Texas Dead Armadillo Day
Armadillo Al is the reason why it’s always summer in Texas.
Pastor Steve Got a Tattoo
MY TATTOO WAS GOING TO BE A REALLY SMALL ONE that simply said, “Mat. 6:33,” the abbreviation for my life’s verse: “But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (Matthew 6:33).
I wanted to be reminded of it, forever—in ink! It was going to be so very tiny and hidden on the underside of my wrist, that the only way anyone would ever notice was if I gave a high five right above their sight line or smacked them with on the forehead with my hand.
I was never, ever going to get one but my daughter DD convinced me. Yes, I blame her.
On her 17th birthday she begged me for a tattoo. I said no.
“Please, Dad?”
“No!”
A week later: “Dad?” Please?
“No!”
A week and a half later….
It went on like that for several more months—begging, cajoling, nagging—did I mention that she was a teenager?—until I relented and called the tattoo parlor (do they still call them that?). Much to my delight, the law said you cannot get a tattoo in the great, awesome State of Texas until one is eighteen years of age. Strike a victory for Parental Rights!
Figuring she would eventually forget about it, I let it go with a smile in my heart, thanking God that this body-art desire phase would soon pass, all the while hoping she would not take a secret road trip to Nevada with her ne’er do well high school friends. You know who you are.
She didn’t forget.
On her 18th birthday I lost my right of refusal; DD was now an adult. She could vote, join the military and even get a…a…dreaded tattoo. “Hey Dad, are you gonna get one with me?”
Praying for the Poor Paralyzed Puppy
THE LITTLE DACHSHUND LOOKED SO FORLORN sitting in the shade all alone. It looked as if it were going to cry, if dogs could shed tears. Normally cute little Harley greets me with loud barking and bared teeth while snarling maniacally, the result of too many school children teasing him in his younger days.
Fortunately for me and all of Johnson City’s humanity, my mechanic keeps the miniature monster in a dog kennel so as not to kill any errant raccoons. Or mountain lions. I asked Mechanic Tim why his darling little vicious pet was so depressed. “Well, he was running across our lawn the other day and his back legs stepped into a hole. Now both are paralyzed.”
LOL: Christians Conned by Film Noah
I GOT MY MONEY BACK FOR THE FIVE TICKETS I BOUGHT FOR NOAH, the movie. Here’s why in 6 points. (But make sure you read the other two links at the bottom as well.) 1) I knew going in that it was unbiblical. That was not my issue. But it’s not only unbiblical, it’s laughably
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