A Very Jon Thing

The women in my family have a Marco Polo account that the men are prohibited from participating in—a blessing of incalculable worth. Everyone knows that the quickest way to ruin any social media tool is to open it up to men. Anyway, Pam let me watch my daughter’s most recent contribution this morning in which she told the following harrowing tale.

At two o’clock in the morning, Jon and Kaitlin were awakened by the shrill piercing sound of sirens, several of them coming from somewhere very close. Soon the house was flooded with blue flashing lights. They both stumbled out of bed only to discover that their culdesac was full of police cruisers and their own driveway was blocked by a strange Jeep. Jon opened the front door and walked out onto his front porch. It was then that he noticed one of the police officers approaching the Jeep with his weapon extended! Suddenly my daughter’s peaceful culdesac looked like a scene from Criminal Minds.

For the next two hours the drama continued to unfold. A canine unit arrived unleashing bloodhounds into their backyard! Apparently, there had been a pursuit of the Jeep-driving suspect which had ended with the driver stopping directly in front of Kaitlin and Jon’s house, after which the suspect fled the scene and according to the neighbors security camera, made his escape through their backyard, jumping the fence twice and disappearing into the thick woods. The police were never able to find him, soon after jumping their fence, the trail went cold rather quickly, suggesting that he may have been picked up by an accomplice.

But as crazy as this story is, this isn’t the purpose of this particular blog post. No, the best part of the story was a small detail that Kaitlin shared that actually made me smile. During the midst of the drama playing out in his yard, my son in law did something so typical of him, so uniquely a Jon thing, that I have to share it. With police officers crawling all over the place outside, Jon quietly made his way back into the kitchen. There he prepared a tray of freshly brewed coffee with containers of sugar and several flavors of creamer, walked outside and presented the tray to the grateful police officers at 3 am in the morning, in the middle of an active investigation. Who in the world does that? My son in law, that’s who. This dude can always be counted on to disappear in the middle of a crisis and reappear with help in his hands. I could tell you one story after another of times where something like this has happened. He has a knack for it, a natural proclivity for thoughtfulness. We have a word for it in my family…clutch. 

Ladies and gentlemen, Jon Manchester is clutch.

Sometimes You Need a Little King James

So, the other day I finally made it to the book of Psalms. On that same day I had an appointment with a client down in Charles City, so I was in for a 55 minute drive down and another 55 minutes back, an excellent opportunity to use the audio book feature and knock out a couple days worth of reading. As soon as I got on 295 I hit play and the voice of a 20-something guy began reading Psalm 1 to me from the quite enjoyable translation called The Message…

“How well God must like you. You don’t walk in the ruts of those blind-as-bats, you don’t stand with the good-for-nothings, you don’t take your seat among the know-it-alls…”

Ok, here’s the thing—I like The Message. It has been an enjoyable read. It’s modern, conversational and easier to understand. But, something about this passage clicked something in me that said, “wait, wait…what?” There are some parts of the Bible that don’t sound right to me unless they are in the old King James Version. The reason is simple, it was the translation of my youth, the version of the Bible from which I memorized scripture as a child. Consequently, when I come to familiar passages like the one in Psalm 1 anything else sounds weird and not altogether right. So..because I’m a weird dude…I pulled over to the side of a busy highway so I could change the translation to the King James Version for the rest of my trip. When I hit the play button I was blown away. Instead of the nice kid who had been reading the message in his freckle-faced monotone, I was greeted by the deep baritone of some Shakespearean actor with a rich and majestic British accent…

“Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, Nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.”

A big smile appeared on my face as I thought, “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

For the rest of my trip I was treated to all the elegant words I’ve been missing, spoken to me by a guy who sounds like he might be God himself! 

“For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: But the way of the ungodly shall perish.”

You bet it will! And hearing this guy tell me, I have no choice but to believe it!

“Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?”

Why indeed??!!

Look, as soon as I get through Psalms, and thanks to that road trip I almost am, I will go back to The Message. It has been a pleasure reading it so far. But, sometimes man…you just need yourself some King Jimmy, baby.

