QDB: Top 100 Quotes

Bash never fails to amuse me. [some quotes can be crass]

Edit: Well, going back to some of the other posts maybe I should say Bash sometimes fails to amuse me, infact aggravates me.

From Albert Mohler's Weblog

Check out this review on Pornified: How Pornography Is Transforming Our Lives, Our Relationships, and Our Families.

Put simply, porn is now considered cool. As Paul argues, "Pornography is wildly popular with teenage boys in a way that makes yesteryear's sneaked glimpses at Penthouse seem monastic. For teenagers, pornography is just another online activity; there is little barrier to entry and almost no sense of taboo. Instead pornography has become a natural rite and acceptable pastime."

Wow. We in the Church need to guard ourselves and our brothers - I don't think any of us, single or married, old our young, are invulnerable. I know I'm definitely susceptible. It's a shame that still, topics like this are awkward and remain un-discussed in the Church.

Monday Night at Morton's - 12/20/03

Ben Stein's last article for e-online. I normally don't care much for celebrity talk, but this guy surprised me - I only knew him for his cynicism on TV. Here's a healthy dose of it myself: Hope he means it.

Edit: Reading some of his older articles, it's interesting to see that his ideas on God don't seem to take him very far practically... very postmodern.

The Blog Site - In The News - Blogging will be "trendy" in 2004

Seems like everyone is hopping on the blogging bandwagon and this article made my day. It's a nice feeling to look down my nose at those dilettante bloggers who've just woken up to the world. You all are so... 2004.

Here's a first for Skinniyah: being aware of something before it became cool. Wow. I must be a fully culture-relevant kinda dude. Who'd've thunk it.

Still living in the 20th Century? Let UrbanDictionary enlighten you.

In Defense of Pat Robertson

I care nothing for Pat Robertson or his comments myself, but this article sure if a breath of fresh air in the midst of the journalistic mob.

I especially like how the author, Richard Kim, manages to get his point across without really being nice to Robertson. And how in his conclusion, he compares Robertson with Jack Nicholson's Col. Nathan R. Jessep in A few Good Men. Love it.

Hugging Time!

Hey World! Hey Stranger! Here's some love, from me to you.

southpaw :: Baby Got Book

LOL. Unless I have totally read him wrong, the man is serious.

Thompson Chain with the big red letters, NIV with the ribbon bookmark... sort of sticks in your head, doesn't it?

And the girlfriend looks pregnant. Wow.

And there's more?! Check out this lyrics page. That's the site where you can find out all you want about the musical genius of Dan "Southpaw" Smith.

Engadget 1985 - Engadget - www.engadget.com

Flashback to the days of cutting edge technology.

Hilarious, yet eye-opening. We've come a long way, baby!

episode iii, the backstroke of the west [language]

Tell me this isn't true!

In actual fact, I thought the dialogue in the star wars series was bad enough as it is, this takes things to a whole other level.

Grown Up Thoughts

What is being an adult? What is being immature? Where is the line between youth and manhood drawn without arbitrary lines being made? It hit me yesterday.

That microscopic moment of attitude when one switches from an obsession with trying to be and settles into the acceptance of being, is when the crucial transformation into adulthood has begun.

Maybe that makes no sense... well, I'm still trying.

Life, Written

I write.

I write because it makes me talk the way I cannot in normal speech. Inflections, pronunciations, pauses for thought need not discount the intelligence of what I say. A judgment will never be made before a proper account has been given, or after, for that matter.

I write because it frees me up to be able to express myself in ways that I never could otherwise. I write because it is the easiest way to think, to ponder, to hold discourse, to discuss. A debate with ones own mind; yes, verdict can be reached in such a dialogue.

I write because I can say things to a sheet of paper or a blank screen which cannot be uttered to the world, even a heedless world simply because it is not proper to mutter; yet, in written form I make a declaration of my opinion without hindrance or embarrassment.

I write because before me I can idealize the perfect woman, dream an idyllic meadow, create an adventurous journey, and envision the state of the world as I want it to be. I write because of the places I can take myself simply by thought, because of the loves I can love simply with a wish, because things don't have to be as they are but as they need to be, when written. Maybe this reveals in me the image of my Creator, the desire to create.

I write because in writing if find an attentive listener, one who always hears, always knows, always identifies, always “gets it.” There is no better thrill for a writer than a perpetually excited fan.

Galatians 5:6

Touching Bible Study. What good is faith, what good is belief, if it does not lead to compassionate action? Here's a song/poem I wrote this morning. I think it was St. Francis that said "Preach the Gospel at all times, when necessary with words".

