Anthrocide

Fourth of July weekend Rebecca and I celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary (actually July 7th). While, for our 25th we went on a cruise, as my son Scott put it, we have become totally Mid-Westernized: we went to Arkansas.

Eureka Springs, Arkansas to be exact. For the uninitiated it is home to The Great Passion Play which is a depiction of the final days of the life of Christ.

It is performed in an amphitheater whose “stage” covers close to two acres, part of which is on a hillside opposite the audience. There are several sections of the stage area and speakers have the dialog emanate from the area where the action is focused. Across the hillside is the tomb of Lazarus, Gethsemane, Golgotha, the mount of ascension, and the garden tomb. At the bottom of the hill—the main stage—there is a wide street running in front of the Praetorium, the Temple, the upper room, and various other building facades. This outdoor setting enables realism that an indoor stage could not pull off. For example, in a couple of time-of-Christ street scenes two boys run a flock of over a dozen sheep across the stage. Another time a Roman official rode in on a chariot. Very cool.

But more about the play later. The grounds on which the play is performed have several other items of interest. First, they provide a “holy land tour.” They have set up various venues showing what life would have been like in both Old and New Testament times including a full-size replica of the Tabernacle and various scenes from the life of Jesus. I sort of half expected it to be rather cheesy, but for the most part it was both realistic and informative. They had people in costume portraying various Bible characters who described the various points of interest. One oddity was that the very nice woman portraying Mary Magdalene had a pronounced Arkansas drawl, rendering “the time of the Passover” as “the tahm of the Pace-over.” Definitely worth seeing. Next, there is a “Bible Museum” for which I again had low expectations. To my surprise there were some incredible treasures in there: A genuine Gutenberg Bible (not the very first one, but one from his actual press), a copy of a King James Bible from the first printing of 150, copies of original Tyndale and Wycliffe Bibles, a fragment from the Dead Sea Scrolls, and on and on. I’m thinking, “In Arkansas?” I finally asked how historic documents worth hundreds of thousands of dollars ended up there. The tour guide said the people who established the Passion Play and all the rest were well-off, a lot of the books came from a specific donor, and a lot of the money came from none other than Henry Ford. We also toured their “Sacred Arts Center” on the grounds, a gallery of mostly contemporary Christian paintings and sculpture, many of which were quite fascinating.

When it came time for The Great Passion Play itself, 8:30 p.m., the sky was threatening. An hour into the play lightning began flashing all around. We were on metal baseball-stadium-style seats; not the best for a lightening storm. We had rain ponchos (still around from our last trip to NYR) but they wouldn’t be much use against lightning. At 10 p.m. the play had progressed to the crucifixion scene and, amid the lightning and thunder, it began to rain. Becki and I had spotted an apparatus with wires that looked like what they would use to do the ascension but could not imagine any actor being foolish enough to use it during such a storm. As “Jesus” spoke his final words, “It is finished,” from the cross, the downpour came in buckets. They had special lighting and sound effects to mark the moment of Jesus’ death but they were totally upstaged by the real thing happening then and there. At that moment the lights all came on and an announcer said the performance had been canceled and to please exit. Even covered by the ponchos we got soaked, literally wading to the car. We later got rain-checks for our tickets good for any time in the next two years. We are told the resurrection and ascension scenes we missed are quite spectacular so we definitely plan to go back, maybe this fall.

Our hotel room was very large and quite nice including a heart-shaped Jacuzzi tub. It had an attached German-Czech restaurant with excellent sauerbraten. The next day we poked around in some antique stores and wandered through the “historic downtown” which is where all the hippies from the 70’s ended-up. There are row upon row of little eclectic shops many of which sold tie-dyed items and incense. There were also a ton of bikers in town and many hotel marquees claimed “bikers welcome”; one even said “bikers only.” I wore my Mizzou cap the entire time, daring anyone to comment and ready with my comeback: “I have only two words for you… Cotton - Bowl.” The only person who took the bait was a woman in the Sacred Arts Center who, it turns out, was a closet Nebraska fan. No matter, I rubbed her nose in Mizzou’s shellacking of Big Red too! (Graciously, of course.) However, there were a couple of guys around town wearing Oklahoma Sooner caps whom I, ahem, sort of avoided.

