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a sampling of the mindset #2

More from Dude.

This is after MB and others gave him a polite and much-needed smackdown for the comment referenced in the post below and he’s having a change-ish of heart. He’s directing this at MB, after MB explained to him that “dumb” could mean “stupid” or “mute.” (Italics mine.):

As I was telling (another commenter), I was meaning dumb sheep as in their intelligence.  I once heard that they would follow each other off of a cliff and die just because they were following the one in front of them.  (Okay. This is an apt analogy of a FOCer. I’m with you.) I didn’t mean stupid or mute.  (Oh. Just suicidal then. I see.) I guess you interpreted my tone in a way I didn’t intend to be interpreted.  That’s always been the problem with written text; tone and influx of voice for emphasis doesn’t exist.  Even primitive written languages have that.  It stinks.  Did we ever meet?  I don’t remember a lot of last names.  (Yes, because, naturally, MB was using his real name. See how it works? Of course, everyone uses their REAL NAMES on the Internets! Sheesh. Jesus himself would use a screen name just so wouldn’t bug him, Dude.) Did I ever sin against you at the SD church?  If I did, please forgive me.

Brothers and Sisters, I never intended this to go this way.  I was hoping for some good iron sharpening iron.  I came across in a rude, boasting, arrogant way.  Please forgive me.  As for my questions and comments, that aren’t offensive, please help me?  Thank you so much!

So, okay. A teensie change.

But, then, Dude weighed in randomly, off-topic, just a month later:

When will you all come around? (FOC) ROCKS!! You have read and laughed at my story (eh???) but you know that I am in seminary and lead worship at FOC SD Church. I pastored in Calvary Chapel before. I’m young but I’ve been around. Get over your bitter selves and be reconciled with your brothers and sisters in the churches you left. I know you would be received with love and open arms! Let me say it again (FOC) ROCKS. We have planted 3 new churches in California and Arizona in just a year! Come back!!

I’m still unclear, Dude, and I wish you would just answer the question: Are you or are you NOT in leadership?

Strange how his earlier apology — a month before — seemed to have worn off, like Novacaine. I get it, Dude. Saying you’re sorry can feel like a root canal.

My response to Dude:

You know, I’m happy FOC is so great for (Dude), but honestly, coming in here and speaking that way is like trying to sell the awesomeness of peanuts to a roomful of people with deadly peanut allergies. Look, we tried peanuts and they nearly killed us. You peanut lovers, eat away, but you need to be OKAY with those of us who choose not to partake because it proved detrimental to our health.

(Dude), let’s imagine a scenario for a minute. Let’s imagine, oh, your best friend’s wife cheated on him and he found out. Let’s imagine he’s utterly devastated. Let’s imagine HE — the injured party — tries and tries to work it out with her, all to no avail. Then let’s imagine because of his pain, because of his wife’s unrepentance and unwillingness to work it out, he feels he must leave his wife. Would you, in the face of your friend’s horrible grief and betrayal, dare to say to him, “But SHE ROCKS! SHE IS AN AWESOME WIFE!! When are you going to come around to that? Just get over your bitter self and go back! She will welcome you with open arms!!”

(She won’t admit anything wrong or she’ll throw it back on you ….. but “GO BACK! SHE IS AWESOME!!!”)

That’s essentially what you’re doing to those of us here who’ve been really hurt or abused or wronged or betrayed by FOC. It’s not a perfect analogy, I know. You’re that guy callously demanding that your broken friend go back to the unrepentant spouse. You’re that guy expecting your human hurting friend to just GET OVER — on your timeline — some massive spiritual and emotional damage.

Processing things of this nature takes TIME, (Dude). I am not Jesus. I am human. I need the GRACE of time. I need the GRACE to have a human reaction. Do I need to forgive? Yes. Forgiving can hard enough when someone asks us for forgiveness, but when it’s not asked for, not even sought, that doubles my load of forgiveness. I must forgive what was done and THEN forgive that there’s total unrepentance about what was done. Can you understand that, (Dude)?

