As the dental hygienist made conversation she made a passing mention at the volume of business the dentist oversees near Christmas. She could not understand why so many people scheduled dental appointments around the holidays. I politely explained that dentists were in a service industry, yet they work the same hours as their clients. Hence, the clients must use their time off to schedule service. I compared it to banks, who have recently begun to change their schedules. Although my point was valid I probably should have held my tongue until she was finished wielding those sharp instruments in my mouth. Mental note: dental hygienists are very protective of their office hours.

• hair loss
• enlarged lower canines
• fusing of the metacarpals
• swelling of nasal cartilage
• tightened mangled vocal chords
• pronounced “bacony” flavor

Check out this news report:

If I’ve learned anything from playing video games it is this: shortly after the earth is ravaged by H1N1 we will be hit by the outbreak of yet another virus that will reanimate dead tissue and pave the way for the invasion of the zombie pig people. I’m working on a list of witty one-liners to use as I slaughter the hog-like harbingers of doom. So far all I got is “Ebedy-ebedy-that’s all folk!”.

The game board is a large island made of different hex shaped tiles. Each type of tile is associated with geography and that geography’s natural resource. Forests produce wood. Mountains produce ore. Dice rolls determine which tiles produce resources and players with towns next to those tiles collect the corresponding resource. This means that at the opening of each player’s turn, any player is likely to get new resources. Players return their resources in order to build more towns which must be connected by roads. Everyone is encouraged to trade in order to get the combination of resources they need. No one plays a mere spectator between turns. There is always something to keep players attention.

The game punishes people that hoard cards, further motivating players to trade in order to gain what they need. When any player rolls a 7, anyone hoarding more than 7 resource cards must discard half their hand. That player must also move the “robber”. The robber is a figure on the board. The hex tile he resides on is incapable of producing resources even if the number of the tile is rolled. The tile can produce resources only after the robber is moved again. Players can move the robber by playing “army” cards they draw from a deck of utility cards that can be purchased with their resources. This is one of the few means players can attempt to block another player’s path to victory.

No one enjoys playing a game when failure is certain and slow. Settlers of Catan avoids that problem in three ways. First, there are many different ways to win the game. The goal is to earn 10 victory points. Victory points are earned in many different ways. Points are awarded for towns. Certain utility cards the players can purchase award victory points. Two points are awarded for maintaining the longest road or the largest army. Largest army refers to the player who has played the most army cards during the game. The variety of means helps to avoid situations where players have no means to win. Chances are likely there is some way a player can word towards victory points.

Second, the social aspect of the game levels the playing field. Players are unwilling to trade with players on the cusp of winning. They are much more willing to trade with people they don’t see as threatening. Hence, those far behind progress quickly and others stall just before victory.

Just as a slow demise is frustrating, large swings in the score make for an exciting game. Yet too many swings can make the game seem too random. As you may recall, players can invoke a 4 point swing by building the largest road or army, both of which are fairly cheap. A 4 point swing can reduce a hefty lead like 8 – 4 to a mere tie.

Have I earned your interest? If so, go buy a copy and share it with your friends. Folks with an Xbox can play a version in the on-line arcade. Give me a call when you find time. I’m always up for a game.

The washer I bought right out of college had been suffering from senile dementia. She was the first washer I owned. I bought her right out of college. Freed from the fetters of the laundry mat, I could leave my laundry unattended. It served as a perfect excuse for friends to waste a few hours at my place. Eight years later she began eating holes in our towels and leaving spots of bleach on our colors. Elise asked me to put her down. I reluctantly agreed.

It wasn’t long ago I agreed to invest in a larger fridge. You may recall not long before that our microwave and dishwasher were sabotaged. Our oven isn’t the one that came with the house. Frustrated with flimsy appliances, I calculated that the cost per week of my washer and dryer (disregarding utility costs) was about $2.00. Two dollars!? The laundry mat only charged $0.75 to wash a load, and the price included power and water! I concluded the in-home washer is just a dream perpetuated by the Whirlpool and Maytag to boost their bottom lines. They don’t save money! I contemplated forming a lobby to have the government subsidize the laundry appliance industry.