On the way home we stopped at the historic home of Laura Ingalls Wilder, author of the Little House on the Prairie series books. I found it odd that throughout the homes, the museum, and the tour itself not one mention was made that the books had been made into a long-running TV series. Not a single picture of Melissa Gilbert, Michael Landon, nothing. The only reference at all was a DVD or two of some episodes in the souvenir store.

Not Cozumel or Jamaica perhaps but we enjoyed our little anniversary trip immensely. But then, with such a marvelous wife, how could I not?

The use of clichés in writing is considered a poor practice, but in everyday speech they are, of course, common—that being what makes them clichés. Few people critique casual conversation (mercifully) so their use in that venue is largely ignored. But some clichés have gotten tangled. What these fractured clichés actually say becomes a nonsensical version of a phrase that at one time was somewhat intelligible.

A common one that has mysteriously engendered some debate is “I couldn’t care less” which has been twisted by many people into “I could care less.” A friend of mine was notorious for this one. The obvious meaning of the original phrase was that the speaker’s level of concern about the matter under discussion was at absolute zero, hence there was no possible way that he or she could have any lesser amount of concern. That is, the speaker cared nothing about the matter or, “could not [possibly] care [any] less.” To leave out the negative makes the statement the opposite. To say “I could care less” communicates at least some degree of concern, similar to saying “I’ve tasted worse” regarding a food item—it suggests more positive than negative. I’ve actually heard people argue over which is the correct version but the answer is obvious.

Another twisted cliché is used when a person is said to have done something just for the sake of chalking up another victory, most often as a rather derisive statement. The phrase is, “He [she] just wanted another notch on his [her] belt.” This usage is nonsensical. The actual phrase intended here is “…notch on his gun.” Anyone who watched movies in the ’40s or movies/TV in the ’50s or ’60s saw plenty of westerns. A common element of westerns was the gunslinger or bad guy who was proud of the number of opponents he had slain in gun duels. For each kill he would callously file a mark somewhere on his pistol. Thus each conquest merited “another notch on his gun.” Since these villains seemingly killed just to prove they could, the saying matched its general usage. Somewhere along the line, however, the result of dieting wherein sufficient weight loss could require one to need a new notch (or hole) farther up his or her belt got intermingled with the saying. Hence, people who score another victory are incorrectly said to have put another notch on their belts, when in fact there is no connection whatsoever between being victorious and belt-tightening.

One other case of mixing two clichés into nonsense is when one says something to the effect of, “When I heard that, a light went off in my head,” the intended meaning being that something dawned on the person. This is an unfortunate mix of “a light came on (or dawned)” and “an alarm went off in my head.” Light as a representation of sudden realization or “enlightenment” undoubtedly goes back to ancient times. For decades cartoons and comic art have used a light bulb glowing over the head of someone as representative of an epiphany or an idea. But in every case it is the light coming ON that indicates someone “getting it.” In an entirely different vein, something—especially something seemingly inconsequential—that suddenly puts one on the alert for trouble is said to have caused “alarm bells [or an alarm] to go off in one’s head.” Although perhaps a bit ironic, it is perfectly normal to refer to the sounding of a siren or an alarm bell as “going off” when it might be more proper to say it came on. Nevertheless referring to a sounding alarm that way is commonly understood and accepted usage. A lamp or bulb going from unlit to lit, however, is NEVER said to have gone “off.” A light that goes “off” is always one that was lit and has gone dark. Thus one who says he or she encountered something that made a “light go off” in his or her head should properly be understood to have suddenly gone stupid in that respect.

Hopefully none of this will be interpreted as me being pretentious. It’s just that I read one of these in a newspaper quote today and, well, a little light went off in my head and I just had to put another notch in my belt even though probably most of you could care less.

Click the Books link in the upper right section of this page. There you will find 5 full-length novels, 2 of which were not previously available, and 4 of which you can download for free! They download as PDF’s which almost all computers can open. When you open one, you can then save it on your computer and read it at your leisure or even print it out if you’ve got plenty of paper.

I’m actually quite pleased with each and every one. I especially like the book-and-sequel combination Hidden in a Field and The Way of Escape. Take a look at the synopses and excerpts you can see by clicking the books’ titles. If one sounds even mildly interesting, go ahead and download it and give it a try. It costs you nothing and if I haven’t hooked you by the second chapter, you can always delete your downloaded copy.