I truly hope you’re never injured by a church in a similar way. I also hope no one whose “soul you end up shepherding” is ever hurt BY you — not until you learn, really learn, to develop the compassionate heart of Jesus. I don’t know if they teach that in seminary. You may have to ask the Holy Spirit to give you some. And, in my experience, whenever I’ve asked the Holy Spirit for more of this quality or that quality — it’s funny. He puts me in situations where I need to exercise that quality but can only do so with HIS help. Maybe you’re continuing to read here because the Lord wants you to learn compassion for his hurting sheep FOR YOUR SAKE. For the sake of your future as a pastor. Maybe God’s intent for your readership here isn’t to chastise the hurting. Maybe it’s something that has more to do with compassion. Just a thought.

You chastising me and others about how we need to COME BACK and GET OVER OURSELVES is not likely to produce that outcome. It’s like you’re some cheerleader at a wake. It’s just not appropriate.

I admit — I’m taking your attitude quite personally because I went to YOUR church. I know exactly who you are. I’m glad you like your church. I’m glad that’s true for you. But your church hurt me. And that is true for ME. Accept that. You ARE representing your church, whether you like it or not. You’re in leadership, as you’ve repeatedly stated.

And I don’t think your tone and insensitivity represent your church very well.

Dude, Dude, Dude.

I had a flicker of hope for you with your change-ish of heart, but then — poof! — it died.

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a sampling of the mindset #1

There are two blogs out there sounding the alarms about the “family of churches” MB and I recently attended. I’ve mentioned them obliquely before, not outright, because I’m still weirdly paranoid about things. Not as much as months ago, but, strange, it’s still there. Fading, but there.

(I think I’m now going to simply refer to Maybe Church as FOC — “family of churches” — because then, oh THEN, I can refer to its members as FOCers, which makes me feel lightheaded and giddy and naughty, like I’ve just made out in the backseat for a really long time. I have no preferred pronunciation here, pippa, because no matter how you choose to pronounce it — folkers or fockers — it gives me JOY INAPPROPRIATE AND IMMEASURABLE. I mean, Christians just love to be “folks” and talk about “folks.” I cannot say whether they love to be “focks” but, well, sometimes it just happens.)

Uh, where was I?

Recently, on both of these blogs, a dude (let’s call him Dude) who attends “our” very own FOC church, blessed everybody by inserting himself into the conversations. He used his full name because if you’re a FOCer you should do no less for the sake of honesty. You do not want to be guilty of slander, which — let’s review — is what anonymous blogging (or anonymous blog commenting) IS. Oh, and let’s also review this: The bigger your anonymous boobs, the bigger your anonymous slander because then you’re an automatic tramp and therefore an automatic slanderer. Dude doesn’t have those woes, lucky duck, although I did get a gander of several men sporting large pancaking manboobs at FOC church. I know exactly who Dude is, and while he doesn’t have large pancaking manboobs, he does have a disturbingly hip-forward gait for a hetero dude. Eh, maybe some women like that. Whatever.

Now these blogs, in addition to sounding the warning bell about FOC, also serve as a kind of hospital, binding up the wounded, offering solace to the hurting and confused. The pain in some people’s posts just leaps off the page. It vibrates in the very air when you read their comments and I sometimes find myself feeling helpless that I can’t do more to help them. If you read long enough, you get a sense for context and stories and for who people are and I think that’s important to do on ANY blog before you comment. Get a feel for the vibe, the people, the tone. You’ll be a better commenter. Dude, however, simply barged into ongoing conversations about something else altogether to make his virtually incomprehensible pro-FOC rants.

I’m posting one of his first comments here, edited a bit for names, for his name, etc., but not edited at ALL for grammar, spelling, or, well, SENSE. I want to give you a feel for the mindset of a random FOCer.

(Anything in parentheses and italicized like this is my intervention.)

Here we go ….

