A little over a month ago or so (I’m not curious enough to check), I mused about the possibility of complete abandoning Twitter, or, at the very least, making write-only, meaning I might post to it, but not read it. After posting that, I went at least a month without ever looking at my twitter stream. Literally. It was nice. Now, though, like an addict that is “over” it, I’m trying to decide if I should return. …
The new TV season is upon us, so, while I watch source compile, I thought I’d put some thoughts “to paper.” …
I’ve been rewatching Lost on Netflix. The first time around, I loved the show. Yes, at times it was frustrating, with the seemingly meandering story and the THOUSANDS of unanswered questions, but I like sci-fi/fantasty/out-there shows, so I enjoyed it nonetheless. As much as I loved it the first time through, it has been SO much better this time around.
The first time through, I was so caught up in the story, trying to make sense of it, that I missed a lot of the production details. Replaying it, though, I can look at not only what is told, but how it was told. I didn’t realize how well done it is. Sure, some film/theater student can probably nitpick it to death, but I was really struck at how well the main characters were developed and portrayed: the depth of emotion, the growth of the characters, etc. I also missed how well the producers handled the emotional scenes, such as the many reunion scenes. One of the most touching was the scene on the sub where Jin and Sun die. After all they’d gone through, the devotion Jin shows in sacrificing himself so he won’t leave was truly touching.
It’s a pretty big investment of time to rewatch all of the episodes, but I’m so glad I did, as it’s almost like watching a completely different show.
I like Jim Geraghty’s take on the current no-tax-hike impasse in Congress:
I suspect the default of a lot of conservatives is that they might, someday, be willing to entertain the notion of tax increases if they genuinely believed that lawmakers had made a sustained effort to trim the fat from the federal budget. When Citizens Against Government Waste changes their “Pig Book” to a “Pig Notecard,” they’ll be willing to talk tax hikes.
- When Planned Parenthood is entirely privately funded.
- When any president stops getting the taxpayers to pay for half of his Air Force One travel costs because he throws a "town-hall meeting" stop onto his fundraising tour of another state.
- When Congress accepts a pay cut.
- When former members like Anthony Weiner lose access to the Congressional gym and pay for their own d*mn gym memberships.
- When we tell foreign governments that future deliveries of U.S. aid will be conditional upon their efforts to refute — not shut down or ban, but refute — anti-American propaganda in their country.
- When you cannot find a single bike path in America that is being built with the assistance of the U.S. taxpayer.
- When we stop paying farmers to not farm their land.
- When NPR and PBS are entirely funded by donors, merchandising, and their already-considerable corporate sponsors.
- When federal employees with significant unpaid tax bills have their continued employment contingent upon paying those tax bills.
I’m sure you can come up with many, many more. Also, I think we on the right would want some sort of ironclad, if-we-break-this-pledge-hunt-us-down-with-hounds guarantee in writing that all additional tax revenues would be used to pay down the debt. Over the years, we’ve enacted plenty of tax hikes. We’ve never made a serious effort to control or reduce spending.
While we’re on the subject, specifically NPR and PBS, I just can’t understand why some, mostly libs, refuse even to consider defunding these two. If you suggest that we do so, you’re asked why you hate Elmo? Personally, I don’t hate Elmo (my kids LOVE him), but when you’re faced with such a HUGE deficit, you have to start cutting the fat somewhere. Sure, these two expenditures are a small part of the federal budget, but if I faced a similar deficit (adjusted for scale, of course) in my family budget, you can bet your bottom dollar (har har : ) that Netflix and U-verse TV would be some of the first things to go.
I wouldn’t stop there, of course, but I’d certainly start there. It should be the same with PBS and NPR. Identify what’s non-essential and cut it. For what is essential, see if there’s any fat there and cut it (even if it’s military spending ; ). You can’t just look at some small amount and shrug. A few pennies here and a few pennies there add up to dollars eventually. When there’s no money, there’s no money and tough choices have to be made.
My mom sent me this story. You may have already seen it — it may not even be true — but I hadn’t seen it, and it makes me laugh every. single. time. So, here you go:
She said I wasn’t funny, but she couldn’t have been right, because everyone else in the class laughed.
My parents told me to always be truthful and honest, and I am. Fried chicken is my favorite animal. I told my dad what happened, and he said my teacher was probably a member of PETA. He said they love animals very much. I do, too. Especially chicken, pork and beef.
Anyway, my teacher sent me to the principal’s office. I told him what happened, and he laughed, too. Then he told me not to do it again.
The next day in class my teacher asked me what my favorite live animal was.
I told her it was chicken. She asked me why, just like she’d asked the other children, so I told her it was because you could make them into fried chicken.
She sent me back to the principal’s office again. He laughed, and told me not to do it again. I don’t understand. My parents taught me to be honest, but my teacher doesn’t like it when I am.
