Hello, what are you doing here? What a waste of time. You could lower a rope or a tree branch or find something useful to do.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
The end.
This is the end of this blog. I can't figure out how to delete the whole thing. So I left this suicide note.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
The Formula for a really holy sermon
Tonight I was forced to preach on not glorying in your wisdom, might, or riches, which, fortunately, I was perfectly qualified to do, seeing as I have always been wise mighty and very rich.
Oh yes.
Well anyway, here's the formula to a really holy sermon:
1. Make it 80% scripture.
In theory, you could make it 100% scripture, but everyone can read the Bible on their own and they don't need you to read it to them. That's kind of the point of a sermon, you know.
Making it mostly Bible verses will sound really holy and yet still sound like you almost don't want to insult their intellect.
2. Make it 3% dramatic pauses during which you stare down the congregation.
People hate being stared down and feeling convicted, so go light on this one. You should probably throw most of it in near the end. You know, during the invitation that an amateur preacher doesn't give.
3. Make it 9% waving your arms around when you talk.
People love this part, but here's one warning: don't point at the ceiling. That's the biggest sermon cliches out there. Unless you do it with both hands and lean back, like Dustin Colquitt. That would be cool.
4. Make it 5% C.S. Lewis quotes.
C.S. Lewis of course has the holiest quotes of anyone. Actually, I rarely hear any. Maybe you're only supposed to quote him on the day of atonement. Perhaps you should reconsider that part.
5. Make it 4% imperfect analogies.
Analogies are awesome, but most are imperfect. Maybe that's why the formula adds up to 101%. (That other 1% is God. It really is.) Maybe it means we're not perfect, but God is, or that what's impossible with men is possible with God. See how holy this turned out to be? Even the post is an analogy.
Oh yes.
Well anyway, here's the formula to a really holy sermon:
1. Make it 80% scripture.
In theory, you could make it 100% scripture, but everyone can read the Bible on their own and they don't need you to read it to them. That's kind of the point of a sermon, you know.
Making it mostly Bible verses will sound really holy and yet still sound like you almost don't want to insult their intellect.
2. Make it 3% dramatic pauses during which you stare down the congregation.
People hate being stared down and feeling convicted, so go light on this one. You should probably throw most of it in near the end. You know, during the invitation that an amateur preacher doesn't give.
3. Make it 9% waving your arms around when you talk.
People love this part, but here's one warning: don't point at the ceiling. That's the biggest sermon cliches out there. Unless you do it with both hands and lean back, like Dustin Colquitt. That would be cool.
4. Make it 5% C.S. Lewis quotes.
C.S. Lewis of course has the holiest quotes of anyone. Actually, I rarely hear any. Maybe you're only supposed to quote him on the day of atonement. Perhaps you should reconsider that part.
5. Make it 4% imperfect analogies.
Analogies are awesome, but most are imperfect. Maybe that's why the formula adds up to 101%. (That other 1% is God. It really is.) Maybe it means we're not perfect, but God is, or that what's impossible with men is possible with God. See how holy this turned out to be? Even the post is an analogy.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Well, well
It's that time of year again. You know, September 22? Yeah, that time. Nice time to be, isn't it?
Well, don't get used to it, tomorrow's going to be September 23. Frustrating how that happens, isn't it? But hey, that's how life goes.
Well, don't get used to it, tomorrow's going to be September 23. Frustrating how that happens, isn't it? But hey, that's how life goes.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
"Darg"
Today, I am going to explain to you the meaning and origin of the word "darg."
Sometimes, when I'm having a conversation with someone (usually online, that's where most of my conversations happen), they'll say something to the affect of, "What?"
Then, I will say, "Darg."
Since saying "darg" is somewhat idiosyncratic to my household (isn't "idiosyncratic" a great word? It's even autological.), they will once again say, "What?"
However, since that is rather ambiguous (this post is starting to sound esoteric), which means they're asking me what "darg" means but I think they're repeating the question, so I once again say "Darg."
From this point on, it's all dowhill.
What?
Darg.
What?
Darg.
What?
Darg darg.
What what?
Darg.
Now before this transforms into some sort of weird two-word rap song, I will explain to you what this word means.
After this.
Is it really a word? Or is it more of a sound? I mean, does the dictionary actually have an etymology on the word "argh," which is almost the same? Or is it a town in Tajikistan? Is that even a real country?
Let's assume it's a word though. (Maybe it's an imaginary word. Hypothetically speaking, though, it will be a word.)
We will also assume that "argh" is a word, even though it sounds stupid and nobody should ever say it anyway.
A=1, so argh=argh. (That's a given.)
B=2, so barg=double argh.
C=3, so carg=triple argh.
D=4, so darg=quadruple argh.
(You usually just skip "barg" and "carg.")
What, you may be asking, is the point of that?
