I’ve had this entry “in the can” for almost a year now.
I guess I was trying to think of a way to accurately express Brad Neely’s creative body of work. If you haven’t seen his comics or his videos, you need to.
They are weird, sick, twisted, and funny. I think the best compliment I could pay them is that there is no way in hell I could ever think of this stuff in a million years.
My favorites are still the catchy tributes to JFK and George Washington.
Remember my defense of Men and Women?
Every so often, parents will tell laughable tales of their small children, who when at play with others of opposite sex in Kindergarten for the first time inappropriately begin curiously comparing what lies in their underpants. It is obvious to even the youngest minds that boys and girls are different, but the challenge according to Dr. Larry Crabb is “becom[ing] men and women who enjoy the difference.”
In “Men and Women: Enjoying The Difference”, Crabb aims to identify and isolate not the glaring physical and sexual differences between male and female, but the deeper, more controversial, and oft debated diversities that lie in our make-up and design as God’s creatures. In painstakingly thorough fashion, the experienced Christian relationship counselor isolates the biggest barrier he perceives in preventing husband and wife from attaining maximum enjoyment and potential in marriage. It turns what could have been 50 pages into a 213 page exercise of discipline, but for those aiming to become better husbands and wives, it’s worth it. According to Crabb, the festering roadblock of good marriages is self-centeredness.
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours…
For Christians, self-centeredness is an old enemy many thought they’d eradicated by receiving Christ or intellectually acknowledging. Not so, says Crabb: Selfishness is a parasitic disease of the flesh we must constantly and humbly turn to God for help with in brokenness if we hope for any chance for success in our marriages. “No one marries with plans to be miserable” , explains Crabb, but somewhere along the way all falter. Spouses point fingers, scream and yell, and often eventually forget why they loved each other or even got married in the first place. There is no instant answer for martial bliss, instead in repentance we must shift our way of thinking to God’s; a good relationship isn’t “one that provides us with whatever we need to feel happy” , it’s something radically different.
For most of the first half of the book, Crabb spends his effort lecturing on what does not instead of what actually does makes marriage work. In addition, he spends a great deal of time extolling the differences between the traditional and egalitarian view of relationships rather than actually talking about his view of the sexes. After much qualifying and explaining, when he finally does get to the point- that differences and gender roles are meaningless unless we first establish others-centeredness, it’s well taken. Pounding it home like a the noise of a jackhammer on a throbbing headache, Crabb repetitively ensures that readers will realize arriving at an others-centered mindset is the vital first step in a good relationship. Those who wish to glance over the problems their selfishness poses in search of easy, practical, chug-and-plug solutions will loathe Dr. Crabb’s book.
Smartly, the arrival at the realization of self-centeredness is a crucial one because God’s design and Crabb’s counsel to every difficulty in marriage can’t be answered by a step by step repair manual. Instead, God created men and women to perfectly complement each other and provide for one another’s needs in ways that the other of opposite sex could otherwise never have met if not for their partner. Out of the marriage relationship drips God’s genius and creativity, which Crabb shares with readers is because our creator enjoys a similar and more perfect version in the confines of the trinity. The Trinity’s “way of relating”, explains Crabb, “is so radically right that God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, in some mysterious but profoundly meaningful way, can be regarded as one.” By this perfect example, “A good relationship is one in which each member willingly and actively devotes whatever he or she has to give to the well being of the other…the highest criterion for deciding what to do at any moment is a person’s understanding before God of what would be the greatest service he or she can offer to the other.”
Part two of the book, “How Relationships Do Work: The Difference Men and Women Can Enjoy”, should be required reading for those wishing for long lasting relationships. Crabb gets to the real goods here and shares his insights on what make men and women so radically different, yet fully equipped for relationship with one another. Again, like a broken record, he extols, “We must get it out of our heads that there is only one right course of action to take in every situation…we must be committed to other-centeredness” and then builds upon his earlier writing, adding that “living biblically in relationship requires courage to make risky decisions that come out of hearts wanting above all else to give.”
Although both “have the authority to serve one another” , Crabb finally, after much wrangling and explaining, concludes men and women are truly and biblically different. “A husband exercises headship over a wife when he expresses his manhood toward her, when he gently but strongly leads her with a strength that is not afraid to become deeply involved.” A man “wants to know that he can move toward a woman and touch her deeply.” As the creator, “God has placed within [a man] exactly what his wife longs to enjoy and what can encourage her to become all she was meant to be.”
