Crackpot Minister

I generally avoid talking about religion or politics (mainly because they SHOULD not be mixed), but a recent conversation with someone, and current issues in the news have gotten me to the point where I cannot keep my mouth closed anymore!!! Baptist minister Robert Jeffress is now in the same category as Harold Camping, a clown and a crackpot preacher. I am not attacking the Baptist faith by any means, my roots go back to the Baptist church and I honor my heritage daily. I know I should not judge, because Jesus said,” Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.” However, I have been to Ringling Brothers and know a clown when I see it, and I have been to Pier One and can spot a cracked pot. This man no more knows the mind and will of God than Big Bird. I’ll bet he can tell you what the going rate on “salvation” is though.

I do not know how he voted or who he endorsed in 08, but I bet he didn’t vote for Obama because he is a democrat. He does not feel that Mitt Romney is a suitable candidate because he is a Mormon (a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints). I am not sure what other categories he falls into, but religiously speaking, I believe, the word is bigot. He branded “Mormonism” as a “cult.” Maybe it is by a roundabout definition. However by that definition, what is he??? He also said Mitt Romney is a "good" and "moral" person, but "that does not make him a Christian," SO??? Is Mitt running to be a minister? Is he looking to instill Mormonism into the government of the United States??? He sure didn’t do so in Massachusetts. Don’t mistake this tirade as an endorsement of Mitt Romney, I have no idea yet who I will vote for in the next election. However, let me be clear on this. If I thought that Romney was going to follow an LDS agenda, I would not vote for him. “Then saith he unto them, Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things that are God's.” The office of the President of the United States of America is not the place for preaching, proselyting, or instilling morals on others. It should not prohibit that from happening either within the limits of the constitution. The office should be run constitutionally only. Do your proselyting in church, and with your families.

This man, “Dr.” Jeffress is an idiot, and anything that he is, or claims to be, and not endorse, is almost a perfect barometer as for who maybe I should give consideration. I detest everything about the man, from his “I’m born again and you’re not” look of condescension, to his phony “I care about you” smile. He is a bottom feeder in religion, and I would suggest any of his congregation or followers to discontinue association with him. He uses Jesus as his own personal cloak, badge, and shield as if he himself were the one who hung on the cross. He uses the Bible as a loophole to say what he himself believes, and uses his association with his church as a megaphone to say which candidate is right.

I would not ask him, or trust his answers as to what he thinks a “Mormon” believes. I believe he would use half truths, lies, and innuendo to say things that support his words. I think he has about the same accuracy in what a Mormon believes as the Broadway play The Book of Mormon does. He might look at what Romney does support and turn a blind eye to what he believes religiously. He might find that Romney’s background values support the values that he purports to follow, “Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.” I think Jeffress should stay out of politics, and find a job more suited to his talents. I am SURE there is a car lot out there that needs a salesman. He gives the word “Christian” a bad taste, and if he is what a Christian is, count me out. However, who is he to define the word Christian? I am not by any means hanging this tirade on all Baptist preachers. I believe that the vast majorities are servants of God, but this one, his type sickens me. He can twist scripture to his own agenda, like Pat Robertson or the heretic Fred Phelps. I wonder where this talent comes from, I doubt it is supernal. Just because he is a Baptist preacher does not qualify him to be the mouthpiece of Jesus on Earth. I will leave the mind and will of Jesus Christ to Jesus himself.

If he does not believe I am a Christian, I can live with that, I DON’T WANT TO BE associated in the same category as the likes of him. I know what I believe, I know what I am, and I know who holds the keys of MY salvation. It is most definitely NOT this Bozo. He does not even have a map to my salvation, which is a personal relationship that I have with my Savior. It is not my social associations with a group; it is who I gave myself to. Who the HELL is Jeffress to be able to be my judge??? I advise him to be careful, because he is making his own measuring stick by which he will be measured. As to his association with his church and his office, that I feel he has abused, I believe this says it all. “Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.”

To clarify, I do not put myself above Jeffress or any of his congregation, or any of you. I know that I am a sinner, and I know that I have said and done things that are not right in the sight of God. I may be hell bound too, but I am NOT going to be bullied anymore. I am not going to be a voiceless victim of the opinions of others, and roll over and take it. I have turned the other cheek too many times. I will not proselyte the unwilling, or shove my beliefs down their throat. I will follow my conscience, and allow you to do the same without my two cents, unless asked for my opinion or beliefs. Don’t suppose to hang a special careful moniker on me, or tell me what I am, or tell me YOU know where I am going, or who I really worship. YOU DON’T KNOW and it is NOT your place to know, or to presume to assign MY position in the eternities. You did not hang on that cross, and you simply do not hold that authority. If I do or do not make it to see the throne of God, it will be because I was judged by the only One who has that authority and that is good with me. I will trust that, and I will trust in Him.

