Da Vinci Code and Christians on Television

I reenter the blogring after a brief hiatus with this:

Why didn't anybody tell me the Da Vinci Code sucked? I mean, in all the talk and controversy surrounding this movie, seriously i don't know a magazine or news program that DIDN'T talk about it, no critic ever mentioned that it was a bad movie. The dialogue is awful, the plot is too convaluted to provide any good dialogue. The actors have to spend to much time explaining what's going on. "It's the codex, oh and by the way, this is what exactly a codex is....." Ugh. The plot also means that none of the characters ever develop. I didn't care about any one person in this movie. Not one, except maybe the best character Silas, who they kill off before the end of course. And the one way to save the film, Silas following Tom and Sophie to the Abbey and having a final confrontation of good and evil, was blown when Silas, a professional assassin and fixer for Opus Dei who whips himself with a cat-o-nine and wraps some spike thing around his thigh to feel Christ's suffering, gets killed by some beat cops. WHATEVER!! Killing off the only interesting character in the film led to the disappointing, anticlimatic ending that everyone with half a brain had figured out the whole time. After Silas died....nothing happened. the whole rest of the movie, nothing happened. I know that I'm not a critic. I liked T3: Rise of the Machines. But i know a failed movie when I see one. Dry dialogue, no character development, and no climax qualify as BAD MOVIE.

There was something else too. Everybody check out Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip on NBC. One of the leads, the female whose name excapes me now of course, is a devout, sort of conservative Christian. But get this, she's not crazy. There's a Christian on television who's not depicted as a raving lunatic or pious fathead. She's struggling with how to be faithful living in a secular and even skeptic world of Hollywood comedy. She curses, she has premarital sex, she has a since of humor. In other words, she's a REAL PERSON. When most Christians on TV are blowhards like Pat Robertson or bleeding heart softees like the dad on Seventh Heaven, this girl, whatever her name is, is the closest thing to a real christian I've seen. Just a regular person, trying to be faithful but also trying NOT to be a dork, or a Jesus freak, or a NeoCon Crusader, just trying to be real. Plus, it's a great show.

Alright, peace. BB


ps: not that i want to throw my hat into the ring in the whole marriage talk but here's my point: the STATE should not use the BIBLE as its reasoning for a ban on gay marriage. Our government should be run by rationality, by people of faith or not, and any rational person can see there's NO REASON THAT HUMAN BEINGS SHOULD TELL OTHER HUMAN BEINGS THEY CAN'T GET MARRIED.

Kindness Addendum

Well, after posting about the Kindness Campaign last night...I hear that Vee gets pulled over at 8:30 in 15 degree weather for going thirty miles an hour in a school zone. Cops who pull people over for ten miles an hour or less, especially if the total out-of-control speed is THIRTY!!, are just doing it to be jerks. They're mad because they're up early, or their boss is a jerk, or they just get off on the power of it. I see people pulled over a lot around town, and it seems to me that there's more important things for the cops of Kansas City, one of the highest per capita murder rates in the country thank you very much, to do than to bother people who are going 55 instead of 45 down 71. It's a freakin' Highway, it says so on the sign. Everybody speeds. Especially cops. I'm glad you met your quota this month guys, oh wait, did you hear about the double homicide last night on Troost? No, you were stopping the menace to society speeders? I see.

Ok, minor set back. When you go out of your way to be kind, you're not always going to feel the love thrown back at you. We have to get over that. Lower our sholders and power through. Bite our lips, grab onto something and give it hell. Whatever.

I'm still calling on the regulars and cursory readers of Bustle to begin the Kindness Revolution. Be neighborly. Be helpful. Be curteous.

You stay classy, Blogosphere.
B

Kindness

I have to say right off the bat that this post was inspired by a South Park episode.

What ever happened to people being nice to each other? I owe someone a thank you. The second to last time I was in Columbia, I was having trouble with my wiper motor. The kind of trouble that required me to tie a string to a cluster of wires, run that string out of the top of my hood, through my open window (it was the first ice of the year!), and into the cab of the car so that I could pull the wires tight when the wipers went out. Anyway, as I had pulled over to readjust my ingenious solution, a girl of about my age pulled over and asked me if I needed any help. A girl, alone, stopped to ask me, a guy alone, with a dark Blazer in the dark night in an ice storm, if I needed any help. Well, whoever you are, thank you.

I didn't know how much this act of kindness touched me until tonight. If I didn't choose South Park over SportsCenter tonight, I never would've known. But, it did touch me. Because, it was so unfamiliar. I really didn't even know what to say or do other than mumble "No" and "Thanks" because I am so unaccustomed to kindness.

We live in a world in which you can't help anyone change a tire because THEY might abduct YOU, or they might think YOU are going to abduct THEM. I see a young woman, or old woman, struggling with groceries I don't even consider asking to help, because I'm afraid of what she'll think of me.

Some people say we should practice random acts of kindness. Not so my friends; I propose the start of a strict, rehearsed, and habitual campaign of kind acts done for people who you may or may not know. Who's with me? Do something nice for someone today. Completely uncalled for kindness.

You can change the world with your own two hands...
BB

Agency-Mt. Moriah

After two months of waiting and a postponment by the bishop, I've finally found out that I'm going to the same churches that we thought I was going to from the very beginning. Agency and Mt. Moriah are two small churches just a little south of St. Joseph, MO. From all I've heard, they are made up of many young professionals who don't want to live in St. Jo or KC, they want a young pastor and the facilities and resources of both churches are solid and well taken care of.

I'm still waiting on a lot of details, and getting frustrated a little bit, but I'm pretty excited about news from friends like Steve Campbell and Phil Nemier and folks from school who know the area who all think I'll be a good fit and happy with my ministry at these two churches. I'll be moving to the south St. Jo area, living in small house there, and making a little more money than I'm making now. Of course, I will keep my little corner of the blogosphere informed as I get more info. And, for those of you in Missouri, look forward to a moving date!

Thanks for thoughts and prayers for me and Lindsey through this time of anticipation and now transition.

Peace, B

Incubus

This is a post for the Adam's: What happened to Incubus?? Now, you and I have disagreed on this for three albums now, but come on guys. I'm all for artistic development and following your heart in creating your music, hell I even liked the new, short-haired, martini-drinkin' Metallica. But, Incubus has consistantly put out three ablums with two or three good songs on them and the rest are cleverly disguised Clay Aiken songs. This new one has three good songs, Light Grenades, Diamonds and Coal and something else I can't remember right now. The rest of the songs are boy band songs. Boy band lyrics, boy band melodies, boy band harmonies. Four songs use the One-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-one-two pattern.

Come on guys, it's time to fess up. Mustoe, I know you have a not-so-secret boy crush on Brandon Boyd. Caldwell, we've been with these guys since the beginning. But, come clean, they just don't rock anymore. In the words of the Bob Rock produced, slowed-down, best selling heavy metal album of all time, Black album.....It's Sad But True.

Peace, B

Reading Material

For you and for me.

Reading for me: I realized last night, sitting in Worship class listening to a lecture on "Choosing Music for Worship", that my wonderful school will continue to ignore anything remotely related to the postmodern movement. I need to catch up on my reading, so blogosphere-Andy, Parents, Adam's, Howie and everyone else-I request some titles with which to start getting caught up on postmordern worship, postmodern theology, postmodern ecclesiology, etc. And, in the interest of my days in the Socialist Republic of Fayette, if anyone HAS these title and wouldn't mind sending them my way, that would be great....I am a poor man with no idea where my checks will come from after Jan 1st. Anyway, I look forward to your suggestions and getting caught up so hopefully i can join in on some of these wonderful conversations.

