Author Archives: brad

When people tell me I became president on January 20, 1981, I feel I have to correct them. You don’t become president of the United States. You are given temporary custody of an institution called the presidency, which belongs to our people. – Ronald Reagan, 1988.

This one’s for the Gipper. Rest in peace.

I’m still haunted by former first lady Nancy Reagan’s recent statement about her husband’s deteriorating condition: Ronnie’s long journey has finally taken him to a distant place where I can no longer reach him. A chilling reminder of the unrelenting disease that claimed him.

We finally got around to re-recording “It Happens All The Time” this weekend. Click here to download the new version. No more goofy synth running through the whole song (there’s still a tiny bit of synth in there, but it’s completely different and I think it’s used much more effectively this time). Two guitar parts plus bass and drums. Rather than using a stock drum track like I did before, I created a new drum line from scratch in Reason Adapted, an absolute kick-butt program from Propellerhead Software.

And last night, my good friend Brett came over to give GarageBand a try. Brett was the worship leader at Westwood who preceded me. He’s now the Worship and Arts Director for NewSong Fellowship in Lancaster. We fooled around with GarageBand and Reason (ReWire rocks!) for a while, then he decided to record a worship song he’d written a few years ago called “You Alone.” Click here to hear it. Brett did all of the male vocals and guitar work. His girlfriend Jamie did the female vocals, and Jen did the bass line. What did I do? Ummm… I was the producer. Yeah, that’s it. I produced the whole thing. Well, I did help to talk him out of including the Nordic Keyed Fiddle. But Brett was floored by the possibilities that GarageBand and Reason present. I figure he’ll be saving up for a Mac pretty soon.

PowerBook G4: $3100
M-Audio MobilePre w/Reason Adapted: $150
iLife ’04 w/GarageBand (educator discount): $35
Being able to record a song in an evening and have it available worldwide on the Internet the next day: Priceless

I try to be as apolitical as I can. I don’t really enjoy discussing politics, and I know that many of my own convictions and beliefs, while strongly held, are at odds with what many people, including many close friends, believe. And that’s OK with me.

But I have to mention this whole Michael Moore thing. I agree with Josh that Moore is “one of the few people who I believe sincerely hates America, including all that it has ever stood for and everything it currently stands for.” But let me be clear: I don’t dislike Moore because of his politics; I agree with him on some issues (but not many). I dislike him because he’s dishonest.

Andy Ihnatko is one of my favorite writers. I trust what he has to say, because he’s honest. So I was interested to read about his investigation of the facts laid out in Bowling for Columbine. Andy wrote: My research is still preliminary. I’ve found so many problems with the accuracy of the film that at some point, I just had to throw up my hands and start at the beginning of the film and work my way forward. So let’s start with the title of the movie. Moore notes that the two kids who committed the Columbine massacre had attended a bowling class before attacking the school and asks why so many people blamed music, movies and video games for the tragedy. From the same logic, why not blame bowling? Read Andy’s full essay for more.

Another article says, Every single scene in Michael Moore’s films are like this. They seem to be intelligent; they seem to reveal some deep inner truth, but after a few moments of scrutiny, they fall apart. If you’ve ever taken an organic chemistry class, you know that there’s always a guy who sits up front and looks like he knows everything. You also know there’s a difference between looking like you know everything and actually knowing everything. Michael Moore is an expert at looking intelligent, not at being intelligent.

In accepting his Oscar for Bowling for Columbine, Moore went into his famous rant: I have invited my fellow documentary nominees on the stage with us, and we would like to – they’re here in solidarity with me because we like nonfiction. We like nonfiction and we live in fictitious times. We live in the time where we have fictitious election results that elects a fictitious president. We live in a time where we have a man sending us to war for fictitious reasons. Whether it’s the fictition of duct tape or fictition of orange alerts we are against this war, Mr. Bush. Shame on you, Mr. Bush, shame on you. And any time you got the Pope and the Dixie Chicks against you, your time is up. Thank you very much. Regardless of your politics, your Oscar acceptance speech isn’t the time to rally the troops or denounce the president. It’s when you say “Thank you!” and leave gracefully.

