Reruns 5

Here it is, folks. The fifth and final Reminder Reruns entry:
***
Now it’s time for WBSR Talk Radio, with your host, Flip Hemingsternson.

Flip: First of all, I’d like to thank the Academy for getting their act together and recognizing a certain movie whose “prequels” probably should have gotten the same recognition. Of course, who knows whether the decision was made based on their good taste or based on the overwhelming pressure from fan(atic)s everywhere . . . the world may never know.
But now to business. Today on WBSR Talk Radio, we’re proud to welcome our special guest, Dr. F. Theodore Busby, the famous Bible Scholar. Hiya, Dr. Busby, how’re the kids?

Busby: Hi Flip, the kids are doing swell, thanks.

Flip: First off, what’s the “F.” stand for?

Busby: What “F”?

Flip: The “F” that’s your first initial, of course!

Busby: Oh, that “F.” Well, if you must know, it stands for my first name.

Flip: . . . I see. And what might that be?

Busby: What might what be?

Flip: Your first name!

Busby: Oh, right. Fritz. My first name is Fritz.

Flip: Ah, good name. But you prefer to go by Theodore. Mind if I call you Theo?

Busby: That would be fine, I guess.

Flip: Ok, now that that’s taken care of, why don’t you tell us a little about your experience with the book of Amos.

Busby: Well, as a Bible scholar, I have read the book many times. And let me tell you, it’s a doozy of a book! There’s torture, death, and judgment going around like fleas at a dog show! Cities crumbling to ruins, armies marching to war, horrific acts of despicable evil—and that’s just in the first few chapters!

Flip: Sounds pretty crazy, Theo.

Busby: And how! See, the Israelites weren’t behaving themselves. God had given them strict, specific rules about how they were to live, and they weren’t obeying the rules. God gave them numerous warnings and plenty of chances to repent, but they never got the hint. So God decided it was time to show them who was Boss. Enter Amos, the prophet. He’s sort of like a prosecuting attorney. He lays out God’s case against Israel and announces God’s plan for their impending doom.

Flip: Woah. Not very smart to make God angry, is it?

Busby: That’s for sure.

Flip: So, what can you tell me about the weekly Bible study?

Busby: Well, I’d have to say it’s a pretty good deal. Admission is free, good discussion is guaranteed, and it’s conveniently located in LH 139 at 10:30pm. While they sometimes go off on tangents and don’t always figure everything out, they do a pretty good job.

Flip: OK Theo, here’s a tougher one: what are your thoughts on Jolly Ranchers?

Busby: I love Jolly Ranchers, Flip. I think they’re godly and American. You pop them in your mouth and it sounds like angels humming. I particularly like the watermelon ones. Just can’t beat a good watermelon Jolly Rancher when you’re poring over ancient texts of knowledge!

Flip: No arguments there, Theo. Ok, next question: If you were stranded on a tropical island with nothing but a rubber band, a particle accelerator, and a jelly donut, how would you ensure that your Bulgarian warm-water lemurs got the proper balance of vitamins and minerals every day?

Busby: Well, of course I’d have to start by making sure the vacuum cleaner had enough pineapple juice. Then, taking advantage of the Brownian Motion inherent in the hot tea, I would boost the power output of the particle accelerator to launch the tennis ball into the fishbowl. Then I would eat the donut.

Flip: And if there were one famous person on the island with you, who would it be?

Busby: No question about it, it would have to be Tim Allen. He’s definitely the guy to have when you need to get some home-improvement-type stuff taken care of.

Flip: Well, that’s all the time we have for today. Thanks for coming, Theo. And for you viewers, don’t forget about the Bible Study! This is Flip Hemingsternson, signing off!
***

There. Now that your memories have been refreshed about what I can do for Reminders (poem, story, random zaniness), give me suggestions. Ideas. Votes. Use the comment system, dang it! Do it! DO IT NOW!!!! (please?)

Two Down, One to Go

The first term of classes is over. I feel pretty good about them. I'll probably forget most of the details of the Government class before too long, but at least I'll remember enough to understand the general goings-on of...stuff. And as for Reasoning...that class was awesome. I'm sure it's not everyone's thing, but I loved it. So much that I'm already planning to attend CBU again next summer so I can take a Symbolic Logic course. I never liked doing proofs in math classes, but somehow they're a lot more fun in logic.

So this week I don't have classes: just work. I don't know yet whether the Registrar will be able to afford to keep me employed for the rest of the summer. I can only hope.

I've also started working on my Internship (the one that's required for the English degree). I'm working for the Rialto Community Players, a volunteer acting group based right here in Rialto. I'll be doing a little publicity work (press releases and stuff), creating a database with lots of info on people who have acted with them before, and helping redesign their website.

Next week (or maybe the week after, I'm not quite sure yet), I start the second term. I've only got one class, but it promises to be a good one: Intro to Linguistics. Needless to say, I'm excited about it. I picked up the book at the bookstore, and decided to browse the table of contents. I was on the verge of giddiness, I was so eager. I'll probably start reading the book this week.

Hope y'all are doing well, staying safe, all that good stuff.

Oh, and don't miss "Reruns 4" just below this post.

