American Carol review
Just got back from seeing American Carol at AMC Pleasure Island 24 in Walt Disney World. Overall: I’d give it a B. Funny. Not the funniest film I’ve seen but still funny. I didn’t like the language but other then that it was fairly tame. I counted about 10 s-words, 5 a-words and a couple of s.o.b.s. I’ve never liked profanity in movies so that is always a notch down in my personal ratings.
I wish George Washington had more screen time. “Sarah Conrad of Eagle Creek” is a much better story. It is witty, adventurous, romantic and it promotes positive values like two-parent families, marriage, capitalism, patriotism and goodwill towards all men.
You can read this book for free online at my website or you can download a PDF or listen to it on YouTube. Follow this link to hear chapter 1.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYInrBKla9U&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYInrBKla9U&feature=related
www.JasonGoldtrap.com
I have nothing to sell, nothing to join, no chat rooms or forums and I don’t care who you vote for. 1 Thess. 5:12 JG
I have nothing to sell, nothing to join, no chat rooms or forums and I don’t care who you vote for. 1 Thess. 5:12 JG
Answering Danny Dodd’s Concerns
I just read My Concerns by Danny Dodd. As always, his words were well spoken and his insights were valid. I have a few things to say which will support Danny Dodd but I will not necessarily agree with his conclusions. These words apply to more than just his blog. I thought about leaving a comment but I reasoned a new posting in my own blog would be a more effective response.
1. Church growing older. True. That being said, my guess is the statistic of older to younger Christians has not changed in several decades. It was exactly the same when I was in high school back in the glory days of the 1980s, when all was right in the world.
Young people who grow up in the church have a tendency to stop going after they get out on their own. However, when they have children of their own they come back to church. I do not know of any program or change in worship style could change that fact. I’d also be willing to bet that this phenomenon is not unique to our fellowship. The Baptist, Methodist and Unitarians probably have the same problem. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Preach the Word; let God sift the wheat from the chaff.
2. I don’t see our fellowship as being fractured. I see rabble rousers, bloggers, whiners, spiritually immature people who’ve bought into the Santa-God “do what you feel” Christianity. As a member of the Church of Christ, I celebrate the fellowship of the spirit that transcends time and place. I can worship at a church in Haines City, Florida or Eugene, Oregon, hear the same Good News, sing the same songs and instantly be welcomed as a brother.
3. Our leadership is not distracted. Our leadership is the men who oversee the congregation. Where I worship, I have three leaders. My shepherds are connected to their sheep. My guess is, so are the elders at your church. I don’t care what some Generation X eggheads in Abilene or California think about the church. My primary focus is what happens at my church. I am only mildly interested in what happens outside of my walls because that is where my influence ends.
At my church, our leadership takes faith risks. The elders say that baptism, Communion, a cappella singing and holy living matter. That is a risk because some are bound to use their hurt feelings over these issues as a license to leave the church. Sad, but not unexpected. Wheat and chaff.
Every week, I get an email from a missionary friend in Brazil. The church is growing in that nation as well as India, Ukraine, Russia, China and other lands. It is not growing as fast as I would like it to grow in the USA but even so it is still growing. The plea for Bible based living is not an America exclusive product but a mandate from heaven. It’s charges races across borders literally at the speed of light thanks to the internet, television, radio and other forms of mass communications and it is bearing fruit.
Those prayer warriors you seek are probably already among you. A good prayer warrior does not advertise their piety; they live a quiet life submissive to God’s Will. They focus on the Holiness of God and connect to it not by jumping up and down or waving their hands, rather, like our dear banquet server Jacob. Hebrews 11:21 By faith Jacob, when he was a dying, blessed both the sons of Joseph; and worshipped, leaning upon the top of his staff.
At my church, we pray, read the Bible, sing meaningful songs, remember the death of Christ through communion, and listen to a sermon. That’s good enough for me. It’s not always the most exciting event of my week but so what? I don’t need to be constantly entertained. I need to be reminded of who I am and, more importantly, where God sits.
I don’t know what a worship war is so I’ll just skip that one.
Sunday attendance is important in the same way that sharing a meal with your family is important. The government these days actually has to tell people that they should eat with their children because so many are now accustomed to the idea that all members of the family are equal and should have their wishes respected. I thank God that my father didn’t see things that way. He was the father of his house hold. My mother did not wear the pants in our family; she stood beside him and left me an example which produces much love in my home.
