As I wrote earlier, I was suffering horrendously from the inexplicable blisters on my tongue. Well, it turns out I had access to an expert and didn’t even know it – our own Nathan Briley!!

For those who don’t know, Kim and I kind of consider Nate to be an “adopted son” of sorts. While he DID go to the school we taught at when we were over in Indonesia as missionaries, we didn’t actually MEET him until we returned two years later for some fo the students’ graduations. It was then, and only then, that we realized Nate’s a fun guy.

Next thing you know, he’s graduated, in the States, with no future plans and nowhere fun to live. We invite him up to St. Louis, room him with Kim’s brother, Greg, and the rest is history. AT ANY RATE, he’s here now visiting Kim and I on his way to Boston to see his family again, and it turns out he knows a lot about cold sores, mouth blisters, etc..

So, what did Professor Nate prescribe?

Baking Soda.

That’s right. He said if I dab some baking soda on the end of my tongue blisters, they’ll “suck out the moisture” and leave the blister virtually empty, helping them heal faster. So, like a blithering idiot, I do it. And screamed in terror as the skin of my tongue burned and bubbled and peeled itself off, all the while with a steady stream of saliva pouring from my open mouth.

Did it hurt? Uh, YEAH!. But then again, I have a notoriously low pain tolerance, so my opinion’s kind of biased. But here I am, a week later, and I will admit – my tongue blisters are gone. Would they have healed over in this amount of time anyway? I’m thinking yes. But for what it’s worth, I tried something new, and perhaps it helped speed the processs up. Right? Anyone? Anybody have any feedback or thoughts on this stuff? Is anyone reading these things anymore…?

Who cares… I’m gonna keep on writing…

Kevin

I’m currently suffering from an annoying and perplexing condition. For
the past three days, I’ve had tingling, burning blisters on the tip of
my tongue. It’s like having ants permanently attached to your taste
buds. (Or so I would imagine… not ever having a mouthful of ants
before…)
Point being, eating and drinking has lost much of it’s initial appeal.
When you’re constantly trying to avoid chomping down on your tongue or
gingerly chewing each morsel a hundred times, it gets kind of old…
I looked up my symptoms online, and guess what? It sounds like herpes.
Oral herpes, that is… Which is odd, because I’ve never had a cold
sore in my life. Zits, sure. Full-fledged colds, yep. But cold sores?
Never. What’s more, you can’t exactly put medicine on your tongue very
well. I’ve dowsed it with Chloraseptic to numb it, but that only makes
it more susceptible to getting bitten. (Although I wouldn’t know it,
because it’d be numb…. hm…. maybe I’m onto something here…)
And that’s my thoughts for today. That, and some dog keeps breaking
into my backyard and leaving massive logs of poop everywhere. But
that’s another story…

Kevin

The Hook: Curiosity. To see what all the fuss is about and to be “in

the know” when people discuss the movie.

The Score: F

The Thoughts:

I’ll be honest. I didn’t expect to like this movie when I saw it, so I

was a bit biased even before seeing it. Not because he’s bashing Bush

in the movie, but because of what I’ve come to know about Michael Moore as a director.

About two years ago my brother and I saw “Bowling for Columbine.” It

was a jaw-dropping movie, to say the least. The facts and situations

that were presented were sobering and thought-provoking. And it was

entertaining, to boot. There were a lot of funny moments in it. When I

left the theater, I was amazed at how screwed up America was, how cool the Canadians were, and how helpful Michael Moore was in opening my eyes. I spent the next few weeks raving about the movie to friends and family.

Then a few months later I came across an article that ripped the movie,

citing numerous points where Moore directly and deliberately misled

viewers by some tricky editing. What was so clearly offensive in the

first viewing suddenly turned out to be the result of deftly

manipulating the facts. (And equally offensive, I might add.)

It wasn’t just one article, I should note, but a handful of them, all

examining Moore’s flagrant disregard for the facts and pushing his own opinion onto the viewers. I had to agree with the consensus: what Moore had created was NOT a documentary, but a work of fiction, based on his twisted view of the truth and then cutting and pasting convincing segments in order to support that view.

Michael Moore disgusted me.

