Yeah. Remember that I’m the one who hates having his picture taken? Well, the Greenville News photo didn’t turn out that bad (except for the fact that I forgot to relieve myself of my cell phone, which I suppose isn’t too bad). Well, this afternoon things got worse.

I got an email this morning from Jonathan Pait (see his blog), head of Public Relations, to call him ASAP. I did, and he gave me two phone numbers: one for an editor at the Greenville Journal who interviewed me on the phone on the spot, and one for the newsroom at WYFF, the local NBC affiliate, I think. Anyway, they want to do a live video and interview on campus tomorrow, starring your’s truly and Robb, the other student heading this world record break operation up. Now, I’ve never been on TV before that I know of, so this is a first. What makes it (pretty) bad is that they’re doing it at the top of the hour at 6am and again at 6:30. The reporter assigned to this called me back this evening and said to show up at 5:45a. I remind you that 5:45a is 15 minutes later than most students are (technically) allowed out of bed, and I have to be wide awake, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed, ready to squint into powerful camera lights while looking like I’m not squinting, earlier than I’m usually alive on any given day. Oh yeah, it’ll be good. In fact, I’m going to take a nap tonight, because there’s no way I’m getting up that early tomorrow if I go to bed at 11 tonight. So, if you live in Channel 4’s broadcast area and are in the habit of watching the news, please don’t tune in to Channel 4 unless you want to see a scary sight - Tom actually awake and alert at 6:00am. I’m scared just thinking about it.

Which leads me to my final point - the world record attempt. Apparently there’s a game of one-up going on. First the record is 519. Then, someone beats it at 520. Then someone goes and around doubles it at 1,100 or so. Then someone in California has the bright idea to hit 2,100 carolers. A “BJU blogger” (probably me, if my StatTraq stats are any indication) tipped them off that someone else was shooting for this; thankfully, no numbers have been or will be posted (at least not on this site) until January. Too much one-upmanship to risk it. Sorry, anonymous mall in North Carolina and church in Sacramento. Anyway, please come out and sing with us. We will break the record, regardless of how many people it takes. So come with that assurance; however many people it takes, we’ll hit it and exceed it. We don’t plan on just breaking this record; we’re going to shatter it. Destroy it. Decisively crush the record, such that no attempt will have enough time to gather enough members to beat us before singing Christmas carols has become passé.

[Listening to: Amazing Grace - Chanticleer - How Sweet the Sound (07:25)]

I think that’s a line from some song somewhere. It rings a bell, whatever it is. Anyone who thinks he knows for sure is welcome to comment his idea. Winner gets props. Seriously.

I won’t write in detail tonight (’cuz I’m slam tired), but let me say that, per capita, South Carolina has some of the worst drivers, next to Georgia. It’s not even South Carolinians. I think there’s some strange brain ray coming from the interstate Welcome Centers that makes ordinary people into bad drivers. More on that tomorrow…maybe. But I’m back in town, none the worse for wear. Thanksgiving was good, if a little rough to get back from (gotta get into the swing of things for 16 more days…). The Lighting Ceremony is coming up Friday - be there or be trapezoidal. Break a record while you’re at it - we need at least 3,000 now, courtesy of some town out in California (who carols this early? Us, I guess…).

From Greenville once again, peace and goodnight. And drive sanely. Please???

As so often happens when I travel, I rely on a certain green (sometimes red) carbonated beverage to help me stay awake. Mountain Dew, when combined with pretzel sticks, does wonders for keeping one awake for 12-hour periods; I commonly refer to it as “Go Juice,” and not simply because it keeps me going, if you catch my drift. (When I stop on the road, it’s for two reasons, and both can be taken care of at one stop - one tank needs filling, and one needs emptying.)

In any case, after returning from Michigan (see “The Proof” on this site), I wrote my “Ode to Dew” as a tribute to Go Juice’s part in keeping me awake through hours of boring road in Ohio. I sent it along to my partners in travel who had driven back earlier, and they added a little to it. I think it ended up being used as an illustration in a sermon, but I could never get Dave (the preacher) to articulate in an understandable and logical way how he had applied it. Anyway, without further delay, my “Ode to Dew,” to be sung to the tune “NEW BRITAIN” :

O Mountain Dew! How strong the brew
   that kept me awake last night!
I once was tired, but now am wired;
   ’twas fried, but now am jived!