Elise did lots of research and we took home a new lower end, front loading Frigidaire dryer and a matching refurbished washer. The cost was on par with my original washer, but the appliances had come a long way since then. Both are so quiet we plan to replace the linen closet doors with a curtain. They weighs each load to compensate for different sizes. Each shows the estimate time remaining until the load will be complete. They also feature more features for delicate lady clothes, even though we took the model with the fewest bells and whistles. Both use less water and power, and are gentler on our clothes. The proof is in our incredibly clean less trap.

Our only complaint: both appliances have electronic inputs. Buttons break. Dials don’t. As our ill-fated luck with appliances would have it, our washer’s circuit board shorted before we could start our first load. We’ve been two weeks now without a washer.

Last weekend I had to lug our laundry to the local laundry mat. For all my trouble I will grant it was an educational experience. First, even the blue collar joint I visited featured all energy-star front loading machines. I’m certain the owner did his research and was interested in value, not style. Second, it turns out the prices have inflated a bit since my trips to the laundry mat back in Mobile. It cost me $9.00 just to wash (not dry) a week’s worth of laundry for my family. I suppose these appliances aren’t such a bad investment after all.

My goal isn’t to cause strife, so what is the source of this impression I leave with people? When I think about things, I understand them by debating with myself. The topics change but the internal dialog never stops. It’s how I process all information, from a Sunday sermon to weekend plans. The debate even extends to topics I already firmly and passionately support. Although I crave black and white explanations, I often wonder if I hold such a confident stance because I lack understanding. A small measure of uncertainty and shades of gray comfort me. Ironic, I know.

I feel compelled to extend my internal dialog to others. It often manifests by playing devil’s advocate to different degrees. Resisting the urge to share is as difficult as ignoring an itch. I am compelled because deep down I have difficulty accepting people are not like me. They may not process information as I do. They may not care as I do. My joy and anxiety are amplified when I am asked to discuss and explore a topic with shy people. It’s like taking a recovering alcoholic to a wine tasting. It taunts me with the promise of what I love most, but then requires I exercise painful restraint.

I could not tell you how prominent the problem is anymore than my daughter could tell you how prominent her frizzy hair is. We both lack perspective because we are too close to the problem. I can tell you that I dislike people that resemble the “antagonistic” side of me. I liken this part of me to Socrates, who was a total douchebag. Yet despite how I resent this part of me, I can’t change. It isn’t something I do. It is who I am.

My ego is being healed by the new direction I’ve found for my social flaw. My inspiration comes from another historical figure, Mr. John Adams. Mental_Floss encouraged me to give the new HBO series a try. Slowly I’m starting to connect the historical facts that frame the person.

As I recount what I know, I won’t bother to separate historical fact from HBO’s embellishment. Hell, you may find I’ve read a bit into what I watched, possibly inflating Mr. Adam’s accomplishments and character. Those details matter little when looking for inspiration. In the words of Jebediah Springfield, “A noble spirit embiggins the smallest man.”

That said, consider the first episode. In it, John agreed to represent the British soldiers on trial for the Boston Massacre, despite how it would damage his reputation. Justice was more important than politics and his family’s well being. He defended them to the best of his ability, and 6 were found innocent. John defended the crown right to levy taxes, pointing out the reason they were levied and reminding people most were repealed. His low key but clear voice of reason doesn’t deter the cruel mob demonstrations that sought independence. Few things are scarier than resisting a mob. Few feats show greater commitment to an ideal. By the end of the episode King George had repealed many of the colonists basic rights. John was humble enough to recognize that this (and not petty taxes) was an issue weighty enough to defy the crown. He was pragmatic enough to support a group he did not perfectly agree with, all the while attempting to assert his righteous influence among them. Although he sounds decisive, the show focuses on the internal conflict and doubt. Does his commitment to justice supersede his commitment to his family? What use is it to support a hopeless rightous cause? How does he support the colonists without supporting their despicable actions?

I want to be John Adams.