Reruns 4

Once again, a "story time" Reminder Email. Enjoy.
************

Outside the mansion, the rain fell steadily through the cold night air. Inside, a lone figured crept silently down the dim halls, cautious, alert, and tense. His eyes, which shone brightly from the shadows cast by his fedora, swept the corridor ahead of him, his ears listened intently for any sound. He came to a door in the western wall, and he quietly opened it and peered inside. This was it; he’d found it! Darting quick glances down the hall, he slipped into the room.

The room was an office. The fedora-wearing treasure hunter worked his way through foot-high stacks of paper to the oak desk across from the door. The desk had one large drawer, which the man tried to open. It was locked. Cursing under his breath, the man tried again, failed, and searched the room for a key. Finding none, he glared down at the desk. ‘I’ve got to get that book!’ he thought to himself. With that, he set his jaw and drew a pistol from the holster at his hip. Face etched with grim determination, he shot the lock off the drawer and ripped it open. He dug through the papers and folders he found there and discovered what he was looking for at the bottom of the drawer: a leather-bound book. The man grabbed the book and stuffed it in the pocket of his leather jacket, then shoved the desk up against the door. From the hall outside came the sounds of running feet and voices raised in alarm.

The treasure-hunter moved to the large, 8-foot-square window. Pushing the window open, he looked down to the ground three stories below. As he looked up, towards the roof of the house, he heard the furniture shake as the door was rammed from the other side. He spied a decorative gargoyle about three feet away from him, and there was a flagpole about three feet beyond that. Conscious of his makeshift barricade slowly giving way, the adventurer reached for the whip at his side, and uncoiled it with a snap and a flourish. The door crashed open, and a small army of gray-uniformed men wearing red armbands burst into the room. They were just in time to see the fedora-clad thief wrap his whip around the gargoyle and leap from the windowsill. The rogue swung in a graceful arc around the gargoyle, grabbed the flagpole on the other side, freed his whip, and slid down the pole to the ground some 30 feet below. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he made a break for the wrought-iron manor gate some 50 yards away. The uniformed men at the window aimed automatic rifles at the rapidly disappearing figure, but the rain and their haste caused their shots to go wide of the mark. Just then, a large supply truck rumbled down the road towards the gate, which swung open to allow it to pass. The fleeing figure leaped onto the back end of the truck and was carried away from the mansion.

Moments later, two black cars sped out of the gate, chasing the dwindling figure of the truck. Their tires squealed on the slick road, but they gained rapidly on the larger and slower-moving vehicle. Spotting the pursuers behind him, the adventurer fired three rounds at the leading car. The third shot blew out a tire, and the car was forced to stop. But the second car carried its own gunman, and one of his bullets knocked the thief’s gun from his hand. Cursing, the adventurer tried frantically to think of something to do. Glancing around the truck, he noticed an open manhole just off the road ahead. ‘How convenient,’ he thought, and jumped off the truck. He made a dash for the manhole, and slipped inside just as the Nazi car pulled up behind him.

The sewer was surprisingly dry and clean, but it reeked of...well, it smelled really bad. The adventurer could hear the car screeching to a halt and the soldiers getting out above him. ‘Damned Nazis,’ he muttered, and ran off down the tunnel.

He turned at several intersections, but he could always hear the Nazis running and shouting behind him. As he rounded a corner, he heard a rumbling noise in the corridor ahead of him. Seconds later, he spotted the massive sphere of rock rolling towards him. With a yelp of fear, he turned and fled back the way he had come. He ducked around a corner, and the rock turned and headed towards the Nazis. But halfway down the passage, the rock slammed to a halt, wedged in a narrow point of the tunnel. The adventurer sighed and thought, ‘Guess I won’t have to worry about them anymore.’

He continued up the passageway from which the rock had come. After a few more minutes of walking, he saw a ladder ahead of him. Relief flooded him, until he heard the hissing. Looking down, he saw a large viper reared up on the ground between him and the ladder. His face turned white, and he gulped loudly. “Snakes,” he moaned, “why does it always have to be snakes?” The thought of spending the rest of his life wandering sewers gave him new courage; he took a running leap, cleared the snake by inches, grabbed onto the ladder, scurried up it like a monkey, and found that the cover was stuck. Summoning a nearly superhuman strength, he heaved the cover away and climbed up. . .

Into a well-lit room furnished with tables and chairs. A whiteboard covered one long wall, and the thief tumbled out onto the carpet in the middle of the room. He looked around, and found himself facing about 12 college-age people, who were staring at him with a mixture of surprise and resignation. One of them shook his head and said, “Really, Dr. Jones, you could have just used the door like everyone else does.” The thief opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another student, who chimed in with “Yeah, and you might try to be on time, too; it’s already 10:45.” “Did you forget the time and place again, Dr. Jones?” asked a third. “Longview Hall 139, 10:30, just like it’s always been.”

Indiana Jones stood up and dusted himself off. “Hey, I got here, didn’t I?” he asked offhandedly. “Besides, I needed to get this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the book he had taken from the desk in the Nazi headquarters. Written in gold on the leather cover were the words “Holy Bible.”

Reruns 3

Well, my government presentation went pretty well, and I feel prepared for my two tests tonight. That just leaves the take-home final and new internship work.

But for now, it's time to get back to the Reminder Reruns. Today, I present "Film Noir Reminder, Un-cut." What makes it "un-cut," you ask? Well, the first time around, at the suggestion of my worthy editor, I removed most of the profanity (it was a reminder for a Bible study, after all). Even though it's relatively mild, I think the profanity makes the thing more "gritty," so I've reinserted it here. It's not much, but it is something. Enjoy.

