GMAIL NINJA!

GMAIL NINJA! Gmail just rolled out "themes" for your personal mailbox. I chose the ninja, which is awesome. Cute little ninjas are dancing around with their deadly weapons. The ninja change when you're doing different tasks. When you're writing a note, for instance, a ninja appears on the right side of screen practicing his characters. It's great. I want to go to Gmail just to watch the little guys watch my email.

on my way to OSU

I'm off to speak at OSU tonight. It should be fun, I haven't been on campus in Corvallis in a while. I'll tell you how it goes.

When they won their last game, my Mother-In-Law celebrated with the kids by taking them out for pumpkin milkshakes, because OSU's colors are orange and black. I told the kids that the next time OSU wins they'll have to go out and get black licorice milkshakes. They didn't seem as excited as I had hoped.

Me, the PTA, and Burgerville

Imagine for me now, if you will, your good friend Matt Mikalatos, wearing an apron and working at a fast food restaurant.

I know, that's not a stretch for anyone to imagine.

Ahem.

My job at the PTA-sponsored Burgerville night was to hand out the food to the customers after the Burgerville employees cooked the food. I received no special training. I was neither asked nor required to wash my hands. But I did have an apron, setting me apart from the "customers" and also giving the impression that I was too inept to walk from the counter to the tables without possibly spilling food on myself.

Since the *last* time the PTA "helped" at Burgerville we apparently threw away too many of the little plastic numbers given to customers to let us know their order number, Burgerville now had us using sticky notes to discern who should get which order. The main drawback of sticky-note with a pen-written "108" vs. a plastic tent with a printed 108 has to do with ability to see the number. Add to this the strange human compulsion to roll sticky notes into little cigarette shapes and you suddenly have a lot of parents in aprons walking around and saying things like, "ONE-OH-EIGHT? A hundred and eight? One-zero-eight? It's a milkshake, people. For number one hundred and eight." The less bold parent helpers just walked in circles around the restaurant like Indy 500 racecars (only much slower), hoping that 108 would look over and snatch the milkshake from their hands.

The last time that the PTA hosted this event the teachers served the food, which resulted in our children clamoring to go see their teacher serve burgers, which is, after all, a rare event. Hundreds of people lined up, stretching out of the building and around the restaurant. Tonight the parents helped serve the food, which apparently children see every single day, so the crowd seemed smaller to me. Every few minutes the organizer would come over and say, "It's going to get really busy any minute!" She would look out the window, as if expecting a caravan of cars to pull in.

Burgerville donates 10% of the proceeds from tonight's event to the kids' school, and that's what really matters. So a huge thank you to Burgerville and the Sarah J PTA! And also to me for helping serve food.

Book Update

27,268 / 60,000 (45.4%)

This puts me just shy of halfway (obviously). I'm just starting chapter 18.

In other news, tonight I'm volunteering at Burgerville for the PTA from the kids' school. That's almost certainly going to provide something for the blog, don't you think?

This is going to be the best 28 seconds of your day

Here's a video of two rabbits fighting. Until two chickens intervene and break it up.



via boingboing.

Old Man Sweater

I have this blue cardigan that I wear pretty much every day. We call it the "old man sweater." But now it's coming apart. It's getting holes in the sleeve. It's wearing out.

Now I won't have old men walk up to me and say things like, "I wore a cardigan like that every day for twenty years when I worked at Albertson's grocery store."

No longer will I be able to say, "You know, in Europe this is considered fashionable."

No longer will I feel the warm fuzzyness of lamb's wool upon my arms.

Unless, of course, I just keep wearing it anyway. And that is what I am planning on doing.

OLD MAN SWEATER FOREVER!

Other independent films to watch for

When we went to see "Tell No One" there were two trailers I thought looked interesting enough to pique my interest. One's an animated movie about the reality of war. The animation looks fascinating and the story makes it clear this is a movie for adults, not children. No superheroes or fuzzy talking animals. It's called "Waltz With Bashir." Here's a trailer:



The second is called "Slumdog Millionaire." The basic conceit as I understand it is that the main character is on the Indian version of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" and each question causes a flashback into his life that slowly helps us put together his story and the centrality of a long lost love to why he's on the show. Sounds interesting.



Krista says she'll watch "Slumdog Millionaire" with me, but "Waltz With Bashir" will be on my own. Anyone interested in watching a serious cartoon?

Tell No One

Krista and I went down to the Fox Tower Regal Cinemas tonight to see the French thriller "Tell No One."

A man's wife is brutally murdered. He's suspected of the crime, but we the audience know he's innocent. Eight years later he receives an e-mail that tells him his wife is alive... but to tell no one because he's being watched.

And that's pretty much all I can say. It was a good movie, nice to have a thriller with a slightly more sedate pace (i.e. not summer blockbuster style). The movie is really a meditation on family, justice and obligation. It was interesting and Krista and I had a good conversation about it on the way home.

Not Rated. There were several violent scenes where Krista needed to cover her eyes, and there was a great deal of swearing in French, also some brief nudity. The movie isn't rated, but I'm certain it would be rated R.

And now for something completely different

I'm writing a new book. It's called "Imaginary Jesus." It'll clock in somewhere around the 60k (give or take 5k) mark for words, so here's where I am so far:

20,838 / 60,000 (34.7%)

I'm having a lot of fun writing it. I'll fill you in a bit more in the near future.

News From My Neighborhood

Old Man River. There's this old man I often see after taking Z to school. He walks his poodle. He's the one who reads the Farmer's Almanac. Today as I walked by he said, "Nice to get a break from the bad weather for a couple of days, isn't it?" I looked up at the blue sky, stopped and noticed the balmy weather and said, "You know, it really is." Then I felt all thankful for the weather. Thanks, Old Guy!

She Loves Trash. You know how sometimes you see a lot of paper trash on the side of the street where kids are always walking to school? I always assume it's snotty junior highers. Why? Because I am ageist! Early this week I saw a cute little girl (about five or six) walking with her brothers, eating her breakfast off a napkin. Then she finished and placed the napkin in a bush, practically without noticing. Thanks, kid!

Ready for Y3K. On a walk with my wife today, she pointed out that one of the neighbors on another street has an entire garage full of beer and spaghetti sauce. Why can't they be like the rest of us and fill it with stuff? We are not sure. But cases of spaghetti sauce... so strange. Thanks, Chef Boyardee!

A little window into the differences between my kids

We took the kids to the book fair at their school tonight. My parents took them and then I met them there. It was also a "family fun night" where the kids could do crafts. I had a short conversation with each of the kids that points out a couple of their personality differences:

Me: Z, finish up your last craft and then let's walk through the book fair and I'll buy you a book.

Z: But Grandma already bought us each a book...

Me: That's okay, I'll still buy you another.

