So Zawahiri says to Zarqawi...

Click on the title bar to follow the link. It's a letter from Ayman-al-Zawahiri to Abu Musab Zarqawi. Zarqawi, you may recall, is now famous for beheading his captives and sending the gruesome videotapes to sympathetic "news" agencies. Zawahiri is an Egyptian doctor who professed allegiance to Bin Ladin in 1999 and recently has been one of the highest ranking Al Quaida members.

If this letter doesn't motivate us to stay the course in Iraq then I don't know what will. These guys are waging a holy war, fully convinced that God is on their side and that ultimately every non-Muslim in the world must die for them to be successful.

For all my readers who may have taken the stance that this is not their war, that they disagree with this war, that they believe Saddam was doing just fine and we should've left him alone... THESE JIHADISTS DON'T CARE. YOU ARE NOT MUSLIM. YOU MUST DIE.

Success in Iraq, largely unreported

If you'd like a more accurate picture of what's happening in Iraq than you are getting from CNN... check out the link above by clicking on the title bar. Michael Yon is on the ground in Iraq and has been riding in combat, life and death missions with the American military and with ISF.

If it bleeds, it leads. CNN has a financial motive for running the "bad" news. They are just paying the bills. For some reason, America seems to want the body count more than to hear anything about American success. I'll let someone else dig into the self-loathing that the world seems to want from America.

Read Michael Yon's work. It'll give you a truly human face to put onto those heroic men and women of the American military and it'll give you a respect for the Iraqis that are beginning to construct a country out of the ashes of a post-Saddam terror.

The poor and their terrible luck

There's much conversation these days about the injustice in New Orleans. On the far end (just past the line of lunacy) is the opinion that somehow, all conservatives and Republicans and primarily the Bush administration conspired to kill a few hundred black people by not letting them leave, blowing up the levee and controlling the weather. On the more rational end of the scale are the poeple who say that decades of injustice and racial discrimination led to the awful conditions that now face the primarily black and poor residents of New Orleans. Somewhere in the middle (as usual) is the truth.

I wonder what would happen if we found all those poor folks whose houses were destroyed and who have nothing and we gave them $100,000. I think that the lottery winners have taught us clearly that poor people have poor ways. Give a man a million dollars and he's no better equipped to deal with it than he was equipped to deal with his $15,000 annual income. Given 24 months, most lottery winners are right back where they started, richer only for the experience of having once owned a really expensive car or truck and maybe a nicer home.

My struggle is this: What is justice? What opportunities can we provide that we don't already provide? Throwing money at it has been the federal government's response for years and it's clearly not working. What would work? Or, are we to accept that there will always be Warren Buffets and there will always be folks who live day to day? Are the poor simple victims of fate? Are the rich subject to that same fate? Buffett accidentally got a fantastic education and in the luckiest mistake ever started up Berkshire Hathaway? (Ooops, I accidentally made $40 billion!) What opportunities did Lee Iaccoca have that the poor today don't have? What is the difference between the people who beat poverty and those who don't? Is it something that the government can provide?

The Big Easy Pork Barrel

Been really busy with other things lately, so hopefully, in the absence of regular posts, I've driven away my last reader. That's pretty much the plan I had in mind when I began writing this thing over a year ago. Post regularly for a while. Get a couple of guys to read it regularly. Quit posting regularly. Lose the two readers. Seems to be working fabulously.

Let's consider Louisiana, shall we? Those backwater, inbred, (and I have the right to use these terms because these are my people) lazy politicians that have control of that state ought to be tarred and feathered and run out of town... no wait... they haven't actually been in New Orleans... they've been in Dallas...so they should be tarred and feathered and run out of the country. They had a week's worth of warning and they had studies by credible scientists and they had historic failures during Ivan and George. In light of all that, they sat on their thumbs while Katrina danced with their daughter. The governor and the mayor compounded the damage by fighting with each other and being unavailable while federal resources waited on their signal.

Now, so you are not left with the impression that everyone in New Orleans is incompetent I must say a word on behalf of the New Orleans Police Department. I know a large portion of the police force just ran away but the ones that didn't run are to be commended. They faced the problem of looting head on. They got right in those abandoned stores and took as much merchandise as their patrol cars would carry so that the looters wouldn't get it all. Good job, guys.

So, we Americans, lucky enough to live in a virtual desert and almost never in the path of a hurricane, have the luxury of looking at all of this destruction and lunatic behavior on our tvs every evening. We hear that our federal tax dollars are being spent to send in the military and to send in FEMA and to fund all sorts of band aids for the state of LA. We're mostly overcome with sadness for the loss of lives and the loss of homes and belongings and poor families that can't find each other. Our hearts break for these folks. Then Senator Mary Landrieu comes back with her proposed federal aid bill. The insanity of Landrieu's bill is that it will cost you and me $250 BILLION. Yep. That's about half a million dollars for each person in New Orleans. She had a city known mostly for it's bars, booze and decadence and now she's apparently wanting it to become an enormous pork barrel.

Let me give this analogy. My truck is a 1987 Ford F150 with 140,000 miles on it. My friends call it, affectionately I'm sure, the Yellow Dog. Frankly, it's a great old truck and it gets me where I'm going and I don't worry about scuffing the paint or getting a little dirt on the carpets. It runs and it starts and has driven me all over the state of Texas. Let's suppose that tomorrow a tree fell over onto my truck and it was crushed. Let's suppose that I turned in a claim to my insurance company for about $60,000.00. See, I would need counseling to get over my grief at having lost my old truck. I'd need to buy myself a brand new Ford F150. I might need to pour a new driveway to park my truck on. I might need a carport to shelter my new truck. I would need time to get my dog used to riding in a new vehicle. My boys would need training on how the new seatbelts, radio and air conditioner works. See, it's not just as simple as replacing my old $4000.00 pickup.

My insurance agent would laugh out loud. So should Congress when it comes time to vote on this unconscionable, disaster exploiting, pork barrel spending, fleecing of America.

Proverbs 26:11

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
by Portia Nelson

1. I walk down the street. There's a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost.....I am helpless; it isn't my fault. It takes forever to find a way out.

2. I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don't see it. I fall in again. I can't believe I am in the same place; but it isn't my fault.(I disagree with the author here. It is my fault.) It still takes a long time to get out.

3. I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it is there. I still fall in....it's a habit. My eyes are open. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately.

4. I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.

5. I walk down a different street.

Muck Raking

The Wall Street Journal opinion page carried this article yesterday. It can give you some idea of the negligence of the city and state government in Louisiana. (Click on the title bar, where it says Muck Raking to connect to the article.)

The blame is consistently being aimed at FEMA and George Bush and the National Guard and... well, anyone but the people who were paid to do the job that didn't get done.

Kanye West went so far as to say that this mess in NO is happening because Bush doesn't care about dark-skinned citizens. (Thanks, Kanye. The flight to Fantasyland is now boarding.)

This mess in NO is happening because we own a huge portion of the coastline on the Gulf of Mexico and that's where a lot of hurricanes happen and when this one happened it hit a city that is not built to withstand a powerful hurricane and Lake Pontchartrain's levies collapsed and... the mayor and the governor and all their respective offices didn't take corrective action when they knew about problems and they didn't implement the written plan that they have.

Yes, I quote DH Lawrence

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
Without ever having felt sorry for itself.
-- D.H. Lawrence

Slow gazelles get eaten. That's the law... that's the circle of life. Doesn't matter why they're slow. If they're old and worn out or young and unsteady they get eaten. If they're sick and weak they get eaten. If they are otherwise healthy but they trip and fall, they get eaten. If they're lazy they get eaten. Slow gazelles are eaten.

Some people in the swamp formerly known as New Orleans couldn't leave. Some of them are infants and children. Some of them are old and unhealthy either physically or mentally. I'm really sorry for those folks who are caught up in the devastation and couldn't choose to get out.

Some people in the swamp formerly known as New Orleans could leave. Some have cars and houses and plenty of money and could've driven away. Some don't have cars and plenty of money but they could've walked away. Some don't own anything and should've walked away. I'm sorry for their current misery but they own the responsibility for their current condition.

If you are one of the latter stop whining about what everyone else should do for you and should've done sooner and could've done better. Take the responsibility for where you are and accept the fact that any help you get from the National Guard or the mayor or the governor or the president or FEMA or the Red Cross or some guy who pulled you out of your house with his rowboat... accept the fact that anything you receive from these is a great gift, not something you deserve or something that is owed to you.

Accept the fact that you're a slow gazelle and for whatever reason the lioness didn't catch you this time.

Pick a Team

I'm getting sick of hearing the chorus of... "it's not my war, no WMD's, Bush Lied, not in my name, give peace a chance, we should've tried diplomacy... "

How glorious for you dissenters? What a great plan... you get milk and honey without having to do a thing. Someone's gotta milk the cow. Don't complain about the way the cow got milked while you're drinking the milk. Don't gripe about the bees that lost their hive while you're eating their honey.

And you people that can't just stand up and say, "I hope America wins this war and all the terrorists die."... you've got some honey on your hands. Pick a team. You're watching the SuperBowl and you're saying, "Well, I see that my team committed a foul in the last game so maybe we deserve to lose."

Both teams can't win the SuperBowl. It's no different in this war on terror. Terrorist's idea of winning is for you to be dead. American idea of winning is all the people of this world have the freedom to elect their leaders and pursue life, liberty and happiness. Terrorist's idea of winning is for everyone but the terrorists to die. Not figuratively die... literally die. Doesn't make it too hard for me to choose which team I'm rooting for.

Hey, if the Atlanta Falcons win the SuperBowl all the Falcons fans are going to run around the world chopping off the heads of everyone who's not a Falcons fan. Or, if the Cleveland Browns win then the Browns fans will run around the world sharing their party favors. I guess I'll be cheering really hard for the Browns. How 'bout you? You a Falcon's fan?

