The Black Church

The Black Church

For as long as I can remember, I've had a bit of a harder time identifying with others than most people.  I've always felt a bit... disconnected.  Even when surrounded by loving and familiar people, I've felt a bit of a distance.

The "Black Church" is a prime example.

I was at my friend Tommy's house, and we were just hanging around talking and doing a whole lot of nothing.  Tommy was my best friend, and his mom felt like an extension of my own family.  If I was awake, not at school or not at work, I was most likely with Tommy.  His mother came home from work, and considering WHO and WHAT she was, the tone and subject matter of our conversation changed instantly.  Instead of a particular girl we were both interested in for very carnal reasons, we were suddenly talking about video games.  It's funny how that happens.  WHO she was was Tommy's mother.  WHAT she was was a Bible Believing Baptist who was not so timid as to not literally hit you with the Bible if you strayed too far.

"How about the graphics in that new Need for Speed video game!"

She and Tommy started talking about some folks I didn't know, so I somewhat tuned them out (probably part of why I sometimes feel disconnected from people).  Eventually, something in their conversation hit me that woke me back up.  She said, "They live right next door to the black church."

"Black church?" I asked.
"Yeah, the black church," she answered, as if I'd know EXACTLY the church she was talking about.

I mean, why wouldn't I?  Who doesn't know the black church?  How can you drive past it and not know it?  It's freakin' obvious.  It's...  it's...  why... it's BLACK.

My mind raced.  Fearing that mild humiliation of not knowing the obvious, I frantically tried to recall the black church. Surely, I'd seen it.  Surely, I knew where it was.  Surely... surely... surely I wasn't so oblivious to the world around me to not notice a black building with a steeple!  What am I?  An idiot?


Apparently, I am, was, and always will be.

Of course, she wasn't referring to a building painted black as I had imagined. She was referring to Prospect AME Zion Church.  Prospect AME Zion Church... the church of black people.

I never let on that I was actually trying to remember a building painted black.

I never let on that I didn't know that the term "black church" meant a church where the congregation was all black... er... "African Americans."

I was, of course, ashamed of my ignorance.


Now, I'm 40, not 17.

Now, I'm actually rather proud of the fact that I had no clue.  I'm impressed that my mother raised me in THE SOUTH with no clue of such racially tinged colloquialisms.  I'm proud of the fact that I simply do not care about your race.  Screw you if you do.

The church I attend now is not white... it's not black... It's a rather good reflection of the community in which it's based.  The term "church," when found in the New Testament, is more accurately translated as "gathering of people" or even "congregation."  I like that.

I shall not attend a "black gathering of people," because my pale skin would spoil the definition.

I shall not attend a "white gathering of people," because I doubt I'll ever live in an area where everyone is white, and I'd feel weird in a room full of honkies.

Instead, I attend a "Jesus loving gathering of people..."  and in that respect, we come from many backgrounds and in many shades.

Cyclists are Idiots

You may know that I'm a driver for UPS. As such, I see quite a bit of bizarre things from time to time, and many are unmentionable.  Human behavior can be mind boggling, and I just soak it all in.

One aspect of human behavior that I find particularly amusing is the desire people have for other people to look at them... to notice them.  Be it the mid-life-crisis-guy revving his Harley at a stoplight or the 19 year old black kid with his boom-boom music blaring at the same stoplight, the message is the same:  LOOK AT ME!

Those are obvious examples, though.  Some are not quite so obvious, and I stumbled upon a couple of examples at the same time while eating lunch. Towards the entrance of a massive golf-course subdivision I deliver to, they have a pretty expansive tennis & swim complex.  Overlooking this is a parking lot with covered picnic tables...  a great place for a packed lunch.  While sitting there people watching & chowing down on my wife's delicious pasta salad, I noticed something peculiar and a little funny.  As women would leave the pool to walk towards their cars, two different rituals would take place.  Women of a certain age would pack up their things, put on a shirt or wrap themselves in a towel and make their way to their car.  The younger pre-offspring women would dry off, pack their towels in their bag, and then proudly strut half naked the 100 yards to their cars...  or even all the way home!  LOOK AT ME!  LOOK AT ME!

