Kerinthian's

MY DIARY: Evangelism, Signs, Wonders, Revival - Interested?...

2010-09-26T01:37:00.000-07:00

MY DIARY: Evangelism, Signs, Wonders, Revival - Interested?...: "I can’t believe another twelve days has gone by. I am so enjoying life and full of praise to the Lord who has loved me, cared for me, provid..."

Matthew Chapter 2 - Memorized

2010-08-22T03:25:00.000-07:00

The Gospel of Matthew - Chapter One

2010-08-14T05:04:00.000-07:00

I come to this with some trepidation. Most of my blog site is full of my wit and is brushed with my own flavour of creativity but now I want to talk about something that is not my own and yet is mine to own and everyone's to share. Neither is this my achievement. It came to me some 17 years ago while I was sitting in my school auditorium watching some students rehearse something Shakespearian. At that time I was memorizing the Bard and had already had quite the theatrical background. But I also had this other life apart from School, and that was my growing spiritual side and my intimate relationship with the Lord and with his Word - The Bible.

As I sat there I started thinking, if I could memorize Shakespeare then what was stopping me from memorizing Scripture? At the time the thought seemed revolutionary but as I dipped my feet into the shallow end of God's pool of amazing words I was soon to realize that there was something more to this than just committing a few good ideas to memory. There was no "shallow end". I've started to see God's word for what it is, a force stronger than any Nuclear Weapon on the planet for "...the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart" (Hebrews 4:12)
As a Christian I am called not to be "conformed any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind." (Romans 12:2) A process that I know can only be achieved by committing yourself to the Word and seeking his face in prayer.

I have become aware of a believers responsibility to sharpen their knowledge of the Sword daily:

Joshua 1:8 - Do not let this Book of the Law depart from your mouth; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful...

Deuteronomy 17:18-19 - When he takes the throne of his kingdom, he is to write for himself on a scroll a copy of this law, taken from that of the priests, who are Levites. 19 It is to be with him, and he is to read it all the days of his life so that he may learn to revere the LORD his God and follow carefully all the words of this law and these decrees

Proverbs 4:5 - Get wisdom, get understanding; do not forget my words or swerve from them.

Without being aggressive, but rather stating a sad fact, Christians here in the West are standing in the midst of a great and terrible battle clapping their hands and singing songs with big grins on our faces while hordes of lost souls lie butchered on the battlefield around us and we seem perfectly oblivious to the magnificent sword dangling by our waists (or hidden among our TV guides), that if we would just take it out and swing it we might do some serious damage to the Devil's army that rips us to shreds without us even being aware of it...

I have done so little. But by the Lord's grace and the immense help of his Holy Spirit I have started the ball rolling and have memorized most of the book of Matthew with one hope - that I will get to preach this word to believers and non-believers alike. As Paul said in the first chapter of Romans - I am not ashamed of the Gospel because it is the power of God, for the SALVATION of everyone who believes. I have not learned this to keep locked away in my head for my own pleasure, to win theological arguments or so I can pride myself at the next Bible trivia night. I have done this because with a little bit of skill I might be able to swing my Sword and watch the bowels of the Devil's demons spill out on the ground, and ultimately to wake up a sleeping generation of Church goers who, frankly, need a swift kick into action.

Its my prayer that this starts something.

If you are a Pastor or a church leader then my request of you is simple: please watch this video and ask the Lord this question: "Do you want this Gospel preached at my Church?" If the answer is yes then contact me.

Please pass this onto your friends, and ask them to pass it on. In my 32 years this is the most crucial and important activity that I have been involved in, and the only thing I want to be remembered for.

I hope to plant a seed in your heart that will grow into an incredible hunger for God's Word such as you never thought was possible.

God Bless

Kerin Gedge

A Little Something I Wrote

2010-08-08T10:02:00.000-07:00

Well, it has been a long while since I wrote...

I was going mad writing blogs at the beginning of the year because in them I thought i would find some sort of financial reward. but the demands of Fatherhood and the reality of the restrictions of time just seemed to swallow up my motivation.

The demands of Fatherhood. I make it sound like a chore but it's really a labor of Affection that while it chews away at your physical effectiveness it builds your character like a lego set one brick at a time.

I'm still a projectionist. Slaving way in the darkness, entertaining hundreds of movie goers with movies I can't stand while no one in the theaters knows that I exist until i stuff it all up. One night merges into the next like adding chewing gum to gum until you end up with one great big flavorless ball that will choke you to death if you fall asleep with it in your mouth... my days are relentless. parent by day, lonely cinema employee by night. Slave to the couch from midnight to 2 in the morning as I wind down to something mindless on the internet or the latest box set of Battlestar Galactica my brother has borrowed to me... its a cycle i'm keen to destroy of with my creative x-wing, as if my job were a death star set to demolish whole planets, and yet in a way it is a world destroyer - its destroying my world.

I can't complain. As the character squawks in Les Miserables - "And Your lucky o be in a job, and in a bed, and we're counting our blessings!"

One of the biggest problems about blogging is the amount of time it demands. As mentioned above, when i finally get the time my mind can only handle a sci-fi or something silly on youtube like UFO Hunters or an episode of Duck Tales! Then recently a friend of mine suggested I get into blogging because, in his words - "You'd be so good at it man".

While i adamantly disagreed, the thought bugged me like a busting puppy waiting at my frint door to be let outside. So i decided to give it a shot. But rather than speak mindless sock holes to the cyber arena I've decided to film myself singing.

Thats right. Singing. Before i was a blogger, a parent or even a scruffy loner in a projection box I was an aspiring song writer and for the last 3 years some 50 or so songs have been collecting dust in a very metaphorical way.

So while you might not see me regularly and consistently blogging it out please enjoy the videos I should be posting on a regular basis, of me banging out my emotional guts on a guitar with an "L" Plate.

And don't forget to subscribe to my youtube channel so you can get harassed by the youtube notification emails as I upload them... And if you're a particularly good cyber Samaritan, then forward it to your friends so my songs can go viral and i can enjoy Bieber like successes with songs that, well, might be better than most of the nonsense the record companies would have us eat with our starving ears these days...

So this song, which came out of my 18-19 year old brain, is in fact two songs squashed together. I took out the worst parts of the two and married what was left. leaves you to wonder just how bad the bad bits were! Anyway, at the time I was experimenting with a stream of consciousness style of writing and sort of regurgitated whatever I was thinking without giving it much thought. This was the result... Please consider subscribing to my channel because i will be uploading more songs in the weeks/months to come...

For those of you who are extra nice, please visit this site and vote for the song!

http://www.newgrounds.com/audio/listen/64006

Fatherhood at 8 Months, 2 weeks and 2 days.

2010-02-20T03:28:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago I went to the home of some friends of ours. They have two kids with a 3 year head start on our young family. The smaller is just over a year old and every time I go round she hops up on her little trunks and waddles across the floor in a mammoth effort to make it to my legs and then tries to launch herself upward by tugging on my knee caps. They’re really cool kids. The three year old boy is already first in line to be my daughter’s husband (so far as I’m concerned) and every time I see him I make a point of asking him, “Are you going to marry H when you grow up?” He nods his head yes but sometimes gets confused and tells me who else he plans to marry. Actually he sometimes even tries to claim my wife as already being his! But it’s still early days and the brain washing process that I’ve started may take a few years, but at least the seed has been sown. He certainly enjoys kissing her good-bye at the end of each visit (In a perfectly innocent Anne Geddes sense).

Having friends with kids is helpful because I can gauge my fledgling’s progress against theirs. A great example is one little girl who had a nice crusty layer of boogers moustaching the area between her nostrils and upper lip. You see it on a great many kids; at some point the parent’s click that wiping it off would be a waste of natural resources because it’s just going to keep gushing back, one minute a gooey sort of booger-fall, the next a crackly dry wasteland of snot. I asked her mother, “So when can I expect H to have snot on her face all the time?” because up until this point she had been relatively snot-face free.
“Within a few weeks of starting day care.” Was the unwelcome response.

And so it begins. The relentless crawl up the immunity ladder as my child builds her immune system from scratch. For the most part, as long as she is taking breast milk she is largely protected from all manner of nasty’s that mommy is already immune to. So for the first 8 months of her life we thought we had a super baby who practically never got sick. I almost sort of looked down my non-runny nose at other kids who always had something trying to escape their nostrils or stomachs, whether they be coughs, sniffles or abundant mucus. Of course she threw up her milk after most feeds and had the odd blocked nose that required the torturous effort of an aspirator to remove the blockage but as far as actually being sick went, complete with a high temperature and the obvious struggle of a baby who can’t breath and who can’t understand why; that had only happened once when she was about 4 months old…

Flash back. Middle of winter. One day perfectly healthy baby. Next day you can hear the bubbling of breathing through a drippy nose. Babies take a while to learn how to breath through their mouths consistently so keep trying to take in oxygen through the tiny holes above their lips. Frequent waking throughout the night when the tiny snore stops because no air can get through. Eating is a chore because they can’t breath, yet babies seem to eat for comfort so the cycle begins of trying to feed for relief and becoming irritated when there is no relief. As a parent you can sympathize with their helplessness because you yourself are helpless, there is no way of communicating to them that it’s just a cold. There’s no way of listening to their frightened little thoughts, they are having a grizzly crash course in learning how to be sick. The first time they discover a fraction of how cruel the world can be, not just because they’re not feeling very nice but because in many ways, despite the round-the-clock attentiveness of the anxious parents, psychologically they are doing it on their own...

The least exciting part of the whole ordeal is the Aspirator. A little rubber bulb like thing with a plastic nozzle on the end. It looks like a portable icing decorator only this handles nothing sweet, and certainly not anything you would rush to put onto a cake. I remember the many times, just to give my baby a chance to breath, sticking it up her struggling nose to suck the insides out while she screamed and writhed in genuine terror at the monster that daddy has become. I felt torn between the guilt of distressing her so or the guilt of not doing anything. You can try to tell them it’s for their own good but they have no idea what “their own good” even means. All they know is you’re sticking something cold and plastic up their sick nose and the arms that they’re so used to receiving cuddles from have suddenly become firm restrainers, frightening shackles in a prison of fear, wailing with an already raw throat…

Fast forward. After that mid winter dreadfulness super baby returned and I was able to put the memory of that ordeal in a coffin of concrete and drown in the deeper regions of my unconscious and with it the memory of putting my mouth over her blocked nose to suck the stuborn salty snottiness out myself when the aspirator failed to do the job I had paid for it to do.

But then comes Day Care.

On the outside Day Care looks like a friendly place filled with badly drawn but none the less colorful finger paintings, lovely ladies with smiles that glitter like the rainbow and a house sized toy box. But really it’s an incubator of a myriad of bacteria, the airport where virus’ congregate to say farewell to their loved ones before they disembark on a journey on board the next 8 month old they can hitch a ride on.

Of course its all completely necessary. This is how they’re little bodies adapt to the harsh microscopic world around them. Putting this thing in their mouth, trying out that virus, getting immune to it, putting that thing in their mouth, catching a tummy bug, building up a resistance... Unfortunately they bring it home with them and its usually something Mommy and Daddy aren’t immune to because the circles we frequent don’t include 12 kids all wanting to stick the same thing in their mouth or in their ear and then pick your nose with the same grubby little fingers that prodded the kid who had the interesting booger or the strange substance that came out of the other kids mouth and landed on your plate and you just had to try some for your self. Goodness know s what goes on in that place.

Nearly 3 years ago my Nephew came home from a Day Care with a tummy bug. Within hours I found out firsthand what it was like to throw up the previous nights steak dinner – through your nose. I couldn’t enjoy a barbecue for nearly a year after that experience.

So last week my offspring chokes in the middle of the night. My wife and I leap out of our bed, no time for me to whip on my Jammie's. Here’s naked delirious Dad launching himself to the cot to clutch the choking baby out of her slumber and potential death (melodramatic I know, but wait until you try it). By the time my wife turns the light on here I am with my floppy child upside down between my hands. Somehow she has managed to do a 180 degree turn in her sleep and groggily wakes up to an upside down bedroom swinging from side to side. Obviously she isn’t dead, but my heart is racing and my nerves are wrecked as I plonk her on our bed to check her mouth for obstructions. We assume that the blanket must have attacked her in her sleep so banish it from her cot. For the next 3 nights her bed becomes a blanket free zone. All blankets are naughty and have to endure time out.

Except it wasn’t a blanket that tried to strangle my baby, no it was the latest Day Care gremlin trying to force her to gargle vomit in her sleep. We discovered this the next morning when she let go of her morning meal on parts of my wife that shouldn’t have to endure stomach acids!

Mom went to work and I was left with a floppy lethargic baby who still had the will power to wrestle with a pink giraffe, roar like a lion cub and finally throw herself against her daddy only to hurl warm chunks down the back of his shoulder. After mopping her up with a warm flannelet I let her flop into a sleepy heap on our bed and while I surveyed the damage to our bed spread I realized that having your child churn out the contents of her belly all over my back is no where near as bad as seeing her weak little body heaving and dry wrenching like she was a teenager at a party she wasn’t allowed to go to....

To be continued...

AVATAR

2010-02-16T04:00:00.000-08:00

I think when people heard the words “James Cameron’s first movie since Titanic” they lost perspective. It didn't matter anymore that this movie still might suck, it was James Cameron’s first movie since his last sinking ship and that’s all anybody cared about it. You could put the contents of a used tissue on a cinema screen for 3 hours and people would still go and see it if it had Cameron’s name on it.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved Aliens, I also swam in the Abyss and relished in the Terminator franchise in which Cameron proved he could make virtually the same movie twice and people would still go and see it. Heck, I also enjoyed that other Arnie movie he made, True Lies. But somewhere along the line I can’t help but feel some directors lose the plot. John Carpenter lost it, Spielberg sometimes loses it and even Lucas lost it somewhere between episode six and episode one. Cameron has lost it as well - he lost it and used very expensive special effects to distract us from noticing...

The Titanic was boring until everyone died and even now, 15 years later I am still haunted by the songs that practically ended Celine Dion’s career. Even the fantastic James Horner, composer of some of the most memorable sound tracks ever; Glory, Brave Heart and Bicentennial Man- sunk with that rust bucket as the mixture of artificial sound with smooth real life strings clanged in my ears like an ice berg scraping against, well, a great big ship. The only good thing about that movie in my mind was that it was the film that marked the end of Leonardo as a teen heart throb and launched him into more eccentric roles. Thanks for drowning Jack.

But this review is not about Titanic. This is about a movie that has recently sold more tickets than the great Titan of the sea ever dared. And I’m still trying to figure out why.

Avatar, Cameron’s 3D vomit which offended me in more ways than three.

Ok ok, I hear it now, the hordes of patrons screaming “sacrilege!” So let me make one thing perfectly clear before I continue – This movie was stunning, brilliantly made, the special Effects spell binding, the CGI believable. In every visual sense this film was breath taking and every other cliché I can think of lavishing it with, but… and that’s a very big “but”…

Just because a film looks good doesn’t mean it is good. Snow white’s apple was after all shiny on the outside while therein lie the poison that put her to sleep, and this movie was the poison that put me to sleep!

First of all the story was totally and horrifically unoriginal. In fact I’ve seen it before,, I believe it was a Kevin Costner film called Dances With Wolves in which a military man gets sent to the farthest outpost in the mid west where he befriends the local tribe and eventually becomes one of them until the climax where he gets to fight the “white man” to protect his new found cultural identity. He even keeps a diary. In a nut shell this is AVATAR rattling inside the walnut.

As soon as I realized the film was Dances with Wolves in Space it felt like Dirty Dancing Havana Nights all over again. Nobody puts baby in a corner and that’s exactly what this film tried to do – to make you believe it was original with lots of clever camera trickery and 3D glasses while laughing at you behind some bushes and insects with propellers for wings! BORING!!!

The second thing I didn’t appreciate was that I felt like AVATAR was made by the Joseph Goebbels of the modern Hippie Movement… it was like Al Gore was standing in the side lines whispering in Cameron’s ear, saying, “Excellent, my young apprentice… soon you will learn the power of the dark side” This movie was so green you couldn’t see Kermit the frog singing “It’s not easy being green” against it! Ok so there’s nothing completely wrong with environmentalism except most of what we are being forced fed in so many movies today about global warming and the like is complete and utter nonsense. This movie, while not at all about global warming, couldn’t help side swiping human kind for demolishing their own planet just so they could go and do the same to someone else’s.

Actually, admittedly, that was rather clever; I've always thought Alien Invasion movies were a tad unrealistic because in them we are always the goodies. When in actuality we would be the Invaders and some Kangaroo like tribe in some far away planet would be feeling the end of our spears. But I like to think Human beings are inherently evil because of our propensity to lie, to cheat, to steal, to think evil thoughts, to murder, to commit adultery and all that jazz. I don’t agree that our worst sin is that we kill trees.
Thirdly I don’t like one bit the notion that if we just return to nature then everything will be ok. This is an idea that predates this movie which nobalizes the savage and perpetrates the lie that if we just ditch society and go live with the monkeys we would enter into a veritable nirvana here on earth. No no no, why do we always forget that a great many of the cultures “white man” over ran were also cannibals with spares and human sacrifice on the days agenda? Being a fourth generation colonial I'm beginning to resent the "white man" complex most of my generation suffers from, being forced to feel guilty for a sin our great great granddaddies did. AVATAR just reminds me I'm living in a culture that encourages something much worse than catholic guilt - cultural shame in a land where the only land I've ever stolen is the dirt under my shoe!

I can see it now, clear as day the various scenes of long tailed blue alien people swaying to and throw as they worshipped the great mother tree. Give me a break. Sounds like raw paganism to me. I’m not buying it. In the real world it reflects something sick in the heads of todays elite, a belief called Gaia Theory, in which the Earth is a living organism complete with an immune system bent on eradicating the human virus which needs to learn to behave or Mother nature will sneeze us out of existence just like she did to the dinosaurs for leaving a mess on the foot path. Just read Richard Branson's "Let's not Screw it, let's just do it" and you'll see I'm not making this up. There are people out there who really believe we deserve every bit of cosmic radiation the earth wants to expose us to, just because we built a factory or two, pumped oil and killed some trees. So let me get this straight, the Earth is aloud to do her mindless thing and exterminate the rodents but the very idea of a transcendent God who would allow us to be punished for blood shed, violence, child abuse, theft and not honoring our parents and a whole host of things that are part of our shameful humanity - simply offends and disgusts most people.

I'm also not happy that Cameron invented an Alien resembling a cat and a spider monkey that's blue like a smurf but being human enough to attract the double take of every young male watching the way a very sheltered lad might view his first National Geographic. I imagine many people had some rather mixed feelings about human attraction after watching this film. Its not a very nice thing to do James.

Perhaps I've been a bit harsh but I've never quite got over Cameron's pseudo-archaeological documentaries about the so called Jesus Family Tomb or the Exodus of Moses.

In any case I better save some of my distaste for AVATAR for its sequels, soon to come no doubt, but if I had my way I would gladly wait another 15 years. Hopefully Cameron will take the money and run...

So for entertainment I would give this movie an 8 out of 10, wow so high for a scathing review - but like I said just because a movie is entertaining does not make it any good by a long shot! For content, depth and originality I will lend it a 3... I say lend because I might want that 3 back later to swap it for a 2!

Fatherhood at 8 Months

2010-02-12T06:15:00.000-08:00

I have a new state of the art alarm clock with arms and legs and a mouth that chimes “Wa wa waaaaa” every morning at about 6.30 in the a.m. The difficulty is I can’t set it to any other time and neither can I return it to the manufacturer to ask for a replacement or a refund. So I have no choice but to adjust my nightly routine of staying up with the Xbox until 3 a.m. to actually going to bed when the rest of the world does to minimize the effect when dawn comes and I don’t feel like a sledge hammer just tried to blow a raspberry on my forehead.

Some alarm clocks you just want to punch with a closed fist so that the springs fly in all directions and you’re forced to buy a new one, but this one has a smile so it’s harder to negotiate with. I wake up in the morning to its wines; transfer it to the feeding station – the mother of the alarm clock, usually half awake and dreaming of the days when she was something other than a milk processing place. When the winging turns into smoochy feeding noises and the occasional “Argh! Her nails are too sharp!” I usually take the opportunity to sneak back into unconsciousness or I otherwise get up and have my 30 minute zombie like shower and contemplate whether I’m going to shave today or ever again. Then I come back into our room and there she is, the little Koala like ball of sun polish looking back at me with a smile that could give the Tin Man a heart and make just about any young woman look at her husband and say “Sweetie, let’s have a baby!” – My wife included.

Eight months is, for me, when the fun has just begun. I mean it was still fun before. It was fun watching the Texas Birth Massacre nine months ago in 4D. It was fun for the first 6 weeks of sleep deprivation that almost had me knocking on the mental asylum with myself in a basket and a letter stapled to my temple saying “Dear Sir/Madam, please take me in”. It was fun, all those nights when I was convinced that my wife was the only person who could put the baby to bed because I thought I sucked at it.

But sarcasm aside, it was fun going to public places and just about every grandma, her dog and female of the human species’ reaction to a dad and his daughter was to suddenly give me more attention (at least in my imagination) than I ever got in high school!

It was fun, but then it got funner. I left my wife and daughter in Australia for 3 weeks after Christmas while I held down the fort at home. I missed them excruciatingly as I counted down every atomic second that we were separated. My heart felt the way mince does just before it gets turned into mince and probably just before it gets eaten as well. When I left my little girl she was rolling around on the floor like a run away sausage rolling across the patio. When we were reunited she could do something completely strange to me; after seven and a half months of not being able to do much at all she was suddenly sitting…

What an incredible difference sitting makes to a human being. We’re so expert at it after years of sitting all over the place that when your child does it for the first time you think its magic! There she was sitting on the floor like she was designed to, with a look of achievement on her face that seemed to say “I’m catching up to you Dad.” She reaches out for toys with a sense of purpose and power as she tries to eat that book or that thing that might have been fluff or a dead insect before I dive at her with my finger trying to pry those baby jaws open to fish whatever it was out again.

I’ve noticed there’s something of a scientist in her as she experiments with gravity and hurls herself backwards and then thinks about whether she is going to cry or not after the naughty floor banged her so unfairly on the back of the head. The floor is a wise teacher though; she seems to be learning its lessons quickly enough.

One thing the floor has trained her is how to mimic a praying mantis. First she sort of rolls over onto her stomach. Then she lifts herself up like a soldier doing sit ups until her diminutive hands and the tips of her toes are holding her up in a hovering pose, tipping forwards and backwards while she ponders what’s going to happen next. She thinks “Am I going to face plant into the carpet or am I going to do something I’m not quite sure what yet?” You really do get the impression that she is thinking about crawling but doesn’t quite know what that is yet, but any minute now she’s going to figure it out. So you help her along by putting something exciting in front of her like a mobile telephone with polyphonic ring tones. Very exciting; so exciting that she plonks back to the ground and waves her arms and legs about like an Olympic swimmer, only not getting anywhere. Occasionally she manages a sort of pseudo-commando crawl, although not quite registering the significance of the feat she just performed because she is too concerned with putting my singing cell-phone into her snapping and ravenous gums. I quickly take that off her as well.

Although there was the one time recently that a bottle of milk had her actually crawling two whole knee jerks forward. Just like her Dad it is clear that her remote control is in her stomach and she is being directed by a hungry tummy resolute on defying the laws of biology and physics combined to get what it wants!

One thing you learn not to do when your child is in those critical stages before taking that giant leap towards infant mobility is to clap and cheer, because the moment you do she instantly stops what she’s doing, smiles and looks at you like you’re some kind of circus attraction, forgetting all about the monumental miracle she was about to perform and concentrating instead on her bizarre parents who have suddenly turned into fin slapping sea lions, only without a ball balancing on their noses.

I hear all those who have gone before me shaking their heads and saying, “It’s the beginning of the end; once they start to crawl your life is over.” Except they said the same thing before she was born, and they were wrong then so I’m not listening now. In fact since she was born I’ve heard the following from well meaning idiots:

“Once that baby comes…

Your life will be over…
You’ll have to keep that dog outside…
You’ll have to move that book shelf
You won’t be able to go out any more
It’s hard when you’ve got a baby, but just wait until you’ve got TWO!”

Of course it’s all complete and utter ridiculous nonsense. I’ve learnt quickly that once the baby comes:

Your SELFISH life is over and is replaced by a more sacrificial one with added value!Your dog doesn’t give a monkey’s butt about the new baby in the house!
The book case isn’t going to chase the baby and jump on her and is safe where it is for the time being.
You can go out, just not until very late which is probably better for your aging body anyway. And people will use their baby as an excuse not to go to the homes of people they don’t really want to hang out with anyway!

Having two is just like having one – you love them both and can’t stop thinking about them all day!

Actually my favorite quote was from my sister-in-law, “Once they start walking you’ll lose so much weight from chasing them everywhere all the time.” She said as her child darted away from her at the zoo. That suits me fine as long as I don’t have to do my three-times-half-an-hour-cardio per week routine anymore!

So as I sit on the sofa and watch my little adventurer take her first motions forward I think to myself, “Oh my, I’m actually going to be able to do something with her soon!” I’m already planning our first trip to the park with an ice cream in one hand and a helium balloon in the other, throwing stale bread at the ducks and soaking up the grannies compliments of “Oh isn’t she just adorable”, thanks ladies!

But for now I will put sharing an ice-cream with your 8 month old on the list of things to do when you’re contemplating suicide because it’s a risk you’ll live to regret. First she sees you eating it, then she wriggles like a freshly caught snapper making those noises which in any language, adult or baby, mean give me some of that yummy stuff right now or else! You think foolishly that one bite is going to be enough but after that simple transaction of sugary creamy yummyness she now owns the rest of the ice-cream and will rebuke you every time you bring it to your lips instead of hers.

Speaking of stupid things to do with your 8 month old I did learn one other thing. I discovered that it is not a good idea to take her into the shower with the idea that you will take the nappy off while you’re in there. I discovered to my dismay that this diaper was brought to me by the number “2” and by the letter “P”. Next thing I know I’m soaking in stuff that isn’t nice stuff and resembles discolored swamp vegetation. Not a nice experience when the water pressure in your shower only comes out at a trickle.

But moving forward, the day came after 8 months of adventurous maternity leave, days filled with full nappies and conversations that usually begin with “You should have seen the poo she did today” (and no, I’m not being immature, every parent does it because no one can believe that such a little thing can produce such an enormous and alarming amount of fecal matter) My wife returned to work. Just for three days a week of course. Neither of us could stomach the idea of someone else raising our child full time while we raised our bank balance, so I rigged my Mondays to Wednesdays so I only worked in the evening and could spend the day with my baby. In my first week I learnt so very much about this little being from my wife’s belly.

For a start, after months of not sleeping for mummy, I discovered that she will sleep for me after all. It’s great. We have a little play time in the morning which usually involves trying to eat a book or my face… yes, she is obsessed with my whiskers, after all mummy doesn’t have them so they must be edible. After discovering that none of her toys, including my chin, are palatable she winges until I give her something from a jar that has names like “Fruity Porridge” or “Mango banana custard” on the label. But don’t let the names deceive you they taste like the bottom of a horses shoe.

I’m convinced that taste buds in a baby are developed later in life. Although this doesn’t explain their addictiveness to substances like ice cream it does bring light to why a baby can devour 200 mls of baby formula like a starving dog would attack a man in a steak suit. Let me elucidate further – baby formula tastes like a raw fish on a fisherman’s bait tray, or like molten copper or a coffee mug full of blood and golden syrup. Actually it tastes like all of that disgusting goo, blended together to give your child all the Omega 3 and nutrients it needs while annihilating his/her palate. In short, test the temperature of the milk on your elbow, not on your tongue.

So after she’s gulped down the mushy muck from the jar and goes back to eating her toys she reaches out to me for a cuddle. I pick her up and before I can say, “What would you like to do now?” I’ve discovered she has already used me as a decoy to her conscious state and has slipped off to whatever it is babies dream about.

Then I get to have another sleep myself. It’s great.

An hour later its more toy eating and fish gut flavored milk until its time to drop her off at Day Care.

Leading up to the first day my wife and I were more than a little apprehensive about leaving our fragile little munchkin in the hands of strangers. We thought she would scream and wail and howl like a mauled rabbit but that was just our egos.

I took her to the place where other parents had previously dumped their kids, feeling guilty at the prospect of doing the same and convinced that from here on in our relationship would be based on her desire to exact revenge on her horrible father for leaving her alone in a place full of toys, foam flooring and friendly ladies with great big smiles…

But when I got there the first thing she did was reach out to the friendly Asian Day Care lady for a cuddle. Then once she saw the box of blocks Daddy disappeared into the background of her perception – she really couldn’t care less if I stayed or went. The blocks were far more interesting.

I called an hour and a half later, hoping to hear her screaming for Daddy in the background but I was told that she was having a wonderful time. I still don’t entirely understand why that disappointed me so much. But I guess my wife and I had been projecting our own reactions on to her because as I drove away from the nursery I was the one who did the crying, heaving out a sob or three while trying not to run over anything along the way.

After I got over the personal insult of not being missed I returned to Day Care the next week with the bravado of a proud Dad who is convinced he has a baby genius on his hands; despite the fact she spends most of her day rolling around on the floor using her mouth as her primary information gathering device.

My belief in her above normal intelligence was fueled on this occasion by an event that took place early Monday morning. I lay on the floor entertaining myself with Disney’s entrancing tale – “The Jungle Book”, which surprisingly I had never seen before. Just as I was figuring out that this was not the retelling of Tarzan but a completely different story and as I wondered how a bear came to be living in the dense Indian Jungle and where did that kid get his ornage underpants from, I felt tiny hands put pressure on my knees. I looked and there was my progeny using my legs to pull herself onto her feet, and just when I thought this was the most remarkable thing I had seen her do to date she let go of my legs and stood on the floor as if she was a dessert dweller standing on a surf board for the very first time; you got the impression that the floor might fall out from under her any minute. The tremendous occurrence only lasted for about 3 seconds and as I retell the tale I like to think it was my shocked audible gasp that sent her backwards like the apple from the tree that threatened to kill Sir Isaac Newton. Unfortunately she misunderstood my reaction of share unadulterated astonishment and pride as one of something much scarier and she did that thing that babies do when they take a few moments to get their face in just the right position before letting out a great big genuine bawl. I was quick to ladle her up and tell her what an intelligent and brainy baby she was for making me regret watching the Jungle Book instead of her!

So with that in mind I went to day care where some other kid looked up at me, the bearded boogie man, and burst into frantic tears, further puffing up my super-duper-daddy demeanor. I thought now was as good a time as any to declare that we had already started toilet training her.

Interesting story actually... about a friends daughter who, if there was a potty training school, would have brought back corporal punishment. Training her to do the unnatural with the natural was like training a duck to bungee jump or a cat to brush its teeth. She was the sort of kid who knew exactly what it was she was meant to do. She got it alright, but refused to take part in the exercise unless it involved a McDonald’s Happy Meal at the other end. 5 poos in the potty amounted to one trip to the Restaurant with the yellow M, except the moment the Mc Nuggets stopped she protested with a few of her own special brand of nugget that without a nappy amounted to World War 3 erupting at home. The amazing thing was she knew exactly what she was doing. It was a calculated dropping just to spite her mean parents who had vetoed the flow of the meal that came with a toy. The same child’s mother told us about a method she wished she had used called “Communication Illumination” or something. So my wife did the research and discovered it’s all for real. There is a school of thought that if you hang around your baby long enough you can catch them before they do the deed just by reading their facial expressions. Sounds like a fun game to play on a train when you don’t have a book to read. We didn’t want to be too gung-ho about it so decided to buy a plant pot, because the only potty big enough for a 3 month old usually came with a toy doll. Then, after every nappy change we would sort of “Hiss” in her ear as we dangled her over this container (actually it started as an ice-cream container before we upgraded to the pot, for some reason that makes me laugh a little) Amazingly, like clock work, like it was just meant to happen that way we got the tinkle we desired and got as excited as a kid who just got a bike for Christmas. Just imagine how thrilled we were when she did her first “second” on the thing. Even as a 3 month old she would have this vague look on her face that sort of said, “Yeah, so what? Haven’t you seen one of those before?”

Knowing that this new Day Care was happy to participate in the Potty Training process I boldly declared that she was already well on her way.

I was expecting a fan fare to follow, or some kind of equally star warsian Sound Track to play in the back ground as I stood there like the world’s first $6,000,000 Dad. But if there was a sound track it sounded more like the Imperial March when Darth Vadar strides into the room, wiggles his finger and his sniveling underling chokes to death as if by invisible hands and falls to the floor in a crumpled and unimportant heap.

“We don’t do that here” was the response. “We’ve heard about the method and it goes against our philosophy!” I felt like I was becoming a baby myself as the care giver told me that they don’t start training a child until a child is ready and shows cues that they are so and that at the end of the day you can train a child to do almost anything if you really wanted to but that it would be improper to teach them to do something before they were psychologically ready.

I handed my micro-treasure over to the sinister forces that just pulled the cork out of my ego and sent it farting across the room. At least she said we are welcome to continue doing “that sort of thing” at home, something I was sure to do, only that would be the last time I ever bragged about it.

Stay Tuned

2010-01-09T18:25:00.001-08:00

To those of you curious enough to return...

Thank you - come again!

I promise I'll be back with something shortly, all this living out of a suit case business robs me of the internet sometimes...

Thanks for stopping by!

K

This Week on Planet Me

2010-01-08T03:11:00.000-08:00

For the first time this week I’m sitting here staring blankly at the screen and realizing I can’t be bothered writing anything.

But the show must go on even when I have nothing to say.

One of my many New Years resolutions is to read more this year. This is one resolve I don’t want to see in the Grave Yard of New Year Promises. In 2009 I probably read a total of 3 books and yet saw over a hundred movies (slight exaggeration). Even scarier is that I wrote more than I read and when you read a blog by someone who talks more than he hears and writes more than he reads you know you are going to walk away from this hopelessly misinformed!

Actually I’m reading a book on Prayer at the moment by the late great Derek Prince. It’s called “The Secrets of a Prayer Warrior”. It’s a pretty good Biblical perspective on how to pray and have your prayers answered, and goes about shattering the myth that so many of us hold on to – that prayer is like reading a shopping catalogue and unconsciously we treat God like some kind of divine shopping assistant; rather prayer is a way of inviting God to do his will through us and when we pray according to His will, as revealed in his Word, then our prayers will be answered. Of course there’s a lot more depth to the tome but I’ll write a review about it some time.

