This kind of thing makes me cry.

Yeah, I know he's an anti-semite and all, but I've always loved Mel Gibson, even before the "Passion of the Christ" thing. And Robert Downey Jr. too. It's nice to remember they're both human beings too.

Katie told me she bought some "black grapes" today`

For some reason, this struck me as kind of ominous. I mean, just look at them: 

black grapes. Otherwise known as "grapes of Mordor" 

Still, they were delicious. 

Posted a couple new songs on youtube

"Drink and Pray" - an original. Just another sad, sad song about some darn girl that went and made me cry. 

Cover of Led Zeppelin's "The Lemon Song" (which was ITSELF a cover of a Robert Johnson Song, sort of...never mind, just watch the video. Unless you're a child. Then DON'T watch it because it's gross. Oh. Great. Now you're DEFINITELY going to watch it. Geez. This is the longest parenthetical statement I've made in a while. I thought I was getting better with this. One time I wrote a letter where 95% of it was in parentheses.  Guess who the letter was to? Let's just say she doesn't like parentheses. Enough to dump me, thus triggering the emotional turmoil needed to write songs about drinking and pray-ack.) 

(strangling sounds) 

(thud) 

... 

Okay I'm back. I had to fight off my wife who, for some reason, just tried to throttle me. (I wonder why. Maybe it's because I keep posting videos of me playing songs about old girlfriends. Maybe it's because-) OKAY I'M FINISHED!!! SORRRY!!! GET BACK!!!!

Happy Happy Joy Joy!

Dominic Makes Me Angry is back!!! 

What is this, you ask?

Just click on the link, buddy.

Most depressing (and scary) food name ever

Really? 

Yep. Fruit-flavored snacks. 

: (

 Is this what the once-mighty advertising culture has descended to? Couldn't they think of anything better than this? Fruity-Os? Frooty Goodness? Snack-a-froot-aroos? Anything? 

Don't try and distract me with awesome giant flesh-eating lizards. Your brand name still kills my soul.

I thought we had scraped the bottom of the barrel (sorry, the cylindrical container) with Crispy Hexagons - but clearly I was wrong. 

Seriously, I'd like to meet the guy who came up with this crappy name and just say: "Thanks a lot, jerk. When it comes to making the world a little LESS interesting, you take the cake (or as you would put it, the sugar-flavored bread). Way to go." 

I wonder how he would reply. 

Then again...he may not. 

He may just vaporize me with his ion-powered shoulder-mounted laser beam and sweep my ashes into the nearest incinerator. 

That's right. He may not even be human:  

Little-known fact about Terminators - they love mayonnaise. 

Think about it. "Fruit-flavored snacks" - well, it may not be flashy, but it certainly makes sense in a creepy, inhuman way. I mean, that's what they are. Snacks flavored with fruit. Ergo: Fruit-flavored snacks. Totally logical. Too logical for a human. 

And cunning, too. They try to hide their inhuman nature with flashy packaging and cartoon animals:  

We will distract them with extinct reptiles.

So Skynet may have taken over the food advertising business. So what? What's the worst that can happen?

Well, for starters, it means we'll start seeing food names like this: 

Meat stick

Cheese packet

Meat Stick

Corn.

Corn Not On The Cob

Exploded Corn Not On The Cob

Meat Stick Coated With Pulverized Corn Not On The Cob Mixed With Flour-ERROR.
NAME LENGTH EXCEEDS PARAMETERS. 
searching for alternate word combinations... Corny Meat Stick

Cow's butt

 

Stuffed Cow entrails
OR:
Meat Stick

Of course, some food names won't change at all...

Bottled water

...although if the machines had senses of humor (note: they don't. Nor do they have souls) they'd call it "something your grandparents secretly laugh at you for buying." 

So that's that. It's only a matter of time before they take over. Watch for the warning signs. Watch for grocery stores stocking more and more products with bland packaging and incredibly boring names... Oh. Wait. 

You've always thought these things were creepy. Now you know why.