Reading for you: There's a couple things I'd like to comment on this morning. I haven't been to blog world since Kramer went Krazy. First, let me say that Richards was inarguably wrong. However, was the tape(or phone, actually) just not rolling during the actual heckling. I echo Adam Leathers point of imagining being in YOUR office, or perhaps behind the pulpit, and two drunk morons stroll in and start harrassing you. The issue is not the racial slurs. Family Guy could've said the same words and everybody would've thought it was hilarious. The point is..."50 years ago they would've had you upside down with a f***ing fork up you ass". That's what Kramer said and that's why he owes the world an apology. He should not be blacklisted, pun intended, his career should not be ended over this. He lost his temper, we all do. After offering an explanation other than "I don't know what came over me" and giving a sincere apology, he should go back to busting through doors and busting our sides. I'm just glad we've got something to get TomKat and K-Fed off our minds for awhile, until the next celebrity scandel comes along of course. Oh, by the way, we're still in an unwinable war. American soldiers and Iraqi teenager freedom fighters die everyday in a war we should've never started. And where the hell is Osama Bin Laden? Oh, and that whole congressional child abuse thing, where'd that thing go? OH OH Oh and how 'bout the millions of people dying of Aids in africa, who's going to "liberate" them? Kramer made Newsweek people. Aren't there more important things? (ps. I'm so glad Brittney has found a suitable replacement for K-Fed to help her seem not as trashy....Paris Hilton...my point being, why do I care and why do I even know about this!!)


I guess that's all I got for right now. Take it easy, sleazies. Look forward to your suggested readings.

Peace, B

This is Re-dad-gum-diculous!

Talk about incommunicado, huh? I went out of town, got sick, or just didn't have much to write about. Until now.

My friends, I am more stressed out than I've ever been in my life. Some of you know how big this is, because I'm not a guy who gets stressed easily. But, here's what's going on.

I have no idea where I'll be working and/or living as of January 1st. The bishop wanted to wait until Cabinet meeting (when all the DS's got together) to decide anything about my fate. This is good and bad. Bad-I won't know until sometime next week if I have to move sometime next month. Good-The bishop, the Schnase himself, wants to be a part of the conversation. I have daydreams about them creating a position for me on the District or Conference. I could be Director of Keeping Old White Preachers As Hip As They Can Be Or At Least Informed. Or something.

Here's the other thing. My sister's having a freakin' baby. Mom, in her wisdom, said women have babies all the time. Yes, but not my sister and not with ME IN THE WOMB...er...ROOM! I'm excited but terrified. I just know she'll go into labor on Christmas Eve, or New Years Eve when I'm preaching, or on moving day. And, this would be about half as frustrating if we didn't have to deal with, oh I'll call him, "The SOB", in the WEEKS...yes, weeks...after the birth of my new nephew.

So, yeah, I'm freaking out a bit. I can't sleep, not that that's different from usual. I've been working out again to try and help with the nerves. But, I'm pretty much wound tight 100% of the time. Put a lump of coal [in my hand], in two weeks you'll have a diamond.-Ferris Bueller, edited edition.

Oh yeah, AND, Mustoe-Harley's getting ready to get a new girlfriend and have little angel puppies. Shaq, our yellow lab of 13 years has a tumor on her liver and has stopped eating. The chart at the vet that measures dog years by weight and other things says she's over 110 years old. The chart stops at 11 with dogs over 55 pounds. Shaq weighs 65 pounds and is 13 and a half. She's a wonderful, quiet, loving, loyal dog and we'll miss her. And she's a looker Harl. Watch yourself.

Peace everybody. Peace of mind and Peace on earth.

Gobble, Gobble. B

We did it!

Well, more accurately, THEY did it. Well, the nation, excluding myself and Mr. Mustoe, has spoken. They're tired of Republican Good Ol' Boys Club politics and the Democrats have resumed power. Now, maybe some more things can...not get done in Washington. Seriously, when do these people stop campaigning and starting doing some actual work. Congress works a little more than half the year. When they actually come to session, they work three day weeks. I'm happy at how the polls worked out, but let's see what happens next. I'm willing to bet that nothing really changes all that much. I put money on politicians remaining power-lusting, bribe-taking, ethic-lacking, talking heads.

Of course, you can see where I'm going with this. I think we should go back to theocracy and I should be appointed (anointed?) Holy American Emporer.

Sorry. Anyway, it's a good day. I hope it works out.

There's nothing you can do that can't be done,
B

Micro-Church

Hats off to Howie.

I’ve been mulling this over throughout the weekend after Howie and I talked about it Friday night at a lock-in we were running.

I’m really excited about the idea of Micro-Church. What is Micro-Church I hear you ask? Well, within the laws of physics, one must assume that if there’s a micro church there must be an opposite: mega church. We all know what mega churches are. The sprawling suburban worship centers with five services per weekend and 15 pastors on staff. So, micro church-the actual opposite of mega church would be mini church, but that denotes a level of weakness or inferiority-would be the equal and opposite reaction to mega churches in all their glory. A small group of people, humbly and quietly gathering together at a church, or at a home, or in a park to talk about, pray about, sing about, learn about God. A few points of interest:

The church has become deluded. These mega churches-in my opinion-miss something big in the message of Jesus Christ, humility. Mega churches have bought into the American ideal that bigger is better, which is contrary to Jesus’ teaching on the last and the least and the lost. In Borat (whose wisdom will be discussed in the post below), Borat ends up asleep on the street in front of a church. The camera wakes up with Borat still sleeping on the church porch and the Sunday morning worshippers going out of their way to walk around him. 15,000 people, worshipping together in a 25 million dollar church, in a upper middle class suburban neighborhood---doesn’t sound anything like the last, least or lost. Doesn’t sound very marginalized at all. The message, mission and purpose of the church have been lost to the pursuit of numbers on the membership roles or the pursuit of the biggest Family Life Center.

The solution is going back to the base roots of the church. A few people gathering together, mostly in homes, to read and study scripture, sing hymns and talk about living as Christians. These few people collect gifts or dedicate time to serving the marginalized in society. This group may OR MAY NOT be associated with a larger church, or church conference, as simply a branch off of a mega church. This is how almost all denominations started-the Christian church, the Protestant church, the Methodist church.

Two problems:

The issue is the interpretation of our great commission, to make disciples of all the world. I think we can spread the love, compassion, justice and peace that Jesus teaches and represents without making our churches big and ugly and impersonal and inauthentic and Americanized and computerized and polarized. So, how do we make disciples of all the world and not let ourselves get too big for our own britches?

The second problem is keeping these groups of a few people gathering together to simply and humbly experience life as God’s kids together theologically informed. The potential for sectarianism and, at the most extreme, cultism is high. Becoming overly private and separated from other groups goes against the relational aspect of church. On the other hand, we live in a time in which its easier than ever to be in touch with people. So, possibly, online communities of these micro churches, something like myspace, is a way to keep them together and united as a body.

The emergent church tried this. They broke out on the claim of anti-organized church and being the alternative to big, faceless suburban mega churches. But, then they grew and grew and have now organized into a church corporation of their own.

Anyway, sorry this is so long. But its been awhile and this has been on my mind. Comments on Micro-Church are welcome. Stay tuned for yet another post today on Borat!

Yeshemaash! My name ah Borat..

So begins one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen. No, not the funniest I’ve seen and certainly not the funniest movie ever, like some critics said. Christmas Vacation, Spaceballs, Wayne’s World, Anchorman…all are funnier than Borat. But, still it was an unbelievably hysterical movie.

Well, I know that at least two people are waiting to hear what I really think. Mom and Dad, I cannot believe you sat through that movie. You walked out of American Pie!

Anyway, all sorts of adjectives could be used to describe Borat-shocking, hilarious, genius, outlandish, obscene, unrelenting, disturbing, disgusting, side-splitting, alarming…prophetic?

Let’s talk about what a prophet does. In the Old Testament sense. Micah, Isaiah, Jeremiah, all of ‘em. Their job was to say, “Hey, Idiots, you’re not getting it!”
And that’s exactly the point of Borat. This guy comes to America to learn about American culture and values; instead, he found New Yorkers too afraid of each other to greet another human being, car dealers who don’t blink an eye at the term “p*&^y magnet” (“That would be a corvette” says the industrious salesman), a southern pastor who all but ran away at the site of a black escort (something about eating with prostitutes comes to mind but I don’t know why), worshippers who are so passionate about their own evangelical experience that they walk over a homeless man on their way to church, and a young man who thinks the nation would be a much better place if slavery was reinstated. The film maker, Sasha Baron Cohen, takes one look at what America says is important and shakes his prophetic fist.

