A Zonkey is a cross between a zebra and a donkey.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Zonked & a kick in the head
A Zonkey is a cross between a zebra and a donkey.
Pictures of me shaking hands with Bill and Hillary Clinton at at Chelsea's Wedding
Friday, July 30, 2010
This just in ...
... 10 seconds ago:
Church caretaker found slain in apparent robbery
Milton Hill, 70 and spry, shoveled the snow from the front walk of the church next to his small East Baltimore apartment. He helped carry heavy boxes to the food pantry, and walked women to their cars after late night events. He trimmed the church hedges on Thursday, just because it needed to be done.
On Friday morning, a relative found Hill slumped against a fence, lying in a pool of blood. He had been shot. The scooter he used to get around town – a retirement present he bought himself, according to the church deacon – was gone.
Because Hill's scooter and the keys to it were taken, police believe the motive may have been robbery. But no one could understand why anyone would take his life too.
Here’s what they did know: whenever they needed a hand, they could count on Milton.
- source: The Baltimore Sun
Had a super-stressful week?
When will people change?
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Who's Waging the War in the Streets?
Has 'Jesus & the Mud Puddle' splashed your Inbox yet?
Jesus & the Mud Puddle
Howard County Sheriff Jerry Marr got a disturbing call one Saturday afternoon a few months ago. His 6-year-old grandson Mikey had been hit by a car while fishing in Greentown with his dad. The father and son were near a bridge by the Kokomo Reservoir when a woman lost control of her car, slid off the bridge and hit Mikey at a rate of about 50 mph. Sheriff Marr had seen the results of accidents like this and feared the worst. When he got to Saint Joseph Hospital, he rushed through the emergency room to find Mikey conscious and in fairly good spirits.
"Mikey, what happened?" Sheriff Marr asked.
Mikey replied, "Well, Papaw, I was fishin' with Dad, and some lady runned me over, I flew into a mud puddle, and broke my fishin' pole and I didn't get to catch no fish!"
As it turned out, the impact propelled Mikey about 500 feet, over a few trees and an embankment and in the middle of a mud puddle. His only injuries were to his right femur bone which had broken in two places. Mikey had surgery to place pins in his leg. Otherwise the boy is fine. Since all the boy could talk about was that his fishing pole was broken, the Sheriff went out to Wal-mart and bought him a new one while he was in surgery so he could have it when he came out.
The next day the Sheriff sat with Mikey to keep him company in the hospital. Mikey was enjoying his new fishing pole and talked about when he could go fishing again as he cast into the trash can.
When they were alone, Mikey, just a matter-of-fact, said, Papaw, did you know Jesus is real?"
"Well," the Sheriff replied, a little startled. "Yes, Jesus is real to all who believe in him and love him in their hearts."
"No," said Mikey. "I mean Jesus is REALLY real."
"What do you mean?" asked the Sheriff.
"I know he's real 'cause I saw him." said Mikey, still casting into the trash can.
"You did?" said the Sheriff.
"Yep," said Mikey. "When that lady runned me over and broke my fishing pole, Jesus caught me in his arms and laid me down in the mud puddle."
GIVES YOU GLORY BUMPS DOESN'T IT! GOD WILL DO THE REST.
Nobody seems to know exactly who authored the piece above or when and it is most frequently attributed to "Author Unknown." I found more than a hundred sites that post the story exactly as it appears above.
"Yet, Pat Munsey, of The Kokomo Perspective, told BreakTheChain.org that the story of Sheriff Marr's Grandson is mostly true:
"Having known [Marr] personally for six years, I know that the incident did take place - and that Mikey’s assertion of seeing Jesus was made. It took place in the spring of 1999.
"The driver did lose control of the car while trying to change the radio. However, the car didn’t actually leave the road. It hit Mikey while on a bridge. Also, Mikey didn’t travel 500 feet laterally. Part of that distance was falling from the bridge.
"Mikey made a full recovery. He and his grandpa practiced fishing with the new pole while in the hospital - using a bucket of water as the 'lake.'"
How bout dat?
"I don't know how I'm gonna make it"
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
America's Got Talent
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
How hard is Faith?
Monday, July 19, 2010
Trading Places at Relationship Ball Park (updated)
What are those things?
Generally the women wish men would be more like Men, and take charge when it's time to Take Charge. Women say they want a man who's not indecisive, who's not a little boy waiting to grow up and who doesn't need to be "Mommied" 24x7. They want a man with some Spine.
Men tend to agree with each other, too. But men grumble that "What's wrong with women is they're too bossy and trying too hard to prove they're men."
Well then. How can we make sense of that?
---
When men stopped being Men (and started buying pedicures and hair products instead of power tools and socket sets), the relationships' loss of a Man created a Role Vacuum. Who else was around to step in and fill the vacancy created by the Man's departure, but the woman?
