07:50 – This year has been just a continuing series of crises. It started in January, and the hits just keep on coming. I was expecting Barbara home regular time yesterday afternoon, but instead of coming in the garage she left her car parked at the top of the drive and came in the front door. We ate dinner on the fly and then she left to drive out to the nursing home in Clemmons to make sure that her dad had been moved to a new room–the first night he was in a room with someone who kept him awake all night–and that the nursing home had remembered to give him his IV antibiotic, which they seem to have a problem doing in a timely manner and sometimes not at all.
A few minutes after she left, the phone rang. It was Barbara. The woman driving in front of her had apparently hit a loose piece of pavement around a manhole, displacing the pavement. Barbara hit the hole and her tire started losing pressure. So she headed for Firestone, where we’d just had four new tires installed a week ago. It was just a couple minutes before Firestone closed, so she left her car there and I drove over to pick her up. I just called Firestone to check progress, and they tell me the wheel was bent. They’re going to hammer it out and then test it to make sure it holds pressure. Meanwhile, Barbara will drive my Trooper to work today, go to the gym after work, and then pick me up at home to head over with her to Firestone and get her car back.
Oh, yeah. When Barbara arrived at the nursing home yesterday evening, they’d just gotten her dad moved to a new room. They hadn’t transferred any of his stuff with him, so Barbara had to get it from the old room and carry it down to the new room. And he hadn’t had his antibiotic. The nurse said she had other patients to care for, so Barbara’s father would just have to wait until she had time to do it. The nursing home doesn’t seem very concerned about getting Dutch his antibiotic on time, or at all for that matter. He’s supposed to get it three or four times a day, Barbara’s not sure which, and he’s supposed to get it through this coming Sunday. It sounds to me as though Dutch isn’t getting a whole lot of care or rehabilitation at this facility. When Barbara got home around 9:30 last night, I told her that if it were me I’d pick up Dutch Sunday and take him back to his apartment. At least he’d have Sankie to keep an eye on him, and she can call 911 if necessary. That’s probably better for him than what he’s getting at this “care facility”.
09:19 – We started watching The L Word on Netflix streaming a couple weeks ago. The first season was good, well written and interesting, although it did start weakening in later episodes. It was a series about a group of women who just happen to be lesbians. But beginning with the first episode of season two, this series went completely off the rails. It’s now all-lesbians-all-the-time. Instead of character development and plot, season two focuses just about exclusively on the lesbianism of the characters. Now, I have nothing against lesbians. In fact, I’ve known many and I’ve liked almost all of them. But a one-dimensional program like this isn’t worth watching. This series jumped the shark earlier and more abruptly than any we’ve ever watched. Oh, well, it’s not like we don’t have lots of other stuff in our queue.
10:05 – I was out front with Colin when Paula, our across-the-street neighbor, pulled out of her drive. I asked if she’d mind giving me a ride over to Firestone so that I could pick up Barbara’s car for her and save her the hassle of doing it this evening. She said sure, so I picked up Barbara’s car and drove it home. When I called to let Barbara know, I told her I’d walked to the Firestone, knowing she wouldn’t believe me. It’s 1.5 miles (2+ klicks) from our house. Barbara knows I wouldn’t walk that far other than in a life-and-death situation, so I finally admitted that Paula had given me a ride.
I’ve never had one, but apparently Twinkies are BACK!
http://www.miamiherald.com/2013/04/24/3362179/twinkies-are-back-hostess-plant.html
I too enjoy streaming lesbian content off of the Internet. 😉
I have a brother-in-law that will tell you that Tastykakes are far superior to anything that Hostess makes. I guess I am mostly indifferent on the whole thing (though I did grab the occassional Ho-Ho at the gas station). I am a little partial to Little Debbie as my mother use to put one in the sack lunch I ate at school for dessert.
Heh.
In a book I was reading last night, one of the characters commented that “every man in the US looks at porn on the Internet”.
That’s a gross exaggeration, of course. Not every man in the US has Internet access, so they’re forced to look at porn the old-fashioned way.
so they’re forced to look at porn the old-fashioned way.