There was more; but it’ll have to wait until I get back to school (unless one of my friends [zacfoo] wants to email me the rest of the stanzas) - I forgot I delete my webmail at the beginning of each month so that only the current month’s email is available online; keeps storage quota problems down. I do, however, have it all on my desktop, which is conveniently located 674.3 miles south of my present location at this time.

Our university has a policy in effect that restricts students from accessing web-based email (such as Yahoo!, MSN, etc.) on the realization that accessing those accounts opens up a gateway for virii and porn spam to get into the school’s internal network. The easiest way to stop this, of course, would be to shut down internet access except in isolated systems. This, however, is like stopping a nosebleed with a tourniquet around the neck. The better option is to do what they do - restrict access to such email on the firewall side. Students who absolutely have to have their email can set it up to forward. That way, it will be virus-scanned and content-checked before entering the school’s network.

A third option is for people like me to hop over to a friend’s house and check those accounts on his computer. Now that I’m home (with a good virus scanner installed), I can tinker around with those accounts and see just what they’re capable of doing. A while back I stumbled across an invite for Google’s mail service, creatively named “gmail.” I set up an account for myself just to see what all the hype was about. I have to say I like it. The ability to flag discussions and read email as if they were threads on a message board is quite handy. The website is also quite slick, boasting some sort of underlying code (Javascript? XML? I can’t keep up with all the new script languages) that makes navigation seem as if you’re using a local program.

Now I tried a local program last night - Mozilla Thunderbird. I wanted to test out the multiple account features; I’m happy to report that they work quite well, even if the setup is a bit cryptic (especially when adding a second SMTP server). But, even though I’m usually a big fan of Outlook or T-bird over web access, I think Google’s actually made a better interface for email than can be had in any mainstream program. Now, if Google were to release a mail client, I think I’d probably give it a shot, assuming it could handle all of Gmail’s advanced features just like the web interface. But in T-bird I can’t flag discussions, read threads of email messages (including all the sent emails), or fiddle with (and this is the big thing) multiple-index referencing (assigning several categories to one email, so I could look for all humorous emails between me and my former roommate while excluding any of the serious emails between he and I). I know, who uses that, right? Well, I do; and even if I don’t, it’s still pretty cool. Outlook doesn’t do that, at least not nearly as easily as Gmail does. Not that I’ve been able to tell, anyway.

So, I suggest you go out and get yourself an invite. Don’t ask me for one; I can’t access it often enough to get an invite. I’m just a happy freeloader. Maybe I’ll get a T-shirt out of it when it goes into full release…

Catchy title, huh? No food for thought today, unless you’re into thinking of food. For you folks in the USA, I hope your turkey and stuffing turned out all right. For those abroad, maybe you should start eating turkey and playing football (not futeball or however you spell “soccer” where you’re from). Set aside one day out of the year where you can do that, and you’ll live a long and productive life. Seriously.

My condolances to fans in either Chicago or Detroit, as both teams were routed this afternoon in the requisite Thanksgiving Day NFL series. Peyton Manning really is unstopable, isn’t he? Wait, don’t tell those folks in New England. They think they’re unstopable. To each his own. I’m looking forward to another good NFC East matchup Sunday afternoon when my beloved Birds take on Eli Manning and the Giants. They say Eli’s supposed to be very good for a very long time; we’ll see about that. Both teams have playoff aspirations - the Eagles can clinch their division with a win, and the Giants can kiss the playoffs goodbye with a loss. My call is 21-17 Eagles.

With any luck and some good directions, I’ll be out tomorrow afternoon actually playing football. Used to be my high school had a post-Thanksgiving Flag Football tournament. That was always fun, but when the venerable Coach Beers left for a job as a youth pastor at Fourth Baptist in Plymouth, MN (think Minneapolis), he took that tradition with him. Now the few faithful who remember tradition gather at a friend’s house to play football/Gamecube. Not the same, grant you, but we play “modified two-hand touch” - you gotta drag the guy down. Funny how it generally turns into tackle really quick. I envision a 2-hand touch version where not only do both hands have to be on the ball carrier, but the defender’s knees have to be on the ground. This is most easily accomplished by grabbing the person and falling to one’s knees, but there are other ways of doing this. It’s a little rougher than regular touch football, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

