Geeky Bob

Javalinas are a nuisance in my neighborhood because they knock over people's trash bins and scatter garbage through the streets, and this is especially true when people wheel their cans out to the curb a tad bit early (as I often do). After a recent peccary rampage through our residential rubbish, one of my neighbors quipped "Welcome to Javalinaville," which served as the impetus for the following parody that is sung to the tune of Jimmy Buffet's "Margaritaville."

For those who are unfamiliar with his work, Ernie Pyle was an American journalist and war correspondent during World War II, whose frequent dispatches from the front lines with the troops let families on the home front know what it was like for their loved ones overseas. But more than that, Pyle's writing was unique, because he had a way of seeing things that were missed by others, and through his vivid descriptions of what he witnessed he could paint a picture for others to see the war through soldiers' eyes. Many of Pyle's journals read like poetry, which leads me to an entry he penned after walking the beaches at Normandy a few days after D-Day, which I think serves as an excellent reminder of why we recognize Memorial Day each year.

Note: to read more of Ernie Pyle's writings, see Indiana University's online home for information and history about Ernie Pyle.

Several years ago I wrote a blog titled "Dogs Versus Cats" in which I described my preference for canine species versus feline species. When a friend recently shared the Newsweek article titled "Map Shows States Where Dogs Are More Popular Than Cats,"^[1] I learned that I am not alone in my preference, albeit within certain geographical regions.

However, what was interesting about the Newsweek article was the distribution of pet preferences when compared to political leanings, which reminds me of a story from my college days.

I had a professor who was a little younger than most of the students in her class, and she was the sole Liberal in a classroom full of Conservatives. One day during a break, the topic of discussion between the other students and me was dogs. The professor walked over to our group and asked what we were talking about, and just for fun I said, "We're talking about dogs, but you wouldn't understand because you have a cat." I had a 50/50 chance of guessing correctly, but it obviously resonated with her because she asked, "How did you know that I have a cat?" Without missing a beat I said, "Because you're a Liberal, and everybody knows that all Liberals have cats and all Conservatives have dogs." She looked shocked and asked the other students if that was true, and they thankfully jumped on board with my deception and agreed with my fabrication.

What was great about this deceit, however, was that it didn't end there. A few days later my classmates and I were discussing the latest release of a software title for the PC, and as the professor walked up to our group she asked what we were talking about. I replied, "We're talking about a new software program, but you wouldn't understand because you own a Macintosh." Once again I had a 50/50 chance of being right, but that joke also hit its mark because she asked, "How did you know that I own a Mac?," to which I responded, "Because all Liberals use Macs and all Conservatives use PCs." That statement isn't remotely true, but nevertheless my classmates backed my story and our poor professor wandered off once again with a seriously warped view of reality.

I don't know if she ever figured out that we were just playing around, but I still got an "A" in the class.

FOOTNOTES

1. Giving credit where it's due, the Newsweek article uses maps and data from an article by Zippia titled "Dog States vs Cat States: States with the Most Dogs."

Throughout my eight-year tenure in the military, the "Weekend Safety Brief" was a common feature during each Friday's close of business formation, which took place before soldiers were dismissed for the weekend. Despite every attempt to be unique, I realized as I heard the disparate words from dozens of commanders, they usually said pretty much the same thing: "don't do something stupid and stay out of trouble."

With that in mind, the following summary briefing evolved over the years, which seemed to say everything that needed to be said:

"Don't add to the population.
Don't subtract from the population.
Don't do anything that will get you on the news or in jail.
If you end up on the news, own that sh** so you'll be talked about for years to come.
If you end up in jail, establish dominance quickly."

I cannot overstate the accuracy of this image from Peter Conrad Comics...

(H/T Scott Hanselman)

A few years ago, my wife and I were fortunate enough to visit Rome, and among the thousands of photos that I took during our stay, this seemingly insignificant image of a nun walking through the remains of the Circus Maximus stands out for me.

Despite Hollywood's common depictions, the Romans did not typically sacrifice Christians in the Colosseum. On the contrary, the infamous martyrdoms of Christians were usually carried out in the Circus Maximus. With that in mind, when I saw a solitary nun crossing the empty field, I couldn't help but reflect on the irony of the scene. This stadium had once played host to the barbarous spectacle of martyring her predecessors, usually by beheading, or burning at the stake, or being fed to myriad wild animals. Yet on this day, many centuries later, there were nothing but ruins where the mighty empire of Rome once stood, and this nun could walk with impunity through the remnants of Rome's demise.

Anyway, these are the kinds of things that run through my mind when I'm visiting areas of historical significance. (Perhaps there's something wrong with me.)

Several years ago I discovered the following excerpt from a sermon by Alistair Begg, and the parable that is contained within this short snippet has become one of my favorite Easter stories.

