In Which Musician and Teen Win Over Geek

During an interview on KUT this morning, one of the members of Mother Falcon mentioned that each of them had grown up having "a different relationship with Radiohead's OK Computer album".

My geeky side immediately froke out. "You can't have a relationship with an album, for crying out loud!"

My musician, however, just went, "Yes!"

They immediately got into an argument. My inner teen joined up with the musician; the geek eventually gave up and wandered off in search of an algorithm or chemistry set, irritated but knowing deep in his heart the other two were right.

I think he gave up was when he remembered the night last weekend when they were all three in concert (in every way possible) on djembe with two other people , one playing cello, and one playing melodic percussion on guitar with chopsticks. Each of us was in one sense doing our own thing, yet we were all working together. It was pretty phenomenal.

 

I remember having relationships with albums growing up. It still happens, though seldom as intensely as when I was a teenager. It's been a while since I sat with my ear plastered to a stereo, so completely lost in a new song or album that the house could have burned down around me and I might never have noticed.

But it sometimes happens when I'm making music. I'll take that.

 

Mother Falcon seems to be in that space in between the worlds where all things are possible. I think they still have their relationships with OK Computer as well as with their (string and voice versions) of the songs. Yes, strings.

They're going to perform the entire album on cello, violin and so forth (there might be horns and stuff, too). And vocals, of course.

It goes down Saturday, Dec. 29, at the Scottish Rite Theater in Austin (Lavaca and 17th). I can't be there due to a prior engagement. But I bet it's awesome, and if you go, you should definitely have a relationship with the music. I bet it's a long and happy one.

Modern Thanksgiving checklist:

Modern Thanksgiving checklist:

[ ] Family
[ ] Friends
[ ] Food
[ ] chainsaw to cut swath through hordes of shoppers to get what I want

Black Friday is the anti-holiday. I hate it with a perfect hatred.

It's an abomination, whether I am looking at it from a Christian standpoint or not. It elevates greed to insane levels. If there is a god of Black Friday, it's Loki.

What's wrong with it? Beyond the obvious (making greed a virtue and people treating each other like scum to get what they want a few bucks cheaper), it's not even good for the economy. It forces merchants and manufacturers to focus too much on a single day and it forces people to work unnecessarily over the holidays.

It makes a total mockery of Thanksgiving.

Boycott Black Friday!

New Election Process: A Modest proposal

I think it's clear to everyone that we have major problems with the current election process in the USA.

• It's nearly impossible for a third party to get very far in the scene.
• The money wasted on campaigns each year could fund a lot of new jobs, perhaps even jobs producing something that's actually useful.
• Apparently the two parties cannot find reasonable candidates so they randomly pick guys with expensive suits and haircuts.
• Hanging Chads would make a great band name, but it's a lousy way to count votes.
• There's not always a clear winner.
• Nobody trusts electronic voting but the current election's winners.

Rather than trying to tweak it, I propose we do away with the current system entirely. In its place, we implement what we already refer to in every election, a "battleground state".

In this method, the Supreme Court justices would write the names of states and other areas allowed to vote (Washington (DC), Puerto Rico, George Soros' bank accounts) and put them into a Bingo ball basket. The Chief Justice would don a blindfold and draw a slip at random.

The winning state, territory or other entity would then pick a location within its borders. Amidst much fanfare, the two parties would then battle it out. Any and all weapons short of those of mass destruction could be used. Once one side was wiped out or gave up, everyone left alive would be arrested, tried, convicted automatically for hate crimes and "participation in organized genocide"-- perhaps with RICO charges as well-- and locked up in Gitmo.

Then we'd hold write-in elections.

My name is Roadkill, and I approve this message.

Rachel Held Evans - Superhero Stuck on a Roof

Every now and then I'm going to highlight some people I really admire, probably people I know, people who really make a difference in the world around them. I will try not to gush but make no promises.

Rachel Held Evans is one of my heroes. I've yet to meet Rachel in person. She's a writer, a sister, a thinker, a woman of valor, and someone who isn't afraid to push the boundaries.

Having heard for years about a tenuous concept she was to aspire to, the so called "Biblical woman" (always spoken in a special tone), and-- with every other woman on the planet-- finding herself unable to measure up to such a tenuous yet rigorous standard, she decided to research and live it for a year. Or do so as much as she could in modern, western society (specifically the USA). She spent time on the roof of her house, over a week each month not so much as touching her husband or anyone else, and hours at her city limits holding up signs praising her husband.

Then she wrote a book about it. It just came out. I can't wait to read it.

Just as women have always gotten flak for being good at something, she's gotten flak about the book. It contains the V word (No, not "Vulgate", but rather an anatomical term for something found only in women) which her publisher warned her might keep her out of certain bookstores. Lifeway has decided not to stock it although it's unclear why.

Rachel is brilliant, insightful, wise, and funny. Regardless of what you believe, you should read this book, if only to bust some myths about Judaeo-Christian values and maybe figure out why some of the people you know think like they do. And you will definitely get some laughs.

I'm going to buy extras to give away, based on my perception of who would get the most from it. Replying to this blog certainly won't hurt your chances.

This is part of a surprise synchroblog to celebrate Rachel and her book!

The Roadkills-R-Us 21st Century Debate Format

I have a great idea for future debates. This would keep things more on track.

Put a panel of three high school debate teachers on the stage. Each has two Big Red Buttons and two Big Green Buttons in front of them.

Above each candidate's head is a flat panel with a big, red letter grade. Each candidate starts with an "A+". (We could start with a 100, but there's an advantage to the letter.)

When a candidate breaks the rules of the debate (goes over time, fails to obey the moderator, etc), a debate judge can hit that candidate's Big Red Button. At that point that candidate's grade drops a mark (A+ to A to A- to B+ to B, etc.) Unless both the other judges press that candidate's Big Green Buttons within, say, 10 seconds, the drop stays. Once a candidate hits "F" the debate is over and they have officially LOST.

Using letters keeps the range short and sweet. Twelve dings is more than enough.

Under this system a candidate would be penalized the same for refusing to stop when the time was up, interrupting, or running across the stage and taking out their opponent with a flying tackle the way CONTROL's Chief attacked the Vice President in the Get Smart movie. I think we could use more of that. Not enough to bump it up a mark, although that's tempting...

There you have it: the Roadkills-R-Us 21st Century Debate format. Please write everyone you can think of in the media, blogosphere, Congress, or United Nations and demand this be used from now on (for UN debates as well!)

