Digital Cowboy

My bathroom reeks of fruitiness. There are multiple fluffy robes hanging on the back of my bathroom door. I have plants hanging - hanging! - on my porch. There’s stuff in my shower that I can’t even identify - and a lot of it. There are curtains now and everything has been rearranged. I don’t know where to find anything anymore and I’ve been informed that I’m supposed to stay out of the kitchen - I don’t belong there.

Also, most of my stuff is crap and needs to be taken to the dumpster (by me, of course) whenever the pile at the back door warrants a trip.

Hannah Montana seems to always be playing somewhere in my house. Not just the show, the music. And not just in the house. It’s on Mommy’s iPod so we can listen to it in the truck, too. Suddenly picking songs on Daddy’s iPod in the truck isn’t great fun, it’s old news. Daddy’s iPod doesn’t have any Hannah Montana or Emily Osment. Mommy’s here with the good stuff.

My youngest daughter has informed me that I’m now outnumbered and the girls are in charge. In fact, she says, “Girls go to college to get more knowledge and boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider.” (I’ll leave that irony to the reader and address it with her later. For now I just respond with “Boys rule and girls drool.”) I get no love around here anymore. Those cute little ones that used to crawl into my lap a couple times a day for Daddy hugs are now threatening to throw me out if I don’t shape up.

I thought we were getting Mommy back. Now I see that they were planning a coup. I just respond by telling them that if I don’t start getting the normal daily dose of hugs and love from them that I’m accustomed to, I’ll throw their mother out and when Mommy’s living in a box under a bridge it will be all their fault.

For the love of all that’s holy: I just broke the kitchen rule and went to make coffee… My prized Hamilton Beach Brew Station - the best thing I ever bought for my kitchen - smells like… like… Oh, God help me. The coffee maker smells like vanilla. Sure enough, after I got it cleansed and disinfected from all of the “girl” on it, I went to make coffee and there was some foil pouch of “Vanilla Biscotti blend” where my COFFEE is supposed to be! (Fortunately, I found actual coffee right next to it.)

On the flip side, I never cared much for the kitchen anyway. Also, not only have I not been going hungry lately, I’m eating better than I have in years.

I could do a whole separate post on that. That woman ain’t just eye candy in a kitchen. She’s a creative genius there. She concocts things on the fly that I would pay extra for in a restaurant. Most of what I eat these days has no name - “This is delicious, Baby. What is it?” (her laughing) “I dunno. Something I threw together. I just call it ‘My Mexican Chicken Shit.’ You really like it?” (What perplexes me is that she often does it just with stuff I already had here and makes it look easy.)

I have to admit the place looks a whole lot better, too… if you can block out all the yucky GIRL stuff everywhere. I only just now noticed that the coffee maker smells of vanilla because I haven’t made my own coffee in weeks. And I’ve never asked for coffee; it’s just been made by the coffee fairies while I sleep, I guess. It’s just there when I wake up, usually. Sometimes the fresh coffee smell is accompanied by the smell of frying bacon when my eyes open. (Bacon fairies? Who knows? No tellin’ what she had packed in all those boxes when she moved in.)

I complained to my mother about some of this girly infestation recently and she said, “You’re not foolin’ anybody. You LOVE it!”

She’s right. This briar patch is so awful. I demand that for all my sins and in the interest of justice, I be sentenced to remain here forever.

“When they carve my stone
All they need to write on it is
‘Once lived a man
Who got all he ever wanted.’
Tell me something: Who could ask for more
Than to be livin’ in a moment
You would die for?”

I’m a smart guy. I’m smarter than most. Usually, I’m the smartest person in the room. It’s awkward and difficult most of the time. For the most part I’ve gotten used to it and learned to live with it.

This blog attracts people that are smarter than average. I love that. At Vox’s blog and here too, I’m not usually the smartest guy in the room. That’s what I like about this place and his. It’s a relief from the pressure I get pretty much everywhere else I go.

I’ve struggled with this - and prayed about it - for much of my life. It’s not arrogance. It’s a gift that has often seemed like a burden to me. I’ve humbly tried to get God’s help in dealing with it. I spent much of my life in a quandary trying to figure out how to manage it and just fit in.