Hey brothers and sisters,


PLEASE READ THIS


I would love to here in one sentence (because we all have long winded breaths! ha!) one thing that FOC does that is unbiblical.  It seems that bashing a person that the Father calls “son” or “daughter” would anger him.  So, let’s think of the truth being outside of us, and then work to get to that truth together, holding hands, not b-o-m-b-s…

I have just four comments to make here.  I am a member of FOC SD and a current student at (Yodellyho Seminary) California.  I am a former pastor of a non denominational church (founder) from Temecula, Ca.  It was the fastest growing congregation in America at one point (3 to 524 in 4 and 1/2 months).  I say that pridefully so that you respect me and will eventually bow down and laugh at every joke I make.

Comment 1: What attracted me to FOC, specifically in SD, was the gospel being placed at the center.  This was the intent of (former pastor) and (current pastor).  It isn’t about how much I read the Bible, how much I pray, whether or not that I tithe, or what gifts that I could finally shine with (I was a former pastor and worship-leader).  When I first lead worship for a small group there, (one of FOC SD pastors) asked me afterwards, “well…since, you didn’t ask for critique, let me give you some.”  It angered me for almost a year that every time that I led worship he did that.  I even convinced my wife that he was a crazy control freak and shouldn’t be a pastor, and that maybe we should leave.  In the end, I realized that he was doing these things to actual serve me.  He saw sin in me and sought me out to care for my soul.  The sin lied within me of wanting to be noticed (HELLO, I was a pastor and worship-leader of one of the fastest growing church bodies before, and it had been two years before they asked me to do anything!).  I, the dumb sheep, didn’t get what my earthly shepherd was doing.


Comment 2: FOC has all kinds of problems.  So does the OPC, PCA, Calvary Chapel, URC, Rome, WillowCreek, John Piper, etc. ad nauseam.  This doesn’t mean that I would leave.  What other good church could I find?  Does anyone know of a good church?  I would love to see one.  Then I could finally be in heaven.


Comment 3: Since, probably, no one here is trained in the Bible (I don’t mean the Pastor’s College because it is pastoral, not intense biblical training), nor called to pastor a church, but called to be a dumb sheep of God, think of Peter, our great example of the perfect pastor, and then rethink your position.


Comment 4: Lastly, we get mad when people make Christianity about what the Christian does and not what the Savior did.  Why aren’t we applying the same to FOC? (FOC Pope) or (some FOC leader, I dunno), or (FOC SD pastor), et. al. are not FOC, their message is.  Do you agree with the gospel?  Then these people are your brothers no matter how bad they gave you a wedgie, chewed you out, didn’t listen to your concerns, or didn’t care about the gifts that God has given you.  That sounds like an earthly brother or sister to me.  They will get this all wrong themselves, but their message won’t change.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this.  I will probably judge you, pray that God give you boils under your armpits, laugh at you, and post your comments of (foc4life.com)I don’t know if that exists, haha; I will actually check right now…nope, doesn’t exist.

P.S. I know how you feel though.  I came from a Calvary Chapel background and had to deal with a lot of issues that people from FOC helped me with.  I get it.  What’s weird is that we love each other because of some dude that died on a piece of wood 1970 some odd years ago.

So, love you all!

Above all, may God bless us with the remembrance of what His Son has done by the power of the Holy Spirit for His Own glory,


Dude Duder

You know HELLO I’m not clear on something: Could you please clarify whether you are or are NOT a former pastor and worship leader? You’re pretty vague on this point, Dude, and most people naturally need to know the contents of your entire CV and be repeatedly reminded thereof before they can form an opinion about you or anything you say. Please be more forthcoming. And then please be forthcoming again, so I can know what to think of you and myself in comparison to you. Thank you so much, Dude.

Uhm, thoughts on this, anyone?

I have more from Dude, but I want to hear what you guys think of him and his comment.

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snippets

(After mentioning someone old before his time.)

HIM: Dude, it’s called Touch of Grayâ„¢ not Shock of Old.

