Archive for January, 2012

"Wow! We never had music lak this back on the farm, huh honey???"

Melissa at Melissa Not Dusting” (the little sister I never had) who sure takes pretty pictures of bluebirds and stuff.

With Buffalo Springfield, who begat Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.

And for the record, “Bluebird” is one of my all time rock faves from wayyyy back in the sixties when this music was fresh and original and cutting edge and influential for inventive rock bands coming of age even today . . .

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I meant to say “Cain,” of course, and promptly corrected it.

I apologize to Sen. John McCain for the slander of getting him confused with Herman Cain.

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Headline of the day so far:

“Former rival Cain endorses Gingrich”

Headline any day now:

“Former rivals Cain, Gingrich announce business venture:
Unveil plans for “Moonies Pizza Inc.”

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You have scattered your awareness in all directions,
and your vanities are not worth a bit of cabbage.

The root of every thorn draws
the water of your attention toward itself.

How will the water of your attention reach the fruit?

Cut through the evil roots, cut them away.

Direct the Bounty of God to spirit and insight,
not to the knotted and broken world outside.

–—- Rumi

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If I had known I’d live this long I’d have taken better care of myself.”

— George Burns

Yes, it was a dark and stormy night on this day 162 years ago when Dr. Ketchum brought me into this world and said to my Momma, “It’s a boy, Goldie. And he’s got Deanie’s jitterbug feet. He’s gonna be a jitterbuggin’ jesse, just like his daddy.”

For my birthday I’m wishing for world peace, more of this excellent health I’m in that defies all odds considering how much I abused my body for 162 years and, finally–one night with Emmylou Harris .

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Donald Miller wrote the screenplay himself for the movie version of his much-acclaimed book Blue Like Jazz---which he wanted to name "Blue Like Polka": Fortunately, his publisher insisted on a jazzier title

If the much anticipated movie “Blue Like Jazz” is one half as hilarious, inspiring, deeply spiritual, theologically incisive and entertaining as the best-selling autobiography of the same name by Houston native Donald Miller . . . .

Well, we can only hope it will live up to the good buzz surrounding its pre-release this spring.

Dandy Donald is one offbeat, quirky, unconventional, quite subsersive and gently anti-establishment 30-something Christian man who is about the most engaging and non-threatening radical Christian imaginable, the kind of guy you’d definitely love to have a beer with at a neighborhood pub or a Nehi Orange soda out of a bottle at a family picnic. He’s a beer or Orange soda kinda guy, whatever your pleasure.

Miller landed in his spiritual journey in the most un-Christian city of Portland and won the hearts and minds and souls of some of the most anti-Christian students on one of the most librul and eccentric colleges around.

Other than that he’s just a regular guy, one who happens to be a rather exceptional writer and speaker struggling with the sacred and the profane in the hybrid mix that is this sacred and profane and broken world in his never-ending search to find union with God and humanity–a Christian mystic of a regular guy who would love for you to love him and love God as much as he does, but if you don’t he’ll probably go take a nap anyway and forget about you anyway.

Come to think of it, that’s probably why I like him so much, but this is about Donald Miller, whose book you ought to read before the movie comes out if you’ve not read it.

Here’s the trailer to the movie and an interview with Miller his own self, who–if he lives long enough–may lose his baby fat and have whiskers some day.

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