The "Man" Has His Own Blog

This is just a point of interest. It seems that bishop Will Willimon has his own blog. I find this funny, basically because I've always kind of felt like Willimon was a little caught up in himself. Don't get me wrong. I think he's a great voice in the Church and, from the little I've read, a good bishop. But, come on, the title of the blog is "A Peculiar Prophet" (the title of the recent book written in his honor). Now, I will concede that he probably doesn't keep the blog up himself. It's essentially postings of his sermons. I'm sure his assistant or someone else in the Northern Alabama Conference office does all the work, but still, it seems a bit...I don't know...odd. After all, this was the same guy who had a website devoted to his "campaign" for the episcopacy in 2004. Anyway, if you're looking for regular words from the bishop of Birmingham, check out his blog at willimon.blogspot.com

You Heard Me!

Here's why I'm a big nerd: I can actually recite from memory "In brightest day or blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight; Let those who worship evil's might, beward my power - Green Lantern's light." Oh, yes, my friends. I know the oath of the Green Lantern. Yet, I'm convinced that we all have small things that make us big nerds. Bo, for example, owns 783 orange shirts (one for every Eddie Sutton basketball victory). Bud can sing all the words to every song on the Cornhusker highlight videos. Thunder gets sick joy from beating up on 9 year-old Uzbek children via his Halo uplink. John Thompson keeps 3 full cases of KY jelly on hand at all times...just in case of an emergency. Jonathan Kelly...well, he loves Jesus and America too, so I guess that's kind of nerdy. My point is that it's ok to be weird, mainly so that you can have something to shove down your friend's throats when they start gettin' all cocky about their pure Thomism or New Perspectives or paradigm shifts or problematized jibaty-jee and cookaly-coo. So I leave with this, an excerpt from that greatest of tomes, William Shatner's Star Trek Movie Memories.

"He'd have found Scotty bored out of his mind to the point where he's now spending his days taking apart the Klingon bird of prey last seen in Star Trek IV in a futile attempt to at last uncover the secrets of her cloaking device. Uhura is next, equally bored, working for a Federation radio station as the host of a call-in advice program. Chekov too is uneasy, yawning his days away at a chess club while repeatedly trying in vain to defeat highter life forms with special Russian strategies. Finally, Kirk finds McCoy most unhappy of all. Hailed as a conquering hero, Bones is nonetheless drunk and disorderly at a high-society medical dinner in his honor. Disgusted by the money-hungry healers he's forced to endure in the civilian world, even the dependably cantatnkerous Bones jumps at the chance to once again become useful aboard the Enterprise."

Pure gold.

To Make the World Safe for Democracy?

Woodrow Wilson was really an idealist. Not that I'm against idealism, but one must reckon with one's own idealism, knowing what virtue it intends as its goal. Wilson, of course, was a Princeton, Enlightenment scholar. His "common good," I daresay, is not the same common good I strive towards. I, for one, see the common good as eternal communion with the virtue - God, who is "The Good". Well, anyway, democracy is not the eschatological hope. It is not that place where "we cast our crowns before thee, lost in wonder, love, and praise" (to coin a great Wesley hymn). So why am I going on about this? I watched Jarhead last night. My good friends, Bo and Bud, were with me. It is a disturbing look at the psychological effects of military conditioning. What happens, the movie begs, when one is programmed to kill, to be ok with killing, and to want to kill, but is denied the opportunity to kill? These young marines are trained, nay, re-programmed to desire killing, almost as a sexual release. There is a very telling scene when the marines are gathered to watch a scene from "Apocolypse Now." It's the scene when the helicopters are coming into the Vietnamese village to lay it waste. Civilian Vietnamese people (many children) are slaughtered on screne. The marines yell and screme at the movie they are watching, not in horror, but in eager anticipation. It's almost orgiastic. The main character in the film expresses on his face the look of a man caught up in the ecstasy of sex as he watches people being gunned down. This is what the marine corps did to these young men. It made them into killing machines who craved death. But, the conflict in the film is that they are denied their orgasm. The main character is trained as a sniper and goes to the Persian Gulf (Gulf War I). However, he never fires a shot. He almost gets to kill someone, but is denied that pleasure. The end of the war shows marines dancing and partying around a giant fire in the desert, shooting their guns into the air - shooting at nothing. It's ironic. They shoot. This is what they are supposed to do, what they are formed to do, yet they shoot at nothing. Ultimately, this is not the release they desire. They want to kill, but they can't. The death is inside themselves. Very disturbing, especially since I have a brother in the Marine Corps.