Today, my teacher asked us to tell her what famous person we admire most.
I told her, “Colonel Sanders.” Guess where I am now…
A week or two ago, a professional colleague (for lack of a better word 🙂 asked me what I think is a pretty good question, “I can’t tell if it’s professionally wise or socially irresponsible to stay silent about my political views. @jasondlee thoughts?” It’s a tough question, I think, so here’s my rambling answer. 🙂
Twitter is, for me, a mostly personal outlet. Yes, I follow several peers, etc from around the industry, but I also follow friends from church, politicians, journalists, commentators, comedians, musicians, etc. For the most, I try to segregate my blogging into “personal” (here and here) and professional (here). Twitter, though, I tend to treat as more of a middle of the road outlet, more like the hallway conversations I’d be having if I worked in an office. Since I don’t, I tend to ramble more on Twitter. People that don’t like that know where the “unfollow” button is (and, believe me, from what little I’ve paid attention to follower counts, it gets used :).
Having said that, whether it seems like it or not, I try to be sensitive to the interests of my followers. I try not to spend too much time on political or religious matters, and, to a lesser extent (for the benefit of my Facebook Friends who see all my tweets via the Twitter app), I try not to tweet every geeky idea that comes to mind. I am, though, admittedly, MUCH less concerned with the latter. They can (and do, I hear 🙂 hide me from their stream on Facebook if they want to.
Some topics, though, I feel are either too important to filter out of my Twitter stream, so they get some attention. I also know that I follow a lot of people who don’t hold my positions, be they political or theological (and some even technical). Despite how incredibly awful Twitter is for real discussions (“Twitter is where conversations begin, then move somewhere more appropriate”, I’ve heard, kind of like this one), I do enjoy hearing the opposing viewpoint to the topic du jour. If I only ranted about this politician or that dangerous theological idea to the Duke stress relief squeezy, I wouldn’t get the sharpening and education that comes from active, public discussion (such as it is on Twitter).
So, in a nutshell, I treat Twitter as a *mostly* unfiltered venue for discussion/venting. That may irritate some and may cost me professionally (tough to say on that front), but I’m OK with that. I say nothing on Twitter that I wouldn’t say in a hallway conversation or a coffee shop. If someone doesn’t like that, well, there’s the unfollow button. 😛
Last Sunday, my wife and I received an answer to many years of prayer as we were given the opportunity to help our oldest son, Andrew, to faith in the Lord. As a Christian parent, I can’t imagine there’s anything more satisfying than seeing your child come to Faith, and that we were able to help him make that all-important prayer brings joy beyond description.
We have been talking to Andrew about the Lord since before he could read. We would read the Bible to him, teach him the truths of God’s Word, explain to him that God loves him, etc. We were careful, though, not to push too hard or try to convince him of his need; that’s the Spirit’s job. We have, though, done our best to be faithful to teach him as he grows, trusting that the Lord would grow the seed He planted through us. That Sunday morning at church, then, our pastor was continuing his walk through the book of Mark (you can listen to the whole sermon, which was great, here, or see below). At the end of the sermon, Andrew tapped Angela on the shoulder and told her, “I think Jesus wants me to ask Him into my heart,” adding “My heart is beating really, really fast.” 🙂 She was excited, of course, but she told him that we’d talk once we got home.
Once we got home and finally had the chance to talk to Andrew without distractions, we asked him about what he told Angela. For a while, we gently probed, not wanting to “trick” him into a decision he might not be ready for. Those that know me well know that I went forward at a church service once, thinking that I was making a true profession of faith, only to realize years later that what I had done wasn’t authentic. Perhaps I’ll write that up in another post, but it should go without saying that we wanted to make sure Andrew made this decision for himself, and that it be authentic and truly efficacious, so we were very careful.
After some discussion, Andrew told us again that he was ready. He had told us this before, several weeks ago, but he seemed to be fully aware this time of what he was saying. We bowed our heads, then, and helped him walk through that simple prayer. After the prayer, we hugged on Andrew, and reiterated to him how much we loved him and how proud of him we were. What a precious time that was. 🙂
No one can truly know, of course, the heart of another with certainty, but I’m convinced the Andrew had finally come to the point where he knew what he needed to do, and I’m so proud and pleased that I can now call him my Brother.
As I noted on Twitter, it seems that Jonah Goldberg stopped publicly archiving his weekly “Goldberg File” at about the same time he quit letting pictures of himself be taken. That being so, if you want to read this (mostly) weekly , hilarious commentary on… well who can really say, you have to subscribe. However, this description of his most recent trip to the theater (the pedestrian Main Street kind, not the swanky/snobby uptown kind. Not that that there’s anything wrong with that) is a great example of what to expect from it, and is too funny not to share. Without giving away the punchline, having been burned before, I understand his trepidation:
Dear Reader (and those readers who are not dear and those who are dear but who do not read),
The last time I went to the movies to see an adult film . . . er, I should say the last time I was in the theater to see a film for adults. As far as I can tell, they haven’t had adult theaters since On Golden Blonde was on the big screen.
