Seeing the forest among the trees of writing

I developed this blog four years ago to rekindle a writing life. Writing is something innate to me. Though I don't consider myself an entrepreneur, constructing my own newspaper as a second grader came naturally to my existence, a fire fed for most of my life. The name of that newspaper was The Madhouse Gazette (sounds like a name created by second grader, right?).

The second plant of The Madhouse Gazette served two purposes. First, it provided me a place to sort out ideas not spoken from a pulpit or written in a newsletter. Occasionally I whittled an idea from a rough thought eventually carved into a sermon, but the blog turned into a place among the trees for me to rebuild a love for writing.

The second purpose sprouted after a vocational shift involving a move from pastoral work to parenting. I found myself missing the frequent theological wranglings among the work of diapers, naps, tight grocery budgets, and other topics for a home economist. The blog became my theological discourse in addition to my reflections of living as (mostly) stay at home Dad. The New Calvinists are shuddering somewhere...

My life has changed once again, and I now serve in a congregation that values my writing and me as a person. I live more as my true self in this congregation than any other I have known. Writing and ministry have an oak-like quality. Rooted, solid, branching out in interesting patterns and directions. Madhouse Gazette served a good purpose for four years, but the time has come for the blog to lay dormant--not to merely think about it, but write it down. Madhouse Gazette is going into hibernation, in a wooded cave. Maybe the dormancy will last a few weeks, months or years. I don't know.

I do not share my identity on this blog. Not that anyone cares, and not that it's too hard to figure out. It was a way to share my thoughts. If you want a more public side of my life and more regular writing, you can check me out at my other blog, your average pastor. The writing is more theologically oriented, without prominent references to pop culture or my children. I miss writing about those things, but this became more challenging in my crazy commute. I spend around 8-16 hours in the car per week--and my time in front of my desk top computers is limited. Regularly blogging on Madhouse Gazette is one aspect of my life that is pruned.

Something may grow stronger in the months ahead, especially if I can lay my hands on an iPad without going into debt.

A musical history of Rush--on film

Why is this movie not coming to the Seattle Metro??? Rush fans, get together and bring this movie here. I want to see this on the big screen! Strange, I'm writing a piece of my own personal history related to Rush, and then I find out about this new documentary last night. It gives me the chills.



I'm am thrilled for the idea that my brothers and/or friends come join me to see Rush on August 7th.

Listening...(May 3, 2010 edition)

October Project--Funeral in his Heart
Grand Funk Railroad--We're An American Band
ABBA--S.O.S.
R.E.M.--Shiny, Happy People
Rush--Subdivisions
Rush--New World Man
Good Charlotte--Thank You Mom
Good Charlotte--Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous

During my late elementary school years and middle school years, I discovered that access to being a cool kid (in my estimation at the time) was through listening to 2 radio stations, KISW and KZOK in Seattle. KISW was (still is) a heavier rock station, and KZOK was more "classic" rock. My mother and I used to listen to Top 40 on KJR AM 950. I enjoyed the heavier rock, but being a people-pleasing kid, I embraced some stuff I didn't enjoy. Rush was easily my favorite band, and I also enjoyed Van Halen, Sammy Hagar, Def Leppard, Ratt, Judas Priest, Queensryche, Journey fit in there on occasion, and a few others. I remember a stigma against synthesizers among the hard rockers. It wasn't cool and even blasphemy to be a hard rock band that used synthesizers--rockers became their own musical purity police. I remember that rock dogma preached on KISW. I saw a video for Iron Maiden touring behind the Iron Curtain in Eastern Europe, reaching out to budding rock musicians. They told them "no synthesizers!" I kept up with the discussion of the genre scene, buying magazines like Circus and Hit Parader. Rush became a blasphemer on the album "Signals." Forget the band "Asia." I liked Asia, but a true rocker wouldn't listen to that garbage. People called up KISW and called it "Wimp Rock."