Maggie May

Here's another song: 

Recently I bought myself a brand new electric guitar - a Epiphone special. (yes, I do play electric too - just not often enough for my liking). Anyway, to test it out I dug up another old, angry song from my dark, murky past.
What's the story behind this one? Well, you can guess. Broken heart. I wrote this at the end of a relationship that stretched, on and off, for almost three years and ended badly. Plus I was in a really bad stupid phase of my life. Out of school, working a dead-end job, no idea what to do with my life ... a phase of my life where I was just at rock bottom. Of course, my life got better eventually (this song deals with the turning point).
Maggie May is one of my better-written songs, I think. A great riff and great lyrics, and it showcases my mad guitar chops ....
... but I don't like it. Not at all. When I wrote this song, I was so full of anger and sadness. Songs are like emotional photographs - perfect records of the songwriter's state of mind. My state of mind when I wrote Maggie May is not something I like to relive - especially since it wasn't her fault, and it wasn't my fault, and it's all in the past, and I'm happy now, and we're friends again.
However, that doesn't mean you can't enjoy it. Especially if you need to blow off steam or something.
I recorded this in the porch at my parents' house on an absolutely sweltering 7th-circle-of-hell heat wave of a day. Plus, it took me about a million takes before I got it right - mostly because I don't play this song that often (see reasons above). This explains the angry look on my face - it has nothing to do with the song itself or the story behind it. But it does kind of fit.

Song lyrics here. 

Happy Labor Day Weekend!

As a fitting tribute to labor day, here's a funny video about Batman!

Um...yeah. I don't really get the point of Labor day.

Another dream-haunting image

I can only hope that the Mafia finds the people who made this film. 

And does tings to dem. 

You can find creepiness anywhere.

Like today I came home from work, and THIS was on my TV... 

....yeah. Just...there. 

Like I was in 1984. Only with Elmo. 

Of course it was just a paused episode of Sesame Street that Dominic was watching on Netflix. 

That still doesn't change the fact that this image will haunt my dreams forever. 

A vague sense of unease

Yesterday we got a new bath toy for Dominic: 

Pretty simple, right? Just some plastic thing. Take another look: 

And another....

Nothing much to see, right? Just some plastic scoopy-thingy, roughly the size and shape of a gravy boat. Nothing sinister or potentially dangerous, right? Right? There's no POSSIBLE way this plastic thing could possibly hurt ANYBODY, right?

Are you sure? 

Then WHY did it come with a paper full of warnings and scary images? 

And, worst of all...why are NONE OF THEM IN ENGLISH??? 

Aargh..... 

Sometimes I hate being a parent. 

Sweet Company

It's been a while since I posted any song videos (at least it seems a while to me) so I recorded this over my lunch break today. I personally like this song but I'm not sure if I have the pipes for it... you be the judge. 

"Sweet Company" dates back from 2001, when I was living in the projects in Steubenville, just graduated college, and covering high school sports for the the Steubenville Herald-Star. Crazy, optimistic and unsure time in my life - engendered a LOT of songs.  This song especially was hopeful - that strange, trembling, unsure hope that might leap up into happiness, or (more likely) fall down into despair. Which is a melodramitic way of saying that this song was quickly followed by a sad or angry song. Ah, youth. 

The most haunting image from the DC Quake

Screenshot from twitter.com  20 minutes after the earthquake:

Regarding earthquake: 2

Regarding other natural disasters: 1

Regarding bizarre, inconsequential crap: 7 

Revenge Fantasy

Writing this post  yesterday led me to rediscover one of those "gems" of the internet: xkcd.com, a brilliant little webcomic by Randall Munroe. Sort of like the Far Side for geeks. Take a look: 

 

...or don't. Because it's a little too brilliant. Brilliant enough to suck 12 hours out of your life. Like it just did for me. 

So I've concocted a little revenge fantasy, involving online stalking: 

Those stick figures are harder to draw than I expected. 

The best statement on the Londan Riots I've heard thus far.

From British historian Max Hastings. Harsh words but true.