Conversely, “a wife’s special resources as a woman consist primarily of an attitude of nourishing, unpanicked supportiveness and warm, not biting acceptance.” As I see in my own wife, a woman’s “goal…is to use [all these] resources in a fashion that has the power to draw her husband into a stronger commitment to God and into more godly involvement with her.”
For me, the book “Men and Women” walks hand in hand with the Love Ethics course we’re currently taking. As I consider how to stimulate my wife to better love and serve others instead of formulate some selfish plot to have her meet my needs, our marriage has grown. Just last Wednesday night after class, as we lay down to bed together, something unusual happened. As usual, she was grumpy and tired and so was I, but after a few tense moments of bickering back and forth, I turned my thoughts to God and to recently learned Love Ethics. “Tell me a secret”, I whispered and took a risk, thinking of the most illogical show-stopping reversal of my always logical personality I could. “Are you serious?” she cautiously questioned back before the conversion quickly moved into hours of honesty, laughter, concern, and overall open spiritual exchange between me and my wife. I’ve been in a relationship with Lauren for more than 8 years, but I communicated and shared things with her I had previously never shared in a way I never had and she did the same. The craziest part was at 1:30 am in the morning, nether of us wanted it to end. Strangely, it all began with an effort to focus on and serve my wife in a way that would meet her needs.
If you like reading in cars and motion-sickness inducing movies brought to by the camera man who taped The Blair Witch Project, you’ll love Cloverfield. One minute in, I turned to Bryan and hoped, “I hope the entire movie isn’t like this.” It was.
Things that make me nauseous can’t ever fall into the “good” category, can they? I mean, I wanted to watch the J.J. Abrams “monster” thriller, but for fear of throwing up all over myself I had to keep closing my eyes as the camera quickly jerked around and the entire audience kept getting blinded by all sorts of explosions and flashing lights. One bit of good news though, seen at the premiere of Cloverfield, maybe our buddy Li-Lo will be more willing to play Montana Wildhack then we thought.
The infamous Cloverfield Monster revealed?
A monster is loose and destroying the city, so please let’s get all caught up on some chick you video taped one time. I’d say a catastrophe that’s larger scale than 9/11 is not the time to turn into Lloyd Dobler and go on a suicide mission to rescue her. Not only that, but the guy’s idiot friends decide to go with him on a whim like it’s some random trip to Taco Bell late night after the party. As a Tyrannazillaoctapusapede stomps the city to bits and shits out zombie spiders, the action gets stupider as the rejects from the cast of the O.C. climb the stairs of one building to hop over to the roof of the building that’s leaning up against it. With what’s been happening out in the street, I wouldn’t even go out to try to save my mother or Santa Claus. Even the military gets in on the absurdity, agreeing on camera to let the wackos go back out into the chaos to attempt to rescue someone who definitely wouldn’t be alive if this were anything other than a movie.
Without spoiling the rest of the film, it’s best to shut off the part of your brain that wants to know why, how, or be rational. If you were like me, you’ll be more worried about not puking then trying to find answers anyway. I felt like Benny the Jet with a mouth full of chewing tobacco at the carnival. Wait, just one more thing – how and why does Hud keep that camera rolling? Anyone else would have abandoned the handheld long ago because you know the sky is raining fire and the apocalypse is certain, but there he has dragging his buddy to safety while taping the whole thing. Must be the world’s longest lasting battery. The strength of the experience is we never receive the answers we’re looking for.
It’s easy to make fun of the plot, but maybe that’s missing the intended point of Cloverfield. The movie is designed to play on sensory experiences and emotions conjured up by recent terrorist attacks. Still the whole thing feels gimmicky, especially when the generic characters yell “Oh my God!” for the 100th time.
Despite it all, I didn’t hate Cloverfield. But here’s a question for me – why do I pay money for experiences like this one or to wait in line all day for a rollercoaster? While I try to think of the answer, the nauseous feeling in my stomach remains.
Last night, I was thinking about Kathryn’s teaching over Acts 18.
Paul, a man of considerable talent and promise, gave it all up to pursue a godly calling, namely becoming a mouthpiece for God’s glory. I’m sure most of Saul’s contemporaries wondered what had become of the man who dominated and overachieved above them, then just disappeared from prominence after an encounter with God on the road to Damascus. Maybe some knew. They probably lamented about the horrifying waste of ability and drive Saul had become- once a man poised to become one of the next great Jewish leaders, he now was a nomad vagabond outcast who resorted to sewing tents to eek out a living in between preaching Christ as the Messiah.
