My needs are a red line extending from me to God.
My wants are a yellow one.
My goal, my hope, is to live a mostly orange life.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Marsh-malaprops II
Recently Kathy and I were watching a CNN news program, and I referred to the guest, Al Sharpton as being portly, in an effort to mitigate his true girth.
Kathy said, "No, he is 'hogly'! " as opposed to being just 'porkly!'
Life with her is a thousand laughs a day!
Kathy said, "No, he is 'hogly'! " as opposed to being just 'porkly!'
Life with her is a thousand laughs a day!
Marsh-malaprops
Money is tight this Christmas season.
When I came home from work the other night, all happy and cheerful, and shouted, "Merrrry Chrisssstmaas!"
to Kathy, she shrugged her shoulders and said,
"BUM HUNGBUG!"
I fell out laughing!
When I came home from work the other night, all happy and cheerful, and shouted, "Merrrry Chrisssstmaas!"
to Kathy, she shrugged her shoulders and said,
"BUM HUNGBUG!"
I fell out laughing!
Friday, December 14, 2007
Good Deeds ain't Fireproof!
The problem many, if not most, people have in their conception of the Christian worldview is that of the Fall, and the way of Salvation. People think that they MUST do something! All other worthy accomplishments require some work on our part.
To pass a test, we must study.
To make the team, we must work out and practice.
To get the job, we must pad the resume!
Just kidding.
Yet, to be saved, we must only allow God... This goes against our method of operation. Surely we must do SOMETHING. Trim the hedges, armor-all the tires, make the bed, rinse the dishes... something.
This is what makes Christianity so foolish to the unregenerate.
It makes no sense, as some Muslims say, that one Person can pay for the sins of another person.
Oprah Winfrey, by most accounts, is a good person by human standards.
She gives away cars.
She gives houses to poor people.
She provides college scholarships to deserving youth.
She builds schools.
She informs us about health, weight, and interior decorating.
She has, by all indications, a beautiful heart.
But the universe, which she claims is god, is NOT God. The universe is scientifically shown to have had a beginning, which requires that it is subject to its Beginner. The universe has no personality. IT does not get angry. It does not THINK. It does not experience joy or pleasure. It only exists. Like a tree, or a river.
Oprah says that she does not need Jesus to get to heaven, because her good DEEDS will get her in. She says that there are milllllions of ways of getting to what YOU call God, and that there can't POSSIBLY be only one way! She said it with such surety and conviction, too! (So, at that statement, we now have Jesus, that "good guy" they all tout, telling a HUGE lie! He is well known to have said that HE is the only way.)
Jesus is the God of the universe. Like it or not, just as, like it or not, George Bush is President. We accept other things with which we don't agree -- gas prices, death, '80's music, insurance (a racket!!), line dances...
Jesus is not just a cool guy walking around in dusty sandals, talking softly, with birds fluttering around at His shoulders. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He is badder than Leroy Brown, even! He says that good works don't save us. They don't even help with the burden.
Jesus bore the FULL weight by Himself on the cross.
Oprah or Farrakhan or Richard Gere or Joseph T. Blow do Jesus no favors by claiming that He was a prophet, or a good and wise man who came with a message of peace and looove. Ahhhhh!
No one gets to the Father but through Him. As He truly is. God.
We didn't just fall down on the ground from a standing position. We fell, and have been falling, from the infinite height of perfection, gaining momentum from Adam till this instance. There is nothing to hang onto, nothing to break the fall. Nothing between us and the Dragon's mouth. We have no parachute. We cannot reach up and grab the ledge, for there IS no ledge. There is only God.
Do you realize how long an arm He must have in order to catch something that has been falling for millenia?
But this is the beauty --and the truth -- of it. A man-made religion would not leave man's works out of the equation! I mean, if Christians were going to fabricate a religion, we certainly would not invent one where we don't get at least some of the credit, some of the glory. God gets it all. "Jesus paid it ALL."
So all the school-building, and advocating, and car-giving, and donating, and photo-opping count for NOTHING apart from a relationship with Jesus. Sorry. Not my rules. Yours either.
Without Jesus, all you are doing is sweeping a dirt floor. Dusting a mud hut.
Our good deeds don't get us through the door, they only furnish the room.
To pass a test, we must study.
To make the team, we must work out and practice.
To get the job, we must pad the resume!
Just kidding.
Yet, to be saved, we must only allow God... This goes against our method of operation. Surely we must do SOMETHING. Trim the hedges, armor-all the tires, make the bed, rinse the dishes... something.
This is what makes Christianity so foolish to the unregenerate.
It makes no sense, as some Muslims say, that one Person can pay for the sins of another person.
Oprah Winfrey, by most accounts, is a good person by human standards.
She gives away cars.
She gives houses to poor people.
She provides college scholarships to deserving youth.
She builds schools.
She informs us about health, weight, and interior decorating.
She has, by all indications, a beautiful heart.
But the universe, which she claims is god, is NOT God. The universe is scientifically shown to have had a beginning, which requires that it is subject to its Beginner. The universe has no personality. IT does not get angry. It does not THINK. It does not experience joy or pleasure. It only exists. Like a tree, or a river.
Oprah says that she does not need Jesus to get to heaven, because her good DEEDS will get her in. She says that there are milllllions of ways of getting to what YOU call God, and that there can't POSSIBLY be only one way! She said it with such surety and conviction, too! (So, at that statement, we now have Jesus, that "good guy" they all tout, telling a HUGE lie! He is well known to have said that HE is the only way.)
Jesus is the God of the universe. Like it or not, just as, like it or not, George Bush is President. We accept other things with which we don't agree -- gas prices, death, '80's music, insurance (a racket!!), line dances...
Jesus is not just a cool guy walking around in dusty sandals, talking softly, with birds fluttering around at His shoulders. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He is badder than Leroy Brown, even! He says that good works don't save us. They don't even help with the burden.
Jesus bore the FULL weight by Himself on the cross.
Oprah or Farrakhan or Richard Gere or Joseph T. Blow do Jesus no favors by claiming that He was a prophet, or a good and wise man who came with a message of peace and looove. Ahhhhh!
No one gets to the Father but through Him. As He truly is. God.
We didn't just fall down on the ground from a standing position. We fell, and have been falling, from the infinite height of perfection, gaining momentum from Adam till this instance. There is nothing to hang onto, nothing to break the fall. Nothing between us and the Dragon's mouth. We have no parachute. We cannot reach up and grab the ledge, for there IS no ledge. There is only God.
Do you realize how long an arm He must have in order to catch something that has been falling for millenia?
But this is the beauty --and the truth -- of it. A man-made religion would not leave man's works out of the equation! I mean, if Christians were going to fabricate a religion, we certainly would not invent one where we don't get at least some of the credit, some of the glory. God gets it all. "Jesus paid it ALL."
So all the school-building, and advocating, and car-giving, and donating, and photo-opping count for NOTHING apart from a relationship with Jesus. Sorry. Not my rules. Yours either.
Without Jesus, all you are doing is sweeping a dirt floor. Dusting a mud hut.
Our good deeds don't get us through the door, they only furnish the room.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Words of THIS One
The Word of God is like duct tape:
You can know its properties and purposes,
but it won't stick until you apply it.
Derrick L. Williams
You can know its properties and purposes,
but it won't stick until you apply it.
Derrick L. Williams
Denzel and Marilyn Monroe. Those Were the GOOD Ol' Days!
I often hear those on the "Religious Right" (with whose Christian, MORAL stances I agree, by the way) such as Dick Bott, James Dobson, and Phyllis Schafly lament the sweetness of the bygone halcyon days of the past.
Crime is rampant, security companies and locksmiths are booming businesses. Drug use is almost the norm.
The words "sex" and "immoral" are rarely associated with each other anymore. Anything goes. What FEELS good IS good!
NO one is safe.
So what should we do in order to regain or obtain a more morally upright society? Return to the fifties as some conservative reminiscers wish? Can't do that, because real life ain't like picking the peanuts out of Cracker Jacks.
For you, it was, "Leave it to Beaver," sock hops, soda jerks, and maybe a Pat Boone knock-off of a Bo Diddley record. Father went off to the office in the morning, and Mother stayed at the house and made home.
You lived an open and free life. You could go where you wanted, eat in any restaurant, sit in any section, live in any neighborhood, relieve yourself in any restroom, try on any outfit in any department store, stay in any hotel, and vote in any state. You could drive any car, without worrying about being stopped by the police for a dubious "unsafe lane change."
The fifties were, for us, a time of terror and exclusion. We had to know our place. We were "boy," not "sir." We were lynched for the slightest supposed misstep. We were not on television unless we danced or served, and we could not vote. ( I use "us", and "we" the same way YOU do when referring to the past)
We lived like the mice in the walls: life was great until it was time to get some cheese, then we had to deal with all the cats trying to kill us.
It just shows that we live in different worlds.
Was life perfect then? You would say "practically," but my parents would disagree. The fifties look cool in the movies. Until the lead character asks for a mint julep, and the maid walks in! YOU don't have to suspend reality when you see Robert Mitchum kiss Sophia Loren. I do. I love old movies, but I have to turn my sensitivity meter down. I have to ignore all the steppin' and fetchin'.
I couldn't have played baseball with Wally and the Beev. I wouldn't have even been allowed in their neighborhood.
And before you lambaste me and call me a perpetual victim, I must tell you that I have experienced some of the same things my very self. Heck, as children, we were drilled on the art of not looking back when being followed by the Po-leece!
Yes, I want a lower crime rate, effective punishment, no legalized abortion, prayer in schools, and a more civil societal manner, too. But I also want equality in education and opportunity, and justice. I want my pregnant wife to not be interrogated by a "neighbor" for parking her own car in front of her own house on our all White (but for us) street!!! Don't tell me racism is anecdotal and largely in the past...
God can deal with a man's private sins, but when they become public POLICY, we all bear a responsibility to do something to change things. Discrimination was just that back then -- the law.
So, be specific when you long for those "good ol' days," because we Black folk can take that to mean that you want us out of your neighborhoods, schools, lives, and back in our "places."
Crime is rampant, security companies and locksmiths are booming businesses. Drug use is almost the norm.
The words "sex" and "immoral" are rarely associated with each other anymore. Anything goes. What FEELS good IS good!
NO one is safe.
So what should we do in order to regain or obtain a more morally upright society? Return to the fifties as some conservative reminiscers wish? Can't do that, because real life ain't like picking the peanuts out of Cracker Jacks.
For you, it was, "Leave it to Beaver," sock hops, soda jerks, and maybe a Pat Boone knock-off of a Bo Diddley record. Father went off to the office in the morning, and Mother stayed at the house and made home.
You lived an open and free life. You could go where you wanted, eat in any restaurant, sit in any section, live in any neighborhood, relieve yourself in any restroom, try on any outfit in any department store, stay in any hotel, and vote in any state. You could drive any car, without worrying about being stopped by the police for a dubious "unsafe lane change."
The fifties were, for us, a time of terror and exclusion. We had to know our place. We were "boy," not "sir." We were lynched for the slightest supposed misstep. We were not on television unless we danced or served, and we could not vote. ( I use "us", and "we" the same way YOU do when referring to the past)
We lived like the mice in the walls: life was great until it was time to get some cheese, then we had to deal with all the cats trying to kill us.
It just shows that we live in different worlds.
Was life perfect then? You would say "practically," but my parents would disagree. The fifties look cool in the movies. Until the lead character asks for a mint julep, and the maid walks in! YOU don't have to suspend reality when you see Robert Mitchum kiss Sophia Loren. I do. I love old movies, but I have to turn my sensitivity meter down. I have to ignore all the steppin' and fetchin'.
I couldn't have played baseball with Wally and the Beev. I wouldn't have even been allowed in their neighborhood.
And before you lambaste me and call me a perpetual victim, I must tell you that I have experienced some of the same things my very self. Heck, as children, we were drilled on the art of not looking back when being followed by the Po-leece!
Yes, I want a lower crime rate, effective punishment, no legalized abortion, prayer in schools, and a more civil societal manner, too. But I also want equality in education and opportunity, and justice. I want my pregnant wife to not be interrogated by a "neighbor" for parking her own car in front of her own house on our all White (but for us) street!!! Don't tell me racism is anecdotal and largely in the past...
God can deal with a man's private sins, but when they become public POLICY, we all bear a responsibility to do something to change things. Discrimination was just that back then -- the law.
So, be specific when you long for those "good ol' days," because we Black folk can take that to mean that you want us out of your neighborhoods, schools, lives, and back in our "places."
Friday, December 7, 2007
"Hamlet" Sittin' on a Dictionary
I've been dealing with a cold all this week. It's been pretty miserable, as you know.
My sinuses were stopped up, and my comedian-wife asked me if I wanted her to turn my HUMILIATOR on! She's the funniest woman I've ever met!
My sinuses were stopped up, and my comedian-wife asked me if I wanted her to turn my HUMILIATOR on! She's the funniest woman I've ever met!
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Can You SEE Electricity? Or Just Its Handiwork?
To: Evolutionists/Atheists
Why do YOU get to be the only intelligent designer? What makes it logical for YOU to create stuff as a human being, yet illogical for someone greater than you to do so?
Things not seen can still be the cause for a particular result. Just "look" at the wind...
Just as your thoughts are not material, and are the impetus of creation, the mind of God is unsearchable and is the catalyst for everything that is. The evidence for both is obvious to all with the senses-- and the SENSE-- to observe.
Why do YOU get to be the only intelligent designer? What makes it logical for YOU to create stuff as a human being, yet illogical for someone greater than you to do so?
Things not seen can still be the cause for a particular result. Just "look" at the wind...
Just as your thoughts are not material, and are the impetus of creation, the mind of God is unsearchable and is the catalyst for everything that is. The evidence for both is obvious to all with the senses-- and the SENSE-- to observe.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
The Only Pets I Have Are PEEVES*
We all have things that boil our blood.
Driving puts us in an environment where, while we are living life in immediate contact with the rest of the world, we can instantly be killed or maimed for life because of someone else's incompetence or inattention. One person's moment of stupidity can steal your loved ones from you forever. Maybe that is part of the reason for road rage... I doubt if stagecoach drivers got into it with folk in covered wagons to the degree that we do nowadays!
I don't rage on the road, but here are a few things about inconsiderate drivers that elevate my "prusha"**, as they say;
"Get off the phone!!!" Since the cell phone has become so popular, I've noticed that every time someone slides over into my lane as I am attempting to pass them, it is because they have a freekin' telephone up to their ear! As though they are sitting at the kitchen counter waiting for the microwave popcorn to get done, and not in TRAFFIC where people can die! And worst of all is that the phone is on the left ear, and the left arm supporting it is blocking the entire left side of their field of vision! How you gonna drive when half the stuff you need to see is on the other side of your ARM?
When it's raining, turn your headlights on!
When it is dusk, turn your headlights on! (NOT just your parking lights, either!) It is not so that YOU can see! It is so that I can see YOU!
If you are pulling out of a parking lot into traffic, and you can't get up to speed before I slam into you... please wait. If you want to wreck someone else, fine, just let me get out of the way first.
If you DO pull out and see me approaching in that thing stuck to your windshield holding your air freshener, speed up! You'll only use about 50 cents worth of gas, but you'll save thousands in blood pressure medication.
If someone wants to pass you on the freeway, or comes up swiftly, please get out of the way! I don't care if you ARE doing the speed limit! "Slower traffic, keep right."
That being said, don't tailgate me! You should have left sooner!
If you are approaching a semi in the slow lane, and I am in the fast lane coming fast (faster than YOU), pleeeeeze let me pass before you swerve in front of me, causing me to stomp on my brakes to keep from parking in the trunk of your humongous white Crown Victoria! That shiny thing hanging outside your door is not for killing mailboxes, it is for noticing that there are other people on the road, too.
Speaking of Crown Vics, why do you elderly drivers invariably buy those behemoths knowing they look JUST like state troopers? You guys scare the $&^* out of me!!!
If you make a left turn, PLEEEZE turn into the left lane. Don't swinnnng all the way over to the right! The street is not your personal driveway. The same goes for right turns...
Please don't put your make-up on while in the driver's seat. Do I really have to say this? Please don't pull down the sunvisor to use the mirror to put your make-up on while in the driver's seat while you are driving your loaded and cocked man-killer!
What geenyass*** thought up the idea of putting a doggone vanity mirror,with lights and everything, on the driver's side anyway?!? Musta gone to the Kervorkian school of auto design! Is this traffic, or Patti LaBelle's dressing room?!?
People don't kill people. People on phones in cars kill people.
Don't Drive Dumb, folks. Think and Drive. Thank you.
*Or: Driving Me CRAZY!
**Blood pressure
***Exceedingly smart individuals
Driving puts us in an environment where, while we are living life in immediate contact with the rest of the world, we can instantly be killed or maimed for life because of someone else's incompetence or inattention. One person's moment of stupidity can steal your loved ones from you forever. Maybe that is part of the reason for road rage... I doubt if stagecoach drivers got into it with folk in covered wagons to the degree that we do nowadays!
I don't rage on the road, but here are a few things about inconsiderate drivers that elevate my "prusha"**, as they say;
"Get off the phone!!!" Since the cell phone has become so popular, I've noticed that every time someone slides over into my lane as I am attempting to pass them, it is because they have a freekin' telephone up to their ear! As though they are sitting at the kitchen counter waiting for the microwave popcorn to get done, and not in TRAFFIC where people can die! And worst of all is that the phone is on the left ear, and the left arm supporting it is blocking the entire left side of their field of vision! How you gonna drive when half the stuff you need to see is on the other side of your ARM?
When it's raining, turn your headlights on!
When it is dusk, turn your headlights on! (NOT just your parking lights, either!) It is not so that YOU can see! It is so that I can see YOU!
If you are pulling out of a parking lot into traffic, and you can't get up to speed before I slam into you... please wait. If you want to wreck someone else, fine, just let me get out of the way first.
If you DO pull out and see me approaching in that thing stuck to your windshield holding your air freshener, speed up! You'll only use about 50 cents worth of gas, but you'll save thousands in blood pressure medication.
If someone wants to pass you on the freeway, or comes up swiftly, please get out of the way! I don't care if you ARE doing the speed limit! "Slower traffic, keep right."
That being said, don't tailgate me! You should have left sooner!
If you are approaching a semi in the slow lane, and I am in the fast lane coming fast (faster than YOU), pleeeeeze let me pass before you swerve in front of me, causing me to stomp on my brakes to keep from parking in the trunk of your humongous white Crown Victoria! That shiny thing hanging outside your door is not for killing mailboxes, it is for noticing that there are other people on the road, too.
Speaking of Crown Vics, why do you elderly drivers invariably buy those behemoths knowing they look JUST like state troopers? You guys scare the $&^* out of me!!!
If you make a left turn, PLEEEZE turn into the left lane. Don't swinnnng all the way over to the right! The street is not your personal driveway. The same goes for right turns...
Please don't put your make-up on while in the driver's seat. Do I really have to say this? Please don't pull down the sunvisor to use the mirror to put your make-up on while in the driver's seat while you are driving your loaded and cocked man-killer!
