The Closet Adventist

We just finished a 5 night program on the the second coming at the local Seventh Day Adventist Church. It was beamed world wide via satellite to all of the western hemisphere. What can be a better place to find out about Christ's return than the Adventist Church. They have been in the business of predicting the date since they first got it wrong in 1844. It was a suprisingly good presentation; it had to be for me to go all 5 nights. No, we are not joining the Adventist Church; I like my meat and I like to listen to the "Car Guys" on Saturday morning at 10 am.

I guess it helped that the rabbi agreed with me. He presented a post tribulation rapture of the church that occurs concurrently with the second coming and the establishment of Christ's kingdom on Earth. I have never really been one to argue pre, post, mid or pan tribulation. I did read a book about 20 years ago that explained that the pre-trib position is only about 100 years old. I always thought all three postions should be presented together as the late Walter Martin did. At the Free Church in Maryland we studied the Apocalypse in Sunday School. I was a little put off by the teacher not presenting other views but insisting a pre-trib rapture was an essential article of faith. He said that the church wasn't mentioned after a certain point in Revelation. I replied that "you shouldn't create doctrine by what the bible doesn't say'. I think I went on to say that "Burger King and Wendy's weren't mentioned either but I'm hoping to get a good burger there". Needless to say I felt like Moses eating a pork chop after that. The sunday school teacher never finished the study; he cited health reasons or job related stress or something.

It was really a pretty mainline service for a church that brought you the "Branch Davidians". The local minister who did a 20 minute review after each broadcast was a terrific speaker. But I don't think we blend. They just seemed a little bit too classy for us. Plus the mean age was 67. But we went all five nights and got our free book. I'm not writing this to create any Blog Flame Out, it was just refreshing to hear one view explained so coherently. If you have any question about how I feel just study the above photo for 5 minutes in direct sunlight. If you still have any questions send me a love-gift and I'll mail you a prayer cloth.

PS: How do you like my paragraphs, U.F.?

Old Timey Day

We went to Hooterville today and was pleasantly surprised that the main street was closed off for an antique car show. I should have known something was up when some guy who looked like he shouldn't be behind the wheel almost ran me into the ditch on the entrance ramp to I-26. He was driving a 59 tourquois Chevrolet Bel-Air. There were about 250 antique cars parked along the downtown mainstreet. One guy from Watkins Glen, NY had four Corvairs. He was telling us all about the car and Carol picked up on his accent when he mentioned the 4 Rochester carbuerators his Monza had. I saw about every car I ever owned except my Citroen. It was amazing to see all the room that was under the hood on these cars. Not like today's knuckle-busters. Cars where you can actually reach the spark plugs, and the battery isn't located under the washer fluid reservoir. I doubt 25 years from now people will line up to see a Honda Element or a Toyota Camry. Boy, I miss those 21 grease fittings, 1000 mi. oil changes, vacuum wipers, 12,000 mi tune-ups and weekly flat tires I had with my 53 Chevy. My 61 Falcon had such bad blow-by that when I stopped at a light the blue smoke enveloped the car. Top speed for the Falcon was 71 mph floored and the windows rattled and the car shook so bad at that speed you couldn't hear the 8-track that was conveniently located in the glove compartment so no one would be tempted to steal the $30 sound system. My other great car was a 64 Carman-Ghia. I bought this sucker in Florida. It was a convertible with after market A/C. Let's see, 36hp minus 12 when you turned the air on; let's say it wasn't a mover. It had a 6 volt electric system. This assured you of 8 seconds of cranking time before the battery died. It was always starved for electricity. I became adept at keeping the same foot on both the brake and the gas so I could goose the engine at the stoplights to get enough juice the turn signals to give a couple of feeble blinks. This was definitely a Florida car. In the New York winters you had to go about 40 mph before any heat at all came through the vents. The heat that came through was a little warmer than your breath. You carried blankets in the car which gave it the quaint aura of a winter scene from a Courier&Ives painting. After my third junkyard replacement engine lasted a month I traded the VW Carman-Ghia for a 63 Citroen DS-21. I include some pictures in case you don't remember this one. That's the French upside-down car. It had an automatic stick-shift that came off the top of the steering column like an extra directional. It had adjustable hydraulic suspension so you could adjust the ride and also the height of the car from a foot to 3 inches. It also had red velvet seats that folded down to become a full size velvet bed. Of course I couldn't afford to fix this unique vehicle so when the starter went I just used the crank that came with it. If the plush velvet seats didn't impress the girls the crank sure did. It didn't have a brake pedal, it had a brake button on the floor. It didn't need a jack because to change the tire you just put a strut in and then raised the suspension and the wheels on that side came off the pavement. It was a great car till some gooner at Jiffy lube put the wrong fluid in the hydralic pump and knocked out the steering, brakes, and suspension. I'm not going to mention the Fiat that lost its generator on the FDR Drive or the 61 Plymouth Valiant that I never got out of my yard because I couldn't find the short in it. The 64 Chevy Impala my father left me was still on the road in 83 being driven by the junk yard owner I sold it to in 79. I guess I grieved for my 98 Ram because except for the fuel injection it was your father's old Mo-Par 318. But my Honda Elements are not perfect. About once a month Carol's won't turn over till you turn the key a few times, and the headlights dim when A/C cycles on and off ( I think that is because it has a battery the size of an I-Pod). But if I had a vintage car I probably wouldn't have the time to write these long boring posts and I'd be in Hooterville with all the other geezers.

