Empty Inbox, Repetition, The Beautiful Internet…

The many hours I’ve invested in whittling down my email inbox to zero have finally borne their intended fruit. I give you… (pause for drum roll and the deafening din of throngs of frenzied supporters)… the empty inbox, in all its resplendent glory. Believe me, people, this inbox is empty for the glory of God. It’s the only thing worth sifting through [actual number deleted to protect the reputation of the guilty as a hard worker] of emails!

The Empty Inbox

“Thank you. Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen. It’s good to be here. Thank you.” All this repetition reminds me of something I came across… This is hilarious. I believe Ann Curry uses the word “morning” 4 times in a span of about 3 seconds.

Ohhhhh goodness…. Can you believe this stuff? I love the internet.


Affle House in Greeneville

For those of you who needed visual confirmation of what we’ve known intuitively for a long time, I recently scored this great pic here in G’Vegas…

Affle House

A few useless but interesting links

Check this out: http://www.thisintothat.com. This guy makes bookshelves from, uh, books.

Then there’s the online Lego arms dealer: http://www.brickarms.com.

A skeleton made of Craftsman tools: http://www.neatorama.com/2008/03/05/craftsman-skeleton-ad.

This one’s crazy. It’s amazing pictures and “drainsploration” information: http://vanishingpoint.ca/tailrace.html. Check out some other stuff on the site: http://vanishingpoint.ca. Who are these people? There’s a whole online world of taking pictures of exploration of abandoned stuff. The internet never ceases to amaze me.

And then, everybody’s favorite, the online photo gallery of tombstones of Russian mobsters: http://englishrussia.com/?p=1782.

A First for the First Christian Church Pulpit

Scott Preaches in Basketball ShoesI kinda tweaked my ankle a little bit this past week. The pathetic part is there’s no interesting story to tell other than to say that I have torn ligaments in both ankles over the years of basketball and soccer (and now, walking), so all it takes it a misstep around the corner or down the stairs, etc. And, no, a visit to the orthopedic doctor will not turn up anything other than a prescription to “take it easy” and stop playing sports that “people with aged ankles shouldn’t be playing” (“You mean 34?”). Anyway, when I woke up and got dressed this past Sunday morning, I put on my dress shoes, took a step and knew instantly that wasn’t gonna work. I need some significant support and cushioning when my ankles are hurting, so… I offer visual evidence of my solution… complete with gratuitous use of books in the background to provide that very official and pastoral “boy-he-must-know-a-lot” effect.

Balzac on “The Pleasures and Pains of Coffee”

This is a wonderful little read. For the full text, go here: The New Partisan.

Finally, I have discovered a horrible, rather brutal method that I recommend only to men of excessive vigor, men with thick black hair and skin covered with liver spots, men with big square hands and legs shaped like bowling pins. It is a question of using finely pulverized, dense coffee, cold and anhydrous, consumed on an empty stomach. This coffee falls into your stomach, a sack whose velvety interior is lined with tapestries of suckers and papillae. The coffee finds nothing else in the sack, and so it attacks these delicate and voluptuous linings; it acts like a food and demands digestive juices; it wrings and twists the stomach for these juices, appealing as a pythoness appeals to her god; it brutalizes these beautiful stomach linings as a wagon master abuses ponies; the plexus becomes inflamed; sparks shoot all the way up to the brain. From that moment on, everything becomes agitated. Ideas quick-march into motion like battalions of a grand army to its legendary fighting ground, and the battle rages. Memories charge in, bright flags on high; the cavalry of metaphor deploys with a magnificent gallop; the artillery of logic rushes up with clattering wagons and cartridges; on imagination’s orders, sharpshooters sight and fire; forms and shapes and characters rear up; the paper is spread with ink – for the nightly labor begins and ends with torrents of this black water, as a battle opens and concludes with black powder.

Ahhh, I think I’ll brew a cup now and start a war by feeding my tapestries of papillae!

(And you thought I was kidding about the “humor” tag cloud thing!)

“As evidence of my lighter side, I submit my ‘tag cloud.'”

humor tag cloudI thought this was (hopefully) telling. My “tag cloud” (that cool new interwebby way of visualizing categories, tagwords, etc.) has “humor” as the biggest entry. I’m a lot more laid back than many folks here at church realize. I think it’s easy to get a one-sided impression of the “preacher” because the primary context for learning about him for most churchgoers is the Sunday morning “Thus-saith-the-Lord” mode of communication. (Can you tell what’s on my mind lately?)

So, as evidence of my lighter side, I submit my tag cloud.

(Some of you out there who know better are saying to yourselves, “Oh, save it, Scott! We know you’re just another curmudgeonly stick-in-the-mud.”) Well, yeah, that’s also true! But I just might include “humor” as a category tag on every single post to make sure it stays prominently displayed for all to think otherwise! :o)

How to Know if Your Feet Smell

A wonderful lady from church (who is probably in her seventies and is computer savvy enough to send attachments) sent me this one.

How to know if your feet smell