I watched two very unusual films from either end of the spectrum of unusualness – The Forbidden Planet and this other drug induced John Carpenter space comedy called Dark Star… which was like an American parody of Red Dwarf except 20 years before Red Dwarf was even conceived. Expect to see a review on those classic time wasters in the near future…

It wasn’t really such a waste of time as I got to eat a large dose of curry with friends and drink 2 beers, because that’s about all I can handle. But now that they have gone home and I have work tomorrow all I can think of is creeping downstairs, switching the old Xbox 360 on and escaping to the wastelands of Fallout 3 which is occupying more than a generous amount of my spare time these days…

And as for creeping downstairs… I’ve been house sitting for a family from my church. Lovely family; lovely house, except I had grown so accustomed, in the last 9 years, to having a dog around to warn me when a cat or a homicidal maniac was lurking about in the darkness outside. Now all I have is a security light that activates when a fly moons past. Every time a cat runs along the roof tiles I instantly freeze at the thought that it’s something other than a cat, like a giant Cray fish from out of space or a zombie horde. I told my friend how I feel about being alone in a big house all by myself and he told me I sounded like an old woman. His wife told me I sounded like an old woman. But they don’t know what its like, especially after the tomato robbery. The what? I hear you say… Well, the owners have a superb garden out the back. Designed to survive a nuclear holocaust, provided it happens somewhere else. They keep the tomato plants in a giant cage to keep them from running away, or probably to keep out the possums. Either way there was a juicy red tomato I had my eye on several days ago, but then the next day it was gone, having escaped the confines of its cage. I’ve decided that tomatoes don’t just vanish into thin ear unless they are from the future. No, there must be a tomato bandit and the noises I hear on the roof at night are somehow connected.

Actually I figured out who it was in the end and it was too much of an anti climax to write about so for now I’m going to stick with the tomato bandit story.

It’s been a stress ridden week of me being alone while my wife and child bask in the Australian sun. Training a uni student at work, who reminds me constantly of my less than academic mentality and staying in a big lonely house where my diet of baked beans on corn chips, curry and horse trough loads of Uncle Toby’s Cheerios has left me with enough gas to fly my own private air balloon to work tomorrow… now that would be a great blog…

I had over 40 page views yesterday, a tremendous feat for someone who never knows exactly what he’s on about. In the odd chance that you come hear regularly to laugh at me or with me or perhaps you appreciate my serious side and get something out of this site I strongly urge you to find me on facebook and become my “acquaintance” so I can up to date you constantly… that would be nice. Another thing you can do is whenever you read something on here that you particularly like then please forward the link to your chums or chumettes so I can get these Google ads working for me!

In any case, I’m now going to play computer games until my eyes can’t stay open anymore and just maybe I will wake up in a heap on the living room floor tomorrow morning. At least I’ll be closer to the kitchen!

Christmas in Peregian

2010-01-07T05:23:00.000-08:00

I returned from my week off in the sunny Sunshine Coast and was asked by my jealous co-workers how I enjoyed my break.

My honest reply was of course that it wasn’t really a break, at least not in the holiday sense of the word.

My idea of a break is going to a place where people are a figment of someone else’s imagination, where you can leave your towel on the floor, walk around wearing the same pajama pants 24 hours a day, grow your beard so long so that your face becomes its own buried treasure and you can fart out loud and compliment your effort because there’s no one else around to criticize your personal escape to mandom.

That’s a real holiday.

But let’s face it, that sort of get away is boring, makes for an arcane blog and doesn’t present you with the mental and social challenges of Christmas with the family.

And what a setting!

Here in the Southern Hemisphere, and that’s the earth’s bottom for those of you who are wondering, you don’t just dream about a white Christmas, you scratch your head and wonder what one would even be like, the very concept of snow at Christmas time is foreign and almost as fictional as Santa Claus himself. (insert disclaimer for those of you who still believe in the jolly fat man).

The only equivalent to a sleigh ride here is catching a wave on your boogie board, and the warmest Christmas attire for us Aussies and Kiwis is a bikini or a pair of budgie smugglers. You need flip flops, thongs or jandels (as we kiwis call them) to stop the sand from char grilling your feet until they look like something from a burger king bun. Instead of snow warnings the weather man with zinc on his nose warns you of the danger of a heavy cloud of potential skin cancer moving in from the east with occasional thunder storms.

Actually the difference between an Aussie summer and a kiwi one hit me square in the sun burnt parts of me this year! It’s like the difference between a cat in a potato sack and a wombat in a frying pan!

In the weeks leading up to my holiday I was in Auckland complaining about the December “heat” debilitating my motor functions and harvesting sweat beads all over my hot oppressed self. I was still wearing jeans though, and I slept under my cozy covers.

My first night in Queensland and I was wondering if taking your skin off would help cool you down; jeans were now a thing of stupidity and bed covers were decorations to be kicked off before you went to sleep.

But I can’t complain, our room faced the wonderful expanse that is Peregian Beach, so the sweet sea Breeze came in through my window and had its cool way with me while I slept, only to be greeted by the sun at 5 am, the fiery red bugle boy in the sky, beckoning me to watch him play regardless of whether I liked his flaming hot jazz.

It was nice for my baby though. Being a winter child she has never been 10 minutes out of a jump suit. Now she was free to have fun in the sun with nary a covered bum and little else.

Peregian is beautiful. Alien compared to New Zealand beaches; a strange land full of gum trees, other trees and Bush Turkeys. They came out to look at us once but were suspicious and wouldn’t eat the dried apricot I threw their way, but instead ran away from it like it was a time bomb or a cautiously disguised laxative – more on that later.

In the Sunshine Coast the Beach never gets lonely. We were some of many visitors who offered their bodies to its open arms on a daily bases. One day in Noosa, another in Peregian, you can’t seem to run out of beach there’s so much of it.

In Noosa there’s a bay you can swim in with the fishies and then bake on the sand while parrots in the trees above drop seeds on our head, showing their contempt for the tourist industry or upset that the majority of topless sunbathers consisted of fatties like myself.

Noosaville was a pleasant scene, on a river where you can hire a boat or a barge for an afternoon and travel to a secluded spot, light up the Barbie and feed the sausages you don’t eat to the hordes of fish watching you from under the water’s surface… a mate and I spotted a cloud of little fish, no bigger than my pinky, only better swimmers. They traveled in a thick cloudy mass. We jumped on them to try to separate them and they still stuck together like there was a mysterious gravitational force pulling them together… then they started biting us and the game wasn’t fun any more.

The wild life in Australia is always present it seems. No matter where you are. We ate fish and chips, wonderful fish and chips, by the river in Noosaville under a huddle of palm trees where an Aussie Bat bullied us with a steady rain of miniature coconuts, although missing every time. I threw one back to prove my superiority but failed.

These Queensland Bats are amazing. If you can imagine a Walla bee in a Bat Man costume, that’s a Queensland Bat; only imagine 10,000 of them flapping their way across the sky in the twilight, probably all holding miniature coconuts ready to pelt at the next unsuspecting tourist they see.

I saw a dead bat once on the side of the road in the Gold Coast, like a giant winged teddy bear only smelly, rotten and hardly cuddly. There was is nothing cuddly about the occasional crispy bat you see dangling quite dead like from the power lines in the middle of the day either! A friend of mine once told me a story of when he went to take a bite out of his precious ham burger when suddenly a giant fruity poo landed splat bang in the middle of his dinner still clasped in his hands. They’re a beautiful nuisance and a spectacular treat for a kiwi like myself who knows the only exciting thing in the sky back home is the great big invisible hole in the ozone layer.

Incidentally if you are a kiwi planning a trip to sunny QLD then don’t bother purchasing your sun screen until you get there because the Aussies have obviously cracked the sun screen code, having found a way to provide their citizen’s with cheap lotion, like it was a basic human right or something; unlike New Zealand, the skin cancer capital of the world, where you have to be a suit to get the required amount of UV protection.

(Mental note to self, bring back sun screen next time I go to Oz)

The conundrum of Queensland is people need to wear more clothes, and yet they can’t. Fashion designers have the impossible task of inventing new outfits using the least possible amount of fabric. It gives a hot blooded male the wrong impression when the ladies in the shopping mall are wearing almost the same thing as the ladies at the beach! But it’s the sun that wears the Prada and dictates what people don’t wear, which is practically whatever they can get away with… The ancient Victorians of 130 years ago would not like present day Noosa for that reason, and I’m afraid I must be two thirds Victorian…

Christmas Eve came and my wife and I took a lovely stroll down to the Peregian Township by the sea to listen to the Carolers singing a song called “6 White Bloomers” which I assume is some Australian folk song about underpants. I was hard pressed to hear what it had to do with the true meaning of Christmas and even the usual Christmas intruder, Santa himself, would be confused. It sounded like Karaoke on the beach so we turned around and put the nightmare behind us.

That was the night I ate half a bag of dried apricots to naturally push the indulgent holiday food of the previous 4 days out of my constipated self. It worked like a treat but made for an extra long game of Scruples that night as I politely disappeared from the gaming table to do what can’t be written about. It’s a curious thing about me and holidays, its like my bowels go on holiday too and refuse to do any work and every one wonders why I’m not as mobile as they are!

So apart from the violent tendencies of the wild life, the half naked Australians and the potent apricots I would say Christmas in Peregian is a delightful cultural experiment. A far more enjoyable pass time than hiding in a hole on your holiday or watching the snow land on your windowsill!

So I came home after a week of shorts and an open shirt and quickly put my jeans on. The blankets are cuddly at home in Auckland and I can drive with my windows wound up and as I sleep I wonder if the Christmas Turkey I ate was what was left of one of the locals after feeding him an apricot.

Next Christmas we’re aiming for Fiji…

Dream Sequence 3

2010-01-05T23:20:00.000-08:00

In a perfect world one intending to record a dream would get up early and make it the first thing he does before he goes to hades… sorry, I meant to say work; but I would rather trade a perfect world for a perfect nights sleep, which is what I was experiencing this morning as I slept through my alarm and it was a pure miracle that I woke up at all…

The dream was intense, so intensely intense. I found myself in my pajamas and on a road trip with two other people who are rather close to me.

We were travelling in my second car, a white Hyundai Excel with no air conditioning and therefore no soul. It was night and we were on our way to a camp called Chosen Valley, where I used to go as a child as both a camper and eventually a camp counselor. On the way we stopped for KFC but ended up getting ice-cream instead. I got mine first and got fed up with waiting for my two companions so I said I would walk along the road until they caught up. But as I walked I grew tired and pulled a blanket over myself and went to sleep on the foot path until I was awoken by the familiar sound of my Hyundai’s engine chugging past.

I jumped to my feet and waved but they did not see me. I ran onto the road and waved some more but in the night no one can hear you scream at their rear view mirror. I was furious that they hadn’t noticed me though, even though it wasn’t really their fault. I whipped out my cell phone and called one of them but got their voice mail instead. I left an abusive message along the lines of, “This is the worst birthday ever!” I didn’t even know it was my birthday until then.

As I sulked down the road I decided to call Chosen Valley to see if they could send my companions back my way. A girl called Briar whom I did not know, but according to the dream we were old acquaintances, answered and said she would let them know for me as soon as they got here. I blinked and in the twinkling of a raspberry I was right there talking with Briar in person about how I wanted these friends to go back and get me even though I had already arrived ahead of them.

The conversation changed into something much more personal like, “Its been so long, how are you these days?” Then I saw another girl from my childhood all grown upand very pregnant. We hugged and I kissed her on the cheek which was totally out of character for me because I hate kissing people on the cheek, its awkward and I almost always end up biting their ear or something equally upsetting. Its one of those family rituals that doesn’t occur in my family but it does in just about everyone else’s.
But in this case it was a sign of my new found and acute confidence…

Interpretation.

Well I have always thought of cars as representing my life and the direction it is going, i.e. “Life is a highway” and “How many roads must a man walk down” blah blah blah…

The two people I am travelling with remind me of nothing else except they both make considerably more money than me and are happy in their jobs, so they leave me behind in my pajamas by the side of the road.

My Pajamas are interesting because I tend to sleep in the promotion shirts that film distributers give my employer. Lately we’ve been forced to wear them as a uniform, even though projectionists stay well and truly hidden from the public eye. I could grow an eagle’s nest on my face and crack a dinosaur egg on my forehead and no one would know about it, let alone care. To me they constitute a free shirt and are only good for wearing under the covers, collecting night drool and bed lice. Just today I was looking down and cringing at my Alice and Wonderland t-shirt which I refused to wear to the super market because the idea of Johney Depp’s transfestilic face gazing out of my chest seems less than ideal to me.

So I’m unhappy with my career. That much is apparent.

When a person is in that state its an effortless step to view those around you who are “doing better” (in this case my overtaking companions) and sometimes even curse them under your breath for travelling faster than you but in the end I needed to pick up the phone.

The cell phone is most likely prayer. I had spent time under the blanket on the side of the road escaping from my problems. I had spent time eating ice cream escaping from my problems (I’ve been playing copious hours of computer games and cat napping recently to escape the harsh world around me) but when you pray it is the polar opposite of escapism. It is when you lay everything before God and say, this is it, this is all I’ve got, now what can we do with it?

I left a message on my friend’s voice mail which is acknowledging my issues.

But then you have to move on and actually take action, so I called the destination for help.

I’m thinking of that verse, “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness and all these things shall be added until you.” It’s Jesus speaking in Matthew 6.

The thing I want more than anything is to be in ministry. You may have heard me mention already that my calling is to be a pastor and a preacher of the gospel. Chosen Valley represents that Goal and my sudden translation there is indicative of my need for supernatural/divine intervention to get me there. Only God can open the doors for me to serve him in that capacity. I must not worry about what those around me are doing or how fast they are getting there, but instead keep praying and focusing on the destination like Abraham and the Promised Land.

As an afterthought

I realize these dream sequences are rather personal. Some people might read them and wonder what the dang I’m on about, but in my boredom I’m just scrambling for things to write about.

My Christian reader’s might find it a bit too mystical and are probably wondering if I'm on some sort of New Age slant but I simply believe that God gave us dreams. I know there are heaps of examples in the Bible where God spoke to people through their dreams so I’m open to the possibility he still does, even though I also have noticed the quietly loud absence of Dream Interpretation from the spiritual gifts mentioned in Paul’s letter s.

But in any case if you find the more personal blogs to be mind-numbing and hazardously dull, then by all means drop me a line and ask me a question about anything and I’ll answer it as incorrectly as possible!

kerinthians@gmail.com

Calamari and Me

2010-01-05T02:08:00.000-08:00

Tonight I am rather exasperated and my heart is decaying for lack of company. I’ve been on my own for nine days while my wife and wonderful child are in Ozzie lappng up the sunshine and all the other glorious gems in that great big red treasure chest.

Here I am in cold but beautiful New Zealand, alone in am empty house that is so quiet I can hear my fingers banging away on the keyboard like they were angry chickens who had just walked into a KFC and seen what was on the menu…

Because I am in this despondent mood I would like to talk about something that brings me much happiness. Something other than my wife and wonderful child because although they make me happy, their absence and the steady reminder of it makes me sad and leads me to iniquitous thoughts of eating more of those “hundreds and thousands cookies” I found in the pantry or the box of Cadbury chocolates that doesn’t belong to me…. Nope, I must harmonize my thoughts to brighter and nobler affections - such as Calamari.

I love Calamari. Squid makes my blood thinner and my head dizzy just thinking of dipping it on a fresh bowl of thousand island dressing and planting it firmly in the soil of my lips so that a smile may grow therein…

When I was a child, growing up in the small community of Maraetai Beach, a lovely place full of hardly anybody, there was the occasion where mom would say “we’re having fish and chips tonight” and we would cry “yippee” and “choice!” Because getting take aways was a big event not dissimilar to Christmas Eve or wagging school. I would be given a small fortune, an entire $5 note bearing the queens lovely smile that said, “Go get em young man” and her advice would carry me down the hill to the shop by the beach where this mega amount of cash would get me a parcel made of actual news paper covered in real ink that told stories that no one cared about any more; stories that willingly forwent their lives for the sake of my Friday night meal.

Mmmmmmm

And as the rest of my family sunk their slippery fingers into the mess of chips, battered sausages (we call those hot dogs in NZ) on a stick, or deep fried Pineapple fritters laced with sugar and cinnamon like they were donuts with a soul made of fruit, or the crumbly snapper or whatever their personal request from the take away man may have been – I had my squid rings, my lovely chewy fat filled squid circles that I ate slowly, proudly and delectably.

There is something sacred about a ring. Tolkien knew it and published a whole anthology about a magic one that almost brought an end to a world that never was. People have used the ring as a symbol of eternity to seal their marriage vows and the fish and chip industry has set in the stone of my heart the sacred squid ring to remind me that so far as sea food is concerned I am married to the squid.

And so were the first 19 years of my life, when asked, “Do you like sea food?” I would answer, “No, I hate it… except for… Squid rings….” While licking my quivering lips.

But I was in for a rude awakening. One that would rock the foundations of my culinary empire that up until this time had no natural disaster or calamity besiege my tongue strong enough to shatter my illusion that when it came to squid I knew what I was talking about…

I moved to Australia.

I can not remember the exact location of this fish and chippery except that it was in Melbourne, near a beach somewhere. I was only 19 when my taste buds bowed down to something they were not expecting…

I looked at the menu and could not see Squid Rings but rather something else, C-a-l-a-m-a-r-i… which I vaguely understood to be squid related but under a more cultured guise, which I was not prepared to discover in this land of Australians (sorry I couldn’t resist making an Aussie joke…) so I orderd it…

What I got was a box which contained two slices of lemon and these very large circular things that looked like Squid Rings except they were some how larger and more tyre like. I squeezed the lemon juice over the fare, more out of curiosity than anything else and tentatively proceeded with the eating of the C-a-l-a-m-a-r-i..

My eyes went wide when I realized that something wonderful was happening. It was like the fourth of July on the tip of my tongue, like every 5th of November took place inside my mouth and any false idea I had beheld about what made a jolly good squid ring was shattered. I was caught in a mixture of anger and ecstasy, like someone had thrust me in a machine that squashes strawberries and mixes them with frozen yogurt, painful and yet incredibly delicious….

The thing I realized there and then was this – the Aussies beat the kiwis hands down in the match for who knows how to prepare Calamari.

And so it was on that day in 1999 that I was converted and became a follower, a loyal disciple of the Australian TakeAway shop.

The shocking truth is that here in NZ your average local fish and chippy place has no clue when it comes to preparing Calamari… but even more appalling is that I’m not sure they even know what calamari even is! That’s right, the thing I had been wolfing down my whole young life pre take out conversion was not Calamari at all but rather some kind of fish paste or reclaimed meat of some description, squeezed into circlets, deep fried and passed off as squid, whereas in Australia at least what you are getting was caught, killed and cooked – simple as that! Between Byron Bay's tea room, that served a sweet chilli calamari salad that likens the dining experience to your first kiss and Alaxandra Heads own Mandolin Seafoods that thinks outside the box and serves its Loligo opalescens in finger shaped cuts that make you want to cut your own fingers off and replace them with what you are eating,you can find a myriad of take out joints all ready to rain their delights upon your plate...

But not here I'm afraid.

In the odd chance that I actually have some fellow Aucklanders reading this and you happen to know where I can get real tentacle meat then please pleasure me with you’re your comments, because I am yet to find such a place…

Its sad that we live in such a ridiculously beautiful country as New Zealand with all its native wonders; rolling green hills and sheep and flightless birds and hot mud pools and richer that Aaustralian culture and yet we can’t get our Calamari right! It’s a travesty, pure and simple!

When I was in the Sunshine Coast a few weeks ago I made sure I downed a bucket load of the stuff in an effort to savour the flavour and cherish the memory of that great white rubbery meat of the sea….

Which brings me back to where I started, darn it! The best Calamari is in Australia, along with my wife and my wonderful child and I am here in this miserable lonely house with its pink icing cookies and my xBox begging me to stay up until 2 a.m.

At least I can console myself with this truth … we still make a darn good steak and mushroom pie!

Fatherhood 7 Months in…

2010-01-04T02:44:00.000-08:00

Recently I found myself locked in a dark room with a 21 year old university student and before your mind wanders in the wrong direction I should point out he was a new employee I was training at work.

In between threading up movies and watching the clock we began discussing more topics than your average chimpanzee might over a bright yellow banana from religion, political philosophy (whatever that is) to the life and death hypothetical’s they throw at students these days, like “If you were in a life boat with five other people and one of you had to be thrown overboard to save the other 4 then what would you do?”

He couldn’t get over how my Christian beliefs would throw me overboard as the one most likely to live forever while giving the other 4 a chance to live long enough to meet their creator this side of the grave.

What does this have to do with anything? Well, as most such discussions go it came to the age old questions about the ethical demise of abortion and people like me who refuse to be anything but black and white on the issue.

This chapter is not about abortion but rather the direction the conversation went. He wanted to know what my view would be if an 18 year old girl were to fall pregnant after taking all “reasonable” precautions, with her sparkling career before her and a whole life about to be shattered by the arrival of a baby; would I consider it reasonable for her to have an “a” word ?

Did I mention that this article is not about abortion?

My answer focused on the following.

The fact that any of us are here at all is an absolutely phenomenal miracle.

Before we got married my wonderful wife and I were surrounded by couples who were wrestling with their unfulfilled desire to have children. It’s painful to get caught up in a conversation with a woman longing to duplicate her genes but for whatever reason, often an unknown reason, can’t. Seeing someone in that sort of pain, trapped in longing, can only be compared to someone who is mourning the death of someone they loved very much, only in this case the person they loved dearly hasn’t even been born yet and the grave is her own empty womb.

You can pat these people on the back and say “there there” but what else can you do?

It was in these later months of our 7 year “courting” that Sarah and I decided to pray about our own hopes for a family and this is what we said, “Dear Lord, we would love to have a family but only if and when you think we’re ready. Otherwise we will be happy just to serve you, in Jesus name, Amen.” (non verbatim)

We fell pregnant the week we got married.

Someone might argue it was all the zinc in the shell fish I was eating that week or even the impeccable timing of our wedding day but I believe God didn’t just answer our prayer; he also complimented us by saying, “Yep, I think you’re ready.”

That was miracle number one.

Then comes the next 9 months of your wife changing experience, like she was Doctor Who or a caterpillar, and in my case it wasn’t a bad thing. In my younger years I thought pregnant women were as attractive as a tyre factory; but that wasn’t my experience at all. My wife was beautiful.

I better not get too carried away here, I am after all meant to be talking about the Miracle…

When you’re a pregnant Dad for the first time you become a sort of freaked out wide eyed hypochondriactic nutrition ridden wombat. Seriously, not that I know what a wombat does when its at home but over and over again you are reminded of all the things you can eat, all the things you shouldn’t eat, all the things you actually ate but wish you hadn’t eaten. Too much fish has too much mercury; no pate, no Christmas Pudding, no hot pools no sky-diving, everything becomes a matter of should I shouldn’t I. I must have woken up 270 times during the course of the pregnancy to remind Sarah to roll over onto her left hand side because if you lie on your back there’s some artery your baby can squash and consequently kill you. Frankly you get the impression that when you become pregnant you become this great big self destruct button that just about anything can successfully push. You wake up a further 3 times a night because you’re being kicked in the ribs by something inside your wife’s stomach that feels like a chipmunk with a jack hammer!

Then there are the medical things like my wife happened to be O negative. So what? Well turns out when you’re O negative and have a baby with a positive blood type you can potentially develop anti bodies that might kill off any future babies with positive blood types, provided their blood comes into contact with yours. Its called Rhesus negative and it sucks. But don’t worry, the doctors have a special vaccine called “Anti D” that will save the day and keep you populating the globe for as long as you can before the Carbon Taxes stop you. (Thankfully our little tiger was A negative so we got a green light for more youngsters to join the Gedge army…)

Then there are the multiple things that can go wrong when the baby is born. Some ladies can get a thing called Group B strep which is a nasty bacteria that would otherwise be completely harmless if you weren’t about to cough up another human being the wrong way out. Baby comes into contact with the stuff and bam you got a very sick and potentially dying baby.

The head has to be in the right place, the cord can get wrapped around his neck, her hands can get in the way, and did I mention the long list of pain killers and apparatus they show you at Anti Natal class that get Dad thinking he’s about to walk into a torture chamber and participate in some sick ritual that will potentially cost him his consciousness and/or sex life?

Hence the miracle.

On the one hand you get these people who can’t reproduce and wish and pray that they could. On the other hand you get the ones who brave it through the most bizarre, surreal and yet rewarding ordeal to get this thing that despite all odds popped out just in time to say hello with its little screams and twisted fingers and kicking legs with feet that looked like they fell off a porcelain doll…

I can’t honestly say that there would be any such thing as a “reasonable precaution” when the thing precautioned against is something so incredibly remarkable as your own child.

And along came Christmas…

As my wife handed me 7 pairs of socks she apologized because we’ve been so broke and that was the best we could do. I felt shocked that she forgot to mention on the Christmas card “I got you socks because I already gave you a baby as an early Christmas present!”

Haydn Emma herself gave Daddy a few presents this year and she didn’t even need a wallet. I will have to find out how she does that, it would save me a lot of money!

She is saying “Dadadadadadadadadad” a lot now. Of course I don’t think she knows what she is saying or has associated it with this bumbling big buffoon who can’t stop cuddling her but at the very least I wonder if she says “Dadadadadadad” because it must annoy “Momomomomomomom”? Well, it would were it not for the fact she says that occasionally too. (But she says “Dadadadad” more)

Present number two was when she was on the bed watching me wrap the secret Santa’s. To keep her occupied I let her play with some paper while I concentrated on the intricate sticky taping of a book until I looked up to discover my little girl now had a purple face, purple fingers and a great big purply tongue! Naturally I freaked out and stuck my finger in there to get whatever was in there out again. We think Kids aren’t very smart because they’re kids but after that experience I realized that a child is only as stupid as their parents.

The purple dye must have contained a mutagen or steroid or something because on that same day she got up on her hands and knees as if to take off like a thunder bird but then she stopped, probably deciding to save that discovery for when no one is looking.

Her Granddad had the privilege of giving her her first taste of ice cream. Her reaction wasn’t quite as exciting as when I gave her her first Lime only a few days before but at least she enjoyed the ice-cream. I have a nice picture of her painting her face with it after she grabbed the spoon from Granddad and proceeded to continue with munching on it by herself. She does that when she gets enthusiastic about her food.

She even got a cool toy that projects teddy bears and stars onto the ceiling. The idea was to use it to help her get to sleep at night but she’s onto us; she knows when we’re trying to put her out for the night and will stop at nothing to stop us from succeeding…

To be continued...

Sherlock Holmes: An Elementary Review

2010-01-02T01:30:00.000-08:00

I find myself torn by my normal desire to tear through a film like the toilet paper it might have been or praising it for the simple fact that Robert Downey Jr was his usual brilliant self as he expertly portrayed someone else - in this case the famous detective, Sherlock Holmes.

In fact Robert Downey Jr is one of the only reasons I consider the acting profession a real art form, because he does it so well, and after seeing him in this role of the clever detective I've also come to the conclusion that he just might be the only American capable of one day playing the role of Doctor Who, if only the producers of my favourite science fantasy would cast but a glance in his direction.

Jude Law is ok as Doctor Watson but always under the bright shadow of the better actor of the two. Jude has slain his thousands but Robert his tens of thousands so to speak.

Anyway, the story is obviously a prequel of sorts, or rather a set up for a bigger production soon to come, although I haven't checked elsewhere on the net to find out, but one doesn't need to be a detective to spot the hints and clues that this plot was the foundation for more big bucks to be made in the future. The two detectives are on their last case together, a fact that Holmes is finding hard to come to grips with as is seen later as he subtly undermines Watson's efforts to leave 221 b Baker's St to join in Holy Matrimony to a young Governess in pursuit of a less exciting life... But back to the scene of the crime where a bunch of dark robed devil worshippers are performing a sacred ritual on a poor young woman who holds a knife in her hand ready to sacrifice herself but is saved by Holmes just in the nick of time! (Who is the Nick of time anyway?)

The leader of the cult is one Lord Blackwood who is tried and hung for his misdeeds only to be resurrected again 3 days later - all by himself. And the game is well and truly afoot! Holmes and a very reluctant Watson must uncover a plot so thick with intrigue you could lather a Chelsea Bun with it, the way Auntie Marge used to with thick chunky butter, leaving you wondering where the bun begins and the butter ends...

There's some explosions, some questionable science and some weird love interest with that girl from the Notebook whose name I can't remember right now. But the brilliance of it all is in the fact that in the very far far back background there is Professor Moriarty, whose face you never do see, manipulating events and pulling strings, not attached to the main story at all but cleverly preparing something dastardly for the next movie.

I love when you never see the bad guy, it just makes him a hundred times more eviler than the guy you actually see, like Sauron from the Lord of the Rings and all you see is this great big flaming eye on top of a dark tower; in this film Moriarty is the elusive black figure hiding in the shadows with a neat party pistol he hides up his sleeve...

The movie also comes complete with some dead frogs, pigs and a man who is murdered in a bath tub - everything you want to see on a Saturday night when there is nothing better to do.

It was interesting that the Villain, Lord Blackwood, had a moment where he quoted Revelations 13:4 and then rose again on the third day to set in motion his plan for world domination as if he were the anti-Christ. The reason I find this interesting is sometimes, occasionally you see in movies or stories an unconscious understanding of real Biblical truth - that one day there will be an Anti Christ who will seize the reigns of society with clever tricks and loyal followers, but alas there will be no Sherlock Holmes to rescue us. Though seriously, not to go too deeply into it, its like the god/man myths of the ancient world where a man who is half god dies and goes to Hades only to ascend later into Olympus as if they knew, maybe on a spiritual level, that one day in real history God himself would become a man, die and ascend into heaven... maybe I got bored and read a bit too much into it?

I certainly ate a lot of popcorn and drank most of my mother's coke. Naughty me I hear my teeth chide.

Despite the occult imagery you can rest assured that this is not a horror flick and I wouldn't worry too much about the undertones of witchery because at the end of the day, in true scooby doo like fashion, Sherlock unravels everything and exposes the supernatural activity as simple fraud and slight of hand, and maybe feet as well.

I would give this film a 4 out of 10 for plot and originality, sorry it just wasn't clever enough and didn't capture my interlect more than it caught my eye for good old fashioned clothing and wondering how they made London look so old and muddy again. (and yes, I know I miss spelt intellect)

But for fun it deserves a 7, that is if you go to the movies for fun that is.

Happy 2010!

2009-12-31T05:38:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

So the hot topic of last year's last evening was whether we now say "two thousand and ten" or "twenty ten"?

Personally I like "twenty ten" because as a child of "Nineteen seventy eight" and having pronounced my years that way for the first 21 years of my life it makes more sense to say the year with such a comfortable mouthful. Let's face it, 10 years of having to say the word "thousand" before every year is exhausting, bad for asthmatics and I'm protesting!

It was a fun night out tonight with friends in their happening backyard where the wind blew, we shivered in this strangely cold Auckland Summer around a brazier as we tore steak apart with our teeth, downed a few beers and blew stuff up as the clock struck 12.

Highlights for 2009?

Becoming a Dad, hands down. Greatest moment of this year. Nothing comes close to comparing. Second greatest moment was buying our first home since the last one we owned and the sigh of relief that came with it as God once again proved that in all things he works for the good of those who love him!

In the new year I would like to find out if Smurfs are real, write a book and quite my job... I'll keep you posted on that one. I would also like to memorize the four Gospels, lose three kilograms and buy a cat, even if I sneeze to death in the process...

Either way I want the first thing I do before I sleep away the next 5 hours of Day One is to wish you all a very happy new year, may you be fruitful and prosper well beyond all conceivable measures!

This year I would encourage you to lose three kilograms as well, just because I don't want to be the only one who has to do it. Post me any dead smurfs you may find and write to me and ask me some random questions so I can keep my other New Year's Resolution of not running out of things to write about!

Drive Safe

Dream Sequence Part 2

2009-12-30T04:22:00.000-08:00

Its 12.30 in the a.m. and I'm wondering why I am torturing myself at the desk top here? Probably because I'm notoriously lonely with my wife and baby being all the way on the other side of the trough in that wretched wasteland we typically call Australia.

I have to call it a “wretched wasteland” because then I can pretend that I didn't just spend a beautiful week soaking up the sun and hitting the beaches in the QLD... especially now that I have returned to that dismal dark corridor I work in with those loud machines that feed the masses such banal rubbish everyday (I'm a movie projectionist in case you've forgotten).

The second reason I have to refer to Australia in a derogatory manner is because I am a Kiwi and that’s what we Kiwi’s do, we pretend that Australia sucks, even when it doesn’t. It’s in my genes.

But in all seriousness, it doesn’t suck and it’s not wretched at all. If Australia was guilty of one sin it would only be that it is insufferably hot and sticky and very big.

Apart from bringing home an Ozzie tan and 3 extra kilos of fat around my waist (to help my belt hold up my pants), I also brought back an ear infection from too much swimming with my head under the water. But Christmas brunches, lunches and banquet style dinners will do that to you - make you sink to the bottom of the first pool you dive into! I was also lucky enough to share a swim with a giant man eating spider (that is if the man was the size of a GI Joe) and a frog that we had to rescue from a volley ball as my team lost miserably to the other team of relies. I felt like I was in Meet the Parents as I showed the in-laws what an abysmal hand I was at sports but then remembered that I could kick a few butts on the Nintendo Wii...

That night ended with us eating dessert at 12:30 in the a.m.

And so the torture continues with me having way too many late nights as now I have a holiday from my holiday and still have to work…

Seeing as I have nothing else to write about I will continue with this newish “dream series” which will probably amount to people writing to me to tell me I need therapy or a bucket of hydrochloric acid or both...

This morning I was locked into a sleep deeper than the death of Socrates so I hardly remember much apart from this massive horde of Indians, as in the ones that invented the curry burger, gathering outside a cinema complex. They were following an entire royal family who had come to this theatre for a special screening of something or other and I was the one who was going to play their movie for them. And so the pressure mounts…

I followed the crowd of peasants, for that is what they were, dirty messy people who had received such an honor as to watch a flick with their Monarchs, up a flight of stairs which became steeper and steeper until I came through the wide open double doors at the top and found myself staring down at an enormous drop behind me as I struggled against the crowd which wouldn't sit down fast enough. I felt the utmost vertigo as I looked outside the doors at the vast expanse below me with fields and small buildings peppered on the ground below...

Somehow I either managed to shut the doors or I escaped up the aisle to a better position of anywhere but there!

I found myself ringing my brother to see if he was keen to go and see AVATAR in 3D and that I was leaving from my other brother's house shortly if he wanted to meet me there... then I looked at the ground and there were these glowing shells all over the floor. The kind of shells you see Island Tribesmen blowing into to make a trumpety noise, only these ones were obviously man made, smooth and warm.

I realized the floor was in fact the ceiling and the room was somehow upside down... I asked my brother how the room came to be tipped over as it was but he told me that it was meant to be that way and that these lights were a new cost effective energy saving technique where the shells absorbed the suns energy throughout the day and lit the floor by night. I thought it was rather stupid seeing as I had nowhere to walk unless I wanted to stub my toe.

I think dreaming of work like that is indicative of my fear that one day I’m going to go there and become the unfortunate victim of a stampede of angry patrons.