Then I went to another table to talk to A:

Me: A, finish up your last craft and then let's walk through the book fair and I'll buy you a book.

A: But Gran-- hmm. Okay, Daddy.

Revolutionary Advice With Matt

Q: Dear Matt, my pillar candles burn evenly and become lopsided. How can I prevent this?

A: I suppose you could carefully guard the wick to make sure it doesn't get to long, patrol the melted wax to make sure the solid to liquid ratio of the wax is correct, and keep the candle away from persistent draft.

On the other hand, it's a great deal easier if you never light the candle. It will never burn unevenly then.

Writing Updates

My kids are out of control writers all of a sudden. A is addicted to your comments and dictated another story to me last night so that she could hear from you again. Z has been holing herself up in my office for hours at a time working on a story about fairies and bears and wolves. It's long. You'll see it eventually.

Meanwhile, I have some writing updates myself, but I'm going to hold out for a little bit before revealing them. But it is good news, I think you will be pleased. I may even put out a public cry for help and readers.

In any case, the moral of the story is... keep writing. Keep it up, people.

This is the last book that A writed. We have the continuing.

Book Two: The Cat Meets The Bunny

Once upon a time there was a cat and a bunny. They lived at the same house with their owners, the mom, the dad and the girl. The bunny had lots of fun with her toys. One day they went to a cat field. And they saw a cat that they really liked sooo much that the mom and dad asked the owner if they could have it. And he said yes, but make sure to take very good care of her, only give her five buckets of food a day or else she will do something. And he said not until you give her four buckets a day.

Chapter Two: The Cat Finds She Likes the Bunny

One day the cat was in a rectangle play place. The bunny was in it, too. She talked and talked with the bunny. And one day they started to play together. They found playing together was more fun than playing with their old friends.

Continuing tomorrow…

Peace At Last

Thinking about Armistice Day today and the "War to End All Wars" made me think of that future Day I hope for when that will actually be true, and no one will dare ever raise their hand in anger against another person made in God's image, and no one need bring violence in the service of justice, because the Prince of Peace will have already brought justice to the Earth.

I stumbled on this painting by Jim Janknegt and really loved it. The Prince of Peace on his white horse, the saints behind him, and fiery angels overhead. From the woods the animals gather, peace even among them, and below the detritus of human society is done away with. Beautiful stuff.

Happy Veterans Day

Today is Veterans Day, which was originally Armistice Day, a celebration of the cease fire at the end of The Great War (on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month... Nov. 11). A lot of people thought at the time that the "War to End All Wars" had finally taught us human beings a lesson, and that the world would never again stoop to such a bloody last resort. So Armistice Day, for many people, was a celebration of what they hoped would be a lasting peace.

In the 1950s, people started to clamor for a chance to honor the dead and living of other wars, too, and so Armistice Day became Veterans Day (interesting side note... the US government has officially declared that it is, indeed veterans (plural) not veteran's (possessive)).

So... happy Veterans Day to all the Vets here at BHR and especially to my Dad, Pete, for his time in the Navy and my Father-In-Law Terry for his time in the army. Also my grandfather, Everett Jones, Army man, my Uncle Tom (army) and my brother-in-law Todd, currently serving in the Navy. Feel free to give your favorite veteran a shout out in the comments.

Woman Loses Earring Two Thousand Years Ago

The Israel Antiquities Authority announced today that they had found a two-thousand year old earring underneath a parking lot in Jerusalem.

Some archaeologists have expressed dismay that they have only found one, and have committed to tearing up the entire parking lot if that's what it takes to complete the pair.

The original owner of the earring was unavailable for comments.

Me and My College Friends

Thanks to the miracle of Facebook, pictures of me in college are making their way to the internet. This one was uploaded by my RA (Kit, in the red sweater) at Lothian Hall at UC Riverside. These are many of my hallmates in the dorms.

From looking at this picture, you can probably tell why one of my nicknames was "White Boy." I miss hanging out with these guys, we had a fun time.

Credit Where Credit is Due

Z spent much of the afternoon typing out a lengthy story, which will no doubt find it's way to BHR eventually. It's the story of a group of fairies trying to figure out how to capture a grizzly bear.

But A became bored because of Z's desire to write, write, write.

Finally, I told A that if she wanted to dictate, I would type for her, and she could have her own story, too (see below).

"Can I put it on my own blog?" she asked.

"Let's just put it on my blog," I said.

"But then you get all the credit," she said.

For the record: I typed the story. I did not edit. I did not ask questions. I did not choose the font colors. It is all A's work.

A Story by A: The Bunny and the Cat

The Bunny and the Cat

Chapter One: The Bunny Meets the Cat

The man asked his wife, “When will we get a daughter and a pet? Our daughter would have the bunny and we will have the cat.”

One day they had a daughter. They were very happy, but it was only one year old. They wished it was seven. One day it was four years old. They were so happy. Soon after a few years she was seven years old. They were even happier than before, when she was only one. Soon they got the cat and the bunny. “One problem,” the daughter said. “I don’t like bunnies.”

The parents said, “Well, you’ll just have to deal with it.”

CHAPTER TWO: The Daughter Finds She Likes the Bunny

They went to a bunny field one day, when she was eight. The daughter thought is was beautiful and she just really wanted a bunny now. But there was still one problem. They had already run out of all the bunnies. Then she liked one of them so much in the field that the person just did it, he gave it to the girl. She was very very very very very happy.

CHAPTER THREE:

When she got the bunny she named it Strawberry. The mother and the father left to buy a cat. But – oopsie – they had gone to the wrong place, it was too far away. The bunny was very happy she got a carrot. She gave her a carrot and she loved her bunny for a long time.

Pharmaceutical Madness

Z has a bacterial infection on her eyelids, which means that I took a journey to the pharmacy today. The pharmacist did not inspire confidence.

Pharmacist: Your daughter will need to take this medicine once every eight hours.

Me: Hmm. So, do I have to wake her up in the middle of the night?

Pharm: No. Give it to her once in the morning when she wakes up, once at night before she goes to bed, and once eight hours after she gets up. You shouldn't have to wake her up.

Me (doing math in my head) -- Let's see, she gets up at seven. Eight hours later it's three in the afternoon, so that's just after school. Eight hours after that is eleven at night. This is not going to work.

Pharm (seeing my confused look): FINE, okay, there's some leeway. Six to ten hours is the window you're looking for.

Me: My daughter goes to bed and doesn't get up for twelve hours...

Pharm: You don't have to wake her up.

Me: Okay.

Next, he introduced the topical cream for putting on her eyelid.

Pharm: When you put this in her eyes, her vision will become blurry. So don't let her run out on the playground while her eyes are blurry.

Me: But... the cream isn't going to actually be put on her eyes, right? Just on her eyelids.

