Well, today went really nicely.  It was actually planned out and surprisingly all of the things we’d put together were also pulled off.

Early in the day we ran out to Clearwater Beach, about an hour and a half away.  Along the way, we stopped at Costco and picked up a brand new camera to replace the one that met its unfortunate demise at Gatorland.  As Marcia pulled into the Costco parking lot, I saw the grand vision of a Fatburger!  I nearly passed out as memories from my earlier years in California came flooding back.  I probably would have peed a little had it been a Tommy Burger or an In ‘n’ Out but Fatburger would do just fine!  After eating my King Fatburger and buying a Manchester United baseball hat we were on our way to the beach.

Powdery white sands, crystal clear ocean waters, huge sand banks that stretched far out into the ocean, cool sea-born breezes.  This is what I had to put up with for hours.  Damn that ambrosial Nature!  Titus and Marcia ran out into the cool briny water as Sue searched the shallows for seashells.  Me?  I hijacked a rented beach tent from some people who had recently vacated it and cracked open a book.  Every once in a while I’d wade out about ten to twenty yards (the water still not coming any higher than my knees) and watched as Titus tried to build castles in the sand.  I also took some time to call up Mark Johnson in his cold, wet hell of an Iowa and leave a voicemail saying:  “Hey Mark, just calling to let you know I’ve got my feet buried in powdery white sand, it’s a nice warm day with a cooling breeze as I look out over the crystal blue ocean.  WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”  and hung up.  I’ll save Mark the breath and say it myself, I’m a bastard.

Titus more than loved the beach and I more than loved the fact that he spent a whole lot of time tuckering himself out by running and handing random people handfuls of sand.  He also dirtied himself up with a new game he invented.  You remember making snow angels as a kid?  Well, Titus decided to make himself some sand angels.  Probably the cutest thing he did the entire time we were there (other than get buffeted by the waves in his innertube and his Little Nemo life vest [fins and all]) was to pick up handfuls of that cool powdery goodness and run to toss it back into the ocean.  It reminded me of a story I once heard about a teacup and a child trying to empty the sea.

Anyway, even though I spent most of the time reading, I couldn’t help but ponder what it must have been like in the old days.  I’m talking about the days before there were even a Thirteen Colonies.  Now we collectively use the beach as a place of recreation and enjoyment, whereas in the times gone by, it was something used for transportation and sustenance.  It’s not like the indigenous peoples of America would pack up the entire village for the day and head out for a relaxing time in the surf.  Often times people would hunt for fish in the ocean or paddle their way to another location.  The beach was a place to be feared and respected as well as loved.  My how times have changed.

After the beach, we had to rush home to make it to the Pirate Adventure Dinner in Orlando.  We’d chosen to do this over Medieval Times simply because there is a MT nearer to us in Chicago.  Titus had a blast as he watched the pirates buckle their swashes and yo ho ho!  In the middle of dinner he started climbing over me and said, “I go talk to the pirates daddy, I be back.”  All night long he wanted to go visit the pirates and talk to them.  After the experience was over, Titus got to talk to our Red Pirate and got his picture taken with him.  He also got a picture with the princess and the Blue Pirate.  He could have cared less about the pirate, he wanted him some of that sweet princess action. 

Well I’m back here at the hotel and for tomorrow we’ve got planned a trip to the Kennedy Space Center and the worlds largest indoor play place at a McDonalds.  We were able to salvage some photos from the broken camera so I’ll post those as well.  If anyone knows how to send the pictures on your phone to your email, I’d greatly appreciate it.

Paradise.  Simply paradise.

It’s another warm day with cool breezes here in Florida.  It’s just about 6:45 p.m. and I’m sitting on the veranda writing this blog as I look out over the dark blue waters of Lake Cecile. 

We began our morning at 8:30 running downstairs for the complimentary waffles and pancakes.  Yum!  The plan was to see if the forecasted thunderstorms would come rolling in.  If so, we’d head to Clearwater Beach and spend the day there.  If not, we’d go to Gatorland and let Titus run wild checking out all of the fascinating animals there.  Thankfully the clouds broke right before noon, so we packed it up and headed out to the ‘gator park.  We immediately walked the trail called The SwampWalk and I couldn’t help be reminded of the Black Forest from the speeder bike scenes in Star Wars: Return of the Jedi.  It was so thick with foliage that you literally couldn’t see after a couple of yards out.  On the swamp walk alone we were able to see snakes, frogs, turtles and one alligator. 