Here’s what He’s shown me in answer to those prayers:

Wisdom is the principle thing. In all your getting, get Wisdom. Intelligence as the world measures it is only one kind and, taken alone, it’s worthless. There are different kinds of intelligence. There are people with IQs much, much lower than mine that are far more successful than I am at the moment because they have other forms of intelligence that aren’t measured by an IQ test. Many of them also have Wisdom.

I’m not going to get into all of the different kinds of intelligence here. That’s not what this is about.

When I was in High School, I made money winning bets before and after class by doing long division in my head while reading aloud from a book. Sometimes I even provided the answer before the jock betting against me had gotten it from his calculator.

I was arrogant then because I could do things like that.

What profit is that without Wisdom?

None. Wisdom is the principle thing.

I have two points here. The first is that government schooling set me up to fail by making me cocky about my gifts. They lead me to believe that I was “gifted.” (I was. I am. They corrupted it.) They led me to believe that the world was my oyster. I thought I was gonna be the next Steve Jobs. Being smarter than your “guidance counselors” is not a great way to plan a career or a life. (And if your kids are average, they’re smarter than their “guidance counselors” in the government schools, Corporate Dad. If you love them, get ‘em out.)

The second point is that Wisdom is far more important than raw intelligence. It’s a funny thing about intelligence relating to Wisdom - Intelligence often gets in the way of Wisdom. That probably explains why I was raised right - taught Wisdom - and it still took me way too long to even start pursuing Wisdom. I was too busy making money with my circus side shows, like doing long division in my head while reading aloud.

But I’m coming around and it’s working for me.

Proverbs 3:17 reads (speaking of Wisdom), “Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.”

Go read the whole chapter. I had a hard time choosing an excerpt. So here’s a couple more:

“Length of days is in her right hand; and in her left hand riches and honour”

“She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her: and happy is every one that retaineth her”

Seriously, there’s context that you need. Go read Proverbs 3.

Bottom line: I find myself now very happily and voluntarily following people that almost certainly don’t have IQs in the same category as mine. But they have Wisdom that I want.

I respect that far more than the eggheads that think college degrees make them smart.

Proverbs 3 (AMP) ends with “The wise shall inherit glory (all honor and good) but shame is the highest rank conferred on [self-confident] fools.”

I know a lot of wise people with low IQs and even more very intelligent, self-confident fools. I used to be one myself.

I’ve said nothing here recently and probably won’t soon.  There’s too much to say. Respect for the privacy of others prevents me from saying most of what I would like to.

I’ll tell you quickly that the legal conflict is over and I picked up my daughters last Tuesday morning. We’ve been home since Wednesday night. We had a hearing in court last Monday afternoon in Augusta, GA and it went exactly as I had declared in prayer that it would.  No surprises there. (I wanted to make that public because so many have expressed concern and I appreciate that more than you know.)

That’s good news, but it was expected - at least by me.  There’s far, far better news that was surprising to me.  I’ve expected it all along but I wasn’t expecting it now.  I knew that I knew that I knew…  I didn’t know when.  So it was a pleasant surprise Tuesday morning.  It’s also the part I can’t write about here yet.

In January of 2003, an atheist issued a challenge to me: “When [things go the way I predict] and you don’t get what you are praying for will you admit that your God doesn’t exist and prayer is a foolish waste of time?”

I replied, “Certainly.  But only on the condition that when [things go the way I predict], you’ll bow before my God and admit that He answers prayer.”

He accepted.

I’m currently holding my breath while waiting for that admission. Resuscitate me when it comes.

I don’t bring this up to boast about winning a bet.  I point it out to brag on my God.  He answers prayer and He does so every single time.  I had pastors tell me that I was nuts and should give up.  The more time that went by, the less I told “new” people in my life about what I was believing for.  ”It’s been HOW LONG?!?!”  ”Oh, Honey, you need to move on.”

Patience is hard.  It can also be lonely - almost everyone thinks you’re crazy.  I speak from experience.  But don’t you ever let anyone move you off your dream.  If you have a Word from God and even if you’re the only one that believes it, anything is possible. When you serve at the feet of Love.