Pharm: Uh, right. But it can be used on the eyes themselves. So if it gets in her eyes, don't worry. But her vision will be blurry after that.

Gearing Up For A Talk Tonight

In a few minutes I'm on my way out the door to go speak at our church's high school group.

BUT WAIT, you say, ISN'T IT ALREADY AFTER NINE AT NIGHT?

That's right, kids. Youth group at our church starts at TEN AT NIGHT.

Why, you ask?

Because our church is rad, that's why.

OBAMANIA

Seattle practically exploded like a teddy bear when Obama won the presidential bid, and my friends in Portland say it was the same around here. Strange episodes of completely spontaneous geriatric bingo burst out, with people shouting things like MCCAIN! I SEE MCCAIN!

As I surf the net, however, I see that people have gone completely out of control with Obama Mania.

For instance, this man has taught his dog to say "Obama."



Others have discovered the effect of Obama's presidency on the far future:


People are making overt references to Obama being Superman:



Or some sort of legendary creature:Whatever happened to the old days, when people were satisfied with painting enormous murals of their candidates?


I would like to end this post with a picture of this guy who has an Obama tattoo on his hip, but I debated long and hard and decided against it. You can google the guy, though. Two things will come up, this guy and some guy who had a tattoo artist (who does not specialize in realistic likenesses of the candidate) decorate his calf.

So instead I will leave you with this fashion accessory:


That's for you, Miss Alexis. I expect to see these in your earlobes when next we meet.

Obama Dog via BoingBoing.
Spockbama via Gateway Pundit.
Obama shirt and dragon via Zimbio.com.

The name game

You may have heard that UK youth George Garratt has changed his name to Captain Fantastic Faster Than Superman Spiderman Batman Wolverine The Hulk And The Flash Combined.

Let us think about this critically. First of all, the Flash is clearly the fastest hero in this list, despite the occasional farcical race in which Superman ties him (yes, that's right, I am referring to Superman #199 and Flash #175). Let's be honest, here, the Barry Allen Flash could run at speeds approaching the speed of light... so that's pretty fast. Superman is a close second. However, Batman is an ordinary human being. So his speed would drastically lower the average. In fact, none of the others can come remotely near the speed of light. If we combined these six heroes together they would scarcely be able to break the sound barrier.

I will mention, however, that I had a small white stuffed cat in high school that we named using the same technique that Captain Fantastic Faster than Superman Spiderman Batman Wolverine The Hulk And The Flash Combined used. His name was Lyle Kyle Roscoe Shane Fuzzy Thing Jelly Doughnut Bat-cat Psycho Brain Gush.

P.S. Poor Captain Fantastic spelled his own name wrong. It's "Spider-Man" not "Spiderman." That's just sad for him.

Boys With Earrings

I picked up A from the grandparents' house today, and here's the conversation in the van on the way home.

A: Why do I see some boys at the grocery store who have earrings?

Me: Some boys wear earrings.

A: Are they called "Tomboys"?

My Favorite Election Moment in Seattle

Soon after President-Elect Obama's acceptance speech, I wandered out onto the Ave here in Seattle. As I headed just north of 45th Street I saw two men about to beat each other to a pulp. Then a bystander yelled at them. "STOP IT! OBAMA IS PRESIDENT NOW! STOP!"

Then the two guys sort of growled at each other and backed off.

It was amazing.

Then one of them yelled, "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT BOY? That's right, turn around and keep walking. Stay cool. Stay in school." So I kept walking and stopped watching. And I guess I will stay in school, too.

Vote Quote #9

"Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every authority instituted among men: whether to the king, as the supreme authority, or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right. For it is God’s will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish men. Live as free men, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as servants of God. Show proper respect to everyone: Love the brotherhood of believers, fear God, honor the king."

Apostle Peter

Vote Quote #8

“Alright guys, I want to get out there and vote tomorrow. And not because it's cool, because it's not. You know what is cool? Smoking. Smoke while you vote.”

Jon Stewart

Vote Quote #7

“Suffrage, noun. Expression of opinion by means of a ballot. The right of suffrage (which is held to be both a privilege and a duty) means, as commonly interpreted, the right to vote for the man of another man's choice, and is highly prized.”

Ambrose Bierce

Vote Quote #6

“The vote demonstrates that we accept the notion that all human beings are created in the image of God and have an equal right to preach and teach the word of God.”

Alexander Shapiro

Vote Quote #5

“The ballot is stronger than bullets.”

Joseph A. Schumpeter

Vote Quote #4

“Under democracy one party always devotes its chief energies to trying to prove that the other party is unfit to rule - and both commonly succeed, and are right.”

Henry Louis Mencken

Vote Quote #3

“Always vote for principle, though you may vote alone, and you may cherish the sweetest reflection that your vote is never lost.”

John Quincy Adams

Vote Quote #2

“Bad politicians are sent to Washington by good people who don't vote.”

-- William E. Simon

Vote Quote #1

The vote is the most powerful instrument ever devised by man for breaking down injustice and destroying the terrible walls which imprison men because they are different from other men.

-- L.B. Johnson

Dr. Suess and Coded Voting Instructions

Dr. Suess often included coded political statements in his books (as is so very clear in the book "Green Eggs and Ham").

Here's a quick little reminder from the good doctor about Election Day:

ONE FISH. Every vote matters... even if you're a yellow fish, don't be scared! Jump out of the water and get your vote in.

TWO FISH. Take a friend! Go to the polls alone if you must, but it's always more fun to vote together.

RED FISH, BLUE FISH. It doesn't matter your political affiliation. What matters is that you take your responsibility as a citizen of this nation seriously and VOTE!

Seattle and What I Eat Here

I'm in Seattle right now. We have an annual conference where the leaders of our local teams come together and we work together to figure out answers to some difficult questions, spend time with Jesus and one another. It's a great time.

I love being in Seattle. It's like a huge flashback to my life when Krista and I lived here back before we had kids.

But the most important thing about going to your old home is making sure to eat at some favorite restaurants. I went to Cedars last night. If you've never eaten there, you probably don't realize how jealous you should feel. Lunch today was Nasai Terriyaki. What culinary treats await us tomorrow? Something Presidential I suppose.

Today's an Important Day!

Three years ago today I wrote my first blog post. That's right, today is The Burning Hearts Revolution's BIRTHDAY! Yaaaaay!

If you read that first post, you'll see from what humble beginnings BHR has come. Just look at who our first commenter was! Awww, we miss seeing that guy around here.

To celebrate BHR's birthday, we're going to kick off a month of celebrating. I'll give flashbacks to my favorite BHR moments. Maybe we'll have another poetry contest. I'm thinking, "The Clay Aiken BHR Celebratory Poetry Contest." That ought to be something worth seeing. There might even be gifts for my faithful readers.