But, the young women weren't the only ones panting for the attention of another's eyes. Mind you, I drive the streets of this neighborhood day in & day out, so I get to know the faces of those who are out & about.  There's a particular lady I have noticed running along the side of the road towards the entrance of the subdivision for months.  Like I said, this is a MASSIVE neighborhood, so the car traffic at the entrance is constant.  I'd always figured this lady lived near the entrance, so that's why she ran there.  Imagine my astonishment when I saw her jogging through the parking lot from the street, to her car, climb in & drive back INTO the subdivision!  I recognized her car as one I see parked - quite literally - as far from the entrance of the subdivision as you can get.  This lady actually gets in her car, drives to the entrance of her subdivision, and then runs up & down the road so her neighbors can see her running!  LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!

It's imbecilic.  It's prepubescent.  It's absurd.

Know what's even more absurd?  Cyclists.  They're morons.

Before you cyclists get your padded panties in a wad, remember, I'm an avid cyclist myself.  I love my bike.  I love riding my bike. I stare at it longingly when it's icy outside.  I think about it when I'm in bed trying to go to sleep.  I only half-jokingly call it my mistress.  When I pull onto UPS's lot at the end of my day, I peer towards the employee lot to see if I can see my mistress perched happily on the roof rack of my car.  I might have a problem...

I digress (one of my superpowers.)

Rights.  Let us talk about our rights.
Okay, allow me to ramble on about our rights.

I, for example, have the right to say the South deserved to lose the Civil War, and that Dixie will never rise again.  I have the right to shout this in the stands at a Mississippi Rebels Homecoming football game.  I'd be a moron if I did.

I have the right to go to a McDonald's drive-through and ask them to take a dump in a cup & call it a chocolate shake.  If they did that, I'd really have no room to complain.

I have all sorts of rights that are positively idiotic if exercised.  I try to avoid idiocy.

Now, back to us cyclists... the idiotic morons exercising our rights...

I have the right to ride on any surface street in Georgia unless otherwise restricted.  On many or most roads, I'd be an idiot if I did.  Driving around in my big brown truck, like I said, I have gotten to observe some of the more interesting things about human behavior.  One of them is the desire of a certain group of cyclists to ride their bikes on the absolute most dangerous surface streets Georgia has to offer... winding shadowy fast two lane country roads?  Check!  Industrial parks that double as rush hour thoroughfares?  Check!  Double check for riding solo at 5:30!  The "slow lane" of a 6 lane road instead of the dedicated bike lane that is stupidly dangerous to ride in itself?  CHECK!

What the heck, guys?  Turn your brains on!  You are not only being an idiotic moron, you're also being a self-centered egotistical jerk!  Imagine if you were trying to get somewhere & got stuck behind my UPS truck with me refusing to ride over 22 miles an hour.  How'd that stick in your bonnet?  I have the RIGHT to do that, afterall (the difference being you probably can't kill me in my big brown truck by texting & driving).  You're abandoning any responsibility for your own safety, demanding others respect your right to be an idiot, and placing a HUGE burden on drivers.  Afterall, we've all struggled to get around a cyclist who is puttering along at 1/3 the flow of traffic.  As a professional driver, I find it challenging.  I can only imagine what this is like for the elderly, the teenager or the fresh-to-America immigrant from a country without cars.  You Jerk.

Here's another little detail of these idiotic moronic self-centered egotistical jerks: they're almost ALL white men from about 35 years to 65 years with a scruffy grey beard.

Those pre-offspring women get their ego stroked by attracting the eyes of men & jealous glares of other women.  The woman running in the high traffic area of her neighborhood enjoys people knowing that SHE is in shape & still looks good.

So, what is it these middle aged buffoons are getting out of this idiotic behavior?  I have my guesses, but one thing is clear.  They're giving the rest of us a bad rap.  They're giving the rest of us a bad rap, and they're getting killed in the process.  They have the right to say what they want at that football game.  They have the right to order poop in a cup.  They are also reaping the harvest of exercising those rights.



Please.

Unless it's a road that makes sense to ride on, don't.

Illegals

I'd like to share a few thoughts on illegal immigrants.  I generally have steered clear of sharing my political views online for a few years, but since neither the Republicans nor Democrats share my views, and since it is now a hot button subject, I figure now is a good time to break my  semi-silence.

