The Amazing Kims

To read any newspaper in this country at the moment, it is impossible to escape the conclusion that  Kim Jung Un's North Korea poses an existential threat to these United States. It is being suggested that the strongman's nuclear weapons program has now advanced to the point where cities in America are now within range of North Korean ICBM's. For this reason, the South China Sea has become a flashpoint of international tension. Storm clouds are steadily gathering. The phrase, nuclear war, is now being bandied about. Carrier groups are said to be on the move. The Chinese are on edge.

I'm not buying any of it.

It's difficult for me to take the North Koreans seriously. The only news footage westerners ever see of the place is the stage prop square where a million soldiers are always marching stiff-legged during one of their incessant military parades. The rest of the country is a certifiable hell hole. If the folks from Michelin were ever allowed in the place, they would give the entire country negative stars. Like all communist plutocrats, the Dear Leader Kims have diverted the nation's wealth away from anyone who might threaten them. Their people might starve, but it works out quite nicely for the Kims.

Yeah, it's hard for me to take a country seriously that teaches it's school children that Kim Jong Un learned to drive a car at age 3, and was winning yacht races at age 9. Of course, young Kim cannot hold a candle to his Dad, the infamous Kim Jong Il, who on his first ever attempt at golf, shot a mind-numbing 38, coming into the clubhouse 34 strokes under par with a round that included a stunning 6 hole in ones!!! As an amateur golfer myself, I can say with relative confidence that the elder Kim is a baldface liar, and that a nation of people who would even pretend to believe such a tale should have their nation-card revoked. It is precisely this sort of thing for which Colonialsm was invented. North Korea needs to be sent to the principal's office, stripped of it's flag making ability, forced to give up its seat at the United Nations, and made into a vassal state of South Korea. Or even better, how about we ignore them altogether?

Of course, if it turns out that they actually do possess a viable nuclear capability, I will issue a retraction. But, something doesn't smell right here. Maybe this whole Kim thing is just a convenient distraction, a handy excuse to empower the Empire loving politicians here AND there.

In the meantime, I want Kim Jong Il in my next captain's choice foursome.

My Easter, 2017

The last strands of light linger outside on this long Easter Day. I am now alone with my thoughts. They are everywhere, all over the place, competing for my attention. So much to remember.

The day began earlier than most. The church I currently attend, but am not yet a member of, had rented out the Altria Theatre for their Easter services. There would be two of them instead of the usual 5. We would be attending the 9 am service, so we scrambled to get out the door in time for the longer drive and the ordeal of parking downtown. Our children were away, in other states and time zones. It was just us, just my wife and me. You would think that I would have grown used to this by now, being apart from them on the large, important days, but it still stings a little, a feeling of melancholy still lingers in the background when they aren't here with us. It isn't spoken of. No complaints are made. Still...it lingers.

I didn't know quite how I felt about having Easter in the same building where I had just seen the Book of Mormon a month ago. Pam had just seen Cinderella there recently. I half wondered if the band might find a missing shoe backstage. Sure, we Christians have been taught all of our lives that the church is the people, not the building. But, most of us find it difficult to imagine meeting for services in a strip club, or a casino. Of course, the Altria Theatre is neither of those places, but it still felt weird, until I saw three thousand people filling the place and heard the thrilling proclamation of my savior's resurrection ringing off it's walls. The service was beautifully and artfully crafted together into a living thing. A woman I had never seen before stood and recited a touching monologue about how the risen Christ had turned her into a Spring person. The incalculably talented Nicole Unice then presented a spirited defense of the physical resurrection of Christ with an eye towards the skeptic in each of us. Then the music came. It's normally the part of the Hope Church experience that I simply endure, not because the musicians aren't talented and not even because the songs aren't my style, but rather because I don't know them well, and I can't hear my fellow congregants singing the words. But, today was different somehow. Maybe it was the larger stage, the heightened excitement of the event, the majesty of the theological moment, but they were amazing. It was the thunderous exclamation point of the service, and each player seemed to sense it and their role in pointing the way to the transcendence of the risen Christ.

There was a video which was beautifully produced about one of the band members, his back story. I've seen him play lead guitar many times. He's older, carries himself in that unhurried Clapton manner, very much a slow hand sort of guy. I had no idea what the man had gone through to get to the stage, no idea of his tragic back story. Yet, there he is every Sunday, laying down soft licks in the background. I was choked up the entire time it took to tell his story.

