It Seems To Me.

Recover

2009-03-21T13:08:00.000-04:00

Your fight has been long and bloody
Your body war-weary
Battles old and new haunt you…
Threaten…
Dismantle…
Destroy…
Your world collapses from within
And pain clouds your mind

How long till your rescue?

A voice disrupts the cacophony,
“You do not deserve this.”
Through the ages of your life it echoes,
“Release your pain to my power
Recover…
Be healed.”
And again with authority,
“Your past is not the victor.”

Where there is Pain.

2009-03-10T21:55:00.003-04:00

Tonight, I drove the mountains close to where I live. My family used to travel these roads quite frequently, on the way to a church where my dad was pastor at the time. This is the same road where friends who never experience motion sickness are suddenly overcome. A wide, sloping, gentle curve to the left suddenly becomes a narrow, hairpin to the right, then to the left. To one side is an overhanging rock face – mountain blown away decades ago by TNT and the labor of mountain men – and to the other is sheer drop into a tangle of brush, trees, leaves, and God knows what else.

From my present perspective in the driver’s seat, I recall the many trips as rear-passenger through those mountains. At this point this song on this CD would be playing, that is where I could feel my guts pushing forward while the rest of me and the car banked to the left. Memories of those days flooded my mind, each seeming to last forever but passing in an instant, always moving forward.

I kept chasing those memories, jumping from age 15 through this very night. So much joy. So much pain. For some reason people I’ve lost, love I’ve given away, time I’ve wasted seems to linger in front of my mind. There’s a connection between this foray into the mountains, but I can’t quite put it together…

I have a song on repeat… Surely we can Change, by David Crowder.

“Where there is pain, let there be grace…”

And the pain lingers… much like when a wound has partially healed over, but a careless bump reopens. Before, all this remembering would bring on a certain sense of condemnation. A feeling of inadequacy. Look what you’ve done… you’ll never be loved, you’ll never amount to anything.

But… this is different. The song repeats again.

“Surely we can change. Surely we can change…”

And then that Old Familiar Whisper stirs within. This is not for you, I feel him say. This is not for you, Brandon.

He says:

Your pain has been noticed, and I have felt it alongside you. The sound of your tears falling have captured me. I have turned my heart toward you. Your cries reach my ear each time they are uttered.

I have not forgotten you. I know the struggle you face… your daily frustration. Don’t let them control you. You have my power. I give you my grace. Be at peace.

And the song still repeats…

“The whole world’s about to change. The whole world’s about to change.”

Home Improvement and Bodily Injury

2009-03-07T22:38:00.006-05:00

This is phase one of the Deck Improvement Project.

For the past couple of months, I've been working with my Dad, who's an electrician. In that time I've done many things from hanging lights to rewiring older homes to wiring brand-new homes. Wiring a new home is strenuous - drilling through studs, dragging around spools of wire that weigh well over 75 lbs, and pulling the wire all through the home, up through rafters and down under floors.

But none of that is as strenuous as actual carpentry. I say strenuous but what I actually mean is "exhausting" and "extremely time consuming" and "just plain hard," but I don't want to sound like a wuss. The difficulty was interrupted by fits of fun, because pulling up rotted boards essentially amounts to destroying them. And like any man, I like destroying things. Rear back with the hammer, claw forward, drive that sucker into the bad wood, pull, yank, repeat. Someone get a cloth and sop up the testosterone profusely pouring from my forehead.

There are many rotted planks here and we removed about four of them around the one you see missing here, and there was a "one-by" (a three ft. long board, one inch-square), lying across an expanse. The way that it was laying, I thought that it was closer to a joist, and thus, safe to step on. Haha. Negative.

I completely missed the joist, and this happened.

Actually, I fell, through the joist space, snapping the "one-by" and causing the freshly Brandon'd end to jab into my stomach. There is another bruise that I’m sure no one wants to see.

If it were a few more inches east, I would be sitting in a corner, sobbing.