You’ll never find anyone remembered as great in the Bible that took a poll or allowed themselves to be influenced by popular opinion and general consensus. What you find over and over and over are courageous people that refused to be moved, acted alone in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds and we now consider them great because of their faith. (Recommended reading starts in Hebrews 11 and the part about Abraham in Romans 4 is a next step.) Whenever you find yourself in agreement with the majority in any situation, it’s time to re-examine your premises.

“Never” rarely lives up to its hype. It’s not over ’til it’s written in stone. On a grave.

I’m not even completely convinced that it’s always over then.

I’m currently fighting yet another legal battle. This time it’s in two states, a thousand miles apart, to get my children back from a kidnapper.  I offered visitation to which my children’s mother was not entitled and then gave her gas money to get home because she “didn’t budget for the horrible gas mileage” she got on her trip to get them.  (I’ve had custody for nearly four years and she’s never paid a dime in child support, by the way.)

My reward was that I was served with papers 8 hours before I was to leave to drive 1000 miles to get my children.  The papers informed me that I no longer had custody of my daughters.  A Georgia judge that has never met me, my children or their mother gave her the benefit of the doubt when her newest attorney alleged a whole slew of things she has tried - and failed twice - to convince a Texas court that I’m doing… or not doing.  She has no evidence and thus presented no evidence.

What she’s done is a violation of Federal law - forum shopping across state lines.  She could do time for it.  I pray that doesn’t happen.  I wish her well, to say the least.

But, it’s not just me.  I have a friend that has been attacked over the legal custody of his daughter.  In his case, he was never married to her mother and she surrendered custody - in writing - in the hospital at the child’s birth.  The child is now seven years old and her “mother” has never been anything but an occasional visitor in her life.  The child has been raised by her father who places her above every other priority in his life.

Yet another acquaintance - a single father in my church - has recently been accused of horrible things by his recently teenaged daughter.  The girl has been a rebellious child for the last year or so to the point of being violent towards him.  The child’s mother is a known prostitute and drug dealer. She lives with drug dealers.  With one call to Child Protective Services, she temporarily over-rode court orders and terminated his parental rights (temporarily).  When CPS started investigating, they discovered multiple warrants for arrest for the mother and others living in her house.  With the children.  There is also great natural evidence that the teenage daughter’s story is fabricated.

But he is still fighting to exonerate himself and get his children back.  He’s considered guilty until proven innocent.  Because it’s all for THE CHILDREN!

A caring friend recently asked me if she and the rest of The Body of Christ had been, and were, letting “you” down.  By “you” she meant single fathers.

I responded, “I don’t think so, but I’ve never thought about it in those terms.  I can tell you this:  Being a single father is a far, far more difficult experience than being a single mother.  I never whine about it and I’m only talking about it now because you asked me.  But the fact is that everyone respects and admires the struggle of a single mother.  Everyone feels sorry for her and has sympathy.  Single fathers are looked upon by most of our society as freaks at best and perverts at worst.  We’re always suspects and we’re always vulnerable to wild allegations from any source.”

I’m not interested here in pointing fingers or going on a rant.  But I want to say that the tables have been turned by feminism (defined properly here as:  anyone with a uterus shall be permitted anything her emotions or hormones dictate but shall never have responsibility for anything) and it’s not a good thing for THE CHILDREN!!!!!  I only appeal to that because it’s true and nobody gives a damn about men.

When I was growing up in the 70’s it seemed that most divorces were because selfish men left their families. That was probably true - then - and certainly awful.  But now feminism has turned the tables completely.

Women have become selfish.  (I think they call it “empowered.”)  ”No fault” divorces are now initiated by women more often than men, by a large margin.  (There’s no such thing as a “no-fault divorce.”  If you’re initiating it without a reason, YOU are at fault.)  Both the society and the courts generally justify the childishness of these women while at the same time both of the former are still stuck in the prejudice of the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s.  As a result, we have an entire generation of men that are doing their best to raise children alone.  Yet they are viewed as undeserving victors when they get custody and then they are under constant scrutiny, always vulnerable to as little as a phone call or a court filing to upset their lives and the lives of the children for which they are working so hard to provide stability.

I’m not optimistic that government will ever fix this.  It’s never done anything else worth while.  So maybe my friend was on to something.

Maybe The Body of Christ needs to be more aware and attentive to this.