First, let us recall how prohibition worked.  The Federal Government, in the 20s, decided it should be illegal to produce alcoholic beverages.  In spite of the fact that there was enormous demand for booze, the laws were passed.  It is debatable whether this actually lowered the amount of booze consumed in America.  In the brief time prohibition was the law of the land, organized crime exploded, cops were bought & paid for and an entire underground economy and illegal industry developed to thwart the law.

Yes, booze were illegal, but that didn't actually stop many people from drinking.


Some of the slightly more clever of you already know where this is going.

The lesson learned - or the lesson that should have been learned - is that outlawing something which is under very heavy demand is absurd.


When it comes to immigration, we have two equally stupid camps.  On one side, we have a political party that panders to any and every socially identifiable group they can find.  Blacks, gays, hispanics, women, environmentalists, union members, poor people, ex-cons, legal immigrants, illegal immigrants, handicapped people, federal employees, cops, teachers, short people, fat people, bald people... okay, minor exaggeration, there, but you get the point.  In this pandering, they've decided that by sucking up to illegal immigrants and finding a way to get them a voter ID card, they can get a few votes from them.  So, their solution to the immigration problem is to basically legalize anyone here illegally, and do nothing to keep anyone else from coming to the nation illegally.

They're morons.

On the other hand, we have a bunch of old white guys who basically think we need to put up a TexMex version of the Berlin Wall & shoot the first Messicun who comes too close and not allow any more of "them" to come here.

Yeah, they're morons, too.


Neither group is interested in fixing the problem.  One is all about blindly legalizing everything and the other is about prohibiting everything.

Oversimplifying?  Perhaps. Am I wrong?


You see, the root of the problem is prohibition.  If you make something that is in high demand illegal, you're going to end up with people breaking the law.  The number of people breaking the law depends on the availability of what you're prohibiting and the potential consequences of getting caught vs. the benefits.

Availability?  Yeah, that's an awfully big open border with even bigger open coasts.  After we build the wall from the Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific, will we then start with the walls around our beaches?

Consequences vs. Benefits?  The consequences are that, if you ALSO kill someone, they might send you back to wherever you came from.  The benefits are that you get to live in America.  Duh.  I know what I'd choose to do.


The problem isn't that people from South and Central America want to come here.  That's a good thing.  The problem is that we've made it nearly impossible for them to do it legally.  Seriously.  If you're a Mexican and want to move your family to America to work hard and become Americans, the U.S. basically says, "Piss off, we don't want you."

So, these people come here anyway. The second they cross the border, they are criminals.  Their lives are instantly lived as though they're on the run from the law.  They are taught and learn ways to subvert every level of law enforcement and government.  In cities where illegal immigrant populations are high, there are cottage industries that provide drivers licenses, social security cards, birth certificates and any other documents one might need to obtain a job.  They live without their names on leases, drive without insurance and put their kids in our schools without paying taxes.  Why?  Is it because they're bad people?  Nope... it's because the immigration system is run by and has been set up by morons - morons who live in a fantasy world who seem to think that by making a thing illegal, that illegal thing disappears (sounds like prohibition, doesn't it?)

Before we build any walls or legalize the illegals (I refuse to call them "undocumented,") we should be changing immigration laws to provide a quick and easy system by which would-be immigrants can come here legally.  Afterall, clearly, they're going to come here anyway.  Why not side-step the system we have now that ushers them into instant criminal status and let them live as normal people?  Instead, give people a background check, set up a system by which they can become citizens, and let them live here productively and legally!  Again...  they're going to come here anyway!

After we've broken down the barrier that keeps good people out of the nation, then we should most certainly build our "Berlin Wall" to keep out the people who would then have a need to thwart our relatively open doors.  When did we develop the mentality that America was "off limits" to foreigners?


I would like to leave you with two thoughts:


The first is the inscription at the base of the Statue of Liberty...

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

Second is one simple fact about the Berlin Wall.  Unlike what has been proposed for our Southern Border, the Berlin Wall was not designed to keep people out.  It was designed to keep people in. 

Some thoughts on Tattoos...

From time to time, I need to rant...  to vent...  this is one of those times.


Tattoos...  Sometimes, I get it.
...a name
...a symbol
...just something that's cool & you like.
I get that.

My friend Tim has an alien on his shoulder.  It's awesome.  I don't think it represents anything, but it's well done, very simple, and looks good.  You're not left wondering, "What's that blob on Tim's shoulder."  Too many tattoos just look like a blob from more than 5 feet away.