Alright, I might be reading more into this than I should. It’s just a movie, a comedy. It’s goal was to make us laugh and it made us howl. But like Lavarr Burton used to say, don’t take my word for it. Go see it. You will laugh the whole time. But, be warned…Borat includes the most outrageous, disgusting, disturbing, and so-bad-you-feel-horrible-for-laughing-but-you-will-laugh moment ever made. You’ll know it when it starts and you might want to close your eyes…

Peace, B

Defending not Defensive

Alright peeps. Enough's enough.

To my brother, thank you for the advice and guidance. But, I'm not making an argument here. I'm not writing a legal document that I hope will stand up in court. I'm ranting. And, I think it's fair to say, that so far seminary is not helping me in my ministry. I'm glad it helped you. I also think it's fair to say that the supreme court is truly out of touch with mainstream american culture and thought, no matter who's on it. Anyway, I digress. I do enough research, I'm not going to look anything up EVER for the purposes of this blog. I'm just going to type and see what happens. That's what I do and I've never claimed to do any more.

To my friend Mustoe, being open-minded does not mean having no opinions. It means having your own opinions and being willing to dialogue with folks with differing ones, like our new friend Dark Gable. I do think I'm open-minded; I'm willing to listen to other peoples viewpoints, see the value in them, and reject them all equally! Ha, just kidding. And you're right, I didn't vote in 2004. But, I'm an American damnit. Complaining about things I had no part in creating is my God-given right, just like owning a handgun that's only real purpose is to shoot human beings and telling strangers what they can or cannot do in their bedrooms. Sorry again.

To Caldwell, nice addition to the debate my friend. I think in the next presidential debate, the vice pres. candidates should stand behind their partners and go, "Aww, Snap!" when they make a point. Remember, life is about getting over our "doctrinal issues".

To Dark, thanks for stopping by. I look forward to your future additions to the conversation. All I hope for is a country where people like you and me who don't agree can live together, truly and honestly dialogue together, and work together to make our world a better place.


B-R-A-D to tha B. I'm outie 5,000, take it sleazy.
Catman...

What I Think...

I was thinking the other day that I've never just come out and said what I think about some of the hot button issues that are tossed around here and there. These might not come as a surprise to some of you but here we go.....

I think that we are suffering through the worst government-president, congress, and supreme court-that this country has ever had. Our president is an idiot who's more worried about his own already irrepairable legacy than the good of the people of his country. Our congress spends so much time campaigning nothing ever gets done. The republicans are arrogant blowhards who threw ethics out the window and the democrats are too chicken, disorganized and divided to do anything about it. The supreme court is a group of 90 year old white men who could not be more out of touch with the people they serve. We are in bad shape people, and I don't know how long it's going to take to fix it.

There is no logical, ethical, religious, politcal, economical, or social argument against gay marriage. It's just stupid. Being anti-gay marriage just doesn't make any sense.

I believe that abortion should be legal. In the cases of underage patients, I agree that parental consent should be required. Excluding cases of, God forbid, rape or insest, I ALSO believe that both parents should have consent over the decision. Being pro-choice, I also must say that personally I would not choose to give my consent if faced with that situation. Never say never, but I'd have a really hard time making that decision.

I believe creationism should never be taught in schools, UNLESS all religious theories of creation are also taught.

I believe that stem-cell research can offer many great things to our world. Unused embryos are thrown away by the thousands on a daily basis. If those could be used to help cure Parkinson's or MS, why would ANYONE be against it.

Seminary does not prepare you for a life in ministry. Life in ministry prepares you for a life in ministry.

There is something wrong with driving a car you don't need, living in a house with more space than you need, having more or more expensive clothes than you need. There is something WRONG with it. Putting a Jesus fish on your Lexus doesn't mean a thing when kids in Africa are starving to death, when people in KC don't have homes or jobs or schools. NO ONE needs a car more than 35,000 bucks.

Plagerism is the heart and soul of art. There is nothing that can be played, sung, written, painted, sculpted, photographed that hasn't been done already. There is no guitar lick that Jimi Hendrix didn't play, no chord progression that Paul McCartney hasn't done. Plagerism is necessary for art to exsist.

I think that all images, representations, and symbols of religion should be removed from all government property. Reason, justice and democracy should be the basis for any gonvernment. Never something as subjective as religion.

The WNBA is not as exciting as the NBA because women can't run as fast, jump as high, or play as well as the men.

Oh, yeah, and I believe that children are our future, treat them well....

Comments welcome, other topics you want to know where I stand, just ask.

That's it for now...Heal the World, Brad

I Am THE REV!!

Sitting on the dock, I expect the stars to rearrange themselves and say "Brad, this is your mission..." I wait for the Lady of the Lake of the Ozarks to rise from the water and hand me either a Bible or some drum sticks.

Of course, nothing happens. I sit on the dock with my wood tip cigars and a bottle of wine, wondering what the hell I'm gonna be when I grow up. And nothing happens.

Well, I've come to a decision anyway. Inspired by my brother's recent blogs concerning the ordination papers, I have thought about this in essay form since I might have to write one anyway someday.

I'm going to take a part-time senior pastor position, stay in KC and finish school. I'm going to do this for four reasons.
1. The reasons I don't fit in within the church are the very things I want to change about the church. They are the very things that millions of young adults find wrong with the church. I want to change the church, or at least have a part in changing the church, to make the church (buzzword alert) relevant. Young adults aren't mad at the church, it's not that they don't believe in God, or have any overt disdain for the church. They just don't care. And, honestly, there's not much for them to care about. I want to be a part of the changing of the church, and not in the role of a lay leader...from within.
2. I'm good. Let's just throw modesty to the wind for a second...I'm good. You give me a Bible verse and a time of year and I can give an impromtu sermon that'll leave you in tears. I talk good. But it's not just that I can string some pretty words together that kind of make sense, I can read people. I know when "Fine" is EXACTLY how people are feeling and I know when there's more to the story. I can pretty much guess what makes a person tick within a few minutes of conversation. I can't deny these gifts. And, I can't go on the rest of my life wanting to preach again. I love preaching, coming up with an idea, delivering something from my heart to their heart, I love it. And, I'm good. I am the Rev.
3. What does it say about me as a man and as a person if I simply give up after one bad experience? When things get hard, you don't just tuck tail and run away whimpering. I've never thought that and I'd never teach that. If you fall off, you get back on, and if you fall off again, you get back on, and if you fall off again...well, then maybe its time to try something else. But one bad album (No Code-Pearl Jam) doesn't define a band's lifespan (Ten, VS, Vitalogy, Yeild, Binarual, Riot, Pearl Jam-Pearl Jam). And one bad fit at a church won't define mine.
4. There's a reason that the fourth reason is fourth. It's the least important, but it's still a reason.(Kind of like the WNBA of reasons-eh, Mustoe?) It's a good job, and, right now, it seems to be the only GARAUNTEED job around. None of the churches I talked about with Steve are a step back and most of them are a step up. Pay check, benefits, housing, I'd get to keep my place, and I'd get to do what I love. I'm never, NEVER, going to find a job where I don't have to sacrifice something to be able to do something I love. As I told mom, if I were a postman, I'd get to listen to music all day...but, I'd have to walk. So, being a preacher is a good job. I don't know how good it is when you're not living on your own with no family to support. But, right now, 30,000 sounds like a hell of a lot of money.

So, there you have it. I'm staying in the game and I feel good about it. I'm going to find my place in "the life", or I'm going to make it. Steve tells me of a young man about thirty years ago who didn't feel like he fit the mold of pastor, who had some pretty outspoken feelings about the church and the nation, and who found his way to become a great pastor and be authentically and genuinally himself. I wonder who that could be.

I don't say that to bring up the whole "legacy" issue. I'm just saying, it's been done before and that gives me hope.