God asks us to sacrifice everything to follow him- even our talents, dreams, and promise. Upon relinquishing these things back to God, it feels like we’ll never get them back. Men and women who were once full of promise to the world must give up dream jobs and creative outlets for the righteous and noble, yet boring and unfulfilling life, right?
In the movie Perfume – the Story of a Murderer, based on a novel by Patrick Suskind, the main character Jean-Baptiste Grenouille is born with a superior, otherworldly sense of smell. What a unique and wonderful talent he has. But as the story unfolds, Grenouille becomes obsessed with creating the greatest perfume ever. On the surface, his pursuit is no different from what every American feels is their God-given right. In the end, Grenouille succeeds and the story should feel like one of triumph and victory, maybe like a Tom Brady at the top of his craft winning the Super Bowl. But, Grenouille had to murder 13 young girls to create his masterwork. He used his ability to selfishly glorify himself with disregard for everyone else, so in the end the accomplishment is heinous and breathtakingly evil.
Grenouille and a fragrant female friend
While Grenouille’s perfume is a fictionalized case, the same is surprisingly true for all of us as humans. As a young man ready to graduate from college with a world enticingly beckoning, I always felt like my sole duty as an earthling would be to find an occupation that perfectly maximized my numerous talents and abilities, so that by the end of my career, the multitudes would be singing my praises.
How thankful I am that God showed me a different way. If you would have foretold high-school Joe that post-college married Joe would have been an auditor, young Joe would have probably thrown up on himself. Even now, family members and acquaintances from the past shudder at what a surprising misuse of my talents my current position is.
However, I am grateful for my job. It is a means to an end, providing me with income and the ability to chase after what’s really made my early adult life worth living- building God’s kingdom. In a weird and ingenious way, God has set me up in ministry where I’m challenged and getting to use my talents, abilities, and creativity.
If I had an amazing career, I’d be tempted to attempt to derive fulfillment from that. Fittingly, even after the unimaginable success of his perfume, Grenouille realizes his pursuit was futile because he is still incapable of loving or being loved by anyone. For most career minded adults, that shocking revelation only comes after wasting a lifetime away.
Currently, I feel like a double agent. I work hard while present at work, but in my mind and my heart, I’m usually thinking about the people and things tied to my higher calling, which I look forward to taking place after work.
I’ve got the best of both worlds: I’m not disappointed by fulfillment that is always fleeting from the world and I get to be excited about something that matters for all of eternity, namely glorifying God.
Although I’m still young and haven’t won a Super Bowl, created the world’s greatest perfume, or even gotten that huge promotion, I’m convinced nothing in the worldly realm of success can ever compare to the victories I’ve been a part of with God. You can have your dream job, I’ll take the rush that comes with events like riding in a car with a high-schooler who’s praying for the first time.
Chipotle reduced the number of hard tacos they give you from 4 to 3. 4 wasn’t enough to begin with, now they give us one less?!? Damn, if they don’t have the upper hand too. It’s not like a boycott is gonna happen.
Maybe, I thought, I was being too harsh on the 1972 movie based on “Slaughterhouse Five”. I mean, here I was casting a remake of a movie I had never seen. Hollywood is always doing this- remaking classic movies that have no business being remake and adding nothing, for what?
So before I launched into pre-production for my imaginary film, I decided to watch the ’72 version, apparently approved by Vonnegut himself.
I thought the movie was OK. Surprisingly, people have mostly good things to say about it. But, Halfway through, I was getting bored. The movie was just EHHHHH. Of course, this never happened with the book.
The shmoe cast as Billy Pilgrim was my main gripe: Billy wasn’t Billy enough for me. Not spacey, daydreamy enough. The alien abduction was as lameo as it gets: seriously, a floating light blob? I guess there wasn’t a huge budget allocation for special effects. However, There were some good things about the movie- I thought the scene where Valencia crashed her Cadillac was great- way more over the top then the book- she was driving her car up and down hills and smashing into things, simply losing her mind that Billy was in a plane crash! When we start shooting the remake, I think Ginny Sack will have to flip out on this level.
The movie was just OFF. The filmmakers failed to capture the essence of the book. Of course, no easy task, but we have to remake this sucker and try.
