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Elderly Man River: “Keep in Mind the Tiny Tots” has Always Been With Us

I have a friend that recently was forced to change the lyrics to a country song because the grammar wasn’t correct – and the song was going to be used in kid’s programming, so we can’t have that. In King George and the Ducky Phil Vischer (while I worked on the story, the magic all came from Phil) was able to get away with Larry singing “more wronger” (rhymes with “stronger”) by having Bob point out the error.

To honor the ongoing battle of lyrics (and dialogue) that is less-than-grammatical by design, here is a link to YouTube and Stan Freberg and Daws Butler dealing with the issue in the era of classic radio.

Truth about Jeremiah Discovered

One of my writing gigs includes delving into Biblical Archaeology, so I was excited when this article by the Babylon Bee was forwarded to me. Who would have guessed that scholars would be able to prove that only the super-encouraging verse in the book of Jeremiah is authentic!

Check it out here.

“Confirmed: Earliest Manuscripts Of Jeremiah Just Had Chapter 29 Verse 11”

No More Cheesy, Churchy Videos

Our drama team – BADD (Bel Air Drama Department) is now featured in a CHRISTIANITY TODAY article. Check it out!!

No More Cheesy, Churchy Videos
Bel Air Presbyterian’s drama department has mastered the art of making short films that are funny without being cheesy, and effective without being overwrought.
Story by Brett McCracken | posted 09/23/08

Go to the full story HERE.

Sean & I have had the privilege of being a part of this group for 6 years now. It’s truly amazing.
Enjoy these photos from “On The List”! (That’s me sitting down in the center as script supervisor! I’m working – really!!)

To view some of our past work – go to and click on VIDEOS.

Comedy at Bel Air!

Our church drama group is presenting another comedy night. If you are in the LA area, come check it out this Sunday night.

Cath and I have seen most of the acts – including the hamburger juggler (which we saw at the Magic Castle) and the magician (which we saw at McDonalds. Okay, it wasn’t at McDonalds, but wouldn’t that just be perfect?)

Oh, the juggler is considering balancing a running vacuum cleaner on his face. I haven’t seen that before…

Join us for some real laughs!

Snow Fall

My brother Mark, resident of the snow thumped Upstate New York, recently sent an e-mail I thought worth mentioning.

His 82 year old neighbor got up on his barn, trying to get the snow off the roof to relieve the building of some weight.

Well, his neighbor fell off the roof.

Oh, don’t get this wrong, I’m not writing this as a prayer request. The neighbor wasn’t hurt in the least.

And this isn’t really a praise report either, as there wasn’t much miraculous in an 82 year old falling off a barn and suffering no injuries. Well, at least not this winter.

You see, he fell a total of two feet into the snow drift that had engulfed his barn.

Two feet up.

If you’re gonna fall off a barn, that is the way to do it.

Below is a picture taken on my brother’s property.

Now, don’t go all feeling sorry for my relatives (they’ve been competing, what with Mark’s drifts, Matt and Mike’s windy Colorado snow, Mary’s iced roads, and… well, I have ten siblings with rivaling winter stories).

You see, we’ve had it rough here in Southern California ourselves. As Cath pointed out, it is nearly impossible to shovel snow in eighty degree weather.

You try it some time.

Just my thoughts,


More Sick Thoughts

I can hear my face.

And I don’t like it very much.

It sounds like my cartilage is constantly crinkling, like one of Matt’s boys squirming to get comfortable on a new leather couch.

(Matt’s boys are each over six feet tall. And the couch isn’t very cozy, as the darned kid won’t stop moving. I bet it’s Josh. Yeah, Josh is squirmy.)

Cath says the noise isn’t cartilage at all, but rather it is mucus. The sound is caused by sections of mucus breaking off, like ice calving from a glacier. She also says that it is good, a sign that I am healing.

She says other things, but I’m not listening. I’m too taken with the mucus as glacier image.

I wonder if there are native mucus people – let’s call them Mucamos – and I wonder if they put their elderly Mucamos onto mucus floes, and watch them as they float off into the Sinus Sea.

And I’m glad that this is a sign that I’m healing, because I can’t wait to stop hearing my face.

And to start thinking and writing of things other than little snot populations and booger bergs.

And maybe you can start reading about other things as well.

Just my thoughts,


In Typos Past

I thought of Janet as I looked at the screen.

I was lost in worship, so it required a double then triple take to register the mistake. But sure enough, up there in bold letters were the lyrics to the hymn we were singing – “our shelter from the stormy blast.”

Only “stormy” was missing an “m.”

I thought immediately of Janet – who lists worship related typos among her pet peeves.

And Janet is a story teller, so I wondered if she would’ve taken this one personally, had she been in Kansas with me.

My guess is she would have let out a laugh before even realizing it.

I mean, seriously, when was the last time anyone in church needed “shelter from a story blast?”

Although, come to think of it, such a blast would be welcome from time to time.

And I imagine G-d, in His love, would choose to not shelter us from it.

Just my thoughts,


A Thought Flu Across My Mind…

On day three of bed rest from a bug picked up in Kansas. Going a little stir crazy, but too loopy to focus for extended periods of time.