Hypocrite

hyp•o•crite (noun)
1 : a person who puts on a false appearance of virtue or religion.
2 : a person who acts in contradiction to his or her stated beliefs or feelings.

Pat Robertson has proven to me what I have often suspected that he is, a hypocrite. He made a statement that it is okay to divorce a spouse because of Alzheimer’s disease. Tuesday this week he said; “I know it sounds cruel, but if he’s going to do something, he should divorce her and start all over again, but to make sure she has custodial care and somebody looking after her.” He stated further, "I certainly wouldn't put a guilt trip on you ... I can't fault him for wanting some kind of companionship, and if he sense in a sense, she's gone, he's right It's like a walking death. Get some ethicist besides me to give you the answer. I recognize the dilemma and the last thing I'd do is condemn you for taking that kind of action."

First of all Mr. Robertson, she is NOT gone until she is dead. Marriage vows are not until you are in a like death state, they go on till the death of one of the marriage partners. They are “from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” Have you not been to a wedding and listened to this?

Okay all of that aside, you have claimed to be a minister for years and years, and for some reason or another, people listen to you. You have proclaimed and in essence condoned something that is not what you have preached, and therefore you are a false prophet. You need to retire or maybe go into seclusion before you do more damage than you are worth. You have elevated yourself UP to crackpot evangelism much like your contemporary Harold Camping.

In my humble opinion, one should be faithful to ones vows and covenants. In my opinion, marriage is one of the most holy of these, and should not be cast aside, because she seems like she is “gone” and is a hardship. What would Jesus do? Would he abandon the cause because it was too much for him? No, he suffered pain that caused him, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit, and would that He might not drink the bitter cup. Nevertheless, glory be to the Father, He partook of the cup and finished his preparations to the children of men, even you Pat. He did not back down when it became too hard, and he endured his suffering to the end. Maybe we should take his example.

Now to the “gone” statement; if the lack of evidence of intellect is your indicator that they are gone, then when does life end? You have been telling people that life begins at conception, and have said how evil it is to end it. Well, now by your definition, it is only when the person can be a contributor to a relationship. What about those fetuses? They are then gone by that definition. Retarded children, autistic children, they fall under this loophole that you have now provided. Shall we abort or abandon them too??? What about crackpot preachers?

I'm Baaaaack

It has been awhile since I posted something on my blog, and I thought I would get back in the practice. Facebook and its immediate constant updates took the place of blogs for a time. Patti and I are now, or at least in 6 hours will be on summer break. It has been a good school year, and we have been blessed.

Red and Buck are still as stubborn as ever, and have a tendency to get into the occasional scrap (more Buck than Red). We have some wild cats living out back that I have been feeding occasionally to keep the rodent population down. When I was going out back to do something Buck went gallantly charging into the valley of death, contrary to my orders to stay put. I heard when he caught the cat... BARK BARK BARK YELP!...bark bark. He was more inclined to listen when I said go get in the yard.

Yesterday I was using the weedeater, and once again Buck decided it was time to do battle. I didn't even know he was nearby, as I was still in the starting mode and switching between half and full choke. He lit into the head of the weedeater, for about half a second. It put a few welts on his nose, and one small cut. I felt so bad for him, but being a teacher I felt it was a good education. He still barks at it, but at a slight distance. Red has become the gentle dog, and only barks at the occasional grackle, or anyone who passes by outside. Buck being the mindless tailchaser that he is, barks at his reflection in the sliding glass door.

Constant Swearing = Lack of Intellect

This afternoon Patti and I went to McDonalds for a soft drink after work. Patti graciously went in to get them. She said there were some young people (obviously from out of town) who were swearing loud enough to be heard by all. Using the filthiest of words, the 7 words that George Carlin said were the heavy seven. Those are the ones that'll infect your soul, curve your spine and keep the America from winning the war. I won't go into the list of what those words are I am sure you probably have a good enough imagination.

She got into the car almost in tears, commenting on how this is a family restaurant and that they were saying things for all to hear. One mother moved her children to one of the outside tables to get away from it. Patti asked me why some people feel the need to say such things. I of course trying to be Mr. Answer Man said, the answer was simple A lack of ability to express themselves due to a lack of intellect. They don't have the ability of self expression, but they do know seven words that will get peoples attention "look at me," "Listen to me, I know seven words!!!"

If you think that it use of this sort of language is cultural, and that it is how people of your culture are supposed to speak, maybe you should step back and take a look at the bigger picture. I doubt your ancestors would approve, and would probably be discouraged and ashamed. If not, they should be.