Then David Dwight walked onto center stage carrying a stool in his hand and no notes. He spoke for maybe twenty minutes. He hardly raised his voice above standard conversational tones. Given the occasion and the topic, he would have been excused a bit of over exuberance, a little Pentecostal flair. But, this is David Dwight. He doesn't do flair. It was as if he knew that something special was going on in the room, and he didn't want to be a distraction, didn't want to screw it up. Instead, he talked to us, like he does every Sunday...from his mind and heart...."Who are we and why are we here, and why do we feel compelled to even ask these sorts of questions? Because Jesus Christ is the author of life and he has placed eternity in the hearts of man." Every word he spoke to us was designed to point us towards the ultimate meaning of this day, that because Christ loved us so much that he was willing to endure the cross, overcoming death, we are free to have a relationship with him. The meaning that we are all longing for can be found with the very author of our story.

When we walked out into the blinding sunlight of Monroe Park, it didn't matter to me that I had been overdressed. I wasn't annoyed at the traffic or the parking deck. I even took the scenic route home, driving through the back streets of the Fan, then turning on to the Boulevard by the museums, then the Diamond. I was actually trying to soak it all in, and I needed some time before the soul crush which is 95 North.

Once home, it was time to prepare for hosting my wife's family for Easter lunch. Everything was beautiful and the food was delicious. I still missed my kids, but knowing that they were both, hours away just getting out of their churches where they both heard the same story, told in different ways, made me miss them a little less.

Happy Easter.

By All Means...Let's Have a Debate.

Instead of debating the efficacy of this big honking bomb, let's debate a more important question..."Why are we still in freaking Afghanistan???"

United Scare Lines

The memes are coming fast and furious. Ignited Airlines. United Scare Lines. The best one I saw was an ad from Southwest Airlines with the tag line..."We beat the competition...not you." Earning a lifetime exemption in the CEO's hall of shame, United top dog Oscar "the grouch" Munoz, poured gasoline on the fire by praising his employees for their outstanding work in the case of one Dr. David Dao, who had made the ghastly mistake of paying for a ticket on Mr. Munoz's airline. When news came that the flight was "oversold" none of the passengers were willing to take United up on their offers of money, hotel vouchers, stock options and free cake, to get off the plane. That's when the stellar employees at the friendly skies broke out the best practices handbook, looked up "what to do when passengers will not agree to forfeit their seats" and read the words, beat the ever loving snot out of them.

It is for precisely this reason that corporate public relations departments exist, and this morning they sprang into action. The New York Post published a hit piece on the victim. Apparently, the good doctor Dao isn't so good, having had his medical licenses taken away from him...twice, for writing bogus prescriptions to various gay lovers. When he wasn't trading drugs for sex, he was attending anger management classes mandated by a string of employers. The snakes over in the PR department are hoping that this information will rehabilitate the company's battered image by suggesting that the bloodied doctor had it coming.

However, none of Dr. Dao's past troubles in any way change the fact that he paid good money for a ticket, was sitting in his seat minding his own business, when he was forcibly removed by the company who sold him said ticket. This is a part of the free exchange of goods and services that Adam Smith never imagined....the part where you sell someone a product, then right before he uses it, you rip it from his hands. Imagine for a minute that you're sitting at a very crowded Chick-fil-a about to take your first bite of that very delicious chicken sandwich, when suddenly the manager runs across the dining room and literally grabs the sandwich out of your hand, explaining that unfortunately they have discovered someone else who is even hungrier than you are, so that sandwich will have to be given to him. But, no problems because the management will give you a free sandwich on your next trip to Chick-fil-a....as long as you buy a large drink. Or, suppose you and the wife have just settled in to your comfy king sized pillow top at the Hyatt Regency in Boca Raton, when suddenly, several large men burst through the door to inform you that someone else far more important than you needs your bed. "Here's your hat, what's your hurry?"

The American airline industry is a hot mess at the moment. I don't know enough about the business to explain their incompetence, but my trick knee tells me that dragging paying customers off of planes in this age of cell phone cameras might be the single most epic public relations fail in history!

14 Years Ago This Month

Today's agenda is packed; important meeting, three days worth of paperwork to complete, a half dozen phone calls that have to be made, and a plethora of other various and sundry items to check off my list. But, it's the best kind of "packed" since the purpose of all the activity is to accommodate a five day, four night escape to the beach!

"Hold on a second," you might be thinking. "Didn't you just get back from a four night getaway to Florida?"

Well, yes. Yes I did. Let me explain how life works.

The first five years that I spent in this business were a brutal gauntlet of ten hour days filled with rejection, failure and virtually no money. That was precipitated by the fact that A. My chosen field of endeavor was insanely difficult to break into and B. Our decision for Pam to be a stay at home Mom. The following five years were only marginally better. Money began to be made, but the hours remained brutal. Many days I would look at my paycheck...yes, back then we actually got paper checks...and wonder why the heck I had chosen a career where there was no guarantee of anything. Why had I insisted on being my own boss? Didn't I realize what a cantankerous boss I would be? The next five years started to get better. The money was better and the hours got more normal. Then, out of nowhere I found myself laying on a cold table listening to myself counting backwards from 10. Open heart surgery is like a telegram from God reminding you that he will not, in fact, be mocked. From that moment on, my life goals changed. No longer did I care about how much money I made. Well, I cared, just nowhere near as much. Instead, I laid out fresh new goals. Goal number one was to take off more days this year than I did last year. With very few exceptions, I have accomplished my goals. There's nothing quite so motivating to your plans for self improvement like the possibility of sudden death.