Now, his latest project, Fahrenheit 9/11, is scheduled to be released on June 25, which happens to be my tenth anniversary. Fahrenheit 9/11 — doesn’t that name ring a bell? It sure did for Ray Bradbury, author of Fahrenheit 451: He is a horrible human being. Horrible human! He also states: Michael Moore is a screwed [expletive deleted — this is a family site, thank-you-very-much], that is what I think about that case. He stole my title and changed the numbers without ever asking me for permission. Tell us how you really feel, Ray.

At any rate, you may recall that Disney, the parent company of Miramax, took a pass on Moore’s new project last month: Miramax Films announced yesterday that it would not be distributing the film. This was a day after Walt Disney Co., which owns Miramax, made a public statement that it would prevent Miramax from releasing the documentary. And Moore, predictably, went into a huff about censorship, which really wasn’t at issue, since the government wasn’t involved.

But Disney’s move gave Moore an excuse to draw some more attention to himself. In doing so, he claimed that Disney had just dropped the bomb on him, and he feigned surprised. But then, Less than 24 hours after accusing the Walt Disney Company of pulling the plug on his latest documentary in a blatant attempt at political censorship, the film-maker Michael Moore has admitted he knew a year ago that Disney had no intention of distributing it. Oh, so that’s how it is. We have a word for that. It’s lying.

You may like Michael Moore. You may enjoy his work and agree with his politics. Hey, that’s cool with me. Just be honest, all right?

10) Lincoln – They Might Be Giants

Ana Ng and I are growing old
And we still haven’t walked in the glow of each other’s majestic presence
Listen, Ana, hear my words
They’re the words you would think I would say
If there was a me for you
“Ana Ng”

9) Muswell Hillbillies – The Kinks

You keep all your smart modern writers
Give me William Shakespeare
You keep all your smart modern painters
I’ll take Rembrandt, Titian, Da Vinci, and Gainsborough
“20th Century Man”

8) Grind – Jawbone Hill

Hey, baby, look to the seasons
Hey, baby, feel them one by one
Hey, baby, shout to the rainbow
Tell the Artist about His beautiful light
“Sun, Moon, and Angels”

7) The Burn Service – Vineyard Music Group

You are the fountain of my life
And in Your light I find my reason
‘Cause Your love reaches to the stars
Even the great deep
And Your love reaches to this heart
And it makes me sing
“Your Love Reaches Me”

6) Utopia Parkway – Fountains of Wayne

When you think you’ve found something worth holding onto
Reaching for attention, hoping she would notice
You collecting bottles and thrown away cans
Like she was returnable, one day would refill your hands
How she loved you, all you imagined
Fit so well into your plans
“Troubled Times”

5) Resigned – Michael Penn

What once I took as remedies were only chalk hypotheses
‘Tis the season for a breeze to blow them all away
To add insult to injury, the sum you gets means I agree
So you can call that empathy and find someone else to blame
“All That That Implies”

4) Ben Folds Live – Ben Folds

I pushed you ’cause I loved you guys
I didn’t realize you weren’t having fun
And I dragged you up the stairs and told you to fly
Flapping your arms, you started to cry you were too high
“Philosophy”

3) Much Afraid – Jars of Clay

Fare thee well
We’re trading all our words for tea and sympathy
Wonder why we try for things that could never be
Play our heart’s lament like an unrehearsed symphony
“Tea and Sympathy”

2) Pinkerton – Weezer

Yesterday I went outside
With my mama’s mason jar
Caught a lovely butterfly
When I woke up today
Looked in on my fairy pet
She had withered all away
“Butterfly”

1) Gordon – Barenaked Ladies

Drove downtown in the rain
Nine thirty on a Tuesday night
Just to check out the late night record shop
“Brian Wilson”

The Guardian: A teenager impregnated his younger sister, who later killed the baby and hid the body in a duffel bag in her closet, authorities said. Everybody loses here. Everybody.