Youth whose speech is dominated by profanities only broadcast their dismal knowledge of the English language. Language is beautiful, and the lack of consideration it receives is almost criminal. This is what I fear for the younger generation. I fear that their utter disregard - and in some cases contempt - for the importance of language and the skill of communication will prove devastating. It is not only the mindless cursing that threatens to cripple our generation, but it is also the vocabularies composed of “likes,” “cools,” “uhs” and other such drivel.

Teenagers do not realize it, but their inability to express themselves with meaningful words will result in no one wanting to listen to them. Their opinions will certainly not hold much sway for want of eloquence, and in many cases, coherence.

Crass, juvenile speech may not hinder you now, but if it is all you practice, it will be a rude awakening when you finally realize that you cannot attain the heights you had set for yourself. Do you want to influence and shape the worlds of business, politics, or culture?

Then do not make the mistake of valuing your speech so cheaply.

Legal Issues

"I was married by a judge, I should have asked for a jury." (Marx)

Letter to Warner Brothers: A Night in Casablanca

Groucho Marx

Abstract: While preparing to film a movie entitled A Night in Casablanca, the Marx brothers received a letter from Warner Bros. threatening legal action if they did not change the film’s title. Warner Bros. deemed the film’s title too similar to their own Casablanca, released almost five years earlier in 1942, with Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. In response Groucho Marx dispatched the following letter to the studio’s legal department:

---

Dear Warner Brothers,

Apparently there is more than one way of conquering a city and holding it as your own. For example, up to the time that we contemplated making this picture, I had no idea that the city of Casablanca belonged exclusively to Warner Brothers. However, it was only a few days after our announcement appeared that we received your long, ominous legal document warning us not to use the name Casablanca.

It seems that in 1471, Ferdinand Balboa Warner, your great-great-grandfather, while looking for a shortcut to the city of Burbank, had stumbled on the shores of Africa and, raising his alpenstock (which he later turned in for a hundred shares of common), named it Casablanca.

I just don’t understand your attitude. Even if you plan on releasing your picture, I am sure that the average movie fan could learn in time to distinguish between Ingrid Bergman and Harpo. I don’t know whether I could, but I certainly would like to try.

You claim that you own Casablanca and that no one else can use that name without permission. What about “Warner Brothers”? Do you own that too? You probably have the right to use the name Warner, but what about the name Brothers? Professionally, we were brothers long before you were. We were touring the sticks as the Marx Brothers when Vitaphone was still a gleam in the inventor’s eye, and even before there had been other brothers—the Smith Brothers; the Brothers Karamazov; Dan Brothers, an outfielder with Detroit; and “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” (This was originally “Brothers, Can You Spare a Dime?” but this was spreading a dime pretty thin, so they threw out one brother, gave all the money to the other one, and whittled it down to “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?”)

Now Jack, how about you? Do you maintain that yours is an original name? Well it’s not. It was used long before you were born. Offhand, I can think of two Jacks—Jack of “Jack and the Beanstalk,” and Jack the Ripper, who cut quite a figure in his day.

As for you, Harry, you probably sign your checks sure in the belief that you are the first Harry of all time and that all other Harrys are impostors. I can think of two Harrys that preceded you. There was Lighthouse Harry of Revolutionary fame and a Harry Appelbaum who lived on the corner of 93rd Street and Lexington Avenue. Unfortunately, Appelbaum wasn’t too well-known. The last I heard of him, he was selling neckties at Weber and Heilbroner.

Now about the Burbank studio. I believe this is what you brothers call your place. Old man Burbank is gone. Perhaps you remember him. He was a great man in a garden. His wife often said Luther had ten green thumbs. What a witty woman she must have been! Burbank was the wizard who crossed all those fruits and vegetables until he had the poor plants in such confused and jittery condition that they could never decide whether to enter the dining room on the meat platter or the dessert dish.

This is pure conjecture, of course, but who knows—perhaps Burbank’s survivors aren’t too happy with the fact that a plant that grinds out pictures on a quota settled in their town, appropriated Burbank’s name and uses it as a front for their films. It is even possible that the Burbank family is prouder of the potato produced by the old man than they are of the fact that your studio emerged “Casablanca” or even “Gold Diggers of 1931.”

This all seems to add up to a pretty bitter tirade, but I assure you it’s not meant to. I love Warners. Some of my best friends are Warner Brothers. It is even possible that I am doing you an injustice and that you, yourselves, know nothing about this dog-in-the-Wanger attitude. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to discover that the heads of your legal department are unaware of this absurd dispute, for I am acquainted with many of them and they are fine fellows with curly black hair, double-breasted suits and a love of their fellow man that out-Saroyans Saroyan.