In the meantime, if you would like to write a love letter about BHR to be posted here on the site as a guest blog, please send it to matt.mikalatos(at)gmail.com. Write "Happy Birthday BHR" in the subject line. Please remember that I am sneaky as all get out and if you are trying to slip some spam into my mailbox I'll totally catch you. I've seen more spam than a Hawaiian kicthen.

Happy Birthday, BHR, I hope your next three years are twice as strange, fun and interesting, and that you finally get the recognition you so richly deserve... like if President Clinton could come and make comments on the blog like in the old days.

Yet Another Winner

On yesterday's Halloween, the kids and I practiced learning the strange social norms of Halloween. For instance, a porch light that is "on" means, you may stop here and threaten us for candy. If you don't want to "celebrate" Halloween, then you just leave your porch light off and and people know not to knock at your door.

Well, at the end of our street someone had lit their porch light and had this sign posted on their door:

NO HALLOWEEN HERE!

HAPPY REFORMATION DAY.

I thought this was a winning combination of holiday cheer and pretentious snobbery. It's also a GREAT way to teach kids a lesson: Lutherans = Big Meanies. If the Catholic church had been in charge of Reformation Day, it would have been a perfect opportunity to try again at taking over the pagan holidays by having people dress up as Martin Luther. Then we could wander from house to house and nail a list of our demands for candy to the doors of our neighbors.

In other news, I took the kids past our friends' house in the neighborhood who I knew to be Big Fans of all things Reformed and told the kids to say "HAPPY REFORMATION DAY!" instead of trick or treat. So they got TWO pieces of candy each.

And the Winner is...

Lots of interesting costumes came by last night. Apparently the "corpse bride" is reasonably common among young women these days. A lot fewer Supergirls this year. I saw a couple of Iron Mans. Iron Men? There was one guy who had to be twenty-five dressed up as a plumber. He used a fake Indian accent for some inexplicable reason. Of course there were some animals, princesses, army men and (brrrrrr) zombies. Ninjas. Our kids were a fairy princess and a rabbit.

But there was one group of kids who so perfectly captured the spirit of the season, that I think I would give them the prize for Best Traditional Halloween Spirit Costume. It was a group of teenagers who were clearly too old to be going out for Halloween. They didn't wear costumes at all. They boldly walked up to houses, rang the doorbell and defiantly stared down the people who lived there and said, "Trick or treat." They held out their backpacks instead of candy bags. People filled them quickly and without question. One kid was carrying toilet paper, as if to subtly remind us what "trick or treat" really means.

Well done, strange but powerful little teenagers. I wish we had more holidays where you could cajole and threaten people into giving you things. But alas, this month we have Thanksgiving coming. You had best get ready to be grateful for what you've been given.

Eavesdropping with Matt (Episode Thirty-Four: HALLOWEEN EDITION!)

Dedicated to the junior higher with the glowing monster mask, and to my dad.

Kid with glowing mask: How many pieces of candy can I take?

Dad: One.

Kid's friend: Yeah, come on, dude, don't be greedy.

Kid with glowing mask: I'll take two.

(Kids leave.)

Dad: That kid took two pieces of candy.

I Hate Zombies

If there's one shambling monstrosity I could gladly do without, it's those stupid zombies.

A vampire has a certain vicious nobility, and there is a spare beauty in its complete selfishness.

A mummy has honor at least. He curses with complete impartiality and he keeps his word. You disturb him and he'll kill you. I can respect that.

The wolfman you can feel sorry for. The poor idiot has to lock himself up every full moon, and fight against his deep desire to disembowel people.

Then there's the zombie. Stupid, limping, nasty, flesh-eating imbeciles. They're the lowest common denominator of monsters. They're nothing but a mockery of life and resurrection. It's dumb. Their limbs fall off and retain locomotion. They are dead but they breathe enough to say UUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHNNNNNN. The smart ones can say things like, "Brains." It doesn't even make sense how they move. No heart beating or anything, no blood pumping (unless you kill them for some reason). They're always sneaking up on people and chewing on them. They're not only stupid, they're impolite.

Some people think the best thing you can do for a zombie is to kill it. I say that's too good for a zombie. I like to ignore them completely. So a zombie comes straggling into a grocery store, crying for brains, I just walk calmly past it and get my produce. Stupid zombie doesn't even know to chase you unless you scream and run.

Everybody hates a zombie. And I don't even feel bad writing this because the dumb zombies can't even read. There's always a chance that Dracula might stumble across your blog and have his feelings hurt.

Sometimes I wait until a zombie is all calm and sleepy like and I sneak up on it and balance stuff on it. Like that website, Stuff On My Cat. Only I do it with zombies. I like to dress them up like cowboys and ballerinas. So if you see a collection of zombie cowboys wandering through your streets tonight, you'll know I've been around.

News From My Neighborhood

Weather I Would Make a Good Farmer

On the way home from dropping off Z at school I saw the same old man walking the same old poodle that I see every single school day. I decided to say hello this morning.

Me: Good morning.

OM: It's cold out today. It's like a real Fall day.

Me: Yup. But during the day it's been pretty warm sometimes.

OM: True. But I think it's going to be a cold winter.

Me: I guess that could be.

OM: The Farmer's Almanac says it will be a real cold one.

Me: Oh.

OM: But maybe you don't believe in the Farmer's Almanac. It's anybody's guess what the weather will do.

Me: But I'm sure a farmer's guess is better than my guess.

Suddenly, A Shot Rang Out!

Also on the way home... one of the neighbors has turned on his Halloween decorations. I like Christmas decorations, which shower the neighborhood with a cheery glow. But Halloween decorations have all those strobe lights and then the noise pollution of recorded voices screaming and saying things like, "HELP! OH! HELP! AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Note to my neighbors: please try not to get savagely attacked or murdered while the Halloween decorations are up. I am having a hard time discerning when to run up to the porch and tear apart the zombie dolls.

Politics (As Usual)

We're going through the book of Ecclesiastes in church right now. Our pastor doesn't stop for holidays and special events. Christmas, Easter, whatever, he preaches out of the place we're at in the book we're studying at the time.

The weird thing, of course, is that his messages are always appropriate for the moment. He ends up hitting the portion of I Corinthians that talks about resurrection just as we enter Easter. Things like that. One of the other pastors (we'll call him Sally because he said not to use his name) said that it's because of the Holy Spirit. I guess you can't argue with that.

This week was no exception. this sermon is about Ecclesiastes. And politics. And what it looks like to put your hope in political solutions rather than God. It's excellent, take a listen.

Pastor John also put up a condensed version on his blog.

Revolutionary Advice with Matt

Q: Dear Matt,

We're hosting Thanksgiving at our home this year and many of our relatives are coming from out of town. Would it be okay for us to ask some of them to stay at a hotel? It would be really inconvenient for them to stay with us.

