THE S.T.C.S.
We have all been told since our days as youngsters to not make first impressions because they can often be misleading. However, when it comes to the medical proffession I stand by my first impressions. I went to the hospital last friday for a physical so that I can get the go ahead to start my new job at Pratt & Whitney. Now I am never thrilled for a physical, but I don't have a great fear of them. Once you have had your first physical as a junior high kid trying to play basketball, it's no big deal. I went in like a champ ready to prove that I am a lean mean healthy machine. The physical started with the nurse bringing me in and asking me various questions, checking my temp, and checking my blood pressure. We then proceded to the eye test and weight check. At this point she handed me my pleasent little cut to deposit my juice from breakfast that morning to make sure I havn't been smokin down on the train tracks or anything. Well being the "think ahead" person I am, I deposited everything I had in my bladder earlier that morning and hadn't drank anything since. Needless to say I was not ready to give them my juice, so she told me I could just drink a lot of water while I waited for the doctor to come give me the rest of my exam. Ok so I was slightly embarassed about not being able to pee in a cup, but such is life. I changed out of my clothes into my hospital gown. So I was now sitting in a back opened hospital gown in my boxers and socks waiting for the doctor to come in while constantly refilling my tiny little dixie cup with water. The door finally swung opened and in entered the PA (physicians assistant) who is going to give me my exam. My first impression (all being an impression of sight) was that this guy looked like the steriotypical science guy; tall, skinny, big thick glasses, and slightly clummsy. He then proceded to open up his mouth making odd jokes that didn't arouse the slightest desire to laugh from me. Now that I felt awkward for having to keep laughing at the most random jokes I have ever heard, we proceded with the exam. As I predicted I was kicking this things butt. I am in perfect shape! Well the end of the exam finally came which can only mean one thing...hernia check. The hernia check is really not that big of a deal, its fast. So we go through the hernia check, and good for me...no problems. I was now ready to get this thing done, get dressed, pee in my cup, and blow that joint. Well as I was about to pull my shorts back up he asked me if anyone had ever shown me how to give myeself what I like to call the S.T.C.S. which stands for self testicular cancer screen. I quickly said no and went to pull up my shorts. However, just as I started to reach for my shorts he grabbed ahold of what we will call my left little marble below. He proceded to rub it around between his fingers telling me that I should do this every now and again when in the shower, and that I would be looking for a small pea sized tumor. Quickly giving him my "hmm" "oh I see" "yeah cool" answers to get this done with he goes and grabbs my little right side marble. Ok at this point I had enough of this exam and wanted to leave. I was now standing there for much longer than I wanted to with my shorts down and this nerdy guy rolling my little marbles around in his fingers talking as slowly as anyone had ever spoken. I was tapping my foot looking straight up at the light saying a prayer to the Lord to make him stop this uncomfortable awkward situation. Well he finally released, and feeling like a bear just released from a bear trap, I pulled my boxers up quicker than Andy Roddick serves up an ace. Finally my exam was over and I was able to get dressed, and there was major success on the next pee attempt. I will definately say that I will never take the normal "turn and cough" physical for granted again.
THE UN-AMERICAN TEAM
San Antonio Texas; one of the greatest cities that symbolizes of what it means to be an American. San Antonio is in Texas; quite possibly the state that best symbolizes the American spirit. What do we find underneath the glitz and glammer of this large southern city? We find the old ruins of a once mighty structure in our history; the Alamo. I've heard the battle for the Alamo described as being the battle in which normal men stepped up to hold off the onslaught of attacks against impossible odds until the death of the very last man because they believed in their dream. The Alamo is America, and is the symbol of what it means to be an American. As Americans we stand strong in our mission, we are tenacious, and we are compelled and driven by our great history. The San Antonio Spurs are the furthest thing from what I just described. The San Antonio Spurs are the most un-American team in professional sports. The Spurs come from a city of such wealth in history, and such pride. The Detroit Pistons, on the other hand, are an American team. Much like the Alamo was made up of volunteers who weren't supposed to be warriors, the Pistons are built up of players the league deemed unfit for the game. The Detroit Pistons, again like the men at the Alamo, withstand incredible odds because they believe in something. And the Detroit Pistons, like the Alamo, are a symbol of defense in American sports. The Detroit Pistons are a real American team. It is sad that a city like San Antonio, with such a wealth in history, can turn out this completely un-American thing. First off having a French starting point guard is as un-American as Michael Moore. And when it comes to the great Tim Duncan; I say he is just as French as the rest of them. Duncan stands tall, like a pillar holding up a rooftop. The Spurs build themselves around that pillar for support, but when it comes down to holding that roof up, the pillar is shakey. Duncan has proven that he can put points on the board, but what he has not proven is that he can lead a team to greatness. If it weren't for the great play down the stretch in game five by Robert Horry, or the play in game seven by Ginobili all that we would be hearing right now is how Duncan is not the all star player he could be. Duncan broke down in games four, five, and six. Duncan made the statement that this team all started with him, and that he was leading this team to greatness, but down the stretch where it matters most Duncan came up empty. Missing easy tips, dunks, and free throws; Duncan proved one thing to me in this series. He will never be a pillar of strengh, stability, and support. To me one thing stood out above all when it comes to the spirit of these two teams. When hit and knocked down the Spurs stayed on the ground and complained, and the Pistons jumped to their feet to keep giving everything they had to their team. That is what the Pistons are about, and that is why even after losing this series, the Pistons are the real world champs of basketball. This series was never about which team played the best basketball. This series was about marketability to the world audience, and television ratings, and in the end the Spurs are more liked by the world, but all that makes them is the un-American team.
