I am….Batman?

By the Night Writer

Biblically speaking, the eagle and the bat don’t have much in common, other than you’re not supposed to eat either one (check out Leviticus and Dueteronomy). Aside from that the bat receives no mention while the eagle is referred to 25 times in the KJV, though not always positively. Yet culturally and spiritually we view the eagle as a regal and majestic bird, one that can set its wings and fly above the storm. Bats, if you think about them at all, are kind of icky.

I started thinking about this the other day when our pastor said that there are five areas that make up our life and they are, in order of importance: Spirit, Soul (our mind, will and emotions), Body, Social and Financial. The world’s wisdom, however, reverses this order. The basis of this understanding is the main part of a teaching I’ve done at Red Wing, but not the point of this post. Instead, my pastor said you have to look at the world’s priorities upside down as if you were a bat. As he said it, I suddenly got several bat-related pictures in my head.

First it occurred to me that bats really can’t see much at all so they don’t really “look at” anything. Instead, they navigate by sound. That is, they send a noise out ahead of them and steer according to the sound that returns to them, trusting they won’t crash into anything and that they’ll find food. Immediately I remembered that the Bible tells us we are to walk by faith (“the evidence of things not seen”), not sight. Secondly, i remembered that “faith comes by hearing”.

If we set our course by sight we can be led astray by shiny things that may not be good for us, like bugs drawn to a backyard zapper. If, however, we spoke the word of God out of our mouths and ordered our lives by what we heard, we’d be on the path to getting those five priorities in the proper order.

Of course, scripture also quotes Jesus as saying, “I do what I see my Father doing.” That implies sight, but – since God changes not – isn’t it easier to see what God is doing by looking at what He has done, using the word that is in our hearts, in our mouths, and ultimately in our ears?

Finally, the majestic eagle is an apex predator, which means it is mainly on the “look out” for it’s next meal. Many of those we would look at and admire – actors, athletes, politicians – and try to emulate are all in it for themselves. A bat’s next meal, however, is likely be a mess of mosquitos – something that actually helps us.

Hanging upside down is something the world thinks is weird or abnormal, yet it’s perfectly “normal” for a bat, just as I want those five priorities in their proper order to be the norm in my life. Yes, it’s tempting to want to soar like an eagle, but as for me — to the bat cave!

Anorex[st]ics Inaneymous 134

Whoa, it’s been three weeks! Well, I hope you enjoy this one, because I couldn’t stop snickering while I was drawing it. I don’t want those Snickers to go to waste.

Anorex[st]ics Inaneymous 134

Now that is the absolute height of manliness. All you need now is a kilt.

Also, it’s someone’s second anniversary today. Happy anniversary, MD and Son@Night/Uncle Ben/Adversary/Whatever The Heck It Is You Call Yourself These Days. MD, I hope you got S@NUBAWTHIIYCYTD a few sets of these.

Ciao for now!

Elections in the steroid era

by the Night Writer

Baseball may be America’s pastime, but America’s game is politics, and it’s played for keeps.

It was all very exciting when Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa were in a tight race to break Babe Ruth’s single-season homerun record, and when Barry Bonds sledge-hammered his way toward Hank Aaron’s career record. Many people cheered as the dramatic numbers climbed higher and if anyone scratched his head and wondered outloud at the unusual displays of power and hat-size they were repeatedly assured that the game was clean and these were merely exceptional athletes plying their trade at the highest levels. After all, we were told repeatedly that Sosa, McGwire, Bonds and other sluggers of the era had never tested positive for steroids. Of course, that spotless record was likely the result that they had never been effectively tested for steroids. In fact, for a number of years Performance Enhancing Drugs weren’t even specifically against the rules in a game that has long winked at “gamesmanship”

Similarly, cheating in politics is as American as apple pie. Recently we’ve seen a series of extremely close political elections with enough curious counts and results that you’d of had to have botox injections to keep from raising an eyebrow. And as the Minnesota legislature debates a voter-ID bill requiring a state-authorized photo ID in order to vote, we again have those who claim the process is clean and that large-scale fraud has never been proven. As was the case with baseball, though, there has barely been an effort made to try to prevent it.

“Well, that’s just baseball,” you might say. “That doesn’t mean politics is like that.” Of course not. Baseball players might be willing to cheat in order to gain fame, glory and riches, but politicians are above such tawdry motivations and designs. Baseball players cheat because a slugger can pull down $20 million a year or more, but that amount is bush league when you consider the amount of money that can be gained in furthering an agenda, feathering a nest and favoring your friends. Influence is much more valuable than an MVP.

If you doubt that, look at the amount of money generated just to gain the influence in the first place. The recent Wisconsin Supreme Court election – a race that would normally be reported in box-score agate type – generated some $3.6 million in outside political contributions. In baseball, $3.6 million barely gets you an average outfielder, or a good lefty set-up man. In politics, a good lefty set-up men may arguably be an even more valuable commodity to some.