This dream began with some undertones of a Christ like parable about the Kingdom of Heaven in which the people from the streets are invited to the Wedding Feast and get to dine with the King. It also reminds me of when Jesus said to “enter through the narrow gate, for wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction…” I wonder if my looking back at the suddenly steep stairs was a realization of the worldly road that I had been walking on some years ago before returning to church and some anxiety that I may be slipping backwards onto it?

The theatre could be like church but why I would want to leave church to watch AVATAR I would have no idea; the movie is ridiculous except that Cameron has made it to look as real as possible, and yet it is still fake no matter how real it looks… maybe that’s how I see the physical world – fake no matter how real it appears to be? And when I find myself in a room where the ceiling is the floor but am told that is how it is meant to be, I’m thinking that maybe that’s like the bad stuff that happens in your life, when terrible things happen and your world is twisted upside down it turns out that in all things God works for the good of those who love him and his light shines through the floor to guide your feet, I thought it was stupid because I was scared of stubbing my toe when in actual fact the light would prevent that from happening as in that psalm “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path…”

Yep, it’s definitely very late and I’m getting esoteric…

I better go before I start dreaming and typing at the same time!

In the mean time here's a friend of mine playing a song we all should know...

Dream Sequence Part One

2009-12-28T15:00:00.001-08:00

I suppose you could say my new years revolution (because my resolutions almost always fail I will call it a revolution instead; should it succeed it really would be a revolution!) would be that I will give a better go of blogging. For lots of reasons of course, the main being that I want lots of people to read it and shower me with accolades that land gently on my ego and heal the bruises of my day job! But also because I saw that rediculous movie - Julie and Julia. My wife made me do it.... ok so I lie, I actually wanted to see it but I found the movie worthy of a seperate condemning review, so all I will say is as annoyingly girlie as the movie was it did inspire me to write. Here was Julie writing about cooking until one day someone sends her what looks like a bottle of Nando's Perri Perri Sauce and I started thinking, man if I write daily maybe eventually someone will send me some thing to eat?

Anyway, enough of that, I guess its because I haven't had breakfast yet and its already mid day!

My blog site is not really about anything. Its like Seinfeld, a show about nothing. But if you believe the evolutionists eventually something comes out of nothing and I might say something worth mentioning. I will write about whatever's on my mind at the time and that could be anything from how much I hated Dances with Wolves (sorry, I meant to say AVATAR)to what I learnt in Church this Sunday. But just to fill in a bit of space I'm going to start blogging the majority of my dreams because if they can entertain me perhaps they can entertain you just enough to keep you interested, and frankly they are much more exciting than that new James Cameron movie and probably make more sense as well.. ouch!

I had a great big sleep in this morning to recover from my recent holiday in Aussistralia's Sunshine Coast where the sun may set but is always there in spirit, your clothes are always wet from the broken down air conditioning system in your body as it over produces sweat and you run out of things to wear very quickly. It was incredibly winderfull but how nice has it been to be in a bed that I can actually snuggle up to under a thick blanket since being back in Auckland!

So as I was doing all that snuggling and snoring I dreamed...

I was in a masssive top secret and very metallic facility in the middle of the ocean. The place was enormously enormous and towerered from the sea floor to well above the waves that crashed against its side. It would have been cool were it not for the fact that every scientist, soldier and cleaning lady in the great sea city had been converted to Zombism and were running around the place on their dead legs eating people along the way. Thankfully I missed out on all the gory details and can't remember if I saw any arms being munched on or throats being throttled but the dream took a turn for the worst when suddenly there were no Zombies to worry about any more and the rest of us survivors were happily cleaning up the mess until I was handed a gun and told to go into this one particular room where the last infected thing resided which just so happened to be a visciously adorable piglet.

It didn't help that I had suddenly become a female scientist either, that only added to the horrificy of it all.

So I go into this perfectly white room that had what looked like silky white stalks going from floor to sterile ceiling making it extremley difficult for me to see where this little pig was and compounding my paranoia that this little pink pig might prickle me in the ankle and start the whole terrifying canabalistic nightmare all over again.

Sure enough the little piglet sees me and all it wants to do is chase me around the spooky white forest and lick me while I can't get a clear enough aim at its forehead.

So in I walk, one minute I was the science chick and the next I'm me again, coming into the room to save the day. Upon my entry the strange white plants dissapear and the room becomes bare with only a fireplace in the centre and a little dog resting inside it, looking at me with its big round eyes. I think it was something like a poodle but cuter because normally I would have shot a poodle without thinking about it (ok, not really). But I had a moral duty to protect the human race so without thinking I aimed the gun at its head and pulled the trigger only to have a very much alive doggy staring back it me quizzically with a round slug pallet imbedded in its forehead!

Those stupid military gits who couldn't do this themselves had given me an air pistol. Realising I would have to reload some fifty times while I torture this poor creature to death with lead marbles I went to the door where my boss was standing, called him an idiot and declared that I needed a real gun. He told me that as soon as I got out of that room he was going to detain me for insubordination, then someone gave me a gun they had made. It looked like a crome pan-flute. Disturbingly beautiful and probably completely functional as both a musical instrument and a killing machine. The round bullet that I placed in the barrel was as big as a gob stopper or an eye ball that had turned into steel. I walked up to the dog and had a fantasy about just picking it up and throwing it into the sea. It seemed like a more humane idea at the time to just pit the pooch into the gaping jaws of a shark but then I was told off ,in my fantasy, by the female scientist that I had formerly been, because if the dog was eaten by a shark then we would end up with Zombie sharks and eventually Zombie fishies, leaving the human race in the same position of facing its own extinction at the cost of everything else on the planet . So I shook myself out of the fantasy and marched up to what I thought was a dog only to come face to face with a 4 year old girl...

I was being tortured by my subconscious now, it was going to make me go through with this exocution no matter how cute the innocent criminal may be. She asked me what we were going to do today and I told her we would play a little game. I had her stand against the wall and to distract her I took a pencil and began drawing an outline around her little body, so that we would at least have her sillouette to remember her by. She thought it was fun and kept lauaghing so I began whispering to her how much her daddy loved her as I lifted the gun to do the deed...

Thankfully at this point my mobile phone rang, in real life, and it woke me up before I pulled the trigger. It was my mate Geoffrey wanting to have our weekly chat about Doctor Who. Usually when I'm woken out of an intense dream, like when I'm doing breath stroke in mid air or discovering a bag of money under my pillow I try to go back to sleep and finish the fantasy but in this case I was happy to leave it with the little girl still alive and ready to infect the human race with her cute brand of necromancy.

I feel deeply disturbed.

6 Months in…

2009-12-27T15:59:00.000-08:00

So as you may or may not care, I thought I would tell you about my recent adventures in Fatherhood, or as it is known in some cultures: “that man who lives in the same house as your mom, who you ask for things when mom has already said ‘No’”

Thankfully, as my title suggests, my little treasure is a tad too young to manipulate me in such a common but none the less devious way. However in such a short time she has managed to rap me around her little finger – and given the size of her little finger; that’s a whole lot of me!

I think I will spare you the grisly details of the first few hours of her life because, well, I’m not in a gory mood just now… But I will say this, I thought I would be one of those husbands in the delivery room, standing well away from the scene of the crime, trying desperately not to be a witness or even a suspect but I rather surprised myself and the Midwife who later praised me for my valuable contribution to the proceedings… in fact I was ready to do it all again, except my wife didn’t share my enthusiasm!

Let us fast forward… my partner in crime was busy with the Doctor people so I got to do the Skin to Skin for an hour. What is Skin to Skin when you’re not at home but sitting in a cold maternity ward full of pain and joy? Well, it’s that fun part where you get to take off your shirt and sit there with a naked baby on your chest. But not just any baby – you’re own personal copyrighted human manuscript. And wow, what an experience. You sit there with this bundle of big deep-blue-sea eyes looking at you with a quizzical look that suggests she’s still trying to figure out who you are and why are you looking at her so intensely? We were two strangers brought together in the first major crisis of her life - her eviction from the first and only home she had ever known…

Oh yeah, I was meant to be telling you why she was naked and I was shirtless. While it sounds strange and conjures up images of corny nappy ads where a doting Dad looks down at a dopey baby, its scientific purpose is so that your Germy Jims (or bacteria) can migrate from your body to hers. It’s fantastic for their immunity and gives the parent a chance to form a bond with the baby (as if I hadn’t already).

We must have sat there for an eternity getting to know each other through the communication of confused expressions. But the eternity soon evaporated into six months later and I’m wondering where it all went. You know the expression, the cliché “They grow up so fast” and unfortunately no matter how many times you hear it from those who have gone down the parental track before you, they are not lying and there’s no more precise way to put it, they really do go from there to here in a flash of light. While you go to work to slog it out and the days seem to drag on and you can’t wait until the holidays your little carbon copy is mutating from one form to the next as each week sprinkles through your fingers…

We left the hospital like a person carrying an egg a hundred miles on the edge of a fork – very carefully, and brought her home to the applause of family and friends who had helped me clean the house in preparation after I had spent the last few nights camped out on the couch. But then the guests leave and it’s just the two new parents, proud, stunned and not quite sure what to do next! The rest of that month is a blur of moments that have no context in time but hang in your mind like pictures in a long corridor… the waking up throughout the night to foreign squawks that demand attention; the cry that sounded like the word “Nooooooooooo” as if to say you’ve got it all wrong and all she really wants is a candy floss and not the sleepy rocking you’re repeating without success, curving her mouth into a frown and emitting a soft “Wahaaaa, wahaaa.”

Six weeks went out with the tide and just when we thought we couldn’t handle another sleepless night something miraculous happened. We woke up at six in the morning after six hours of actual sleep and shot out of bed in a panicked rush to the bassinet because something must have been wrong but no, there she was, sound asleep dreaming baby dreams as if the nightmare that had been the last six weeks had never happened.

I have to admit at this point that I was a bad Dad and slept through most of it while my wife did the thing that only a mother can do. I recall a certain sense of uselessness at times when it was obvious that I could not deliver the one thing she wanted most in the world for lack of lactation on my part.

However she does seem to have a certain amount of respect for dear young Dad in that somehow, miraculously, she manages to save the second variety of nappy antics for Mum! I’m not one of those Dad’s who shy’s away from nappy labor but its either luck or pure baby genius (or malice) that 90 percent of the time she saves her worst for Mum while I am at work and for once I’m happy to have missed out on at least this part of her progress!

Except there was that one time that I was lying on the couch and had her hovering over me in the air when suddenly something hot and acrid hit me square in the face that came from her mouth with a burp. I was left there stunned, my baby poised in mid flight while I yelled out to my wife to come and rescue me with a flannel, but instead she dashed out to get a camera to permanently capture Dad with spew on his face. At least my Facebook had a decent profile pic for a few weeks after.

In fact this is a regular occurrence in church every Sunday morning. We have it down to a routine. We arrive, my wife feeds her in the mother’s room during the singing, brings her out and during the sermon she brings it all up again on my Sunday best to the chuckles and applause of the family sitting in the row behind me. It’s always the same family too… but I’ve learned, don’t jiggle your baby or give her flying lessons after she’s had a feed because it’s bound to end up with someone’s dignity getting hurt!

Please don’t mistake me for a Crass Dad, but the truth is babies are born with no sense of decorum and need to learn it – although much later in life. For the time being you put up with tummy rumbles that might as well have come from a small elephant and gas that is so loud that the first time I heard it I leapt from my couch in genuine fright as if a small bomb had just been detonated beside me. The up shot of that of course being that I now finally have someone else to blame when my wife gives me that suspicious look during a movie…

And it’s not just that side of her either. She has become the “raspberry princess” in recent times. Somewhere in that developing intelligence of hers I am sure she thinks she is telling me about her many adventures when she purses her lips together, pokes out her tongue and blows a torrent of “raspberries” that last longer than a lecture on Egyptology. Not that I mind; it sounds like she has a lot of interesting things she is trying to say.

I began this adventure wanting this baby period to skip ahead to the toddler phase where she cries out “Daddy!” when I come home at the end of the day but her evident personality, her uniqueness and the exhilarating sense of discovery that comes from witnessing her do something new every week makes me want to hold time at gun point and order it to stop or else! She smiles now whenever she sees me. She loves to see her daddy play Silly Billies when he jumps up and down like a gorilla, growls like a tiger or barks like a dog just to get a giggle out of that little round bald headed face; and I love the feeling of having an audience of one that would give me a standing ovation if she could only stand…

In a way having a baby has been very much like owning a cellular phone – once upon a time we got on perfectly without them but have one for six months and you know you couldn’t possibly live without it…

A Weak Come Back

2009-11-28T21:56:00.000-08:00

Have you ever been told off for passing wind in your bed? I have. This morning I was in trouble not just for the act but for the fact that the gas giant leaping through the sheets had “Personality” according to my lovely wife.
I honestly try not to do it but it’s the morning and although I’m awake the etiquette part of my brain is still in the flickering stages of switching on.
So speaking of gas here is a new addition to Kerinthians – a Donate Now box… now don’t be scared, it’s not going to bite you and there is obviously no obligation except for those of you with a weak conscience. But seriously, every writer or wannabe like myself dreams of better days when they can quit their day job and actually make a living doing the thing they love, and as no publisher would touch me with a barge poll, unless it’s to squash me, then for now I will have to settle for this little gimmick.
Think of me as one of those buskers who do stupid things on the street and then holds out his hat in the hope that some cornered individual might pay him just to go away. On second thoughts don’t think of me like that at all…
In any case, here it is, the “Donate Now Button”, press it and see what happens…

Isn’t she lovely?

And just so you don’t feel like you spent the last five minutes listening to a begger with a sign saying “I will no use this money to buy alcohol… I promise…” Here is something that made my week…

If you ever lend your car to someone and provided you have a CD player do what I did the other day. Buy the Lion King Sound Track, select the first track where it has that really loud African guy shouting at the top of his lungs and turn your car off just before he makes his ear shattering debut. Then make sure the CD player is turned on as loud as it will go and give your mate the keys.

The next morning if all goes well you can rest assured your friend will get the wake up call of a life time, will be wide awake on the way to work and have you to thank for it. You should receive an interesting text message at some point soon after you have scared last nights dinner out of him as well. Even now I chuckle when I think about the expression on his face when the tribal scream stabbed him in the ears. Everyone should start the day with a tormenting Disney song.

Finally, if you don’t want to give me your money then at least give me your ideas. Feel free to flick me a question or two and I will answer it as best as I can’t. Remember, every dumb question will be out done by an even dumber answer; it should be fun…

Please forward all questions to kerinthians@gmail.com and remember the only thing I won't answer is "Who the sam hill are you?" Because that will just prove to me you haven't been reading and my answer will be extra ultra dumb...

Introducing Marc - A Christian Perspective on Martial Arts

2009-11-28T01:05:00.000-08:00

Ok team, it’s been a while… I was going like a steam train down the highway of Blogersville, doing a Marathon of Madness with the loquacious diarrhoea that constitutes my thought life when suddenly the most stifling thing happened. I got a tax return…

Normally this wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Had I taken my “Rich Dad’s” advice I would have invested it in something hugely beneficial to the human race like glow in the dark potato peelers or rats with Human ears sticking out of their backs. But alas I blew it on something as ubiquitous as an Xbox game… and so came the end of my blazing trail of articles.

Of course the real reason I stopped is over determined and can’t be put down to the many hours I have spent playing Oblivion, swinging swords and picking virtual plants (seriously)… in any case, I’m going to try to make a slow come back… eventually.

Anyway, some time ago someone asked me to write about my thoughts, as a Christian, on Yoga. I wrote a rather oblique article on why I don’t like it but it lead me to another thought which has bothered many an evangelical from time to time – What should a Christians view be on martial Arts? Naturally I couldn’t be bothered doing the research myself so I turned to the greatest encyclopaedia I know on the subject; Marc. Not only is he a Master of Karate who can cut through a tomato like a Ginsu 2000, fly over parked cars in a single round house kick like leap, or tackle even the trickiest of brainwashed JWs – he is also one of the Godliest men I know, completely committed to Jesus without the slightest hint of demon possession as some of us might suspect… so now I am going to stop with the intro in an attempt to make this article look like its my own and I am going to let Marc speak for himself…

To Martial the Art: A Religious Matter

Unless you have never seen a television screen in your life, chances are you have been exposed to a multitude of cartoons, shows and movies which have a theme - or at the very least - contain some elements of martial arts content. Kids shows such as: Monkey (aka Monkey Magic), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Dragon Ball Z; or movies with actors such as: Jackie Chan, Jet Li or even good old Chuck Norris; or sports events such as: the Olympics, UFC and WWF Wrestling; all of these shows fall into the barrel of containing martial arts as the defining feature of their entertainment.
So, you are a Christian, and by that, I mean you accept Jesus as your Lord and Saviour, and that He is the only way to God. Myself, having recognised that Christianity was the right faith to follow some 10 years ago, but not actually having faith and counting myself as “saved” until seven years later, have for the last twenty-one years been involved in the martial arts. Depending on your denomination, biblical understanding or exposure to martial arts, your reaction may vary towards me being a Christian and having martial arts as a hobby and part time career. Some of you would say, ‘well that’s nice’ with little extra thought on the matter, while others will respond with something like ‘get behind me Satan!’ Whatever your reaction and opinion, I’m hoping I can provide you with a fair and no-holds-bar look into what martial arts truly is, and why I have made the decision I have made with regards to its compatibility with Christianity.
Martial arts, at its very essence and core, is a discipline encompassing military virtues, fused with deep rooted culture. It can be beautiful and flowing - and as the second word of the discipline suggests - martial arts is artistic beyond measure and scope; individuals immersed in the art become mirrors of near perfection in technique and skill, and push the limits of what as human beings we can achieve. And undoubtedly, martial arts can become devastating, calculated and violent; through many years of training and experience, one can execute a variety of crippling attacks on an opponent quite successfully and have higher odds of defending themselves compared to the average Joe. However, there is a third aspect to martial arts which unsettles observant Christians (and quite rightly so), and that is the religious side, but, before I get into that, I need to clarify a few things.
Firstly, just as there are many different forms of religions in the world, so as there are hundreds of different forms of martial arts. And just like within each religion, such as Christianity, there are hundreds (if not thousands) of different “denominations” of martial arts; and just as each denomination contains differences to other denominations, there are differences within the same denomination also. Secondly, unlike most sports, the class instructor can have quite a lot of influence in the life of their students; they are not just a coach, but, rather they are the teacher. And unlike being a coach, the instructor tends to be in their prime of training or at the very least, contain a vast amount of “knowledge”, and the students will come to admire and respect their teacher. As students continue to learn and acquire the knowledge that their instructor has, attempting to replicate their instructor, the instructor becomes a role model to the younger and older students, and thus influences their worldview. This of course can be either a good thing or a bad thing, depending on the worldview of the instructor, how much they impose it, and the size of the martial art organisation. Smaller organisations tend to be of closer-knit with one another, almost becoming family-like in some instances, while larger martial art organisations tend to focus on the consumer machine and have certain goals and requirements that each “club” must aim towards.
Ok, so how does religion find its way into martial arts? Well, as mentioned earlier, martial arts derives much from its cultural heritage; this can include one or many of the characteristics that makes up culture: language, mannerisms, philosophy, worldviews, and yes…religion. Unfortunately, it is not always so easy to detect the religious aspects of martial arts, as in majority cases, its religiosity is watered down or completely removed. In contrast, there are many styles where the whole focus, when practising the martial art, is very religious and its intention is to live its worldview. With the cultural heritage in mind, we can now see that religion seeps into martial arts through three ways: its origin, its current purpose, and its instructor.
It cannot be hidden that most styles of martial arts have their origins with pagan societies. However, this very fact cannot be used as a reason for abandoning the study of the art. ‘Why not?’ you may ask, because with many Christians, as soon as the word pagan is mentioned that’s it, doors shut. I think it is quite an ignorant point of view to have, and it is also very hypocritical. I’m gathering that many of you watch the Olympics; or enjoy exercising with Wii fit; or even listen to some world music. Perhaps you like to play chess, or are involved in some other arts and culture – maybe you celebrate Christmas. Chances are, you are already actively involved in something that has pagan roots, but the difference is, you have discerned that it is ok and that its practise does not go against your belief. How do we discern if something is ok with God? A good place to start is with the bible of course; and if you are a Christian, you have the Holy Spirit within you. He is teaching and correcting you, and has provided you with spiritual discernment (some more than others). With these God given tools, we are now ready to tackle the second point, which leading in from the “original purpose”, is the “current purpose” or the “current push” of the activity.
As mentioned earlier, there are many different styles of martial arts, and each is diverse in what it teaches. Some common elements of martial arts that tend to lure people towards it are: self defence, fitness, flexibility, confidence, discipline, and curiosity. If you look through your local advertising directory, you will see many of these things listed on a martial arts advertisement; and it is quite obvious that these things on their own do not go against Christianity. Where things go askew, is when some of the religious worldviews of the martial arts’ pagan origins creep into the discipline itself. Sometimes it is quite obvious; there could be some form of idol worship occurring in the class, but sometimes it is not so evident, your very stances could be an act of worshiping a false god. You need to be able to discern such things, and as Christians, we should not blindly expose ourselves to such activities; we must be meek but wise.
The final entry point for false religion to creep into martial arts is the instructor. I believe that the instructor can have massive influence on their students, and if religion is a big thing in their life, you can be sure that they have selected a martial arts that matches their worldview. The Hindus are famous for developing Yoga, and I quote the following from Fritz Ridenour’s book: So What’s The Difference?
‘Yoga is the attempt to control one’s consciousness through bodily posture, breath control and concentration, to the extent that one comes to understand experientially that one’s true self, one’s undying soul (atman), is identical with Brahma. This leads to the famous Hindu saying, “Aham asmi Brahma” (I am Brahma”).’
It is beautifully said, and that’s why a lot of “New Agers” tend to study Yoga, as it suits their worldview; New Ageism simply put, is a rip off of Hinduism with a sprinkle of occult mysticism. To put this into perspective, if you join in an exercise class at your local gym that focuses on breathing and flexibility, and they don’t even specify that they use “Yoga techniques”, it is likely that they indeed do; and if the instructor just happens to have a New Age worldview, almost certainly the instructor will be pumping out their views to the class. Always be on guard; you never know, you might catch them before class one day, sitting in a corner asking a false god to bless the class while humming to a crystal and praising the spirit world. And that wasn’t even classified as a martial arts class.
We have covered a lot here, and I hope that if you do decide to study one of the various styles of martial arts that you do your homework and use the spiritual discernment that the Lord has given you. If it doesn’t “feel” right, don’t do it. But also, if you know someone who is involved in a martial art and they are a Christian, don’t rebuke them straight out, as you may well be ignorant of exactly what that martial art teaches. Ask some questions, do some research, and if they are studying something that is against what God instructs (making sure you understand what God teaches first), then gently approach the topic in love and pray for them. And just like with all matters, pull the plank out from your own eye first before asking someone to pull the splinter out from theirs (Mathew 7:3-5). Finally, to offer some guidance, I have listed below some of the “common arts” that are readily available and have described their origin, what they tend to teach, and whether they are religious in nature or not. Enjoy, and thank you for reading my article.

Karate
Origin: Karate is a martial art developed in the Ryukyu Islands (Okinawa), prior to the 19th century, from indigenous fighting methods called Te (literally: "hand") and Chinese Kenpō.
Purpose: Karate is a striking art using punching, kicking, knee and elbow strikes, and open-handed techniques such as knife-hands (karate chop). Grappling, locks, restraints, throws, and vital point strikes are taught in some styles.
Religiosity: Generally secular, however, depending on the style, some elements of Shinto, Tao and Zen can creep in; this is mainly due to the instructor and their beliefs which are enhanced with the beliefs of the art’s originators.

Kung Fu
Origin: Kung fu (also Gongfu) is a Chinese term often used by speakers of the English language to refer to Chinese martial arts (Wushu). Chinese martial arts may possibly be traced to the Xia Dynasty which existed more than 4000 years ago.
Purpose: Their origin is attributed to self-defence needs, hunting activities and military training in ancient China. Today, Kung Fu tends to be a fighting art, utilising hand to hand movements and short kicks while integrating notions of "hard" and "soft" techniques.
Religiosity: A strong emphasis with connecting to its ancient roots is seen with Kung Fu, resultantly, many religious factors are incorporated into the art. These may include: Taoism, Confucianism, the concept of qì or chi, and other rituals.

Yoga
Origin: Yoga (Sanskrit) refers to traditional physical and mental disciplines originating in India. The word is associated with meditative practices in Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism.
Purpose: In Hinduism, it also refers to one of the six orthodox (āstika) schools of Hindu philosophy, and to the goal toward which that school directs its practices. In Jainism it refers to the sum total of all activities—mental, verbal and physical.
Religiosity: Highly religious, as the very concept of Yoga is a part of the Hindu religious belief.

Tai Chi
Origin: Tai Chi’s (or Tai Chi Chuan, or Taiji) most widespread story of its beginning is with Chang San-Feng (1279-1368 AD).
Purpose: Tai chi is an internal Chinese martial art typically practiced for a variety of personal reasons: its hard and soft martial art technique, demonstration competitions, health and longevity. The concept of the Taiji "supreme ultimate" appears in both Taoist and Confucian Chinese philosophy where it represents the fusion or mother of Yin and Yang into a single ultimate, represented by the Taijitu symbol.
Religiosity: The Tai Chi theory and practice, evolved in agreement with many of the principles of Chinese philosophy including both Taoism and Confucianism. Tai chi is considered highly religious, due to its philosophical links and its purpose.

Krav Maga
Origin: Krav Maga was developed in Israel by Imi Lichtenfeld, who made use of his training as a boxer and wrestler, as a means of defending the Jewish quarter during a period of anti-Semitic activity in Bratislava in the mid- to late 1930s.
Purpose: Krav Maga ("close combat") is an eclectic hand-to-hand combat system, with its philosophy emphasizing threat neutralization, simultaneous defensive and offensive manoeuvres, and aggressive endurance in a 'him-or-me' context. Krav Maga is still used by the Israel Defence Forces.
Religiosity: You could find some elements of Judaism within the style, but generally it is a secular art.

Iaido
Origin: Iaido is a Japanese martial art with its founder being master swordsman, Hayashizaki Jinsuke Shigenobu, who lived around 1550 AD during the Muromachi Period.
Purpose: Used by the Samurai, the art is associated with the smooth, controlled movements of drawing the sword from its scabbard, striking or cutting an opponent, removing blood from the blade, and then replacing the sword in the scabbard.
Religiosity: Typically practised in a secular fashion in the western world, however, its origins have links with Shinto and Zen principles, and thus, in the East these aspects are incorporated.

Taekwondo
Origin: Taekwondo (“the way of the foot and fist”) is a Korean martial art and the national sport of South Korea.
Purpose: It combines combat techniques, self-defence, sport, exercise, meditation and philosophy. Taekwondo is also used by the South Korean military as part of its training. Gyeorugi, a type of sparring, has been an Olympic event ever since the year 2000.
Religiosity: Generally secular, however, depending on the style, some elements of Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism can creep in; this is mainly due to the instructor and their beliefs which are enhanced with the beliefs of the art’s originators.

Savate
Origin: Savate can be traced back to the 18th century when sailors from the port of Marseilles practised a kicking sport known as "Chausson".
Purpose: Savate, also known as boxe française, French boxing, French Kickboxing or French Footfighting, is a French martial art which uses the hands and feet as weapons combining elements of western boxing with graceful kicking techniques.
Religiosity: Secular in nature.

Muay Thai
Origin: Muay Thai is a form of hard martial art practiced in large parts of the world, including Thailand (country’s national sport) and other Southeast Asian countries.
Purpose: Muay Thai is referred to as "The Art of Eight Limbs", as the hands, shins, elbows, and knees are all used extensively in this art.
Religiosity: In the western world the sport is secular in nature, however, in Thailand and other South Eastern countries, many religious rituals, mainly Buddhist, are included with the art.

Capoeira
Origin: Capoeira was created in Brazil by slaves brought from Africa, especially from present day Angola some time after the 16th century.
Purpose: It is an Afro-Brazilian art form that combines elements of martial arts, music, and dance.
Religiosity: Generally the sport is secular in nature; however, some styles have added rituals to its practise.

Hapkido
Origin: Hapkido is a dynamic and eclectic Korean martial art that evolved from Daitō-ryū Aiki-jūjutsu or a closely related jujutsu system taught by Choi Yong Sul who returned to Korea after WWII.
Purpose: Hapkido contains both long and close range fighting techniques, utilizing dynamic kicking and percussive hand strikes at longer ranges and pressure point strikes, joint locks, or throws at closer fighting distances.
Religiosity: Generally secular, however, depending on the style, some elements of Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism can creep in; this is mainly due to the instructor and their beliefs which are enhanced with the beliefs of the art’s originators.

Sumo
Origin: Sumo originated in Japan, and is considered a modern Japanese martial art, however, the sport does have a history spanning many centuries. The sumo tradition is very ancient and even today the sport includes many ritual elements, such as the use of salt for purification, from the days sumo was used in the Shinto religion.
Purpose: Sumo is a competitive contact sport where a wrestler (rikishi) attempts to force another wrestler out of a circular ring (dohyō) or to touch the ground with anything other than the soles of the feet.
Religiosity: Sumo includes aspects of the Shinto religion. Professional sumo wrestlers are required to live in communal "sumo training stables" known in Japanese as “heya” where all aspects of their daily lives—from meals to their manner of dress—are dictated by strict tradition.

Aikido
Origin: Aikido is a Japanese martial art developed by Morihei Ueshiba. It derives mainly from the martial art of Daitō-ryū Aiki-jūjutsu, but began to diverge from it in the late 1920s, partly due to Ueshiba's involvement with the Ōmoto-kyō religion.
Purpose: Aikido ("the Way of unifying life energy" or as "the Way of harmonious spirit.") was developed as a synthesis of his martial studies, philosophy, and religious beliefs. Ueshiba's goal was to create an art that practitioners could use to defend themselves while also protecting their attacker from injury.
Religiosity: Very religious, Aikido was created to use religious principles. Some instructors are even referred to as “Reverends”.

Judo
Origin: Judo ("gentle way") is a modern Japanese martial art and combat sport that originated in Japan in the late nineteenth century.
Purpose: Its most prominent feature is its competitive element, where the object is to throw one's opponent to the ground, immobilize or otherwise subdue one's opponent with a grappling manoeuvre, or force an opponent to submit by joint locking the elbow or by executing a choke.
Religiosity: Mostly secular, however, if studying an ultra traditional style, some elements of the Shinto religion can creep in.

Jujitsu
Origin: Jujitsu (or Jujutsu) was first developed by the Samurai; however, the term "jujutsu" was not coined until the 17th century, after which time it became a blanket term for a wide variety of grappling-related disciplines.
Purpose: Literally meaning the "art of softness", or "way of yielding" is a collective name for Japanese martial art styles including unarmed and armed techniques, mainly throwing, grappling and joint locking.
Religiosity: Generally secular, however, due to its diversity, some elements of Confucianism, Taoism, Shinto, and Buddhism can creep in; this is mainly due to the instructor and their beliefs which are enhanced with the beliefs of the art’s originators.

Ninjutsu
Origin: Ninjutsu was developed in Japan with its historical origins being unclear, however, a close analysis of historical records, from as early as the eighth century to as late as the nineteenth century, show that the fundamental nature of Ninjutsu was in fact methods of infiltration into unfriendly, often hostile territory.
Purpose: For the modern practitioner of Ninjutsu, or Ninpo, the term Ninjutsu represents a set of unarmed and weapon techniques from a number of ryuha, namely Koto ryu, Gikan ryu, Gyokko ryu, and Togakure ryu, among others. The techniques include various methods of fighting, leaping, hiding, walking and running methods, as well as sword evading techniques, and special utilization of the body.
Religiosity: Originally the religion connected with Ninjutsu/Ninpo is a mixture of a mystical sect of Buddhism, Taoism, Shinto and other local religions. These religious philosophies still influence many of the practises of Ninjutsu today.

The Bankers of Heaven

2009-10-05T04:03:00.000-07:00

“Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest.”

Matthew 25:27

We all should know the story by now. Christ’s famous parable about the 3 servants and the great big wad of cash their master had entrusted them with while he went on a long journey. To one he gave five “talents” (one talent is equal to about a thousand dollars), to another two talents and to the third one talent.

He wasn’t showing favouritism either. This Master of the house knew his servants individual capabilities and so entrusted them with exactly what he knew they could manage.

Then he went on his trip.

Each servant goes out and does something with their master’s cash.

The first with the most invests it wisely and turns it into a whopping $10,000, while the second goes and doubles his share….

But the third…

This guy is of the “afraid of nothing” variety and out of fear and laziness goes and takes his measly $1000 and buries it in the ground.

The story goes that the Master returns and settles accounts with his servants.

The guy with the five grand brings the other five and the Master utters those famous words that every true Christian longs in his heart to hear – “Well done good and faithful servant, you have been faithful with a few things, I will put you in charge of many things…”

The second gets the same reward and is ushered into greater responsibility by his Master’s happy promotion…

But the third…

He comes along and says in a nutshell – I did nothing with your money, here have it back…

Or to be exact – “Master” (what nerve to still call his Master “Master” when he hasn’t even done his job?) he said, “I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your talent in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you.’

Needless to say his Master was not happy. He accuses (and rightly so) the servant of being wicked and lazy but then he says the most interesting thing – “Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest.”

This verse had never really done much to attract my attention until it jumped out at me today. Who are the bankers?

It is obvious that the Master is the Lord and we are his servants and when people tell this parable they like to talk about our “talents” being the skills that God has given each and every one of us to do great deeds for The Kingdom… but does anyone ever mention this obscure little group of people called “The Bankers?”

I’ll get to that in a minute but first I want to address the usual interpretation of the word “talents” as meaning skills. Now I think this is OK but is not the whole story. If you want to teach a devotional or a sermon or even apply this scripture to yourself as the talents being your abilities and personal cleverness then fine, but the danger is that people forget that a talent is quite frankly $1000 worth of cash. (No alarm bells yet please.) Secondly there is the risk of the ordinary folk who aren’t great guitarists and have vocal chords like a strangled otter, who want to vomit when made to speak in public or can’t cook for a Connect Group without the fear of food poisoning everyone… these people might be tricked into thinking “I have no “talents” – what could I possibly contribute to The Kingdom?”

There are a lot of people in the Church who call themselves Pew Sitters who can’t stand the idea of hosting a Bible study because their carpet is cruddy or work unusual hours and simply don’t have the time to “contribute” to the workings of the local church… such people might be tempted to think the parable applies to someone else.

But if you’re his servant then it well and truly applies to you.