A: Dear Anonymous Person Who Would Like Some Advice,

Of course that would be fine! I mean, it's your house, right? It's not like your great-grandfather died and left it to you in his will or something, making it a sort of family heirloom which means that you have to invite everyone over.

I know that my wife and I hate the inconvenience of family coming for special events. For instance, last Thanksgiving our whole extended family came, which meant that we had to empty out the weight room and put an inflatable bed in there. Also, we had to evict our two Guard Rottweilers, Cerberus and Cujo, and make them live outside. OUTSIDE! Believe me, that is no place for a dog. When Uncle Fred and Aunt Molly showed up we had already filled the library, the guest room, the weight room, the dog's room, the maid's room, the sewing room and the wine cellar. We had to inflate another queen size bed and launch it onto the indoor swimming pool. I told my wife, "If one more person shows up I swear that I am going to make them sleep out in the guest house!" The guest house is really inconvenient because it's out the back yard, through the garden, through the hedge maze, past the grotto, past the giant chess set, around the exact replica of the Master of the Nets Chinese Garden, past the Laser Tag field (left over from the 80's... we mostly use it for paint ball now), over the canal and just beyond the wood. It's only four thousand square feet, too. Practically rustic. And of course, Cerberus and Cujo were out there, and they were mad. Anyone sleeping at the guest house would have had to carry a sack of bacon to keep the dogs off long enough to make it to the house.

So. The answer is, no. Or something. I can't remember the question, hold on let me scroll up. Just a sec. Oh. Yeah. The answer is... "Yes." That would be fine to have your family stay in a hotel. Because it's inconvenient to host them in your home on Thanksgiving. Families are about convenience, not duty. In fact, don't even have them over to dinner. Make sure there's a Denny's in the parking lot of their motel and tell them that you're going to meet them there but then stay home and eat your turkey alone. That should be more convenient, too!

UPDATE: As it turns out, Anonymous Person Who Would Like Some Advice's house was left to him by his great-grandfather as a sort of family heirloom. So he invited his family to stay in the house after all.

A tale about a tail

Tonight was our church's Halloween -- ooops -- I mean Harvest Party. Z went as a princess, and A went as a rabbit. The big problem for our little rabbit was that she lost her fluffy tail somewhere between the jump house and the game room. In the midst of her crying, Pastor Frank came up to try to help .

Pastor Frank: Where did you last see your tail?

A: On my bottom.

Discipleship Journal (in my mailbox)

I mentioned last month that I sold an article to Discipleship Journal. This was a special moment for me, because it's a full-length article, and on a topic that I'm excited to see people read and hopefully try out in their lives.

One of the things I didn't anticipate is how nice the DJ staff and editors are. In addition to paying for my article, they also gave me a year's subscription to the magazine. Isn't that nice? It wasn't even in the contract, it was just a little thank-you from them.

Which means that today I received one in my mailbox. Which is nice, because usually all the magazines belong to Krista.

Except for Good Housekeeping. That one is mine.

New Books!!!

Tonight Krista's parents and my parents teamed up to put the kids to bed and do the dishes while Krista and I zipped off to the bookstore. I've been waiting to buy Michael Connelly's The Brass Verdict since it came out last Tuesday. I almost bought it at the airport leaving NYC but it was a full price hardcover and I was in the middle of another book that was long enough to get me to the West Coast. I love Michael Connelly, especially the Harry Bosch novels. Only two modern authors get the Mikalatos Seal of Approval before I bother to read the books: Michael Connelly and Gene Wolfe. They're the only two authors whose books, when they come out in hardback, I cannot wait for them to become available at the library or to purchase them in a year when they go to paperback. I must have them now.



While poking around at the bookstore I also stumbled across this book:



It's called Three Bags Full: A Sheep Detective Story. Rather than trying to explain it, I will quote the paragraph that caused the book to leap into my hand:

On a hillside near the cozy Irish village of Glennkill, the members of the flock gather around their shepherd, George, whose body lies pinned to the ground with a spade. George has cared for the sheep, reading them a plethora of books every night. The daily exposure to literature has made them far savvier about the workings of the human mind than your average sheep. Led by Miss Maple, the smartest sheep in Glennkill (and possibly the world), they set out to find George's killer.

Question: Is there any way I could have possibly managed to avoid buying this book after reading that paragraph?

Answer: No, there is not. It might as well have said, "This book specifically designed for the strange tastes of Matt Mikalatos." I got a silly little grin on my face and stacked it on top of my Connelly book.

Now I have two books I'm excited about. Yay!

How to Get Your Sister to Give You a Dirty Look

A: One hundred years from now I will be 105 years old.

Z: If you live that long.

news from my neighborhood

Big Wheels Keep On Turning. You may recall our cranky neighbors to the west who call the cops whenever something in the neighborhood does not suit their fancy. Well, our friendly neighbors to the NE have recently started leaving their giant truck parked on our sidewalk directly in front of Neighbor W's house. Yesterday the cops came and marked it to be towed, because it hadn't moved for several days. So Neighbor NE moved it into his driveway overnight, filled the cab with things from his garage, and then returned it to its previous location in front of Neighbor W's house. Looks like someone's going to get some hate mail!

Take You to the Cleaners. A couple of weeks ago a Kirby salesman came to our door. I told him I was busy, but he offered to come back. Krista was about to have a big party the next day and he said he would vacuum one room of the house. So I told him to come back at 4. He was late. He spent the next hour and a half cleaning my hallway. I kept trying to get rid of him so we could go to dinner. He kept saying things like, "What would I have to do to get this fine machine into your house?" And I would say things like, "I guess you could sneak into my house when I was out of town and put it in my closet." I finally asked him how much the Kirby went for and he said TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS. I laughed and told him that this was well out of my range. He said that I had to appreciate its value. I said that I did. He said that my neighbor to the NW did, too, and that he had bought one. He kept saying that. Your neighbor across the street there, he bought one. So finally I told him, that's good news. Because now I can borrow it from my neighbor for free.

Burgerville Update. The fresh milkshake of the season right now is apple caramel. Krista says it tastes like an apple pie with ice cream on it, but it's a milkshake. I wish strawberries were in season again.

Halloween decorations. Nothing makes a neighborhood feel homier than giant tarantulas, headless corpses, spider-webs and gravestones. One neighbor left their political endorsement sign on their heavily decorated lawn. Which makes it look like they are saying, "Vote for my candidate. SCAAAAARRRRYYY!"

Jam the Vote

I liked the JAM THE VOTE section of tonight Saturday Night Live Election Special. It's in the middle of the video below (at 5:12):



Tina Fey and Will Ferrel were on the show tonight, too. I noticed there was no Obama in tonight's episode. Could it be that SNL has a bias against Obama? I wonder.