The Rock Star and the Navy SEAL

My two little men have just about finished their second week of school at the new public school.

The oldest, my rock star, was very excited about the larger school because a larger audience means a larger number of adoring fans. To expand the rock star analogy, he went from playing the nightclubs to playing the stadiums.

The youngest, my Navy SEAL, was not so excited because this was a great unknown. He sees an undefined theater of operations and undetermined number of hostile targets that may be disguised as friendlies.

Good news is they both are liking it so far. The one with high expectations has been pleased to find that this crowd likes his newest work and he is every bit as loved and adored as he was at the old school. The one with the low expectations has been pleasantly surprised to find that he likes some of the kids in his class and they like him too. It's all good.

Life lessons learned: Men don't change with their environment. They choose who they are and how they will behave and they do so regardless of present company. Their identity is not tied to their surroundings. Their identity is tied to something deep inside them. They might not say it that way but I believe they've learned it.

Thank you God for my sons. Thank you for their excitement, their enthusiasm, their energy, their candor, their health, their little lives that I get to share. I am unworthy. Help me show You to them. Help me be You to them.

Peacetime in America

I read Joe Klein's piece in Time magazine this week. The title is The Danger of Yellow Ribbon Patriotism. He begins by laying out the differences between our military and the general population. He lauds the discipline and service of the military and contrasts that with the way the rest of us are living. Klein calls it the "perpetual American Mardi Gras." The point is that we aren't living like there's a war going on. We continue to spend everyday thinking about new cars and new clothes and the new flavor of cappuccino at Starbucks while young men and women are giving their lives in a desert country on the other side of the globe.

Klein then slips into the old familiar verse of "Bush failed" and it goes downhill from there. He mentions Cindy Sheehan and he glosses over her "naive politics" as he makes the point that Bush should be attending the military funerals and sharing the grief of the military community with the American public. Maybe so.

I was struck by two things in this article. First was the disparity between our soldiers and our civilians. Surely, one of the reasons that I have some insane, irrational desire to sign up and go overseas to fight for our nation is that I'd rather align myself with those men and women of the military than with the pouty, indulgent, children that comprise so much of America. Several soldiers coming back from Iraq made comments about how nothing over here has changed. One commander who had served in Iraq is quoted in the article saying, "I lost five lieutenants in a year. I collected body parts. I don't know how I'll ever get over that. And you just get the feeling that the rest of the country doesn't understand. They're not part of this. It's peacetime in America, and a few of us are at war."

Second was the gravity and beauty of the memorial services held for fallen soldiers in Iraq.
"There's no coffin, just the inverted rifle, boots and helmet of the fallen. We call the roll, up to the name of the missing trooper. We call his name: Specialist Doe. Then a second time: Specialist John Doe. A third time: Specialist John R. Doe. And then taps is played."

I agree with Klein in that we civilians, living comfortably stateside, should be somehow... engaged. We should be buying War Bonds or attending to the military families who've lost loved ones. We should be finding ways to serve our country and Bush should be calling us to it. We should be ashamed that our culture is so appropriately described by the words "perpetual American Mardi Gras."

Cool, clear water

When an AC condensation drain backs up and overflows, a little bit of cool, clear water runs down the walls and into the concrete slab. It is absorbed by the carpet and the pad. It is absorbed by the sheetrock and the insulation in the walls. It is pulled through the concrete, under the tile, under the walls, into every possible space. Doesn't sound too bad... until you call to find out what it'll cost to clean it up.

A reputable cleaning service is here right now drying out my house. They've pulled up carpet, thrown away pad and set up all sorts of air movers (that's what you call a fan when you charge $25.00 a day for it) and a dehumidifier. Apparently cool, clear water is a really bad thing when it's under your carpet. Chances are the bill for all this work will come to something just less than my deductible so my insurance company will not have to pay a red cent and I'll have to pay a couple hundred thousand red cents.

Now, what have we learned? Don't let any water get in your house. Simple as that. When these guys leave I'm shutting off the water at the alley and building an outhouse and pumphouse and my boys are going to learn to fetch water like their grandparents did. Want a bath, son? Go get a five gallon bucket of water from the pumphouse, boil it on a fire in the backyard and bathe in a washtub on the back porch. Need to pee? Hit the outhouse, boys. Think of all the space we've wasted prior to now, with bathrooms, sinks, faucets... all unnecessary and just waiting to leak on the rest of my house.

Lesson number two: Carpet is just a really expensive sponge that is holding all sorts of nastiness. Pet hair, sand, mold, little boy dirt... and add water to that mix and you've got the recipe for a fungus that will multiply into the billions in a 24 hour period. So, I'm getting rid of the carpet too. I'm putting the vaccuum cleaner on eBay and we're gonna live on a bare concrete floor. Mops and brooms from now on.

At least, that's the plan that I'm going to deliver to the divine Mrs. L this evening when she's looking over the bill for the cleanup. Wish me luck.

Uncommon Valor Was A Common Virtue

A friend mentioned the name Ira Hayes this morning and I looked up the lyrics to the Johnny Cash song that I knew so well. I went on to read the stories of the battles at Iwo Jima and how Hayes and the others in that famous photograph fared.

Three of the six men in that photograph were dead within 21 days in the fighting that continued on that tiny island. One was hit by a mortar, another friendly fire and the third by a sniper. The other three were taken back to the states to promote the bond sales that funded the war. They were "wined and speeched and honored" and all three tried to tell the world that they were nothing but lucky... the heroes were buried in long rows of graves in the black sand of Iwo. Ira was heard muttering "my buddies, my buddies..." before he died, drunk, in an irrigation ditch on a reservation at the age of 32.

I'm embarassed to be part of a generation that is full of self promotion, where complaining is considered courageous and "victim-hood is a virtue." If you doubt that we've softened, imagine the reaction to losing 25,000 American soldiers in a month of fighting for 7.5 square miles of black ash and sand. There's no value left in being part of something bigger than our individual selves. There's no value left in serving the greater good.

I'm not a Marine and so I cannot and will not presume to salute those men who've fought and died for my freedom but I will mention their names with reverence.

Mike Strank of Pennsylvania
Harlon Block of Texas
Franklin Sousley of Ohio
Rene Gagnon of New Hampshire
John Bradley of Wisconsin
Ira Hayes of Arizona

May I live a life worthy of the freedom their lives bought for me.

Hide in plain sight

The killer that terrorized Wichita, Kansas and called himself BTK has now delivered his confession. He's plead guilty to 10 counts of murder. He's being sentenced this week.

What's most intriguing about this story is the absolute normality of this guy's life. We have an easier time swallowing the tattooed, satanic, drug using biker as a killer. But the Ted Bundy, the Dennis Rader, the next door neighbor, the guy we see at church dressed exactly like everyone else... that's much harder to accept. This guy's a killer? No way.

Imagine the compartmentalization that had to be going on in Dennis Rader's mind. How do you "act naturally" when you're at home with your wife and kids when you're planning to murder your neighbor? How do you kiss your kids good night when you carry the memory of killing kids their same ages? How do you put those twisted fantasies aside while you mow your yard, wash your car, do the dishes, pay the bills?

I see people sometimes and I think... "something's not right." I think what's scariest is that there are plenty of people who don't set off the internal alarms... and there really is something hiding inside them.

See America

Some people really hate business travel. They complain about the line at the rental car counter. They complain about the time it takes to go through the metal detector and the bag scanner. They complain about having to take off their shoes and belts and watches. They complain about the hotel. They complain about cramped airplane seating. They probably complain about all sorts of other things too it's just that I only encounter them when we are in the airport together and they are making stupid comments about the TSA security measures.

I don't really mind business travel. Sitting on an airplane next to a man or woman who should've bought two seats isn't my favorite thing to do but it's only an hour or two. Being "wanded" at the security checkpoint isn't bad if you imagine that you are the king of the world and the TSA guy is one of your loyal subjects, getting the wrinkles out of your royal clothing. Driving a rental car is no big deal either. Other than the time that the back seat was covered in dog hair... and then I just took the car right back and they gave me another one. Hotels are not bad... I just can't allow myself to think about what might have gone on in the room the night before.

I do miss my family when I'm traveling. My boys and my wife are really my three favorite people in the whole wide world but I'm not gone for weeks at a time. I'm usually out of town for a night or two, at worst a week and with cell phones and emails I'm able to talk to them each day. Plus, when I see something cool it gives me something to tell them about.

So, not much to love but not too terrible either. I have learned the way to make it all better. I try to learn the interesting facts about the state or area where I'm going. I try to get out of my hotel room and have a look at the city around me. I can almost always find an hour or two to just drive around the countryside and see what I can see. If I have to drive between cities I try not to take the same route twice. I look at the map and pick the scenic way if time allows.

I have watched farm league baseball games. I've shared a meal with a homeless man. I've stood at the feet of 2000 year old redwoods. I've driven through Amish country. I've eaten some five star meals and I've eaten some "greasy spoon" burgers and shakes. I've four wheeled in a rented Jeep Liberty in Houston and I've off roaded in a Taurus outside of Las Vegas. I've watched the sun set on the Pacific from Mt. Tamalpais. I've seen the winter in Iowa and the summer in New Mexico.

I remind myself of the vast diversity of our country and what a great freedom it is to be able to go see all of it. Get out of that hotel room... go see America.

The Gitmo Diet

http://www.foxnews.com/projects/pdf/GTMO-menu.pdf

As you know by now, if you've got a pulse, Gitmo detainees are claiming abuses at the hands of American guards. They claim they are beaten. They claim they are humiliated. They claim they are mocked. They claim they are forced to watch the Koran being desecrated. (These claims gained some credibility after we saw the pictures from Abu Ghraib but they lost some credibility when we found Al Quaida training manuals that tell prisoners to claim they are being abused.)

