Men (and Women) in Albs

Reformation Day has passed, but before it did, I remembered this bit from the movie Men in Black when Tommy Lee Jones as K is talking to Will Smith as James Edwards before he became J:

Edwards: Why the big secret? People are smart. They can handle it.

Kay: A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it. Fifteen hundred years ago everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was flat, and fifteen minutes ago, you knew that humans were alone on this planet. Imagine what you'll know tomorrow.

So how does this apply to Reformation Day? Imagine if you will, as I did, a conversation between Martin Luther as he is putting his Ninety-Nine Theses on the door of the Wittenberg Church door and a fellow cleric...

Cleric: Whatcha doing Martin?

Luther: I've got some problems with our theology, some big problems. You know that. And it's high time everybody knows, not just the bishops.

Cleric: What do you mean Bishops, you're the Father of Lutheranism, you're not Roman Catholic! Your reformation started the whole Lutheran Church thing!

Luther: Stupid! Don't you know anything about church history! I'm Roman Catholic and so are you! So is most of Europe in 1517! Dumbkopf!

Cleric: So what is this about?

Luther: The Church needs to be reformed if...

Cleric: There's that word!

Luther: Yes, and do you know what it means? Reform, change, big change, very big change, maybe even change in italics! It doesn't mean schism, it means change. What comes of it after my death, well, we'll see where it goes from there, but what I want is for the Church Universal to change.

Cleric: What do you mean by Church Universal?

Luther: That's all catholic with a lower case c means, universal. When you read it in the creeds it doesn't mean Roman Catholic or even the Eastern Orthodox, it means the universal church. Do I have to explain everything to you?

Cleric: Looks that way...

Luther: What's causing you problems here?

Cleric: Well, here it says you want us to stop selling plenary indulgences. Why would we ever do that?

Luther: Insert eye roll here! With these indulgences we sell, with cash money we sell the holiness of good people to bad people so that they can get into heaven, right.

Cleric: Sure, that's the only way my Uncle Stugotz will even sniff heaven!

Luther: That's what I mean! You can't sell holiness! Where is that even found in scripture?

Cleric: Er, in the book of...

Luther: Yeah, don't bother. It's not found in scripture. We soil ourselves to believe this is even possible and for what, a few coins in the treasury?

Cleric: Hey, don't knock it. Giving is down. We gotta do something to put butts in the pews. We gotta get giving up Martin. The Sistine Chapel Ceiling didn't paint itself. Pope needs cash to do the work of the church.

Luther: How is another fresco going to serve the poor and the widowed and the travelers and the...

Cleric: Well Pope Trump is going to build a wall across the Rubicon so...

Luther: There is so much wrong with that statement I'm not even going to try to correct you. The point is the work of the church is not nice things. The work of the church is outside the walls, not inside the walls.

Cleric: So why put this stuff up on the door? You want the biships and doctors of the church to discuss this stuff right?

Luther: Surely yes I do. But I've been neglected in small groups. Maybe posting this on All Saints Day when we all come to Wittenberg will cause us to act.

Cleric: If you mean your trial, excommunication, and death sentence, then yes, your call to action will be met.

Luther: Yes, I suspect you're right. And do you know why, because a person is smart. We're having a decent conversation, except for your lapses in church history and that "Pope Trump" crack. A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, superstitious animals and you know it. Fifteen hundred years ago everybody thought Jesus was a poser and a Jewish heretic. Five hundred years ago the bow was the latest in war technology, and fifteen minutes ago, you thought money could take holiness from the treasury of merit to help your Uncle Stugotz. Imagine what you'll know tomorrow.

Well, that isn't what happened, but as Kurt Vonnegut once said during a Palm Sunday sermon, you can always count on a crowd to look at the wrong end of a miracle. A person is smart. Two people can have a conversation, we can have coffee and a streusel. We can discuss and if we can keep a calm head we can discuss the matters of the day.

If our day and time has shown us one thing for sure, if it's the church or politics, and let us remember a secular government is an American invention, people are dumb, panicky, superstitious animals. And you know it.

Pastor Paul's Letter to the Church at Weatherford, August 9th

Here is my newsletter article from August 9th, I pray you find it enlightening and amusing.