We were able to sit down and eat at Pearl’s Smokehouse and Marcia and I sampled the alligator nuggets and smoked alligator ribs.  YUM!  Gator is good!  Granted, poor little Titus was freaked out by the whole thing of eating alligators so we had to tell him that the alligator nuggets were actually chicken nuggets.  You’d think I’d have some guilt over decieving a gullible three year old who has put his ultimate trust and love in me, but dammit, I just spent seven dollars on those gator nuggets and he was going to eat them!  You’re damn right I’d con my kid like that…for crying out loud that’s almost ten whole dollars! 

After we ate, we went to go see crocodiles from around the world.  The Nile River Crocodiles and the Salt Water Crocodiles from Australia were amazingly huge.  I kept thinking of dinosaurs as they lumbered about from one place to another.  I also found it amusing inventing new ways to keep Titus on the path we were supposed to be walking on.  Everytime he would near a chained-off section I would simply tell him that alligators were going to eat him if he climbed over the chain.  Needless to say after the first two, he went nowhere near the chains for fear of being taken into a death-roll.  I’m a terrible father.

At the end of the crocodile trail a special show was going on where the staff were feeding whole chickens to the alligators by making them leap from the water.  Titus got to see one but we had come too late to see anymore, fortunately I kept my ears open as the crowd began to scatter and heard the emcee say that they were going to be feeding the giant tortoises next.  Knocking over as many octogenarians and seven year olds as I could, I made sure Titus was right up front for this one.  For five dollars Titus and I got to walk in and feed these 500 lb., 90 year old giant tortoises all by ourselves.  He thought it was the neatest thing feeding the lumbering giant a huge carrot, as he kept saying in that high pitched sweet voice of his, “You wan’ da cawwot?  You wana eed da cawwot?”

Unfortunately as we were entering the enclosure, Marcia was handing me the digital camera.  I was trying to listen to the special instructions that the trainer was giving us (cuz lord knows it was all Greek to Titus) so as Marcia held out the camera for me to take, I didn’t notice that she’d left the cord wrapped around her wrist.  When I grabbed it, it didn’t come smoothly off of her wrist and ended up crashing to the ground.  Now our multi-hundred dollar camera doesn’t work, and just at a time when Titus was going to do something adorable.  I hope my camera phone was good enough.

Titus got to play in a giant water park and got to see more turtles.  We got a photo of the family with my mother in-law holding a large constrictor and me and Titus holding up a juvenile alligator.  He got such a kick out of it that he burst into tears when we told him that he couldn’t keep holding the gator or the snake.  Truth be told, I was too cheap to pay for another picture which would have allowed him to hold the animals for a little while but dammit!  That would be MORE than ten dollars!  Instead I enticed him away with turkey hot dogs which we used to feed the alligaors up close and personal 

After engorging the alligators and flamingos on all the rest of my money we headed out back for the hotel.  Before we left Titus threw a big tantrum collapsing on the concrete more than once, burying his big head in his tiny little hands, all because the coke he was drinking fell and broke on the ground.  Anyway, Marcia is wanting to go to IHOP or Sizzling Grill or something like that for dinner so I need to go.

 The Hood – A Comic Review

As of late, Brian K. Vaughan has become my favorite comic book writer.  Runaways, Pride of Baghdad, Y the Last Man:  all are fantastically written comics based on even more fantastic ideas.  The Hood is another comic to add to this list of new favorites.  This is a comic about a young man, who for a lack of a better term is a “hood”, named Parker Robbins.  Parker is a petty criminal trying to eek out an existence for himself and his pregnant girlfriend any way he can.  This isn’t to say that he’s being noble for the sake of his relationship;  he sleeps around with whores and lies to the mother of his child about having jobs.  He’s kind of a slimy jerk.

