Blog like a Champion

It is funny. I’ve written around 20 posts on this blog in three years. The most hits I received in a day was 21. This happened 4 days ago when I wrote a post about Barack Obama. I noticed the number of hits and immediately devised an FBI/CIA conspiracy in my head. I even joked about it with my wife and brother-in-law. Somebody in Washington or Arlington or somewhere top secret is paid to read every blog, every post, anywhere dealing with our president. I see some humor in that. I don’t pay much in taxes because I don’t get paid much with two technically part time jobs. So not many of my tax dollars are going toward random people reading my blog making sure I am not saying offensive things about the president. Sad things is, I care very little for politics and have completely stayed away from such divisive matters other than that most.  Judging by blog statistics, the most interesting thing I’ve ever taken the time to write about. Wow. It makes me want to close up shop. But before I do, I am not a terrorist, I am a teacher, pastor, and I wrote in a vote for Colin Powell (but I’ll likely vote for Obama in 2012 even though my dad will kill me). I like the idea of a military man for president. At least with a military man, you know there’s a chance he hasn’t sold out to popular opinion. Dodging a push for making a presidential bid was a pretty sweet move too. Anyway, back to Obama. He’s not Jesus and so is not our promised savior, but he is doing a good job with an economy in shambles, healthcare reform speed bumps, and the current need for immigration reform pushed aside for more pressing matters. With a smattering of miscellaneous thoughts both political and fiscal, I will call this the Obama Experiment and test the power of the blog to draw the attention of multiple Washington bureaucrats put in place by my tax dollars. I can’t wait for an IRS audit, a phone call from an FBI investigator, or maybe just a few extra hits on a blog nobody reads. Thanks Obama.

I am not big on what either politicians or the talking heads have to say. Although today, I was reading an article at Sojourners and a CNN link caught my attention.  Apparently one in five Americans think Obama is a Muslim. I read his statement of faith he made the other day and it seems to be on the up and up. He’s following Jesus because Christ died to forgive sins. He tries to treat others as he wants to be treated. From what I read, it is all there. Obama may have all of his ducks in a row, but we cannot forget he is a politician not a pastor. As a politician at some point along the way, you have to give up what is really important to you so that you can say the things that John and Jane Q. Public want you to say to get elected. That’s why everyone thought W. was an idiot. He just said whatever came to his head. How did he get elected twice? Thank God for our current silver-tongued president that has a beautiful way with words, but don’t expect him to pronounce the Benediction at the end of his eloquent speeches. He is the leader of the free world, but only until another good Christian man or woman is voted in that promises the masses things that he or she may or may not be able to deliver. One more thought, or rather a question: Could God not use a Muslim to bring about His Kingdom both in America and throughout the world? Don’t get all offended, I’m just asking.

One day road rage will claim the lives of me and my frail little 10 speed. As the cleanup crew scrapes my body off the ground a rookie cop will puke and then say, “Why was this loser riding his bike on a busy road anyway?” Commuter Bike riding is a calling. Because of this calling, I stare death in the face every day. Actually it swoops up behind me in the form of an angry tractor trailer whose weighty draft pulls me toward the double yellow line as he rides by laughing like a crazy man mocking the moon. I ride this lonely road, it is the only road I ride and I ride alone. Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whao-oh, whoooaaa-oh.

 I have this obsession with looking for ultra compact cars on Craigslist. I probably search “Metro” fives times a day.  Donald Miller shares a potential movie plot where a guy really wants a Volvo. The story is about how the guy has to get everything together to make this purchase and at the end of the movie he pulls off the lot in his new Volvo while credits roll. What a crappy story. What does this Volvo story have to do with me? I’ve been trying to figure that out for months now. While a Geo Metro is like a moped with doors, it is not exactly living on the edge. Since my 1990 Lumina died, the search for an ultra compact is my stab in the dark at a rebellious vehicle. While my instincts say purchase an 80’s Trans Am or maybe a Jeep Comanche with a lift kit, I choose to bear the scorn of my friends for even shopping for this golf cartish little 3 cylinder. Who cares if my dad’s riding mower has a bigger engine? 

Why a Metro? That’s kind of like asking why have I stopped using deodorant? Because antiperspirants attract Raccoon’s looking for love and they aren’t shy. That’s not true, I made that up and if you ask me why I want a Metro I will make up an awesome answer that is a complete lie. While I’m at it, I think I will just try to fix the Lumina.

There are times in life when you get the, “What am I doing?” epiphany. I was returning from Harris Teeter in my dad’s 1996 Honda Accord (Clyde’s perch is dead by the way) sporting the “Fast and Furious” muffler eating a block of organic pepperjack cheese sipping on a 800 calorie chocolate health food drink (64 grams of protein though, yeahhhyyyuh!) late for a meeting in the Thomasville Kmart parking lot to test drive a Geo Metro (Craigslist meetup/Creepofest). At every stop light I reach for chocolate goodness because on the bottle printed in tiny letters it states that I must refrigerate after opening (Hondaz don come wit  da frijjes). I finished the bottle and ate cheese until my side hurt. It was at this moment I realized that I had no clue what I was doing. Not just with my poor time management skills, but in life. The blind leading the blind is how it goes. I stumble to find my way because my LED headlamp is twisty tied to my heavy aluminum road bike (I wanted yellow, she gave me red-stupid eBay). No, I stumble to find my way, because Google has great maps, but we don’t have the internet. No, I stumble to find my way because I would have more time to search if I weren’t soaking pesticide-free pinto beans for 8 hours or overnight. No, I stumble to find my way because I will not return emails that guarantee a forensics degree in 2.5 years, someone in the Greensboro has a crush on me, the US government wants to loan me money, or improved “sexy time” performance with a revolutionary new pill. If all roads lead to Rome, what happens when in Rome? Sometimes I could smack Frost in the face for the Road Less Traveled, and then he would knock out all my teeth because it makes all the difference. After the melee, I would whistle an Irish drinking song with the people I love the most and fret about the stupid white picket fence separating me from the church.