*********

HIM: So you have two kids but you’re not married? Sheesh. Put a ring on that cervix.

That man is out of control these days. He’s some kind of crazy grouchaholic now and I must really be weird because I think IT IS AWESOME.

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oh, my heart

Have you heard the story about the little 7-year-old hero out of LA who probably saved his entire family? Listen to his 911 call.

I’m tempted to quote him because there’s something so precious, but I don’t want to ruin it.

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conformity

Below is a really interesting video I found linked in the comments of a blog I read regularly now — about a certain “family of churches” and its corruption and abuses and subtle use of group think to produce compliance.

Conformity is huge within this “family of churches.” My personal experience was that one person was much like another. Apart from physical differences — and even with that, there was conformity in clothing — one person’s personality and conversation was much like the next. They spouted what sounded like sales pitches. The words may have differed, but the attitudes were identical. Even in our first weeks there, I could sense ….. something. The tip of an iceberg of rigidity under all the smooth pleasant surfaces. I’m still reeling a bit from how bizarre the whole thing was and I’m still surprised and a little embarrassed at how much the ordeal with Outing Person has hurt me.

I knew Outing Person years ago, as I’ve said, and it pains me — literally pains me — to see that his personality seems to have done a complete 180, from the joyful, alive, warm person I once knew to the dour, listless, cold man he seems to be today. How has he changed so much in front of his loved ones without comment from them? Unless they, too, are changing simultaneously? If My Beloved had done a complete 180 in his behavior and personality I would say something, for God’s sake, unless I’d somehow lost the ability to notice. Does Outing Person’s family say nothing because they’re also changing, because they’ve also lost discernment? If I can see it, why can’t they? The implications here are actually terrifying to me.

From what I’ve learned of this “family of churches” over the last several months, I can’t help but lay some — probably most — of the blame for his transformation at its feet. He has conformed to the group. Says the same things others say. Forfeited his personality in order to be “obedient” to man-made rules. His individuality, which once shone so brightly, has been assimilated into the Borg of this church. In my brief and bizarre interactions with him at Maybe Church — and my heart is sick to say this — I saw a man in bondage to rules and legalism. He was once SO free. SO loving. It was all I could do not to shake him or smack him and cry, “What’s happened? What’s HAPPENED TO YOU??” Literally, pippa, I grieve over this. Grieve. Over the months since then, I have found myself randomly weeping over the alteration in this man. I’m not talking about the physical changes that people go through as they get older. Who cares about that? It’s not substantive. I’m talking about the fact that his personality and his demeanor were completely unrecognizable, completely OTHER to me. I actually found it frightening.

I’ll tell you my theory: The Antichrist? That whole thing? It will start with the church itself smoothing the way for that, sloooowy morphing truth into truthiness until the people in the pews end up believing something entirely different from what they started with. It’s happening even now, within this organization, but it’s so subtle, SO subtle, that unless you stubbornly and obnoxiously cling to your independent thinking skills — your GOD-GIVEN ability to reason and analyze — you will succumb.

The man I knew years ago would not have succumbed.

So, yes, it grieves me. I weep over it. I wish I didn’t, but I do.

And it starts with conformity, with the subtle pressure of group think.

Watch this video on an experiment in conformity and see what I mean.

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oscars 2010

~ The ceremony starts off with something like the Olympic Parade of Nations where all the stars nominated for Best Actor and Actress march out onstage while a voiceover announces their names. Weird. And the voice is cheesy, as if it should be announcing Wayne Newtonnnn, Mr. Las Veggggggas instead of Oscar nominees.

~ Doogie Howser is here now. In a sparkly tux. You know, in case you didn’t yet know he’s gay. He’s doing the bit that used to be Billy Crystal’s: Singing about the nominated movies. Only ….. he’s supposed to be able to really sing — I mean, he’s done Broadway — and, well …… he sounds off. And the bit is not funny. At least with Billy, you didn’t expect great singing and you GOT good funny.

