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Friday, August 30, 2002
This is a short essay that Jusin wrote:
All Things Are Perfect
Sometimes over the summer, for reasons I don’t even remember, I thought to myself, “Well, nobody’s perfect.” I’ve heard this many times before, as I’m sure we all have, but for some reason it seems different this time, ‘off’ is the best way I can describe it. I started thinking about the statement itself, and pretty soon I realized the problem; it was full of shit. I realized that, fundamentally we are all perfect.
Generally, people view perfection within the perspective of a certain group. For this discussion, let's use ‘people’ as the group. Who then is the perfect person? If one were to view this question from the traditional Christian perspective, as I'm sure most of you will, the answer is obvious: Christ. Strictly speaking this is not accurate. The problem is that ‘people’ is an abstract concept. It does not actually exist. Nowhere in this universe can you find a singular entity that is ‘person’. Sure, we are all people, but we are also mammals, animals, living organism, and so on. Some of us are male, some female, some of us like rock music, some country, some both, and some neither. But all of these categories, and any other as well, are just conjuration designed to simplify the world so we can understand it, none of them are real. Only distinct individuals are real. You are real. I am real. 'People' is an idea.
To illustrate this concept, consider the category ‘Justin Meneely's Body’ (not to be confused with the individual ‘Justin Meneely’). ‘Justin Meneely’s Body’ is a group, composed, obviously, of individual body parts, just as the group 'people' is composed of individual people. So, then, which body part is best, which is perfect? My left foot? My pancreas? It’s a ridiculous question, isn’t it? How can you rank things which are so different? The only way to chose the ‘best’ would be to manufacture a value system by which to rate each body part. Imagine that such a system existed and, based upon it, the ‘perfect’ part of ‘Justin Meneely’s Body’ is the fingernail on my left ring finger. Should all of my other body parts then aspire to be as much like that fingernail? Obviously not, because, while my left ring finger’s fingernail may truly be perfect based on a certain value system, that and all other value systems, are purely figments of our imagination.
Now, back to people. Yes, Jesus is perfect, but no more so than you or I. Christian doctrine teaches that we can never be perfect, because we all fall short of the Christ. Is my foot any less perfect because it cannot, no matter how hard it tries, be like the fingernail on my left ring finger? It’s true that you or I or anyone else would be a horrible Jesus, but at the same time, imagine what a bad me Jesus would make. Is he 6'1"? Does he like to listen to Rage Against the Machine? Is he even alive? NO! Jesus was perfect, but only as Jesus. We are all perfectly who our natures dictate we should be.
This is not to say that we can’t or shouldn’t aspire to ‘better’ ourselves. We are all free to pursue whatever value system we deem appropriate. In fact, goals and values are probably necessary to help give life dimensions. But realize that all such goals and value systems are products of our own imagination, they do not truly exist. The truth is that everything simply is. I am as I am, you are as you are, and one way or another, we will all be who we will be.
This opens some interesting possibilities on the subjects of fate, free will, and Calvinism, but those will have to wait til a later date.
| Mr. McBastard | 6:02 PM | | |
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Thursday, August 29, 2002
I think it's cool when smart people don't show it. And I guess it's alright when smart people pretend to be stupid. But one thing I really can't stand is when stupid people pretend to be smart.
The population of this last group seems to be fairly high at Truman State University.
| Mr. McBastard | 3:49 PM | | |
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Tuesday, August 27, 2002
I'm amazed at how many people I worked with for seven plus months don't recognize me because I got my haircut since last semester . . . and was out of sight -- and out of mind -- for the entire summer. Oh well.
