Ugh. All this stuff, and still nothing about last week. It’s as if it never happened. However, it did, and since this is indeed Creative Writing 302: How to Win Friends, Influence People, and Scare Everyone in the Process here at IJSM, I guess I gotta tell the story.

Okay, okay, okay, I’m going to put together the wedding stuff tomorrow! I just have this whole apartment thing to deal with, and Kat and Sean might go with me to go looking for themselves. Having them over there would be tres cool. =)

So, let’s start at the beginning of the transition. I hug everyone goodbye, grab Quincey, and we jump in my truck. Five hours later–which flew by, mainly because I was in a trance and a hurry–we’re in Cullman. I leave Quincey with her dad and race back into town to find Sacred Heart.

Nice church, great edifice, I mutter in my mind as I walk up the steps. Got to talk to PJ’s folks and Juan, Gricelda’s brother. Predictably, PJ is late–for once, though, it’s Kris’s fault, not Jason’s. [Jason, PJ's best man, will be late to his own funeral, probably because the hearse will get a flat tire.] We run through everything twice, still bewildered as to what will happen when.

Then there’s the drive to Huntsville and the Spacely Sprocket Center for the rehearsal dinner. PJ led the group of his family, and I was in the rear, making it easy for PJ’s crazy lane changes to be followed by his family. [Have truck, will block.] We get to the rehearsal dinner…Chris Hirstein’s running a serving line. Pure hilarity. =)

Dinner was fun; I sat with Jason and his family, as well as Deacon Dan, the guy who led PJ’s conversion class. I’ve heard so much about Deacon Dan, and I imagined him to be a smallish guy. Oops. He’s taller and bigger than me [scary], about 6-4 and probably 330. He’s an anaesthesiologist as well as a deacon. He plays twenty questions with me, and I think he figured out pretty quick I was just a nice Protestant boy. ‘Sok with me.

After dinner, we take pictures. True to form, I lead the hilarity, as five or six of us pick PJ up and start to swing him back and forth as if we’re going to toss him through a plate glass window. I thought he was going to mess his drawers, but it was hilarious for all involved. All the bridesmaids quickly figured out I was the wacky one; perhaps that’s why none of them approached me at the reception, save the married ones?

The wedding itself was really beautiful. I felt very Methodist through it all, but it was fun. Each time I filed past PJ, I had to mutter something under my breath to make him laugh. As he teared up when Gricelda walked down the aisle with her dad, Carlos, he needed to laugh pretty quickly. [So did I; I was on the verge of losing it.] As I filed out, I muttered, “Quit cryin’, ya big baby!” I got the laugh I wanted to hear as I filed out. As he teared up again later on, I got to do it as we filed in later–much to the consternation of Deacon Dan, who I’m not sure knew quite how to take my comment. Oh well. We Protestants have always caused trouble for Catholics. =)

The reception was crazy. Eat. Drink. Be merry. Toast. Drink. Toast. Dance. Drink. Drink. Dance. Mess with PJ’s car. Drink. Sit. Talk. It’s all rather a blur for me, but man, it was fun. I have the pictures to prove it.

The funniest and scariest part was when Jason’s girlfriend drunkenly [and loudly, but I repeat myself] started yelling at Jason, “Are you ready to be married?” Jason’s brother, Colin, looked at me and said, “To Geof?” Jason said, “No, Geof, I’m not going to marry you.” Realizing that I could defuse the situation, I went on a “crying jag” about it all. Blessedly, Stephanie calmed down after that, but you know, like I told Colin, I get the feeling that next summer I’m going to be in another wedding with him, this time watching his brother walk down the aisle. Colin commented, “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

If so, great. If not, great. J, you’re my friend either way, and I ain’t going to love you any more or any less if you marry Stephanie. I like her a lot, I think she’s funny, but you’ve got to do what’s right for you. I don’t know your heart, man, but it’s your choice. You know that, but you also know that we’re with you either way. And heck, you don’t have to make me a groomsman, but no, I wouldn’t mind. =)

I got up really early to make sure PJ and Gricelda got off to the Bahamas, but Jason miraculously had gotten up and to their house. I went home and slept most of Sunday, but I still needed twelve hours of sleep Tuesday night to recover. I’m just now starting to make sense again [shaddup, you, that I never do], and so now I must chronicle these things.

Email comes in; updating to be done.