Our government's response was to publish the rules that guards follow at Gitmo in regards to treatment of prisoners and treatment of the Koran. In a much mocked press conference the detainee's menu was touted as further proof that prisoners are being treated well while in American custody.

The Gitmo Diet, it turns out, really is very good. As we've come to expect in this country, prisoners are treated pretty well. Public schools should offer the kind of food that our enemies are receiving. The complimentary breakfast at my last couple of hotels weren't this good.

The devil on my left shoulder wishes we were actually beating and torturing these detainees who envision a world without the USA and would be lining up to chop off our heads were we in their prison camps.

The angel on my right shoulder is really proud of my country as we provide better care to our enemies than they've received in their lives and the worst we've done is Abu Ghraib.

Give the Gitmo Diet a try... it doesn't have the glamorous name like South Beach and it doesn't have bacon as a side dish but the Gitmo Diet just might work for you.

Physics, plain and simple

If a person were to accidentally get the heel of their left hand between the sharp end of a wonderbar and the blunt force of a 3lb engineer's hammer that person could reasonably expect the blade of the wonderbar to go completely through the heel of their hand and meet the face of the hammer. Ask me how I know this.

My fence project, my guitar lessons and my weight lifting are all on a temporary hold while my left hand heals. Luckily, I can still type.

I went for a walk with the divine Mrs. L last night. Much to her delight (sarcasm), I caught a small garter snake as we walked. I carried it home in my hand and shared the joy with my sons. We took pictures of each of them holding the frightened little snake. I offered to let Mrs. L hold it but surprisingly, she declined. George, as the boys named it in the 10 minutes it was in our house, was too beautiful to keep so I let it go in the front yard where it quickly disappeared into the thick grass and the night.

Where is Amnesty International when you need them?

One of the only humorous stories to come out of the War on Terror is also one of my favorites. It involves an interrogation method that might not even violate the sensibilities of the bleeding heart, appeasement advocating, blame-America-first crowd.

Here's how it works: Detainees are milling about their prison camp in Afghanistan or Iraq when three or four US soldiers enter the yard, escorting an officer of the Egyptian army. (The Egyptian officer is actually an American who appears to be Egyptian and speaks flawless Arabic with an Egyptian accent.) The soldiers begin to "assess" the detainees one by one. They look them up and down and seem to offer advice or opinions to the Egyptian officer. Upon the Egyptian officer's command the US soldiers write the name of a country on a large piece of masking tape and place the tape across the detainee's chest. Overall, the detainees are given the impression that they are to be sent to the country whose name is written on their chest. This is terrifying to the detainees because they know how they will be treated in a country like Egypt or Jordan. They've never been treated as well as they are being treated in American custody and the threat of being taken out of American hands and delivered into Arab hands is, to put it mildly, highly motivational. The American interrogators leave the yard and within an hour, every single detainee with tape on his chest begins to fain illness and once removed from the yard offers to tell everything to avoid being sent to another country. Apparently, this little deception is greatly enhanced by the weekly planes taking detainees from these prisons to Guantanamo.

I really enjoyed this story because it demonstrated that one of the best tactics in this war is not harmful or hateful but simply creative thinking and problem solving and finding a way to use what you already have at hand... in short, American ingenuity.

God bless America, land that I love

It's really tempting to let the fourth of July be a day to enjoy barbecue and fireworks. It's easy to mow the yard and wash the car and spend the evening with friends, having a meal, having a drink, watching the colorful explosions in the night sky. But, few things that are easy are worth doing.

Those fireworks are to remind us of the explosions of war, the bombs that burst in the air but couldn't knock down the flag that stands for freedom, the cannon that took young American lives but not America.

In the midst of a war, and with the very real threat of terrorist attacks on our own soil it's much harder to pause and consider what those fireworks are really about. But it's worth doing.

Look for those stars and stripes. Look for those jets in the sky. Look for those soldiers who wear the uniform so that you and I don't have to. Look at the news tonight and remember that lives have been given in defense of American freedom for over 200 years now. That will not ever end. But it's worth doing.

Big city turn me loose, set me free

I was in Fort Worth for several days last week... felt like a month. I think I'm allergic to concrete, steel and glass so when I get into a city the size of the metroplex I have a bad reaction. I just want to see some dry grass, a couple thousand mesquite trees and the heat waves of west Texas.

Air conditioner in my truck is not working and this week we're over 100 degrees. Makes for a hot drive wherever I've got to go. I still wouldn't trade it for a brand new BMW in the metroplex.

My salary is surely laughable... there are plenty of people who make more than me and I don't mean Waltons, Buffets or Gates. Probably lots of the guys I knew in school are making more than I am. I wouldn't trade my salary for any of theirs if I had to live in a city to make it.

I love this hot, dusty corner of Texas I call home. It's not all that pretty. It's not all that comfortable or hospitable; everything here either bites, scratches or stings. It's not ever going to be "THE NEXT GREAT THING" like Vail or Jackson Hole or Park City or whatever is the next great thing. It's just the right size for me though. I can see countryside on my 5 minute drive to the airport. The people that I pass will still raise a hand off the steering wheel in greeting if I do. Almost no one thinks I'm the gardener when I park my 87 Ford pick up in front of my house.

Best of all, I've got a group of friends that don't care if I have a BMW. They don't care if I have Armani suits and ties. They aren't concerned that I don't make six figures. I wouldn't trade them for anyone in the metroplex.

after a brief intermission...

See a pattern with recent posts yet? I'll give you a hint... frequency. Now do you see it? Yep... I haven't posted in a while. Well, I'm stretching out my mental muscles and might not have my "A" game going today... here goes.

I'm learning to play guitar. Not sure how this is really going to work since I seem to be functionally tone deaf, my singing being the key indicator. Also, I'm not sure my fingers will bend the way they're supposed to and they hurt real bad right now. I've got a young college kid teaching me how to play. I think he's going to be a good teacher. I know for sure that he's a great guitarist. About halfway through the lesson he told me about his band. He and his band are playing all over the state this summer. If the others in the band are as talented as he is they'll be a great show. (This concludes the "feel good" portion of this particular blog post so if you're feeling happy and don't want to lose that gentle smile... stop reading now.)

Good job to the House of Representatives. They passed a bill that will withhold half the funding that the US gives to the UN, that enormous, parasitic, redundant, beauracratic organization... sorry, got caught up in the moment. The House bill, if passed by the Senate would withhold half the US funding until the UN proves it can handle it's business.

We all got a glimpse of the porkbarrel that is the UN when US Marines captured Saddam's multiple palaces, primarily bought with money Saddam made in the UN controlled (loosely used) Oil for Food program. Yes, Iraqi children starved while Saddam sat on his gold toilet and everyone involved in the Oil for Food oversight got rich. We have also seen the UN demonstrate it's absolute powerlessness as UN peacekeepers stood by and watched the genocide in Rwanda. The UN continues to ignore what may be classified a genocide in Sudan. They can adopt a resolution about tsunami aid and they can adopt a resolution about US preemptive military actions and they can adopt a resolution about genocide but it all boils down to, "blah, blah, blah... " and nothing more.

Tell your congressperson (see how PC I am?) what you think ought to happen with the UN and ask them to support the bill the House passed. Next step: evict the UN from that very expensive real estate we provide for them in NYC.

Which came first?

I had one of those moments yesterday where a dear friend thanked me for my help. He thanked me for doing something that I cannot imagine NOT doing.

As I drove away I tried to remember how we got started. Who had done the first favor for the other? Who had first given of time or money for the other? In the classic "chicken and egg" model I can't tell you which one of us made the first sacrifice.

Thank God for friends. Thank God for giving us people in our lives who we cannot imagine being without. Thank God for the inability to remember who owes and who gives and who sacrifices. Thank God for friends that I can take for granted and who take me for granted.

International Lampoon

Amnesty International has finally released a report about the prisoner abuses at Guantanamo.

I don't know about you but I couldn't wait another day. My summer reading list wasn't full yet... and I needed a good comedy so I believe this report will fit perfectly.

Calling out the US on it's human rights abuses is something like sending a shoplifting pre-teen to the electric chair. Amnesty knows that they will get press coverage for an anti-American story so they run with it but we are so far down on the world's list of abusers... I started to list the countries that are "really" abusive but it is actually easier to list the countries that are less abusive than the US... there's Lichtenstein, Norway, Iceland and the Federated States of Micronesia (which is actually a US dependent.) Canada used to be on the list but Celine Dion's music and their treatment of the French speaking Quebecois have recently moved them to the "Abusive" list.

Surely the world has more sense than to buy this bandwagon riding publicity stunt don't they? No, of course not. What am I thinking? America is the Great Satan... we've been tried in the world court of public opinion and because we don't live in absolute squalor or renounce our own success we must be terrible, hateful, imperialistic tyrants.

Your Message Here

A secret source deep inside the bowels of the Blogger Corporate office tells me that Blogger execs are preparing to ask Mike Cope to stop soliciting comments.

Mike's blog yesterday brought up a profanity printed on a tshirt worn in public. I don't own any shirts that have profanity on them and I don't really want to... but I've got some ideas for tshirts that haven't yet seen. How about you? Any novel tshirt ideas?

Below are some thought starters...

INFIDEL
What Would Harry Truman Do?
I Heart My Rabid Presa Canario

Come on... get those creative juices flowing.

The La Brea Tarpit of 2005

Someday, thousands of years from now, when some advanced society digs up our era, they will find some amazing things. Their anthropologists will have a blast dissecting our lives and our largely constructed environments.

