A Bunch of Lemmings

My dorm room sits under a small ledge by a parking lot. Across the parking lot there is an enormous knoll. The hill cascades up at a respectfully steep rate, leaving the hike up and down to be quite difficult - rain or shine.

Today was one of the first sunny days in a while. Perfect, I might say. It was about 63 degrees and the sun was shining brightly outside of the clouds. A small breeze blew the shade from the trees across the plush green grass. Beautiful day.

Naturally, college students just flock to this grassy knoll to sit and read, or perhaps poorly play Jack Johnson on their $250 guitar. Maybe they will toss the frisbee or kick a soccer ball. In the late afternoon there were about 25 collegiates out there. As dinner time rolled around (about 6pm), all - and I really mean all of them - simultaneously packed up their guitars and threw on their flip flops as if mom rang the "come and get it!" bell. I had the ultimate pleasure of watching all 25 or so slowly make their way down the steep slope. The greatest satisfaction of this event was that they had no idea that the rain from the day before was still making its way down the hill and into the parking lot. The hill was quite damp, to say the least.

One by one, and in a systematic fashion, men and women alike began to fall on their asses. Like a bunch of lemmings the students were falling down the hill, not learning from their peers falling around them. First the girl in the sunglasses and blue top eats it hard, then the bro in the trucker hat is taken out while his friends giggle. But I would have to say the best was the hat trick: three girls holding hands while walking down the hill all took grass to the ass. The center female slipped causing a chain reaction to hit her supporters. All three fell right on their caboose, and while after falling on her butt, one toppled over on her stomach loosing her sunglasses and small satchel.

In all seriousness I truly think I saw 12 individuals bite dirt on that small but steep incline. I'm sure some of those students could tell me all about first century philosophy or George Washington's opinions on strategic neutrality, but for all the knowledge we pretend to attain and for all the intellect we believe we foster, we're still a bunch of animals.

A Couple of Things

Let me be honest, I have never enjoyed the word, "things," but it is really all I have for what I was trying to get across. Right then. Here are some happenings in my world and perhaps a piece of yours.

1) April is Jazz History Month! So keep doing what you always do!

2) "Hot Fuzz" is the new movie from those dudes who did "Shaun of the Dead." This one is remarkable and perhaps one of the funnier movies I've ever seen...ever....

3) The Second Earl of Rochester could be the most disgusting men in all of English history. He's at least on the top 10. Right next to Judi Dench...

4) Greek Orthodox Church service tomorrow. I have no comments on this, nor feel like I need them.

5) The NBA playoffs are on and they are a pleasure to watch.

6) Yesterday we were walking downtown and there were at least five people holding signs in hopes that they would either get weed, or score money for some hash from aimless pedestrians or tourists. Happy 4/20...and make sure the kids get some, for the sake of our future.

7) I can't wait to see what I get for Earth Day!!!!

So all I really wanted to tell you about was that it was Jazz Month, but then I just kept going. Alrighty then, don't light your houses on fire, and see you soon.

For Your Namesake

I am a Christian. I do not ascribe to a religion or list of rules or sayings. I live my life by, for, and in a person: Jesus Christ.

I wish there was some way where I could tell every person who has had some sort of scar from Christianity in the past, that it wasn’t God or Jesus that hurt them, but that it was man. It was the Priest who raped the child, the pastor who excommunicated the lesbian, and the preacher who told you that you weren’t good enough. These are not Jesus’ words. You want Jesus’ words? These are the Red Letters:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything ill fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely…”
(Matthew 11:28-30 MSG)

Jesus Christ never called us to a set of rules. He calls us to Him. “Follow me,” he says, “Keep company with me,” he says again. Jesus doesn’t just know the truth or possess it like many other religious figures claim, Christ is the truth. He embodies it. And the truth is, while humanity has screwed up so much in His name, Christ still stands tall and mighty.