UAH lobbyist Gary Smith just sent me an email: higher education won in its pro-ration lawsuit against the State of Alabama, and pro-ration will affect all segments of public education equally. It’s disappointing that we all have to take a cut together, but better than we hang together, or we will surely hang separately. Heh, this was worth almost getting arrested over!

I’ve included Gary’s email so you can see it with your own eyes.

UPDATE: 15:11 CDT: The second email from Gary has an AP story about the win. WOOHOO!
(more…)

Wow, sense out of the DoJ? Now, if only they’ll wholeheartedly prosecute the MSFT case forward from where it is…but I digress.

I noted that I disagreed with Sean about gun control. We had a nice discussion over ICQ about it, where we both asked questions and got answers. I gave Sean some information he didn’t have, then decided I’d look it up online to see if I can find it. You have to wade through the controversy over dumping NICS checks after one day, but a story on FoxNews.com [since deleted] notes that the Ashcroft Justice Department is doing what the Reno Justice Department failed to do: enforce our gun laws. [semi-rant follows]

For all the people that want more gun control, I offer this fact: 217,000 NICS checks showed a possible denial. Only 294 of those 217,000 were ever apprehended during the time period of the Brady Act’s enactment [early in the Clinton Administration, sometime in 1994, IIRC] until January 5th of this year. [Ashcroft picks his statistical, historical data points well.]

(more…)

So I find something I like, right? I check the length–it’ll fit my big neck. [18.5", if you must know.]

I get to the car. The chain has no clasp, and it won’t get over my big head. [Size 7 3/4, if you must know.]

I got a large laugh about that, and it’s hanging on my old chain until I can find a new one. I’ll do that on the way to Amy and Jeff’s house for dinner tonight.

Yes, this makes me laugh and not cry. I realize that I’m starting, slowly to turn it around. I’ll keep turning.

Ergh. Amy, I still haven’t said more than 25 words today, and you’re right, that’s as sure a sign as any that things are not right in my world.

Today I get to mng [my old mental shorthand for meet and greet] Andy, Heather’s boyfriend that I’ve heard so much about. We’re alike, and we’re different. We both love politics, but we’re pretty near to being diametrically opposed. ‘Sok, other than the fact that we apparently both like to argue. But I’ve promised Amy and Heather that I’ll be on my best behavior.

Of course, that’s a switch for me. Normally, I’d be itching for a debate. Normally, I’d have ranted over on integrra on Sean’s post on wanting more gun control. [This reminds me: I should check my mail to see if my NRA membership card has come yet...] But I’m not.

Has losing my cross but wanting to take it up again elsewhere already started to change me? Maybe yes, maybe no.

Is the silence a sign that I’ve finally realized that I have two ears and one mouth and should use those instruments in equal ratios? Maybe yes, maybe no.

I doubt that I’ll ever stop being a talkative individual, especially as it’s something that might make me a good guy to have in a pulpit. But you know, if I’d just shut up every once in a while, I might catch on to some of the things going on around me.

For what it’s worth, “Underwater” keeps getting stuck in my head. It’s not just the lyric; it’s the totality of the music. 3D is just a very intense band–they cut loose and have ‘em a good time, but man, they work at having that time. I mean, dang, it’s wild.

I looked around for James Avery Craftsman online. No luck. Cokesbury has stuff, but they don’t have it online. Looks like it’s either a trip to a local store or a trip to Nashville to the Cokesbury store there tomorrow.

I need that immediacy of contact. I need to have something to hold onto when I scratch my stubbly chin and then drop my hand a few inches down to grab hold of the chain. It was so absent-minded of me to do–I’d not realize what I was doing until I did it. So typical. And every time I do that here this morning, I miss it. It’s enough to make me want to beat my chest.

I’m tempted to say, “Hey, it’s lunch time, go get one on your lunch hour.” But am I deserving of it? Yes and no. Paul has it right: this love I have, this God I cling to in times of trouble, gives me this gift of grace freely, simply for my faith.

If only my faith would sustain me through all my days. When am I going to be finally convinced that I cannot do it alone, that I must go through this life to press on with Someone who will work with me to fill my incompletions and smooth my imperfections? I’m not perfect; I’m mortal. But I desire perfection–we all do. In Christ I can find perfection; in Christ I will find the attentiveness to retain the grace I need to be perfected. But it’s not of my doing.

