Constructive Thoughts: Death

I have had a hard time writing anything this week after hearing from a friend over in Salt Lake City, Utah, that his uncle had suddenly passed away. When he first called me, my friend told me that his uncle had been sick for several months, but went downhill quickly and it had taken him very much by surprise. It was very difficult for him to speak of the circumstances surrounding the event, and difficult for him to keep his composure. I was immediately reminded of the death of my own uncle some time ago.

I know what my friend is going through, because like him, I am not well-acquainted with death and was close to my uncle. The things that my friend has been telling me this week have hit very close to home. This is the first time I have put into writing any of my thoughts or feelings about the death of my uncle. I am a little bit afraid of the memories or emotions that I might feel.

When I heard the news about my own uncle from my parents, I was numb, initially--calm, reserved, even stoic; within just a few hours I remember standing in the shower, tears streaming down my face, mixing with the water and soap and swirling down the drain. I felt helpless and drained. My throat and eyes hurt. The sorrow was coming in waves, every ten to twenty minutes there would be another bout.

My Utah friend tells me it was much the same for him. He thought a hot shower would help ease his aching eyes and stuffed-up sinuses. Instead, it provided a mask for his tears. His wife told me he even punched the tile wall several times; he could not even bring himself to talk to her about anything past the basic details. He couldn’t put any of his feelings into words.

I know how that feels.

I told him what I had been told in the same circumstances: that his uncle was at peace; he was in a better place; that through the gifts that Christ gave us, his family would be together again; this was a joyous time, like a graduation ceremony from this life to a better one, and that we all should be happy.

Funny--his response was the same one I gave those who tried to comfort me: I know all that, but I have every right to be selfish right now.

I know how that feels too.

You see, it IS a joyous time, a graduation from this life of pain and trial to a new life of happiness and glory. Those who leave us behind do so facing a return to a place of infinite beauty.

We who are left behind, however, are left with only our memories of our loved ones. We are left with the knowledge of our mortal minds that we will never see our beloved uncle again in this life. That is the key, of course: IN THIS LIFE. We can tell ourselves--and we can actually know and believe--that all that made our loved ones who they are still exists. But still we cry. Why? It is out of our selfishness.

We are envious, perhaps, of where they are and what they are experiencing.
We are selfish, wanting to share more time and experiences with our loved ones.
We are angry, lashing out at other loved ones because of the envy and selfisness.

We are sorrowful, knowing that we feel all these things and cannot seem to help it.

It is our mortal mind warring with the knowledge of our eternal souls.

Knowing this, helps. A bit.

What really helps is the aid of the Comforter.

My friend described to me attending the viewing and seeing one of his cousins wracked in grief, telling a sister that “I’m just waiting for what you always hear about, when the peace descends over you, and you’re able to move on.”

I know how this feels too. I waited and waited for that peace. Looking back, I think I tried too hard to force that peace to come.

The Comforter cannot--WILL NOT--be forced. He has to be ALLOWED to come in to your heart and mind.

My uncle also passed away quite close to Easter. I think this fact was part of what helped me finally overcome the grief I felt at his passing. It helped me see past the selfishness and envy. I was able to see the Big Picture, because--with the Easter celebration--reminders of the Big Picture, or the Plan of Salvation, were all around me.

Knowing this, helps. A lot.

It was a constant reminder that because of His sacrifice for us, we may be forgiven of our sins, but also that we may conquer the physical death. That through His example--His resurrection--we will once again have our spirits and our bodies reunited, to live forever.

And importantly: to live forever WITH OUR FAMILIES.

It took several days for the peace to descend over me. I remember that I was next-to-useless at the office until it happened. My friend tells me that he felt the same: he was unable to focus or concentrate for any extended period of time on any task. Little things would set me off, either in tears or in anger. I have also lashed out at my friends and family, until no-one wanted to talk to me or confront me.

Once I let myself be reminded of all those things, of all the things that Easter stands for, I instinctively stopped trying to force the Spirit to help me, and instead opened my heart, mind, and soul to allow him to come in. And I felt peace.

With any death of a family member, particularly those with whom one has an especially-close bond, there will be selfishness. There will be envy and anger.

But the reminder... the knowledge.... His sacrifice changes everything. We need to remember that. Because it helps.

I will see my uncle again someday. My friend will once again see his uncle. Maybe the four of us will be able to sit down and swap stories. My uncle had been a scoutmaster with the Boy Scouts; his uncle had been in scouting his entire life, and had many honors and accolades. My friend told me this morning that one of the themes of the funeral was the scouting, and an image of his uncle sitting around a campfire with his heroes.

I’d like that.

Sitting around a campfire with my friend, our uncles, and all of our heroes someday.