Pastor Paul’s Letter to the Church at Weatherford

Have you ever been told you had a bad idea? I mean a really bad idea, the kind of idea that, in the words of George Carlin, will “rot your mind, curve your spine, and lose the war for the allies?” I say “Fear not!” Admittedly I can’t offer this with the promises of Christ, but I offer it as a follower of Christ.

Recently I have disliked my Facebook feed because of the political content, but this picture has made it worthwhile. I don’t know where it originated. Several fellow pastors posted it. And it is worthy.

Don’t you agree? If “Sharknado” isn’t a dumb idea, then nothing is.

We have to remember this, not every suggestion is right for every time and place. If a bride and groom were to sit down with me and ask when it’s appropriate to send in the clowns I would consider that improper for a worship service. For a Spring Festival, that would be different. Clowns would make better sense… unless you believe there is no good time for clowns in which case… yada, yada, yada.

Some ask why we are sending out cards to people on the prayer list. It’s because a member of the congregation asked why we aren’t doing something like sending cards to people on the prayer list. “We pray for them, let’s let them know they are in our prayers and on our hearts.” I said “let’s do it!” So we are.

So, is there something on your heart? It could well be the Holy Spirit gnawing at you to get something started in the congregation or the community. Come to me, come to a board member and remember, there are no dumb ideas, there are only Sharknadoes waiting to happen.

See you in church, Pastor Paul

Storytelling

My family is a family of storytellers. My sisters and I learned this from our parents. My mother's family, the only extended family we know, are notorious storytellers. For some odd reason I was reminded of this story...

About ten years ago Marie and I lived in Northwest Arkansas, about 40 miles from Branson. We were up there for some reason I don't remember and decided to have dinner at Red Lobster. We were seated pretty close to the kitchen which provided the inspiration for this ditty.

We were about half way through the meal a server walked by and I asked him this question:

Excuse me, is this the Red Lobster with the Twister board painted on the floor of the walk-in?

For those who don't know, a walk-in is a large freezer or refrigerator. To suggest that someone, somewhere would paint a Twister board on the floor would be weird. To fall for it is just plain fun, at least it is for me.

The man (blonde sure, but a man-put away your gender based stereotypes!) stopped in his tracks and asked what I was talking about. So I spun a little yarn about the legend of a Red Lobster restaurant somewhere having a Twister board painted on the floor of the walk-in. He was enthralled by the story.

I loved it. Marie was marginally amused and preferred her shrimp.

I didn't take it too far, letting his imagination run wild was far better than making the story so big he would figure out I was weaving a tale. Still, we had a lovely chat about the restaurant and he said he would have to keep an open ear to the "Legend of the Walk-In Twister Board."

Ah storytelling. My sisters are so proud. My mother would have been appalled.

on the death of Robin Williams

Here's a conversation I've had lately with many people:

Others: Paul, you've lost so much weight, how are you doing it?

Me: Poverty, mental illness, and exercise. Sure, two out of three aren't that good but I have lost over 180 pounds.

As regular readers of this blog know, I suffer from Type II Bi-Polar Disorder. In short, when not properly medicated, I suffer from strong depression with times when I become obsessively focused on matters or engage in risky behaviors. For me, risky behaviors have taken the shape of alcohol abuse (that ended in my early 30's more than 20 years ago) or using humor in situations that is not proper.

That came to a head last November when I considered living out a line from the Supertramp song Goodbye Stranger, "Feel no sorrow, feel no shame, come tomorrow feel no pain." Suicide has that going for it--the end of today's pain.

I can't say I understand what made Mr. Williams do what he did. This I do understand, when there is too much pain, suicide seems like the only way out.

It must have made some sense to Megan when she did it. It must have made sense to Sandy when she did it. It sure made sense to Carlos when he disconnected his feeding tube--dying that way rather than from AIDS in 1988. A permanent solution to a temporary situation? Well, not to Carlos, not in 1988. But in the middle of that situation, after years of being in the middle of that situation, it makes a certain sense.

As for the number of comics who have gone before Robin Williams--Chris Farley, John Belushi, Lenny Bruce, Socrates--all lived on that razor's edge and died tragically. All were incredibly smart and used an incredible sense of humor to overcome what they thought were their own personal deficiencies.

As for me, I'm just glad I've got good medications for the Bi-Polar disorder and the dog to get exercise. As for poverty, well, that's a story for another day and the lives of Williams, Farley, Belushi and the rest show that fame and wealth don't equate to happiness and mental health. But that's another post.