When they dig up community pools, filled with children, dressed (or undressed, as the case may be) in skimpy little pieces of cloth held together by strings... will they think this was some religious center? Will they be able to detect the smelly, greasy substances that we painted on our bodies? Will they understand the remains of the diving board or will they assume this was some sort of sacrificial pit where the young were sacrificed to the sun gods?

There is the long aluminum pole with a loop on the end, that might have been used to push the human sacrifices off the end of the Holy Plank. There are reclining chairs lining the sides of the Sacrificial Pit where the devout could observe the sacrifices. There are elevated chairs where, apparently, the high priests presided over the whole affair. There are elaborate dressing rooms, containing toilets and showers, presumably so the humans who would be sacrificed could be cleansed before they were marched to their deaths. Some of these sacrificial pits will be found to hold a thousand or more young children. While future societies will be repulsed by the idea that food was served at these sacrificial gatherings, apparently a large portion of the buildings near these sacrificial pits were devoted to the preparation and distribution of food items.

Here's to the world's future anthropologists... may they not fall off of a sacrificial plank.

Run it up the flagpole

I don't particularly care if the Sith are avenged. Apparently, this lack of interest on my part puts me in an extremely small slice of America and only a slightly larger slice of the entire planet. I haven't seen the last two (three, four, who really knows?) Star Wars episodes... as a matter of fact I didn't see the first one until it was 10 or 12 years old. I don't know why but Star Wars and Star Trek just never really did anything for me. I don't think you're a nut if you are excited about it coming out... just take comfort in knowing that I will not be the guy who buys the ticket you wanted.

Now, to the folks who took off work and who camped out and who changed their names to Maul and who dressed up in costumes... you people are freaks. I understand that there is a human psychological need to belong to something larger than yourself... may I recommend "reality?"

How proud would my mom be if I called her and told her I was changing my middle name to Annakin or Darth? When you fill out your Absence Report for work, what do you write in for the reason you're missing a week of work so you can sleep on a sidewalk with a bunch of people you don't know to see a movie you already know the ending to? I think it takes a special kind of person to be the high school mascot... what sort of mental state (defect?) does it require for a grown man or woman to buy and publicly wear a sci fi movie costume? If you look to Darth Maul for spiritual guidance... what other literature have you considered?

Don't misunderstand me... I don't care at all that this is happening. As a matter of fact I like it. I love our country and the freedoms that we enjoy. It makes me happy to see the lines of Star Wars groupies outside the theaters because I know that their freedom to dress up as a wookie is the same as my freedom to skip it. I love living in a place where we are guaranteed the rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, no matter how bizarre. Let your freak flag fly, baby.

The clog in my toilet is apparently a Newsweek magazine

Much has been said about Newsweek's unsubstantiated report of the intolerable abuse of prisoners at Guantanamo. This has primarily been that the Koran (or Quran) has been touched by infidels and put in a toilet. There have also been claims that some Muslim prisoners have been tortured by being deprived of long pants during prayer time. They have also claimed that some Muslim prisoners were wrapped in an Israeli flag. These charges have led to rioting and death in some Muslim countries.

WHAT? WHAT? ARE YOU JOKING? THIS IS THE OUTRAGE?

I wish I could remember (Warning: Sarcasm ahead) what Muslims do to non-Muslims when they are held prisoner. I wonder how our soldiers are coddled (oops, I meant tortured) when they are in custody in a Muslim country. I certainly hope that none of our soldiers are wrapped in an Al Queada flag. (Oh, the humanity.) I certainly hope that they weren't deprived of religous symbols. I hope that our Jewish soldiers weren't forced to flavor their food with non-kosher salt? What if their captors flushed a Bible down the toilet? How could our soldiers stand it?

Regardless of what you believe about the prisoner abuse at Abu Ghraib you must recognize that what was happening to prisoners in that prison is nothing like what happens to American (or any non-Muslim) prisoners. I'm just guessing here... but I bet I'd rather watch a Bible being torn up and flushed down a toilet than having my shoulders broken. I bet I'd rather have my crucifix necklace taken away and defiled than have my head cut off with a hunting knife. I bet I'd rather be wrapped in a North Korean flag than beaten until I lost consciousness.

Let me draw another comparison for you, gentle reader. When our soldiers took Baghdad we, the American people, did not print and distribute trading cards with the names and pictures of the soldiers who took the palaces and who took the airport. We don't have rallies in the streets where we chant about how many Iraqis our soldiers have killed.

Our enemies do this. Our enemies celebrate those who lost their lives in the attack on the World Trade Center. Our enemies behead non-combatants who are non-Muslim. Our enemies revel in dragging the bodies of our soldiers around the streets. Our enemies have so little tolerance for anyone not like them that they will not be satisfied until we (anyone who is not Muslim) are dead.

...and now, an eyewitness account...

It's not something we hear very often in our church services or our classes but I think we would benefit from hearing it. Most of us are not quick to share this with the person beside us on the plane or the waiter or the guy in the office next to ours but they might benefit from it too. It's the story of our lives. It's the telling of how God is active in our daily lives. It's the way that the Holy Spirit has comforted and clarified. It's the way that God has been faithful to His weak, sinful, unreliable creation.

Watch the news. Good reporters find an eyewitness to interview so that we can hear a personal, human account of the news event. They may explain to us why a train wrecked and that's important. What touches us is the story of the person who lived through the train wreck. The smells, the sounds, the sights, the fear, the pain, the relief at being rescued... all that adds up to much, much more than the physics of a train falling off the tracks.

When a person is willing to stand up and say, "This is what God has done for me..." it's very compelling. It's far more powerful a presentation than reading the stories of God's work in the lives of people who lived hundreds or thousands of years ago.

I believe that this kind of presentation does a lot for us, even those of us who already believe in God.

This kind of openness shows us that those people who sit through church services with us are real people with feelings and emotions and failures and divine redemptions. Remember David, who slept with his neighbor's wife and had the man killed? He was called a man after God's own heart. This kind of testimony reminds us that we are all sinners and that God loves us all the same. No more pretending that we are as pretty and clean as we look all dressed up in our Sunday best.

This kind of testimony also reminds us that Jesus isn't some antiquated voodoo that only worked back in the day before cell phones, laptops and wireless broadband. God is working in our lives today. Not just watching to see how we do and so He can make a call on whether we get into heaven or not... but actually moving the hearts and minds of those around us.

Let's stop acting as if were clean all along. Let's stop acting as if we "partnered" with God to make the world a better place. Let's be honest with ourselves... our best behavior is like filthy rags on God's scale of cleanliness and we spend plenty of time being less than our very best. Let's start telling the world how God saved us, not just ancient, historical figures, but us from the clutches of sin. Let's talk about how in our broken lives, God's power is made clear. Let's talk about how God lifts us up when we humble ourselves. Let's talk about how God healed and restored us. Let's talk about the pain, the fear, the smells, the sights, the sounds... Let's talk about a Holy Trinity that is very much alive and active in our world.

The Bad, the Bad and the Ugly

Hopefully your life is full enough that you are not "following" the Michael Jackson trial. If you have, however, seen the highlights on the news every night you know that Jackson is a full-blown, certifiable, cut-the-strings-of-reality WACKO. It's really sad to see him in this state because if you're my age you can remember him when he was young, good looking and nobody suspected his destination was today's insanity.

The problem at Neverland (I can't bring myself to call it Ranch... maybe petting zoo, but that has too many negative implications) is that Jackson was so wealthy, so powerful that no one dared to challenge him. Everyone around Jackson was on his payroll. They were making their livings, most of them quite lucrative, off of his generosity. Jackson had an infestation of leeches and lampreys that attached themselves to him and would not risk their parasitic pleasures by questioning Jackson's activities. A long time ago... maybe when the world was still seeing a young artist at the very beginning of a life of greatness... someone should have checked Jackson. Someone should have held him by the lapels and looked into his face and told him, "That's not acceptable. Get control of yourself." Now, years later, the artist formerly known as The King of Pop is a barely recognizable human freakshow. It is a tragedy.

There are other examples of this type of power and ego run amok. Kim Jong Il is the "beloved" leader of North Korea. The stories of his life,(I particularly like the story of his first golf outing wherein he shot 6 holes in one) as they are already being recorded by state historians are ludicrous and laughable, except that they tell a story just like Jackson's. No one sits with the North Korean leader who can tap him on the shoulder and tell him, "Come back to reality." Now, with nuclear capabilities and a willingness to preemptively strike perceived enemies he endangers the entire world.

Saddam Hussein was in this camp also. As Hussein thumbed his nose at the US and the UN in the last five years most of us couldn't imagine his motivation. I wondered, and I probably wasn't the only one, if he was insane. Apparently, no one in his cabinet was willing to tell him the truth about his military capabilities. The generals who answered to him were all continuing to give him glowing reports about their respective responsibilities. No one said, "You can't really defeat the US. You can't even put up a good fight."

Most of us don't run the risk of becoming so powerful or so wealthy that the people around us are unable to confront us when we stray. Consider that a blessing. Consider friends who know you well enough to be brutally honest with you a great gift. Be willing to hear the truth from your friends. Encourage them to correct you. Ask for accountability.

In praise of selected cable channels

I love TV. You may not know it but I didn't have a TV in my house until I was in the 10th grade. I didn't grow up with all those shows that my friends grew up watching. I don't know all the TV related trivia that my wife knows. I really feel cheated (sarcasm) out of all that childhood TV experience that seems to unite my generation.

Oh well, now I've got a TV and I pay for digital cable every month and so I get to watch the Discovery channels. Yes, I said multiple Discovery channels. My new favorite is the Discovery Military channel. There is also a Discovery Science and a Discovery Times (New York Times) channel. There are others but I've not spent any time on them yet...