It all goes back to that weird idiosyncraticness, which apparently isn't a word. All it means really is the not-normal stuff that goes on in our house that I shouldn't be putting on the internet but it's ok because nobody who doesn't live in my house actually reads this blog, except maybe for Vicki, who is now moved out. (I'm trusting you on this, Vicki. I believe that you won't be like that dog, whatever his name is, on the Bush's Baked Beans commercials who's always trying to sell the secret recipe.)
The thing is, the inventor of "darg" (who shall remain unnamed, you know who you are) also coined the phrase "quadruple argh."
Somehow, he ingeniously fused those two together, so now both of them make sense.
So now you know, "darg" simply means "argh," except four times more intense and not stupid sounding.
But wait, where did that H on the end go to?
Maybe this is about coolness, because we all know if I had been named Zac instead of Zach that I would have long, wavy blondy hair, play the electric cello, and smell like coconuts.
What? You've never encountered anyone that smelled like coconuts? That's funny, I have. Or at least his jacket did. He wasn't wearing it at the time. That was really weird.
Sometimes, when I'm having a conversation with someone (usually online, that's where most of my conversations happen), they'll say something to the affect of, "What?"
Then, I will say, "Darg."
Since saying "darg" is somewhat idiosyncratic to my household (isn't "idiosyncratic" a great word? It's even autological.), they will once again say, "What?"
However, since that is rather ambiguous (this post is starting to sound esoteric), which means they're asking me what "darg" means but I think they're repeating the question, so I once again say "Darg."
From this point on, it's all dowhill.
What?
Darg.
What?
Darg.
What?
Darg darg.
What what?
Darg.
Now before this transforms into some sort of weird two-word rap song, I will explain to you what this word means.
After this.
Is it really a word? Or is it more of a sound? I mean, does the dictionary actually have an etymology on the word "argh," which is almost the same? Or is it a town in Tajikistan? Is that even a real country?
Let's assume it's a word though. (Maybe it's an imaginary word. Hypothetically speaking, though, it will be a word.)
We will also assume that "argh" is a word, even though it sounds stupid and nobody should ever say it anyway.
A=1, so argh=argh. (That's a given.)
B=2, so barg=double argh.
C=3, so carg=triple argh.
D=4, so darg=quadruple argh.
(You usually just skip "barg" and "carg.")
What, you may be asking, is the point of that?
It all goes back to that weird idiosyncraticness, which apparently isn't a word. All it means really is the not-normal stuff that goes on in our house that I shouldn't be putting on the internet but it's ok because nobody who doesn't live in my house actually reads this blog, except maybe for Vicki, who is now moved out. (I'm trusting you on this, Vicki. I believe that you won't be like that dog, whatever his name is, on the Bush's Baked Beans commercials who's always trying to sell the secret recipe.)
The thing is, the inventor of "darg" (who shall remain unnamed, you know who you are) also coined the phrase "quadruple argh."
Somehow, he ingeniously fused those two together, so now both of them make sense.
So now you know, "darg" simply means "argh," except four times more intense and not stupid sounding.
But wait, where did that H on the end go to?
Maybe this is about coolness, because we all know if I had been named Zac instead of Zach that I would have long, wavy blondy hair, play the electric cello, and smell like coconuts.
What? You've never encountered anyone that smelled like coconuts? That's funny, I have. Or at least his jacket did. He wasn't wearing it at the time. That was really weird.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Wednesday is Different Day!!!
Well, we managed to pull off a '2' at the State Fair. Adult contemporary.
In other thrilling news, Wednesday is now Different Day. (I got the idea from Randy Ingermanson. I get most ideas from him.) What that means is you do everything DIFFERENTLY. (What did you think?)
Wednesdays are already pretty different around here. We only do Math (when we can help it), it's cleaning day, Puppet Practice, and things that fall on Wednesdays. Wednesdays are pretty important, you know. After all, the Sun, Moon, and Stars were created on Wednesday.
Anyway, on Different Day, you do all the other Different Stuff you don't feel like doing on other days. In Writing, I won't work on the Story, I'll do Character Sketches and other Boring Junk. In Music, I'll review my rep-reh-twa, however you spell it.
Awesome.
In other thrilling news, Wednesday is now Different Day. (I got the idea from Randy Ingermanson. I get most ideas from him.) What that means is you do everything DIFFERENTLY. (What did you think?)
Wednesdays are already pretty different around here. We only do Math (when we can help it), it's cleaning day, Puppet Practice, and things that fall on Wednesdays. Wednesdays are pretty important, you know. After all, the Sun, Moon, and Stars were created on Wednesday.
Anyway, on Different Day, you do all the other Different Stuff you don't feel like doing on other days. In Writing, I won't work on the Story, I'll do Character Sketches and other Boring Junk. In Music, I'll review my rep-reh-twa, however you spell it.
Awesome.
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