******************
It was a cloud-darkened Friday afternoon. Rain fell with a steady rhythm against the window, leaving sheets of water streaming down the cloudy glass. Except for the occasional flash of lightning, the small room was lit only by the glow of my computer monitor. My stubble-covered face was grim as I read through the list of bills I still had to pay. Bill my landlord, Bill my insurance agent, Bill my cab driver...I sighed and took a shot from the bourbon bottle on my desk. At least I tried to: the damned thing was empty. Again. I tossed the bottle into the wastebasket with a mild oath and returned to my perusal of financial debts. The private-detective business has never been known for its high wages, and I fit the trend like a tailor-made leather glove. Little did I know that Lady Luck was about to whisk me away on a job that would change my life.

There was a knock at the door, and before I could invite the invisible guest to enter, the door swung open. I straightened my tie, and in walked trouble with a capital D; a tall, redheaded Dame with tears in her eyes and too much body stuffed into not enough dress. I groaned inwardly as the broad collapsed into the chair opposite mine and panted, “You’ve got to help me!” “I haven’t got to do anything, sweetheart,” I said in my unsympathetic Business Voice, “but I am in the business of providing assistance to those who need it and can pay for it. If you can manage to settle down and tell me what’s got you all riled up, we’ll see if we can work out an arrangement.”

The even drone of my voice and repeated dabs at her face with a lace handkerchief seemed to calm her. She explained that she lived and worked over at the old LeTourneau place, and that some oddball coworkers had recently begun having mysterious late-night gatherings on Fridays. No one was quite sure what went on at these meetings, but the group called themselves “HNRS” and claimed it was nothing more than a study session. “But they use a very unusual book,” the dame exclaimed, “something called a ‘Bible.’ And there are rumors that they actually have...fun...at this thing! How could they have fun if it was just a study session?!” The poor girl couldn’t take it anymore and lapsed into a fit of sobbing.

Damn. Just what I needed: an emotional broad with nothing to her case but cryptic half-clues and rumors. I contemplated ignoring the case. Something better was bound to turn up soon; after all, this was Longview. I sighed inwardly. Hell, who was I kidding. I’ve always been a sucker for emotional broads. Which is probably one reason I’m always in so much debt. I reached across my desk and patted the dame consolingly on the hand.

“Alright, calm down, Miss. Can you tell me anything else about this group?” Choking back her tears, the dame thought for a moment. “Well, they meet at 10:30 at night. And I’ve heard the word ‘Amos’ used by certain members of the group, but I don’t know what it means.” “ ‘Amos,’ huh? That's an odd word. Maybe it’s some kind of password or something. Well, Miss, I’ll take your case. Hell, what else have I got to do on a Friday night, anyway?”

My confidence and acceptance lifted the dame’s spirits, and she showered gratitude-filled cliches on me as she made her way out the door. With a sigh of resignation, I glanced once more at the debt-covered computer screen. With any luck, those debts would be disappearing before too long. With any good luck, that is...

As I grabbed my fedora and trench coat and headed for the door, I said to myself, “This should be an interesting Friday night...”

The First Home Stretch

This week is gonna be a little crazy. My neck and shoulders are a little sore and stiff from our accident last Wednesday, so I'm already off to a great start.

Tonight, I turn in my Government paper and give my presentation on it. Then we get our take-home finals, which are due next week. I'll have to do mine over the weekend.

Tomorrow, I get to take my brother to a band practice at a rival school. The reason I get to take him is that as soon as his practice is over I have to hustle to a meeting with the lady who will hopefully be my "boss" for the internship I'm looking at. If everything works out, I'll let y'all know what I'm doing.

Thursday I have not one, but two tests in Reasoning: Unit Test #3 and the comprehensive Final Exam. That should be fun. And by "fun" I mean "similar to getting your teeth hacked out with a Saga-knife."

Next week is as close to a real week off as I get this summer. I'll still have work, and hopefully I'll be working on my Internship by then, but no classes.

In two weeks the second term starts, and with it the class I've been looking forward to ever since, oh, April: Intro to Linguistics. In a way, it will be a "moment of truth" as I get a look at what linguistics is really about, and whether it's what I really want to do.

Oh, and one other thing about this week: thanks to our little bumper-cruncher last Wednesday, we only have one car (the other's in a body shop). And considering that each of the four members of my family has queemy own schedule, this makes for lots of fun planning. And by "fun" I mean "similar to bathing in barbecue sauce and then wrestling a rabid wolverine."

Long and short of it: I'll be pretty busy/stressed/tired this week. If inspiration strikes, maybe I'll post something. In any case, I'll post a recap of the first Summer School term once everything's done.

Oh, and the Reminder Reruns will continue tomorrow or the day after.

Wish me luck.

Grammatical Goofs That Generally Get My Goat

I warned you that something like this would be coming: The Quintuple-G List (see post title). This is by no means an exhaustive list, but it's a good start. It probably seems anal to many people, but as a member of the Grammar Gestapo, I often take offense at errors in communication. My native tongue (English) has enough problems on its own without people mangling and mauling it.