P.J. O’Rourke. 1947-2022

I got the news that P.J. O’Rourke passed away late this afternoon. Although I knew he was battling cancer, I had assumed he was winning. His death feels like a blow, a loss of someone important to me. No writer has had a more enlightening and hilarious impact on my thinking than O’Rourke, although I’m sure that most of you have never heard of him. Here’s a clue of how much he meant to me…

He was that writer with the rarest of gifts, the ability to seamlessly combine cynicism with joy. His ability to illustrate the absurdities of life while still maintaining a zest for life made him unique. It was O’Rourke who first persuaded me to consider a Libertarian view of politics, usually right after I had composed myself from laughing out loud at something he had written. This juxtaposition of wit and substance was not an accident. It’s exactly who he was. 

I was first introduced to him through his work at National Lampoon back during my college days. He would later become a foreign correspondent for Rolling Stone, for which his dispatches from some of the worst war torn hell-holes on the planet were legendary. But then, Parliament of Whores came out and I was dazzled. Soon after came Give War a Chance, then All the Trouble in the World and Eat the Rich. Each new book seemed better than the previous one. Half the time you couldn’t tell who he hated more, the socialist left or the war-monger right. He had the singular gift of unflinching honesty, which meant that whenever he was confronted by the absurdities of a political view he at one time held, he would gleefully rip himself. His famous line was, “ One of the problems with being a writer is that all of your idiocies are still in print somewhere. I strongly support paper recycling."

Only ten of his books have survived to live on the shelf in this photograph. All the others—there were twenty in all—were either loaned out and never given back, given away, or live on in a dusty box in the attic in obedience to my strict no paperbacks library rule. Somewhere up there is Republican Party Reptile, yet another classic.

In closing I’ve collected several of my favorite P.J. Witticisms from his over fifty years of writing incredibly witty things…

“Cleanliness becomes more important when godliness is unlikely.

It's better to spend money like there's no tomorrow than to spend tonight like there's no money.

There are no kinder or better people in the world than those who listen to you when you are 18.

Everybody wants to save the world but nobody wants to help mom with the dishes.

There is only one basic human right, the right to do as you damn well please. And with it comes the only basic human duty, the duty to take the consequences.

Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.

If government were a product, selling it would be illegal.

There is no virtue in compulsory government charity, and there is no virtue in advocating it.

When buying and selling are controlled by legislation, the first things to be bought and sold are legislators.

Microeconomics is about money you don't have, and macroeconomics is about money the government is out of.

The Democrats are the party that says government will make you smarter, taller, richer, and remove the crabgrass on your lawn. The Republicans are the party that says government doesn't work and then they get elected and prove it.

We had a choice between Democrats who couldn't learn from the past and Republicans who couldn't stop living in it.

Politicians are interested in people. Not that it is always a virtue. Fleas are interested in dogs.

Never wear anything that panics the cat.”

RIP, P.J. O’Rourke

The Invasion of Ukraine…a Primer

A tumultuous week ahead, as the world faces the imminent prospect of war in Eastern Europe. Russia gives every indication that it intends to launch an invasion of the independent nation of Ukraine with the 130,000 plus troops that it has assembled on three sides of its border. If this happens, death and destruction will follow, along with turbulence in financial markets all over the world, including sharp increases in the price of oil and other commodities. Of course, the possibility exists that Vladimir Putin is bluffing or some eleventh hour combination of concessions/ face-saving exit strategy will be cobbled together. Although this is unlikely, it is not impossible, and if the crisis were to be averted, those same financial markets would skyrocket in jubilation and relief. Such is the nature of high stakes geopolitical gamesmanship.

