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  • Adventures in Bitcoining - Awhile back I posted on my fascination with bitcoin. As it turned out, the post was inspired by the all-time high price of bitcoin . . . up to that point. ...
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Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Super What?



Yes. That is Addison, dressed as Devin Hester, dressed as Superman, dressed as a cop. I love it.

I also love that just a few minutes before this picture was taken, Addison was watching Super Why, a show that regularly beckons viewers to respond back to the television screen, a request Addison consistently obliges. I was in my office mere feet from the family room, well within earshot of his repeated shouts. I heard, but did not listen . . . until his volume got louder and the subject of his rants seemed just a tad out of place.

"YOU ARE THE CHRIST," he yelled. "THE SON OF THE LIVING GOD!!!" 

I have no idea what Super Why asked. But I'm pretty sure he wasn't expecting that.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Random Thoughts, Holiday Edition

* I recently overheard some people discussing how old they were when they found out about Santa Claus, when I realized that I never stopped believing in Santa Claus. 

* I then marveled at how those of us who do believe in Santa (heretofore called Santanistas) are able to get away with flaunting our religion in all of your Santa-hating faces. I wondered what the difference was between images of Santa and images of Christ . . . or anyone or anything else in which one can choose to believe. Why do nonbelievers in anything get so riled up about Christmas carols in public schools or Nativity scenes on public property, while nobody is firing ACLU bullets at Santa? The only difference, it seems to me, is that nobody really believes that anybody believes in Santa. So we don't consider him a religion. 

Suddenly the pettiness of all this anti-religious fervor jumped out at me like a drunken elf and his team of rabid reindeer. These people aren't offended by religious displays because they don't believe in God . . . they're offended because other people do believe in God. Isn't that the very essence of hatred? A government office could legally display an illuminated, inflated, Santa-hat-wearing alien on public property. They can't display a Nativity. Why? Because nobody cares if people believe in Santa and aliens, but everybody seems to care if people believe in Jesus. Tell someone, "Happy Halloween," and very rarely will they get mad at you. They don't believe in it, and they know you don't either. But tell someone, "Merry Christmas," and they just might get offended. Same story on their belief . . . they don't believe in it. The only difference in the two exchanges is your belief. They get offended because you believe in it and you failed to hide it from them.

Translation: they hate you because you believe in Jesus Christ. It's the same kind of hatred as racism, sexism, anti-Semitism, and a whole bunch of other isms. The disguise of "respecting everyone's beliefs" is bull. The ACLU doesn't want the separation of church and state, they want the segregation of church and state. People hate Christians because of our beliefs, plain and simple. The sad fact is, most of us hate them back because of theirs. Didn't think I was going there, but I did.

* Meanwhile, the Santanistas and I continue our reign of world domination unabated.

* If you can't complete a full circle before you reach the end of the rhyme, you're playing Ring Around the Rosie with too many people. If you're just spinning around, you're playing with too few.

* I'm sitting here barely protected from the 16-degree weather, getting snowed in again. Yet, not a day goes by that I don't hear more than one person utter the words global warming. I can't help but agree with Inigo: "You keep using that word. I don't think it means what you think it means."

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Michael Bolton


Um . . . yeah, I can't tell you where this comes from. I don't know. All I can say is, I have a theory. Michael Bolton would have gone down in music history as a talented, entertaining singer had he never made a hit out of the single, "Said I loved you, but I lied."

Look, Michael Bolton ushered in the short-lived era of making throaty, subdued, rock-balladesque covers of Motown classics before Rod Stewart ever saw that ship approaching the harbor. He made a living off it. He also wrote a lot of his own music, including the infamously glorious Saved by the Bell heart-wrencher, "How Am I Supposed to Live without You?" While originally performed by someone else, that song and many other quippy ditties were the intellectual property of the man with the longest locks in the history of baldness.

In his heyday, Bolton was kind of cool as a person. As a musician, he was always stuck in the sappy resin that forms between the top of the adult contemporary charts and the unheralded b-sides of supermarket bodice-ripper soundtracks. Some people hated him. Some people loved him. But I would say that almost everybody found themselves digging them some Michael Bolton at one point or another . . . at least with the windows rolled tightly upward and the volume turned down just loud enough to cover up their own attempts at mimicking his ethereal raspiness.

But in 1993 when Michael Bolton's song "Said I Loved You, But I Lied," hit the airwaves and topped the AC charts, America collectively crossed its threshold for buying into the Bolton Baloney. At first, we all chuckled when we heard it, didn't we? "This is more than love I feel inside. . . . Did he really just sing that?" we chucklingly inquired of ourselves. And then the answer came back, yes, again and again. And we heard the song playing on media outlets of various credibility. We saw the video. We saw it in a Michael Bolton commercial advertising . . . Michael Bolton records. The statement that was too harsh to be in a love song, yet too over-the-top sap-nasty for even the most infatuated, hormone-crazed gag couple, was drumming itself repeatedly into our brains. We thought about it. Seriously, would anyone in their hokiest moment of drunken weakness, ever say something so Velveeta-drenched as the melodic melodrama of this saccharin sentiment: "When I told you I loved you, I lied . . . (smoldering silence pregnant with desire) . . . This is more than love I feel inside." When it dawned on us what we had aurally digested, We, the People, stared ourselves down in the national mirror and asked without the slightest trace of dismissive glee, "What have we become?"

And that's when hating Michael Bolton became social law in the United States of America. And Guam. Without that song . . . who knows? Maybe he would be allowed to sit on the couch during talk shows. Maybe he'd be hosting game shows or doing successful artistic collaborations with Kenny Loggins. But alas, he's an Office Space punchline, now, and there's no going back.