Wiring Banana Plugs

I found myself in an interesting predicament. I had a zip-lock bag (snack sized) full of compression-style banana plugs, all of which begged to be attached to speaker wires even as they defied my attempts to understand just exactly how such attachment was to occur.

These plugs are comprised of three parts: the plug itself, permanently attached to a body which is a hollow threaded shaft; a short cylindrical "slug" of solid metal that fits loosely into the shaft of the body; and a threaded insert, also hollow, that screws into the base of the body, shoving the slug against the plug (providing, I suppose, the compression that describes the type of connector). The non-intuitive part is how the speaker wire was to be routed in order to make optimal contact with the plug.

I saw one obvious way to do it, but it was crude, circumventing the elegant design of the plug. But the alternative wasn't obvious.

Until, that is, I found this excellent set of instructions, in PDF format. (Courtesy of Blue Jeans Cable)

I am, perhaps, the only semi-sentient biped in the galaxy who doesn't know how to work a banana plug, but judging by the number of visits I get from people googling "garbage disposer clogged by potato peels," I suspect there are a few others who might be challenged by the lack of instructions that come with these connectors. This post is for you, dear friends.

How pitiful am I?

I'm sitting here, PowerBook on lap, staring at the Sports Illustrated website's "live" coverage of the Cowboys/Packers football game.

I guess it could have been worse. I could have actually switched cable providers just so I could watch the game.

I swore off the 'Boys years ago, sometime after the last of the Triplets retired, and they broke my heart one time too many. I can't believe I'm getting sucked back into the hype.

Random Thursday

• If the Sudanese government really believes that severe punishment is merited for the naming of "Mohammed the Teddy Bear," then I respectfully submit to them that they need to also lash (1) the schoolchildren who named the bear, (2) the children's parents, for obviously failing to properly educate their kids in the great theological issues of the day, and (3) all the local imams, for obviously failing to educate those parents.


• The line of the day comes from local early morning TV meteorologist Greg Morgan who, in response to a story about American Airlines spinning off short-haul carrier American Eagle, said that the latter company should be called "American Bumblebee." Anyone who's ever bounced along on one of those turboprops understands exactly where Morgan is coming from.


• Song lyric of the day comes from Lucy Woodward's Geographical Cure in which she exhorts her date to take her on a tour of NYC and buy her a "mocha-cappu-frivolous." That would be a great addition to a Starbucks menu.


• One of the purchases we'll make when we move into the new house is a flat screen TV to hang over the fireplace, allowing us to get rid of the ginormous 15-year-old RCA console that now dominates our living room. I have a lot of angst over which model to choose, but I figured I had a few more months to decide. That is, until last night, when said RCA suddenly became unresponsive. We couldn't turn it on with the remote, or manually. Not knowing what else to do, but feeling I needed to do something, I wrestled the box away from the wall in order to better peer into the tangled mass of cables that lurk in the dark places behind our electronics. (This is not unlike what I do with car troubles: pop the hood and tap randomly on things, not with any expectation or knowledge, but with a desperate desire for a serendipitous restoration of a life-giving circuit or mechanical connection. It never works, of course, but that doesn't stop me from trying.) What I spied made my heart soar like an eagle (or bumblebee). The power cord had fallen from the plug in the back of the TV. I may not be an electronics whiz but I immediately sensed that this could somehow be related to the problem. Now, the bigger question is how does a power cord just fall away from a plug? All we can hypothesize is that Abbye got disoriented and managed to squeeze behind the entertainment center, and in the process step on just the right cable in just the right way before putting it in reverse and extricating herself. Perhaps she figures that if she can't watch TV, neither should we.


• So, we were having dinner with friends at our favorite Tex-Mex restaurant when the conversation turned to the Thanksgiving snowfall. I shared how my parents in Fort Stockton lost their power for most of Saturday night and we empathized at how hard it probably was to stay warm. Suddenly, my spirit left my body and I found myself staring down at the table from a point close to the somewhat greasy ceiling, and I recoiled inwardly (you just had to be there) as I simultaneously anticipated and heard these words coming from my mouth: "...and I don't think they even have an electric blanket in the house."

Priorities

Which of these things is not like the others?

1. More rioting in Paris suburbs
2. Red Cross ousts president
3. Texas oilman handed year term in federal prison
4. Police shoots girlfriend then himself at Houston mall
5. Midland cable company plays waiting game over whether NFL Network games will be available

If you guessed (5), you're absolutely right, but perhaps not for the reason you think. (5) was the only one of the five headlines to appear on the front page of today's local newspaper. It landed that spot presumably because the underlying issue is whether we'll be able to watch the Dallas Cowboys play the Green Bay Packers tomorrow night. You think it's bad to mess with Texas? Try messing with the television viewing habits of Cowboys fans.