We have believed in your message, O Lord
We have been set free, we have been forgiven
We have been made whole
Grace you have given, more than we need
yet, one thing we lack, and this is our plea:
Lord we have forgotten the touch of your Son
Teach us to Love

To reach out a hand, to touch the broken,
To show your example lived, more than spoken
Lord open our eyes, break open our hearts
Teach us to Love

We have become rich with your Word, O Lord
We stand for Truth, We stand in judgement
We have grown cold
This world is dying, fading away
Our eyes do not weep, our knees do not pray
We love our lives, this is not your way
Lord, teach us to Love

To open our purses, to show not just tell
Teach us to deny not them but ourselves
Jesus you gave, Jesus you died
Teach us to Love

At the Coming of the First Rains

Water falls from the sky
and I pause to ponder
unrelenting blessing on you, O my soul
numbered among sinners
yet standing under the banner of righteousness

What Grace is this?
it pours freely, abundantly
more than I can bear to ask for
sufficient in its cleansing
overwhelming in its content and its rushing tide

I can only watch the rain in silence
as it cleans the earth from the stains of a season
and look up to the Source
unable to comprehend His ways and yet
grateful for Grace

Another India note

This one's a great article - another outsider's perspective on the fascinating land that is my home: India.

Girl Power in India

Tips on Driving Manual

Manual Primer

Wherever you drive, however you drive, there are always going to be people who complain about your driving. I experience this all the time, even from people who are quite horrific drivers themselves. I decided once that I'd try and find a "neutral" party to give me some tips to compare my driving to some kind of standard. Of course this would apply to those of us driving stick, or manual.

Well, I found one such site - http://www.interlog.com/~css/manualprimer.htm - and realised there might be others who felt the same way but were too ashamed to ask. I know, expeienced drivers hate asking such basic questions, but the itch is there... well, I hope this helps: some tips on driving manual shift.

If you know of better links, please comment!

India 2004

Rot never needs an excuse to spread. It is the nature of decay to corrupt, to infect and to destroy. Rot from the core spreads outward and onward (Frank Herbert, 'corrupted' a little). Purity and virtue is what takes work. While putrescence will circulate unchecked, righteousness and justice only prevail with blood, sweat and the tears of alienation from the mainstream. To paraphrase a saying, only effort will bring change - decay requires inaction to survive.

In that sense, this land of mine needs work. A family led by thieves will always see it's children struggle to feel pride, to stand tall.

Of Sweaty Cycle Rickshaw Drivers

Some things in life just bring out the emotion in you - hard as you may think you are. This was my experience these past few days.

We "westernised" souls are much drawn to the romance of exotic experiences. Eating ducks feet in interior china or bungee jumping in New Zealand - whatever. These things make for exciting coffee-table conversations and impress one and all. The ability to say "I did that" - that I am one of the few in this entire world that has had a certain experience. Boast on. But in the romance and thrill and cuteness of a life that one would normally only find in the movies, sometimes reality's harsh truth is far, far... well... harsher.

We've seen them once or another, these Indiana Jones-like characters having a thrill of a chase through some exotic street in China or Calcutta or wherever in Bicycle rickshaw, pedal bikes attached to a little cart that take you around town for a nominal fee. Colorfully decked up, umbrellas adorning a sparkling canopy of eastern excess. Among that a skinny but strong lad or maybe even an older man takes you for the ride of your life. Cute. Cultural. Fun. Exotic, of course it is, it's different from anything we've seen.

I thought so. In Guwahati, Assam where I am at the moment, these are one of the more common means of cheap transport. Me being the lover of most things new and exciting, I decided to have a go. I don't think I will be rid of the memory for a long time. Why such a big deal? Read on. (random note - ha ha - two elephants just passed by on the main highway out my window - end of random note)

This is the picture I have in my mind: Looking ahead into the streets of Guwahati while sitting in the back of a Rickshaw. Looking at the quite sweaty back of a man dressed in an...oily? vest and wraparound called a lungi, no slippers and who toils struggling to push his way to my desired location half an hour away. Sweaty for a reason - he is pedalling his heart out and this is no easy task - some times he just has to stop, get down and manually pull the vehicle along; this is his life. Refuse this, and he does not eat. Of all the transportation options available, this is the cheapest. Naturally, I paid him more than his asking rate.

Interestingly I have found a subculture - almost a sub species if I may say so: The Assam Rickshaw Driver. Quiet, docile, obedient (except when money is concerned, obviously), meek. A good word, meek. Everyone from police (one female cop hit my driver with a stick for wanting to drive down a busy street) down to cyclists (one made it a point to stop my driver to curse his brains out just for getting a little in his way, and my driver just sat there, silent, waiting till it was over so he could leave - reminded me of a dog) consider it their right to mistreat this subspecies. Another observation I made was that most rickshaw men automatically consider themselves your servant. I have no memory in my short life of such a thing. Just for me using his rickshaw, a driver has carried my boxes (two heavy ones), stopped and asked for directions and made sure I arrived where I would be able to make my way sufficiently - without me asking a word or him me for an extra rupee. I cannot understand how anyone can get used to this - no human being owes me that much to be my pet. I have seen servants who do such things but because it is their job, but not this, never before. We criticize the colonialists for their lack of basic humaneness, and then live the very legacy they left behind - without the clutter of needing to explain our actions: after all these people are "us" - no stark melanin distinctions here.

