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I'm not posting this just because it's Earth Month and it's good for the environment. I'm also posting this because it's my personal vendetta against information overload. One of the tenets of "fine print" is information overload. And you know how much I hate fine print.

There's been some good stuff floating out there.

Mohler's article, Marriage and the Glory of God.

Nick Vujicic has no arms and no legs, but his story is a story of joy.

Back in Malaysia, my church friends called it "quiet time." In the States too, they called it "quiet time." But Should We Really Call it Quiet Time?

I presume many of you who know me personally appreciate my blunt honesty above many of my other "noble" traits. Well, coming up is something that has the potential of causing you a little discomfort. O who am I kidding - no righteous, sane man would admit to doing what I unknowingly did. But I'm not one to back down from a chance to invoke glee in my audience, even at the risk of humiliation. Before proceeding though, let' us make clear that we're all civil adults here. Okay?

Remember Civil

Well, this morning I took a great long look at my website and made a horrific discovery:

 

My banner is phallic. O frightful french-fried fritters... my banner is phallic

 

I'm so sorry, friends. It's an accident, honestly. You'll never look at this site the same way again. But I'll keep the banner for a few days until most get done laughing. I guess now I can empathize with so many logo designers out there who have made the same mistake. For your information, it's a freaking iguana, okay? A reptile. A lizz... darn.

What is wrong with my RSS? I finally have a brusque post and this happens.

Well that has nothing to do with my recent case of oral surgery and has everything to do with spilling thoughts out unedited on the page. Yes I once had super powers. The power to chew food in double the speed of an average human. On Friday I was defeated by Dr Lubar my oral surgeon. I imagine he laughed hysterically while brandishing a platinum set of pliers which he used to pull out my five extra teeth. The procedure lasted 40 minutes according to my lovely companion Meg. Yes she was a little Delilah except she didn't mean me no harm. Samson's source of strength didn't pose a personal problem. My teeth did. Meg just didn't want me having teeth problems later on in life. I understand. Well I'm trying my best to vomit hard and vomit true. I feel the momentum slowing though. I was going pretty well a few sentences back. A true vomit exercise is raw. The backspace is the enemy. Do not use it. If you use it it's no longer pure. But I did use it. I hit backspace, I edited my thoughts. And now, doom.

Dude I'm Lost

Some days I just wonder - what in the world is Rob Bell talking about?

Cool Ad

Other stuff: this gives me the warm fuzzies.