In the process of trying to heist some goods from a waterfront warehouse, he happens upon a demonic creature.  Believing that he has dispatched the horror he steals its boots and hood (the other reason behind the title).  Only later does Parker discover that the clothing he recently boosted off of an incapacitated demon hold magical powers.  The boots allow Parker to fly while the hood grants him invisibility.  This defining revelation now sets the stage for the rest of the book.

 

Vaughan’s genius in writing lies in taking a story we are all familiar with and twisting it.  The twists that he adds to any of his stories aren’t unbelievable, it’s not like they come out of nowhere.  In fact his twisting of the familiar is that which makes his stories more realistic.  Most of us are accustomed to tales which involve normal people discovering super powers then using those powers for good by fighting those who prey upon the innocent.  The twist that Vaughan lends to the character of Parker Robbins is that once Parker realizes what he can do, he uses it to his advantage in committing and getting away with crimes.  This new found power is used for evil, not good.

Aside from the fact that this book is purely and simply a good read, it forces us to take a look at what we have been given and what we do with it.  Receiving a gift seems to be a good test of character.  Many of us don’t use our gifts, whether material or spiritual, always with the benefit of others in mind.  Thinking of material gifts, many of us have made the statement, “If I won the lottery I’d…” and finish it off with donating money to the church, an orphanage, our families, etc.  We insist that we’d use the money for good.  But let’s face it, when we have an excess of money now, we are more than likely going to spend it on something that we want. 

Spiritually speaking some of us are given gifts by God for the benefit of the church and the benefit of all mankind.  Unfortunately we often times horde these gifts to ourselves instead of sharing with others.  We shy away from the responsibility that said gift brings us.  Too often when a gift is bestowed upon us, we don’t use it to uplift people around us.  Our first thought is for ourselves.  The gift merely accentuates the behaviors and the activities we’ve been carrying on with the entire time. 

 

The Hood is a good, though extreme, illustration of this.  I’m nowhere near saying we are all going to become criminals when given a gift from God.  I’m merely exhorting us to think about what the gift has become under our control.  What have we done with it?  Who has benefited from our newfound talents and treasures?  Maybe when we discover that we’ve been granted a gift from above we should take stock of our priorities and revamp them if necessary. 

Aaaaah!  Now that’s more like it.  I’m rested (read: all napped up) and not feeling sore anymore.  I reread pt. 1 of this blog series and am amazed at how tired I was when I wrote it.  All of those writing errors make me look like I have writing Tourette’s.  Oh well, I’m rested enough to enjoy the candid-ness of it thusly I refuse to edit it.

I am thoroughly aggravated by the fact that the hotel advertised their free wireless internet without informing us that there’s no wireless connections in any of the rooms, only in the hotel lobby.  So I have to come to the hotel’s breakfast nook and put my laptop up on a syrup covered table to write to all of my adoring friends (all 1 of them apparently, thanks for checking me out Doug W., although I know Mark Johnson will come and visit sooner or later;  hey Mark, it’s warm and sunny here hahahaha to you and your Iowan snow!)

Today I didn’t do squat except smoke, write and read.  I read Anthony Bourdain’s The Bobby Gold Stories from cover to cover in a just a couple of hours.  It was OK.  Not the best book I’ve read but absolutely not the worst.  I prefer his fact books over his fiction.  I just picked up Mister Touch by Malcolm Bosse.  I can already tell it will be getting put down just as fast.  Marcia, Sue and Titus went down to the pool earlier today to go for a dip.  Marcia’s mother, Sue, didn’t know how to apply the spray on sunblock and just kind of squirted it on like you would spray perfume or cologne on.  A dash here, a dash there and she thought she’d be good.  I don’t necessarily like laughing at the misery of another (big lie) but it amuses me evertime time I think of or see the splotchy sunburn she has on her legs.  She’s got big, white, pale polka-dots all over her legs amidst the bright red of the sunburn!  Too funny for words.

Marcia and I found this awesome seafood buffet restaurant called Boston Seafood Feast.  They had fried scallops, green mussels, rock crab claws, london broil, oyster Rockefeller, Snow Crab legs and much more on the buffet.  But the capper for me?  What made it the best all-you-can-eat seafood buffet I’ve ever been to?  It was the all-you-can-eat lobster….All….You…Could….Eat!!!  I ate five friggin’ lobsters.  I don’t know whether I should gloat about it or be ashamed at even mentioning it.  I tried numerous times to call my “friends” (wink) Maurice and Lauren to tell them about this blessed heaven burried in this neon jungle but neither picked up the phone.