In any case, I’m looking forward to catching up with old friends. There was one old friend in particular that I was hoping to see, but she’s in Virginia surprising her grandmother on her (the grandmother’s) birthday. Such is life. It’s not too big a deal, except that I won’t have my car here at home (did I mention I was at home? I think I did…) over Christmas. Maybe I can steal my dad’s Crown Vic…I’m just worried about my restraint in such a vehicle as his: stick me in an overpowered 3+ liter V-8 that hums right along at 85mph (so I’m told) better than mine hums along at 55mph and I may have issues. But I’ll say it again - I may be considered “fast” by some people (even though I rarely do more than the flow of traffic in any given area), but I’m quite safe and not too reckless. Case(s) in point - all my close calls, save one, were because of other drivers; and if I had to guess, I’d say 95% of them were from Georgia. What is it about Georgia drivers??? Do they get their licenses from Cracker Jack boxes? Almost every time I pass a car with Georgia plates, I get nervous. There was the Georgia driver who varied his speed from 50mph (when in front of me) to 90mph (when I passed him and he decided to avoid getting passed). There was the Georgia driver who decided to cut me off when pulling out of a convenience store, causing me to slam on my brakes and nearly lose control on a two-lane road (did I mention that he was sitting at the store’s driveway for quite a while staring at empty road ahead of me and behind me, for probably a mile in each direction?). There was the Georgia driver who, while I was a passenger in his car, decided to drag race a Hundai on I-85 doing well over 110mph. I could go on. They’re not all from Atlanta (though, in fairness, a lot are), but they are all Georgia drivers, and I break out into a cold sweat and tighten my grip on the wheel whenever I see one.

I didn’t really expect to get into all that tonight…er, this morning. Wow. So…football, food, more football, and bad drivers. Yep, that’s eclectic, all right. Time for bed.

The past 24 hours have been unusual in that I have been awake for all of them. Note that the I did not say I was awake and conscious for the past 24 hours. Observe the previous day’s schedule:

Tuesday, Nov. 23, 6:45a: Get up to study for Adolescent Psych
9:35a-3:15p: various school-related activities including (but not limited to) tests, musical compositions, coffee, and Star Wars Pod Racer. Your actual mileage may vary.
3:15p-6:30p: pack the car and chill with a few pizzas at zacfoo’s to wait for traffic to die down on the interstate (interstate, nothing - Wade Hampton Blvd. was an absolute wreck for hours yesterday as BJ disgorged its student body into town)
6:30p-Wednesday, Nov. 24, 6:30a: Drive home

Not much happened on the ride home. What do four college guys talk about? Whatever the driver stinkin’ wants them to talk about, that’s what. Whatever will keep him awake. So, we had deep theological discussions punctuated with dating philosophy discussions. Once we dropped one passenger off, I had a few meaningful discussions with my front-seat passenger on how he could be a better student all-around. I stayed awake, though I’m quite sure miles passed under my wheels without any particular thought or recognizance on my part. Scary, in a way…

Anyway, I’m home, safe and sound. My car made it (beastly heavy with all that stuff in there), we made it (I was about ready to drop when I walked into the house), and I’ll be home for the next few days, checking in from Allentown, PA (finally! I’m away from Greenburg…er, Greenville!). If you’re in the States and celebrate it (or even if not), have a good Thanksgiving. Alternately, for those of you not Stateside, find something to be thankful about tomorrow and have your own personal celebration for it.

Today’s free advertising space goes out to the Valvoline Instant Oil Change centers. These guys are great. Drive in, don’t even have to get out of the car, they change the oil and everything else that goes along with an oil change, and I’m outta there in 20 minutes. Plus, while you’re within 3,000 miles of your last service, they’ll top off all the fluids (except gasoline, unfortunately) for free. So, today I drove in, got my oil and washer fluid topped off, got the tire pressure on all four tires back up to 35 PSI, and away I went. Total time - 15 minutes. Total cost - $0.