Regardless of the outcome, life will go on. The prices of equities and commodities will eventual revert to the mean once the emotions of the moment fade. My views on what the role of the United States should be in this situation have been articulated here many times and will not be repeated. But, my heart goes out to the citizens of Ukraine, those whose lives and fortunes lay in the path of Russian tanks and infantry. The fact that Europe has endured this sort of thing on a ghastly scale twice in the past 90 years is noteworthy in that it has failed to deter the aggressor or properly motivate the intended victim in this case. In other words, instead of learning from history, mankind once again seems destined to repeat it. Russia, who lost more people to the ravages of 20th century wars than any nation on earth seems particularly undeterred by this sad fact. But what of Europe? Where is their urgency to prevent such naked aggression? They seem to feel like it is somehow the responsibility of NATO—by any measure a proxy for the United States—to prevent an outbreak of war, although Ukraine is not a part of NATO. 

What of Poland? Romania? Hungary and Czechoslovak-Slovakia? All of these countries used to be a part of the old Soviet Union, and are the focus of Putin’s ambition. While he is no Communist and doesn’t long for a return to that disaster, he is a nationalist and longs for a return to Russian hegemony and dominance over Eastern Europe. In other words, he’s your basic garden variety despot who wants to gobble up anything he thinks belongs to Mother Russia. None of this should come as a surprise to anyone with even an entry level understanding of the history of civilization—not to mention anyone who is spending time reading through the Bible! Modernity has not repealed the laws of power. All of our vane ideas of woke-ness, all of our naive assumptions of some new world order of enlightenment fall to pieces when confronted with a couple divisions of infantry in the hands of motivated Nationalist. To quote that great philosopher, Mike Tyson, “everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

Super Bowl Thoughts

I have an on-again, off-again relationship with professional football. Sometimes I watch, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I care, most of the time, I don’t. I much prefer the college game because it’s more fun. The professional version is too often consumed with Rushmore-sized egos and political preachiness for my tastes. However, like most Americans, I pay attention to the Super Bowl. This year, especially so because of one player…Joe Burrow.

My introduction to the NFL happened when I was eleven years old and this super cool, swaggering quarterback named Joe Namath guaranteed a victory. He played for the New York Jets, perhaps the biggest underdog in the history of the SB. The Baltimore Colts were better at practically every position, so Namath’s cocky guarantee was all that anyone was talking about in the days leading up to the game, and I was mesmerized. Well, Joe pulled it off and became a legend. Now, another Joe is on the scene and although he hasn’t guaranteed anything, he has the swagger, the cool, and the talent. It’s all very Namath-esk. He even has the same swag…

So, for today, I am a Bengal fan because of Joe Burrow. The Rams are a better team. They should win going away. But, there’s something about this kid that tells me to watch the game. Something special might be about to happen.

Plus, I will be pulling for the Bengals because they are playing a team from…Los Angeles. Why is it that I so detest any team from Tinsle-Town? It’s the city of Stars. It’s where every athlete with a big ego wants to play. The Rams are a team loaded with stars, but so is every other professional team from LA. The Lakers, the Dodgers…all full of big stars. I hate it. Like everything else from the west coast it seems fake, contrived and artificial. Ram fans have the attention span of jellyfish. They are in the stands up until the minute when they get distracted by whatever new thing turns their heads. Half of them probably became fans like ten minutes ago. All the beautiful people will get screen time during the broadcast today. The announcers will gush, “Many stars out tonight, Bob. There’s Ben Afflack. Oh..and is that J-Lo?” Sure enough, there she will be sipping her mimosa from the luxury of her private suite—the quintessential football image from the City of Angels. Barf…

Yeah, so…GO JOE!  

Bengals 31

Rams 28

Context is Everything

One of the great comedic opportunities of everyday life is overhearing someone, or being overheard, completely out of context. The possibilities are endless. 

As my wife and I sat in a restaurant one morning, she announced to me, at the precise moment our waitress happened by, “He didn’t sleep with me last night—I really hope he sleeps with me tonight.”

            The “I don’t think I was supposed to hear that,” amused-but-quizzical look that appeared on our waitress’s face made me laugh so hard I almost choked on my omelet. She didn’t realize my wife was talking about our cat, Otis.

