Tidbits

First, my oh-so-typical disclaimer: today's post is a little out-of-the-ordinary for me, seeing as I'm about to write about a number of unrelated things (other than the fact that they are all reflections on recent happenings in my life, which, unfortunately, doesn't provide near the unity one would hope for in a blog of this caliber, owing to the fact that I'm not so much the type of guy who "has it all together", though I am able usually to "find it when I need it", so...), rather than my usual unabridged ramblings aimed at exhausting singular subjects, or more accurately your attention spans for those subjects; and yet, some things are not out-of-the-ordinary for me in today's blog at all, like my preoccupation with hyphenated-word-strings. Love those things! They're like cream gravy - they should be used liberally at every possible opportunity.

So, on to the first tidbit: I got a haircut last week. (Sorry, this isn't the type of blog where you're going to find pictures. Not that I don't like those types of blogs, and not that posting pictures on a blog necessarily makes it "one-of-those-types-of-blogs" [is it okay to hyphenate word-strings inside of quotation marks? Maybe that type of thing is like putting parentheses inside of parentheses - you can get away with it, but then you're really testing your limits {which, as a little brother, I must admit is something that comes pretty much second-nature to me}] - all I'm saying is, I don't have any pictures for you. Gee whiz, Toto - give a guy a break.) Anyways, I think that was the first time in probably... ever that I've waited over an hour to get my haircut. (I had a coupon.) But that's not the point. Actually, waiting that long wasn't so bad, seeing as it allowed me to do a little Culture-Watching (if this was a talk show, there would be a special theme song playing right now). So here's my latest puzzlement over the psyche of my fellow Americans, particularly those of my fellow males. What makes a guy want to get a haircut? For me, if you saw me two weeks ago, you'd know that my motivation in getting "buzzed" (I do drink alcohol, but always responsibly and in small quantities, so I look elsewhere for those conscience-boundary-stretching-thrills [I am paying for a haircut, after all, rather than letting my wife cut it for me, as has been the case for several years {she was sick that week}]) was concern for my life: my mop was getting so unwieldy that I risked it fluffing up onto my face at night - as it got displaced by my head hitting the pillow - and choking out my airflow. But here's what I'm wondering: what is the point of getting a haircut when you look as if you literally just walked out of a previous human-grooming establishment and straight into the one where I was waiting to get mine? Seriously, dudes - I just need you to enlighten me on this one - what's the deal? Is a little scruff or shag (not in the Austin Powers sense) really such a bad thing? And please tell me you don't iron your clothes. At the very least, someone please, please tell me that you have no idea what the "color-wheel" is or how it works. Otherwise, I am forced to admit my "lostness" in the world of whatever-you-would-collectively-call-this-stuff.

Second tidbit. Went to a lecture on bioterrorism by a guy who is over the Homeland Security department in the Health Science Center at A&M. He talked about Anthrax a lot at first - scary, but not the end of the world. But you know what would be? Bird flu. His exact words were "Mission Impossible" if it became weaponized or the strain evolved to be contagious human-to-human-wise. (Roughly translated into civilian terms: if that happens, we're screwed.) A couple of reactions to this:
-Our government takes threats seriously, and has a heavy weight on its shoulders. Too heavy, in fact.
-Even in the face of an insurmountable challenge like a super-pathogen that we can't defend against, optimism and faith in the power of the people to take steps to get to a point where we can survive it leads us to keep plodding along towards being more prepared for such doomsday scenarios.
-If the people of God are looking for points of contact between the Gospel and the felt needs of our culture, this is just such a point. What do we do in the case of an evil we just can't resist? Pray to God! Confess that only he can save.
-I hope that when the time comes, I'm not afraid to say just that. I need to keep my eyes and ears open for the opportunity.

Well, that's it for now. Thanks for reading. If you've got a minute, drop me a quick response. I'd love to know who's reading my blog so I know better how to adapt my awkward humor to fit my audience. If I haven't offended your sensibilities even in some small way, then there is much work to do. Now leaving JoeZone, Population: his name is Me.