Ending this, I loved Robin Williams. My favorite memory of him was on the Dennis Miller Show on HBO when Miller was still funny. Miller's monologue was great that night then Williams came out.  That's when the whole show came off the rails. Robin Williams was outrageously funny. He finally asked Miller if he wanted to ask more questions and Miller said something to the effect that there was no way he was going to stop what was happening. It was the fourth episode and it was magic. Pure magic.

I'll miss the humor. I'll miss the wit. I'll miss the brilliance of the connections he made to create and weave a tapestry of wonder and love with humor. I knew it masked pain. I knew it from his life. I knew it from his biography. I knew it from his addictions. I knew it from my life. But still, the wonder is now gone, but it's not lost.

Via con Dios.

It's been a while, and here's why...

The other day I posted this little gem on my facebook page:

I hereby declare that Blueberry Syrup shall henceforth be known as "Mrs. Buttersmurf."

I know, it's a silly little thing to say, but it crossed my mind on Sunday morning and I thought it was worth sharing with the world.  As for me, I think I think the bottle would be a hoot.

On of my friends posted this on my page:

I was just thinking yesterday I was missing some Paul Andresen humor. Thanks for the infusion.

My response was that things stopped being funny a while ago. Life its ownself has gotten pretty tough. It has seemed that over the past few years most everything has been tough and whenever anything has looked up, Marie and I would get knocked down twice as hard.

If you are thinking that my blogs and other correspondence have reflected this, please know there is significant self editing. I am trying not to live so that the rest of the world sings this song to me:

I simply pray never to hear those fateful words "If you just want to cry to somebody, don't cry to me."

But things are beginning to look up. I'm interviewing for a part time job, there's a church that has some interest, my Motel 6 management training should restart soon, and we're moving this weekend. Thanks to all of the folks who are helping too.

Marie even got the notice of her judgement, her Social Security disability has been approved. Of course, that day we got a parking ticket... for parking in a handicapped parking space without a permit. Like the Morton Salt girl says, when it rains...

All in all, I could use a little more humor too.

I Do Not Think That Means What They Think That Means...

I know that Egg Whites are a healthy alternative. McDonalds has an egg white option and so does Subway. But you know...

I just don't think this is what they meant when they were talking about egg whites being a healthy alternative. Just sayin'...

Editing

Welcome to our bedroom...

You mean this is what he looks at when
he could be petting me? I don't get it.

One of the things Marie has done for as long as I have been preaching is reading the sermons. She makes sure my grammar and syntax are good. She makes sure the prose flows. And she makes sure I don't say anything stupid. Thanks be to God for that last one.

The other day she was looking over a sermon and went to get something and when she did, O'Neill, the cat whose curiosity will one day introduce him to doom, was found like this. Marie had her phone and the results speak for themselves, what a great shot!

I think this would be perfect for a caption contest... you can see mine.  Marie thinks he was editing along with her, and gave it three paws up. Add your comment and be sure to share with your friends. No prizes unless you think a good laugh is a prize.

Snark, my Sense of Humor, and American Politics

Dear Friends,
Those of you who know me at all know I have a tremendous and vast sense of humor. I find all sorts of things funny and look to find humor in every situation, usually successfully. Those of you who know me well know that from time to time my sense of humor can be snarky. Or sarcastic. Or downright dark. I try to keep those down to a minimum. I tend to keep that part of my sense of humor out of my professional life.

Side note: Those who know me socially are asking "That's a minimum?" My best answer is "Yes, now imagine what I self edit... Now imagine what I only share with my wife... " This is when we all nominate the wonderful Marie for sainthood.

The reason I haven't updated this blog recently is because I haven't had much to say, and the things that I thought I might share were best self edited. Readers who have experienced recent postings, especially the "Lies my father/mother told me" series, are wiping their brows in gladness. This is one of the few times the phrase "thank you for not sharing" is appropriate. It's not a proud moment, but still.

I will never lose my sense of humor. Nor will I lose every element of my sense of humor, but here's something very important-- I am sick of the level of snark I have seen in the past ten years. Let me make this very clear, if I've had it up to here with snark it's probably drowning mortals. What pushed me over the edge? The current debate on the Affordable Healthcare Act.