It is becoming clearer and clearer to me as I grow in the faith that the Kingdom is what should be occupying our thoughts on a close to constant basis. Everywhere Jesus went the first thing he said was usually “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is near.” This might be a controversial thing to say but the Kingdom is not to be mistaken for The Church, and please don’t lynch me. Jesus gave us the Keys to the Kingdom and the Church is the door, but on the other in eternity there won’t be a Church so to speak, there will just be the saved in the actualised Kingdom of Heaven for all eternity.

And eternity is a long time. Eternity without God is so horrible I don’t want to think of clever little allegories to show you just what a horrible thing it is. We were created to know God and the afterlife without him is an eternity of never living up to your intended purpose, never having the one relationship that could have quelled your loneliness and never fulfilling your complete potential. I think Hell would be like living on this earth in its current fallen state forever and ever and ever and never being able to break though to God while all around you is sadness and hate and fear. And that sucks.

So the Good News about the Kingdom is everything we should be focusing our talents and resources and dare I say a good portion of our money to.

So I come to this little group called The Bankers. The Servants who are spending their time witnessing, preaching, feeding the hungry, bringing medical aide to third worlders, entertaining strangers in their own homes, Pastoring churches full of people who need counselling, discipling, and their Pastors full attention which often comes at great expense to himself and sadly sometimes his family. These people are The Bankers.

Actual worldly Bankers are the ones who take your money and know how to invest it so that as you save your money earns interest that compounds so you can get that car quicker or that deposit for your first home.

Spiritual bankers are the ones who know where the harvest is, they seek lost souls and save them from the hungry jaws of Hell! They take your contribution and invest it so that you earn compound interest in Heaven – “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but store up for yourselves treasures in Heaven where moth and rust do not destroy and where thieves do not break in and steal”

Don’t write me off yet.

I have to confess that the idea of witnessing to someone I’ve never met freaks me out. I’m quite comfortable writing my little blogs or preaching (hiding behind) a pulpit but get me in a one on one situation and I usually wait until the other guy, usually a work colleague, says “So you’re a Christian huh?” And I strap on my seat belt and hold on for my life while I blunder through what I believe and walk away slapping my forehead while repenting for saying this or that thing when I should have said another thing. You don’t win souls that way. So I have a choice I could blunder through my life never winning a single person for Jesus and thus giving him the reward and expectation of eternal life or I could support the guy (the banker) who is good at evangelising and see just a fraction of my money going towards something of eternal significance, something that will shine forever and not a boat that could sink or a house that my kids will fight over when I die…

Now there are guys out there who are crooks, they will take your money gladly and spend it on themselves and this is where you need discernment. However it should not be your excuse for not contributing to the cause of The Kingdom. If these guys are thieves, wolves in sheep’s clothing, then it is your responsibility to find the chap who is a shepherd and support him for the long days and cold nights he spends protecting the Lord’s sheep. Your responsibility!

This is why I support my church and why I think you should support yours. The leaders should be dedicated to saving the lost and discipling the flock. If they aren’t, then go to a different church! But remember, your Pastor, the Christian organisations who feed the hungry in some country you’ve never heard of, the Salvation army, whatever or whoever they are, if they are committed to saving souls and equipping Christians with the Word then these people are those Bankers and if you aren’t investing the resources that God has given you into building the Kingdom then you are digging a hole in the ground when you could have been earning that interest in Heaven by entrusting it with the bankers who did know what to do with it.

“Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest.”

Cheeky Little Monkey

2009-10-04T03:54:00.000-07:00

The title of this article has nothing to do with what I have to say but was inspired by my wife who is standing there trying to rock my 4 month old to sleep - its not working.

Of course I am being the ever helpful Husband and am sitting here typing away to my hearts content!

I just wanted to touch base with my readership and apologise for my sudden disappearance from the bloggerverse. I wasn't raptured (although I wish I was) but rather my attention was diverted to something a little less creative - a video game. (which is retro slang for computer game) I'm sure to write a review about it sooner or later.

I figured after 3 months of sleepless nights with a new and very loud baby I deserved to spend my tax return on something that allowed me to run around a simulated world and throw whirlwinds and lightning bolts at computer animated maniacs. Probably not the best way to spend my time but at least its mostly out of my system. Needless to say I've been feeling very guilty at the lack of productivity.

Anyway, I did get a chance to think about this site and what I would like it to achieve...

So allow me to share with you my little personal and inspired vision about where I think God is leading me...

If you know me personally you will be aware of the news that I was accepted into Elim Ministry Training College next year! This is very exciting but simultaneously very frightening... but only because its taking a big step of faith into the unknown as my wife and I prepare to relocate from West Auckland to the Eastern Suburbs so I can study at the college in Botany while she returns to work part time.

I will also be doing an internship at my Church, c3 Howick, as part of my course, in which I will learn all the stuff there is to know about how to Do church.

Why? Because I feel called to be a Pastor and that is exactly where I am heading.

Occasionally I get asked to preach at my church and I will advertise when and where I will be speaking on the right hand column of this page. If you are in town I would love for you to come and have a listen! If you're in town and I'm not speaking then why not come and check out my awesome church anyway. That's awesome with a capital "O" by the way! We have some great lively and loud worship going on and some great Bible teachers, but the thing I love about c3 Howick is its wonderful family atmosphere. That's not to say that it has lots of kids running around (which it does) but when I say family what I mean is from the day Sarah and I walked in the door we felt like we were with family. Not the family you "love to hate and are only nice to at Christmas time" type of family but the "lets go out and have a picnic and chuck a ball around" type of family. That's what church is all about! But like I said, if you feel like coming to a great church then the doors are open wide...

Oh yeah I should probably tell you where that is - Aviemore Drive, Howick, next to Denny's... there's a great big sign that says Doctor on the front of the building - you can't miss it. I'm there every Sunday (practically) and I would love to meet you!

My call to ministry started when I was 15 and I was sitting in the auditorium during a rehearsal for some Shakespearean play and it dawned on me that if I could successfully memorize Shakespeare and be this excited about it then why couldn't I do the same with the Bible? It occurred to me then that members of other religions are more zealous about their scriptures, that are based on worldly wisdom, than we Christians are about the real Word of God! And here we are with the Holy Spirit to actually help us do it! So the challenge was on... I started memorizing the book of Romans. I didn't make it very far because I decided to switch to the book of Matthew instead... then after a while I switched to Genesis... I was a typical teenager after all. But the seed was sown and I felt more and more convicted that memorizing the scripture was of vital importance to a Christians growth and usefulness in ministry.

Just to be clear I have not memorized even a fraction of the Bible yet and to my dismay I have failed miserably by backsliding for nearly 10 years and in more recent times by forgetting large chunks I thought I already knew... but in keeping with my conviction I keep pushing and it is my deepest desire to one day memorize the entire thing.

One of these days I will write a sermon about it.

So I believe God's revealed will for me in the present is to keep studying and to keep seeking him in prayer and of course to give Bible College my best shot next year.

As far as this site goes I will try to write regular articles about anything I can think of. You might have noticed that I removed some of my secular articles recently but mostly because I want this site to be a sort of meeting place where my friends, family and prayer partners can catch up and see what I am up to.

So this is the bit where I ask without apology that you show your support by remembering me in your prayers. For our fight is not against flesh and blood and your prayers are imperative. I believe that in Heaven I will look back and see the massive amount of devastation our prayers have done to the Devil's domain while simultaneously becoming aware of the enormous impact they have had on the saved who by God's grace have made it into the everlasting kingdom!

I will try to write regular prayer requests but here are some that are pressing at the moment:

1. That my wife and I find the right living situation for next year
2. That we are able to support ourselves financially while I study
3. That I don't let myself get distracted by computer games while I am studying.

I am also setting up a sponsorship Button - strictly for anyone who feels led to show ffinancial support while I step out into the life of ministry and the road to becoming a Pastor.

So that's all for now.

Don't forget that I am on facebook and you can add me for regular updates!

If you have any questions I would love to tackle them so feel free to gmail me at kerinthians@gmail.com

The God Who is There

2009-10-04T03:42:00.000-07:00

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…”

Genesis 1:1

Let’s not beat around the bush about it – In the beginning God created two things; the heavens and the earth. Put them together and you have a whole lot of everything and that’s a great deal!

I love the way the Bible opens with this basic and yet profoundly loaded statement that slaps anyone in the face who would say otherwise. It does not begin with an opinion: “in the beginning it is the view of the writer that God created the heavens and the earth.” Or “Herein lies the theory of creation.” Nor does it start with an apology – “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth which can be seen by this bone that carries the DNA of a dinosaur and this photograph of Adam planting the first acorn.” Not that I have a problem with Christian Apologetics, on the contrary, I think creation researchers are among a special breed of genius with a very important ministry, but that’s not what I’m talking about here…

The Bible never actually makes an argument for the existence of God or the fact that he created everything and this is crucial because of two mind blowing and uncomfortable truths – the first being that his existence is obvious and the second truth that every one knows on some level that he does exist.

I know people claim to be atheists or agnostics or whatever but if they were honest I’m sure on the odd occasion they have asked God for a parking space or cried out “God!” in a moment of panic.

The Apostle Paul wrote:

“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities - his eternal power and divine nature - have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.” Romans 1:20

If you’re still not convinced I wonder if there has ever been a culture on this planet that didn’t have some kind of god or gods attached to it. We all know the story of Noah and the Ark but did you also know that there are something like 500 recorded flood myths found all around the world, most with striking similarities to the account found in the Bible? Upon such a discovery it would be easy to jump to the conclusion that there must have been an event in the past that led to most ancient cultures sharing the same "legend" – in other words, there really was a flood! Is it possible then that if every culture has a “god concept” then that “concept” could be rooted in the fact that there really is a God?

But back to the present day I can honestly say that there has never been a time that I was not aware of the presence of The God who is there. Even when I walked away from Christianity 10 years ago (I’m well and truly back now) I always knew that God was there. He is like the other person in the room who I don’t have to look at to know he is present. It is my firm conviction that everyone on some level has this “God sense” – we were created with it.

Now the Heavens and the Earth aren’t just two things. They are a symphony of stars and planets dancing together in an intricate play of gravity at an astounding velocity as the galaxies spin in a myriad of other tumbling galaxies in a space so vast that I haven’t got time to type out the number. Just look at these incredible Hubble scope pictures to see how mind boggling this finite infinity we call the “Heavens” really is.

Then we have the earth, this tiny blue and green speck in the middle of it all. The only planet in exactly the right spot, the porridge that isn’t too cold and isn’t too hot, sling-shotting around just the right sun at just the right distance with just the right moon providing us with tides and seasons and a biodiversity intricately woven together by the loving hand of a truly great Creator who didn’t do it all for no reason…

A God so grand and characteristically ingenious that all the brains in the world wired together couldn’t conceptualise the wonder of such a God. A God so great to create the Heavens and the Earth is not the white bearded man in the clouds, he isn’t the great red Santa in the sky – we are talking about someone capable of creating trillions of stars and who states in his Word that he knows each one by name while still being able to pin point exactly where you are at any given moment while knowing your thoughts and emotions simultaneously with 6 billion other individuals on a planet wide scale! A God who knows the words of every book ever written and ever will be written, the words and tunes to every song along with the number of every atom on every finger nail and every piece of dead skin that flaked to the ground and every grain of dust you flicked up as you walked down the foot path and every blob of bacteria that lived in every crack in the pavement and every particle you breathed in and out and every spider floating on the breeze with every dead leaf and where it landed and where the wind that blew it went and every possible combination of everything that could have happened while knowing the difference between every possible outcome and every actual event. A God who says that even the very hairs of your head are all numbered (Matthew 10:30)…

A God who loved you so much that he gave his only Son (John 3:16)

Such a God did not create such a wonder as the Heavens and the Earth just to leave it for his next favourite toy as Professor Hawkings once suggested (though the toy was my idea). In fact “by him (Christ) all things hold together – Colossians 1: 17

Its all for a reason and designed for a purpose. In all things God works for the good of those who love him. Romans 8:28

You can choose to live in denial and believe its all just random happenstance but I’m going with the Book that grabs the origins bull by the horns in its very first verse:

In the Beginning God created the heavens and the earth!

My Testimony

2009-09-04T19:50:00.000-07:00

The night was November 16th, 2009...

Not only was it the evening of my Mother in Laws birthday but our Pastor had asked me to share my Testimony with the rest of our Church...

Part of the reason I am posting this is because I haven't been very prolific lately on account of my acquiring a new computer game... but Testimonies are also the ultimate form of Love Story - the retelling of how we met the most important person in our lives, Jesus Christ...

I hope you enjoy this true life tale and that it blesses you with a deeper relationship with the Lord... but also that you will be encouraged to pass it on to friends and family who aren't Christians, because when all is said and done, after all the arguments for and against Christianity, after all the skepticism and attacks, NO ONE can deny the true story of YOUR relationship with the Author of Life...

Regards

K

P.S. I apologise for the split Youtube format... if anyone can tell me a better way to upload audio I will be forever greatful!

A Message from Planet Me

2009-08-26T08:06:00.000-07:00

I've been pretty stoked with all you faithful "come along every dayers", who have checked on this blog space out of curiosity or the opposite of contempt to read me musings...

This week you may have noticed the rapid decline in my prolificy but rest assured its not due to lack of topics or inspiration but rather to my trying to organise my priorities in such a way that I am not burning the candle from the middle as well as at both ends!

I will now restrict my posts to night's before a day off which are every second Wednesday and Thursday and every alternating Friday... occasionally I might be able to squeeze a few more in but I found that I became a man obsessed with posting blogs at whatever cost, which usually involved me falling asleep on the couch, work or while driving... plus I have some serious study commitments this year and had been neglecting them...

But I am still committed to this site and have a great deal many more delightful bits and pieces to post before Google bans me blurbs forever!

Which has never been an issue....

So if you're new to this mayhem and aren't familiar with my emerging "Kulture" I will usually write Humour and Film reviews but if any reader throws a question my way I will endeavor to throw an answer back at them so feel free to write to me on kerinthians@gmail.com if you dare...

Stay sane and keep tunin in...

K

P.S. In the meantime here is a picture of me babysitting at great personal cost to my dignity and face. What you are seeing is my daughter's way of saying, "Stop rocking me daddy!" and I can tell you now, it felt like the wet end of a swift tea towel hitting my right cheek, barely missing my eye. I cried out for my wife, but rather than flying to my aide, she took the opportunity to photograph my baby sitting skills before handing me the tissues...

Joseph - King of Dreams

2009-08-26T07:23:00.000-07:00

Joseph - King of Dreams

I recently raided my nieces DVD collection and discovered a little Dream Works treat that didn't involve cross dressing fairy tale characters and big green ogres preaching the feel good PC gospel of tolerance and the message of "its ok to be a freak if it makes you feel good" for a change!

The movie - Joseph King of Dreams, and we sat ourselves down for an evening of entertaining cartoonery. Joseph, as you should know, is the prequel to Moses - Prince of Egypt and tells the story of how the Israelites came to live in Egypt before they became the slaves of the Exodus. The original story of Joseph can be found of course in Genesis Chapter 37 and onwards. It is one of the most riveting and movie worthy stories of the Bible. Why this story has only warranted an animated feature and an Andrew Lloyd Webber Musical is way beyond me, it's replete with Jealousy, favouritism, betrayal, temptation... there are even cool things like Dream Interpretation and mistaken identity... Shakespeare himself couldn't have designed a better plot! But of course he couldn't, because the truth is always more exciting than fiction, especially when its biblical truth!
Joseph was the firstborn son of Rachel, Jacob's other wife and as such was treated more favorably than his 10 other brothers. His special treatment, prophetic dreams and fashionable coat cause his brother's to gang up on the lad and sell him to some Ishmaelites as a slave while taking his goat-blood stained coat back to their father and telling him his favourite son had been eaten by some feroxious animal. Meanwhile Joseph is sold as a slave to Potiphar, the Captain of Pharaoh's guard where he excels to the rank of chief slave. Things are looking up for the dashing young Hebrew when Potiphar's wife takes more than a liking to him and tries to entice him into some extra marital misgiving, but he is resolute and flees the crazed women, only to be framed for her rape and is thrown into prison for his trouble. However not even prison can keep him down as he becomes the most trusted of all the prisoners and eventually uses his gift of interpreting dreams to help a baker and a cup-bearer who have fallen from Pharaoh's favour. This, eventually, leads to his interpreting the king's dream, predicting a seven year famine and his clever advice on how to stave off its deadly effects puts him in the role of the second most powerful man in Egypt. The famine hits and thanks to Joseph the Egyptians are ready for it and as starvation spreads across to distant lands his own treacherous brothers come to seek his aide not realising that their saviour is in fact their long lost brother...

Its so good infact that I'm going to give you a link to the real story! Genesis Chapters 37-46
King of Dreams left much to be desired as far as grandeur and believability are concerned. Its not even worth comparing to Prince of Egypt which had me crying, and still does, during the burning bush sequence and goose bumped when the Red Sea parts, there's a flash of lightening and a whale is seen behind the wall of congealed sea! Not this movie. the songs were just bad enough for me to be able to leave the room and fetch a cup of tea and some of my mother's home cooking in time to hear the last boring bars of some easy listening song tailored to somehow fit a story that had been watered down for not just a young audience but a biblically illiterate one at that.

Most people today still think that Joseph's so called Amazing technicoloured dream coat is a biblical fact - but it doesn't say anywhere in Genesis that his coat was rainbowesque but rather richly ornamented. This film, I fear will leave your children with a distorted view of the story than what color his clothes were!

For a start Leah is missing, the unloved wife who bore most of Jacob's sons... I guess the producers felt the concept of polygamy too much for a 6-10 year olds but the fact is its in the Bible so why leave it out? Especially since it explains why Joseph was treated like a First Born - because in a way, in Jacob's eyes, he was the first born son to his legitimate wife, the one He wasn't tricked into marrying! But that's not all. When Joseph has his dreams where the son and the moon are bowing down before him Jacob doesn't tell him off as the biblical account says, but rather he is encouraged! I could do this all night so here is a quick list of all the deviations from the actual story that I could count:
- the movie uses creative licence to suggest Joseph studied while his brother's kept the herds and flocks.

- it seemed to suggest Judah was the oldest son, though not blatantly.

- I can't remember if Reuben sticks up for Joseph when they sell him off as a slave

- they had Joseph interpreting the prisoners dreams on his first night as a prisoner

- in this "version" (which I prefer to call a heresy) they had the baker act like a skeptic and rather than be eager to get an interpretation from Joseph because the cup bearer's was so ideal made him act like he was just testing Joseph's ability

- An interesting thing was they suggested Potiphera's daughter, whom Joseph married, was Potiphar's daughter/niece and then also used some creative licence to suggest that Potiphar knew his wife was at fault and his sending Joseph to jail was a matter of Honor rather than justice.

- the story implies Joseph's reason for wanting Benjamin was because he thought his brother's were lying about having a younger son, mistaking their references to Benjamin for himself

- When Joseph meets his bros after so many years they have Benjamin tell him the story of how they used to be 12 brother's until Joseph became no more and not Judah!

- Joseph doesn't speak through an interpreter which was a crucial part of the true account

- he didn't order them at the dinner table according to their age

- and worst of all Judah says that Gd intended it ll afor good and NOT Joseph!

In fact the only thing I was most happy with was the fact they got Jacob's aged appearance right, given the fact that he was in his 70's when he went to work for his uncle Laban.

I know, I know, I'm being super harsh, after all it is just a kiddies movie right? Yeah, i guess but why change an already fantastic story, even so slightly? My real beef with it though is that a lot of well meaning Christian parents are going to plonk their kids in front of this movie expecting it to teach them something about the Bible but not take the time to correct the mistakes or actually read the original account to them. The result being a generation of nominal believers whose biblical knowledge has been skewered to the point where the best they will be able to do is pass a Facebook "How Well Do You Know Your Bible?" test! We have to be careful to make sure the truth is being communicated to our children with integrity and accuracy - ESPECIALLY IN THESE LAST DAYS!

So having said that let's see what an actual real life 8 year old child had to say about this film.

Me: what didn't you like about this movie?

Niece: Some parts were wrong about it and um, they should say the real things how they happened.

Me: What was wrong with it?

Niece: It was a little bit wrong, I noticed...

She started getting things out of my parents draws here, as we conducted the interview in my mother's bedroom. She grabbed her Pa's tie and a coin and said something about a bull that got smacked or something extremely 8 year oldish I couldn't quite make out!

She continues...

Niece: ...and they changed in the movie the lady he married, but the other lady had a different hair style and a different face.

Me: What was your favourite part?

Niece: When Joseph got to see his family!

Me: What was your least favourite part?

Niece: I have to say when the brother's weren't very nice chucking him down the well

Me: What did you learn from this film?

Niece: (shrugs shoulders, purses her lips) I don't know.... that God can make miracles?

And indeed He can, and He does... and it would take a great miracle for me to give it more than a 3 out of 10 of entertainment and biblical integrity.

Modern Day Christianity and the Absence of Miracles

2009-08-21T06:59:00.000-07:00

I was recently humbled when someone wrote to me the below question and I said, "Sure! I'll get right on it!"

That was two weeks ago. I've been procrastinating...

The question was:

Why is it that in the christian church do you have such a lack of the power of the Holy Spirit?I know people hear from God and sometimes here and there people get healed but I mean, what happened to people raising the dead and wicked signs and wonders we can show off to non-believers... has the Devil been trying to snuff out that power in the church?Or do people just not want all that weird stuff happening to them? Why is there such a small amount of the Holy Spirits power in the church?And what to do about it?

So not being in any way an authority on the matter here is my attempt at an answer...

One passage of Scripture that really jumped out at me when I was thinking about this was from 2 Timothy 3:1-6:

1But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. 2People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, 3without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, 4treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God— 5having a form of godliness but denying its power.

I may be taking it way out of context but I believe we are in the last days (or might as well be) and we see in the majority of churches in the west a gross embracing of materialism, new age rubbish and a form of powerless godliness. Just an observation.

If you take the letters to the seven Churches in the beginning of the book of Revelation as letters to seven periods of Church History as I do, then we are moving into the Laodician Period of Apostasy where most of the "Church" says, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But they do not realize that they are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked... (Revelations 3:17)

My hunch is the problem we have in the Western Church is the same problem Jesus experienced when he went to his home town and because the people "knew" Jesus as the Carpenter's son and the son of Mary they refused to accept him for who he really was - the Son of God.

Romans 10:17 says that faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ. I fear that the vast majority of Christians today do not have miracle working faith because they do not know the Word.

The Bible is like an instruction manual that tells you what you can and can't do with a product. If I had never ever used a hair dryer or even knew what one was I could be forgiven for mistaking it to be some kind of toy gun until I read the instructions to see that I am meant to plug it into the wall first. The same rule applies here - once we know what the Bible actually says about what we are capable of doing in Christ then we can move mountains; but until then we might as well be toy guns! You can not make a nuclear bomb without knowledge of Nuclear Physics; so you can not work miracles without a true knowledge of the God who is there through his Word!

So poor teaching has a lot to do with it. Imagine entire congregations out there led by pastors/priests who themselves don't believe in miracles or who teach that when the Bible talks about healing it really means "spiritual healing" and the best you can look forward to is a comfy disease free life in heaven but down here you will have Hell to pay... its disgraceful.

Its worth a mention that with regards to the miracles Jesus himself performed we have to remember that some of them were specifically designed to show the disciples and Israel that he was who he claimed to be. Some examples are when Jesus calmed the storm, the Biblically literate Disciples must have been reminded of Psalms 89:9:

"You Rule over the surging sea;
when its waves mount up,
you still them."

or how about this one from Psalm 107:28, 29

Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,
and he brought them out of their distress.
He stilled the storm to a whisper;
the waves of the sea were hushed.

When Jesus walked on the water it must have echoed Genesis 1:2 when the Spirit of God hovered over the waters... no wonder the disciples were so ready with their worship of the Lord...

But Miracles weren't just for Jesus' day and Miracles do in fact happen today, we just seem to be blinded to them. I think my reader is right in suggesting that the Devil is trying to stamp Miracles out, but rather it is the knowledge of their happening that is being stamped at. This is still Cosmos Diabolicus - The Devil's World. His aim is to take down as many non-believers as he can when he is cast into his eternal punishment, so now he is systematically trying to keep people unaware of the many miracles that are wrought in the name of Christ around the World on what I suspect is a daily basis.

I remember it like yesterday, when as a young teenager I heard on the news a story about a boy who had been miraculously cured of the Aids Virus, "The Parents said it was a miracle". I watched in fascination as the news Reader promised to keep us up to date with this amazing story but then as the weeks went by nothing was ever mentioned about this seemingly historic event. Why? Because the parents acknowledged the miraculous and the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms squashed the story before it could be perpetuated any more.

Instead the enemy will permeate the news with stories of priests accused of indiscretions with choir boys or TV evangelists wanted for fraud while the real good guys are left in the side lines with no public notice.

Off the top of my head here are some examples of miracles that I am aware of...

When I was 17 I was attending a children's camp where one of the other counsellors had hurt the ligaments in his knee. He had been complaining about it for over several days when finally after a meeting he asked me to pray for it. I placed my hand over his knee cap and prayed a simple prayer, something to the effect of "Dear Lord, please heal this knee in Jesus' name, Amen" - and I kid you not, I felt a popping sensation under the palm of my hand as something happened... I don't know what exactly but his knee was healed after that night.

I listen to a southern style preacher called Andrew Wommack who tells the story of when his youngest son died of a drug over dose and six hours later, after a lot of prayer and thanksgiving on Andrew's part, his son sat up in the morgue completely recovered, and alive! I forget the exact source but here is a link to his audio teaching if you want to check it out... http://www.awmi.net/extra/audio

The late Roger Price of the Chichester Christian fellowship tells the story of when he was at University and was speaking in tongues in his dorm room during a private time of prayer and devotion to God. Later he went to do his washing in the communal laundry where he was cornered by a neighboring student who demanded to know where the Sudanese man who had been in Roger's room was. Of course, there had been no Sudanese man in Roger's room, it had just been him speaking in tongues and this other student had miraculously heard the story of Jesus Christ's death and resurrection in his own language - a language Roger had never learnt.

I read an outstanding book called the Divinity Code recently where Ian Wishart provides documented evidence of people who were miraculously healed from impossibly incurable diseases like advanced leukemia and even cerebral palsy. I highly recommend it if you're after a good read...

So I guess my challenge to anyone who has complained about the lack of the miraculous is this - start taking the promises found in God's Word seriously! Take Mark 16:15-18 for example:

He said to them, "Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation. 16Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned. 17And these signs will accompany those who believe: In my name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues; 18they will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all; they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well."

I guess the challenge is really for me as well... don't let your experience of Christianity be a matter of singing in a pew or intellectually cutting and pasting Bible Verses together in your brain. Don't let your relationship with Christ come down to whether or not you got your five minute devotional in this morning or whether you got the latest Christian hit single. Rather get out there and lay your hands on someone and tell this mountain to move from here to there and IT WILL BE DONE...

P.S. It occurs to me that I didn't address the issue of the Holy Spirit in this response but given the Holy Spirit dwells inside us (1 Corinthians 6:19) then let that knowledge alone be enough to propel you into knowing that miracles can be wrought through you because God himself lives inside you, this should be elementary but for some reason we're just not getting it...

A is for Abortion

2009-08-17T07:14:00.000-07:00

I have a particular friend who wears her heart on her sleeve, and as you can imagine a heart on a sleeve can sometimes raise a few eye brows. A few months ago, while both her and my wife were expecting their first babies, my friend posted a pro life article on her Facebook. Fair enough, one would think, after all, I’m pro her choice to believe in such a thing; the fact I happen to be pro life myself doesn’t fact either, even if I was “pro choice”, I would think that surely I would still support a pro lifers’ choice to disagree?

Apparently not.

The fervent protest s against her post was extreme and intense. Never before, on something as trivial as Facebook, had I seen an instant out pouring of pseudo-moralistic passion. Pro-choicers on the left of me, Pro-lifer’s with me on the right; but the curious thing was the loaded cannons were on the left had, ready, aimed and firing.

While we on the right were concerned about the lack of choice of the unborn, all the protestors were concerned with were bullets made from “It’s my body!” Peow! “What about 12 year olds who get raped and fall pregnant?” Bang! And my personal favourite, “Stop judging me!” Ouch!

That last one is enough to make one bleed to death with frustration. No one was judging anyone! An action was being judged. A moral standard was being scrutinized; but no particular individual was being annihilated under the condemning eye of the evangelical right. But I guess in the words of the over quoted bard – methinks she doth protest too much.

As far as their arsenal is concerned I’m not going to tackle their ethical hypotheticals except to say that rape cases make up for less than 1% of abortions performed in so that argument is like bringing a stick to modern warfare.

But that’s not what this article is about. I think people throw loaded statements and questions about to satisfy their own consciences and therefore their own position. If you attempt to provide an answer their pedestal gets to wobbling and they get vicious so let’s not go there today.

It was my daughter’s dedication yesterday. If you’re not church savvy a dedication is a “ceremony” similar to a christening or baptism, where a baby is brought before the congregation and the minister prays a blessing over her while the parents acknowledge their intention to raise the child in a Godly manner. There were of course lots of “oohs and ahhs” as she ogled the crowd, but that is to be expected – she is the quintessential paragon of cuteness.

I mention this because that is where my cerebellum is coming from. A day dedicated to blessing my baby and thanking God for her precious life has led my thoughts into the dark woods of this abortion issue and I fear only writing about it can lead me safely out again.

For me it’s simple; would I prefer my gorgeous girl in a pretty red dress or her limbs in a petrii dish? I don’t think I have to tell you the answer to that.

Every day I go to work and the words “I miss her” don’t quite capture how I suffer in her absence. The phrase, “I love her” doesn’t describe how I feel. She is the one thing on this side of heaven that I would defend against tigers at the risk of my own spine being ripped out by a swift claw. I would launch myself into a pool of piranhas and throw her to safety with my dying hands. My last breath belongs to her...

What I am trying to say is her life is worth more to me than my own. I thank God for her daily. I pray for her almost every hour I’m awake. Before her nothing meant nearly as much (except my wife).

I had an epiphany in her first week that my feelings for her were only a fraction of what God felt for me. My relationship with him changed radically then from being something I “knew” to something I knew and felt on a deeper plane than I thought possible.

Rewind that 6-9 months and I valued her no less then than I do now. I can’t get it. I just can’t fathom or even vaguely understand how someone could consider an unborn baby worthless; regardless of the circumstances surrounding their conception.

So my thoughts continue...

I don’t want to be judge, jury and executioner but I have speculated that the same people who defend abortion with gritted teeth and clenched fists are also the same people who cry against the inhumanity of the death penalty. Would they be the ones defending the man who murders from the hangman’s noose, the lethal injection or the electric chair while supporting the premature death of the unborn child by methods far more cruel and imaginative? (I mean when was the last time a criminal was torn apart limb from limb with a vacuum cleaner?) Do they defend the right to live of the murderer on death row because deep down they know they have to – because they are guilty of the same thing?

Yeah I know, it’s a massive generalisation, but my personal experience with liberal thinkers suggests as much. Please comment if I’m wrong. I want to be wrong.

Recently in New Zealand the mysterious deaths of a few dogs on Auckland’s Eastern beaches made headline news. But the 18,000 or so babies aborted last year didn’t even get obituaries. Am I wrong to think that’s just barmy?

Our previous government outlawed “smacking” children for correction, making it tantamount to child abuse while endorsing a mother’s right to terminate her unborn baby. Please forgive my simpleness but what on earth? Is smacking a naughty kid really a criminal offence while finishing off an unborn baby is ok as long as it is done that side of the birth canal? Excuse me for being a little puzzled.

So as I paced up and down my lonely projection booth, where I work, my mind turned to these things and I decided that as a Christian there is something more I could add to the debate that should not be.

I thought, “Can you argue from the Bible, that abortion is wrong without using the commandment of “number six don’t get your kicks from killing one another”?

I think so...

We all know of the first murder when Cain slew Abel out in the field and God said to Cain, “Listen, your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground.” Sounds a bit strange, an idiom perhaps? But then I remembered God’s words to Noah after the flood, the flood sent to rid the world of unprecedented violence, “...for your life blood I will surely demand an accounting. I will demand an accounting from every animal. And from each man, too, I will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man. “Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed; for in the image of God has God made man.”

There is definitely something in the blood. The only reason blood was shed originally was to provide people with a covering for their sins. Innocent animals were sacrificed to foreshadow a time when an innocent man, Jesus Christ, would shed his blood for all mankind (Which includes women.)

God ordained these sacrifices, but man produced a counterfeit in the form of murder. Essentially when a person kills another person he is acknowledging that something is wrong and killing the other will make it right. Only it’s counterfeit – so it doesn’t work.

To understand this a bit more clearly, it is again illustrated by Cain killing Abel. Cain had presented vegetables to God, the produce of his hard work and skill but God rejected it in favour of Abel’s fat portions from his flock. Cain was jealous, but rather than doing the right thing he did the worst thing and slew his brother. I wonder if Cain mistook God’s ordainment of Sacrificing animals as blood thirstiness so he slew Abel thinking “that’ll keep him happy!” But he missed the point by a million miles – the blood of the animals served as a symbol of the coming Messiah who would ultimately redeem the world, something Abel’s blood was never able to accomplish.

Which brings us back to the unborn child. A baby has a beating heart pumping blood threw their veins at 5–6 weeks. Many women with good but misdirected consciences probably find themselves pregnant and know that something is wrong. Whether it be the way the child was conceived, or the fact the mother is too young or simply not ready. They seek to rectify this wrong by “slaying the blood” of the child because instinctively they may know that a price must be paid for the “wrongness” surrounding the child’s conception. They feel that slaying the child (or aborting if you prefer the euphemism.) will make the wrongness” go away. But it won’t. I know a woman in her 60’s who still mourns over an abortion she had 30 years ago.

Shedding a baby’s blood is only a counterfeit for the real deal – Christ’s blood. Only the shed blood of the “aborted” or crucified Jesus can make right the mistake of an “unwanted” (please forgive the expression) pregnancy. The woman who makes the choice to terminate is effectively saying, even if they don’t know it, “Jesus, the blood of my baby is more able to right my wrong than your own blood.” And sadly they really believe it.

But wait what about before the blood? Is “it” even human then? I still believe so. The blood was just an issue about redeeming right from wrong.

King Solomon in Ecclesiastes talks about the still born child that has more rest than the man who can’t enjoy his wealth and prosperity. It’s the personification of the unborn here that caught my attention, but maybe its a weak starting point. Though the Bible doesn’t say (at least in the English) that an embryo has a soul it does say in Luke that when the pregnant Mary visited her cousin Elizabeth the unborn John the Baptist leaped inside Elizabeth’s womb at the sound of Mary’s greeting (Luke 1:41).

So let’s say a person is a spiritual being from conception, God would not give such a thing as a spirit or a soul to a creature he did not intend to see the bright light of day, surely?