What geenyass*** thought up the idea of putting a doggone vanity mirror,with lights and everything, on the driver's side anyway?!? Musta gone to the Kervorkian school of auto design! Is this traffic, or Patti LaBelle's dressing room?!?
People don't kill people. People on phones in cars kill people.
Don't Drive Dumb, folks. Think and Drive. Thank you.
*Or: Driving Me CRAZY!
**Blood pressure
***Exceedingly smart individuals
Thursday, November 29, 2007
"Thou Shalt Not Spank Thy Fetus."
While I'm on the subject...
Why is it that the very same people who cry about spanking are the ones who are okay with stabbing a LIVING fetus in the back of the head with a pair of scissors?
Why is it okay to kill a living, feeling human being, and not spank a disobedient child?
Is it because there is no "hitting" involved in abortion?
These people act so tender and loving and caring and sensitive to the well-being of the most vulnerable among us. Why do they not react with outrage at the killing of an unBORN baby? Why are they so quick to make abortion about the woman and not the child? This is the Mount Everest of hypocrisy! Is a plane crash more about the plane, or the occupants?
If you truly care about the the littlest of us, show it by helping to make sure they at least GET here first without having someone vacuum out their brains while they wait innocently in line to simply be born!
"Love doesn't hit!" they spout.
Well I doubt if love squashes out the life of a fetus because it interferes with the ability of the mother to "have it all," or because she can't afford it, or because the babyDaddy left, or because it would be embarrassing.
"Violence is not the answer," they preach.
How doggone violent is an abortion? Pleeeze!
God told me to spank a foolish child and not to murder an innocent one. Case closed.
Will the passing of the proposed Massachussetts law mean that doctors who swat newborns will be arrested? I'm just asking...
You tell me to stay out of your bedroom. I suggest that you stay out of MY woodshed!
Some grown folk need to be whupped!
Why is it that the very same people who cry about spanking are the ones who are okay with stabbing a LIVING fetus in the back of the head with a pair of scissors?
Why is it okay to kill a living, feeling human being, and not spank a disobedient child?
Is it because there is no "hitting" involved in abortion?
These people act so tender and loving and caring and sensitive to the well-being of the most vulnerable among us. Why do they not react with outrage at the killing of an unBORN baby? Why are they so quick to make abortion about the woman and not the child? This is the Mount Everest of hypocrisy! Is a plane crash more about the plane, or the occupants?
If you truly care about the the littlest of us, show it by helping to make sure they at least GET here first without having someone vacuum out their brains while they wait innocently in line to simply be born!
"Love doesn't hit!" they spout.
Well I doubt if love squashes out the life of a fetus because it interferes with the ability of the mother to "have it all," or because she can't afford it, or because the babyDaddy left, or because it would be embarrassing.
"Violence is not the answer," they preach.
How doggone violent is an abortion? Pleeeze!
God told me to spank a foolish child and not to murder an innocent one. Case closed.
Will the passing of the proposed Massachussetts law mean that doctors who swat newborns will be arrested? I'm just asking...
You tell me to stay out of your bedroom. I suggest that you stay out of MY woodshed!
Some grown folk need to be whupped!
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Butts Are For More Than Just Shaking in Videos!
Spanking is NOT violence.
Why should I even have to SAY that?! This is just a clever argument designed to cancel any potential disagreement. It is fallacious, though. Is ''violence'' simply the act of one person physically inflicting pain on another? What about a car accident? Is that an act of violence? What about hernia surgery? Or a hernia EXAM for that matter! (Naw, THAT'S some violence!)
A spanking is no more an act of violence than these occurrences.
And frankly, I don't appreciate a shackin', no-children-havin', feminist, Universalist, New Age, talk show host tellin' me how to raise my children in my Christian household!!
Raise YOUR kids as you see fit. I will do the same. If YOU want kids who defy you, yell at you, disobey you, that's fine. Mine won't do those things. Twice. I will not accept the label of ''abuser'' because I choose to use a perfectly Godly method of discipline when necessary. Doing too little is as bad as doing too much. I suggest that one who is excessively liberal in dealing with his children is just as much an abuser as the parent who truly DOES beat his offspring.
One who lets his kids run around doing what they please and talk back will unleash a complete terror on society. Those kids make teachers' lives miserable, as well as shoppers, and co-workers later in life. They grow up to be awful friends, selfish paramours, and EX-husbands and wives. Check the divorce stats, if you think I'm lying! I propose that there are as many divorces, if not more, that had NO physical abuse but occurred because one or both parties had no willingness to tough out a rough situation selfishly choosing to ruin lives rather than live up to a commitment.
See: Irreconcilable differences.
There are things that damage society just as much as child abuse- WHICH SPANKING IS NOT! Ask ENRON investors. Ask anyone who has suffered at the cloven hooves of a crooked politician.
Don't try to trivialize a good point by saying that I think that the ills of the world will be solved with a belt. I am not ridiculous, so don't you be. What I AM saying is that if you prune a shrub early, you stand a better chance of controlling and shaping its development.
Spanking is no more necessary in every situation as is the emergency brake in a car or a fire extinguisher-- it is there for use in extreme cases. And different kids need different levels of discipline. My mother got only one spanking from her father, but some of her siblings got probably dozens. Oh, yeah, I just thought about it; the only sibling of hers to go bad was the one my grandmother wouldn't let anybody touch! But THAT was just a coincidence, hunh experts?
When there was more discipline, there was less crime. There were fewer unwed mothers and fatherless children. Old people were respected, and children didn't curse in front of grown-ups like they do now. The more lenient and ''progressive'' we have become, the more incivil our world is. Whooh!! We really have evolved!
Gangs are RUN by kids. Kids with NO parental guidance. We are the first generation who are actually AFRAID of our children! Ask their innocent victims which is worse-- a whipping or a bullet in the head.
''Nip it, nip it, nip it,'' Barney Fife used to say. And I agree. My great-grandmother used to tell my father, ''Um gone git MY hands on you before the po-leece do, cuz they don't care nudd'n 'bout cha! They'll knock ya in na head an' KILL ya!" That is the truth. This world loves no one. It is hard and harsh, and will do whatever it can to take what you have.Including your life. A parent's measured, Godly discipline is not harmful and will help a child avoid -- or cope with-- life's potholes.
Christians have an ETERNAL perspective that allows us to see the tremendous difference between a whupping and death. We know that there are worse things in life than a child crying. We serve a God who tells us that whipping a child will not kill him. It is a temporary pain. God disciplines us in sometimes painful ways. We ALL will lose our lives. I am not angry with the Lord because I will die, or because my folks won't live forever, and even if I did get angry, He is God enough to not let that make Him soft. He will hurt our feelings when and if necessary.
We, however, ARE soft. Rather than have our kids angry with us, we try to become their pals. A bunch of spineless yes-men! We try to reeezon with them. How can we reason with a person who doesn't possess the judgment to drive a car or marry or drink alcohol or buy a gun or rent an apartment or share a toy or eat vegetables or stay out of mud puddles or come in when the street lights come on or not eat the Christmas lights!!!
I don't necessarily have the time to explain the harmful properties of alternating current and conductive metals to a doggone baby. I don't necessarily have the time to explain how boiling water makes baby's skin slide off. A sharp smack on the hand saves time, words, and LIFE!!!
We opened the gate wide and let them run around in traffic. So that WE could feel better about our compassionate selves. I say that a child getting hit by a metaphoric car out in that street is a DIRECT act of violence!
I'll stop spanking my kids when Oprah starts spanking hers!
Why should I even have to SAY that?! This is just a clever argument designed to cancel any potential disagreement. It is fallacious, though. Is ''violence'' simply the act of one person physically inflicting pain on another? What about a car accident? Is that an act of violence? What about hernia surgery? Or a hernia EXAM for that matter! (Naw, THAT'S some violence!)
A spanking is no more an act of violence than these occurrences.
And frankly, I don't appreciate a shackin', no-children-havin', feminist, Universalist, New Age, talk show host tellin' me how to raise my children in my Christian household!!
Raise YOUR kids as you see fit. I will do the same. If YOU want kids who defy you, yell at you, disobey you, that's fine. Mine won't do those things. Twice. I will not accept the label of ''abuser'' because I choose to use a perfectly Godly method of discipline when necessary. Doing too little is as bad as doing too much. I suggest that one who is excessively liberal in dealing with his children is just as much an abuser as the parent who truly DOES beat his offspring.
One who lets his kids run around doing what they please and talk back will unleash a complete terror on society. Those kids make teachers' lives miserable, as well as shoppers, and co-workers later in life. They grow up to be awful friends, selfish paramours, and EX-husbands and wives. Check the divorce stats, if you think I'm lying! I propose that there are as many divorces, if not more, that had NO physical abuse but occurred because one or both parties had no willingness to tough out a rough situation selfishly choosing to ruin lives rather than live up to a commitment.
See: Irreconcilable differences.
There are things that damage society just as much as child abuse- WHICH SPANKING IS NOT! Ask ENRON investors. Ask anyone who has suffered at the cloven hooves of a crooked politician.
Don't try to trivialize a good point by saying that I think that the ills of the world will be solved with a belt. I am not ridiculous, so don't you be. What I AM saying is that if you prune a shrub early, you stand a better chance of controlling and shaping its development.
Spanking is no more necessary in every situation as is the emergency brake in a car or a fire extinguisher-- it is there for use in extreme cases. And different kids need different levels of discipline. My mother got only one spanking from her father, but some of her siblings got probably dozens. Oh, yeah, I just thought about it; the only sibling of hers to go bad was the one my grandmother wouldn't let anybody touch! But THAT was just a coincidence, hunh experts?
When there was more discipline, there was less crime. There were fewer unwed mothers and fatherless children. Old people were respected, and children didn't curse in front of grown-ups like they do now. The more lenient and ''progressive'' we have become, the more incivil our world is. Whooh!! We really have evolved!
Gangs are RUN by kids. Kids with NO parental guidance. We are the first generation who are actually AFRAID of our children! Ask their innocent victims which is worse-- a whipping or a bullet in the head.
''Nip it, nip it, nip it,'' Barney Fife used to say. And I agree. My great-grandmother used to tell my father, ''Um gone git MY hands on you before the po-leece do, cuz they don't care nudd'n 'bout cha! They'll knock ya in na head an' KILL ya!" That is the truth. This world loves no one. It is hard and harsh, and will do whatever it can to take what you have.Including your life. A parent's measured, Godly discipline is not harmful and will help a child avoid -- or cope with-- life's potholes.
Christians have an ETERNAL perspective that allows us to see the tremendous difference between a whupping and death. We know that there are worse things in life than a child crying. We serve a God who tells us that whipping a child will not kill him. It is a temporary pain. God disciplines us in sometimes painful ways. We ALL will lose our lives. I am not angry with the Lord because I will die, or because my folks won't live forever, and even if I did get angry, He is God enough to not let that make Him soft. He will hurt our feelings when and if necessary.
We, however, ARE soft. Rather than have our kids angry with us, we try to become their pals. A bunch of spineless yes-men! We try to reeezon with them. How can we reason with a person who doesn't possess the judgment to drive a car or marry or drink alcohol or buy a gun or rent an apartment or share a toy or eat vegetables or stay out of mud puddles or come in when the street lights come on or not eat the Christmas lights!!!
I don't necessarily have the time to explain the harmful properties of alternating current and conductive metals to a doggone baby. I don't necessarily have the time to explain how boiling water makes baby's skin slide off. A sharp smack on the hand saves time, words, and LIFE!!!
We opened the gate wide and let them run around in traffic. So that WE could feel better about our compassionate selves. I say that a child getting hit by a metaphoric car out in that street is a DIRECT act of violence!
I'll stop spanking my kids when Oprah starts spanking hers!
Oprah Got Bit By a Poisonous Water Hose
"Basically, all religions have similarities. They all lead to God."
Yeah. And snakes and water hoses have similarities, too.
How can all roads lead to the same thing? Can one go east to get north? This is, frankly, a stupid supposition. How can all actions, all ways of believing -- monotheism, polytheism, pantheism, panENtheism, universalism, deism, relativism -- yield the same result? Does watering a plant get the same result as burning a plant? Does doing math on a history test bring an "A?" What kind of schizophrenic god would reveal his nature in contradictory ways? That's like saying, "All people are basically Spiro Agnew." Who would say that? And more interestingly, what idjit would publicly admit to believing it?
I have heard Madonna, Oprah, and other notables spout this unthought out drivel, and their audiences nod numbly, approvingly. How can believing in a religion with NO god- Buddhism- get you to the same destination as one with MILLIONS of them- Mormonism?
Most people aren't blind, they just have their eyes shut!
I often think that if we could hear the distant wailing throng from across the Divide, everyone would believe, but God said that even if someone came back from the dead, folk still wouldn't be convinced. People would then probably only feign love and belief to avoid tarnation. There is a universe of evidence as it is. And it is not all locked up in some codebook somewhere. The very sky shouts!
How do you think Miles Davis would feel if they gave a Grammy award for "Kind of Blue" to 50 Cent?! Or if they said that the album wrote itself? Or that the vibrations that move in all matter and non-matter emanating from the impersonal father Universe coalesced on a sub-atomic level to consummate the harmonic modal progressions that resulted in this aural masterpiece?
But it's all the same, right?
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Life is Jazz is Life
Jazz is life.
In jazz, you take accumulated technique, knowledge, and skill, and create art in an instant. You prepare, by practice and experience and learning, to take circumstances-- chords, rhythms, emotion-- and create the best possible way (for you) to maneuver through a situation.
You don't necessarily know what will happen or how it will turn out. The bass player might go somewhere else, the piano player might play minor instead of major, or the drummer may switch up the rhythm, and your prior preparation will give you the vocabulary to tie it all together and make art.
Life is jazz.
No one knows the future, but our experiences-- mistakes and successes-- give us the chance to deal with it. Our parents give us training and discipline, as do teachers, friends, bullies, stray dogs, and hot stoves. We take our ups and downs and use them to color the coarse sackcloth that is life's canvas.
Bad news from doctors, poor drivers, shadowy figures, financial straits, and unrequited loves give us all the opportunity to artfully dodge catastrophe and emerge from a given situation successfully.
In both cases we use what we know to get through what we don't know.
Life is Jazz is life.
In jazz, you take accumulated technique, knowledge, and skill, and create art in an instant. You prepare, by practice and experience and learning, to take circumstances-- chords, rhythms, emotion-- and create the best possible way (for you) to maneuver through a situation.
You don't necessarily know what will happen or how it will turn out. The bass player might go somewhere else, the piano player might play minor instead of major, or the drummer may switch up the rhythm, and your prior preparation will give you the vocabulary to tie it all together and make art.
Life is jazz.
No one knows the future, but our experiences-- mistakes and successes-- give us the chance to deal with it. Our parents give us training and discipline, as do teachers, friends, bullies, stray dogs, and hot stoves. We take our ups and downs and use them to color the coarse sackcloth that is life's canvas.
Bad news from doctors, poor drivers, shadowy figures, financial straits, and unrequited loves give us all the opportunity to artfully dodge catastrophe and emerge from a given situation successfully.
In both cases we use what we know to get through what we don't know.
Life is Jazz is life.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Race Your Awearness
Step inside my life,
Make yourself at home.
Sit down in my favorite pastime.
See if you like the way my culture fits.
Try on a pair of my circumstances.
Walk a mile in my issues.
Take a nap in my nightmares.
Turn the channel to my point of view.
Look in the pantry and taste my reasonings.
Try to wash off the smell of my common sense.
Walk up the frightened stares.
You can have what you find in my perseverance.
Can you spend my occurrences?
No me like I no you.
Derrick L. Williams
Make yourself at home.
Sit down in my favorite pastime.
See if you like the way my culture fits.
Try on a pair of my circumstances.
Walk a mile in my issues.
Take a nap in my nightmares.
Turn the channel to my point of view.
Look in the pantry and taste my reasonings.
Try to wash off the smell of my common sense.
Walk up the frightened stares.
You can have what you find in my perseverance.
Can you spend my occurrences?
No me like I no you.
Derrick L. Williams
Engarde!
This is a poem I wrote back in the nineties for a family member who wanted something for a church program. (It was my former home church, and I saw them beginning to fold in some Word of faith language and practice into the way of worship. This was a subtle way of letting them know a better route. It went ignored. I left.) It sums up my thinking concerning why I call out false teaching when I see it. It is not artsy and metaphorical.
The poem is different from the popular form of today.
It rhymes.
What can we, as Christians, do to guard the Holy Word?
Exhort the body urgently to test the things they've heard
While television ministries abound, and are immense,
The bulk of them are dubious to people on the fence.
Their doctrine is heretical, their prophecies are false.
Yet millions call them "acts of God"-- the strange, hypnotic waltz.
But those among us tossed and blown by every wind of teaching,
Are unequipped to take the hands of wary skeptics reaching.
If we persist to give the Word a cursory perusal,
The world will greet our invitation with a flat refusal.
So be encouraged! Learn the Word for which the martyrs bled
And "show thyself approved" to speak and stand for Christ, the Head!
The poem is different from the popular form of today.
It rhymes.
What can we, as Christians, do to guard the Holy Word?
Exhort the body urgently to test the things they've heard
While television ministries abound, and are immense,
The bulk of them are dubious to people on the fence.
Their doctrine is heretical, their prophecies are false.
Yet millions call them "acts of God"-- the strange, hypnotic waltz.
But those among us tossed and blown by every wind of teaching,
Are unequipped to take the hands of wary skeptics reaching.
If we persist to give the Word a cursory perusal,
The world will greet our invitation with a flat refusal.
So be encouraged! Learn the Word for which the martyrs bled
And "show thyself approved" to speak and stand for Christ, the Head!
Monday, November 19, 2007
Buckles Made of Irony
With Thanksgiving on the horizon, I thought it apropos to post a brilliant nursery rhyme I penned as a tribute to the hardworking pioneers and pilgrims who lived so long ago:
One, two, buckle my shoe...
Three, four, milk a cow,
Five, six, yoke a mule,
Seven, eight, dig a well,
Nine, ten, pull up a stump.
Thank you. Derrick L. Williams.
p.s. They lived such eclectic lives...
One, two, buckle my shoe...
Three, four, milk a cow,
Five, six, yoke a mule,
Seven, eight, dig a well,
Nine, ten, pull up a stump.
Thank you. Derrick L. Williams.
p.s. They lived such eclectic lives...
Swimming Lessons
My good-hearted 16-month-old son, Max, stands tottering on the shore of an ocean of sorrows.He has what appears to be the most friendly personality of any child in the world. He beams at the sight of other kids, never fights over toys, and when he smiles, he does so with his whole body! He loves to have fun, and possesses a wide-open heart.
Life and this World are gonna KILL him! Beat him to oatmeal!
Waiting for him is a sea of sharks, jellyfish, and other predators seeking to drag him under and rip from him all the innocent, uncorrupted joy he now possesses.
Though I could bail him out and be a vessel by which he could navigate this ocean, I can only guide him while he swims alongside. It is with great sadness that I realize this. I have swum this way before, only barely making it without being consumed by rage, hatred, and selfishness. I didn't know if I would make it, and I don't know if Max will.
But God knows.
It is He who has given me the map by which I will lead my son. It is He who will instruct me as to what to say when the waves roll high and threaten to swallow him.