I'm Fed Up and I Approve This Message.

Joel & Cheryl Davis - They're Just Somebody That You Ought To Know!

Every now and then I'm going to highlight some people I really admire, probably people I know, people who really make a difference in the world around them. I will try not to gush but make no promises.

I'd heard of Joel & Cheryl Davis for a year or two before I really met them. I'd seen them; we had even interacted a little. But in that sense, I meet a lot of people-- some whom I still don't know, some I haven't seen since.

While we'd been involved with teenagers and some college age people, mostly in the Round Rock area, they'd been involved with Baylor students. I think some weekends they had 10% of Baylor in their home. My kind of people.

The Davises got caught up in the same whirlwind I was caught in, hanging around Bill & Traci Vanderbush. While our paths into ministry, into playing parent to far more young people than we could possibly have conceived or birthed in a lifetime, and in hanging out with the Vanderbi were very different, there we were. In Houston. At a conference. In the most delicious, God set up ambush sort of trial by fire, getting to love on and bless a thousand people or more. Representing not just Bill, but world famous ministers and God. Along with the rest of us on the team, Joel and Cheryl took deep breaths, grinned, and dove into the deep end.

A few months later, same scenario, we were in Batson, Texas (motto: "If you can find us, we'll give you some doggone good pie!") doing the same thing. Only this time it was for dozens. The thing I loved about them the most that weekend was that they had the same level of enthusiasm and passion for the dozens as they had for the thousand plus.

Cheryl's a serious extrovert, and the more obvious "minister". Joel's much quieter, often looking at things with a businessman's eye, not to get rich off anyone, but seeking ways to truly improve things for people. He's happy to let Cheryl be in the limelight and stay in the background most of the time, but they're both powerful, joyous, loving people. They're a potent team. They're as happy down in the mud with Romas who've just had what little they had taken away as with a country's national level leaders. You can sometimes find them in both position in the same day.

They fell in love with a country most Americans haven't heard of except in movies or the Harry Potter books, Albania. For most of us, it's a myth or it's a scary place (Think the thugs in Taken or Lord Voldemort's recovery room). In reality it's a beautiful flower on the Mediterranean, snuggled between Greece and Italy, a country recovering in uncertain times from communism and dictatorship, one of God's own jewels, hidden away for now.

After one of their trips there, Cheryl mentioned something about it to to me, and I had a vision (I've described it elsewhere). I knew I had to go. Albania was calling me.

That June, I went. The Davis's idea of a mission trip was unlike anything I'd heard of. While there were things that were scheduled, there was plenty of time for fun and to just do what you felt led to do. And we were always up for ministry, at castles, restaurants, the beach. Nowhere was off limits. One day some of us went to a park and played music and sang and just loved on and shared with and prayed for the people who showed up. We went to several beaches. We worked closely with Genti, pastor of Ray of Light Church in Tirana. On the way to or from a planned event or something else, we might stop a half dozen times to hug people, pray for them, bless them, etc. When we worked with the Albanians, it was their show; we were there to support them, not take over and tell them how to do it.

Cheryl and Joel people are gold miners. When they look at you, they want to see what God sees. They look for the gold-- the good, the beautiful, the precious, the lasting things. They dig lovingly for this gold, to bring it to the surface. "Look. This is what and who you are. Not all the other stuff. This."

I felt out of sorts after a few days in Albania. I really wanted to contribute, to make a difference. I know my gifts. I know who I am, what I'm good at, what I'm called to. And I was trying really hard to do those things... and getting nowhere. I felt pointless. Few things have bugged me more.

When I brought this all up, Cheryl and Joel (and Melody Carson!) immediately saw the problem. "Quit trying so hard. You don't have to do anything. Just do what you do best, be. Be you, be Miles. That's the best thing you can do for Albania." This is the sort of thing I'd told lots of people, especially young people, over the years. And as always happens, it came home to roost.

They were right, of course. It transformed not just the rest of the trip, but my life. I made ten times more connections, and ministered to ten times more people, the second half of the trip. All because I quit trying to do anything. I was just me. "God doesn't make mistakes." How many time had I said that to people to encourage them to just be themselves... Now I was living it more than ever.

I've watched them do this sort of thing over and over and over.

Another huge thing was when I realized that the vision I had as a result of the vision Cheryl first shared with me was not the same vision she had, there was no problem. I support theirs, they support mine. Instead of competing, we look for what glorifies God, what will bless Albania. We work together. Far too many times I've seen this disintegrate relationships, when one or both parties feels they have to be "the right one".

I pray each and every one of you has a Joel and Cheryl in your life. And that you are, or become, such a person to others. If you don't think that's possible, maybe it's time to find out who you really are and just be you. Quit trying so hard to do stuff, or even to be somebody, whether that's someone else or yourself. Just do it. Just be.

And if you're having a hard time with that, I know who you can talk to.

I Need a Friendly Frost Giant

I need a friendly frost giant.

I need one in my car.

I need one in my pocket.

Why do I need a frost giant in my car? To cool it off, of course.

The previous Mazda 3 had marginal air conditioning for a Texas summer. If the car didn't sit in the sun too long, the A/C was fine. If it got very hot, the A/C would eventually be fine, but it could take a loooong time to initially cool the car down. On a 105 degree day, parking in the sun for an hour meant the A/C blew warm the first few minutes, cool another five, and after ten was blowing cold air. By then you could be soaked. The only saving grace twas that by the time the temperature was that high, the humidity was low. I usually drove home with the air off and windows down; evaporative cooling worked better than the A/C those days.

Our new 3, a five door, has a larger passenger compartment (18% bigger because storage is inside, not in the trunk), has the same A/C, which struggles even harder.

Mazda is hardly alone in this. Most cars apparently are neither designed for, nor tested in, climates like those of the southern US.

 

Why do I need a frost giant in my pocket? To cool my phone off, of course.

My smart phone already has plenty of problems, documented elsewhere. But another problem is that it just can't cope with the Texas heat. If it's in my pocket or a fanny pack (while running) on a 100+ degree day for even a half hour, it needs to be shut off and put somewhere cool for a bit or (a) the battery discharges crazily fast and (b) the phone just locks up.

 

This is poor design and poor testing. I don't know the actual numbers, but a decent percentage of North American car and phone customers (among others) live in climates that get pretty hot or pretty cold. The products need to be designed and tested for these extremes.

We should all be demanding this of the manufacturers and voting with our dollars.