In reality, I have no problem with the newspaper's reporting priorities in this case. I don't rely on newspapers for any international, national, or state news. Doesn't mean I'm not interested; I just go to other sources. But I recognize that not everyone has access to those other sources, or desires them.

Plus, in the midst of so much worldwide turmoil that seemingly has no solutions, it's soothing to focus on a problem that has neat boundaries and a measurable outcome.

But, in the end, it does come down to this: we have an image to uphold.

Lone Star Bunker Update

It's been a while since I remembered to visit, but I see that the Lone Star Bunker is now finished and inhabited. I hope bunker_man will continue to check in from Fort Davis and share his views of the wonderful scenery, and the continuing progress on his retirement villa.

Dancing With the Stars: Helio races to the trophy

I predicted it, but it didn't really take a rocket scientist (or professional dancer) to see that race car driver Helio Castroneves would win this year's Dancing With The Stars competition.

I didn't think Spice Girl Mel B. had the fan base to get her into the finals, let alone win the coveted Disco Ball Trophy. I was wrong about the first thing, but not the second. She was clearly the judges' favorite – not by a lot, but consistently so – but Castroneves had the charisma (and the Y chromosome) necessary to win the female vote. It's a tossup as to which we'll get first: a female DWTS champion or a female president.

I also believe that viewers will continue to reward those contestants who don't have a background in dance. The appealing premise of the show is that people undertake something outside their comfort zones, and that we get to watch them on a journey through the season. Professional entertainers may have the edge in terms of composure on the stage, but that doesn't necessarily mean that they won't have two left feet.

I'm reminded of a quote from the movie All That Jazz, where Roy Scheider plays a character – Joe Gideon – based not-so-loosely on famed choreographer Bob Fosse. In one scene, Gideon is attempting to console a female dancer who made it into his production by way of the casting couch, and who has just realized that she doesn't really have the talent to be where she is. Gideon tells her something like this: I can't make you a great dancer. I don't know if I can even make you a good dancer. But if you work hard and don't give up, I promise you that I can make you a better dancer.

That's what the DWTS audience tunes in each week to see: someone becoming a better dancer. And, who knows, maybe a great dancer will emerge.

Statistical Rationalization of Football Mediocrity

The meat of the college football season is over, and while some interesting match-ups loom in those conferences that have playoffs, fans of the upper tier teams can start speculating about the high profile bowl games that await their programs. The rest of us must be content with defining success (or explaining the lack thereof) statistically.

One of the favorite rationalizations for a lack of success focuses on strength of schedule. "Sure, so-and-so had a better record than my team, but they also played a bunch of pansies." Now, while I'm not usually one to resort to such excuses, that just so happens to be my story this season, and it's a good one (in my opinion, anyway). A&M finished the regular season at 7-5, a pretty dismal showing for one of the largest universities in the country, and one of the highest paid (former) coaches. On the other hand, compared to some of its rivals, A&M really did have a tougher row to hoe. Here's a quick statistical comparison, which I'm sure you'll find riveting:

*Includes Kansas State, which ended the season at 5-7
**Out of 119 schools in the Football Bowl Series (FBS) subdivision of NCAA football (see the official NCAA stats website for details)

Kansas, in particular, had a "Perfect Storm" kind of schedule this season, in that it didn't play Oklahoma, Texas, or Texas Tech. The two opponents on its schedule with the best records, other than Missouri, were A&M and Central Michigan, both of which ended up 7-5. It had one opponent with no wins (Florida International), and three with only 3 wins (SE Louisiana, Baylor, and Iowa State).

Now, I'm not denigrating what KU accomplished, because they still beat every team they faced until the last game, and both A&M and UT lost to teams with overall losing records (Miami and Kansas State, respectively). I'm a KU fan, for personal reasons, and I hope they draw a good bowl and win it in impressive fashion. Nevertheless, it's hard to dispute the contention that they faced an overall less formidable set of foes than did, say, A&M (whom they beat, by the way).

So, there you have it. Indisputable evidence that there's much more to the game of football than wins and losses. Especially when your team doesn't have enough of the former.

Funniest Ads?

The cable station TBS is sponsoring an online contest to select the funniest TV ad of the year. You can view the nominees and cast your vote here.

There's the usual assortment of lame beer ads (although I have always liked the Bud Light "Hitchhiker" commercial), but my favorite of the nominees is the one from the Norwegian company Hydro Energy. The Nationwide Insurance "K-Fed" ad runs a close second.

However, in my opinion, the best ad didn't even make it to the top nine. Click on "Top Rated" and watch the one from Deutsche Postbank and see if you don't agree.

Cool Canine

Sometimes I think that Abbye was born in the wrong state:

Her hatred of falling precipitation is well documented, but she apparently has no qualms about roosting in the frozen variety.