He did it again with Fahrenheit 9/11. Early in the movie, he comments

about Bush taking the extra 7 minutes to read the book to the children

in the classroom. That’s a fact. But then he goes on to interject the

premise that Bush was connected to Bin Laden and other terrorists.

Next we see the footage of Bush again, reading along quietly,

obviously distracted and deep in thought. And Moore starts his

narrative, saying “What was Bush thinking during this time? Perhaps he was thinking…” and he goes on for five minutes, describing what Bush was “probably” thinking.

I was shocked. He was actually spouting off what he thought Bush was

“thinking” at the time, and rattles enough “facts” along the way to try

to convince the viewers that everything he says is indisputable gospel.

And that’s what saddens me, because I honestly don’t think the public

is astute enough to realize what he did, or catch on to how he did it.

It’s true. I think the majority of the viewers will hear Moore’s words

and shake their head in disgust and disbelief for what a heel Bush must

be, doing and thinking all those things. Tsk, tsk, tsk!! “And this is our LEADER!! Oy vey…”

So that was my first gripe. My second one is the fact that the movie

was profoundly boring. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t even entertaining, in

the way Moore’s previous films were. This movie was nothing more than his stream of consciousness rants against Bush.

Were his points factual? How would I know? I’m not about to do the

legwork to see if Moore’s actually telling the truth. But based on his

shoddy work in “Columbine,” I just can’t give him the benefit of the

doubt. I won’t. Fool me once… blah blah blah…

So, yeah, “Fahrenheit 9/11″ gets a big fat “F” as a final score.

Of interesting note, there’s a film called “Michael Moore Hates

America” which the director is trying to get out to the public. The

trailer and other info can be found at:

www.michaelmoorehatesamerica.com

The Hook: An everyman stuck in an extraordinary situation. A
professional assassin. A twelve-hour timeline.

The Score: B-

The Thoughts:

I had high hopes for this movie. Directed my Michael Mann, who also
helmed an all-star cast in the incredible “Heat,” he had a lot to live
up to in my mind. The cast was once again widespread and talented, with
Tom Cruise, Jamie Foxx, Jada Pinkett-Smith, Mark Ruffalo (sp) and Peter
Berg (who, it should be noted, was actually the director for the
underrated but thoroughly enjoyable “The Rundown.”)

Acting was great, dialogue was decent, action scenes were believable
and well-choreographed. So why a B minus, you ask? Primarily because of
Mann’s exclusive use of digital photography. I had read that it helped
to enhance the LA nighttime scenes, with the glows and glares and
whatnot, but to be honest I simply found it distracting. It was almost
like the film was never really in focus, no matter how close the shot
was. There was always a blur or halo around the edges, and in the end
it just made me feel old, like I needed my bifocals or something.

And if there’s one thing I don’t want in a movie, it’s to walk out
feeling older than I am. Because… you know… 33 is just
creaking… where’s my cane, anyway…?

Final Score: B-

Okay. It’s time to address something that’s been on my heart for the past year, primarily the conviction of the Holy Spirit about my “illegal” MP3′s and my obedience to delete them (which was a long-time coming.)

My problem stemmed from my growing CD collection that I purchased from eBay. Usually I would purchase 1-2 CDs a week and give ‘em a spin. If there were five or more songs on there that were decent (worthy of ripping into MP3s), I’d keep the CD in my long-standing collection. If there were four songs or less, I’d simply rip those songs and resell the CD. My reasoning? Well, if the music fat cats could charger outrageous prices for their products, the least I could do is “stick it to the man” and level things out a bit and not give them any more blood money. (Granted, it was a hollow argument, considering they don’t see a dime from any eBay sales anyway, but it was my thinking at the time…)

As in, I kind of felt the Spirit start prodding me last Fall about the fact that a large chunk of my MP3s were from CDs I no longer owned. Simply put, they were illegal. And while I strongly argue against flat out copying a full CD, there really isn’t any difference between that and ripping a few songs. All or one, it was wrong. Period.

Unfortunately, despite the gentle voice of the Spirit, I simply didn’t want to listen. So I “made a deal” with God. I said, “Lord, if you REALLY want me to delete my illegal MP3s, then have someone bring up the subject out of the blue this week.” That night we had a Bible study at our house and afterwards one of the guys and I were talking and he said something to the effect of: “So, after you buys CDs on eBay, you make MP3′s of some of the songs?” “Yep.” Pause…. “So… how do you justify that?”