As long as I lived under his roof, I went to church. Even if I was tired or had a tummy ache, I went to church on Sunday because some things were more important than my wants. I learned that commitments are not to be taken lightly. I leaned to appreciate something greater than my own feelings. Is Sunday morning attendance the panacea of all ills? Nope. However, I don’t know what is. A certain percentage of kids no matter what you do will spit upon their upbringing and rebel against goodness in all forms.
There will always be aberrations. Greed and sloth is pushed with a religious fervor by our mass media. This explains the current slip ups on Wall Street. I don’t worry about it too much. The worldly system is a mess and will always fail in all forms.
Don’t focus on the abhorrent or the rebels.
When TV shows look back at the year 1968, the year I was born, they focus on hippies. 95% of Americans never became hippies. 95% of Americans stayed sober, kept their clothes on and didn’t burn down their house. If I had a TV show about 1968, that is what you would see.
American culture in 1968 celebrated maturity and progress.
American culture in 2008 celebrates immaturity and retreat. Don’t believe me? Fine. Go to Liberty Street and Church Street in New York City.
In my world, if you went there today, you would see two white towers, 120 stories tall connected with a bridge. And these towers would have been open for four years. Maturity and progress.
Instead of that, in the real world, you see a massive pit, a whimpy design for a green, politically correct building which is billions over budget and will likely not open until 2014. Immaturity and retreat.
Get off the blogs. Turn off the internet. Write a note to a shut-in. Thank a veteran. Welcome to my world. It’s called Eagle Creek, Montana. It is where you belong. Welcome home.
www.JasonGoldtrap.com
September 11th Cat Scripture
I used this one last year. I got so much positive response from it that I have decided to post this Cat Scripture every September 11th.
Never forget. Let’s roll.
-Jason Goldtrap
Button the Kitten Finds A Home
Button the Kitten Finds A Home
by Jason Goldtrap 09.09.08
Sometime during the summer of 1910; in the loft of a big red barn on the outskirts of River City, Montana; a momma cat gave birth to six kittens. A smoky gray girl was the runt of the litter.
The little gray kitten enjoyed every second of her kittenhood. She tumbled and tussled with her brothers and sisters. She enjoyed sniffing and marking the horses that lived on the first floor. She had fun exploring the house where the farmer and his wife lived and climbing the apple trees which dotted the front yard.
One morning, the farmer came and picked up the kittens and placed them in a big wooden box. They cried and cried for their mother, but all she did was reassure them that everything was as it should be. Although the farmer tried his best, the little gray kitten was just too quick. She hid inside of a coffee can beneath the work-bench. The farmer resigned himself to thinking that she was probably meant to be a barn cat. He put the box in the wagon, bridled up his horses and drove off.
When the farmer was out of sight, the little gray kitten came out of hiding. She ran to momma.
Momma was sad to see her kittens leave. She licked her tiniest baby’s face, but then, hissed at her.
The little gray kitten was confused and upset.
Momma hissed again and growled.
The little gray kitten was frightened. She ran out of the barn as fast as she could.
She kept running for a very long time before she finally stopped near a tall Maple tree. She took a moment to catch her breath. The sun was high in the sky and making her all the more dry mouth. She missed napping in a pile with her brothers and sisters back at the barn.
She was hungry. She flopped on the ground and folded her arms to rest her head, hoping to get a few minutes of a snooze. Her twitching ears woke her up. They were tuning on the skittish movements of a mouse as it rustled through the fallen leaves. She poked up her head and sniffed around until she found it. She wished mother were around to kill it for her, but, since she wasn’t she’d have to do on her own.
She took light, subtle steps towards the rodent moving ever so cautiously. Finally, when she was in range, she pounced and delivered a quick, lethal bite. She was so happy. The kitten picked up her prize by its tail and held her head high. Momma Cat would be so proud of her, but, after walking a few steps in a circle, she realized she was utterly lost.
She hung her head down; very, very, very sad. She wanted to go back to the big, red barn. However, she knew that a kitten’s tears would not make that happen. She was on her own.