I wouldn’t want this period of rest and relaxation to go to waste, so I’ve collected the bits of wisdom one can learn in such a setting:

-My cat, River, is fascinated by Kevin Kline as Hamlet, but doesn’t care much for the ghost. I’m sure this information will come in handy in the future.

-Being loaded with drugs still doesn’t help make The Hulk a good movie. But it does make me giggle thinking that I wouldn’t want to see him Ang Lee.

-Charlotte Bronte is a decent enough companion for the bed-laden; although Rochester is so dense, the exasperation thus inflamed may not bide goodly for the patient.

-A cat sitting on one’s head in health is cute; a cat sitting on one’s head whilst one attempts to breathe through a fog of phlegm tips towards irritating.

-While a half hour of Jon Stewart allowing our government to mock itself is very funny, catching up on hours of back programming (and realizing that Mr. Stewart doesn’t have to work hard to find this stuff) is distressing.

-Chicken soup aids in healing by creating an overwhelming desire to get away from any more chicken soup!

-A cracker in hot soup: 4 seconds – barely wet enough to hold flavor; eight seconds – nicely softened with soupy goodness; twelve seconds – dissolved, need the spoon to retrieve.

-Good rule of thumb: if one falls asleep in the same spot in the same book three times or more, it is time that one moved on to a different book.

-One blessing of a head bug is the opportunity to convince one’s brother via the phone that Sean isn’t here right now, but has somehow managed to lure Bea Arthur away from show business long enough to act as his personal assistant.

I’m sure my wisdom will only increase as I sit here.

Just my thoughts,


The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill…

My legs are probably the most in shape part of my body, but they are also the ones that gripe the most.

They complain when I jog.

They moan in disbelief when I move past the car, choosing instead to walk the two blocks to the grocery store (“we’re in LA, nobody walks to the store!” they cry out).

They even whine when I get up from watching tv to go to bed. (“Hey, what’s wrong with the floor? Some of the greatest leaders in history slept on the floor.”)

So of course it was the legs that complained the most when I foolishly agreed to take a hike up the hill with my comrades.

First off, don’t agree to go on a hike with Elizabeth and Miguel. They don’t get what hikes are supposed to be about – they are supposed to be leisurely strolls until the ground starts arcing upwards. Then they are supposed to be about turning around and conferring on how far we are going to tell everyone we hiked.

But these two think that going to the top of a hill means going to the top of a hill. Who ever heard of such a thing?

And as we were in Eden, Utah, the hill was really a ridge on a mountain.

My legs started complaining fairly early on. They simple didn’t like the looks of this – they had been in situations like this before. They knew what was coming.

When we hit the picturesque cabin – a perfectly good stopping point – my companions merely paused long enough to look up. See that ridge? We can make that ridge.

And my legs started “I told you so”ing as my pride moved my mouth to say, “Sure, we can make that ridge.”

Making the ridge wasn’t as hard as other hikes I’ve been on. And I recounted those hikes to my legs as they started getting shaky further up the mount.

“Remember Hawaii?” Hawaii was bad, because Cath and I hiked farther than we should have, and had to choose between struggling back or offering ourselves as sacrifices to the volcano gods.

The volcano gods rejected us – something about wedding nights, Madonna, and Virgin Airlines. I didn’t quite understand, as I was mostly thinking about how this wasn’t nearly as bad as Mount St. Helens.

I did St. Helens before it erupted. The part near the top, where it is all ash? Yeah, that part I took one step at a time. Literally.

Step. Pause. Breath. Okay. Step. Pause. Breath. Okay. Step…

“See?” I told my legs in Eden. “We survived much worse – and there are no volcanoes in Utah, so how bad can it be?”

My legs grumbled, but knew that they weren’t nearly as influential as those two guys closer to the brain – pride and ego.

Elizabeth and Miguel could do it. And not only that, they were chit-chatting about marathons, and mountain runs, wrassling bears and crocodiles while winning triatholons. Those two were making it look easy.

Besides, said Pride, if you quit now, not only will you have to admit that you didn’t make it as far as the others, but these two are going to have to carry you back down. Is that worth avoiding a few aches in the morning?

So I kept on, until we reached the top – or at least as far as the brambles would let us go.

Not so bad. Spectacular view. The good feelings of pushing oneself past the limits. The soaring belief in the limitless potential of man.

The realization that I still had to get down.

“Not so bad,” says the brain. “The return trip is always easier.”

My brain is not so bright, as you all have figured out by now.

So my legs gripe, “Remember the return in Hawaii? Or Oregon? Why is control always given to the idiot in the head? Why not let the knees decide where we go next?”

And onward I go.

Just my thoughts,


An Ad Even A Cat Can Smell

Every once in a while, I run across an ad that makes me want to buy a different product.

For example, there is a kitty litter ad out there with a picture of a cat on two feet, front paws over the privates, back legs crossed.

The idea (and slogan) is that the kitty litter is so fresh smelling, that even the cat can’t find it, and hence is running about with a severe case of the “I gotta goes.”

That’s great in terms of not smelling kitty litter in one’s home.

But imagine how a house will smell if the cats can’t find the kitty litter box.

Yeah, I’ll go with another brand.

Just my thoughts,