Van Halen bridged the divide a bit with the album "1984." Eddie Van Halen played the synthesizer??? Hmmm. The guys I knew went along with Van Halen's move, probably because the girls were going to follow Eddie Van Halen regardless of what he played. I didn't worry about Van Halen's evolution, I was still primarily a Rush fan. At the time, some considered Moving Pictures the last great Rush album (maybe some still do). They really lost some fans with "Grace Under Pressure," a synth-heavy album. I saved my babysitting money and bought the new cassette the day it came out for $8.99, a lot of money at that time. I loved it--Kid Gloves was my favorite track, and still is an all-time favorite. I was not allowed to go to concerts in middle school, but someone on my soccer team could go, so I sent him with 15 bucks (at least 3 babysitting jobs in those days) to a Seattle Rush concert so I could get a Grace Under Pressure t-shirt. I wore that shirt until it disintegrated into cotton-polyester blend powder (an honor shared only with my Mr. Bill t-shirt). My brothers and I used to pretend we were Rush if we had an evening home alone to play Moving Pictures on our turntable console stereo. Rush was the epitome of rock--for me it started with Neil Peart and the cathartic rhythms of "Tom Sawyer" and "Limelight." I lay awake for hours in those days listening to KISW or KZOK hoping to hear Limelight. I grew to appreciate Geddy Lee more, mesmerized, yet sometimes driven to my own air bass with my favorite solo on "Freewill."

Rush is probably the longest continuous musical relationship I've had with a band. Some favorite bands today have staying power, but not to the same degree as Rush. I have yet to plug into their releases in the past 5-7 years--though that is a new music project for me to consider. I appreciate the trio more and more all the time. Social analysis, critique, creative musical appreciation and catharsis wrapped in so many songs. "Signals" is a brilliant album. It becomes more brilliant in the numerous times I have listened in the past 25 or so years. It registers more today as I recently hit 40 years old. "Subdivisions" taps into teenage angst, yet it also analyzes the real world considerations of adults and where they shall live, how we organize our relationships and the meaning of community. "New World Man" is a song that speaks to my young adult outlook of optimism about my abilities and the opportunities before me in my emerging adulthood moving into midlife. It is a hopeful, yet realistic song. I still feel that optimism in my life, yet I think it's tempered with a little more wisdom--not a good or bad thing--my place in life.
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Mary Fahl, formerly of October Project, is supposed to be releasing a new CD that keeps getting put off. I hope she tours in the Northwest. I've listened to Funeral In His Heart at least 40 times in the past 6 weeks. A unique, haunting, deep and smooth voice.
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I saw the Grand Funk Railroad song on VH1's 100 all-time greatest Hard Rock Songs. It's been a long time since I remotely paid attention to this song. I love finding old songs like this that become like new to me.
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I'm thinking of titling my day of Pentecost sermon "Shiny Happy People." The song is great for several reasons, but Kate Pearson of the B-52's makes this song. She can still belt it after 30 plus years. Athens, GA must have been quite a place to be in the 1980's as a musical hub.

Satellite Radio vs. Podcasts

During my days of driving the back roads of South Dakota, satellite radio was almost a necessity. In 2003, my cassette player and radio broke down in my 1992 Honda Accord with well over 200K miles. I remember some drives I could pick up 1-2 stations if I was lucky--a Jesus station and a bad country station. I could get NPR news and talk in the morning, but I could only listen to so much classical or jazz music. If I was meeting colleagues in the more desolate areas of the state, I wouldn't get any stations at all. I saved up a little money and took the plunge into satellite radio, which was the wave of the future at the time.

I loved satellite radio so much my brothers and I bought my father one for Christmas one year. I bought and set up satellite radio outlets in my house. Depending on contracts and mergers, it was the best way I could listen to Seahawks, Mariners, Oilers and Kansas Jayhawk games on the radio in the hinterlands of South Dakota, where the Big 10, Vikings, Twins and Wild ruled. I listened to the CBC often in the morning in between sporting events and I had better reception for good college radio music, without the faint signal of an actual college station. The service was well worth the 11 dollars a month I was paying. I had every media outlet I could ever want, and I wasn't tied to a television--so I could multi-task on some of my lower mentally engaging activities. With my long commute, I was engaged and had some good thinking time before arriving at home or at work.

Satellite radio was one of the first services to go when my dear wife and I started to be more sensible and cautious with our money. I missed it a lot, but my iPod and the expanding world of podcasts began to fill the gaps. I didn't have to pay for the podcasts. In canceling my service with XM, I was to receive a refund. I never received it after several inquiries into my account, and I gave up, learning a lesson about satellite radio that cost me about $142.

It turns out that XM/Sirius is quite desperate to get some customers back. I received a letter that my service was reactivated for 3 month--Free. Ha.

Sorting through my piles, I found the documents that pointed to my sizable refund. I called XM and asked them, what gives? You're offering me 3 free months when you didn't offer any customer service with integrity? I was on the precipice of giving up on satellite radio for good, and after 2 agents, I found someone who promised me a check, rather than a credit to my account (I was open to a credit, but I'll take a check).

I agree with Bill Simmons that satellite radio lost its niche with a younger generation when the podcast world expanded. The only folks I see using their satellite radio are elderly folks who purchase higher end new vehicles. This observation is completely subjective and anecdotal, but I hear little if any buzz about satellite radio. I am at least somewhat media savvy.