Eddie Sutton: Humble Servant in the Vinyard of God

Well, for all practical purposes, Basketball season is upon us. What this means for everyone, of course, is that Eddie Sutton is about to take the court for his 16th season at the helm of Oklahoma State University. Now, for those of greater ignorance out there in the world, Oklahoma State University (not Duke and certainly not North Carolina) is the home to the greatest basketball coach of all time. That man is Eddie Sutton (now it is arguable, of course, whether Eddie or his mentor Henry Iba take this title, but I digress). Basketball had its golden age in the plains. As any fool knows, the game was invented by James Naismith, a physical educator at a New England college. The game quickly spread out of the hostile conditions of New England to the plains, where sports dominated local life. It was the great rivalry between Henry Iba of (then) Oklahoma A & M College (now Oklahoma State University) and Forrest "Phog" Allen of the University of Kansas that made the game what it is. Oh, ye naysayers, harken to my voice! Basketball is what it is today because of Henry Iba. Naismith never could have conceived what his indoor game for physical ed. would become. Here are some highlights from the Basketball Hall of Fame website about Hank Iba.

"There are few in basketball circles who don't know about the legendary Henry Iba. As a collegiate coach at Oklahoma A&M and a three-time mentor of our Olympic teams, Iba did more than win national championships and gold medals. He transcended greatness. Mr. Iba's teams were methodical, ball-controlling units that featured weaving patterns and low scoring games. Iba's "swinging gate" defense (a man-to-man with team flow) was applauded by many, and is still effective in today's game. Behind dominating 7-foot center Bob Kurland, Iba's Aggies became the first to win consecutive NCAA titles (1945 and 1946). A&M teams won 14 Midwestern Valley titles, and were largely responsible for generating most of Iba's 767 victories, third best in NCAA Division I history. "Hank" also coached at Maryville College and the University of Colorado. He is the only coach in history to win two Olympic gold medals (1964 in Tokyo; 1968 in Mexico City), and he will also be remembered as the coach of the 1972 Olympic team that lost to the Soviet Union in a controversial ending."

Eddie Sutton played for Iba from 1955-1958. He is, today, a giant among coaches. Don't believe me? Here are some facts:

-Only coach in NCAA Division I history to record 30 or more wins in a single season at more than one shcool (won 30 or more games at Arkansas in 1978, Kentucky in 1987 and Oklahoma Sate in 2004).
-Just the third coach in Division I history to reach the 700-win mark in 32 years or less.
-Only Dean Smith won more games in his first 35 years as a Division I head coach.
-Four-time National Coach of the Year (1977, 1978, 1986, 1995).
-Eight-time Conference Coach of hte Year (1975, 1977, 1979, 1981, 1986, 1993, 1998, 2004).
-One of just two different coaches nationally to win coach-of-the-year in four different conferences.
-First coach in NCAA history to lead four different schools to the NCAA tournament (Creighton, Arkansas, Kentucky, OSU).
-Led teams to 26 NCAA Tournament appearances in 35 years, including 12 consecutive from 1977-88.
-20 of his teams have finished the season ranked among the nation's top 25, including 11 top-10 finishes.
-Has produced 25 20-win seasons, including three 30-win seasons.
-Has had only one losing season in 35 years as a collegiate coach.
-Has won conference championships in the SWC, SEC, Big Eight, and Big 12.
-Ranks second among active Division I head coaches in games coached with 1,080.
-Ranks second among active head coaches by victories.
-Ranks seventh all-time in victories among all Division I coaches.