Last night I watched a show about Osama Bin Laden. I learned quite a bit about the world's most wanted terrorist. Then I saw a show called The Fight for Baghdad which had incredible footage and amazing interviews from the ground in Iraq with the soldiers who were the first ones into the city. Then I started watching a show called After Saddam but I was too tired to make it through... it was after 1am.

When I say I love TV I mean I love interesting, intelligent, educational TV. Reality TV (incredible oxymoron) is the new opiate of the masses and sitcoms are stale and unbearable. I am starting to develop an undeserved sense of pride in the fact that I've not watched a single episode of Survivor, American Idol, Desperate Housewives... and now that I've found this suite of Discovery channels you can bet there'll never be a place in my life for The Apprentice or The Bachelorette.

Happy Mother's Day

Saw a show about the Army Rangers the other day. It was showing a Ranger competition called The Best of the Best. Two Rangers form a team that competes against other Ranger teams. They run obstacle course, swim, run, climb, shoot and conduct urban warfare exercises.

In one of the obstacle courses we saw a Ranger fall off of a "wall" of telephone poles that he was climbing over. He fell nearly thirty feet and landed pretty much, flat on his face. He broke his nose. Blood ran down his face... he just stood there a minute, spitting blood out of his mouth, catching his breath... he denied medical attention and went on to finish the obstacle course. Oliver North was the narrator and as we watched this Ranger spitting out his blood North says,"Most people don't get up after a thirty foot fall but this man is a Ranger. Ranger's aren't like other people." At that the Divine Mrs. L says, "That's Ethan. He's not like other people." She went on to say she hopes Ethan never becomes a Ranger. She says this because she's his mother and mothers can feel pain that their children haven't yet experienced. She felt Ethan's pain when that guy fell off the obstacle.

Here's my prayer for each of my young sons. God, let this man find his place. Let him go where his skills and his unique, God given abilities will serve him and his God best of all.

Here's my prayer for my wife. God, give her strength as her little boys become the men that you've planned for them to be. Give her comfort as she hurts for them. God, please spare her the experience of having to see her sons in pain. Give her (and me) the strength to let them go where you want them.

God's Finest Work

My nine year old son is a treasure. He's smart and funny. He's really got a great sense of style... didn't get that from me, clearly. He's articulate. He's generous. He's as intransigent as a pit bull when he wants something. He's clever and creative. He's got a very high emotional intelligence. He's an amazing, natural fund raiser. He's a gifted actor (got that from me) and singer (got that from his mother) who loves to show off his talents. He's a gift from God.

He is most comfortable talking to and interacting with adults because kids his own age don't get his humor and usually don't care about much of anything but video games and tv shows. He is far more interested in producing books, videos, stage shows and works of art. He has pushed against his physical age his whole life. He has always been more wise and more intelligent than his physical age would allow. Some adults think he is not all there because they don't expect a nine year old to think or say the things he says. They underestimate him because he's trapped in a child's body. He is sometimes lonely because of this... and it breaks my heart.

B-man, be strong. Someday the world will know what your mother and I know right now. You are great! You are talented! You are truly God's finest work! We love you now and we always will.

Cold Case Files

I enjoy a tv show called Cold Case Files. This is a glossy retelling of cold cases, usually murders, that are solved many years after the crime was originally committed. These are inevitably solved by detectives who just wouldn't give up, trace evidence that is now technologically decipherable and sometimes by a witness who just waited too long to contribute to the police work. Anyway, they are fascinating stories.

This morning, driving to work I was listening to the radio and heard some interesting news. My city, Abilene is now dedicating some resources to solving cold cases. Neat. Clearly, this is a new thing. The report implied that cold cases had been allowed to remain cold for a lack of manpower in the police department. The detectives who do this work in Abilene will begin trying to solve 26 murders that have happened over the last 40 years in Abilene. Good luck to you, detectives. Hopefully, CCF will get to come film a show here soon.

Napoleon Bonaparte, a short-sighted short man

I was looking at a map of the world yesterday and noticing how small Europe is compared to the US. My wife, the divine Mrs. L, and I measured the distance between London and France and found it be approximately the same as between Tulsa and Dallas. We found that Washington, Oregon and Idaho combined are about the same size as France. That's right... three states that define a very small, specific region of the US is the same size as the largest single state in the EU. Alaska is bigger than almost the whole of Europe.

We also looked at latitudes. England is on the same latitudes as Northern Canada. I was frankly surprised by that one. Texas is the same distance from the equator as Egypt and all of North Africa. You thought we were kidding about the summer heat.

When you consider that England is so far north and so shockingly small, compared to the great Lone Star State... it's no wonder that the pilgrims thought this was the promised land. They went from the east coast to the Smoky mountains and it was already more land, more unspoiled nature, more wildlife, more wilderness than they had ever seen in their lives. The dark forests of Germany and the countryside of France or Italy could not compare to the virgin lands of the new world.

Now, we've filled up the continent... compared to those early days before Lewis (a distant ancestor) and Clark took a legendary trip out west. We've got cities on both coasts. We've fenced all the land and we've farmed it or ranched it. Now, a friend from NYC visits me here and just can't imagine the space we have in our own backyard. She says, "In NYC 5,000 people would live in the space of your backyard."

Give me land... lots of land and a sunny sky. Europe's got nothing that I want. NYC, Houston, LA, Chicago... kryptonite for my superman soul. Thank you Thomas Jefferson for making the Louisiana Purchase. Thank you to everyone in the Alamo for taking Texas.

We're Number One

It frustrates my wife, the Divine Mrs. L, when she asks where I would like to eat lunch and I say something to the effect of, whatever you want to eat is fine with me. I really don't care where we eat because I'm easy to please. I really would rather her get her way because she does care. But she wants me to say what I want. Even if she disagrees with it and we end up eating wherever she wanted to eat in the first place she wants me to formulate an opinion.

There is an area where I hold a strong opinion and I find myself frustrated with Americans who cannot or will not take a stand. It has to do with American supremacy in the world. I don't believe anyone doubts that American military might is greater than any other existing military but that's not what I mean. I mean ideaological supremacy.

America is better than Saddam Hussein's Iraq. America is better than Iran. America is better than the taliban controlled Afghanistan. America is better than North Korea. America is better than China. America is even better than France, Germany and Italy.

We are better because we give more freedom to our citizens than those countries do. We are better because we allow dissent, we allow disagreement, we allow diversity.

In order to preserve our ideals and our way of life, we are changing Iraq and Afghanistan. We are giving freedom to the citizens in those countries and allowing them to choose their own governance. We believe that these freedoms will be contagious and will spread to the citizens in some of those other countries I mentioned earlier. We believe that there is room in the world for disagreement with American choices of religion, education, health care, governance, etc. but that freedom to choose those things has no equal.

We're not perfect... but we are better. I get frustrated with Americans who want to apologize for American supremacy. America, with all of it's flaws is still the greatest country in human history. Grasp it. Understand it. Stop apologizing for it. Say it.

This is especially grating when I see people in our country who get sweaty and lathered up about the outcome of a sporting event. They are willing to vociferously state an opinion about a group of men (or women) who are paid to play ball in their state. They are willing to fight... for a colored jersey.

Somebody stand up and do the wave for the red, white and blue. Somebody get a little nuts and paint their face in support of the US Marines. Somebody make a banner for the Navy. Somebody scream "USA! USA! USA!"

After writing this and re-reading it... I was reminded of the Robert Frost quote "A liberal is a man too broadminded to take his own side in a quarrel." I laughed out loud.

Todd, thank you very much

My wife and I gave some of our testimony about God's work in my life last night. The audience was a small group of college students who eat dinner with some of our good friends every Sunday night. As I remembered the pain, the stress, the suffering and then God's peace and patience and shocking faithfulness I was overwhelmed.

God watched as a lifestyle and a job and a level of prestige all became idols for me. He watched as I neglected my wife and my children and my own health for the pursuit of the career. It seemed like He started sending me the message that I had better get my life right a year or so before I left that job. Truth is, He's been trying to lead me down the right path even before I went to work there. I chose to go the way I went and it nearly cost me everything that's really important to me.

That part of the story is normal. The part of the story that's not normal is the part where I turned to my Father and I cried to Him for help and He responded immediately. God was right there. He didn't demand that I fix everything I'd damaged. He didn't make me jump backwards through all those hoops to get back to Him. He was right behind me all the time, begging me to turn around and come back to what I knew was right. When I did, He blessed me with peace that you can't understand unless you've been given that gift. He blessed me with a much better job than I could have even asked for. He blessed me with a group of friends that also wish to serve Him. He blessed me with a family that stayed with me when I was bringing very little to the table except a paycheck and they forgave me when I apologized to them for the years I gave away. He continues to bless me as I seek to serve Him with my life.

God is faithful. God is generous. Your career is not your life. It's important, but not more important than the people in your life. Surround yourself with God's people and make yourself accountable to them.

The Circle of Life in the Marketplace

I've been saying for many years now that Wal Mart will fall. Someday, they will be brought low. I don't know how and I don't know who will do it but there will be a day when we, or our grandchildren, tell the stories of shopping at Wal Mart, back in the day and the children gathered at our feet will not remember the largest retailer in current American history.

I've also predicted some other market shifts that have yet to come true. Yes, since you asked, I'll tell you about some of them.

Shopping online will expand way beyond today's limits. Grocery shopping has been the holy grail of online marketing and so far no one has mastered it. But it will happen. I think the first step will be an online ordering system where the groceries you select online will be "picked" and bagged and when you show up at HEB you can simply pay for and load up the groceries you've selected online. There will be a drive through window or lane that is especially for online order pickup.

When the grocery shopping happens online I believe that the grocery suppliers will either partner with a bank or create their own department to run a line of grocery credit. The revolving credit account is being underutilized in the grocery segment of our economy and the online shopping experience will provide the impetus to move Americans into using credit for buying their groceries. Dave Ramsey will roll over in his grave.