I try very hard not to be a jerk about it, but I will probably point most of these mistakes out to you if you make them around me. Don't take it personally; I'm an Equal-Opportunity Nit-Picker. You will notice that my gripes are directed against grammatical mistakes, not necessarily the people who make them (except in the case of the final item on the list). "Hate the sin, not the sinner," and all that. If my corrections really bother you, let me know and I'll try to cut you some slack. Or you could do what I do, and try to be less erroneous in your use of the English Language.

So, without further ado, I present the following list of things people say (or write) that bother me:

1) Saying "asterick" instead of "asterisk" (*).

2) "Axing" questions (as opposed to "asking" them).

3) Mixing up "than" and "then." The former is used to compare things, the latter to indicate the passage of time: "Bob was stronger than Jim, but then Jim started working out."

4) Saying "I could care less," when what you clearly mean is "I couldn't care less." The former, which grew as the result of Laziness taking a chainsaw to the language, means almost exactly the opposite of what you wanted to say. If you don't believe me, I can draw you a very helpful picture of a "Caring Scale."

5) "etc." is an abbreviation for "et cetera;" it is pronounced "ET SET-er-uh" (or, if you're in a hurry, "ET SET-ruh"), not "ek-SET-er-uh." There are no "k" or "x" sounds to be found in the expression.

6) Abbreviating the contraction for "you all" as "ya'll" instead of "y'all."

7) Adding lots, of extra commas, that, you don't need.

8) When a sentence is lengthy and complex and needs commas and you don't put them in there that is also bad.

9) Confusing "its" and "it's." The former is a possessive adjective/adverb (or a plural noun, if you're feeling fanciful), while the latter is the contraction of "it is" ('It's a shame that the monster doesn't mind its own business.).

10) Double negatives.

11) A new one for me, but a good one; the conjunction "you're" (for "you are") ought to be pronounced "YOO-er," and not "YORE;" the latter should be reserved for the adjective "your." This phonic difference could eliminate lots of confusion in verbal conversations.

And finally, the Grammar Goof that annoys me most:
12) Making any of the above grammatical mistakes (or any other grammatical mistakes, for that matter) myself.


Added:
13) Saying/writing "should of" instead of "should have."

14) The combination "neither...or." The correct combo is "neither...nor."


I hope you've enjoyed my little list. I hope it is helpful to you. I hope my insistence on good grammar doesn't interfere with any friendships (I'll do my best), because that would be very sad and pathetic on my part. I hope I didn't make any mistakes in the list, because that would be really embarrassing.

He Shoots, He Scores!

Congratulate me: I got 100% on the second Basic Reasoning test.

*does ridiculous victory dance*

Ok, enough of that.


Random thought for the day:

When this thought came to me, I did some research into the etymology of the word "hypocritical." What I found proved my "theory" wrong, but I like it anyway, so I'm gonna post it. So there. (definitions courtesy of Dictionary.com.

"Hypocritical" = hypo- + critical
"hypo-" = below; beneath; under; deficient
"critical" = inclined to judge severely and find fault; characterized by careful, exact evaluation and judgment

So when you're being "hypocritical," you aren't holding yourself up to the same standards as you hold others. You are "under-critical;" you don't carry your beliefs/standards out to their final conclusion: that you must also obey them.

Like I said, random.

Reruns, Part 2

To help us take our minds off of scary, sad, or depressing things, I offer the next installment of "Reminder Reruns." Enjoy.

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You are entering a cliché, dimly-lit conference Room. The walls are a drab shade of Grey, the carpet is Faded, and an odd-looking Fellow in a brightly-colored Hawaiian shirt is seated at the Circular Table in the center of the Room. His elbows rest on the Table, his fingers are steepled in front of his face, and a look of Grim thoughtfulness creases his brow. The Room’s only source of illumination is a single light Bulb swaying gently from a cord in the ceiling. As you approach the Table, the Man’s eyes shift to gaze at you from behind his Glasses. He rises and greets you with a polite nod, and you notice that he is slightly taller than average. His somewhat out-of-place appearance is amplified by the Fact that, not only is he wearing a Hawaiian shirt, he’s wearing shorts. You shrug to yourself as the Strange Man indicates the Chair opposite him. As you lower yourself slowly into the Chair, the Man takes his seat and fixes you with what you assume is supposed to be a Grim stare. Before you have a chance to comment on the Absurdity of his Manner or Attire, the Man speaks.

“You’re probably wondering why I called you here today. Well, we have pressing business to discuss. As you are probably aware, this coming weekend is Fall Break. Several of our Number have stated that they might not be around on Friday. As you can imagine, this creates an interesting conflict for our usual...activities. We don’t want to move on if people are absent, but we don’t want to simply waste the evening, either. To that end, we have decided on a compromise...”

The Unusual Man trails off as a small cloud of what appear to be Spacecraft flies past, pursued by two Crabs who seem to be proficient in the martial arts. The Man shakes his head and sighs, then continues.

“As I was saying, we have decided on a compromise; everyone who IS able to attend on Friday is to select a passage from the Bible, and we will try to have some form of organized Discussion of them...although with this group, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

As the man finishes speaking, you hear several clicking snaps, and a claw Hammer flies out of nowhere and thwacks the man in the head, knocking him out of his seat. This is probably fortunate, as the hammer is followed by a volley of folding Knives (of various sizes), which sail harmlessly through the Space where the man’s head was just a moment ago.