People that throw their support behind a candidate because of their sex or race get to me. I feel people treat our political process like some middle school classroom. That said, the democratic nomination made it clear to the public that anyone has a shot, regardless of gender or color. They are fascinated with the concept and would like to be a part of that historical moment. Many get so excited they forget about the other weighty responsibilities the title “head of state” might entail. The Republicans finally understand how to tap that child-like excitement and curiosity. You can fill the gaps in your demographics by including someone charismatic on your ticket that is a degree different than past candidates. Forget the race to the moon. Expect to see both parties race to fill federal offices with civil servants of every shape and color.

In that same vein, I would like to nominate Goodboy Norman Featherstone as the National Pug Party presidential candidate. I don’t know his platform, but I am fairly certain we’ve not had a pug president before. Who doesn’t love pugs? (Quiet, Ian.) Hmn, I might should have screened him first. Norman, you don’t have any politically dangerous skeletons in your closet?

Yesterday the microwave exploded `asploded as Elise tried to nuke a bag of popcorn for our guests. You might expect such an explosion would bury us in an avalanche of crispy kernels and bestow mutant powers upon us during the shower of rogue microwaves emitted during the explosion. The reality of the incident is much more mundane: smoke, a little flame and an unbearable stench.

Are these kitchen catastrophes somehow linked? Who might be behind such a nefarious plot? Stay tuned!

First a few definitions: Shame comes from feeling unworthy, embarrassed, disgraced or responsible for an offense. Repentance means to be motivated by shame to change one’s mind. It implies an effort to avoid or counter the shameful act in the future. To clarify, repentance does not imply success. It merely implies effort.

Be definition shame must precede repentance, if only momentarily. Yet the two are meant to be mutually exclusive. A repentant soul shouldn’t be ashamed. In fact, any shame that remains in a repentant heart is the unhealthy sort meant to destroy us from the inside out. There is no truth or value to those internal accusations.

Shame can blind people to their own worth and obfuscate the most obvious solutions. It is our job to help guide ashamed people so they find quick and free release through repentance. We are also obliged to help people let go of residual shame once they have repented. People that deny or disbelieve heartfelt apologies seal shame and repentance in the same heart and are responsible for the damage done within.

It is silly to expect repentance from someone who feels justified or proud of their actions. I propose it is better to convince them of their shame first. If a child lies without remorse, shouldn’t we tell them they are a liar and treat them as untrustworthy. The goal isn’t to destroy their ego. Repentance is quick and free, even if it isn’t always easy. Sometimes I get the impression society expects us to preserve our children’s egos at the expense of their souls. If shame doesn’t come naturally and we can’t push them towards it then how will they ever learn and grow?

You are selfishly consuming two parking spaces. Learn to park or let someone else drive. I sentence you to an underwater vacuum sealed mortuary with the ghosts of a thousand filthy hippies.

and

You are selfishly consuming two parking spaces. Learn to park or let someone else drive. May your breath continuously reek of the meat of the Mujahmjah bean.

…and there’s more where that came from!

A democracy is always temporary in nature; it simply cannot exist as a permanent form of government. A democracy will continue to exist up until the time that voters discover that they can vote themselves generous gifts from the public treasury. From that moment on, the majority always votes for the candidates who promise the most benefits from the public treasury, with the result that every democracy will finally collapse due to loose fiscal policy, which is always followed by a dictatorship.

The drug deals weren’t the first sign of trouble around our home. Check out this lovely piece of guerrilla art someone left just 25 feet from my home–on the same corner as our pushers run their black market pharmacy no less!

Our first instinct was to move north to a more sterile suburb. Urban planners call this “white flight”. The idea frustrated me. By no means do I live in “the hood” but I like the social, cultural and economic diversity of our neighborhood. Lord love soccer moms, but I’d like my kids to be exposed to something more. I’ve since learned that reasonably priced homes and less diverse neighborhoods suffer from the same crimes.