The Crimson: In one entry, Burch said she was “ready to get a shotgun and declare open season on all senior faculty members and students who dared cross [her].” “It was definitely not my intention to slander anyone and I wasn’t trying to stir things up as they seemed to be implying,” she said. “I just sort of used the blog as a way to let off steam.” Um, yeah. You might want to rethink the whole “getting a shotgun and declaring open season on your co-workers thing” then. That kind of statement is apparently easily misconstrued.

azcentral.com: Sen. Mike DeWine fired a low-level staffer Friday after an Internet diary of her sexual exploits – including stories about taking money for sex from government officials – became the buzz of the Washington Beltway. Speaking of things you shouldn’t write on your weblog.

The Oregonian: Murder-by-abuse, punishable by life in prison with 25 years before possible parole, means the victim suffered from a pattern of assaults. An autopsy found Ryshawn Bynum died of a brain injury and had a broken neck, broken ribs and as many as 70 whip marks on his legs, buttocks, back and chest that were of various ages. This story holds a special place in my heart. Not only did a man do this to his own son, he also claims he’s not responsible because of generational trauma: Randall Vogt is offering the untested theory, called post traumatic slave syndrome, in his defense of Isaac Cortez Bynum, who is charged with murder by abuse in the June 30 death of his son, Ryshawn Lamar Bynum. Vogt says he will argue — “in a general way” — that masters beat slaves, so Bynum was justified in beating his son. OK, all racial and political overtones aside, how does anyone justify beating a child? I’m not naive, and I don’t condemn spanking, but breaking your kid’s neck and ribs and whipping the child is a horrible, horrible thing to do. Rule Number Three in my personal list of rules is Don’t Hurt Kids. A corollary to that rule says Especially Your Own Kid. This guy’s a sick piece of crap and needs to be punished twice: once for killing his own son and a second time for trying to hide from his actions with such a lame, politically charged excuse. The guy sickens me. I’d have taken his kid into my home if he didn’t want him anymore.

But there are some bright spots, like the eleven year old girl who wrote to Nordstrom’s to tell them that some girls would like to buy less-revealing clothing. Good for her. And some good folks are trying to save the apostrophe. Someone should. Plus, someone has mapped out Springfield. Cool. And someone is pointing out the idiocy of email disclaimers.

So it’s not all bad news. But is this the world I want my daughter to grow up in? It’s a scary thought.

Been working on the backyard. Here’s our new French doors, freshly installed:

And here’s the gazebo, fully assembled. You can’t really tell, but the doors are behind it.

And, of course, there was Gracie’s birthday.

And we bought Grace a new friend, Rainbow Fish.

Other than that, been working on Tangelo 1.0b5. Thanks to Bill and Leslie for helping out with documentation.

Looks like I’ll be travelling to Knoxville and Chicago this summer, plus Ocean City for vacation.

I started playing on Grace Church’s Worship Team this week. It was weird to be with another group of musicians, but it was good to play again.

It’s a bird! It’s a plane!

No, wait. It is a bird. A small, flightless waterfowl, to be exact. A penguin.

I am caught in the grip of SuperTux, an open source game I happened upon a few days ago. It’s a clone of Super Mario Brothers, featuring, of course, a penguin, the darling of the open source crowd.

Even though it’s trendy or cool, I’m a sucker for side scrollers. There’s something to be said for simple, engaging gameplay. Sure, it’s not 3D. Sure, it’s not ultraviolent or controversial. But it sure is fun to play.

Today is May 25, 2004. This is the day my daughter turns five years old. This fall, she’ll begin Kindergarten. I don’t know how this happened. I blinked, and all of a sudden there’s this baby in the house. I bilnked again, and suddenly there’s this little person, who can walk and talk and do all sorts of funny things. And today she’s been with us for five years.