I don’t deserve it, but I’m going to go get it. Time for another 3D song to fill the day: “I Deserve?” from Conspiracy No. 5. I’m going to go c-n-p this and then go shopping…

Deserve
Lyrics by Mac Powell / Music by Third Day

From the recording: Conspiracy No. 5, Track #5.

I tasted fruit that was forbidden
I murdered trust that you had given
And now I’m living in a place that’s not my home

The pain in your heart made you regret
The moment we spoke, did you forget?
Will my transgressions bring us all to our sweet end?

Maybe I’m just being too hard on myself. I don’t know
Or is it that your mercy is much more than I deserve?

Betrayed by more than just a kiss
I did much more I must admit
Instead of letting it all end you bring new hope

Copyright Information
�1997 New Spring Publishing (a div of Brentwood-Benson Music Publishing, Inc.) / Vandura 2500 Songs / gray dot songs, a div. of gray dot, inc. / ASCAP
All Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.

Something that I considered possible but not inevitable happened last night, and it’s very, very symbolic of what’s been happening with me lately.

Simply put, I lost my cross. Since I was confirmed and became a member of the United Methodist Church, I’ve worn a small cross from James Avery. Considering all that my mother and I have gone through since that time–almost ten years–that alone is enough to make me want to curl into a big ball [I can't curl into a small one] and sob for eight days.

Even worse, though, this loss could have been prevented. I lost it simply because I was too lazy to go get a new chain for it. The chain was as old as the cross was, but since the chain has moving parts, it necessarily wore out faster. The clasp has been coming undone at random times for about three months now, and every time I’ve picked that little bit of metal and re-strung it on the chain, I’ve said, “I’ve got to go get a new chain, or I’m going to lose this thing.”

I didn’t, and I did.

It’s pretty symbolic of my spiritual journey right now. I could do something to tie myself to my faith and my God a whole lot better, but I instead have been relying on intervention and attention to keep it together. What have I learned from that? Simply, the ageless lesson is that we humans are not only mortal but fallible. Because of sloth, inattention, and a desire to live for the moment and not plan for the future, we lose sight of the things important to us–whether they be faith-related or not–and, when it’s all over, we’re like, “Whuh? Which way did he go, George, which way did he go?”

Driving from the bowling alley to IHOP last night, I flipped in a Third Day disc of mine, Southern Tracks. The one track I hadn’t listened to on the way to the bowling alley was “Underwater”. Without permission from Mac and the crew [though I hardly think they'll mind], I’m reprinting those lyrics below. If I could come up with something of any great level of meaning to say, I would. At this point, words are absolutely and utterly failing me, so I will let these five guys speak for me:

Underwater
From the recording: Southern Tracks, Track #4.

Now listen there’s something much better
Than what I had and what I had been told
And now one day I heard a message spoken,
Forever in my heart the words I hold

The Healer said there is only one river
The river of life, filled with faith and love
It’s flowing from the sacrifice of Jesus, and
Brings us all into the Kingdom of God.

Chorus:
So I’m going down, to drown myself today
Nothin left to live for, nothin in my way

Hold me underwater, take me even farther
Drown me down by the river today
Will you make me a believer?
Take me by my hand, hold me as I’m falling in,
Cleanse me and wash my sins

So here I am at the edge of the water
That seperates me from my death and life
and still I come here with unanswered questions
But that’s not gonna to make me change my mind

…I thought that I might as well announce, quietly, my return to SGA. Yes, I’ve been roped back in to help out, but it’s a good role: Judicial Council. I think the spot fits me, and I’m fairly sure that I will enjoy it. Now, as long as Leonard doesn’t give me too much work to do, we’ll be ooooookay. =)

Today, I feel like John Milton. =)

It’s just one of those funny things where I never know what this job will have me doing from day to day. Yesterday, it was quotes on about $4M of aerospace hardware. [I made lots of vendor's days yesterday.] Today, it’s…babysitting a couple of foreign nationals in town for a in-process design review. I get all the fun jobs, including following them to [but not into] the bathroom. Oh well, it gives me spare thinky time. That’s always nice.

Now, to go wolf down lunch and prepare for Yet Another Exciting Afternoon of Waiting.