"Stimulus"

2009-02-27T14:31:00.001-05:00

There is $650k in the new spending bill set aside for beaver management in North Carolina. Should I say it?
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Breaking Out Your Momma

2009-02-24T22:53:00.002-05:00

I recently moved back to my hometown after eight years away. As such, I am having to reacquaint myself with old friends and make new ones. The friends I had in college were no strangers to innuendo and/or double entendre, and we were all quite good at coming up with off-color and (sometimes) slightly inappropriate remarks. From the short giggle at things that are otherwise innocuous to "That's what she said" and the all time favorite, "Your mom." "Your mom" is a standard retort to almost any insult that comes my way, and is infinitely versatile. For example:

Insulter: Gah, dude, your face is scary.
Insultee: Your mom's face is scary.

It's an air-tight response, really. And it all but dominates my conversations with peers.

With people I don't know too well, I'm never quite sure how to bust out the "Your mom" phrase. Will they take offense? Will they even get it? Will they think I have a immature sense of humor? I mean, I do, but I don't want them to think that's all I think is funny.

So, I'm open to suggestions. Tell me how I can win friends and influence people, just like Larry King. Only without being creepy and old. Or maybe just without being creepy.

Walmart

2009-02-21T17:09:00.001-05:00

I've been in walmart for 3 hours. Someone save me.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Lucas a Republican?

2009-02-20T23:31:00.004-05:00

I hate to break it to you, but it looks like George Lucas is a conservative. At least in a fiscal sense.

Talking about President Obama capping the salaries of business CEOs receiving federal bailout dollars, he said:

“I think it would be a good thing for shareholders to unite and say, ‘We are not interested in paying our executives this much money.’ That would work. But it’s not the government’s job to do that. It’s the stockholders job, but of course, they don’t seem to mind [Obama capping bank CEO salaries]. I’m not sure why. I wouldn’t pay somebody that much money.”

He went on to say that the current problem is due mainly to bad mortgages and toxic assets that the financial industry has taken on. I agree there. He also said that it was a problem created in the last eight years... which is a bit of a stretch. The Bush administration didn't do quite enough to halt the "sub-prime" market, though they repeatedly petitioned Congress to look into it.* With that said, this was a mess many, many years in the making. Banks made bad loans... knowingly made bad loans - in an attempt to make a LOT of money with little regard to ethics or what consequences may have lay ahead. For that they should be held account.

However, the federal government also pushed them and certain community groups pressured them, and their implication in the mess should not be forgotten.

* - Links are to blogs, where the White House website was cited. Those pages have been taken down since the new administration took over on Jan. 20.

Hello Today

2009-02-20T20:21:00.001-05:00

I have another story brewing in my head. But when I sit down to write, my brain feels a bit like mush. I wonder why that happens.

You know what would be awesome? If someone saw it and was like "Brandon, I want to pay you a million dollars for your stories." Or even a few hundred thousand.

What else is cool? I'm typing this on my phone and it will show up on them interwebs. Urmazing.

Substituting. And welcome back.

2009-02-19T22:54:00.002-05:00

Can I welcome myself back to regular blogging? Maybe if this actually becomes regular... we'll see.

So, I'm well on my way to become a substitute teacher for Logan County. This is exciting and a bit frightening. Exciting because substitute teachers here make a pretty good amount of money per day, exciting because I'm going to be "getting experience" for the type of job (teaching) that I've been dreaming/praying about for the last couple of years. But I'm a big frightened because I'm not sure about the actual teaching part.

I've taught in various capacities in the last 10 years (am I old enough to have done something substantial for 10 years?), and I've always done better when the lesson is "mine." It's fine if someone has given me a general topic to work with, but I'm not real good at doing someone's lesson. I guess it feels like cheating. I put a lot into what I write... its an investment. More so when it's something I have to actually talk about. So when I have a lesson that I've come up with, it's like I'm sharing a piece of me with the students/class. If its Joe Publisher's then.... it doesn't mean so much to me.

Maybe I'm overthinking it.

Anyway, the thing is that I can't figure out if I'm actually supposed to "teach" what the regular teacher has planned for the day. History or English I could probably get by with... math? Haha! Maybe if its adding or subtracting. Luckily I have a transcript of a scenario in which I teach calculus that I just made up:

Me: And that's how you find the value of Pie.
Student: Pi isn't served at walmart.
Me: Oh.
Student: And Pi is probably for Geometry or something.