How’s the weather on Tralfamadore, Ms. Lohan?
I’m thinking some more changes need to be made now that I’ve seen the movie version. The ’72 Montana Wildhack was WAY off. She was too ordinary, not glamorous enough. Originally, we planned to cast Blake Lively in the role. I think the Gossip Girl star would do well, but initially we overlooked the PERFECT actress for the part. In the novel, Montana is a 20 year old starlet who wears the serenity prayer around her neck. In real life, Lindsay Lohan is a talented but troubled actress that desperately needs a good role to get her career back on track. I Know Who Killed Me wasn’t it. This is the role L-Lo was born to play- from earth starlet to Tralfamadore wife; this is how the Mean Girls star gets her Oscar for Best Supporting Actress.
In the film, Paul Lazzaro was played by a brash actor that reminded me of a young Al Pacino. I don’t know if we can get him, but let’s land Michael Imperioli, AKA Christopher Moltisanti, another Sopranos Alum to play the part.
Oh yeah, and we really need to cast Christopher Walken as Wild Bob, the loopey old commander that gives orders to the POW’s as if he were still on the front lines. I’m sure Mr. Walken will agree to the part, all he does these days is play these crazy cameo roles anyway!
I just finished reading Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five last night. An amazing book, it’s written like a crazy, yet coherent daydream. I raced through it, marking the pages with memorable passages on them. After reading the book during lunch one day at work, I found myself lost in the story. For a few moments had a difficult time returning to reality and remembering what I was doing before I started reading.
To me, this is the mark of an excellent book- you can’t put in down because you’re totally engulfed by it. When you’re not reading, you’re thinking about it. Then, when you finish reading it, you wish there was more.
I suppose some of you were forced to read Slaughterhouse Five in high school and find this to be old news. But apparently, the book was made into a motion picture in 1972. However, that didn’t stop me from casting the major roles of the novel in my imagination as I read. Like all good books, Slaughterhouse Five vividly painted scenes in my head. I know it would have been a lot less fun to read the book if I’d already seen the movie adaptation.
The main character, Billy Pilgrim, would of course have to be played by a Hollywood newcomer in my imaginary blockbuster. That’s why I chose Steve Beech to play the part. He’s the perfect tall, lanky, awkward Billy. Sometimes, I watch Steve Beech daydreaming. Now I’ll wonder if he’s time traveling on Tralfamadore when he stares off into space.
Billy’s earth wife, Valencia, would be played by the same actress that played Ginny Sack on the Sopranos. I envisioned Ginny behind the wheel of the Cadillac as she hurriedly poisons herself by driving a smashed up “body-and-fender man’s wet dream” that’s been in an accident to see Billy in the hospital.
Ginny Sack as Valencia
Science fiction writer Kilgore Trout would be played by Malcolm McDowell circa Rob Zombie’s remake of Halloween. McDowell’s white hair, beard, snooty and unlikable English accent would be ideal. Somehow, I can see Malcolm drawing on his A Clockwork Orange experience as he crazily laughs and then hacks up an olive that lands between a woman’s breasts at Billy’s dinner party.
Roland Weary, the self-proclaimed hero and leader of the three musketeers who “saves” Billy against his wishes would be played by Jon Favreau, of Swingers fame, but circa his role in The Replacements.
Strangely, the part of weasely and vengeful Paul Lazzaro was played by the same imaginary character that I pictured for Dick Hickock when I read Capote’s In Cold Blood. The person I picture was really no one in particular, just a greasy twisted coward of a man. I’m sure we can dig up somebody when the studio green lights my project.
Edgar Derby the heroic, chiseled, middle aged leader of Billy’s rag-tag POW squad in Dresden will be played by Javier Bardem, who cashes in on his recent No Country For Old Men fame. The role could also be played by George Clooney, but due to budget concerns the producers went in a different direction.
Javier Bardem as Edgar Derby
Montana Wildhack, the young twenty-something motion picture star, would be played by Blake Lively, of Gossip Girl fame. Billy compares her curvature to Dresden architecture. Ticket sales and buzz increase by having one of Hollywood’s current “it” girls attached to the project.
Serena Van der Woodsen as Montana Wildhack
Steve Buscemi would reprise the role he’s played a million times by playing the part of Eliot Rosewater the loony Kilgore Trout enthusiast. Rosewater introduces Billy to Trout’s obscure writings while the two share a hospital room.