She was rather less content with the big towel greeting she got when she finally decided to come back inside.

Snow: Dodging a Bullet

Notice anything unusual about the following photo, which was taken from our backyard this morning?

If you're not familiar with West Texas, you might be tempted to state the obvious. "Why, there's snow. It doesn't snow in Midland!" But that would be wrong, because snow is not an uncommon occurrence, even as early as Thanksgiving.

No, what's unusual is to see such heavy snowfall on deciduous trees like the pecan trees shown here. Normally, we'd have a killing freeze that would cause the trees to drop their leaves before the first snowfall.

Fortunately for us, the snow was dry and the temperatures warm enough that most limbs were not overly burdened. I've seen no damage to trees in our neighborhood, and after January's destructive ice storm, we're plenty relieved by that small blessing.

It's easier to enjoy the beauty of nature when you're not worried that it will be accompanied by violence.

Movie Review: "The Mist"

I'll save you some time: don't bother.

Spoilers follow. But if you're smart, you'll be skipping this movie and so it doesn't matter.

What started out as a pretty decent horror/sci-fi short story by Stephen King has been turned into a preachy and often boring movie that has the added bonus of plumbing new depths in portraying unpleasant stereotypes of Christianity. Marcia Gay Harden plays such an annoyingly shrill religious harpy that – I swear this is true – the crowd in the theater actually cheered and clapped when she met her inevitable and unsurprising end. (I heard a woman in the row behind us say to the screen, "you're not so tough now, are you?")

The ending of the movie was as illogical as it was manipulative and annoying (there's that word again). Oh, and did I mention that there wasn't a shred of humor in the entire 127 minute production? That didn't stop my wife and I from laughing at it, but it's not what the screenwriter and director were going for, I don't think.

My advice? Skip the movie and re-read the short story.

38 - 30

In the Backyard: Calm Before the Storm

I see from The Weather Channel's online report that it's snowing in Midland (this was written yesterday – and while none of the usual local blogging suspects have posted any photos from the Tall City, we can always count on Bob to show us what happened a few miles to the east in Stanton), with temperatures hovering around the freezing mark. Just a few days ago, we were enjoying weather in the upper 70s, with the trees – and hibiscus – in full leaf and bloom:

I'm sure the hibiscus is not nearly as perky today. It's a reminder of how quickly things can change. (On the other hand, it's also a reminder that if you have to go out, you might as well go while doing what you do best.)

I also wonder if this gal is still holding watch over the flowerbed next to the back fence:

This is a garden spider, a common non-poisonous spider with a wide-ranging habitat. Those dense threads on the web are called stabilimenta. There's some debate as to their function, as the linked Wikipedia entry explains.

The photo is actually of the spider's underside, as the orientation of the web made it impossible to get a photo from above.

This particular spider chose to build her web in the same vicinity as the hibiscus, and fortunately for her, it's not near our house or she'd be history due to, um, blunt force trauma. I know that spiders like this are harmless (although this one can and will deliver a bite) and that they eat some annoying insects, but they still creep me out.

Seasons may change, but arachnophobia is forever.

Soaring with the Turkeys

Question: It's Thanksgiving Day, and you're a turkey. What do you do?

Answer: Look for sanctuary on a neighbor's roof, counting on the fact that everyone in town is indoors watching the Cowboys game.

There's always one laggard ("wait for me! wait for me!"):

I think they're safe (from hungry humans, anyway).

GI Jill & a Midland Connection

Many in West Texas and particularly in Midland have been following the condition of SSgt. John Faulkenberry, a Midland native who was seriously injured in combat in Afghanistan last summer (listen to an interview with John's dad conducted by the local CBS affiliate here for more details about the incident) and is now undergoing rehab at Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, D.C.

John's dad, Richard, just happens to be from Fort Stockton, and my wife and I attended high school with him, his brothers, and his sister. Thus it was a rather strange coincidence when I received an email from Maryland blogger Soccer Dad, who, recognizing only a reference to Midland, wanted to alert me to a photo of SSgt. Faulkenberry being visited by Miss Utah 2007 at Walter Reed on October 24th.

As it so happens, Miss Utah is a soldier, aka Sgt. Jill Stevens, aka known as G.I. Jill, and she'll be competing in the upcoming Miss America pageant. I suspect she'll be the only contestant who is a decorated combat veteran, as she served an eighteen month tour as a medic in Afghanistan. She is a member of the Utah National Guard's 1st Battalion, 211th Aviation Regiment, and she's also (duh) quite a looker, even if the tiara-BDU combination is just a teensy bit incongruous.

By the way, the last report I read about John is that his rehab is progressing nicely, although he still has a long road ahead of him.

