Living the Dream
Two years ago, I thought there was far too much post-championship coverage of Florida’s win. I don’t like Florida.
Last year, I thought there was just about the right amount of post-championship coverage of Kansas’ win. I like Kansas.
This year, I didn’t think there was nearly enough post-championship coverage of the Heels. I bleed Carolina Blue.
Maybe it wasn’t the coverage that changed…
I just got done watching the less-edited version of the Nightline debate entitled “Does Satan Exist” (that link appears to be one that will someday no longer point to the specific debate, but just to all of the debates.). I wanted to give my reactions to a few points.
First off, it was very well-produced, and I thought that the editing didn’t favor one side over the other. Perhaps that’s because I watched the nearly unedited version online. Who knows what actually made it to the TV.
There was one point in the debate that really piqued my interest. They allowed audience members to ask questions, and a girl asked Deepak Chopra what made his experience more valid or more true than the other panelists’ experience. He immediately retorted that his experience wasn’t more true, but that he could only speak from his point of view. Then he went on to make the point that her experience was not as in-line with “what we know about science and microbiology…” (not a direct quote, I didn’t go back and check the wording…).
Out of one side of his mouth he would say that her experience is perfectly valid, and then he would immediately turn around and basically call her primitive and uneducated. Yet he doesn’t see the incongruence there. He spins very pretty word-webs and things that sound pithy and neat but have no real meaning. “All belief is just a cover-up for insecurity. Once you know something you no longer have to believe it. You just experience it.” …what?
Which brings me to my favorite interchange in the debate (which I really hope made it to the final cut that aired on ABC). Also between an audience member and Chopra, it went something like this:
Man in Audience: Earlier you said that all belief is just a cover-up for insecurity. Do you believe that?
Deepak Chopra: Yes.
Man in Audience: Thanks. (turns to go sit down)
Brilliant.
The year was 2004 (or was it 2005 by that time?). I was at a nearly-monthly “open mic” night at a friends house in Murfeesboro. For those not in the know, Murfreesboro is a loud siren’s distance from Nashville, the music city. So, you gotta be aware that the level of talent at this shindig was not-so-amateur.
Being a musician, I went ahead and signed up for a spot on the list that was being passed around. I signed up after a guy named Charlie Murphey. Sounded harmless enough. Shouldn’t be a tough act to follow.
A few minutes later, Charlie lumbered up on stage, but as he was taking a seat, I noticed that the guitar he was holding apeared to just be an extension of his arms. He was so comfortable carrying it through a crowd He didn’t even have to think about it. I soon learned why: he had spent plenty of time with that instrument on his lap.
That’s when I learned a life-lesson. Never sign up at an open mic after a guy who you have not heard play. Especially if you are in central Tennessee.
I’d like to introduce you to Charlie. Seems the marketing folks got ahold of him and “Murphey” is now “Hardin.” Check him out at CharlieHardin.com and tell him I sent you.
Hollywood Be Thy Name Promo from adam patrick jones on Vimeo.
Reading to LB before bed. This book did not help him fall asleep, but we had a blast.
I just totalled my car, (see the picture in the previous post) and was standing and talking to the workers that came to clean up the mess. The guy sweeping grabbed my bumper and tossed it up on the hood out of the way. I seized a moment to lighten the mood.
“Don’t scratch the paint!” I yelled. I then did my best to keep a straight face.
All of the men standing around toyed for a few seconds with the thought that I might be serious. One of them stammered “uh… uh…” and I let it linger before busting out in a loud laugh.
The guys at the Ochre Hill volunteer fire department are good folks. It’s a good thing, too. I just T-boned one of their pickup trucks en route to a house call. Everybody is fine, and now I just get to deal with the insurance companies and impound lots. Pray for my sanity.