Social media, September 2014.

MONDAY, 1 SEPTEMBER.

Pumpkin spice is only the beginning.

Like she said.

How to get away with playing Earth, Wind & Fire in church. (Appropriate for the date.)

TUESDAY, 2 SEPTEMBER.

She [who’s 2 years old] “I’m too old for princesses.”
Me. “Oh, if only.”

On Sesame Street, John Oliver does the news with Cookie Monster and Al Roker. And editorializes about “literally.”

WEDNESDAY, 3 SEPTEMBER.

When a prophet sounds just as vague as a horoscope, it means it’s not the Holy Spirit; it’s their best guess.

FRIDAY, 5 SEPTEMBER.

It’s that time of year again.

Big problems with both these statements.

[1] Those people who are afraid to offend Muslims are the same politically-correct folks who are afraid to offend any minority. (But not the majority nor the powerful, which is why they have no trouble critiquing white males, carnivores, capitalists, Christians, the rich, etc.) It’s not fear; it’s liberal guilt. Conservatives, on the other hand, have no trouble whatsoever in bashing Muslims, and spreading the most heinous lies and half-truths about ’em.

[2] As for Christians, see #1. But I know from experience there are plenty of Christians who turn downright vicious when you offend them. Simply express an opinion contrary to theirs on any topic they consider absolute, and they’ll make it their life’s mission to undermine you at best, excommunicate you at worst. They’d even kill you if legally possible. (To be fair, they’re more Christianist than Christian.)

So a church handed out pre-packaged communion.

Y’know, I get why these things exist: Chaplains sometimes need it on the go. And in a big huge church, it’s gotta be a royal pain to fill a thousand tiny cups.

But too often, the pre-packaged stuff churches serve at communion reminds me of buying Lunchables for your schoolkids: “This’ll hold you; I won’t spare the time or expense to do better.”

Glad Jesus doesn’t think like that.

SATURDAY, 6 SEPTEMBER.

If MacDonald’s actually had such a Happy Meal, I know far too many people who wouldn’t rest till they got it.

Um… someone doesn’t understand the concept here.

SUNDAY, 7 SEPTEMBER.

Okay, now pumpkin spice has gone too far:

If you’ve not seen it already, someone turns loose a dog in a spider costume, and hilariously scares the willies out of people. Thing is, you can get away with this in Poland, but not the States. Too many of us are armed.

MONDAY, 8 SEPTEMBER.

The “egg cream,” contrary to popular belief, has no eggs in it. It’s just chocolate milk and carbonated water. Didn’t have the carbonated water, so I went with ginger ale. Tastes like drinking a Tootsie Roll.

Digging up roots. No, that’s not a genealogical metaphor: Stupid trees have made the front patio bricks all wobbly.

TUESDAY, 9 SEPTEMBER.

Steve Harvey plays Family Feud on the Tonight Show. Takes him a while to realize the segment is a lost cause.

THURSDAY, 11 SEPTEMBER.

“Hey, everybody! On [date] let’s everyone on the internet do [act] for [cause]! Who’s with me?”

Those last three words are the real motivation. It’s not so much about pushing the cause. The act is usually empty. It’s about trying to see how many internet lemmings will leap off the cliff with you.

Thank you to all the people who reminded me to never forget.

…I forget why.

Never forget the sacrifices people have made on your behalf, to protect you, serve you, defend your freedoms, strengthen your faith.

But the people who try to kill, steal from, and destroy you? Not worth your remembrance. Be vigilant, but set your mind on better things.

FRIDAY, 12 SEPTEMBER.

Perhaps.

My college years.

SATURDAY, 13 SEPTEMBER.

Too many Christian T-shirts are stupid. This one I like.

SUNDAY, 14 SEPTEMBER.

Enjoy life now. Otherwise it’ll become fuel for a bitter old age. Some of you already know what I’m talking about.

MONDAY, 16 SEPTEMBER.

Yeah, like people actually love members of the opposition party. More often they embrace a view which turns the opposition into heretics, then “tough-love” the opposition by denouncing them “for their own good.”

TUESDAY, 17 SEPTEMBER.

Jesus is the answer… depending on the question.

In math class, he could be the answer to the word problem, “If Jesus was in a car leaving Sacramento at 60 miles an hour, and Satan was in a car leaving Stockton at 90 miles an hour (’cause of course he’d violate the speed limit; duh), which of the two would get to Roseville first?” Even allowing for the fact Jesus would stop to pick up hitchhikers.