See... kids are such jerks. Oh well. I'm sure I'll survive. I'll just rely on my stunning good looks and charm to get me through. Haha... no I won't, because kids are really vicious. So I'll have to be sarcastic. See what you've made me do?

---

I wrote this for one of the billions of pieces of paperwork I had to fill out in this process. The question was, essentially, "Why do you want to be a teacher?" And I spake thus:

I believe that every student has within them great potential. I also believe that each student is in danger of being quite distracted. Cell phones, television, the Internet, and a plethora of other things [remove "that"] demand their attention, turning them away from what can truly bring them a lifetime of freedom and prosperity – education.
As an educator, I don’t want to simply throw facts at students and “hope something sticks.” I don't want to try to satisfy them with stale facts, principles, and one-dimensional texts. I want to start a fire – a deep desire for knowledge that, when fed, only increases the students' desire to know more. By “know” I don’t mean to simply attain intellectual ascent but to experience (what the ancient Hebrews called “yada”)… interact with the material, so that it “comes alive.”
Further, I want my classroom to be a space where students feel safe from threats, ridicule, or whatever their dilemma. I (and all educators) would want our students to be safe from failure, but despite one’s best efforts, failure still happens. This is not to say that failure is encouraged or even expected. Rather, a classroom should be a safe place try, and “if” they fail, they can learn from and recognize their mistakes or shortcomings, come to terms with them, and continue forward.

What say ye?

The Precipice.

2009-01-18T22:55:00.000-05:00

The battle had been long.

He raised his arm to the sunlight and wondered at the scars that crisscrossed it. What pain I’ve endured to be here. It was less complaint and more a statement of fact.

Suddenly he felt the weight of the armor covering his chest. The shield on his back seemed to pitch him forward as he walked. I’ve walked for so long. As he thought this, he paused to look back, both to rest and gain his bearings before proceeding. His hand instinctively rubbed at the aches in his neck as he looked out on where he had come from.

A massive landscape stretched out under his gaze. From this point he could see the land where he began his journey. Before the war began. His eyes traced the pathway. There is where I was attacked… that is the valley that I was carried through… there is where my sword was knocked from my hand and I felt alone… Bodies were strewn about here and there, piles of the enemy he had slain with the First Warrior’s help. Victories won, but battles that left their mark.

At last his eyes fell to the foot of the mountain he was currently on. The battle had been fierce there. I barely made it out alive, he mused. Memories of times he sat to rest too long now haunted him, his resistance to the Urging freshly remembered. He shook off the hauntings. I am past that. He turned and resumed his quest.

Dark clouds rolled in from the south. Deep, black, foreboding… threatening. As he topped the ridge a mighty wind blew, forcing him to squint hard against it. I thought there was a bridge here. No bridge was to be seen, just a expansive, gaping hole. The wind caused him to stumble, but he righted himself. He looked for a way out.

It was then that he realized something odd about the wind - it was blowing him away from the precipice. Intrigued, he pushed forward, his eyes raw from the bluster. And there, he /saw a narrow bridge stretch on into infinity. As he advanced a hail storm erupted from the sky. The pellets pelted his armor, his face, his arms, and he was pushed to the ground. I am close… so close.

With a disgusting thud, a fist-sized rock struck the crown of his head, and his vision instantly dimmed. His last sensation was a bolt of lightening illuminating the heavens, followed by a peal of thunder that shook the earth. Is this what I’ve traveled this far for?

And the darkness overtook him.

A Modern Psalm - Intervene.

2008-08-27T22:59:00.003-04:00

God,

In the beginning, you created all that is with your very word.
The mother and father of humanity turned away the friendship you had with them, choosing to listen to the Darkness.

You intervened - you made a space for their redemption even in their disobedience to you.

The world became a very dark place, each man and woman following their own desires. This death and destruction caused you deep sorrow; you decided to destroy the destroyers.

You intervened - you found one family on earth who loved you and spared them in the midst of the Flood.