''Don't let Life win, Son.
"Don't let situations cause you to give up and become that which seeks to destroy you. Don't be led by those unworthy. Make God your conscience. Know the right answers. USE them.
"Every girl won't like you. Some will hurt you. On purpose. Be nice anyway. Don't let matters of the heart submerge you.
"Pain passes. Laugh when you need to. Cry when you have to. Keep swimming!
"Don't let people be the riptide, the undertow that pulls you in an unGodly direction.
"Sit up front. Don't back down. Don't sell your friend out. You won't have many.
"Life is hard. Often unfair. God is the prize. Know Him truly.
"Have your fun, but put in your work first. Stand flat-footed on your word.
"When you get tired, God will buoy you by the Spirit-shaped float inside you.
Keep this joy you have, only coat it with a veneer of strength with which to defend yourself. With this, you will be able to brush off the arrows hurled by those who will hate your love."
Life and this World are gonna KILL him! Beat him to oatmeal!
Waiting for him is a sea of sharks, jellyfish, and other predators seeking to drag him under and rip from him all the innocent, uncorrupted joy he now possesses.
Though I could bail him out and be a vessel by which he could navigate this ocean, I can only guide him while he swims alongside. It is with great sadness that I realize this. I have swum this way before, only barely making it without being consumed by rage, hatred, and selfishness. I didn't know if I would make it, and I don't know if Max will.
But God knows.
It is He who has given me the map by which I will lead my son. It is He who will instruct me as to what to say when the waves roll high and threaten to swallow him.
''Don't let Life win, Son.
"Don't let situations cause you to give up and become that which seeks to destroy you. Don't be led by those unworthy. Make God your conscience. Know the right answers. USE them.
"Every girl won't like you. Some will hurt you. On purpose. Be nice anyway. Don't let matters of the heart submerge you.
"Pain passes. Laugh when you need to. Cry when you have to. Keep swimming!
"Don't let people be the riptide, the undertow that pulls you in an unGodly direction.
"Sit up front. Don't back down. Don't sell your friend out. You won't have many.
"Life is hard. Often unfair. God is the prize. Know Him truly.
"Have your fun, but put in your work first. Stand flat-footed on your word.
"When you get tired, God will buoy you by the Spirit-shaped float inside you.
Keep this joy you have, only coat it with a veneer of strength with which to defend yourself. With this, you will be able to brush off the arrows hurled by those who will hate your love."
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Reverend Corleone, Bishop Soprano, and Prophet Gotti
All the noise about the senate investigation of Klepto Dollar, Eddie Long(money), and the rest of the Prosperity Perps got me thinking.
We hear them all say, when asked about their ostentatious possessions, "It ain't mine! It belongs to tha chu'ch!"
You know who else says that when grilled by the authorities? The Mafia! Drug dealers! Fat-cat corporate big wigs! Folks who get pulled over with weed in their pockets! ("Thass my cuzzin' weed, Mr. Ossifer*! I swear! Theeze ain't even my pants!")
Is this just a co-incidence? Is it happenstance that the known crooks funnel their money through a maze of dummy corporations and "legitimate businesses" in the same way that these Prosperity Punks funnel all their stuff through the church?
It's funny, though... When I heard I.V. Hilliard, another one, bragging about buying a jet, when I heard Fred Price boasting about his multi-thousand-dollar exoticar, I didn't hear them say it belonged to the chu'ch. It was theirs! When Klepto and Taffi did that big spread in Ebony magazine a couple years ago, I don't recall seeing them say that stuff belonged to the church, either.
As a partner of mine used to say, "These cats slicker than owl... feces!"
Pity, though. Paula White can't say that her plastic surgery belongs to the church.
The Church, however, does need a facelift!
*Officer
We hear them all say, when asked about their ostentatious possessions, "It ain't mine! It belongs to tha chu'ch!"
You know who else says that when grilled by the authorities? The Mafia! Drug dealers! Fat-cat corporate big wigs! Folks who get pulled over with weed in their pockets! ("Thass my cuzzin' weed, Mr. Ossifer*! I swear! Theeze ain't even my pants!")
Is this just a co-incidence? Is it happenstance that the known crooks funnel their money through a maze of dummy corporations and "legitimate businesses" in the same way that these Prosperity Punks funnel all their stuff through the church?
It's funny, though... When I heard I.V. Hilliard, another one, bragging about buying a jet, when I heard Fred Price boasting about his multi-thousand-dollar exoticar, I didn't hear them say it belonged to the chu'ch. It was theirs! When Klepto and Taffi did that big spread in Ebony magazine a couple years ago, I don't recall seeing them say that stuff belonged to the church, either.
As a partner of mine used to say, "These cats slicker than owl... feces!"
Pity, though. Paula White can't say that her plastic surgery belongs to the church.
The Church, however, does need a facelift!
*Officer
Thou Shalt Sell No Bootleg Movies."
The other day, while the band was on a break, the subject of the new Denzel movie, "American Gangster" came up. A couple of the guys were talking about how good it was, and since it hadn't come out yet, I asked, "Waitaminnit. How y'all see the movie and it ain't came out yet?" (My conversational grammar is not always as polished as my published grammar. Besides, there were no White folks around!)
They laughed at me, the church boy.
"Bootleg, mane*! You wont it? I got it," Dude 1 said. (I'll not name names here)
"Naw," I replied. "I'll wait to see it at the movies." Chuckling.
Dude 2 laughed and said, "The preacher don't want to tick the Lord off!"
Dude 1, the seller, eyed me sideways over the top of his shades and asked sarcastically, smiling,
"The Lord don't like bootleg?"
"Nope."
It is important for the sake of timing, to note that the rest of this exchange came rapid-fire, without pause:
Dude 1 asked, "Aw, rilly**? Where dat at in the Bible?"
" 'Thou shalt not steal!' (They fell out laughing!) Yeah, thass EARLY in the story! Thass in the firss act, even before the firss commercial!" (They're rolling, laughing now falling backwards and stomping like we Black folk do. We LOVE to laugh.) Yeah, man, you ain't even gotta be a theologian to know that one! I gotcha, didn' I?"
"Yeh, mane! I can't argah*** witcha right there!" We kept right on laughing.
I don't get many opportunities to preach to the guys with whom I work, and it is cool when I do. It is a delicate balance-- trying to be relevant while not selling out the Lord. They see me as separate, not doing many of the things they do, yet they do not shun me, thereby rendering me ineffective.
This is one small reason why I do not see a problem with what I do. I play music for a living. "Secular music." (I HATE that term! Is YOUR job "secular"?) I don't get high, I don't get drunk, I don't run around with women, etc. And if I slipped, my entire Christian witness would be torn down. But how many street folk read the Bible recreationally? How many of them go to church and ACTUALLY adhere to the ad they hear? We are told to go out inTO the world. That's where the people are.
These guys knew that selling and buying bootleg movies was wrong. That's common sense. I didn't impart some startling new revelation to them. But what I hope I did was to let them know that God is in every corner of life. And that, hopefully by my meager example, it is possible to be holy and still be an enjoyable person to be around. Christian life is not to be boring and stiff!
Will Heaven be that way?
*Man
**Really
***Argue
They laughed at me, the church boy.
"Bootleg, mane*! You wont it? I got it," Dude 1 said. (I'll not name names here)
"Naw," I replied. "I'll wait to see it at the movies." Chuckling.
Dude 2 laughed and said, "The preacher don't want to tick the Lord off!"
Dude 1, the seller, eyed me sideways over the top of his shades and asked sarcastically, smiling,
"The Lord don't like bootleg?"
"Nope."
It is important for the sake of timing, to note that the rest of this exchange came rapid-fire, without pause:
Dude 1 asked, "Aw, rilly**? Where dat at in the Bible?"
" 'Thou shalt not steal!' (They fell out laughing!) Yeah, thass EARLY in the story! Thass in the firss act, even before the firss commercial!" (They're rolling, laughing now falling backwards and stomping like we Black folk do. We LOVE to laugh.) Yeah, man, you ain't even gotta be a theologian to know that one! I gotcha, didn' I?"
"Yeh, mane! I can't argah*** witcha right there!" We kept right on laughing.
I don't get many opportunities to preach to the guys with whom I work, and it is cool when I do. It is a delicate balance-- trying to be relevant while not selling out the Lord. They see me as separate, not doing many of the things they do, yet they do not shun me, thereby rendering me ineffective.
This is one small reason why I do not see a problem with what I do. I play music for a living. "Secular music." (I HATE that term! Is YOUR job "secular"?) I don't get high, I don't get drunk, I don't run around with women, etc. And if I slipped, my entire Christian witness would be torn down. But how many street folk read the Bible recreationally? How many of them go to church and ACTUALLY adhere to the ad they hear? We are told to go out inTO the world. That's where the people are.
These guys knew that selling and buying bootleg movies was wrong. That's common sense. I didn't impart some startling new revelation to them. But what I hope I did was to let them know that God is in every corner of life. And that, hopefully by my meager example, it is possible to be holy and still be an enjoyable person to be around. Christian life is not to be boring and stiff!
Will Heaven be that way?
*Man
**Really
***Argue
Parentnoia!
That's what popped into my head when my wife said I was being excessively worrisome about having a daughter. Oh, yeah... We're having a GIRL!!! Just found out.
I got the shotgun on layaway.
How am I going to raise a girl? I'm not even talking about combing hair and buying baby dolls! I'm talking about BOYS! I have to teach her what the boys really mean. When they try to "just be friends." I've got to show her how to recognize "game" when they shoot it at her. She has to know how to conduct herself. She can't be flighty, and I don't want any stuck-up queens in my house! I have to tell her about what is love and what is simply lust. I have to let her know not to flirt and lead them on. I have to teach her self-respect and purity. I've got to keep her out of the videos!
I've got to show her what to look for in a man, and how to treat a husband. I'm looking waaaay down the line. She's not even here yet, and I'm thinking that if she wants to be a nun, that's cool, too! Are there any protestant nuns...?
I'm thinking about boys coming to my door like crocodiles on a riverbank in Africa, trying to devour my baby like a wildebeest. I'm thinking about hurtin' 'em! Shoot, every time you look around, some fool has bumped off his wife, or killed his girlfriend, and I'm thinking, "If you touch mine, I'm gonna clock you out!"
I know that's not exactly Christian. But mine ain't the one to be messed with! I promise you that! I think that, as far as my daughter is concerned, domestic violence warrants the death penalty!
So, in order for me to keep from sinning against God by prematurely sending somebody's son His way, I'm worrying about how to keep my daughter from swinging around on stripper poles!
I work in nightclubs. I see it all! I do sorority parties, and I see Daddy's little girl making a drunken slut of herself on a regular basis. Daddy has no idea. I would think to myself, "Man! I'm glad I got a boy!" And look at me now. How am I gonna stop THAT from happening to mine?
I know the answers to these questions. But the reality is that even well-raised kids often go astray, and nowadays, with all the wanton immorality out there, one dalliance can spell a lifetime of disaster! I know about the prodigal son, but I don't know if prodigal daughters come back.
I don't want my daughter desensitized to the stigma of premarital sex and single motherhood. I don't want her to think it's cool to shack up, that that's how you know if you're compatible. I don't want her to think that marriage is just a piece of paper. I don't want my daughter to have given little pieces of herself away to the point where by the time she does meet her husband, there will be nothing left but a hollow shell. I don't want a Paris Hilton, or a Li'l Kim, or a video rumpshaker.
I know, I know. If I set the right example, she will not fall for the"okey doke." She will not let herself be mistreated.
But still... There is a lot more to deal with with a girl. There IS a double standard, and like it or not, it's not going to change. No matter how hard the feminists try.
So yeah, I may be a little parentnoid, but that will keep me on my toes! And if any of you young boys out there think my daughter is a grape for you to pick from the vine, remember this:
By the time you get to my door, that shotgun will be out of layaway and in my lap. I will usher you directly into the Lord's presence! My girl ain't gonna be the lead story on "Unsolved Mysteries"!
I got the shotgun on layaway.
How am I going to raise a girl? I'm not even talking about combing hair and buying baby dolls! I'm talking about BOYS! I have to teach her what the boys really mean. When they try to "just be friends." I've got to show her how to recognize "game" when they shoot it at her. She has to know how to conduct herself. She can't be flighty, and I don't want any stuck-up queens in my house! I have to tell her about what is love and what is simply lust. I have to let her know not to flirt and lead them on. I have to teach her self-respect and purity. I've got to keep her out of the videos!
I've got to show her what to look for in a man, and how to treat a husband. I'm looking waaaay down the line. She's not even here yet, and I'm thinking that if she wants to be a nun, that's cool, too! Are there any protestant nuns...?
I'm thinking about boys coming to my door like crocodiles on a riverbank in Africa, trying to devour my baby like a wildebeest. I'm thinking about hurtin' 'em! Shoot, every time you look around, some fool has bumped off his wife, or killed his girlfriend, and I'm thinking, "If you touch mine, I'm gonna clock you out!"
I know that's not exactly Christian. But mine ain't the one to be messed with! I promise you that! I think that, as far as my daughter is concerned, domestic violence warrants the death penalty!
So, in order for me to keep from sinning against God by prematurely sending somebody's son His way, I'm worrying about how to keep my daughter from swinging around on stripper poles!
I work in nightclubs. I see it all! I do sorority parties, and I see Daddy's little girl making a drunken slut of herself on a regular basis. Daddy has no idea. I would think to myself, "Man! I'm glad I got a boy!" And look at me now. How am I gonna stop THAT from happening to mine?
I know the answers to these questions. But the reality is that even well-raised kids often go astray, and nowadays, with all the wanton immorality out there, one dalliance can spell a lifetime of disaster! I know about the prodigal son, but I don't know if prodigal daughters come back.
I don't want my daughter desensitized to the stigma of premarital sex and single motherhood. I don't want her to think it's cool to shack up, that that's how you know if you're compatible. I don't want her to think that marriage is just a piece of paper. I don't want my daughter to have given little pieces of herself away to the point where by the time she does meet her husband, there will be nothing left but a hollow shell. I don't want a Paris Hilton, or a Li'l Kim, or a video rumpshaker.
I know, I know. If I set the right example, she will not fall for the"okey doke." She will not let herself be mistreated.
But still... There is a lot more to deal with with a girl. There IS a double standard, and like it or not, it's not going to change. No matter how hard the feminists try.
So yeah, I may be a little parentnoid, but that will keep me on my toes! And if any of you young boys out there think my daughter is a grape for you to pick from the vine, remember this:
By the time you get to my door, that shotgun will be out of layaway and in my lap. I will usher you directly into the Lord's presence! My girl ain't gonna be the lead story on "Unsolved Mysteries"!
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Pregnant Pause
My wife, Kathy is not ditzy. She is not an airhead. She is not goofy. She would want me to let you know this.
She IS pregnant, however, (Diana Elise. Baking rightly at 98.6 degrees!) and it is to THAT that I will attribute her latest expectant escapade:
"Oh LAWD!" she exclaims inside her head, "I can't find the carkeys!" She had just walked out of her office building, having just gotten off.
"What am I gonna do?" she thought frantically, mind racing. She searched her purse. Nothing. Her coat pockets. Nope.
"I'mma hafta go all the way back in the building and retrace all my steps! Oh, LAWD!"
She's trying to focus, but she can't because the radio is up too loud. As she throws her head back into the headrest and looks up through the sunroof at the rapidly purpling sky, Kathy begins to howl, laughing...
She is IN the CAR! It is RUNNING! She has unlocked the car door, gotten inside, closed the door, put the keys into the ignition, started it, buckled up, and forgotten all of that!
Now, I know we all have looked for a set of keys that were in our hands, but I don't think ANYone has ever sat inside of a running automobile and fretted over lost carkeys!
Part of the reason I married her is because of how funny she is, but she is USUALLY funny on purpose. I'm worried about her now, though. "For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for smarter or absent-mindeder?" I don't know...
She IS pregnant, however, (Diana Elise. Baking rightly at 98.6 degrees!) and it is to THAT that I will attribute her latest expectant escapade:
"Oh LAWD!" she exclaims inside her head, "I can't find the carkeys!" She had just walked out of her office building, having just gotten off.
"What am I gonna do?" she thought frantically, mind racing. She searched her purse. Nothing. Her coat pockets. Nope.
"I'mma hafta go all the way back in the building and retrace all my steps! Oh, LAWD!"
She's trying to focus, but she can't because the radio is up too loud. As she throws her head back into the headrest and looks up through the sunroof at the rapidly purpling sky, Kathy begins to howl, laughing...
She is IN the CAR! It is RUNNING! She has unlocked the car door, gotten inside, closed the door, put the keys into the ignition, started it, buckled up, and forgotten all of that!
Now, I know we all have looked for a set of keys that were in our hands, but I don't think ANYone has ever sat inside of a running automobile and fretted over lost carkeys!
Part of the reason I married her is because of how funny she is, but she is USUALLY funny on purpose. I'm worried about her now, though. "For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for smarter or absent-mindeder?" I don't know...
Thursday, November 8, 2007
If They Think THIS is Bad, Wait Till GOD Gets His Hands on 'Em!
Okay, let's see where we are: Creflo Dollar, Benny Hinn, Joyce Meyer, Eddie Long, Kenneth Copeland, and Paula White are being investigated by the senate finance committee.
I wonder if they feel like the mafia felt when the U.S. government turned the full force of its wrath on them... I wonder if they are getting theirlies I mean stories straight and lining up their ecstatically ignorant supporters with tales of persecution and such. I can hear the accountant's papers shuffling, and the cell phone keypads tapping. And shredders are growling and regurgitating from being hastily overfed like my boy, Max does when I find myself in too much of a hurry to get him through eating so I can get back to watching "ESPN's First Take."
"The Rolls was a GIFT."
"The mansion belongs to the chu'ch!"
"I need a 10 million dollar jet! I'm too bizzy to fly commercial."
"This cosmetic surgery was just to clear up some... waitaminnit! WHAT cosmetic surgery?"
"I have a particular hip problem, and my research showed that only a 23,000 dollar john would get to the butt of the issue. Besides, the Bible says that we are the head, but why shouldn't the tail be well taken care of, too?"
"I ain' gotta anser to tha world about God's bizzniss! My sheep know my vo-ice!" (Yeah, but I bet your sheep can't get a meeting with you, or ride in that jet, or visit that gated mansion!)
I can just hear all of the pimpish game they will perpetrate against those who follow them and who shout loudly, "Lalalalalalalalala" to keep the truth from crawling into their ears. They will create a siege environment like Jim Jones and David Koresh did where the "world" is trying to destroy the good work and prosperous living of God's people.
Here is the punch line, though; If they think THIS investigation is intrusive and punitive, wait until they "getta loada" what God has in store for them! The GUBment only wants to know where the money went. GOD is concerned about
every.
single.
aspect.
of.
their.
lives.
Every detail!
They have led millions away from the TRUE gospel. One which does NOT focus on the accumulation of wealth, but on the emptiness, the broken body, the shed blood of Christ. For this it is said that it will have been better for them if John Gotti had fitted them with cement boots and dumped them into a river. Direct quote...
They have loved money rather than the Savior. They have taught others to do so.
