Abortion Thoughts

I read a number of blogs of women who are ardently pro-choice. I don’t know why I read them. Perhaps it is just because I like to read the thoughts of people who have a radically different world view than my own. I am bored to tears reading the words of those who I agree with on most every subject. Especially if I disagree with the way the promote their ideas.

For some reason those who are pro-life have been labeled Super-Christians, murderers, haters, and so forth. I wish I could disagree with you, but when I look around I see much of the same even as a pro-life Christian. Here are some of my thoughts.

As a Christian you are called to love others. It is tough to do that standing in front of an abortion clinic holding a sign that calls scared teenage girls murderers.

As a Christian you are called to proclaim the good news of Christ, which is about forgiveness of sin. You are not called to convict others of their sin. That is the Holy Spirits job. You aren’t any good at it anyway.

Abortion is a sin…… So is hating someone. In fact it is the same as murder to God. I wonder if you are guilty of that. As you know, if you have broken just one of the laws you are guilty of breaking the whole law, hence the need for Christ and His good news.

Do I believe abortion is a good thing? No. But I believe as Christians we are fighting the wrong battle. Instead we should love those who are hurting, provide food for those in need. We should provide medical care for those in need, and show the lost world that there is a better way. Not doing so with an air of contempt, but with compassion and understanding.

Women who have had abortions have not done so on a whim, and many times they are hurting over the difficult decision. Standing in front of them calling them murderers is not what Christ would do. He would show compassion. Will you?

Another Pregnant Man

The headline to the story reads "Another Pregnant Man". I remember when the first of these stories came out a while back, and my reaction is the same the second time around. THIS IS NOT A MAN.

For some reason the media promotes this as though it were a man who by some freak of nature was able to conceive a child and carry it to term I don't know somewhere in his urethra. That is obviously not the case here. Just like the first time around we have a woman who has been changed surgically to look like a man. Fine. I don't care what you want to do to your own body. If you want to add a third eyeball because you feel that you were supposed to be born a tri-clops, whatever, that is your business. But please then don't act as though you are doing something special.

You may look like a man, but so what, all your parts are still woman on the inside. I mean for goodness sake the lunch lady at the high school has a moustache and is well on the way to a beard. That doesn't make her a man either. For the record, no man has EVER given birth to a child, and they never will.

To add to the odd factor here, the partner is also a woman. So, we have two women who are both surgically altered to appear like men. They then couple up and date another woman who looks like a man.

For the sake of this child I really pray these parents can provide some sort of positive identity to this life they have created. This baby will have two mothers pretending to be fathers, and no one to actually be a mother or is that father. You see the dilemma.

Where does the meaning reside?

Is meaning in words, or people? This is a discussion my wife and I have repeated time and time again beginning shortly after we began dating. At the time she was in her second year of her undergraduate degree in communications. She was taking a class on interpersonal communications, and loving every minute of it. Today we find ourselves discussing it again as she prepares to begin teaching the very class next Tuesday.

One of the class discussions was whether words have meaning. The class teaches that they do not. According to the text words are simply tools which we use to communicate meaning to another individual using our background, history, education, etc. They will then use their background, history, education and so forth to interpret meaning. You can imagine the game of telephone where the meaning of what we say is open for interpretation.

I respectfully disagree. I believe words do in fact have meaning. We have a book dedicated to just that, a dictionary. It lines out in very unambiguous terms the meaning of each word. Should I choose a word incorrectly, or you interpret the word to mean something it does not. Then there is a failure in knowledge, and the words was used/interpreted incorrectly.

On the other hand we can all think of words that have come to mean other things through out the years; cool, hip, rad, groovy, mouse. I'm sure you can come up with many more. What do you think? Does the meaning reside in the words, or in people.

American Community Survey

I received my survey in the mail a few days ago and have been mulling it over ever since. At this point I am leaning towards not filling it out. The questionnaire comes with a little pamphlet that portends to tell you why it is so important that you don't simply throw it in the trash. For instance it is used to determine your representation in the House of Representatives and is used for State redistricting purposes. This by the way is the only use outlined by law. It then goes on to say that it is used for the purposes of deciding where new schools and hospitals will be built. No it doesn't. First of all schools are decided on by the local school boards and hospitals are built by private entities. Unless of course our government is planning to take over both sectors of our workforce.