In these past few days I have ridden in many rickshaws and paid many more-than-asked-for rupees since my first ride - I think they make me feel alive. I feel a tug at my heart for this sweaty man in front of me, Lord knows his life story (I have thought up stories while at the back of a rickshaw, but that road is not very cheering). Years will pass, such things will become obsolete - but maybe there is both a lesson to learn even if there is at the surface mostly grief to be borne.

I grieve that the sin and pain and suffering of man can lead to such extremes of need that a man must become an animal in order to survive. I grieve that man can become used to such a sight - that it becomes normal (See previous post). I grieve that there is nothing I can do except give a few extra rupees - pointless in the long run. But through all of it one lesson I learn from a sentence that echoes in my mind - which when juxtaposed against these ruminations, is a hard thought: The Meek shall inherit the Earth.

Christian, find yourself.

Common Relativity

What is normal? It's funny how travelling brings out the ponderer in you, I guess it's all that time in-between places that gets the brain churning - end of needless intro. But just to think as I travel, that the definition of normal - of status quo - is so different when you move away from your own little group. Customs, humor (or lack thereof), ways of passing the time, threshold for considering yourself bored ("ok - this is a drag"), it's amazing. Just step out and move a little, and however flexible you think yourself to be or think you had learned to be - life experience takes you by surprise. Flexibility of course, helps overcome some of these relativities; it's not easy to admit that your way of life only means something to you. You're abnormal when you are away from your state of normalcy (what a pleasant thought).

But on another less analytical note, here's me and my experience in this regard, specifically today:

It's been three days since I've been travelling in Guwahati, Assam in North East India and to say the least it's different from what I'm used to in my comfort zone. Not that the folks I've been with have been anything less than extraordinary in their hospitality. it's just that well, you miss what you are used to. So after a couple days of roaming around buses and cycle rickshaws and humidity and meeting every Tom Dick and Harry who's involved with some sort of Christian work (I don't mean to disrespect them I'm just trying to put in words the business of a trip like this), it was time to step back and step out. I allowed myself a meal in an air conditioned restaurant - away from the world, away from stinky alleyways, away from the bustle, from squat down toilets - back almost in my own little life zone (maybe a tad bit of overcompensation, AC and all) and had a mini pig-out. These little joys cannot be explained sufficiently. One has to live it to truly experience the deep-seated satisfaction that an oasis like this brings.

But sorry, it's me here - back to analysis, less description. A thought came to me in this cool -aired haven: Even for me personally, what is normal is only defined by what I allow to become normal. Tracing my life back from years ago to present, maybe I have (but maybe it's just life) been actually trying consciously or unconsciously to make my sense of what I consider the basic needs of life a step above what it was yesterday. To restate that horrific run-on sentence, I'm trying to tell myself I'm better than I am. Or worse than I am. Not very clear, huh - These are just thoughts that tend to flutter by that may or may not be of consequence.

At the end I guess one thing is clear. Normalcy being relative, flexibility rules the day. Christian humility requires flexibility - not just mouthing thank-yous and smiles and then badmouthing the whole situation, but being willing to step outside the zone into something vastly different knowng that just that act alone will bring fruit and joy to others. A little vague? Well, this is my Blog, you go get your own. I'm better than having to explain things to you. Hm....

Gmail

gmail swap

Man What craziness, people are wacky. I thought it was cool, being invited by a friend into the gMail fold (which I am enjoying BTW, it's FAST, except maybe the UI a little basic). And then I found this site. Check out some of the crazier requests, it's quite an entertaining read.

The scorpion and the frog

Okay it's an old story, but I felt like I needed to write, and plus it clarifies the previous blog. It's my corner of the web, you go get your own.

There once was a frog. There also was a river. Frogs, as you may know, do well with water.
There also was a scorpion. Frogs, as you may know, don't do well with scorpions. In fact most things don't do well with scorpions, me included.

So the scorpion came to the river. He realised his dilemma immediately, because he wanted across, and as you may know, rivers don't do well with scorpions. Or vice versa, I forget just now. Well, the scorpion spotted the frog, who was trying to make himself scarce, for reasons we at least now should be aware of. The scorpion called out to the frog and asked him for a ride.
As we expect, the frog was incredulous. "Me, give you a ride? Are you serious? You'd only bite me as soon as you get a chance". The scorpion replied,"That's illogical. I need to cross the river. Me biting you would defeat the purpose, we'd both end up wet. Tell you what. You take me across, I'll owe you one." Not many frogs were owed by scorpions in those times. As I think of it, situation is quite the same today for some reason.

Back to the story - the frog thought about it, and what the scorpion said made sense, you have to agree. Scorpions were quite rational that way. So, he called the scorpion and told him to hop on. All went well, till they were halfway across the river. Right about then, the scorpion aimed a lethal hit right on the frog's rump (not aware of what the technical term is, or if frogs actually have one). The frog cried out, "aaaah", and died.

Wait, I missed a little detail. The frog didn't exactly die after the "aaaah", if I remember the story correctly. I shall call this next section the "Lost Dialogue of the Frog & Scorpion". After being bit, the frog said to the scorpion, "That made no sense. Now you die too - how does that help anyone?" The scorpion replied, "I know that - but it's my character".