What is it about mailed advertisements that make companies lose any and all semblance of propriety and dignity? It's not as if I ask for junk mail... the address that they sent it to is one that I don't even give out!!! You would think that in going to the trouble of sending out these advertisements, which cost them quite a bit of money just in postage, that they would make sure that whoever they were sending them to would actually have use for their product. But no.... (I guess that "Brenton" could be a fairly non-descript name. I suppose that by some stretch of the imagination it could be either male or female.) I don't think that I have any use, whatsoever, for tampons. And not just any tampons, but Pearl Tampons. They even sent me a coupon for a free trial!! I guess I should be insulted, but right now I am just amused. And slightly perturbed that they even have that address... because the ONLY people that have it are the fine people in the administration of LeTourneau University... and I KNOW that they would NEVER give anything like that out. But I won't go there. I can't... right now.

 
The Suicide Of Marlboro Man
An Article by Fred Reed


The other days I was reading G. Gordon Liddy's book of conservative nostalgia, When I Was a Kid, This Was a Free Country. He paints a sunset picture of former times when America was free, farmers could fill in swamps without violating wetland laws, and guns were just guns. People were independent and had character, and made their own economic decisions. The market ruled as it ought, and governmental intrusion was minimal.

The picture is accurate. I lived it. I wish it would come back, which it won't. It was a world certain to kill itself.

What happens is that, in an independent-minded rural county full of hardy yeomen, the density of population grows, either nearby or at distant points on each side. A highway comes through because the truckers lobby in Washington wants it. Building a highway is A Good Thing, because it represents Progress, and provides jobs for a year.

It also makes the country accessible to the big city fifty miles away. A real-estate developer buys 500 acres along the river from the self-reliant character-filled owner. He does this by offering sums of money that water the farmer's eyes.

First, 500 houses go up in a bedroom suburb called Brook Dale Manor. A year later, 500 more go up at Dale View Estates. This is A Good Thing, because the character-filled independent now-former farmer is exercising his property rights, and because building the suburb creates jobs. The river now looks ugly as the devil, but this is a wacko issue.

At Safeway corporate headquarters, way off God knows where, the new population shows up as a denser shade of green on a computer screen. A new Safeway goes in along the highway. This is A Good Thing, exemplifying free enterprise in action and creating jobs in construction. Further, Safeway sells cheaper, more varied and, truth be known, better food than the half-dozen mom-and-pop stores in the county, which go out of business.

Soon the mall men in the big city hear of the county. A billion-dollar company has no difficulty in buying out a character-filled, self-reliant farmer who makes less than forty thousand dollars a year. A shopping center arrives with a Wal-Mart. This is A Good Thing, etc. Wal-Mart sells almost everything cheaply.

It also puts most of the stores in the country seat out of business. With them go the restaurants, which no longer have the walk-by traffic previously generated by the stores. With the restaurants goes the sense of community that flourishes in a town with eateries and stores and a town square. But this is granola philosophy, appealing only to meddlesome lefties.

K-Mart arrives, along with, beside the highway, McDonald's, Arby's, Roy Rogers, and the other way stations on route to coronary occlusion. Strip development is A Good Thing because it represents the exercise of economic freedom. The county's commerce is now controlled by distant behemoths to whom the place is the equivalent of a pin on a map.

This is A Good Thing. The jobs in these outlets are secure and comfortable. The independent, character-filled frontiersmen are now low-level chain employees, no longer independent because they can be fired.

A third suburb, Brook Manor View Downs, appears. The displaced urbanites in these eyesores now outnumber the character-filled etcs. They are also smarter, have lawyers among their ranks, and co-operate. They quickly come to control the government of the county.

They want city sewerage, more roads, schools, and zoning. The latter isn't unreasonable. In a sparsely settled county, a few hogs penned out back and a crumbling Merc on blocks don't matter. In a quarter-acre yuppie ghetto, they do. Next come leash laws and dog licenses. The boisterous clouds of floppy-eared hounds turn illegal.

Prices go up, as do taxes. The profits of farming and commercial crabbing in the river do not go up. The farmers and fishermen are gradually forced to sell their land to developers, and to go into eight-to-fiving. Unfortunately you cannot simultaneously be character-filled and independent and be afraid of your boss. A hardy self-reliant farmer, when he becomes a security guard at the Gap, is a rented peon. The difference between an independent yeoman and a second-rate handyman is independence.

People make more money, and buy houses in Manor Dale Mews, but have less control over their time, and so no longer build their own barns, wire their houses, and change their own clutch-plates. Prosperity is A Good Thing. Its effect is that the children of the hardy yeoman become dependent on others to change their oil, fix their furnaces, and repair their boats.