And for those of you who are lonely Corps members at A&M, you can download a poster of Sgt. Jill, suitable for hiding from upperclassmen.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving is, at its core, a religious holiday, almost subversively so. While it's easy to focus on what we're thankful for, the real emphasis should be to whom we're thankful. And while other people provide us with many important blessings in our lives, the trail of gratitude only runs through them.

Thanksgiving is a state of mind that should be practiced daily, but as we set aside a special day each year to officially recognize it, I hope you'll join me in giving thanks to the One from whom all blessings flow.

Please accept our wishes for a healthy, safe and blessed Thanksgiving!

Smokin'!

The house construction is proceeding apace and we noticed yesterday that they finished the chimney and have tested the fireplace. I'm not sure what the homeowner's association is going to think, but we won't hold our breath awaiting a housewarming gift from Al Gore.

Go Jayhawks!

If you'd told me a year ago that I'd ever devote a post to an upcoming football game between the University of Kansas and the University of Missouri, I'd have declared you officially deranged. But Saturday's game is arguably the biggest for both schools in their respective histories, and with my cousin's son playing defensive end for the undefeated and second-ranked Jayhawks, my interest level and allegiance is unquestioned.

Handicapping DWT '07

Tonight we'll learn which three couples will advance to the finals in this season's edition of Dancing With the Stars. So, once again, I'm putting my professional and personal reputation on the line by providing my earnest-yet-uninformed opinions about the contestants and their chances. (It should be noted that I did pick last year's winner, but missed just about everything else. Hey, you're getting what you're paying for, so don't complain.)

Here's assessment of the skill of the remaining contestants.

1. Mel B (aka Scary Spice) – For raw dancing prowess, she stands head, shoulders, and D-cup ahead of everyone else. She's also a scary-fierce competitor, and a good match for her partner, Mad Max. If it was just about the dancing, she's the easy winner.


2. Helio Castroneves (aka Speed Racer) – Helio is this year's Apolo or Emmitt. He's smooth and precise, as you would expect from an open-wheel driver, and his sheer joy in performing is infectious.


3. Jennie Garth (aka Who Dat?) - She's another pleasant surprise. Like Helio, she had no formal dance training, and she struggled early on with technique and confidence. The former was expected; the latter was a surprise to those of us accustomed to seeing celebs handle anything thrown at them. But she absolutely rocked last night's cha cha, and showed that she's overcome both of those early issues.


4. Marie Osmond (aka the Swooning Sweetheart) - I just realized something last night (a guilty confession): Marie is hot. Or, she can be when she puts her mind to it. She's easily the weakest dancer in the final group, but she's not afraid to take chances, and she knows how to shine when the music starts.

So, that's how I see them stack up based on pure skill. Here's how I predict they'll actually finish, based on some intangibles that I'm completely unqualified to assess:

4. Mel B - She goes home tonight, as the voters penalize her for being, well, a professional dancer. As with the Cheetah Girl, who got spanked early much to the surprise of the judges, the viewing public wants to see someone they can relate to perform under pressure, and no one can relate to a Spice Grrrl.


3. Jennie - To be honest – and this surprises me – Jennie would be my personal favorite to win, because she epitomizes the reason this show is successful: celebrities put in situations outside their comfort zones so we can watch them squirm and either excel or exit. Jennie has come further, with more honest tenacity, than any of the other competitors, and she's turned into a very, very good dancer.


2. Marie - You think Mormons don't rock the vote, especially for ballroom dancing? Brigham Young University has one of the premier dance troupes in the world, and I have no problem extrapolating from that directly to a situation where Osmond's innate likability and showmanship more than overcome her relatively plodding dance steps.


1. Helio - Sorry, girls; this is, ultimately, a competition decided by women, and Helio is just too darned cute not to prevail. That alone wouldn't do it for him, but he's got the skill to back it up. And, like Jennie, he's an amateur in sense of having no dance background. (Unlike Jennie, however, he stepped onto the floor with a fairly high level of apparently natural ability). His secret weapon is his partner, Julianne Hough, whose personality and choreography helped Apolo Anton Ohno win last year.

So, there you have my bold predictions. Feel free to start poking fun at me immediately following tonight's results show (or sooner, if you want to get a jump on the holiday crowd).

Adventures in Homebuilding - Pt. MCMXVII

I'm not an engineer nor an architect, and I didn't stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night, but I can't help thinking that this can't be good:

Standing water in one of the bedrooms is not a feature we designed into the floor plan. It could be worse, of course. If we must have a plumbing leak, now is the time to have it, before the flooring, painting, cabinetry, and all that other good stuff complicate things.

MDC and the Devil

This article has the local blogosphere buzzing, and rightly so, I think – although it also calls to mind something C.S. Lewis wrote about the devil. He said that the biggest mistakes people make about Satan are to either attribute too little or too much power to him.