I find much of it disingenuous. Before President Obama was inaugurated Congressional Republicans publicly declared their goal over "the next four years is to make President Obama a one-term president." While the strategy didn't work that doesn't prevent its continuation.

But don't let Congressional Democrats off the hook. They're just as bad, nobody has cornered the market on "disingenuous." The party of my inclination is just as able to brew a tempest in a teapot. The reason I don't list any is that I have read so many Facebook posts and memes about how Democrats impede government sending America into poverty that I don't need to. If you disagree with my politics you have your own laundry list.

Important point! I don't hate the people who disagree with me! I need the people who disagree with me! People who challenge me and what I believe give me perspectives that challenge what I believe and make my beliefs stronger. You may make me either affirm or change what I believe, and either way it still makes me stronger, not weaker!

But the level of snark from both sides of the Congressional aisle don't challenge me. They now disgust me. As for me, on this day, I believe there's enough blame to go around. Again, enough blame to go around. As Shakespeare said, "a pox on both of your houses. Both of your houses!"

About fifteen years ago my father had an epiphany in Missouri state races. All of the men running for office, Democrats and Republicans both, were acting like idiot blowhards. The women on the other hand were measured and constructive. Today I look at Michelle Bachman and Hillary Clinton and wonder what happens once you reach a certain point. It's the Peter Principle of American Politics. I despair this once workable solution is now improbable.

If you want to accuse me of being snarky right now I want to plead "not guilty" but will probably settle for "no contest." I'm trying to express myself without going over the edge right now (and on a second reading too out things that were too close to the edge of snark for my comfort), but that is the tight rope I now choose to walk. That's the abyss I'm not going to throw myself into anymore, God help me.

So friends, please know that my sense of humor will remain sharp. My stories will still be funny. My puns will still be flowing like a river. And I seek to quit wasting my time and yours on snark, especially political snark. Now that's a load off my chest.

Love you all,
Paul

Government Accountability

When I was working in Higher Education, the United States Education Department was being forced by Congress to be more accountable for the outcomes of students enrolled in the federally funded TRIO programs. This isn't bad in and of itself. These programs ought to be able to prove that they do what they are funded to do. This led to a squabble though, Congress had its own outcomes in mind, things that were never measured by the individual programs. It was a squabble and about that time I went to seminary so I don't know exactly how it was worked out.

Like I said, accountability isn't bad, but every now and them it's stupid. A case in point...

I recently went to our local Social Security Administration office. I was hoping to get the forms to try to get for Marie's disability. We figured it would be good to see the forms and put together the documentation before getting everything started.

It was about ten minutes before one in the afternoon. I was the only client in the office. There were two women behind roll up counters and an armed guard behind his station. I stood in front of the woman's desk. I was largely ignored. I said, "I would like to" before I was interrupted.

She said, "Take a number."

Really, take a number? I'm the only person in the room and I have to take a number. Ah, bureaucracy at its finest. So I took a number.

She said, "826" and I went to the window.

I asked if she had copies of the forms to register for disability. She said "No." They don't have forms anymore. I was told that it is available on line though. Then she asked "Would you like to make an appointment?"

I said, "No."

First things first, this woman is a worker bee, she's doing what she has to do. Her job calls for no imagination on her part. I bet even her responses are scripted from the computer terminal at her work station.

Second, I imagine this whole charade was a part of some accountability initiative. Through the computer some drone somewhere can see when I came into the office, how quickly she got to me, how long our transaction took place, and that I refused further service. That's a lot of information to be analyzed. If you consider the hundreds of thousands who walk into the Social Security Administration Offices everyday with their thousands of issues, this system will give them a lot of good information which may help with future services and products.

At the same time, being the only one in the room and being told to take a number is the stuff of unimaginative cartoons. Gary Larson would have been too bored to make it a panel on "The Far Side." Butcher shop mentality meets government accountability, it's our tax dollars at work.

Only in Cub Scout Baseball

It's been a long time since I just told a story, and this one came back to me recently because of a friend who has returned to my life.

Moishe Sachs and I went to grade school and were in Cub Scouts together. Among the things we did was play Cub Scout Baseball. Let me add that I was awful! There's no other word, for the first two years I could not put the bat on the ball. I was just that bad.