 

Recommendations for well designed, climate robust products welcome.

This is Not the Droid You Are Looking For

Last summer I bought my first smart phone. All my friends ragged on me for getting such a small one until I dunked it in a glass of ice water and then used it. The Droid's claim to fame was that it was nearly indestructible-- water resistant, sand resistant, a screen made of Gorilla[tm] Glass, etc.

It ended up having a few problems. Occasionally calls were scrambled, sounding like a demented modem or FAX machine rather than voices.

It would sometimes slow down to the point of uselessness when running an app (especially Facebook, but others as well), requiring a reboot (a nearly two minute process, sometimes requiring battery removal).

The camera was so so at best, especially with bright lights or at night. Video was 640x480 with no zoom. These problems I knew about beforehand, but they were still more annoying in real life than they sounded in reviews.

Other people had the same problems. A few had hacked their phones and installed newer versions of the Android OS resulting in much better behaved phones, at the cost of a voided warranty.

The call scrambling and slowdowns got worse with time. When I realized I was rebooting the phone several times every day I took it back to T-Mobile.

It turns out that a one year warranty only obligates them to replace the phone for free-- not pay for shipping. And the provider couldn't simply swap phones; Motorola had to do the replacing. For a $20 shipping and handling fee fee.

(I could have gotten the extended warranty at $8 a month (30% of the phone cost over the time to pay it off). That would cover the $20 shipping. It seemed excessive. In retrospect it was a steal, because the phone was over-priced near junk.)

The local T-Mobile store offered to cover the $20 fee.

And of course the replacement was a refurb, not a new phone.

I took the replacement back two days later. It was worse than the original. I had to wonder if it was even refurbed, or simply shipped straight from another dissatisfied customer's local store to me.

T-Mobile covered the shipping again. I really appreciate T-Mobile.

The third phone was the best of the lot in terms of the problems so far, but...

The camera was worse in low light conditions.

Getting wet meant the mic or speaker didn't work properly for a few hours.

The back no longer stayed latched, which (a) is annoying and (b) means the camera is no longer water proof of dust proof.

The third phone had showed up just before the one year warranty expired, and I discovered the back fit problem several days after that.

I spent several hours backing up, reloading, re-installing apps, re-syncing with each phone. And of course each transition lost some contacts despite my following instructions to the letter. At least the photos hung around.

Motorola only released one OS update, a few months after the Droid came out. This update was necessary for many apps (including many social media apps), but was less reliable than the original! After that their answer was, "buy a new phone". The old model was a year old, I had owned mine for six months, and their answer to a fairly pricey phone's problems is, "buy a new phone"?

At this point, I'm probably going to hack the phone and install a new OS. It's out of warranty so I have little to lose. It's almost paid for. Almost.

If I'm not happy with the new OS, my only option is to get a new phone.

I can guarantee you it will not be a Motorola.

I still haven't decided if I want to ebay this one or just take it out and shoot it. If I shoot it, I will ship the pieces to Moto's VP of marketing. Maybe I'll ship them an extra cartridge as well. "In case you need to shoot your own phone. Unless you have an iPhone. I hear those work quite well."

I remember when Motorola was the communication device standard. Now they're a second rate Evil Empire in my book. At least Darth Vader's hardware and software seemed to work.

World's Most Beautiful Iguana Gets Married!

Another Saturday, another wedding. I told people we were going to see the world's most beautiful iguana get married.

Let me be clear. Cristina Santiago (now Farnham) is not an iguana. She is a beautiful, brilliant, young lady, despite being an Aggie.

Her parents, Jose and Gladys, both hail from Puerto Rico. Years ago, our families were in the same home group, a sort of house church as part of a "normal" church. Another friend, whom we shall call Bill for purposes of this story, often asked Jose how to say words in Spanish. At one meeting we somehow ended up on the topic of iguanas.

"Jose, how do you say, 'iguana' in Spanish?"
All heads turned their way. Time stood still. Once it started moving again, Jose replied in perfect deadpan.
"Iguana."

Bill slowly turned red as we all lost it. Since that day, any time the three families get together, iguanas come up. Hence, my "beautiful iguana wedding" reference.

Unlike last Saturday's wedding (What if They Threw a Wedding and Nobody Came?) this one was thoroughly planned, not simply thrown. With both parents being top notch doctors, this is no surprise. Doctors tend to be methodical and prepared. (I did think having to provide vaccination records to get in the door was a little over the top.)

Today's wedding was traditional-- very traditional in many ways. But it caught me off guard because it was very personal. The traditions were celebrated in the beauty of their original intent rather than simply because "that's how my mother did it, and her mother did it, and her mother did it, and how the past 9,029 monthly editions of Modern Bride said to do it."

The pastor was formal in a casual, personal sort of way-- very Texan. He was also large and muscular with a shaved head, and would not have looked out of place as an enforcer in Ocean's Eleven, except that he had a smile as big and real as the Texas panhandle.

The charge, vows and ring exchange were eloquently succinct, yet still covered everything they traditionally cover.

When Thomas and Cristina took communion, it was very personal and holy, while the excellent string trio played something perfect, and played it perfectly (technical perfection and soul!). God was smack dab in the middle of everything, having a good time.

Approximately half the people present were in the wedding party. Almost all the groomsmen were Thomas's brothers; I didn't have time to count them but I suspect Rhode Island is smaller. He also had Alex Santiago with him, as well as someone nobody knew, but he brought his own tux so he was in. This of course meant that Cristina had most of her Texas A&M graduating class standing with her, plus two extra beauties, Amarillys Santiago and Ariella Hannon.

Afterward we had an excellent meal (featuring what I am almost certain was roast iguana) and dancing, including music from the country western tradition, the rap and hip hop traditions, and the Macarena tradition. The latter is so traditional that I was nervous at a recent wedding that didn't include the Macarena; I feared the Macarena Authority would round us up and haul us off to jail.

The speeches were wonderful. Jose summed up the only two qualities he really looked for in someone wanting to marry his daughter. "He must love God, and he must love Cristina. Other than that, I don't care what or who you are, you have my blessing."

Two of the non-traditional pieces were in lieu of a guest book. One was a hand-drawn tree on which we could put our fingerprints and names. Next to this were cards where we could write Bible verses we wanted to share with the bride and groom. I picked Matthew 22/36-40, the two greatest commandments: "Love God with everything in you and love each other as yourselves". I would like to note that I wrote mine before Jose said his piece, the copycat.