Today’s free bash goes to the folks at Carolina First, specifically the guys who installed the new ATM on campus. I went to get money for laundry, and when it spit out my card, it spit it out about two centimeters. Me not having a pair of needle-nosed pliers on hand (silly me; why leave the room without a pair?), I couldn’t get my card back. It finally ate it and told me to pound sand. No, actually, it told me to call my local Carolina First to get it back. Turns out mine wasn’t the only one taken - there was a whole envelope full of cards at the local branch. There was even an email sent out later in the day saying, “Don’t use the ATM!” Hopefully they’ll get it fixed over Thanksgiving, because it’s really annoying not having access to my cash.

That’s it for now. I was in the zone tonight and finished my composition for Choral Writing & Arranging with unusual flair (at least I think so), but since one does not stop what he’s doing when he’s in the zone, I didn’t get all the studying for my Psych test in. There’s always tomorrow morning. Then, in the afternoon, classes, coffee with Warren, Halo 2 and pizza at zacfoo’s, then 12 hours on the interstate. Yippee. I hate Virginia.

Brahms is over. Johannes Brahms’ Ein Deutches Requiem is finished, and I can rest my vocal chords in peace, at least for a week. I’m going to sleep long and hard while I’m home. Why? I’ve got to sing at Biltmore, record a CD, and do two Christmas concerts, all in three weeks’ time. Yippee. Oh, did I mention I’m singing at Biltmore and recording a CD…on the same day? Yeah, that Saturday’s going to hurt. Dr. G., in an act of compassion for his wiped out Concert Choir Crossovers (those of us in Concert and Men’s Glee) graciously scheduled an unavoidable conflict keeping us out of Christmas Vespers. The exact nature of that conflict will be kept secret for the time being; suffice to say it’s not a very good excuse. But it’s all good. Me and my good friend Warren struck out for Subway to chill and let Brahms wear off; besides that, I hadn’t had anything to eat since Saturday evening, not counting a few Krispy Kreme donuts on the way to extension this morning.

I also note with some degree of joy that the Eagles are up 7-6 against division rival Washington. They should be slamming these turkeys, but a W is a W. 9-1, here we come! Apologies to my date from yesterday, but I hope NE gets shelled by Kansas City’s unusually potent air attack tomorrow night.

Another update, McNabb just hit Owens for 10 to put the Eagles up 14-6. That’s a little better. Why does the NFL think it has to put advertisements on its live scoreboard? I don’t want to sit there and watch some jerky, low-bandwidth beer commercial. Frankly, I could do without the beer commercial, period.

Meh. Can’t change it, why argue against it? Just don’t get into it, that’s what I in my overly mellow state am saying tonight. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do need to get more studying for Adolescent Psych done. :sigh:

Artist Series. A time for casual social engagements or serious mackin’. For some, a time to show the world just how single we are. For others, a time to proudly proclaim to the rest of campus, “I’m not available.” (It helps if you say this last phrase with a somewhat haughty/snotty accent with your nose stuck way up in the air.)

For the past four years, I have not had a single Artist series go by where I accompanied a young lady. Not one. This has been cause for some concern by my pastors’ wives (notice the proper placement of the apostrophe - this is to indicate pastors’ [plural posessive] wives, meaning two pastors and two wives total), particular my senior pastor’s wife. In fact, every time I see her, she asks me if I’ve taken anyone to Artist Series. Well, this time, I’ll be able to tell her, “Yes. One.” That’s right, after four years, mounty has buckled. Actually, it was a number of factors involved. First, as I was browsing our IT forums, I participated in the thread dealing with who did and did not have AS dates. I saw a friend (whose brother I’ve hung out with frequently while he was a student) who I thought was dating someone didn’t have a date (this was two days before we were to get our tickets). I’d been keeping my eyes out for a girl who at least liked football, and who was knowledgable in music matters, too. Liz is that girl. We had a good time (at least I did). She also made some sweet cookies. I’ve identified the white chocolate chips, but I’m clueless as to what the dried fruit pieces in it are. They’re mad good, whatever they are.

This leads me to my next train of thought for the day - the next Artist Series. Chanticleer is coming to town. Chanticleer happens to be the best men’s group in the world, better than the King’s Singers even. Far better. This is not going to be a “I think I’ll take a casual friend for the fun of it” Artist Series. This is going to be a “I’m serious about trying to get this relationship going” Artist Series. It’s going to be as smooth as I can make it. I’m certainly not going with the usual guys, who would likely sit there all evening and make fun of the countertenors. This will be a date with a girl who enjoys Chanticleer as much as I do. I have to start planning now, though, because this is not just any old Artist Series.