Heh. I just finished snitching Mary Miller’s wedding photos from this weekend. I’ll be doing my own mad captions and putting them up somewhere here on IJSM soon. If you want to order prints, you can do so from dotphoto; due to the size of the shots, Mary recommends keeping them under a 4×6. I may have to have one or two of these done myself–the photos, not the marriage. Ooooooh no, I’m in no hurry to get married, and I really don’t want a wedding this big…

Okay, in the tradition of g-c and ‘cat.net, I’ve included, for your reading pleasure, the top 7 search items for June here at IJSM. They are:

• Indiana Jones: Well, duh!
• ass laminated: I have been.
• beer sinus infections: I don’t recommend drinking the former as a way to get through the latter, personally…
• librul: I most definitely am not same…though I complain about ‘em!
• link:http://www.ijsm.org/: I’m responsible for this one; I love Google’s back-checking of links feature.
• weblog hack: Ummmm, I had to beg a friend to do the site design…while I’ve tinkered with it since then, that’s not a true hack job. Of course, you might call my writing a hack job. I’d cry, but I don’t think I could disagree.
• www.dancingpaul.com: No, that’s not my friend Paul Valentine. However, after he spent a week running Cheerleader Camp of all things, maybe it should be…

Hope you enjoyed the list. We’ll roll around with another one at the end of July. [And if you're curious, yes, this means my creative muse hath left me. Don't worry. It'll come back.]

I guess common courtesy should push me to announce that I have returned to the land of the net-connected. I’ve actually been able to be online for about 24 hours, but so far have barely had the wakefulness–much less the wit, eloquence, and insanity you’ve come to expect from me–to compose anything better than a “I’m home *_*NO CARRIER*_*” message. You deserve better than that, I think.

Well, at some point in the next 48 hours, I’ll do my dead-level best to chronicle the past week. A nice 72-hour period in there significantly changed my outlook on life, and I should be sharing that with you. Until then, though, I am paying for being off from work for a week…

In five minutes, my cell phone’s alarm will start sounding; in around an hour, my truck will be packed up and on the road to Mentone, AL to pick up one of “my kids” last year, Quincey, who needs a ride down to MissionFest. Then it’s on the road to Mississippi; I’ll be back in Alabama on Friday, but then it’s off to the fun of PJ’s wedding, and I probably won’t be back to sanity until this time next week. You’ll live. =)

I have my digital camera with me, so photos are sure to happen. One person I’ll be sure to shoot is my main man Paul, since so many of my local friends hear about him but haven’t ever met him.

Grace and peace to you all. I’ll be thinking of you and making notes of my week’s journey.

Mmmm, so Heather is mulling joining the NRA. My comment to her is thus: join the organization so that you can reform it. For one, if you get their publications, you get to see their spin on their work, which rarely if ever gets through the general media. [The NRA makes a great straw man to beat.] Of course, you also get to see some of the NRA’s over-the-line stupidity, too. I’m a member mainly because I have also written letters to the organization to tell them to straighten up. They won’t listen if they don’t get my money, but if they do, they’re more likely to listen.

They’re right more often than they’re wrong. This reminds me…I need to get my right-to-carry license now that I’m of age. I also need to find a decent handgun. I don’t anticipate ever needing it, but I understand that being armed is a deterrent.

Ugh. Yucky night, off from work because of it. Have to clean out the fridge and freezer–something’s bad in both. I may have eaten what was bad in the freezer. Doesn’t help that I’m the only one that will ever clean out either one…

Little bit of a consumer today: picked up stuff I’ve needed, like a good surge strip for the stereo/TV/phone area of my room that I always have. I also found a great small fan for the computer area. My boxen are going to go in the corner behind the monitor wall, and if that’s going to be in the corner, I gotta provide some circulation. At its lowest setting, this thing blows a lot of air. It’ll make sure those CPU’s don’t overheat…

About half-done with the Perfect Room Setup for me. Yes, it’s just a month until I move, so it’s time to get it in the perfect alignment so I can cry when I have to move. =) I might get it done tonight, and if so, I’ll probably have another entry in the Contact series…I feel a little unfulfilled on that one.

Appropriate that summer comes along just as I get to see my good friend Eddie Willis, whose favorite season is, you guessed it, summer. Having walked out to the shop and back, spending about ten minutes outside, I’m lightly sweating. [That's almost oxymoronic for me--I'll be sweating an hour from now, despite probably spending that hour sitting at my desk in the cool air of my office.] Also appropriate that summer comes as I prepare for Mission Fest.

And yes, being that this is the fourth anniversary, I have a long entry to write. I don’t anticipate another entry between now and then, so hang on until tonight, okay?