Last Saturday's and this one's weddings were perfect (identical at the core if very different in appearance) bookends for my week. I just wish I had felt like dancing more this week. Except the Macarena. I would still have sat that one out. If my wife can't find me in the morning, someone have her call the Macarena Authority to arrange bail..

Occupy Your Destiny!

If you're going after it, you have a vision. If you just sit around and wish it would happen, you only have a fantasy.

Wanna know how I got these scars?

Wanna know how I got these scars?

My father...
was a pop radio fan.
And a Star Trek fannn...
Sometimes...
he would play the same songs...
over, and over and over...
For hours.
Captain Kirk singing the Beatles.
Captain Kirk singing Bob Dylan.
Mr. Spock singing, "Ruby, Don't Take Your Love to Town."
Captain Kirk singing, "Rocket Mannnn..."
And about the 300th time I heard Kirk scream, "Hey, Mister Tambourine Man!" in 48 hours...
I just couldn't take it any more...
And I took these knives...
And I made myself scream so loud the neighbors couldn't hear Captain Kirk...
The neighbors lived three counties away...
They thank me to this day...

---

Inspired by Lisa Mikitarian, though she may not want that known.

Go To College Or Die!

Modern American society says we must go to college. The schools push it. Relatives push it. Business pushes it. "If you don't go to college, you'll be at McDonalds for the rest of your life!" That would actually motivate me-- if I believed it.

I dropped out of college more than once, eventually flunking out. I had far too little motivation and I didn't fit into the mold. The fact that many universities throw as many people into introductory calculus classes as the fire code allows, with professors (or TAs) who don't seem to care and/or have less than ideal communication skills, didn't help.

Between a lot of self study and a couple of top notch profs I still learned enough to carve out good careers in the software industry and later in IT. Technically I attended college-- but I came away with no long term debt, no degree, and far less than 4 full years of my life invested. How did this happen?

1. The industry was right (software);
2. small businesses typically care far more about capability than degrees;
3. I had the chops;
4. divine provision;
5. college was much cheaper;
6. the few loans I had were short term (payable during the term);
7. support of friends and family.

Not necessarily in that order.

I recommend people go to college if and only if they have a real reason to go to college. If you do need to go, is it because you need a degree, or because you simply need specific courses?

If you're self-motivated and have a passion and gifts that don't require college (or a degree), it's optional. If you want to start your own business a course or two here or there may help but you will figure this out as you go. If you're good with your hands and content with a day job in construction, plumbing, landscaping, retail sales, restaurants, or lots of other things, there's no point in spending the time and money for college-- unless you just can't find any other social scene to fill a specific void.

Look at where your passions, gifts/talents and calling/purpose converge. If you can make the money you need/want somewhere near that intersection, go for that-- including college if you need it to get to specific jobs. Otherwise, find a way to support yourself in something that will maintain the lifestyle you want, that won't suck the life out of you, and spend the rest of your time near that intersection. If you need college for whatever the bill paying job is, go to college.

If you need college, a two year or small, four year college may work just fine. Community colleges are also great ways to get basic courses at far less cost, in far better environments (smaller classes, profs who care). Don't assume you need to go to a pricey university. Trust me, if you really need to go to one of those, you'll know.

You can learn a lot from a college or university. You can make lifelong friends. You can invest in your future, and get a great career out of it.

You can also waste several key years of your life and a lot of money (from $10,000 to $250,000) and/or end up in that much debt, with a job paying next to nothing.

Choose wisely.

What if They Threw a Wedding and Nobody Came?

Anyone who knows me realizes I'm not big on formality (an understatement of epic proportions). Nevertheless, my bride to be wanted a traditional wedding so we had one-- for the most part. Money was tight so there were some oddities on the way, but it was traditional enough.

One thing, however, horrified my mother. We didn't send out invitations. We didn't see the point in spending that money (this was before the internet; you couldn't simply invite everyone via a Facebook page or email). It was all in person or over the phone.

Mom did her best. Her final argument, her trump card, should (in her mind) have forced my hand.

"You realize your grandmother will never come without a formal invitation."

"She loves me. She'll come." (She came and never said a word about an invitation.)

Her frustration now at critical mass, a second motivation beyond Mom's simple love of all things formal slipped out. "All these years, I've sent hundreds of gifts to all our relatives and friends when their kids got married. It's time we got some back." This was so foreign to who I am that to this day I'm still not sure how I kept a straight face or what I said.

(In Mom's defense, she grew up dirt poor on the wrong side of the tracks in Selma, Alabama during the depression so propriety and formality went hand in hand with respect. I understood her viewpoint; Sharon and I simply saw things differently.)

But I digress (surprise!). Suffice it to say that though we kept it simple and inexpensive it was traditional, and we planned it. Nothing was left to chance.

Most people plan weddings. It may be traditional or non-traditional, but weddings tend to be planned. Nobody simply throws a wedding.

Nobody except Stefanie McLin and Matthew Monk. They threw a wedding.

There was a modicum of planning. I think the groom's mens' shirts matched. Their pants were all somewhere vaguely in the neighborhood of brown. The bridesmaids wore purplish dresses, varying from shiny, purple party dresses to a white sun dress with little purple flowers. Matt and Stef worked out with the pastor what the service and vows would be. They picked out flowers. Other than that they simply threw a wedding.

The facebook invite included the following items over the course of a few weeks (from memory, not verbatim, but all true):

• Invite anyone you like, whether we know them or not. Everyone is welcome.
• Who can help set up? There should be some sort of an aisle to walk down, and some chairs would be nice.
• Pot luck reception; it would be great if everyone posted here what you're bringing (very few did)

Questions the invitees asked included:

• Exactly where (in this 351 acre park) is it?
• How should we dress? (answer I found out Stefanie had given at her shower: "Wear whatever you want. You might want to play in the creek or go kayaking afterward.")

Someone sat up on the rocks above where chairs and blankets were set up (with two, 15 foot ribbons marking the aisle) and played guitar and sang until the wedding started. The parties walked in more or less like in any wedding, but a lot more relaxed, pretty much at their own paces.

Dogs wandered through. Nobody cared.

It was Will Bibee's first wedding. You have to know Will; this is a pastor who's been known to bring a rubber chicken to church to make sure people don't get too religious. The dude is chill. But he was just nervous enough to ask. "Who gives this man to this woman?" (I went with it. "I do!" but I don't think anyone heard over the laughter.) Will stopped in the middle to tell some funny stories about Matt and Stef. He referenced the whole thing as a hippie wedding (it was, but the drug of choice was the love of God).

