I just had a cool idea: Let's have a Festival of Judgment!
We'll out-judge everybody, and prove our own personal righteousness, by judging everybody who comments on this blog.
Start by judging me. (Say, for buying a $7500 car, when I could have sent the money to Compassion International.) Then, I'll judge you by out-Bibling you, and you can jump in and judge back, and judge other commenters or whatever.
You can do it through quoting the Bible, or just kinda tsk-tsking somebody else with a pithy comment. It's fun, and will establish you as a real serious-type religious person, and will make this blog THE home for Truth, none of that namby-pamby, relativistic, postmod stuff you get elsewhere.
The University of Illinois football team -- and, by extension, Brant Hansen -- defeated the team from the University of Michigan -- and, by extension, everyone associated with Michigan -- just moments ago.
My self-esteem is soaring, thanks to what we did. "We" is me, plus a group of young men I've never personally met. They were assembled from several states, and also the District of Columbia.
I am greatly gratified that Michigan compiled 20 points, which was decidedly less than (<) the points we scored, which summed to 45. "Juice" Williams and I combined for 431 yards of total offense.
Previously, I had stated that this sort of thing (athletics are a mere adjunct of what are, ostensibly, educational institutions) is of no consequence. I now see that my identification with the University of my degree is very much part of who I am, and the football team is a representative of that University.
Once again, I've been nominated for yet another huge award.
I leave for Nashville tomorrow morning, where I'll be whisked from the airport aboard a Gray Line bus to some hotel. And on Sunday, there will be a big lunch thing, and at that lunch thing, they will announce the Echo Awards "Radio Personality of the Year".
This latest honor would follow a string of awards:
1) "Mr. Hustle" -- Assumption, Illinois Little League, 1982
So it's kind of embarrassing, but it's like every time I turn around it's, "Oh, here's another award."
"Mr. Hustle", and now, 26 years later, wham! -- another one. As before noted, I played eight years of baseball, and batted .000 for my entire career. Eight years. Let me tell you, it's not easy to "hustle" when you don't actually leave the batter's box. You have a very confined area in which to "hustle". I suppose I did deserve an award, for hustling within a 3 x 7 foot box.
I don't expect to win. I'm one of five nominees in my category, and the whole thing is kind of mysterious. I know only this: Whoever nominates hasn't actually heard me on the radio.
I'll let you know how it goes. These award things are silly, really! They just are. Silliness! And I don't think our medium should be about "competing" when we should be all about the Kingdom, so, just, you know, keep me in mind this weekend, that's all, and pray that my opponents will be humbled, brought to their knees, awestruck by my acceptance speech, paralyzed with crippling jealousy, and that everyone just has a good time of fellowship.
One neat thing about the internet: It allows me to personally defeat you at awesomely cool games like this. (My end-game "travel I.Q. score" was 117. And I'm American!)
Think of it: Heretofore, I'd have needed to wade through logistics and great expense to leave sunny South Florida and eventually arrive in person at your doorstep in cloudy Whereverville, in order to reign victorious over you.
Now, I needn't even know you -- I can just win! And you needn't involve yourself in my life, you can just line up for a beat-down from an accordion-playing nobody. Nothing personal; It's just that I, personally, will personally defeat your personal self.
Boo-ya, whoever! -- in love. Thanks, Monica, for sending me the link so I could beat you first.
I just wish you could watch my awesome Dance of Victory. I'm working on a hologram.
Because there's nothing more fun than forcing people to look at your own photo albums, here's an online version.
I can't force you to look at it. I can't even force myself to think you'd want to. But here it is.
Oh, the places you'll go!