With some other people's tattoos, I'm like, "It looks like someone just randomly started scribbling on you."  I have some pretty good perspective on that since my 5 year old scribbles on himself regularly.

I often browse music on Youtube. That's where I find music now, since Atlanta Radio is generally
horrendous.  It's no secret that I love female vocalists, so when I found Christina Perri, I instantly loved her voice.  Sadly, as physically beautiful as she is, her multiple tattoos look like a combination of a 5 year old's scribbling and how a 5 year old likes to randomly put stickers all over their bodies.

Horrendous...  I like that word, today.

Then, I stumbled across her video "Human," where she has all her tats covered up with make-up.  Wow!  She goes from 5 year old to beautiful classy looking lady instantly (aside from not wearing enough clothes.)

Now, I'm not anti-tattoo, but I am anti-trashy/stupid/ugly-tattoo (not meaning to pick on Perri.)  Sure, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but finding beauty in a 5 year old's scribbling on himself takes a special kind of love.  It's even harder when it's not your kid & they're not 5.

The tattoo lovers out there will be quick to tell me that they didn't get their tattoos to please me.  Duh.  With that understanding in mind, don't feign offense when people look at your ugly tattoos and instantly make judgments about you.  Tattoos aren't birth marks.  They're things people do intentionally and spend good money on. They're permanent.  So, if your tattoo is visible to me, I can assume - barring some extreme circumstances - you chose to have that done to you.  It reflects your decision making abilities and in many cases, your values.

So, as a message to people with tattoos who get offended when they hear about companies not hiring folks with visible tattoos, quit fooling yourself. You know what you did.  Be an adult.

To those of you with tattoos that you can cover up and understand why you have to cover them up, please explain this to some of your less enlightened compatriots.

To those of you without tattoos, but considering them, take your time.  Find a good artist, spend the appropriate money, and be willing to bear the consequences of your decision...  specifically if that decision includes putting anything on your neck.

It's Mothers Day Eve...

This is one of my least favorite holidays. It ranks right up there with Valentine's Day for me. I won't belabor you with tales of my past, but suffice it to say that my relationship with my mother was never what I wanted it to be. Perhaps I sound like brat when I say things like that, but "it is what it is," as they say.

This day makes me wonder about people who have/had good mothers. Do they realize the precious gift that they have been given? How could they? In spite of myself, I resent them for not knowing. It is a foolish and selfish emotion, but it is there nonetheless. 

I reminisce about motherly women in my past...  Wanda, Jeremy's mother.  Jeremy has been a dear friend since I was 9. His mother, I think, was more concerned for me than my own.  David's mom, likewise, worried about me.  Then, there was Janice who worries over me to this day and feeds me more than just good old Southern cooking.

Of course, there is Martha.  Sharon's mother.  Sharon... my late wife.  Martha... the Sunday School teacher.  The laundry folder.  The quiet still voice that quelled their family's trepidation at the eldest daughter bringing a long haired hippy into their home... and threatening to marry him.

Blessings.  

This may be a leap, but I wonder how the elderly bear the weight of all the lost souls in their lives.  I have lost but a few, and the weight of their absence presses on me with every breath.

I miss them.  I love them.  

I do not have the love of a mother.  This makes this day that much harder.  The air is thicker.  The sun is brighter.  I squint to block it out.

And hide the tears.

So, for those of you who do have good mothers...  Beverly, Jeremy, Kerstin, John, Jane...  Remember what a blessing a good woman is.  Remember what a blessing a good mother is.


You may not be a fan of hers, but that's okay.  Listen to this song...  I hope it touches you the way this semi-orphan has been touched by it.

New Movie Short "The Lost Race" 5 minutes well spent!

As Christians, we often refer to our "Christian Walk."
I personally think it shouldn't be a walk. It should be a race.

Hear me out...

If you, as a Christian, are in a race, who are you racing against?
That's simple.  Satan.

If you are in a race, what or who are you racing towards?
Some people say Heaven, and other people say Jesus.

Well, if you're a Christian, you already have Jesus, and I don't think you're really racing towards Heaven (that's just a missed heartbeat away.)

I think we're racing towards "the lost..."

With that in mind, I present to you my new short film "The Lost Race."

70 mph on a bicycle! Nuts!

This one is just for fun...  Hope you enjoy!