I wonder what s’mores would taste like in Heaven?

Cutting through the envy, the selfishness, and the anger is the realization that I can and will see my family members again someday. This realization lets the Comforter descend, who helps pull me back from the edge and reminds me--helps me--to live my life so that I will have the opportunity to live with my loved ones forever.

My uncle.

And my heroes.

And my Savior.

Knowing this, helps.

Infinitely.

Constructive Thoughts: Easter

Happy Easter to all!

As the LW and I sit, surrounded by the Horde and the normal detritus from an Easter Morning, my thoughts turn to the reason behind today. We have the Mormon Tabernacle Choir blaring from the speakers of the stereo while the Horde scarfs down disgusting malted egg after disgusting malted egg. The small chocolate bunnies have already been devoured. Scraps and shards of cellophane and tinfoil litter the ground. And the blood-to-sugar ratio in the Horde’s collective bloodstream has long since tipped in favor of sugar.

Unfortunately, it is all too likely that the candy will outlast our recognition of the day’s importance.


The Book of Mormon prophet, Jacob, wrote these words: “But behold, the Jews were a stiffnecked people; and they despised the words of plainness, and killed the prophets, and sought for things that they could not understand. Wherefore, because of their blindness, which blindness came by looking beyond the mark, they must needs fall; for God hath taken away his plainness from them, and delivered unto them many things which they cannot understand, because they desired it. And because they desired it God hath done it, that they may stumble.” [Jacob 4:14]

In other words, the Jews fell because of their blindness, and their blindness came from looking beyond the mark. Elder Neal A. Maxwell, of the Quorum of the Twelve, said it this way: “The Jewish people . . . rejected the gospel, in part because it lacked adequate intellectual embroidery.”

What does that mean, to “look beyond the mark”? Elder Quentin L. Cook, at the time a member of the Quorum of the Seventy, taught simply “We look beyond the mark when we refuse to accept simple gospel truths for what they are.”
[Quentin L. Cook, Looking beyond the Mark, Ensign, Mar 2003, at 40]

What is the mark? The mark is Christ.

How do we avoid looking beyond the mark? In a broad sense, by seeking for the kingdom of God.

How do we do that? Jacob gives us one terrific idea, one that we can employ this very day: “Why not speak of the atonement of Christ, and attain to a perfect knowledge of him, as to attain to the knowledge of a resurrection and the world to come?” [Jacob 4:12]

On this Easter Sunday, what an exhortation to receive! What a challenge to be laid before us! Speak of the Atonement; attain to a perfect knowledge of Christ.

Follow the promptings of Isaiah:

1 HO, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.
2 Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not? hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness.
3 Incline your ear, and come unto me: hear, and your soul shall live [Isaiah 55:1-3]

On this day, why not look toward strengthening our testimony and that of our children? Push away the spiritual detritus--the scraps of tinfoil in our soul--and focus upon the bread and water of life--or the wine and milk without price--rather than a spiritual chocolate, that "which is not bread" and "satisfieth not"? Accept Him, and speak words of plainness to our children. Help their vision, and by doing so, help our own.

Help them see the mark, and not look past it.

Bear your testimony to them.

Bear your testimony to them and keep it simple: God lives. Christ lives. His sacrifice, the Atonement, is the reason for our Easter celebration. He loves us, knows us, and cares for us.

Look beyond the marshmallow chickens and chocolate eggs.

Look to the mark.

Look to Christ.

And revel in the magnificent plainness of His gospel and His gift to us.

Incline your ear, hear, and Live.

R.I.P.

Daisy, Daisy.... Give me your answer do....

A Grandmaster of Science Fiction died last week.

I thought about noting the passing of Sir Arthur C. Clarke at the time, but it's taken me this long to formulate my thoughts about him sufficiently to put into words.

I didn't really like his work.

Don't get me wrong, 2001: A Space Odyssey was an important movie in many ways. Who knows if we'd have Star Wars or Battlestar Galactica, or any of a dozen-plus other movies/series without it. I suppose it's also an important book, but I have to admit to two things: First, the movie--to me--is nearly unwatchable. I think I may have accomplished the feat twice (?). And second--again IMHO--the book is even more unreadable. I've heard that you have to read the book to understand the movied; maybe therein lies my problem with the movie.

I will agree, however, that the effects and editing in the movie are fantastic. The transition from a falling, rotating bone (humanity's supposed "first tool") to a (technically) falling, rotating space vehicle (humanity's supposed "latest tool") is still riveting. The rotating wheels, exercising in space, the velcro-shod stewardesses: all amazing and classic imagery.