Hm…. Quite a coincidence, that line of questioning…

So I went into a long explanation of how I’m “sticking it to the man” for overcharging us on CD prices for years, how I only make copies of SOME songs, therefore justifying the amount of money I spent on the CDs, etc…

At the end of the night, however, as stumped as I was, I reasoned with God that His answer to my prayer “didn’t really count.” WHY NOT, you ask? Well, because at the time I just didn’t like the guy who confronted me, so to have someone who I didn’t care for in the first place confront me like that, why, that just doesn’t count. It… ah… had to be someone I respected more… (or so I said…)

So I revised my prayer and submitted a new version:

“Lord, if you REALLY, REALLY want me to get rid of my illegal Mp3′s, then make something fall. Anything. A picture off a wall, a telephone, just something in my every day-to-day life… THEN I’ll know what Your will is.”

So the next day I’m getting ready to go to the mall to tucker Kyler out for the afternoon, right? I put him in his carseat in the back, get into the front seat, and just as I slam the door, something falls. Not just anything, mind you, but the wooden cross hanging from my mirror. Slam, thunk… silence. Stunned silence, actually. The kind of silence that one experiences when God has intimately touched their lives in a profound way.

So there you have it. The Lord had directly and specifically answered my prayers concerning His will and my illegal MP3s. Case closed, right? Well, yes and no. Yes, because God’s will was revealed in an incredible, unmistakable way. And no, because I still didn’t submit to it. That’s right. Even after all these signs and wonders, I STILL didn’t give up my MP3s. My heart was hardened, my stubbornness revealed for the ugliness it was, and I Said No To God. Like a spoiled child, I wrapped my arms around my music and huddled in a corner, unwilling to give them up. (Does the word “stumbling block” come to mind?)

Shocked? I am, too, in retrospect. Whoda thunk that I would be like all those bad people in the Bible who turned away from God? That I, a seasoned Christian, former member of a church council, self-proclaimed “man of God,” would act in such a sinful, selfish way? Yet there I was, as stuck in the mud as Jonah was, as Moses was. Stubborn, thick-headed and as sinful as Hell. (Wow. That’s a pretty applicable allegory! Cool!! Or… hot!….)

At any rate, here I am, almost a year later, and I’ve lived with this millstone around my neck for too long. I don’t want to turn my back on God. I want to embrace Him and allow Him to shape me for the better. And seriously, if I stumble over such a small sacrifice as MUSIC, how am I supposed to expect God to actually USE ME in my life? To reach down and have a growing relationship with me? It’s ludicrous. I can’t pray one thing and do another. I can’t kneel and ask for Him to transform my life, then turn up my nose when He actually does. Double-minded men do this, and all know what THEY should expect, right? Nothin’. Nada. Zilch.

Well, I’m tired of eating Zilch Pie. I want the full course now, and I’m willing to purge my sinful, gluttonous stomach to make room for the sweet, sweet manna God has in store. (Ah… I should’ve used another example than Manna… it just doesn’t sound filling enough, y’know? But locusts sounded even worse….)

So that’s my hard lesson on hearing and obeying, but it hasn’t been an easy road, only because I’m a big fat stubborn human. All I can do is pray that God will continue to mold me and shape my heart and shine his Ultra-Laser Spotlight on my soul to show me the areas I need to expunge from within.

In the meantime, I’ve removed the MP3s from my iTunes folder and taken them out of circulation. I’ve also made a list of which songs I can legally purchase online (iTumes Music Store, Napster, eMusic, etc…), so I can make it right. $92 isn’t much to spend on a clean conscience, I think. (The only reason I haven’t DELETED the songs is because I’m just going to re-rip them into MP3 format again. As in, I’ll buy most of them in WMA format, burn them onto CD and have to re-rip them again. Much easier to just buy the WMA’s and then trash them. Wipe my hands. All done…)

And that’s my story, ladies and gentlemen. Please learn from my mistakes, that all may go well with you and God may prosper you as you Obey Him.