When the home team's trailing 2-0 in the bottom of the 9th with two outs and runners on first and second, the batter's wife isn't hoping for a short pop fly to center. And she definitely isn't hoping he'll be the last out with three called strikes so she can listen to him whine for the rest of the season about how unfair the umpire is.
Women need to know that when their man's at the plate, he's ready to blast the next pitch over the left field bleachers' roof.
---
Men should stop wasting their time in the Minor Leagues and commit to rejoining the Majors.
I'm not talking about men subordinating or browbeating women according to their whims. I'm not talking about the Man being superior, the boss, the woman's new father or the man being the Final Authority On Everything. I'm talking about Men becoming co-equals again. With boldness. With Spine and with Love.
I'm saying men need to quit pacing back and forth in the dugout, wondering what's wrong with their game. Men ought to stop expecting women to be interested in hearing for the 100th time about what went wrong the last time they struck out at the plate.
I'm saying men need to quit retying their shoe laces, stop scratching and stop taking practice swings in the on deck circle. If you're wearing the uniform and you've got a bat, step up to the plate and face down the pitcher.
Does that sound hard?
It's gotta be even harder hitting Home Runs from the dugout.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
the stranger at the playground
I slept through it, sorry
3.6-magnitude earthquake wakes Md. residents
Temblor centered in Gaithersburg felt by as many as 3 million people in Mid-Atlantic region
Thursday, July 15, 2010
What keeps your battery charged? (updated)
The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks.
"Why do you call me, 'Lord, Lord,' and do not do what I say?
Luke 6:45-46
Sunday, July 11, 2010
pics fm TZ
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Now I get it ... as best as I'm able
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Saturday, July 3, 2010
"It's half empty, I'm tellin' ya!"
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Scenes
The buggy's load included not only the man's groceries but also what looked like a two or three year old girl seated on the mesh fold-down shelf intended to hold ladies' purses as they shopped. The child was facing the man and she was bawling her eyes out.
And each time she cried, the man reached back as he walked and slapped her across the face.
The little girl would stop crying for three or four seconds after she'd been hit, but then I suppose as the pain receptors kicked back in and each blow's impact registered as if for the first time that afternoon, she'd begin crying all over again.
Which brought another slap to her face and re-start the crying cycle.
The man kept on swatting the little girl as he walked, as casually as if he was slapping mosquitoes from his forearm. With total indifference, without even looking down to see what he was doing ... his mind was a million miles away from what he was doing ... as though he believed he could get away with slapping a three year old girl in the face, in public, without consequences whatsoever.
Because he was so much bigger. Because no adult came forward to stop him. Because he was convinced, on a Neanderthal level, that slapping the little girl was nobody's business but his .... because she belonged to him.
--
On a different afternoon I saw a haggard-looking woman in her late 60s wearing what looked like a greasy pillowcase stand beside a car and use a stick to reach the car's backseat and spank the children, most likely her grandchildren, inside.
I don't know how long this was going on before I got there but the children were already in tears. The woman continued angrily calling each one by name to "Git to this winder right now, you hear me?!" to make it easier for her to give that child its swats with her stick.
Then soon as the child jumped out of reach again she warned her bellowing target to "Stop that crying" and then called for the next one one to come close and get theirs.
I don't know how many times each child got a turn, but every one of them was screaming and running up and down, hopping back and forth over the backseat like scalded rabbits trying to stay away from her stick.
I'm sure enough time has passed for all the children in both those events to have children of their own. And maybe their children have children of their own, too. Because both incidents happened such a long time ago.
So long ago that the man who slapped the little girl and the grandma swinging away at a backseat full of screaming kids with her stick, if they aren't dead, surely have forgotten what they did. Come to think of it, I'm not sure either one of those adults would remember anything they'd done just a few hours after they'd done it.
And after all this time, what's the point in wondering how those children may have been affected? Maybe those kids got exactly what they needed, learned a good lesson, and never acted up again ever, not even one time for the rest of the lives. Ever.
---
Not too long ago several new stories got major headlines after a handful of airline pilots, in separate incidents, found themselves arrested, detained in jail and facing felony charges for flying drunk. No kidding. Turns out that both passengers and ground crew had concerns after noticing the pilots' erratic behavior, and notified authorities.
Until they found themselves in handcuffs and locked up in jail, it could be that every one of those pilots believed that what they were doing was simply business as usual and that no one on-board would care or bother to notice.
Apparently some passengers and ticket personnel didn't quite see things the same way.
---
What do I know about raising kids, being a grandparent, flying commercial jets or blogging about the Gospel?
I don't have children and I've never been either a parent or a grandparent. I've never been an airline pilot or flown commercial jets. Nor have I ever preached a single sermon or started so much as a single church.
But that lack of apparent qualifications doesn't mean I can't see, or that I don't have a brain ... or that I'm too deaf to prayerfully listen and hear.