Some companies that are brick and mortar based today will become exclusively online outlets. For instance, Sears or Penneys or Dillards will grow online sales to the point that they shut down their brick and mortar locations and only be available online. I believe that they may retain some physical location but it would be a return desk or a pickup location for larger items... sort of like the old Service Merchandise pickup windows.

Some DSD companies (Direct Store Delivery) like Coke and Pepsi and Frito Lay, that provide delivery, merchandising and ordering services to the stores physical locations will be pressured by the big retailers to provide home delivery. So, when you go online and place your grocery order with HEB the Cokes and the Fritos and the Little Debbie snacks will be delivered to your door by the Coke, Frito and Little Debbie truck drivers... sort of like the milk man used to do. The rest of your HEB grocery order will come off of the HEB grocery truck or maybe a delivery service provider that is separate from the grocery company.

I also believe that it will not be long before the government figures out a way to tax online transactions. Right now, some online providers are collecting sales taxes on a state-by-state basis. I believe that will go away and Uncle Sam's minions in Congress will create a 1400 page document with 70 different formulas for calculating e-tax for all kinds of online transactions. PayPal will have to provide a W2 or some equivalent to individuals who buy/sell on eBay. Watch for the IRS Publication OT-8472, Online Sales Tax Calculations and Schedule FA, Net Gains or Losses from Online Sales Activity.

I don't view these changes with any sort of nostalgia for the old days of shopping in a grocery store (sniff, sniff) and I don't dread the changes. It's simply a matter of providing an idea and allowing the market to accept or reject it. People are working night and day, right now, to bring their idea to the marketplace. Some of those ideas will flourish. Some will fail. Some years ago a man named Sam Walton brought his ideas to the market and the market loved his ideas. Some day that same marketplace will embrace a new model or a new idea that will close the coffin on Walton's ideas. Let's all sing "The Circle of Life."

What do you think will happen?

Skip this post... not worth reading

http://www.weeklystandard.com/Content/Public/Articles/000/000/005/496cjzrn.asp

The link above is to an amusing article in the Weekly Standard by the editor, Matt Labash. He spends some time interviewing and arguing with Ward Churchill. Strangely enough, they find common ground in Townes Van Zandt. Isn't it amazing that music really can soothe the savage beast?

Why I can never use steroids

Down inside, there's a fighter. There's a guy who wants to punch the throats of those who oppose him. There's a pair of fists that stay clenched. There's a jaw that's set and eyes that are ready to shift into tunnel vision. They are looking for a fight. They are looking for a target. They are looking for a weakness. There's a lip and a nose, an eyebrow that's ready to bleed. The adrenaline is always flowing and his muscles are always taut. There's a man inside me that wants to fight. He doesn't want to consider any options. He doesn't want to discuss his differences with his co-workers. He wants to break something. He wants to express his disagreement by throwing somebody through a wall. He wants to stand over the broken body of an adversary. He wants the pain in his knuckles and the blood in his mouth.

There's no place for that man in my life. There's no place for that man in this society. So, he stays down... but he's not gone.

Jet Setter Reveals All

I'm off to Ohio for a couple of hectic days of business travel. If you're not a business traveler you may have this romanticized idea of what time "on the road" is really like. I know there are several around my office that believe those of us who travel on the company dime are living the good life out on the road. Allow me to dispel some business travel myths.

Myth #1: We, business travelers are living it up, spending big money on fancy meals.
Truth #1: I do eat at some nice restaurants while I'm traveling. However, it's not really pleasurable to have a list of talking points that you must cover while you dine and 99% of the time, I'm eating with people I don't really like. You can try this at home... tonight, go out to eat and ask to be seated with someone you don't know. Then talk to them about their office budget all the while pretending to be thoroughly entertained by their wit and their wisdom.

Myth #2: We pamper ourselves in fancy hotels.
Truth #2: Equating a Courtyard by Marriott with an actual Marriott is like equating a Geo Metro with a Cadillac Escalade because after all, Cadillac and Geo are both GM brand automobiles. I get a special thrill when I find out my hotel has high speed internet so that I don't spend half the night responding to email after one of those magnificent business dinners I mentioned in #1.

Myth #3: We are jet setting (does anyone use this term anymore?) around the country, seeing all the beautiful sights.
Truth #3: While it's true that I've taken several trips that allowed me the opportunity to spend an hour or two enjoying the scenery, most often I go straight from the airport, which is a lot like WalMart with a lot more tension, to someone's office building, which is a lot like WalMart with an elevator. Mostly the only sights I see are the highway signs and the occasional ghetto when I miss an exit and have to circle back to the highway.

There may be people out there who do business in Maui and the Sonoma Valley. I've been to San Francisco and I've been to Denver... those were pretty cool. But I've also been to Des Moines, Kansas City, Winston-Salem, Atlanta, Houston... not exactly glamorous... and don't forget Las Vegas, which is a lot like a WalMart with a liquor license.

How shall the young secure their hearts?

Sometimes I open up this blog and I write 500 words and erase them. I look at what I've written and it fails the "making this world a better place" test that I'm applying to my life. If you've read any of my work you are probably wondering how any of it passed... I've got to be honest and tell you that I don't always use that rule. Anyway, today I did. I find very little in me, in my own words to make this place better, brighter, more enjoyable...

Steve and Chrissy Holt have a blog called Messy Ministry. http://harvestboston.blogspot.com/ They write as they prepare to move their young lives to Boston to spread the gospel to the lost world. I'm amazed at their faith and their choice. They chose Jesus first and will choose careers and houses and everything material second. I'm embarassed for myself when I was 20 years old. I made no decisions based on my professed faith. I'm also encouraged that they are setting an example and raising the bar and living like Jesus lived.

So, nothing about politics today. Nothing about our ridiculous culture. Just a quick mention of some people who are courageously living out the call of Christ. Steve and Chrissy, God bless you.

Eternal truth from an unlikely source

A friend of mine recently attended a conference at Disney World in Orlando. He was surrounded by the oversized cartoon characters, the moms and dads and the rosy cheeked children. He was surprised to find that a concert in the park was going to feature Danzig, a blatantly, unequivocally satanic, death metal band. The black leather, the blood, the skeletons, the upside down crosses are not exactly the sort of thing one would expect to see in the middle of Disney's pastel saccharine. (We're certain that someone at Disney lost their job the following morning.)

Sunday in class we read John 1-4 and we talked alot about how we can remind ourselves that we are living in a spiritual world. How can we hear the message of a spiritual kingdom in a world that is focused on the material, the tangible? How can we remember that we struggle against an enemy that is not flesh and bone?

Glenn Danzig, the lead singer for the band (and The Misfits and Samhain) gets it. He lives a life that brings glory to his master. He expects to receive an eternal reward for his work on this earth. He sings about the spirits that surround us and he clearly understands that this world is not his home. He looks forward to the time that he can be with his master forever. He does the work of his master and he doesn't let anyone's opinion of him bother him. He doesn't let society's mores hold him back.

It sounds eerie when we hear it about satan but it's exactly the same thing that we're called to do. We are called to live like Jesus, focused on the eternal life, focused on the spiritual warfare, focused on the kingdom of God on earth. We are called to ignore society's petty, mortal concerns and to act out our faith in ways that may be uncomfortable to us.

God, give us the spiritual vision to see the warfare for the souls around us. Give us the vision to see your work, the planting and the harvesting that we can do. Remind us that this world is not our home. Remind us that no matter the assaults of the enemy, you've won and you've given us the keys to the kingdom. Remind us that with Jesus' resurrection you made certain our own triumph over death.

None of self and all of Thee

I read a story, probably fictitious about a college professor who tries to prove to his students that God doesn't exist. The professor's argument went something like this... If evil really exists and God created everything then God created evil and fails to live up to his own definition of himself... Several of his students argued with him and one of them finally seemed to "win" the argument. The student's argument was... cold is not measurable except as the absence of heat. Darkness is not measurable except as the absence of light. Evil is merely the absence of God. Doubtless the professor was unconvinced. In real life, no one is swayed by clever semantics. They may not have a rational reply to the argument but they do not therefore believe.

But the argument about evil being the absence of God intrigued me. It's true of me, no matter if it's not true globally. In my life, when I don't fill it with God I fill it with evil. There's not an in-between, uncommitted, "good-evil neutral" position that I can hold. There's no Sweden of morals and ethics. I cling to God because when I don't fill myself with godliness I find myself lost in the darkest, dreariest moral cold that I can imagine. If not for God, why obey the laws of the land? If not for God, why would I even be decent, let alone upstanding or generous or kind? Satan, according to his church says that we are stupid to consider anyone but ourselves. If it stands in the way of your pleasure or your happiness he tells us, run over it, annihilate it. If it doesn't serve your immediate needs then destroy it. Frighteningly, without God that's exactly where I go.

I have to suspend my disbelief to embrace God. In the religous culture that surrounds me it's known as faith. It is the belief in things that cannot be proven. It is the hope of things that are unseen. (I can hear my father saying those words in many sermons. How could I have known then how crucial and critical faith would become as I learned to be skeptical and cynical in a world full of cons and cheats and traps?) So, everyday, by faith, I choose God. I choose God because He loved me even when I filled myself full of evil. He loved me enough to send His son to be horribly tortured and killed on my behalf. Sometimes it's the fact that God and his love are so unlikely and irrational that makes me cling to it more... sort of a "truth is stranger than fiction." No way could a man dream up a God like our God. Can I prove any of this? No. But I know it. I know it and I actively choose to believe it.

Dear God, less of me, less of evil, less of selfish concerns, less of this world, less of things, less of self righteousness, less of the corruptible... more of you. Restore this broken vessel and fill me again. I want to be wholly yours.