I think satellite radio is going in the tank. Why would I want to pay approximately $14 per month for a good product when I can get a better product for free on my iPod? Or pay less than than a satellite subscription for equal or better content via iTunes? I control the content on my iPod, whereas XM/Sirius controls the content on their end. What I have appreciated about satellite radio over the years on the music level is that I am introduced to music I may not have considered otherwise. However, as I have become reengaged with media after a little hiatus as a stay at home dad (with my iPhone and Twitter and a little with iLike) I still don't need satellite radio to expand my musical palette. I turned on my satellite radio for three free months, but spending 14 dollars a month for good content isn't a necessary expenditure and borderline foolish.

If anyone else has a satellite radio story, I would love to read about it.

Attempting to figure out my degree of disgust

My dear wife and I are working through season two of Mad Men. It took her a little longer to get hooked than I did. I think the writing on the show constitutes true story telling, at least the way I was taught. A story involves change in a character. The twists and turns in Don Drapers life and the changes he endures makes the story fascinating, regardless of his skewed moral compass. Peggy is also an interesting character in that sense.

Fine storytelling aside, there are some aspects to the stories in Mad Men that are challenging to watch. Some reflect "old-fashioned values," other values reflected:

+ Blatant sexism--though it is a heroic storyline to watch what Peggy encounters as she makes her way through the advertising world.
+ Smoking cigarettes wherever you darn well please without consideration for others.
+ For all the talk about the lack of social graces in today's world, the objectification of women is startling, it only happens in different ways and places today that is certainly not "social grace".
+ No social stigma for marital infidelity for a man (Draper is known as a "connoisseur" of women).
+ Alcohol consumption during work hours was no big deal.

I could go on and on, but I was most disgusted by another "old-fashioned value" in episode four of season 2, when the Draper family shares a picnic, and they actively leave their garbage in the middle of the park. I'm not sure why this scene troubled me the most, but for all of the things I could have screamed at the television related to Mad Men--the litter was the most disgusting. For that action of litter I could come up with no sympathy. What was more interesting is justifying that action with the question of daughter Sally to her parents. "Are we rich?" Soon after that statement, the garbage went flying.

Mad Men constantly makes me wonder what our children will find utterly foolish about our social conventions and values. Some of them truly are foolish, and we will be exposed. I think that is part of the intent of the show--and I find this writing and storytelling more provocative and effective cultural analysis of the 50s and 60s than films like "Welcome To Pleasantville." The characters in Mad Men are much more interesting and the story lines still connect viewers to current societal themes.

Song Watch for Daughter #2 (January 14, 2010)

Bad Romance--Lady GaGa
Go Waggaloo--Sarah Lee Guthrie and Family
Take Me to Show and Tell--Sarah Lee Guthrie and Family
England--Great Big Sea
The Night Pat Murphy Died--Great Big Sea

Daughter #2 attempts to make conversation with almost anyone--in the grocery store, church, Target, at the park, etc. She can keep a conversation well, if she chooses to speak on a topic in which the other person is knowledgeable. "England" is easily her favorite song. She'll greet someone ebulliently and immediately say, "we were far from the shores of England." After the confused look (or at least a smile), she'll say, "that's my favorite song. We were far from the shores of England." It's truly a favorite for her. A conversation starter and a mood changer. Interesting how she and much of society assumes that the things to which we regularly pay attention are on the hearts and minds of whom we come in contact. I'm still learning about my limited view on the world, and how it's not as normative as I often think.

Lady GaGa is on a rocket-like rise up my daughter's music chart. I had never heard of Lady GaGa until a little over a month ago, and I've heard a lot of buzz since then. Equipped with an iTunes gift card for Christmas, I picked up her song and wasn't engaged after my first two listens. I heard a Madonna retread--but in some ways, she's better. GaGa has a much richer voice. Her influences of Queen, Madonna and glam rock are apparent. I'm not sure what kind of staying power she has, but we're having fun with Lady GaGa in the car for our commute.

The Children's Music Genre is much more enjoyable and expansive than I ever imagined. I give it closer look because of my parenthood, but Smithsonian Folkways has expanded my engagement with the genre and imagine enjoying songs for myself, and not merely for my children. Elizabeth Mitchell was a first for me in this regard, and now Sarah Lee Guthrie planted herself firmly in my own musical consciousness. Guthrie's latest CD came to our collection over Christmas, and our family is enjoying the songs.