Monkey Jockeys

The picture on the left is of Paprika the dog and her "jockey", Dirk the monkey.

The founders of The Kanine Derby said they couldn't figure out whether to call the new races they've put together Dog Races or Monkey Races, so they've settled for "The Kanine Derby." Training the monkeys and dogs to work together has been immensely difficult. I'll be watching the internet to see if I can get some video of the races.

Full story here.

Positivity

My team likes to tease me because I have the gift of "positivity." Seeing the bright side of things, so to speak. I'm sure it gets annoying for my co-workers sometimes. Like when my co-worker Jenny was having computer problems today and couldn't get her mouse to click correctly.

"I think I have a short in my mouse," she said.

I said, "That's better than a mouse in your shorts."

Yet Another Reason Not To Live in Prehistoric Times

Researchers have discovered the fossilized remains of a snake that was over 40 feet long, probably weighed more than a ton and was wide enough around that it would "probably have trouble" fitting through a doorway.

At the end of the article they say "it's a mystery as to what these creatures preyed upon."

Hmmm. I don't think so. I am guessing that they preyed upon everything.

Via Boing Boing.

You know, sometimes it really stretches credulity to continue to call these things "reality" shows

Bishop Thomas W. Weeks the third recently announced he's in negotiations for his own reality show. If you need a good laugh (or a good cry) be sure to click through to read the article.

Weeks is a twice-divorced church leader in Atlanta. He was last in the news for beating his most recent wife in a parking lot last August (07). His new show will be about him looking for his third wife.

During the show he'll be leading his international ministry and doling out relationship advice. His divorce lawyer will come on the show to give him relationship advice.

Which brings us to the Burning Hearts Revolution's Top Ten Rules for Relationship Advice and Reality Show Programming:

10. Don't marry a guy who beat up his last wife a mere 14 months ago.

9. Don't take relationship advice from a guy who doesn't have any successful relationships.

8. If you do choose to take relationship advice from a guy who doesn't have any successful relationships, you should always take his Opposite Advice. So when he says, "You have to think of your own needs" you can say, "That means... I should think of my wife's needs."

7. Don't take relationship advice from someone who makes a living off of the legalities of ending a relationship. Yes, I'm talking about divorce lawyers.

6. Unless your divorce lawyers has been married for thirty years and really wants to try to make things in marriages work out and he's become a divorce lawyer as a sort of last chance to save people's marriages.

5. If you want to star in a reality show, make sure your life is out of control, weird tabloid-fodder.

4. If your pastor who founded your church is always pulling funny little stunts like beating his wife, divorcing her, saying he is sad and lonely, saying he is healing and then decides he would like to go find a new wife--on a nationally televised reality show--you should give that guy a sabbatical. Just kidding. Fire him. Fire him now.

3. The devil did not make him do it.

2. And it sure wasn't Jesus who made him do it.

1. If your life does go all crazy, be sure to let the media outlets know so at least you get some publicity.

Mary Poppins on Broadway

Our last night in NYC we went to see Mary Poppins. We bought these tickets ahead of time because I love the movie and we thought it would be a good show.

And it was. The new music and the changes to the original music were done in conjunction with the Sherman brothers, the guys who wrote the music for the movie.

The acting was great and the costumes and set were spectacular. The set in particular caught my attention. It had enormous moving parts, and much of the show took place in some section of the Banks home, and the third floor and roof could be raised up and down onstage.

Also, Mary Poppins has an evil nemesis in the play. Which was good for a laugh, but of course MP is practically perfect in every way and she really had no trouble dealing with the interloper.

At the end, Mary flew up over the audience never to be seen again. Until she showed up for the curtain calls.

It was a great show to end a great week together.

A Typical Interaction

The following interaction is so typical of Krista and I that it has stuck in my brain. It took place on our plane going from Chicago to NYC.

(Terrible noises coming from beneath the floor of the plane. Enormous wrenching, screwing noises.)

Krista: That doesn't sound good.

Me: I'm sure it will be fine.

Captain: We have a problem with our hydraulic system. Looks like we'll be changing planes....

Liberty or Something Like It

This is my favorite picture Krista took of the Statue of Liberty. I've never seen one like it. It looks like Lady Liberty is striding through the forest, and we've happened upon her as we, too, journeyed through the woods.

I found our time on Liberty Island inspiring. I loved seeing the people from many countries taking their pictures with the Statue. Reading the history of the statue and listening to the audio tour was amazing, too. The way the French people came together to raise money for this gift to us, and then the Americans rallying to raise the money to build the pedestal was fascinating. I was struck by how this one piece of art required people from multiple countries, artists, architects, writers and others to come together and say, "Liberty and freedom for all people matters, and it should be the first thing people think of when they arrive in the United States."

The power of art to change lives and culture was a theme of our time in NYC, whether it was seeing the Canadian woman who has memorized every last bit of Wicked, or learning the history of the Statue of Liberty and hearing people on the audio tour talk about how they wept when they saw that great green monolith rising ahead of them, or seeing the memorial plates on the side of the fire department by the World Trade Center site.

The freedoms available to us in this country -- particularly the freedom of religion and the freedom of speech -- are things we should cherish and honor. Many in the world desire to come here to have a chance at that. One of the things that struck both Krista and I during our time at Ellis Island was how many of our immigration laws historically have been driven by racism and selfishness.

Last year we spoke with an immigrant from Mexico at our church. He told us, "Before we came to the United States, my children were hungry all the time. Now we have food to eat." That's the American dream right there, my friends. Many of our parents and grandparents came to this country to escape religious or political persecution, to climb out of the slow starvation of poverty, to find a place where they would have a chance to feed their families and be treated as equals. I'm all for us giving future generations a chance... and doing our best to make the United States a country defined by liberty and justice for all.

At the Met

On Thursday our day went like this:

1) Got up and took the subway uptown to go to the Metropolitan Museum.

2) Got lost. Ironically because our concierge got the subways backwards. Wandered in Central Park until we finally figured it out.

2) Went to the Metropolitan Art Museum.

3) Had a late lunch.

4) Went to see Letterman.

5) Grabbed dinner.

6) Went to see the 39 Steps.

7) Collapsed when we got back to the hotel room.

BUT I did want to mention an artist whose work I discovered at the Met. His name is Stephen Hannock. The Met has two of his pieces. The one above is actually eight feet by twelve feet, so you can imagine how this tiny internet picture is nothing like it. And then, the thing that I loved about it other than the beautiful painting, is that as you get closer to it you realize that he's written words all over the canvas, personal remembrances of the landscape. So the field in the foreground is actually made up of several paragraphs of Hannock's thoughts about the landscape. Places where his friends live are marked. Childhood memories (his or someone else's, I don't know) are written in along the riverbank.