There’s definitely a need.

This would be funny if it weren’t about a contest for “leader of the free world.”

I’m no fan of feminism but I’m also no sexist. I personally believe that women are inherently stronger then men in most ways and capable of almost anything. But I also believe that 40+ years of feminism in this country has deterioriated the character of women even more than the damage its done to men. (Proverbs 31 has an outline on proper femininity if any of you need a refresher course.)

Hillary Rodman is a perfect example of the mess feminism has made. She’s incompetent and pathetic. She’s a spoiled, suburban, upper-middle class little girl that is chasing her Barbie dreams with an immature and childish sense of entitlement.

She’s surrounded herself for decades with sycophantic womyn just like her. (I include both Bill Rodman-Clinton and Mark Penn in that category.) The result is chaos and disorder everywhere she goes and in everything she does. None of them have a single clue about anything that matters and not a one of them cares about anything but their own childish, petty desire for control.

Don’t take my word for it. Here’s her new campaign manager:

“You may not like the person next to you,” Ms. Williams told dozens of aides who ringed the conference room at the campaign’s Virginia headquarters last month, according to participants. “But you’re going to respect them. And we’re going to work together.”

Or?

What ya got backing that up, Sally Big Britches? We all know you’re afraid of guns.

God help us if that monster manages to conjure public tears enough times to get control of the White House. Billy’s eight embarrassing years will become like a reflection on American pride in comparison.

I foolishly taught my girls the stupid, redneck saying, “See ya! Wouldn’t wanna be ya!”

A few days ago, on a beautiful day, they were running out the door to play and Emily said, as she was closing the door, “See ya!” The door slammed and then opened again. She stuck (just) her head back in and said, “Wouldn’t wanna be ya!” Door slammed again. Opened again and she stuck just her head in again and, with a very different tone, said, “I really wouldn’t wanna be you, Daddy. Know why?”

“Why, Honey?” (I said in a patronizing tone. I was busy. I just wanted them to go play.)

“‘Cause you work too much. (pause) I’m going to play now. You should play more, Daddy. I hope I don’t have to work as much as you when I grow up.”

And then the door slammed again. And she was gone?

I wept when the door slammed and I can’t write this post without weeping.

“And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon….”

That child is precocious. Memories flooded back. I have vivid memories of often laying in my bed at night when I was supposed to have been asleep hours before. Watching my Dad in the kitchen when the Johnny Carson monologue was over. (My bedroom door was always open and my doorway faced the hall.) He was getting ready to go to bed and had to be up early. He worked as hard as any man I’ve ever known.

Even then, as a very small child, I saw how hard he worked for us. At least once I prayed, “God, please don’t make me grow up. I can’t do that.”

Then he died young. That’s another story.

As I got older, I swore I would never do it. I was going to be rich! I didn’t care what it took or how much it cost or what I had to do. But I eventually realized that the people that get rich the world’s way neglect their families worse than those who, like my Dad, just work so hard to provide that they don’t have time.

Now I’ve found a third way. The right way.

“The Blessing of the Lord makes me rich and He adds no sorrow with it.” - Prov. 10:22
“Seek ye first the Kingdom and His righteousness…” Matt. 6:33

I am working hard but it’s a short-term commitment. I’ve found a better way. My daughters will never have to work. They’ll always have a good reason to. So they will only work in freedom, when, where, how and at what they choose.

If you wonder where this came from…. I turned 37 yesterday. My Dad was dead at 37 (anniversary… a couple days, too close to my birthday). I’m not the slightest superstitious. If he knew then what I know now, he would still be here and I have no fear at all. It’s not about that.

But a kid that lost his Dad at 12 can’t possibly avoid remembering the greatest man he ever knew on this birthday, especially when the anniversary of his going home is coming up soon, too.

I can’t wait to see him again.

“… When ya coming home son?”

“I don’t know when, Dad. We’ll get together then.

“Ya know we’ll have a good time then.”

And I’ve got two beautiful little ladies that are looking forward to meeting their grandfather, too.

My two beautiful little redneck girls and I went to the Major League of Monster Trucks event last Saturday night at Texas Motor Speedway. I didn’t especially want to but we made a deal and they earned it. I’ve always found monster trucks to be fascinating… for about 15 minutes at a time. I was not willing to make the drive or spend the money for that reason, except that they were excited and wanted to go. So they earned it and we went.