The Gospel is good news, not news of hell and fire. The difference between Christ and anything else out there in the “religion world” is this: Redemption vs. Religion. Religion gives a guideline, a book or creed that you must live by or else God hates you. Christ is Redemption and this means God loves you. Period. You’ve done wrong. Hell, who hasn’t? But don’t you think the Creator of the world knows that? Don’t you think if he created the world, that he knows and already knew that his creation would choose to do bad things? That’s exactly why he sent Jesus Christ. When Christ died on the cross his last words were, “It is finished.” Religion says you have work to do, and if you aren’t doing that work, God will hate you. Memorize this, give all that, preach till you are soar, then God will love you. God says, “It is finished. I have always loved you, and will always love you. Accept with faith, and My Grace will cover those things you have done and will do.”

April Fools

I approached her slowly, because I was so nervous. You would be too, so don't get all righteous about it. This situation was as tense as a trip to the bathroom that lasts longer than 12 minutes.
"Excuse me, Ma'am?" I say with caution.
"Yes?" she replies calmly. Oh man she's kindhearted, gentle. I wouldn't slap this woman for a million bucks...well, maybe a million, but still, she's freaking kindhearted; I can tell by her eyes.
"Do you own a black Labrador?"
"I do, yes."
"Oh, wow...um....shoot. I, um,...I...hit it with my truck..."
"Oh God!"
"Yeah, it was crossing Borland and I was changing my iPod from this soft India Arie song to something more appropriate for the weather conditions and my mood when I totally rammed into your dog...I'm so... sorry..."
"Oh no! She's dead?! She can't be! No! No!"
"Yeah, and...um, well, after I hit it, my adrenaline was pumping at full and I wanted to destroy any possible evidence...so..."
"So what?!"
"Well."
"?"
"I ate her."
"You...ate....her?!"
"Did I stutter? I ate your Labrador! I'm sorry, my bodily instincts took over, believe me I didn't like it, I felt like an animal!...I mean, I can't even believe that I actually did it...it was so intense...I...I don't know what to say..."
She started crying deeply, her hurt was in her chest, the woman was weeping. Pull the plug this has gone way too far.
"April Fools!"
"What?"
"April Fools! It's April 1st, and I didn't eat your dog ma'am....haha, oh wow that was a hoot!"
"Oh tha---"
"But I did hit it with my truck."
"-"
"It's dead. But at least I didn't eat her huh? Huh? Yeah? Yeah, at least I didn’t eat her"

It's Been A While

That title is the worst yet. Primarily for its association with that detestable song by the fizzling one-hit-wonder band, Staind, and secondly for it's large and annoying cliche factor.

But moving on.

It has been a while. And beyond my disgust for becoming another one of those people who abruptly stops blogging for no apparent reason, I found out something very important.

People actually read this thing.

This frightens me because I get an average of .456 comments on each entry, but apparently that is because all you who read it like to just give yourself pleasure by staying up really late at night and pouring over my words with lustful eyes. Sinful, this is sinful. I do have to admit it has been interesting to witness the different ways people have told me they like my blog. Some of you have told me over facebook, which is (I guess) alright and others have been hilarious about it and told it to my face, which is respectable, then there's those of you who enjoy these pointless rantings and videos without saying a word to me. Maybe you've never met me, maybe you want to meet me, maybe you've known me forever. Whatever it is, it's kosher to let me know that you a) read it and b) enjoy or despise it. And if there's one thing the author has learned in life it's this: do what's kosher.

I have a story ready to be published on this little site here soon and I will throw it up ASAP*. Stay tuned, I'll be back.


*The author notes that some who read this blog are mentally retarded and share their IQ score with that of an old toaster oven. He now lets you know that ASAP stands for As Soon As Possible and that when he says "throw it up" he doesn't mean he will literally vomit a story or tall tale seeing as that is physically impossible and emotionally exhausting, but that "throw it up" is just a slang term used by the kids to say "one will be putting this information on the internet." He also thanks you for your time and patience with this small print. He furthermore wishes to say that the first Matchbox Twenty album doesn't get nearly as much credit as is due.