I’d like to thank President Bush, whom I voted for and generally approve of as POTUS, for highlighting this issue in clear terms, for I can make clear my disagreement with him further than I did yesterday.

To wit: “The victims of the Oklahoma City bombing have been given not vengeance but justice.”

No, Mr. President, this was vengeance, not justice.

From Merrian-Webster Online:

Vengeance: “punishment inflicted in retaliation for an injury or offense : RETRIBUTION - with a vengeance 1 : with great force or vehemence 2 : to an extreme or excessive degree”

Justice: “the maintenance or administration of what is just especially by the impartial adjustment of conflicting claims or the assignment of merited rewards or punishments b : JUDGE c : the administration of law; especially : the establishment or determination of rights according to the rules of law or equity 2 a : the quality of being just, impartial, or fair b (1) : the principle or ideal of just dealing or right action (2) : conformity to this principle or ideal : RIGHTEOUSNESS c : the quality of conforming to law 3 : conformity to truth, fact, or reason : CORRECTNESS”

I hold that taking Life, even under due process of law, is vengeance but not justice. It is a great force, and it is to an extreme or excessive degree. Bush calls it the “severest” penalty–believe it or not, that is correct grammar–and yes, it is. It’s the ultimate penalty, and we’re interposing ourselves into God’s realm of judgement.

“And one young man met the fate he chose for himself six years ago.”

No, society chose that fate for him. McVeigh chose to take Life. We as a society did not have to choose to take Life in return.

“Life and history bring tragedies, and often they cannot be explained. But they can be redeemed. They are redeemed by dispensing justice � though eternal justice is not ours to deliver.”

Yes, and in the matter of taking Life away from someone, we have tried to place ourselves between God and Timothy James McVeigh. In fact, I feel that we denied that man an opportunity for forgiveness and repentance–we’re taught that we can forgive and repent only when we die. After we die, we are to assume that we cannot atone for our sins.

In quoting William Ernest Henley’s “Invictus” as his final words, McVeigh showed his defiance. Who’s to say that he would have repented? I cannot judge Tim McVeigh’s heart. I don’t know him, and now I never will. But I would rather have given Timothy James McVeigh every opportunity to change his heart, to exercise his free will.

I had an email discussion with my friend Gary about this. His comment was that the American criminal justice system, not American society, claimed Life from McVeigh. I responded with the distillation of the Lockean principles our government is founded upon: “No government rules without the just consent of the governed.” We could change this. I hope that I can help do so before my days on this earth are finished.

In imposing a limit on his Life–which, presumably, only God does otherwise, discounting those like McVeigh who murder–we, as an American society, have denied him the opportunity to repent. Yes, he had that opportunity, but he showed signs of still being angry towards the government. What’s a few years when we’re talking about eternity?

Those of you who are regular attendees of class at the Indiana Jones School of Management will remember an entry placed online about this time last week regarding our church’s youth musical. As stated before, the kids had promised to present me with a gift. They have; as soon as I can get photos of it up here, I will append them to this entry.

When I say photos, I mean the plural. They either bought or made a box [I can't tell], titled it “Boxed Faith” [the name of our musical], and all proceeded to sign the various sides of it. Inside? Various candy [as I told them, "Like I need that, guys!"], and various shreds of paper, cut with pinking shears, with the word “faith” written upon them.

I will endeavor to get the musical text online at some point tomorrow; I only have an electronic copy at work. I’ve got to re-work it a small amount as well, mainly because it has the names of the kids in our youth group [which you don't really need to know, dear reader, because they're not of age and didn't consent to be here!], as well as stage directions that would mean nothing to you if you didn’t see the work live. I will make that endeavor because, well, maybe it will mean something to one of you who reads it. -shrug-

The parable’s simple, really: a guy graduating from college, insanely busy with his life, too busy for friends, ready to move to his new place. Because of fear about losing what little faith he did have, the main character, Joe, placed his faith in a box. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? I find that many of us have done so at some point in our lives–not faith in the Christian sense, but more faith in the natural laws that seem to govern this world, whether you believe in a God or not. I know it’s especially true for me: a goodly chunk of the title character is living my life for me.