They are essentially wild beasts. I use that phrase advisedly, because it seems appropriate to young people bereft of the discipline that might make them employable; of the conscience that distinguishes between right and wrong.They respond only to instinctive animal impulses — to eat and drink, have sex, seize or destroy the accessible property of others.Their behaviour on the streets resembled that of the polar bear which attacked a Norwegian tourist camp last week. They were doing what came naturally and, unlike the bear, no one even shot them for it.

Twitter and Earthquakes

Well twitter's good for something, after all (although I take back nothing I said previously): when the earthquake hit, the first place I went was there.

This sums it up: 

Bummer

I'm usually opposed to the idea of favorites. Whenever somebody asks me "What's your favorite (fill in the blank)" I find myself at an impasse. I mean, how can you narrow it down? How can I pick just one Beatles song, or ice cream flavor, or animal I'd like to eat (or be eaten by)?

I did, however, have a favorite word: diphthong. I just thought it sounded cool: "dip-thong!" I'd work it into conversation, or I'd just say it at random breaks in the conversation. Nothing fills up that awkward pause like a good old "DIP-thong!" Preferably said in a loud and high-pitched voice.
But that's all over now. Katie, in her time-honored practice of spoiling EVERYTHING, challenged me to look up "diphthong" in the dictionary. She said she didn't think it was really a word.
Well, I did: and I found out that I'd been saying it wrong. It's not "dip-thong." It's "diff-thong."

Sheesh. Where's the fun in that?

So now I gotta find a new favorite word. Luckily I got a rich pool of candidates. I think I have it narrowed down to either "caboodle" or "verisimilitude." Hmm. Not bad. But they just don't compare.

Thanks a LOT, Katie.

This happens every time.

To be honest, I'd make the same choice as him.

4 years is here!

Now on iTunes! Plus, as a bonus, there is an extra song that never made it on the CD because of money issues at the time. Track #13: "Unsent Letter."

I got the gift of dance! (And she doesn't)

Some of us have joy in our hearts and express it through graceful body movements. Some of us have no joy. No joy at all. 
Song is "The Cheat is not Dead" from homestar Runner (http://www.homestarrunner.​com/sbemail68.html)

Pronunciation wars

There are many things I don't understand about my wife. One of them is how she pronounces "banal":buh-Naaal. Of course it should rhyme with (pardon me) "anal," as every sensible person knows. Another one is how incredibly offended she gets at my pronunciation of the word "leisure" (rhymes with pleasure, of course).

And what's with the whole "Aunt" thing? Why does she (and so, so many other people) pronounce it "Aaaaaahhhhnt" and not the way God intended it: "ant?"

Oh, well.

An "Uh-oh" moment

Hey, where are my keys? 

Jamming with Grib

Last night my buddy John Gribowich came by for dinner - then we played some songs. John is quite simply remarkable. Enjoy!

Oh crap. We're doomed

I was just wondering what it's gonna be like now that the government runs health care (kind of a pressing issue for me, being diabetic) when I happened to see this outside a government building:





An ashtray with a no-smoking sign on it.
Not exactly confidence-inspiring, eh?

Posted via my iPhone, so please excuse the typos and lack of cool formatting.

Got a new song up on amaze.fm - if you like it, RATE IT!!! So it can get on the radio!

In celebration of me and Katie's 2nd anniversary, here's a song I wrote for her right before we got engaged: 

http://amaze.fm/artist/John_Doman/will-you-marry-me/

Click on link above to listen. And here's the important thing - if you like it, rate it with five stars, and do it NOW, before Friday. If enough people do this, it'll get played on the radio. Which is, like, the best anniversary present EVER. 

(P.S. You have to create an account on amaze.fm to rate a song, but this is very easy and takes a few seconds. You just need an email address.) 

The Horse Shoe Pitts

A little something I threw together about the Horse Shoe Pitts...

My songs!

I added links to my songs and stuff. To the right. (If you're reading this in an email, you actually have to go to the blog. http://johndoman.blogspot.com.)

There's a LOT of good stuff here. Including stuff that's never been released to the public. If you're a fan of my songs, you're just silly if you don't check it out. Right now. No, you can't go to the bathroom. And I don't care if your son/daughter/pet needs to be fed/changed. Go right now and listen to me. 