Pondering the Influence of The Simpsons

Who cares if some think The Simpsons isn't relevant or edgy as in its glory days? The show still makes me laugh and think. It's influence is undeniable. Check this out:

When I thought I couldn't hear anything interesting about Tiger Woods

It took me two days of Tiger Woods coverage since November to gloss over any comment about him. Analysts and reporters struggle to say anything new and interesting--and many of these same folks are actually intelligent.

Once again, Chuck Klosterman breaks the mold. In his December 21st podcast interview with ESPN's Bill Simmons, Simmons asks for a different angle, and Klosterman delivers. I am weary of sports, PR, and news folks saying that Woods needs to come forward. This proclamation is boring and unoriginal. The interview is great dealing with Woods, but the entire two-part podcast is worth your while (as if I could say anything different about Klosterman).

Klosterman says that two things could change the public perception of Tiger Woods at this point. One is that if stories came out saying that Woods did generous things for his mistresses, like pay for their chemotherapy. Two, that Tiger Woods go completely in the opposite direction of his current intensely private public persona and become like Charles Barkley, where he comments on everything and become this gregarious, joke-cracking guy who comments on race, politics and sports. I think this seems unlikely, but intriguing. Barkley has his detractors, but generally he is loved by many, even if people don't agree with him. His recent problems with DUI arrests haven't taken away people's affection for him, because he is at least authentic. I think it also helps that Sir Charles is funny. I find Klosterman's take on Woods interesting, because I find that the typical call for Woods to go public (usually the preferred strategy is to appear on Oprah) is a retread of any public figure path when they commit any type of indiscretion. This typical path is boring, and it's not really a story.

During my studies in creative writing in college, one of my professors said that what makes a story is the revelation of change in a character. Without change, there is no story, there's only a description or a report. I suppose that Tiger Woods doesn't have to change for the sake of a story, but I do find stories much more interesting than mere reports. Klosterman turned a series of reports and analysis into the prospect for a compelling human story. That angle from Klosterman, should it or any similar variant, come true, would make the Tiger Woods story interesting.

Three year old travels through airport resembling old Hertz commercials

SAN FRANCISCO-

An eventful 12th day of Christmas it was. Twelve drummers drumming, Bing Crosby or the McKenzie Brothers weren't present to mark the occasion--but the travel shall be remembered.

Travel duties over the holiday season were divided between my dear wife and I by a complex formula involving preaching schedules, vacation usage, school calendars, mileage expenditures, and airfare purchases. This equation kept daughter #2 and I in Minnesota until today, with an early departure from Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport. My dear wife and Daughter #1 returned to the Seattle Metro January 2 for the school schedule, primarily. Traveling today for me saved about $400.

The problem with this kind of travel arrangement is early morning flights and layovers. This time we landed in San Francisco, an airport I hadn't seen in over 10 years. Turns out I still wouldn't see much of it. Arriving early at MSP in anticipation of security, we were well prepared for contingencies. Or so we thought.

A three year old in an airport always presents extra challenges. Timing of bathroom stops, snacks, drinks, activities and exercise while in a high security and frenzied pace setting keeps my head on a swivel, establishing some sense of order and direction. I knew this planning and administration registered with my daughter, because she offered advice to other adults, "you have to wait your turn."

We cannot control some variables in the trip, like sitting on the plane for an extra 45 minutes or so waiting for a gate while the plane was a bit late in the first place, dealing with important substances like wing de-icer. This delay put our connection in peril. Fellow passengers graciously let us out of the plane ahead of them expediently, and we waited at the gate for the stroller that help small legs manage a long walk to the next gate.

But the stroller did not come. After five minutes, my plane was boarding, and I didn't have time to chase down United Airlines officials to locate the stroller. I made an executive decision (that's why they pay me the big bucks)--we had to go. This was a risky venture with an unpredictable three year old. I told her to run. She ran. I had our semi-bulky and awkward carry-on bag, two insanely heavy coats for the West Coast (but important for Minnesota in January), and her little carry-on. I wanted her to focus on her keeping balance and her eyes on the path before us, which included maneuvering through three moving sidewalks.

As I watched her move, encouraging her to run, pay attention, watch out for others, stay with me, etc., all that came to mind was an unfortunate comparison--O.J. Simpson cruising through a busy airport as a spokesperson for Hertz car rentals. She dodged, she spun, she bobbed and swayed, but she never fell--and she stuck with me as well as a three year old can in a sprint through an airport terminal. We ran, jogged, and walked quickly for about a half-mile.

