The Jacket Post

The Jacket Post

Some of you have heard that this was coming; most of you have not. At any rate, here it is. The much anticipated jacket post.

Those of you who I come into contact with on a somewhat daily basis may have noticed a new jacket on me. This is not an unusual thing. I like clothes, of which are included jackets, and therefore appear in new apparel from time to time. (For my more pious readers: No, I don't covet clothes, and yes, I try to be a good steward of my money. I like clothes more than people that don't care about them, and less than people that do.) A good jacket is a wardrobe essential, not to mention a healthy choice in our more chilly and damp of seasons. My northern friends understand that a stylish winter coat is a thing of beauty, and isn't easily come upon. A good jacket must be warm, yet cool. Stylish, yet not detracting from the rest of your clothes. (Unless of course the rest of your clothes suck, like mine often do.) There are very few jackets that go with every and any thing. Some go well with light bottoms; some go well with dark bottoms. Yes, I am a straight male, and yes I do understand this concept.

I have a few favorite jackets (this does include what some would call a "coat" or a "parka.") A black leather deal that I got for Christmas one year is on the top of the list. It goes of course, with every article of clothing I own save for anything that deals with sports, (ie. athletic shoes or pants.) I also purchased a brown "pleather" coat that has been of great importance in my wardrobe lately. It wasn't expensive, so I don't mind using it for light maintenance work, yet it's durable and somewhat fashionably acceptable. (Such a find is priceless.) My new favorite is a Khaki blazer that I picked up at Old Navy. The perfect fall jacket for those days when you want to keep the cold from shaking up your bones, yet don't want to lumber around like a dogsledder and sweat your fanny into mushy oblivion. AND, it's a killer accent to a pair of blue jeans. Can I get an Amen.

Anyway, this post isn't about any of those jackets. No, this post is one of heartache and sorrow. Anger and bitterness and jealous confusion. See, once upon a time I loved a girl. She was the one, (at least for a while) and I wanted her to know it. Recently I had become the proud owner of a quilted denim jacket (this was several years ago) that had the name of the place where my Dad and I worked patched on it. This was monumental since it was the first time that I ever had a coat that associated me with something. I didn't have a letter jacket, or a championship jacket to wear, so this was huge. Because of my attachment to this jacket, and my devotion to this girl, (who like most females I know was continuously suffering from a sever bout of "it's chilly in here") I decided to give it to her as a sign of my affection. This too was monumental since my family was moving 6 hours away, and in my mind, this was one of the few things I could give her to remind her of me. (Please, keep all metaphorical ideas to yourself.) Anyway, to make a long story short, the long distance relationship was rather short lived, and I found myself short one jacket, one girl, and longing for both. This may not have been a big deal, but The Jacket remained gone. As a result of my limited experience and knowledge in these areas, I began to get very sore about the absence of The Jacket. Time may heal all wounds, but it wasn't keeping my arms warm. It was my jacket, and it belonged to me. When she got rid of me, she should have gotten rid of The Jacket. Right? This topic came up several times over the years since then, and I do believe that if there was any bitterness or anger in my soul about the whole relationship, then it was fueled by the loss of The Jacket. What kind of girl keeps the guys jacket. And then, get this, she started dating. Then got engaged. Then got married. Then had a baby. And she still had my jacket. (By this time The Jacket haunted my dreams.) What was I to do. You can't just buy another jacket and pretend like the whole thing never happened. "Move on" people said, "there are more fish in the sea." Yeah, but there's only one of those jackets. (The author wishes to state that if "the girl" had at any time asked him if he wanted The Jacket back, he would have asked her what jacket she was talking about, and informed her that he had not thought about it for any length of time.)

The Jacket did find it's way home however. Finally. About three and a half years after it's heart-wrenching departure, it found it's way home. (I won't tell of all the surrounding events out of respect for the people involved. I try not to be bitter, and I have the best of wishes for her and her family, please understand that.) Sadly, The Jacket will never have the same place in the closet . It appears that my longing for it was more out of jealous pride than actual affection for the physical jacket. It will never again accompany me on a romp into town, or a dive into society. It now maintains a special place on the hall tree. Few fall jackets are as warm, or as suited for such chores as mowing, shoveling, climbing, picking, moving, sweating, dumping, washing, dusting, cleaning......I think you get the idea. It can still be useful, but will always carry with it the stink of lost love. Such an ugly odor.