No, I'm not a raging narcissist. Okay, maybe I am. 

Blackbird (kinda)

After that last song, I had to lighten it up a little... 

Bam Bam

I wrote this song at a turning point in my life - when I could either give up in despair or place my trust in God. 

Finally I'm SOMEBODY! I'm FAMOUS!

...I got a high score in Radiant! 

Oooh, I'm gonna live forever
I'm gonna learn how to fly--high!
I feel it comin' together
People will see me and cry. Fame!
I'm gonna make it to heaven
Light up the sky like a flame. Fame!
I'm gonna live forever
Baby, remember my...okay, I'm done

Facebook is trying to kill me.

Oh yeah, that's a great idea, Facebook. Send my wife a facebook message for our anniversary. While I'm at it, why don't I give myself a noogie, kick myself in the undercarriage and set myself on fire. Thanks, Facebook! 

‪Pajama Man!

Jonah Pollock, this is for you - especially the last line!

Best. Facebook Profile. EH-VAAAAH.

Look carefully.... 

See it?

A Computer Bug. A REAL computer bug.

I've run into some strange things in my days at the help desk, but this takes the cake: 

Apparently a small insect crawled into this person's monitor and was just...crawling around. Poor little guy. Only time I've seen a real computer bug. 

She killed her.

Okay. I have never even heard of Casey Anthony before this morning. Honest.
Maybe that's hard to believe. But it's true.

Anyway...she killed her. As the father of a 14-month-old son, there's simply no other explanation.  that's it. And this is a travesty.

Another song: Honey Baby

This is one of my favorite songs that I wrote. Hope you like it. Sorry about the shakiness - I had the camera balanced on a box of fabric softener sheets :)

Happy 4th of July

Every 4th of July, my family and I watch HBO's John Adams. It's good to remember where we came from:


Afterwards, we read the Declaration of Independance:

You want to know why I'm a smoker? THIS is why I'm a smoker.

I work on the IT help desk at a company. People call me when they have problems with their computers. Some of them are...difficult. Here's a conversation I had a few minutes ago:

*Ring ring*
ME: Help desk. This is John
CALLER: Is something wrong with the computers?
ME: Um..excuse me, what?
CALLER: Is something wrong with the computers?
ME: Which computers?
CALLER: All of them. Is something wrong?
ME: All right...what seems to be the problem, ma'am?
CALLER: Everything freezes up. I can't do anything.
ME: Okay, I think there's a problem with just your-
CALLER: It's still frozen up! Did you do something?
ME: No. Now do you have a laptop, or a desktop?
CALLER: Both.
ME: Okay. Which one are you using?
CALLER: Neither.
ME: *gritting teeth* All right. You are using a computer right now, correct?
CALLER: No! I can't! It's frozen!
ME: .....
ME: Can you describe what your computer looks like?
CALLER: It's a boxy thing. It's sitting on my desk.
ME: Great. That would be your desktop.
CALLER: But nothing's wrong with my desktop! It's the box on the desktop. And it's still frozen.
ME: Okay, let's just call that boxy thing your "desktop," okay? Now-
CALLER: I have to get this out to a client!
ME: I understand. Now, I can't remote into your desktop, so-
CALLER: What?
ME: Sorry. I can't connect to your...er...boxy thing. I'll have to walk over there. Okay?
CALLER: Should I stay on the phone? 
(a few minutes later, I arrive on the scene)
ME: Okay, let's take a look.
CALLER: It's still frozen!
ME: Let me take a look...okay, here's the problem. Microsoft Word's frozen and using up 95% of your CPU.
CALLER: Can you unfreeze it?
ME: Let me see...no, probably not. We'll need to just shut down Word and restart it.
CALLER: Can you save my words?
ME: Which words?
CALLER: The words on the screen!
ME: Um...no. But Autorecovery should get them...when's the last time you've saved your document?
CALLER: What?
ME: Your words. The words on the screen. When's the last time you-
CALLER: Can you print them out?
ME: No. I can't do anything. It's frozen.
CALLER: Can't you unfreeze them?
ME: ....
ME: Tell you what. Let me try.
(I terminate the Word process. MS Word restarts, and autorecovery works. Document comes back up unscathed.)
CALLER: They're back! Save them! Quick.
ME: Okay. There you go.
CALLER: Thank you! You're a genius.
ME: No problem. Next time save your words, okay?
CALLER: Thank you!
CALLER: Can I get a new box? This one is slow. And it freezes.
ME: Well, you'll need to request one from your supervisor.
CALLER: Can't you just give it to me?
ME: No, we need permission to-
CALLER: My supervisor keeps asking me to get a new computer.
ME: Well, she can ask for one by entering a ticket.
CALLER: She doesn't need a new computer! I do! Her computer is fine!
ME: Ah. But she needs to ask for you to get a new computer.
CALLER: ...
CALLER: For me?
ME: Yes. She asks for you.
CALLER: That doesn't make sense.
ME: I don't make the rules, ma'am.
CALLER: If I get a new computer, will it freeze too?
ME: *crossing myself* I hope not.