Your chosen nation, a society descended from the men you spoke with personally, was under the terrible oppression of a foreign king, forced into slavery.

You intervened - you turned the heart of a dark king to release your people.

The whole earth had come under the oppression of an even darker king, a world in bondage to a prince thrown from your very throne.

You intervened - you inserted yourself into the course of human history to break the sinister hold that the Dark King had on the world, re-establishing the Holy Order you set down at creation...

...that we would be companions with you.

And here we are today. We find ourselves struggling under the bondage that we've fallen victim to. In many cases they are things we've had no choice in - circumstances, heritage, abuse. In many more they are things we have wandered into knowing better.

You have called us, warning us and we didn't hear you. You have loved us and we've loved others, other things more than you. You have reached out to touch us and we have turned away.

Have mercy on us.

We have sought the things that bring us comfort and happiness more than you who bring us health and joy. We have fought hard for our freedom to worship you in our own way and ignored your invitation to join you.

Will you forgive us?

Like our ancient brothers and sisters, we have fallen to temptation; we have been conquered and given over to slavery. We can't escape without you.

We can't escape without you.

We don't know why you have made yourself available to us, to help us get out of the situations that we put ourselves in. All we know is that you have given us permission to ask. And so we ask now. Rescue us. Show up. We have no choice but to be humbled by you.

Be our escape.

Lead us from this wilderness. Give us the help we need to climb out of the deep valleys of sadness and regret. May we recognize it as you. Give us the clarity to follow your very heartbeat that you have put in all of us.

May you be our strength, for we have no strength.
May you be powerful, for we have no power.
May you give us wisdom, for there is none apart from you.
Most of all, may we love as you have loved us.
May we know your love.
May we see your love in our lives.
May we be perfect - being that which you have created us to be.
May you intervene.

We ask all this in the name of the Father,
through the Son,
by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Holy.

2008-03-21T21:58:00.001-04:00

It kind of creeped up on me.

There I was, 8:30 pm. Good Friday. By myself, outside, watching the moon. Thinking. I would say that I was suddenly transported, but I was still in the same place. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.

Suddenly I was transcended.

The largeness and utter and, at times it seems, obscene complexity of life washed over me in a moment. There is that thing, reflecting light from a big flaming ball of gas millions of miles away. It’s more or less a rock that spins around the earth. Somehow, though, that rock influences the masses of our oceans. And I’m just this guy. On a porch in Cleveland.

I expected to feel insignificant. I am an ant, with a small life, making small differences to small ways. Pushing my ball of dirt around, doing a lot of things that are monumental to me, but not really monumental in the grand scheme of things.

The feeling that came, however, was one of significance. I am a small part of something huge… cosmic. And yet I matter. I am important. Not just to the people I’m close to, but to existence itself. I am a major character in the story of life.

All of us. We’re all part of something that defines and yet escapes the definition of “large” or big… and we’re significant.

This is the definition of holy. This is the weight of glory.

What is man that you should think of him,
and the son of man that you should care for him?
For a little while you made him lower than the angels
and you crowned him with glory and honor.
- Hebrews 2.6-7

Push the Reset Button || Part One.

2008-02-05T21:09:00.000-05:00

[This will most likely be a multi-part post, but I welcome your thoughts all the way through the journey]

Back at the beginning of January I was invited to join a discussion about the effectiveness of the church. There were some good comments and a pretty good debate going, but most of the suggestions were mostly cosmetic in nature. Meaning, how should the church service look in order to attract people who have no relationship with Christ - logistical changes, more or less, and the term "rebranding" was thrown around. I enjoyed that conversation. The blog is owned by a particular church, and I truly believe that they are desirous to see changes that would lead and/or draw "non-believers" to their community. I'm writing this here so as not to hijack their foum. ;)

But conversations like this and others that I've had along those lines often leave me wondering, Is this enough?

The debates over style, tradition, presentation, etc. are important - vital, even. We often hear ourselves say, "The delivery changes, but the message stays the same."

