S-Man

A new year. 2011. New day. Fresh start. Old crappy art.

The commitment of family, writing, and work has kept me pretty busy. Maybe my new year’s resolution should be more consistent blogging? Considering I don’t make new year’s resolutions, perhaps that should be my first resolution…probably not.

I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas and holiday season. Happy New Year!

Now, for today’s review. If this is your first visit, please refer to Crappy Trapper Keeper Art.

S-Man. Oh how he must be eye candy for the ladies. This sorry use of recycled paper is an amalgam of my early obsessions. Again we have the energy-laser-jet propelled-light show-rocket-feet. This is very similar to Hi-Lo that was posted a few weeks ago. But S-Man does have some distinct individuality. For instance, tiny, protruding spikes on his handsome ankle man cuffs, which (I might add) are delicately mirrored on his dishwasher glove as well.

Clearly S-Man finds himself crammed full of future technology since he has energy-laser-jet propelled-light show-rockets for feet but why keep it so “out there?” Why alienate people with all that future mumbo-jumbo jibber-jab? Let’s connect with our older generation. Enter: The Hook hand. I’m not sure what twisted thought I had (considering I refused to watch scary movies as a child and still not to hot on them now) to chop off the bro’s left hand and attached it to a Jack-in-the-box that’s stuffed into his hat. Clearly I have a deep seeded opinions on pirates and their personal accessories. Hook handed pirates are people too. Wait, that could be a great idea. A movie about pirates. Not just any pirate, but a pirate with a missing hand. It could be the driving theme. Think about it…a pirate movie where the major plot line is centered around a body part! No, that’s a terrible idea.

To sum up, S-Man, with his terrible Batman like cape and belt, “S” symbol that looks like something Zorro created, his abnormal sized neck (which brings serious concerns to whether his father was a giraffe), and his sheer overall craptasticness deserves one hook hand up!

What say you?

As always feel free to share your thoughts, observations, additions and subtractions.

Here’s My Card…

Going through Jr. High and High School I had four guys I would consider my best friends. We were always out running around together. We spent hours upon hours playing basketball at my house and a few of the local parks. We practiced plays and drills like crazy. We had zero aspirations of playing college ball but a “sweet victory” over some local punks at City Park was enough to satisfy our egos. We played until the sun went down and the game usually continued for a few hours after that (as long as dad allowed me to turn on the flood lights).

We shared many conversations during those basketball games and even more when they were over. We talked about girls, school, jobs, families, other people, church, our mistakes, our hopes, and girls. I can honestly say I probably had the biggest laughs of my teenage years during those times. We made fun of each other. We laughed about girls we had dated. We were shocked at our similar teenage parental struggles and we pretty much figured out life and all of it’s problems (if only I had transcripts of those conversations!).

Of course there were times when we got mad at each other (some because of basketball related “fouls” or a losing streak). We did what most teenage guys did…we didn’t talk about it and hung out with the other guys in our group until we forgot what we were mad about. We all shared a similar sense of humor but different enough that we could catch each other off guard.

Humor is really the point of this post. I was going through a desk at my parent’s house and found a birthday card that one of my above compatriots purchased me. I’m not sure which birthday it was but I know it was 15-17 years range. I’m not sure why I kept it but I think, somewhere deep in my subconscious, I knew someday there would be an outlet to share this with the world.

Without further adu:

Here is the front…

And the inside…

In case you are at all curious, “YF” stands for “Your Friend.” We were already using texting shorthand before it was mainstream popular. Another reason we were so cool.

Now, I’ve blacked out the name for security purposes. He could be a United States Senator now, but I’m not telling.

How NOT to Evangelize

Some friends and I have gotten together and formed a small video group called, Agathos Entertainment.

Agathos is a greek word for “good” and thats the kind of stuff we want to make.

Josh got a new camera a few weeks ago and we are messing around with some better sound mics.

Let me know what you think:

And if you want to subscribe to the channel. We thank you for the support.

Good Idea/Bad Idea

Hey friends,

Here’s a video that some buddies of mine and I put together.

We are going to film a few teaching illustrations as well as some funny stuff.

Check out our channel on YouTube: Agathos Entertainment. Agathos means “Fun” in Greek. Enjoy.

Any thoughts would be welcome.

Hopefully much more to come.

VBS Part 2

Since I informed everyone on the concept of VBS a couple of days ago, I won’t bore you with the descriptions again. One of the things that the kids love to do was play on a playground. Of course! How simple. The playground sounds like a great idea. What could possible happen on a playground, right?

Our church as the typical playground setup. Large fenced in area. Swings. Slides. Jungle Gym. See-Saw. A few things I have no idea what they are, and something that I refer to as the Roller Coaster of Doom (more on that in a moment). Everything is spread out with lots of room to play and it is all smothered with tons and tons of wood chips.

Call me old fashioned, but when did substituting razor sharp lumber for nice green grass become the norm? Almost every playground in the South does it. Did someone believe the slim chance a kid broke his leg jumping out of a swing would be down played by the 8 foot piece of kindling that now has pierced his abdomen? Do we need to deter kids crawling on the ground that much? I suppose hanging upside down on a Jungle Gym lacks some luster unless we up the ante with the possibility of a child getting impaled by Paul Bunyan’s splinter.

Just an observation.

Ok, now I’ve led the children to the promised land and they are having fun and going crazy. I work with teenagers. I don’t go to the playground or rarely even pass by it. I’m quite impressed with our set up. I have flashbacks of fun times I enjoyed when I was a child as I pull out a limb that is now submerged into my ankle. I scan all of the “equipment” and pause on something I have never seen before. I’m not sure what it’s called or why it would have been invented.