Yeh, I watch my neighbors through the windows. However, it does leave scratches on the arm from the thorn bushes around the window.
Thanks much, Ray; I know I’m probably not alone in needing a good laugh this morning. Nice one.
According to Freud, “Every man’s a voyeur, and every woman’s an exhibitionist”.
2 km? That’s only a short stroll.
I’ve suggested this before, but you could get a pushbike, put Colin in a harness and tie the bike to him, and let him do the work.
Long ago when I was in the military, and later as a beat cop, I walked for miles and miles every day/night, literally. I need to get out hiking and canoeing again ASAP before all this 265 pounds of blubber just collapses into a puddle on the floor. Probably have a haht attack or stroke and then I can stop worrying about jobs, weddings, vehicle repairs, etc.
If it’s any help, I had a scene in one of my stories in which Our Hero’s 5-foot-nothing, 400 pound wife fell down the stairs and landed on him. Squashed him flat, but his afterlife was better than his life, so it worked out ok.
What was that helping? Oh, nothing much. Counteracting Ray’s humorous comment, maybe. I got some feedback from readers about that scene, generally variations on “Ewwww!”
A five-foot 400-pounder rolling down the stairs would not squash me flat. It would take probably two or three times that poundage from a greater height. I once had a police partner, though, who was 6’6″ and 410 pounds and he picked me up over his head like I was a loaf of bread (I was only 250 at the time.) He also worked part-time as a pro wrestler on the 80’s pro-wrestling circuit in New England. Another former colleague from DEC was Sgt. Slaughter.
http://www.sgtslaughter.com/
Yep. My self image is that I’m “medium size”. I consider anything a lot larger than I am “large” and anything a lot smaller than I am “small”. That means that I consider nearly all women “small” (or, as men so famously say to sales clerks, “about your size”). You should have seen the look on Barbara’s face 25 years ago when we were first considering getting a dog of our own. I wanted a male mastiff or two. We saw one at the dog show, out in the corridor. The owner/handler said the mastiff went about 240 pounds, which was my weight at the time. The mastiff was an affectionate fellow. He leaned against Barbara and pinned her to the wall. Later I referred to the mastiff and a 130-pound Bouvier we’d also seen as “medium size dogs”. Barbara thought I was kidding.
And yet when I see another guy my size, I think of him as “large”. Go figure.
Interesting; self-image is a funny thing; I also think of myself as mainly average but kinda tall. I think of Mrs. OFD at 5’10” a shrimp. Any women smaller are minnows. Then yesterday I was at the corporate cafeteria, where I never go, and must have seen a half-dozen guys who towered over me, so we’re now talking 6’7″ and up. I told the six-footer colleague next to me I felt like a shrimp and he said “Then I must be a flea.”
As for dogs I once had an Irish Wolfhound standing on his hind legs with his paws on my shoulders and his head above mine. I was gonna kick his ass but discretion was the better paht of vall-uh as they say.
My self image is that I’m mostly average. Overall, I mean, not height or weight or whatever. Everyone else* thinks I’m incredibly bright and talented and hard-working and all-around awesome, so it just shows that self image doesn’t always match what everyone else sees.
* Everyone except my wife, that is. She thinks I’m stupid, lazy, insensitive, and bad for the children. Typical wife viewpoint, in other words.
“She thinks I’m stupid, lazy, insensitive, and bad for the children. Typical wife viewpoint, in other words.”
That is a changeable thing, with age and time. I was thought of as lazy, selfish, an asshole, a motherfucker (from daughter and she was right!), and never did anything with or for the kids. Haven’t heard any of this in quite some time, probably coincidental from when I started working again regularly and stopped drinking.
Also, bringing in oodles of dough occasionally will alter the standard wife or gf viewpoint. Then they start singing the high notes.
Yep, the only guy I ever remember making me feel small was a guy called Don Mabe. You’ll sometimes see the phrase “he filled up the doorway”, but in Don’s case it was literally true. I’d guess he’s 6’10 or more. He had to duck to get through a standard 6’8″ door, and he was as wide as the doorway as well. I don’t really know what he weighed, but I’m guessing at least 400 and probably close to 500 pounds. Looking at him, my impression was that he was literally twice my size.