In any event, the Midland Development Corporation is in a no-win situation at this point. It cannot – I repeat: cannot – compete in a blogging war, should it come to that. It has neither the resources nor the expertise nor the sheer willpower.

But, more importantly, it doesn't have the weight of facts. It's interesting to me that the consultant in the article doesn't dispute the veracity of any of the claims made by local bloggers about the activities and results of the MDC. Unlike the situation where another town's bloggers were characterizing it as racist, it's difficult to argue against documented dollars and cents.

So, the MDC is faced with an age-old dilemma of, well, inconvenient truth. And in such situations, an equally old adage will no doubt apply: if you can't get a better story, get a better storyteller.

Oh, and guys...good luck with that "buying a good search engine ranking" thing. That's also know as "paid advertising." That's bound to enhance your cred.

Swirlie Life Overrated

I'm a fan of Compact Fluorescent Light bulbs. I like how they run cool, use less energy to provide the same amount of light (to my eyesight, anyway), and I plan to install them throughout the new house when it's completed (which, by the way, isn't an expense that we considered when we kicked off the construction. Whoever thinks about having to buy 75 light bulbs at one time*?). I don't even mind the brief warm-up time required for the bulbs to reach full luminosity.

What I'm not impressed with is the actual life of the bulbs vs. the rated life. When we first started switching out the incandescent bulbs in our house, I thought I observed a shorter life for the CFLs than I felt was realistic, but I didn't have any way to prove it. After all, nobody makes a note of when they change a light bulb. Right? Well, do they?

Ahem. I do. I started using a Sharpie to mark the base of each replacement bulb with the month and year of installation. It took a while, but I finally changed out the first CFL so marked. It was installed in December of 2006.

Now, assuming that the lights in my home office are on 18 hours a day (which is actually not too far off the mark, considering that said office doubles as a workout room and my wife is on the treadmill at 5:00 am most mornings), and further assuming that this occurred every day of the past 12 months (which it didn't, but we're being conservative), that works out to -- um...carry the one...divide the hypotenuse -- 6,570 hours of life before the poor thing experienced an apparent fatal attack of fluorescent epilepsy.

I confess that I didn't note the rated hours on the package for these particular bulbs (anyone else in favor of regulations requiring the manufacturer to stamp that on the base along with the wattage?) but if you visit the 13w CFL page of my favorite light bulb vendor (which happens to be located in Grand Prairie, Texas), you'll see ratings that range between 10,000 and 12,000 hours. My pitifully underachieving bulb fell 36% short of the low end of that range.

Granted, almost 7,000 hours of life from a light bulb is nothing to sneeze at, and the economic advantage vs. incandescents is still significant. I simply wish we had more accurate labeling. It can be done; after all, who questions the EPA's gas mileage ratings for new cars?

OK, never mind.

*Lest you think I'm just being stingy, consider that we'll have about 50 recessed light fixtures, each of which will take one 4.75" reflector flood bulb. The cheapest of those bulbs is more than $8 each. The remaining 25 bulbs will be less expensive, being the standard-size kind used in closets, ceiling fans, etc.

Book Review: "Signed, Mata Hari"

The latest review copy arrived from the publisher a couple of weeks ago, hand-delivered by special courier, and I tore into the important-looking package with eager anticipation.

...rewind...

The latest review copy arrived from the publisher a couple of weeks ago, deposited on my front porch by the Fed Ex gal's signature sling-ring-and-run maneuver, and after brushing away the dirt and dead leaves, I pulled the zip tab with eager anticipation.

And so we see that the same event can take on a completely different feel depending on the intent of the author.

This same point can be extended to Yannick Murphy's Signed, Mata Hari: A Novel (a book which, by the way, I explicitly did not include on the list when I was asked by the editor at Little, Brown to indicate my preferences for upcoming reviews; nevertheless, I dutifully read it).

One can view the life of Mata Hari as an epic tale of loss and survival, wherein the heroine endures an abusive marriage, suffers the mysterious and heartbreaking loss of her children, brings an Eastern art-form into European respectability, and subverts her moral inclinations in the hopes of eventually restoring relationships with her family. In the end, her spirit triumphs even as her mortal body is defeated.

Or, you could say that Mata Hari married the first guy she could find willing to take her from a dead-end life in the Netherlands, moved with him to Java where they both became known for their blatantly promiscuous behavior, leading to the eventual loss of both children, whereupon she became a world famous courtesan (aka, prostitute) and exotic dancer (aka, stripper), and courted famous men who eventually led her to become a spy for the Germans during WWI, a role for which she was ultimately punished before a French firing squad.