One day we were playing and Moishe's dad Fred was calling balls and strikes behind the plate. All of the dads had to put on the mask at least once and that day was Mr. Sach's day. I was in the batter's box. I don't remember if there was anybody on base but I don't think so. The pitch came toward the plate, but it was a bit inside. I decided to stand tough, not move a muscle as it came below my hands.

Well, I misgauged the pitch, it was inside, but just a little higher than I thought. It hit the knob of the bat and rolled half way back to the pitcher. Well, I figured that I didn't swing so it wasn't a hit and it didn't hit me so I didn't get the free base. Everyone else must have thought the same thing because nobody moved. I didn't even hear anything from the parents' gallery.

Then Mr. Sachs said the magic words, "Fair ball." I didn't think it was a hit but I don't have to be told twice. I ran for the bag and the pitcher ran for the ball. The ball got away from the first baseman, so not only did I reach first--I got to second on the throw.

The Butt-Bunt was born. I might have been lousy, but people who were good never had stories like this one. They have enough sense to get out of the way.

God bless you Mr. Sachs. God bless you Moishe.

A "Suitable" Ending to House M.D.

House M.D. is a long running show on the FOX Network. Over the past eight seasons, Dr. House has led a misanthropic vendetta against disease and civility at the fictional Princeton Plainsboro Hospital in New Jersey with a dedicated if not dysfunctional group of doctors (and one med student).

The show was created and produced by David Shore, Paul Attanasio, and Katie Jacobs. Attansio worked with Tom Fontana on the NBC show Homocide: Life on the Streets.

On a side note, this is one of my favorite all time TV shows and yes, I got the box set for Christmas a few years ago. Thanks to my niece Vallie!

Fontana is also the creator of St. Elsewhere. This is where the whole thing comes together...

The last episode of St. Elsewhere ends with, well, I'll use a description from TVAcres.com.

During the life of the series Dr. Donald Westphall (Ed Flanders) worked at St. Eligius Hospital in Boston and had to juggle a busy schedule that included tending to the needs of his hospital patients and Tommy, his physically-challenged autistic son (Chad Allen). 

In the final surreal scene of the series Ed Flanders is shown as a blue-collar construction worker retuning home to his autistic son and his father (Norman Lloyd - who played Dr. Auschlander on the series). 

Sitting in the comfort of his home's living room, Tommy stares into a small crystal globe -- the kind you turn upside down to make it snow inside.

So, as tiny flakes of shimmering snow fell inside the snow globe, we get a close-up of the building inside...a likeness of St. Eligius Hospital.

The thrust of this is that everything that happened at St. Eligus Hospital was from the fertile imagination of Tommy Westphall. By extension, everything that ever happened in any TV show that is even marginally connected to St. Elegius/St. Elsewhere is from the fertile imagination of Tommy Westphall.

Tom Fontana was quoted saying "Someone did the math once, and something like 90 per cent of all television took place in Tommy Westphall's mind. God love him." In total, there are 282 shows, including St. Elsewhere, connected to Tommy Westphall's mind. This website even has a link to a wonderful grid of the whole Tommy Westphall Universe.

So what's this to do with "House M.D."? Isn't it obvious what's on my mind by now? Tommy Westphall grew up and became Gregory House. The Fontana/Attanasio connection is there. I believe Fontana would love to see Tommy all grown up as House. It would also be a twist no one has seen coming for seven years. It would open up and mess up a whole new generation of people who never knew of Tommy. This could work.

Honestly, I'm probably wrong, but it would be cool if I'm right.

A Gift Buyer's Guide to Mother's Day?

Mother's Day is a little less than two weeks away, so two local merchants here in Marshall, Texas are here to remind you it's not too soon to shop for that perfect gift.

On the way to work a Home Health Care Supply store has this sign--

Lift Chairs

for

Mother's Day

I guess that's because nothing says love like "Ma, you're so fat..." or "Ma, your knees are so badly shot that I got you a lift chair! Happy Mother's Day!"

I felt that way until today when I went to the pharmacy where the bags were stamped

Happy

Mother's

Day

I guess that's because nothing says love like, "Here ya go Ma, stay on your meds!"

Please, do better than that for your Mother this Mother's Day... unless she asks for a lift chair or meds. Then it's up to you!

Another Bar Story

Here's one you likely haven't heard...