The man staggers to his feet, rubbing his head and wincing slightly. “I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut...” he mutters. Glancing up, he once again addresses you. “Anyway, if you care to join us on Friday night, we’ll be in the same place, at the same time.” Glancing into the shadows, he adds, “You might want to wear body armor if you come, though.” With that, the man ushers you out the Door, leaving you shaking your head wondering what exactly just Happened.

********************

*The following is spoken in a Great Announcer Voice. Think of the guy who read about the Spring Break Missions in Chapel last week.*

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Are your Friday nights a little on the dull side? Do you wish you ended your work week with a little bit of adventure? Do you want to get your weekend off to a great start, every week? If you answered ‘yes’ to any of these questions, why not give Friday Night “HNRS” Bible Study a chance?

At FN”H”BS, you get to study the Bible with a great group of people. You’ll all help each other work through the material, and you’ll have fun while you’re doing it. Never tried a Bible study before? Not to worry! All are welcome to join. The casual, friendly atmosphere will make you feel right at home.

So if you want to bring a little more intellectual stimulation to your Friday evening, stop by FN”H”BS. This activity has been clinically proven to generate lively discussions, and best of all, admission is absolutely FREE (you just pay to get yourself to Longview Hall room 139 at 10:30 pm, along with any other fees that may come up)! Bring a Bible and be prepared for discussion and thinking. If you’re not totally satisfied, we’ll give you your admission fee back!

This week, we’re continuing our look at the book of Amos. Hope to see you there!
**************************

The Exasperated Jewish Mother reminder email
courtesy of Mr. Wilson and Mr. Wheeler.
**
Dearest little bubeleh,

So, how are finding the university, eh? Very busy, I'm sure. Of course, a mother can't expect her offspring to call her all the time. What, you think I want you should let your grades suffer, with schmoozing with the relatives all day? Feh, you need to keep your mind on your work. I only spend three hours a day by the telephone, in case you should ever find time to call. Five on Saturdays. I suppose you could always write, but then you have to do so much writing already. I wouldn't want you to go to all the trouble of sending me a note every few months to tell me what the weather is like.

Do you dress warmly enough? I try not to worry so much about you catching pneumonia like your poor uncle Isaac when he was in school. I hope you like the sweater I made for you. Just a little shmatte, really. I knitted it while I was sitting by the telephone last month. I don't want you to pretend you like it if you don't. It probably doesn't fit in any case. I'm sure you're just a scarecrow by now. I try not to worry about your eating. Not everybody eats like your poor cousin Else. She left home and came back as skinny as a rake. But she was never a very attractive girl. My sister wants her to marry a nice doctor, but I don't think anyone but a plastic surgeon would take an interest in her. At least she sings a little, and took French lessons.

But you're so much more talented than she is, libling. I just wish you wouldn't let all that charm go to waste. Gevalt! There must be a few nice young people at that school. Isn't there a special someone there at all? Have you met any law students? What about that nice one with the red hair who gave us directions to the student union? Meh, you have your reasons. G-d knows what they may be, but who I am to judge? I have tried to be a good mother to you. G-d knows how I've suffered to bring you up properly, to teach you to take proper care of yourself, to stand up straight, to give you nice clothes to wear, to give you a decent education. What do I ask in return -- gratitude? Listen, gratitude I can do without, and I wouldn't get it anyway, you know it and so do I. I'm not complaining. All I'm saying is this: I'm not getting any younger. I would like to know before I die that you are married and happy and not alone in the world. I would, believe me, go into the coffin with a smile on my face to have seen and held on my lap a couple of grandchildren. You want I should not see my grandchildren before I die?

Far more important than your charm is your education. Your father and I have been talking, and we have come to a very important decision. You aren't a baby anymore, bubeleh. After all, you're in college, you're living by yourself, and (may G-d not smite me for saying it) you're staying out of trouble, heaven be praised. It's time for you to make your own choices, and your father and I have decided not to interfere. If the course of study you have chosen makes you happy, then who are we not to be happy? Your father and I think, though, that you might be happiest being a doctor, if you would only try it for a year or two. Or maybe an attorney or a CPA.

But what is your education next to your faith? Nothing! Feh! Nothing is more important than your G-d. Love, intelligence, money -- all trifles! They will dry up like the dew and blow away like chaff. Listen to these words, my child. I hope you are not neglecting your Bible study while you are there, bubeleh. Of course, I don't like to nag, but I know there's a group of fine young people that meet every week to study the Holy Scriptures. Of course, if you don't have time, I'm sure G-d will understand. After all, it's not as if this concerns Him at all. Better to use that time to study or spend time at the bar with your friends, or whatever you do, I suppose. You aren't going to that Pink Pandemonium place or whatever they call it on Friday nights, are you, heaven forbid? I don't know how I would explain it to your grandmother, you see. Anyway, never mind that.

If you should be making good grades and have no homework and maybe have all your friends die some Friday night, perhaps you could find it in your heart to make a little time for G-d, no? I'm told these nice young people are happy to have visitors when they meet in Lateview Hall, I think that's what it's called, at 10:30 p.m. I don't remember what room it was in, but I'm sure you can find them with a little bit of effort; you were always the smart one in the family. Your brother couldn't find room 139 if it hit him in the forehead, poor thing. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It isn't everyone who can find room 139 in some random Longlook building. I'm sure the Lord must have had good reasons for giving you this ability to find classrooms, but if you choose not to use it, who am I to judge? I think they're studying the prophet Amos lately.