Everyone then carried their chairs and blankets a good hundred and fifty yards to where the tables were set up for the reception.

Nobody really knew what would be there. Nobody cared.

As we set the food out Sharon realized there were no cups. A total pot luck, and the only thing missing was cups? Awesome! I drove to the store and bought cups. When I returned, I found someone had showed up with cups right after I left (we brought lots of cups home; if you throw a wedding soon I can bring cups!) We ran out of meat just before the last half dozen people got their plates; more meat showed up two minutes later. We had plenty of everything.

Even cake... and they had not planned a wedding cake. There was cake left over.

Several people showed up late, missing the ceremony entirely (most because they were part of a conference this morning). Nobody cared.

If you like gala performances and spending what could have been a down payment on your house for a big party, a dress you'll wear once, and rented tuxedos, that's fine. Go with what works for you. But I highly recommend throwing a wedding. If you can go with no expectations, just being with friends and family and having a good time, it will be a blast.

God doesn't care. The state doesn't care. You don't have to care.

I've known JP weddings that resulted in wonderful lifetime marriages. Then there's all the money and media attention Charles and Diana had, and we know how well that worked out. Our culture has bought into this lie we have to spend a ton of money and have a fancy ceremony to have a wedding. All you really need is two people committing to one another, and hopefully some form of family and community to celebrate with you and support you. Everything else is optional.

"But what if I threw a wedding and nobody came through?"

Ah, but what if they did? That would be something, wouldn't it?

It was.

And When I Die... When I'm Dead, Dead and Gone

I've meant to write this up for a while. Thanks to Caryn Werner for inspiring me to just do it!

Most funerals annoy me. Funerals are supposed to be for the living, but so many are depressing. I'm not saying everyone needs to have a funeral like I want mine to be... well, maybe I am!

I think the Irish (among others) were on the right track with a wake, a party. Not getting drunk, per se, but just having a party, celebrating the good times, the memories, the things that mattered about a person. Laughing at their foibles. Stuff like that.

Rather than focusing on the fact they're physically gone, focus on who they were and what they meant-- and mean to you. Let them live in, with, and through you!

I need to update the list of what I want at my funeral. Sharon knows some things, but the details change.

1. No black, unless you're really old or a goth or something. Everyone else wearing dark or boring clothes gets handed a bright tee shirt at the door they have to wear over their other clothes. Best to wear tie dye, Hawaiian shirts, etc. Bathing suits are fine. For all I care, show up in your birthday suit, but that might be more hassle than it's worth; this is an all ages event.
2. If you walk around with a sad face, prepare to get hugged, tickled, pranked, or told funny stuff.
3. Everyone should leave with something of mine that means something to them. There is to be no actual fighting over things like the Darth Vader Mr Potato Head, but if multiple people want something contests are encouraged. This can be anything from a game of cards to a backward skipping race to a duel with fun noodles (impartial judges shall decide the victor, or an objective rule such as whoever's noodle is biggest after a one minute match shall apply). All parties must agree to the terms beforehand.
4. Everyone has to play spoons, the Mad Magazine board game, or something else fun and rowdy, for at least 15 minutes. Farting contests count.
5. There will be music, and it will be neither solemn nor sad. Sharon has input on the music, but I don't want more than two classic hymns. Petra's _Graverobber_ must be played. There should be at least one live band or singer/guitarist, etc... the more the merrier.
6. Unless forbidden by law (and maybe even then) there must be fireworks.
7. Food! Including Chuys. And good coffee. And desserts.
8. Side parties at a shooting range are encouraged.
9. A bonfire really wants to participate.
10. Hugs. Everyone gets lots and lots of hugs.
11. Crying and laughing are both encouraged.
12. Share your stories!

Ideally, there would be a life size cutout of me somewhere, thumbing my nose at Microsoft, big government, and bad food.

I would prefer to be cremated since the state frowns on using human remains to fertilize the flowers. Preferably in a cheap pine box. Spare no expense-- but not for my dead flesh. Go as cheaply as possible there, and spend the money on those who need it. Some of it should go to Albania.

Afterward, everyone should go hug 6th Street, Albania, Muslims, someone who needs it.

If you must have a memorial, it should have a roadkill symbol.

God willing, this is a long ways off (I fully expect to see you all at my 111th birthday party under the Party Tree!), but I think you ought to know what to expect.

That Door Swings Both Ways

Whichever side you are on, remember when you are arguing for additional powers for the government that those same powers will be available to the other side when they come back into office. Think about the worst abuses they could commit. Is that what you want?

The dangers you can unleash this way may be a hundred times worse than the danger you think these are the answer for. There are good reasons the founding fathers limited the power of the federal government, and instituted checks and balances. The more we do away with those limitations and checks and balances the more we will regret it.

What If They Held a Kangaroo Court and Nobody Cared?

This morning the fact that Lance Armstrong had quit fighting the USADA inquisition and been stripped of his titles was all over the news. Someone being interviewed opined that clearly he was guilty or he would never have backed down.

"Clearly," I thought. Clearly the interviewee has never been subjected to the level of absurdity, harassment and manipulation Lance and his family have been facing. Lance has always had a good reputation here in Austin, and I've never heard anything that sounded like a valid reason to go after him.

Just another media circus and attack by those who feel victimized by circumstances. Unless proven otherwise. That's been my take on it all along. Sadly, our country has taken the basis for our justice system-- innocent until proven guilty-- and stood it on its head. "Guilty until proven innocent, and maybe even then."

So I wasn't the least bit surprised to find that Lance has released a statement explaining that, indeed, the whole thing is a kangaroo court (and not even a legitimate one), and that he doesn't care what the people running it think.

Good for you, Lance. I'm gonna go buy some Live Strong bracelets and give them away.

Read Lance's statement here.

Gabby Douglas, You Rock

Gabby, you rock. You're awesome. Whether you get gold or not.

However you want to do your hair is perfect. Whatever you choose to wear is great (and you have totally rocked those outfits). Anyone who thinks the Olympics is about the color of an outfit is loco.

Ignore the people who criticize such things. Their words say a lot about them... and nothing about you.

I have heard a lot of people, both with my own ears and via social media, talk about you. Everyone loves you, respects you, is awed by your accomplishments, and thinks you are doing a great job both as yourself, and representing the USA.