Thanks for your prayers and thoughts and wishes. My last day at Central is Sunday, Dec. 31st 2006. Oh, and by the way, I'm preaching that Sunday, you might not want to miss it!

Love, Grace, Peace
B

Hiatis

Spending some time away this week. And I do mean away...no cell phone, no computer, no homework, no dog. Just me, thoughts and the lake.

Just wanted to let you know that I won't be in touch for awhile. Actually, my cell phone will be in my car, I just won't answer. I'll check messages every night in case of emergency.

Unless you stumbled by this blog on accident, I love you all and am strengthen by your faith, love and support.

Wish me luck,
B

It's Official...

Well, friends and neighbors, it's official. As of January 1st, 2007, I am no longer Associate Pastor at Central United Methodist Church. Met w/ Staff Parish Relations today.

Honestly, I have no idea what I'm going to do next. Yes, I put in an application at a record store for assisstant manager. But, that was spur of the moment.

I love preaching. I'm good at it. I'm just not good at any of the rest of it. I live for the Sunday mornings that I get to lead the service, I get to plan the experience, and I get to deliver the message. However, I can't just go to another church, put on the suit and the robe and pretend to be that guy. I am not that guy. If I can find a church where I can preach and be pastor AND be me-t-shirt/jeans/sandals/guitar/Beatles/Metallica/Tarantino/week-0ld-beard-then maybe, MAYBE, I could see myself living the life.

I know that I can't put on the robe and pretend. It's not fair to the church nor me nor God.

On the other side, I would be perfectly happy working in a cd store, listening to music all day, sharing music all day, stocking music all day, and playing music all night. I would do this in a second, if not for two things:
1. I gotta get pizaid-I don't know how realistic it would be to hope to make a living working in a music store.
2. There's this nasty, pesky little thing called CALLING. As Mustoe said, I don't want to pull a Jonah, or for that matter, an Andy (7 years as Presbyterian chior director) or Jim (public health degree and social worker), all of whom tried to get away from the CALL and just when they thought they were out, they pulled them back in.

So, I really have no idea what's going to happen. All I know is...I'm going to be ok. I have the love of an amazing family behind no matter what happens. I have the love of an amazing woman, who will love and support and respect me no matter what happens. I have the love of my bro-bros, and my sis-sis's (just sounds like sssssss when you say it), great friends that will always be great friends. And, I have the love of God, who IS LOVE!

As long as I have all those things, nothing else matters. No paycheck, no job, no career, will ever replace or ever be as important.

This too shall pass-Donutman
Everything's gonna be alright-Bob Marley
There will be an answer, let it be-John, Paul, George, Ringo

Peace, B

Balance to the Force

Things I love:
1. My family, first and foremost, always and everywhere.
2. Vee. Especially now, you give me the courage to reach for my dreams and the security of knowing that if I don't get there, you'll still be proud of me.
3. Ice cream, but come on, who doesn't? I'm a cookie dough man myself. Anything with bite size pieces of uncooked cookie is just fine in my book. Nothing fruity either, or frozen yogurt. Anyone who tries to make something better by making it more healthy is missing the point.
4. Music. Seriously. Music is the window to the soul, an expression of everything that is beautiful and everything that is ugly. There's more truth and wisdom in Bob Marley's Redemption Song than most sermon's I've ever heard. (Granted I haven't heard my dad in a while and never heard my brother) I hope that in the coming weeks and months, music takes a more prominant role in my life, because I can't live without it. Music isn't a lving, music is life. Music may be the purpose I'm looking for. So, again, I encourage all of you. Go hear live music, support local bands and music stores and radio stations, spend time at a record store that let's you listen to stuff, always look for something new and exciting, don't listen to stuff THEY tell you to, pastors-read Rolling Stone, if you don't know who the Flaming Lips are you're going to have trouble getting young adults excited about your sermons, go to a music festival-nothing compares to 20 bands playing the same event, and most of all, keep your ears open.
5. My crazy dog. She's always there and always excited to see me. She's a lousey alternative, but when Vee can't give me a hug, giving Fee a stroke on the head right now helps calm my mind a little bit.
6. Old friends. The friends you don't have to stay in touch with to pick up right where you left off everytime. Mustoe, Sarah, Calds, Dru, Tyler, Jeff, Jaclyn, Bates. My life would be nothing without them.
7. Talking about, thinking about, studying about, this mysterious thing we call God. We will never understand, we will never fully know. God is the ocean and our knowledge is a raindrop of experience. But I love the search, the journey.
8. Drumming. Nothing makes me more at peace, more in touch with my emotions, more at one with the world. Drumming is my transendental meditation.
9. My prenatal nephew. Little Elvis isn't even hear yet, and I know the joy and love and light that he will bring into our lives.
10. Fall. Finally, I don't sweat brushing my teeth in the morning.

So, I can't write as much about what I love than what I hate. But, when you love something, words just seem to feel inadequate.

Peace, B

Position is Everything

Holy crap! I'm writing this blog from MY OWN COUCH! I'm never getting up from this spot.
B

Good Ol' Fashioned Rantin'

Things I hate:
1. Geraldo. This has got to be one of the most self-important, self-appointed blowhards out there. Rivera, shut up!
2. Celebrities involved in politics. Because you had the opportunity, doesn't mean you have the right. We don't care what you have to say, we just want to be entertained. That's why you exist. Dance monkey.
3. Captain students. Today more than ever. Yesterday we had a "I don't know what this has to do with the conversation but..." and a "I have to correct you on that Dr. Randolph (PHD in Ethics)". People, just shut up and listen to the teacher. We don't care about your trip to China, we don't care about your degree in education. Everybody knows pedagogy, not anthrogogy, means teaching. Just shut your mouth.
4. Drug commercials. If you needed anymore proof that the drug companies main goal is to SELL YOU A PRODUCT not make you better or heal the world or anything with any small thread of moral fiber, just watch primetime-midnight TV. I'm going to go ahead and say every other commercial is trying to get you to use some drug. And as the night gets on, when I usually watch TV, guess what happens. Sleeping pills come on the tv to tell you how their narcotic can put the sugar plums in your head. Everybody knows the prescription for most good health: eat fresh, clean, good foods and get off your ass and take a walk. Stop dealing drugs on my TV.
5. DJ's who think they're coordinators. Sunday, my bro and friends and I played the opening music for the Crop Walk and BJ the DJ comes in and thinks he's Bob Costas, DJ Jazzy Jeff, and Leonard Berstein all rolled into one.
6. Teachers who think their scatterbrained nature is cute and charming when in reality it is the most annoying and impossibly aggrevating thing in the world. When your personality gets in the way of your students learning, it may be time to step aside. Got a test next week. Do I know what's gonna be on it? Of course not. Do I know what format it's gonna take? No way, Jorge. Do I know what to spend my time studying? ha ha.
7. Guys in pop bands that head bang. Nickelback, the WNBA of rock, I'm looking at you. Actually, last night on Craig, Say Anything played through a song with no distortion, no guitar solo, really pretty good pop song. But they were shaking and girating and punching themselves like the best Slipknot fan. If you can't play the lead solo in Slayer's Hell Awaits, you can't head bang. Stop trying to turn your little Peggy Sue song into Iron Man, you can't.
8. Pidgeons. No real reason, just hate pidgeons.
9. People who try to prove how eclectic they are by listening to everything the radio or Rolling Stone says is avant gaurde or hip or indie or underground. Yes, we all love Radiohead. Yes, that Gnarls Barkley song is different (not good, just different). Yes, Dwezil Zappa's new side project is gonna be killer. Just like what you like. Own it. Stand up for it. Stop being a robot. Emancipate yourself from mental slavery.
10. Indecision and Indigestion

B

A Loss for Words

Hey everybody,
I'm sorry I've been kinda quiet lately. Things are pretty crazy right now. Some of you know, some of you don't. But, it's midterms at school and there's stuff with my job (and my life) that really put me at a loss for words. It's gonna be a rough couple of months. I'll try to drop a line when I can, or when something comes to mind.