You will put your eye out with that blood pressure

I got off early from work yesterday so I decided to take advantage of my new health benefits and go get an eye exam. Well, they put the drops in my eyes and sent me out to wait for them to work.I am sitting there in the waiting room with my pupils dialating and across from me there is a woman breastfeeding. Then the late afternoon sun is shining in the window causing me even more pain. So I go back in expecting a quick look in each eye and I'll be on my way. The guy looks in my eye and says "Yipes!" I have a peripheral retinal venous occlusion. So today I went to see a retinal specialist and I guess my blood pressure is out of control. They did a retinal angiography. This consists of injecting dye in the vein, dilating my eye and then taking obout 40 pictures. With each picture you have to keep your eye wide open while a light equal to a star going super-nova is flashed into brain. But it was my lucky day--- because it didn't involve the macula or else I'de be in deep doo-doo. So next week I go to the doctor to get treated for high blood pressure. I don't think it's that high but this eye thing is spooky. I'm not sure how I would look in a jaunty eye patch. I think it was that breastfeeding woman that caused all these problems. It's possible those blood pressure machines in Wal-Mart are accurate after all. This may not be one of Babba's witty posts but like the young people I just want to share my day.

Church Work Day

We had a church work day this Saturday. Since Ben is back in college we couldn't send him as our proxy. It's hard to hide in a church of 20 regular members. Carol made new curtains for the sanctuary so we had to hang 7 new curtain rods. It took us about 3 hours to hang the curtains. Then the pastor went out to get lunch and returned with 30 tacos and 20 burritos, just enough to feed 10 people North Carolina style. After lunch we had to hang 2 large pictures in the sanctuary. One of these was that favorite of Carol and Annie. You guessed it: "Footprints". Wel,l we got done about 2:30 and we were wiped out. Even the kids were tired from painting. While all us amateurs were working one of the members, a man about 60 years old who builds houses, came in and installed a new wood floor in the lobby and hallway. It took him about two hours to finish the job while it took the other 9 people 6 hours to hang 7 curtain rods, paint 3 closets install a door closer and hang two pictures. I guess that's why we don't build houses. Melba, the official church grandmother took over Ben's spot on the riding mower. After mowing 3 acres in the North Carolina sun she required an extra shot of insulin before the taco feast. Yep, you can't hide in a small church. It may not seem like much but about a year ago the church was down to about 4 people and about to close its doors.

It has been so nice the last two weeks here. I think the extreme heat of the summer is fading. We went 20 miles up the Blue Ridge Parkway to Mount Pisgah (5,000 ft.) and hiked a little and took some pictures. The parkway will still be open thru Thanksgiving and is a nice scenic route to the "Tree Top Hideaway" in Maggie Valley where the Thanksgiving Gala will he held.