And no-one can call themselves a sci-fi afficionado without professing a fascination with the HAL 9000. (Did you know that HAL's name was a play on "IBM," did you know that? One of the original Trivial Pursuit questions, I believe.) I have a 386 computer in the basement, the hard drive of which is loaded with HAL 9000 quotes and sounds.

And I have to admit to having carried a copy of The Hammer of God on my honeymoon. Loving books like I do, I go NOWHERE without one. My LW tolerates that habit of mine. (Even driving the Horde to the library, I will often have a book in the car, just in case I get stuck in the car waiting for them at the store, etc.)
That being said, The Hammer of God wasn't even cracked open until we returned home from the honeymoon. So there.

I found his Rama books somewhat entertaining, too.

That's about it.

However, I'm still a little upset by his death. I hate to see the Old Guard go. There's a LOT of bad modern science fiction out there now; much of it is even more unreadable than I consider 2001, and for different reasons. There's a lot of crap. Even some of the "big names" have fallen into the trap. A lot of the "hard" science fiction novels become a vehicle for the technology at the expense of a story. There is nothing wrong with intelligent science fiction, so long as there is a story as well.

The storytellers are leaving us and we're stuck with the merchandisers and the (pseudo-)intelligentsia.

Alas.

Sir Clarke did leave us with the satellite and the idea of the space elevator. And I believe he was, truly, a storyteller. I may not have liked a lot of what he did, but I have a lot of respect for what he did...and for his mind.

I doff my hat, bow my head, and wish he could tell us: is it, in fact, full of stars?

Goodbye, Sir.

We'll see you again on the other side.

Constructive Thoughts: Ben Hur & Forgiveness

I am going to try and start a new repeating blog entry here, where I put voice to some of the ideas and thoughts I have during the Sabbath. Spencer W. Kimball, 12th President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, taught that "The Sabbath calls for constructive thoughts and acts." It is from that teaching, obviously, that I take the title for this repeating entry.
[for more information on President Kimball, start here. ]
----------------------------------------
OK, so it's Thursday, but I've had this entry ready since Sunday.

It's a family tradition to watch Ben Hur on or around Easter each year. Well, we did so last night; the Horde loves to watch this genre: Ben Hur, Ten Commandments, Quo Vadis, etc.

While we're watching, my 7-year-old son says to me, "Dad, this scene [the chariot race] is just like the pod-racing scene in Star Wars." I looked at him in a little bit of shock, and agreed. "But Dad," he said, "this one's better, you know why?" I was intrigued and asked him why. "Because this one is real!" Out of the mouth of babes.

Anyway, as the movie ends, Charlton Heston Judah says to Esther, "Almost at the moment He died, I heard Him say, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." Esther responds with, "Even then." And then Judah says, "Even then. And I felt His voice take the sword out of my hand." This line hit me as it never had before.

[Aside: I must confess that I have never read this classic. I have two copies of Ben Hur: A Tale of the Christ in my library; one that I found in a used book store was printed in -- I believe -- 1898. I have started it, but to my shame, I did not make it very far before the hassles of life pulled me away from it. I have searched and searched, however, and do not believe this line from the movie was lifted from the book. I could be wrong, though.]

This line got me thinking and reminded me of two things right off the bat. First was a talk given last year in LDS General Conference by President James E. Faust. His talk was entitled "The Healing Power of Forgiveness." [Full text can be found here.] Near the end of the talk, President Faust gave the following counsel:

"When tragedy strikes, we should not respond by seeking personal revenge but rather let justice take its course and then let go. It is not easy to let go and empty our hearts of festering resentment. The Savior has offered to all of us a precious peace through His Atonement, but this can come only as we are willing to cast out negative feelings of anger, spite, or revenge. For all of us who forgive 'those who trespass against us,' even those who have committed serious crimes, the Atonement brings a measure of peace and comfort." [Citations omitted.]

It is not easy for the "natural man" to do this--casting out negative feelings of anger, spite, or revenge. It was not easy for Judah Ben Hur; I know it is not easy for me. I sometimes find myself harboring a grudge like a private little treasure--something I can pull out from time to time and revel in it. "My precioussss......"

It is easy to cast it out, however, if we have the proper attitude, the proper change of heart. You could see it in Judah: he had watched an innocent man receive cruel treatment--true torture--and death by crucifixion. He heard and felt the Savior's last mortal moments on Earth. It moved him and allowed him to forgive and forget his anger. The sword was taken--figuratively speaking--out of his hand.