That is when it occurring to me that a neighborhood watch works best as a preventive measure. We had best start our own while the problem is small. This week we are canvasing the neighborhood to rally the troops. So far the idea has been well received, which is a relief because we need 124 of the 165 houses to participate if we are to secure premium services from the police. It will take a few months before our posse ramps up to it’s full momentum, so until then we are encouraging people to:

• walk, jog or bike through the streets
• foster community privately: get to know your neighbors
• foster community publically: support neighborhood events like holiday parties, chili cook offs
• arrange your home so you’ll spend time around windows that face the street

I quickly snatched up “chris.sheppard.name”, even though I had to register for it through a less than reputable company. Although the new top-level domain preservers, the rules that protected it proved unpopular. ICANN recovered from their mistake by opening the remaining .name domains, freeing them from the unpopular policies.

This is where things get confusing. I own “chris.sheppard.name”, not “sheppard.name”. The former is tied to the troublesome policies, making it impossible to transfer to a decent register. The later is easy to transfer, if it weren’t already registered by someone else. Hence, I’ve registered “sheppardfamily.name”, an unfettered .name domain hosted by the very economical NearlyFreeSpeech.net.

The savings? $27 each year.

!?

My original 5-year plan outlined things like babies and family finances. While Elise thinks the plan is swell, she points out my financial numbers don’t quite add up properly. I never was much of a mathamagician. The plan presumes we’ll both be able to work in some capacity but there are no local family members we can leave the tyke with during the week and we can’t let the little guy waste all those “precious moments” on strangers. Elise is confident that next year we will be in a better position to risk a single family income. I’m certain she means well, but each passing day she is exposed to the most potent form of birth control: a pair of teenagers. For this reason I’ve constructed my own high-tech solution to accelerate us to fiscal stability: Internet Panhandling! Potential corporate sponsors, imagine the publicity if I were to name my child after your company …all for a small donation, of course.

As Maude Flanders once put it, “Won’t somebody please think of the children!?”

You won’t find our neighbor’s home on the cover of Better Home and Gardens. They keep the simple yard mowed, but the house is quickly falling into disrepair. It needs a new roof, gutters, paint and window treatment–and that says nothing of the interior. The driveway and curb are always filled with cars–a mixture of visitors and residence.

Yesterday our neighbor came by to ask my wife’s advice about how to best academically serve their littlest boy, Kevin, this summer. Kevin and his sister were the first to greet me when I moved into this big empty house nearly 2 years ago. Kevin is especially friendly. He is only 8, yet he always takes time to make conversation with me when he sees me. He doesn’t do it for lack of attention. He is the beloved baby of a large family. My wife made some phone calls and passed along her recommendations to the family. She agreed to carpool with Kevin since she is teaching summer school. It works both ways. Kevin’s family has offered me food from their grill. They mow the grass between our driveways, even though part is my lawn. They’ve trimmed our the trees between our houses when I was unable to complete the job. I’m certain they would offer more if we asked.

After the visit it occurred to me that I prefer to live next to a family from a run down home that felt comfortable asking for our help over strangers that live in a pristine home. Okay, I grant you it isn’t an easy choice–and I can’t swear I’d hold to those values if my house were on the market. The visit also brought me to reflect on the half dozen homes we have a similar relationship with and the handful of friendly faces I’ve recently met that will probably join those ranks after some time.

Frenchify

1. To make French in quality or trait.
2. To make somewhat effeminate.
3. To contract a veneral disease (a 19th century slang).

Here are the roots of 10 other insulting terms. Now begone, before the cheekey monkey bescumbers you all!

I’m not immune to the air of hostility that is so prevalent on our roads. In fact, just yesterday I was pondering the tools I’d need to better express myself to those I share the road with. First I need to replace my car’s horn with a megaphone so I can better communicate with my fellow drivers. Second, I need a mechanical spit-wad cannon mounted to the hood of my car. Some guy would be all like, “ha! ha! I just cut you off …without using my blinker!” His erratic driving would catch me off guard, but I’d quickly regain my composure, lock onto him with my targeting computer and unleash a wad of toilet paper saturated in justice! His car would swerve and I’d watch it explode in my rear view mirror.

I’ve yet to find a hood mounted mechanical spit-wad cannon, so I suppose I’ll just have to live with this.