With about 100 yards to go, she started crying. She looked like a marathon runner who had hit the proverbial "wall." There's only so much a little girl can take. She was up at 4am, yet to have a successful trip to the potty. No lunch, and had run the most in one stretch she had ever run. So I held up her Nemo stuffed toy as a makeshift motivational speaker and said, "Do you want to carry Nemo??? Run to Nemo!!!" She ran to Nemo, grabbed her toy, and continued sprinting to the gate. I stopped when I got there, and she kept going toward the plane, only to be stopped by laughing TSA officials. It almost had the same feel to it as Forrest Gump running a football for the University of Alabama. I wasn't going to stop her, but it would be a trio of laughing TSA officials doing a "Stop Forrest, Stop!" to my daughter.

Wiping the sweat from my brow, we slowed down and made it to our seats. All the while, she proclaimed orders to random seat holders, "you have to wait your turn."

We're still waiting for the stroller. We had to make a claim to get it returned from United Airlines. The employees at baggage service noted how cute my little girl is. What I didn't tell them is that she pulled off a small athletic miracle.

Desperate Housewives--Usually Enjoyable, Occasionally Inspirational

The television tides have turned. Years ago in our more struggling days, my dear wife and I would enjoy a few days at her parents house because they had a slew of cable television so that we could meet the visual equivalent of Cheetos to the human diet. Feels good going down, but contributes little if anything to my overall health. These days, we have cable in our household, and my in-laws have removed many choice in worship attendance at the cathode cathedral. Because of Chuck Klosterman, I have lowered some of my disdain for television and recognize that I don't need to be a culture snob about it--and recognize it for its contribution. I can remember all the while that moderation is more important for my television diet and recognize its artistic value rather than attempting to set myself above culture for my own gratification. I come to my in-laws during this Christmas decompression time and know I don't have to watch television for it's own sake.

I don't watch Desperate Housewives because it's a great show. I watch it because it is the only show that suits my dear wife and I after a long Sunday at work. We enjoy the characters (even if they are caricatures) and the twists, though the stories on the whole seem weak.

Tonight's episode presented a storyline for which I was surprised (in a good way) and not by a sharp plot twist. Lynette is faced with the possibility of one of her unborn children living with a disability. Whereas the other dreams highlighted in the episode often reinforce the caricatures in the show, Lynette's character is given more complex situations. How do you raise a child with a disability to raise their lives to the best situation possible? I wonder that almost every day with my child and her autism spectrum disorder. We will have to work hard for the rest of our lives to provide opportunities for daughter #1 to thrive. Some days we miserably fail. Other days, we merely wonder. Other days we peer into the future to see what is possible. Daughter #1 is amazingly artistic--she wrote and drew some books for her sister and grandparents. She invented a board game and played with her mother and grandparents. I continue to dream that she will bring great joy to others and herself with her artistic pursuits. I don't ever expect Desperate Housewives to inspire this kind of pondering, but I'm happy when it does. I look forward to getting back home to the Pacific Northwest and talk with my wife about what we saw on tonight's episode.

Song Watch for Daughter #2 (December 4, 2009 edition)

Another Christmas Song--Stephen Colbert
Cold, Cold Christmas--Stephen Colbert
Alright--Darius Rucker
What A Wonderful World--Louis Armstrong
General Taylor--Great Big Sea
England--Great Big Sea

Daughter #2 is an assertive little girl. She doesn't hesitate to ask for a song. The problem lies in that she has to hear the same song loop several times, making it hard to introduce new songs, and making me tire a little of my own favorites. She almost always says to a new song, "I don't want that song. I don't like that song (which means, 'I want to hear an (relatively) old favorite'). If I sing the song with enthusiasm and the song has an understandable tag line, she will ask for it, and it will make it on the loop. Louis Armstrong has stuck, and she knows to ask, "Daddy, do you miss Hunter? Is he with the angels?"

Tough to say the exact reason she likes the Stephen Colbert songs. Is it because we used to watch The Colbert Report while I folded laundry as a stay at home dad? Is it because she recognizes his voice? Is it because she likes the big band sound of "Another Christmas Song?" The funny thing for me about listening to Colbert Christmas is its Ray Stevens quality. My Dad and I used to listen to albums often--I think it was cheap entertainment during my youth. One of my favorites was Ray Stevens' Guitarzan album. I just liked the songs as a child, they were probably funny for my Dad. Good family entertainment has a little something for everyone--I wouldn't have classified Stephen Colbert as family entertainment, but I'll take it.

Waiting for Klosterman

I have a short list of authors whose books (in various genres) I would buy soon after release, in hardcover, and possibly at regular price (but with Amazon, this is foolish).