Time to start listing the possibilities, making a choice, and making a move. Just as soon as I come back from Thanksgiving.

[Listening to: Adagio - Allegro molto - Antonin Dvorak - Symphony No. 9 & Slavonic Dances (12:23)]

…go to my other blog for a little while unless you’re interested in Chinese Warez. Blog-city’s had hacker problems. I just went to one of my pages to find the text had been replaced with gibberish. This means I’m now going to go and start saving all my posts locally. Probably should have been doing that for a while…

Good Shakespeare play. You should read or watch it. In any case, we all got a little worked up recently over the discovery that zacfoo’s blog was no longer accessible from the BJ campus. Well, it was probably just a hiccup in the system, because it’s now quite accessible. I was a little surprised this morning to see a few articles come through NewsGator, so I clicked a link, and bang - there was zacfoo’s mug staring back at me from my monitor. Scary experience.

I suppose we all need something to work us into a good lather every now and then. So, hat’s off to IT for their (possibly unintentional) hiccup. Maybe they read it here first and said, “Gasp! We can’t let that happen! Quick, put in an exception! zacfoo must be there for all to read!” (Did I mention I give the benefit of the doubt a lot?)

I’m now valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional approved! I have no idea what that means, but since Firefox says all pages should be transitionally valid, and since every blog I’ve ever been on wears that little twinkie as a badge of honor, I’m guessing it’s a good thing. And if Firefox starts calling it’s toilets AquaSwooshies, I’d probably start calling them that, too. Baaa! (Read my inspiration for that last line.) Anyway, let’s press “Post & Publish” and see if w.Bloggar outputs XHTML 1.0 Transitional valid posts. Here goes…

[Listening to: Three Kings of Orient - Cambridge Singers & Orchestra - Christmas Star (05:03)]

For all my friends whom I haven’t met who read this via RSS program, my apologies - you’ll be getting a new copy of everything. My page isn’t XHTML valid or something, so I need to go through everything and update all the posts to reflect XHTML standards. That means, if you have your program set to treat revisions as new posts (which is normal), you’ll end up with duplicate posts. Sorry. Read ‘em again.

I just found that this site looks completely freaky in IE (namely, that sidebar that shows up so cleanly in Firefox is all the way at the bottom of the page instead of on the right side, like it should be). I’m not sure I understand that, but I’m not going to try to fix it. At least, not on my own. I’ve posted on the WordPress support forums, and if anyone there knows what’s going they’ll tell me. Otherwise, you’ll just have to get Firefox to view this page like it’s supposed to look. Boo hoo.

BTW, while I’m on the subject of IE bashing, there’s a very nice article you have to read by the good folks over at TechRepublic, the geek’s hangout. I saved it on my computer for posterity. I have to say I didn’t give a second thought to “breaking up with” IE, but apparently some people do. More power to ‘em.

[Listening to: Lux Aeterna - Libera - Libera (06:24)]

I had my picture taken today by a reporter from the Greenville News. I think it’s a law of the universe that all pictures must be taken while the subjects are staring into the sun or at the very least in its general direction. I’m serious. After dragging a bench out so Robb and I could sit on it and turn around to look at the camera, the sun conveniently poked out from behind the cloud that had been covering it for the past six hours to shine in our faces. The photographer was ticked pink - more light on the subjects. I was in pain. And of course we had to hold that pose while he waited for the SC flag to unwrap itself from around the flagpole. At least the PA flag was fluttering proudly next to the SC flag. Then he flipped the benches and took the same type of shot with Rodeheaver auditorium in the background. Finally, some relief! Or not…I think the sun actually swung around in the sky to get in my eyes again. The only picture where I wasn’t really blinded by the sun was a head shot in front of the flags.

Yet another “oops” moment in mounty photography - I left my ubiquitous pack of Certs and rehearsal pencil in my front shirt pocket. Maybe they can edit it out.

So, after fifteen minutes of being posed like a piece of fruit while staring into the sun from no less than three distinct angles, I had some (to borrow a New England phrase) wicked green spots in my eyes. Still do, actually, and it’s been almost three hours. See why I hate getting my picture taken?!?