The dogs averted my wife’s wrath by quickly pointing out the trip wasn’t exactly a day at the spa for them. Such loyalty. They went on and on about how neither enjoyed being poked or prodded. Indeed, both despise taking the complex combinations of pills they must take thrice daily. Gracie is more receptive now that I coat my fists in peanut butter but Dooley cares less about tasty treats. By the time I wrestle the pill down Dooley’s gullet I have a small dog coated in a thin peanut butter glaze.

Gracie! We don’t eat our Dooley. No, not even a nibble. Oh, alright …Om nom nom nom.

• They take time to warm up to their full potential.
• Even at the full potential, they don’t light a room well.
• They cost 750% more than a traditional bulb.
• They aren’t more durable. They still blow in less than a year.
• I begrudge the people who tell me I’ll “save” money if I install them in my home.
• They are ugly.

I’m all about saving the earth but we need a better lighting alternative.

Today I found an article about a bulb that still works after 107 years! I don’t know which is more amazing, the life span of the ancient bulb or the fact it has its own web page! Okay, the site is pretty drab, but the fact it could register its own domain quite a feat.

I present you this link to celebrate: ManBabies.com. Ann Geddes, eat your heart out.

I called Verizon to learn of any service that might let me review her text messages on-line or possibly have them forwarded to my phone. I’d expect something like this given Verizon charges $655.36 for 1 MB of text messages. The representative informed me that Verizon did not provide these kinds of services because each would be an invasion of privacy. Excuse me? I explained that I was her legal guardian and paid for the account. He explained that I would need a warrant in order to see the messages since I am not the owner of the phone. I thought I might register her phone in my name. I asked if Verizon could disclose to me my own text messages since there would be no privacy issue. He answered that the only way to view the message was on the phone or with a warrant. I find it hard to believe Verizon does not keep a record of these tiny messages. Google grants me 7 gigabytes of space for free. Verizon charges us a 7314% markup on data costs to send these God forsaken tendy messages. (Not that I’m bitter.)

American concept of “right to privacy” is a load of crap. You get back here young lady! Don’t think I won’t pursue that warrant!

As I rounded the corner a fantastic scene opened before my eyes. There was a party being held in my local grocery store. The aisle was crowded with long haired hippy-types, all lounging about and being groovy. Anxiety and curiosity rolled about in my stomach until they extended warm greeting and welcomed me into their fold.

I reclined in the grass by a small circle of my new friends. They were passing around a bowl. Each would eat a spoonful from the bowl, then melt into a satisfying release. I looked in the bowl they placed in my lap. Best I could tell it was granola cereal. I looked around at my new friends. A few were still adrift in bliss. Others were watching me, encouraging me with their lethargic smiles. Maybe it was a moment of courage or possibly a casual disregard for caution. Either way, I took a bite. Om nom nom. This was some good shtuff. I went for another bite but a thin bearded fellow in the back got up on his knees called out, “Crunch, crunch, pass, man! Crunch, crunch, pass! You’re messin’ up the rotation!” I assumed an apologetic pose and handed the bowl to the girl next to me.

I turned to my friend from produce and asked about the heavenly breakfast cereal. He handed me a box that read Nature’s Path Hemp Plus. I pretended to be surprised, but deep down part of me knew something so good couldn’t be legal. I gave it back to him and explained that I couldn’t bring that stuff home. He gave me a lopsided grin and explained the second one’s free. “Um, don’t you mean the first one’s free?”, I asked. He explained the cereal was buy one, get one free with my Kroger card.

Noah found the box last night. His eyes were drawn to the big text on the back of the box that clarifies why hemp is not marijuana. I tried to explain I eat it for my Glaucoma. He put a bit in his mouth and declared it was a bit oily. Hey, that’s all the more for me.

Old Wife

New Wife

The Cylons, unlike the humans, are monotheistic and believe in “one true God.” Humanity, in their view, has forsaken God and, thus, sinned. So God directed humanity to create the Cylons. In order to please their God, the Cylons then murdered their creators.

The next two sub-sections in the article also include astute observations. They talk about how Cylons are a young culture. They have evolved from a “unified front” into individuals with independent agendas. It connects their obsession with flesh and Earth and reproduction with the religious commandment, “be fruitful”. And here I was thinking they were written to be oversexed robots to appeal to an undersexed audience.