Like nearly all big guys I’ve known, Don was very soft-spoken and gentle, fully aware of his intimidating size and power. All the women who worked in his office loved him.
I try consciously to avoid intimidating women, but I couldn’t begin to count the number of times a woman has screamed when she notices I’m behind her. Unfortunately, I walk very softly, so I end up sneaking up on them without meaning to.
And I’m still flabbergasted by something my secretary told me 30 years ago. I was working at a small software house, and the owner was a big guy. Not my size, but over 6 feet. He had a vicious temper. When he got upset he’d go on a rant, throw stuff around the office, and so on. I, on the other hand, was quiet and soft-spoken. I never shouted at anyone.
So one day, I mildly criticized something one of the other women had done. She shrank away from me, and I asked Debbie, my secretary, what had just happened. She told me that the girl was afraid of me, that in fact every woman in the office was afraid of me. I said I understood why they’d be afraid of Frederick (the owner), but how could anyone be afraid of me. I never yelled, I was always polite, and so on. That’s the problem, Debbie told me. The women were afraid of me *because* I was so quiet and soft-spoken. When she finally convinced me she was serious, I went over to my friend Vicky Epley’s cubicle and asked her the same thing. She agreed with Debbie, that I was scary because I never got upset, never yelled, and so on. Geez.
Hm, Sgt Slaughter locked me at his site and wouldn’t let me back here. Had to kill that window.
‘That means that I consider nearly all women “small” (or, as men so famously say to sales clerks, “about your size”).’
Heh, in 1990 I was in St Andrews, Scotland, wanting to buy a sweatshirt for a female friend back in Oz, who was petite, and very flat chested. As it happened the sales assistant was about the same size and I stood there wondering how to say diplomatically that I wanted to buy a sweatshirt in her size. She might have thought I was trying to get fresh with her. I got it, but don’t remember the form of words I used. I wonder what she thought. I could hardly say “I’m buying this for a really flat chested girl who’s about your size.” I probably would have got a black eye.
OFD wrote:
“I think of Mrs. OFD at 5’10″ a shrimp. Any women smaller are minnows. Then yesterday I was at the corporate cafeteria, where I never go, and must have seen a half-dozen guys who towered over me, so we’re now talking 6’7″ and up.”
I used to play basketball socially, and the top mens and womens teams one day had a scratch match against each other. One of the outstanding guys was very very short, and one of the outstanding girls was very very tall, over seven feet. During the match he ran in to her from in front – and his face ended up straight in her muff… 🙂
I believe they were afraid that if you ever lost your temper you’d go off the deep end. You know, be like say Dr. David Banner. (Oops, wrong generation. Dr. Bruce Banner?)
“…I couldn’t begin to count the number of times a woman has screamed when she notices I’m behind her. Unfortunately, I walk very softly, so I end up sneaking up on them without meaning to.”
There’s a solution to this: get a cat bell.
My (male) boss is the same: he has the quietest footsteps of any guy I know, at least half the women in my area, most of whom are very petite Asian women, make more noise when they walk.
Heh.
I used to play pickup basketball in high school. At 6’4″, I ended up playing guard because our center was a 7-footer and our two forwards were 6’8″ and 6’9″. Western Pennsylvania grows some big, big boys.
One winter day, we had six of us crammed into a car and some punks snowballed the car. The driver slammed on the brakes. I was in the front passenger seat with it moved all the way forward to make room for the guys in the back. I unfolded from the car and shouted to the punks, “You bastards better run! I’m the smallest guy in the car.”
My quiet movement started with my martial arts training, and soon became so automatic that if I want to make noise when I walk I have to consciously think about it. I remember one discussion:
Him: “Walk softly and carry a big stick.”
Me: “Don’t you mean ‘speak softly and carry a big stick’?
Him: “Speak softly, too.”