Kevin

Well, Kim and Kyler and I just returned from a nice little vacation

with the Mills family up in Colorado. While I don’t have any profound

thoughts to share on the experience, my brother, Eric, has a great

story about how he was the lucky recipient of Strange Kindness on

Saturday. Read on…

Cindy and the kids and I bid farewell to my family in Abilene, Kansas yesterday morning on the final leg of our return to St. Louis from Winter Park, Colorado.  It’s about 400 miles from Abilene, to St. Louis.  I figured we’d be home by 3:00, in time to unpack at a leisurely pace and still have some afternoon to enjoy.

Our Suburban had been behaving perfectly throughout the trip.  As I drove along yesterday, I was thinking about all those little blank areas on the dash which I know contain warning lights, but I never see illuminated, and thinking that a person should not forget to check those every few minutes as he/she drives, because it is easy to get in the habit of ignoring them.  A harbinger, to be sure.

At around 1:00 we were eastbound on I-70, four miles from Concordia, Missouri (half way home), and it was raining.  I noticed that the “battery” light was on (and wondered how long it had been that way), and checking the voltmeter saw that we had dropped to around 10 volts.  Based upon previous unfortunate experience I knew that the alternator had probably died, and that when that happens, you only have “so long” before the battery is completely drained, and your vehicle just quits, leaving you wherever you have managed to land yourself.  The clock was ticking…

I went into emergency energy-conservation mode, turning off the lights, radio, A/C, and wipers, and slowing a little.  I felt like a pilot preparing to ditch the aircraft.  The voltmeter, which was visibly dropping, slowed it’s downward progress slightly.  Maybe I just bought myself an extra half-mile…

Cindy noticed a sign for a NAPA Auto Parts near an exit four miles down the road.  But there’s a Rest Area in two miles.  And we have AAA, which will get us towed to a town, but it’s Saturday afternoon, and my family and all our vacation stuff is in the Suburban.  Getting towed anywhere and having to wait until Monday it not an appealing option.  Do I go for the NAPA, risking a breakdown on the shoulder of I-70, or take the sure thing, the rest area, but then be guaranteed to have to call AAA and have to spend the weekend in an unknown town?

As we approached the rest area exit things appeared to have stabilized a little, so we decided to go for the NAPA, another two miles (my poker friends will appreciate the gamble).

Nearing the NAPA exit, a little town called Concordia, the truck started to “hesitate.”  The NAPA was mercifully close, within view, 1/2 mile south of the interstate.  As I stopped to turn to the right, off the exit ramp, the truck was shifting very rough (I guess even the transmission in newer vehicles is controlled electronically, and it was starting to suffer).

We made it to NAPA, and I backed-in, assuming that the motor would die there, and it would be easier for the mechanics from wherever to access the front of the truck in that position.  I left it running, knowing that at the battery’s reduced charge, I would never be able to re-start the truck.

I went in to NAPA and explained to an employee that I was pretty sure my alternator had died, and needed him to check it.  Unfortunately, they can only run alternator diagnostics with the offending device removed from the vehicle (not an option at the moment), but he did come out and measure the voltage across the battery, which was now around 8 volts (should be 14 if the alternator is working).  I told him that I could possibly replace it myself, in his parking lot, but it was raining, and I knew that once I stop that engine we’re just dead, and if I run into problems (inevitable) using my “travel tools,” which are a bare-necessity subset of my tools in my garage, I would be in big trouble.  At least at the moment the truck was running, and I could probably make it to a repair shop, if one existed.

The NAPA guy pointed to a little garage / shop across the street, Mike’s Automotive, and told me that they were closed, but he could see people inside.  He suggested I drive over there, tell them my story, and NOT tell them he sent me (jokingly).

I coaxed the Suburban across the street to the shop.  It was now barely running, and shifting really roughly.  There were four guys milling about inside the “office,” in jeans and t-shirts, eating fast-food, and I could see they were clearly not open for business.  One of the guys came out to meet me, and I explained our predicament.  He brought me inside to “Mike,” the owner, and I told him, as well, that I think my alternator has died, my whole family is in the car, we’re trying to get to St. Louis, NAPA has my alternator in stock across the street, and would he PLEASE take a look at my truck and see if he could fix it?

Mike said “sure” and I pulled the truck part-way into one of his bays.  There were two cars on racks inside, and I later surmised that the three guys there with Mike were just friends of his, and they were spending their Saturday tinkering with their street-rods.  The shop had not be opened AT ALL that day.