Buscemi as Rosewater
Bertram Copeland Rumfoord, the tough war vet who despises Billy and refuses to believe he could have survived the infamous fire bombings in Dresden while they inhabit the same hospital room would be played by action star Bruce Willis. Kristen Bell, of Veronica Mars fame, would play Lily Rumfoord, his trophy wife and proof that he’s a superman.
Even though my brief vacation wasn’t over yet, I wasn’t really enjoying it as much as I’d hoped. My thoughts were already drifting back and forth between warm holiday thoughts and panicked realizations that what seemed to be a lengthy respite would soon be ending. A metal on metal head on collision would have been more preferable, as the horrible grind high school teachers like to use to scare their students known as the “real world” was once again looming.
But, I still had one more day of vacation. I tried to brush painful thoughts of responsibility and work aside for the time being and crawled out of bed. Last night was New Year’s Eve, it was 2008 now. I had a few drinks early in the evening and a Champaign toast at the stroke of midnight, so I felt much better than previous New Year’s mornings. Still, my feet always hurt for a few moments when they first hit the ground coming out of the bed. I guess they just feel the way the rest of me feels about getting up in the morning.
I showered and prepared to make the most of my day. I felt like I was preparing for my last hours of freedom on the outside. Before taking the half-hour car ride with my wife to my childhood home in Walton Hills, there were a few errands I needed to run. We borrowed the highly addictive and popular Guitar Hero from Jake. I needed to return this game because it isn’t mine and it had to be out of the house so I wouldn’t whammy in anymore new years by staying up until 5 in the morning playing on the easy level.
It was snowing outside. If anyone that tells you they like winter or snow and they don’t own a ski resort or participate in some winter X game is lying. Winter looks good when you’re in summer or staring at it through the window of some warm place snuggled up with a cup of coco in your hand. However, when you have to deal with the practical side of winter, scraping ice off your car, doing 180’s on icy roads, shoveling snow, etc., winter sucks.
Forgetting to slow down given the blizzard-like conditions, I raced to the door to drop off the game. Forgetting all the unpleasant thoughts about work, I was in a good mood now and I had a little bounce in my step. The problem is, bouncing and winter don’t mix.
Naively I ran back to the car, which was warm and running with my wife inside, bounding through the yard towards the vehicle. The driveway, I soon learned, was a little lower than the front yard and was separated by a wooden railroad tie. I planted my Nike on the tie in hopes of reaching down towards the door handle, but instead my foot found no traction and hurled upwards into the air. There was nothing to grab onto and no rewind button to undo what was about to happen.
My body was parallel with the ground now. The millisecond I was in the air was short, but long enough for me to decide to be angry about what was happening. I resigned myself to the fact that I was going to hit the ground hard, but I’d make up for it in some idiotic way by acting all mad when I was on my feet again. I slammed onto the wet, icy driveway below, but the fury inside me worked like lighting to shoot me back upright. I was filled with rage, anger, and most of all embarrassment. I pounded my fist on the car window as if my Camry had some how conspired with the ice and snow to foil me.
My wife had gotten a front row seat to what had to have been a shockingly hilarious spectacle. Of course, she’d later say she waited to laugh until she knew I was OK, but in the moment in felt like the whole world was watching me.
Inconsolable, I was back in the car now. It wasn’t my wife’s fault I had slipped to the ground, but in the few stupid, tense moments after re-entering the car she probably felt like I was taking it out on her. A little muddied and bruised, but OK. I would be sore in the morning. When you slip in the winter it always hurts even if you try to catch yourself, sometimes more. You turn your hand all shades of blue, red, and purple bracing for the ground, yet it only seems to make matters worse when your hip takes the brunt of the blow. Maybe my wife was correct in mentioning that the bright side was at least I wasn’t older or I would have surely broken my hip. However, I don’t feel that young today.
Why did I get so angry? It was a silly accident, I was basically OK, and no one but my loving wife was there to witness it. If I can’t allow her to laugh at me, who can? Of course, when I calmed down, I was able to laugh at myself a few minutes later, but it the heat of the moment I was just so mad. What was the use of letting my emotions get the best of me and turn a silly accident onto something even worse?
My pride prevented me from getting up and laughing it off right away. I felt like I needed to get even with the ground or old man winter for dealing me such a horrible card!
I’m sore, but I’ll recover. It feels like I got tackled by a gorilla or crashed my car. But, I think the thing that got hurt most by the fall was my pride.
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