MAJOR CHANDLER
The day has come, and the hour is upon us when we will be saying goodbye for a very extended amount of time. For those of you who don't know who my father is, he is the man standing in the middle of myself and Wes. This picture was taken at my sister Mandy's wedding...we are not in the mafia. My dad will be departing from us for the better part of six months to go do his part in making this world a better place for many who are less fortunate in the world. My dad works for L3 (formerly General Dynamics), and knows basically all there is to know about how tanks work. Therefore when times of war are upon us, his company contracts a select few of its people to the military to troubleshoot, repair, and instruct on repairing the tanks that our troops highly rely on. When the start of the most recent war in Iraq began in the spring of 2003 my dad was there. He left for the small desert nation of Kuwait in February of 2002, and when the battle commenced into Iraq in late March he was there every step of the way. Given the rank of a major to avoid any problems with lower ranking soldiers, my dad ate with the troops, slept on a cot at a blownup airstrip, saw Saddam's palaces, carried a machine gun for protection, and lived the life of a soldier. My dad never served in the military, nor is this duty in his job description. My dad has done this, and is doing this again purely on a voluntary basis. Unlike those select members of the party in our government I would not affiliate myself with (DEMOCRATS), my dad believes in supporting our troops, and providing them with everything they need to do there job quickly, effectively, and safely. My dad believes in the reasons for this war, and fully supports our troops and our president. My dad is an example of what it is to be a great American citizen. I have never seen anyone work as hard, put as much commitment into everything as my dad; he is a commited father, Christian, husband, and a commited American. I hope that you will remember him in your prayers as he ventures out into the unfortunate battle torn world. I will put up another blog that you can reach off of this blog that I will hopefully be able to post pictures of his encounters and stories of the highly misreported Iraqi region.
WHAT IS THE FASCINATION???
Being that it is Wednesday, I headed off to the weekly college age gathering this afternoon. This is a gathering where we not only discuss biblical issues, but also the issues we all face in our day to day lives in this society. We were typically gathering at the newly established Fireside Cafe, but due to rough business the cafe closed down this week forcing us to find a new place to congregate. It was decided we would meet at the newly built Starbucks, which contrary to Fireside, it is doing quite well in business. Unfortunately, due to inclement weather the outside seating at Starbucks was not up to its usual inviting luster. We departed our ways from the great Starbucks, and drove approximately a quarter of a mile across the street to the Barnes and Noble Starbucks. Having to establish a new place for us to meet due to our coffee shops untimely closer raised a question in my mind. What is the great fascination of Starbucks? I do agree that they have good coffee, but it is not really that much greater than the coffee you find at other various shops. What is it about the Starbucks atmosphere that necessitates the establishment of two Starbucks within a quarter mile of one another? Quite honestly I find the Starbucks establishments to be as ungenuine as they come. When you walk through the door of a Starbucks you are met by the brightly decorated style that promotes the quick paced life-style we are all a customed to. I think that the people that find themselves frequenting Starbucks multiple times a day are the same people that live this little fantasy New York City wanna-be lifestyle. The fact that the newspaper sold at Starbucks is the New York Times is enough to prove this point to me. I mean why do we really need to be reading the New York Times? The Times has proven themselves undeserving of any trust from the reading community as far as I am concerned.The Times is definately not the paper of choice I would read, and it should not really send any message of wealth or power to anyone who decides to buy this paper, if that is the appearance they are going for; and I am pretty certain it is. If you want to send the message that you are wealthy, powerful, and above the average coffee drinker, at least pick up the Wall Street Journal. I think that it is absolutley awful that the smaller, much more personal and friendly coffee shops are being closed down because someone feels the need to build yet another Starbucks in the exact same area just to feel that they are among the elite in coffee drinkers. From all the Starbucks establishments I have seen, I have never felt welcomed, or at a place of comfort. I feel that to