The new urban majority are frightened by guns. They don't hunt, knowing that food comes from Safeway and its newly-arrived competitor, Giant. They do not like independent countrymen, whom they refer to as rednecks, grits, and hillbillies. Hunting makes no sense to them anyway, since the migratory flocks are vanishing with the wetlands.

Truth be told, it isn't safe to have people firing rifles and shotguns in what is increasingly an appendage of the city. The clout of the newcomers makes it harder for the independent whatevers to let their weapons even be seen in public. The dump is closed to rat-shooting.

The children of the hardy rustics do not do as well in school as the offspring of the commuting infestation, and are slowly marginalized. Crime goes up as social bonds break down. Before, everyone pretty much knew everyone and what his car looked like. Strangers stood out. Teenagers raised hell, but there were limits. Now the anonymity of numbers sets in and, anyway, there's no community any longer.

And so the rural character-filled county becomes another squishy suburb of pallid yups who can't put air in their own tires. The rugged rural individualists become cogs in somebody else's wheel. Their children grow up as libidinous mall monkeys drugging themselves to escape boredom. The county itself is a hideous expanse of garish low-end development . People's lives are run from afar.

What it comes to is that the self-reliant yeoman's inalienable right to dispose of his property as he sees fit (which I do not dispute) will generally lead to a developer's possession of it. The inalienable right to reproduce will result in crowding, which leads to dependency, intrusive government, and loss of local control.

I'd like to live again in Mr. Liddy's world. Unfortunately it is self-eliminating. Freedom is in the long run inconsistent with freedom, because it is inevitable exercised in ways that engender control. As a species, we just can't keep our pants up. But it was nice for a while.

 
Well, just found out that my Grandma has cancer. Just seems to be one blow after another. I know God wants to teach me some lessons, but all at once!!! Yeah, life sucks, and it's wonderful, all at once. I asked God to do whatever he needed to take me down and make me receptive to Him, but I didn't really MEAN it!! :-) Anyway, His will be done.

 
How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD Almighty! My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young-- a place near your altar, O LORD Almighty, my King and my God. Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you. Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baca, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. They go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion. Hear my prayer, O LORD God Almighty; listen to me, O God of Jacob. Look upon our shield, O God; look with favor on your anointed one. Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked. For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor; no good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless. O LORD Almighty, blessed is the man who trusts in you.


See, that is the kind of desire that I want to have for my God. The question is, why is it so hard to even cultivate that desire, much less the closeness that it talks about?? I think part of my problem is that I want to get it done RIGHT NOW, but we will never make it all the way there until we are with Him in heaven. So for now it is baby steps.... and even though I must never be satisfied with where I am, I must also give God the room to do what He wants on His time schedule. Baby steps.... hehe.... I guess then I can put my trust in Him to catch me when I fall. And I fall altogether too often.

 
It is a rather intimidating thing to have someone right in front of you going through a serious, full fledged asthma attack. Little did I know that this is what I would encounter when I was flagged down this afternoon by a small group of people in front of Longview Hall. While I have been trained to deal with heart attacks and other serious injuries, the helplessness of being faced with something that can only be dealt with by the proper medication is frightening at least, terrifying at best. We all have a natural and innate fear of being unable to breath, for without breath, and the oxygen that is so desperately needed by our bodies, we have only a few minutes to live. The sight of someone, even a stranger, being faced with just that threat is almost traumatizing. Thankfully, this time things turned out all right, and EMS arrived without incident a few minutes after I called. But it just serves to remind you of just how fragil life can be, and it brings it home just what position I am in. My responsibilities as a security guard go far beyond just making sure a few vehicles are safe at night, a few doors are locked up. I am a first responder, and my actions can indeed determine the course of the rest of someones life. I just pray that if and when that time comes, and it really does depend on my skills and training, that God will give me the strength and knowledge to act wisely and efficiently.