OFD, my wife’s view of me being lazy, etc, has nothing to do with whether or not I’m working and I don’t drink. No, it’s simply that she’s never satisfied with anything.
I will note that when it comes time for her to be talking to her friends, I’m wonderful. I spend so much time with our daughter, I’m handy in fixing things, I cook well, I’ve written books, etc etc. It’s all about her, and how wonderful she obviously is because she has such a wonderful husband. Same with the kids: she’ll yell at them for being lazy and disobedient and what-not, but in talking to her friends, our kids are all superstars and destined for academic success and life greatness. This is typical with all of her friends; I don’t know if it’s only an upper-class Chinese thing (yes, they’re all tiger moms, and yes, they probably all ought to be drowned for the good of their children or just on general principles) or a woman thing.
Re intimidation: I, too, take pains not to intimidate smaller people, in particular women and especially young women. I’m big, not as big as OFD but still big, and I give off a predator vibe. Young women in particular can’t distinguish between sexual predator and regular predator and they get nervous if I look directly at them. So I deliberately tone down the intensity and act indolent and mildly uncoordinated and pitch my voice up a bit. (When I think of it, which isn’t always.)
‘I unfolded from the car and shouted to the punks, “You bastards better run! I’m the smallest guy in the car.”’
This reminds me in reverse of an (apocryphal?) joke about an English soccer team called Millwall, whose fans are notorious thugs. Manchester United had just played at The Den, and a coach load of fans were returning home, upset with the Millwall fans. From the coach they saw a Millwall fan turn in to an alley so they stopped the bus and a dozen MU fans ran after the Millwall fan to teach him a lesson. They came running back a couple of minutes later, scrambled back on to their coach and yelled for the driver to get moving, explaining to the others: “It was a trap, there were two of them!”
What is it with religious believers and their need to constantly reinforce their belief? What, are they afraid that without constant reinforcement by chanting and songs, their belief might waver? Are they afraid that contrary evidence might shake their insular little worldviews? Rhetorical questions, of course.
What prompted this is my wife’s pushing religious music on our daughter. It’s the perfect background to doing homework. How can anyone suggest otherwise?
What if worthwhile aspects of life were similarly shaky and we had to constantly reinforce our belief?
Gravity loves me, this I know
Newton’s apple tells me so.
We praise gravity every day
So our stuff won’t float away.
The music may serve all sorts of purposes; prayer itself; praise; mourning; meditation/thought/mindfulness; you name it. Chant can do all those and more and is making a comeback in the Roman Catholic Church.
And most beliefs, like it or not, call on their believers to evangelize, thus their activities. Naturally all of this can tend to reinforce belief.
Reason and science and gravity and suchlike are a different existence, a different reality. But not totally separate.
And depending on the religious music involved, I might well prefer that as a background for me or my daughter doing homework than some of the godawful crap their age group listens to. (as my own parents and grandparents also thought about mine at the time).
So as some sort of cosmic payback now; I listen to the music they did and I can’t stand the crap our kids listen to. I have become my old man, only more right-wing and crotchety if that is possible.
The point I wanted to make (not that I did it very well) is that if most religious people were as sure of their beliefs as they profess, they wouldn’t need the constant reinforcement.
As for music as background noise, I’ll somewhat agree, but not in this case. My wife purchased some caterwauling for the mother/daughter shared iPad. The caterwauling in question is perpetrated by what looks like a ten-year-old girl whose voice is, um, maybe not terrible for a ten-year-old. The problem is that she obviously was told to express her feelings through her voice, with the result being the musical equivalent of chewing the scenery. It’s atrocious, and made more atrocious because they always blast it at the iPad’s maximum volume unless I yell at them to turn it down. (I don’t know if I have perfect pitch, but I can tell if someone hits the note or not. And I can definitely tell when she misses the note and slides into it. Like, every damned note. It’s atrocious.)