~ Hurrah! The hosts, Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin are here. They instantly start picking on Meryl Streep. Steve: “The woman with the most nominations ever ……. or as I like to think of it, the most number of losses.”

Cut to Streep. She’s dying.

Later, they pick on her again. Steve: “You know, everybody always says the same thing when they work with Meryl: Wow. Can that woman act! But what’s with all the Hitler memorabilia???”

Cut to Streep. She’s howling again. So funny. I love Steve and Alec together. And Meryl just seems so down to earth and good humored and I want to eat pie with her. (I also love how I call them all by their first names as if we’re all old school chums, you know? What a wiener.)

~ Steve: There’s that damn Helen Mirren. Alec: Steve, that’s dame Helen Mirren.

~ Penelope Cruz presenting Best Supporting Actor. She looks beautiful, but yamahama, Crackie, that chick seriously no habla. I have no clue who will win this one. Okay. It’s Christoff Waltz from “Inglourious Basterds.” (I actually did see this and the man is scary — and I mean SCARY — good. Nightmares.)

~ Speaking of nightmares: Before the ceremony starts, Whoopie Goldberg — Oscar award-winning actress — is in a commercial for Poise pee pads. She’s playing different women through the ages, like Joan of Arc, and showing …… I’m not suure …… how things could have been different if only they’d been wearing a Poise pad? Like, if only Joan of Arc had been wearing a Poise when they burned her at the stake, it would have made the peeing her pants part bearable???? “Poor Joan. How awful she wasn’t sportin’ a Poise.” Like, wha???

~ Up wins Best Animated Feature. I cannot even speak of that movie. Parts of it — yes, an animated feature — hit WAY too close to home.

~ Mylie Cyrus (KAPOW!!) and Amanda Seyfried wearing prom dresses. Is it me or is Mylie Cyrus (KAPOW!!) becoming a strumpet? She’s, what, 16 and has a weird whiskey voice that I kind of think comes from actually guzzling whiskey. Disney Schmisney. I’m telling you. Wait a few years. She’s gonna go all strumpet on us.

~ Tina Fey and Robert Downey Jr. presenting Best Original Screenplay. I can’t even explain their presentation — a whole writer vs actor thing that they play with deadpan perfection. Funniest presentation of the night so far. Hurt Locker is the winner.

~ Oh, they dust off Molly Ringwald to do a John Hughes tribute/montage with Matthew Broderick. Help her, baby Jesus! She’s a deer in the headlights. The first montage of the night! I can’t believe we’re 45 minutes in and only one montage — played to what sounds like tepid applause to me.

~ Oh, sheesh. The Olympic Parade of Actors again. Hughesian actors, all dusted off and whatnot, take the stage to talk about John Hughes. Look! There’s a 53-year-old Macauley Culkin! There’s an anorexic Ally Sheedy! Crinnnnge.

~ Steve Martin: “Now let’s introduce two beautiful actresses because we’re sick and tired of introducing all these ugly actresses.” I love you.

~ So far, pippa, there’s a weird vibe to the evening. A subdued vibe, like a post 9-11 vibe. I can’t explain it. It’s almost disturbing. Did something catastrophic happen while I was in the snowy mountains eating black bean and ham soup???

~ Okay. Dude giving the acceptance speech now? If you’re out of breath walking up the three stairs to receive your Oscar, it’s time to work some serious cardio into your strenuous but boring speech-giving schedule. Or start slacking off at work so you won’t have to climb stairs and accept awards anymore.

~ Ben Stiller, dressed up as a blue thing from Avatar with a blue tail, speaking Avatar-ese. Award for Best Makeup. “It’s weird because …… Avatar isn’t even nominated. I should have worn my Spock ears because Star Trek is nominated …… but ……. no …. this is much cooler …… totally …..” He’s doing this whole embarrassed shtick. “After I announce the winner, I will stand as far away from them as possible, so as not to demean their moment of triumph.” Hahaha. Stupid, but it’s working for me somehow.