When we got back from the restaurant and waddled our fat happy selves through the side door of the hotel, I spotted a little green tree frog stuck to the outside window of the foyer.  When I got back to the hotel room, I let Sue and Titus know there was a frog down stairs and Titus just thought it was the coolest thing.  It is now about 10:30 at night, I just got done trying to buy tickets for the family to go to the Pirate’s Adventure dinner show but I found out that you can only order them online 72 hours in advance, not 48 like I tried (those damn pirates and their standards!)  Tomorrow we’re going to Gatorland praying that it doesn’t rain.  If it does end up raining, we’re going to drive the 1 1/2 hours to Clearwater Beach for the day.  I’m still trying to convince Marcia that Medieval Times is the way to go but she won’t listen to me, she’d rather go to the one in Chicago but that’s a different issue for a different day.

Dear sweet Jesus, we actually made it.

Mapquest is a lying bitch.  Our 15 hour drive turned into a 20 hour debacle of crying, arguing, navigating and making restroom stops.  Originally, the plan was to leave our place at aprox. 9 o’clock p.m.  Titus, who is currently potty training, decided that it was his duty to climb into daddy’s suitcase and urinate on his freshly packed clothes.  My mother in law thankfully caught him and helped to was my belongings which ate up more time.  Marcia finally finished grocery and accessory shopping at about 10:30 and finally made it home to pack her things.  This turned into an ordeal that lasted until just about 2 o’clock in the morning.  Please don’t think that the delay is all her fault, if my accident prone ass hadn’t gotten my wrist hurt at work, I would have been somewhat helpful instead of being the guy who kept making jokes at everything that went on.

Finally we made our way out and after grabbing a bite to eat at Steak ‘n’ Shake we were finally on the road.  The plan was for Marcia to drive the first leg of the trip allowing me to sleep and pick up the second leg.  HA!  She made it as far as Columbus, Indiana and said she was getting tired and asked if I could take over.  Already exhausted I drove all the way to Nashville before Marcia woke up.  That’s six hours of nearly nonstop driving.  She asked if I wanted her to take over which I had to decline.  By this time, I’d driven for six hours in total silence in the black of early morning for most of it.  I had become one with the road.  I had reached a Zen-like state in which there was no asphalt and no flesh, there was just a mystical being traveling through space and time.  It was that half sleep state in which with every curve your whole body sways effortlessly and you change lanes with a mere thought.  It’s that feeling that you could drive without holding the steering wheel or depressing the gas peddle, where you use your tele-kinetic powers to make the car move.  Yes, I had reached road oblivion.

Needless to say, my new super power was draining me of energy.  I had to stop and switch places with Marcia.  Unfortunately for me, this was also the time everyone decided to wake up.  As I tried to sleep I was constantly wakened by my wife swerving to avoid accidents or braking to catch an exit(that according to her would not have been her fault and because I love her [and because she'll probably read this blog] I believe her), also Titus thought it would be amusing to keep doing stuff to the top of daddy’s head and then ask me what I was doing as I tried to use my new found super abilities to also catch some Zs. 

I believe I got about two hours of sleep consisting of 10 or 12 couple minute naps interrupted by the events stated above.  Upon waking, I kept my wife thoroughly entertained with my knowledge of Civil War battle sites (I don’t know why she refused to stop at the historic site where Jefferson Davis was captured, I’m sure it’s great family fun).  She also found my jokes about some of the locations we passed absolutely hilarious (please note the sarcasm).  There was a lake that we passed and I swear to you the sign said Lake Witacoochi, the comedy simply writes itself with that one: “How’d you get that rash?”  “Hmmmph….how do you think?   Witacoochi!”  For those of you who know my wife, just think about how amused she was at twenty steady minutes of Witacoochi jokes.