Some examples: We checked Noah out of school without giving him notice. This prevented him from introducing himself to two students he planned to invite to his party. I suggested he invite them as a means of making friends. Evidently that’s a big pre-party foul. It would be “awkward”. He asked if I had ever been invited to a party where I knew no one and to his surprise I had–several times. He follows up with a no-win question: “were you my age when this happened”? We’ve had enough of these conversations for me to know how this particular questions plays out. If I say “no” then my arguments aren’t valid because of the age difference. If I reply “yes” then he will explain how things have changed since I was his age.

I could not get Noah to help with th invitations, so I was forced to work on them alone. I knew I ought not describe it as a “birthday party”. That would be infantile. I stuck to a simple, plain design. Any graphics or fonts might trip my sons ever-so-sensitive coolometer. He’s invited about ten kids. Two are white girls. The rest are asian boys that like video games. I thought it might be cool to play a 10-man Super Smash Brother Brawl tournament with a cash money prize during the party. Noah tried to politely tell me it wasn’t a “video game party” and I should also remove the phrase “food, music and fun” from the invitation. That left nothing but a bare skeleton of the most crucial information on the invitation. Whatever.

This afternoon he built the party play list from our massive music collection. He finds 1.5 hours of music before he apologetically informs me that nearly all the music he selected are songs I did not rate well, implying our tastes were worlds apart. The truth is I rated 68% of the songs he selected 4 or more stars. Only 3 tracks have bad ratings. It grates me because Noah tends to see what he wants, and I suspect he wants to believe his tastes are different from mine. I know, I know: Time to let the boy spread his wings, express himself and whatnot. I just wish he could look objectively at the aesthetics, rather than choose crap on a stick just because I didn’t. I was mildly relieved when he turned down his sister’s aid as well. Madison is very in touch with the young teen scene–especially neutral, peppy party music. So what made his play list? Lots of Cake, a smidge of Weezer, Don’t Go There by 24k, Julianne and Babylon Zoo. The irony, it’s crushing me.

• New World of Warcraft class announced: the bard!
• Starcraft II will feature Tauren Marines!
• The Molten Core experience is coming to consoles!

Happy April Fools!

…anyone know where I can get some lazer lights for our living room on the cheap?

Miggily-Miggily-Mee!!

Last month I learned that Duluth is a mecca for South Koreans. That is, if you mention this particular Atlanta suburb to an average person walking about Soul chances are they will know exactly where you are talking about. For years I knew Duluth had a strong Korean presence, but all cities have parts that are heavily influenced by a particular culture. Who knew Duluth was so special?

Is it just me or does Charlie’s demeanor remind you of a jolly little baby version of Sloth from The Goonies?

• Faith makes all things possible, not necessarily easy.
• Live, Laugh Love
• Good things happen over coffee.

Today I found a phrase I would like displayed prominently somewhere in the house: “When a wise man and a fool argue, no one can tell the difference.” Many people in our house feel they can relate, but none of us agree who is the fool.

I love a good apocalyptic film, especially those steeped in social commentary. 28 Days later delivers this through the ol’ zombie virus. Classic. –and especially appropriate since my wife had given me the plague. Most of this film is suspenseful and quiet, giving the audience time to ponder the severity of the catastrophe and magnifying the danger of any encounter with the infected. The film takes a drastic turn towards drastic, heroic action towards the end. It reminded me of a line from the brilliant film Adaptation. It doesn’t matter how bad a film is so long as it delivers in the last 30 minutes. Anyone turned off by the pace and mood of the first of the film will be happy with everything after the climax. Most people compare 28 Days to I am Legend, but since I’ve yet to see that film I was reminded of Children of Men. I’d recommend either. Children of Men is more polished, and the social commentary seems aimed more at a post 9-11 world. I’d recommend both films, but Children of Men won’t pander to people looking for an easy or shallow story.

I caught Chocolat on TV …twice. The film is just that good. The theme is the same as Footloose, but Chocolat is a higher caliber film. It is set in a morally oppressive, legalistic French village in the 1950s. The simple pleasures of life are represented by chocolate rather than dance. Chocolat has class, and perfect dialog with actors carry their roles with subtle expressions. This makes a perfect Valentine’s Day treat.