~ Adapted Screenplay, presented by Jake Jill’n’Hall (I never know how to spell that guy’s name) and a slouching Rachel McAdams. Stand up, Rachel McAdams! Come on! You’re too pretty to slouch! (What are you, Trace — her mother??) Precious just won. The winner stumbles through his speech, apologizing left and right, clearly overcome. It’s sweet, in a bumbling, I-can’t-watch kind of way.

~ Steve Martin comes back onstage: “You know …. I wrote that speech for him.”

~ This whole show needs MORE Steve and Alec. (My old school chums, don’t you know.)

~ Roger Corman and Lauren Bacall struggle up from their seats for some reason. The audience applauds this effort. I have no idea what’s going on.

~ Ugh. Robin Williams. Stand back. Make room. He’s so VERY hairy, something could spring forth and suffocate you. But he’s presenting Best Supporting Actress. And …. Mo’Nique wins. I thought her speech would be a bigger, more spontaneous, cut-loose moment — a la Cuba Gooding, Jr. — but it was more purposeful and calculated and ….. political. Despite proclaiming that this proves “it’s not about the politics.” Eh. Okay.

~ More Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin, I beg of you. Or bring back more “Whoopie has Poise” commercials. “I was wearing one of these when I won MY Oscar. SUCH a relief, honey.” I need more of these commercials so people can share in my horror. When I’m old, I just plan on wettin’ my pants. No Poise or poise for me. I shall just surrender to the indignity of it all. Seriously, pippa, if I’m a gammie and I start peeing on your couch, you have my permission to shoot me.

~ Sarah Jessica Parker now. MB weighs in on her hairdo: “It’s like a marble rye from Schnitzer’s!”

~ Oh, this is Costume Design. The winner says, “Wow. I already have two of these.” Okay. Wow. Reeeerrrrr. I do believe she’s wearing a black-sequined Poise on her head.

~ Charlize I made myself gross to win one of these and haven’t worked since Theron, showing a clip of Precious, which I thought would seem much more precious and a lot less depressing. I hate false advertising.

~ Steve and Alec do a sendup of that freaky movie “Paranormal Activity.” It’s night. They’re in bed, being videotaped with a running time stamp ticking off their night together. (If you haven’t seen this movie, that’s basically the entire movie: a couple sleeping while a video camera, set up by the guy, records what happens while they’re sleeping. Sounds lame, but it’s a really effective and creepy movie.) Steve and Alec’s video shows them in various bizarre sleep positions throughout the night until Steve gets up, walks over to Alec’s side of the bed, and sleep-smacks Baldwin, who then sloooowly, as time elapses, falls out of bed. I don’t know why this is striking me as so funny. Maybe it’s because nothing else IS.

~ John Travolta here to present the clip of Inglourious Basterds. So sad to see him. His hairline is not by Sharpie this year, though.

~ Ooh, here’s Sandra Bullock, my BFF. She looks fabulous. Well, mostly fabulous, except her lipstick is too dark, in my opinion. She’s presenting Best Cinematography. Winner: Schmavatar.

~ I don’t know why I have such an attitude about Schmavatar. I haven’t even seen it — okay, basically because I find James Cameron detestable. After his whole “I’m the king of the world” thing, I just turned cold towards him. Not that I was ever hot or even warm towards him. Okay. Look. I don’t know what I’m saying because I’m bleary and full of beany ham and I have not understood the last 48 hours of my life and the Poise commercial really ain’t helping things. Mainly, James Cameron seems like an ass and I don’t like feeling as if I’m expected to think highly of him, so I do the opposite out of protest. Because, YEAH, that’ll show ’em.

~ Eh. James Taylor singing “In My Life” whilst the In Memoriam montage plays. Not a huge James Taylor fan, but at least he’s not the king of the world. Also: Is it my imagination or has Karl Malden died the last 5 years in a row?

~ And now ….. the dancing to the Oscar-nominated songs begins. Or as I like to call it: The best that winners of So You Think You Can Dance can hope for. Go, winners whose careers are just like the losers’! You GO!!