Anyway, your aunt Rachel is calling from the kitchen, so I need to close. The woman burns water when I leave her alone too long. Heaven knows what I've done to deserve such a life. I get no gratitude.

Your loving mama,

Mama


P.S. I think the name of the building was Longview Hall. Room 139. 10:30 on Friday night.

P.P.S. But I'm sure G-d will understand if you can't make it.

P.P.P.S. Don't forget to take a Bible.

"Fun" on the Freeway

Way back when our little group was just starting to get serious about the Blogsphere; back when everyone and their dogs were hassling me to start a blog of my own; back before I felt the desire to share my mosly-normal (i.e. "boring") life with the online community; way back then, I started keeping a sort of journal, a list of "Posts I Might Make if I Ever Had a Blog." The very first one was about how much I hate the overall Driving Experience in Southern California. I haven't posted it yet, largely because I try to avoid profanity in my speech and writing, and I haven't felt moved to remove the vitriol from that old journal entry. And now that doesn't seem likely to change.

Edit: Okay, so there isn't really any profanity in my would-be post; I have a little more self-control than that. But that restraint is often forced to its limit when it comes to dumb driving. --WS

I got in my first accident today. My dad and I were driving home from work. To be precise, he was driving and I was in the passenger seat. We were moving with the flow of traffic (which only happens during rush hour; otherwise we drive at the speed limit), which was between 40 and 45 mph. All of a sudden we hear the screeching of tires and the back of our car is hit hard. As in, if we hadn't been wearing our seat belts there would have been little gobs of Martinez-face all over the windshield.

But we were wearing our seat belts, and we suffered only minor whiplash and shaken nerves. My dad pulled over, and we got out to inspect the damage. Our rear bumper was hanging 60% off, with no other visible damage.

Long story short: the other driver didn't have a license, spoke about 3 words of English, and didn't own the car. A Highway Patrol officer came around and wrote up a report, and my dad and I were free to go. Tomorrow we find out where our insurance company will let us take the car to get the bumper fixed, and we generally have a pain-in-the-behind time working out scheduling and transportation arrangements. And it's my long day, too. *sighs* If I think about this too much more, my vitriol might just overflow and cause me to post my anti-driving rant.

But our worst injuries were sore necks, our car still works, and insurance covers repairs. God is good all the time.

Reruns 1

Well, well, well, look what we have here. It turns out I did bring my Reminder Email archives home with me, after all. And since a few of you have asked for those to be posted, and since I don't have anything really worthwhile to write about at this moment, I shall present some of the REs over the next several days. I hope you enjoy them.

And don't forget, email me any suggestions or requests you have for a style or subject for a Reminder.
______________________________________________________

*The Ballad of HNRS Bible Study*

In days of yore, when huts were thatched,
A courier would have been dispatched
To bear you tidings, tell the tale
(Once his thirst had been quenched with ale)
Of a gathering you could attend,
And thus your precious time well spend.
“A group of friends,” the man would swear,
“Doth meet in yonder classroom, there
To study God’s most holy Word;
You ought to go, for I have heard
That jolly times are to be had
(Although the people are quite mad).”
And if you skeptical should be,
The messenger would speak to thee:
“My friend,” the herald then would say,
“I’ll plead my case now, if I may.
Would you not like to spend your night
In thoughtful study and delight?
To ponder, think, perhaps discuss
How the Bible doth apply to us?
(And, while you’re at it, everyone
Might have some good, sarcastic fun.)
If so, attend the study time
(It’s better than this silly rhyme).”
All this the messenger would speak,
At every visit, every week.
But now (in modern days, I mean),
No heralds are there to be seen.
So, in their absence here today,
We send our notes another way:
Unless the internet should fail,
You get reminders by email.
-----------------------------------

"HNRS Island"

Just sit right back and you’ll read a tale,
A tale of group of friends
That meets together once a week,
The day when classes end.
The mates are a mighty crazy bunch,
From the short ones to the tall;
They meet to study the Bible
In a room in Longview Hall.
A room in Longview Hall.
The study started getting tough,
It was a sight to see.
But things are back to normal now,
Or as normal as can be.
As normal as can be.
So join them every Friday night
To study the Bible
with
The Gallery,
The Cynic too,
And people all armed with knives.
But have no fright,
Just come over and spend your night
Here on “HNRS”’s Isle!

Gatherings and Meetings

As I said in my "Mortality" post, my dad's birthday was this past Thursday and his mom's was today (Saturday). So, we had a little open-house/party for my grandmother's relatives. It was nice; most of my dad's family are scattered in Arizona and Colorado, so we don't see them as often as we see my mom's family (who all live in CA). However, it turns out we have relatives right here in the town where I live. We never did figure out the relationship exactly: we share my great-great-great-grandparents on my dad's side in common. For convenience, we decided to call each other "cousins."

Anyway, this "new" cousin of mine lives not more than 5 minutes away! What's more, she goes to the same high school that I did. She'll be a senior next year. Small world.

I won't fall back into moody quasi-philosophical discourse; you can see the June 7th post for that.

***
I had a test in Basic Reasoning last Thursday. I think it went well; should find out this week. I've also pretty much finished the paper for that class, so that's good. Now I just have to worry about ASL; test on Monday, paper due next week. Then one more week, and it's on to the second round of classes!