All that is fine and dandy, but all they really need to know is number of people in the house. Perhaps the sex of those living in the house and the ages. That is all, perhaps it would be good to know ethnicity, but I don't see the need.

Question to which I take exception:
House Hold Info:
#1 First and Last Name
Housing:
#1 What best describes this building? (mobile home, single family, apartment, etc)
#2 When was it built?
#3 When did you move in?
#4 How many acres?
#5 What were last year's agricultural sales from the land?
#6 How many rooms?
#8 Is there; hot water, flush toilet, tub or shower, stove, refrigerator, telephone?
#9 How many vehicles are kept at this home?
#10 What fuel do you use for heating?
#11 What is your electric/gas/water/other heating bills?
#12 Did anyone in your house receive food assistance last year?
#13 How much is your condominium fee?
#14 Do you own your home?
#15 How much is your rent?
#16 What is your dwelling worth?
#17 What are your property taxes?
#18 How much is your home owners insurance?
#19 Do you have a mortgage?
#20 Do you have a second mortgage?
PERSON 1:
#7 Where were you born?
#8 Are you a citizen?
#10 Have you attended school or college in the past 3 months?
#11 Education level?
#14 Does this person speak a language other than English?
#15 Previous address?
#16 Does this person have health insurance?
#17 Difficulty hearing or seeing?
#18 Have any physical, emotional, or mental conditions?
#19 Marital status?
#29 Last week did this person work for pay at a job?
#30 Where?
#31 How does this person get to work?
#32 How many people ride to work in the same vehicle?
#33 What time did this person leave for work?
#34 How long does it take to get there?
#41 What type of business did this person work in? (private, non-profit, Gov't, self)
#46 What were this persons duties at work?
#47 What was your income last year?

These are certainly not all the questions that are no business of the government, only the most egregious. A single individual would answer 72 very personal questions if they filled out this questionnaire. Am I the only whack job that has a problem with this? These questions do not serve the purpose of the census as described in the constitution.

Article 1; Section 2; Clause three of the constitution outlines that the census be taken every ten years for the purpose of determining the number of people living in each state. Here is the text if you wish to read it.

