A short while ago, much to my chagrin, Meredith and I returned to our beloved home to find it littered with poo all over the hardwood floor (and some on the L.L.Bean wet hog mats by the front door). You can imagine my surprise (and the James Bond-like cool with which I kept my composure).
We were turning around to head out some place and I paused long enough to actually consider leaving the poo in position until we returned later. Not cool, I remember telling myself. Pick it up now, I intoned to the dumbfounded me, or you’ll exercise that license to kill that you got from MI-6 during that “incident” in the communist stronghold of Penney, Vermont.
So, I would clean now and it would be fine. The question remained, with what shall I clean it, dear Liza, dear Liza? Regulation poop bags from Price Chopper weren’t going to work in the dense toy undergrowth that is our household floor. I paused a moment longer and decided on a course of action worthy of General Pickett. Armed with a fresh roll of paper towels and a spray can of Pledge I attacked the poo bunkers that dotted the floor in a pattern that resembled self portrait of Picasso on ritalin.
Who knew that, while providing a beautiful sheen to our otherwise lackluster floor, the use of Pledge would cause the surface of the floor to become like a freshly Zamboni-ed speed skating track. Over three weeks later and we are still stepping carefully over that portion of the floor in fear of taking a Vermont-sized digger.
The advice I leave you with is this: while you may pledge allegiance to our flag, I would keep your Pledge from your paths.
Oh, and I noticed that the USDA is where the Rutland Free Libray is getting money for its renovations. Who knee that the U.S. Department of Agriculture was in the business of renovating city libraries.
The solution to this travesty goes far beyond simply uttering “I do.” However, the solution does begin with a simple step of recognizing that marriage is not a man-made institution that we are free to redefine using “our own rules”-at least not without devastating consequences.
The whole article is worth a read, but this jumped out at me (emphasis mine) in reference to CNN news anchor Don Lemon who announced to his audience that he is gay:
Beyond it being remarkably irrelevant to the dissemination of news, its just kind of creepy that these proponents of sexual anarchy feel it is their civic duty to incessantly shove their unconventional behavior in front of our childrens faces.
So, the rapture didn’t happen on Saturday evening and the world did not begin falling apart. Harold Camping’s was a prediction that many laughed at and made others uncomfortable. All things considered, I’m a bit surprised at how much air time this got. I suspect that is so because in the end it helped to mock a man and his Christianity (especially the latter).
Where was the deriding laughter when Paul Ehrlich’s “starving billions” predictions didn’t come true? What about Al Gore? Global warming predictions typically fall short of their prophesied doom and yet they are shrouded in respectability for some reason.
Well, one advantage the global warming alarmists have over their theological counterparts is that they can keep moving the date with impunity while covering the failure of their first prediction in a fog of scientific jargon.
I submit that neither the predictions of the Christian theologian or the global warming acolyte will meet with any success:
Mark 13:32 ESV
“But concerning that day or that hour, no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.
Being prepared for the end should not involve selling our worldly possessions or changing our carbon shoes to make a smaller “footprint”. It should involve having good relationships with the ones you love and making new ones with people you haven’t met.
Marc Whitman's Blog 