Mouth of Babes Entry - Italianism

On the way to Wallyworld ...

Carlyn: "Who is he? what does he look like?"

In reference to a new Italian friend...

Elizabeth-Kay: "He looks just like an American, but he's from Italy"

Political correctness meets the mouth of babes :)

The Transparent Pretension

Ever feel like a swirling pinwheel that catches every wind, breath, and downhill draft? You spin but you are stationary- lodged in between the cool and comfortable blades of a freshly cut lawn.

Ever feel like an ADD gorilla storming across the den with thick knuckles dragging debris and damage through out your palace by your perfectly executed banana dance? You grunt and snort and win the best in show at ZooFest, yet no one buys your tantrum any longer, they merely patronize the tirade.

Ever feel like a dedicated drum major with a three hundred pound whistle attached to your blowing lips while leading a parade? You turn to gaze back at the marching revelers and fancy footers only to find a fully filled street adorned in apathetic turbans going beep, beep, beep.

Ever feel like George Jetson’s carpool driver sandwiched between the son of Gregarious II and his heir to the throne Loquacious I? You want to concentrate on not missing the tricky left lane merge but your head is domed in mumbles, half-sentences, and fog.

From the Mouths of Babes - "I don't have a brain!"

Still learning, fabricating, developing, and coming to understand the use of truth, metaphor, sarcasm, imagery, deception, and social tact, children say the 'darndest' things.

This little series will focus on those youthful utterances in an attempt to remind us of just how beautiful they are.
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Trying to encourage her sister to lower her voice while 'reading' (Jeanne-Marie cannot read as she is only just four) aloud Carlyn asks -

"Jeanne-Marie? Can you not talk so loud with that book?"

Jeanne-Marie responds softly, "I like to read it."

"Can't you just read it in your brain?" Carlyn asks.

Jeanne-Marie retorts, "I don't have a brain!"

On the Hospice Care of Clear Communication

Words have meaning and sometimes those meanings fluctuate and move along the semantic conveyor belt like silly putty soldiers in Wittgenstein’s verbal factory clinging on to an image of what they used to be. And yet, precision does exist- there is such a thing as being clear and precise, although I fear that the syllogisms are burning.

It seems that many find clear communication to be a completely unrealistic adventure as they favor painting presumptuously laden emotional thumbnails and impressionistic murals in an attempt to communicate. Feelings and deep-seated emoticons rule the day. Logic is smoldering.

Felt needs have become the catalytic adverbs that force feed hearers a Modus Ponens IV tube while not having a proper theorem at all. It’s like trying to listen to a prattling child and being accused of insensitivity and pickiness because you find nonsensical babbling to be incomprehensible when you should be understanding and caring and sensitive. Yes, sensitive… yes, oh so sensitive. The Avon rep is calling.

Whatever happened to truth tables? Whatever happened to right and wrong and black and white? Has gray now become the color of those who claim to be enlightened? Certainly gray exists but using it to cloak a slothful mind is shameful.

Like all cultural problems there isn’t just one reason or answer for this love of nonsense. Many shaping influences have contributed to the postmodern pyrite city’s fortification. The most dominant one goes back far, far into the past. It goes all the way back to Eden where the embodiment of evil succeeded in convincing man that he was autonomous.

Believing that one has no accountability outside of themselves to an Absolute rule giver will drive not only their soul into destruction, but as I’ve come to see, it will also herd their thinking into a maddening cesspool as well.

Po Mo Pope No Mo

Many have called the now deceased leader of the Roman Catholic Church, Pope John Paul II, one of, if not the greatest, Christian leader of the 20th century.

Can a chimpanzee be the greatest duck of the 20th century?

Only if we redefine what it means to be a duck.

Death Be Not Proud

According to one source approximately 95 million people die each year. That means that every second, 3 people are gone. Every minute 180 individuals pass away. Within the next hour 10,800 men, women and children will have disappeared. Today, as you finish up your daily activities about 165,000 people have died. I’m not sure if these stats take into account daily womb invasions or not as each hour women are deceived into exercising evil in the name of choice. The number of murdered womb babies is estimated to be in the millions.

It is interesting that this massive amount of death goes by virtually unnoticed. We seem to stand up and observe death when it is either revealed to us in one massive event or when it is particularly wrapped around a controversial social topic or celebrity / leader. The Jihad-infected aero bombing of the World Trade Center in New York City as well as the Asian-pacific tsunami disaster are examples of the former while the recent death of Teri Schiavo and Pope John Paul II the latter.

When we are riding in our convertibles soaking in the pleasure rays as our favorite melody and groove propel us down winding roads we don’t think about our grave. Sobering moments only come on the tip of death’s dagger. The book of Ecclesiastes puts it this way, “…the day of one's death is better than the day of one's birth. It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, because that is the end of every man, and the living takes it to heart… The mind of the wise is in the house of mourning, while the mind of fools is in the house of pleasure.” (Ecclesiastes 7:1b-2;4) Truly God’s advice is not congruent with our wisdom.

We have watched the educational system instruct us that we come from highly advanced amebas leaping as a Galapagos frog from bug to fish to man and we have sat by our warm television sets seeing if any of those who claim to have some sense of right and wrong will actually understand that a helpless woman needs to eat and drink. Starving a Chihuahua in your garage will get you arrested and branded as inhumane yet denying basic feeding and nutrition to the disabled is now respecting surrogate ‘rights’. At least the wicked are consistent. Well, sometimes.

America has become an oligarchy as Ann Coulter states rather well, “Our infallible, divine ruler is a county judge in Florida named George Greer, who has more authority in America than the U.S. Congress, the president and the governor. No wonder the Southern Baptist Church threw Greer out: Only one god per church!”

In Pope John Paul II’s case the words of John Gunther ring true, “All the doctors!--helpless flies now, climbing across the granite face of death." We all die. We just don’t know when. James White puts this event into a proper perspective by writing, “I wonder...how many evangelical leaders will honor God rather than men and say what needs to be said? "Unless the Pope believed the gospel, he, like any other person on the planet, died under the wrath of God, outside of the only way of salvation God has provided in Jesus Christ!" And how many will cave in to the fear of the face of men and do what society demands by compromising the gospel, showing a greater love of the acclaim of men rather than the approval of God? Remember, friends: Romans 5:1 Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Eternal perspectives come to us through death events and remind us that vapors only last for a short tick on the grand tock.