I think a lot of people and churches really get the ball rolling on modifying their appearance in a sincere but perhaps misguided effort to reach "the lost." And, again, that is necessary. However, most times it ends up that we're repackaging the old traditions that we're rebelling against or reforming into new traditions. In essence, we're saying the same things that our parents and grandparents said, only we're wearing jeans and they had on 3-piece suits. And still "the lost" don't show up on Sunday. Why? I don't know. Why don't our evangelism tactics, no matter how cutting edge, or simple-step-ey, or air-tight-logical-reasons-to-accept-Jesus-Christ-as-your-personal-Lord-and-Savior-ey they are, get anyone "saved"? I have no idea. Why don't our programs work? I'm not sure, except that maybe our programs are aimed at people, not machines. And people don't respond the way that machines do.

So we seek to change the method of delivery. The problem is, maybe the method isn't necessarily the problem... maybe its the message itself. Maybe it's our theology. Maybe what we believe is the problem.

What do you think?

Eucharist. Remixed. Perhaps.

2007-10-25T22:59:00.000-04:00

Why do we practice communion? Was Jesus some sort of cannibalistic nut job? Is all this symbolic? Is there something more?

“In the beginning the Word already existed. He was with God, and he was God. He was in the beginning with God. He created everything there is. Nothing exists that he didn't make. Life itself was in him, and this life gives light to everyone. The light shines through the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.” – John 1.1-5

God created us in his image, making us intricately linked with him. An unexplainable connection that we can try to explain but more or less just sense or feel. Even those cultures tucked deep away in jungles and deserts claim a link with nature, the sun gods or the river gods… something outside of themselves that makes them unified with creation. Our Scripture claims the same, in that we and the rocks and mountains and zebras are all creations of a Creator. This image, though, speaks something different – we are intimately linked not with creation only, but with the Creator himself.

Adam and Eve were in paradise, in total communion with God. They walked the same earth, occupied the same space as their Creator. They loved him and he loved them. The whole deal was pronounced “good” by the Creator, and Love ruled.

And then serpent spoke. Adam and Eve sought to become like God by their own means and failed to recognize or forgot about the God already in them and with them. They ruined their fellowship, banished from paradise for their own sake.

Thousands of years passed. Humanity, the object of Divine Love, constantly rebelling against the Divine Lover, turning away his sacred romancing, drawing them constantly back to him. They refused, still seeking, aching to be reconciled but insisting on their own way.

And then the Creator became the created. Divine became human. Jesus Christ, Son of God and Son of Man, at the same time. God, above space and time inserted himself into it. Why? To reconcile that thousand-year-old divorce.

Jesus had a ton of people following him. The sick followed him – they heard he sometimes touched people and they were suddenly not sick. Tax collectors followed him – he took time to eat dinner with them. Prostitutes followed him – he spoke to him as though they were actually human. The religious elites followed him – he ticked them off. The healer, the friend, the radical… he was many things to many people.

On this particular day, he was a provider.

A large crowd enveloped him, drawn by the miracles they had seen and heard about. Jesus crossed Galilee and climbed a hill to sit with his closest friends for a while. He looked over the crowd and asked one of his friends, Phillip, a question.

“Where can we buy bread to feed these people?”

Philip answered in the way most of us would, “Uh, nowhere.”

Another friend spoke up, “There is a kid here who has some fish and some bread… but not enough to feed all these thousands.”

I imagine Jesus smiled his “I’m Jesus and I’m about to do something that will blow your mind” smile as he said, “Make the people sit down.” He took the food and gave thanks for it, and told his friends to distribute it.

No one went hungry. In fact 5000 people ate their fill, and there was enough to take home for later.

Later on, the crowd noticed that Jesus’ boat was gone, but that no one had seen him leave. So, as good crowds do with someone who just fed them, they went and found him.

Once they found him, someone asked, “Teacher, when did you get here?” The implication was, “Why didn’t you invite us?”

“You are just following me because I gave you free food, not because of how you saw God in my actions,” Jesus said. “Quit wasting your time searching for cheap tricks – search for the kind of food that will stick with you. The kind of food that I, the Son of Man, provide.”