1. Chuck Klosterman
2. Douglas Coupland
3. Bill Bryson
4. James Wellman
5. Nancy Ammerman

Klosterman makes great appearances on Bill Simmons' B.S. Report Podcast at ESPN.com. Pastors generally don't get into weddings, but I would have loved to officiate at Klosterman's wedding. He tells about the event in his October B.S. Report podcast interview. My favorite part was the music at the reception done by an ELO tribute band. That would have been AMAZING. If money was no expense, I imagine that my wife might have enjoyed an ABBA tribute band at our wedding reception, maybe someone like Bjorn Again. I'm considering taking her to one of their shows in the Puget Sound region.

I ordered Klosterman's new release Eating The Dinosaur and should cruise through it in a few days, probably wanting more, and wishing Klosterman would blog, tweet, something. He has great material, but my voracious web appetite leaves my expectations too high, thus he is able to get me to buy a hardcover copy of his book. Nice move on Chuck's part, he can get people to pay for his content, while Bill Simmons writes about stuff I can't care about anymore, the NBA. I hope he enjoys his book tour--at least he stuck up for the Seattle Sonics.

Adding insult to injury

While traversing the Kitsap Peninsula for work this weekend, I wanted to catch a little bit of the Washington-UCLA game. Having them on television is still a novelty to me after 20 years in the Midwest. When the Huskies were good during that stretch--I might be able to get a nationally televised game, but for many years I was stuck with mediocre Big Ten football, and once in awhile I could occasionally watch the Jayhawks, but would usually get stuck with Nebraska or Iowa State. Yawn.

I finally found the Applebee's in Silverdale and caught most of the fourth quarter. I found myself hopeful, even after a big missed field goal. UCLA was not playing the role of a juggernaut, and Washington had the best player on the field in Jake Locker. Having seen in person "The Drive" against USC, I thought good things were possible and the Huskies would mature and pick up a needed road win.

Interesting crowd at Applebee's at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon--not the Dawg-watching hotspot I was hoping for, more like the elderly early-dinner crowd. My cheers for the Huskies were somewhat muted, but I could at least watch the game. I wanted a beverage, but not a pop--I was already strung out on caffeine for the day. I still needed to work and drive, so I opted for an O'Doul's. Even the taste of beer and football sounded good. I was about halfway through that near-beer when Locker threw the interception and the game was essentially over. Throwing the bottle through the television would not be an appropriate response.

I reconsidered the beer throwing position when I got the bill. $4.60??!?!?!? For a 12-ounce O'Doul's???? I am not a bar patron often enough to know what the going rate for a beer is, but that price was brutal. Go ahead and kick a Husky fan when he's down, Applebee's.

My relationship with the National Football League

After 11 years of ordained ministry, with much of my weekend energy devoted to be ready for Sunday worship services, and fatigue taking most of my energy from Sunday afternoons, I have realized that the NFL and I are drifting apart.

To the NFL: it's nothing personal. It's not you. It's me. Listening to constant breakdown of a Seahawks game that I either don't have the energy to watch, or I completely miss, only emphasizes that we don't have much of a relationship. Our relationship really started to fade when the officials became the game during the Seahawks-Steelers Super Bowl. I'm sure you didn't plan things to happen that way. But I look at that and see that event as the beginning of the end.

Sure, you, the NFL, have more popularity than ever before. You are the best run professional sports entity in the world. Good marketing, good executive leadership, good product on the field. I don't have time anymore to follow you. My relationships have been better cultivated with the Edmonton Oilers, Kansas Jayhawks basketball and football, the Seattle Mariners, anything with the University of Washington (especially football). I will smile when I see Huskies and Jayhawks play in your league and I will pull for their success. I will occasionally peek and listen to bits about the league. I know I'm missing out on one of the biggest leisure activities in the world. I no longer have the time. It doesn't mean I won't watch a portion of a game or even a whole game if time allows, the calendar aligns, and the Seahawks are interesting. But I cannot carve out any time for us to have a relationship anymore. We will be acquaintances with memories from our past.

Maybe after my children move out of the house and I am retired from ministry, maybe you and I can get together a little more often and even be friends again. I might even jump on a bandwagon briefly if the Seahawks surge back into relevancy (I have no shame in that--we at least have a history together). I realized that we weren't really friends anymore when I turn the radio station or turn on my iPod whenever the talking heads start talking Seahawk intricacies.

I wish you well, NFL and Seattle Seahawks. I am thankful for what we had, and hopeful for what you can be, but I cannot give you my passion or energy any longer. God speed.