I've got a couple "for fun" posts in the works; you might see them early this week.

Good Company

I knew I wasn't the first to make the switch from Engineering to English. After all, one of the smartest people I know (he went to my home church until recently) started off in a Mechanical Engineering program and ended up in Philosophy (sounds familiar, no?). And of course, we have our own dear Wheeler and Randy. So I knew there were some great "turncoats" who came before (or along with) me.

What I didn't know was that there is at least one famous person who made a similar change. Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky was educated at the St. Petersburg School of Military Engineers. Upon his graduation, he was made a second lieutenant. But he turned from that life to be a writer. Just as I did, he made "the decision to be poor." Except that he also became famous. But he was still poor a lot.

Of course, I hope history will show that our similarities ended there. Dostoevsky went on to serve time in prison for insurrection, married twice (neither of them were very happy), and struggled with a gambling obsession.

Novelists. Go figure. ;)

Musings on Mortality

**WARNING: Stream-of-consciousness-type introspection ahead!**

********
I've been thinking about mortality quite a bit lately.

The death of Ronald Reagan. The anniversary of D-Day. My father's 55th birthday, and his mother's (my grandmother's) 80th birthday.

80 years. That's four times as old as I am. Four of my lifetimes. I wonder if I'll see that many. I wonder what the world will be like, what I will be like, if I do...

My job at CBU involves sifting through the inactive files and setting aside the files with a Last Date of Activity (LDA) of 1997 or earlier. These people entered and dropped out of college before I was done with high school. Some before I was even born. Some died. Some graduated from other schools. Most just didn't come back, for reasons unknown to us. Now they're just names and numbers, records in a computer file.

Our lives are so fleeting. I know this intellectually, but I'm not sure I really get it. All I really know about is my own life. Human existence is very egocentric; from our perspectives, the world really does revolve around each of us. And yet, our lives are so short. Most of the people who lived through World War I have died, because of war, accident, or the inexorable passage of time. Many of those who lived through World War II have died or won't be around too much longer.

But the world doesn't end. History marches on. A few exceptional people are remembered in books, movies, documentaries. How many have only a slab of stone somewhere? How many more don't even have that? Since the first human, how many people have lived and died on this planet?

We took the freeway to CBU this morning, as usual. There were too many cars to count. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands of cars. Each with people inside. Each person with his or her own destination, each with his or her own life. And that was just in our half-hour drive.

The population of Los Angeles in 2002 was estimated at almost 10 million people. 10 million. How many people are you close friends with? Ten? Twenty? Fifty? One hundred? How many people do you know? Three hundred? Five hundred? One thousand? Fifteen thousand? It could take a couple lifetimes just to meet everyone in L.A. And that's just one city! A large city, but still just one city. How many cities are there in the U.S.? In the world?

It's like pondering the size of the universe. "Vastly, hugely, mind-bogglingly big," as Douglas Adams said. Hundreds of billions of people: being born, living their lives, dying. For thousands of years. Hundreds of generations. Mind-boggling.

I haven't had to deal with the death of anyone close to me. Not yet. I know people who have, and I wish I could really sympathize. I wish I could help them cope. But I can't. All I can offer is a listening ear and shoulder to cry on. I don't know what it's really like. I can imagine it, but I'm sure the reality is immeasurably worse.

But it's only a matter of time before it happens to me. Maybe my grandmother gets cancer and dies quietly in the hospital. Maybe my brother gets in an accident on the freeway and dies on the way to the emergency room. Maybe a plane crashes somewhere between Dallas and Longview and a handful of my friends are gone, just like that.

So many people in the world. So many lives. And I'll never know more than a part of a fraction of a tiny percentage of them. What's the point? What's the significance of any single person? Why do we bother with this thing called "life?" Why do we make such a big deal about behaving and getting along? Why do we make friends, knowing that sooner or later we're going to be hurt?

To my friends reading this (you know who you are): It's true, if a bit cliche, that you never know when a fatal accident might happen. So just in case, I want to say the following. I won't embarrass you or myself by trying to explain or describe how much you mean to me. I'm not sure words could truly express that. I feel closer to you than to just about anyone outside my immediate family. Thank you for being who you are and for putting up with me.

If it weren't for my faith in God, I'd be awfully depressed right about now.

Anyone who says Christianity is a nice, sane religion that makes perfect sense all the time is either lying or several daisies short of a flower bed. Christianity is crazy. It's absurd. It's beyond human comprehension. But that's why it works. It may not give us all the answers, or at least not right when we want them, but it gives us more than enough. In some strange, extra-logical way that we can't even begin to understand, it works. It's true.

And that's enough to brighten anyone's day.

********
There. The pseudo-philosophy is over. Discuss.

Surprise!

The following courtesy Wheeler:


You Are Most Certainly NOT a Member of the Shadow
Council!


Which Member of the Shadow Council Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I knew all along I didn't really fit in with this group. I'm afraid this means I'll have to ignore you guys from now on. Oh, and my IMPACT application got mailed out today.












Yeah, right. And a T-Rex carried my application all the way to my Kansas-City beachfront property. In truth, of course, I got this:


You're Martinez!


Which Member of the Shadow Council Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Seriously though, nice quiz, Wheeler (except that the pictures are a little too wide). But you need less free time.

Oh wait. It's summer. It's just me that's actually doing stuff. Silly me.

Mythical Martinez?