Murphy, of course, took the first road, because that makes for a better -- if not completely interesting -- novel. She's taken the admittedly intriguing life of Margaretha Zelle (as she was known before becoming Mata Hari) and filled in many of the gaps in the history with her own imagination. The result is a portrait of a woman who, for however noble her motives might have been, "used what she had to get what she needed." It's not a very original story, after all.

Murphy's prose tends to paragraph-length sentences, more organized than stream-of-consciousness, but still demanding strict reader attention. The book is organized into short chapters that jump to and fro in time, a technique which actually helps the story and will appeal to those of us for whom "Short Attention Span Theatre" was crafted.

On the other hand, this is a book that is marked by sexual explicitness that for some will border on pornographic. I'm not sure how knowing the details of the arrangement of Mata Hari's genitalia with respect to the rest of her anatomy advances the story for the reader. And while the scenes are not inconsistent with the presumed character of the woman, her apparent willingness to bed anything that moves -- and some that don't, if you get my drift -- doesn't really need to be documented with such repetition. In case I'm being too subtle here, this is not a children's book.

One reviewer began by posing a question: "Do we really need another book about Mata Hari?" The reviewer went on to provide a fairly glowing report, but for me, the answer to that question is, no – not really.

God is an ATM

Update: After a series of email exchanges with Justin (see below), I've agreed to strike the implied association between the "little gods" doctrine and Jehovah's Witnesses. I'm fine with that, as I believe there are so many other more serious doctrinal errors in the JW system of belief that "little gods" are the least of our disagreements.

Midlanders had a choice of two interesting seminars last night.

One featured a local theologian discussing the increasingly vocal attacks by atheists (e.g. Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens) on religion in general and Christianity in particular. The other took place down the street a mile or so and focused on the so-called "Word of Faith" movement, also sometimes referred to as "the Prosperity Gospel" or the "Name It and Claim It" movement, or, in its most misleading moniker, the "Faith movement." The chief proponents of the latter movement are such well-known televangelists as Benny Hinn, Kenneth and Gloria Copeland, Paul and Jan Crouch, and, to a lesser extent, Joel Osteen.

There's no doubt that the former category -- attacks by atheists -- are troubling on some level, but they are also easily recognized and frankly, not very effective in terms of the potential for damage to the Church. After all, these attacks are coming from wolves in wolves' clothing, and it doesn't take a lot of discernment to recognize and defeat them.

I would contend that the latter category represents a much more serious threat to the Christian community, because it mingles false doctrine with just enough truth (or what sounds very much like truth) to disguise the poison. The undiscerning partaker can be seriously damaged.

Justin Peters is a theologian and evangelist, with a degree in economics from Mississippi State and masters degrees in divinity and theology from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth. In addition to serving on a church staff, Peters has also developed a seminar entitled A Call for Discernment in which he systematically addresses the numerous and fundamental heresies upon which the Word of Faith cult is built. He is now in Midland presenting this seminar (attendance is free; it concludes tonight) at First Baptist Church.

Justin has encountered first-hand some of those heresies, especially those related to the "faith-healing" aspects. You see, he's been afflicted most of his life with cerebral palsy, and his search for healing led him to encounters with some of the prominent practitioners of the Word of Faith cult, including the aforementioned Benny Hinn. In one case, his family was informed that healing would not be possible due to their lack of generosity ("give more to get more"); in the case of Benny Hinn, he was not allowed on the platform because of his obvious disability (it's much harder to fake the on-stage healing of cerebral palsy than of, say, kidney disease).

Here's a comment that I've heard from several attendees of this seminar: "I always knew those televangelists sounded crazy on TV, and I never took them seriously, but I never really understood the doctrines behind their claims. This is some scary stuff."

Scary, indeed, given that those doctrines range from the ridiculous (Positive Confession - believers can speak things into existence, just as God did the creation) to the dangerous (Little gods Doctrine - believers are themselves gods; see also Mormonism and Jehovah's Witness [Note: In an emailed comment, fellow web designer and blogger Justin disputes that the "little gods" doctrine is a part of the Jehovah's Witness belief system.]). And far too many well-meaning and/or desperate people are basing their faith upon and committing their resources to ideas that are not supported by Biblical truth.

How can this be dangerous? Well, take the example of the "true believer" who comes to Benny Hinn for healing. When she's not healed, she can only conclude that it's her fault for not having enough faith. She might reject the true gospel of Jesus Christ in exchange for a false one that gives the illusion of more hope.

This seminar uses video and audio clips of these false prophets to condemn them through their own words. Peters addresses each doctrinal error and heresy with the Scriptures that leave no doubt as to why the discerning Christian should steer clear.