And that's The Jacket post.

Greetings, and as my possibly-to-be favorite late show host Craig Ferguson says, "welcome back all of my little fluffies."

It is I, back by popular demand, here to fill your head with fluff and nonsense, with an exhaustive hope that the quality of your life will be improved as a direct result of your reading this tripe. If you are here today searching for content, prepare to be disappointed. It is late, as the post time will show, and I only want to ask a question, show you something, and then tell you what's going on. Here goes!

Question: What is up with you Americans (I would have said poor Americans, but I fear being misunderstood) and your insane fear of any involvement that the government has in your life. I shake my head, I really do. It may sound like logic to most of you enlightened people, (I love each one of you) but this is what it sounds like to this brainwashed socialist: "Oh boo hoo. The little 'ol government wants some information on me for home-land security. I'm not giving them a blasted thing. What should I do for any of those nuts politicians. They certainly aren't going to try and help me out with any sort of medical aid or anything, evil doers, and they certainly aren't going to monitor any of my mail/phone calls/life." Then comes my favorite part. (Scenario: A flooded New Orleans) "Oh boo hoo. Where's the government. Why aren't they down here helping us escape (from something you were warned quite in advance about) from this horrible storm they conjured up in order to cleanse the city and nation of poor people and Black-Americans. Where's my handout, where's my money to rebuild, where's my blah blah blah blah. Oh boo hoo" It's just a question. Can anyone enlighten me as to why this sort of rubbish goes on?

After all of this hurricane hullabaloo I spent some time trying to gather real facts (in order to answer a burning question I had as to where the tens-of-thousands dead were, and why they only pulled six bodies out of the Superdome, which was supposed to piled high with them.) Someone reminded me that a secular world and media can't be expected to be a reliable source for truth, which got me to thinking, and then I tripped over this little verse.

1 I charge you therefore before God and the Lord Jesus Christ, who will judge the living and the dead at[a] His appearing and His kingdom: 2 Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season. Convince, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering and teaching. 3 For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine, but according to their own desires, because they have itching ears, they will heap up for themselves teachers; 4 and they will turn their ears away from the truth, and be turned aside to fables. 5 But you be watchful in all things, endure afflictions, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry. 2 Timothy 4:1-5

Hmmmmm..........

And as to what I'm up to as of late, I am off on a three week tour which'll run me in a nice little loop from Missouri and Oklahoma to Saskatchewan (that's in Canada my little American friends, and Canada is to the north) and Manitoba. (Manitoba is also in Canada. No hard feelings right?) That is why I won't be posting or commenting anytime soon, unless of course I stumble across a means by which to do so. Until the next time my friends, keep your head up, and your stick on the ice. (A trillion kudos to the NHL by the way. And long live Don Cherry!)

What's The Matter For Your Face: Vol. 2

Greetings friends and neighbors, and welcome to the second part of What's The Matter For Your Face. I trust that you were truly enlightened and thrilled by part one, and I would most certainly be interested to hear how your life was changed because of the information you so surely ingested off of such balderdash. I don't want to drag things out here, so we'll get right down to business with yet another face. The face you see here is one of shock, surprise, and perhaps a small pinch of disgust. There is a scripture that states "seek and ye shall find," and though I have no doubt in my mind that the scripture is 100% the errorless word of God and needs nothing added to it, I may in my own commentary state that what you find may not always be to your liking.
Such would be the case here.
Many doors are far better left unopened.



In my previous post I mentioned how the eyes are often a portal to the soul, displaying the various emotions that we as humans experience. The smallest part of our bodies can often tell us more in a single glance than what we could express otherwise. John Belushi for instance, was a master of eyebrow acting. The ridge above his eyes told millions of his fans whether or not he was thrilled, ticked, drunk, or completely ignorant of the surrounding circumstances. (What sets him apart from the rest of many great eyebrowists was his ability to do all four expressions at one time. Pure artistic genius.) I however, am no master of the eyebrow, (save a raised or furrowed one on occasion.) I depend more upon my body language than my face to get my point accross. Body language can be many things. Serious, classy, self-concious, sensual, happy, funny or sad. The list goes on. One of my personal favorites is how I make my body look when I am thrilled. It took me years to master the technique behind this, but I've found that people appreciate it a bunch when they know exactly how you are feeling about something. I'm not sure what happens to the nerves in my body, or if I have an overdose of endorphins-something-or-other, but when I get thrilled, it makes a lasting impression. Just like this.