Why I French Kissed Dating Goodbye

I would like to thank the blogger (M) for helping Babba get out of his posting rut. I have a problem with self-help books, ever since I read "Looking Out for Number One". Now there is something mankind really needs help with. What is with all this "Christian" self help tripe that's taking over Christian Bookstores and forcing the bibles and commentaries into a little corner near the time clock? So Josh Harris kissed dating goodnight and put it to bed or did something else with it. I kissed dating goodbye for awhile and didn't feel the need to write a book and share the experience. What is the big deal? You obviously date someone you are attracted to on some primal level. After that you hope they appeal to your mind a bit. NO, you don't date someone you can't see yourself with-- that's obvious. Why do these guru's make everything so spiritual and complicated and wierd? I took a class in college called Christianity and Sex. What can I say, the pottery class was full and I needed 3 credits. It took guts just to sign up for this class. I thought it would either be full of geeks or pervs. It really wasn't too bad and the only point I remember was that the teacher said don't try to spiritualize romance. Now we have people writing books telling people that God has created one person in the universe just for them. These poor souls wonder if they take a taxi instead of the #6 bus they might miss that person and be doomed to a home for transient men; just playing cards and waiting for someone to bring them CheezWiz. I agree that you shouldn't date someone like a satanist or serial killer if you can't see yourself marrying them. Girls date with the the goal of finding Mr. Right. Guys, however, until they've decided to get married avoid Mrs. Right like the plague. The same authors that have made childrearing a new sacrament have turned thier misguided gaze on the singles scene. After all, they have more disposable income. Yeah, they are going to tell you all the secrets. It seems like time has stood still or has even gone backwards. It's like we have gone back to the fabulous 50's where everyone has the same goals, desires and ambitions. Besides the obvious, just wanting to sell a book and make a buck (without a lot of heavy lifting) these authors are trying to justify themselves to themselves. Face it; people who have good marriages, good kids and a lot of fun dates don't write books. They realize it all came about without striving. The hardest thing I ever did was attend a small group that studied the series "Raising Kid's God's Way". For ten weeks I had to sit there and watch a video tape while my left eye kept twitching because I wanted to scream "This is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard!"; and I had to pay $20 for the book. Just thinking about it makes blood shoot out my nose. Next time you're in a Christian book store and feel the need for some self-help buy a Bible. If you're not into the Bible than go next door and pick up a MAD magazine; it won't screw you up as much as Why I Kissed Dating Goodnight.

Biscuits Disease

There are nuances of the south I'm still getting used to. In West Virginia people just said boyfriend or girlfriend or old lady or fella etc when referring to that on-going relationship that had not been officially sanctioned by the church or state. Here it seems that when I ask for a contact person I get the word "fiance" allot. Now I'm talking about senior citizens here. I guess there are tax reasons and pension considerations. After having, say, 5 seniors list their contact person in one day I am starting to catch on. In W.V. people just put down Joe Blow, their latest squeeze without any trepidation. In deference to more traditional mores these Viagra popping, Implant requesting, Botox sucking seasoned citizens feel the need to make this distinction. It's just something that struck me odd. If all these octagenarians decide to tie the knot on the same weekend it will make the gas lines of 2 weeks ago look short. POS's are very common here as they are elsewhere (persons of size). It is fondly refered to here as Biscuits Disease. I'm talking 300 plus. The W.V. Mountain Dew habit is popular here also, but it is supplemented by mass quantities of sweet tea. Eating out is very popular, even among the working class. I reckon about 25% of the population eat out every meal. The Domino's truck can be seen on my street every night. The other southern passion I have noticed is cars. It's hard to spot a vehicle more than 3 years old unless it is doing yard work or is a classic restoration. Where do all these used cars go to? I wish I kept my 17 year old rusted out W.V. assault vehicle, my Toyota 4-Runner, just to make a statement. In order to blend I would have to get a red Thunderbird convertible put on an ascot and a dickie and cruise around with a foofy dog on my lap and have personalized licence plates that said "MY WAY". I'm not in Kansas anymore. It's just different. Maybe it's me; after all I spent the last 13 years living among the Amish.

Gulf Coast Gnomes

These gnomes are victims of the recent hurricane, and are looking to relocate to a dryer area. Please open your home to a gnome. Anyway, it's all George Bush's fault!

Leaving Las Vegas

I spent sixty hours in Las Vegas and I need to take the edge off. In 1976 I purchased 5 acres of land in Pahrump Nevada, 50 miles S.W. of Vegas. This place consisted of a land office, a post office and a few alfalfa farms. They didn't even have a school; the kids were bused 25 miles to Shoshone, Ca. to go to school. I paid $6,000 for 5 acres of prime bottom land which consisted of rocks, sage brush and lizards. When Carol first saw the property she was greeted by a bleached skull of a cow and a rattle snake. Being the speculator that I am I held on to it till 91 when I sold it for $18,000 to pay off my Toyota 4-Runner. Now Pahrump, this former watering hole for the 20 mule team borax wagons from Death Valley is a bedroom community of Vegas. A thousand 2,900 sq. foot homes have replaced the 8 single wide trailers that used to make up Pahrump. That little parcel of land that I purchased for $6,000 can't be had now for half a mil. The place has a Wal-Mart Super Store! What do these people do out there? I guess they commute to Vegas where the price of a tract home on 0.1 acres is $600,000. I am going to empty my IRA's and sell all my assets and try to purchase an acre there. In a year I'm sure it will be worth a billion.