An evolving relationship with coffee (part 6)

Now that I am fully in the swing of working life again, I find myself more desperate at times to stay alert. More shuffling of kids, more immediate demands, more necessary generation of ideas. I'm not a full member of the coffee or caffeine cults, but the trend moves in that direction. Whenever I do drink coffee, I must doctor it up with ice, silk and sugar (my preference), or chocolate, motor oil, or whatever I can stick in there to make the coffee tolerable. Because I'm in charge of coffee consumption and don't use it as a social lubricant, I control the taste.

However, I got lazy the other day. Whizzing through McDonald's the other day (I'm a sucker for their Monopoly game) I bought a coffee and had cream and sugar added. With one smell and one drink I was reminded of all the years of coffee loathing in my lifetime--the coffee hater's version of the dying person's life flashing before them. I gagged. I gave it three chances, thinking that settled, then shaken cream and sugar would somehow make it taste better. Yuck.

Coffee loathers, stay vigilant. Get your caffeine (if you need it) and get out.

Forget Limbaugh and Olbermann, the comedians are a lot closer to reality

The United States is sitting at a high level of anxiety if political commentary screamers have the most power. They're only accountable to their own power bases, and not to the general public. The louder they scream, the higher ratings they get. What greater good is served in watching/reading/listening to already agreed upon commentary?

I enjoyed Saturday Night Live's take on Obama's presidency, even if PolitiFact gives Obama a little slack on some of Obama's promises lampooned on SNL. What I like about PolitiFact is that it steers clear of ideological based critique and hold Obama accountable for what he said he was going to do--which is much more interesting and at least more objective than ideological screaming heads like Olbermann, Beck and their ilk.

Beck may be "arguing with idiots," but doesn't exactly encourage intelligence

I don't waste a lot of time reading or watching Glenn Beck. I don't understand why a public event protected by free speech needs to be stopped.

Thousands will gather today in Seattle and Mount Vernon to hear and meet a man who is puzzling in his vitriol at best and maniacally foolish at his worst. I don't understand the petition to cancel his appearance in Mount Vernon. People are free to protest his appearance, but seeking cancellation? I suppose Beck is broadly adept at attracting foolishness--which means I should never write about him again.

Seattle Mariners, Washington Huskies and Elation (part 1)

Wow.

I'm with Seattle Times columnist Jerry Brewer and UDub Football Head Coach Steve Sarkisian. Wow.

After attending the Mariners-Yankees game Friday night and the Huskies-USC game Saturday afternoon, I think my legs are still shaking. Our group of 4 on Friday was looking more for a good night together to see the Yankee juggernaut and entourage--always baseball history in the making. We were looking for a good hanging out activity.

This year the Mariners have their own history in the making with arguably the best pitcher in baseball (Felix Hernandez) and two future Hall of Famers (the still productive Ichiro and the larger than life Ken Griffey, Jr.). The Mariners are still a compelling storyline despite their exit from playoff contention about 6 weeks ago. No one really saw (except for my brother) Ichiro winning the game off of the rarely beaten Darth Vader of relief pitchers Mariano Rivera in the bottom of the 9th with two outs. I still have chills when I think of watching it live and seeing them all celebrate.

What was also fun was that our group of four sat behind a cohort of Yankee fans. I am not a Yankee hater, though I like them less and less as the years pass. I can't hate them because one of my baseball heroes was a Yankee--Don Mattingly. I modeled my own game and preparation after his. I even celebrated his birthday as a high school athlete (April 20, BTW). The Yankee fans were a bit obnoxious (must have been that they sucked down copious amounts of beer and passed around a flask). But they were popping off to the Mariner fans around them--a game 10 year old boy sitting in front of them took the best approach and just cheered louder for the Mariners. I basically ignored them for most of the game (actually, didn't respond to them). I took note of some of their ramblings, but this joke typifies their banter:

Q: What's the difference between a Mariner hot dog and a Yankee hot dog?
A: You can eat a Yankee hot dog in October!

In my first of two responses during the contest, I pointed out to the Yankee fan that one could eat a Mariner hot dog in October this season, because with the World Baseball Classic being held this spring, the final Mariner home stand of the season took place in October. One could buy a Mariner hot dog then. And technically, one can buy a Mariner hot dog at any Costco in Western Washington, as one can buy the Mariner Dog brand there and serve them at home. I told him that if you really want to create an accurate joke, he could say that a Yankee hot dog can be eaten in November, since the recent advent of the opening round of the playoffs now is a best of 7 series, the World Series can fall on the first week of November. But that would also be inaccurate, since the dawn of the expanded playoff series, the Yankees have either been inept in the playoffs or the regular season. Therefore, he can't really tell a joke, and he was just popping off.