I have a hunch that his attempt to prevent us from using the title is the brainchild of some ferret-faced shyster, serving a brief apprenticeship in your legal department. I know the type well—hot out of law school, hungry for success, and too ambitious to follow the natural laws of promotion. This bar sinister probably needled your attorneys, most of whom are fine fellows with curly black hair, double-breasted suits, etc., into attempting to enjoin us. Well, he won’t get away with it! We’ll fight him to the highest court! No pasty-faced legal adventurer is going to cause bad blood between the Warners and the Marxes. We are all brothers under the skin, and we’ll remain friends till the last reel of “A Night in Casablanca” goes tumbling over the spool.

Sincerely,

Groucho Marx

Unamused, Warner Bros. requested that the Marx Brothers at least outline the premise of their film. Groucho responded with an utterly ridiculous storyline, and, sure enough, received another stern letter requesting clarification. He obliged and went on to describe a plot even more preposterous than the first, claiming that he, Groucho, would be playing “Bordello, the sweetheart of Humphrey Bogart.” No doubt exasperated, Warner Bros. did not respond. A Night in Casablanca was released in 1946.

Granddad and God

The other day I went to Silver City with Patti and she went into Walgreens while I waited. I was looking at the traffic going by, and saw a familiar red and white blazer with a step side pass. It was granddads old blazer... I don’t think I have seen it since the late mid to late 90s, but it took me back. I got to thinking about him, and the times we had together. Here is an entry from my journal that I wrote September 14^th, 1996.

It has been a Number of months since Granddad died, and it seems like a think about him a little every day. I don’t know, I loved grandma every bit as much, but I find myself thinking of granddad more. I think it was because granddad and I did more things together, especially in those first few months after grandma died. From the time I was a small child I remember doing things with granddad, and enjoying being with him. We would ride together, go hunting, fishing, sightseeing, he and grandma would take me camping quite a bit.

I remember when I was 5 years old, I had just started school (I was nearly 6) in August of 1969. One day mom drove up after school picked me up and asked if I wanted to go camping with grandma and granddad. I had never been camping before that, and it sounded like fun. Yes, I went. We drove to a place near the Grant and Catron county line, and turned off into the river bed (big or little dry), and followed it for a mile or two till we came to the spot where big dry and little dry come together, and run into the Frisco river (San Francisco River).

I don’t know how long I was there, but I had the time of my life, literally. 25 years ago (41 now), and it is still a clear picture in my mind. Fishing (as well as an impatient 5 year old could), swimming (my first time in deep (3’) water), and sleeping and eating outside. The scene is a beautiful one in my mind. It was right after the rainy season, and everything was green and beautiful. Norm, Terry and I slept on Army cots around the campfire, while grandma and granddad slept in the bed of their Ford pickup.

One night granddad went to bed early, and I went to lie down next to him in the back of the pickup. He told me there was nothing better than lying out under the stars, and looking at the heavens. He then said something like “I’m not a religious man, but I believe in God, and out here is where I feel the closest to him.” He pointed to the stars and said, "after looking at that, you couldn’t tell me there is no God."

I’m sure that I had heard about God, as a matter of fact, I attended Sunday school regularly at Ft. Sam prior to that. However, never in my life to that point, had I ever really considered God, and never did it have such an impact on me as it did the night my granddad bore his testimony of the existence of God. He wasn’t trained in religion, although I know he went to church with Grandma Olivia. He wasn’t a churchgoer until later on in life, but there was never any question of his belief or faith in God.

As I lay in the back of that ol’ Ford, I stared at the stars and considered God for the first time. That night I don’t think there was a moon because the stars were highly visible, and they filled the sky. I stared at the stars till I fell fast asleep, and woke up about dawn on my cot. Thank you granddad for helping me gain a foundation, and belief that an “unseen God” is not a myth, and if we really look, we can see him.

Happy Valentines Day Patti

Patti I love you, and I am proud of you every day. I thank God and all my lucky stars that I was given such a wonderful lady to walk with me on my journey, and letting me walk with you on your's.

I love you and am in love with you "You're my bread when I'm hungry. You're my shelter from troubled winds. You're my anchor in life's ocean, but most of all, you're my best friend."

Forever Your's.
Treb

Till the rivers all run dry,

till the sun falls from the sky,

Till life on earth is through,

I'll be needing you.

I know sometimes you may wonder

from little things I say and do,

But there's no need for you to wonder

if I need you, cause I'll need you...

Till the rivers all run dry,
till the sun falls from the sky,
Till life on earth is through,
I'll be needing you.

Too many times I don't tell you,

too many things get in the way,

and even though sometimes I hurt you,

still you show me in every way...

Till the rivers all run dry,
till the sun falls from the sky,
Till life on earth is through,
I'll be needing you.

Don Williams