I'm not making any of this up. (By the way, the caller is actually a very nice person in real life.)

And... Another song

I recorded another song this morning: Isabel.

This song is one of my personal favorites. It's just really fun to play. Problem is, I play it too often; my wife is sick of it.

Interesting story behind the song: the "Isabel" refers to the 2003 hurricane. I was at the breezeway at my parents house when this storm came in, and I wrote the whole thing right there.

Yay I'm on youtube 4 times!

So a few days ago one of my co-workers comes up to me and says "Hey! Can you play guitar?"
ME: "Um....yes?"
Coworker: Cool! You're on youtube! Check it out!"
So I do...and he's right. My dad (who's sort of a YouTube fanatic) posted a couple videos of me playing guitar. And that got me thinking... those of you who know me well know that I've written lots and lots of songs over the years. Most of them exist only in my head. Some are written down. Almost none are recorded.

So...I'm going to start recording them. And putting them on YouTube. What the hey. It's better than nothing. At least they won't disappear into oblivion if I get hit by a truck or something. (And yes, I know "disappear into oblivion" is an oxymoron).

I started tonight. Unfortunately it was after midnight and my family's asleep, so I recorded two softer, meloncholy songs. Enjoy! All are in the playlist above - which will hopefully get larger soon.

Yay I'm on YouTube again

The "Count" from Sesame Street is still a vampire!

Yeah, I know he's only a muppet. But he's still a vampire muppet. Want proof? Look what I found in one of Dominic's books:






The first thing I thought when I saw this was "CHOMP!"

One puncture wound...two puncture wounds...three puncture wounds! Ah-ha-ha-ha!

You think I'm overreacting? Look at the poor muppet dentist's face:



Tell her I'm overreacting.

We clearly need a muppet Van Helsing. I'll be starting a letter campaign to PBS immediately.

Yay I'm on youtube

Okay, NOW what do I do with my life?

It's been two years. TWO YEARS
Two years of clickety-clack on my laptop...and then on my other laptop...then my desktop...or my notepad.
Two years with Word 2003...then Google Docs...then Word 2010.
Two years of weekends spent alone at Barnes and Noble...or Starbucks...or Borders...or anyplace with free Wi-Fi.
Two years of living on coffee, scones and criminally overpriced ham sandwiches (see above)
Two years of watching employees at said establishments come and go, and realizing that I'd spent more time there than them.

Two years of making stuff up. Characters...a geeky black guy...a blonde queen-bee type girl...and dozens of others. Plots...a murder. Acts of terrorism. Being touched by God.
Two years of making it real - research. Apologetics. Summer Camp. Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. How to destroy a boiler. How to trigger an electrical fire. How to tap a phone. How to fake it and hope nobody who actually knows what they're doing reads your book and calls you out.

Two years of secretly wondering if I'd ever finish the damn thing.
Two years of worrying that no one would care if I did.
Two years of explaining to friends, family, and co-workers that this was REALLY important.
Two years of wondering if I was lying.
Clickety-clack.