At least I'm still in tight with the Wal*Mart people. Some of my friends find this disturbing. They equate Wal*Mart to some kind of cult that has brain-washed me, so that no matter what happens, I always go back. But Wal*Mart is far from a cult. It's more like a big family . . . that worships its founder Mr. Sam -- a deity-like father figure. OK, so maybe it is a cult. But at least we're not drinking funky Kool-Aid and trying to get aboard spaceships disguised as comets passing close to the earth. We just wear matching uniform vests.
| Mr. McBastard | 9:51 AM | | |
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Sunday, August 25, 2002
I've been back at college for five hours and I love being back already. I didn't realize how much I missed being here. I've seen a lot of familiar faces, a few friends, and a lot of newness. The whole time I've been here I've been smiling -- for those of you that know me well know that me smiling for several hours straight is an oddity.
I feel somewhat strange saying this, but this feels more like home that my house with my family "back home" in Wheeling. For my entire life home has been where ever my parents have been; it's hard to recognize the feeling of home away from them.
| Mr. McBastard | 3:14 PM | | |
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Sunday, August 18, 2002
Fanatic Christians piss me off. Especially those that spread narrow-minded Christain propaganda that does little (if anything) to help spread the ideals of Jesus Christ. I wrote this e-mail in response to this and other articles about the "evils" of the band P.O.D. and rock and roll in general:Dear Terry Watkins,
Could you please explain to me why you insist upon searching for evil in every facet of Christian music? It seems to me that you are searching so hard for the devil in rock and roll music, that you seemed to have missed God in it. God is everywhere, not just in the hymns and Bibles. He is in the words we speak, the noise we make, and the notes we sing. God is more powerful than the devil, and if the devil had some power in the world of rock and roll, it would stand to reason that the Lord has 10 times, 100 times, 1,000 times the power the devil does.
I think maybe the problem that you have with rock and roll is just that: a problem YOU have with rock and roll. I don't believe God hates rock and roll at all, everything can be used to glorify Him. I think the only power that the devil has in rock and roll is the power you give him. The next time you listen to a song by P.O.D., or one of the many other bands that you have denounced, try finding the aspect of the song that suits the Lord and not the devil.
One of my favorite lyrics that P.O.D. sings comes from "Full Color" off their Brown album:
"Lord here I am, but I am no one. Believe in Your name, believe in Your son. If You meet me here, I will wait on You. Sacrifice & serve, do what you want me to. I'll take it day by day, & sit at your feet. You are strong when I am weak. I'll seek, to keep from going under. Until I hold you again, I'll always wonder."
This is so beautiful. It is the easing-of-mind that only God can grant a confused soul. It is hard for me to believe that these words came from someone who does not truly believe in Jesus Christ as their saviour.
You see, God is in this music. He is in rock and roll. And yes, the devil might sneak an occasional band into the mix, or maybe even a line in a song or two. But does that mean that Christian rock is bad? No. Anything that gives glory to God cannot be bad.
--Zach Garwood
[Z-Gar]
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| Mr. McBastard | 11:04 AM | | |
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Wednesday, August 14, 2002
I added 5 poems to and fixed a broken link in the [poetry] section.
Here's a list of the new poems:
| Mr. McBastard | 2:12 AM | | |
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Friday, August 09, 2002
The night was moonlessly dark, and a light breeze swept over the hill on which I lay. Justin complained that he was cold. Kim already had a jacket and I had a cozy blanket and Kim's head on my chest. Out of courtesy, Kim covered Justin's but with her legs.
While gazing up at the cloudless sky, we talked of friends, spankings, and "dusty bitches". I was laying on my back, serenely looking at the various bright stars. Then something caught my eye. At first I thought it was a group of stars, but it seemed to be moving.
I pointed it out to Justin and Kim. "It" was three star-like points of light moving in the same direction across the sky, at the same speed in a triangle formation. What was this UFO? It wasn't three planes, because planes have a blue and red light on either side of a white strobe light. These lights weren't blinking. I had confused them for somewhat bright stars only seconds earlier. Also, there was no accompanying sound.
Justin noticed that stars seemed to disappear when the triangle "flew" in front of them, so it appeared to be not just three objects, but one big one. The three of us watched it glide across the sky until it got lost in the bright glow of the city on the horizon.
| Mr. McBastard | 5:48 PM | | |
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Wednesday, August 07, 2002
When Pepsi Twist hit the shelves of my favorite local gas station convenience store, I tried it. It was refreshingly . . . well, refreshing. The regular cola taste with a veritable lemony twist of sweetness. I liked it.