So there you have it: Eddie Sutton. Humble servant. Basketball legend. GO POKES!

Near Misses

So last night (October 21) the Iredell House (the intentional community I am a part of - I have a link for it, check it out) had a party. This isn't so unusual, but this time we had this incredible band show up. I wanted to give them a not-so-shameless promotion. They are called the Near Misses, and they are incredible. I've put a link to their website up on this page. Check them out. Their song "This is Your Day" is my personal favorite. I've decided to rename it "Song of St. Paul". It's not really about Paul, but I like to think it is. Anyway, keep an eye out for this quintet of ladies.

Aha...I Think

So, there are moments when it all seems to come together. Take today for instance. I had found myself deep inside that oft-forgotten realm of ill-conceived theological formularies. I think it's safe to say that I was is a slough of dispond called Thomas Aquinas. Now I don't want to be too harsh on St. Thomas. After all, his work is still forming the Church in her practice and faith today. That, too, is an understament. Yet, I, even I, was having difficulty making sense of Thomas's Trinitarian doctrines. So, there I sat in class, with little to go on except that "Aquinas is very Trinitarian. How, why, and to what extent. What is the difference between procession and mission?" Very good questions. My response? I don't have a damn clue. Then suddenly, the roof of 110 Gray was suddenly ripped off. Lo, the throne of the Most High stood upon the great seat of the Church (and by this I mean Duke Divinity School. Eat that Yale). Surrounding the throne were myriads upon myriads and thousands upon thousands of seraphim who chanted unceasingly, "Aquinas and Augustine are exactly the same. Their hermeneutics are just differnt. Aquinas understands that the processions in the Godhead have been revealed to us by means of their mission. Processions in se; Mission economic." Well, I must say, at first I was stunned that angels could chant this so clearly and without stuttering even once. But then I realized, "Aha! Mission is in time, procession is in eternity." Ok, so why is this important, you ask? Good question. My answer? I don't have a damn clue. Well, at least I feel like St. Thomas and I had a real moment of bonding.

Donnie Darko: Deterministic or Optimistic?