She stayed at the tall Maple tree for several days. With each opportunity, she became more adept at hunting. She watched all manner of forest life pass her way. A colony of ants built a mound nearby. Whenever a kindle of rabbits would play or chew on alfalfa sprouts she was reminded of her family back in the barn: brothers and sisters who, in all likelihood, now had their own territory with humans to take care of their needs. The loving kindness showed by a family of skunks even vaguely resembled her earliest memories of happier days. A mother deer and her fawn mimicked the relationship with her own momma cat. The saddest day came when she could no longer remember what her mother looked like or sounded like.
After a couple of weeks, she was resigned to living in the tree, alone, unwanted, forever. Unfortunately for her, a much bigger, older cat had a different scheme in mind. He wanted that tree to be part of his territory.
Little gray kitten put up quite a defense, but the opponent was just too scary. She ran away.
As she scampered for her life, she got lost. When she turned around, she could no longer see the tall Maple tree or the forest. She decided to just keep running and see what turns up.
She saw a massive, rocky hill in front of her. That might provide a few places to hide.
The closer she ran, the more a certain smell sparked her memory. Sure enough, on the other side of the rocky hill was a pair of brown horses tied to a wagon. She sniffed the horses and meowed to them.
The horses were not smart enough to speak Cat. They just stood there eating a bag of oats and occasionally slobbering unused bits on the ground.
She sniffed the wagon. At last, she found the scent of another cat, female. Maybe it was her mother or maybe she had been a mother cat and would be willing to take her in.
She heard voices from the top of the hill. She climbed up using a winding trail and hid beneath a Juneberry shrub to observe the strange gathering. Five human females were happily tumbling and cart-wheeling in the warm sun. She thought the scene looked so care-free and happy as though they were human kittens.
An arrow flew towards the top and nearly hit one of the females. She flopped to the ground. Another human, a male, taller then the females joined them.
They spread out a blanket and shared a lunch. Watching them eat and sniffing their food made her little tummy yearn for a good meal.
The human females finished eating and male left. As soon as he had disappeared down the hill, they shared a big belly laugh at his expense. Then they placed their food in baskets and laid on the blanket forming a star pattern. When they were asleep, the little gray kitten quietly approached.
Her mouth watered, her nose twitched. Hurray! There was still some meat left on the discarded chicken bones. Yummy! That was the best meal she’d had in weeks.
She licked her paws clean and then turned her attention to the females. She thought that maybe one of them since they did have food and were fun loving, could give her a new home.
She sniffed the first one: shortest human with dark hair. No pets.
She sniffed the second: tallest human, light blonde hair. No cats but she did have a guinea pig and that might make a good snack.
She sniffed the third: thick black hair. She had a cat, female, plus she smelled like flour and sugar, sort of like the farmer’s wife used to smell on days when she was baking.
She sniffed the fourth: tall, blonde. She too had a female cat. It was the same cat who owned the horses and the wagon. She must be the wealthiest cat in the world to have such marvelous property.
She sniffed the fifth: blonde with a slightly red tint in her hair. She had a cat too, about her age.
By this time, the chicken was settling in her stomach. She grew tired and laid down beside the fifth human near her face because she had such a pleasant smell. She closed her eyes in search of a dream.
After a while, that human awoke. She lightly petted the little gray kitten’s fur and whispered a pleasant greeting.
The little gray kitten awoke.
It meowed, but the human was not smart enough to speak Cat.
A strange noise frightened her. She ran lickity split to the Juneberry shrub and hid.
When she’d settled down, she figured out that it was one of the humans yawning and stretching.
The human females gathered their baskets, folded the blanket and disappeared down the hill.
She started to follow but a thunder clap scared her; she ran back to the Juneberry shrub and hunkered down in fear of an approaching storm. A long time passed, but it never rained.
She sniffed the path of the human females and tracked them down the hill.
When she tried to follow the road, an ugly dog started chasing her for sport. She ran around the hill a couple of times before the dog grew tired of the game. She hid in a crag.
Finally, the dog left. She decided to take another nap to help her chicken filled tummy relax. When she awoke from that nap she could see that it was getting late so she spent the night in the crag.
When morning came, she sniffed around the hill, but by now the horses and the female humans smell was gone.
She decided to wait in the crag of the rock for a few days, hoping they would return.
Eventually, she resigned herself to the possibility that they would not return. She decided to take her chances back at the tall Maple tree.
It took a long time to get there but she found it.
The older, bigger cat who had claimed the Maple tree as its territory was gone, however, the new residents, a passel of opossums, were not willing to share. And then she got chased away by the return of the older, bigger cat. The little, gray kitten decided to take her chances once again at the rocky hill.