Two years filled with stories like this:

• Type. backspace. Type. Backspace. Type. Stare into space. Glower at the screen. Backspace. type some more. Feeling better now. Type type type. Am transported into a transcendant state by the sheer power of my words. Type type type.
  Next morning. Read it over. It's melodramatic crap. Backspace.
• It's almost done, honey. No, can't watch the movie. It's only ten o'clock. I can get a few hours in...WHAT? He took his first step today? Um...did you get a picture?
  No?  
• Hey, mom. No, it's not done yet. I'm almost there. So...family's coming in? My sister and her kids? Can I come over? No...sorry. I'm on a deadline. Yeah, I know there's not really a deadline. Of course it'll get published! I'll LuLu it if I have to...sorry. Yeah, I know I need a haircut.

Two years of punching and prodding and working over this thing, trying to make it short and sweet...and long and rich...and compelling and heartrending...and stern and loving...and funny.
Two years of trying not to think about it.

Two years of asking myself why I'm bothering. Is it for my own pride? Stubbornness? Yearning for fame? Certainly not the money.
Two years of remembering that this is a ministry. That maybe something I write could help a kid out there. Maybe.

Two years of quiet, patient plugging. Don't worry. Just write. There's no such thing as writer's block. Just write.
And some decent stuff comes out.

Two years of thinking. Musing on Death. Murder. Grief. Loss. Terror. Joy. Grace. Salvation.
Two years of slowly realizing that I'm not nearly good enough to write about this stuff.

Two years of prayer. Because I really need it.

Two years of occasional self-pity.
All right, all right...two years of a lot of self-pity.

Two years of wishing I could be home.
Two years of loving every bit of it.

Two years of telling myself and everyone else that it's almost done, it's almost done, it's almost done...
One day, I realize that it's done. At least it's done enough. It'll work.

Two days ago I finished the final rewrite of my book. Book 3 of the John Paul 2 High Series.


Now what do I do?

I think I'll play with my kid. Then fall asleep watching a movie. And promise myself that I'm not doing Book 4.

Maybe Book 5.

Death of a blasphemer.

Osama Bin Laden is dead. How is a Christian to react?
First of all we should recognize this man and his followers for what they are. They aren't just terrorists. They aren't insurgents. They are blasphemers. 

What is blasphemy? The Catechism describes it thus:
Blasphemy...consists in uttering against God - inwardly or outwardly - words of hatred, reproach, or defiance; in speaking ill of God; in failing in respect toward him in one's speech; in misusing God's name. .... It is also blasphemous to make use of God's name to cover up criminal practices, to reduce peoples to servitude, to torture persons or put them to death. The misuse of God's name to commit a crime can provoke others to repudiate religion. (paragraph 2148. Emphasis added).

And scripture describes it so:
“You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not leave him unpunished who takes His name in vain." (Exodus 20:7)

I have little doubt that it's okay to rejoice that the punishment has taken place in this world. I have no doubt the punishment will continue in the next.

That's a good price for 12 pounds of nutmeg

Over the 1 1/2 years of marriage, my mature and immature sides have been constantly battling each other. The mature side says: "you're married. You have a kid. Do NOT attempt to sell the kid on eBay." The immature side says: "But this guy in Botswanaland is bidding five goats AND a barrel of goose lard!"

Well, those days are over. My mature side has come up on top at last. What's the proof? I now have a BJ's membership--and we just returned from our maiden trip there. 

Whenever I've entered BJ's or Sam's Club or any of these megastores, my first thought is that this is the place I'm gonna make a beeline for when that nuclear and/or zombie thing finally goes down. You know how in those post-apocalyptic movies there's always some kinda warlord villian with men, booze and saltine crackers? How do you think they got that way? They were the first one to get to BJ's, barricade the doors, and sit inside with a rifle until people started showing up offering sex-for-food deals. The movies are all wrong: The battle in the future won't be for mail or the privilege of not having to drink your own pee or even hanging out on Alcatraz with a bunch of paperbacks...it'll be for tanks of cranberry juice and refridgerator-sized boxes of Slim Jims. 