[Listening to: Mysterium - Libera - Libera (04:33)]

Well, maybe not quite. I’ll be in the Greenville News pretty soon, though. They’re sending a photographer by tomorrow to take a picture of me and Robb. We’re in charge of coordinating a Guinness Record Breaking attempt at getting the largest number of carolers together in one place. The current record is 519, held by some folks up at Carnegie hall. We think we can edge them out this year. I’ll not give more information on this except to say that the Greenville News gets first dibs on the story, and I’ll blog it later. But they’re taking a picture of me tomorrow (this is funny, since I’m the one who hates having his picture taken, and now I’m going to be in a metropolitan newspaper) on the Bridge Of. It’s no longer the Bridge of Nations, because the national flags that (occasionally) lined the bridge are gone. Now it’s still a bridge, but not of nations. So, it’s the Bridge Of. Props to zacfoo for coming up with that one.

In preparation for the event, I got a haircut. Mind you, I had planned on going home with what I had and getting it done there. Granted, the hair was hanging well below my collar line, and what I shoved behind my ears was now beginning to curl back upwards and grow over the ear like some deranged jungle vine. Honestly, I was getting to like it long. Now it’s not long. Not by a long shot. My roommate walked by while I was sitting in the chair and remarked that he didn’t even think I had that much hair. The wonders of number-10 gel, let me tell you. But it really was too long, and even if it looked pretty good, I didn’t want my very curly “look at how much gel it takes to get this stuff to lay flat” mug shot all over the Upstate. It’s a shame, really; kinda like losing a life-long friend. Sort of.

[Listening to: Denn wir haben hie - Robert Shaw - Ein Deutsches Requiem (11:01)]

I’m curious…what do you think about the choir? Really, now. Let’s be honest. By virtue that I’m the third-shortest tenor in the choral system at BJU, I stand on the front row for combined choir songs. (Normally my director moves me to the inside “to facilitate blend.” I’m cool with that; but it means I’m not usually on the front row.) This means I’m very close to the orchestra.

I see the rolled eyes when we miss an entrance. I hear the things those trombones are muttering under their breaths when we don’t stop singing immediately when the conductor cuts us off. I see the looks on your faces that say “I’d never miss that note.” Admit it, you think the orchestra is vastly superior to the choir. There are more musicians. You don’t make as many mistakes. To most of you, the choir is a pack of sheep that need to be hand-fed and ushered around the scores we’re singing.

But there’s another side to the coin - because you’re right in front of us, we see every mistake you make, just like you hear every mistake we make. And, on the occasion that the french horns are in front of us, we even hear their mistakes. Come to think of it, the french horn is the only thing we hear when they’re in the back of the orchestra pit. Every muffed entrance, every frustrated squint at the score, and every note you play after the conductor cuts you off - we see all and occasionally hear all.

So we’re not really all that different now, are we? We’re both, frankly, boring without each other. We need each other to survive. Yes, we can both be stuck up prima donnas sometimes, especially you violas. (Is it an inferiority complex? Some inner resentment that the violin stole the string spotlight from the viola in the late Renaissance and never gave it back? Some grudge that all the really good concertos out there are written for violin, and that any good viola concerto is just a transposed cello or violin concerto?) And, the altos can get the same way, too, so let’s not excuse them. (It must be hard to be an alto - knowing that you can hit the same notes as the soprano, but with less beauty and power, all the while knowing that you could also sing tenor; but no one wants to hear an alto solo like they do a tenor solo.) But (to quote Gilbert & Sullivan from The Pirates of Penzance) “we waive that point. We do not press it. We look over it.”

So, while I’m in a forgiving mood, let’s make up, okay? You don’t think the choir is something to be merely tolerated, and I don’t think that the orchestra is an organism too big for its own good. We’re all friends now, right?

(NOTE: the entire post above is meant as a joke. I really like the orchestra. Really. Hey…what are you…Put those sharpened viola bows away right now!! Get away!!! Altos? Help!!!)