They have demoted God, and in some strange, cosmic mutiny, promoted man to His captaincy.
They have ineptly wielded the Sword of the Word of God and sliced up the souls of multitudes, many of whom are dead, gone, and unable to hit the reset button.
God alone knows the rest of what they have done. And there are dozens, even thousands more unnamed crooks who do the same and worse.
The judgment of a senate committee is nothing compared to the Omnipotent Panel of One that awaits those who use the Bible as a Player's Handbook in order to manipulate the finances-- and souls-- of so many. This same judge will evaluate us in the same manner if we eschew the Love of and service to Christ in favor of selfish pleasure.
So, Klepto Dollar, Bentley Hinn, Joyce Mirer, Eddie Long(money), Kenneth (can't)Copeland, Paula White(washed sepulcre), it looks like you will be getting a small, small preview of what may be in store for you if you remain in your current state. As for Fred (pay the) Price, Paul Crouch(ing wolf), Joel Ovaltine and the rest of you, you obviously don't fear the God you defame, so maybe fear of the government hammer, public disgrace and financial devastation will make you stop victimizing the weak and unlearned.
It is not with glee, but with a feeling of impending justice being meted, that I ask, in the words of that illustrious theologian, T.O.:
"You gotcho popcone reddy?"
I wonder if they feel like the mafia felt when the U.S. government turned the full force of its wrath on them... I wonder if they are getting their
"The Rolls was a GIFT."
"The mansion belongs to the chu'ch!"
"I need a 10 million dollar jet! I'm too bizzy to fly commercial."
"This cosmetic surgery was just to clear up some... waitaminnit! WHAT cosmetic surgery?"
"I have a particular hip problem, and my research showed that only a 23,000 dollar john would get to the butt of the issue. Besides, the Bible says that we are the head, but why shouldn't the tail be well taken care of, too?"
"I ain' gotta anser to tha world about God's bizzniss! My sheep know my vo-ice!" (Yeah, but I bet your sheep can't get a meeting with you, or ride in that jet, or visit that gated mansion!)
I can just hear all of the pimpish game they will perpetrate against those who follow them and who shout loudly, "Lalalalalalalalala" to keep the truth from crawling into their ears. They will create a siege environment like Jim Jones and David Koresh did where the "world" is trying to destroy the good work and prosperous living of God's people.
Here is the punch line, though; If they think THIS investigation is intrusive and punitive, wait until they "getta loada" what God has in store for them! The GUBment only wants to know where the money went. GOD is concerned about
every.
single.
aspect.
of.
their.
lives.
Every detail!
They have led millions away from the TRUE gospel. One which does NOT focus on the accumulation of wealth, but on the emptiness, the broken body, the shed blood of Christ. For this it is said that it will have been better for them if John Gotti had fitted them with cement boots and dumped them into a river. Direct quote...
They have loved money rather than the Savior. They have taught others to do so.
They have demoted God, and in some strange, cosmic mutiny, promoted man to His captaincy.
They have ineptly wielded the Sword of the Word of God and sliced up the souls of multitudes, many of whom are dead, gone, and unable to hit the reset button.
God alone knows the rest of what they have done. And there are dozens, even thousands more unnamed crooks who do the same and worse.
The judgment of a senate committee is nothing compared to the Omnipotent Panel of One that awaits those who use the Bible as a Player's Handbook in order to manipulate the finances-- and souls-- of so many. This same judge will evaluate us in the same manner if we eschew the Love of and service to Christ in favor of selfish pleasure.
So, Klepto Dollar, Bentley Hinn, Joyce Mirer, Eddie Long(money), Kenneth (can't)Copeland, Paula White(washed sepulcre), it looks like you will be getting a small, small preview of what may be in store for you if you remain in your current state. As for Fred (pay the) Price, Paul Crouch(ing wolf), Joel Ovaltine and the rest of you, you obviously don't fear the God you defame, so maybe fear of the government hammer, public disgrace and financial devastation will make you stop victimizing the weak and unlearned.
It is not with glee, but with a feeling of impending justice being meted, that I ask, in the words of that illustrious theologian, T.O.:
"You gotcho popcone reddy?"
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
A Link in the Change...
My best friend and I were talking about the “Dog, the Bounty Hunter” dude, and I said something to him that he insisted I put down here.
A lot of people who don’t come from those enslaved in this country like to tell us, when something like what Dog Chapman was just caught saying comes to light, “Just get over it!” This incenses me! But I am learning that peoples’ minds sometimes cannot be changed by the facts. Hearing that oft-repeated phrase just lets me truly see who I am dealing with. We should, they say, just get over the anger we feel at hearing that Notorious term hurled about in reference to us. Just get over slavery. Just get over second class citizenship, brutality, educational inequality, and discrimination of any sort. “Just Get Over It!”
That term is, to me, the new version of, “Some of my best friends are colored.” I SEE you.
”Actions ALWAYS have consequences.” This is what I told my friend. Like the Bible says: the father eats bitter grapes and the children get that stinging pain in the glands behind the jaw. I think that’s a direct quote…
By way of analogy, I told him,
“Let’s see, there are, what, a hundred and forty-two years since slavery ended? How ’bout this: how ’bout I get one of those folks who say we should just get over slavery since none of us were slaves, how ’bout I get one of them to hold the end of a chain with a hundred and forty-two links in it, and I get a live wire and shoot about 50,000 volts through the other end of it! I BET they won’t just get over that!”
Every action that has occurred between the races in this country has had a consequence, positive or negative. My grandfather had to call a ten year old boy “Sir,” and as a result, I will not make my children say “Sir” or “Ma’am,” because I didn’t have to say it because my mother saw it happen and vowed that her kids wouldn’t go through that when bused to schools run by White teachers who didn’t want them there.
While we’re talking, why doesn’t God “just get over it”, too? I mean, by that same logic, why should I, or you, Mr. Insensitive Conservative, have to pay for what some guy named Adam did countless thousand of years ago? Right? Yet, WE all have to bear the penalty for his sin, right?
Discrimination is the thriving spoiled brat child of Slavery and Racism in this country. Wishing it away will not make it GO away. Dog, the Bounty Hunter just pulled back the curtain and let the light in. That uneasy feeling you have right now? Just get over it!
A lot of people who don’t come from those enslaved in this country like to tell us, when something like what Dog Chapman was just caught saying comes to light, “Just get over it!” This incenses me! But I am learning that peoples’ minds sometimes cannot be changed by the facts. Hearing that oft-repeated phrase just lets me truly see who I am dealing with. We should, they say, just get over the anger we feel at hearing that Notorious term hurled about in reference to us. Just get over slavery. Just get over second class citizenship, brutality, educational inequality, and discrimination of any sort. “Just Get Over It!”
That term is, to me, the new version of, “Some of my best friends are colored.” I SEE you.
”Actions ALWAYS have consequences.” This is what I told my friend. Like the Bible says: the father eats bitter grapes and the children get that stinging pain in the glands behind the jaw. I think that’s a direct quote…
By way of analogy, I told him,
“Let’s see, there are, what, a hundred and forty-two years since slavery ended? How ’bout this: how ’bout I get one of those folks who say we should just get over slavery since none of us were slaves, how ’bout I get one of them to hold the end of a chain with a hundred and forty-two links in it, and I get a live wire and shoot about 50,000 volts through the other end of it! I BET they won’t just get over that!”
Every action that has occurred between the races in this country has had a consequence, positive or negative. My grandfather had to call a ten year old boy “Sir,” and as a result, I will not make my children say “Sir” or “Ma’am,” because I didn’t have to say it because my mother saw it happen and vowed that her kids wouldn’t go through that when bused to schools run by White teachers who didn’t want them there.
While we’re talking, why doesn’t God “just get over it”, too? I mean, by that same logic, why should I, or you, Mr. Insensitive Conservative, have to pay for what some guy named Adam did countless thousand of years ago? Right? Yet, WE all have to bear the penalty for his sin, right?
Discrimination is the thriving spoiled brat child of Slavery and Racism in this country. Wishing it away will not make it GO away. Dog, the Bounty Hunter just pulled back the curtain and let the light in. That uneasy feeling you have right now? Just get over it!
Friday, November 2, 2007
Malaprops
My wife, Kathy, is (sometimes unbeknownst to her...) proficient at the art of the malaprop. I sometimes slip up and do it too. She's gonna kill me if she sees this...
She said that an old magician practices "crustydigitation!"
Kathy got a million of these! I got three.
She said that an old magician practices "crustydigitation!"
Kathy got a million of these! I got three.
Cone CHIPPIN!
All right, so here's another one:
This is how slang terms get invented.
A couple years ago we, the house band at BB King's club in Memphis, went to Chicago to do a gig at the Isaac HAYES' club (this got us cussed out by Tommy Peters, the BB's owner! "How tha bleep y'all gone take off from playin' at MY fragglerockin' club, an go all tha way ta ChaCAgo to put money inta tha pocket of tha shadrackin' people that tryin' ta shut my meshackin' place down?!?). The parent company of Isaac Hayes club in Memphis "allegedly" tried to mount a subversive campaign to drive the club out of business.
We were known as "Ty Brown," and to date, it is the best band I've ever played in.
It was the dead of winter, and the eight of us were crammed into this 15 passenger van, which any musician or church group knows won't seat 15 grown, often fat, people! It was TIGHT! Plus, all the pillows, blankets, bags and snacks took up any extra room. I, after six years of playing for blues singer, Denise LaSalle, had grown used to sitting in the back. Sorry, Rosa.
When we reached our destination, I squeezed my way out from the back past some of the guys in front of me who were moving too slowly. Then it hit me. Rather, it hit my NOSE.
"Man!" I said. "Somebody FEET cone CHIPPIN!" (meaning, for the unaware among you, that somebody's feet smelled remarkably like an open bag of corn chips whose expiration date had lonnnng passed)
They all laughed. But one guy laughed the hardest. I suspect that HE was the posessor of the putrid podiatry. I did not do further investigation, though. It ain't good to be in close quarters with your shoes off on a long trip if your dogs are barkin'.
I just said it in passing, but it kind of caught on. The next thing I knew, it had transmogrified into a musical term which defined bad playing. Now, if a band is doing a bleep-poor job of execution, they are "cone chippin'," or depending on your geographical configuration, "corn chipping."
We see it all the time. I don't like to be hyper-critical of guys' playing abilities, but when they act like they got it going on and clearly DON'T, they become fair game. See: Most of the bands on "The Next Great American Band."
Sadly, I have played quite a few gigs where the chips were flying, and in the interest of providing some relief from all the crooked-preacher-ranting, I will be recounting some of them from time to time.
Like two weeks ago when doing a Jewish wedding, our boss/bandleader neither told us that we had to play "Hava Nagila" nor provided us with the music!!! Come on, now! How you gonna do a JEWISH wedding and butcher up the Jewish WEDDING song?!? I was furious! That's like playing for Sinatra and not knowing, "My WAY!" That's like George Bush writing a speech and not using spell check! Cone CHIPPIN', y'all!
And a WEEK later, we were supposed to do "Just the Way You Are" for the bride and groom's first dance, and he didn't tell us about THAT either!!! That doggone song has more changes in it than a freekin' Liberace show! The singer knew the words, and thought the keyboard player knew it. The bandleader/bassplayer (the LOUDEST instrument on the stage!) tried to catch it on the fly and sounded like he was playing with oven mitts on from the back of a galloping horse! It was crickets and coughing up in there after that was over. (add to that the fact that we started 45 minutes LATE!!!) I can't go on like this!! Chippun'! Calgon, come git me!!!
The only Christian tail I can pin on this is that I can't cuss folk out and act a fool in public because of how it would make God look. Thanks for the handcuffs, Lord.
By the way... click this link and you will hear a rehearsal for a Marvin Gaye tribute we do yearly. http://myspacetv.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=8227470 The other horns and the strings and backing vocalists were not here on this day, so use your imagination. This is NOT the band I was just griping about!
Sax- me.
Trumpet/flugel- Marc Franklin
Bass- Jackie Clark
Vocals- Larry Springfield
Drums- Dave Mason
Keys- Tim Terry
Percussion-Felix Hernandez
Guitar- Joe Restivo
This is how slang terms get invented.
A couple years ago we, the house band at BB King's club in Memphis, went to Chicago to do a gig at the Isaac HAYES' club (this got us cussed out by Tommy Peters, the BB's owner! "How tha bleep y'all gone take off from playin' at MY fragglerockin' club, an go all tha way ta ChaCAgo to put money inta tha pocket of tha shadrackin' people that tryin' ta shut my meshackin' place down?!?). The parent company of Isaac Hayes club in Memphis "allegedly" tried to mount a subversive campaign to drive the club out of business.
We were known as "Ty Brown," and to date, it is the best band I've ever played in.
It was the dead of winter, and the eight of us were crammed into this 15 passenger van, which any musician or church group knows won't seat 15 grown, often fat, people! It was TIGHT! Plus, all the pillows, blankets, bags and snacks took up any extra room. I, after six years of playing for blues singer, Denise LaSalle, had grown used to sitting in the back. Sorry, Rosa.
When we reached our destination, I squeezed my way out from the back past some of the guys in front of me who were moving too slowly. Then it hit me. Rather, it hit my NOSE.
"Man!" I said. "Somebody FEET cone CHIPPIN!" (meaning, for the unaware among you, that somebody's feet smelled remarkably like an open bag of corn chips whose expiration date had lonnnng passed)
They all laughed. But one guy laughed the hardest. I suspect that HE was the posessor of the putrid podiatry. I did not do further investigation, though. It ain't good to be in close quarters with your shoes off on a long trip if your dogs are barkin'.
I just said it in passing, but it kind of caught on. The next thing I knew, it had transmogrified into a musical term which defined bad playing. Now, if a band is doing a bleep-poor job of execution, they are "cone chippin'," or depending on your geographical configuration, "corn chipping."
We see it all the time. I don't like to be hyper-critical of guys' playing abilities, but when they act like they got it going on and clearly DON'T, they become fair game. See: Most of the bands on "The Next Great American Band."
Sadly, I have played quite a few gigs where the chips were flying, and in the interest of providing some relief from all the crooked-preacher-ranting, I will be recounting some of them from time to time.
Like two weeks ago when doing a Jewish wedding, our boss/bandleader neither told us that we had to play "Hava Nagila" nor provided us with the music!!! Come on, now! How you gonna do a JEWISH wedding and butcher up the Jewish WEDDING song?!? I was furious! That's like playing for Sinatra and not knowing, "My WAY!" That's like George Bush writing a speech and not using spell check! Cone CHIPPIN', y'all!
And a WEEK later, we were supposed to do "Just the Way You Are" for the bride and groom's first dance, and he didn't tell us about THAT either!!! That doggone song has more changes in it than a freekin' Liberace show! The singer knew the words, and thought the keyboard player knew it. The bandleader/bassplayer (the LOUDEST instrument on the stage!) tried to catch it on the fly and sounded like he was playing with oven mitts on from the back of a galloping horse! It was crickets and coughing up in there after that was over. (add to that the fact that we started 45 minutes LATE!!!) I can't go on like this!! Chippun'! Calgon, come git me!!!
The only Christian tail I can pin on this is that I can't cuss folk out and act a fool in public because of how it would make God look. Thanks for the handcuffs, Lord.
By the way... click this link and you will hear a rehearsal for a Marvin Gaye tribute we do yearly. http://myspacetv.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=8227470 The other horns and the strings and backing vocalists were not here on this day, so use your imagination. This is NOT the band I was just griping about!
Sax- me.
Trumpet/flugel- Marc Franklin
Bass- Jackie Clark
Vocals- Larry Springfield
Drums- Dave Mason
Keys- Tim Terry
Percussion-Felix Hernandez
Guitar- Joe Restivo
Saturday, October 27, 2007
F.O.D. Not What You Think... Wait. It MAY Be
Okay, this one may get a little scatalogical...
I used to be in the Air Force in one of my other lifetimes. I was a missile technician. Sometimes we would work on the flight line and be around the fighter jets. We were constantly warned about foreign object damage (f.o.d.). Screws, gravel, ink pen caps... all this type stuff, anything on the runway that can be sucked into the jet engine, is considered FOD.
A few years ago, well after my time in the service was completed, I played in this band, Three Nice Guys, that used to do all kinds of stuff; jazz, pop, country, r&b, everything. An executive at FedEx here in Memphis had an idea of incorporating live music into their monthly (I believe) status meetings. I'm not a corporate guy, so I'm probably not calling it what it was.
We would meet at the front gate of the "Hub" at the unGODly hour of around 7 am, get passes, and drive our vehicles onto the highly restricted and secure flight line to set up for the 9 am meeting. It felt kind of cool to see the stares of the working stiffs who seemed to think, "Who are these guys who get to drive their vehicles onto the highly restricted and secure flight line?"
What was to happen was that we would, in this room that seated about 50 people, play while the corporate types drank coffee and ate and mingled and such. When the main speaker got up, we would do some Johnny Carson-type fanfare stuff. When each new person was introduced, we would play something appropriate from a TV show, a commercial, or anthing. For instance, If the person was from Chicago, we would break into "Chicago" as he approached the podium.
Breck, the keyboard/keyboard bass player, is a genius and knows a million songs. He has perfect pitch (google it) and almost perfect recall, so we had a library of tunes at our disposal.
Now, what I must mention here is that the band was set up in the front of the room on the stage. Directly next to the podium. Remember that.
This one particular meeting is the point of this post. A lady got up to talk about the status of "foreign object damage" and what improvements there had been in its reduction. She spoke about how important it was to be vigilant in the prevention of foreign object damage and how much money was lost at each incidence of foreign object damage. After a while, she abbreviated the term to F.O.D., and a minute or so later, she just shortened it further to "fod" to save time.
It is important to note that White folks and Black folks speak differently. This woman was White.
FedEx is a company known and admired for its fairness is diverse hiring practices. at least half the room was Black. The band was all Black.
The speech went something like this:
"I just want ya to know, you're doing a bang up job in keepin' yer fod to a minimum. But we can do better. The Memphis hub has had a 30 per cent reduction in fod over tha last quarter, but in tha last month, you had 3 cases of fod. What happened? Why the increase in fod? You managers are gonna have to do whatever it takes to keep the fod down."
Right here is where I tell you that, phonetically, the word WE use for the Godly act of passing gas sounds UNCANNILY like "fod". Now, I pride myself in not being inappropriately silly. Certainly, as a musician, I have heard all the stereotypes about how irresponsible we are. I did not, sitting right up front in front of all these corporate executives, want to appear silly. But this woman had "fod" on the brain. And being White, she appeared to have no IDEA that what she was repeatedly saying was like poking us in the side. I'm ticklish right there.
We were cool the first couple of times she used the word, but Lord have mercy, she talked for about thirty minutes!!!
"Fod damage is dangerous and costly, folks. It costs us in lost equipment, but also in lost manhours. I can't tell you how much looking at the fod numbers leaves a bad taste in my mouth! When a plane has to be repaired. It's cuzza fod. When guys haveta do extra duty (doody?)? It can usually be traced back ta fod. We GOTTA keep it down folks! Fod is a stench in the nose of a company like FedEx!"
It started with a shiver.