Look at it this way, imagine you had spent the entire afternoon preparing the most scrumptious and finger licking good banquet you had ever set your eyes on, would you then go and scrape it into the rubbish bin? Not likely. It was meant to be enjoyed and wolved down by invited guests. Likewise God does not invent Souls and scrape them into the garbage disposal! He wants them to be nurtured, loved and enjoyed by loving parents – parents invited to the banquet of the brand new individual.

I strongly believe, as I touched on earlier, that children teach us something about God’s character - his love and great patience for us as well as his willingness to lay down his life for us. What are we showing God when we terminate our own children? Nothing less than our contempt for his love. God could have just aborted us on day one after Adam ate the apple – but he didn’t. He travailed through an unwanted pregnancy of sorts and has laboured to redeem those who are willing.

Anyway, I keep digressing...

When Moses received the law, God made it very loud and understandably clear that the Israelites were not to do as the people in Canaan did. The Canaanites practiced the lot, from Incest to Necrophilia. But one thing God was particularly unimpressed with was the practice of human sacrifice, in this instance the passing of their babies into the fire to a false god know as Molech (Leviticus 18:21). To offer a child in sacrifice to any God is an abhorrent thing to do but Molech was a god associated with commerce. The idea was to offer Molech the child in exchange for blessing and prosperity. So what? Have you ever heard this line of reasoning, “I’m just not financially ready for a child” or “I really should focus on sorting out my career first”? You could add to the end of that argument – “So I will sacrifice this child for the sake of my own prosperity.”

Sacrificing the unborn for your own economic security is again a counterfeit for sacrificing your lifestyle for the benefit of your children.

Recently in the news a woman was brutally mutilated but with a twist. After she was murdered her unborn child was plucked from her womb and “adopted” by her killer. When the vicious assassin was apprehended the baby was found alive and survived the ordeal. We all (if we saw the news) watched this story in revulsion, mortified that someone could murder a pregnant woman and steal her unborn baby, but boy did we feel relief when the baby lived.

Well, I smell hypocrisy. Doctors rip babies apart as they suck them out of unwelcoming wombs on a daily basis, so what is the difference between the baby who was ripped out of the murdered woman and the baby that was “removed” in the doctor’s surgery? The only difference I can recognize is that one baby was wanted while the other was not. If this issue rests on a matter of “want” then pro-choice has lost.

This Week on Planet Me...

2009-08-14T04:09:00.000-07:00

For the first time in ages I seem to have drawn a complete blank. Its not conventional writer's block, its just Australian Idol is on the telly and therefore I've just experienced my first Black Hole. I think it was the Asian guy singing "Imagine" who started sucking the gravity out of the room and now five minutes later all my brain matter is tinkering on the event horizon of complete mindless ear pillaging tripe.

Maybe I'm just jealous there is no New Zealand Idol, but even if there was I would never go down that road again. I'll never forget... actually scratch that, it seems I've intentionally forgotten the day I queued in the rain behind thousands of wannabe Australians at Brisbane's Suncorp Stadium just to be told, after hours of umbrella holding and fantasising about blowing the judges minds with my vocal whips, that there were too many contestants and to come back tomorrow.

Which I did. And I sucked.

I had spent the whole week strolling down The Spit on the Gold Coast with my collie screaming out the chorus of Kermit the Frog's Rainbow Connection to the applause of angry waves who would have told me to shut up were they not concentrating on smashing their faces on the hard seashore. In the end I got into an audition which was a dark room with a trio of judges who were definitely not the ones you see on TV. I sang four lines of the chorus to Wondering (an original) only to be told, "Thank-you, you're not quite what we're looking for."

Then I was picked up by my brother who wore bright red ski pants to South Bank for no good reason other than to humiliate me even more than I already felt. I don't even remember what year that was, 2004? At least my dream of becoming a world famous pop star died a slow and painless death of old age three years later. So now my wife has left the room, excuse me while I switch the telly off...

Ah that's better.

Apparently Friday is the day that historically honors the Norse goddess otherwise known as Frigg. If I had of known that I wouldn't have loved Friday's so much. False gods and goddesses don't do much for me... but when I found out that in old High German it was called Frigedag I thought it sounded just enough like "fridge" to keep me enthused by this usually happy day. I say "usually" because I'm in mourning for having eaten the last of the ice cream and also tomorrow I am working the day shift. Imagine there was an echo and a thunder clap when I said "Day Shift"...

Otherwise its been a tremendous week! I was thrilled when I discovered I had earned 12 whole cents thanks to some generous reader who probably accidentally supported one of my sponsors... but it made me feel a certain optimism that if I saved 12 cents a week for the next 127 years the amount I saved would replace my current annual income and I would be able to put my feet up for 12 months... except I haven't accounted for inflation or the possibility that the Builderburgers will have systematically decreased the world's population by 93% and money will be a mark in most people's foreheads. And my 12 cents will die a lonely death in Scrooge McDuck's Money Bin. But thanks for the thought... it really motivated me to keep writing... seriously, it really did... I'm not sure I can write this sentence without sounding sarcastic but one does get a thrill when he checks his Google Adsense and sees something has actually happened and that the system really does work.

Actually, I had an unprecedented 156 hits between today and last Fridge Day which was a personal record I would be happy to break by the next time I open my fridge. That either means I've got 156 readers who visit my blog at least once a week or 7 readers who visit Kerinthians 22 times a day. Which would be kind of sad.

But seriously, thanks to everyone who has dropped by in recent days, it was nice to have you over, sorry I couldn't offer you anything to eat.

I begin every week with the intention to write one blog a day with the exception of Sundays. This week I broke all my rules.

Sunday I was asked a question about Christianity and Yoga which I tried to answer to the best of my agility.
Monday I commented further after the questioner responded, but I have to say I'm still mostly undecided on the issue, then I posted a review on Ryan Reynold's Movie Chaos Theory.
Tuesday I saw the utmost movie of this year (even better than Star Trek) - District 9, and I couldn't help but review it. I'm inviting it to all my future birthday parties henceforth.

Then Wednesday came and the couch claimed my consciousness, robbing me of the pleasure of bugging you again so Thursday I resorted to Number 2 of something productive to do on the loo. I would have written number 3 tonight but I need to think more about the pro's and cons of practicing chemistry on the cold seat of relief.

Some people might wonder how I can go from Film reviews to deep theological contemplation to toilet humour but I'm trying to keep my site as eclectic as possible... the more readers that write me questions though the more material I have to work with and the less desperate I become for content!

In fact one of my more astute readers has asked me a deeper than normal question regarding Christianity and the Absence of Miracles which I am eager to sink my teeth into... hopefully I'll be able to tackle that one later tonight, but I have work tomorrow and the telly is on again so we'll see... or not...

So for now I will just leave you with some homework... yes, the dreaded "H" Word... as you go your cherry trek through the rest of next week please leave me a comment or two so I can decide whether my readers are real people or not and forward http://www.kerinthians.blogspot.com/ to at least 5 of your friends followed by 5 of your enemies and help me drive a few more people insane, then maybe you will get a gold star on your Good Student Chart and a chocolate bar at the end of the year... actually no you won't, my invisible lawyers tell me I can't promise something I was never actually willing to give.

Enjoy your weekend while I'm slaving at work!

K

P.S. Don't forget I'm on facebook so add me and stuff..

Here's a funny clip I saw recently...

Living in District 9

2009-08-11T07:39:00.000-07:00

My own internal reaction to this film was so exciting that I completely forgot that I had hit a bollard with the side of my car on my way to see it! Thankfully, like the film, there were no dents to be seen...

This is one of those flicks where you see the trailer and you think, WOW I HAVE to see this movie... usually you see such a film and you walk away realising you have fallen for the same boring old story, retold a million times by Hollywood film makers. Not this time. District 9 disembarks from Hollywood regurgitation, it is wonderfully disgusting in its satisfyingly realistic view of Human Nature and portrayal of alien weaponry that turns a human into instant splatter puss. Not since the very first Predator Movie or Alien have I seen such a stirring and blood curdling piece of sci-fi story telling. There is nothing ordinary about this legendary piece of work and the bar for Science Fiction has been raised forever.

This is certainly a film for grown ups.

Director Neil Blomkamp was originally ivited by Peter Jackson to Direct the film version of the best computer game series ever (I'm biased) - Halo. When that project got shelved he was given the green light, and green paper, to expand his short film "Alive in Joburg" into the feature that became D9.

Take a gander at this so you can get a taste of what I am about to beat you up with:

Just like in "Alive in Joburg", District 9 makes good use of "real" camera work, kind of like in the Blair Witch Project, where the camera is mostly hand held, only like in a fast paced documentary.In fact most of the film is a mocumentary, only it seems to chop and change between this style and the conventional methods of cinematography.

It gets straight into it too, there is no pussy-footing around; right from the first scene you are aware of this massive alien vessel above Johannesburg, South Africa where more than 20 years ago it just appeared and after nothing happened for a few days the government send a team to break it open, only to discover it full of malnourished insectohumanoid aliens that are "rescued" only to become the outcasts of society. The people of Joburg want nothing to do with them and eventually they are delegated a small slum, which becomes known as District 9, by the private company Multi-National United.

It begins as a sort of "Day in the Life" of Wikus van der Merwe, your friendly alien-human social worker as he leads a team of MNU employees and Government soldiers in an effort to evict the Prawns (the derogatory name society has given the aliens) to District 10, a sort of glorified concentration camp. It almost plays like an episode of Cops until Wikus crosses paths with Christopher Johnson, an intelligent Prawn with a plan to get back to the mother ship by collecting fuel from alien technology. Only his plan fails when Wikus accidentally squirts himself with the fuel...

And so the fun begins.

You see, the aliens could just go home but they're being kept here for a sinister purpose. MNU have stock piled alien weaponry which can only be used by Prawns. No Human can get the darn things to do anything... that is until Wikus' DNA is manipulated by the Alien fuel, transforming in gradual fashion this geeky pen pusher into something that would best suit a commercial for insecticide.

Now I have watched a lot of Star Trek style Science Fiction where the Human species is uplifted to an almost godlike position. Where words like "Humanity" and "Dignity" are tennised about by players convinced that we're all basically good and sometimes do a little bit of evil. Its so sickeningly unromantic; this idea that human beings are going to get there on their own eventually. In District 9 we see the complete opposite - Human Beings doing Human things, evil things to a disadvantaged group of people, despised on account of their being different. MNU perform heinous experiments on the Prawns to get what they want and even Wikus is put on the chopping block for the sake of technological and financial advancement. Greed is god and the Prawns are just commodities. Mankind is evil with the capacity to only sometimes do good, and as Wikus becomes one of them and looses his humanness, only then does his true "humanity" rare its not so ugly head. It resounds with "All have sinned and fall short of the Glory of God" (Roman's 3:23) and bares a strong resemblance to the crimes of the real Nazi's of yesteryear...

I thought I would never say this but the CGI in this film was awesomely cool. Most modern pictures flood the screen with computer graphics that leave you wondering why you paid $15 to see something you could have seen on the telly with your kids during Saturday morning Cartoons. Blomkamp got the balance just right and gently massaged the Special Effects into the feature so that you wouldn't be distracted by the fakeness of it all. Its like a woman who looks beautiful wearing lipstick as opposed to the other beautiful plastic chick who grabs your affectionate gaze just long enough to terrify you when her nose falls off.

Blomkamp also succeeded in creating a situation where the aliens came to a country that wasn't America, there were no Greenpeacers citing Alien Rights and there were no dorky honorable Soldierly salutes at the end that made you want to gag. This movie is raw, serrated and tells it like it is, even if it wasn't.

Be warned, violence is more than a eight letter word in this film and there is plenty of the four letter word that starts with "F" in it, only the South African accents made it hard to distinguish at times. I think this may be a boys film but the story may be enough to attract a female audience - although the many scenes of decapitation, mutilation and cat-food eating may set the squeamish screaming. There was one bit where Wikus tries to cut off his alien arm with a short axe and someone in our test audience actually cried out, "Don't do it!" before I could.

After its release date on August 13th this film will be bathing under a fountain of fantastic reviews.

I give it a 9 out of 10, simply because I have never seen anything quite like it. In fact I haven't felt this way about a film since the days when only the rich had VCRs and seeing a movie was a special and expensive thing. I tip the hat I am not wearing to Blomkamp and hope to see more of his imagination on reels again soon.

Chaos Theory

2009-08-10T06:45:00.000-07:00

I suffer from the problematic predicament of writing a review for a movie I saw three days ago. Hopefully no brain cells crucial to the memory of this film have died in the interim. Though given that memories are strongest when attached to strong emotional reactions to things my feelings regarding this little piece of cinema are somewhat absent...

This was not a film that came out in mainstream cinemas in New Zealand, and by mainstream I do mean the ones that I happen to work at. I've seen it sitting on the new release stand at my local DVD store for several months now and have wanted to get it out soley because it has Ryan Reynolds on the front cover, looking bewildered. No I'm not a man with a secret girl on the inside harboring an abominable crush on the Reynolds Burger but I do think the guy is seriously funny and after gorging on the Two Guys and a Girl sitcom, watching one episode after the other in a home made marathon of welcome convivialness, who could blame me?

That's most likely why I was vexed by disillusionment after forcing myself to stay awake throughout this film that promised laughs but delivered melodrama disguised as humour.

Reynolds plays Frank Allan, a bloke obsessed with ordering his life by making lists. Everyday his life is meticulously planned out by lists he sets to cue cards, time taken seriously into account. He appears to have a good marriage with a particularly strong bond with his 7 year old daughter, except his wife is a bit more loose and carefree with her time management and you can sense the strain this difference places on the couple. So on the morning of his lecture in New York (?) on, you guessed it, time management, she sets the clock back ten minutes in an attempt to give him more time, only the silly thing is she was meant to set it forward and the whole thing backfires, causing him to miss the fairy and therefore show late to his time managing seminar where a fan, the girl who plays Elliot in Scrubs, tries to seduce him by getting him drunk and tricking him into letting her into his hotel room. But don't worry it doesn't get too seedy. Staunchly faithful to his wife he refuses to go to cheatsville and flees the scene in good Josepherian fashion... but as he evacuates the hotel the evil temptress is left behind to answer the phone when his wife rings. Things go from bad to badder while his flight home throws him in the way of another frenzied vehicle driven by a lady suffering from extreme Labour. He rushes her to the hospital and ends up filling out the strangers hospital forms using his own address...

Gimmicky isn't it?

So now he has an angry wife who not only thinks he's been having extra marital sensations, but when the hospital calls his home after the patient goes missing and reveals he was an accomplice to bringing a baby into the world, she takes her husband for a bigamist!

Everything before this sentence hints at a recipe brewed for something similar to a Something About Mary style treat but alas it curdles into an orange juice mixed with milk concoction. Frank (why are so many characters called Frank anyway?) goes to the Doctor to prove the impossibility of his paternity to this random baby only to uncover he had two "X" chromosomes. In my naivety and hope for a laugh I thought this was the part in the film where he would discover he was in fact a Miss but double alas, it meant only that not only was he not the babies father but he was completely sterile, thus rendering undeniable doubt on his relationship to the girl he has called his daughter for the past 7 years.

This once ordered, meticulous and concise man sinks into a whirl pool that takes the rest of the movie down the drain as he embraces chaos rather than harmony. His lists become "options" shuffled about and randomly selected as he tries to cope with the shattered illusion of his life and hypocritical wife.

This should have been funny. But it wasn't. The scene where he goes to a second time management lecture and tells his audience to embrace whim while he chugs on a cigarette should have been funny, but it wasn't. the bit where he pulls a card out at random at a hockey game which sees him streaking across the ice should have been funny, but it wasn't.

It got a tad sad really.

The moral of the story was satisfying though. The story embraced the truth that Love is not a feeling, it is essentially an act of the will, which Frank demonstrates through loving his daughter no matter whose she turned out to be. And that sat well with me... its just a shame the rest of the flick slid off my lap. At least I had some knitting to do at the time!

In the unlikely event that you caught the old John Cleese film "Clockwise" you will notice that the first half of Chaos Theory seems to resemble its nose and ears, but the rest of the face is unrecognisable. Clockwise was a better movie, why? Because it WAS funny.

For those with sensitive ears there is a bit of swearing throughout the film and a couple of sex related scenes that hint more than they show... so I grant this film a 2 out of 10 for the simple fact that that is $7 of DVD hireage I will never see again.

Bending over backwards - a little look at Christians and Yoga

2009-08-08T08:01:00.000-07:00

I was flicking through facebook a few weeks back and I saw that a dear Christian friend of mine had written in her status bar that she was tending yoga classes.

Like a man who wanted to swat a fly that lingered too long on his face I wanted to scream a loud, "What on earth do you think you are doing?" to my spiritual sister but I think wisdom held my tongue, and by wisdom I mean the Lord told me not to bite just yet...

I prayed about it and never brought it up with my said friend.

Tonight as I sat down to write a quick film review I saw that this person had written to me and specifically asked what my views were on a Christians doing Yoga, specifically Bikrim Yoga.

I must explain that when I was a child I was brought up on a diet of all sorts of prejudices from don't play with Cabbage Patch kids to not being aloud to watch the episode of Quantum Leap where Dr Samuel Beckett wore a dress. So there was a lot of craziness... you know the old joke, "Why don't Baptists believe in sex before marriage? Because it may lead to dancing"... somehow this fits, even though I wasn't exclusively Baptist.

Most of my feelings about yoga and anything New Age have their roots in a video which I must have watched a hundred times by the time I was growing my first whiskers. I dismissed it largely as a young adult but watched the entire Documentary - Gods of the New Age only recently and I was struck by how relevant and true it was. I highly recommend it.

My official position is that anything with New Age roots is detrimental to a Christian. Even if on the outside it wears the cloak of "Fitness" and "Well being".

This is a difficult thing though because if it is just physical exercise then how could the Devil own the copyright for a particular gesture or movement? I don't know the answer to that one. My best friend who has done Karate for over 20 years and can leap over cars is one of the finest examples of the Christian faith that I know. I've discerned that he is filled with the Holy Spirit, he has no spiritual baggage so to speak. But he is a guy who through years of experience understands all that is wrong with the practice and recognises the idolatry and so does not partake in those aspects of the craft. My question of a Christian dabbling in yoga would be do you know enough to know the philosophical/pseudo spiritual background behind the particular exercise you are doing?

I'm going to make this difficult for you because I am not going to say out right "No, don't do it." I can only say that I wouldn't do it because I personally believe it is like a "gateway" drug and can lead you into spiritual bondage. But if you asked me why, I would have to say its because of my up bringing and my conscience won't let me go there. I'm not sure if I have a gift of discernment as such but I do sense deep within me that something isn't right there and if the person who has asked me this question really felt the need to ask then maybe, just maybe they are feeling a little twinge of concern that just might be the Holy Spirit ringing alarm bells inside them and telling them to get out?

I can say that when one is Born Again one of the things that happens is that the Holy Spirit does take up residence inside us and gently guides us to mould us into the likeness of Jesus Christ:

Romans 8:29
"For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son..."

While we may not get there in this life time it is what we will eventually become. Now the question is would Jesus do yoga? The gospels speak of Jesus spending his free time in prayer and communing with God, not contorting his body and twisting his limbs for his well being. Yes it is a weak argument but it is one I hope you will answer for yourself.

If you are doing Yoga for spiritual purposes and are a Christian then I would seriously criticize your brain space. Yoga does, no matter what you want to believe, have occultic origins and was originally practiced mainly by those who were into the occult before it became widely accepted in the west. Secondly the only way to grow spiritually as a Christian is by spending time with the Lord through prayer and devotion to his word - anything else is just religion i.e. man made bull rubbish! When you begin to incorporate man made things into your faith you are on the road to idolatry so far as I am concerned.

If you are doing it for physical "health" purposes then I would have to ask this, have you gone into a quiet room and just said, "Lord, should I be doing this?" If you're still not sure then seriously go talk to someone who you consider to have the gift of discernment, who also has experience in spiritual warfare and take them seriously. Finally if you are finding it is causing internal conflict then recognise this could be evidence of a spiritual battle taking place inside you, in which case taking a "If in doubt, chuck it out" stance would be the wisest course of action.

So far as health is concerned I know the Lord intended for us to exercise and eat well but when Jesus died on the cross he took up our infirmities and carried our diseases (Matt 8:17). Also, "By his stripes we are healed." (1 Peter 2:24) If you are getting into Yoga for "healing" then aren't you denying what Christ has already done for you? Also why not just go for a run? At least you can say outside the shadow of a doubt that running was not invented by Satan Worshippers or devotees of Khali...

The last consideration is what I was touching on earlier. When you accept Christ as your Lord and Savior then you, yes YOU, become the temple of the Holy Spirit:

1 Corinthians 6:19
"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own"

Don't do anything that would desecrate that temple. So with that knowledge, would you really want to do anything that had occultic origins knowing full well that you are dragging the Holy Spirit along with you? Also, regarding Bikrim Yoga I saw in Wikipedia that there "are a number of possible dangers associated with performing Bikram and other forms of 'Hot' Yoga. All exercise should be approached with caution and even a doctor's advice..." so again, with that in mind, do you want to jeopardise the temple of the Holy Spirit?

It just doesn't feel right to me, but at the end of the day its up to you to pray about it and ask the Lord for guidance for Jesus promises that, "...the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you..." John 14:26

The Random Fish and Chips Dude is a Sparrow's Fart

2009-08-08T01:11:00.000-07:00

I was thinking tonight as I let go of a few meals long forgotten in the porcelain portal we call "The Bathroom" that the time we spend "on the loo" should not be time wasted. Rather it should be embraced as an opportunity of endless potential.

I say "endless" but over the next... however long it takes... I've decided to come up with one hundred wholesome things you can do on the loo that will enhance your life and guarantee you unlimited happiness for at least 11 minutes at a time.

Here goes.

Things to do on the Loo Number One:

Learn to knit. In recent months I have learned the joys of knitting. Traditionally a sport for the female of the species I have discovered it to be complicated and intellectually stimulating, and have therefore concluded that a man must have invented it. After a while men became bored of this complicated and somewhat unnecessary procedure and opted for the easier method of killing something and wrapping its skin around himself for warmth while the females discovered that they could validate all the time they sat at home talking by saying, "But we were knitting something dear..." Of course this is completely sexist and has subsequently been removed from all history books in an effort to maintain social order and respect between the genders. In the meantime, I, a man no less, have discovered the lost art of making scarfs to wear around ones neck to protect it from the cold and/or flying scissors. But be warned, it is a time consuming craft and one has to fight to find the time to do such a thing. After all, girls can knit to their hearts content and still know whose dating who on their favourite soup opera while having a deep and meaningful conversation with Suzanne about nappies and chocolate. Men tried this centuries ago and ended up stabbing each other with needles in the neck, hence the scarf was invented. But I lean far to far from the point. Men need to be alone and out of ear shot so we can concentrate on the delicate manoeuvrings of weaving wool from one stick to another. And what better place to do it than on the lavatory. It has everything you need from a comfortable seat to the sweet silence of your feet on cold linoleum. One word of warning though, if you are knitting a scarf be careful not to let the end you've been knitting fall into the bowl, you may need to wash it afterwards, so save yourself the hassle and let it fall gently elswhere. Eventually you will acquire the skill to be able to knit your own toilet tissue and utilize it as you go. However it might pay to ask family members or other occupants if they intended on using the bathroom in the next 3 days before you attempt this as it may take you a while. If however you are a rich sod who has two bath rooms, then go for gold.

So if you're a regular on my exciting site www.kerinthians.blogspot.com and have been wondering where on earth I've been this week I can honestly tell you that I was not knitting toilet paper whilst trapped in the bathroom. Actually we had a small computer crisis and I lost Internet access for several days. At first I thought this would be worse than serenading Brian Adams "You know it true, everything I do, I do it for you" to a room full of New Labour MP's but it turned out to be only half as bad as I suddenly found I had a life outside of the World Wide Web. I remembered that I had legs all of a sudden and I could do things like kick the dog and stub my toe on door frames and it felt so wonderfully bad. Ok so I don't kick my dog but I did kick my little toe and it sent me into a fit of agonising philosophical questions about why the one thing more painful for a man than the obvious is when your little toe meets the corner of your bed post, a set of draws or the frame of a door... I would remove the thing if I wasn't so attached to it. Anyway, I realised I needed the net before I didn't have any toes left and also so I could ignore my dog licking his lips at the thought of my lying in a tasty bloody mess on the floor. Do dogs even have lips?

But I'm back on line. So there.

Then there was this cool Lego toy I saw today in a toy hire place. I saw the box set with "Indianna Jones" splayed across the packaging. I thought it was going to be something cool like a tomb or a grave or something Indiana Jonesish but what I saw was something way cooler - it was the "Indiana Jones and the bit in Raiders of the Lost Ark where the shirtless German guy gets his face sliced off by the aeroplane propellers" set. Seriously, it came complete with plastic pilot, a little two fingered Indy and a half naked bald German, except he still had his face. If my site ever actually starts making some money I have vowed to purchase that timeless toy so I can reenact the face grating scene again and again and again. I might even run over Indy just to alter the time line and prevent the Crystal Skull addition from ever seeing the light of day. In fact, if they could find a way to personify the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull into a small plastic Lego figurine then I could have it meet with aeroplane blades repeatedly. It would be the next biggest YouTube thing....

Speaking of YouTube, this is my video of the week. Its an ad for the coolest toy ever made (after the "Indiana Jones and the bit in Raiders of the Lost Ark where the shirtless German guy gets his face sliced off by the aeroplane propellers" set that is). I have no words for this except "Wow" and "I want one" and please support my site so I can actually make enough money to buy one of these!

Did I mention I really want one of these?

So in the week gone by I wrote hardly anything due to our Internet scandal. But I did write a weird piece on Dolphins and dish washing liquid and an invigorating review on the new Sam Raimi movie Drag me to Hell which I'm sure you will find delightfully controversial.

Hopefully after reading this you will be filled with inspiration and think something to the effect of, "Gee, I really like this blog site, I think I'm going to do one of the following!

1.Add me on facebook for updates
2.Add me on Twitter for updates
3.Favourite www.kerinthians.blogspot.com
4.Become a follower on www.kerinthians.blogspot.com
5.If you like any of my reviews or blogs then please forward the link to your chums
6.Email me at kerinthians@gmail.com with questions so I don’t run out of material
7.Email me your favourite self saucing pudding recipe because they’re my favourite...
If you don't feel inspired and you couldn't care less then do it anyway just because I said so, sound like a plan to you?

Excellent

K

Dragging "Drag Me to Hell" to Hell

2009-08-07T07:32:00.000-07:00

Well, Hell is a four letter word that seems to raise the room temperature whenever it is mentioned in this day and age, especially if the person mentioning it believes in it. If your seat is getting warm and your forehead turning crimson then that is because you are reading a film review about a movie about Hell by someone who actually believes that such a place exists. However, I suspect the real Hell is not quite what Sam Raimi had in mind when he made this film.

In this movie Chirstine, a lovely sweet "girl next door" type, is busting her guts battering her eye lids and flexing her dimpled smile as a loans officer, desperate for an Assistant Manager's position at the bank she works for. However her boss implies that she doesn't have what it takes to make the tough calls such a job demands. Its at this point that a decrepit false-toothed, creased and crinkly elderly woman comes in with a request for her third mortgage extension. Desperate to prove herself ruthless Christine denies the old hag her pleas and calls security when the strange geriatric begs for mercy on her mother's grave. Satisfied that she has won her bosses approval Christine leaves at the end of the day only to be attacked by a more frightening and super human version of the crazed Gypsy (as it turns out) in the parking lot, who after a terrific scene involving the scariest Hanky I have ever witnessed in a movie and Christine defending herself with a stapler, manages to secure a button from Christine's coat. She breathes a curse on the button and leaves Christine with a head ache and a dose of paranoia which soon turns to hysteria as she discovers the curse is one that will take the owner of the button to Hell for all eternity after only 3 days.

Anyone who has seen the Evil Dead trilogy will recognise instantly the same horror style that borders on the humorous while still managing to get a few jumps out of you. From an anvil landing on an apparitions head causing its eyes to pop out like corks and splatter Christine in the face to the same apparition spewing maggots and worms all over Christine's face and into her open mouth one can't help but to cringe and chuckle all at once. Or maybe that was just me. Actually my favourite scene in this whole film was when Christine, usually an animal rights loving vegan, wanders through her house with a carving knife saying, "Here kitty kitty!" so she can appease her grim reaper with a blood sacrifice...

Oh dear...

As far as Horror Movies go I thought it was very well made and I haven't seen anything quite like it for a very long time.

Now for the fun part - was it true?

No.

I have realised recently that modern Christianity in the West has embraced a sort of "Don't mention Hell" position. Maybe it's because modern psychology has relegated the idea of sin and "guilt" to clever little euphemisms and has reasoned them away. Our materialistic world view might not incorporate an after-life, but if it does then that after-life consists of a light at the end of the tunnel and a god who resembles Santa Clause, an Angel with a harp eating candy floss or a Jesus who says, "Come unto me pretty much everyone no matter what you believe..." So Hell is not very popular, after all, most of us are good right, and why would a "loving" God send me into hell?

The Church has adopted a sort of Life Enhancing Gospel where the only reason someone should embrace Christ is because he will make your life super neat rather than the fact that not accepting him will severely damage your experience of the hereafter.

Because the Church don't talk about Hell anymore we have created a vacuum where the only way anyone can learn about this munted place is through the movies. Movies made by people who most likely don't believe in the place, or if they do have a pretty twisted idea of it.

So coming back to this movie, considering most people are aware on some level that Hell is a Christian belief, they will walk away from this movie thinking, "That just sucks. how could Christians believe in that stuff?"

Its sad really.

This movie challenged the idea that someone as sweet and "innocent" as Christine could go to such a place.

The biblical position is this, that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23) but the good news is that "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that who ever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life" (John 3:16).

I think people who don't understand Christianity have the whole thing round the wrong way. They think that we worship a God who is bent on sending naughty sinners to Hell when in fact the opposite is true, we worship God who is completely dedicated to rescuing people from eternal damnation.

But wait, didn't God create it in the first place? Yes, of course - for the Devil. Jesus pointed out that the Everlasting Fire was prepared for the Devil and his angels. (Matt 25:40-42) So why would we go there?

Good question. The answer is simply that when Satan, the author of everything wrong in the world, is condemned then he will be taking his belongings with him. Unfortunately his belongings in this sense mean all those souls he managed to swindle out of a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.

In a nut shell, when Adam sinned, as well as dying spiritually, he gave up his right of rulership over planet earth and surrendered it to Satan. Everything in creation became the legal property of Lucifer, including mankind. That is why when the Devil is tempting Jesus on the mountain; showing him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor, he says, "All this I will give you!" (Matt 4:9) - because it was his to give! So the answer to the question, "If God is so great then why can't he just keep us from going to Hell?" Is that God is not a thief, stealing is outside of his character therefore he had to purchase us by sending his Son, Jesus Christ, to die on the cross to receive the punishment in our place. All one has to do is believe on him and we will have instant access into heaven, becoming God's possessions and no longer under the control of the Prince of Darkness.... trust me when I say that God has agents working round the clock, whether angels or bloggers like myself, trying to get that message to you loud and clear so that you don't have to go to that awful destination...

Its sad a lot of people have this idea that the Christian God stands on the edge of some sort of fire proof jetty, pegging lost souls at John Lennon or Adolph Hitler when the truth is that Christians worship Jesus who went to immeasurable lengths to suffer unimaginable pain, not just physically but dying spiritually when he literally became sin on the cross and bore every single evil and disgusting thing done by every human being who has ever lived from Cain to Charlie Manson - its too much to fathom what that must have been like, but believing in it will save your life and set thousands of angels into fits of joy! (Luke 15:10)

I wondered if Raimi's choice to call the Heroine "Christine" was a coincidence? There was a scene where she learns that if she gives the button, and therefore the curse, to someone else then she will be free from certain doom. Only when she sets out to give the button away she discoverers she can't do it because damning anyone to everlasting torment just didn't seem fair to her. In that sense she is like Christ, not willing that anyone should perish and taking the curse upon himself, but somehow, I'm not sure if that's what Director Sam had in mind. I felt he was having a stab at the idea that not even a greedy bank teller deserves such a fate.

Its sad too that when Christine seeks help she goes to psychics and not to a Church. Where Jesus is said to have cast out demons with a word, Christine becomes involved in all sorts of mumbo jumbo which ultimately makes things a whole lot worse.... after all, she chose the blood of her kitty cat to redeem her lost soul when the blood of Christ would have sufficed... but ok, if she figured that out then the movie wouldn't have lasted the 99 mins it did!

So as far as share film making and quality are concerned I would give this film a 7 out of 10 but for doctrinal value or theological accuracy I think something less than a zero would fit nicely...

Canned Dolphin

2009-08-03T07:09:00.000-07:00

I was meant to be writing a review about Drag Me to Hell but I’m just so tired I feel like my head might end up doing the typing and my blog will end up looking something like this:

EW” fE’p ;sea;’OJ AGS ‘ OIJ wpio ma erepo iu ‘ LJ ge’ oij G’ JPOg ess

If I did that a million times a second for the next billion years then maybe, like the chimpanzees typing Hamlet, we would end up with the best blog ever written, but by then my key board, after being caked in blood, brains and skull fragments, might become part of my coffee table and finally part of the floor; thus adding to the miracle that anything was typed at all, let alone the even bigger miracle that there will still be Microsoft software in a billion years. If it did work no one would notice, because they would all be at the theatre – watching Hamlet performed by Chimps. People always go for monkeys despite the greater things in the world. Imagine how many people today drink tea just because they saw a PG Tips ad and decided that from that day forth they would only drink tea during piano removal? It makes one wonder.

So I had a day off and spent a good portion of it sleeping in my car, thankfully while parked. I cleaned so many dishes that the Queen herself should knight me Sir Kerin of the Kitchen Sponge. But before I did that I went and bought some dish washing liquid, because without it those dishes weren’t going to let me anywhere near them. They only like to be prodded with a bristled brush as long as they’ve been soaped up good, then I can do what I want with them which usually involves drying them with a towel and locking them in a dark cupboard until the next time I feel like throwing food at them and we repeat the process all over again. What a miserable life being eaten from and scraped at and locked away... it amazes me that people will get upset over caged chickens but won’t give a second thought to their own dinner plates. At least the chickens get fed.

I suppose a dinner plate is dead... but how can a dead thing give me so much joy?

I’m so tired.

Anyway, I went to get us some dish washing liquid and remembered that I had heard on 104.5 or is it 105.4? I can never remember which, but it’s the station that plays all that old fuddy duddy stuff that when you listen to it really carefully you realized that the song writers in the olden days actually wrote songs that meant something... anyway, I was probably listening to Cliff Richard or Kenny Rogers or some other tragic geriatric when suddenly I heard an ad about this dish washing liquid that saves dolphins, its called Down to Earth, which is a good name for something that likes to get its slippery hands dirty... but yeah its designed to save the Maui Dolphin, a very rare breed found here in the good U.S. of Zealand... so rare in fact that the population is in the hundreds... sad really when you consider that Dolphins are the only other animal that does the procreation tango for fun, I guess they’re not watching enough Dr Phil, or maybe the problem is they are – since becoming a Dad I’ve seen enough of Dr Phil and Pope Oprah to make me want to decrease the human population to a few hundred starting with the two of them...