Finally after having learned that the Waffle House chain uses White Lilly flour and sweet cream to make their waffles (they also use 185,000,000 eggs, that’s two percent of all the eggs in the U.S., every year, at least according to the Waffle House I walked into as I stupidly inquired as to what they serve there), taking a picture of me and my family next to a giant plaster cow in Ashburn, Georgia and passing over the Florida state line twice (yes I said twice, since my photography abilities aren’t what they used to be, I missed getting a picture of the “Welcome to Florida, the Sunshine State!” sign as we passed over the border so Marcia wanted to turn around, cross back into Georgia then make another U-turn and come back into Florida so I could get the perfect picture; believe me I got it the next time out of the gnawing fear that Marcia would continue border hopping over the next few hours until I got it right.)

It took another 5 hours before we finally made it to Kissimee, Florida before we finally got a little lost.  I took the wrong way on Florida State Road 535 and headed away from our hotel rather than towards it.  After stopping at a Pizza Hut we made it to the road our hotel is located on only to discover that we were cruising a strip with a bajillion different hotels.  Ours just happened to have the smallest most discreet signage out front.  Right about 11 p.m. we checked into our hotel room, unpacked and collectively collapsed onto the beds.

What could possible make this trip worth it after all of that exhausting work?  I mean, a vacation should be relaxing and quiet, not exhausting and frantic.  Well, when I opened up the sliding door onto our balcony where I pulled up a chair to enjoy a cigar, it was a humid-less low 80s outside with a very cool breeze blowing from the north.  Lake Cecille, which our hotel sits on hence the name Royal Celebration Inn on Lake Cecille, was a beautiful deep blue and just the overall atmosphere was inspiring.  I’m comforted in knowing that back home in Indianapolis, it’s cold and rainy and I could be there complaining about the cold rather than here enjoying the sun, the clouds and the comfortably warm weather.

Dickhead Evangelism:  Is it “Jesus” or “Geez, Ass”!

Evangelism is the word for the tool which Christians use to reach out and make disciples of the world.  There are many techniques used in evangelization and about as many styles as there are evangelizers.  For those not accustomed to using the word in their daily vernacular it can at times mean something negative.  It can invoke feelings of unease and anxiety while some may feel as if it has at times put them on the spot, never a comfortable situation. 

For those doing the evangelizing, for the most part, it is not something that is to be meted out in a negative way.  After all, you’re looking for a positive outcome:  the creation of a new disciple of Christ.  You’re looking to bring someone into the peace and love of the Kingdom of God and to do this they put in to practice that very same peace and love. 

However, there are those that don’t realize how they are coming across or poorly judge what they are saying.  I’ve come to call this “Dickhead Evangelism”.  There are a couple of examples of which I can recall that exemplify this.  The first is from a church I once belonged to.  They’ve adopted a more confrontational sales type approach to spreading the gospel.  Now many of the people in this rather large faith community own their own businesses or are executives in different corporations where these kinds of tactics are commonplace.  This may work in the business world but it doesn’t necessarily translate well in the spiritual realm.

One particular instance of this happening was some friends of mine had invited a couple(who were living together in what would be considered a sinful relationship) over for what appeared to be a friendly dinner.  As it turned out, it was a calculated sales pitch for Jesus.  Tracks were passed out, the gospel was shared and the couple was told that they were living in sin.  WOW!  Where can I sign up to be subjected to that?

The second example was when I was eating lunch at a work cafeteria one cool spring afternoon.  He came up to me and asked me where I was going to church now and I told him the name of a Catholic Church that I was attending.  Well, he exploded, his whole face changed as he pointed his finger at me picked up the theology book I was reading and said, “It’s because you’re reading crap like this!”  It was a copy of N.T. Wright’s The Climax of the Covenant.  Aside from the fact that most people wouldn’t call anything that Wright’s written crap, I was taken a bit aback by the way he came off to me.  I thought that perhaps he was just a little angry at not knowing that I had become a Catholic so I agreed to go to lunch with him later in the week.

I show up and he’s got copies of the bible and The Catechism of the Catholic Church lying open in front of him as he’s furiously writing away and flipping pages.  Upon seeing what was awaiting me, I knew how this was going to go.  He’s a Reformed guy and I know many folks of that ilk have no tolerance or appreciation of anything remotely Catholic.  After a brief hello he started in on me.  The questions he asked didn’t want an answer.  It seemed that he was only asking to confirm his suspicions.  The leading of the questioning was along the lines of the tactics of Jehovah’s Witnesses yet they were also extremely hostile.  The nastier he got, the more I smiled and nodded until I was forced to say, “You know what?  I really don’t care.”  There just comes a point where no answer would ever be good enough.  He kind of smirked and said that over the years he’d become even more Reformed than before.  I figured he’d had to have broken every metaphysical law and become a Reformed black hole where not even common sense can escape. 