There is nothing more frustrating than doing what I love, writing, and not being able to convince people to even try reading it. Like the proverbial tree falling alone in the forest, a book unread is meaningless. A more apt comparison is a singer alone on an island with no one to hear. I really don’t mind so much if someone says, “Meh, tried it but not my cup of tea.” It’s when people won’t even give one a try that drives me nuts.

Although they are all fiction, each one has something to say. So how ’bout it? Take the plunge, help out a fledgling author and, who knows? You might be entertained and perhaps given some food for thought! Thanks and God Bless!

If you’re one of those people who cannot resist forwarding those 12th-generation forwarded emails because of the amazing things they reveal that you never knew, here are my

TEN TIPS FOR PEOPLE WHO FORWARD EMAILS WITH SHOCKING NEWS, SAD TALES, PETITIONS, OR MEDICAL CLAIMS FROM SOME AUTHORITATIVE-SOUNDING PERSON:

1 - Assume it is a lie. This assumption will be correct 99.999999% of the time.

2 - Realize that the truthfulness of the email has nothing to do with the trustworthiness of the person who sent it to you. You may receive it from your most trusted friend, but the question is not your friend’s character, it is the character of the person who ORIGINATED the email. Since virtually all of them are lies, hoaxes, and misrepresentations these originators are lying con-artists. I, personally, have no use for people like that and refuse to be one of their patsies who spread their lies to others. Anyone who creates a phony email like “the American Cancer Society will donate money to help sick little Jimmy every time an email is forwarded” is nothing but a liar and a sleazeball. If he will lie and make a fool out of people over something like this he is probably a greasy, egotistical, child-abusing creep. Why in heaven’s name would I want to forward something created by a slimeball like that to others just because his idiot email tells me to?

3 - Assume it is a hoax. If you have a means to check whether it is true, do so before you forward it. If you cannot positively confirm it as true or if you do not have any way to confirm it, do not forward it. Of the thousands of these types of emails I’ve seen, I found one (yes, exactly one) that appears to be actually true via this technique. Apparently they really did find chariots from the time of Pharaoh at the bottom of the Red Sea. Anyway, if you do not have access to do verifications or don’t seem to have much success with them, ask someone who does before forwarding such emails.

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This weekend we are doing 4 performances (including the videoed dress rehearsal) of a musical drama about Jesus from the perspective of the two Sanhedrin members who believed in Him: Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea. It is a marvelous play with excellent and effective music. So much so that I have been inviting people at work, etc., and offering to buy lunch (or dinner in one case) if they attend a performance and are not emotionally moved. Several have said they plan to come. I seriously doubt I’ll be buying any meals. There are scenes and songs that still give me goosebumps and this is the second year I’ve been in it. In one particular scene, last year I could hear audience members sniffling into Kleenexes.

While all of that is well and good, I’ve been pondering the question: What is my goal in being in this production?

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My first exposure to American Idol was 3 seasons ago (when, I believe, Fantasia won) when I was visiting my sister Linda. I watched and laughed at those who thought they could sing but could not and found the good singers entertaining. As they began to cull down contestants I missed some episodes and lost interest. The next season, though, Becki and I never missed an episode, all the way from the wannabes to Carrie Underwood’s victory. Last season we did the same.

But this year the luster is gone. I’m watching but something is bothering me about it. I feel like I’m being had.
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Here are some things I have learned by watching 5 seasons worth of DVD’s of the series 24:

THE COUNTER-TERRORIST UNIT IN LOS ANGELES:

• Is far less physically secure than your neighborhood Baskin-Robbins, allowing captured terrorists to escape at will and kidnappers, assassins, and bomb-/lethal-gas-toting terrorists to enter its nerve center without any problems.

• Apparently screens potential employees by checking their library cards since they have one or more covert terrorist henchmen on staff at all times. These are allowed to provide the terrorist leaders a running commentary on CTU’s actions via cell phone and even to install surveillance cameras anywhere they wish.

• Cannot get through a single crisis day without changing its Director at least three times, often due to terrorist-influenced death.

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Glad you dropped-by the site but don’t just scroll through it. There are complete novels, humorous essays, and a play that explores what the Disciples were doing while Jesus was in the tomb. Downloading them is easy. If you don’t have Acrobat Reader you can download and install it (it’s pretty simple) from this site also. Once you download a book you can save it and read it from your computer at your leisure. You could even print it out (if you have lots of paper!). Please try one and let me know how you like it. Thanks, and enjoy!