Now pardon me, I have a Scrubs marathon to catch *cough* *cough*

Folks draw a connection between this film and Blaire Witch, but Cloverfield reminded me more of Steven Spielberg’s War of the Worlds and Night of the Living Dead. All 3 films take a simple premise and follows through as realistically as they can. They sacrifice an entertaining story, memorable speeches and a clear explanation of events in exchange for such a realistic point of view. For my money, War of the Worlds has the perfect mix of polish and “realism”. Cloverfield has better action and “jump” moments, the audience earns each scene by enduring long stretches of crappy camera work. Alien is the first film I can recall where the direction intentionally hid the threat from the audience. The idea was that their imaginations would scare them more than anything they could put on the screen. That is particularly true for me so I was happy with how well Mr. Abrams handled his monster shots. Again, I liked the personal story but polished feel of War of Worlds, so naturally I thought the camera work was the weakest link in this film. Half the time I felt it unlikely someone would leave the camera running during the more dangerous scenes. The other half I didn’t care about the camera man’s safety so long as he secured a clear shot of the action.

I purchased the two packs of holiday flavors from Jones Cola. The pack included flavors like Christmas Ham, Christmas Tree, Eggnog, Sugar Plum. While we stayed at my parent’s house my dad tried a sip of each and Madison drank a small glass on a dare. John was the first to break into a bottle while Elise’s family visited. The rest of the family stayed clear of them until John began to make mock commercials for the peculiar sodas. John’s always the center of the party. Is it any wonder the family waited until after Christmas to celebrate to make sure he could be included?

My original plans were to construct the house myself, using blueprints published by the Asheville Humane Society. I worked closely with the dogs. Dooley was interested in thick shag carpeting. Gracie requested a bidet she might use for a water fountain. The dogs and I were crushed when my wife canceled the project. The materials wouldn’t fit in our van. A week later we found this little beaut. Wooden construction: check. Removable roof: check. Guards against wind chill: check. I’m not saying we couldn’t have done better, but it will keep them warmer and dryer while we are away and it will keep our carpet cleaner when we have a wet spell.

Best cover what they can understand. This issue may be what fuels their interest in the other subjects. I figure I will continue the conversation little-by-little over our evening meals. Chances are Madison would resent even a short family meeting as some punishment and be less likely to speak her mind in the future.

My primary goal is to make clear that I am less concerned with their conclusions as I am by how they reach those conclusions. I hope to use this subject to teach them to value truth. I need them to identify weaknesses in their own conclusions rather than ignore them. There is no shame in answering “I don’t know” or “maybe”. It takes a big man to admit there are things he isn’t sure about.

I plan to start by discussing the essence of science: the scientific method, the role of observation and the nature of theories. From there I will move to my trademark talk about philosophers and sophists. My children already have a basic understanding of the two theories. I’ll use that to help explain why this debate is such a hot topic. What is each person fighting for? What is at stake? Finally I will explain how the debate regarding intelligent design often bounces between two separate issues: the origin of the universe, and the origin of species.

True, I buy into the creation account in Genesis, but only because there is no evidence in the text that indicates it is allegorical. All other symbolic stories (Revelation, Jesus’s parables) are wrapped in passages that identify them as such. Genesis bleeds into history we accept as fact. Be that as it may, I am well aware and won’t deny all the well crafted arguments that support a Big Bang, prehistoric Earth and macroevolution. Let us all hope it is enough to show them the twisted, selfish fight this noble pursuit has become. May they never enter the ring.

I never expected I would neglect the first 2 weeks of the beta playing Peggle Extreme, the last game included in the series. The game is hardly worth mentioning among so many distinguished and promising titles. It seems to have been included as an after thought; regarded as a sort of Cracker-Jack prize. Peggle centers around a set of blue and orange bouncy pegs. The object is to touch all the orange pegs with a pinball that is launched from the top of the screen. I’ve learned that my computer lacks such simple pleasures. I threw down an additional $10 for the complete version of the game, Peggle Deluxe. Later I learned I am not the only one that finds value in cheap, simple “casual” games. It wasn’t long before I turned my attention back to TF2, but I still start up Peggle when I have a few minutes to spare between obligations around the house.