Testing for steroids, and verifying voters, won’t eliminate the desire to gain an advantage, but it does make it easier for those scoring at home to have faith in the results. Major League Baseball dragged its feet on drug-testing because neither the owners or the players really wanted to look too closely at the situation. The owners liked the high ratings and interest that homerun races generated and the players liked the rewards that came with age and gravity-defying feats. It was the fans’ distaste and sense of injustice – and potential alienation – that forced action. Major League Politics drags its feet because neither party wants to change a system they’ve used to their advantage in the past.

Just as in baseball, though, the blatant hypocrisy and questionable results risk alienating the “fans”. The steroid era has cast doubt on the records and statistics of a generation of players, calling into question the validity of many records and tainting even those who played clean and diminishes the game overall. The same thing is happening with our election process. It is up to us fans to keep the pressure on if we want to see integrity in America’s pastime and America’s game.

First Mother’s Day Recap

Yesterday was a good day. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. People went out of their way to wish me a happy first Mother’s Day. I got to be a lazy bum while the Moose cleaned the kitchen and the Babe took an almost-three-hour nap (which was awesome). Then we left the Babe at home with a friend and went on a date, and had steak (which was also awesome).

As far as I’m concerned, though, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day have always pretty much been Hallmark holidays, right up there with Valentine’s Day. Gosh, without  the Hallmark calendar, how would we EVER remember to let our mother, father, or valentine know that they’re special to us and we love them??? On the other hand, I do love any excuse to be doted on and my birthday comes only once a year, so I won’t knock it too much.

Anyway, it was special. The Moose and I spent time with the little one that gave me my “mother” status, and talked about what an amazing couple of years it’s been. Getting married was the top of the highest hill of the roller coaster for us, and it hasn’t stopped-or even slowed down, really- since. We also spent time pondering future Mother’s Days. I’m looking forward to having breakfast in bed prepared by very small chefs.

Take the Highway to Hell and make a left at the Road to Serfdom

by the Night Writer

The inane political bickering over spending cuts that do about as much good as an ice-scraper on the side of the iceberg that hit the Titanic, a debt-to-GDP-ratios of around 140% and yesterday’s S&P downgrade of the country’s bond rating made me think of an analogy that I shared on Mr. D’s blog the other day:

A car is barreling down the highway as the driver fiddles with the seat heater while balancing a Big Mac, fries and large Coke in his lap and staring at the GPS screen instead of at the road ahead. Meanwhile everyone else in the car is arguing loudly over what music to play through the high-tech, 12-speaker sound system and whether it’s too hot or too cold in the compartment, and who gets to drive next.

Suddenly they realize there’s a brick wall ahead. What to do? Hitting the brakes hard will toss people about, make them spill their drinks, bump their heads and hurt their feelings. Or you can just hit the wall. Either way, the car is going to come to a stop.

One option gives you chance to perhaps survive and eventually drive around the obstruction. The other results in a litte white marker beside the road, commemorating what once had been.

The choice is between the unacceptable and the unthinkable. And some just say, “Go faster.”

Don’t put all the blame on the current driver, though. The car turned down this road a long, long time ago and no one paid attention to the Dead End sign. There have been several drivers since then, and some have had more of a lead foot than others but no one’s ever seriously tried to change direction, though we have veered from the ditch occasionally.

It really is an old story, so old that few alive today can even remember it being any other way. How old? Check out the cartoon below I just saw today and that comes from a 1934 issue of the Chicago Tribune and it’s depiction of “young pinkos from Columbia and Harvard”, what looks like two versions of Stalin (the Road to Serfdom was thought to lead to Communism, not Socialism then) and the “Plan of Action for the U.S.: Spend! Spend! Spend under the guise of recovery – bust the government – blame the capitalists for the failure – junk the Constitution and declare a dictatorship.”

1934 cartoon blog

An Appeal to the Red-Headed Girl

by Sly the family rat

Things can fall apart so quickly.  The Vikings went from the verge of the Super Bowl one year to the deflation of the Metrodome being the highlight of their next season.  The Byzantine emperor Justinian painstakingly reasserted the territorial sovereignty of the Roman Empire only for it to slip away like sand after his death.  After the departure of Tom Wopat and John Schneider the Dukes of Hazzard fizzled faster than a redneck could shout, “Yee-ha!”

Well, I’ll stop beating around the bush.  A rat, namely me, passes from this mortal coil one week, and all of a sudden Anorexsticks Inaneymous goes from being a regular feature to not getting published this Monday.  What’s with that?  Was I the only thing holding this thing together?  Can the red-headed girl not find the time to put some sticks together to make people laugh?  What is this world coming to?

Here’s a suggestion.  Think of another theme.  Say, a farmer baby, or an angel rat, or nefarious cows trying to kidnap the farmer baby, or whatever.  Then make the world laugh.  For the love of filthy vermin everywhere, Anorexsticks must continue!!!!