So my good friend Bo and I disagree about this movie. Now I don't want to suggest that I have "figured it out." After all, I've only seen it once, and the website has got me baffled. But, still, I think calling it deterministic is way too easy. There are too many layers, too much going on for it to be simply a weird convulsion of Calvinism. I think that's just a poor read. I find the film much more optimistic than this. Though I will submit that there is a peculiar stoic thread running through its course. After all, at the end, as Donnie sits on his car roof looking out over the valley with his dead girlfriend in the car and the world seemingly about to come to an end, he laughs. He laughs. It is a detachment from the reality of life. He's achieved that mood, that sensual space where he can be (literally) above all that is happening and has happened. I thank my good friend Bud for pointing this out. Yet, I can't help but think that this film is about a search for possibilities, not submission to a pre-determined course. No one forced his hand. I do not want to play the "free will" card, because I think that, too, is not the point. Perhaps, in the end, it is rather Wesleyan. There is a reality before you. Take it or leave it, but know that one is the better of the two in which you are not free to be as you choose, but to be as you are appointed. Go and do, not because you can but because your will has been subsumed into a far great schema. It is not free will, but a will freed from the constraints of this ill-percieved world and enslaved in the will the the Other (capital "O" very intentional). So, Donnie is merely traveling toward his supernatural end, namely, a will freed from the fear of his (and everyone else's) natural end. At first, I did not think too much about the issue of "fear" in reference to this film. Patrick Swayze's character (the self-help guru) speaks about "fear" as a force that keeps everone from reaching their full potential which is love. Strickly speaking, this isn't necesseraly a bad idea. However, his failing is in his suggestion that one must dive into oneself to find the answer to fear - to find love. He uses the imagery of the "mirror." He says that you must look through this mirror, at and through yourself to truly "see" who you are. Well, obviously Donnie disagrees. So do I. You see, you cannot find yourself "in" yourself. That's the problem - every living creature dies alone. That's the conflict of the film - finding the alternative to being alone. The point is not to find the alternative to death - that is natural. Perhaps even dying alone is natural (though I'm not entirely convinced), but our supernatural end is in the Other, to whom Donnie submits. Release from fear is in this Other, not in oneself. Throughout the film, we see how "empty" the lives of all the characters are (particularly Donnie's family). So, love is not supremely found by seeing onself deeply. No, to truly see oneself deeply is to find, ultimately, an emptiness, an incompleteness. That is fear. Supreme love is in the Other, to whom we are being drawn unto. Finally, and I think this is just kind of cool, there are two mirror-symbols in the film. First is Patrick Swayze's talk about seeing oneself in the mirror. The second is when Donnie is in the bathroom taking his "medication" and finds the force field that separates himself from Frank the giant bunny. Obviously these are allusions to Alice in Through the Looking Glass. In the former case, one is challenged to go through the mirror to find truth. Yet, as we all know, the other side of the mirror is not reality, but a distorted perception of reality. We oftentimes see what we want to see, but never do we see perfectly what is on the other side. In the latter case, Donnie cannot cross this "mirror". He cannot go there. The point here is that the other side is forbidden precisely because it is not true. We do not see rightly through the mirror. We only see distortion, confusion, and fear. Donnie's search for truth never takes him "through the looking glass."

What's Up With That

So, there's this strange phenomenon, I'm finding, in which we unwittingly try to pray for things that ought not to be prayed for. Example: "If you would please turn your attention to the list of prayer concerns...Let us all keep in mind the terrible earthquake in Pakistan. I think that it goes without saying that we should pray for the earthquake and all the victims in Pakistan." Hmmm. Now if you're not careful, you might just pass by that seemingly harmless statement. But wait! "Pray for the earthquake." What kind of freakin' earthquake is this that it needs our prayers? It's like that old WWF wrestler... you know, the one who was named after some technical earthquake term, like "Richter" or "Seismic". He was a big fat dude who's great wrestling move was sitting on people. Anyway, if it's this guy we need to pray for, I can dig that. I mean, really, he obviously needs to loose weight, maybe even get a real job. But, alas, we pray for a natural disaster. And I wonder what this means, even? "Oh, God. We pray for this earthquake (whom we now name Schmitty) that he will continue in strength and ferosity. May your Spirit guide and uphold Schmitty under the shadow of thy most holy wings. En nome Patri et Filiis et Spiritus Sanctus. Amen." Well, anyway, at least we don't really name earthquakes like we do hurricanes. Can you imagine those conversations. "Hey, Bob. You know what today is, doncha? Yeah, it's the anniversary of the day Mable opened up the earth and swallowed my family into the depths of Sheol. Yeah, sucks." Anyway, I do pray for all of the victims of the earthquakes in Pakistan and Guatamala. May the Church be true to her calling.

What's My Problem!