(I hope that it is obvious what I am thrilled about.)

It is my desire that this has helped you in the advancing of your mind. The dumbing down of North America is something that I think we must all be comcerned about, and since knowledge is power I feel that is my duty to provide what information I can that could improve the quality of your life. May you all have a blessed and enlightened day.

note: the expressive techniques shown on this post were accomplished by a professional who has had much time to sit around and think up such things. Do not attempt these expressions without a time of reflection, and a warm up period involving various calisthenics.

What's The Matter For Your Face!

Faces really are something else. A face can tell you a lot of things, like, "hello, I'm beautiful." Or, "hello, I'm ugly." (These both have variations of course, such as "hello I'm beautiful but I have an terrible attitude and you'd probably rather nail your tounge to a sulfuric post than hang out with me" or "hello I'm ugly but I'm a beautiful person inside." The latter variant of course is an arguable one, based on the age-old theory that while beauty is only skin deep, ugly goes right to the bone.") A face can also portray happiness, contentedness, sadness, or many other moods. The face above is a happy one.

There are many other things that our faces tell us. They say that the eyes (which as you may well know, are located on the face) are the window to the soul, and it's quite possibly true. (I have found that the longer you keep your eyes closed the more soulful you feel. Perhaps soul can escape out of your eyes if you're not careful.) There are certainly many kinds of eyes. Blue eyes, brown eye's (which I've sometimes heard referred to as evidence that someone is full of a certain substance, but I've yet to prove the truth to that statement,) there are green eyes, black eyes, cat eyes, mousey eyes, and sometimes even red eyes depending on what time your flight left or what kind of flash you have on your camera. (Red eyes have also been discovered on the face's of people who have problems such as being addicted to controlled substances, alcohol, or the questionable use of foot ointment and baby powder.) I've also found out that eyes can tell you if someone is being honest, or if they're scared, or a host of other things. The Eagles even claim that "you can't hide your lyin' eyes," a fact which my mother often used against me in order to discover what I was up the previous night. So gracious and kind of her eh?

These are peek-a-boo eyes!


It really is something else. Faces are something to be admired, studied, photographed, and many other things. (Some faces were even meant to be ignored, or in some more extreme case were meant to be hit, kicked, or kissed.) I really wanted to put up more photos with other styles of faces, but for some reason they're being uploaded but not shown on my page. I wonder if there is a two photo limit per post. Maybe I'll post them later. This is probably enough for now anyways. Good day.

Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am in, therewith to be content. Phillipians 4:11

How about that!

Two Guys Met on a Street Corner

I waited, and I waited. Patiently waiting. I ignored the plea's of those Xangan's that I daily come into contact with, and I waited. Then inspiration struck.
The whole equality schtick is balony. The equality between races, religions, people groups, genders! It's all a stack of second grade balony. I was on my way to my mandolin lesson yesterday (yes, I finally succumbed to my pride and and am taking a few lessons) and was getting ready to cross the buzzing Main St. in Goshen, when I met up with none other than another fellow carrying a guitar and mandolin case. Immediately we were equals. Or at least compatibles. He had shorts and sandals on; I had pants and sandals on. He has a shock of sandy blond hair; mine is flat and dark. He had facial hair; I hadn't shaved in two days. But we were both carrying mandolins, and that made us equal. Immediately we introduced ourselves, and I found out that (as I had suspected) he was Lukas Simpson, singer/guitar player/mandolin player/ songwriter for the Goldmine Pickers, of which my mandolin teacher is a member. (Check them out at http://www.goldminepickers.com/) We may as well have gone to school together, such was the ease with which we conversed. I say that to say this. It's not about a whole group of people being equals that we should be concerning ourselves with, let's look for compatibility and all that jazz among the people that we meet with daily. The guys that we meet on the street corner with whatever is in their hands. There's been a loss of personableism in this land, (as is evident by everyone's demand for privacy and secrecy.) I thought about it yesterday as I walked past a lady pushing a stroller through our parking lot. Neither of us looked at each other or even mumbled a passing hello, which by yesterdays standards would have been terribly rude, but today is just the norm. This post is getting long though, so I shall retire for now. Time for you to speak your mind dear friends. God Bless.