 
I guess you should expect that on any major project at least something will go wrong, but I thought that I had finally escaped for once without that mishap. The final bolts were going into place, the side covers were on. The motorcycle was gleaming, and just about beautiful as the day it came off the assembly line for the first time. The only sign that anything even might wrong was a slow drip from the underside of the engine, but I was ignoring it with the childish hope that it was nothing. So, when the engine turned over for the first time, and the throaty roar shook auto society for the first time in almost a year, my hopes were high. But they fell from the heights in under seconds as smoke began pouring from the engine, and oil began pooling on the cardboard beneath the chassis. I immediately shut down the machine that had taken so much of my time and attention over the past week, and sat... and sat. On closer inspection the situation was not as dire as I had feared. The smoke was simply from the rear cylinder valve cover, as the gasket was obviously leaking copious amounts of pristine 10-40W engine oil onto the already hot exhaust ports, and the secondary pool was coming from the oil pressure switch, so at least my machine was not mortally wounded, but still, the letdown was hard. Then, I made that little mistake that turned the other little mistake into that big mistake which I had, up to this point at least, avoided. I tried to tighten down that bolt... that innocent little bolt sitting on the top of the rear cylinder that held on the valve cover. And that innocent bolt bit back... and snapped. Argh!!! And I should have known better. So now, instead of a simple gasket needing replacement, I now had to remove the entire engine, procure a new bolt and gasket, and reassemble the whole mess again. Yep, God will teach me patience one way, if not another. :-D So now, instead of a couple hours from being able to feel the wind in my hair again, at least a week or more still remains. But at least my baby still runs. And I can take hope in that fact, and consolation in that I am hardly the first backyard (or back shop) mechanic to make the error of thinking that just one more turn of that innocuous little bolt will fix everything. Because the easy solution is almost never the right solution, and the easy way out often causes greater problems than it worked to correct.... I wonder if this has any applicability to life in general.... Nah.... I think it is something only reserved for motorcycle mechanics. :-D Until next time!!! Signing off.

 
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. And you have forgotten that word of encouragement that addresses you as sons: "My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines those he loves, and he punishes everyone he accepts as a son." Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons. For what son is not disciplined by his father? If you are not disciplined (and everyone undergoes discipline), then you are illegitimate children and not true sons. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of our spirits and live! Our fathers disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. "Make level paths for your feet," so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed. Make every effort to live in peace with all men and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many. See that no one is sexually immoral, or is godless like Esau, who for a single meal sold his inheritance rights as the oldest son. Afterward, as you know, when he wanted to inherit this blessing, he was rejected. He could bring about no change of mind, though he sought the blessing with tears. You have not come to a mountain that can be touched and that is burning with fire; to darkness, gloom and storm; to a trumpet blast or to such a voice speaking words that those who heard it begged that no further word be spoken to them, because they could not bear what was commanded: "If even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stoned." The sight was so terrifying that Moses said, "I am trembling with fear." But you have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel. See to it that you do not refuse him who speaks. If they did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, how much less will we, if we turn away from him who warns us from heaven? At that time his voice shook the earth, but now he has promised, "Once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens." The words "once more" indicate the removing of what can be shaken--that is, created things--so that what cannot be shaken may remain. Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe, For our "God is a Consuming Fire."
Hebrews 12

 
The Crisis of Manliness

 
It is always difficult to completely go over who you are and consider why you have made the choices that you've made, the things that are important to you, and the way you live your life. That, in a sentence, is where I am right now. I have finally come to the point where I know that my priorities are in error, and I actually have the resolve and have recognised the necessity of doing something about it. I've noticed before that the order of importance of certain things in my life are out of whack, but somehow they were always just a little to important, the problem a little too small, the alternatives a little too frightening for me to actually do anything about it. That has changed, and I'm not sure where it is taking me, but I am on the way. Perhaps the title of my blog it is fitting... "Searching" I chose that title a while ago, when things were almost to this point, but not quite. It makes sense then, that the journey I am on (which is indeed life) should be titled the same. The root of the problem has been that God has always taken a back seat in my life. Granted, He is sometimes only one seat back, or even in the passenger seat, but other times he is in the back seat of a 16 passenger van, or even one of the busses that LeTourneau uses to ship it's students to various parts of the country. The point is that He has never "really" been in the driver's seat. And that fact has made pretty much all the decisions that I have made over the past several years suspect, from what my life goals are,to what my college majo is, to several other things that must be dealt with. I don't know where this will lead, and to tell the truth, the way that it seems to be going right now is far from pleasing, but I know that when I am truly following God's will, and walking under the shadow of His wing, then the decisions that perhaps must be made, can be made. Not painlessly by any stratch of the imagination, but possibly at long last. And my God is great. I know that whatever he takes from me with the goal of making me more like Him will be repaid a thousand times over, and in ways more wonderful than I could ever imagine. So from this point forwardwhatever is dear to me, whatever is precious in my sight, I turn over completely to HIm, for Him to do what he wants with it. And if He sees fit to give some of it back someday, then I will be grateful, but if not, which is appearing to be a very real possibility, then I will still end upon my knees. Not begging, but praising. I have a long way to go though, before I reach that point, so I must be off.