In situations like these, there is no intention on the part of the evangelizer to develop a relationship or for the possibility of mutual learning.  I give and you give, you take and I take, we both walk away having grown in appreciation for the other’s belief system.  If you listen while you evangelize you may actually become edified by the person you are trying to talk to.  Who knows, they may even have some spiritual insights you would never have dreamed of. 

Sometimes people just aren’t given enough credit for how smart they are.  Your average person can spot a fake and see right through what they’re trying to do from over a mile away.  There’s nothing genuine in what is being peddled to them so of course they’re not going to buy it.  You pretend to give a crap for the twenty minutes it takes to talk to someone but have no intention of ever actually caring about this person.  But that’s one thing.  Being confrontational and superior is never the way to go.

 I once heard a martial artist say that the western fighting styles are about imposing your will on your opponent, whereas in the east it’s about helping take someone to the ground who’s already on his way down.  Hostile evangelization techniques are all about imposing your will on someone else (although some who have only ever used those styles may see it as God’s will being imposed).   Being someone’s traveling  companion through their spiritual journey is more of the eastern method of just helping someone who’s already moving. 

  The Universe – A Review

As I was growing I held to a deep fascination with space.  I would buy books filled with artist renderings, I would attend some club meetings (like the Orange County Astronomers), I would even take as many opportunities as I could to go star-gazing with my friend (he had this immense telescope that took three people to lug around and put together).  Something about it all helped to put into perspective how small, how much of a tiny blip we really are.  It was a story unto itself.  Endless abysses, roiling tempests of fire, soaring vistas, all bigger than imagination itself the universe held so many mysteries left to be discovered.

The History Channel’s series The Universe is one of those great outlets for the imagination.  Though it is a show based on science and facts it truly lends credence to the phrase “truth is stranger than fiction”.  Each episode explores new vistas and new ideas as it takes us on a field trip beyond our own backyard.  From planets in our solar system, to dark matter, to the life and death of stars, each show helps us to realize how much more is truly out there to be discovered.  Each hour long episode reminds us how much we don’t know or understand about the existence of all things, let alone our selves.

For every new subject tackled, experts in each field add their two cents to the bigger picture.  Each guest has the knowledge AND charisma to help us to understand some of the harder to grasp concepts of astronomy and astrophysics.  Along with the professionals The History Channel illustrates via computer animation what these different things would look like.  When available, photos from different observatories and satellites are used to help propel our imaginations through the stunning array of canvases the show is painting for us.  This is all done in such a way that whether you’re an auditory learner or a visual learner, you’ll walk away more educated and inspired.

As I watch each episode, I can’t help but feel stunned by it all.  There are times when I have to pause my DVR, close my eyes and imagine what it all is like.  The sizes and distances that are spoken of are blindingly incomprehensible.  The odd things that happen which defy all sense of our own physical reality (like something which is measured in miles spinning 11 times every second) boggle the mind.  It can almost leave you mad if thought about for too long.

But with all of the immensity, all of the destructive power the universe holds there is a depth and beauty to it that defies speech.  I can only think of one word to even describe what I think and feel, “God!”  I don’t intend for that to mean some sort of pantheistic idea where everything is god and god is in everything.  I simply mean that as I ponder it all, the first thing that comes to mind is that this has all been touched by God.  Too often when I’m praying or reading scripture I forget just how BIG God is, how utterly “Other Than” he is compared to me and all that I know. 

God is the God of the universe.  Too often I see that as God is the God of my little world that lives in my head.  Every so often, something comes along to help put into perspective just how wrong I am and just how small I’m thinking.  I know it may sound odd but the show The Universe is almost like a catalyst for a mystical experience with God.  Sometimes you become so in awe of the power of God and his creative abilities that you have to lock yourself away in your prayer closet and bask in the glorious mystery of it all.  I know that everyone who watches this show will not be affected in the same way (heck, my wife thinks I’m a nut for watching it all the time) but I hope that as your surfing through the channels looking fro something to watch, you’ll stop for a moment and enjoy a guided tour through the amazing universe.