... but I go off the point I do...

So there’s this dish washing liquid that saves Dolphins somehow and I bought some to do my bit. I leaped into the cold New Zealand Sea and searched high and low for a Maui Dolphin and said, “Here bro, I bought you some dish washing liquid!” Then, reasoning that plastic was bad for the poor blighter, who also didn’t have hands to squeeze the bottle with, I emptied the contents into the ocean...

I was expecting a moment like in that movie Cacoon where the friendly mammal would applaud me with thankful clicks and Dolph-Angelic squeals and squeaks, or maybe it would start glowing like the sun, shed its skin and reveal its real immortal self in a shining moment of redemption as it received the magic dish washing liquid that could save its race from extinction forever. Instead, it convulsed and twitched a little, turned upside down and floated to the surface. I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching and because I believe in recycling I snuck it ashore knowing that while it may be the fish that John West rejects that makes John West the best; its also the fish that I get to take home for free.

What I learned from this encounter was that you can’t save a Dolphin with dish washing liquid but you can save it with money which is what Down to Earth promise to do if you buy their liquid. I don’t usually go for all this Save the Earth, Green is Good, Hippie, Church of Oprah and the false prophet Al Gore talk; but I like Dolphins so I just thought I would mention it.

This is clearly just fuller material which was supposed to allow me an early night but I realise in the time it took me to come up with something that resembles the rambling of a stoned Dolphin trying to type Shakespeare’s Hamlet while drowning a monkey; I could have just written that stupid review in the first place!

I’ll do it tomorrow! I promise.

DISCLAIMER: I didn’t really kill a dolphin; if I did it would be more exciting, involving a four wheel drive and a coffee mug. Dolphins are cool, without them we wouldn’t have the famous line “So long and thanks for all the fish” that Douglas Adams left us in his unforgettable series Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Neither would we have tuna labels that say “No Dolphins were harmed in the production of this can or its contents”. Without Dolphins we wouldn’t know that it is possible to kill a shark with your nose. You should try it sometime, it’s really neat. Without Dolphins Australia’s Sea World would run out of money and an entire generation of children wouldn’t know the theme song to “Flipper”. I can’t imagine what it would be like to live in that kind of world.

Anyway, if you hated this blog then I apologise for the irreverence and irrelevance. It was just all in good fun albeit bad taste. If you have taken me seriously then I suggest seeking counselling.

Reader's Response

2009-08-03T06:54:00.000-07:00

The below is a recent response from one of my faithful readers... used with permission I might add!

I thought it was an insiteful insite worth sharing... espcially the bit where he says "Another great blog you posted"...

I guess I'm sharing this because I would like to remind you all of the scary state of affairs we are finding ourselves in if we allow complacency to keep our mouths shut, especially around voting time. Political Correctness must be captured, tortured, hung, drawn and quartered - it is an ethical system based on arbitrary human values, depending on what is popular at the time rather than on absolutes.

I was thinking today taht it would be neat to get a large island and chuck a whole bunch of everyone on it. Say a few thousand/million people from every culture and religion in the world and force them to all pretend they're all the same and then sit back and see what happens. It would be a primo experiment... oh wait, its happening in England right now! I forgot.

How do,

Another great blog you've posted, good work.

You hit the nail on the head with your verdict on the Religious Equality Bill. As with everything New Labour, it's all about 'positive discrimination', the cornerstone of political correctness.

Nordic countries demonstrate what *true* equality is, by treating everyone the same-- the concept of Jante Law. However in the world of New Labour's equality, Orwell's principle applies-- some people are more equal than others.

Religion is a good example of this. Labour seem to pander tirelessly to Muslims: One example is letting Muslim extremists preach their hate, yet other demonstrations can expect heavy-handed treatment from the authorities.

Labour has seriously considered allowing Sharia Law to hold sway for Muslim communities. Then there are stories about some authorities (controlled by Labour or the oxymoronicall-named Liberal Democrats) banning the promotion of Christmas in some workplaces (prefer "Winterval"), in case it "offends other religions"-- you often hear similar stories with that excuse given.

I have nothing against Muslims or other religions, as long as they don't try to impose their views on other people. The UK is predominantly Christian country still, with Christian festivals; Muslim fundamentalists should get that, or bugger off to Saudi Arabia [wink]. Hindus and Christians in the UK celebrate Christmas and Divali respectively after all.

As I say, Labour does not exactly discourage Muslim extremists-- it's un-PC to speak out against them you see. It's clear Labour are trying get life-time supporters, by pandering to Muslim radicals-- one of the few sections of society who still like Labour.

Sadly the other two main parties are not much better, with the Conservatives aping Blair and the Liberal Democrats being achingly right-on.

Then the main parties wonder why people start voting BNP. By the way, I'm not condoning the BNP-- they are neo-facists-- sadly clever at hiding it these days.

I'll be voting UKIP from now on, because 1) They believe in proper equality 2) They are libertarian and promote choice 3) They believe in common-sense and pragmatism, not loony ideologies.

Laters,

David (surname protected)

*Thanks David, I always enjoy your Fonz style coolness!

Stuff about Things and All that Jazz or this week in 2009...

2009-08-01T08:15:00.000-07:00

Well, my I’m busting so I’m going to use the fact that my bladder may explode as a good insentive to write this down as quickly as possible...

You may remember that on a dark stormy night of great gusts of wind my poor dog’s house was picked up and carried far far away... well, wherever “far away” is it is still there without even a letter or a phone call to say when it is coming back. In fact I think it might have run off with another Dog Kennel and eloped. I’m kind of hoping it will be like one of those tricks where someone steals a garden gnome and takes pictures of it all around the world until it returns with a tan and sunglasses. It would be nice to have some photographs of Hagrid’s little home classing up the Eiffel tower or next to the Loch or even providing shelter for poor starving Australian who couldn’t get the first home owners grant because their really a kiwi in denial... sorry that would have gone over quite a few of your heads, much like my canine’s kennel did during last weeks squall that rendered him homeless.. oh well, I suppose it could have been much worse, I could have opened the paper up on Monday to discover that there had been a fatal collision of a car with a kennel going above the limit without a driver no less... even worse, it could have had my name plastered on the side. Let’s just forget the whole thing shall we?

Good.

This week my gorgeous little girl got even gorgeouser now that she sleeps through the entire night... well, to me she does, my wife tells me she still gets up when its still dark for some mommy milk but its still better than where we were at this time last week when the lack of sleep was turning me into Herman Munster and the thought of sleeping in the dog house seemed like a valid option until it blew away... (I said that’s enough, stop bringing it up, you’re going to get us into trouble!) But this fatherhood thing is sweetly awesome and I recommend it to everyone - go forth, marry and multiply I say... just make sure you get your own because I’m keeping mine!

This week on Kerinthian’s I wrote a naughty article, that lots of people will hate because they probably won’t get it, about False Equality. I wrote from my Christian perspective that current laws proposed in the UK about “Equality in religion” are really just a clever little way of getting rid of “religions” the state don’t agree with, namely my own! So you could say I felt like a bit of a rebel tonight when I posted it, knowing it will be banned in China, San Francisco and Gordon Brown’s toilet magazine rack.

I reviewed a yummy place called O’Sarracino where my tastebuds picked up pens and started writing their praises on my tongue until I had to spit them out into a blog. I pity anyone who is overseas who reads that one, because unless you’re prepared to get on a plane and splash down in wet miserable Auckland, New Zealand then you will never know what its like to eat a meal that would leave your mouth thinking, “I can finally die, nothing could possibly be better than this...” Oh well, your loss...

I saw a movie called Phantasm which proved to be a cure for awakeness. I recommend it to anyone who has trouble with not laughing during a horror flick. This one was so hilarious that it broke my funny bone and left it in a plaster cast along with my sarcasm and boredom.

I also wrote about Little Miss Sunshine, a movie about a chubby little girl with hoola hoop glasses who travels across state to a beauty pageant with the family from Hades. Very entertaining and wonderfully depressing.

And then there was a movie called Mad Money which was fun to do as long as you had several other people in the room to talk to when you got bored.

My goodness, I saw three movies this week... and I have a baby... how on earth did I manage that? I’ll have to check with my wife. Mind you, as I write this at 3 a.m. I have to wonder if I’m sleep talking with my fingers?

Keep an eye on my site next week as I drag “Drag me to Hell” to Hell and leave it there and I attempt to talk about the classic Marathon Man which I’m going to watch only because it has Dustin Hoffman in it and that guy from Jaws who says, “Smile you son of a... KABOOOM, sharks guts everywhere....” best scene in any Spielberg movie ever!

I hope you folk are enjoying my meteoric return to the blog world, though I wish they called it “bogging” because I could get a lot of material out of that... but please show your support by doing one of, if not all of, the following thingies...

1.Add me on facebook for updates
2.Add me on Twitter for updates
3.Favourite www.kerinthians.blogspot.com
4.Become a follower on www.kerinthians.blogspot.com
5.If you like any of my reviews or blogs then please forward the link to your chums
6.Email me at kerinthians@gmail.com with questions so I don’t run out of material
7.Email me your favourite self saucing pudding recipe because they’re my favourite...

Finally if you should come across any article or review or whatever on my site that you might like to publish in a publication, whether it be for school, church or golfing quarterly, I don’t mind as long as you mention my site, acknowledge me as the author and let me know about it first!

And there it goes, the rooster just crowed or whatever it is that roosters do... I have Church in 6 hours... better dash daringly into what is left of the night...

Cheerio!

K

P.S. Does anyone have any questions?

In Search of True Equality – an article about an article...

2009-08-01T07:19:00.000-07:00

Last night I read “Whatever Happened to ‘sin’: A response to the UK Equality Bill” by Russel Grigg and I learned about a potentially disastrous thing that is going down in old mother England – the introduction of the so called Equality Bill.

Now it’s called the Equality Bill but is really a euphemism for the Shut Down Fundamentalism Bill – which has nothing to do with true equality.

The Bill says that ‘administrative posts [in religious organisations] should be open to all people regardless of their religion or belief’ and even suggests the same for sexuality.

This is preposterous.

On the outside this may appear to be about “equal rights” but that’s pure baloney. It just means one minority group gets better treatment over another because it doesn’t work both ways! While there may be members of another religion or sexual preference who might desire to be part of a Church organisation you won’t find many Bible believing Christians who would be proud to join the gay pride marching band in the next Sydney Mardi Gras!

What it does mean however is that if there is a Church organisation preaching a message contrary to a State prescribed view of the world all the authorities would need do is send in someone from another creed or wearing pink slippers to cry wolf and suddenly the state has legal grounds to shut that church or organisation down – and once again we will find ourselves in the position of the early church, hiding in catacombs and facing jail time for faith in Jesus...

I can’t speak for the other mono theists in the world but I can defend the Christian who will find their faith and practice suddenly infiltrated by all that is not “Christian” – how is that Equality?

A true Bill for Equality means that Christians can be Christians; Muslims can be Muslims and Jews can be Jews, and all the rest can do whatever the heck they want, within their practice – equally!

If you want a frilly little church where everyman and his dog can share a bed and a pulpit with every man and his dog, or a place of worship where every contradictory path to heaven can illogically lead to what can only be an ultra confusing god, where a Muslim can hate the Jew in the adjoining pew and both Buddhist and Atheist can not believe in God together then by all means, be my guest, go right ahead, I don’t care, just do me one small favour while I respect your choice to choose – keep your grubby little fingers out of my faith; where men can be men and don’t have to apologise for their masculinity! Where preaching the truth is not a sin and the pulpit is pure as long as it is plugged into the Word of God. Where I can walk down the straight and narrow to the real Heaven under the watchful eye of the logical God who paid for my soul with his very own blood. My faith, where people don’t have to be judged or punished because Christ suffered judgement and punishment in our place!

“Rubbish!” You might say, but hold on a gosh darn moment there, I have an equal right to believe that just as much as you have an equal right not to!

Equality is letting the man who believes in Heaven and Hell believe in it and if he wants to preach those things then equality is letting him do so because he’s not going to stop you from doing likewise no matter how ridiculous he thinks your ideas are!

Don’t you see that when the pro abortionist says, “Those Pro choice adverts should be banned!” then they have given up on true equality? When the pro homosexuality advocates start saying we can’t be anti gay (and I am talking about the act, not the person, please don’t jump down my throat over something I’m not saying here) then they too have crucified true equality! When ecumenical thinkers say us fundamentalists are a threat to society and should be silenced then true equality is truly dead!

Our idea of morality has become so arbitrary that we have become blind to the fact that forcing religious groups to be politically correct or falsely equal is robbing those groups of their right to actually exist!

Stop and think for a moment about this little notion...

What if I became ruler of the world and in my utopia decreed that every citizen in Kerinthastan were to intermarry. In other words, what if I forbade everyone from having children with a member of the same race! Imagine if I said, “Right you white chaps, you all have to breed with those yellow chicks and you black folk, you’re going to have to marry some white shelahs!”

What if I did that for generations (because in my dictatorship my head rules from a jar for all eternity, MMmmmmmwwaaaaahahahaha) until finally there were no whites, no blacks, no slanty eyes, no golly wogs, no red dotted foreheads or red heads for that matter, no all blacks, no wallabies or springboks – just a huge stinking boring single race. Hopefully you would all hate my guts and long to see me hung from my chest hairs under a galloping horse! I would essentially have robbed you of your right to fall in love with whoever you wanted to, your right to done a red dot or to prefer Indian curry over Thai!

Essentially this is what our Multiculturalist, Multi sexualist, multi god, multi ethical, and pathetically politically correct society is going to achieve! But it won’t work because the elephant in the room is that we are all stupendously different!

And everyone should have an equal right to remain different without being forced into an unnatural and unpalatable sameness!

This is particularly bad for Christianity because as I’ve said before (See Does Christianity Contribute to the Destruction of the Earth) Faith in Christ is not a Religion...

A religion is a bunch of stupid rules that will apparently lead you eventually to enlightenment, Nirvana, heaven, god, MacDonald’s or whatever, but NOT Christianity.

Christianity is God come down in the flesh to die on the Cross to take our place in the punishment that we deserved. A Christian is someone who believes on that fact for his salvation. Full stop. True equality is found only in the Kingdom of God for “there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him, 13for, everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." (Romans 10 :12) and “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” (Galations 3:28).

Anyway, I’ve clearly gone from one tangent to another and knitted a tirade of passionate pleas for you to hate me for but please don’t be fooled into thinking that this Bill is a good thing. It will eventually try to rob planet Earth of the Light of the World. It will try... thank God Christ is coming back soon!

O'Sarracino - The Day My Taste Buds Stood Still

2009-07-30T06:58:00.000-07:00

I found myself in a snazzy little restaurant the other night that I feel I need to shout to you all about – O’Sarracino on Mt Eden Road, Auckland.

In Star Trek one has to step onto a transporter to be teleported from one place to another; but on Eden Terrace to go to authentic Italy all one need do is step through the doors of this fine establishment!

The walls are decorated with the autographed serviettes of previous patrons, swearing their culinary pleasure and everlasting allegiance... one customer impressed enough to include her number! It seems the dance of the dinner plate left an impression on more than a few hearts before my own entered the building...

Our starters saw our party of five sharing the Antipasto del Saracino; a mixed platter of casatiello, Naples style vegetable and seafood. I hogged the seafood. I scoffed down the marinated baby octopus and tender squid like it was chocolate, it appears cephalopods have a similar affect on my brain’s endorphin reflex.

The waitresses kept a respectful distance while we picked at the entre plate; they must have known that by the time we were finished the finger trays, we would change our intended order. If they did, they were right. I had eaten enough of our 8 legged friends to go for the King Prawns and Snapper for my main. I was like a shark swimming in a cloud of delicious blood by the time my real meal landed on the table...

The King prawns on my rectangular platter like plate were as big as my feet and as thick as my big toe; but don’t let me lose you in the analogy, it was like eating royalty, and after one taste I threw myself into devouring the entire kingdom!

Some would think it a draw back that the Prawns came fully clothed, complete with vacant crispy eyes and insectoid legs, but I find there is something rewarding about tearing the limbs from the thing you are about to eat with a fork. I imagine its how a hunter must feel at the end of a long hunt as he eats his prey. I also enjoyed the challenge of stripping the super shrimps of their shells; it’s rather like having a Rubrics’ Cube to play with while you eat, the reward for success being truly delectable!

The snapper that kept the royal family company, bathed in cherry tomato sauce and speckled with capers and olive... mama mia... Normally fish makes the contents of my stomach panic and seek an emergency evacuation, but this snapper’s life was certainly not wasted on my taste buds, and I am greatful for the day it was yanked out of its natural habitat and gave up its life so that I could write about how good it was to eat!

Unfortunately I’m kicking myself for not remembering the name of the wine. If you could see me right now I really am kicking myself, I have bruises to prove it. But seriously it was like a sweet but welcome punch in the face. Upon splashing the tongue the appeal was charming as it kicks you with warmth and pleasant bitterness before filing itself away in the quiver of your liver. I loved it.

Desert - Passionfruit sorbet. Refreshing without that creamy mucusy “I’m about to burst” feeling ice-cream leaves you with after a humongous meal. If passion fruit seeds really did sprout in your stomach and lead to an early death by leaves in the veins – I still would have enjoyed it!

While we dined and forgot every meal we had ever eaten before that night, it was easy to notice that the building must have once upon a time been a church with arched doors to the manager’s office and lavatory, perhaps the food was blessed. I wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised if it were so!

I give this “ristorante” a 9 out of 10 for a stunning feast and another 9 for providing us with class while maintaining a family friendly atmosphere – we had our 7 week old daughter with us and the worst glance we received from the staff was a welcome smile as most of the waitresses had that “oh she’s so cute, I want one” glaze in their eyes!

I’m certainly eating there again... regrettably I’m not a cow and only have one stomach, so I’m emptying it now and preparing for next time....

To see the Menu for this yum factory visit their site www.osarracino.net

Phantasm Spasm

2009-07-29T18:31:00.000-07:00

In recent years I’ve gone off the Horror genre. On one hand it’s a spiritual thing, as a Christian I have a natural disposition against most horror films. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not like a “Thou shalt not watch Horror movies” thing... its more like a feeling in my gut when something doesn’t feel quite correct. Movies like the Exorcist or Hell Raiser with their occult themes seem fun on the outside but vex my spirit as if there is something else in the room tormenting me while I watch. It’s hard to explain to someone who has never been exposed to the idea that in Christ you are a new creation but that’s it in a nut shell really.

On the other hand I’m sick of the same old recipe, especially in slasher movies, that goes like this:

*Young couple or group alone camping or baby sitting.

*Nudity or sex scene in the first 20 minutes to seduce male audience.

*Everyone gets massacred, especially the naked people, bar one survivor.

*Introduce next couple or group who are somehow smarter than the first group because they survive long enough to justify the next 70 minutes of fake blood and rubbish.

* Just as everyone thinks bad guy/thing is dead, bring him/it back for one more “fright”

* Leave massive opening for lame sequel with equally lame cast.

The truth is that the best and most terrifying horror flicks came out of the 70’s and 80’s when the monsters were so paper mache and terrifyingly fake that you had to rely on the actors actually acting to carry the scene; and if they failed at pulling it off, at least you could laugh at how bad it was. These days the proliferation of CGI, showing too much of the thing or whatever it is that’s supposed to be scary, using young hot teenage pin ups as the cast and the same old formula has ruined the franchise. So much so that now there is a disturbing trend in horror films to go well beyond the pale in films like Hostel or the remake of Halloween which incorporate gratuitous sexual escapades before (or sometimes during) the carnage; because nothing else seems to shock audiences anymore!

But having said that, I still enjoy various horror atrocities, especially Zombie flicks and have realized the more stupid a Horror movie is, the less evil.

And Phantasm was stupidly stupid.

Most of the actors were ugly, and given that modern day movie makers don’t understand the value of putting normal looking folk in their movies, this means a lot. By ugly I mean the main kid, Michael, reminded me of that kid from Malcolm in the Middle, except with lots of denim and a hair cut like the early Farra Fawcett’s. His older bro Jody feared no better with his boofy locks and finally, just for some balance, they run around with their bald chum, rockstar wanna be, Reggie who drives an ice cream truck for a living...

But before I complain about what an intellectual taunt this haunt was I suppose I should tell you what I think it was about. Jodie returns to his hometown for the funeral of a mutual friend of his and Reggies. We are introduced to the large white funeral home located on the cemetery where strange things are goin down. Namely the undertaker, a mysterious fellow simply known as The Tall Man, is stealing bodies from the grave yard and resurrecting them as bizarre midget minions. Michael seems to be the only one with any clue of fishiness until one night, during a scooby doo style investigation he is chased by a silver blade swinging ball through the long white corridors. Then in a desperate bid to escape he cuts off the fingers of The Tall Man after jamming them in the cellar door. He takes one of the fingers home to show his bro, where it mutates into a furry gremlin like thing, which he and Jody just barely manage to stuff down the insinkerator before it can do any damage. So now there’s nothing to it but to get some guns, go to the funeral home and take them all down. Makes a lot of sense.

Apart from bad cuts between scenes that leave you disoriented and wondering if maybe you missed something this film was more funny than scary. Especially considering the Tall Man’s slave army looked more like Jawas and seemed to suggest R2D2 was hiding round the corner, even more so when The Tall Man turns out to be an alien whose motive for being here doesn’t go much further than making a Jawa army from stiffs. Why not just let him take them, after all it is appointed unto man once to die... (Hebrews 9:27)

The story unfortunately breaks one of the golden rules of story telling, and that is never, under any circumstances, end a tale with “... and I woke up and discovered, it was all just a dream.” In fact I wondered if it was all just a dream myself after falling asleep several time over the three nights it took me to watch it on Youtube... and on that note, don’t try to watch it on You tube, there was a whole ten minutes of the film missing which didn’t seem to matter anyway because the editing was that dire, but then again who knows, maybe R2D2 did made his cameo in that ten minutes while the Tall Man explained that it was all because of a bad relationship with his mother that he started the whole grave robbing thing in the first place. Then they can all probably hug and live happily ever after in that other dimension where Jawas run free and bald men in ice cream trucks become rock stars. After such a nauseating and confusing beginning the movie could have gone almost anywhere so I wouldn’t be surprised.

So on a scale of 1 to 10, Total twaddle being 10, I would give this movie an 8 and for a quick way to end a sleepless night I would give it another 8, recommending that you view this before even considering a sleeping pill.

Little Miss Sunshine in the Shade

2009-07-27T06:33:00.000-07:00

On one hand this was a bright and refreshing movie. On the other, it was disturbing and had a cringe factor of 9.5 out of 10! If awkwardness had a liquid state then you would be soaking in it before the credits begin to roll... the annoying thing is, I can’t tell you why, not without spoiling the end for you entirely...

This is the movie that reminds most of us why we don’t entertain family gatherings all too often. It is the story of a dysfunctional, dissatisfied, distracted group of self absorbed individuals who are all unfortunately related. Greg Kinnear plays the Dad, a loser who just can’t admit it. In fact he is so big a loser that he has over compensated by developing a 9 step program to be a winner in life. He’s like Tony Robbins only he’s nothing like Tony Robbins at all. He spends half the movie hanging on the hinge of a book deal that never eventuates. Then there’s Tony Collette’s character, the mother, who is just trying to keep it together, doesn’t believe much in the 9 steps, unless by 9 steps you mean the procedures for serving take aways for dinner every night. Their son Dwayne, played by Paul Dano, is a Fredrich Nietzsche obsessed teenager who has taken a vow of silence until he fulfils his dream of becoming a pilot, Grand dad, Alan Arkin, who takes drugs because “At your age you’re crazy to take that (beep) but at my age you’re crazy not to!” Steve Carell lands on the scene as the uncle fresh out of the psychiatric ward for trying to kill himself and amidst this familial anarchy of people with the same blood boiling with hatred for one another there is Olive, performed by Abigail Breslin, a wonderful oddly shaped little ray of sunshine in the darkness abounding around her. She has a tummy shaped like a speed bump and glasses thick enough, and big enough, to build a fish tank out of.

As the family sit down to dinner on a Friday night, and remind each other of their loathing for life and one another over a nourishing meal of fried chicken we discover that Olive has made it through to the finals of the Little Miss Sunshine Beauty Pageant. The only problem is its on Sunday and not wanting to break the heart of this strange-to-look-at little girl the whole family are dragged into a road trip down the highway to hell with each other’s company as the flames and various devices of torment.

The film makers go to great lengths to make this family as dysfunctional as possible but with the ray of light that Olive casts on the garden of her family, seeds of hope begin to sprout through the manure of their personal dreads. During their travels each person faces a crisis, whether big or small, and they somehow manage to overcome as a family. Someone even dies and they still manage to pack him up in the boot and stop at nothing to get to the beauty pageant because “It’s what he would have wanted.”

Once at the beauty pageant we see Olive against the other entries of “normal” girls from “normal” families and we are confronted by the abnormality of it all. I don’t know much about child pageants but after seeing this film and the other contestants, who resembled happy faced, white toothed genetic mishaps, I have concluded that it is something I will keep my own daughter well away from! What we may have thought of as a normal well adjusted family in the beginning of the movie is twisted into something horrifically worrisome compared to this sweet little girl whose greatest personal success in the story is discovering that Miss California still eats ice cream.

I’m reminded of the words Jesus spoke to the Pharisees that a “... house divided against itself can not stand” (Luke 11:17). And this house stands to fall, at least until they get over themselves and start working together to see Olive’s dream come true. It’s an interesting parable of how in any group as long as the individual’s are just out for themselves and behave selfishly then that group can not function properly or civilly; but as soon as they zip up their selfish genes peace descends upon the family like a tidal wave of functionality and bliss.

Regrettably this is a hard movie to write about in the sense that if I even hint at what happens at the end then the whole house of cards will succumb to a catastrophe of blow torch proportions, but I can say this... in my years of experience sitting on my butt with my eyes wide open and my brain more or less switched off, I have come to learn that it is the end of a film that will either make it or destroy it, and this little gem has an ending that is unparalleled in a long history of endings – that let me tell you. It qualifies the entire movie and though disconcerting it redeems the entire family along with the 98 minutes of couch hugging you will need to endure it.

The language is not for the faint eared among you, the “F” word abounds and the initial hatred that spills from the families discontent lips can be depressing. There is also some moral ambiguity relating to themes of sexuality and who exactly goes to Heaven when they die, but if you can ignore all that then you’re in for a good ride...

I give this film an 8 out of 10 for offering something fresh to modern cinema!

Mad Money Madness

2009-07-25T05:06:00.000-07:00

The last Diane Keaton movie I saw was The Woman. It was like having my teeth pulled without an anaesthetic and by a butcher instead of a dentist. As I found myself settling down for an evening in front of the cable movie network with the in-laws to watch this film I was holding onto my teeth. But thankfully I was able to let go of them and eat my fish and chips without fear of the third worst thing after child birth – a bad chick flick.

This was far from it. A good script despite the excruciating cast. Actually Katie Holmes isn’t so bad, I’ve liked every film I’ve ever seen her in from Go to Pieces of April... its just the stigma of Dawson pulling one arm and Tom pulling the other throughout her career that makes me instantly go “Oh no, not Katie Holms...” But I mustn’t tar her before I feather her. I was after all devastated that she was replaced in Bat Man Dark Knight by that Gyllenhaal girl... Then there’s Queen Latifa... for a moment there I thought of her as the Woopie Goldberg for the Next Generation but she’s not bad either. Ted Dansen appears to have gone a bit Steve Martinish in this piece but he suited his role. Finally the only bad thing about Dian Keaton I could think of while I played with my wife’s hair (thus securing my place on the couch) was “Is she Michael Keaton’s wife?” – to which the answer was “No.”

This was not a film that made it to the New Zealand cinemas, or if it did it slipped silently past me as I slept in the projection booth. It left me wondering why head aches like Fast and the Furious 4, Stomp the Yard or Epic Movie make it to the masses while a well written film like this gets a slot on Sky Television where only those who can afford the movie package can afford to see it. Its either a conspiracy to dumb down the masses with movies written for teenagers or its the marketing people who sit in their sunny air conditioned offices, who haven’t got a clue what movie goers really want to see, who decide that people are too dumb to enjoy a good plot in this day and age... which is stupid because most of us have adapted to advanced technologies like ipods and Transformer toys... oh wait, most of those don’t even transform anymore... so I guess they really do think we’re stupid...

Anyway... Dianne K lady plays Bridget, a Wife who finds herself looking for a job after her husband is downsized. After searching and failing she finally goes to the only place she can, all the way down to a cleaning position in the Federal Reserve Bank. She gets to wear big green rubber gloves and touch gross things. But worse is the amount of cash she witnesses on a daily bases being chewed up and trashed in a system so air tight that no one has ever dreamed of rescuing the innocent cash from its untimely demise of mulching. That is until Bridget master minds a brilliant scheme to get the cash safely to her home and hidden in her underwear draw, among other places. All she needs is a lock from a hardware store and to enlist a ditzy head phone wearing girl, Katie, and a tough single mom who would do anything for her kids – Latifa the Queen of whatever, you go girlfriend... The women succeed in smuggling over $30,000 worth of doomed cash without the slightest possibility of being caught, and just when the wisest among us would quit such a scheme Diane AKA Bridget becomes a Mad Woman intent on dragging her friends, her husband, a Latifa smitten Security Guard and the ditzy girls ditzier boyfriend further into fake millionaire-hood . Things are going great until they start spending their unexplained income and before you know it the Banking Police are after them and the film hurtles toward the twisted end where it began in the first place.

I will admit that although this was a comedy I found myself laughing at all the bits I wasn’t supposed to. The funniest being when she hid rolls of cash in her grundy draw and I said, “Ew gross, I could never do that, not after so many people have handled them...” To which my witty brother in law said, “What, your underwear?” So I guess you could say it was an interactive film. But the thing that got me more than the jokes I didn’t laugh at was the fact it was a clever tale... so clever infact that I forgot it was a feminist Girls can do Anything flick, which includes robbing a bank and shopping in a hardware store for plumbing supplies, which I had to remind myself was TV magic at its best. But apart from that I don't think a man could drown in even an inch of the themes this movie preached...

So out of 10, I give this film a 5 for entertainment...

But an 8 out of ten for allowing me to hold down my greasy dinner.

This Week in 2009...

2009-07-24T07:51:00.000-07:00

Time for my weekly update on stuff and nonsense... and oh darn it its nearly 3 a.m!

I’ll make this quick...

This week I seriously stuffed up at work. It was horrible. I cost the company mega dollars worth of complimentary passes all because I left a teeny weenie little button pushed in on one of the projectors. I’ll spare you the details, but it meant over 160 people missed out on Harry Potter last Sunday night. I’ve been sweating over it since because it was such a stupid thing to do, but I guess I had been up until 4 in the a.m. the previous morning juggling a grizzle guts known as my baby girl who has been playing a game of “Hey mom and dad, I know you’re tired but I’m bored and haven’t learnt how to entertain myself yet so you’re going to have to do it....” and “Sleep? What’s sleep?”

This went on for nearly two weeks. You get to that point where your dream world begins to merge with your reality, where you’re so tired you wish you were the one wearing the nappies!

At last, after receiving three stabbingly awful vaccinations she seems to be sleeping soundly throughout most of the night now, so here I am at 2.20 a.m. writing this rubbish... Vaccinations are horrible things. Its bad enough knowing you’re allowing a total stranger to stab your flesh and blood in the leg with vials containing the actual disease you’re trying to prevent but the cries of pain, bewilderment and share terror coming from your bundle of otherwise joy is gut wrenching, and by gut wrenching I mean having an adjustable spanner thrust into your intestines and twisted around eleven times. Harder when you’re a dad with no food dispensers attached and the only thing you’re good for is bringing up a few burps...

So apart from putting my livelihood on the line and torturing my child the next most interesting thing that happened to me this week was something that didn’t happen to me at all, but rather to my dog who tragically lost his house when a gust of wind picked up his kennel in the middle of the night and sent it who knows where! I’ve looked all over our yard and it is seriously totally gone. I have images of it soaring down the road and sideswiping a cyclist as it went or saying hello to a pedestrian with a sudden thump to the head. So if you find in your tree a light brownish dome that sort of looks like a tent for an Umpa Lumpa, just pop me an email and I’ll come get it, not that my dog really cares, he hated the thing anyway.

So in weeks like these you find yourself needing a good laugh and I got just what I needed when my brother in law sent me this. You can always count on an Aussie to point out the obvious. Let’s hope some of our terrorist foes don’t take this ad too seriously because if they did they would discover that most of it is true...

Finally if you’re still trying to figure out who or what I am exactly then welcome to my world! But thanks to all who have visited my site in recent weeks! This is basically an archive for my thoughts that no longer fit inside my head. You will have noticed that I express some pretty solid Christian views in most of my articles, that’s because I am a Christian with a biblical viewpoint and well, you know what they say, stick to what you know!

Mostly this site is going to be film reviews because I’m a projectionist and on average see about 2 films a week... the only way I can justify such a meaningless pass time is by writing about it. At least then I can pretend I’m getting something out of it... oh yeah, apart from the fact I’m paid to do it...

If you like this stuff then by all means tell all your friends about this place or about my facebook which has more than enough room for a few more friends. That’s where I put my updates if you’re interested...

And now I’m really starting to nod off....

So before I go here is a link to something really stupid. I was doing one of those egotistical manoeuvres when you type your own name into google and I found my review for Transformers 2 on someone else’s blog site! Only they had totally changed the words around so much that I couldn’t understand myself more than usual. In fact if you’re like me and have never tripped on anything stronger than nicotine gum then try reading this, I imagine this is what the hard stuff feels like...

Hopelessly ripped off Transformers review!

Does anyone have any questions?

K

UP up and AWAY!!!

2009-07-24T07:03:00.000-07:00

“Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the grave, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.” - Ecclesiastes 9:10

In Toy Story Pixar taught us that when our backs are turned every toy comes to life. Every kid wants this to be true! I remember many times as a 10 year old quickly turning around to see if I could catch my GI Joes in the act of acting! In Cars, Pixar succeeded in making me, a guy unusual among men in his total lack of enthusiasm for the automobile, actually enjoy 90 mins of talking vehicles (even though it drove me nuts that they had no opposing digits, therefore I couldn’t figure out how they ever managed to build any of the towns they lived in, let alone the roads!) In The Incredibles we got a dose of reality; that if there really were super heroes then no one would appreciate them and also the idea that most heroes are just normal people who approve Insurance Claims for lovely old ladies. Then there was Wall-E, an enormously beautiful film which succeeded to turn a rusty Johnny Five like tin can into something honestly embraceable before you realized that no one had said much of anything during the first two thirds of the movie, it was a visual breakfast lunch and tea of delights...