Here is the latest commercial from Dove’s campaign. I wish them the best. The video itself struck a chord in me, which was amplified by this link that found it’s way on my desktop the next day.

When we learn to laugh at ourselves, we are free to be human. The proud are easily mocked and scorned. When we embrace our foolishness, it is more difficult to shame us with it. I pity these shallow people for they have forged their own chains. Everyone is keen to the threat posed by others with vices similar to their own. Let me clarify with some examples. I was a nosy child, so I carried a deep-seated fear people would go through my stuff. I know liars that have issues trusting others. Likewise, shallow people assume everyone is as critical and unforgiving as they are. They are never free to be human and embrace real life. I imagine this fuels their bitter downward spiral.

The schools I attended did not emphasize building student’s character. Most of the rules I remember being enforced were designed to control and protect students and faculty or facilitate learning. The psychological tactics plastic people use often fall between the rules that are enforced. Even the most damaging offenses sound petty when brought before an authority. When I was young I was discouraged by what I perceived as their prosperity. I was so mislead I even adopted some of their values. Now I see the real fruits of that lifestyle. They never learn to love. Rather they endure relationships with people as selfish and loathsome as they are. They never serve a cause greater than themselves. They grow neurotic from trying to maintain a facade of perfection: never misstep; never exhale; never relax.

I am grateful that my children are humble and free. They know plastic people and have experienced their venom. Although I know the natural consequences of a shallow life, I still find it hard to forgive them and wish them well in my prayers. When my children turn to me for advice I don’t have easy responses. The godly response I must recommend isn’t one I understand. At that point it’s clear I’m asking them to be better people than I am.

• Meet the Engineer
• Meet the Heavy Weapons Guy
• Meet the Soldier

As the months past, his parents grew concerned regarding the boy’s happiness. They did all they could to please him. They only served his favorite meals and tucked him in like a little burrito every night. They even brought home a young basset hound puppy named Gracie. Gracie fell hopelessly in love with the young boy. He fed her dog treats. They chased each other around the house. He would rub her belly and she licked his face. The boy and his dog were inseparable.

Two years later the boy located his true parents! They were both super-vegetarian-cyber-ninja-spies that fought for justice in the game Runescape. They were more than mere administrators. The pair owned a unique device that digitally transported them into the game world. They asked him to come live with them, so they might train him to follow in their super-vegetarian-cyber-ninja-spy footsteps. He turned to tell his old family he had to leave them, but Gracie did not seem to understand. She turned her big head and said “Rooowr?”

He turned to the other family to consider what he might gain there. They told him he would have to play lots of Runescape if he were to become a super-vegetarian-cyber-ninja-spy. He may even need to neglect his homework for the good of the realm! He looked back at Gracie. She stuck her rear in the air and called back to him “Wroff! Wroff! ….Rrruff!”

His newly discovered father touched his shoulder and pointed out that they had a strict diet of cheese and bread. They could not stand to see an animal hurt. Just then Gracie pounced the young boy and slathered her tongue all over his face. Her tail emphatically swung to and fro. Just then his super-vegetarian-cyber-ninja-spy parents understood.

“Son”, his newly discovered mother began, “We can’t bare to see this dog emotionally hurt through your absence, yet we don’t have time to take care of her–with all the player killers and hackers we bring to justice. You must stay here and tend to this noble beast. This is for the best. I suspect nothing we might offer you could replace the love Gracie has for you.” He gave her a short nod. As his newly discovered parents drove off in their tofumobile, his mother leaned out the side and called out to him, promising to write often.

The boy and his dog were truly happy.

In the past, “Total Access” customers could return any rental to a brick-and-mortar store for a free in-store rental. These were great for passing the time while the next movie in queue came in. As of yesterday, new members will be limited to up to 5 trades a month, depending on the price plan. Fortunate for me, Blockbuster is allowing previous members to retain unlimited in-store trades …for the time being. I only hope there is a Netflix to return to once Blockbuster revises our business arrangement.