The Met was great... a lot of impressive work and we could have easily spent more time spelunking the caves of art. But we had places to go, things to do! I think one could easily spend a lifetime in NYC and never exhaust all the activities available.

The 39 Steps

Thursday night Krista and I went to see "The 39 Steps" at the Cort theatre. The play is a sort of comic retelling of Hitchcock's movie of the same name, with the four actors playing about 30 or 40 characters, which sounds ridiculous and is. It's played up for comic effect, of course, and I, in response, laughed heartily. We had a good time. The staging was ingenious also, and the cast gladly pointed out from time to time how silly it was that they were pretending to be in car, or that they had one door frame to suggest every portal that must be crossed. It was a good show, and a lot of fun. Below is a short clip from the show that someone from the theatre uploaded.

Eavesdropping With Matt (Episode Thirty-Three)

Dedicated to the art-loving woman who dragged her husband to the Museum of Modern Art for the "free night" yesterday evening.

Woman: Do you even know who Dali is?

Man: Yeah. Dolly Parton.

Woman: ...

Man: I'm kidding! You need to simmer down. Just simmer down.

The New Colossus

I only have a few seconds here... Krista and I just got back from visiting the "Statue of Liberty Enlightening the World." We have great pictures and will put them on later tonight. But for now I thought you would enjoy reading the full text of Emma Lazarus' poem "The New Colossus"... the bottom bits of which are common knowledge, but I thought the poem overall worth reflection.

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Letterman, McCain, Mikalatos... together again for the first time

This morning started with a few hours at the Met, which I'll tell you all about later when I have more time. I know what you really want to know is how my adventures with Letterman and McCain went.

Krista and I arrived and stood in line to pick up our tickets to the show. We talked with the various Late Show workers and they could tell we were something special. They told us secret code words. They gave us special sheets of paper with secret initials. They marked our tickets with a magic signal. All of this was designed to make sure that we were put in the Very Front row. They said it was because we were cute and smiley. We could not deny that this was true, and so we accepted their invitation to sit in the Very Front. In fact, Krista and I sat at Letterman's feet during his monologue. We could reach out and grab his fancy red and white polka dot tie. But we didn't.

I could feel in my bones that Letterman sensed my presence. And not just with his eyes or ears, but with his deep comedic sense. So I wasn't surprised when he walked down to K and me during the first commercial break and said, "If McCain won't come out to talk with me, I want you to come up and be interviewed."

I laughed. Ha ha ha! But I should have known that Dave is not one to joke. He was serious. Deadly serious.

Luckily, McCain *did* come out for his interview, which is for the best since I wasn't prepared. Dave went after McCain pretty hard during the interview, but McCain is a tough guy and he fought back with good humor until he saw me out of the corner of his eye. "Is that you, Mikalatos?" he cried.

"Yes," I said.

"You gave me a lot of trouble when I was in Arizona and people brought up your poetry contest to name new poets laureate!"

"I know," I said, "And I'm sorry."

Dave interrupted to say, "Matt, I've been thinking this over carefully and I want to hire you to be on the show. Would you like to be the Ed McMahon to my Johnny Carson?"

I frowned in deep thought. "I don't think that I can do that."

"You could just be a writer for the show," Dave said.

"No, I can't do that either. I have a job that is deeply important to me."

"What sort of job is it that you have?"

"I am... a missionary," I said.

"GOOD LORD!"

"Precisely."

Dave and McCain exchanged a glance. "How about we do a song and dance number together instead?"

I laughed, but Dave insisted. So McCain, Dave and I danced like a whirling storm of flying feet and sang a heartbreaking but hilarious song about Broadway, Presidential politics and Barak Obama's new plan to get us all kitties.

After that Ne-Yo came out and we had a dance off. I will admit that he won, though.

We all parted with manly hugs. I gave Dave my silver flute so that Dave and I would have no hard feelings. I still think it might be booby-trapped.

After all this Krista and I were tired, so we went out, grabbed dinner and then went to yet another Broadway show. Whew! It was a fun, exciting day. The next time I have a chance I'll give you a little update on the show we watched tonight (The 39 Steps) as well as our time at the Met.

Wicked, Wicked Broadway

We scrambled down to the Gershwin theatre this afternoon to attempt to win the "Wicked lottery." About two hours before show time the theatre draws about ten names, and those lucky individuals who are drawn get to buy front row (!) tickets for a HEAVILY discounted price. It comes out to about $25 a ticket, which is probably about a tenth of the price others in those seats are paying.

So Krista and I put our names in and, wouldn't you know it? We won! My name was the next to last name called, so I happily traipsed up to the front of the line and pulled out ID and cash to buy our way to the best seats in the house.

I know some of you are probably concerned that the system was unfair or biased in some way so that I won, and not the hundred other people who had put their names into the pot. I don't think that's true. Although afterwards, it was like we had left behind Kansas and our old black and white lives and somehow stumbled into a world of vibrant color.

Here's a picture of me with all the winners of the Wicked lottery (we're on the left):

I have never had such great seats. I actually found the beginning of the show slightly frightening, as it seemed the actors could reach through the fourth wall and grab hold of me with no effort at all, and the flying monkeys were gibbering and leaping about.

The main actors, Julie Reiber and Kendra Kassenbaum performed beautifully. The entire cast, in fact, was amazing. The music, the sets, costumes, everything was great. I loved it. Krista and I had a great, great time.

I have some thoughts about the story overall, but I think I'll save that for another time just in case there is some Wicked-equivalent to Clay Aiken fans waiting to jump me. I'll just say that taking fantasy narratives and bringing moral sophistication rather than clear, black and white morality to them is difficult and I don't think the play quite pulled it off without raising a lot of questions. I imagine that if any of the good citizens of Oz saw this play they would say "conspiracy nut jobs." But we don't have to worry about that happening, anyway. That didn't (at all) diminish my enjoyment of the play. I laughed. I cried. I believed a monkey could fly. Krista liked it enough that she signed off on our children having Broadway careers.

Tomorrow... Mikalatos, Letterman and McCain, together in one room. TUNE IN TOMORROW FOR A COMPLETE REPORT. Until then, your BHR correspondent in NYC is signing off for the night.

the temptation to abuse power

While Krista was busy outside listening to people saying how they like to be deceptive, I was inside asking a vendor if we were in the correct line. Enter... an NYPD police officer.

Officer: Is the bathroom right up these stairs?

Vendor: Actually, the lobby doesn't open until just before showtime.

Officer: Are you kidding me?

Vendor: Sorry. You'll have to use the bathroom at Starbucks just down the street.

Officer: You must not be from New York. You should try to stay friends with the police.