When I became manager of the Buzzard Beach, we needed someone to take my place at the door. After a couple of weeks we found Jerry. His nickname was "Clubber" and he decided it was time for a career change. He was the Sound Man for a rock band from Iowa called "Loud." I always imagined when someone asked what kind of music they played someone would yell "loud music!"

Anyway, Jerry met a woman in KC and he decided his road days were over. So he got a night job and bought a car from one of our regular customers who sold used cars. In Missouri, you had to have a car inspected before you could get plates, so he took the vehicle to the GoodYear place on Broadway in Midtown KCMO. He asked how long it would take and he was told it would be a couple of hours.

So what does Jerry do? Does he go down the block to the Grand Emporium for Cajun food and reggae? No. Does he go across the street to Club Royale for country music? No. Does he go down the block to Davey's for their "All Grateful Dead-All the Time" fest? No. Jerry goes across the parking lot to The Pink Garter Strip-O-Rama (not making this up) to get a beer.

So Jerry goes in and gets a bottle of beer and started watching a young lady shaking what her momma gave her on the stage. (By the way: Drink bottled beer in a strip club, you know the bottle is clean and it makes a weapon if you need one. We're here to teach the children... now where was I...) With Jerry standing against the wall, this young woman approaches him after she finished her time on stage. Jerry is bummed. He doesn't want to be rude, but he has a new girlfriend and a new car and no money. He doesn't want or need a private dance.

So she walks up to him and as he prepares to smile and say "sorry" she points at the right side of his chest, right where the bar logo is on his new bar jacket. She asks, "Do you know Paul?"

This was the last thing Jerry expected the woman to say so he laughed with relief and said, "Yeah, he's my boss."

She added "Isn't he a sweetheart?"

Now for the life of me, I don't know who she was. Jerry described her to me and I didn't recognize her at all. We had a lot of dancers come in and out of the bar so she could have been any one of a half dozen women, I just don't know. Still, it left me a question: What do you have to do in this life to get a stripper to call you a sweetheart? Honestly I don't know the answer... and I did it.

Preparing for our bible study tonight I was reminded of this story. Jesus hung out with the tax collectors and bouncers and strippers. Together they were all welcomed in fellowship with the Lord. I'm not going to say that I'm the Lord and everyone hung out with me, thank God I'm not that conceited.

The truth is that I worship a risen Lord who by his good grace calls me and every other sinner to come to the table to taste and see that the Lord is good. The Lord welcomes us all, even the tax collectors and bouncers and strippers.

Oh, what did I do that was so special that she thought I was a sweetheart? Hopefully, it was the same thing I did for all customers. I welcomed her and treated her with dignity and respect hoping she had a good time at the Buzzard. That's all I can imagine. Thanks be to God.

Love Today and Love Tomorrow

Just a few minutes ago I was leaving Walmart. Marie needed feminine hygiene products and pure corn starch baby powder, preferably lavender scented. I went in at the Garden Center entrance because the stuff was closest to that entrance and it usually has a very short line. So I got the stuff and headed to checkout.

A moment later, a man got in line behind me. He couldn't have been older than 24 or so. He had a single stem rose, Hallmark card, and two bean bag style stuffed animals. I looked at the scene and started laughing. And in the Garden Center my laugh roars. I looked at him and smiled.

Finally I looked at him, nodding toward his purchases and said, "Valentines Day today," and holding up my purchases, "Valentines Day in fifteen years." We enjoyed the laugh... until he wondered if it would happen to him and I told him not to worry, it will.

On a side note, I got Marie a lovely card, one of the best I've ever seen, and two compact discs she has wanted for months. I gave them to her this morning. On top of that, when she says "pads and baby powder" she trusts I'll get the right stuff, now that's love.

And yes, I did get the right pads and baby powder. Happy Valentines to all you lovers out there--whether it's been a short time, 15 years, or 115 years. God bless and enjoy the love of your life.

Standing Up for a Super Model

Yeah, I'm defending a super model. You've seen this somewhere either on the tube or online, I'm sure. Here's the take from TMZ...

Well, let me make a couple of points.

• It was a private moment in a public space.
• Yes, she was being goaded.
• She didn't "know" she was being recorded.
• Yeah, she should have known better thank to think she wasn't being recorded but...
• Frankly, she wasn't completely wrong.