Poke out your mind's eye

In the midst of more pressing news about Iraq, Terri Schiavo and cloned buffalo in China you may have missed the very small (but comedically exploitable) news story about a shipful of gay and nudist passengers being denied entry into St. Kitts.

I'm certain that this will turn into another referendum on gay rights and I predict that ultimately St. Kitts will have to issue some sort of apology to the gay, nudist community.

Speaking in marketing terms, the passengers of the cruise appear to be "dual category shoppers." In other words, there isn't one nudist section and one gay section of the ship. The passengers seem to be gay AND nudist. Demographically that's a really skinny slice of the pie.

Likewise, the story is unclear about the staff's participation in the nudist and/or gay cruise ship activities. Think about that entry item on a resume... 1999-2005 I served as Activities Director for Barefoot Windjammer Gay,Nudist cruises... Where does your career go from there? Can you name another job where a person might need to know how to organize a nude limbo?

I thought karaoke was bad enough on it's own... imagine a bar full of naked men singing Elton John, Cher and George Michael songs. Yes... with a lisp.

If you have trouble sleeping on hotel sheets because you saw that episode of 60Minutes then imagine getting on a cruise ship where even the railings and the deck chairs came in contact with someone else's naked body.

Sort of makes you wonder what other gay, nudist forms of vacation transportation might be out there... Gay, Nudist Trains... Gay, Nudist Hot Air Ballooning... Gay, Nudist Motorcycle Tours... Gay, Nudist Airlines... Gay, Nudist Safaris... Gay, Nudist River Rafting... Really makes me want to carry my own bottle of Lysol around with me. I don't know if the raft I'm getting on was last used by gay, nudist thrill seekers.

There's a joke that's eluding me right now... it has to do with iced jumbo shrimp, waiting in the buffet line and meeting the captain... if you can put those together in some humorous fashion let me know.

Love based, Fear based

My wife, the divine Mrs. L, continues to work on her dissertation. Her class work is finished and all that remains now is "The World's Largest Research Paper." During her class work, she had an instructor who taught them, among other things presumably, that a method of critical thinking is to view decisions, our own and other's, as either Love based or Fear based. On the initial hearing, I discounted this as left-coast looney talk. However, as I've tested this theorem I've found it to be surprisingly accurate.

Try it out this week. Look at the decisions that you are making and look at the decisions that others are making. Evaluate them on the basis of either Fear or Love. I think you may be surprised.

Now, for the value of this method of evaluation. Fear based decisions are seldom (I emphasize seldom, not never) good decisions. Love based decisions are seldom (again, not never) bad decisions. As you contemplate the decisions you will find that the Fear based decisions seldom work out for anyone's good. You may also find, as I believe I've found, that some people and some organizations do almost everything out of Fear or they do almost everything they do out of Love. Decide for yourself which of these systems better serves the decision maker as well as those affected by those decisions.

You can expand the idea... since Fear and Love seem so personal and intimate. You can broaden the terms to include Offensive and Defensive, for you sports fans. You might use the terms Expansive and Constrictive. You may use Inclusive and Exclusive. As always, no single word is perfect because we all have our own connotations but if you observe behaviors you'll see what I mean and you can label it whatever works for you.

The Bible tells us that God is love. His son, Jesus came to earth to open the doors of heaven to all who would accept His sacrifice. Seems to be a Love based decision to me.

Christians, the people who recognize that Jesus' sacrifice made their relationship with God possible, ought to be making a lot of Love based decisions, wouldn't you think?

Go. Do better today than you did yesterday. Love somebody like God loves them.

Check our insurance policy...

The cool thing about being a father to two little boys is that their mother knows they need boyish toys. For instance, this weekend we went looking for a zip line so that the boys can risk life and limb, propelled by gravity, zipping across a steel cable that we'll suspend between two trees in our backyard. In order for the zip line to work well we may need to construct a tree house for them to use as a launch pad. Sweet! The cool thing about having little boys is I can buy and build all kinds of cool playthings for the boys that my wife would never let me buy just for myself. But a zip line for the boys... oh yeah. I'm sure that the first thing I'll have to do is test it for safety and speed. And this is just the beginning... hunting, fishing, camping, hiking, biking, skiing... boys will be boys. Let's just hope they don't want to take up base jumping.

Bet, Wager and Gamble

This is my first post wherein I could be exposing myself to some sort of prosecution so for clarity... from now on when I use the word dollars, bucks or the symbol $ I actually mean bologna sandwiches. For instance, I may write something about paying a fine at the library that cost me $2.00. This would mean that I gave two bologna sandwiches to the librarian and she deleted my fine. Got it? Good.

I don't know anything at all about televised sports. May as well be honest. I consider a sport something that I might do, like playing football in the backyard. Apparently, everyone else I know considers sports the watching of television in which other people actually play the sports but the viewers get all sweaty and excited as if they were somehow involved. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy watching the occasional football or basketball game on television. (Televised baseball has the exact same effect on the human brain as watching a lava lamp. Televised golf has the same effect on the brain as blunt trauma.) But I don't know anyone's names (except for Brett Favre, who my wife has a crush on) or who they played for in college or what their stats are or what kind of injury they had last week. I don't know team rankings and I don't know who's expected to win or lose. I don't know any coach's names. I don't know who's making a million bucks a game. I just don't care enough.

All this intro to say that when I was asked by fellow employees to participate in the office pool on the NCAA playoffs I said, "Sure." What's a couple of bucks (remember, I mean bologna sandwiches) between friends? I coughed up my five dollar bill and filled in the blanks on a bracket. I'm hoping desperately that beginner's luck will somehow kick in and several remarkable upsets will occur in the next couple of days. My co-workers laughed out loud when they saw that I had picked Texas Tech over Gonzaga or NC State to beat UConn. Go on, fellow employees! Laugh if you will... soon you will see that the "monkey with a dartboard" approach really works and then I will laugh all the way to the bank.

Whispered: "Please Red Raiders... pull out a couple of wins for me. That's my lunch money your playing for. America loves an underdog."

Land of the Free, Home of the Brave

http://www.weeklystandard.com/Content/Public/Articles/000/000/005/349tpijp.asp

Enjoy Matt Labash's editorial on Canada, (to borrow one of Matt's phrases) America's attic space.

Then spend some time thinking about what it means to be American. What is it that is uniquely American? What is the American ideal? John Wayne? Abe Lincoln? Ronald Reagan? George Patton? Rambo?

I'm not forgetting the women in my vast audience of readers... What is the American ideal for women? Betsy Ross? Lady Bird Johnson? Hillary Clinton? Rosie the Riveter? Oprah?

In a country where I'm free to be anything that I want to be I will choose to be brave, courageous, honorable, fair, self-reliant, protector of the weak, rolling up my sleeves to do whatever needs to be done to preserve God and country. I will acquit myself with honor. I'm proud to claim that heritage as my own.

The Notebook, or as I like to call it Weepfest 2004

I watched The Notebook last night with my wife. We had a free pay per view coming because our cable provider screwed something up and so we've been occasionally looking at the PPV offerings to see if there's something we wanted to see. Since we are not at all interested in Alien vs. Predator or Stripper Bowl 2005 we had to choose between I, Robot and The Notebook. I had heard good things about The Notebook. The divine Mrs. L, knowing me as she does, was hesitant to agree to see this movie with me because historically, romantic comedies make me fall asleep. I assured her I would watch it with her and my fate was sealed.

This is a beautiful movie. It's a love story. It's being read by an old man to an old woman in an assisted living facility. The woman clearly has lost her memory, we find out late in the movie that it's senile dementia. The man is patient, gentle, loving... all the things a woman wants in a man. The magic of this story is not it's diaphanous disguise of the old couple but the juxtaposition of the old couple and the young lovers.

The story being read is classic... rich girl, poor boy, parents opposed to their love. The girl is haunted. The boy is haunted. Fate pushes them to opposite ends of the world. Suddenly (deus ex machina) they are reunited and the hurt of the separation is bathed in the sweetness of true love rediscovered.

The young lovers are fun to watch. They are beautiful, young and vibrant. They fight. They kiss. They talk. But being past 30 and knowing more than I used to know the real love story is the old man and the old woman. The word love is often misused to mean lust and more often misused to mean a passing infatuation. This movie is truly a love story.

Now, I don't know what exactly happened to me but I used to be pretty tough. Not anymore. I cried like a baby when I watched Cold Mountain and I wept last night as I watched The Notebook. If you're like me and you find that suddenly you're a big, blubbering softy... have some Kleenex and some Gatorade handy. You don't want to have to wipe your nose on your sleeve and you don't want to get dehydrated. Also, pay attention to the way that old man talks to that old woman 'cause I bet your wife will want you to talk to her the same way.

Living the Iraqi Dream

Reality TV has hit Iraq. The government run TV station has begun airing a show called Terror in the Grip of Justice. The show features terrorists, insurgents captured and tried for their crimes. It also has recently shown the families of the victims being allowed to talk about the crime and directly address the terrorists. It's part of the propaganda war that the Iraqi government is fighting inside it's own borders. For the full story, cut and paste the following address into your browser: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,7374-1518168,00.html

GWBush is promoting the idea that democracy is the stabilizing factor that will help the entire Middle East. He says that freedom will be enough motivation for the peoples of Iraq to become a self governing, stable, productive country. Maybe he's right. Maybe he's not.

What if he's not right? What if the Arab world continues to pour their homicidal, suicidal jihadists into the country of Iraq? What if the terrorist attacks in Iraq, on funerals, on police stations, on churches, on school buses, continue for a year? two years? five years?

I was born in America. I have always enjoyed good medical care. I've always had clean clothes. I've always had food. I was given a high school education. While I've seen death up close, it's been painful and tragic and rare.

