Oh, the Despair!!!!!!

Sad tidings this week in my household. Two of my three best friends in Winters have gotten ill.

Xavier, my X-Box 360, went down last weekend. The dreaded flashing red light. No reason for it. Oh, the (closest thing I’ve got) to humanity!

And then, Tuesday, my friend Pierre, my piano, went down with a loud crash and a broken string.

This all made, obviously, for a rough and very long weekend. I’m feeling my curse pretty acutely at the moment, throbbing good.

If only I could find my lucky deodorant again, I could fight back…

This Stings

"If our Christianity has ceased to be serious about discipleship, if we have watered down the gospel into emotional uplift which makes no costly demands and which fails to distinguish between natural and Christian existence, then we cannot help regarding the cross as an ordinary everyday calamity, as one of the trials and tribulations of life. We have then forgotten that the cross means rejection and shame as well as suffering. The psalmist was lamenting that he was despised and rejected...and that is an essential quality of the suffering of the cross. But this notion has ceased to be intelligible to a Christianity which can no longer see any difference between an ordinary human life and a life committed to Christ. The cross means sharing the suffering of Christ to the last and to the fullest. Only those thus totally committed in discipleship can experience the meaning of the cross."
---Dietrich Bonhoeffer, A Testament to Freedom

A Couple of Things I Noticed in the Political World in the Last Week or So

First, I noticed this little nugget in Hillary Clinton’s interview today in which she was explaining the reason for her inaccurate sniper fire comments concerning her trip to Bosnia as First Lady.

“I did misspeak the other day. […] Occasionally, I am human like everyone else.” – Hillary Clinton

That changed my outlook on the matter. At first, it had bothered me a little that she’d lied about the matter. But, I was sincerely happy to hear she’s at least sometimes human.

Second, I wish I had the link, but my internet’s too slow to take the time to look it up. I’ll try to add it tomorrow at school. I swear I’m being pretty accurate.

Anyway, I noticed an article from the Wall Street Journal that began by saying something like the following: “Obama is taking flack for comments by his pastor, the Reverend Jeremiah Wright, who is a proponent of the radical so-called ‘black liberation theology.’”

I’ve actually seen a number of other interviews and articles (etc.) that struck that same tone as that sentence. What bothered me was that the writer of this article and several other people I’ve heard and have talked with had never heard of Black theology.

Now, I certainly can’t be called an expert on Black theology, but I definitely know that it has a tremendously notable history in the country. It’s an organic theology, grown out of the African-American experience. My students certainly can see its seeds, for instance, in Frederick Douglas’s autobiography. Martin Luther King, most prominently, was definitely a proponent of Black liberation theology (though I’m pretty sure the term became more prominent later). The most ubiquitous (and most universally appealing, it seems to me) aspect of Obama’s campaign (the need for ‘hope’ rather than ‘optimism’) has come straight from Black theology (I’ve never heard Obama quote him, but I think a lot of his ideas come straight from the theologian Cornel West, which is why I started to like Obama in the first place).

Anyway, I’m not defending all of Rev. Wright’s comments that were released this week (one of the three, I absolutely oppose). But the most shameful thing to me has been that so many people (especially the media and church) are so ignorant of the existence and history and value and nature of Black theology and consider it with such fear.

Third. You know how I was angry about Texas Republicans voting for Hillary Clinton because I considered it unethical. Anyway, it's turned out that those votes very likely did sway the primary in her favor.

And people wonder why the country's cynical about the election process.

Oh yeah, the fourth thing I noticed was that Eliot Spitzer is an idiot.

Reminder #37

So, my sister is a great, great cook, and since I've been visiting her the last few days over spring break, she's provided some excellent meals. Much more edible than the formerly frozen semi-food I get at home.

Today, she was going to cook some catfish. When she opened the package, though, the fish smelled slightly funny. Though Kalyn's an outstanding cook, fish is not something she's worked with much, and she just decided that this smell must just be a fish thing, and she cooked it.