I enjoyed it far more than I expected. If you’ve never done this and have the slightest interest, DO IT! Just GO. Those trucks, in real life, that close, are absolutely amazing. I found myself sitting there feeling like a little boy, giggling and thinking to myself, “Only in America! This is why the terrorists hate us!” Then I would giggle some more after each time that thought went through my head.

It’s the sort of thing that a thinking man looks at - in the midst of enjoying it - and says to himself, “Why?!?! This is ridiculous.” The answer of course, is “Because WE CAN!”

I think there’s a deeper lesson in there, certainly for me and I think probably for many people. I don’t have to justify what I find amusing. Or fun. Or pleasurable. It does not make me some knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather if I enjoy a display of redneck engineering. Furthermore, it most certainly is a display of great engineering. Those who would dismiss “those rednecks” have very much underestimated them.

Yes it’s silly. But not nearly as silly as “modern art.” Monster trucks - for that matter NASCAR - are amazing displays of the extremes possible with very practical mechanical engineering. Most art is worthless for anything except basic snobbishness. On that basis, I would argue that NASCAR and monster trucks are both far more useful and valuable than “art” and the ignorant ones are those who invest their time and energy into vacuous pursuits that serve no purpose except to make themselves falsely feel superior.

In fact, I would go a step further and say that anyone who does not see a monster truck as practical - and amazing - applied art is fundamentally ignorant and lacking a basic understanding of how the world works.

It is nothing short of amazing to see an 8-ton-plus vehicle using ~1500 horsepower to launch 30 or 40 feet into the air.

We were fortunate in that even though it was quite crowded already when we got there and we had to sit way off from the center of the grandstands, we got seats in the second row. Then, after the event began, the kids were allowed to move down into the unoccupied seats that had been reserved for the handicapped. So I watched from row two and my girls were in row 0 - in front of the front row, right at the fence.

Being off-center turned out to be a blessing. When they got ready for the Freestyle round - the best part - they brought out a giant forklift and started moving vans and a bus to set up… RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. A large portion of the big action in the Freestyle competition happened directly in front of us and only about 50 feet away.

I put a few pictures up. The first page of thumbnails is all mainly pics of my kids with the trucks. The second page is purely monster truck action. The first 6 pics are not of a “real” monster truck. It’s a truck we parked near in the parking lot. In the pictures you’ll notice Texas plates on it. It’s street legal. In Texas anyway.

(There are a few pics in the gallery that have boldface titles underneath. Those pics all have description text if you click on them to view the larger version.)

… and all I got was this stupid Phd.”

Robert Jensen, who describes himself as “A Christian atheist, perhaps. But, in a deep sense, I would argue, a real Christian,” has apparently spent a good deal of his life as a feminist crusader. He probably doesn’t even see how psychologically imbalanced he appears when he insists that radical feminists like Andrea “Queen of the Loons” Dworkin are not man-haters, thusly:

But listen to what she said to, and about, men when she addressed a men’s conference and asked them to work for 24 hours without rape. In her book LETTERS FROM A WAR ZONE, she writes:

“I don’t believe rape is inevitable or natural. If I did, I would have no reason to be here. If I did, my political practice would be different than it is. Have you ever wondered why we are not just in armed combat against you? It’s not because there’s a shortage of kitchen knives in this country. It is because we believe in your humanity, against all the evidence.”

Dworkin is called a man-hater not because she hates men but because such slurs are a way to marginalize her work. In that same speech, she went on to challenge men to take responsibility for themselves:

“[Women] do not want to do the work of helping you to believe in your humanity. We cannot do it anymore. We have always tried. We have been repaid with systematic exploitation and systematic abuse. You are going to have to do this yourselves from now on and you know it.”

We do know it, and it is time to act on that knowledge, not just for women but for ourselves.

I laughed out loud at the depth of this guy’s confused self-loathing. Ummm… No, Bob, she’s called a man-hater because she says preposterous things, like the ones you just quoted, that imply the only reason women haven’t exterminated all the men yet (presumably with kitchen knives) is because women have not yet reached the limits of their magnanimous hope that somewhere, somehow, someday they’re gonna find a man that deep down is … human. Or at least willing to acknowledge that he’s not and promise to work real, real hard towards it as a goal.