In the end, she was doing what any guy can hope his Brazilian super model wife would do for him. She was standing by her man in the face of rowdy hooligans (an American football version of hooligan, mind you). If your teammates can't handle that your wife doesn't know "the code" of not talking down your teammates then apologize for her. Tell them you're sorry she lit the fuse, but she's just a feisty, long-legged, hot-blooded Brazilian super model and you can see her apology "in full" in the next Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.

So in honor of Gisele standing by her Tommy, I give you The Blues Brothers. Enjoy.

Another Bar Story, This One with Extra Grace!

One of the truest reasons men work in bars is to meet women. That may seem shallow and it may seem short-sighted, but that's what makes it true!

One night when I was managing Buzzard Beach in Westport, Kansas City, Missouri, USA, one of my doormen came up to me after the bar closed. I was sitting on the back bar with my legs crossed much like a modern day Buddha. He started to apologize. He was sincere but he was also waiting judgement so he might have been a little on edge.

You see, he had begun seeing a waitress from a bar and restaurant across the street so after her shift ended, she would come over and see Scott. She was a cutie too, curly blonde hair, great legs and a so-on that was before its time.

Something you probably don't know but need to for this story is that Buzzard Beach was a saloon, a tavern-we had beer, cocktails, and popcorn. To work in a tavern you had to be 21. Well, she worked in a restaurant that served drinks. You only had to be 18 to work there. Thus my doorman's dilemma, he met her at our bar, but it wasn't until after a couple of weeks that he discovers she isn't 21.

Let me add that minors in a tavern could get you closed and the person who serves a minor could loose their liquor card-a license that allows a bartender to dispense. So you see, as Ricky Ricardo would say, he "had some 'splaining to do."

He walked up and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know she wasn't 21. As soon as I found out I took care of it. She won't be back until she is 21. This won't happen again."

Well, let's just say that I took the high road on this one. I said, "First, I accept your apology. Second, you did find out she wasn't 21, and that's big. Third, as soon as you did find out you fixed it. Fourth, I believe you, this won't happen again. Fifth" and at this point I addressed the assembled staff; the three bartenders, three doormen, and bar back who were also working and asked, "fifth, guys, how many of us met a girl here at the Buzzard and didn't discover until later that she wasn't 21?" Everyone of us raised his hand. The guys who had been there ten years, the owner's brother, and even me, everyone of us raised our hands.

I ended my lesson for the day saying, "Finally, you're in good company." Grace over hypocrisy is a winner every time, and we always carded his paramours in the future.

A Very Good Question

We Can Know is a ministry that contends that the rapture will happen on May 21, 2011. That's in 23 days. They also say that the world will be destroyed five months later on October 21.

That being said, if the rapture is less than a month away, why do they still maintain their donations page? It just seems that if you're still seeking donations you must not have much confidence in your prophecy.

Redneck Detailing

Yesterday, I saw a Dodge Caravan painted in a camouflage motif with Louisiana plates. I would love to hear this half of a conversation in front of a judge...

Yes your honor, I hit the Dodge.

Yes your honor it was parked.

No it wasn't moving at all.

No your honor I didn't see it.

Wasn't that the general idea behind a camo paint job?

Sure, that line of reasoning wouldn't work since the van was at the hospital, but still, wouldn't it be great!

And Another Open Letter

Dear Cajun Tex Restaurant,
Let's start here, your food is very, very yummy. This is why Marie wanted to try the salmon on your Lenten menu. But we found out last Sunday that the Lenten menu ended because you are out of the items on it. Friends, if you're going to have a Lenten menu you shouldn't run out two weeks before Lent ends.

Crawfish aren't kosher, Paul

Another Open Letter

Dear Jaguar Driver,
Congrats to the candidate in the 5th District that you support. The way you parallel park I wouldn't trust you to pick the winner of a two-horse race in the fifth given three choices. When you parallel park in two spaces you show the world that you are more important, your car is more expensive, and the rest of us can walk from downtown as far as you're concerned. You show that your candidate will protect your interests and the interests of every Jaguar driver in Harrison County, Texas and that is someone every farmer, rancher, and oilman in East Texas can get behind! Oh, and if you're the candidate so much the better.

Hoping you get a flat on the highway and your cell phone is dead, Paul