The crowds longed for this food that wouldn’t leave them hungry ever again, but they weren’t quite sure what Jesus was talking about (as was often the case with Jesus). “Why don’t you just show us what’s going on? Our Scriptures tell us that Moses fed our forefathers. The bread from heaven and all that.”

Jesus paused, perhaps deciding how to phrase his thoughts. “The significance of that story is not that Moses called down food from heaven, but that God stands right now, offering you bread from heaven. Real bread. The bread of God came down out of heaven and is giving life to the world.”

The crowd became excited. “Give us that bread! Let us eat it forever!”

“I am that bread of Life. Those who come to me hunger and thirst no more. Ever. Once you embrace me, I never let go. I came down from heaven not to follow my own whim, but to accomplish the will of the One who sent me. What is that will? That all of you would be made whole – my job is to put you on your feet alive and whole when time ends.”

The religious elites got real uptight. “Who is he to say he is the bread from heaven? Isn’t this that poor carpenter’s son? We know his family! He is a liar!”

Jesus could sense their anger and said, “Don’t argue over me. This is not about you! You’re not in charge – the Father is in charge. If you sit under my teaching, you’re listening to the Father. You hear and see it firsthand from me, and I have it firsthand from the Father. No one has seen the Father except the One who has his Being alongside the Father… and you can see me. If you believe in me, you have real life, eternal life. I am the Bread of Life. Your ancestors ate bread in the desert and they died. Here is the bread out of heaven – if you eat it you will not die. I am living Bread! This Bread that I present to the world so that can eat and live is myself, this flesh and blood self.”

Some weren’t getting it. “How can this fool serve himself as a meal?”

Jesus kept going. “If you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you will have life within you. When you eat my flesh and drink my blood, I am in you and you are in me. If you make a meal of me, you live because of me.”

***

Some time later Jesus and his followers met together for the Passover meal that the community celebrated every year. Jesus’ mood turned very grave as the meal began. “You have no idea how I have looked forward to eating this meal with you before my suffering begins. One final time with my closest friends. This will be the last we share before we meet again in the kingdom of God.”

He raised the bread, blessing it. Then he tore it, passing it among them. “This is my body, given to you. Take it. Eat it.”

He then raised his glass, blessing the wine. “This is my blood,” he said, his eyes reddening and his voice quivering. “This is my blood poured out for you. A new covenant between you, me, and my Father. Drink.”

Memories washed over his followers. That day after he fed all those people with the fish and bread. I am the bread of life. If you make a meal of me, you live because of me. Eat my flesh and drink my blood…

***
Jesus seemed to be adamant on the point. Eat my flesh and dink my blood. Why would he be?

People living during the decades following Jesus’ death and resurrection thought the Christians were a cult of cannibals, due directly to this story and the practice of communion (the Lord’s Supper, or Eucharist).

Through the centuries, many Christian denominations have come to view communion as more or less simply symbolic. The juice and the bread are simple reminders of what Christ has done. I agree with that.

However, that doesn’t seem to reconcile Jesus’ insistence for his followers to eat his flesh and drink his blood. Obviously, he wasn’t insisting that we have Fried Jesus for dinner. Rather, he was insisting that we partake of his very essence. That we, in a sense, become Jesus.

But this becoming doesn’t mean that we will soon be able to walk on water and be able to call ourselves equal to the Creator. No, this means that we become Jesus by spending time with him, learning from him, being captured by the Holy Spirit, striving to have his mind, seeing people as he sees people, talking to people as he spoke to them. In a word, Loving.

Love, after all is the truest essence of God. It propels him in his every action – Creation, all the repentance messages of the Old Testament prophets, and ultimately Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross.

Jesus’ message to us was for us to consume him so that we may live as he lived. That we may be in his presence.

The bread and the juice are reminders and symbols and also much more. This simple eating and drinking is where we intersect with countless men and women across the ages who have done the same and where we ultimately intersect with Christ.

Where we become the Word.

Danger and Romance and Other Exciting Things [ch3]

2006-01-30T17:03:00.000-05:00

Dirk picked up his gun. He had a Thought. It was crazy. It was crazy and weird.