I believe that not all cultures value life and mourn death as I do. Clearly, the jihad (and Islam's view of the difficulty of getting into heaven) creates a culture where death and murder are not so feared and reviled as in our own culture. What if murder is considered an acceptable form of political expression in Iraq through the foreseeable future? What if the prevalent religions of the nation continue to view a martyr's death as the ONLY sure way into heaven?

Our American culture, as broad as it is, includes motivators for staying alive. Our primarily Judeo-Christian religious culture teaches us that we can be assured of our own salvation by accepting God's grace. We don't need to be martyred to believe that we can go to heaven when we die. If you're an American atheist you may buy into the capitalism and upwardly mobile society where purchase power, health and comfort are the motivators and a long, happy life is the end goal. There's no reason to give life or take it for most of us.

It's hard to sort out from this side of the world. I'm certain that the majority of Iraqis just want to get up every morning, shower, shave and go to work. They want to earn a living for themselves and their families. They want to see their children grow up and have families of their own. They want to live without pain, without fear, without hunger. They want to walk through their neighborhoods at night, greeting the other walkers, seeing the lights in the houses as families like theirs fix dinner, get ready for bed. They didn't have this comfort under Saddam and they don't have this comfort yet, under the new Iraqi government. I read the news and I really wonder what it will take to make the Iraqi dream, much like the American dream, come true.

I know this woman who...

I've read a couple of articles lately about how Bush's budget cuts are going to be bad for the poorest Americans, the homeless, the welfare recipients, the uninsured children, the working poor. All the while, the tax cuts that Bush made happen and wants to make permanent will only help the richest Americans. (I must be one of the richest Americans because I sure did get some of my money back last year and I look forward to paying less tax than I have been paying. Thanks GW.)

In that context, let me tell you about a woman I know. She grew up in a home with a single parent. Her mother moved the family between Texas and Arkansas, staying one step ahead of creditors and bill collectors. When she married her sweetheart she was sure it was going to be better. He was a handsome, skilled electrician. She was a beautiful young woman who hadn't graduated high school yet, but in rural Arkansas in the early '50s most young women aspired to be homemakers. She was no different. She and her husband soon had their first child, a son. Dad worked all day on powerlines and she kept the house and raised their boy. They lived on very little money but they had food and they had clothes and they had a reliable roof over their heads. Ten years after their son, they had another child, this one a daughter. Everything was going according to the woman's plan until her husband died. When the son was 11 years old and the daughter only a year old, the woman was widowed. With two children, no education and no life insurance nest egg she might have understandably chosen the easy path of welfare, reliance on family or quickly sought another marriage to a man who would provide for her. She did none of these things. She moved her family to Texas where she believed she would have better opportunities. She courageously worked through a GED and a course of study at a local college to become a licensed nurse. All the while, she raised her son and her daughter, kept an immaculate house, saved and scrimped to make her single paycheck provide a much better life for her children than she'd had herself. Her children are both grown now with families of their own. She paid for their college educations. She is still very frugal except when she's buying gifts for her grandchildren. She recently retired from the hospital where she'd worked for years and now she volunteers for a local Habitat for Humanity.

She doesn't talk about any of this with me. She's my wife's mother and she doesn't particularly like me. I know this story from hearing my wife tell it. I know it because it's part of what makes the divine Mrs. L who she is, a very strong, very stubborn, very independent woman.

I started to write this down as evidence that government programs aren't any good if the recipients don't have personal strength and integrity. That would tie back to the beginning of this essay. I started to share it with you to point out that determination will overcome all kinds of unbelievable obstacles and a handout from Uncle Sam will never create the kind of success, the complete 360 degree turnaround that this woman has created in her family's history. All this is true, but I've changed my mind about this entry in this blog.

To my mother-in-law, all my respect.

PC Nuts

http://www.tonguetied.us/

If you've not been reading the news carefully lately you might've missed the news stories that await you, should you follow the link above. The link leads to Tongue Tied, a website that collects and publishes stories of PC (Politically Correct) craziness from around the world. Enjoy. (I'll give you a moment to read some of these stories... I'll just be right here waiting on you to come back.)

Now that you've had a moment to read several of these and no doubt, shake your head in disbelief, do you wonder to yourself, "What can I do about this?" Or do you think,"Where will this all end?" Or do you ponder the question, "Why does Michael not write about sports?

If you're reading this now, believing that I've got an answer to give you to either of those first two questions I'm sorry to disappoint you. I am as baffled as you are. As to the third question... I had to think really hard to remember who played in the Super Bowl THIS year and the only significant event I know of in March is my youngest son's birthday.

Have a great day...

Now, Flip the Coin Over

In the last post, regarding voluntary euthanasia I asked the following questions:

What's the difference between one shot of adrenalin that results in cardiac arrest and forty years of chicken fried steaks that result in cardiac arrest? What's the difference in one lethal dose of poison and a lifetime of smoking cigarettes? What's the difference in a terminally ill person walking off a cliff and a mountain climber who fails to inspect equipment and ends up at the bottom of the cliff? Don't all of these result in death? Don't we know that chicken fried steak, cigarettes and faulty climbing equipment will most certainly kill the body? What about the belief that God gave us life and it's not our right to end that life? Why do we call it "taking a life" when we do it in one shot and we call it "living a life" when we do it over a period of 30 or 40 years?

I expect some dissent. I expect that some of my friends will not agree with me. I expect that most, if not all of that dissent will be based on the "God gives us this life and we don't have the right to interfere with God's plan" argument. I've heard that even if we are incapacitated that we don't know what God has planned for us and we don't know what good work God might accomplish through our incapacity and therefore we should not end the life, no matter how miserable, because God's plans might suffer a setback. Now, for the other side of the argument.

If that is your moral framework then why medicate at all? Why then do surgery to remove the inflamed appendix or the infected tonsils? Why prescribe medication to reduce pain and relieve suffering? Could not the suffering be a "thorn in the flesh" that brings us closer to God? If it's interfering with God's plan to end a life, then is it not interfering with God's plan to extend a life? Isn't it hypocritical to take Tylenol to end your suffering with a headache and then argue that the suffering of a quadriplegic cannot be ended by causing the body to die? Isn't one medical interference with the body the same as another?

As for God's involvement... let me remind you of God's plan for this world. God made the garden. God wanted to walk and talk with us. God wanted to watch us enjoy the earth He created for us. God wanted to be close to us. The world we live in is fallen and broken and God's original desire for His relationship with us changed. Pain and suffering are not key elements of God's original plan.

In our culture, eating a dog is reviled. Something about it just seems wrong... we can't quite put our finger on what it is. We think maybe it's because dogs are smart... but pigs are actually smarter and we have no trouble eating pork. We think maybe it's because dogs are cuter than pigs but really a cow is quite a gentle and beautiful animal and we have no trouble eating beef.

Voluntary euthanasia and assisted suicide are sort of like eating dog meat. We're not sure why we have a hard time with it, we just know we do. Logically, voluntary euthanasia makes sense but we still have trouble swallowing. Walk with God. Talk with God. And like many men and women before you, pray that He returns before you have to decide.

The End, Given Away and Taken Away

The plot line of Million Dollar Baby ends in the euthanasia of Maggie, the female boxer played by Hillary Swank. Maggie suffers a broken neck and becomes quadriplegic after leading a life of extreme physicality. The Clint Eastwood character, Frankie is ultimately the one who pulls the plug and injects Maggie with a lethal dose of adrenalin. (Oh, you didn't want to know how it ended? Sorry.) In a related story, Hunter Thompson recently took his life with a handgun in his Colorado home. Apparently he faced declining health and chose to put an end to the pain and the potential loss of vitality. Once again, the issue of euthanasia, voluntary and otherwise, is forced into the public consciousness.

For some reason, we Americans seem stricken by the idea that someone might want to put an end to their human life. We seem unable to grasp the concept that some life is not worth living. (I do not mean children born with disabilities. I mean adults who are capable of making their own decisions.) I've already read denunciation of the movie for the very fact that it didn't portray Maggie overcoming the depression, the frustration and the limitations of quadriplegia and becoming a teacher, a motivational speaker or a business owner. The argument is that quadriplegia is not the end of a rich, meaningful life. I can agree that quadriplegia is not NECESSARILY the end of a rich, meaningful life... but I allow for different responses to that condition.

We know that we feel physical pain according to our individual threshold for pain. We know that we react differently to medications. We know that a certain smell may make one person vomit and another person hardly notices. We know that we are all made individuals. There are very few common truths about the entirity of the human race.

So why would we believe that the "best" response to a physically debilitating injury is the same for everyone? Why would be constrain those who would rather not live in their new, quadriplegic reality? Why would we punish those who enable the choice to leave that body?

(I know where I'm going when my body dies and that certainly has a strong bearing on my current belief that I'd rather not live in that condition. However, I proactively acknowledge that I'm not in that position and therefore may have to change my personal choice at some point in the future.)

What's the difference between one shot of adrenalin that results in cardiac arrest and forty years of chicken fried steaks that result in cardiac arrest? What's the difference in one lethal dose of poison and a lifetime of smoking cigarettes? What's the difference in a terminally ill person walking off a cliff and a mountain climber who fails to inspect equipment and ends up at the bottom of the cliff? Don't all of these result in death? Don't we know that chicken fried steak, cigarettes and faulty climbing equipment will most certainly kill the body? What about the belief that God gave us life and it's not our right to end that life? Why do we call it "taking a life" when we do it in one shot and we call it "living a life" when we do it over a period of 30 or 40 years?

I want to make that decision for myself, if and when the time comes. My wife (God bless her) knows that I have no intention of living inside a hospital, a nursing home or other care facility. I only hope that I have the strength to walk into the desert when that time comes and I don't have to rely on someone else to do what I cannot do for myself.