Peace, B

By the Way

Mom,
Rest assured about my spending precious class time to create a web site.

1. No one else in the class, I took a survey last night, has ANY idea what the class is about either.

2. I got a 93 1/2 out of 100 on my first Greek test. I even got a personal congratulations from the great and fearsome Warren Carter, although I suspect it was out of surprise. But, anyway, I got an A!

B

The Scarlet H

For Hypocrit.

If you look to the right, you'll see a little myspace logo in the link section.

If you look down a few entries, you'll see a rant about the dangers and evils of myspace.

So, strap that big fat red H on my chest, 'cause Brad's got a MySpace page!

Honestly, my friends don't e-mail me and myspace is the only way to keep up with them. And, having wireless internet in the classroom, throw in a disturbingly and impossibly scatterbrained teacher (seriously, I have no idea what this class is about, but I have a paper due in a month) and you get the recipe for Brad's myspace. That's right, I set it up in class (sorry, Mom).

So, do check out my MySpace page, if you want to. I promise this will not affect Bustle in your Hedgerow; I know how dependent all of you are on my words of wisdom and wit to get through your day.

Peace, B

Truth and Purpose

Last weekend, I saw a movie called Down in the Valley. Go rent it, tonight. It stars Edward Norton, who could pretty much vomit in a box and I would think it genius, as a dillusional young cowboy. There are two points in this movie that I want to talk about.

1. In a scene where everlasting supporting actor tough guy David Morse is talking with his possible adopted son, Rory Culkin, the discussion comes to rest on the sister's "gumption".
The gruff father figure said the gumption, spirit, vigor, was necessary to get through this life.
Macully's little brother said, "The meek shall inherit the earth," meekly. Dad: "Where'd you get that b***s***?" The kid's answer? Not what you might think.

He studies the bottoms of his shoes and says, "On TV."

This is a startling reminder to me, and most of those who surround my life, that not everybody knows that Mark was written first, and not by a guy named Mark, that Luke and Acts were written by the same guy, also not named Luke, that Revelation was written on an island of Greece called Patmos.

But, what I really want to talk about is the question, where does our truth come from? Where do we get our truth these days? I think little brother was right. Television, magazines, newspapers....the media. think about it. How do we know what's going on in the world, what to buy, who to vote for? We know because the TV tells us to know. And like John Mayer says, "When you trust your television, what you get is what you got...'cause when they own the information...they can bend it all they want."

There is truth in this world and doesn't come from TV. It doesn't come from the Bible, either. Or the Quran, or the Vedas. It's in those books BECAUSE it's truth, not the other way around.
It's when we think of it the other way around, that are true BECAUSE they're in the Bible, or we get our truth from TV, it's then that all Arab people become Islamofascists and all Americans become Neocon-Fundy-Bill O'riely watching fatcats. The truth is out there, trust it.

2. The second (Lindsey just gave me a third, so bare with me) part of this movie I want to talk about is purpose. Sitting under an oak tree, watching his girl swing on an old rope swing, Ed Norton says, "Do you think everything has a purpose? I been sitting here thinking about the purpose of that branch. It might be cut down and give some family a nice piece of furniture...it might be there to have a swing tied to it...it might just be there to balance the tree so it don't fall over. I lean towards the swing. Sitting here, watching you up in it, I think I'm right."

I've been thinking a lot about purpose lately and I think the answer to Ed's unintentional riddle is all of the above. I think purpose can change. I think someone's purpose at 16 is not his purpose at 24, 35, 50, 80. Just like the branch's purpose right now is to be a swing and balance the tree, it CAN AND WILL change, it will be a chair or firewood or a guitar or simply turn back into dirt so more trees can grow. Purpose is ever evolving, ever changing. Maybe our purpose is to change. To not stay dormant for too long.

3. The thing Lynz reminded me of, and that I have not reflected on yet, is one line. Ed Norton, "You know you're speaking in your true voice, from your true heart, is that you don't hear any other voices in your head when you're talking." Imagine. I can't right now. It's too loud in there.

Asalam Aleykum, Peace,
B

That's all I can stands....

I can't stands no more.

I'm sitting here looking at the Rolling Stone Top 40 albums. I've got two strong words for the people who buy these albums: Come on!

The first three, I think, are alright. Beyonce, Audioslave, Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan should be number one, but still a top three spot is ok. Then I continue on down the list.

Number four is Danity Kane, who I don't really know who it, although I think it's the group of girls that Puffy Diddy Daddy put together on MTV. So, while its abhorable, it's understandable. But, then at number 5...staring up at the shadow of The Poet Dylan is Cheetah Girls 2, a lovely little modern day tween Monkees. By that, of course, I mean a fake band put together for a TV show. And, just as fascinating as the Monkees success, the FAKE, FICTIONAL "BAND" IS NUMBER FIVE!!!!!!!!!!

Let's continue. Christina and Jessica are number 6 and 7, and while I don't like it, there's always been room for pop music on the charts, and let's face it, those girls can sing.

And then there's number 8. I can't even begin to explain how terrified I am at what this says about our culture. Nickelback. The WNBA of hardrock...it's the same game, but not as fun to watch.

Let's get a big hell yes for Iron Maiden coming in at 9. Let's hit the high spots all at once and cut this short. Outkast, Panic at the Disco, Gnarls Barkley, Chili Peppers, The Roots, and Snow Patrol.

Now, for those of you who do quick math, that's not even half of the top forty. The rest...all crap. Some highlights: Now 22, the compilation of crappy pop music put out by record companies for the sole purpose of making more money and taking more money from the artists. Rascall Flatts, Pussycat Dolls (a vegas strip show act, with less talent), High School Musical (another gift from the Disney corp.), James Blunt, Carrie Underwood (an American Idol demon), Kidz Bop (another absolutely-for-profit project of the record companies), LeToya (who was actually NOT good enough for Destiny's Child) and Tim McGraw (who only still has a carreer because he married the hottest woman on earth).

I repeat, COME ON. Anybody remember when music used to mean something. Remember when it used to say something, to be the soundtrack of a generation, to speak out against the government, to be an exhibit of virtuoso musical talent, to NOT be about the money.

Functionless Art is Tolerated Vandalism.

B

Prayers Please

Friends,
My first Greek test is tomorrow at noon. Please pray for me and my stack of 350 note cards tonight, and peace and clarity of mind tomorrow. From everyone I've talked to, this test is going to be Hell on Earth, or, in Greek, straight KAKA (evil). I'm also told that the red marks on your first test do not reflect the grade you get in the book. He knows it's hard, and he grades accordingly. But, please pray for me.

doku-oh gar aymee, I think therefore I am,
Brad

Myspace Identity

Hat tip to Mustoe.


Had a good talk with my good friend Mustoe last night and part of the conversation revolved around the personal/friends sharing online networks myspace and facebook. If been thinking about it ever since and what the popularity of these websites says about the state of mind and self-esteem of the young people in modern culture.

I don't have a myspace or facebook page. I should say that first off. I am speaking on a topic without experienceing it. But, here's why I haven't experienced it: I don't believe that who I am, my identity, can be known on paper, or on an online profile. So, there we go. There are two things that these websites say about their users.

1. People today think that a personality CAN be described and understood through a simple list of profile questions. Identity has been so lost, and self-esteem so lowered that people think they can sum up who they are by filling in the blanks.

2. People want relationships but they want to be in complete control of the information they share in relationships. What does this say about the state of community, and trust, and security in our world today? When we participate in anything online that requires personal info, we can add and subtract and multiply anything we want. Why do you think child molestor's target kids through these websites? 'Cause they can get in and out easily. They can be whoever they want to be.


I have great friends in the myspace and facebook networks. I do not mean to imply that all people who are a part of them are shoe-gazing, insecure people. I simply want to talk about the dangers of some of the implications of these sites.

I want everyone who uses facebook and myspace, and everyone that doesn't, that who they are cannot be edited and cannot fit into a nicely uniform profile. We are all special, unique, beautiful, cherished creations of a God who is pure Love. Be yourself in every moment of everyday, in cyberspace and in real life, at church and at the Royals game.