See for yourself:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                Roller Coaster of Doom.

Surely this was invented by someone who despised children. Perhaps it’s part of an Evil Mad Scientist plan to control the world. Possible evidence of an Alien invasion? Or maybe someone wanted to plant a memorial to their pet snake. Who knows. While I stared as this harbinger of the Emergency Room I thought about all the places that proved to be the most dangerous.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                              It doesn’t end with structural problems. What if they cut corners during the construction of this monstrosity? What if it was made out of copper and a storm passed through?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                And considering the red and yellow colors used, what if it attracted the lava people who live below our earth’s crust? What if the mixture of colors is insulting to them?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                        I guess I’m just a worrier.

VBS Update Episode 1 (FINALLY)

Seems like I’m always apologizing for not keeping my posts up-t0-date. Well this time it’s different. This time I’m going to grovel…..forgive my tardiness.

Whew! Glad that’s over.

Ok, I promised a VBS story and here…..we…go!

For those of you who didn’t grow up in a protestant church in North America or who simple do not know, VBS stands for Vacation Bible School. It’s not a title that embraces a lot of fun, excitement, or joy. VBS is usually a one week event that puts the attention and focus on children up to the 5th Grade. The goal is to use Bible study, song, craft, recreation, and love to teach kids about the redeeming love of Jesus Christ.

Despite the boring title, VBS is a very exciting week, especially at our church. Our Children’s Minister is amazing. She crafts ministry that will reach children where they are not where adults think they should be. VBS is a week that requires the help of 60 to 70 adult volunteers to fill dozens of different roles. I wanted a break from teaching this year so Suzy (Children’s Minister) asked me to lead the recreation for Kindergarten to Second Grade aged children. After the thought of children running around like fire ants attacking a sugar cube while strung out on RedBull left my mind I accepted the job.

I’m a Student Pastor so I have a pretty good repertoire of games. Granted most of them are messy, loud, disgusting, and have an almost “Fear Factor’ meets “Stand By Me” pie eating contest vibe to them. So obviously I couldn’t use a single one. So I canvased the Internet as well as other Game Aficionadosthat I am friends with and concieved a few appropriate games and off we went.

Hopefully the back-story has been carefully drawn for you. Here is a summarized amalgam of our game time:

(I’m standing outside surrounded by 25 Second Graders.)

Me: Does everyone understand the rules??

Everyone: *Blank stares*

Me: *Sigh* Ok, who has a question?

Everyone: *Blank stares*

Me: Remember the boundaries, ok? You can’t go past those trees or into the parking lot. What happens if you go past the boundaries?

Little Boy: You blow up!

Me: No, you don’t blow up. What happens?

Few Kids: You have to sit down!

Me: That’s right. You have to sit down.

Little Pyro-Boy: And you blow up.

Me: No, you don’t blow up. You have to sit down and can’t play.

Persistent Little Pyro-Boy: Because you blow up!

Everyone Else: Yeah! You blow up!

(I must pause as I consider the demented joy the children of the corn take as they cheer and celebrate the concept of blowing up.)

Me: No. You all don’t blow up.

Chanting Cult Children: Blow up! Blow up! Blow up!

Me: Ok, ok. Everybody calm down. Who wants to play the game?

Little Girl: I don’t want to play if you blow up.

Me:……….You won’t blow up. You just have to sit down and wait for the next game to start.

Persistent Little Pyro-Instigator-Boy: How can you play another game if you blow up?

Me:*sigh*………….Does anyone still want to play???

Everyone: Me! Me! Me!

Little girl: But what happens if you go out-a-bounds??

Wrong Number

I’m sitting in my office yesterday working on our summer schedule. As I’m working I hear an unfamiliar beeping from my cell phone. I look over and see that I’m receiving an “unavailable” call. Apparently “unavailable” calls or so special they kick out my normal “Meant To Live” ring-tone. But I digress…

The following is my transcribed interpretation of the phone call that ensued:

Me: Hello?

Creepy Man: Yes, could I speak with Jim Carter?

(note: I was surprised to discover former president Jimmy Carter was still alive…and has a Verizon plan.)

Me: I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.

Surprised Creepy Man: *long pause*……*exhales breath very slowly*…Are you sure?

Me: (Little taken aback by the question) Um…yes. You have the wrong number.

Creepier Breathing Man: *short pause*….This is the number I called.

Me: Um…yes, that’s why I answered.

Frustrated Creepy Man: This is his number.

Me: Well, he must have changed it, because this is my number.

Logical Thinking Creepy Man: Ok, well I called 555-1234.

Me: That’s my number.

Matter-of-Fact Creepy Man: No, that’s Jim’s number.

(note: I am now starting to doubt why I answered instead of Jim.)

Me: I don’t know Jim, but I do know this is my number now.

Creepy Sighing Man: *siiiiigh* *pause*

(note: I’m afraid to hang up. For some reason I believe that he will find me.)

Skeptical Creepy Man: ….Alright (sarcastically) I guess I was wrong.

(note: At this point I wonder if I was adopted and my biological father had finally tracked me down. I waited for a “How’s your mother?” or a “Good Gracious! It’s like I’m listening to my own voice.” Also I feel the need to apologize to this man…and I don’t know why. All I did was answer my phone.

Me: Alright.

Somewhat Defeated Creepy Man: *slow exhale* Fine.

Me: Ok.

Have-The-Last-Laugh Creepy Man: I guess I’ll call back later.

Click.