Vendor: Sorry, it's just theatre policy.

Officer: This is bad. You should try to make friends with the police. This is not good.

Vendor: It's the same for everyone, you can ask the manager.

Officer: Sure it is. I've used that bathroom before. This is not good. I'm just sayin'... you should try to stay friends with the police.

Then the officer exited the building. It's hard to express satisfactorily how threatening this all sounded. I have no problem with our police officers getting a break where they can get one. I would have no issue with them getting to use the bathroom when I, the customer, cannot. And I am sure that officers sometimes receive these little "thank yous" and I am all for that. However, when the officer slowly begins to think it is his right to receive something other than his pay for him to do his job, that is a problem. That is called bribery. It seemed to me (as ridiculous as it sounds) that the officer here was saying, "If you don't let me use the bathroom, the police won't be your friends, which means that bad things could happen." I don't care if the police are my friends. The police need to do their job for their friends or their bitterest enemies with complete objectivity or they are in danger of being consumed by their own authority. It was interesting to me that the officer's first barb hurled at the vendor had to do with whether the vendor was a true New Yorker. It's like a line from a western or something. "You ain't from around these parts, are ya? If you were, you'd know that the law in this town gets what it wants."

I watched the officer for a while after that while he stood outside venting to a couple of other officers. One of them went inside the building near the vendor while the first officer talked to him the entire time on a cell phone, I assume in some sort of strange intimidation technique. I was concerned enough about the whole exchange that I went and wrote down the officer's name. It was a deeply disturbing moment.

It symbolized to me the deep danger of authority and power... a subtle shift can take place concerning an unimportant, even trivial, issue and suddenly a well-meaning and even noble man can discover that he is abusing his power so that he doesn't have to walk down the block to use the bathroom. It's tragic, and I hope it was an exception in this officer's life. And I hope that I will catch any such moments in my own.

Eavesdropping with Matt (Episode Thirty-Two) with Guest Eavesdropper, Krista

While we stood in line for the "ticket lottery" for Wicked at the Gershwin theatre, Krista overheard this little gem in line behind her.

Lady 1: We have to give them our real names so that if we win the lottery we can prove it with our ID.

Lady 2: Oh. That's too bad. I like to use an alias.

Lady 1: Why?

Lady 2: I like to be deceptive.

Monty Python's Spamalot with surprise guest

Tonight I went to Spamalot, my first Broadway show, and I have to say that we enjoyed ourselves immensely. Part of the fun came from being with my beloved wife, without a doubt.

As we rounded the corner of the theatre, we knew little about the show. We knew it was based loosely on the "Holy Grail" movie from Monty Python and that Tim Curry, David Hyde Pierce and Hank Azaria had been in the Broadway debut. What we didn't know was that the big name in the show for right now was... Clay Aiken.

Krista and I laughed about that and she assured me that she hadn't known. I'm not a big American Idol or Clay Aiken fan. A lot of people in the audience must have been because they applauded and screamed every time he said his lines without messing up. He's famous, I guess. As the guy next to us in the theatre told his father, "Clay Aiken's the Announcer-Guy on American Idol."

The first act of Spamalot left me grinning. It's funnier than the film it's based on, honestly. "The Song That Goes Like This" kept me laughing, as well as our heroes and their encounter with the Lady in the Lake and the Laker Girls. I could have done without much of the second act.

I would have gladly gone my entire life without hearing or seeing performed the songs "You Won't Succeed on Broadway" and "His Name Is Lancelot." Attempting bravely to balance these two travesties out was "I'm All Alone" and watching the Black Knight get hacked to bits on stage, followed by the ferocious rabbit. Please, someone, let somebody else read the Holy Hand Grenade instructions instead of Aiken. It's outside his range, I think.

All that to say, we had a great time. They closed the mezzanine for some reason and moved us to better seats in the balcony. Oh, and then we went for dessert afterwards and saw P Diddy. Yeah, apparently he was watching "Lion King" and fought his way out through his fans afterwards with his entourage. So we saw Clay Aiken and P Diddy in one night. Life in NYC, I guess.

Good night, everyone! See you tomorrow.

Updates from my wife

If you're not following my wife's updates about our time in NYC this week, you should. You can leave her comments. She likes that.

1) Proof that she is happy being with me. So you can back off, she's mine.

2) Fun with Son.

3) Mikalato + Gelato.

We had a lot of fun spending time with Sarah today. We miss her on the Left Coast. My only complaint is that every time she took a picture of us she would say, "It's so white!" Sometimes it is hard when our friend says hurtful things because of our race. :P

Accosted on the street by strangers

As you move toward Times Square, nearly every corner is populated with men trying to sell you tickets to a comedy show. For some reason I am like an unpleasant mark to them. I have tried different ways to respond to them, all of which seem to make them angry.

The Polite Approach: In which I say, "No, thank you" when they ask if I would like to see a comedy show. To which they reply by shouting after me, "WHY DON'T YOU TRY SAYING YES, HUH? WHAT ABOUT THAT?"

The Ignoring Them Approach: In which I pretend not to see or hear them. To which they reply by shouting after me, "WHAT, YOU CAN'T HEAR ME ASKING YOU IF YOU LIKE COMEDY? HUH?"

I am not sure why they keep yelling after me. They don't seem to do it to other people. Is it my old man sweater? Is it the fact that I am with a beautiful woman and they are insanely jealous? Are they intimidated by my monstrous biceps? I do not know.

Here was my favorite interaction today:

Guy Selling Tickets: Do you like comedy?

Me: No, thanks.

GST: You know, Shakespeare was pretty funny.

Me (already out of GST's range; grinning): Yes, he was.

Krista: Is that going on your blog?

Me: Yes. That guy has just earned himself a place in history at BHR.

Tomorrow I have some new techniques to try out. My favored one at this moment is the "Pretend You Are A Foreigner" technique. I think this might work, since people in Latin America tend to think I am their countryman, I thought I might be able to get away with it here. I just have to say something in Spanish whenever people try to sell me tickets. We'll see how it goes.

Two more strangers on the street:

1) While in the Village, two guys with clip boards started sending hand signals to each other while we walked by and the second guy said, "Gay and lesbian rights?" I just stared at him. I couldn't figure out what he meant. Then he said, "Have a nice day." And then I was past him. I suppose I should have said "That's true" since gay and lesbians do have rights (?).

2) A fervent young man asked, "Do you have a minute to give to Obama and the Democrats?" I said, "No, I don't think I do." For one thing, I didn't see Obama there. I suppose if he personally wanted a minute of my time I would provide it. But I wasn't sure how the fervent young man with a clipboard was going to use my minute. And just asking him would use up most of the minute, anyway. Besides, I am on vacation. I am not giving any moment of this day to any politician or political party. They have more important things to do than spend my minute.