We in the band were set up in somewhat of a circle, facing each other. I could see every attempt they made at trying not to laugh. It only made it funnier. When something embarrassing happens onstage, I usually try to avert my attention by fumbling with my reed or mouthpiece, or by otherwise occupying myself.
Like the time when Kevin, my best friend, and I were doing this wedding...
The church was set up so that the whole back wall was glass. CLEAR glass. From floor to ceiling. The preacher's back was to the glass, and the audience was facing it. Kevin sings, and while we were waiting soberly for his turn, we noticed this big flock of birds sitting in a tree outside. A squirrel or something scared the birds and they suddenly flew away in our direction. Now, the preacher was praying, I think, so everyone's eyes were closed but ours. We were working. Playing soft music.
Most of the birds veered sharply away at the last moment, but one missed. He didn't see the glass.
BAM! flutterflutterflutterflutter. Dead. I squeezed my eyes shut!! Tears forming. Shuddering.
Bowing, praying now. "Lord! Pleeeeeze help me!" I snorted and snotted a little bit... I fumbled with my reed to busy myself.
But Kevin outright laughed. In the middle of that solemn prayer. For just a nanosecond. But that was all it took for him to get glares from a lot of the people there... So when I have moments like these, I PRAY to the Lord to take the funnyness away.
Breck shivered. He and Herman, the drummer, weren't saved back then, and they didn't seem to have the compulsion to be serious. I fumbled around with something or other, praying to the Lord that this woman wouldn't say "fod" no more, and I think He was laughing, too! I had to close my eyes. It worked for a few seconds. I thought it was over. "Cool. Okay. I'm cool"
"So, what can we do to prevent fod?"
I know you all have had those moments. In class, or in church. You tell yourself it'll be funny later, but it suuure ain't right NOW! Even though it is.
We were all looking at each other pleeeading for something to make it stop! But she just kept on, culturally blind to what she was doing to us! I mean, we were in the front of the room! And I could clearly imagine what would happen if one of us undisciplined musicians lost control.
"What can we do to keep the fod down? Fod fod fod fodfodfodfod." She would NOT STOP!
Herman, who was crying, let out a squeak that sounded like when someone steps on a dog's foot. My face was mashed all up as though someone really was passing gas, and when Herman squeaked, Breck, who was sitting on a swiveling stool, jerked around, away from the audience in this small room.
At that point, the Lord heard my prayer. Someone in the audience, someone Black, probably heard Herman and broke out laughing, and the room erupted! Exploded in laughter! Relieved and thankful, we all did the same! It felt like making it to the bathroom juuuust in time. We spent the next two or three minutes in uncontrolled head-shaking, knee-slapping tripping!
I was just so glad that it wasn't one of us musicians who broke that particular iceberg. What surprised me was that so many of the rest of the people in that room were trying to fight off the same onslaught. White and Black. The only person clueless was the speaker, who looked up, startled, trying to see what had happened. The head guy, who was Black, came up and whispered it all in her ear. She was mortified!
Those times happened to me a lot. It is proof that God DOES have a sense of humor. He HAD to have been laughing. Flatulence was His invention, although the word for it is probably ours...
It is cool that in spite of all our supposed differences, we of different races find common ground in times of humorous adversity.
God invented laughing. He is all right wit' me!
I used to be in the Air Force in one of my other lifetimes. I was a missile technician. Sometimes we would work on the flight line and be around the fighter jets. We were constantly warned about foreign object damage (f.o.d.). Screws, gravel, ink pen caps... all this type stuff, anything on the runway that can be sucked into the jet engine, is considered FOD.
A few years ago, well after my time in the service was completed, I played in this band, Three Nice Guys, that used to do all kinds of stuff; jazz, pop, country, r&b, everything. An executive at FedEx here in Memphis had an idea of incorporating live music into their monthly (I believe) status meetings. I'm not a corporate guy, so I'm probably not calling it what it was.
We would meet at the front gate of the "Hub" at the unGODly hour of around 7 am, get passes, and drive our vehicles onto the highly restricted and secure flight line to set up for the 9 am meeting. It felt kind of cool to see the stares of the working stiffs who seemed to think, "Who are these guys who get to drive their vehicles onto the highly restricted and secure flight line?"
What was to happen was that we would, in this room that seated about 50 people, play while the corporate types drank coffee and ate and mingled and such. When the main speaker got up, we would do some Johnny Carson-type fanfare stuff. When each new person was introduced, we would play something appropriate from a TV show, a commercial, or anthing. For instance, If the person was from Chicago, we would break into "Chicago" as he approached the podium.
Breck, the keyboard/keyboard bass player, is a genius and knows a million songs. He has perfect pitch (google it) and almost perfect recall, so we had a library of tunes at our disposal.
Now, what I must mention here is that the band was set up in the front of the room on the stage. Directly next to the podium. Remember that.
This one particular meeting is the point of this post. A lady got up to talk about the status of "foreign object damage" and what improvements there had been in its reduction. She spoke about how important it was to be vigilant in the prevention of foreign object damage and how much money was lost at each incidence of foreign object damage. After a while, she abbreviated the term to F.O.D., and a minute or so later, she just shortened it further to "fod" to save time.
It is important to note that White folks and Black folks speak differently. This woman was White.
FedEx is a company known and admired for its fairness is diverse hiring practices. at least half the room was Black. The band was all Black.
The speech went something like this:
"I just want ya to know, you're doing a bang up job in keepin' yer fod to a minimum. But we can do better. The Memphis hub has had a 30 per cent reduction in fod over tha last quarter, but in tha last month, you had 3 cases of fod. What happened? Why the increase in fod? You managers are gonna have to do whatever it takes to keep the fod down."
Right here is where I tell you that, phonetically, the word WE use for the Godly act of passing gas sounds UNCANNILY like "fod". Now, I pride myself in not being inappropriately silly. Certainly, as a musician, I have heard all the stereotypes about how irresponsible we are. I did not, sitting right up front in front of all these corporate executives, want to appear silly. But this woman had "fod" on the brain. And being White, she appeared to have no IDEA that what she was repeatedly saying was like poking us in the side. I'm ticklish right there.
We were cool the first couple of times she used the word, but Lord have mercy, she talked for about thirty minutes!!!
"Fod damage is dangerous and costly, folks. It costs us in lost equipment, but also in lost manhours. I can't tell you how much looking at the fod numbers leaves a bad taste in my mouth! When a plane has to be repaired. It's cuzza fod. When guys haveta do extra duty (doody?)? It can usually be traced back ta fod. We GOTTA keep it down folks! Fod is a stench in the nose of a company like FedEx!"
It started with a shiver.
We in the band were set up in somewhat of a circle, facing each other. I could see every attempt they made at trying not to laugh. It only made it funnier. When something embarrassing happens onstage, I usually try to avert my attention by fumbling with my reed or mouthpiece, or by otherwise occupying myself.
Like the time when Kevin, my best friend, and I were doing this wedding...
The church was set up so that the whole back wall was glass. CLEAR glass. From floor to ceiling. The preacher's back was to the glass, and the audience was facing it. Kevin sings, and while we were waiting soberly for his turn, we noticed this big flock of birds sitting in a tree outside. A squirrel or something scared the birds and they suddenly flew away in our direction. Now, the preacher was praying, I think, so everyone's eyes were closed but ours. We were working. Playing soft music.
Most of the birds veered sharply away at the last moment, but one missed. He didn't see the glass.
BAM! flutterflutterflutterflutter. Dead. I squeezed my eyes shut!! Tears forming. Shuddering.
Bowing, praying now. "Lord! Pleeeeeze help me!" I snorted and snotted a little bit... I fumbled with my reed to busy myself.
But Kevin outright laughed. In the middle of that solemn prayer. For just a nanosecond. But that was all it took for him to get glares from a lot of the people there... So when I have moments like these, I PRAY to the Lord to take the funnyness away.
Breck shivered. He and Herman, the drummer, weren't saved back then, and they didn't seem to have the compulsion to be serious. I fumbled around with something or other, praying to the Lord that this woman wouldn't say "fod" no more, and I think He was laughing, too! I had to close my eyes. It worked for a few seconds. I thought it was over. "Cool. Okay. I'm cool"
"So, what can we do to prevent fod?"
I know you all have had those moments. In class, or in church. You tell yourself it'll be funny later, but it suuure ain't right NOW! Even though it is.
We were all looking at each other pleeeading for something to make it stop! But she just kept on, culturally blind to what she was doing to us! I mean, we were in the front of the room! And I could clearly imagine what would happen if one of us undisciplined musicians lost control.
"What can we do to keep the fod down? Fod fod fod fodfodfodfod." She would NOT STOP!
Herman, who was crying, let out a squeak that sounded like when someone steps on a dog's foot. My face was mashed all up as though someone really was passing gas, and when Herman squeaked, Breck, who was sitting on a swiveling stool, jerked around, away from the audience in this small room.
At that point, the Lord heard my prayer. Someone in the audience, someone Black, probably heard Herman and broke out laughing, and the room erupted! Exploded in laughter! Relieved and thankful, we all did the same! It felt like making it to the bathroom juuuust in time. We spent the next two or three minutes in uncontrolled head-shaking, knee-slapping tripping!
I was just so glad that it wasn't one of us musicians who broke that particular iceberg. What surprised me was that so many of the rest of the people in that room were trying to fight off the same onslaught. White and Black. The only person clueless was the speaker, who looked up, startled, trying to see what had happened. The head guy, who was Black, came up and whispered it all in her ear. She was mortified!
Those times happened to me a lot. It is proof that God DOES have a sense of humor. He HAD to have been laughing. Flatulence was His invention, although the word for it is probably ours...
It is cool that in spite of all our supposed differences, we of different races find common ground in times of humorous adversity.
God invented laughing. He is all right wit' me!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
The Hypocralypse
Williams' Dictionary.
The "Hypocralypse" (hi-POK-ra-lips) n def. - The sudden upsurge of "preachers" (read: "Carnival Barkers") who convolute the Gospel into a means of obtaining wealth from their "marks" by telling them to go get it from God.
Key sign of the Hypocralypse: They boast of great wealth and "Supernatural Favor," they flaunt their Bentley's or top-end Mercedes', they regale with stories of lavish mansions, (tax free "parsonages"). And rather than share with you the wealth they got from you, they make up magical formulas disguised as "Biblical Principles" for you to "tap into" the same blessings of God.
ex. "Use the same faith God used, the "God kind of Faith," and create whatever you want, just like God did! Being made in the image of God means you can develop your Faith to the point to where you can do exactly what HE did!"
The Hypocralypse is often associated with "Immagettin" (ah-mah-GED-n) n , which is the great battle being waged by biblically loyal Christians against crooked, heartless, greedy, satin-tongued fake prognosticators who are "gettin'" every dime they have from those who don't know and don't WANNA know the hard Truths of Scripture.
The fighting is fierce, and the enemy is great in number, but as always, the Lord will win out with fewer soldiers that He may prove His might! There will be no secret, "catching away" of the saints in this battle! The example of Scripture is that Christians have to join the battle, not hide away from it.
If you are angry about these terms, you are either a three-legged sheep, or a wolf with a lambhock in ya mowf (mouth)!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Music and Drama
Yeah, I play the saxophone. Mostly, right now, I play section stuff in r&b bands doing clubs, occasional casinos, and various parties. I want to front my own band, but with all of the drama that goes on with guys showing up late, getting drunk, forgetting parts, and other musician stuff, I've declared that I would not get my own band until I got a manager to deal with all that junk!
I see a lot of stuff. Things that make me laugh, things that make me angry, and things that make me pray! I've seen guys do things that I can't figure out how to clean up enough to write about that would make you fall out laughing.
See, being a Christian puts me in the position of being the "Mr. Good Guy" who tries to be some kind of example (at least) in the face of a lot of debauchery. The one band that I work primarily for, which will have to remain nameless because some guys' wives may read blawgs, provides a lot of material. We do this club gig on Monday nights in downtown Memphis, and although I haven't seen anyone knifed, I've seen just about everything else. Like the time my boy Curtis got into it with these two guys about them stealing money from the tip jar...
Curtis plays trumpet with us sometimes, along with Marc. On this night he was playing with the house band, of which he is the leader.
Anyway, Curtis confronts this guy, a part-time bodyguard and full-time drug seller Darryl, I believe he is named, about the cash, and the argument escalates until Darryl, about 6'-4", 280, draws him outside where his unnamed accomplice sneaks up behind him and knocks him down. (Curtis had slippery-bottomed dress shoes on, and it was drizzling outside.) After they get him down, they proceed to peel his head open with a music stand! All this while the band was onstage! Nobody helped him. A couple of the guys were mad at him about band stuff, and I guess the others were reluctant to maybe get shot. That was real messed up, though, for them to let that happen to him.
Curtis got a concealed weapon permit shortly thereafter. He said that he wasn't takin no more "A" whuppins!
So, yeah, a couple months later, after his stitches and everything came out, I was onstage at the club on a Monday and out the front window (the whole front wall is basically a window...), we see all these blue lights flashing. Folks in the club started to turn away from all the scintillating entertainment to see what was going on... Okay, here's what happened:
Apparently the night before, Curtis (A lot of stuff happened to Curtis, but he always lands on his feet. Except for that last time...) was hanging out at the bar. He wasn't working that night, just hanging. His wallet came up stolen. So, I guess the guy who stole it, not knowing that the guy he stole it from actually WORKS in the place(!), was at the front window bar posing as guess who?! The manager on duty (foolishly?) calls Curtis at home and tells him about it and that the guy is running up charges on his card but not to worry that he has him on ice.
Curtis, I guess, gets this new gun and shoots down to the club. We're onstage while all this is going on.
So, anyway Curtis gets out of the truck, a Tahoe with big, shiny rims on it, and decides against bringing the gun in. See, the cops set up shop right outside the front door of the club.
But just at the last second, Curtis has a change of heart and turns around to get his gun. This is Beale street, a main tourist attraction in Memphis, and there were a lot of people walking around on a Monday summer night. This White lady saw Curtis stick his gun in his pants and immediately calls 911 with the details: "This Black guy just got a gun out of this big, pimped-out suv and stuffed it in his pants! He looks angry!"
Okay, now we're back to the point at which I see all the blue lights.
So, they got Curtis on the ground, right? And they got guns drawn on him, and feet and knees and stuff on his neck, and they're shouting and cussing at him, okay? And Curtis was thinking, "I wasn't gone shoot the guy, I was just gone persuade 'im. Scare him a little bit." He didn't get a chance to say none of that to the cops. Too much aaasphalt in his mouth.
We were almost through with our second of three sets when all this came together, so when we ended the last song, I shot out the side door and ran around to see what had happened. See, a waitress came to the front of the stage and told the lead singer that Curtis had been arrested, and he told ME. So all I knew at that time was that my padnuh (friend) was in the "back seat." As I approached the car, his girlfriend (I GOTTA tell you about HER!) beseeched me, "Tell him to bee qwiiiiet! Carlos almos' had him out, but hee won't quit cussin' the po-leece out!" Translation: They were about to let him go, but his persistent belligerence negated that possibility.
"Curtis, shut up!" I said. "Just shut up!"
Curtis said through the tiny crack in the window, with his arms politely behind his back, something like, "Man fornicate these cops! I tole them I had a permit, but they ain't lissen!"
That was probably because cops don't generally like to be cursed out by gun-toting Black guys. Permit or no permit. If he had just calmly let them slam him to the ground, everything would have been sorted out with only minor cuts and bruises. Better yet, if he had adhered to the law that states that you can't have a pistol where alcohol is sold and left his gat in the truck, I would have no story to tell.
As it was, Carlos, the manager, was able to get the thief locked up, but unable to keep Curtis from going to jail. It was a CIRCUS! We were back onstage playing "Brick House"(I hate that tune!), or some other drivel, and Curtis was in the back seat of a police car in the front window of the club where he worked, spitting and cursing, and about to go to the BIG house while the actual criminal was in the car next to him chillin! They spent the night in the SAME JAIL!! The folks in the club looked like they were watching a tennis match, heads going back and forth from the band to the front window.
That, folks, is the environment in which I live out my Christianity. I try to be light to the guys with whom I work, doling out Scripture and advice whenever appropriate, but guys don't often like to be preached at. I pray for them, though. Would you do so, too? My work world is not much different than a restaurant (I did that too, once, and it was BABYLON, believe me!), an office, or many other occupations. I am blessed that the Lord strengthens me and enables me to remain free of drug use and some of the other common pitfalls that accompany a musical life. Ironically, it was Curtis Monday night who suggested that I write some of these stories down in a book. Maybe I will clean up a few more stories, if you like, and write them here. Let me know. In the words of that great theologian, Rodney Dangerfield, "I gotta million of 'em!"
Remind me to tell you about the time one of his women tried to run him over. Or the time Larry, another singer, got mad and walked out while we were playing his intro music... Or the time Bill C. took a deaf groupie to his hotel room and tried to whisper "sweet nothings" to her in the dark! Naw, I can't figure out how to tie a Christian tail on that one. Peace.
I see a lot of stuff. Things that make me laugh, things that make me angry, and things that make me pray! I've seen guys do things that I can't figure out how to clean up enough to write about that would make you fall out laughing.
See, being a Christian puts me in the position of being the "Mr. Good Guy" who tries to be some kind of example (at least) in the face of a lot of debauchery. The one band that I work primarily for, which will have to remain nameless because some guys' wives may read blawgs, provides a lot of material. We do this club gig on Monday nights in downtown Memphis, and although I haven't seen anyone knifed, I've seen just about everything else. Like the time my boy Curtis got into it with these two guys about them stealing money from the tip jar...
Curtis plays trumpet with us sometimes, along with Marc. On this night he was playing with the house band, of which he is the leader.
Anyway, Curtis confronts this guy, a part-time bodyguard and full-time drug seller Darryl, I believe he is named, about the cash, and the argument escalates until Darryl, about 6'-4", 280, draws him outside where his unnamed accomplice sneaks up behind him and knocks him down. (Curtis had slippery-bottomed dress shoes on, and it was drizzling outside.) After they get him down, they proceed to peel his head open with a music stand! All this while the band was onstage! Nobody helped him. A couple of the guys were mad at him about band stuff, and I guess the others were reluctant to maybe get shot. That was real messed up, though, for them to let that happen to him.
Curtis got a concealed weapon permit shortly thereafter. He said that he wasn't takin no more "A" whuppins!
So, yeah, a couple months later, after his stitches and everything came out, I was onstage at the club on a Monday and out the front window (the whole front wall is basically a window...), we see all these blue lights flashing. Folks in the club started to turn away from all the scintillating entertainment to see what was going on... Okay, here's what happened:
Apparently the night before, Curtis (A lot of stuff happened to Curtis, but he always lands on his feet. Except for that last time...) was hanging out at the bar. He wasn't working that night, just hanging. His wallet came up stolen. So, I guess the guy who stole it, not knowing that the guy he stole it from actually WORKS in the place(!), was at the front window bar posing as guess who?! The manager on duty (foolishly?) calls Curtis at home and tells him about it and that the guy is running up charges on his card but not to worry that he has him on ice.
Curtis, I guess, gets this new gun and shoots down to the club. We're onstage while all this is going on.