It would be too easy to dismiss Justin Peters as someone who is simply disgruntled, using his personal circumstances to get back at those whom he believes misled him. But that would be so far from the truth as to be laughable. Spend a little time in his presence, experience the joy and the passion for the truth that he has in spite of his obvious physical limitations, and you'll understand that what he wants above all else is for people to know the one true God, and His only-begotten Son who came to save the lost.

Tonight's concluding session, entitled "The Hurt of Healing," will deal with faith healing. Justin promises to provide some Scriptural insights about healing, and he promises that anyone who is dealing with illness will go away with a renewed sense of hope and understanding about God's will and purposes in these matters. If you're interested in attending, the seminar begins at 7:00 p.m. at the corner of Louisiana and Garfield. Just follow the steady stream of people into the First Baptist Church worship center.

The post title is a contemporary cultural allusion to a song by Pink, entitled "God is a DJ." I wouldn't recommend it for theological inspiration either, but it does have a good beat.

Excuses

The Writers Guild called and told me that while they appreciate the gesture, they'd really prefer that I resume blogging so that they'll look that much better by comparison when they go back to work. Hey, somebody's got to lower the bar.

I'm off to hear Justin Peters as he continues an absolutely fascinating study of the Word of Faith movement. I hope to make time for a report on that...eventually.

Meanwhile, feel free to talk amongst yourselves.

Ellen to the Griswolds: "I'm here for you."

Ellen DeGeneres is crossing the picket line, not because she doesn't sympathize with the striking writers but simply because, darn it, she knows how much her audience loves her.

I submit to you that anyone who makes attending the The Ellen Show the centerpiece of their family vacation probably has issues that won't be solved by a new contract with the writers guild.

I was planning to do a tearful reading, ala Fire Ant Classical Theatre, of the above quote so you'd get a better feel for the deep empathy DeGeneres has for, well, all things -- fans and puppies, especially; writers and written agreements perhaps just a tad less -- but I figured it would become a YouTube sensation and I just don't have time for that right now.

Random Thursday

Busy day ahead, so let's dive right in, shall we?

• Terrorist Toys - Consider this scenario. It's December, 2001. Government and military leaders in a foreign country have observed how America has been shaken to its core by the 9/11 attacks, and begin considering if there's a way to take advantage of our country's new focus on radical Islamists. The core question: if one has the patience, what's the best long-term strategy for bringing an otherwise potent nation to its knees? Answer: destroy its children. Question: how is that possible? Answer: Booby-trap the toys we export to that country. Think of it as an IED with a really long fuse. Perhaps it's time that the Department of Homeland Security took over policing Chinese imports? (And remember the saying, "just because you're not paranoid doesn't mean that everyone isn't out to get you.")


• Pop Tart Consumption - I think we've been selling Britney Spears short, based on the revelation of her monthly budget in court records associated with her ongoing dispute with K-Fed. We've pegged her as undisciplined and unfocused, but I challenge the Gazette readership to consider if they have the sheer stamina and determination to party each month to the tune of a hundred large, or to spend $16K every 30 days on clothes (which is even more amazing considering that none of that goes for underwear!).


• Shocked, I tell you. Shocked! - Jimmy's dismayed over the lack of civility on the part of certain anonymous blog commenters. This is a subject that probably merits its own post, but here's one thought that springs immediately to my mind. The blogger is responsible for - and has complete control over - what appears on his or her blog. This is a lesson that's sometimes learnt the hard way, as Jimmy discovered last Tuesday evening. The sad fact is that if you're going to post on potentially controversial or emotion-laden topics, you'd better be prepared to exercise strong editorial control of the resulting conversation. Eventually, those who have nothing of value to contribute will head for easier hunting grounds.


• I hate to end on negative notes, so here are a couple of tips. First, for the locals: Burr Williams has posted his list of the best books about the Llano Estacado (primarily encompassing West Texas), fiction and non-fiction. If you're a resident of the area, or just have a love of the region, it's worth using as a guide for building your library. Second, for anyone who likes gumbo but doesn't like going to the trouble to make it from scratch: Look for a jar of Cookwell & Company "Cajun Two-Step Gumbo" (available at H-E-B). Dump it in a pot, add some boiled shrimp or diced chicken, and steam some rice on the side. Add jalapeño or Tabasco sauce to suit, and enjoy. You'll be amazed, I gar-on-tee.

Have a good 'un!

1/20th of a Century of Unrelenting Trivialities

I don't normally observe a so-called "blogversary," primarily because it's an unattractive word (as is almost every made-up work prefaced with "blog-"), but today marks five years for the Gazette and symbolizes the fact that even the striving to attain mediocrity can be celebrated if it goes on long enough.

According to the stats, the Gazette's archives now consists of 3,348 posts (plus this one), complemented by 15,968 comments. That works out to about 1.8 posts per day, and I'm sure you'll agree that things were only improved by my inability to achieve that last two-tenths of a post.