I don’t have to marginalize Mister Dworkin’s work. She does it all by herself in a myriad of ways, not the least of which is writing books about gender relations with titles like “LETTERS FROM A WAR ZONE” and “WOMAN HATERS.”

I’ll give Bob the correct answer to Queen Loony’s rhetorical question in a minute but I first have to point out, as an aside, that he and I apparently “hear different.” What he perceived as a “challenge [to] men to take responsibility for themselves,” read to me a lot like a veiled and empty threat, laid on a false premise, by a hostile and extraordinarily presumptuous woman. It’s probably my complete lack of humanity messing up my comprehension.

No, Fruity, I haven’t “ever wondered why [’you’] are not just in armed combat against [’us’].” But since ya made me consider the question, I’m quite certain the reason has nothing to with kitchen knives nor your capacity for blind faith in “our” humanity. I reckon the primary reason is because, like most men, the overwhelming majority of women (if that’s what you meant by “we”) not only disagree with you completely, they think your baler done ran outta twine. (As Jerry Clower once famously told the “She-coon of Women’s Lib,” Gloria Steinem, “Ms. Women’s Libber, Mama don’t want you messin’ with the deal she’s got!”)

If by “we” you meant “me and other crazy broads with bubbles in their think tank,” then the answer is because a) you’re cowards, b) your idea of “armed combat” is a kitchen knife so c) you know you’d get the smackdown you properly deserve for treading where you don’t belong. In short, you lack the capacity for war even if you personally are brimming over with the lust for it. Put yet a third way, despite the blinding rage that consumes your ability to think rationally, even you are smart enough to avoid a good old-fashioned whuppin’.

Let’s make a deal. If you cross your heart promise to keep your word and stop “helping me to believe in my humanity,” I’ll give you a solemn oath to stop systematically exploiting and systematically abusing you. I can’t keep up with all the Club meetings anyway. (Even though girls really are the bunk.)

Anyway, that’s all just background from this article of Bob’s titled “Resisting Masculinity.” It’s not even from the one I intended to comment on. (Shooting the fish in this barrel is so much fun I get carried away. Maybe I’ll create a new category for this stuff.)

Dr. Bob’s most recently posted intellectual morass is titled “Men being men is a bad deal: Guys should evolve beyond masculinity” and posits (among other things):

We need to get rid of the whole idea of masculinity. It’s time to abandon the claim that there are certain psychological or social traits that inherently come with being biologically male. If we can get past that, we have a chance to create a better world for men and women.

Uh-huh. If we can get past that, we really can make the world a better place for all the boys and girls by just wishing real, real hard during all the time we spend riding our pet unicorns and frolicking with the pixies. If that doesn’t work, we’ll ask the elves. They have all the answers.

He concludes with the statement. “For those of us who are biologically male, we have a simple choice: We men can settle for being men, or we can strive to be human beings.” In between he speaks of “the pernicious effects of [decades of feminism] and its relentless devaluing of things female” but misspelled “decades of feminism” in the middle of that sentence. He typed it “centuries of patriarchy” and then drew the wrong conclusion from his mistake:

Of course, if we are going to jettison masculinity, we have to scrap femininity along with it. We have to stop trying to define what men and women are going to be in the world based on extrapolations from physical sex differences. That doesn’t mean we ignore those differences when they matter, but we have to stop assuming they matter everywhere.

I don’t think the planet can long survive if the current conception of masculinity endures.

Notice in the first sentence of that quote he says we have to scrap femininity, not feminism. I doubt that was an accident.

Considering the effect these toxic ideas have on birth rates, I don’t think it much matters how long the planet can survive if we’re to accept the premise that his and Andy Dworkin’s ideas represent a higher level of evolution.

Y’all just go right ahead and evolve yourselves right out of existence, Knucklehead. I don’t see how the future of the planet is of any concern to you and we sub-humans ain’t skeered by Al Gore’s fairy tales.

“‘Cause ya can’t stomp us out and ya can’t make us run …” YEEEEE-HAW!