oh, oswald

"The great point of Abraham's faith in God was that he was there to obey God, no matter if it went against his own beliefs. Abraham was not a devotee of his convictions, or he would have slain Issac and said that
the voice of the angel was the voice of the devil."

Holy crap old oswald is right! I do this. God says something to you and then no matter what it becomes the only thing He is ever allowed to say. Any change, any alteration, any movement away from those words in stone is blasphmy, rebellion and disobedience... even the words of the Lord's own messengers. sheesh. How much of an idol do I make of His Words over His Voice and the movement of His Holy Spirit?

How does Oswald always seem to do this?

Lord save me in ways that surprise me.

"...God will lead you straight through every barrier into the inner chamber of the knowledge of Himself; but there is always this point of giving up convictions and traditional beliefs."

Does the devil make shorts?

look, I know things are messed up. chaos abounds. evil attacks. marc antony sings. I realized there is a prince of darkness coming up with some damn good plans, hell bent on murdering righteousness, thieving birthrights, and destroying heart and soul. what i DON'T understand is the fact that these shorts cost $70.

The Line Between This Generation's Art and Bad Wedding Reception Music Turns Out To Be Quite Thin.

There was funky China men/ from funky Chinatown
They were trapping them up/They were trapping them down
It's an ancient Chinese art/And everybody knew their part
From a fainting, to a slip/And a kickin' from the hip

Everybody was Kung Fu fighting
Those kids were fast as lightning
In fact it was a little bit fright'ning
But they fought with expert timing

There was funky Billie Jim and little Sammy Chong
He said, here comes the big boss/ let's get it on
We took the bow and made a stand/Started swaying with the hand
A sudden motion made me skip/Now we're into a brand new trip

Everybody was Kung Fu fighting
Those kids were fast as lightning
In fact it was a little bit fright'ning
But they did it with expert timing


and


Her name is Yoshimi/she's a black belt in karate
Working for the city/she has to discipline her body
Cause she knows that/it's demanding/to defeat theseEvil machines
I know she can beat them

Oh Yoshimi/They don't believe me
But you won't let those Robots defeat me
Oh Yoshimi/They don't believe me
But you won't let thoseRobots eat me

Those evil natured robots/they're programmed toDestroy us
She's gotta be strong to fight them/So she's taking lots of vitamins
Cause she knows that/It'd be tragic if those evil robots win
I know She can beat them.

Oh Captain...

If while minding your own business one day, a professional sports franchise should happen to fall in your lap, do not fret. Here is a most blessed example of what to do with a group of big sweaty men.

Cuban continues to run his team from the bleachers. I've heard it said that if fans got to call the shots it would be the death of the franchise. If that is the case, you have sum splainin to do:

Since purchasing the team in the midst of the 1999/2000 season, the team has responded to Cuban with nothing but winning: 30-18 in the second half of that season including a 9-1 record in April that year.

Since 2001, the team has not missed the playoffs. Prior to that year Dallas had experienced an 11 year playoff drought. That's a decade plus one people. In the run since Cuban's purchase, the team has experienced its best season ever (60-22 in 02/03), had their first player ever named to all-NBA honors (Dirk Nowitzki, 00/01) and moved into a new venue. This year coach Avery Johnson and Dirk are atop Coach of the Year and MVP balloting respectively.

His fines from officials sometimes top seven figures annually. He gives out his email address at games and answers most that are sent to him, with many unique details of the American Airlines Center (the 4-sided shotclock) coming in response to fan requests.

Cuban has made Maverick's games the place to be in the chilly months of Dallas. It took one game to get me hooked. In my first NBA experience ever I watched the Mav's slap around Koby and the Lakers for four quarters. The next day I was online shopping for a slick tee with which to announce my new found allegiance.

And as if that was not enough of a shining resume for Cuban, last night he went and did this.

My god. I went to a fan appreciation night once. I got a can coozy. What'd you get?

It Doesn't Help Mommy If Daddy Eats It

Tom,

Enough. Please, please, please go away. And don't piss on my carpet on the way out.