But it just might work.

"Jye! I've solved it!" he blurted out.

Jye Normous had fallen asleep, since this book has been laying dormant for about 4 months. "What is it sir? Did you find out who stole New York?"

"Oh... I forgot about that," Dirk said, suddenly somber. "But no, we can deal with that later. I've figured out how they cram all that graham!"

Jye stared at him in disbelief.

"Ok, no I didn't. That was just a joke."

Suddenly, Concerned Aggrivating Reporting People's Press Incorporated Enterprise (CRAPPIE) had News
Flash!

"NEW YORK SPOTTED!" News Flash said.

"Ah, cusswords!" Dirk exclaimed, as evidenced by the exclamation point. ! Those Robitussins stole New York and painted it! Call a News Conference!"

"Yes, sir!" Jye said. He picked up the phone.

"Hello, News Conference? Oh... This is News Event? I am sorry, I was trying to reach your brother. Is he avaliable? Ok... good." Jye hung up. "Mr. President - "

"THE PRESIDENT IS HERE?!?!?!? Why was I not informed?" Dirk yelled, obviously an idiot.

"You are, sir."

"Oh. I keep forgetting."

There was a knock at the door. Jye opened it.

Dirk raised his gun...

Danger and Romance and Other Exciting Things [ch2]

2006-01-19T18:29:00.000-05:00

The saga continues... Scroll down for chapter one.

Chapter 2

"Poop!"

Dirk slammed his fists on the oval office desk, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, I said it.” He looked at his Vice President, Jye Normus.

“Mr. President, we seriously need to find New York,” Jye said.

“Oh. Well, let me finish this football game.”

“Yes sir. I don’t mean to be rude, but might this be a bit more important than Madden 2006?”

Dirk was silent for a moment.

“Your mom is more important.”

“Mr. President, millions of people are missing, one of the largest cities in the world and a major financial center of the US has disappeared. We need to find New York.”

“Your mom goes to New York.”

“Um, sir, not anymore. New York was stolen by the Rustonasians.”

“MY GOD!”

“You realize the importance now?”

”You bet your sweet bippy. I didn’t even know Rusbonstations were real people!”

Jye nodded.

If this were a movie, dramatic music would swell and indicate tension but also the chapter closing.

"Your mom is a Rubenstuddardmason." Dirk chuckled.

He chuckled with his gun.

Danger and Romance and Other Exciting Things [ch1]

2006-01-19T18:23:00.000-05:00

Well, friends, I'm going to write a book. This book is going to be fandangtastic. It will be ACTION PACKED and ADVENTUROUS and have ROMANCE and LOTS OF OTHER THINGS!!!

Of course, this will be a slow process, as novels take many many decades to write. Also, I'm going to write one chapter today and then the next one probably in 2 months when I think of it again.

So, without further delay....

Chapter 1

It was a dark and stormy night in the Capitol. Or Capital. Whichever one means city. The People were sleeping. Sleep is always good on dark and stormy nights. It keeps you out of Trouble.

And Trouble was definitely not a place to be on this night.

Dirk Dirk Boberk was a mighty fine man. So fine that if he turned sideways in the shower he would go down the drain. That was obviously just literary humor. Dirk (or Kirk as some people called him) (you can call him Dirk) was a tall man. He was a fine tall man.

With a gun.

Dirk carried his gun in an old backpack held together with duct tape and SuperGlue. This was probably in violation of some Federal Laws, but Dirk didn't care.

He was the President.

With a gun.

He was the President with a gun. Dirk.

"Mr. President," an aide bursted through the door to tell him, "New York is gone!"

"I'm the president?" Dirk wondered aloud.

"Yes sir, for 7 years now."

"Oh. Great. Hold a press conference to spread the news. As for New York, where has it gone?"

Jye Normus, the Vice President piped up, "We think the Cubans have stolen it, sir."

"Ok... are we sure though. Did anyone check with Phoenix? Maybe New York is staying over with Arizona."

But no one had checked.

---End Chapter 1---

I think this has Oscar written all over it. Especially since I used up my Sharpie doing it.