When I found a new kind of Coca-Cola in my refridgerator, I hesitantly sipped it's contents. I don't need to remind you of the obsession that started on my tongue and ended in my heart. Vanilla Coke is my new favorite soft drink.
When my mom brought home some Red Fusion, I tried it. Although its flavor wasn't too different from Dr. Pepper, I still saw the value in a cola that didn't totally repulse me.
The same cannot be said for Pepsi Blue (although, it isn't a cola). In short, Blue repulses me. It has a delicious initial taste. It's the taste of a blue ice pop or the blue section of a bomb pop. However delicious these taste, it is difficult to stomach such flavor for a full 20 ounces. Also, there is an aftertaste that will literally stun the drinker. It makes me wonder if they taste-tested their product at all. It's hard for me to imagine anyone actually liking this stuff.
| Mr. McBastard | 11:09 PM | | |
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Sunday, August 04, 2002
It was a Saturday night. I had waited for my friend's to call, but they never did. Nothing new. I don't know why I expected them to call me, I never call them. So I sat around, somewhat pitying myself and watched TV. I soon got tired of sitting around (early this morning), so I decided to take a walk. I strapped on my shoes, grabbed my hat and nearly empty pack of Swisher Sweet Menthol Little Cigars, and quietly headed out the door.
As I strolled along the paved road, I realized just how dark it is in the middle of nowhere with no moon. I'm usually not scared of the dark in wide open spaces, but having just caught the beginning of I Know What You Did Last Summer on TV, my imagination was full of all sorts of scenarios in which I was horribly mangled and murdered by a scruffy looking guy with a hook who was lurking behind every bush and in every ditch along the road.
I stopped along the way to relieve myself. As I continued on, I heard a noise from behind me and turned to see some medium sized mammel scrurry across the road. It scared the piss outta me, or rather, it would have had I not already peed in the bushes twenty yards back. But it wasn't the size of the scurrying animal that scared me; it was simply the fact that I hadn't known it was there until is was nearly on top of me. If it could sneak up on me, what's to say a larger beast, some horrible monster, couldn't do the same? Needless to say, I spent most of the rest of the walk looking over my shoulder.
After I had been walking for a while, I noticed the glow of headlights over a hill. I decided to hide behind a nearby roadside tree. I didn't hide because I was scared of the oncoming vehicle, though. I did it out of courtesy to the driver. How would I feel if I was driving on an unlit, rarely-traveled country road at two in the morning and I came across a creepy-looking smoking guy? I thought I'd spare the guy some nightmares and get out of sight.
Soon after the car passed by my hiding spot, I reached for another little cigar and realized that it was my last one. I lit it and headed back in the direction from which I'd come. As I thought over my reasons for hiding behind the tree, I realized that it was probably a better idea than I could have guessed at the time. The only people that are driving on rarely-traveled country roads at two o'clock on Sunday mornings are drunk hicks coming home from a Saturday night of partying. If they had seen me on the side of the road, they most likely would have either run me over or abducted and bum-raped me. Or maybe this was just my imagination again.
My last cigar was burned to the filter and I threw into the ditch along the side of the road. Sparks jumped from it's tip as it hit the ground. I was nearly home, and I was glad. That was unusual. Usually, my "thinking walks" don't seem long enough. Usually, I feel like I've accomplished something when I get back home. I often feel like I've come to some definitive conclusion to whatever I was thinking about. This stroll seemed different, though. I hadn't thought about anything in particular; I hadn't accomplished anything. I was just as scared and lonely and confused as I had been forty-five minutes ago, sitting inside my house. I decided that dark and lonely country roads should be left as the playground of transients, hobos, and crazies. I also decided that cigars and "thinking walks" are best taken in the company of friends if they are to be useful.
| Mr. McBastard | 11:53 PM | | |
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