As she wearily approached she heard human female voices, three of the same ones she had heard a couple of weeks earlier. They were joined by three human males. She started to climb the hill but the mean, ugly dog resumed its chase. She hid in the same rocky crag.
The next morning, the little, gray kitten concentrated hard and picked up the scent of the horses. She followed them down the road to a small town.
A rain shower swept across the valley.
She lost the scent again.
Finding an unclaimed log, she hid inside and waited for the storm to pass. It rained the rest of that day.
The next day, she came to a small creek which by now was swirling with rapids. The shore was unstable.
She backed away.
The town looked so inviting. Many smells, many voices, a host of new friends and adventures.
She walked along the creek bank until she found a bridge. She merrily walked into town.
Humans were bustling about everywhere. Their mad rush, the constant clogging of horse hooves, the clamorous cars made her unsure about the situation. She decided to run back to the safety of the crag in the rocky hill.
Soon, her life became a complete bore. Weeks passed. Every morning she’d climbed the hill, eat a mouse and get chased by the ugly, mean dog. The idiotic canine was happy with their regular schedule. To him it was reliable and exciting. To her it was tedious and depressing.
One morning, the dog didn’t show up, so she headed for the town once again. She found the bridge and confidently strolled into the bustling metropolis. She did a quick survey of downtown. Humans were everywhere. Surely one of them would enjoy her company and take her in.
That night, she went exploring. She stopped by each building sniffing it, seeing which other cats had claimed that slot of territory. Every time she found a place she liked, another cat or a stupid dog would chase her away.
She sniffed a familiar smell in an alley: flour and sugar. She saw a light on in the window. She jumped on the ledge and peered inside. The blonde human female was rolling dough. An older, unknown, black haired female with a bump in her belly was yelling at her. As soon as the older one left, the younger one did an exaggerated imitation of her.
The little, gray kitten started to tap on the window to attract the human’s attention but a big Siamese cat jumped on the indoor part of the ledge. The kitten was startled. The Siamese hissed at her to go away. Defeated and sad, she left. She meekly walked back down the alley and back to the crag on the rocky hill.
The next evening she tried again. Same results. She visited many houses. They already had cats or dumb dogs or another cat was trying to claim that territory.
One day, the little, gray kitten went to the schoolhouse. The wafting fragrances of lunches enticed her pallet and drew her closer. She found a lone male human sitting under a ring of tall trees behind the schoolhouse. She gave a polite meow. He smiled and gave her a piece of tuna fish. She relished the seafood until two other humans, females, showed up and told her to scat. One of them began sneezing.
The little gray kitten ran away. It headed to more houses and was unwelcomed at every one.
When she found the big house where the horses lived she knew for certain that she’d finally found a home. Surely, this momma cat would take her in.
She approached cautiously but soon, even that momma cat, the one feline she thought would help, was chasing her away from the pretty house.
The little gray kitten hid in a drainage pipe. She cried and cried and cried. Life was so unfair. Everyone was cruel. No one loved her. No one ever would. She would spend her entire life, alone, afraid and cold. She wearily returned to the crag, exhausted, defeated, and hopeless. More days passed by, each seemingly blurring into the next. She was no longer interested in finding a home. She didn’t care much about anything.
One morning, just after sunrise, she felt a tap on her nose. She popped open her eyes but no one was there.
She stuck her head out of the crag and looked around, no cats, no dogs, no humans. She started to return to her home, but, something compelled her to go for a walk.
She went to the creek bed and relaxed by watching tadpoles. She stuck her paw in to catch one, but suddenly she felt some whiskers brush her right ear. She turned her head to see who was there, but there was no one.
She crossed the bridge and strolled into town. It was still early, only a handful of humans were on the streets. The sun’s rays were peeking over the mountains: coloring the sky, bathing the town in a warm amber glow.
She heard footsteps, but when she turned around, no one was there. She continued walking. She came to a big yellow house surrounded by a small, white picket fence. The fence had another cat’s smell on it. Once again, she was in someone else’s territory. She started to move along, but for some reason she stopped. She could not go any further. She felt a slight tug on her left paw, so she took a chance and crawled under the fence. She cowered down and hid in a clump of grass.