So, anyway Curtis gets out of the truck, a Tahoe with big, shiny rims on it, and decides against bringing the gun in. See, the cops set up shop right outside the front door of the club.
But just at the last second, Curtis has a change of heart and turns around to get his gun. This is Beale street, a main tourist attraction in Memphis, and there were a lot of people walking around on a Monday summer night. This White lady saw Curtis stick his gun in his pants and immediately calls 911 with the details: "This Black guy just got a gun out of this big, pimped-out suv and stuffed it in his pants! He looks angry!"
Okay, now we're back to the point at which I see all the blue lights.
So, they got Curtis on the ground, right? And they got guns drawn on him, and feet and knees and stuff on his neck, and they're shouting and cussing at him, okay? And Curtis was thinking, "I wasn't gone shoot the guy, I was just gone persuade 'im. Scare him a little bit." He didn't get a chance to say none of that to the cops. Too much aaasphalt in his mouth.
We were almost through with our second of three sets when all this came together, so when we ended the last song, I shot out the side door and ran around to see what had happened. See, a waitress came to the front of the stage and told the lead singer that Curtis had been arrested, and he told ME. So all I knew at that time was that my padnuh (friend) was in the "back seat." As I approached the car, his girlfriend (I GOTTA tell you about HER!) beseeched me, "Tell him to bee qwiiiiet! Carlos almos' had him out, but hee won't quit cussin' the po-leece out!" Translation: They were about to let him go, but his persistent belligerence negated that possibility.
"Curtis, shut up!" I said. "Just shut up!"
Curtis said through the tiny crack in the window, with his arms politely behind his back, something like, "Man fornicate these cops! I tole them I had a permit, but they ain't lissen!"
That was probably because cops don't generally like to be cursed out by gun-toting Black guys. Permit or no permit. If he had just calmly let them slam him to the ground, everything would have been sorted out with only minor cuts and bruises. Better yet, if he had adhered to the law that states that you can't have a pistol where alcohol is sold and left his gat in the truck, I would have no story to tell.
As it was, Carlos, the manager, was able to get the thief locked up, but unable to keep Curtis from going to jail. It was a CIRCUS! We were back onstage playing "Brick House"(I hate that tune!), or some other drivel, and Curtis was in the back seat of a police car in the front window of the club where he worked, spitting and cursing, and about to go to the BIG house while the actual criminal was in the car next to him chillin! They spent the night in the SAME JAIL!! The folks in the club looked like they were watching a tennis match, heads going back and forth from the band to the front window.
That, folks, is the environment in which I live out my Christianity. I try to be light to the guys with whom I work, doling out Scripture and advice whenever appropriate, but guys don't often like to be preached at. I pray for them, though. Would you do so, too? My work world is not much different than a restaurant (I did that too, once, and it was BABYLON, believe me!), an office, or many other occupations. I am blessed that the Lord strengthens me and enables me to remain free of drug use and some of the other common pitfalls that accompany a musical life. Ironically, it was Curtis Monday night who suggested that I write some of these stories down in a book. Maybe I will clean up a few more stories, if you like, and write them here. Let me know. In the words of that great theologian, Rodney Dangerfield, "I gotta million of 'em!"
Remind me to tell you about the time one of his women tried to run him over. Or the time Larry, another singer, got mad and walked out while we were playing his intro music... Or the time Bill C. took a deaf groupie to his hotel room and tried to whisper "sweet nothings" to her in the dark! Naw, I can't figure out how to tie a Christian tail on that one. Peace.
Monday, October 15, 2007
More Buzz Words
Here are a few more catch phrases used by those in the prosperity movement. As I stated in an earlier post, if you hear two or three of these in one sermon or telecast, run for your soul! This spiritual bubble gum can make you feel good about yourself, but you'll get scurvy or something else if you try to live on it!
1"We 'bout to go into the enemy's camp and take back everthang he took from us!!!" (I thought Jesus already did that on the Cross?? What biblical precedent is there for this kind of declaration? Did the enemy take your BMW, or your Huzzzband, or your new house? Stop. Please.)
2 "I'm walkin' in my authority."
3 CO-pastor, Mrs. so and so (Was your wife on the other line when God called you to preach?)
4 (In prayer) "Satan, I bind you..." (We don't pray to the DEVIL! And besides, if you keep binding him, how does he keep getting loose? Does the demon of rope-breaking sneak in and break him free? Or did the demon of nicotine light a cigarette and burn the rope up?) By the way, get out your Bible and flip to 2 Peter, 2: 10, 11, and Jude 8, 9, and notice that the very angels, even Michael, the Archangel dared "not bring slanderous accusations" against the devil and his demons. How dare we do it? "Bold and arrogant," however are the false teachers that use the Word of God for selfish gain.
5 "In this hour," as in, "God is about to do a NEW thing in the body of Christ 'in this hour' "
6 "Move of God," as in, "...the divine spiritual prophetic manifestation of the 'move of God.' "
7 "Uh oh!! Um preachin' now!!"
8 "I declare... I release... I decree... I speak blessings, prosperity, breakthrough, etc. into your life!" Note the emphasis!
And where did all these doctorates come from?
Can someone send me the link to the website so I can get one too? No, not every doctor is a pimp, but just about every pulpit hustler is a trumped-up, bible-twisting doctor! I guess it adds weight. Creflo is a doctor like Judy is a judge!
1"We 'bout to go into the enemy's camp and take back everthang he took from us!!!" (I thought Jesus already did that on the Cross?? What biblical precedent is there for this kind of declaration? Did the enemy take your BMW, or your Huzzzband, or your new house? Stop. Please.)
2 "I'm walkin' in my authority."
3 CO-pastor, Mrs. so and so (Was your wife on the other line when God called you to preach?)
4 (In prayer) "Satan, I bind you..." (We don't pray to the DEVIL! And besides, if you keep binding him, how does he keep getting loose? Does the demon of rope-breaking sneak in and break him free? Or did the demon of nicotine light a cigarette and burn the rope up?) By the way, get out your Bible and flip to 2 Peter, 2: 10, 11, and Jude 8, 9, and notice that the very angels, even Michael, the Archangel dared "not bring slanderous accusations" against the devil and his demons. How dare we do it? "Bold and arrogant," however are the false teachers that use the Word of God for selfish gain.
5 "In this hour," as in, "God is about to do a NEW thing in the body of Christ 'in this hour' "
6 "Move of God," as in, "...the divine spiritual prophetic manifestation of the 'move of God.' "
7 "Uh oh!! Um preachin' now!!"
8 "I declare... I release... I decree... I speak blessings, prosperity, breakthrough, etc. into your life!" Note the emphasis!
And where did all these doctorates come from?
Can someone send me the link to the website so I can get one too? No, not every doctor is a pimp, but just about every pulpit hustler is a trumped-up, bible-twisting doctor! I guess it adds weight. Creflo is a doctor like Judy is a judge!
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Oprah Got Halle Berry Pregnant.
Hear me out...
Guru Oprah says that we are EVOLVING into another species! And that on that basis, marriage is becoming irrelevant. She wonders, "Who can say if they will want the same person in 35 years?" (yet she chastises men who demonstrate her way of thinking by leaving their wives for other women.) This logic doesn't hold weight when extended to the fullest.
I saw and heard Guru Oprah say this a few years ago when Halle Berry was a guest on her show after Berry's divorce from singer, Eric Benet. They were on the couch together discussing the fallen state of traditional marriage. That conversation has stayed in my mind since then.
Everyone knows the public parts of Oprah's life ; dating, co-habitating with Stedman Graham for years, no children, no desire for marriage. She has gone a long way, I think, towards shaping public opinion on pregnancy and marriage. She specifically told Halle that she "didn't need to be married to have a baby!"
She OBVIOUSLY knows the tremendous influence she has on millions of people with the success of her show and anything attached to it. She had to have known that her friend, Berry, would take her council to heart. To that extent, she is responsible, just as ANY false teacher is accountable for misleading the student.
Halle was obviously depressed and discouraged about another failed marriage, and I thought it was unfair for Oprah to guide her in the direction of eschewing the validity of marriage done right and down the path of New Age pagan self-fulfillment. Granted, a person who has sincerely held beliefs can be expected to endorse and promote those views, but it is clear today that unwed pregnancy is NOT the way to go. Babies are not Barbie dolls. And when her relationship inevitably ends... another child will be raised without the everyday presence of a father!
So, with the background music of Guru Oprah playing somwhere in the recesses of her mind, along with the tacit assent of the broader society, Halle, in her forties, unmarried, got pregnant. I thought this was a heck of a coincidence. And as is the norm today, there is no negative outrage. Only compliments on how glowingly beautiful she is in her expectant state. Fifty years ago, the actress, Ingrid Bergman, lost the major portion of her career for doing the same thing.
No, a person shouldn't necessarily be shunned, but a measure of SHAME is in order when committing what has been, from day ONE, sin in the eyes of God, whom so many claim to serve. (The laws of Oprah's god, the Universe may change, but GOD'S law is unbreakable!) I am ashamed before God for the things I do wrong. King David was ashamed (check the Psalms) for his adultery with Bathsheba, and for the murder of her husband, Uriah. Healthy shame has its place. It leads one to repentance and reform.
Halle should be ashamed of herself for conforming to the culture in such a negative way, and Oprah should be ashamed of herself for advising Berry that marriage is a malleable, transient, ultimately unnecessary state of being.
But I'll bet they're not!
And on those grounds, I assert that through her ill advice and rather hedonistic example, Guru Oprah got Halle Berry pregnant.
Guru Oprah says that we are EVOLVING into another species! And that on that basis, marriage is becoming irrelevant. She wonders, "Who can say if they will want the same person in 35 years?" (yet she chastises men who demonstrate her way of thinking by leaving their wives for other women.) This logic doesn't hold weight when extended to the fullest.
I saw and heard Guru Oprah say this a few years ago when Halle Berry was a guest on her show after Berry's divorce from singer, Eric Benet. They were on the couch together discussing the fallen state of traditional marriage. That conversation has stayed in my mind since then.
Everyone knows the public parts of Oprah's life ; dating, co-habitating with Stedman Graham for years, no children, no desire for marriage. She has gone a long way, I think, towards shaping public opinion on pregnancy and marriage. She specifically told Halle that she "didn't need to be married to have a baby!"
She OBVIOUSLY knows the tremendous influence she has on millions of people with the success of her show and anything attached to it. She had to have known that her friend, Berry, would take her council to heart. To that extent, she is responsible, just as ANY false teacher is accountable for misleading the student.
Halle was obviously depressed and discouraged about another failed marriage, and I thought it was unfair for Oprah to guide her in the direction of eschewing the validity of marriage done right and down the path of New Age pagan self-fulfillment. Granted, a person who has sincerely held beliefs can be expected to endorse and promote those views, but it is clear today that unwed pregnancy is NOT the way to go. Babies are not Barbie dolls. And when her relationship inevitably ends... another child will be raised without the everyday presence of a father!
So, with the background music of Guru Oprah playing somwhere in the recesses of her mind, along with the tacit assent of the broader society, Halle, in her forties, unmarried, got pregnant. I thought this was a heck of a coincidence. And as is the norm today, there is no negative outrage. Only compliments on how glowingly beautiful she is in her expectant state. Fifty years ago, the actress, Ingrid Bergman, lost the major portion of her career for doing the same thing.
No, a person shouldn't necessarily be shunned, but a measure of SHAME is in order when committing what has been, from day ONE, sin in the eyes of God, whom so many claim to serve. (The laws of Oprah's god, the Universe may change, but GOD'S law is unbreakable!) I am ashamed before God for the things I do wrong. King David was ashamed (check the Psalms) for his adultery with Bathsheba, and for the murder of her husband, Uriah. Healthy shame has its place. It leads one to repentance and reform.
Halle should be ashamed of herself for conforming to the culture in such a negative way, and Oprah should be ashamed of herself for advising Berry that marriage is a malleable, transient, ultimately unnecessary state of being.
But I'll bet they're not!
And on those grounds, I assert that through her ill advice and rather hedonistic example, Guru Oprah got Halle Berry pregnant.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Wailin' Like Whalum!
What field are you in? What activity do you wish you could make a living doing? Do you have a person in that arena that is the epitome of skill and expertise?
Are you a sports fan who admires A-Rod, or Jordan, or Peyton Manning? Are you a painter who loves the work of Rembrandt, or Picasso? Are you an aspiring actor or playwright? Do you work in the restaurant business, or the automobile design industry, or the cosmetology field?
If you think about it, every one of you has at least one person who is the icon of your admiration in a given area. I am a musician. By profession. I am of a blessed few who get to do the one thing I LOVE for a living, meager though it is right now. This means that the person I most look up to in the entire musical world does both what I love and what I do.
I am a saxophone player, and hopefully not a hack! I am not a poseur. I don't walk around town with my horn on my shoulder, and I don't dance when I play. I MOVE, though... For me, it is about getting better on that horn, and the musicians I most admire are serious about their discipline. My two favorite singers are Sam Cooke and Nat King Cole. My favorite female singer is Lalah Hathaway. Or maybe Sarah Vaughan. It's pretty close. My favorite piano player is Phineas Newborn, Jr.. My favorite trumpet player is, I think, Clifford Brown. My favorite guitar player is, maybe, Wes Montgomery. My favorite bass player is Marcus Miller. I don't have a favorite drummer.
There are a million sax players in this town alone. I love that the Lord gave me that instrument to play! It is so complex and so expressive. There are so many who play it well; Cannonball Adderley, Sonny Stitt, Coletrane, Joe Henderson, Grover Washington, Wilton Felder, Branford Marsalis, David Sanborn, Eric Alexander, Phil Woods, Paul Desmond (Take 5), Kirk Whalum, Bird, Stan Getz (Human velvet), Dexter Gordon, Chris Potter, Johnny Griffin, Kenny Garrett, Gerald Albright, and scores more.
The thing is this: Of all the singers I like, but didn't mention, and all of the other musicians whom I just love, the ONE who is my favorite-- out of all who have ever sung or played a single note-- is Kirk Whalum. You can agree or disagree, you can argue and present your case for the brilliance of Bird or Trane, and you can cite the mastery of Sarah Vaughan and Stevie. You can talk about Jimi Hendrix and Marvin Gaye and Brother Ray. You can plead the case for David Ruffin, or Billie Holliday, or Wynton Marsalis, or Sinatra, or Donny Hathaway, and you will have some valid points. But for my money, the one who resonates with me is Whalum.
He has the ability to convey pure, raw emotion in a single note. His horn sings and cries and shouts and growls. He is at once soulful, and harmonically competent. Not many can say this. They are usually one or the other. It is an awful thing to hear a straight-ahead cat (musicians say "cat") try to play some soul! And vicey-versey. He is the leader among guys who can make a sax sound almost human.
The moment I first heard him in a Denver record store way back when guesting on a Bob James record, I immediately asked the store manager who it was. I was hooked. That was how I wanted to sound! It sounded like he was wringing the notes from a wet towel! Every note was urgently played. I thought that if I could play like that, I would be able to tell girls with music what I was too scared to utter with words.
A year or so later, I heard him on a Luther Vandross album, and this one song, "Anyone Who Had A Heart, " by Bacharach, repeatedly put me in the saddest mood. Beautiful! I have followed his career since the first day, waiting on album releases, and buying every record I saw his name attached to. Some of them were duds with the songs he soloed on being the only ones I dug.
Somewhere in there, I decided that I wanted to do what he did. I wanted to drop out of architecture school and become a musician. It was the only thing I felt that I could really do and do well. I wanted to make people feel whatever emotion I felt when I played a song or a solo like Kirk Whalum did. I had a long, long way to go. (I only have a long way to go now.)
I started from scratch, not having any guidance. I began to teach myself licks, and turns, and scales, and phrases. And most of all, I worked on my TONE-- the way I sounded. I gigged with my friends who were grass-green like me, and we used to play at family house parties with just a piano amp, and no gear for no money. I graduated from there to playing for a gospel artist for no money. But we had gear, though.
After a year of that, I got a gig with blues singer, Denise LaSalle. I was on my way! I was making money, but the gear was AWFUL! I continued to teach myself by practicing the solos of Whalum, and my other "teacher," Grover Washington, as well as any other artist that inspired me. I played lead vocal melodies, piano solos, guitar solos, and everything. The main thing, though, was to always be soulful. And to have that pretty tone.
Friends would tell me (they still do) to be more of a showman, to walk into the audience, or to wave my hand like Dave Koz does. I just couldn't. "I just wanna get better on this horn," I always reply. If I am feeling what I am playing and move accordingly, sincerely, that is honest. For ME, it felt phoney to use gimmicks to get a response. I was trying to please musicians! If THEY dig you, then you know you're doing something. I may be wrong.
Now, from time to time, I get the comment that I "sound like Whalum." What was to be expected? I had played, really, millions of Kirk Whalum notes! Now, though, I have to find my voice out of all that emotion and wailing! There is already a Whalum. It's hard to be discouraged by hearing that, though. I kind of get the same feeling as when someone tells me I LOOK like my father. How can I not like that? My pops is the MAN!
So... my question is this: How would you, as a golf fanatic, like to play a round with Tiger, or Ernie Els? How would you, as a basketball player, like to be on Jordan's team? How would you, as a real estate person, like to spend time with Trump? Singer-- Stevie Wonder? Cook--Emeril, or Rachael Ray? Actor-- Hopkins, Hepburn, or Denzel? How would you feel if you, an average citizen, were called upon to perform with or for your greatest hero? How would you feel if, out of ALL the people in the world, the ONE person you most admire watched you do what HE does? And what if that thing that he does is not just your recreation, but your VOcation? How would you feel?
Well, today, at the church at which I play, the musical director said at the last minute, "Hey, let's play that Whalum tune we closed with last week!" That being the song from his just-released album that we sort of butchered up last week. At that very MOMENT Kirk Whalum and his wife walked in!!! Ohhh Lorrrd! I pride myself on not being scared of a musical challenge. How can I call myself worthy of being a contemporary of the masters if I am scared to do what I can do musically?
I was as scared as my little son, Max, when those guys in the hamburger suits come on the teevee!
Tim, the m.d., was like, "man, whass wrong witchu? I ain' neva seen you like this!"
"I ain' neva been like this," I said, knees sounding like dice about to come up snake-eyes. "I ain't prepared. That song has a crazy pattern that's hard to follow wit'out a chart!" It was 9:57. Church started at 10:00. No time to practice, and I couldn't punk out. So, I prayed, and we played. It was okay. Only minor mistakes. I do this for a living. But I didn't want to sound like a scrub with the icon of my artistic life sitting 20 feet away! There was a problem, though, and that is the reason for this post.
The service was about GOD. What about GOD? Isn't HE a greater audience than Kirk Whalum? Kirk, being a Godly man would say, "yes." (I know this because I have met him a few times, and he occasionally comes to my church. More pressure?!) All I could think of during the musical portion of the worship was, "Don't mess up, Kirk'll think you're a scrub. Play that flat 5 lick right here, Kirk'll think that was cool. Don't overplay, 'cause Kirk'll think you're into your self. I wonder what Kirk thought about that tag I put at the end of that last song?" I mean, I was in the same room as my hero, and I was playing HIS song, his style, his instrument! It was too much.