            Context is everything.

            Another time, I passed by just as an irritated woman snapped into her cellphone, “What do you mean, ‘Is Kyle still in a coma?’ Kyle’s never been in a coma!’”

            I would love to know the context for that one.

            I thought about this recently as I tried to understand and appreciate some of the things Jesus said, because without context I often don’t do a very good job of either one.

            One of his best-known parables is the one about the good Samaritan. For years, I thought of it as a nice story about an unlikely hero. Then I learned a little about how the Jews Jesus was telling to story to really felt about Samaritans. There’s a long territorial and historical backdrop, but suffice it to say that most Jews thought Samaritans worshipped God wrong, were unskilled and uneducated, weren’t true Israelites, and were likely half-breeds, too. One of the worst insults a first-century Jew could hurl at someone was to call them a Samaritan (which the crowds later did to Jesus himself). Maybe the best analogy I can come up with is how many Americans today feel about members of Isis.

            So, Jesus hits the crowd with a story about some very upright priests and ministers who are too busy doing “important” things and so won’t stop to help a man in distress—but a Samaritan who goes above and beyond to show God’s love to a fellow human. The parable had to shock and offend his listeners. 

            It also underscores the completely radical way Jesus presents faith for his followers, something I often and easily lose in much of what he says and does.

            And if accepting and praising a filthy Samaritan wasn’t enough, Jesus goes here, too: No one actually enjoys paying taxes, but in Jesus’ day it was especially hated because of the people who served as tax collectors. The much-hated occupying Roman forces hired your friends and neighbors to collect your cash, and they made their living by gouging you. The Romans didn’t offer a salary and benefits package; tax collectors overcharged you and kept as much of your money as they could. As a result, most of them were wealthy, which further separated them from the general population. They weren’t just disliked because they were IRS agents, they were unanimously reviled as traitors, backstabbers and cheats. 

            So, Jesus makes a point of having meals with and befriending them and even invites one to join his most intimate band of disciples. Again, this had to be shocking and offensive to most everyone. Many of us have grown up thinking of Jesus as the ultimate nice guy, but “shocking and offensive” was often his M.O, as he made room for society’s worst outcasts and forced folks to rethink their lives. It’s a hard lesson, both for first-century types and for us.

            Just a few days ago, I heard a woman I know telling someone something about “exposing myself.” Turns out they were talking about COVID. Context is, indeed, everything.

 

            

This is How my Wife Rolls

So, a few weeks ago my wife agreed to join the board of the Wythe Trace Homeowners Association in the capacity of Secretary in charge of communications and other stuff. At the time, I felt a great disturbance in the force. I knew full well what this meant. My wife was given a task and the authority to complete that task which could only mean one thing—Pam Dunnevant’s skills were about to be released at Death-Com 5, meaning that each night after dinner she would pull out her laptop and get to work recreating the world of homeowner association communications for decades to come.

First, she took a look at the WTHA Facebook page and mumbled, “Oh no…this won’t do.” She went to work redesigning the thing, making it “more fun” Now, the new and improved version has 55 members and ten times more engagement. Then she turned her almost creepy laser focus to the business of creating a newsletter. The inaugural edition of which was sent out last night…The Wythe Trace Times.

I fully admit to my biases where my wife is concerned. I consider her one of the most creative and talented people in the universe. Any person or organization that has benefitted from her gifts would offer no argument. She sent me a copy of the final product late last night and I just now opened it this morning. Even I, someone who should not at all have been surprised, was blown away…

Pam decided that what the newsletter needed was a special section to devoted to pets. Taking the liberties that go along with responsibility, she volunteered to demonstrate for everyone what she had in mind…(notice the friendly poop reminder!)

Of course, we do have an association and as such, there are rules. Leave it to Pam to make even that seem benign…(Covenant Corner, indeed!)

So, yeah. This is my wife, a woman who has not had one second of computer graphics training, or computer background of any kind, yet this is how she rolls.