As far as I'm concerned, you could wear a Chinese outfit, You'd still rock, and I'd still be both grateful and proud you are representing me.

Thanks to you, and to everyone competing on behalf of the USA.

Poo on No Poo?

Over the course of a few months, three bloggers I follow all discussed using baking soda instead of shampoo and vinegar instead of conditioner. As I read the sources they referred me to I found confusing-- even confused-- advice.

For starters, nobody really seems to agree on the ratio of water to vinegar. I saw everything from 6:1 to 1 cup:1 tbsp (16:1) to no vinegar at all (divide by zero error).

Next, there was disagreement on how to use them, including some impossible instructions.

1. Use baking soda only on the scalp, and vinegar only on the tips of the hair. I don't see how this is going to work if you have more than three hairs per square inch of scalp, at which point I would just shave my head. I guess if your hair is long enough, you can effectively reach this goal...
2. Use baking soda on the scalp and hair, but vinegar only on the hair ends.
3. Use baking soda only on the scalp and vinegar on the hair.

So... which is it, and why?

But my absolute favorite advice was to never get both on your hair at the same time. "This would be really bad." OK... why is that? Because you once saw a fake volcano made with these ingredients? Are they afraid of the carbonic acid created? Vinegar is already acidic, and in any event, the carbonic acid immediately breaks down into carbon dioxide and sodium acetate (which is safe for human consumption).

Meanwhile, I'm in that inbetween place some people hit while their hair adapts to a new regimen. Since I have longish (2" to 6" depending on where on the head) hair and can't really get away with Snape hair, I use a small amount of shampoo (just on the hair!) every 2-3 days.

So... can anyone point me to something definitive on this stuff? If I can't get away from shampoo as a cheater step soon, I'll probably give up and go back to using post-industrial waste on my hair. Someone help me!

Angry Foods

I woke up in the middle of the night, and this artichoke was standing on my lips with a tiny six shooter pointed up my left nostril... I started to ask what was going on but he (He? She? How do you sex an artichoke???) cocked the trigger and said, "Don't even think about moving those lips, bud."

Thankfully s/he couldn't hear my thoughts, but my lips froze despite what I was thinking. Those beady eyes (I thought only potatoes had eyes) just stared at me a moment. Finally, the artichoke moved up onto that bit of skin between the lips and nose. "OK, talk."

Now that I was allowed to, I had no idea what to say. I hadn't done drugs since college, thirty five years ago. I don't drink. So why was there an artichoke on my face? With a gun? I decided to start there.

"Why are you standing on my face with a pistol in my nostril?"

"I'm impressed. You didn't just go, 'Oh, my! A talking artichoke!'

"I'm here because you listened to your parents and ate all your vegetables. I'm here because you sometimes order vegetarian meals. I'm here because when you were in Europe, you decided you enjoyed eating artichokes, and now eat them every chance you get."

By now s/he was squinting like Clint Eastwood.

"I'm here because you ate my family-- my wife, the one after her, the one after her, and the one after her. And my parents, my grandparents, my great grandparents, my siblings, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my kids, my grandkids, and my great grandkids.

"So, in the words of a boy named Sue, 'Now you're gonna die!'"

As you can imagine, I was sweating up a storm. Sue (I thought of the artichoke as a him with a her name at this point) was scary. There was no anger. No rage. No fury. Just a matter of fact intensity.

"What kind of gun is that?"

If Sue had eyebrows, he'd have raised one. "Really? I'm about to shoot you and all you want to ask about is the caliber of my weapon?"

"Look, please... I had no idea!"

"Ignorance is no excuse."

"I have a family!"

"I had a family. You ate them."

"Come on, please! Have a heart!"

"Sorry. You ate that, too."

There was a bright flash and a loud noise...

I had a slight nosebleed.

"Maybe," I said, "you should have worried about the caliber."

I almost broke a tooth on that stupid pistol.

The heart's the best part, but the rest is still tasty.

Dedicated to Mary Tabata; this one's more or less her fault.

Bare Trees

From 2012-01-08

I fell in love with Fleetwood Mac listening to Christine McVie (formerly Christine Perfect) singing "Spare me a Little of Your Love" at a concert on Halloween, 1974. Discussing the album that song is from-- Bare Trees-- and the title song on the roof of the Georgia Tech physics building, looking out over the campus on a winter day, I realized how much I loved bare trees. Or perhaps just admitted it to myself.

Either way, my love for the band and this song indelibly intensified in that moment.

Gazing out at the Party Tree (https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150441664891674.357408.636186673&type=3) this morning, this song naturally came to mind. All of creation is beautiful. It is only our foolishness or pain that keeps us from seeing that beauty.

Impersonalizing Suicide

A blogger I follow recently discussed visiting a psychiatrist and having to fill out a (poorly thought out and worded, at that) suicide questionnaire. You know, like when you visit a new doctor, and they want to know whether you have ever had polio or Chron's or amnesia, and when your last booster shot for political insanity was.

I'm not a professional counselor, psychiatrist, or even a professional psycho (I'm strictly amateur) but I have dealt with a number of suicidal and depressed people, and the mere fact that a doctor relegates the initial discussion of suicide to a written questionnaire is very disturbing. What's next, an online Survey Monkey survey on suicide so they can decide whether to grant you an appointment?

Maybe they should use an automated telephone survey.

"Press one if you have never contemplated suicide (in which case we know you're lying).

"Press two if you are just sort of contemplating suicide.

"Press three if you contemplate suicide a lot.

"Press four if you have a suicide plan.

"Press five if this plan involves shooting up a school or flying a plane into a government building; then hold while we dispatch a SWAT team.

"Press six if you have a gun in your mouth right now.

"If you have already committed suicide, please hang up and call nine one one. To hear these options again, press star."

I realize that depression and suicide are not joking matters. If you are feeling suicidal, contact me. If you're in the Austin area, we'll hug you and love you through it. If you aren't, we'll find someone where you are who will.

This method is not approved by any licensing body, as far as I know, but it has a high rate of success.

Sometimes we may need professional help... but I've seen love work miracles. Even if you need professional help, love and hugs are still good.

The Need To Do's

There are things I need to do that I'm not doing, or at least not doing as fast as I should.

But a lot of the things I "need to do"... I really don't. They are often simply the expectations of other people. I'm not accountable to your expectations, nor are you to mine (though I try not to have any).

Other "need to do's" are expectations I put on myself... for no good reason.