...I’m just pulling a few random titles from the top of my head, forgetting to mention A Bugs Life, Finding Nemo, Toy Story Two and the list goes on! To date Pixar hasn’t failed to impress me with animations that I can only describe as family friendly, mostly inoffensive and pleasantly free of Hippie Green tones in their colourful (and unambiguous) morality behind every feature. In fact the only film of theirs I didn’t enjoy was Finding Nemo, and that was because it had Australians in it (just kidding), it was just a little boring and once I got severely car sick after eating fish and chips when I was a kid so anything with fish in it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Anyway, I’m rambling a bit too much here, but within reason. I want to stand with the Fiddler on the Roof and dance to a tune of “I love this movie!” Seriously. My experience with most Pixar films takes me back to when I was a teenager and I would be in a Mall, or School or the beach and I would see a pretty girl and then I couldn’t think of much else until a week later when I “fell in love” all over again with someone completely different. Without the hormonal overtones, that’s almost how I feel about Pixar Movies. Last year I would have told you that Wall-E was the most beautiful movie of its kind that I had ever seen, but after seeing Up my reaction has become “Wall-E who?”

Up is the story of Karl Fredrichson, at first a shy young boy who dreams of following in the footsteps of his Hero – the famous explorer Charles Muntz. Childhood games of make believe lead Karl to an abandoned and dilapidated building which has become the “club house” of Elle, an eccentric girl who loves to explore every bit as much as he does, and she talks a lot more than he does to. After the children’s instant attachment comes a montage of the next 60 or so years as they grow up, get married, buy the “club house” and spend the rest of their lives dreaming of the day they can just take off to Paradise Falls in South America (its just like America, only its South) but as the penny jar fills to fund their trip life throws its mishaps their way and their adventure moves further and further away from becoming a reality until Mr Fredrichson becomes a lonely old widower in a house that the rest of the world wishes wasn’t there. Evil developers have turned the surrounding neighbourhood into concrete and steel and in an effort to save his letter box Karl fends off a construction worker with his walking stick, drawing blood, leading to a court order for Mr Fredrichson to move into a retirement village. ..

Even though it sounds soapy so far I still managed to shed a tear or two, but my mate who was with me was as bored as a kid riding to Disney Land on the back of a snail. But then the magic happens. As the Rest home workers come to drag him away he releases hundreds of Helium filled balloons which lift his house from its foundations and carry him on the journey he’s longed for his whole life. But there’s a catch. Russel, a young Wilderness Explorer seeking his “assisting the elderly” badge, has hitched a ride on Mr Fredrichson’s balcony and the unlikely pair find themselves in an imaginative adventure that goes beyond what most of us dream after cheese and chocolate before going to sleep at night.

Karl lands his home on top of a canyon on the wrong side of paradise falls and makes it his mission to drag the floating home to the correct side even if it kills him. Along the way Karl and Russel meet a giant bird, a ton of talking dogs, the not so decrepit Charles Muntz and a whole lot of trouble!

I don’t want to spoil it. I only spoil the movies I don’t like, but important to this story is the back plot of Charles Muntz younger self leaving the civilized world in his Zepplin to capture the giant bird of Paradise falls, after scientists discredited his find of the birds remains he swears to never return until he has captured one alive...

The themes are just superb. This movie is about not taking your life for granted. We have two old guys at opposite extremes but both in danger of losing the same thing – the appreciation of what an adventure their lives have already been. Karl’s whole life flitters past him while he dreams of going south and he finds himself full of regret for not having adventured much past his own neighbourhood but he forgot the wonderful life and adventure he had with Elle before she passed away. On the other hand Muntz wastes his entire life pursuing a fantasy, a bird, never again to enjoy the company of people or the pleasantly mundane. In a memorable moment between Fredrichson and Russel the boy tells of a time long ago when he and his dad would sit on the curb eating ice-cream counting red and blue cars as they drive past. “I loved that curb,” he says, “I know it sounds boring, but I think the boring things are the things you remember the most.” Therein is the gentle reminder to all ages in the audience, make every minute count!

There is also the obvious theme of the way we treat our elderly. When the orderlies come to take Fredrichson away he tricks them by saying he wants to go inside to say one last good bye to his life long home. As soon as the door shuts one orderly says to the other “I bet he’s going to the bathroom for the 80th time today.” We see the absurdity of how our society condescends the aged, overlooking their lifetime of experience and relegating them to the status of children while juxtaposing this attitude with Russel, a real child, forced to accept the adult world of a Dad who is too busy for him and who lives with a woman who isn’t the boys mother, a boy who has worked tirelessly to get every Wilderness Explorer badge for the applause of an invisible father...

So in lieu of taking life for granted, old men who get demoted and children who have to grow up way too quickly I would like to share this story that I found on Wikipedia when I was looking up stuff on this film...

This June there was a 10 year old girl in Huntington Beach, California who was suffering from terminal vascular cancer. It seems her dying wish was to be able to see this movie but it was unlikely she would live long enough to see its release. Thanks to a family friend making a few calls, Pixar made a special effort to give her a DVD copy of the film which she watched with her mother. In truth she couldn’t see much of the film so her mom described it to her scene by scene. It’s reported the young girl died seven hours after...

So for practicing what they preached in this film, not taking life for granted, I give Pixar a 10 out of 10 for this effort.

And for entertainment a capital 8 because I never give out 10s!

Does Christianity Contribute to the Destruction of the Earth?

2009-07-20T09:16:00.000-07:00

Although I keep telling myself that blogging is just something I do when I am bored I do find myself frequently checking my stats to see if I’ve had any visitors. A normal person would do this once a day but I’m not exactly normal and find that not checking my email for more than 2 hours at a time is tantamount to not using the bathroom, I start hopping about on one foot with crossed legs until I get the fix of having read an email or a comment from someone...

Well, I finally got my wish...

This one chap wrote to me several days ago and asked the following question:

I'm interested in your view on Christianity's role within the Western capitalist system. As the major religion in the most wasteful society the world has ever known, surely Christianity is playing a role in the destruction of the earth, God's wondrous creation, through its endorsement of this way of life?

I wrote back saying I would chew on it a while and as I chewed I realized quickly that I was biting down on something very unfamiliar, tasty and interesting but even so, I had no idea what I was eating! After all, I’m just a guy who watches movies for a living, who has failed University twice and only barely scraped through my last year of High School with a passing grade because I was trying to impress a girl!

Nevertheless, I will try to offer a few thoughts even though I’m concerned I might be a bit stretched to reach the right answer. It is my hope that some of my Christian counterparts reading this may be able to throw in a few comments of their own after reading? Hint hint!

I don’t really understand Capitalism beyond the fact that I live in a Western Culture where they say we are capitalists! In the Capitalist system, according to Wikipedia, “...most trade, industry and the means of production (capital) is privately controlled and operated for a profit[1][2][3] The means of production (also known as capital), are owned, operated, and traded for the purpose of generating profits for private owners”... I won’t swim deeper than that for fear of drowning! In any case I already see a problem as far as Christianity is concerned – there is too much room in this particular system for those individuals who control these enterprises for greed and corruption! However the system emerged, I imagine, in the Christian west, particularly in America in its early days when Sunday School was still the “in” thing, your average Joe knew the Ten Commandments and Amazing Grace was still charting in the top ten. I’m wondering if in a true Christian Society Capitalism would work because if the individuals running the show were true Christ Centered individuals then they would also remember Christ’s words – “Whatever you have done for one of the least of these, my brethren, you did for me...” (Matt 25 v 40) so the sense of social responsibility would overcome a tendency towards corruption... however this has not been the case because no matter how “Christian” someone is they are still human beings with crooked hearts.

I’m interested that my reader has suggested that Christianity has endorsed this way of life. I feel that I need to make a distinction here. Christians may have endorsed this system throughout its history but as far as Christianity itself is concerned it ain’t necessarily so!

First of all Christianity is NOT a religion and in case you thought I said it wasn’t a religion you were right – it isn’t. A faith? Yes. A system? Yes. A religion? No. Absolutely not. It is so fundamentally not a religion that it goes with the old saying of the Devil – the greatest thing he ever did was convince the world that he does not exist... the second greatest was fool the world into mistaking God’s plan of redemption as a “Major World Religion”.

There are books on this subject but in a nut shell Christianity is not a religion because it is the only belief system that says emphatically that Humans can not reach God, Utopia, Heaven or Paradise by themselves, that it took God himself coming down to Earth as a man to suffer on the cross and pay for our sins. Secondly it is the only so called “path” where its founder came back from the dead and said – “I told you so!” Religion is man attempting to reach God by being good and obeying man made rules. Christianity is actually reaching God by accepting we can not do so without Christ’s Sacrifice on the cross.

However through some church traditions and nominal believers we have many Christians who are very religious! I’m wary of those guys. At any point, if a person in the church or if an entire denomination starts proclaiming you have to wear a suit, or that jeans are bad, you must tithe ten percent, cut your hair, wash your face, clean behind your ears, have ten kids or whatever to be a Christian they are gravely mistaken and they have blocked the main artery to the heart of Christianity and that is the person of Jesus Christ.

Understanding that Real Biblical Christianity is wrapped up and intertwined with the Savior of the World, let’s have a look at what he did in his life time and see if he personally contributed to the destruction of God’s wonderful creation....

1. The Virgin birth – not being a direct descendant of Adam he did not come with the sinful or destructive nature which is common to the human race, ergo he was perfect. This would later be necessary for his being the perfect replacement for the human race when he became sin on the cross. Jesus added – he did not destroy.

2. His first real followers were tradies. He used normal people to do great things. He turned Peter, a simple smelly and passionate fisherman into a compassionate pillar of the Christian faith which has changed the lives of millions since those days. Jesus added – he did not destroy...

3. He had the power to turn five loaves and two fishes into enough food to feed more than five thousand people on two separate occasions. He did not use this power to make money for himself or his followers but gave it willingly and instructed his disciples to pass the remainder on to the poor. Jesus added – he did not destroy.

4. Christ’s sermon on the mount painted an incredible picture of the truth that it was not man’s actions that made him good or bad but it was his motives and the intents of his evil heart that made us inherently evil but concluded that if we obeyed his words it would be like standing on a rock, so no matter what life threw at you, one could still stand up. He points out that not listening to his words led to a foundationless life in quick sand – again Jesus added, he did not destroy.

5. Interestingly he exhorts his followers not to worry about their lives as God feeds his children the same way that he feeds his birds! He instructs his followers not to worry about tomorrow but to “seek first the kingdom of God and all these things will be given to you...” (Matt 6v33)... this does not sound like an endorsement for capitalism to me... interesting. Once more he added...

6. Jesus Christ controlled the elements when he calmed the storm on the lake causing his disciples to ask “What kind of man is this?” I will venture to say he is the sort of man who can and will control climate change! Jesus added!

7. Jesus heals the sick. He did not ask for their health insurance details. He did not force them into quarantine. He did not vaccinate, euthanize or amputate. He did not care if it was paralysis or leprosy or a shriveled hand or whatever, He did not ask them to full out forms – he healed them. An interesting point here is that in so doing he enabled potentially thousands of people to go on and live normal healthy lives. Think of the implication – those people went on to have children that otherwise might not have existed were they left to die from their ailments! Those children went on to have families of their own, those families built whole communities which throughout the centuries equated to millions of people who would not exist today had Christ not shown compassion to their ancestors. Jesus added.

8. He raised the dead.

9. He revealed much about the afterlife that was never previously understood.

10. He drove out demons, reveling much about the supernatural that was not previously understood!

11. He taught his disciples that to be great, to truly be the best, you must be a servant (doesn’t sound very capitalist to me...)

12. He condemned divorce and child abuse!

13. He prophesied the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, with the greatest detail, while simultaneously saying there would be a temple in the last days (go to youtube and type in third temple, its trippy.) In fact he revealed much about the “end of the age” which is becoming more apparent today, especially that in the last days many would turn away from the faith. (Matt 24)

14. Here’s a man with the power and Heavenly authority to call down twelve legions of angels and yet he let the mob arrest him and take him to a kangaroo court which led to his crucifixion. He gave himself up willingly – for us!

15. He came back from the dead.

And as the apostle John wrote, he did so many things that were they written down there would be no room for all the books that were written. (Paraphrased from John 21v25)

I write the above points to illustrate that although Christians make mistakes or find themselves supporting a corrupt economic system or government or whatever – the point is Jesus was none of these things. He was not a politician or a revolutionary. He was not an economist. He was not a capitalist or a communist – He was concerned only with the redemption of the Human race and eventually of God’s wonderful creation itself.

This is a key point. The Bible promises a time when The Messiah will return to this earth and rain for a thousand years. Then and only then will we have a perfect society because “He will send out his angels and they will weed out of his kingdom everything that causes sin and all who do evil”. So before you judge Christianity for the destruction of the earth please go back and reflect on Isaiah 11 vs 6 when:

The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling [a] together;
and a little child will lead them.

In other words, things are going to be pretty sweet. The way they were always meant to be.

The West is no longer Christian. Prayer has been removed from Schools. The Bible is no longer sworn on exclusively in courts. People laugh at the notion of God creating the earth in six days or deny the historical fact of Christ’s life death and resurrection. I don’t think we can really say that Christianity is to blame for today’s current state of affairs, politically or economically, individual Christians perhaps, but not Christ’s Christianity.

... but if you must then let me remind you of a bumper sticker I once saw and found myself chuckling at – it read “Jesus, save us from your followers”. I laughed because it was kind of true. The church is full of many many crazy nut cases, but for every one of them I could show you a person in a salvation army suit feeding homeless people, or a nurse in some African country who has given up her life and friends to serve others, or a Doctor who treats cataracts in Fiji – for free, or a Christian who gives money to his church each week so that that church can feed a poor family for another week, or a guy who used to be a member of the Klu Klux Klan but is now a preacher in a mostly black church, or a guy like me who suffered from clinical depression for six years before making a decision to serve Christ and has never sunk so low since...

...my point is that many of us are born into societies that support an economic or political system that may or may not be the right one, but all of us are called not to be revolutionaries but rather to serve Christ as best as we can within that system – because at the end of my 2,356 word essay it all comes down to Christ. He is the rock that will “crush all those kingdoms and bring them to an end, but it will itself endure forever” (Daniel 2 v 44,45)

Jesus is the one who can answer this question far better than I ever could – just by looking at his life and understanding that true Christ Centered Christianity has nothing to do with the religious attitudes or ideas of a bunch of people who call themselves Christians.

I have a great sense of concern regarding my lack of adequacy in answering this question, but I hope I was able to cast some light on even the smallest part of the question mark! I fear that I am much too stupidly oriented to discuss things like economics, politics and other advanced social concerns but I can promise you this, and a man smart enough to write such a question in the first place can find for himself, that the Bible is a complex book which details God’s plan for the redemption and restoration of all things, it is the Capital letter at the start of the answer and the full stop when all is said and done.

Finally for no reason other than its 4:30 in the morning and I happen to like this artist very much here is yet another Christian who I believe contributes a great deal to the renewal of this Earth through his music - thanks Shane!

Store Wars

2009-07-17T19:19:00.000-07:00

Just for a bit of fun, and seeing as there was no reason to get up from my couch to do anything else at the time, I decided to do a search for Star Wars parodies on Youtube... you know, as you don't...

I came across this little Gem of a take-off which explores the star wars universe through the lens of a grocery store, in which Luke is a Cucumber, Yoda a pot of Yogurt and I couldn't quite figure out what Obi Wan Kanobi was meant to be...

Cleverly woven into the 5 minute mayhem is the obvious message of going organic... but don't let that stop you from enjoying this clever little film...

Enjoy

Stay tuned for more of my favourite Star Wars Parodies in the days to come...

Why do film makers have to pervert kids movies with swearing, sex and too much violence?

2009-07-17T18:00:00.000-07:00

Well, the truth is they don’t have to. The problem is that such films are being made by people who either have no foundation to base their sense of morality on or by those who deliberately want to undermine the hold that Christianity has had on the West for centuries! (See my review on The Golden Compass).

The swearing, Sex and violence is one thing but worse are the subtle attacks on our children’s minds which come in the shape of small phrases supporting evolution, adult jokes about “coming out” that fly over the child’s head only to nestle itself someone at the back of their subconscious, misquoted bible verses that are twisted into humorous anecdotes, references inferring multiple sexualities are A.O.K and ideas about God or life after death that exclude Jesus Christ and suggest that God is an Oprah Winfreyesque push over who will cave in the end and let everyone into his perfect Heaven.

We don’t notice these so much because we have been duped by them ourselves. We get so caught up by the big things that are blatant and obvious but we happily soak up the poison that courses threw the veins of the modern arts – worldly anti-biblical thinking.

Don’t get me wrong. Most of the writers, producers and what-nots who make these movies are just people either trying to make a quick buck or just want to entertain. Their not necessarily sitting there rubbing their greedy little hands together and saying “I’m going to brainwash the world, Mmmmmmwaaahahahahaha” – that in itself would make a great movie! But they are people none the less, and where there are people there is sin and where there are people in the industry who have never even touched a Bible, there is trouble.

The solution I believe is not to boycott the entire industry. However as a parent you do need to be able to discern what your child should and shouldn’t be watching. I think though a much stronger stance would be for parents to modal a good sound biblical knowledge at home, with the ability to sit down with their child after their viewing is done and discuss the themes and ideas in juxtaposition to the Bible. This would make your child ten times better biblically nourished than most grown ups today!

We could sit here and blame those big shot Hollywood types all we want, but at the end of the day the person who pollutes your babies mind more than anyone else is you if you can’t and don’t provide them with a love for scripture! We’re just as guilty as the “sinners” if we are prepared to leave their spiritual feeding time to once a week in a Sunday school class. Imagine what would happen to your body if your only meal was 2 hours on a Sunday. The human spirit is no different.

The second thing the Church as a whole should wake up to is the industry itself has a vacuum where the world needs Christians to step into. We send missionaries to Fiji, to India or deep into the jungle to preach the good old Good News but why aren’t we sending them into the film studios, the recording studios or the art galleries? We are in a sense when we produce Christian Rock for Radio Rhema and the occasional Jesus Movie that gets played on Good Friday on the old people’s channel but what about real Hollywood where Satan has his seat – we should go sit there ourselves and see how much damage we can do!

Few film Makers Like Australian Director Angus Benfield, Steven Baldwin, Mel Gibson (no outcries please) are out there on the front lines producing material that will subtly influence the world for Christ while Christ inside them influences the actors and industry people respectively. The world needs us to support these Christians who are doing for the kingdom an extremely difficult service by putting themselves on what is largely enemy territory. We should be buying their movies, we should be forwarding their websites to our friends and Pastors, if we are lucky enough to know them we should be encouraging them and propping them up against the myriad of temptations they face in a world ridden with drug abuse and facial tampering!

When we financially support films made by genuine Christians the marketers who control what scripts get a green light will start supporting better films full of the fibre morals are made of!

Finally if you are creative yourself I urge you to pray and study the word profusely so that it will naturally inject itself into your work. Get into the industry, start connect groups with like minded Christians so you are accountable, get your church backing you up with prayer and moral support.

This is a legitimate mission field so lets pick up our bible guns and boldly march onto it!

Casting out Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

2009-07-15T08:11:00.000-07:00

This is a tricky one to approach without raising a few eyebrows. No pun intended. I understand that many Christians have mixed feelings about this icon of the occult and fair enough, it is about witches and wizards after all. I have heard over the years a great deal said about J.K. Rowling and her motives for writing this story that makes the occult look cool - usually along the lines of “...the spells cast in the series are actual spells used by real witches” and that “the names of spiritual entities are the names of real demons...” I have to say already I am a little suspicious of any Christian who would claim to know anything about the actual names of individual demons or the actual incantations of magic spells – they would have to be reading material that goes far beyond your average Christian bookshelf.

So I’ve heard a lot of rumours that she wrote the series intentionally to undermine Christianity but if you visit her website she says nothing of her beliefs and a cursory glance at wikipedea suggests that she is a Christian who struggles with her personal beliefs. She said in an interview “I believe in God, not magic” and attends the Church of Scotland. But ok, so what, obviously going to church doesn’t make you a Christian anymore than going to Starbucks turns you into a puddle of coffee.

My hunch though, and I think this is safe to assume, is that she sat down one day, started writing and Harry Potter is what came out and because of the occultic connotations of her chosen subject matter she has copped a great deal of flack for it. But rather than feverishly attacking her we should be praying for her, that now as she plans her next novel maybe she will be inspired to write about something else!

So before I get into the spiritual stuff lets talk about what the film is actually about. This is the sixth instalment of the Harry Potter series, based on the book obviously. However you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise because director David Yates has chopped it up into lots of little bits and put them together out of order, while throwing other bits away entirely!

Harry finds himself returning yet again to a very security conscious Hogwarts now that Voldemort has come back from the dead threw diabolical means. In order to meet his destiny and defeat his nasty foe Harry must walk the various memories of other Wizards, including Dumbledore’s, for clues. The new Potions teacher, Professor Slughorn’s memory has been tampered with and Harry must befriend this odd little man and win his trust in order to retrieve the real memory lurking inside his brain. Meanwhile Draco Malfoy has been given a task which involves assassinating Dumbledore and fiddling about with a magic cupboard which can transport the baddies into Hogwarts despite the rigorous security keeping them out. With a bit of luck Harry manages to retrieve the memory and learns that the young Voldemort had used Slughorn to obtain information on how to make a Horcrux, an object which contains a piece of ones soul for future use should that person die.

Already it sounds a bit dodgy. Chuck into the mix that all the characters, now past 16 have discovered a clever little thing called snogging. So there are love triangles tingling away throughout the entire movie, and it becomes a bit nauseating! In this respect the movie isn’t as subtle as the book. Another great flaw in the adaptation from book to film.

As a Christian I can’t really condone Harry Potter or sing its praises too loudly. It is after all my job to watch these movies so I have not supported the franchise financially and feel strong enough in my faith not to allow the content to do me any spiritual (or mental) harm. However I must say that if you, in any way, feel in your conscience that it is not right to watch any movie that features such things as witches and wizards then please do your conscience the honour of listening to it! I do not want my freedom to lead a brother or sister down the slippery slope of sin, so for your own sake stare clear of this movie if you think it will make you stumble. (Please refer to Romans 14 to further appreciate my position on this)

Just a few points with my imaginary pen before I press “save”... when thinking of this film review a few things struck me which I think are worth jotting down...

The eye is the devils domain. We learn this right at the beginning when the “women saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye she took some and ate it.” (Genesis 3:6) Therefore, I wouldn’t watch a raunchy flick because I know that it will likely lead me into sin. So if your right eye offends you, gouge it out and kick it down the street! A film that features witches and wizards is not going to entice me personally into seeing a clairvoyant or to hop naked around a pentagram, not in a million years. But, the sad truth is that I know of some nominal believers who get so worked up about their futures that, rather than trust in God’s promises, they will sneak a peak at what the gas giants of the heavens have to say about them in the astrology columns, or worse, they might go as far as consult a psycho... sorry, psychic... or secretly enjoy watching New Zealand’s Sensing Murder on the telly. If that’s you then stay well away from films like Harry Potter because they will just serve to entice what is already inherent in your flesh. ( And might I add, if you are that sort of Christian then get your act together and start taking the creator of the universe seriously when he says “Why consult the dead on behalf of the living?” Isaiah 8:19)

The Devil is described as being more subtle than any other creature the Lord has made. He’s very clever. He’s been playing this game of stumbling believers for millennia... and I don’t think he’s getting rusty. It would be just like him to make a movie like Harry Potter and get Christians upset about it just enough so he can sneak something in through the back door, in movies like Shrek which promote transgenderism, Ice Age which supports evolution or Monsters vs Aliens which goes so far as to use the name of Christ as an innocent swear word in the first five minutes of the film! We let our kids watch them because they’re cute, but the truth is we are either so biblically illiterate or simply too lazy to see the majority of movies for the Devil’s pulpit they really are! (Please see my article on The Golden Compass and Ice Age 3 for more details)

What a fantastic opportunity movies provide us with to enhance our children’s understanding of scripture! How many parents sit through a film with their child and then at the end pull out the Bible for a juxtapositional Bible Study about the movies themes and ideas and how they measure up against scripture? That way you can turn a movie into a sort of mnemonic! Over time your child will be able to separate the wheat from the chaff, having developed a critical mind and a discerning spirit.

We seem to set a dangerous double standard if we are prepared to slam a series like Harry Potter and yet wait in eager anticipation for the sequel for Twilight, which is about vampires no less, or can’t get the last episode of Brothers and Sisters out of our heads. To me this is an example of trying to keep the law and yet breaking it in one small area and therefore are guilty of breaking the whole thing!

So the question is will I be taking my child to see Harry Potter? No, because she is only six weeks old. But even if she was 6 years old or even 12 I still wouldn’t take her. Not unless I knew she was mentally and spiritually mature enough to take the good and reject the bad.

But having said that, this particular instalment is NOT for kids. Its dark, quite violent and has a lot of creepy things lurking about in it. When Rowling wrote the series after all, she wrote it for an aging audience, meaning the 10 year olds who read the first book would be the 16 year olds reading the sixth. It seems to evolve from being Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to Nightmare on Elm Street as the series goes on... very heavy and very dark.

So for spiritual content I would give this film a big loud zero.

For entertainment, possibly a six.

And for successfully adapting a book to screen, sorry David, you get a two.

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Hannah Montana..... yikes!

2009-07-12T17:12:00.001-07:00

This was an interesting experience. My expectations for this movie were running down the highway of bad eggs until I saw it... and to my great surprise I found myself enjoying it. I was flying down the thoroughfare of family fun, 90 miles in the opposite direction...

Maybe it’s a bit scary that a thirty year old man can admit such a thing, but I actually really liked it. As did my 8 year old niece who I caught singing along with Hannah every time the superstar burst into song.

Although I had never seen the TV series and had no idea what I was getting myself into I didn’t miss out on anything, the plot was simple but fun. Miley Ray Cirus (the daughter of the man who brought you Achy Breaky Heart and that very memorable mullet, Billy Ray) plays a 16 year old girl, also called Miley, who like some kind of super hero leads a double life where only a handful of people know that once she dons a blond wig and a pair of stilettos she suddenly becomes Hannah Montana - pop sensation and every teenage girls vicarious dream.

Unfortunately for Miley her alter ego is starting to take over her personality and the lovely Country Bumpkin she used to be is becoming more a Hollywood Pumpkin, evident in a fisty cuffs with Tyra Banks over a pair of shoes and turning up to her best friends birthday dressed as Hannah only to steal all the attention of the occasion for herself.

Her Dad makes a tough decision and while Miley thinks she is on her way to a Music Awards in New York he has the plane land in Tennessee for a two week Hannah Montana Detox. Miley has to relearn the sacred ways of country life and falls in love with her grandma’s farm boy along the way. Things get complicated when in an attempt to raise money to save her home town from an evil Mall Development word gets out that Miley “knows” Hannah Montana and she is forced to wear the wig once again for a benefit concert, ultimately leading to a good old fashioned “two places at once” scenario when Hannah needs to attend a banquet in her honor while Miley is meant to be on a date with her doting cowboy.

Add to the mix an English Reporter going through the town like a drug inspecting dog trying to sniff up her secret of double identityness...

I took the liberty of interviewing my niece afterwards.

Me: What did you like best about the film?

Niece: When she rode horses, the way she dressed and I liked her hat.

Me: What did you like about the main character?

Niece: She was as good actor.

Me: I noticed you sang along to the songs during the movie?

Niece: I sing to them everyday, the disc, its good for someone my age!

Me: What else can you tell me about the film?

Niece: Well, it was fantastic, and I really liked how they done it and stuff.

Me: What was it about?

Niece: Well, um, it was about Hannah Montana, and about how she had to decide whether she wanted to be Hannah or Miley and stuff.

Me: How long was the movie?

Niece: Long, it was too long, but I had no idea it was going to be long.

(Not exactly verbatim)

My Mother, who saw it with us also enjoyed the dancing and singing and my wife who didn’t see it commented “My favourite part was when I didn’t see it and went somewhere else. My least favourite part was not understanding the plot.”

So, already you can see there was something in it for everyone. Including those who didn’t see it.

But seriously, it reminded me of what I look for in a movie. When I sit down in front of a screen to throw away the next two hours of my life I want to be transported somewhere else, I want to be entertained and I want to be emotionally involved with the characters. So it doesn’t matter what kind of movie it is, whether its this pre adolescent dream of fame, wigs and make-up or an episode of my little pony and friends, if it brings a tear to my eye then the film has won my approval. And this one did bring a tear to my eye, and not the tears of “Get me outta here!” that I was expecting – but tears of understanding the teenage angst that Miley was experiencing during her ordeal and tears of joy that I will never have to be a 16 year old girl again.

I checked Wikipedia on our young heroine, following a hunch, to discover In an interview with USA Today, Cyrus was quoted as saying her faith is "the main thing" and is the reason why she works in Hollywood. When interviewed by Parade, she added that she attends church regularly with her family.

A couple of points before I fly off into the day and leave my pyjamas behind. There was no swearing in this film and the only “adult” concepts were those of a young girl falling in love so don’t be ready to cover any innocent eyes during this film, you can sit back and relax. And don’t forget to take my nieces advice, if you’re taking your kid, make sure they use the loo first!

I give this movie an 8 out of ten for pure family fun and another big 8 for a simple but fun filled plot!

Well done Disney!

Ice Age 3 – Dawn of the Dino-sore

2009-07-09T19:38:00.000-07:00

I took my niece to see this film in 3D earlier this week. It was fun and that’s about all it was.

This franchise has come a long way since the first movie which featured Manny the Mammoth, Sid the Sloth and Diago the Saber Tooth Tiger in their quest to reunite a human child with its “herd” and in the process the unlikely trio become a herd of their own kind. So already we see that this series is about multiculturalism!

Two movies later (and I confess, slap me on the hand, I am yet to see part two) we find Manny and his Mrs Mammoth expecting a baby. Diago is getting cold feet about becoming an “uncle” and Sid is feeling a bit pushed out of the “Herd” as the baby cometh.

The catalyst is clear when Sid discovers, in an ice cave, three great big eggs which he decides to adopt as his own and, you guessed it, the eggs are of the T-Rex variety which leads to a whole lot of trouble when the baby T’s tear apart Manny’s baby nursery, eating a few innocent prehistoric toddlers and regurgitating them along the way!

When Momma Rex comes to the surface in search of her sharp mouthed babies, Sid is dragged off into a Lost World under the ice and this time it’s Manny, Mrs Manny, Diago and two possums who go in search of Sid in a land where suddenly Manny isn’t the biggest thing in the world anymore!

This film is mostly a harmless bit of fun but a few words of warning…

Maybe it’s the conspiracy theorist in me but apart from the endorsement for multiculturalism there seems to be a recurring theme of accepting new “norms”… such as the idea that a Man can have a baby, which has been achieved in recent times by unorthodox means. When I first read that a medically transgendered individual had given birth to a child my gut response was “Ew, gross” because, lets face it, its not exactly normal. However this film subtly encourages the idea that its perfectly normal using scenes like one in which Sid is hugging the eggs and his shadow cast on the wall shows him patting a pregnant belly.

I would be nuts to suggest such a concept if this was isolated, but it isn’t! Films like Shrek the Third (and previous Shreks) are doing this sort of Social Engineering all the time, incorporating Men dressed as women and a Pinocchio who wears a thong. It pays to be aware that although these are great fun to watch, these movies are ever so subtly undermining your child’s perception of what is normal and acceptable.

There is also the Scrat the Saber Toothed Squirral sub-sub-plot which has underlined every Ice Age flick to date. A plot that generally has little to nothing to do with the main story but is clearly filler material! This time Scrat’s main focus is not only retrieving The Acorn but also keeping it from a new nemesis – a female squirrel! Don’t read the rest of this paragraph if you don’t want to know what happens next, but you probably figured out already that they fall in love and Scrat temporarily forgets about the acorn in pursuit of his new found romance until his new mate turns out to be the one who wears the pants in the relationship (or in this case a tail). He finds himself yearning for the days when it was just him and his precious Acorn, so as soon as he gets the chance he climbs out the window and leaves her… cute? Yes. Correct? No!! This also serves to undermine marriage, enforcing the idea that once you settle down, your wife becomes a nag and you become her slave – a common theme in an untold amount of films! This suggests the only way to find happiness in an unhappy relationship is to leave… what do you suppose this does to the children of divorcees, on a subconscious level, who are viewing these sorts of films?

There was one last thing that stuck out (and this time maybe I am being too sensitive) but as the party explore the Brave lost World below, they are guided by a one eyed weasel who, as he tells the story of how he narrowly escaped the clutches of the carnivore that took out his eye he knocked out one of the brutes teeth which he now brandishes proudly as a shiny enamel plated sword – justifying it with “Its like that old saying, ‘An eye for an eye, a tooth for a butt, a butt for a… well, its just a saying, a stupid saying actually’” (non-verbatim by the way)- Citing Exodus 21:24. It just didn’t sit right with me because it is not a stupid saying… it is the corner stone of God’s justice system which he proclaimed to the Israelites and without which our modern courts are left with arbitrary standards by which to base our laws…

Too far?

Perhaps.

I’m not saying "This film is of the Devil, don’t let your kids see it!” I grew up in the 80’s where everything was of the Devil and I could get possessed by playing with a Cabbage Patch Kid! But I am encouraging you, at the very least, to keep these things at the back of your mind so you can equip your children with some balance after you take them to see it… just don’t make the mistake I did and take your three year old niece to a 3D movie without first checking whether the glasses will fit her or no! The poor thing had to sit there holding them to her face for the entire 93 minutes!

So, just because it was no where near as good as the first movie, I give it a 5 out of ten for both entertainment and plot!

Today's Article of Note

2009-07-07T15:51:00.000-07:00

I’ve had one of those nights. You know, the ones where you’re in a dungeon on one of those stretching rack thingies and someone is standing there with an iron rod glowing red and threatening to prod you with it every time you nearly get some sleep? No? Well my torturer was my 4 week old little girl. Got to love her but she just didn’t want to sleep at all and wanted the whole world to know about it!

So I crawl out of bed this morning, check the letter box like a zombie dragging his feet up the driveway looking for brains and then, discovering the computers been left on I check my emails and am still here half an hour later for some strange reason… but its been good for giving the rest of my body a chance to wake up as well…

In my inbox today was my daily newsletter from the Jewish World Review. I highly recommend this informative little mail out. Each day I get sent links to handy things like Ripley’s believe it or Not, cartoons, opinions but more importantly articles about how bad the world is, which is great.