  John Constantine Hellblazer:  All His Engines – A Review

Many great writers have given us the stories of John Constantine (Alan Moore, Garth Ennis, Warren Ellis) each taking turns at spinning yarns about the dark, brooding bane of Hell.  For those worried that Mike Carey (Ultimate Fantastic Four, X-Men) wouldn’t be able to carry such a heavy mantle, put your minds at ease.  All His Engines is a well thought out story of salvation, turf wars, and old gods. 

When a strange disease that causes children to fall into comas claims Chas Chandler’s grand-daughter Tricia as its next victim, Chas turns to his best friend John to help save her.  As the story begins to unfold we learn that Tricia is being held hostage by a demon with plans to take over all of Los Angeles as his own territory.  The demon’s scheme is to force Constantine into working for him to chase rival demons out of L.A.  Constantine reluctantly agrees, knowing full well that the demon has no intention of releasing Chas’ grand-daughter after he’d fulfilled his part of the deal. 

Carey’s idea behind this tale is great.  I mean, come one!  A demon gang war in Los Angeles for the control of lost souls?  Fantastic!  The way that Carey lets the story unfold allows it to keep its secrets close to the chest.  I can’t begin to even count how many twists and turns were involved as it all comes to a rather climactic finish.

I think what truly makes me enamored with the character of John Constantine is what he is underneath the surface.  Sure he has the airs of someone who has seen and been through too much to want to care anymore.  Sure he has his own scarred and checkered past and don’t forget the trench coat and chain smoking that lend itself to the sense of John being more dark than he actually is.  But I would like to offer that with all of the occult stuff aside, John Constantine is quite Christ-like.

I don’t mean that he is Christ-like in a Messianic way.  He is Christ-like in the way that we as followers of Jesus are called to be.  He takes up the cause of the weak and downtrodden.  Even though he comes off as someone who is solely self serving, almost everything he does is for the greater good.  Mostly, it’s because he does in the physical what we are called to participate in among the spiritual realms.  The way that Constantine faces down and is willing to deal with the frightening manifestations of the demonic realms are much akin to what we are called to do in our spiritual lives.

Constantine is a shining example of what a gruff Christian would probably look like:  a little world weary and weather worn, sometimes a bit rough around the edges, but always TRYING to do what is right, whether even if it means sacrificing things greater than he could have imagined.  John Constantine may unwillingly be a great Christian example for us to follow.  Is it any wonder?  After all, his initials are J. C.

My thoughts on The Moment of Truth

There are questions that everyone wants to know.  But we keep some of our secrets to ourselves.  As honest as we would like to consider ourselves, as much as we’d like to think that our lives are an open book for anyone to read, there are things that we keep inside.  Those are our deepest, darkest secrets.  We keep them to ourselves to protect others and to protect who we are. 

There is a difference between living a lie and keeping a secret.  Living a lie is going throughout your day-to-day existence pretending you are something you are not.  Keeping a secret is not as destructive as perpetuating a lie and it’s not the same thing.  We all know someone who has confided in us and given laid out their heart to us, asking us never to tell a soul.  To tell someone else would be damaging to the relationship as well as to the individuals involved. 

And so enters The Moment of Truth (hosted by Mark L. Walburg).  Most people know I have a disdain for reality TV.  Some of it stems from the lack of reality it shows (people act differently when they’re on camera), some of it comes from the people that watch the tripe that comes on the screen, but most of it comes from the networks that push this reality-porn on a (now) writer-less, TV starved nation.  But this is actually really pushing the limits of any kind of decency for me.  A show where you win $500,000 if you don’t lie to very personal, often closed door questions is appalling. 

On this show a contestant is strapped up to a lie detector and is grilled with 21 questions.  While the audience sits and awaits the climax of this mental masturbation.  What is wrong with our lives that we need to sit and listen to the most hidden of people’s personal secrets to get some entertainment?  Either way a person answers, we know they’re going to be humiliated and someone is going to leave the show emotionally scarred (if you check out the message board on the official website, you’ll find one discussion about what people’s guesses are for the amount of breakups/divorces this show will cause.)