I did not realize this as I was writing it. Sure, I took some pieces of my life–notably my old backpacker guitar, whose tuners have finally given out and won’t hold anymore–and placed them willingly within the words and motions of the play. But as I saw the kids perform it the first time, I realized just how much of myself was in there: the guy too busy for his friends, determined and on a mission to nowheresville; the guy who wants to ignore the easy, Sunday School answers; the guy who has friends and roommates that will stick by him but eventually give up on trying to help him help himself; the guy who has new friends pop into his life and force him to question why he believes what he believes and does what he does.

My gaze returns to the top of my desk, where the “faith box” rests for the moment. Part of me said earlier this evening, “If the kids only knew how much of this was me.” Well, I guess I need to fix that and tell them.

IJSM is my way of working a lot of things out–reference my meta-discussion in terms of the Baconian ideals of reading, conference, and writing. Writing does make an exact man–what I say here is largely immutable. Yes, I can go back through the wonders of Greymatter and re-cast the words in a better light. At times, I am tempted to do so, because my meaning may be missed. In fact, last Sunday night’s journal entry is something I’m tempted to edit, because my frustration at my lack of recognition was petty. However, it was there, and I’m trying not to be overly-guarded in these entries. Why package the unpackageable of Life?

IJSM chronicles my life’s spiritual jouney, with roommate rants and random complaints thrown in for good measure. That’s why I do it, and that’s why you get to see some of the things you do. That’s why I want you to see the “faith box”: because it represents something I’ve done with my life. In putting my calling in a box, I put my faith in that calling right in there with it. In putting some of that faith there, I ended up placing all of it within the corrugated cardboard. For all I cared, it could have been steel. But that box is open, full of faith to be shown to the world through my actions and my musings.

The kids, as well as you, deserve to know how much Boxed Faith was autobiographical. You both mean something to me, even if you aren’t tangible, dear reader. Hopefully seeing what I’m going through will make you think about your own life. I can’t hope to make positive changes within you, because I don’t know your situation…but here’s hoping I can try.

My faith is slowly becoming unpacked. How about yours?

I remember discussing a variety of things one day with my good friend, Paul Valentine. One of the things that came up was the death penalty. Surprisingly to me, Paul was against it. At the time, I was pretty much for it. Now, I have come to believe much as Paul does; I have to sit down with him next week and get his reasons from him, though. Read on to see why I believe as I do.

If there is one thing Man has not learned how to grant in this world, it is Life. Oh, sure, we have infertility treatments, in vitro fertilization, artificial insemination, and other actions to replace the shamanism and non-scientific beliefs of the past. But in each of those cases, Man creates Life from the tools of Life: sperm and egg. Those tools come from sources that God has already breathed Life into, and therefore Man’s simply playing chemist.

If Life is sacred, and many cultures hold it to be, then it is to be nourished, protected, guarded, and guided. Presumably, this is why we imprison people: we wish to protect and guard society from their actions, and we wish to nourish and guide their actions in order to make them productive members of society. But this view has the idealistic notion that, given a choice, we’ll all go right. Human history has proven time and again that, given free will, Man can and often does choose the wrong thing.

The ultimate penalty, then, is the removal of Life from an individual. That is society’s highest power: to collectively say, “You can no longer walk this Earth with us.” It is a fate worse than exile, than life imprisonment, than suicide. In choosing to remove Life, Man plays God.

It’s fitting to note the obvious: that, as a Christian, the fundamental tenets of the doctrine I have chosen to live my life by are the result of an execution. When I started writing this entry, I asked myself again: What had Christ done to deserve to die? The answer’s woefully inadequate: blasphemy, as adjudicated by the Pharisees and Saducees. Blasphemers should perhaps be whipped [He was] or chained [He was]; there was no reason to kill the Son of God, other than God’s reason for doing so. That’s why it took the inordinate step of mob rule shouting, “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” to convince Pontius Pilate that he best be about killing Jesus of Nazareth, lest the crowd turn upon Him.

I often wonder at that moment. Pilate is so obviously a politician. He went into the gig with Christ wondering what he’d done to run afoul of Jewish law. Finding that out, I’m sure Pilate found it no more distasteful than any other blasphemer, especially considering that Pilate likely didn’t hold to the Jewish tenets himself. [I'm 99% sure he did not, but my uncertainty is a product of my lack of education.] Pilate thought that he might get Jesus let off of this deal, because he was undeniably popular with the people. Politicians are that creature that gauge and manipulate public opinion to their own ends, which usually involves staying in power as long as possible.