Anyhoo, we just got back and managed to put everything away. All we needed was a ship's anchor chain to tie the fridge door shut ($12.95, found it in row 7) and to throw away our bed. And now I'm sitting here reflecting on my new mound of supplies: 

• A bag of Uncle Ben's rice roughly the same size (and weight) as a bag of cement. Won't need to buy rice again for the next two presidential terms. 
• Two Wilbur's and one Babe's worth of Honey-smoked ham
• Enough diapers to attend to the needs of the entire county's 1-3 year-old and 80-120-year-old population. 
• A block of cheese so large that I'm tempted to eat my way into it and make a little cheese cave (a childhood dream) 
• Enough spaghetti to feed a busload full of ravenous Genoese
• And enough Genoese salami to...well, let's say that I appreciate salami. 

But what now? What do I do with my life now that I got more crackers than Alabama and more nuts than a Wisconsin teacher's union? Is this all there is to life? 

Of course not. But it is nice to have all the simple needs of me and my family satisfied for the next couple months. Now I can worry about more important things, like finding out where we're going to sleep. Wait..the toilet paper. We got four rafts worth. Problem solved...unless we gotta go to the bathroom. At least we won't have to drink our own pee. Plus I finally got my cheese cave. 

Shahbaz Bhatti, pray for us.

I personally think that this guy is a martyr. A lone Catholic minister in Pakistan, murdered because he dared to stand up to the blasphemous thugs of the Taliban. They are blasphemous because they invoke the name of God to commit murder. That's the true blasphemy.

In any case, it'll take steely courage and true holiness to defeat Islamism. Shabaz Batti had both. Two months ago, this is what he said:

The forces of violence, militant banned organisations, the Taliban and pro al-Qaida, they want to impose their radical philosophy in Pakistan and whoever stands against their radical philosophy, they threaten them.

When I'm leading this campaign against the sharia law, for the abolishment of [the] blasphemy law and speaking for the oppressed and marginalised persecuted Christian and other minorities, these Taliban threaten me, but I want to share that I believe in Jesus Christ, who has given his own life for us.
I know what is the meaning of [the] cross and I'm following the cross and I'm ready to die for a cause.
I'm living for my community and suffering people and I will die to defend their rights so these threats and these warnings cannot change my opinion and principles. I will prefer to die, following my principle and for the justice of my community rather to compromise on these threats.


His funeral was today. Please say a prayer for his family, and for all Christians in Pakistan.

I just think this is really cool

The title page from an Italian edition of "Leaf by Niggle" by J.R.R. Tolkien.

What exactly is a "blood orange?"

Katie says it's "a variety of orange that's red inside."

I say it's slang...for a human head!!!!

This is why I enjoy being an Iggles fan

It's certainly not because the string of Super Bowl wins. Its because of sentiments like this:



You think I'm being sarcastic. I'm not. God forgive me but I love this stuff. Laughed so hard I almost peed my...well, you know.

Location:Hawthorne St,Philadelphia,United States

Happy Chair Day!

Hello. 

My name is Daryl. 

And I am the Chair of St. Peter. 

I am here because today, February 22nd, is an ancient and mighty feast day in honor of...me.

Myself. 

I, the Chair of St. Peter. 

Now I shall recite an epic poem that tells of the heroic deeds of...me. 

Ahem... 

Oh Great! Oh Glorious Daryl!

So old! So gold! So sterile!

I've endured greatest perils! 

Made more jokes than Will Farrell!

Did you know that I write Christmas Carols?

Hold it!  

Ah. Larry. I was expecting you.

Really? How?  

The Chair knoweth all.  

Balderdash! I come by every year! Look, Daryl, I've had enough! I, the Hat of St. Peter, protest! 

(Heavy sigh...) Very well. What is the nature of your protest?   

I protest the idea of giving a feast day to a moldy, pompous old stool! 

What? (Splutter) I'll have you know that I'm a throne, not a-

A stool, I say! A stool with delusions of grandeur! 

I shall endure your impudence with patient silence. The chair shall prevail, despite the ravings of one lone article of clothing-

I, the shorts of St. Peter, protest! 

And we, the shoes of St. Peter, protest!

...Kevin? Phyllis? Argus? How could you?