Be your own specially, wonderfully, beautifully created child of God,
B

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Interrupting Randy Moss.

Interrupting Randy Mo--

STRAIGHT CASH HOMEY!!

Alright, sorry about that. I'm trying to keep up the blogs a little bit more. They are a big part of what keeps me sane right now. My life's kinda getting quietly crazy with school and work.

Lynz and I were talking last night about my favorite topic, other than music, in the world...television. And since I'm blogging more often, the topics are getting more abstract. So, here's some sociological discussion on our, mine and Vee's, favorite shows.

First, The Office. Not much to say here, it's a comedy and supposed to be silly (by the way, if you're still not watching The Office you need to get with the program--he--tv program--hehe).
However, one observation I've seen revolves around the love triangle of Pam, Jim, and Roy. Pam and Roy are engaged but Jim and Pam are best friends and Jim loves Pam and last year's finale was Jim TELLING Pam he loved her and they kissed and the screen went blank. OK, got it? Alright, point number 1: This girl just cheated on her fiancee. And we've never wanted adultery to work out as much as Jim and Pam. We've been brainwashed over two season to wanted with every stolen glance and every joking conversation that Jim and Pam are perfect for each other....but she's WITH ROY! So, what's the lesson? You should go after what you want no matter what you do to other people? Or, you should stick to your committments no matter how misrable they make you? Take your pick. (Kinda like Bush or Gore isn't it?) POINT TWO: Roy is a warehouse worker, Jim a top salesman with upward movement potential. Roy is a big, dumb, idiotic jerk who lives and dies for sports and treats Pam like a cavewench. Jim is a smart, sweet, funny, nice guy who would do anything for Pam in the spirit of friendship. Ya know, that Geiko commercial with the cavemen. If I were a warehouse worker, I'd be pissed.

Alright, show number two, Grey's Anatomy. Another show with a beloved adultress at the center. This show completely revolves around adultery, almost every plotline is about someone cheating on someone else. AND I CAN'T GET ENOUGH!! So, recap. Meredith gets with a guy who turns out to be her boss. The continue to see each other and then she finds out he's married( to a woman who cheated on him, of course). Two years and many tears later, we're left with the cliffhanger of will she choose available hunk vet, Chris O'donnel, or leave with McDreamy, WHO'S STILL MARRIED!!!! And I know some of you out there, I'm lookin' at you Caldwell's, dirty bunch, are rooting for her to leave with The Hair. Oh, yeah, and Meredith cried when she seduced her best friend who's hopelessly in love with her, broke his heart, leaving him a shell of a man, until he hooks up with plus size hottie who rocks his world, Christina hooks up and moves in with her boss. Izzy sleeps with the biggest overplayed, overwritten, overacted, character in tv history (the jerk intern with the heart of gold) , he of course cheats on her with a nurse who he gave the clap to earlier so Izzy turns to the feeble arms of a handsome mystery patient who dies on her and The Jerk with a Heart of Gold carries her out of the room and she quits. Oh yeah, and the Chief had an affair with Meredith's mom who still thinks its 1973. Alright, deep breath. Anyway, my point is, on paper this show is HORRIBLE in what it says about human nature or what it's trying to teach about human nature. Aparently, we are all hedonistic narssicists who don't care about anything but our on pleasures and desires no matter who we hurt and leave bleeding along the way. But, come tomorrow night, I'll be watching.

I could go on, but I ranted longer than I thought.

here's the question: Do we watch TV to escape from our own lives, knowing that these characters are far away from us and with a sort of "it's fun to watch rich people be naughty" mentality, or do we watch these shows because they speak to something deep inside about who we are as humans, because we know these characters because they ARE us, or do we watch these show because they are entertaining and fun to watch?

I'm gonna go make sure Lynz's dvr's set to record Grey's, I don't wanna miss a thing.
B

Random Notes-Brothers Boast

I don't really have anything to say, but I wonder what will happen if I just start typing and we'll see what comes out.

I have to tell my brother that he did a very "Jimmy" thing on Saturday. There we were, Jeff, mom, Steph, Andy, and me, having lunch while moving Steph into her new apartment. Andy goes walking off without a word. About 5 minutes later, I see Andy running down the gang plank to Steph's place with a 27" TV in his hands. "Holy Crackers", I said and ran to open the door. As it turns out, Andy pulls a muscle in his pectoral area and can't really help the rest of the day. I see really no difference in this and my father sledding down the tree-lined back yard or my uncle lifting mattresses weeks after his quad-by-pass.

That got me thinking (Andy, I hope you don't mind my psychoanalyzing you on the world wide web, feel free to return the favor). Everytime I see my brother, I try to impress him by playing a song on the piano or attempting to start some intellectual conversation that's way out of my league. I wonder if my brother carried a 27 inch TV up three flights of steps with no help to impress me. I do what he does, be smart-he does what I do, lift heavy things. Nothing unhealthy here, I think two brothers who want the respect of the other is a good thing, just a weird pattern I noticed on Saturday.

My big screen TV is awesome, although I now have to get cable. Watching a 52in TV with anntena squiggles is a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad thing. But, the good news...October marks the last payment on my car and only half of the car payment can get me cable and wireless for 15 mos, so I can do it.

I suck at fantasy football. I picked players I like, not that are any good and some that aren't even playing. Big Ben you freakin' wuss, it's an appendectomy. This isn't cricket, this is football, suck it up..

Did I mention the Tool show was awesome?

Alright, I think i'm taking Fiona to the dog park.
Peace out, B

Matt Lauer Corners Bush on Torture

Our president's not only kinda stupid, he's also pretty mean.

I SAW TOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You know how Simeon sees the baby Jesus and tells God he can die happy now...well, the same thing goes for me except all I have left is to see Pearl Jam and I can die a happy man.

Friday night I saw the best heavy metal in the world right now, Tool: four guys who hate playing in four four time, love playing in drop d, c, or b tuning, and have nothing but contempt for the frat boys who think their music is about aggression.

Adding to the amazing experience was sharing it with Jeff Green, a great friend of mine that I had not seen in I think four years. (My relationship with Jeff can best be summed up like this, he introduced my to heavy metal by playing my first Pantera, and I got him baptized at our church) Jeff and I, drummers the both of us, waited in the smokey Kemper arena for Tool to take the stage. Four guys, dressed in white lab coats, came out and pulled away the carpet on the stage. They revealed an all white stage with an all white backdrop. We were puzzled, it looked like a Strokes concert, or the Killers.

The arena went black, the crowd erupted in cries of anticipation, and in the dark we could see four guys ascend to the stage and take their instruments. Tool opened the show with thunderous unison drop d riffing and low and behold, that white stage was a GIANT VIDEO SCREEN!! Adam Jones played guitar on a lake of lava, Danny Carey's drums floated in some waters from a lake in hell, over Maynard James Kennan's sholder as he belted out lyrics in his amazingly strong tenor growlscreech came a flying demon skull who opened his mouth to reveal another flying demon skull. Then the lasers started.

It was unbelievable, Jeff and I were speechless, and exhausted from non-stop air drumming for 1 hour 45 minutes;we just sat there after the show waiting for the crowd to disperse, laughing histerically. It was all we could do.

Danny Carey, the drummer, is too good to be human. And, being in Tool, it's quite possible that he's not ALL human. With his towering 6'6" frame behind an expansive double bass drum set (which may or may not double as the band's space ship they use to get from show to show), he played all the beats I wanted him to play. Two impossible high hat/bass drum patterns from two seperate albums and an even more impossible triplet pattern on the double bass.

Well, I could go on like this forever. Needless to say, the show was good.
Now I return to my normal life, going to work, going to school, doing homework, knowing that somewhere out there, something amazing is happening to someone at a rock show.

So, until next time, never stop looking for new music...go to as many shows as you can (you too, mom and dad, whatever your style, get out there and see it happening)...don't steal music...support local radio...shop at local record stores...join e-mail fan clubs...Rock and roll is not dead, it's just a little harder to find these days.