Survivor is one thing, Big Brother is another, but this?  This is just poor taste in recording and viewing.  Questions like “Do you wish you were still single?” and “Do you think you’ll still be married in five years?” are absolutely worthless questions.  As a married person myself, there have been times when I’ve answered yes and no to both of those questions.  No need to share those answers with the rest of the world so I can make a quick buck.  How about a reality show that puts the producers on trial?  “What won’t you do for advertiser’s money?”  “How many people are you willing to humiliate for a buck?” “How ‘bout we rake you over the coals and air your dirty laundry in front of the nation as we watch your family stare in horror?”

I may live a dull life at times.  You know what, that’s what makes me more than happy.  It makes me appreciate the interesting times more than if I was constantly on the go.  But I don’t need to watch the misery of others to make myself complete.  I don’t just blame the producers, I blame the viewers.  If there weren’t people out there who’s day wouldn’t be truly over unless they watched someone having a more miserable life than they are, the networks would stop making this vomit.  I’m going to do myself and the world a favor by voting with my remote.  This is why I have DVR and a DVD player. 

Punisher War Journal: Vol. 2 – A Comic Review

The Punisher has always been one of my favorite comic book characters. He’s ruthless, he’s intelligent and he doesn’t care what anyone thinks about him. He’s out to serve his own brand of justice. But it is undeniable, the Punisher is bad. He does things no comic book hero would do, he kills people on purpose. Punisher War Journal: Vol. 2 is truly no different.

In the story arc Hunter/Hunted, Matt Fraction (The Immortal Iron Fist: Vol. 2) brings the fabled vigilante back to the Marvel universe. The story is told mainly from Rhino’s point of view. After a bank robbery involving Rhino and a couple of street thugs ends up with a security guard getting accidentally killed, Punisher goes on the warpath. While Spider-Man and Punisher are trying to take Rhino down, Kraven the Hunter’s son enters the story. Interestingly enough, his name is Kraven the Hunter too.

The most interesting thing about this storyline is the fact that Kraven is going around collecting super-villains to put them into his own little zoo. That makes for an interesting idea, and the fact that much of the story unfolds from Rhino’s perspective as the victim of a dehumanizing process, this story should read fascinatingly. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. While the story is unique and imaginative, the delivery leaves a lot to be desired.

Punisher kills off your average bottom-of-the-barrel super-villains, while the bigger names get away to fight other heroes; same story, different issue. Even though Fraction weaves some humor into the story, I wish there were more. It definitely would have made this story go down easier. By the time I finished the story arc, all I could think was, “You’re kidding me. That’s it? This is what all the fuss is about?” It’s too bad really. There could have been so much more done to this book.

I am actually left to wonder why this book received some great/good reviews. The only reason I can come up with is that you read so much mediocre stuff that imaginative mediocrity really seems spectacular. But it does help to raise the question of why do we feel okay with the punisher waxing super-villains, while we would look with disdain on any author that turned Spidey or Iron Man into ruthless killers. Perhaps we are comfortable with him doing the things he does because of who he does it to.

Think about it, if Batman were to kill Two-Face, there would be a definite loss felt in the comic world. If Lex Luthor were to be utterly destroyed by Superman, a gaping wound would be felt in the side of the DC universe. You could say this for The Fantastic Four and Doctor Doom, the X-Men and Magneto, even the Silver Surfer and Galactus. We’re talking about characters, villains, that we’ve grown up with, who have been made complex and real in ways that Kincknack, Night Thrasher and Reaper never were (yes, those are actually super villains).

Often times this translates into real life as well. We find that as long as the bad guys are the bad guys and they can stay relatively faceless and nameless (while we do not necessarily condone killing them) we are more comfortable with them gone than we would with someone we actually knew. Every human life is important and every person is mourned by someone else. Every life in some way is important, this is why the bigger issues of the world should be a concern for those of us who are not faced with adversity on a daily basis. While there are at times so many causes to support out there that it can make your head spin, it is important to at least concern yourself with the welfare of others and maybe try making your best attempt at lending a hand. You never know, the next one to be cared for may be you.