It's been 14 years ago this month since I obtained the eight inch scar in the middle of my chest. Back then it looked like a swollen zipper and I was horrified at the sight of it. Today, it's hardly noticeable. But, looking back, it might just have been the best thing that ever happened to me.

So, yeah...I take a lot of time off. In a couple of weeks we will head down to see my daughter for several days, two weeks after that it will be Nashville for some time with my son. July will bring yet another week at the beach with the Dunnevant clan, and for three weeks in September, a lake house in Maine will be our home. Since I don't have an employer , I don't have paid vacations. So, my income will take a hit. A very  small price to pay.

The Truths of Easter

About a year ago I wrote this about Easter:

"Easter is what I cling to nowadays. At a time when church has lost its urgency for me, and at a time when I spend most of my time there feeling embarrassed, the resurrection still moves me. It remains the essential doctrine that for me validates my faith. I have studied the story a thousand times, a thousand times I have tried and failed to fashion an explanation for it that doesn't include the physical resurrection of Jesus. Still, nothing explains the impact wrought on civilization by Christianity, other than that band of poor, itinerant fishermen seeing and touching the risen Christ. Nothing. Because he rose from the grave, he must have been the Son of God. For me, it all boils down to that central fact of history. Everything else is fluff."

The only thing that has changed is that I have rediscovered the urgency of the assembly and being there no longer embarrasses. For this I am thankful and I suppose I have Hope Church to thank. Every Sunday I go there expecting to be challenged, expecting to hear something foundational yet intelligent. It is a bittersweet experience most Sundays since along with that intelligence comes conviction, with its stubborn insistence upon the fact that I am a sinner in need of a savior. Yes, I am loved by God, but he also expects something from me. He calls me to be the best version of myself, to be better than I want to be sometimes. So, I come...to be reminded. And I leave thinking about what I just heard. For a moment at least, I am outside of myself and focused on the transcendent, and on this Palm Sunday, nothing is more transcendent than the truths of Easter.

Airstrikes in Syria

I'm a nobody blogger. Nobody has asked my opinion on last night's missile strikes in Syria. I have no training or experience in matters of geopolitics. But, I am a pissed off citizen with an opinion, and this is America, so here goes.

I have read a stack of analysis of this thing over the past three hours( yes...three hours) and the only positive that can be said of this strike was that we did preserve the element of surprise...nobody over there expected a decision on a strike to be made and executed this swiftly. But, having said that...I fail to see the "vital National security interest" imperiled by the killing of Syrian babies by a dictator...just as I failed to see it when Clinton/Obama claimed the same justification for attacking Libya. As far as Iraq was concerned, I..along with most everyone in Congress,  believed Colin Powell's WMD speech at the UN and supported the action, and I was wrong to do so. When that intelligence was proven worthless, I was for a complete withdrawal. No matter who occupies the White House, the siren call of intervening in the Middle East seems too powerful to resist. It is infuriating.

If "vital national security interest" is now defined to include..."whenever horrible video emerges showing innocent people being treated horribly" then we better get used to a future of unending interventions. My son rightly asks, Will we now begin accepting refuges from a country we are officially bombing? All actions produce a reaction, and in the arena of military action, that reaction is more often than not unpredictable.

The only aspect of Trump's campaign that garnered any support from yours truly was his rather emphatic non-interventionist rhetoric. I could literally post a dozen or more tweets where he outlined his view that it was time for America to stop meddling in the Middle East, time for us to be willing to intervene more in Chicago's south side than some hell-hole in the desert. It was the only thing that encouraged me about the man...maybe this guy might be an idiot, but at least he won't be a globalist idiot. So much for that theory.

Let there be no confusion. My views on this subject have nothing to do with the military. Those guys follow orders and execute whatever assignment they are given with amazing efficiency. And, my views should not be construed as insensitivity to man's inhumanity to man. Do I care about the fact that babies in a hospital were targeted in a chemical weapons attack? Of course I do. It's horrifying and infuriating that this sort of thing happens in the world. But, how do these 60 Tomahawk missiles change anything on the ground. We destroyed one air base from which Assad could launch attacks on his own people. He has five more perfectly in tact. Furthermore, the other five most likely are crawling with Russian and Iranian equipment and personnel. To all of you cheering Trumpian "decisiveness"...you guys onboard for going after the other five, risking an all out war with a legitimate military superpower? All to protect Syrian civilians? Seriously? Is this what you were hoping for when you elected Donald Trump....more Middle East adventurism?