I got your point but I’m not sure that most religious people, whether sure in their beliefs or not, do anything in particular or consciously to reinforce those beliefs. I’m extremely sure, but only occasionally listen to religious music and do not go around getting in other peoples’ faces with my beliefs (nor do I shrink from doing so if they get in mine with theirs). I do try to get to Mass once a week and it’s been way too long since my last Confession (now called “Reconciliation” in line with the banal translations of the Bible and the banal crappy music in most RC churches now, not ours, thank God!). I also read the KJV and BCP fairly regularly and dabble in RC theology and medieval philosophy and where they may or may not intersect with modern physics.
The music your wife bought would hurt my ears at whatever volume and I would probably find a way for it to get “lost” or be “accidentally” damaged.
“I also read the KJV and BCP fairly regularly and dabble in RC theology and medieval philosophy and where they may or may not intersect with modern physics. ”
I love the KJV and like a number of other versions, such as the NASB, ASV, etc. The NIV drives me nuts. I used to like Good News and The Living Bible, but haven’t read one of those in years. I’ve never been an Anglo so I’ve never read the BCP.
Ever since I did a history unit in 1987 called The Medieval Church I’ve tried to get my head around Nominalism and Realism, which was big back then. The godless are trying to say philosophy is irrelevant and set to be subsumed by (what else?) physics, but I’m not buying that yet.
My church has banned the NIV from the pulpit / bible class and is advocating the NASB. I do not know why yet but have been interested in this for a while as no one wants to explain why. The Living Bible just hangs a little loose for me.
BCP = Book of Common Prayer?
I am going to a Catholic wedding Saturday morning at St. Vincent de Paul ( http://www.stvincentcatholicchurch.org/ ). The last one I went to had a Latin Mass, that was interesting. I am campaigning that I do not have to wear a suit since the wedding is at 1030 am. The wife has said that I am an idiot as usual and I will wear a suit.
I assume that Dave, as a lapsed Anglican, meant Book of Common Prayer.
I prefer the KJV over the NIV for the following reasons:
1. It reads better, to me. I just like it and that’s that.
2. The main reason is that when the KJV was translated from Koine Greek, Hebrew and Aramaic in to C17 English words had to be supplied to make it read well in English. In the KJV these words are in italics, in the NIV they aren’t distinguished. This makes it harder for modern readers to determine the meaning of a passage.
1 John 2:2 is a prime example.
In 1974 my sister gave me a (KJV) New Scofield Reference Bible for Christmas. I’d started off with Good News, then Living Bible, but when I got my first KJV I was addicted. Of course, many people don’t like the KJV so in order to fit in I got a NIV version of the NSRB. It sits, almost unused, on my bookshelf, whereas my KJV has to be handled with care because I think the binding is on the way out.
Hm, I can’t edit the above post, even though I only posted it a few minutes ago. Before that, the ttgnet window crashed for no apparent reason.
The above post is presented as a possible reason why your church has banned the NIV.
As to the wedding, you’re wife is correct. Unless two hippies are getting married I’d always wear a suit unless specifically instructed otherwise.
On Saturday, just whisper this in the priest’s ear, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it:
caesar si viveret ad remum dareris
I’ve heard a couple of RC priests speaking what they think is Latin. It isn’t. Butchered medieval Italian, more like. I always wondered if RC priests around here speak their butchered “Latin” with a southern accent.
Yeah, if Lynn says what I told him to say with the pronunciation of Cicero the priest probably won’t understand it.
EDIT. Boy, I just had a look at the link Lynn provided, and saw that church’s baptistry. All I can say is that they must have awfully small Christians.
Re: NIV vs NASB
Lynn, the following is somewhat simplistic and dated, in terms of people using it for an argument, but it may serve as useful explanation for what your church has decided. (I can’t remember if if I’ve seen you mention it here, but is your church a capella?)
Generally speaking, people have described the main difference between the translation philosophies this way – the NIV uses a ‘thought by thought’ model and the NASB uses ‘word for word.’ The result is that the NASB is more accurate and the NIV is more readable, or so goes the thinking.
If that’s their reasoning, I’m surprised, after all this time, to see a new discussion arise regarding choosing between those two established versions. Then again, the NASB’s reputation of being more literal would certainly appeal to people on the conservative end of the spectrum (and in my exposure to Restoration Movement churches, that description very often applies).