My second response was delayed after he said the game was over after the Mariano Rivera entrance. I can't say I held out too much hope for a response. But I did openly call for Mike Sweeney to pinch hit in the 9th, since he's been swinging such a hot bat in the past few months and would be one of the least likely to be intimidated by Rivera. My friend who flew in from Kansas City, part of the hapless KC Royals fan base, was at least happy to see someone with Royals connections do well. With Sweeney's double in the gap, and Ichiro coming to the plate, all things were possible to tie the game. I thought he would double in the gap to tie the game. My brother declared Ichiro was ending it and going yard.

My brother was right--and we went berserk. Pandemonium. Pure elation. My dad and I each shared that our legs were shaking. Such a calm evening turned into a gigantic celebration. No one wanted to go home. We soaked in the moment and gave thanks we didn't have to run around like Jim Valvano looking for someone to hug. We had our troupe right there. We were the re-incarnation of the High Five'n White Guys.

Listening...(September 16, 2009 edition)

Landslide--Dixie Chicks
Ready To Run--Dixie Chicks
Stone Inside My Shoe--Animal Logic
Love Is Dead--The Lovemakers

In preparation to sell off the last of my CDs, I found a few Dixie Chicks CD's and realized their enduring qualities. My dear wife went through a long stage of newer country music in the 1990's, and since she did most of the driving, any car trip involved YOUNG COUNTRY, or HOT COUNTRY HITS! I latched on to a few artists on that type of radio station, but discovered the songs lacked any staying power, like Shania Twain or Alan Jackson. These aren't bad artists (some would argue with me on that), but their songs lack endurance. I may have enjoyed a song like "Chattahoochee" for a couple of weeks or months, but I'm not going to pay a dollar for it to store on my iPod. I may even turn the station if I hear that song on the radio. I like the whole idea of musical endurance and how it occurs.

Some Dixie Chicks songs are aging like a fine wine--I have admired the musical complexity of these songs repeatedly over the past few days. I will find myself searching for some deeper Dixie Chicks songs--to save some time I will consult my Dixie Chicks aficionado friend in Pennsylvania.

I was on an Animal Logic kick late in college and early in seminary on the recommendation of a good friend who was a Stewart Copeland (Police percussionist) fanatic. I think this band only put out 2 albums after The Police took off to do their own projects. I find the lyrics uneven at times--lines that appear to be throwaways in the middle of a good poetic thought. The bass (Stanley Clarke) and percussion are excellent, and vocalist Deborah Holland is a musical cousin of personal favorite Mary Fahl, but not nearly as haunting or tone rich.

The Lovemakers appear this week as the free track on iTunes. The review compares it to 80's synth-pop, but it's a lot more refined. The harmonies are far better than most 80's synth-pop--it sounds like a combination of Roxette if they were actually any good, with a touch of Hugh Grant singing with his faux band Pop! in the film Music & Lyrics, with a touch of 70's arena rock with a current lyrical sensibility. I'm not sure the song has any enduring quality, but they're interesting, and I think I find 4 decades of music in their art.

This Show Stinks: Mr. Tony is back on the radio, boys and girls!

After listening to Tony Kornheiser on the B.S. Report podcast last week, I learned that after leaving Monday Night Football and the Washington Post, Mr. Tony is back on the radio. I am glad for this. I have completely gorged myself on local sports radio this summer. And though I generally like the local radio personalities, especially Kevin Calabro, Mike Salk and Brock Huard, with a smattering of the KJR personalities if I can't stand what's going on with the other guys. I can't say that I feel more intelligent after I listen to my local sports pundits, but they provide the background conversation to some chores where I need to concentrate--and I love the daily rhythm of baseball in the summertime for which the radio is a great companion.

Kornheiser is different than most sports pundits. Like Colin Cowherd and Keith Law, I feel a little smarter after partaking of his material. He doesn't confine himself to game breakdown or emotionally fanatic rants about a particular team--he brings in his own cultural niche. Cowherd appeals to his target demographic in a smart way with cultural features other than sports. Keith Law also comments on books and food/cooking/restaurants. Mr. Tony hits politics, relationships, movies, news, a little pop culture, a little feature called "Old Guy Radio," and sports, in no particular order.

The show announced that the iTunes link is not quite working yet, so here is a link to listen to Mr. Tony. I'm looking forward to listening to this on my commute or in the office when I'm doing the more mindless section of work as a pastor.

If you don't know anything about Tony Kornheiser on the radio, just know this: THIS SHOW STINKS. It stinks.