gain entry and acceptance to this place of the most illustrious stars I must be wearing fine italian leather shoes, the latest designer jeans, a flashy polo shirt with the collar flipped up, listening to music through my microscopic headphones plugged into my retro-hip ipod. I think that Starbucks completely defines the downfall of our generation, and sums up what it is that is completely wrong in our society. We have truly become the most egocentric pathetic generation. The ideal coffee shop (in my mind) was best summed up in an interview with a very successful musician who told a story of going to a neighborhood cafe, and having to borrow a five dollar bill out of the embarrassment of having to pay for his cup a joe with a 100 dollar bill. The idea of a coffee shop is that of a place where you can go hang out and let your guard down, and not be embarrassed if you are the type of person who enjoys walking around in an old pair of jeans and a messy button down shirt or t-shirt. Starbucks is but one example out of thousands. I hope that you will join myself and Katie in discarding the cogs in your heads, growing a brain, and establishing an opinion of your own and not that of pop culture, and that you will join in our hate of the antichrist of coffee shops; Starbucks.
Without A Reasonable Doubt
Those words were spoken over and over today as I watched the verdict unfold in the Michael Jackson case. I found myself excited and happy going into the verdict; the defence looked somber, Jackson looked drugged, the prosecution looked jubilant, and the jurry made no eye contact with Jackson or the defense. The thing that made me hopeful was the fact that it had taken the jurry eight days, which made me believe that they must be finding him guilty on some of the charges, and the fact that they made no eye contact with Jackson sent the message that they didn't want to look into the eyes of the man they had just sent to prison for a good amount of his life. Imagine the shock and horror I felt when ten innocents were declared on ten counts varying from conspiracy to kidnap and hold people captive, to extortion, molestation, and providing a minor with a controled substance. The jurry likes to claim that Jackson's celebrity factor was no factor, which we all know is a load of crap. Once again we have seen that fame and money can buy you an out to any legal case in this great nation of justice we live in. I completely believe that Michael Jackson is guilty. I did not like the first count of kidnapping and extortion, but I definately believe he was guilty of molestation and providing a minor with a controled substance. What the jurry needed to realise is that they were not judging a family, their motive, or a psycho mother; they were judging whether or not Michael Jackson had an innapropriate relationship with this child. Now when I say innapropriate I mean that he molested him because evidently sleeping in a bed with a thirteen year old boy for 365 consecutive nights is deemed appropriate at the neverland ranch. I hope that Michael Jackson lives with the deepest guilt for his crimes, and I hope that it eats away at his very soul until justice is finaly served. It seems very strange to me that he has to be told that sleeping with young boys is innapropriate at the age of 47, but maybe that's just me. I hope that this really makes him realise that he is living in the actual world and not his own little fantasy land where it is only him and thirteen year old little boys running around a mansion filled with mini doors to crawl through, and a theme park of course. Michael Jackson is a complete freak, and whether the family was trying to set him up or not by sending their young child to his ranch, if he did infact molest the boy his crime will be brought out in his final judgement and justice will be served in a much more harsh manner. I hope that Michael Jackson makes himself right before God before the day he departs this world and heads to the real neverland.
THE GREATEST LOVE
Every so often there is one of those great story book romances. Very few are lucky enough to be involved in one of these illusive love stories. However, I am happy to say that I have become one of these few lucky men to stumble upon perfection. See, for the last two years or so me and the rest of guys gather once or twice a week to discuss recent events, watch some sports, and have some good food. Let me describe to you this great relationship. There is little spoken between us because the words just don't need to be there. There seems to be some kind of telepathic connection. Our eyes will meet from afar and she will know that those wings in her hands belong to me, without even having to hold my blinking indicator up in the air. It is just meant to be. She continues to check on me to see how I am doing throughout the night, and I often find her observing from afar. It is as perfect as can be, and bw's has never been more kind.