~ “Up” wins for Score. All I can say is if you haven’t seen it, you must.

~ Oops, I stopped writing. My hands have fallen into a stupor. What did I miss? Where are we? I think it’s Best Documentary now. They’re showing that one with the Hayden Panetierre dolphins. ‘Member how that girl tried to save the dolphins or did save the dolphins or maybe only stood there and bawled while the cameras rolled? Yeah. So it’s all about dolphins right now. Go Dolphins! (And I mean the football team. Come on. They haven’t been worth a tiny rat’s bottom since the 70s.) Oh, the winner is …….. told ya. Dophin movie wins.

~ I’m done with this whole dealio until Best Actor/Actress. But if there’s another Whoopie wears Poise commercial or Steve Martin cavorts in his jammies again, I will certainly alert you. The entire show is lackluster to me. Especially when I know I’m just sitting here waiting for the king of the world to reclaim his kingdom.

~ Okay. Various actors/actresses who’ve worked with the Best Actor nominees come onstage to talk about each of them. Michele Pfeiffer talks about Jeff Bridges. When she talks about his daughters, his marriage — his successful real life, basically — Jeff Bridges tears up. He’s got these amazing crinkly-cornered eyes, but you can still see them through the crinkle, those tears. Oh my heart. These are real moments, warmhearted tributes, actor to actor. The nicest touch of the night, I think.

~ Kate Winslet announcing Best Actor. Ohhhhhhhh …… I don’t know what to think … yep ……. it’s Jeff Bridges. Finally. But then again, I feel ambivalent. He’s getting a standing ovation, though, and it IS wonderful to see just how much his peers really respect him. The actor’s actor. He’s talking about his mom and dad, how this honors them as much as it honors him. Sweet. He’s such a classy guy. A gentleman. He’s thanking his wife of 33 years. She’s gorgeous and crying and still gorgeous while she cries. His whole speech is so mellow. He’s relaxed and confident, not frantically trying to thank everyone and everybody. So nice to see a man comfortable in his own skin. He owns himself, you know? Well, now I’m choked up. Congratulations to the best actor out there.

~ Now various actors/actresses come to talk about the Best Actress nominees. I really like this whole bit. You can feel the admiration, the mutual respect from actor to actor. A little inside glimpse. Lovely. Stanley Tucci’s tribute to Meryl Streep is hilarious.

~ Sean Penn presenting Best Actress. And the winner is …… my BFF, Sandra Bullock!! Hurrah! Love her. Always have. “Did I really earn this or did I just wear y’all down?” Hahaha. She’s just adorable, you know? Awesome speech, can’t even encapsulate it. Great tearjerking speech. Funny and thoughtful, too. Congratulations, Sandra Bullock.

~ Barbra Streisand presenting Best Director. The winner is ……… the first woman, Kathryn Bigelow for The Hurt Locker.

~ Tom Hanks for Best Picture ….. (ten nominees, oh brother). And the winner is …… The Hurt Locker. Wow. No Schmavatar.

Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin come back and Steve says, “Okay. The show has been so long that Avatar now takes place in the past.”

Hahahaha. Again, I love you, Steve Martin.

Okay. Phew. 3 1/2 hours by my count.

Lordy!!

We’re done here.

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pre-oscars 2010

So I usually live-blog the Oscars, but this will be interesting. I just got back into town after a very strange 48 hours up in the snowy mountains doing …… I still don’t know what, actually. I’m bleary and grumpy and bloaty because, frankly, I have eaten way too much black bean and ham soup in the last day or so. So guess I should modify that previous statement: I DO know one thing I did and that is — I ate way too much black bean soup in the last day or so. So, yes, I am cognizant of that. I mean, I didn’t eat in my sleep nor was it imaginary soup. But I’m a little around the bleary bloaty bend is what I’m trying to say here.