And I was so ashamed of myself. I kept apologizing to God for making Him ride in the back seat so Kirk could sit up front. "I'm sorry, Lord," I kept saying, and I kept shifting my focus back from God to man.
"I wonder if he heard that bad note? I wonder if he heard me play that cool run? Oh, Sorry, Lord."
My wife consoled me, saying tht the Lord understands, that I'm only human. True, but that fact didn't keep Him from holding us accountable for the fact that we sin. Without Jesus, we still suffer the repercussions of our actions. Humanity is no excuse for faults.
I know God forgave me, but the thing is that we need to be aware that God is always sitting on the front row. For every scene. Good AND bad. We should conduct ourselves according to the fact that the One universal Celebrity requires us to serve, worship, praise, and perform for HIM. And He deserves it. Look at all the stuff He did. All the things He made...
Kirk Whalum is not an idol of mine in the sense that he occupies God's throne of glory. His skill and talent, as are ALL of ours, are a sign of what God is capable of. That is why God gets the praise for the made putts and three-pointers, the Grammys and the Oscars, the pictures and the sculptures.
At the end of service this morning, as we played the benediction music, I felt someone come up from behind the chair in which I was sitting and grab me, choke hold style, around my neck.
"You blessed me, man! You really blessed me by playing my song!" Imagine Jordan telling you that you played well... Imagine that you felt that he meant it... That made my WEEK! And I thanked GOD!
I wanted to ask him a thousand questions... about mouthpieces, and horns, and chords and solos, and sessions, and about helping me make records. But I didn't get to. I don't like to crowd celebrities when I see them. They have lives. People are always trying to get something from them, and I feel that if I am good enough to do this on a higher plane the time will come when God says so. If I really CAN play, he, or someone, will give me ny shot.
So what I have is the memory of his gratitude. And my OWN gratitude to God for being so cool and merciful and Beautiful. And for inventing the saxophone and putting it in my hand.
Are you a sports fan who admires A-Rod, or Jordan, or Peyton Manning? Are you a painter who loves the work of Rembrandt, or Picasso? Are you an aspiring actor or playwright? Do you work in the restaurant business, or the automobile design industry, or the cosmetology field?
If you think about it, every one of you has at least one person who is the icon of your admiration in a given area. I am a musician. By profession. I am of a blessed few who get to do the one thing I LOVE for a living, meager though it is right now. This means that the person I most look up to in the entire musical world does both what I love and what I do.
I am a saxophone player, and hopefully not a hack! I am not a poseur. I don't walk around town with my horn on my shoulder, and I don't dance when I play. I MOVE, though... For me, it is about getting better on that horn, and the musicians I most admire are serious about their discipline. My two favorite singers are Sam Cooke and Nat King Cole. My favorite female singer is Lalah Hathaway. Or maybe Sarah Vaughan. It's pretty close. My favorite piano player is Phineas Newborn, Jr.. My favorite trumpet player is, I think, Clifford Brown. My favorite guitar player is, maybe, Wes Montgomery. My favorite bass player is Marcus Miller. I don't have a favorite drummer.
There are a million sax players in this town alone. I love that the Lord gave me that instrument to play! It is so complex and so expressive. There are so many who play it well; Cannonball Adderley, Sonny Stitt, Coletrane, Joe Henderson, Grover Washington, Wilton Felder, Branford Marsalis, David Sanborn, Eric Alexander, Phil Woods, Paul Desmond (Take 5), Kirk Whalum, Bird, Stan Getz (Human velvet), Dexter Gordon, Chris Potter, Johnny Griffin, Kenny Garrett, Gerald Albright, and scores more.
The thing is this: Of all the singers I like, but didn't mention, and all of the other musicians whom I just love, the ONE who is my favorite-- out of all who have ever sung or played a single note-- is Kirk Whalum. You can agree or disagree, you can argue and present your case for the brilliance of Bird or Trane, and you can cite the mastery of Sarah Vaughan and Stevie. You can talk about Jimi Hendrix and Marvin Gaye and Brother Ray. You can plead the case for David Ruffin, or Billie Holliday, or Wynton Marsalis, or Sinatra, or Donny Hathaway, and you will have some valid points. But for my money, the one who resonates with me is Whalum.
He has the ability to convey pure, raw emotion in a single note. His horn sings and cries and shouts and growls. He is at once soulful, and harmonically competent. Not many can say this. They are usually one or the other. It is an awful thing to hear a straight-ahead cat (musicians say "cat") try to play some soul! And vicey-versey. He is the leader among guys who can make a sax sound almost human.
The moment I first heard him in a Denver record store way back when guesting on a Bob James record, I immediately asked the store manager who it was. I was hooked. That was how I wanted to sound! It sounded like he was wringing the notes from a wet towel! Every note was urgently played. I thought that if I could play like that, I would be able to tell girls with music what I was too scared to utter with words.
A year or so later, I heard him on a Luther Vandross album, and this one song, "Anyone Who Had A Heart, " by Bacharach, repeatedly put me in the saddest mood. Beautiful! I have followed his career since the first day, waiting on album releases, and buying every record I saw his name attached to. Some of them were duds with the songs he soloed on being the only ones I dug.
Somewhere in there, I decided that I wanted to do what he did. I wanted to drop out of architecture school and become a musician. It was the only thing I felt that I could really do and do well. I wanted to make people feel whatever emotion I felt when I played a song or a solo like Kirk Whalum did. I had a long, long way to go. (I only have a long way to go now.)
I started from scratch, not having any guidance. I began to teach myself licks, and turns, and scales, and phrases. And most of all, I worked on my TONE-- the way I sounded. I gigged with my friends who were grass-green like me, and we used to play at family house parties with just a piano amp, and no gear for no money. I graduated from there to playing for a gospel artist for no money. But we had gear, though.
After a year of that, I got a gig with blues singer, Denise LaSalle. I was on my way! I was making money, but the gear was AWFUL! I continued to teach myself by practicing the solos of Whalum, and my other "teacher," Grover Washington, as well as any other artist that inspired me. I played lead vocal melodies, piano solos, guitar solos, and everything. The main thing, though, was to always be soulful. And to have that pretty tone.
Friends would tell me (they still do) to be more of a showman, to walk into the audience, or to wave my hand like Dave Koz does. I just couldn't. "I just wanna get better on this horn," I always reply. If I am feeling what I am playing and move accordingly, sincerely, that is honest. For ME, it felt phoney to use gimmicks to get a response. I was trying to please musicians! If THEY dig you, then you know you're doing something. I may be wrong.
Now, from time to time, I get the comment that I "sound like Whalum." What was to be expected? I had played, really, millions of Kirk Whalum notes! Now, though, I have to find my voice out of all that emotion and wailing! There is already a Whalum. It's hard to be discouraged by hearing that, though. I kind of get the same feeling as when someone tells me I LOOK like my father. How can I not like that? My pops is the MAN!
So... my question is this: How would you, as a golf fanatic, like to play a round with Tiger, or Ernie Els? How would you, as a basketball player, like to be on Jordan's team? How would you, as a real estate person, like to spend time with Trump? Singer-- Stevie Wonder? Cook--Emeril, or Rachael Ray? Actor-- Hopkins, Hepburn, or Denzel? How would you feel if you, an average citizen, were called upon to perform with or for your greatest hero? How would you feel if, out of ALL the people in the world, the ONE person you most admire watched you do what HE does? And what if that thing that he does is not just your recreation, but your VOcation? How would you feel?
Well, today, at the church at which I play, the musical director said at the last minute, "Hey, let's play that Whalum tune we closed with last week!" That being the song from his just-released album that we sort of butchered up last week. At that very MOMENT Kirk Whalum and his wife walked in!!! Ohhh Lorrrd! I pride myself on not being scared of a musical challenge. How can I call myself worthy of being a contemporary of the masters if I am scared to do what I can do musically?
I was as scared as my little son, Max, when those guys in the hamburger suits come on the teevee!
Tim, the m.d., was like, "man, whass wrong witchu? I ain' neva seen you like this!"
"I ain' neva been like this," I said, knees sounding like dice about to come up snake-eyes. "I ain't prepared. That song has a crazy pattern that's hard to follow wit'out a chart!" It was 9:57. Church started at 10:00. No time to practice, and I couldn't punk out. So, I prayed, and we played. It was okay. Only minor mistakes. I do this for a living. But I didn't want to sound like a scrub with the icon of my artistic life sitting 20 feet away! There was a problem, though, and that is the reason for this post.
The service was about GOD. What about GOD? Isn't HE a greater audience than Kirk Whalum? Kirk, being a Godly man would say, "yes." (I know this because I have met him a few times, and he occasionally comes to my church. More pressure?!) All I could think of during the musical portion of the worship was, "Don't mess up, Kirk'll think you're a scrub. Play that flat 5 lick right here, Kirk'll think that was cool. Don't overplay, 'cause Kirk'll think you're into your self. I wonder what Kirk thought about that tag I put at the end of that last song?" I mean, I was in the same room as my hero, and I was playing HIS song, his style, his instrument! It was too much.
And I was so ashamed of myself. I kept apologizing to God for making Him ride in the back seat so Kirk could sit up front. "I'm sorry, Lord," I kept saying, and I kept shifting my focus back from God to man.
"I wonder if he heard that bad note? I wonder if he heard me play that cool run? Oh, Sorry, Lord."
My wife consoled me, saying tht the Lord understands, that I'm only human. True, but that fact didn't keep Him from holding us accountable for the fact that we sin. Without Jesus, we still suffer the repercussions of our actions. Humanity is no excuse for faults.
I know God forgave me, but the thing is that we need to be aware that God is always sitting on the front row. For every scene. Good AND bad. We should conduct ourselves according to the fact that the One universal Celebrity requires us to serve, worship, praise, and perform for HIM. And He deserves it. Look at all the stuff He did. All the things He made...
Kirk Whalum is not an idol of mine in the sense that he occupies God's throne of glory. His skill and talent, as are ALL of ours, are a sign of what God is capable of. That is why God gets the praise for the made putts and three-pointers, the Grammys and the Oscars, the pictures and the sculptures.
At the end of service this morning, as we played the benediction music, I felt someone come up from behind the chair in which I was sitting and grab me, choke hold style, around my neck.
"You blessed me, man! You really blessed me by playing my song!" Imagine Jordan telling you that you played well... Imagine that you felt that he meant it... That made my WEEK! And I thanked GOD!
I wanted to ask him a thousand questions... about mouthpieces, and horns, and chords and solos, and sessions, and about helping me make records. But I didn't get to. I don't like to crowd celebrities when I see them. They have lives. People are always trying to get something from them, and I feel that if I am good enough to do this on a higher plane the time will come when God says so. If I really CAN play, he, or someone, will give me ny shot.
So what I have is the memory of his gratitude. And my OWN gratitude to God for being so cool and merciful and Beautiful. And for inventing the saxophone and putting it in my hand.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Life is Like Baghetties*
When I was a kid, I loved to eat spaghetti with the noodles unbroken. My mother, however, always broke them in half, saying that Daddy hated them long. I remember thinking that he was so mean and unhappy. Long noodles were so FUN! How could anybody not like 'em?Now, fully grown, I realize his thinking. I can't stand unbroken spaghetti noodles. See, the long noodles don't let the meat mix in. You spin the fork and just get a big mound of pasta. Yeah, when the noodles are short, you miss out on some of the fun, but you get to the meat. Eating is not just a game anymore. It is serious business!
Little things like that remind me of how the Christian journey is.
As God's children, we often - usually- don't understand why he does or allows difficult things. Our finite understanding causes us to wonder why He doesn't allow the "fun" stuff.
"Why don't we all just live forever? Yaaay!
"Hey, lets ALL go to Heaven...
"Yaaay!
"Live for today, man!
"Lying is the best way to get out of a tight spot!
"Yeah!
"I'm a good person! I do good stuff. I don't need Jeeesus!
"Marriage is corny! Who needs that for sex? Or for kids?
"Let's get those drunk girls to take their TOPS off and KISS! Hot!
"What's the big deal about a few cuss words, or nekkid butts on teevee? If you don't like it, turn it off. Move your life out of my way!
"What?!? Weed ain't a drug like heroin! You gotta process that stuff! Weed is a herrrb. It comes from the earth!
"What? God says 'No?' God's WACK! He's no fun at ALL! He made all this stuff and won't let us use it! We gotta work, an' study, an' obey rules, an' say 'no' to stuff..."
As we become more mature, however, we see the wisdom in order and structure. And Christian life is not boring up close as it seemed from a distance. We get rid of some of the extraneosity- if you will- and get right to the meat of life.
There is a joy in understanding the value of serving, peace in dealing with loss, and hope in eternity. We grow closer to God and more like Him.
My father wasn't boring. He was just wise:
Life, while often fun, is serious business!
Little things like that remind me of how the Christian journey is.
As God's children, we often - usually- don't understand why he does or allows difficult things. Our finite understanding causes us to wonder why He doesn't allow the "fun" stuff.
"Why don't we all just live forever? Yaaay!
"Hey, lets ALL go to Heaven...
"Yaaay!
"Live for today, man!
"Lying is the best way to get out of a tight spot!
"Yeah!
"I'm a good person! I do good stuff. I don't need Jeeesus!
"Marriage is corny! Who needs that for sex? Or for kids?
"Let's get those drunk girls to take their TOPS off and KISS! Hot!
"What's the big deal about a few cuss words, or nekkid butts on teevee? If you don't like it, turn it off. Move your life out of my way!
"What?!? Weed ain't a drug like heroin! You gotta process that stuff! Weed is a herrrb. It comes from the earth!
"What? God says 'No?' God's WACK! He's no fun at ALL! He made all this stuff and won't let us use it! We gotta work, an' study, an' obey rules, an' say 'no' to stuff..."
As we become more mature, however, we see the wisdom in order and structure. And Christian life is not boring up close as it seemed from a distance. We get rid of some of the extraneosity- if you will- and get right to the meat of life.
There is a joy in understanding the value of serving, peace in dealing with loss, and hope in eternity. We grow closer to God and more like Him.
My father wasn't boring. He was just wise:
Life, while often fun, is serious business!
*Spaghetti
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
When I Grow Up, I'm Gonna Sell Water to FISH!
The sect known as "Universalism" teaches the belief that ALL are going to heaven. Manson, Hitler, Mussolini, everybody. Reverend Carlton Pearson has recently fallen from TBN favor for teaching it. This worldview leads me to ask A question:
Why does Universalism need preachers? Ain't that like sellin' AIR?
Why does Universalism need preachers? Ain't that like sellin' AIR?
Saturday, September 29, 2007
B.S. (bishop-sniffin') Buzzwords
There are a few words and phrases common within the current form of popular Prosperity preaching. Many of us are not biblically literate enough to discern, so I figured that I'd perform this small service right quick. Indulge my grammar, if you will...
If you are at a church and hear two or more of these terms in one service, button up yo' hip pocket and get out before offering time! If you are watching teevee and hear these terms, turn the channel to Nick at Nite and find "Sanford and Son," 'cause Aunt Esther got more Holy Ghost than most of these televandalists!
If they try to get you to donate a certain amount of money that corresponds with a certain Bible chapter and verse, ding ding ding ding! They are trying to test your sucker-filter.
I've done tireless research- to the chagrin of my wife- and there are more, but these are a few of the key ones;
1 "Sow into..." (meaning money)
2 "Believe God for your..."
3 "You're the head and NOT the tail."
4 "Birth out"
5 "Increeeease!" (Jakes)
6 "Seed" (meaning money)
7 "Your BREAKthrough!" (THIS one is the "Chill Out" of worn-out Christian phrases)
8 Next Level
9 "...calls things that are not as though they were." (GOD does this. Not people. Word of Faith trash.)
10 "Shanda la la bosha tayaya..."
11 Such and Such "Christian Center"
12 "The spirit of..." (perversion, pedophilia, nicotine, alcohol, drug abuse, pornography, adultery, greed, etc. Are these supposed to be demons? What sense does that make? What were these demons doing before these things were invented, or before people were created?)
13 "Slap yo neighbor, an' say 'naaaybuh'...!" (I think they do this to make sure that the mob mentality has kicked in and they are ready for the fleecin"!)
14 Authority (YOURS, not God's)
15 "In this season"
16 "This is your Time"
17 "God's gittin' retty ta..."
18 "Take you out" (as in, "The devil's tryin' to "'take you out!'")
19 "Double Po'tion"
20 "Tenfold Blessin'"
21 "Money COMIN'!"
22 "God is raisin' up a generation of..."
23 "I'm speaking prophetically, now..."
24 "You will never be the same!
25 Supernatural favor!
26 "Supernatural debt cancellation"
27 "This (whatever year it currently is) is the year of..." (They do this every-- single--- year! It is so tired. Endless false, unchallenged prophecies.)
28 "Speak to your situation."
29 "It's your time!"
30 "Um preachin' now!"
31 The anointing
Question: Why do they always have to holler? Did Jesus holler at His congregations? And HE didn't even have a microphone. Don't holler at me. I ain't sleep! If you can't get your point across in a calm manner, maybe you need to check your source material. Preach more Bible and less Rev.Whosoever.
I like to hear James Brown holler, but his lyrical content and diction was a whole lot less important than yours should be, Apostle.
If you are at a church and hear two or more of these terms in one service, button up yo' hip pocket and get out before offering time! If you are watching teevee and hear these terms, turn the channel to Nick at Nite and find "Sanford and Son," 'cause Aunt Esther got more Holy Ghost than most of these televandalists!
If they try to get you to donate a certain amount of money that corresponds with a certain Bible chapter and verse, ding ding ding ding! They are trying to test your sucker-filter.
I've done tireless research- to the chagrin of my wife- and there are more, but these are a few of the key ones;
1 "Sow into..." (meaning money)
2 "Believe God for your..."
3 "You're the head and NOT the tail."
4 "Birth out"
5 "Increeeease!" (Jakes)
6 "Seed" (meaning money)
7 "Your BREAKthrough!" (THIS one is the "Chill Out" of worn-out Christian phrases)
8 Next Level
9 "...calls things that are not as though they were." (GOD does this. Not people. Word of Faith trash.)
10 "Shanda la la bosha tayaya..."
11 Such and Such "Christian Center"
12 "The spirit of..." (perversion, pedophilia, nicotine, alcohol, drug abuse, pornography, adultery, greed, etc. Are these supposed to be demons? What sense does that make? What were these demons doing before these things were invented, or before people were created?)
13 "Slap yo neighbor, an' say 'naaaybuh'...!" (I think they do this to make sure that the mob mentality has kicked in and they are ready for the fleecin"!)
14 Authority (YOURS, not God's)
15 "In this season"
16 "This is your Time"
17 "God's gittin' retty ta..."
18 "Take you out" (as in, "The devil's tryin' to "'take you out!'")
19 "Double Po'tion"
20 "Tenfold Blessin'"
21 "Money COMIN'!"
22 "God is raisin' up a generation of..."
23 "I'm speaking prophetically, now..."
24 "You will never be the same!
25 Supernatural favor!
26 "Supernatural debt cancellation"
27 "This (whatever year it currently is) is the year of..." (They do this every-- single--- year! It is so tired. Endless false, unchallenged prophecies.)
28 "Speak to your situation."