Creative Writing Assignment

The object of this exercise is to create a short story from a multitude of authors in a semi-fractured style. Write as much or as little as you like to take the original storyline and add your own take on the next events. Copy and Paste the previous chapters and then add your own. Label your chapter number and your name/moniker at the top and then tag 2 people to pass it on to, for them to continue the story and see how it can develop through those different paths. Do NOT tag it back to any previous author of your story’s chapters.
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Chapter 1- by Mookie
It is summertime in the middle of the day. Moms and dads are at work, so my friend Jay and I, having nothing better to do, go down into the ravine behind my house. We have decided that today we will build a small fort and a campsite we can call our own. This small stretch of creeks running through the woods in the dead center of our town forms our own wilderness frontier.
We set to the task of grabbing fallen branches and sticks to create the walls of our fort at the base of a hill. While Jay begins construction on these walls, I move to my own litle task of creating a dam in the creek that runs through this section of the woods. An older creekbed that is usually dry, except for when the rain comes, has a variety of large rocks and broken concrete. These will be the materials for damming the creek up and creating a small ponding next to our campsite. Back and forth I lug rock after rock and concrete chunks as well. Once I feel I have a sufficient amount of rocks and concrete, I begin to set them into the small and shallow running stream. Soon the water level begins to rise and expand outward away from the bank, as I choke off the streams natural flow. As with any 10 year old, seeing the fruits of my labors, even in the early stages, makes me feel like a god in my own small world. By late afternoon we expect to have a sheltered fort, a bridge over the creek, a pooling of water to soak our feet in, or to use to put out the campfires we set from time to time when our parents don’t realize we’ve stolen a box of matches or a lighter. We even have a designated circle of rocks for our campfire along with some wood, twigs and dead leaves to fuel the fire.
While pushing through some high brush in search for more wood, we spook a doe. She runs off, along the creek, and with a graceful leap she jups down into a culvert pit, ad into the dark tunnel that goes underneath a neighboring road that runs along the top of the east end of the ravine. We followed her to see just where she went. But when we got to the tunnel, we were spooked. Rumors of the tunnel being the spot for Satan Worshippers abound through our heads. This was the one place we had never dared to venture into. Graffiti was scrawled all around the tunnels entrance on the concrete exterior. Older kids had scared us with stories of animal sacrifices, complete with evidence of blood soaked walls that lay within the interior of the tunnel. We look down to one corner and see some scattered small bones, which only further reinforced the validity of these rumors. Then suddenly out of nowhere the doe came running back out the tunnel toward us, veering away as she moved past us, a wild look in her eyes. what had caused her to be so scared and willing to run back in our direction? We had neither heard nor seen anything that might represent danger. The adventure in our little stretch of frontier wilderness was only beginning…
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Chapter 2 by Renaissance Guy
“Do you want to go in?” asked Jay with a quiver in his voice.
“Maybe. If you do,” I answered.
“My cousin knew somebody who went in there. He was never heard from again.”
“That’s baloney!” I replied. “It’s just a dumb, ol’ cave.”
“Then you go in first,” Jay suggested.
What to do? Now that I had minimalized the dangers of the cave, I couldn’t show any fear. I’d look like a chicken for sure. Then it dawned on me. “It’s dark in there. We’ll need flashlights. Let’s come back another time with flashlights, so that we can see inside it.”
How could I have known that Jay had come prepared? Out of his pocket he produced not one, but two, flashlights. “Here you go,” he said. “Lead the way.”
I turned on the flashlight and pointed it into the cave. I swirled it around a bit to see if anything hideous was visible. Nothing at all but bare rock walls. Visions of human skeletons and bloody knives zoomed through my mind. I knew that I had to stop thinking and just move forward.
With Jay close at my heels I inched my way in. Drat! Not too far in there was a bend. It was impossible to see around it. My mind went frantic again: Perhaps this is the chamber of death. Perhaps I’ve seen Mom and Dad for the last time. “Hey, Jay,” I said, “I think that I should be heading home. My parents will wonder where I am if I stay gone too long.”
Jay didn’t answer. I turned around and shrieked–almost like a girl. Where was he?



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Chapter 3 by Jay Burns


The sound emitting from mouth didn't sound like my own as it echoed through the tunnel. If Jay wanted to scare me his stunt had worked. I was petrified. My mind was racing with the possibilities that could have befallen my friend. Or worse what was about to happen to me. There I stood with the flashlight staring off into the darkness, lighting only a few feet in front of my path until the darkness swallowed it up. Boy these sure are cheap flashlights I thought. Then right on cue as if taking offense to my thought the flashlight flickered and went out.

I was now in full panic. I called out to Jay. I could hear an answer, but the sheer volume of his scream echoing off the concrete walls reverberated the words out of comprehension. I turned on my heels and ran in the direction I had come. I was feeling along the wall as I ran. It was cold and wet against my fingers. Just the feeling sent chills through my already terrified young body. I was running with all my might when suddenly my fingers could no longer feel the wall. Now I was longing for that slimy cold concrete. I felt lost in the middle of this tunnel, but I knew I was moving in the right direction. I must have hit the bend in the tunnel.

The sharp pain in my legs let me know that I had run into something. It was only about knee high, just enough to send me sailing through the air. I was screaming as I flew but I wasn't alone. I could hear Jay's familiar scream too. I couldn't believe it. I had tripped over Jay as he sat cowering in the tunnel. I knew the landing was going to hurt. Instinctively I tried to brace myself with my hands as I hit the ground, but it wasn't enough. My face skidded along the floor of the tunnel, and the water, which runs no more than an inch deep, was rushing into my mouth and up my nose. Close your mouth I thought to myself. During the fall the flashlight had come out of my hand and was clanking along the tunnel. Apparently, the jarring was enough to bring the dying batteries back to life and once again I could see a few feet.