[Listening to: I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major-General - Gilbert & Sullivan - The Pirates of Penzance (05:55)]

No!!! I’ve just found that zacfoo’s blog is no longer accessible behind the school’s firewall. Grr! So that’s why I’ve not been able to update my Firefox Live Bookmarks from his site. In the meantime, you fellow BJ-ers will have to do without his words of wisdom. Hopefully this site will stay open…

[Listening to: Joy to the World - King’s Singers - Little Christmas Music (02:20)]

I hate spam. More than that, I hate religious spam - “email this if you love Jesus; if you don’t email this to everyone in your address book to be a ‘good testimony’ by flooding their inbox with unwanted trite material, you obviously are a LOSER who DOESN’T LOVE GOD like you should and you deserve whatever PUNISHMENT you get for your SIN OF OMISSION.”

And we say God is love…

Anyway, some person emailed everyone on campus to “warn them” about a European film depicting Christ and His disciples as a pack of homosexuals. Save your strength - this is nothing more than an urban legend that’s been bantered about for the past four years. The concept is, of course, blasphemy - that goes without saying. But the film is A HOAX, people. I don’t want more email telling me to add my name to the bottom of the list unless I’m a SPINELESS BOTTOM-FEEDING YELLOW CHRISTIAN who DOESN’T CARE ABOUT CHRIST. Spare me.

References:

• http://e-church.com/Blog-detail.asp?EntryID=263&BloggerID=1
• http://www.snopes.com/inboxer/petition/gayjesus.htm

A note about the sources: the blog article is what was listed in the email of the knucklehead who replied to everyone on campus to tell them it was a hoax. It disagrees on a few points with the Snopes article, but when one is debunking fiction, a little disagreement of sources is bound to happen. Snopes, BTW, is more or less the undisputed king of “urban legend” debunking.

You know, I’m going to rant for a while because I feel a good rant coming on. People, how shallow is your Christianity that you think you have to cry “Fire!” about every new hint of evil that comes down your way? I know people who have nothing better to do with their time than sit in front of the computer and search out the latest story of minor persecution abroad, then blab about it to everyone at church the next Sunday morning after Sunday School as if it was more important than Christ’s Second Coming. Honestly, people, if you have enough free time to spend listening to Christian shortwave radio and listen about how the latest medical trend is rolling out the red carpet for the Antichrist to come and set up his Icy Sinister Black Hand of Death club on Earth a few years before he actually comes as prophecied, you have enough free time to be doing something useful for the body of Christ, like witnessing to your next-door neighbor. Of course, your next-door neighbor by this point thinks you’re a complete freak show because the only time you bring up spiritual things is when you’re convincing him that “Monsters, Inc.” is a blatant Satanic movie. You laugh - “That’s stupid,” you’re saying. “Who does that?” You’d be surprised.

Know how we’re always telling immature people to grow up? We’ve got a bunch of Christians out in cyberspace that need to grow up spiritually.

Wow, I feel so much better now. Amen. Moral of the story, don’t send me these things unless you want an online tongue lashing. And check snopes.com before forwarding any heart-tugging email.

[Listening to: I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major-General - Gilbert & Sullivan - The Pirates of Penzance (05:55)]

I was just perusing my stats this afternoon and noted that I’ve had a few international visitors from Amsterdam. Guten Tag! (I assume they speak German over there.) I’ve also had visitors from California. Yo! It’s a good sign that not all my traffic is coming from SBC (Southern Bell, which means local peeps around here). mounty’s corner is either growing in popularity, or people are randomly stumbling across it through search engines.

Still waiting on SermonAudio to get the chapel message from 11/3 online. Someone’s bound to have it…I might email their webmaster and harass him about it (it helps that I know him).

Look in the next week or two for a somewhat lengthy article on Fundamentalism that will demand a response from the reader. This won’t be just me off-the-cuff but will include insights and supporting thoughts from leaders in the area of which I’ll be writing. I’ll warn readers now - it will be controversial (else why would I publish it?), but as I said, it’s an area that is beginning to get attention in our circles, and (to steal a catchphrase), it’s “evidence that requires a verdict.” I’ll leave that to whet your appetites. Don’t go crazy waiting…

BTW, the song that I’m now playing can be downloaded here. It’s quite excellent - we did it in our concert two weeks ago, and it’s quite the tight song. Good words, too. Get it!!

[Listening to: Pilgrims’ Hymn - Stephen Paulus - The Three Hermits (03:15)]