Anyway, the last time I saw a non-animated movie in the theater, I saw True Grit. The Fair Jessica and I had a matinee movie date.
Before the movie started, there was a preview for a movie coming out later this year. At first it seemed to be like a big-budget film on the Moon Landing (I am choosing to capitalize that, like it or not), mixing archival footage with new stuff. The words “Our Nation’s Proudest Moment” flash on the screen. So far so good. Then, when Neil Armstrong lands on the moon, a new phrase appears: “A Secret Hidden for Forty Years.”
Uh-oh. What’s this? I thought. Intriguing. Exciting. Maybe someone in Hollywood has read one of my weekly letters and is finally making the movie “The Trial of Capricorn One,” an awesome sequel to the forgotten O. J. Simpson classic.
Then, we see real footage of Walter Cronkite telling viewers that the crew is on the “far side of the moon” and thus out of radio contact. Then the boss at Mission Control (more questionable capitalization!) tells Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin that “the mission is a go.” They have 21 minutes to check out something cool.
Oh, man, this looks great.
Suspense builds like a Sim City metropolis called “Suspense” created by an introverted South Korean kid with asthma, a broken leg, and rich parents. The astronauts moon-trot over a lunar ridge to find the massive wreck of a spaceship. Coolness! They start exploring it. More drama! Excitement!
Self, this is a movie I’m going to see, I said to myself.
My wife looks over to see me nodding as if a waiter just asked me if I like cold beer and ribs.
Then: Four of the most disheartening words in all of cinema appeared on the screen. You know of what I speak.
“From Director Michael Bay.”
Suddenly, the bowels stew like a forgotten fondue pot left too long over a lit can of Sterno.
Oh dear Lord, I know where this is going, I say as I look for the eject button on the arm rest.
Too late.
It’s a preview for Transformers III.
One year ago today, my Dad died. In July of 2009, he was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. Five months later, he was gone. Like countless others who have lost loved ones, I’ve struggled with the question of “why.” And like those countless others, I really don’t have an answer.
I’m a Christian, as was my Dad. It is within the framework of that Faith, then, that I’ve wrestled with the question. Of the various possibilities, the one I like to think is probably the right one, is that this was my Dad’s last act of faith and obedience. My family has gone to church as long as I can remember. Twenty to twenty-five years ago, though, as I remember things, we started getting more and more involved in our local church. Dad volunteered for one thing after another, taking his service to the local body very seriously. In fact, as he became sicker due to the scourge that eventually claimed his life, he lamented missing church, something he hadn’t done in a very long time. Though not formally a deacon (which, in Greek, means ‘servant’), he was a servant of the church nonetheless. He loved its people, and he loved its Lord.
Ultimately, though, the road each of us walks comes to an end. For some, it’s at a ripe old age, where time has taken its toll on our bodies, which eventually give out. For others, that end is much earlier. This was the case for my Dad. It’s quite possible, and, again, I think probable, that the Lord, for reasons we don’t understand, decided to let this awful thing we call cancer touch my Dad’s body as one final test, either of him or for us. As Christians, we contend that, once we accept the gift of salvation, the rest of our lives are spent trying to become more and more Christ-like. Life’s trials are often the tools the Lord uses to affect that change. It may be that this was one last stroke of the chisel, once last brush with the polishing cloth, that my Dad needed before he was ready.
It might be, also, that the Lord used my Dad’s disease and death, as an example of what Christian faith looks like. Perhaps it wasn’t a test, but Dad’s last mission, his last act of service in life; to demonstrate true faith and the peace and grace it brings as he passed on to his reward.
In truth, we’ll never really know. Not in this life. To be honest, I really wish it didn’t have to be this way. I miss him terribly, and probably always will. Despite that, though, I have never been angry with God for allowing this to happen. I don’t understand why it had to, but I trust The One who let it. And perhaps that was the point, at least in part: to test my faith. To inch me toward the perfection in Christ that will someday be mine. I’ll know for sure someday. My hope and prayer is that someday I’ll hear the Lord tell me, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” And as Jesus says those precious words to me, I can’t help but picture my Dad standing there amongst the throng of redeemed, whole and healthy and perfect, flashing that proud, happy smile of his I long to see again. I may understand it all then, but it won’t matter, I think. I’ll be with my Dad again. And like him, I’ll finally be Home.
I was sent this news and thought I’d pass it along here:
The Supreme Court has ruled that there cannot be a Nativity Scene in the United States’ Capital this Christmas season. This isn’t for any religious reason. They simply have not been able to find Three Wise Men in the Nation’s Capitol. A search for a Virgin continues. There was no problem, however, finding enough asses to fill the stable.