We got to the table, and everything looked great. Both BJ and I grabbed small pieces of fish and ate them, and they tasted excellent, and we were all satisfied that everything was ok. BJ, especially, went to town on the fish.

It took a little while until I got back to trying more fish though. When I did, I grabbed a rather larger piece than the first, and something tasted a little funny. I smelled the fish, and it smelled exactly like wet dog. I looked at my feet, though, and one of Kalyn and BJ's dogs, Sienna, was there, and I decided it must just be actual dog I was smelling.

I then bit into a third piece, and something was WAY wrong with this piece. I made Kalyn and BJ smell it, and they agreed with me. One, this spoiled catfish smelled exactly like wet Sienna. Two, that made it awfully scary to eat. We all stopped.

And then, my brother-in-law came up with a true nugget of wisdom, well-worthy for this blog series: "In the future, we should remember to not eat fish that smells like dog butt."

That's something you can take with you.

It's sort of a funny story. Now.

So, yesterday was the day when our contracts at the school were either to be renewed or not. We were basically all going to find out if we had been fired.I was, honestly, feeling pretty good about my situation going into the day. I really feel like I’ve done a good job this year, and I’ve gotten good feedback from everyone.

Nevertheless, a lot of rumors had been going around for a while about who was (and wasn’t) going to be asked back, and so everyone was slightly on edge all day.

At lunch, I ate in the faculty lounge, and the veteran teachers, of course, were talking about the board meeting that evening that would determine everyone’s fate.

One teacher made the following comment: “We should all be safe. Y’all know that you’re only in trouble if they ask you to attend the board meeting without giving you a reason for coming. That’s when you know to worry. None of us has been asked, so we don’t need to worry.”

That made me feel better, even though I’d never really felt bad about my situation before.

But then, I walked out into the hall from lunch. The principal was standing there and said, “Mr. Pierce, we might have some questions for you tonight at the board meeting. You need to be there. 6:30.”

Yeah, I got nervous real quick then. My intestines tied up, and it felt like I was growing a second pancreas down there or something.

It wasn’t a good afternoon at all. I started imagining the horribly mean things I would say when I was let go. They were definitely making a mistake.

So, I waited around until 6:30 and walked slowly over to the administration office. Along the way, I had to walk under a ladder where I was attacked by a black cat. I waited and waited for them to finish the formalities so that I’d know how poorly my future was going to turn out.

And then they gave me an award.

Yep. That’s why I was there. That’s why they were so secretive. I was school/staff person of the month.

I'm glad I got the award, but I think I'm definitely the only person who could receive it in that way.

Arch Enemy #6 - Jared Fogle

I had retired the "Arch Enemy" series on my blog. My last such post was two years ago. I just felt like a meany whenever I added another enemy to the list.

But I saw one-too-many Jared commercials this weekend. I've hated Jared for a while now, and really, who hasn't? This is justified.

His story was worth one commercial, maybe two. His personality suggests just the one. Definitely not eight years' worth.

I'm glad he lost all that weight. I've just begun now to wish he'd keep going with it, losing down until he disappears.

Either that, or I wish a bus would hit him or something.

Prayers Requested

This wasn't a very good day.

The husband of my sister's best friend was injured in Iraq today. I don't know much about it. It's a head injury, and he's been flown to Germany for surgery and treatment.

His name is Sean. I don't know him all that well since I've only met him a couple of times. But I know he's a really excellent man and husband. They've been married just over a year.

I know Theresa very well. She's been Kalyn's best friend since they were two, and I remember calling Theresa my extra little sister back in high school. She's one of the highest quality people I've ever known.

So, please try to keep those two in your prayers, along with their families.

A Letter to the Editor

[I've been really bothered by the plans of a lot of Texas Republicans to vote for Hillary Clinton because they consider her the easier one to beat in the fall. This has been especially troubling since the Republican factor seems to have moved her to a tie or a narrow lead in the polls, whereas he had a 5-6 point lead in polls two days ago. Of course, I'm an Obama supporter, but I guarantee you I would be bothered by these circumstances no matter what candidate was being manipulated.

