since sliced manna. HABBAKKUK!! (AC-there's nothing in Malachai)
Atonement is the least creative word in history. It's meaning: at-one-ment. The opposite of atonement, you ask? gotohellment.
And finally, people who raise their hands to ask questions in seminary, apparently, don't have to actually ask any questions. They can just illumine us all with the beacon of light that is their brilliance.
Ah, the wonders of higher education.
~B
I'm working on my final paper for Systematic Theology class. It's called, How My Mind Has Changed. So, here's some brainstorming style thoughts that I've learned this year.
The names matthew, mark, luke, and john were put on the Gospels 2oo years after they were written. Call me dense, but I never considered that.
I have power, even when I don't mean to. I have power as a man, as a white man, and as a preacher. Even when I'm trying to be empowering, this power travels with me.
Augustine said on his death bed that everything he ever said was garbage.
St. Julian of Norwich, who wrote about the beauty of God's creation and treating others as children of God, locked her self in a cell with only one servant companion for the last 40 years of her life. She was also kinda crazy, praying for and recieving an illness that almost killed her.
Karl Barth was a smart guy. He wrote a 13 volume theology called Church Dogmatics. The word volume is misleading however, since some of the volume are actually 6 books long!!!! He died before he could finish his masterpiece. The part he never finished: Redemption. God's funny.
Apparently, the New Zealand accent is so strong that living and working in the US for 16 years cannot stop its power.
There were at least four letters to the Corinthians. What happened to the others?
The sect of Jesus followers, sort of, that lived in Qumran (the dead sea scroll place) thought that Habbakkuk was the most important book since sliced manna. HABBAKKUK!! (AC-there's nothing in Malachai)
Atonement is the least creative word in history. It's meaning: at-one-ment. The opposite of atonement, you ask? gotohellment.
And finally, people who raise their hands to ask questions in seminary, apparently, don't have to actually ask any questions. They can just illumine us all with the beacon of light that is their brilliance.
Ah, the wonders of higher education.
~B
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