Ok, so it's been several months since I updated this blog. What can I say, I've been busy. Yeah, you heard me...busy! What, I can't have a life outside the internet? So, here's been my life since last I posted. Went to Belize, almost died...twice. Finished my work in Oklahoma, sad to leave. Back in North Carolina at Duke Divinity School. Oh, yes, Duke. I hear the Divinity School dodge ball team is back to kicking ass. Injuries so far: One broken toe, one damaged knee. No broken arms this year...yet. Already at mid-term. It's Reading Week. Screw you Law School! Oh, yeah. We get a full week. I bet Yale doesn't even get a full week. So far I've gotten zero work done, unless you count re-cataloging my comic books and getting in half a season of Cheap Seats. I bought some classic and soon-to-be classic DVD's the other day to help give me more excuses not to study. These gems are: The Lost Boys (you heard me. The 80's vampire great starring Kiefer Sutherland and both the Corey's), Suicide Kings (you know, the one with Christopher Walken...he's my boy!), and last year's great, Hero, starring Jet Li as a confused but determined Chinese assassin in ancient (yes) China. We thank Quentin Tarrentino for bringing the last one to us, and we thank Target for putting it on sell for only $10 (yea Captialism!). Well, other than all this (it's a lot isn't it?) here I sit with nothing to do but wait until it's time for me and my more interesting friends to go bowling at 8:00. Yes, people still bowl. I mean, really, what do you do when you're a Divinity Student. Can't go about picking up the hookers. Can't get drunk (well, that's not really true - just ask my good friend Bud). Can't go off shootin' up on this or that drunk of fancy. Nope, all we got is bowling. That...or actually study. The hell with that. I can dig bad nochoes and Billy Ray Cyrus look-a-likes. Well, that's about enough, I suppose.

Ok, So I Saw It

I know I said I wouldn't go see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Not that I have anything against Captain Jack Sparrow. I'm just getting a little uneasy about this whole re-make craze. Everything is a re-make. Are we that devoid of imagination that we can't come up with even semi-original material. I understand that the first Willie Wonka film was not as true to the book as it could have been, and this pissed off the author. I understand that this one seeks to insert the story of Willie Wonka back into the plot. I understand the virtue of this task, but still, REMAKES! It's like we're saying to the creators of these films, genres, and TV shows, "Your work sucked. We can do it better." I'm waiting for the re-make of Casablanca or Citizen Cane or Metropolis or The Godfather. Hell, why not Schindler's List! It could be better, am I right!? We could add some CGI to the death camps and make them look really realisitic! But I digress. So, it was my mother's birthday. I got her a gift. We went to dinner. I suggested we go to a movie. I figured this might be a film mom might like, so I says, "What about Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?" She says, "Sweet." So we go. Now, I will admit that it was, in fact, a very cute movie. I laughed a lot. It was well done. I generally cringe at anything Tim Burton does (Batman, anyone?), but this one was much better. It did have that Tim Burton, creepy, need to see a shrink feel to it, but it was a good kid's movie that you can take mom to see. I was wondering, also, why it got a PG rating. There's nothing PG about it. It's G all the way. So, there you have it. I enjoyed Gilbert Grape's new film, my mother is a year older, and I'm waiting patiently for the contemporary re-mix of The Godfather.

Roofing is Fun; Heat Sucks

So I just finished with Servants of the Son - a four day work project for youth in Frederick, OK (my hometown). I was invited to come as the nightly preacher and to work on the sight with the youth. It was blessed hot. In fact, it was the hottest week of the summer so far. Over one hundred degrees on the ground. Up on the roof, the heat was more like 110-115. We roofed and painted a house for a sweet old lady named Lois. Needless to say, I'm exhausted. It's good to be back, but I did find out that roofing is kind of fun. There's something about having a methodical task that requires real labor to accomplish that pleases me. The heat was difficult to deal with, but the sense of accomplishment was great. So I start thinking: "It was a normal day in Frederick, OK. Barry Bennett (mild-mannered roofer and occasional preacher), was busy completing a row of shingles when, (Bam!) he hammers into a shingle that was accidentally made of uranium tar. He is immediately transformed into 'The Roofer'. With the durability of industrial grade nails, the strength best demostrated in the physics of a pry bar, the flexibility of a hot shingle, and the speed of a nail gun, 'The Roofer' fights small town crime wherever it appears. Evil beware. Run and hide from...The Roofer!" It think that it could work. A story like that could break into a key lost demographic - the small town working class. We'd make millions, I tells ya!