One could say that something must be a tad off if one goes up to the snowy mountains and only remembers eating black bean and ham soup — soup that one made oneself. And one could ask why did one have to go up to the snowy mountains simply to eat black bean and ham soup. And one could say that using “one” is really cumbersome and snooty and makes one sound like more than a little bit of an ass.

But one won’t say that, will one?

Let’s just repeat that I’m completely ill-prepared to blog this year’s Oscars. I’ve seen almost none of these movies and I really only care about Sandra Bullock and Jeff Bridges. Sandra Bullock because I kind of have a longstanding girl crush on her and will see anything she does no matter how stupid and Jeff Bridges because he’s my favorite actor ever and has been since the 80s and, because, frankly, it’s his time. Despite the fact that, uhm, I haven’t actually SEEN Crazy Heart — because I can’t find it anywhere — still, from what I HEAR, it’s his moment, his time. I’m almost ambivalent about the possibility that he could win. To me, he is so singular, so beyond what most actors out there do or are even capable of doing that giving him an Oscar feels a tiny bit like it lowers him to their level. He’s beyond an Oscar to me. So while I root for him because I’m compelled to — it’s Jeff Bridges, for God’s sake — if he doesn’t win, I will almost feel a sense of rightness about that. The man, to me, is simply outside of Oscar.

I understand it makes no sense to say I want him both to win and not win, but that’s what I want.

It’s the black bean soup talking.

So again. Let’s review: I am bleary, grumpy, and bloaty, but not DRUNK.

Yet.

This year Oscar’s blog has DEE-saster written all over it.

Woo hoo, pippa.

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more from “the happy day”

We previously discussed “The Happy Day” here, including photos of my mushroom cloud hair and the obvious — and now deeply embarrassing to me — Ren Faire overtones of the happy day.

But this photo ….. this one gets me.

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This is dear dad standing poolside, watching as the professional photographer, aka Lugbutt, snaps pictures of me and my bridesmaids on the other side of the pool. (Pardon me, but it cannot be overstated: Hubba hubba, Dad.)

This photo was taken by our dear friend C who took all our black-and-white candids, which are the only photos of our wedding I actually like. Having someone who knows you and knows the players and knows what means something and what … uhm, doesn’t — hey, Lugbutt! A photo of me standing at the altar all twisted like a pretzel gazing over my shoulder at my seedy past? Guess what? Means NOTHING. I look like a tard — makes all the difference in the world in the quality and emotion of the photos. That look on dad’s face chokes me up. And the juxtaposition of dad with C’s son little baby B here sucking his thumb — IN HIS REN FAIRE CAP THAT MATCHES HIS SISTERS’ REN FAIRE CAPS, OH HELP ME BABY JESUS — is just too much. Baby B is watching the proceedings but impassively, objectively. “Yeah, whatevs. I see something is happening over here, but all my devotion and love is reserved for my yummy thumb, okay? Oh, and my bitchen’ cap.”

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uhm ….

So Marie Osmond’s son committed suicide. Jumped from his apartment building in LA. Very sad. Tragic.

But …. then, last night, I’m flipping the channel. I land on “Inside Edition.” I NEVER watch these shows. I just don’t. I don’t know who half the people they talk about even are anymore, and I’m just not that interested in the lives of most celebrities. But for some reason, I stop and listen for a couple of minutes. They’re talking to this friend of Marie’s son who got his last text message. She’s crying, distraught obviously, and says, “Well, no one uses good grammar when they text, so when he used good grammar, I knew something was wrong.”

Now I don’t mean to make light of Marie’s loss — I don’t — but the comment strikes me as funny. Take away the absolutely hideous context and it’s funny without making you feel icky for thinking it’s funny.

Because it struck me ….. uhm ……. sooo ……. good grammar is now a harbinger of doom?

Maybe it is the end times.

Although good grammar is a rarity, so then again, probably not.

Please, no more good grammar on this blog. I don’t want to be in a constant state of freakout, okay?

Also: I’m sorry I’m a terrible person.