Mike had me turn off the truck so he could disconnect the battery to see, if by some chance, that was our problem, and not the alternator.  As he went to remove the positive battery cable, the positive post broke completely out of the battery, totally corroded.  Mike told me, well, this is not the way I normally like to begin repairs, but if this is was not the problem today, it was certainly about to be.

To wrap this up I’ll simply summarize that Mike and his buddies (he had them all helping) replaced my battery and alternator in under an hour.  They also assisted a young mother who pulled up in her station wagon with a loose wheel, probably thinking that the shop was open because they were working on my car.

Mike told me he was really sorry I had to end my vacation this way, spending so much extra money.  He passed on the alternator and battery at his cost from NAPA, and charged me $24 to do everything (he threw in his friends’ slave labor for free).  I thanked him profusely, and we were on our way, 1.5 hours after first noticing the problem on I-70, in the middle of nowhere, in the rain.

I’m sure that when Mike and his friends saw me making my way from NAPA over to Mike’s shop they were not excited at the prospect of interrupting their afternoon to work on a stranger’s car.  They took time from their Saturday to help our family, and were very friendly and courteous to boot.  And not only did Mike not take advantage of us, he absolutely minimized his charges.

It’s comforting to come across good people, and to be reminded that we probably have the same opportunity every day, to do the right thing even thought it’s not profitable or convenient, but often don’t take it.

Wow. Is that a story, or what?!? I’m thinking of tracking ol’ Mike down

and calling him to let him know if he ever needs some editing done,

I’ll do it free of charge. Seems the least I could do to help a guy

out who helps others…

First of all, I’d like to give my good friend Jeff Pickell a hearty

“Thank ya!!” for threshing out the kinks in this blogging thing. With

his nimble fingers and big brain, he was able to spank the code behind

this whole thing until it decided to play nicely. Very. Nicely. So

thank again, Jeffrey, for the extra assistance!!

In other news, I saw a commercial the other day for LL Bean, and the

music in it kinda resonated within me. A nice, jazzy-downtempo kind of

vibe to it. Being the research guy, fact-digging guru I am, I shot a

letter to the LL Bean PR guy to see who did the music. He pointed me to

the outfit Amber Music in New York, which shouldn’t have been

surprising, because over the years I’ve written to a number of PR

people asking the same musical question. You know who gets referred to

the most? Yep. Amber Music.

So I visited the site and dropped them a note seeing the elusive

composer. In the meantime, I killed a good half hour just browsing

through their commercials. Good stuff. Granted, most of it’s from the

UK so we haven’t seen them here, but man, there’s some serious

creativity flowing in these ads.

That’s the blog. Go pay ‘em a visit, when you can. (My favorite so far

was one of the Levi’s commercial with the guy and the girl running

through the building. Better than a movie. Especially if you call that

movie “The Punisher” or “The Day After Tomorrow.” Oy….)

Kevin

http://www.ambermusic.com/

It’s amazing how quick Kyler is these days. Not so much mentally
(although he is one of the shaper tacks in the box, in my humble,
unbiased opinion), but I’m referring to his sheer speed around the
house. And his ability to move objects from one place to another. It’s
kind of like toddler teleportation. One moment Daddy’s keys are on the
table, the next – POOF! – they’re gone. Where did they go? Well, you
could always ask him, but you know what he’ll say? “Where did dey go?”
he’ll chime in, raising his hands above his head innocently.

Oh yeah, he’s a stinker, he is.

I’m trying to counteract his speed by making mental notes of what he
has in his hands at any given time. Measuring tape, check; Daddy’s
favorite Hulk action figure, okay; half-eaten rice cake, got it. This
way I can at least have a mental image of the object when I’m searching
for it later, and hopefully I can use the proximity method to figure
out the general whereabouts of the items that are lost.

Someday I’ll Photoshop a picture of him in super-speed motion, complete
with the requisite blurry edges…

Kevin

Kyler’s asleep, I just mowed the backyard, and I’m about to wolf down some sandwiches, complete with ham, cheese and Miracle Whip. And I’ll drink a gallon of water, because buddy, I’m one thirsty daddy right now. Nice entry for a first posting, isn’t it? More later…