The above explanation comes from the ongoing discussion of the mid-80s onward where those two were the main ‘competing’ mainstream contemporary translation options. When you move forward a couple of decades and get into the alphabet soup of NLT, HCSB, et cetera ad nauseum, I’m afraid I’m at a loss as well.
Re: my question of a few days ago on Thunderbird, my mom’s back in the hospital after being discharged 3 weeks ago today. While I’m here, I may experiment with downloading, sorting and archiving my mail and see where it gets me.
I’ve looked at all the translations of the last half-century and not been impressed, and being an old fossil myself and enamored of Elizabethan English I’m sticking with the original 1611 KJV and the 1549 BCP. YMMV. While I still have the RC Cathechism, the Missal, and, in our parish, a really decent hymnal, rare these days in RC churches; we are also fortunate to have an international-level musical scholar (in chant, especially) who’s in his 70s now but still teaching and still very spry. (as our occasional cantor and organist).
Bob is, of course, correct on the modern clerical use of “Latin.” It’s really medieval Italian, akin to the dialects of Dante, Cavalcanti, Boccaccio, et. al. Usually delivered in a low-key near-monotone. It can put one to sleep on a sultry summuh morning with no AC in the building and the priest won’t notice you as he’s mostly facing away. (this drives the “reformers” from Vatican II on nuts!) OTOH, I don’t appreciate having an all-too typical “Father Lively” or “Father Bozo” up there entertaining us with his witticisms, bon mots and savoir faire, raconteur, boulevardier personality.
The via media is what we seek…
(I can’t remember if if I’ve seen you mention it here, but is your church a capella?)
Acapella for the 830 am service (traditional worship) and musical instruments for the 1100 am service (contemporary worship). Sigh.
http://www.firstcolonychurch.org/about-us/location-service-times/
It can put one to sleep on a sultry summuh morning with no AC in the building and the priest won’t notice you as he’s mostly facing away.
Before A/C in College Station, Texas, my dad used to help his dad go get blocks of ice at 5 am on Sunday mornings from the meatpacking plant back in the 1940s and 1950s. They would set the blocks of ice at the back of the church and put fans behind them for summer services.
Generally speaking, people have described the main difference between the translation philosophies this way – the NIV uses a ‘thought by thought’ model and the NASB uses ‘word for word.’ The result is that the NASB is more accurate and the NIV is more readable, or so goes the thinking.
Thanks! I have my paternal grandfathers ASB bible and have looked at it a few times. When the NIV came out in 1978 or so, most of the people that I knew started carrying it. I have a NIV from 1990 that I have rebound once and now it needs it again. However nowadays, I just use the Bible app on my droid.
“…blocks of ice…”
Sweet. How long did those last on a July day in TX?
They used to pack them in straw up here from winter pond and lake cut-outs and store them for food preservation in the warmer months. Maybe we’ll go back to those days soon…
Just an FYI on the church service times; same deal up here with the Episcopal churches; traditional services early on Sunday mornings, usually no music at all, and then the big family/music gig at the later morning service. RC masses are mostly the same during a Sunday, although I note that the main music program is again in the late morning times. And the larger turnouts are usually for the Saturday afternoon masses.
Sweet. How long did those last on a July day in TX?
Probably not long enough. July is not the worst, it is August and September that are downright miserable. I lived in an unairconditioned dorm in College Station for 3 years from 1978 to 1980. Sleeping in September was tough. Then they would never turn on the hot water radiators until the first 24 hour freeze.
Before A/C in College Station, Texas
Except for the MSC and maybe Reed Arena, I’m not sure you could prove to me that there *IS*A/C in BCS. 🙂 Before I moved back to NC in 2007 to help my folks with medical stuff, I lived in North Texas (Plano) for 14 years. I spent waayyy too much time on the A&M campus and, even though I was never there in the dreaded summer, it was still plenty hot many times. (And don’t get me started on the water…) (EDIT: After seeing your post re: Aug/Sept, I realized you were absolutely correct. I was there most years during the first week of classes. I guess the memory lapse can be blamed on the residual effects of the heat.)