B

New Numa - The Return of Gary Brolsma!

He's Baaaaack!

To My Boys

Donutman, Mustoe, Lee, The Janitor, Wolfedawg, Bubbles,

Sometimes, late at night, I put in Halo and run around the Slayer maps by myself.....just for the memories.

Good times, BB

God Talk

OK, so I'm not really a part of the Methoblogosphere like my brother. People don't have long theological discussion on my comment page. I'm usually the one who uses my blog for more personal reasons, to rant about stupidity, to recommend music or movies that come along that I actually enjoy, stuff like that.

However, with the start of a new school year and an article in the new Newsweek about modern atheism, I'm in kind of a theological mood.

So, the question, which is in no way a new one: How do we prove God? Or, perhaps a better question, do you we really need to?

First, it's important to know that I think the atheist quoted in the article aren't very current in their understanding of mainstream theology. Their opponents are the Christians that everybody knows about, the Christians in the media and high-profile positions. Which are, of course, the ultra-conservatives. (I'm sorry I can't give a link like other people, i'm not as blog savvy) In one quote, they say, "It seems you can tell a Christian that pudding turns people invisible, they will need the same evidence that everyone else does. But tell them that the book on their nightstand was written by an all-knowing deity that will send them to an eternal pit of fire if they don't believe every word of it, they accept that without trial."

ok, good start, guys. But, I don't believe the Bible was WRITTEN by God, but inspired. And, of course, I don't believe that I'm going to burn in the pit of fire if I don't accept every word the Bible says. (how did he get all those animals on one boat?) The atheists here are rejecting a very particular kind of belief in God, and I've got to say that I tend to agree with most of those sentiments.

The next point is eons old, how can anyone believe in a god who sends tsunamis and hurricanes and allows roofs to collapse on people while they worship? The answer is simple, I don't believe in that god. I believe in God, who comes to us in the midst of the hardest moments in our lives, to put a God arm around us and cry. God gives us the courage and strength to move on, to live on, to get back up, to rebuild.

Atheists are wrong. I will defend my rights to believe how I choose, as I defend theirs, but the one thing that I am 100% sure of is that there is a God. There is something beyond our understanding that is the ultimate source of benevolence and love and life and beauty.

Atheists are people who look at children as biological combinations of chromozones, sunsets as rays of light reflecting off our atmosphere and music as patterns of pitches, volumes and tempos.
When I look into the face of a child, I know that there is something more than science. When I look at the sun setting over the Lake of the Ozarks, I know there is some entity out there that I will never fully comprehend, some energy completely apart from everything we know that still yearns to have contact with us. And, especially, I need simply to listen to a Bach violin concerto, a John Coltrane sax solo, or Stevie Ray Vaughen play lenny with tears in his eyes to know that God is.

The authors discussed in the article hold fast to the claim that atheism is the smarter choice, that any rational mind can look at the world and know we are on our own.

Fine. I'll give you smarter. I'll give you the brain. Knowing that God is real is about heart. It's not about smarter, it's about truer, about deeper.

Atheists of the world, I respect your views and stand up for your rights to have them and speak them. But, I believe that you are wrong. Look your child in the eye, visit Banff National Park in Canada, listen to the guitar solo on Comfortably Numb, then try and tell me there's nothing more to this life than what we know.

B

Little Miss Sunshine

Hey,
Just a quick post that I forgot to mention in the excitement of school and new digs.

Little Miss Sunshine is the best movie I've seen since Sin City. If you don't know what that means, that's about two years.

It's a gut-busting, tear-jerking, knee-slapping, heart-wrenching...umm......bum-numbing, mind-boggling look at what it means to be smart, successful and cool in America, and how America's idea of that is pretty much wrong. It's an odd movie, with plenty of language and "did he just say that" moments.

Anyway, go see it, B

A 'Ho' Nuffer Rebel!

Alright, so Mad TV and SNL have sucked for a long time, but this title is from one of my favorite new sketches from Mad.

School's started again and they're not foolin' around this time. In fact, it seems to have gone to the HNL, or whole 'nother level. I have two, count 'em, two ethics courses-Engaging World Religions through Ethics and Ethics for Parish Ministry. The former is half an actual world religions class where we learn about the four other major religions and their ethical systems and half an experiment by our teacher, Dr. Richard Randolph (who everytime he e-mails I think is Robert Randolph calling me to join him on tour before I read closer). The whole class requires a computer and an internet connection. I tell you guys, it's like these people have never seen a computer before. If you entered graduate school after the year 1999 and you don't know how to upload....GET OUT NOW!

The latter, and if you don't remember that's Ethics for Parish Ministry, will be no picnic. Part of the course objective is to define my ethic for ministry. I have no idea what that means. This would be fine and expected, I would fully look forward to learning what that meant and being able to write the heck out of this paper...except it's the first assignment. I'm supposed to be able to identify and articulate my ethic for ministry by Sept. 28th. Oh, and CS's were out in force in this class too. (We call them Captain Students, for more info, see www.youmightbeacaptainstudent.blogspot.com ) People just couldn't get their little heads around the possibility of having an ethic for ministry that's something different than your personal ethic. Even Dr. R (yeah, I have him twice, and after I pissed him off by dropping out of his Brazil immersion this summer) got flustered and had to end the conversation. You don't treat your congregation with the same ethical convictions that you treat your children...and if you do, either quit the ministry or stop having kids.

At the end of my marathon 8 hour school day on Tuesday's is Worship-Dining in the Kingdom. This will be a good class except that everyone I didn't want to have class with again is taking it. Teaching this is Dr. Susan Smith, an absolute space cadat but one of the smartest space cadats I've ever known. This might be the first class I actually use when I get out of this place.

And then....there's Greek. AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!

Alright, on to more important things. When my sister moves, with a lot of help, on Sept. 16th, I'm getting my first set of matching furnature, an industrial size couch that's actually longer than The Beast but not as, shall we say, unique in appearance, just big and soft and perfect for napping, and a chair that's really a love seat with matching depth and softness. They kinda smell like small annoying dog, since both Steph and her roomate havea small annoying dog, but nothing a little Arm and Hammer and Febreeze won't take care of. To go along with my new perfect movie/football watching living room, I'm getting...wait for it...a big screen TV. It's not a plasma or liquid, one of the old ones but who cares. Everywhere I've lived, I've kinda felt like I'm only there for the summer and waiting to go back home. I hope that maybe this, along with Lindsey, Bates, Steph and the NKC fam., will finally make me feel home.

Living large and in charge,
B

Land of the Free, Home of the Naive

I'm having a sick-of-it-all moment. Friends, I've tried my best to stay positive. But America sucks. I'm not even really going to talk about our idiot president and his evil vice-squad Dick/Rove. (I'll only retell a story from this months Rolling Stone. Kurt Vonnegut, author, tells his interviewer that he's going to sue Pall Mall cigarettes. Ya wanna know why? Lung cancer, the interviewer asks. NO, because I'm 83 years old. Those bastards lied to me. They told me I'd be dead by 40, but instead I now have to suffer through leaders named Dick and Bush and, until recently, Colon.)

What I'm sick of is how our media treats teenagers. As a rookie youth pastor, I'm coming to enjoy teens as deep, smart, complex little adults coming into their own identity. The media sees teens as shallow little pods to manipulate into buying crap they don't need and is dedicating itself to turning teenagers into consumerist robot adults.

This weekend I witnessed three things that have brought this epidemic to my attention.