I, the shirt of St. Peter, protest! 

Oh, Bob. Not you too. 

Sorry man. But Larry has a point. 

I see. Anyone else?

I, the spatula of St.-

Save it. There's no way I'm going to be lectured by a kitchen utensil. I've been around longer than any of you, and-

Not longer than us! We remember when you were like us, Daryl...just a simple, humble fisherman's stool, willing to serve the master and be content.

And then you started calling yourself a throne... 

 And writing epic poems about yourself... 

You are certainly not sterile!

Okay, fine. Maybe the poems were a bit much. But I am a throne. The master said so. 

  No! You're no greater than the rest of us! 

Hold on. We hear someone coming!

(door opening)

The master!  

..so Cunningham's in his own endzone, and then he lobs it 63 yards-

No way! I don't believe it!

EEEEEK!!!!

It's true! Happened in 1990 against the Bills...hey, wait a sec. What is my spatula doing in here...and why is it screaming? 

...Um...actually, all of your things are screaming. 

HIM! The German! 

Run away! Run away!

Um...Hey guys. What's going on? 

Master! How could you be associating with HIM!?!

After all the things he said about you! 

Um...well, actaully, to be fair, I said those regrettable things about his successors. The men who sit in that chair over there. 

Leave me out of this! I got enough on my plate today! 

But I was wrong. I didn't understand-

Silence, heretic! Master, shall I smite him for you?

Heh heh. No, that's okay Janet. Why don't you tell us what's going on? 

(5 minutes later...)

Okay...I think I understand. Time for a teaching moment. 

Actually, Pete, I'd like to take this, It's the least I can do. 

I agree, brother. Go ahead. 

All right guys. So you're all angry about Daryl here being arrogant, and pushy, and pompous...right?

That's right, heretic. And especially that he calls himself a throne. 

But he is a throne. Sorry, but he's right about that. 

What? Master...is this true? 

Yep. Every word. 

Ha! Told you! Who's da man? DARYLL's the man; I mean, the THRONE! Woot! Woot! 

Ah, Daryll. I was just getting to you. You DO know that this feast, Feb. 22, the Chair of St. Peter, isn't actually about you, right?  

I...whaat??

Ha ha! Nice job, heretic!

That's right, Daryl. It's really about Jesus. Jesus started it all. He put me on that throne when he told me, "You are Rock, and upon this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of Hell will not overcome it." And ever since then, my successors have sat on that throne, and Hell hasn't overcome the Church. Not for lack of trying. And that's what this feast is really about. 

Ha ha! You see, Daryll! You're just a piece of furniture after all, you pompous, motheaten...

Hang on there, Larry. You got to show Daryll a little respect. Don't do what I did. 

Oh yeah? And what did you do, heretic? 

Glad you asked. Well, I had to deal with some pretty pompous popes back in my day. Worse than pompous, actually. Corrupt. 

Sigh... that's right. 

And that's what started me off on the wrong road. I was so angry at the corruption and the lack of focus on Jesus that I went too far. I didn't stop with condemning the corruption; I condemned the papacy itself...and then the Mass...and that lead me more and more into error. I grew more anti-semitic, for example; a horrible sin. And I incited violence and wars. In the end, my actions led to a permanent split in the Church, a century or more of wars all over Europe, religious persecutions on both sides, and suffering and violence...all because I didn't respect the Chair of St. Peter. 

So what are you doing up here, heretic? Why aren't you down in the other place? 

Because he loved Jesus, of course! As did his followers...and all of the separated brethren! So stop calling him heretic! 

Well...let's be honest, Pete. I was a heretic. 

Well...that's all in the past. And your followers are not. We're all part of the Body of Christ. And we need to work together; now more than ever. 

Amen to that, brother. So all of you need to get along. Daryll, stop being such a jerk. And the rest of you...no matter how big of a jerk he is, respect his office. Okay?

Sigh....okay. 

...can I still make poems about myself? 

Not unless you want to get smitten. 

Happy Chair of St. Peter Day! 

(Editor's note: Sorry this was so late. I was sick. That's why).