Realizing this is really freeing!

Want an example? Sure! For years I functioned as an assistant youth pastor at the church we attended. Eventually I became the youth pastor. And that was fine. But there came a time it no longer felt right. But...

Others had expectations. "You're good at this, and you're called to this. You can't walk away from it."

I had expectations. "It will look like I'm abandoning these teens. Nobody will trust a youth pastor without a church!"

But I knew I no longer belonged in that spot, so I resigned. I still work with teens and college age people. The groups is just more diverse and spread out geographically. I was always better at mentoring, and one on one stuff-- which is what I concentrate on now.

There are lots more, some big, some trivial. As Yoda said, "Size matters not!" If it's not truly something you need to do, let it go.

What are some of you "need to do's"? Are they really?

Thanks, Lana K. Moore, for the inspiration!

(Ironically, I started this just over a year ago, but it got lost on my "to do" list.)

Novel #1, First Draft Done!

First draft: DONE!
Chapters: 30
Words: ~75,000
Happy dance: DONE!

Sharon had a great idea. I printed out a copy for my Dad (and signed it with thanks for raising us with a love of reading, and for encouraging our imaginations). She'll give it to him this weekend. BUT DON'T TELL HIM! It's a surprise.

Caveat: That's real words, not words as publishing companies count (a multiple of page count). Using their method it's 90,000 to 100,000 words, depending on page size.

Depending on how you figure it, that's somewhere in the neighborhood of the first three Harry Potter books, and right in there with The Hunger Games.

I'm sure this will change a little before it's over; it needs at least two chapters inserted somewhere near the beginning to cover some things I glossed over. I need to add a few things here and there, but I also need to tighten the writing up. And... things may change as I revise it.

Still... 75,000 words in two months (including research and rough editing of each chapter), with a full time job and lots of real life still happening. I'm pretty stoked.

Thanks to all of you who've been encouraging me, with my awesome wife of course leading the race.

I'm thinking of letting a very small group of people read it at this stage. I'd want serious feedback (what you liked and didn't, in terms of characters, flow, style, dialogue, plot, culture, etc), what you didn't understand, how easy or difficult it was to read, and a few other things. They would all be spelled out, but I want to make it clear up front that to even be considered, I'd expect this. I would hope for at least a couple of pages of response.

Otherwise, you'll just have to wait til it's done. Sorry, but I don't want a substandard, unfinished product loose in the wild. I mean, look what happened with those velociraptors!

If you are interested, and have the time, and commit to the feedback, let me know.

Frosting - the Final Defense of the Dying

What's with The Hunger Games movie?

I find it interesting that the title of today's blog (or something very like it) made it from the book into the movie when so much was left out. Yes, I realize that any time you try to cram a novel into a two and a half hour movie, you must leave a lot out. But they left out crucial data; if you haven't read the book, you won't completely get it.

The Good

• They stuck to the plot! They really didn't change much.
• The cast was generally excellent.
• If you understand the basic premises, it's a powerful commentary on society, and on some tendencies in our government and media, almost as much so as the book (and even better in a few cases).
• The districts looked just as I imagined them. The capital was perfect.

The Bad

• They changed how Katniss got the pin and why she wore it. (Apparently this matters for the later books/movies.)
• They failed to emphasize a big part of the motivation to win (besides the obvious issue of personal survival, and for some, the glory), which was that the winner's district got a lot of extra food and other assistance the following year, whereas they normally just eked out an existence (Katniss and her family were on the edge of starvation when Peeta threw her those crusts, having burnt them on purpose to get to do so.
• They didn't really develop Katniss. The book is told in the first person, so you know her every thought. The movie is more third person, and they fail to explain why she does much of what she does. She's a very complex young lady, and the situation was as tough for her mentally and emotionally as physically.
• They just kind of glossed over the danger at the end for the champions, and how hard they had to work to turn things around, having infuriated the authorities with their defiance.

The Ugly

• What is with the constant "fat head" close up shots? Yuck.

Hope is Stronger Than Plugophobia

A plug should only go one way, and it should be obvious what that way is, even if you are nearly blind, trapped in a cave with no light, and the earwigs took a wrong turn and ate your eyeballs.

And yes, by this definition, most plugs fail. Headphone plugs don't. You can plug those in anywhere, under any conditions save those requiring gloves so thick you can't really feel anything or use your fingers' fine motor control. But lots of others fail, including AC power plugs. If you try to plug those in under adverse conditions, you could easily become a short circuit across the exposed prongs. Or worse, from the hot prong through your body to the rock you sat on.

But apart from safety considerations, some of the worst around are, in the words of Randy Kirchhof, "USB plugs. Specifically engineered to make sure that you try to put them in the wrong way, on the first time, every time." I had to disagree, because I'm pretty sure I get it right at first at least 1% of the time. Then again, they may do that just to get my hopes up so they can mock me more.

Traffic Stop

A very buff, not quite middle aged man sauntered along, peering intently at the merchandise. Something about the way he carried himself kept most sellers at bay, but the boldest sang praises about their women and tossed out prices.

Johnny shook his head, glared at the most persistent, and kept moving. Finally he stopped, staring at a dirty blonde partially hidden in shadow.

The seller flashed an enormous, knowing smile."You want her, mister? Prime stuff, best one in the whole market. Ten grand. She's worth every penny!"

Johnny stared back. "That's much too much."

The seller's smile faltered. "I've got expenses." He shrugged and started to turn away. "Either buy or get moving..."

The gun against his head got the slaver's undivided attention.

Johnny smiled. "But I'll take my wife back, thank you. And ten grand. I've got expenses, too."

I wrote this for a Valentine's Day related contest whose entries had to be exactly one hundred forty words. The story developed from another contest based on a 100 word limit. I like this version better.

My Valentines Day Protest

Valentine's day is supposed to be about love. Love isn't just a mushy feeling, nor is it only something that happens between what we think of as lovers (at whatever level of involvement). Do I love my wife? Absolutely! But I also love my kids, my siblings, my parents, my extended family (bio and otherwise), my friends, etc.

So, rather than rail against Valentines Day, rather than be jealous or angry or allow yourself to feel victimized if you are single, just find ways to love on people. If nothing else you'll have made the world a better place and feel good about yourself. But there's a real chance you'll feel some love back.