Sincerely,

CZ

2006 Pickins

There are those of you that belittle the game. There are those of you that just flat out don't like it.

Great. It is not my job to defend it.

That job is left to the pale skinned and cliched poets and writers, most of whom have never played, chewed, scratched, or stood in while a grown man throws a cork wrapped in string wrapped in rawhide at you as hard as he possibly can, leaving you with a wapping 150 milliseconds to see the ball, identify spin and predict its path and tell your brain to react by swinging a two pound object at a speed of 80 mph, exerting at least nine horsepower, which also happens to take you a wapping 150 milliseconds, leaving you, um, zero milliseconds to actually think about any of it.

It's like the tree and the hippie, are baseball players and baseball philosophers. The hippie chains himself to the tree and begins to scream and shout about the injustice heaped upon the tree. But somehow, the picture cannot ever look anything but absurd and you know that if the tree could somehow speak his mind he would, and it would sound something like:

"What the are you doing chaining yourself to me. Have you fooled yourself into believing that you have some kind of empathy towards me. If so, where is your bark? Where are your leaves little human. Where are your deep roots that not only determine what, but where you are until the day you die? Go and do something human little human. And no, I will not defend myself when you leave. It is not in my nature. My nature, silly little one, is to be a tree, and thus I cannot be offended by what the likes of your kind do to me."

Do not ask a ballplayer for a poem about baseball. Ask him for a ninety feet sprint in under three seconds and contact on the hit and run. Don't ask the oldtimers for some "between the white lines" wisdom either, because they haven't ceased to be ballplayers, they've just become shitty ones and you're just reminding them of that sad arthritic truth.

So with that said, I'll talk some baseball with you the reader; devoid, of course of philosophy or verse, but rather with the sharp 12-6 snap of cynicism that only those of us whom the game has turned its back on have learned to hurl towards home.


1. There are existing proofs that prolonged exposure to the game does not in fact give one some kind of mystical wisdom.

Despite this proof however, the AL Wildcard goes to the Texas Rangers.

2. The Dominican Republic has voted to approve plans on the construction of a subway in Santo Domingo in hopes to stop mass emigration to New York.

The New York Mets, however continue to encourage immigration by guaranteeing a roster spot to any and all Dominicans under the age of sixty. Caribbean baseball is good for the Big Apple though, as the NL Wildcard goes to the Mets.

3. The little guy in The Untouchables kept pushing to bust Capone on tax evasion...

In what you might call my stone cold lead pipe pick of the 2006 season, Elliot Ness returns with his madcap squad of federal enforcers to take down Barry Bonds once and for good-god all. In an ironic twist, the arrest is staged on the very night Bonds will pass the homer total of Ness' favorite ballplayer, George Herman Ruth, who in another ironic twist, looks a hellova lot like Al Capone.

But with Bonds out of the way the rest of the NL Divisions shape up with the Padres, Cardinals and Braves as winners.

4. For the pick in the AL East, I turn things over to my wife.*

"Who do you like in the East baby?"

"The Yankees"

"Way to go out on a limb sweetbean. What lead you to such a pick?"

"Their new lead-off hitter Matt Damon."

So its the Yankees in the AL East. And remember Boston, it's not your fault. It's not your fault. Hey, it's not your fault.

(* based on actual events.)

5. With two of America's gems ,Cleveland and Minneapolis, any attempts at wit regarding the AL Central are futile. Chicago Whitesox.

6. West coast games start at ten p.m. were I live. Oakland A's.

7. Pujols will hit 57 homers this year, point to the sky after the first 22, until God himself finally says once and for all, "Yes Albert you hit better than I do. Stop pointing at me." Good enough for an NL MVP though.
8. Alex Rodriguez bats .400, with 73 homers and 200 rbi's, cures four major communicable diseases and ends African debt and yet we all continue to hate him. For the love people, he's your AL MVP.

9. And just so you know, Im taking the Mavs to win it all.