Letters from Kamp Krusty

Gettin' Clumsy Wid It

J-Cap and I like to laugh about our common malady:  We can barely live with being misunderstood.  Drives us NUTS.

And yet...every time you put pen to paper, finger to key, or open a microphone, you're going to be misunderstood.  Shoot, silence can be misinterpreted, too.  I still don't get Grebbo Marx or whatever his name was.

Here's a nice illustration of things I have to let go.  I don't blame the reporter at all, but I want to add, after each paragraph, "That's not quite what I meant to say, in context..."

Fact is, she did a great job.  I was kinda...clumsy.

I tried to relate that Jesus had his own explanation of the "Good News", and it was a message that clearly meant certain things to his audience.  What, widely, we now call the Gospel -- that Good News -- doesn't really capture what Jesus was talking about. 

In fact, ask most evangelicals, or Bible-believing fundamentalists, and they won't be able to tell you what Jesus's own "Good News" was.  You'll get a blank stare.  (I tried this recently with a Christian talk radio host, a cool, funny, very bright guy who teaches apologetics on his program.  "What did Jesus say the 'Good News' was in Mark 1?  You know, the message he sent his disciples to share?"  -- no idea.)

So, we've lost something really good, but lately, we're seeing people talking about the Good News -- the Kingdom is here -- and understanding its wonderful implications.   When people know what it means to want the Kingdom to come, here on earth, as it is in Heaven, well, they can't wait to make sure little babies in malaria-infested villages have mosquito nets over them. 

I didn't do a very good job of laying this out.  Part of it's because, while many reporters well understand the gospel as we've explained it, they're yet unfamiliar the good news that Jesus sent his disciples out to share in Mark 1. 

That may say something about us.

Ding-Darn Cusser

This is going to be a huge disappointment.  Once again, George W. Bush cussed.

-- but that's not the disappointing thing.  Frankly, I don't give give a dang about that.  What's going to be disappointing, to some, is that pretty much no one is going to stinking care.

Those who will be disappointed will work for the flippin' New York Times.

Remember the huge, blazing controversy over Brokeback Mountain?  I don't either.  It'll be the same thing, writ even smaller:  Writers sitting, waiting, wishing, that you who believe in superstition would maybe make some protest signs.  But the freaks won't do it, dadburn it.  Shucks, some even gave Brokeback good reviews. 

And no one will throw a dingly-dokely-darn fuss about this, either, except those who are angry that Christians aren't angry.  Aren't these Christians supposed to be scandalized by cussing?  See, your guy's a hypocrite!  Christians can't cuss!  He just cussed!  Did you hear him cuss?  He cussed!  Christians hate that!  Don't you?  You do, right?

Of course, they don't hang out with any, so they won't know that they don't really give a rippety-flip what language any President might use to describe a war, and many have no issues with this at all, save in front of little kids.  Someone will write an article about what blind hypocrites we are, for not protesting the President's language, just like they did last time he cussed on mic.  No one will note the irony:  that it's the left, not the right, here serving as Pottymouth Patrol. 

And, frustrated, somebody will get a quote from...hmmm...check rolodex...let's see...Pat Robertson.

Snore, etc.

I'm Not Totally Comfortable With This Yet

I'm kinda scared to go to France.

I'm just not...comfortable...with some things, culturally.  I don't know.  I just feel like, sometimes, I don't understand.

I'm not going to judge a culture, or push my morality off on anyone, certainly.  I'm just saying I was watching this soccer game, and...I don't know.  Like I say, I can't judge.  I wasn't raised in France, and I haven't walked a kilometre in their cleats.

Granted, I don't, generally, tend to attack people's sterna with my skull.  But, before we accuse and condemn, think about it:  Who among us, really, hasn't head-butted someone in the sternum during a World Cup final?  So let's hold our fire.

It's a classic case of a clash of cultures.  But I will grow.  I will seek to understand, to learn.