Ok, so they’re not all that bad but today’s was of particular interest to me. This article by Kristin E. Holmes ( http://www.jewishworldreview.com/0709/psalms_suit.php3 ) About Donna Kay Busch, a 47 year old mom in that once great country which is now known as the United States of Anarchy. Busch’s little boy of Kindergarten age took part in an exercise at his day care centre where the children were asked to do a sort of show and tell and share something about who they are to the rest of the class. Alternatively a parent could read an excerpt from the kid’s favorite book.

Little Busch chose a bible story. So after Busch Senior went to all the trouble of finding a passage of scripture she thought wouldn’t offend anyone she innocently tried to read to the class but was stopped by the kindergarten Principal…

Maybe it was just me but the idea that a Kindy has a Head Master kind of made me laugh… sounds like someone taking their job a bit too seriously. Anyway, the great and powerful Principal of Puny Land declared she couldn’t read from her son’s favorite book, the bible, because it desecrated the great prime directive of today’s wise world – The Separation of Church and State.

We really need to wake up a little here. Actually no, we need to wake up a lot. So kindergarten kids aren’t bringing guns to school yet but back in the days when the Bible was in school the teenagers they grew into weren’t killing each other, weren’t having babies at 12 (which has happened recently in the UK I think) weren’t filming their indecent little selves on their mobile telephones and texting them to their friends (which is also happening)!

I recently did a little trace of school shootings in America and discovered that the first High School Massacre in the land of Uncle Sam occurred within three years of removing the Bible from the School System!

The other thing we need to be aware of is the down right hypocrisy of this church and state nonsense. I’m talking about the fact that people get upset about any Christian or Jewish related paraphernalia appearing in School but completely turn a blind eye to all the New Age crud that gets shoved down our children’s throats like one of those plunger things you see someone stuffing down the barrel of a cannon! I remember as far back as the 80’s we had one teacher who forced us kiddies to do yoga, which has serious roots in Eastern mysticism and the occult and that’s just one small example.

Read http://www.learn-usa.com/education_transformation/er029.htm for further proof of what I am saying here.

Finally the whole Church and State thing originally came about because the colonists in America had fled from religious tyranny in England to a land where they could practice their Christian Faith according to the Bible and not according to the State’s interpretation of the Bible. The idea was originally meant to protect an individual’s right to practice their religion without interference from the State. But now the pendulum has swung to the farthest inaccurate extreme and every man and his dog seem to think it means that the state needs to be protected from Christians! (See Ian Wishart’s Eve’s Bite for a more in-depth review of this)

Christian’s! The people who believe in loving their neighbor, doing to others what they would have them do to them, the sanctity of marriage and of the family. The only “religion” in the world whose founder actually came back to say “I told you so!” and “By the way, I’m coming back!”

Maybe I’ve taken this review of a simple article far too far but are we so blind that we can’t see that the once great West was great because it was Christian and banning a little boy’s mom from reading from the bible to a classroom is stripping those children of their rich cultural heritage?

Apparently we are.

Go Ahead, Make My Torino

2009-07-04T02:30:00.000-07:00

I could say that this was a nice movie about a lovely old man overcoming his Xenophobia and fear of Asian cooking but then I would be lying! This is in fact a raw film about a grumpy old sod whose hate for everybody doesn’t exclude his own family.
I have rarely seen a film jam packed with so many racial slurs and multiple cuss words and yet it leaves you thinking, Oh well, wasn’t that a lovely film? Except, it wasn’t!
Walt Kowalski is the hard nosed Korean War veteran who has watched his neighborhood go from an all American Brady bunch style street to a veritable china town. His own grown up kids are indifferent towards him and his grand kids are only interested in what they can get out of his eventual carking it.
His wife has beat him to the dirt pile and at the wake (funeral party) there is a classic scene with his grand daughter asking what his plans are for his couch because she could do with one in her dorm room!
Next door there lies another world, a Chinese Mong family of 3 women and one teenage boy called Tao who needs some serious manning up. After Tao’s (or Toad to Walt) failed attempt at stealing Walt’s Gran Torino to prove his manliness to his gangster cousins, it comes down to Walt to take this young lad under his wrinkled wings and teach him how to do macho things like dig holes and scrape paint off walls.
Meanwhile Walt learns that he has more in common with these “foreigners” than he does with his own depressing family and he finds himself slap bang in the middle of the road to redemption amidst a whole barrage of some of the best examples of political incorrectness I’ve heard for a long time.
Of course there’s more to it than a simple father and surrogate son relationship. The gangster cousins are out to cause more trouble but they have to get through Walt first.
This film has all the classic nuances of an old western, even if it is set next door. Other possible titles for Gran Torino could be Urban Cowboy, Grumpy Old Man or a Fist Full of Chicken Dumplings.
If this is truly Eastwood’s swan song, which I’ve heard it isn’t, then he truly does go out with a bang! But if you’re thrill in film going is in special effects, things blowing up for no reason and computer generated things that look completely fake then Gran Torino will disappoint at every turn. Even the sound quality is more stereo than surround… its strength is in the drama and Clint’s classic one liners. So in a star rating of 10 for excitement and spectacular eye gouging fun I would give the Torino a massive 4, simply because I could do my knitting and still not miss a stitch. But for good dramatic drama it’s probably worthy of a 6.

Just be prepared to cover your ears if you shock easily.

What do you do when an endangered animal eats endangered plants?

2009-07-03T01:28:00.000-07:00

Many of the world’s greatest minds have not pondered this question, or at least not in the way that I am about to.

When confronted with this scenario I would have to say that I personally wouldn’t do anything. I don’t know any endangered species personally and wouldn’t know an endangered plant if I stood on one. If I did, I would find myself in the same state of complacency because I don’t feel I’m in a position to do much anyway due to my lack of finances and basic motivation.

On the other hand one would have to ask whether the endangered species was a socialist or a member of the New Zealand Labour Party, in which case I would again say let them eat to their hearts content because obviously as far as a species go, they’re not on my top ten list of animals I want to save… actually they’re on my top ten list of Animals I want to See Stranded on a Melting Iceberg.

But all of the above is irrelevant and completely stupid.

I don’t worry all too much about this sort of thing because frankly the second law of thermodynamics… or the law of entropy… or in laymen’s terms the law of everything going to the dogs is at work and when we are confronted with yet another creature passing into the past or a plant withering in the winds of history its nothing new under the sun. It’s been happening since the fall of the first man, and his lovely wife.

We live in a funny society where we tell ourselves that everything is evolving into more complex and vibrant thingamajigs but with the other half of our brain we hit the panic button when something comes along and says “I’m leaving this planet forever” and “oops, nothing is going to replace me when I’m gone. I just shake my head…

Biodiversity is a clever machine of weights and balances. I’m no science pro but I seem to know, thanks to years of Steve Irwin and the Odd trip to the zoo, that an ecosystem is a delicate thing where creatures and plants alike depend upon each other for their very survival. If one thing goes extinct the thing that needed it has to depend on something else for the thing it got. If it doesn’t get it then that thing dies and the thing that needed it goes along the same slippery route towards extinction and is remembered only in blogs and misinformed text books.

Has anyone outside of the world of Church ever noticed however, that if you press the rewind button on the situation that there must have been a time of perfect environment? Maybe I have jumped one step ahead of everyone here but imagine if the things that became extinct this year never became extinct and the things that were wiped out last year were still here and the things before that and the things before that…. Etc…

…surely you end up with a world of pure biodiversific perfection? I’ll leave you to ponder the ramifications of that prospect but I’ll give you a hint – it smells like Genesis to me! (But if you’re not satisfied these guys explain it much better than I do http://creation.com/ecology-biodiversity-and-creation)

The real reason why I simply don’t care enough to get all flustered and frazzled over the possibility that some diabolically rare sloth out there is right now eating the last of a plant that could probably cure toenail cancer is simply that as a Christian I am promised a time of restoration in the hopefully not too distant future when Jesus Christ will return and restore all things. That’s not to say that I am irresponsible with my plastics and odd socks but there’s no point in getting upset about it… we live in a fallen world (read Genesis Chapter 3 folks) and there’s only one way out.

I’m not afraid to say that His name is Jesus Christ, and if you don’t know him yet, then my friend, you are the endangered species and I sincerely hope you don’t eat your last plant before you discover that fact. (http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=john+3:16)

Now that I have not in anyway answered the above question – does anyone else have anything they would like to ask?

Tranformers 2 – More than Meets the I

2009-07-01T07:45:00.000-07:00

I think the words of a dear friend of mine summed this film up nicely - "It was two and a half hours of jar Jar Binks" - and indeed it was.
If you can get past the dog humping antics of not just the films cameo Chihuahua, but also of a converted Decepticon who develops a crush for Sam Whitwickies girlfriend then you might stand a chance of enjoying this movie. Seriously there are a lot of adult concepts in this film and I pity the person who accidentally takes their children to see it expecting a good wholesome (and expensive) night out.
There is also a great deal of "low level" swearing and although the "F" word is substituted for the "fricken" variety, well the intention is there and doesn't leave much for the imagination. Oh yeah, did I mention the sexual over-currents? I still can't get over the Minicon getting nasty with the movies love interest, as if we needed to be reminded that that was the only reason Megan Fox is in this film - to stand there and look pretty and pretty much nothing else...
And then there is the violence.... there is one scene where Optimus rips a Decepticons face in half with his built in Hand Hooks, which when you think about it is a pretty neat trick but hello! I thought Transformers was for kids? The question I would put to Hasbro and Mr Bay is why are you turning a kids toy and cartoon into something over sexed and nasty? We get enough of that sort of rubbish by watching Oprah or Doctor Phil when we find ourselves trapped at home for day time trouble vision... (which has also become oversexed and nasty!)
But I digress... I actually enjoyed the film as far as simple good butt kicking entertainment goes BUT you really need the perception of time of a German Shepherd to take it all in... you know how dogs can't watch TV because they're eyes perceive 24 frames a second as actual snapshots appearing on the screen... well, that’s the ability you need to fully appreciate the CGI because the action is soooooooo fast, if you blink, you will miss it... and maybe its just my ancient ears but I did find the moving parts, the screeching of metal on metal and the rickety joints of some of the characters a tad over done because I couldn't hear what they were saying half of half the time...

But hey, what do I know? I'm just a projectionist.

I suppose I should mention what the film is actually about. Basically our Hero, Sam Whitwicky, from the first film, wants to go to college and have a normal life but as he packs his bags a piece of the All Spark falls out of his jumper (the jumper, also from the first movie) and when he looks at it something magical happens... the All Spark puts something in the kids brain - something that the Decepticons want so badly that they will stop at nothing to get it. Meanwhile the Autobots are getting their hands slapped by, yep, you guessed it, the Us government because the all powerful Obama (surprisingly) doesn't like them anymore... watch it carefully if you don't believe me on this point, Michael Bay doesn't paint the all saint president in a good light and that earns the movie an extra star in my book... oooooooh controversial....
I could go on but the plot is really basic, boy becomes fugitive, boy goes to Egypt where the great pyramid ends up being a great big shoot-at-the-sun-lazar-gun which creates energon for the hungry Decepticons... oh yeah Optimus dies too... but don't worry, I haven't ruined the film for you!
All up I give this film an 8 out of ten for excitement and mindless boredom busting but for content and culture I give it a great big American Salute and a resounding 4 out of the same scale.
So, Finally I will leave you with this one question that keeps bugging me... can anyone tell me why Michael Bay almost always has a scene with soldiers walking in slow motion? Why is that?

Humus was made for Kebabs

2009-01-13T17:33:00.000-08:00

A short story by Kerin Gedge

I have these really annoying neighbors. They've lived on my street for ages. I've never done anything to really bother them except move here. You see I inherited this house from a rich relative. I got into some trouble a long while ago and just when things looked really bad they swooped down and just gave me this awesome place. So gratefully I moved in, and what a difference it has made to my life having a place to call home!

By all rights I should be happy except for one small problem. NONE of my neighbors like me. They have a totally different perspective of the world than I do, its pretty clear that my beliefs offend them but ever since I've moved in I've just minded my own business and got on with it. My property went from being a cross between a dump and a kitty litter to being the greenest plot of land on the street. I have zucchinis growing in my garden the size of ankles and sweetcorn you could play baseball with. My pumpkins are so big they would scare a vegetarian away. My flowers make Scarlet Johansen look like used dental floss - they're really that pretty. So its not like I make the neighborhood look bad. In fact my Garden of Eden style lawn has done a lot for the market value of the area!

One day, a few years ago, my neighbors began throwing rocks into my garden. Sometimes they would have letters attached to them saying "You have no right to be there" or "Get out". It got pretty bad when I started running over them with my lawn mower (the rocks, not my neighbors). I decided to ignore it at first but when a rock hit my little girl on the head I became enraged and called the police.

I was half expecting them to come over right away and arrest my intolerant neighbors. But they didn't. They said, "Why don't you just go chat with them?"
So I did. The neighbors on my left denied ever throwing anything. The ones on my right boasted proudly that it was them while the people living behind my house said it was them. All of them agreed that they had been there longer and that I had no right living here, despite the fact that I had no where else to go and the land was a gift. I asked them if they could kindly stop throwing rocks onto my lawn but they would not commit to anything.

A few weeks later, and to my horror, I watched as my neighbor brought from the back of their house one of their small children. I watched bewildered as they attached a note to this poor kid and then, I swear I'm not kidding, they biffed her over my back fence. I ran to this crying child who had sprained her wrist while trying to break her fall and did all I could to help her. I even took her to the Doctor's and paid for the fee. I read the note that was tied to her - "Leave this place!" - and went to the cops again where they accused me of hurting the child and would not believe for a second that her own parents had done it.

I wouldn't believe it myself if you told me but this happened three or four more times. I would be outside doing the gardening when suddenly a small child would come hurtling over my fence. Each time with a note telling me I had no right to be there and each time the child was so badly hurt that I had to take them to a doctor. The madness. No one wanted to believe that their parents were involved! Even the local paper ran a story about me being the local "horse shoe kiddie hurdler"! I wrote to the editor to complain and all I got was more criticism. I was baffled. What was going on? Had I woken up in a new episode of the twilight zone where everything was back to front?

Then I started to notice that all my neighbors began sitting on their porches with guns! Every now and then they would point them at my house. Sometimes I would even hear a rifle go off in the night. I was beginning to feel very unsafe. I was worried for my wife and my children. I couldn't let my kids walk to school anymore. I was too concerned that a rock, or a child or a bullet might be thrown at them.

One night I hear a sound of scraping, I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. It sounded like steel hitting dirt but I could not see where it was coming from so went outside. Nothing. Then I got the urge to put my ear to the ground. Someone was digging somewhere under the ground. I'm not sure but if I didn't know any better I think that all my neighbors are digging a network of tunnels! I would say this has made me paranoid if the word "paranoid" didn't have so many negative connotations. I'm not on any drugs and I'm not crazy. I live between a bunch of scary people with guns, expendable children and a never ending supply of message bearing rocks!

I called the police so many times, met with the mayor... I even wrote to the Prime Minister. Everyone said the same thing - "Just talk it out with them, its a process but sooner or later you'll see its for the best."

And believe me I did try and talk with them. Time and time again. Sometimes I was able to make a truce with them but then I would find a bruised kid in my pumpkin patch or a rock in my forehead!

Now I'm a proud man and feel that I have as much right to be here as they do. Its never entered my mind to just get up and leave. Why should I? And frankly where would I go? But one day out of desperation I went to my neighbors and did the unthinkable. I gave them half of my backyard. Yep, its true. We signed papers and everything. I said, "Please take it, its yours". And they took it. For about a week I thought I had peace of mind. Sure I lost my shed to them and my little girl's tree house but all of those things were worth sacrificing for a bit of peace and quiet. But then, sorry, I'm shaking as I write... I know it sounds crazy. But they began throwing things at my blasted house again!

So I built a great big wall around my property. I thought, that will stop them. It helped for a little while, I could even allow my children to go outside and play without fear of their heads becoming landing pads for rocks. So I was more than a little shocked when I opened the National Times to discover my great big fence was front page news! Saying that I was inhuman for blocking the view of my neighbors and the occasional thoroughfare across my back lawn.

Then it happened. A big rock with a great big note came hurtling over the fence and smashed the windshield of my car. The cops weren't interested. A week later two rocks came hurtling towards my house, killing a window and three pot plants. The mayor didn't return my call. Another week passed and left behind three more rocks, in my living room, toilet window and my favourite mug. I was also awoken one morning to rays of light like Lazar beams shining through several bullet holes in my roof. The prime minister's secretary said "Please stop wasting our time."

But then... the saddest thing. The event that crawled out of my nightmares and filled reality with despair. I found my beautiful little four year old child dead in the driveway with her tricycle toppled over next to her. One of the wheels was still spinning. And covered in her blood a letter "We're not going to stop until you get out."

So, with nothing else left to do I picked up the rock and threw it back. I threw it as hard as I could and felt the ripple of justice surge through me as the sound of breaking glass twinkled through the air. I picked up another rock and another and just kept throwing. I threw one for every squashed pumpkin I found in my garden. I threw another for my favourite mug and I threw a hundred thousand more for the apple of my eye, whose grave I wailed by the next day for what seemed like an hour for every year she should have lived!

I just kept throwing. They kept throwing back.

The papers were in an uproar! Everyone reported bout this mad man who kept throwing rocks at his neighbors. Not one mentioned the vast amount of patience and restraint I had shown in the many years leading up to my defence. "Its disproportionate violence" they said. Well screw them! You attack my home, you attack my family, you kill my child and I will show you that a price can not be put on peace. If something such as my own home is priceless then there is no disproportionate way to protect it. If I have to throw a million rocks just to stop them from harassing my family - I sure as hell will!

One of my rocks hit one of their Grandmother's and I got ridiculed again. What the papers didn't say was that They had wheeled her chair right next to the window on purpose, hoping that I would hit her so they could cry foul murder. Another day I hit a child. I got ridiculed of course but what no one mentioned in the paper was that they had filled their house with children and kept hurling rocks my way knowing that if I retaliated I wouldn't be able to miss a child!

I got a letter from a relative overseas. It turns out my story is everywhere these days... only not the entirely correct version of it. In any case people have started throwing rocks at them now too...

I want peace just as much as the next guy, I'm going to fight until its mine to keep.

Kerin Gedge

And now something completely unrelated!

My Mate Shane, best classical guitarist in NZ - visit him at http://www.youtube.com/user/nzguitarman1234

Step Brothers

2008-10-08T00:33:00.000-07:00

Thinking of this movie the words of the Apostle Paul come to mind "When I was a child,I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man I put the ways of childhood behind me..." (1 Corinthians 13:11)
Herein lies another one of Will Farrel's painfully crazy performances which seem to make no sense and yet once your in the thick of it, its so hard to look away! Personally this movie had a lot to laugh at and relate to but every good thing is also balanced out by something painful. Namely the swearing. As I walked out of this film I protested to my wife "You know, this movie would have been funny without the swearing!" I'm still not at a place in my spiritual development to put an outright ban on swearing in film. In my personal life this is something I try not to indulge in but in movies when an actor is portraying another character, say a soldier who has just had his legs blown off or the Lieutenant commander Data about to crash land the saucer section of the USS Enterprise I sort of feel that if it suits the character and the situation then it makes the movie more believable (as believable as Star Trek possibly could be at least). But in this case it was unnecessary, really, and it took away from the film.
Will Ferrell plays Brennan Huff, a 40 year old who very definitely failed to launch and still lives at home supported by his mother until suddenly she meets Dr Robert and decides to remarry. Brennan finds himself not only acquiring a new Dad but a Step brother, Dale Doback, played brilliantly by John C.Reilly (who strangely reminded me of an old flat mate of mine). The rapport between them is one of instant murder, threatening to kill each other in their sleep. Predictably though, they become best friends and go from playing Karate in the garage to joining their beds together as bunks only for one to squash the other - you know, the sort of thing you did when you were 10. And there's the gimic - two fully grown men behaving in a way that only a preteen could. And although that should have been a painful premise there was something nostalgic about it which kind of adds to the films appeal.
There aren't many moral aspects to this film. If you can get past the swearing its really just a good laugh but, and this may have been accidental, it does raise awareness of the growing problem that so many men reach adulthood not having a clue what they are supposed to do next. The two "boys" are forced to look for jobs and go about it in an incredibly childish way and after a day of failed interviews Brennan sits there in his tuxedo and asks Dale "How are you supposed to be an adult anyway? Am I supposed to walk around with my diploma in my pocket? What are you supposed to do?" And sadly its a good point. I've actually sat in a conversation with an ill prepared 21 year old who asked me pretty much the same question. So if the film says anything its that tough lovin and guidance really need to start while your kids are still kids! But this is a film review. Not an episode of Doctor Phil.
So on that note, if you can get past the "F" words, the various references to adult magazines and occasional partial nudity of the Something About Mary variety then this is a very funny film but not for kids and not if you're trying to keep your head free of toilet humour!

The Golden Compass

2008-06-24T15:36:00.000-07:00

I was listening to Chuck Missler recently and he made an interesting comment about how throughout the Bible the Devil always seems to use the eye's to attract people to sin - when the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good.. she took some and ate it... this is true of this film. It is disturbingly attractive. The cinematography is beautiful with vast ice wastelands, a sea voyage and fantastic blimps that carry the characters over magnificent cities, even the CGI doesn't do much to take away from the film.
But like the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil I'm afraid The Golden Compass, though tantalising will do more damage than good... and here's the scary part - this isn't just a religious rant from a lunatic fundamentalist! Philip Pullman the writer of the Series "His Dark Materials" upon which the film is based summed it up for me when he said "I'm trying to undermine the basis of Christian belief "
In the beginning we discover that there are multiple universes all connected by a substance called "dust". In the particular Universe this story is set we discover that Human Beings each carry their souls outside their bodies in the shape of an animal known as a Daemon. The World is controlled by a power known as The Magistarium which pretty much tells everyone what to do and what they should think. Lyra Belacqua is the young heroine who lives in a University which supports free inquiry and funds an expedition of Lyra's uncle Lord Azreal (for some reason this made me think of the Smurfs) to the North where he intends to prove that the substance called dust connects us all to the parallel universes and may also provide a way in which one can travel between worlds, worlds so different from our own where people may not have Daemons, Daemons may not have people and God forbid there may even be worlds without the Magistarium! So off he goes on his great quest to rid the world of this totalitarian religious body while his niece is forced to go with the elusive Mrs. Coulter, of the Magistarium, to be her assistant. But she soon discovers that Mrs Coulter is heading a group called The Gobblers who are stealing children and taking them North to a place called Bolvanger where boys and girls are being experimented on by the Magistarium who are desperate to find a way to separate children from their Daemons. To help her in her adventures Lyra has been entrusted with The Golden Compass, a devise which tells her the truth about every situation.
That's the plot summary in a nut shell but there is an interesting side plot in which we find Iorek Byrnison, an exiled Polar Bear Prince who has been banished from his Kingdom by the evil and underhanded Ragnar Sturlusson. Lorek is helped by Lyra who uses The Golden compass to locate his armour so he becomes indebted to her to help her in her quest to save her friends who have been dragged off to Bolvanger... When Lyra is kidnapped and taken to Ragnar Lorek is forced to return to his previous home to rescue her and a terrible confrontation between him and Ragner ensues...
Pullman has been reported as commenting that C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia were religious propaganda so it is no surprise that critics of this story have noted its parallels with that series. Only in a negative sense.
The Magistarium is very obviously The Church, in particular the Catholic church and the children being dragged off to secret places is a shameless indictment of past indiscretions individual members of the clergy have been found guilty of committing. I say individuals because Christ himself taught that should anyone lead a small child into sin it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned! This film would have you believe that it was Catholic dogma to abuse kids!
The daemons at first made me think about the demonic realm and fallen angels but it is very clear in this story that they are meant to represent ones soul. Mrs Coultar explains about the "dust" that "Many years ago our ancestors made a terrible mistake and allowed dust into our world" which feeds into the children through their daemons. It becomes apparent that the "dust" is a metaphor for our sinful nature. It is interesting that this dust links people to other worlds that would be heresy for them to travel to. In plain English our "sin" links us to levels of experience not open to us under the restraints of the Church. The film implies that we don't need religious authority telling us what we can and can not experience because it is all good.
Perhaps most shocking of all though is the blatant allegory Lorek Byrnison shares with no less than the Devil. In the way that Aslan in The Chronicles of Narnia represents Christ, Ragnar the evil polar bear king is our Jesus portrayed as a vicious tyrant who forced the Devil... sorry, Lorek into exile. Am I being paranoid? You decide - during the big fisty cuff between the two Princes Lorek hurts his ankle, Ragnar the bear blars down at the seemingly defenseless Lorek "Is that all? IS THAT ALL?" to which Lorek swoops up and with his sharp claws rips off Ragnar's lower jaw which goes flying off into the cheering crowd of grumpy polar bears. Lorek is now King...
So what you may say? One of the earliest prophecies about Christ is the seed of the woman which God states to the serpent "...will crush your head and you will strike his heel". I think it is more than a coincidence that the roles of the Devil and Christ are reversed in this depiction where Lorek, AKA The Devil is the one who crushes the Kings head when he rips out his throat with his own teeth. Still not convinced? Jesus is the Word of God, Lorek rips off Ragnars Jaw, thus shutting him up for good. Its true that throughout history the Devil has tried repeatedly to break God's word, he tried it by removing the Messiah at Calvary, he tried it (and still does) by the countless times he has tried to exterminate the Jewish Race. The Devil knows if he can break God's word then he has won. Obviously he can't because God knows the beginning from the end and the end from the beginning but in this film he succeeds.
If you're still not convinced then at least remember this - not only is Pullman a supporter of the British Humanist Association but he is also an Honorary associate of the National Secular Society. He even made this comment about Richard Dawkins' anti christian rant The God Delusion:

"It is so well written, in fact, that children deserve to read it as well as adults. It should have a place in every school library—especially in the library of every ‘faith’ school"

Many Christians have grabbed their pitch forks and flaming torches at the likes of Harry Potter but I promise you - this film is far more destructive. Its one of my convictions that as a Christian you are free to see it but be prepared to be able to explain the themes and allegories to your children and make sure you chew over them yourself.

Movie Trailer

For Another review of this movie check out The Compass Points In The Wrong Direction by Richard Fangrad.

Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull

2008-06-23T03:41:00.000-07:00

I feel that if making a bad sequel was a criminal offense then both Spielberg and Lucas would be serving a lifetime sentence. Although the death penalty would be too harsh for these once great film makers it would be too kind for the feature itself. I don't think anyone would miss this movie if it walked off a cliff or got trampled by a herd of angry Star Wars fans.
Seriously this was for me the most anticipated film of the year. I longed for the Indiana Jones that captured my imagination when I myself dreamed of robbing graves and finding buried treasure as a young 6 year old lad but alas, what I was served with was what I like to call the "Gospel According to Steven" wherein our saviours will ultimately be skinny grey men from a galaxy far far away as seen in E.T, Close Encounters of the Third Kind and that painful mini series Taken.
All that said, there was nothing in this movie that was obviously offensive and if you had never actually seen an Indiana flick before then you might be lucky enough to enjoy it because there is no shortage of action. However I did take my 8 year old nephew to see this installment and I wondered if maybe I had made a mistake because there are a few scenes that could be quite scary, my favourite being the giant man eating ants that drag a man into their butcher shop of Doom underground...
Crystal Skull is set decades after the Last Crusade where we we find Indy held hostage by the Russians who breaking into a top secret military installation in Nevada use our hero to locate a certain relic retrieved from a famous crash site we've all come to know as Roswell. In good true Indy fashion he gets into fisty-cuffs with a few of the Reds and makes his daring escape to a small town full of mannequins. Then a siren sounds and it takes Indy 10 seconds to realize that he has stumbled upon a nuclear testing site. Thanks to a nearby lead lined fridge he escapes with only a cut lip and the humiliation of being brushed down in the buff by hard bristled brooms which seem to be all a man needed to defeat nuclear fall out in the 1950's. Back in civilization Indy finds himself a victim of a McCarthy style witch hunt because of his involvement with the commies and is forced to take long service leave from his teaching position where we find out that Marcus Brody and Henry Jones senior have long since passed away and have been replaced by photographs on his desk. As he departs he meets up with a young angsty James Dean type teen called Mutt seeking Indy's help to find their mutual friend Harold Oxley who has gone missing in Peru while in search of the Legendary Crystal Skull of Acapulco or Eldorado or whatever...
Obviously from the long paragraph I've just written you can see that this is a long winded tale which wouldn't be so bad if it didn't end with (spoiler alert) putting the said skull back onto the crystal skeletal remains of an ancient alien who was one of a counsel of 13 who taught the ancient Mayans how to plant crops and set booby traps.
If you think you can sit through nearly two and a half hours just to see Kate Blanchett evaporate and a flying saucer smash its way threw an ancient South American monument then be my guest. They also somehow manage to squeeze in a wedding and a ridiculous scene where Mutt swings through the jungle at the speed of sound with a group of angry monkeys. Then, as if we couldn't see this one coming, Mutt discovers that Indy is in fact his long lost father and then has to rescue him from the dark side... or am I getting my movies confused? You just can't tell any more with these guys...
Lots of fun - yes. Lots of good old fashion Indiana Jones - No.

It was a terrible shame to see Spielberg depart from Biblical subject matter. The first and third movie (not the second) had a certain reverence for something truly sacred. (even though the Holy Grail isn't really scriptural it was still linked to Christ). The spiritual elements in those movies was enough to spark more than general interest in the Bible whereas this recent addition reduced the supernatural and mysterious to the material and unbelievable. Although it does prove an interesting trend prevalent in our culture today and that is the massive turning away from the Christian Faith for belief in Eastern Mysticism or from a belief in God to a belief in just about anything but God. (Matt 24:10)

For a great analysis of this film and its implictions check out INDIANA JONES AND THE SPINNING OF TALES By Amanda Robertson.

Movie Trailer

Also if you find yourself curious about what the Bible may have to say about Aliens and their influence on our culture today then check out www.alienintrusion.com

Sex & The City

2008-06-22T07:10:00.000-07:00

You could very easily call this movie "Sex" and no one would miss the "City" part.
I can see an entire generation of boyfriends and husbands being dragged along to this film. There is a lot in it that appeals to the female species like a Fiance who buys his woman a wardrobe big enough to hide a family of refugees with a shoe rack the size of a small library! It has hand bags and dresses and lots of other stuff I can't remember because I was trying to see the time on my watch in the dark for most of the two hours I sat through it!
Actually I lie I don't wear a watch but this film is looooooooooooong and unless you were a fan of the series there might not be a lot in it to appeal to you.
The movie picks up where the series left off (don't ask me how i know this) - Carry Bradshaw, played by Sarah Jessica Parker, is living with her rich tall dark and Handsome "Mr Big" and seeking a new bigger apartment. When they find the perfect one the issue of who owns what becomes, well, an issue and before you know it they decide to get married (you could argue for convenience sake). Unfortunately Carry, being a popular sex columnist for a big girlie magazine, ends up with more than just a fancy wedding on her plate and the big day becomes "bigger than Big"... her man has a moment of panic which leads to his unintentional leaving her at the alter which plunges her and the rest of the cast into 6 or so months of doom and gloom.
There are quite a few sub plots going on. Samantha Jones, notorious for her sordid sexual history is struggling to stay faithful while Miranda tries to deal with her husband's unfaithfulness while Charlotte is just all so happy... except for the bit where she has an involuntary bowel movement in Mexico...
Oh yeah there is a lot of nudity in this film... and not just the "in passing flash at the beach" kind. It even goes so far as to show a male sex organ for long enough to trigger my gag reflex! It contains some pretty lurid sex scenes between a man and multiple partners giving credence to the films title. There's even a brief kiss between two men that sent a shiver down my spine - and NOT because I enjoyed it!
As far as adaptations go this was a good transition from TV to film but depending on your level of tolerance toward free love and glamorising sex outside of marriage then this film has a lot to answer for! I'm reminded of the words of King Solomon "Drink water from your own cistern, running water from your own well. Should your springs overflow in the streets, your streams of water in the public squares? Let them be yours alone, never to be shared with strangers..." Proverbs 5:15-17.
Having said all that, girls if you do think you want to see this movie DON'T take your boyfriends. Not only will they get bored enough to remember the names of designer shoes but guys have this very unfortunate affliction of being visually stimulated and it might ruin their innocence and your date. So in a sentence this is a very worldly view of love and relationships where sex is just another fun thing to do. If you want to watch a movie with your eyes wide open without feeling uncomfortable - this isn't the film for you!

Trailer

You Dont Mess With The Zohan

2008-06-22T06:01:00.000-07:00

Well you might not want to mess with the Zohan but you can sure afford to miss him!
Sandler plays the indestructible Zohan, a modern day Samson-like character who eats Palestinian terrorists for breakfast with a side of Hummus. But amidst all the blood shed and violence he secretly longs to move to America to cut and style hair, and so whilst on mission against his elusive nemesis AKA "The Phantom", he fakes his own death and defects to the US of A where he pursues his dream to make the world silky and smooth.
Unfortunately, the premise is funnier than the actual film. There is a lot in this movie that your average teenage market may find appealing but that's not necessarily a good thing.
He ends up cleaning shop for a Palestinian Hair Stylist awaiting his golden opportunity to prove himself and when he does he wins hundreds of new customers but not because of his 80's hair do's... lets just say it all goes down hill from hair as he goes above and below the call of duty and takes on the role of a male prostitute!
If you like a good intelligent quip then this isn't the film for you. Most of the jokes centre around overt sexual innuendo, and a great deal of phallic imagery. In fact the funniest bit in the whole movie is a game of hacky sack where the ball is in fact a domestic cat.
On a deeper level this film was another chance for Sandler to preach some Left Wing ideals about the conflict in the Middle East between Israel and Palestine, which come down to some feel-good notions about "why can't we all just get along?"
Unfortunately no one has reminded Adam that only Christ can bring true everlasting peace to the Middle East. Depending on your view of eschatology, this movie is just one of many that will pave the way for the biblically illiterate West to accept with open arms a false peace brought about by a future one World Government and the false Messiah it embraces.
Oops, ok so that's probably going a bit too far for a mere film review but the conflict in the Middle East can NOT be oversimplified as it has been in this film. But then again it is just a stupid comedy after all. Israel in The Land today is a direct fulfillment of Biblical Prophecy and Christians today can't afford to be fooled by a humanistic view of the situation.
The good thing about this movie is it is not necessarily anti-Semitic although it does paint a picture of a very sexually pre-occupied Jewish Male. On the other hand it's not really anti-Arab either, it just provides a good tongue-in-cheek ribbing. Whatever that means.
This film also contains a few subtle allusions to Adam Sandler's last feel good "moral" tale Chuck and Larry in which two blokes pretend to be gay for insurance purposes making Zohan just another liberal attempt at "Normalising" abnormality...
In any case as I drove home afterwards I said to my fiance - "I'm so glad I didn't pay to see that"! So save yourself some money, put that $15 you were going to spend on this film into your gas tank and wait for it to come out on DVD!

Trailer