Interesting that there are two types of services. I think all of the Texas churches that I ran across that used “Church of Christ” were strictly a capella (I couldn’t find any history on your church’s site to see the background and I’m not familiar with it otherwise). Here in NC, many many churches called Church of Christ on the marquee are really instrumental independent Christian Churches, causing no end of confusion to people looking for one kind or the other. In the past 20 years or so, quite a few have changed names, clarifying the issue by usually opting for the same beginning and substituting Christian Church for Church of Christ.
And don’t get me started on the water…
What, you don’t like your water chalk colored and chewy? And TAMU always started classes on the first Monday in September. The rest of the nation knows that as Labor Day and a national holiday. I always felt that it was a statement by University to the student body.
Here is a fairly good history of the “Church of Christ”:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Churches_of_Christ
We used to ignore the “Christian Church” until recently since they had instrumental music. However, it is my prediction that the most of Church of Christs will be community churches in about 20 years. Several of the Church of Christs are dropping the “of Christ”, such as Max Lucado’s Oak Hills Church.
http://oakhillschurch.com/
you don’t like your water chalk colored and chewy?
The taste was certainly bad enough, infecting even soft drinks via melting ice, but what really got me was still feeling soapy after 5 minutes of rinsing in the shower. I’ll never forget that first experience. And I was very sensitive to the bloom algae aftertaste that we got in North Texas (not sure about other areas) during the hot months – blecch.
TAMU always started classes on the first Monday in September. The rest of the nation knows that as Labor Day and a national holiday.
I was always surprised how many Ags never realized what day it was (and that they were missing a holiday) until I mentioned it. I guess it was the excitement of starting classes. Well, that and it was a tradition. 🙂
Here is a fairly good history of the “Church of Christ”… We used to ignore the “Christian Church” until recently since they had instrumental music.
Being both a history buff and raised in the latter, my knowledge of the Restoration Movement is far more fleshed out than it needs to be for the average person. Granted, I’ve never known a ton of people from non-instrumental backgrounds, but I didn’t realize that names were changing on that side of things as well. I have, though, been told on a couple of occasions that the presence of a piano doomed me for all eternity.
I have, though, been told on a couple of occasions that the presence of a piano doomed me for all eternity.
I wish I could say that I had never heard that. Sad, just sad. God brought Christianity to us to free us, not to be bound by hundreds of rules.
My theory why the Church of Christ is acapella is that back in the early 1800s, most of the South could not afford musical instruments. Plus, once you try acapella, many people like it.
Am I reading this right? DHS is saying each armed officer needs 1,300+ rounds a year for training. That’s over 400 rounds a quarter at a range. All hollow points. That seems a very high level of training for a fed. A lot more than cops or even the military. Range logistics would be a nightmare if they are training tactically, even spread out, for 70,000 people. Why not bring home the troops and give them the training?
http://www.usnews.com/news/blogs/washington-whispers/2013/04/25/dhs-denies-ammo-purchases-aimed-at-civilians
My theory why the Church of Christ is acapella is that back in the early 1800s, most of the South could not afford musical instruments.
I’m generally patient with the non-instrumental perspective since a good part of the genesis was the desire to return to the NT church. Since there’s no explicit mention of instruments in Acts and the Epistles, voila – ‘we won’t have them either.’ I always kidded with people that it seems the lack of A/C and padded pews in Ephesus didn’t seem to bother modern churchgoers at all, but a piano was anathema.
They’s serpents and witches in Leviticus and some folks, well, dat’s all they read, apparently. Or the Book of Revelation, exclusively. And base the whole deal on just them tings. Along with Revelation being the spittin’ image of the present day, i.e. contemporary events foretold! Like Barry Soetero is the Devil and Putin is the Anti-Christ or something, whereas not too long ago it was Gorbachev because of the strawberry birthmark and the Mark of Cain, etc., etc. Lotsa fun with the Bible.
But my authority is Sir Ian McKellen who informs us that there is no butter in Hell.