As she examined the big yellow house, an old female human who had black hair with streaks of white stepped on the porch carrying a cup of coffee. She was silent and forlorn as she sat in a big white fan chair. She looked just as sad and lonely as the little gray kitten.
The little gray kitten sympathized with the human as she watched her from the clump of grass.
An odd sensation poked at her tail. She stepped up and turned around. Once again, no one was there.
When she turned to the house, the old woman was looking right at her.
At first she thought to run away, but instead she took a couple of steps forward.
The old woman smiled.
The kitten smiled in return.
It took a couple of more steps and then put a single paw on the bottom step to the porch.
The woman grinned and made kissing noises.
The kitten did not know what that meant exactly, but she took it as a sign to come closer.
The kitten tilted her head and meowed, “Home?”
The old woman chuckled and stuck out her hand to be sniffed.
The kitten sniffed her hand and then rubbed it. The human now belonged to her. She scratched the kitten’s ears and patted her head. She nodded and spoke a human phrase that somehow, the little gray kitten heard in the complex language of Cat: “You’re as cute as a button.”
The little gray kitten purred.
“As a matter of fact, that’s your name: Button!”
The woman patted her lap.
The little gray kitten instinctively jumped in her lap and curled up.
As she lay on the human’s lap she looked out on to the lawn. The human looked up too. The human saw the yard, the empty street and morning clouds.
Button, on the other hand could see a bright, shimmering human with soft, snowy wings. It was so unusual: beautiful and not at all frightening. The winged human reached into her white robe and pulled out a little black kitten.
And as the bright, shinny human began to slowly float into the sky; the kittens looked at each other and smiled.
The floating human picked up one of the little black kitten paws and used it to wave bye-bye.
Button watched the mesmerizing scene unfold as the shinny human and the black kitten floated ever higher.
Button looked to the sky and meowed, “Thank you for the home.”
She heard a meow in reply, “You’re welcomed, Button, you’re welcomed.”
7 year old Piper Palin Scandal
More Scandal Rocks the Palin Household
Reeling from the devastating revelations concerning Bristol Palin, 17 year old daughter of GOP VP pick Sarah Palin, more shocking allegations emerged today about another daughter, Piper Palin: born on May 15, 2001 (the same year as the attack on the World Trade Center.)
For Piper’s seventh birthday party, she had a sleepover at her house which included Chrissy Binkley (her Best-Friend-Forever), Diane Helkes, Marcia Hiatu, Tiffany Murkowski and Jenny Tolen. That’s right, she only invited girls!
On top of all that, she had a hand drawn sign on the front door of her house which said, “Piper Palin, 7, happy birthday, girls only, no boys allowed!” The sign included a hand drawn pink unicorn, a smiley face and seven star stickers (blue, green, red, orange, yellow, silver and purple).
At this gathering, in which all of the attendees were white, the girls ate unhealthy foods and drank cans of Sam’s Choice Cola (it was on sale). They also had a lip synch contest in which participants wore blonde wigs to look like Hannah Montana. And the family cat, Cinnamon, received an unwelcomed make-over.
At one point, Jenny Tolen jumped off of the couch in the living room and sprang her left pinky. Instead of taking Jenny to the hospital, the potential Vice President of the United States held her as the little girl cried and then gave her an extra cupcake. Did Chrissy or Tiffany or Diane or Marcia get an extra cupcake? No! How unfair is that?
The party lasted well past 9 pm, the designated bedtime so as to allow each guest a turn playing Hungry Hungry Hippos. When morning arrived, it was discovered that one of the girls had… an accident. MSNBC’s Keith Olbermann is investigating the suspects. JG 09.02.08 JasonGoldtrap.com
School shooting in Knoxville
Central High School, Knoxville, Tennessee. Ryan McDonald, 15, shot in the chest. Jamar Siler, 15, pulled the trigger at point blank range in the middle of the cafeteria and then calmly walked out the door. Jamar’s sister, Ciara Siler, 22, is currently wanted by police for the murder of Jerri Lynn Goodman.
Utterly sad. You can’t deal with the devil and win. You can’t play around with evil. You must avoid it in all forms for it manifests itself in innumerable, seductive ways. Violence, hatred, moral indifference, neglect, stealing from the government, robbery, destroying some one else’s property, it’s all the same curse of woe. God offers a way out no matter how far gone you seem. Save yourself from this untoward generation.
Great Bible Quote- Inadvertently
|
|||