While I've quit blogging at least a hundred times over the years (even though I succeeded only once, and even that success was short-lived), and even though I tell myself I'd keep doing this if no one but me was paying attention, the truth of the matter is that it's your comments and emails and conversations during chance encounters in the grocery store aisles and church pews and buffet lines that keep me doing it. So, you're either to blame or to thank, depending on your outlook.

As for me, I thank you. As do the baby squirrels.

China's Olympic Village Bible Ban: Good News?

Reports of China's prohibition of Bibles inside the Athlete's Village at next year's Beijing Olympics are slowly trickling out (do a Google News search for the topic and see how many mainstream media outlets are not reporting on it), it occurs to me that this action serves to highlight the power of the Gospel, and the fact that the Chinese government is operating not from a position of strength, but in abject fear.

That the iron-fisted government of one of the world's superpowers would simultaneously recognize and fear the power of God's word enough to ban it, while thinking that such a ban will actually be the slightest bit effective in blunting that power would be laughable if it wasn't so pitiful.

What the Chinese government seems to be incapable of grasping (or perhaps it's just in desperate denial) is that whether or not the Word is present in paper form, it will still be carried by thousands of visitors and athletes in their hearts and souls, and it will be shared by the millions of Chinese Christians for whom the term "freedom" has a connotation that many of us in the comfortable West can scarcely begin to imagine.

Some are reporting that the Koran will not be subject to a similar ban. If this is indeed true, it seem to indicate that the Chinese government doesn't fear the power of that book. Again, Christians should be flattered by the comparison.

Subtitling God?

Repairs on our treadmill were completed last week, putting a big dent in our checking account along with an equally big smile on my wife's face as she no longer has to endure the boredom of an exercise bike during her 5:00 am workouts.

One of the amazing things about the reinvigorated device, sporting a new motor and running tread, is its quietness. Over the past couple of years, as the motor bearings wore out and the tread lost its lubrication, the machine grew louder and louder, to the point where I had to activate subtitles on the DVDs I watched as I ran because I couldn't hear the dialog. But the changes had occurred slowly, and we forgot how quiet the treadmill could – and should – be.

I think my relationship with God is sometimes like that treadmill. Over time, gradually, I allow – or create – distractions and filters that eventually make it hard for me to hear His voice. I start looking for subtitles to help me understand His will, rather than going straight to the Source.

Do you have any subtitles in your spiritual life? Do you spend more time reading books about the Bible or Jesus than you do reading the Bible itself? Do you spend more time listening to Christian talk radio than listening to God in prayer? Do you engage in the things of God, rather than God Himself? I confess my guilt in all of these areas.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying that those things are bad or even unhelpful. God uses others to speak to us, and we should be sensitive and grateful when He does, but I believe He prefers the direct conversations.

Subtitles aren't always accurate representations of the actual dialog; they don't always communicate the right meaning. Fortunately, God doesn't need subtitles to get His message across, if we'll quieten the distractions around us, however good-intentioned they may be.

Writing Assignment

I know that some of you are participating in NaNoWriMo and can't be bothered with things like this (although even you might consider whether this might provide a creative break), but for the rest of you the assignment is simple: craft the opening sentence or two (or a paragraph if you're feeling particularly eloquent) of a story using the following photo as inspiration:

The Amazing Disappearing Petersons

Even though I'm feeling much better, I'm still reserving the right to blame the quality of posts over the next few days on the residual effects of Nyquil.

I'm positively puzzled over the proliferation of Petersons in the news lately. People with that surname seem to disappearing with alarming frequency. Consider:

• Laci Peterson was the first to make news, with her disappearance around Christmas of 2002.


• Now, Stacy Peterson has disappeared in Chicago, and is the subject of an ongoing investigation. (The confusion multiplies for me because I have a client with that name. And, no, I haven't heard from her in a while.)


• Kelsey Peterson is the Nebraska teacher who disappeared last week, along with a 13-year-old student. (She was just arrested without incident in Mexico.)


• Then there's Minnesota Viking rookie running back Adrian Peterson. Eh, what's that?, you're thinking. He hasn't disappeared. Well, ask any of the San Diego Chargers defensive players before whom he vanished in yesterday's record-setting rushing performance and I suspect they'll correct your misperception.

If your last name happens to be Peterson, you shouldn't be unduly concerned. I'm sure these are all just coincidences. Probably.

Foggy Re-entry

Dang, is it Friday already? I seem to have misplaced a few days this week.

Things are a bit hazy, but I recall visions of a large floating bottle of NyQuil (the yucky green color, not the soothing red) doing battle with allergens and viruses and such.

I'm better now, but thank goodness this isn't a audioblog. You wouldn't want to hear me talk.