THURSDAY, 19 SEPTEMBER.

Scotland yesterday.

SATURDAY, 21 SEPTEMBER.

Why cats go missing.

MONDAY, 23 SEPTEMBER.

Only 92 days till Christmas. And for conservatives, only 65 days till the War on Christmas.

TUESDAY, 24 SEPTEMBER.

This, and stay away from talk radio and “news” websites which are 25 percent news, 75 percent commentary. (Like Huffington Post or WorldNetDaily.) They make you think you’re more informed, but in reality you haven't absorbed more data; just more of the commentators’ fear and loathing.

MONDAY, 29 SEPTEMBER.

Love your neighbor. Not your dream neighbor.

Not dating. Not looking.

Every time I visit Grandma, she asks me whether I have a girlfriend. This’d be one thing if I visited her once a year, but lately it’s been every week—and she’s suffering from dementia, so it doesn’t matter how many times I tell her, “No I don’t.” She’ll forget and ask again.

“Why not?” she’ll follow up with. “Don’t you like girls?”

“No,” I answered last time, “I like women. Girls? Eww. What do you take me for?”

“Oh,” she’ll say dismissively, “you know what I mean.”

Yeah, I know what she means; she’s from that generation where any woman, regardless of age, is a “girl.” But she’s also from that generation where single men in their forties are weird. So she wants to make sure I’m attached, and on the way to producing her some great-grandchildren.

And one of these days, just for fun, I might invent a wife, kids, and grandkids. Make her an unexpected great-great-grandmother. But no, I don’t make up stories for Grandma. ’Cause dementia is a weird thing: You never know which stories might stick in her head. Next thing you know, she’ll be asking me every week when I’m gonna bring my grandchildren over. Rather than spinning a different yarn every visit, best I stick to the truth.

But the truth is I’m single, by choice. Not that I rule out ever being in a relationship, or ever marrying. It’s just I’m not looking.

Ten influential books.

The theme is 10 books which have had the greatest impact on me. It’s been bouncing round the internet, and Wednesday I got nominated to share my own list, and of course every book has a backstory. Giving the list without the context made no sense to me, so I got to writing.

Not nominating anyone else to share their 10, because I’d want to know the story behind each selection, and I don’t expect them to write 500-word essays on each of them like I did.

Not counting bible either, ‘cause that one’s way too easy. Any Christian who doesn’t have bible influencing them is asking for it. But any Christian who includes it is trying to escape 10 percent of their thinking.

So here’s the list.

Mr. Squish and the Virgin Mary.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t rule out the possibility the Virgin Mary can, God permitting, appear to people. Moses and Elijah appeared to Jesus, after all. The problem is when people want Mary, or Jesus, or angels, or space aliens, to appear to them so bad, they’re willing to desperately grab onto anything. That’s kinda what happened in November 1990, both in Colfax, California, and in the above Mr. Squish strip.

This wasn’t new news, but it had just gone viral. (No, the term hadn’t been invented yet in 1990.) It hit the Sacramento Bee and the TV news, and people were starting to make pilgrimages to go see it. In fact, if you still wanna see it, the “sighting” is visible every morning between 9:30 and 10:30 a.m.

Trees.

I’m very white. Not culturally; I’m not into whiskey, mayonnaise, ironic tattoos, grumbling about people who don’t speak English, and blindly defending all police behavior (except when they shoot white gun nuts). I’m white in that I have very little pigment in my skin. Enough to produce freckles; not enough to keep me from sunburning easily. So if I go outdoors, I either have to slather myself in sunblock, or stay in the shade. And since I find sunblock uncomfortable, shade it is.

So, despite how allergic I am to them, I’m very fond of trees. Big, shady trees. The more the better.

Mr. Squish and sucky music.

When I was a kid my musical choices were all over the place. I listened, as most kids do, to what my parents listened to. Unfortunately, in the 1970s, that was disco. And I wasn’t all that into disco. Apparently I had some taste. Not much though. Kids have no taste, as you can tell by their musical choices, and the fact the Disney Channel gets the ratings it does. They’re learning taste. Exposure to crap helps.

When I started listening to the radio, it was San Francisco’s KFRC, which was still on the AM dial (which was how I could pick it up in San Jose), and still doing the Boss Radio format: Top 30 songs, wacky disc jockeys like Dr. Donald D. Rose, and tons of commercials. Tons. Commercials after every song.