29 "It's your time!"
30 "Um preachin' now!"
31 The anointing
Question: Why do they always have to holler? Did Jesus holler at His congregations? And HE didn't even have a microphone. Don't holler at me. I ain't sleep! If you can't get your point across in a calm manner, maybe you need to check your source material. Preach more Bible and less Rev.Whosoever.
I like to hear James Brown holler, but his lyrical content and diction was a whole lot less important than yours should be, Apostle.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Jena In A Bottle
I was out of town on a gig (I need to write about THAT experience...) when Jena, Louisiana was made the object of national observation. Some of my church members, White and Black, drove down. Of all the back and forth about whether the 6 kids deserve to be charged with attempted murder (outrageous!), one thing occurred to me that hasn't been discussed. Yes, I have heard the argument that if the perps were White and the victim Black, Black folk would want them charged likewise and convicted. Maybe so... I'll leave alone the fact that the power structure in this country causes a different dynamic in that scenario. (What n*$%er-equivalent word could a White person be called that would cause him to possibly kick somebody in the head? That's just for starters. Fair or UNfair.) The scales are simply unbalanced. Even if we SHOULD be, we are not at the point where race doesn't play a significant role in America. To reverse the roles and make the aggressors White does not address the issue I have in all this.
The thing that struck me when I saw all of the coverage was this: The point is not that the PERPETRATORS were Black, it is that the VICTIM is White. Put bluntly, Black Life is not nearly as valuable in this country as is White Life.
I watch news shows a lot. More than I probably should, and more than I ever thought I would when I was a kid and saw my father doing it every night. It seemed so BORING!! I watch O'Reilly, Hannity, MSNBC, and CNN. In the last couple of years, I have seen a number of stories on kids fighting on video. I have seen the hosts decry the decline of our society. In most of the stories I've seen, the victims were White. Just the other night, in fact, Bill O'Reilly- whom I don't hate- did a piece on four Black boys beating up a White boy. He wanted to know, in light of the recent controversy, what implications race had in the fight. YouTube is full of videos of children fighting. They often make the news shows.
For every missing Black college girl profiled, there are stories done on fifty White girls! Does Chandra Levy ring a bell? Laci Peterson? We all have been inculcated with the fact that a missing or murdered White person is infinitely more valuable to society than some random Negro, since "all they do is kill each other anyway." Some of you have said this. The vitriol is only amped up further if the perpetrator is Black. Or ASSUMED to be Black.
Don't Black babies disappear, too? Don't Black kids get snatched by pedophiles? Or do they all just die at the hands of baby-mama-boyfriends? Where are all the "Breaking News!!" stories on them? One would think that only White babies are kidnappable.
I have seen cases first hand where murder was committed against a Black person and the time served was little, if any. A lady three houses down from me was murdered by her husband in broad daylight, practically in my sight, when I was about twelve, and we used to see him driving down our street all the time afterward. A boy was stabbed to death at an after-school party when I was in high school, and I doubt if the murderer did three years! There are dozens of examples like these that I could give.
It is a well-known fact that if two Black guys get into it and one dies, the sentence will be light. When someone broke into our home when I was about seventeen, the first question the White cop asked when he pulled up was, "Didja git 'im?" The implications of that question were not lost on me. Brothers know that "if I shoot you, I ain' gone git but 11/29." Meaning that they will only serve 11 months, and 29 days. Not even a year! And if you shoot a Black burglar, just drag him in the house and call the cops afterward. Black Life.
There is a story out of Texas, I think, about some White guys beating a mentally disabled man into a catatonic state recently. I don't think anyone has been jailed, and I do remember hearing more than once that the guys just "got a little bit outta hand". They were not bad guys, just rambunctious boys. This man was called "monkey," the "N"word, and other slurs. He was made to dance for the amusement of those "rambunctious boys," and now, he cannot function. Black Life.
The startling ramification of all this is that Black folk are more at risk from other Black folk. Cultural genocide is the offspring of the mindset that White folk will watch us kill each other off and occupy the abandonded land, as is being done in parts of the city in which I live.
The irony is that, as scared as White folks are of people like me, the LAST thing a brother would do is hurt a White person because he knows that the book will be filled with cobras, packed in C4 and thrown at him! On my gig in Gulfport, MS this past weekend, the guitar player and I went to get on the elevator after having eaten. An old White lady got on before us, and when she saw us, she stiffened up and forgot to even push the button for her floor! We did it for her, and when she arrived at her stop, she walked out of that elevator as though two vampires were stalking her! It was funny to us. And sad. We were probably the two least threatening people in the whole hotel, but because of that fear, she was unable to tell.
Cases like the one in Jena are rare. Most Black violence is directed at other Blacks. But when nooses are hung on a tree that Black kids had to ASK permission to sit under, and when racial slurs are hurled about, and when Black kids are whupped, and when shotguns are wielded in Black faces with no repercussions, things may get "out of hand". My daddy used to tell us that when someone tells you to leave them alone, you'd better do so, because if they pick up a brick and hit you with it, the fact that they were in the wrong won't put your head back together. And, no, I'm not saying that those boys were right for doing what they are accused of doing.
Maybe Mychael Bell was a thug. But the point is not that he was an angel, only that there are White thugs in this story, too, and they weren't charged with doggone felonies! I have seen, and been in, many schoolyard fights. I have seen kids get jumped. I have never seen charges filed. If Bell had been expelled, I don't think anyone would have been upset, other than perhaps his mother. But the excessiveness of the charges just serves to further ingrain what we all already know in America. White Life is more precious.
"Y'all can kill each other, but leave us alone!" As though we ALL are not in the same human family. I get it. To you, I'm not worth as much.
The thing that struck me when I saw all of the coverage was this: The point is not that the PERPETRATORS were Black, it is that the VICTIM is White. Put bluntly, Black Life is not nearly as valuable in this country as is White Life.
I watch news shows a lot. More than I probably should, and more than I ever thought I would when I was a kid and saw my father doing it every night. It seemed so BORING!! I watch O'Reilly, Hannity, MSNBC, and CNN. In the last couple of years, I have seen a number of stories on kids fighting on video. I have seen the hosts decry the decline of our society. In most of the stories I've seen, the victims were White. Just the other night, in fact, Bill O'Reilly- whom I don't hate- did a piece on four Black boys beating up a White boy. He wanted to know, in light of the recent controversy, what implications race had in the fight. YouTube is full of videos of children fighting. They often make the news shows.
For every missing Black college girl profiled, there are stories done on fifty White girls! Does Chandra Levy ring a bell? Laci Peterson? We all have been inculcated with the fact that a missing or murdered White person is infinitely more valuable to society than some random Negro, since "all they do is kill each other anyway." Some of you have said this. The vitriol is only amped up further if the perpetrator is Black. Or ASSUMED to be Black.
Don't Black babies disappear, too? Don't Black kids get snatched by pedophiles? Or do they all just die at the hands of baby-mama-boyfriends? Where are all the "Breaking News!!" stories on them? One would think that only White babies are kidnappable.
I have seen cases first hand where murder was committed against a Black person and the time served was little, if any. A lady three houses down from me was murdered by her husband in broad daylight, practically in my sight, when I was about twelve, and we used to see him driving down our street all the time afterward. A boy was stabbed to death at an after-school party when I was in high school, and I doubt if the murderer did three years! There are dozens of examples like these that I could give.
It is a well-known fact that if two Black guys get into it and one dies, the sentence will be light. When someone broke into our home when I was about seventeen, the first question the White cop asked when he pulled up was, "Didja git 'im?" The implications of that question were not lost on me. Brothers know that "if I shoot you, I ain' gone git but 11/29." Meaning that they will only serve 11 months, and 29 days. Not even a year! And if you shoot a Black burglar, just drag him in the house and call the cops afterward. Black Life.
There is a story out of Texas, I think, about some White guys beating a mentally disabled man into a catatonic state recently. I don't think anyone has been jailed, and I do remember hearing more than once that the guys just "got a little bit outta hand". They were not bad guys, just rambunctious boys. This man was called "monkey," the "N"word, and other slurs. He was made to dance for the amusement of those "rambunctious boys," and now, he cannot function. Black Life.
The startling ramification of all this is that Black folk are more at risk from other Black folk. Cultural genocide is the offspring of the mindset that White folk will watch us kill each other off and occupy the abandonded land, as is being done in parts of the city in which I live.
The irony is that, as scared as White folks are of people like me, the LAST thing a brother would do is hurt a White person because he knows that the book will be filled with cobras, packed in C4 and thrown at him! On my gig in Gulfport, MS this past weekend, the guitar player and I went to get on the elevator after having eaten. An old White lady got on before us, and when she saw us, she stiffened up and forgot to even push the button for her floor! We did it for her, and when she arrived at her stop, she walked out of that elevator as though two vampires were stalking her! It was funny to us. And sad. We were probably the two least threatening people in the whole hotel, but because of that fear, she was unable to tell.
Cases like the one in Jena are rare. Most Black violence is directed at other Blacks. But when nooses are hung on a tree that Black kids had to ASK permission to sit under, and when racial slurs are hurled about, and when Black kids are whupped, and when shotguns are wielded in Black faces with no repercussions, things may get "out of hand". My daddy used to tell us that when someone tells you to leave them alone, you'd better do so, because if they pick up a brick and hit you with it, the fact that they were in the wrong won't put your head back together. And, no, I'm not saying that those boys were right for doing what they are accused of doing.
Maybe Mychael Bell was a thug. But the point is not that he was an angel, only that there are White thugs in this story, too, and they weren't charged with doggone felonies! I have seen, and been in, many schoolyard fights. I have seen kids get jumped. I have never seen charges filed. If Bell had been expelled, I don't think anyone would have been upset, other than perhaps his mother. But the excessiveness of the charges just serves to further ingrain what we all already know in America. White Life is more precious.
"Y'all can kill each other, but leave us alone!" As though we ALL are not in the same human family. I get it. To you, I'm not worth as much.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
How Many IQ points Do You Lose When You Get Your Wisdom Teeth Pulled?
Knowledge is only a plow.
WISDOM is the ox that pulls it.
Derrick L. Williams
WISDOM is the ox that pulls it.
Derrick L. Williams
Is Homer OJ's Daddy?
Maybe this is the real proof that he DIDN’T do it…
If O.J. was stupid enough to get caught up in this mess, storming into a room with ARMED guys, (one of whom was taping the whole thing!!!) how was he smart enough to do two murders and get away with it? He HAS to know that everyone is just waiting for him to stumble.
The Siiiiiimpsonnnnns. Cue the theme music.
Just a thought…
If O.J. was stupid enough to get caught up in this mess, storming into a room with ARMED guys, (one of whom was taping the whole thing!!!) how was he smart enough to do two murders and get away with it? He HAS to know that everyone is just waiting for him to stumble.
The Siiiiiimpsonnnnns. Cue the theme music.
Just a thought…
Sunday, September 16, 2007
The Gospel According to Jay-Z
What is the difference between the Prosperity Gospel movement and hip-hop as it is currently portrayed?
Nothing!
In the version of hip-hop, or rap music presented by 50 Cent, Ludacris, Nelly, Lil Bitty Kim, Paul Wall, the Cash Money crew, P. Diddy, or just about any of the "artists" of the last 15 years, from the Notorious BIG, and Mase to now, the genre is all about materialism. That is: what you have, how much money you got, and how many women you got.
In the current aberrant version of Christianity being thrust down our throats by such luminaries as, Benny Hinn, Creflo Dollar, Juanita Bynum, Kenneth Copeland, John Hagee, Joel Osteen, Rod Parsley, Paula White, and the whole TBN, Daystar, Word Network cabal, the focus is all on materialism. That is: what they have, how much money God is tryin' to git to you, and how many women they got. In their congregations. ('Scuse my grammar)
In hip-hop, you are bombarded with images of expensive exoticars, champagne bottles spilling over with the nectar of the idol gods, multi-thousand-dollar watches, million-dollar rings and necklaces, fur-clad beauties, mansions, and lear jets.
In the Word of Faith milieu, you are bombarded with images and stories of (say it with me...) expensive exoticars (just look at Jamal Harrison-Bryant's website), $25 vials of anointing oil, jewel-encrusted watches, flashy suits and milti-million-dollar edifices, fur-clad CO-pastors, ostentatious mansions, and privately owned lear jets.
Wowww... this is spookily similar!
In hip-hop, the focus is not on art, but on self. Self-promotion, self-indulgence, self-reliance, self-importance, and self-satisfaction.
In this prosperity trash, the focus is not on the Divine Artist of all creation, but on self. Self (I really could just "copy and paste" from here)-promotion, self-indulgence, self-reliance, self-importance, and self-satisfaction. Here, I will elaborate:
They promote themselves and what they have, and rather than spreading the ill-gotten wealth, they tell you to go get it from God.
They indulge themselves on the helpless sheep, from whom all their blessings flow. They indulge their own greed, and instruct you to do the same.
They are reliant on their own "Faith" to get their personal will done. God, to them, is "illegal" (Myles Munroe, Hinn, Dollar, Copeland, Hagin, and on...) in this Earth realm without man's assent. How blasphemous!!! HE relies on Creflo, et.al.
Of course they are self-important! All those titles! Apostle this, Prophetess that, Bishop the other... Call T.D. Jakes, mister Jakes, call Juanita, missus Bynum-Weeks, and you might catch a dirty look and a beatdown from theirsecurity cadre- I mean- "Armor Bearers."! With Juanita, you'll get TWO dirty looks!
Self-satisfaction? Their game is all about self-satisfaction! This enterprise is not about loving God, the beautiful and wonderful Creator of the universe. It is about getting needs met, never about getting saved. It is about getting that job, that car, that MAN, that healing, that MONEY. As Creflo says, "You ain't gone HAVE no peace unless you got some MONEY!" God is a by-product. God is a side effect. God is the Middle man. The only use for God, in their economy, is to facilitate the transaction! God is just the bus that takes them to the bank! (sorry, Lord.)
Hip-hop seems to be inundated with rump shaking strippers, euphemistically re-termed "Video Vixens." (I guess I know too much about this junk...)
The current Charismatic, Pentecostal, Prosperity movement (sadly, these all seem to transmogrify-to use a COGIC-style word- from one to the other) appears to advance the notion that if they can keep you dancin' in the aisles shakin' that "money-maker," you won't have time or energy to learn how to read and interpret Scripture, or to watch your wallet!
note: David danced, for sure. But he knew his Word!
Gangster rap/hip-hop has prostituted and diluted the significance of the term "art" for personal gain.
Crooked preachers have pimped and distorted the image of the true Word of God for personal gain.
Hip-hop proponents tell us that if we criticize the genre, we are un-hip, and neglecting to notice that Elvis did the same thing and that they are only ghetto journalists. They label naysayers, "haters." You might get shot.
Prosperity junkies tell us that we fail to realize that Jesus was rich, and wants us so. They warn that if we "touch God's anointed," we are judging, and in danger of hellfire.
This is amazing! Hip-hop and Prosperity preaching are conjoined twins! I can't tell where one begins and the other ends!
They were doing this in the earliest days of the Church; prostituting the Word for sordid gain. The current hip-hop brood has learned their trade admirably.
Nothing!
In the version of hip-hop, or rap music presented by 50 Cent, Ludacris, Nelly, Lil Bitty Kim, Paul Wall, the Cash Money crew, P. Diddy, or just about any of the "artists" of the last 15 years, from the Notorious BIG, and Mase to now, the genre is all about materialism. That is: what you have, how much money you got, and how many women you got.
In the current aberrant version of Christianity being thrust down our throats by such luminaries as, Benny Hinn, Creflo Dollar, Juanita Bynum, Kenneth Copeland, John Hagee, Joel Osteen, Rod Parsley, Paula White, and the whole TBN, Daystar, Word Network cabal, the focus is all on materialism. That is: what they have, how much money God is tryin' to git to you, and how many women they got. In their congregations. ('Scuse my grammar)
In hip-hop, you are bombarded with images of expensive exoticars, champagne bottles spilling over with the nectar of the idol gods, multi-thousand-dollar watches, million-dollar rings and necklaces, fur-clad beauties, mansions, and lear jets.
In the Word of Faith milieu, you are bombarded with images and stories of (say it with me...) expensive exoticars (just look at Jamal Harrison-Bryant's website), $25 vials of anointing oil, jewel-encrusted watches, flashy suits and milti-million-dollar edifices, fur-clad CO-pastors, ostentatious mansions, and privately owned lear jets.
Wowww... this is spookily similar!
In hip-hop, the focus is not on art, but on self. Self-promotion, self-indulgence, self-reliance, self-importance, and self-satisfaction.
In this prosperity trash, the focus is not on the Divine Artist of all creation, but on self. Self (I really could just "copy and paste" from here)-promotion, self-indulgence, self-reliance, self-importance, and self-satisfaction. Here, I will elaborate:
They promote themselves and what they have, and rather than spreading the ill-gotten wealth, they tell you to go get it from God.
They indulge themselves on the helpless sheep, from whom all their blessings flow. They indulge their own greed, and instruct you to do the same.
They are reliant on their own "Faith" to get their personal will done. God, to them, is "illegal" (Myles Munroe, Hinn, Dollar, Copeland, Hagin, and on...) in this Earth realm without man's assent. How blasphemous!!! HE relies on Creflo, et.al.
Of course they are self-important! All those titles! Apostle this, Prophetess that, Bishop the other... Call T.D. Jakes, mister Jakes, call Juanita, missus Bynum-Weeks, and you might catch a dirty look and a beatdown from their
Self-satisfaction? Their game is all about self-satisfaction! This enterprise is not about loving God, the beautiful and wonderful Creator of the universe. It is about getting needs met, never about getting saved. It is about getting that job, that car, that MAN, that healing, that MONEY. As Creflo says, "You ain't gone HAVE no peace unless you got some MONEY!" God is a by-product. God is a side effect. God is the Middle man. The only use for God, in their economy, is to facilitate the transaction! God is just the bus that takes them to the bank! (sorry, Lord.)
Hip-hop seems to be inundated with rump shaking strippers, euphemistically re-termed "Video Vixens." (I guess I know too much about this junk...)
The current Charismatic, Pentecostal, Prosperity movement (sadly, these all seem to transmogrify-to use a COGIC-style word- from one to the other) appears to advance the notion that if they can keep you dancin' in the aisles shakin' that "money-maker," you won't have time or energy to learn how to read and interpret Scripture, or to watch your wallet!
note: David danced, for sure. But he knew his Word!
Gangster rap/hip-hop has prostituted and diluted the significance of the term "art" for personal gain.
Crooked preachers have pimped and distorted the image of the true Word of God for personal gain.
Hip-hop proponents tell us that if we criticize the genre, we are un-hip, and neglecting to notice that Elvis did the same thing and that they are only ghetto journalists. They label naysayers, "haters." You might get shot.
Prosperity junkies tell us that we fail to realize that Jesus was rich, and wants us so. They warn that if we "touch God's anointed," we are judging, and in danger of hellfire.
This is amazing! Hip-hop and Prosperity preaching are conjoined twins! I can't tell where one begins and the other ends!
They were doing this in the earliest days of the Church; prostituting the Word for sordid gain. The current hip-hop brood has learned their trade admirably.
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