Another first: a posted quiz result. Linked by Wheeler and Anna.



Unicorn:
Unicorns are one of the purest creatures on earth
and are illustrated and depicted throughout
literature. They are pure calm free-spirited
creatures who love their space. You like being
around other people but you also value your
space and free time. People are in awe of you
but tend to keep their distance. You are loved
by many and are one of the few uncorrupted
people of this earth.


What Mythological Creature Are You (Many Results and Beautiful Pics)
brought to you by Quizilla

Aside from the "awe" and "uncorrupted" parts, it seems to fit me pretty well. But the grammatical errors make me sad :(

Linkage

First significant template change complete! To your right you will find a list of blogs I frequent (almost daily). For those of you whose blogs are listed, I hope you can appreciate the nicknames; they took up most of my creative ability. Compare them with the titles of your blogs to see what I mean.

First "WIMUT" Update

First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who has welcomed me into “The Fold” thus far. Your encouragement is very encouraging.

I promised you a What Is Martinez Up To update for today. I’ve spent all day so far today working on my research paper for my government class. That wasn’t exactly fun, but it could have been worse.

There’s really not too much to update. I’m still really enjoying Basic Reasoning. Learning about conditionals (or “statements of material implication”), disjunctions, modus ponens and modus tollens, validity and soundness, truth tables…good stuff.

I put The Brothers Karamazov on hold for a while, and have started reading The Great Conversation. This book, which is the introduction to The Great Books of the Western World, is basically about the value of a liberal education. By “liberal education,” we mean an education that teaches you how to “be human,” not just how to earn a living. Take the following excerpt:

The aim of liberal education is human excellence, both private and public (for man is a political animal). Its object is the excellence of man as man and man as citizen. It regards man as an end, not as a means; and it regards the ends of life, and not the means to it. For this reason it is the education of free men. Other types of education or training treat men as means to some other end, or are at best concerned with the means of life, with earning a living, and not with its ends.
The substance of liberal education appears to consist in the recognition of basic problems, in knowledge of distinctions and interrelations in subject matter, and in the comprehension of ideas.

So far, it’s pretty good stuff. Once I’m done with that, it’ll be back to Dostoevsky for me.

That’s about it. Maybe I’ll go play with formatting or something. Or maybe I’ll get back to work.

I Think Someone's Confused

Ok, I know I said I probably wouldn't have a real post until tomorrow. But I just couldn't pass up this opportunity. So you get my first "real post" today, instead of tomorrow. Lucky you(?).

The following quote (courtesy of The Federalist) made me do a double-take:


Michael Berg in a recent op-ed for the London Guardian:

"People ask me why I focus on putting the blame for my son's tragic and atrocious end on the Bush administration. They ask: 'Don't you blame the five men who killed him?' I have answered that I blame them no more or less than the Bush administration, but I am wrong: I am sure, knowing my son, that somewhere during their association with him these men became aware of what an extraordinary man my son was. I take comfort that when they did the awful thing they did, they weren't quite as in to it as they might have been. I am sure that they came to admire him. I am sure that the one who wielded the knife felt Nick's breath on his hand and knew that he had a real human being there. I am sure that the others looked into my son's eyes and got at least a glimmer of what the rest of the world sees. And I am sure that these murderers, for just a brief moment, did not like what they were doing. George Bush never looked into my son's eyes. George Bush doesn't know my son, and he is the worse for it. George Bush, though a father himself, cannot feel my pain, or that of my family, or of the world that grieves for Nick, because he is a policymaker, and he doesn't have to bear the consequences of his acts. George Bush can see neither the heart of Nick nor that of the American people, let alone that of the Iraqi people his policies are killing daily."

Wow. Is it just me, or is there something very wrong here?
Let's review:
1) Murder is ok as long as you:

a) know the victim
b) "aren't quite in to it"
c) admire the victim
d) know you are killing a human being
e) "do not like what you are doing," even "for just a brief moment."

2) Policymakers can do whatever they want, because they "don't have to bear the consequences of their actions."

3) If you weren't involved in a crime but you are a high-visibility person, you automatically assume any and all guilt for that crime.

Now, I'm not pro-everything-Bush-says-or-does. But this kind of stupidity is just...well, ridiculous. I feel dummer jus fer havin' red th' thang.

Waving the White Flag

Well, after much careful consideration (not to mention a slew of proddings, shovings, attempted bribings, cajolings, and threats to my physical well-being), I have yielded my soul to the online vortex that is Blogsphere. I hope you're all happy.

Below, I shall give the terms of my surrender. If the terms are not met, this little blog goes bye-bye. NOTE: Rule #1 has been edited.

1) Please refrain from using my first name on this blog (and your own blog, for that matter). My surname is fine, as is any other nickname you choose to use for me (but note that I might not figure out who you're talking about if you use a new name). The reason for this rule is: I am paranoid. The 'Net is a big place, and I see no reason to take more risks than necessary.

2) Please refrain from vulgar ("crudely indecent") language. Expletives are acceptable within reason (*glances at a certain Cynic*).

That does it for now. If I come up with more later, I shall add them.

I don't know how often I'll get to post in the coming weeks, what with research papers and various other projects coming due. But I'll try to have a "What I'm Up To" post tomorrow. I might play with the formatting a little when I have more time, but I kind of like this template; I just might keep it.

You asked for it. Now you're gonna get it...