It’s just after midnight. Five years ago right now, Jen and I were in the hospital. Jen was doing the hard part. Her parents were there waiting. My mom was there waiting. Her sister was there waiting. We were all in the room together. We weren’t supposed to have that many people in the delivery room, but Jen was in labor for a long time, and we had all stuck it out, and the nurse didn’t have the heart to kick us out when it was “time.” So we all got to be there.

All but five years after that, she got her first stitches. On Saturday, she tripped at the store and bumped her head on a metal shelf, requiring four stitches, which she doesn’t feel look very princess-like. I’ve never had stitches myself. Gracie tells me I don’t ever want to. She’s probably right.

But she does feel like a princess now. A few hours ago, I installed a canopy on her bed. She fell asleep grinning and staring at the canopy and talking about how much she felt like a princess.

I hope she always feels like a princess. She’ll always be one to me.

You know, for a long time now, I’ve figured that TV had gotten pretty warped. But I think a lot of things follow a pendulum, and that soon TV would be improving again. Alas, I’m beginning to lose hope.

At the risk of offending reality show junkies, reality TV is simply one of the worst things that has ever happened. Ever.

And we’ve reached a new low. Introducing Dr. Love’s Super Baby Making Show. Yes, that’s the actual title, as reported by CNN. And in case you didn’t guess, here’s the goal: Ten couples from around the world could compete in a reality TV show in Singapore to see who can procreate first, the city-state’s self-styled sex guru said Thursday. Yes, that’s right, the first couple to get pregnant wins. I think they should have called it Making the Baby, in an homage to Making the Band, one of the worst shows ever to grace our airwaves, which incidentally gave us Otown, one of the worst “bands” ever.

At least it’s kind of for a good cause. I mean, aside from making babies, which is almost always a good thing. But part of the goal is to encourage Singaporeans to have more kids, since their population has been on the decline.

According to the article, nine foreign couples and a Singaporean couple will take part. I sincerely hope that one of the foreign couples is not this German couple: A German couple who went to a fertility clinic after eight years of marriage have found out why they are still childless – they weren’t having sex. Yes, the childless couple hadn’t yet sealed the deal, so to speak. Of course, abstinence is the best birth control, but only when you’re trying not to get pregnant.

More from the article: The 30-year-old wife and her 36-year-old husband are now being given sex therapy lessons while the university clinic undertakes a study to try to find out if there are more couples with a similar lack of sex education. Good for them. You know, this could really enhance their marriage.

You know, I don’t even remember who gave the speech at my college commencement nine years ago. All I remember, aside from the grad cap tanlines on my head, is waking up and telling Jen that I didn’t want to go, because, really, we were just as graduated without the ceremony. (Note: We got married the summer between our junior and senior years of college.)

She would have none of it, so off we went. Our parents were planning on being there anyway. I think we walked to graduation.

But I don’t remember who gave the speech. Certainly wasn’t anybody cool or famous.

So now I read that Will Ferrell did the speech at Harvard last year:
Ladies and Gentlemen, Distinguished Faculty, Administrators, Friends and Family and, of course, the graduating Class of 2003, I wish to say hello and thank you for bestowing this honor upon me as your Class Day speaker. After months of secret negotiations, several hundred secret ballots, and a weekend retreat with Vice President Dick Cheney in his secret mountain bunker, a Class Day speaker was chosen, and it was me. You obviously have made a grave error. But it’s too late now. So let’s just go with it.

And Jon Stewart was at William and Mary:
I know there were some parents that were concerned about my speech here tonight, and I want to assure you that you will not hear any language that is not common at, say, a dock workers union meeting, or Tourrett’s convention, or profanity seminar. Rest assured.

Penn State had freakin’ Bono! But I doubt he said anything funny. He’s been remarkably non-funny lately.

But that’s not the kicker. Villanova had Big Bird AND Oscar the Grouch. That’s right, Caroll Spinney, and he did some of it in character!

Now if there had been muppets at my college graduation, I wouldn’t have had second thoughts about attending.