It is for these reasons, I feel, that we have the death penalty again in this country. We want it. We crave it. We seek justice. But will killing Timothy McVeigh bring back the 168 that died in the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building on April 19, 1995? No. They’ll be just as dead as they were yesterday. They’ll be just as dead as Timothy McVeigh will be come 15 hours from now.

My stomach churns at the thought of Man playing God again. McVeigh played God, removing 168 people from this Earth. Why should we judge him? Let us simply say, “He is unfit to be a part of our society,” and then exile him. Since the world today wouldn’t allow us to exile him somewhere else–and this wouldn’t be advantageous, as McVeigh would still likely run amok if he were on the outside–his exile is a prison, where he is effectively removed from society. Yes, society pays a monetary price to do that, but in my view, it’s far, far better to pay that monetary price, which doesn’t matter much in the long run, than it is to pay the social price of killing yet another of God’s creatures.

Much like Pilate, I don’t want Timothy McVeigh’s blood upon my hands. Come tomorrow morning, we will all be just that much more guilty.

Well, I’m having a civil conversation with my roommate when I get home from having breakfast with my friend Lance this morning [good to meet you, your wife, and your son, Lance], and he tells me that he’s found a house to rent over in Florence, and that he’s putting his two-week notice in at Green Hills and will start moving stuff over there soon. Now, I recognize that his parents will give me the average amount of what he’s owed for bills in an effort to not leave me fiscally strapped in June [they're nice like that], so that’s cool, but I’m not even sure I’d ask for that if I could have the place a little cleaner around here.

It’s a Very Good Thing that I’m the latter one to be moving. I always like to be the last one in a place–it makes sure that my stuff doesn’t walk off [I've had that happen] and that the place is as clean as I’d like for it to be when I move out [which I've had screwed up when moving out before my roommates]. This makes me happy, and with Jared moving, some of the tension’s going away. Poor guy, though, his girlfriend broke up with him this week, and I know it’s bothering him. Hope that works out for the two of ‘em.

Oh blast it, James is going to be unable to commiserate with myself, Senor Cooper, and Spearing-san tonight. Such is life. Tonight is for good steak, good friends, good conversation, and bad beer. =)

Ugh. Friday morning.

Got a meeting of the St. John’s Drinking Society tonight out at Scott’s place. Hopefully James won’t come down with the stomach flu between now and then. [The SJDS is the bachelors from work who worked on the Space-DRUMS payload at some point. Now that Scott, our old project engineer, has left TBE, we've established the SJDS to keep in touch. Works well.]

I actually get to commune with the Geek Collective this weekend. What is wrong with me? Oh yeah…I’ve cut out most of the fluff in my life. =)

Cutting out one more: alcohol. After the SJDS and Hockey Night in Huntsville gatherings, it’s time to go back to being a teetotal. If I’m going to be serious about my calling, and I am, I’ve got to really be serious. That doesn’t mean I won’t bartend for friends and such–that’s a fun social activity, and if I’m serving drinks, I can also cut people off when it’s time to do so. This decision is a bit complex and personal, and I really need to have more time to put my thought process into words to describe my rationale. Awful hard to do that at work. =)

Awww, bugger. I’d wanted to get Rufus up and running and turn Red into a NAT box running Debian, but now that Alcatel’s sold off its ADSL market, I have to wonder if the Speedtouch USB driver for Linux is going to go bye-bye. Guess I have to grab it now whilst I can…

Perhaps you will believe me when I say I’m going bald when you look at this sumo-bowling picture [thanks to Amy for the pic]. Yeah, I’d had a short haircut not long before that, but it’s thin and getting thinner. In fact, in preparation for Mission Fest 2001, I’m seriously considering going with a #1 clipper all over and going almost bald. Hat will be necessary to keep me from being burned and bald.

Hrm…have to think on this. PJ’s wedding is at the end of the week. Will he kill me for doing a Mr. Clean impersonation before his wedding?

Comment below. Bald: yes or no?

Ahhhh, the joys of the tax cut. This means all of $6.80 to me per week. I think I’d rather have the debt reduction so my credit card interest goes down. =)

All of Divide Zero Networks had an outage last night. It crumped at around 2:00 my time yesterday afternoon, and they weren’t back up until midnight. Hopefully you haven’t missed us that much.

Rainy as heck here this morning, and my stomach is still giving me fits. Blech. Really not a fun day to come in to work, but I have to get this document done…