If you want to protest against the crass commercialization of yet another holiday, and in fact of love, or against the insane over-romanticization of the day, which leaves women (and men) feeling left out, lonely, rejected, abandoned and/or inadequate, which sets people up to feel like failures or to have absurd expectations, by all means do so. But part of your response should be to simply love on people. Don't just try to feel something, DO something. Tell someone they matter. Hug them. Buy them dinner, or a coat if they need it, or hand out friend valentines like we did in grade school. Sweep a floor. There are a gazillion things you can do.

Regardless of your take on this, know that you are deeply loved by the one who made you, and by me. We both think you're awesome. And if you want a hug, you know where to get one if you can get to me!

Janis Made Me Do It

Recently I was watching Janis Joplin's interviews with Dick Cavett on Youtube. The one where she plans to go back to Port Arthur really hit me (as it always has). The conversation more or less went like this:

Janis: "You want to go? Come on with me!"

Dick: "I didn't... have many friends at your high school." (he hadn't gone there, of course.)

Janis: "I didn't either, man... that's why I'm goin back."

Dick: What will you say to them?"

Janis: "I'm gonna laugh."

Dick: "..."

Janis: "They laughed me out of school, they laughed me out of town, they laughed me out of the state."

You can hear that pain in her singing. You can find it in her lifestyle, her struggles, her return more than once to hard drugs after cleaning up for a while.

Janis is one of the reasons I went into youth work. More than once hearing her music or reading something about her motivated me through a slump. I really hope Janis found love and peace on the other side. I want to help all the Janises and Jimis-- and you-- find it on this side.

I Love Short Shorts

I wrote these for a contest whose (themed) entries had to be exactly 100 words. I wrote them late at night along with two other entries. The next morning I woke up and realized these two did not fit the themes, so I withdrew them from the contest.

But, I like them, so here they are, gifts for you on a central Texas, storm on the way, February evening.

Which (if either) do you like better, and why?

---

Pick the first door, you're filthy rich. Pick the second, the woman of your dreams. Which do you want?"

"And door number three?"

Monty's eyebrows went up. "I don't know! Been so long since anyone..." He searched, found a paper, and read.

"Could be anything at all. Boredom. Adventure. Prince. Pauper. Marilyn Monroe! An ugly shrew. President! Prisoner! Same thing the rest of your life. Something new every day. Family. Cannibals. Anything! No guarantees."

Gorgeous women and piles of money danced through Corwyn's head. It was no contest. His face shining with joy, Corwyn practically ran through door number three.

---

The Pauper family was dirt poor. The twelve of them barely had two complete sets of clothes. Since Papa held a (pathetic) job, he wore one set of clothes. The others wore the second set as needed.

A parish church, hearing of the Pauper's predicament, collected clothing. Mountains of clothes soon arrived at the Paupers' property.

Crying tears of joy, the Paupers tried on outfit after outfit, profusely thanking their neighbors for what they'd provided.

The Paupers were found dead the next morning, naked and covered in ugly, red welts. The perplexed coroner demanded, "Who ever heard of polyester poisoning?"

There is an "I" in "Team".

As a rule, I abhor slogans. One of the reasons for this is that (at least in the USA) they tend to become trite, extreme, rigid, absurd, or some combination of these.

A perfect example is the well known phrase

   There is no "I" in "team".

From a spelling standpoint, it's difficult to dispute and still have a listener's respect. ('The "i" is both invisible and silent.' "Ha ha!' 'No, really.' '...')

The basic concept, of course, is that if you are putting yourself first, focusing on you ("me" or "I" from your standpoint) then you aren't really being a part of the team. But taken to the extreme (Go, Team Extreme! USA! USA!) we end up with an army of clones such as we saw in Star Wars III.

A team is composed of individuals. While there are times each team member has to put self-focus aside, to ignore the individual is both foolish and dangerous. While it's a lot easier to manage clones, in the end it destroys people and requires a lot more work on the leader's part because team members have lost the ability to think for themselves.

A team should be more than the sum of its members, but this is only true if each of the members knows who they are and is free to find their role, express themselves, and bring their gifts and passions into play. Otherwise it's just a bunch of people trying to muddle through. Those sorts of "teams" are usually far less then the sum of their members.

This is true of any sort of team-- a team at work, a sports team, a military unit, church, family, government, you name it.

A great team isn't all about the "I", but it is all about the "I"s.

Dear Candidates

Dear Candidates,

Don't bother to tell me why I shouldn't vote for someone else, or what's wrong with someone else, unless you're going to spend a lot more time telling me why I should vote for you, and what's right with you. (And maybe what's wrong with you. Transparency and honesty are a big win in my book.)

Otherwise, all you're really doing is trying to sell yourself as the lesser of two evils. "Never mind about me! I'm not as bad as ______!" Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself? And why would I vote for anyone like that?

The simple answer is, I don't plan to. I'm really fed up with voting for the lesser of two evils. This year, I plan to vote for someone. If I can't find a third party candidate I like, I will write someone in.

I know that some people will call this a wasted vote. No vote is wasted. When one of you just squeaks by because lots of people voted for your opponent, you know you have a hard road ahead; it's different from a landslide mandate (though it's always a mandate-- has everyone else noticed that? A one vote victory is a mandate.) So pay attention, because I'm not alone. You've tricked a lot of people into playing your game ("Vote for me or it's _____ for four years, the end of life on this planet!")

Will it make a difference? Maybe not today. But just knowing you are not alone makes a difference-- just ask the Occupiers. Or the people who backed Congress down over SOPA and PIPA.

For my friends whose conscience demands they vote against the Evil Du Jour (regardless of party), by all means, vote your conscience. I don't condemn you at all. I ask the same courtesy.

-Tired of Games in Texas

Subscribing to Madness

I wonder why Facebook is constantly suggesting I subscribe to Jessica Alba. (And what, exactly, does it mean, if I "subscribe to Jessica Alba"? Will she show up in my mailbox? She'd be really crowded in there. Or perhaps I simply have to agree with her on everything. I kind of doubt that.)

Is it because 4 of my friends subscribe to her? I'm pretty sure I have more friends subscribing to other people.

Is this a paid advertisement? It doesn't say so as the actual ads do.

Is it just because Facebook likes her? Is she a personal friend of Mark Z? Or the fantasy girl of some programmer at Facebook?

Has their ad cross-reference generator, which decides what they think I'm interested in, decided I am interested in her? If so, why? I liked her in the Fantastic Four movies but it's not like I'm enamored, or stalking her.

Facebook, what are you thinking?

Oh, wait. I never do know that, do I?