Giving full credit to its original author, I would like to include this short apologue for your benefit on this Easter.

This story is © 2021 by Truth For Life, a teaching ministry of Alistair Begg.

Someone whom I've known for decades and greatly admire recently posted the following series of statements from Reverend James Martin, SJ:

Every statement that Mr. Martin makes is factually correct, however, I typically do not like comments like these nor the memes they become because they are abusing the love of Christ in a not-so-cleverly veiled way that implies Jesus said something that He did not. I will expound on that concept in a moment, but first I'd like to share a recent experience from one of my neighbors.

This is a true story: a couple weeks ago, one of my neighbors awoke shortly past midnight and walked downstairs to find a complete stranger sitting on his couch in his living room and eating his food. Think about that for a moment: a person whom you do not know has broken into your house while you were sleeping. You don't know whether they're dangerous, and yet this person is making themselves at home and helping themselves to your possessions. Imagine how terrified and how violated you would feel.

Now let's re-examine Mr. Martin's statements within the context that I have just shared: it was not my neighbor's responsibility to feed/clothe/house this intruder, regardless of whether she was legally in the country (which she was), or whether she was poor (which she probably was), or whether she looked like my neighbor (which isn't remotely relevant). In the end, all that matters is that the burglar was trespassing - she had no right to be in my neighbor's house, sitting on his couch, and eating his food. Despite Mr. Martin's specious pontifications, if he had been in my neighbor's shoes he would have done the same thing my neighbor did - he would have called the police.

Bringing this back to my opening statement, that is why I don't like it when people like Mr. Martin arrogantly twist the words of Christ to make a cheap political statement, and I don't believe that Jesus would like being misquoted, either. What Mr. Martin is attempting to do is to cram his political views about immigration and other subjects down others' throats by hiding behind a series of grandiose proclamations that he's disguising as our Savior's intentions, which - quite literally - makes Mr. Martin a false prophet.

Today marks the 46-year anniversary from Van Halen's multi-platinum debut album. To celebrate this occasion, I thought I'd share the following story from my youth.

In the fall of 1978, I was starting out in Middle School, and I made friends with another student, Gene, who was just beginning to play guitar like I was. We met because Gene was carrying a notebook emblazoned with the KISS logo, and at the time I was a big KISS fan. (Hey, no judgment.) Gene and I eventually played together in several bands throughout our Middle School and High School years, and we've remained in touch over the years. I visited Gene and his wife recently, and Gene recounted the story of when I came up to him during our 7th grade year to say, "Dude - you've got to hear this new album I just bought!!!" The album in question was Van Halen's debut offering, which had been released earlier that year.

When Gene came by my house after school, the track I immediately dropped the record needle on was - of course - "Eruption." Gene's mind was completely blown, as mine had been when I first listened to the album end to end. I had a reel-to-reel deck at the time, and we recorded "Eruption" on tape so we could slow it down, and yet it was still so @#$% fast. Neither of us had seen Eddie's signature two-handed tapping yet, so we had no idea what EVH was doing to play at such a mind-numbing tempo.

By my Freshman year of High School I would play "Eruption" at the backyard parties and other gigs that typical High School bands would get, though never as cleanly as EVH. (And these days I probably couldn't pull off playing the bulk of "Eruption" without some serious practice.)

Nevertheless, EVH turned my world upside down - but in a good way. To this day I phrase a bunch of chords on the guitar in ways I learned from playing Van Halen's assorted catalog of songs, and my efforts to learn what EVH was doing on each of Van Halen's albums made me a much better guitar player. There are few albums that I can literally say altered the course of my life, and if you read my blog from a few years ago titled My List of 20 Most Influential Albums, you'll see that I listed Van Halen's debut album at #3.

As he boarded his venerable longship, the mighty Viking warrior, Rudolph the Red, readied his sturdy craft to sail the turbulent waters of the North Sea. Once again, the fierce leader and his men would reign terror over the poor, unsuspecting villagers of the British Isles as the Vikings pillaged their way through farms and fields of Scotland and England.

As the crew completed their final preparations for the perilous voyage, the rugged chieftain leaned over the bulwark of his vessel to kiss his wife goodbye, and he said to her, "Tomorrow, we shall be victorious in battle. But today, we sail forth into a storm."

As she cast her gaze toward the sun as it slowly rose above a clear horizon, she asked her husband, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because," he replied, "Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear."

POSTSCRIPT:

I will admit that I saw the punch line from this brief bit of humor several years ago, and I chuckled when I read it. However, I couldn't find the source of the original pun, so I decided to write my own story, albeit with some AI-generated artwork. This illustration of Rudolph the Red was generated by the application at http://bing.com/images/create, where I asked it to create "a 3d image of a viking with red hair on a ship that is sailing through the rain." I think the image fit my story rather well.