Loved Batman, liked Fantastic Four, ok with Star Wars, dug Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Refuse to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, waiting for the next big thing. All in all, it's been a pretty disappointing summer of movies. Batman was great. I'd say it was the peak of the season. Star Wars was just ok. It didn't suck as bad as the first two, let's just say that. I actually liked Fantastic Four, but, then, I'm a big FF fan anyway. You have to understand the characters to like the movie. But, I liked Daredevil too, when many people didn't. I'm strange like that I guess. One film I haven't seen, and might not now that I think abou it, is War of the Worlds. I have two reasons for this. 1. Tom Cruise is a bad actor. There I said it. Yes, he is not talented. Just because you make millions of dollars per flic and make an ass of yourself on Oprah doesn't make you a good actor. 2. Speilberg has lost his edge. People assume that if he is the one directing that it's automatically going to be good. Well...two letters for you: AI. 'Nuff said. Mr. and Mrs. Smith was fun. Violence, even for a pacifist, can be quite enjoyable. Actually, I watched this one in Oklahoma City. I was on my way back from Church Camp, which was necessled in the woods on Lake Texoma. As a staff person, it is always a stressful week. To boot, I actually didn't sleep the last night. So my trip back to Stillwater was a difficult one. I decided I needed to stop in OKC for some mindless activity that required no energy at all. So, I watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith. It was fun. And finally, I refuse to watch a film with Gilbert Grape trying to be Willie Wonka. Well then...I'm running out of things to say. I'll stop now.

So, here is why I hate Chris Claremont. Well, I shouldn't say that I hate the man. I just think he needs to retire and be done with life. Now for those of you who care, Chris Claremont fancies himself a writer. I think he sucks, but, then, here I am writing a blog, so on what grounds do I make such judgments? Anyway, Claremont writes Comic Books. Particularly, he writes for the Uncanny X-Men. He had this task for most of the 1980's and returned to the helm about a year ago. The man is looney tunes. I myself adhere to the Stan Lee vision of comics. If the story is good, people will read it, love it, and be loyal to it. Claremont forgot that somewhere along the line. The X-men are supposed to be a band of mutant vigilanties who were brought together by Charles Xavier to use their extraordinary powers to aid in the quest for peaceful co-existence between humans and mutants. "They fight for a world that fears and hates them," so the line goes. So, they fight mutant terrorists like Magneto, for example, who wants mutants to rise up and overthrow the human oppressors. The X-Men, like many superhero types, find themselves in many extraordinary situations. Therefore, it is not uncommon to find them out in space caught up in the middle of an alien civil war. No big deal, really, but in the end they always come home to fight for the world that fears and hates them. Claremont never seems to get that second part. He always creates these lame-ass scenarios that put the X-Men completely out of their element and won't let them come home. It's getting old. Take a clue from Bendis, Chris! Old is good. Tradition is good! Crappy writing and bad plots don't work. Just my opinion. In the end, I suppose, it's a pretty nerdy thing to be complaining about the X-men. Oh, well. Maybe next time I'll write about the communicatio idiomatum or something like that. That'd be great!

Well, I was bored in the office the other day, so I went to my house blog, the Iredell House, you know. Anyway, I was checking to see if any of my housemates have posted anything blog-worthy lately. No one had, so I thinks to myself, "I wonder what other blogs are out there in the vacuum of cyberspace." So I click on "next blog" to find out. Well, there are just hundreds of bored lonely people out there with nothing better to do but create these stupid blog things. But the hook was there. I thinks to myself again, "Gee, Barry, you could do your own private blog. " So here it is, my own private blog. I keep telling myself that I'm not a looser without a life. No! I am a man! With his own blog. Damn skippy. Now all the world can have access to my wit and charm without having to go through the druggery of seeing me face to face. So, then, let me speak to the yet unknowing world how these things came about. So shall You hear of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts; of accidental judgments, casual slaughters; of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause; And, in this upshot, purposes mistook Fall'n on th' inventors' heads. All this can I truly deliver.