Anyway, I got into rather a debate today with two colleagues at the school who are McCain supporters actually planning to vote for Hillary. I ended up airing my complaints in a letter to the Abilene Reporter News editor. I think it'll be published. They emailed me back when I submitted it and asked for a more edited version to publish. I sent it in. Whether or not they publish it, here it is.]

Dear Citizens,

I was troubled today, visiting with some of my conservative friends at school, to learn that they plan to vote Tuesday for Hillary Clinton. They do not consider her the best candidate. They, instead, consider Clinton the most beatable against McCain.

I wasn’t surprised that some people consider voting in this way. Eight years ago, when I was a junior in high school, I convinced my father, an Al Gore supporter, not to cast his primary vote for John McCain. What he considered a small statement against Bush, I considered dishonesty. Without much effort, my father, who had always taught me to ‘let my yes be yes,’ was convinced to do the right thing.

What surprised me today was that my colleagues recognized the ethical turpitude of their choice, but they, nevertheless, have remained steadfast in their intentions to vote for Clinton. Clearly, a vote cast for a candidate you do not support is a lie. Clearly, it breaches trust to vote in the Democratic primary when you do not support a Democratic candidate. Clearly, it is a violation of trust to vote for a candidate you do not want to win. My colleagues saw these realities but remain convinced that it is acceptable to disregard ethics when it comes to politics. You do whatever it takes to win.

I disagree with them. The ends do not justify the means. Casting a vote in the opposition party’s primary for the most beatable candidate may be good politics. But, without doubt, it’s bad ethics.

So, my appeal is to please vote with honor. Vote for the candidate you want to win. Let your yes be yes. Don’t let your vote be a lie.

Sincerely,
John Pierce

Two New Lows

So, two events occurred last week that propelled me to newer and higher heights (or lows). Unfortunately, these were, of course, new heights of wussiness and absent-mindedness.

Wussiness:

I injured myself playing the piano.

Twice.

You see, I got really, really, really, really bored one day (this was during Valentine’s week, and I live in Winters, so that probably had something to do with it). Well, it seems to me as though I am my most creative when I am bored and depressed. So, I decided to try my hand a writing a song (something I haven’t tried to do since the first grade).

I sat down at the piano, and frankly, I’m proud of my new piano composition. (It’s currently untitled, by the way. My current plan is to wait around until I have a girlfriend, and I’ll tell her I wrote it for her and name it after her. Heck, it’s a piano piece; it can be named anything.) You won’t hear it on the radio anytime soon. I’ll admit that it’s only a passable piece. But I’m going to admit to my repertoire, and I think it’ll fit in well enough.

So, back to my story, I got sort of into what I was doing, and when I stopped playing after about an hour and a half, I realized that my right thumb was swollen. Really, really swollen. Almost as swollen as I was bored.

Turns out, my right thumb nail had either been broken off or had been cut sort of funny. The left side of the nail was kind of squarish, and so while I played, it had just been jammed over and over again into the skin (the song has a lot of loud banging at the end). I was basically creating an ingrown fingernail by playing.

The next morning, I woke up to find the thumb still swollen. I cut the nail way back, to reveal a cut and an infection. I even had to bandaid the thing the next at work.

After a couple of days, I could play again, and so I did so, trying to fine tune the song. I got to that part that had nearly killed me before, and my nail, this time, pretty much split in two. I’m not sure if this means I should stop playing the song, or if it’s just so awesome that my fingers are unworthy to play it. I’ll pretend the latter.

Absent-Mindedness:

I put my shirt on before school, and something felt funny. I just figured it was sort of twisted, though, and would work itself out. I bent down to put on my socks and shoes (pants were already on) and did so. Then, I stood up and realized that the shirt still felt a little funny. Twisting didn’t fix it.

I walked into the next room to look at it in the mirror, and the problem was fairly obvious. I had put my shirt on backwards. That’s something that happens.

Here’s the real problem though: It was a polo shirt.

At least it wasn’t a button-up.