Without missing a beat I was back on my feet running for the entrance which was now visible. I could hear footsteps splashing in the water right behind me. I thought it was Jay, but how could I be certain. All I could think of was that I had to out run whoever was chasing me. It wasn't long before we had reached the safety of the daylight. I could hear Jay laughing behind me, and soon we were both standing outside the tunnel bent over laughing and trying to catch our breath.

Nothing needed to be said. We had both been scared. There was no denying it. I was bent over gasping for air when I saw it. Jay's shoes were covered in something red. There were little drops of red on the bottoms of his jeans. I looked him square in the eye and could see only dread on his face. He was staring at me. Not really me, but my shirt. As I looked down, I understood the look. I was covered head to toe in what ever is on Jays shoes.

Don't let your mind go there I thought. It can't be true, but what else can it be. We didn't talk as we walked the few blocks back to our homes which butted right up against the ravine. How am I going to explain ruining my clothes? What was really going on in that tunnel? If there was something there, are they going to come after me?

The wrath of my father wasn't as bad as anticipated. For some reason I really thought he would one day have enough and kill me. Off to bed without dinner was punishment for ruining nearly new jeans and t-shirt. Not fun, but I knew that my mother would crack at the thought of her son starving to death, and would bring a plate to my room. It didn't matter. I wanted to be alone, and I certainly wasn't hungry.

As I lay in bed that night once again in the darkness I knew that if I lived through the night I was going to have to talk to Jay. I had a plan.



I tag: Becky and Godfather

Thank You for Calling USCIS

I recently shared my experience while attaining a passport. The circumstance left me looking at government run agencies with nothing less than awe. Awe at how inept they can be run. I now bring you an even more compelling true story from the department of Immigration Services.

The story beings with a call to the 800 line for the department of Immigration customer service. You won't be surprised to find that when the line picked up it was an automated voice service. Annoying, sure but you have to kind of expect it. What I didn't expect was the short duration of the automated system. After affirming that I did in fact want to continue in English and making one other selection I was off to speak with a real live person. I know. I was excited too. To make matters even better, there was almost no delay from the transfer to the representative picking up. Just long enough to get the disclaimer about the phone call being recorded. Here is where the story starts to get weird.

A voice comes on the the other end. It sounds like a real person to me. I can hear breathing and everything. She says her operator ID number and says "according to the prompts you selected, It appears you have a question about a form you filed. Is that correct?" I respond with a quick, yes. I then get an odd listing of all possible forms I could have filed. Followed by a yes or no in the form of a question. For example; "Is your question regarding form 100?"...... "No". Is your question regarding form 101....102.... 103... 200..... 200A?".... "No." I was filing a form 600. So you could see how this would take a while. Finally she gets to my form. I'm so surprised by the hearing the number that I jump to my feet with an excited "YES!". Causing more than a few odd looks from those sitting near me.

Here is what confuses me. We could have saved 5 minutes with a simple, "What form did you file?". When I look back on the phone call, I begin to question myself. Was this really a person on the other end, or just a really good automated system? After establishing the form I filed I am told that all questions regarding form I-600A, must be made via email to the address she is about to provide. Okay. Great. I take down the address, and repeat it back. Yes that's correct.

I send the email, and within a couple moments I get a failure notice telling me the email address is undeliverable. Unbelievable. I call back. Confirm the email address again. There is no mistake. The email address they gave goes nowhere. Which I tell them. They then tell me that I'll have to make an appointment at my "local" office to discuss my questions with an agent.

"Where is the "local" office?".
"Cheyenne." (7 hours away.)
"Great! Lets make an appointment".
"Oh no, you can't do that with us."
"Okay, what's the number?"
"No, you can only make an appointment via the "InfoPass" system online. Here is how you do that."
"Thanks."

I go to the web address, click the link listed and put in my zip code. Up comes the following message.

INFOPASS IS CURRENTLY NOT AVAILABLE IN YOUR AREA. PLEASE CALL 1-800 FOR MORE ASSISTANCE.

Same Sex Marriage Fails Again

Same sex marriage still has a zero percent passage rate when put to a vote by the people of ANY state. Zero percent. That isn't very good. Is it?

(photo from AP story)