First, Sunday night was the Teen Choice Awards on Fox. Dane Cook was hosting with Jessica Simpson. If you aren't familiar, go to youtube and watch Dane Cook. Needless to say, noone under the age of 18 should know who Dane Cook is, but their he was, telling the teens what to like. "Roll Model" Britney Spears, who's pretty much turned herself into the richest white-trash barefoot and pregnant, stand by my man, walk into public restroom without shoes, drive with my baby in my lap kuntry girl in the world. Britney's explanation of why driving with a baby on her lap is ok, "We're country". And, if you needed anymore prove that TV stations and record companies are ruining our teenagers lives, the show concluded with the first ever performance of Britney's equally trashy and undeserving hubbie Kevin Federline, or K-Fed, as I call him. Kids who think Pink Floyd is an energy drink and The Beatles were the precursor for the Wiggles are being forced, FORCED, into thinking that Federline actually has any sort of musical talent and really deserves to be performing for us all, not merely because his sugar-momma bought and paid for his entire career, but that he's breaking new ground in the COMPLETELY over white-guy trying to get into black music. You're no Elvis, you're not Eminem, you're not even Vanilla Ice. But, because of his wife, our teenagers are being told to like this immature, idiotic, talentless piece of garbage.

Number two, this week in Entertainment Weekly there's an article about the MTV "reality" show Laguna Beach. Laguna Beach is a horrorfyingly watchable show about horrofylingly spoiled rich kids from California. The channel that just celebrated 25 years of MUSIC TELEVISION, and hasn't played a music video in about 10 oof those, is watched by every kid in America 13-20. These shockingly shallow kids who have no idea what need is, what real problems are or how much they actually have, are being painted by the writers (that's right, the reality show has writers) as people the teens of America should aspire to be like. And because they're well-trained little commercialist robots, they listen.

Number three, getting a hair cut yesterday, the only thing to read was Seventeen. This is a horrible magazine. Not only is it not well-written or designed or edited, but the content itself is disturbing. One such magazine, "How to Make Him your Boyfriend", discusses the need for young women to define themselves based on the idiot jock on her arm. The other, "How to Get Over Him", says that all men are trash, and the best way to feel great after your boyfriend cheats on you is to go out with his best friend. No lie. No articles about finding yourself, defining who you are as a young woman, being comfortable alone. It's boyfriends and fashions. In one magazine, the front of the magazine has vomit-inducing pictures of Nicole Ritchie (another person who has done absolutely nothing but be born to be famous) and talk about the dangers of anorexia. Later, in the SAME MAGAZINE, there's a story about how to get Ritchie's style, which to me looks like "Hobo-chic".

I'm sick of it all. I put the blame 50% on the industry and 50% on the parents. The kids who shouldn't know who Dane Cook is but do, aren't getting the parental supervision that they should be getting. The kids who come to me at church to talk about the new System of a Down album or bloody video game (both of which, at 24, I buy with frequency) need parents who don't just send their 13 yr old to the mall with money but who take an active interest in what their child is doing.

America. Land of the ignorant. Home of the Consumer. Land of the ethnocentrist. Home of egomaniacs. Land of the shallow, the inept, the celebrity. And home of the free-blogger, able to type his mind. Love it or hate it, it's home.

B

The Church's Stellar Social History

So, I'm reading an awesome present from Lindsey last night (actually couldn't stop reading it, stayed up 'til 3:00) called I Was There:Gigs that Changed the World. It's all about Jazz, Blues, and Rock shows that go down in rock n roll history for their "in the zone" playing, their social or political importance or just their you-had-to-be-there aspects.

As I'm reading through, I am amazed, and not for the first time, at what the church objected too. First, it was blues. Robert Johnson, the famous blues guitarman who, rock legend has it, sold his soul to the devil to get guitar skills. Well, of course, once that rumor started floating around the church could have none of it, banning and chasing Mr. Johnson out of town after town in the south. And then, as we all know, came Rock 'N' Roll and the legendary Elvis performance on the Milton Berle Show. Nicknamed Elvis the Pelvis, the church thought Mr. Presley was just too much sex for TV. The backlash was so great that he was shot from the neck up on the Ed Sullivan Show.

So, I got to thinking. Let's take a look back at the things the church has opposed over the years.

First, the church opposed pretty much anything that wasn't the church. The Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, all that.

Of course, any woman who proported to have a working relationship with God was burned at the stake for witchcraft.

Reading the Bible in anything but Latin (NOT it's original language by the way) was once blasphemy. In fact, anybody reading the Bible who wasn't a priest.....blasphemy.

In the US, I don't need to remind anyone of how Christians felt about the native peoples of the Americas.

Integrated church services, I still don't think the church does very well on that.

And then came the evil, moral-draining rock 'n' roll revolution.

No woman speakie in churchie, woman brain not big as man.


Of course, I could go on and on and on. The church always seems get all up in a huff about something only to watch it become a cultural norm. Elvis too much sex for TV. I've seen Denis Franz's backside more than I've seen my own.

I'm just saying that I'm glad the church has finally moved on from these unimportant issues and moved on to the things that are really tearing this world apart, those evils that threaten our very exsistance. War? Violence? Poverty? Disease? Hunger? Oh no, I'm sorry, I meant gay marriage and the right to choose. I'm sorry for the confusion. (I know I can't type sarcasm, but you should be picking up what I'm laying down)

Hey, Rev. Brad Bryan, Christians, the Church.......GETOVERYOURSELVES!

Rock 'N' Roll will never die, Brad

Life and Death

Lately, it seems my life is full of both.

First, Lindsey's great-aunt and sort of adopted grandmother passed away a few weeks ago. Then, Lindsey's grandpa Herbie died in California. Then, Mustoe calls me and tells me the news of his friend from Columbia.

I tell ya folks, funerals suck. I'm lucky and unlucky in this regard.

I am very unlucky that I never knew my mom's dad, Papa, and my dad's mom, Nana. All I remember of Papa is a cigar, a birthmark and a dog he trained to be more human than animal. All I remember of Nana is a smile, a laugh and a story before bed. Papa died when I was 5 and Nana when I was 7. These were people I NEEDED to know. It's unfair that I didn't get a chance.

But, I'm also lucky. Just as I don't remember their lives, I don't remember their deaths. I remember Mom and Dad telling me about Nana and not believing it and running to the stairs of the Dome Home and crying. I remember something about Nate putting a car on Papa's chest, but I could've made that up. I don't remember my parents or siblings crying. Which is a good thing, 'cause when they cry I cry. I'm glad I don't remember the funerals, because, as mentioned above, funerals suck. I made it through Lynz's aunt's ok, but I broke down at Grandpa Herbie, mainly because of a beautiful euolgy that Lynz wrote and because I saw her crying. But it was weird, we were at the service, the very bored and boring preacher said all the right words in all the wrong ways, Lynz's thing was read and we cried. And then, 20 minutes later, we were all in the basement of the Eagles Club eating loose meat sandwiches like nothing had happened. I don't like funerals.

I pray for Corrine, Herbie, Tyler. I pray for Mustoe, Abby, Jeff, everybody. I pray for Lindsey, Brett, Cinde and her whole family. I pray for all the mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, who have to have funerals.

At my funeral, no one will wear black, everyone will wear a different band t-shirt. No preacher, just stories. You'll sit and laugh and cry together, not silent in some stuffy room somewhere. Mustoe will play Free Bird and my wife and/or my kids will take my ashes to some mountian stream in Colorado and let me go.

My world has also been full of life. My sister's having a perfectly healthy baby boy and, yes, I'll probably be in the room. My brother's got two "bonus" kids, Joshua and Hannah for an indefinate time. And my best friends having a baby in March. I love those kids more than anything. Cori is so smart. Wesley is just as smart and such a laugh riot. Hannah has this bombastic belly laugh that goes along with her bombastic belly for a three year old, she looks like a doll. And Joshua, oh man, Joshua. I walked in the door and he ran up to me with his arms up and gave me a big year and half year old hug. I think he thought I was daddy, but it's ok he did it again the next time. I can't wait to be an uncle again, and an honorary uncle for Ryan and Honora. It's a role I think I was born to play.

Good times, bad times, the world keeps on spinning,
B

travis pastrana doublebackflip x games

Unbelievable

There I Said It!

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

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

Commander in Chief

I know these video blogs are really cheap ways of not having to think of anything creative, but I couldn't help myself.

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

I can't get enough!!

Coup de boule de Zidane vs Materazzi. Finale CDM06.

The Coolest thing I've seen in sports...EVER!

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

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