The second thing that came to mind was a passage of scripture: Alma 24:6-17

6 Now there was not one soul among all the people who had been converted unto the Lord that would take up arms against their brethren; nay, they would not even make any preparations for war....
8 And behold, I thank my great God that he has given us a portion of his Spirit to soften our hearts....
12 Now, my best beloved brethren, since God hath taken away our stains, and our swords have become bright, then let us stain our swords no more with the blood of our brethren.
....
15 Oh, how merciful is our God! And now behold, since it has been as much as we could do to get our stains taken away from us, and our swords are made bright, let us hide them away that they may be kept bright, as a testimony to our God at the last day, or at the day that we shall be brought to stand before him to be judged, that we have not stained our swords in the blood of our brethren since he imparted his word unto us and has made us clean thereby.
16 And now, my brethren, if our brethren seek to destroy us, behold, we will hide away our swords, yea, even we will bury them deep in the earth, that they may be kept bright, as a testimony that we have never used them, at the last day; and if our brethren destroy us, behold, we shall go to our God and shall be saved.
17 And now it came to pass that when the king had made an end of these sayings, and all the people were assembled together, they took their swords, and all the weapons which were used for the shedding of man's blood, and they did bury them up deep in the earth.

They too had felt the power of His word, they were changed by His word, and they had the sword taken out of their hands not just figuratively changed, but literally taken from their hands. They buried their swords and other weapons in the face of an approaching army. His voice gave them the courage and the peace of heart to do so. His voice gave them a change of heart.

I need that. I need to feel that. As I have gone back and read over President Faust's words again, I was struck by another passage. He said,

"If we can find forgiveness in our hearts for those who have caused us hurt and injury, we will rise to a higher level of self-esteem and well-being. Some recent studies show that people who are taught to forgive become 'less angry, more hopeful, less depressed, less anxious and less stressed,' which leads to greater physical well-being. Another of these studies concludes 'that forgiveness...is a liberating gift [that] people can give to themselves.'" [Citations omitted.]

I need that in my life. I need more self-esteem, more well-being, less anger, more hope, less depression, anxiety, and stress.

I need to be forgiven.

We need to forgive to be forgiven.

So, I need to let go of some things.

It may be a long list when I get through, but it's a list that needs to be made.

It may not be easy, but it is necessary.

And it needs to start now.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

So I was digging through my e-mails yesterday, deleting messages from (cough cough) five years some time ago... and I found this little gem.



Boy, that sketch looks really familiar. I think I know that guy!

This on the same day that I hear reports of a couple of girls selling a single Corn Flake on E-Bay for $20+ because (wait for it) it looks like the state of Illinois.

It was almost to my mouth, it didn't look like Illinois at first because it was held the wrong way," said McIntire, but then she noticed the resemblance and said, "Oh my goodness, it's Illinois."
Link to story

Only in America, man.

Only in America.

UPDATE: Oh yeah. Here you go: On E-bay

False Idol

Thanks to a good friend's literary virtual slap across the face, I'm back on the horse.

That doesn't mean I'm enjoying the employment situation I'm in much more, but I have regained perspective. Plus, the Boss celebrated a milestone birthday this past month, and I can always convince myself he's one year closer to retirement.

Unfortunately, the emotions of the past several months have finally bubbled out and left me somewhat creatively drained. On top of that, I have been suffering from various illnesses the past month or so; most recently a mighty migraine the past few days. It's one that has left me dizzy and disoriented. Because of all these things, I have been unable to summon the will to blog more than about once a week for the past few weeks (as you can tell).

So I'm going to rely today on a blog entry I stumbled across in the 'sphere today. I got more than a good chuckle from it. Hopefully I can finish recharging this weekend and be able to journey into that gooshy mess that constitutes my imagination.

Without further ado, enjoy this humorous piece from www.all-encompassingly.com. The piece can be found HERE--apparently Huckabee's ambition knows no bounds, even his imaginary ambition.

Warning: Like several of the commentors, I very nearly had an accident.

As for my other problem, I'd like to usurp the words of J.M. Barrie to my own use:

Peter flung out his arms. There were no readers there, and it was night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the Blogosphere, and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and girls in their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from trees.

"Do you believe?" he cried.

Iggy sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to his fate.

He fancied he heard answers in the affirmative, and then again he wasn't sure.

"What do you think?" he asked Peter.

"If you believe," he shouted to them, "clap your hands; don't let Iggy die."

Many clapped.

Some didn't.

A few beasts hissed.

The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless spouses had rushed to their computer desks to see what on earth was happening; but already Iggy was saved. First his voice grew strong, then he popped out of bed, then he was flashing through the room more merry and impudent than ever.

Unlike Tinkerbell, I will think of thanking those who believe--and do so now. I also won't mind too much about those who hissed. It just means I'm being read and heard.

R.I.P.

Someone who had a great influence on my life died this week.

I didn’t know him. I never met him.

I think it’s safe to say that we probably were never even in the same state at the same time.

But my life has been changed because of his life and career.

He was about 40 years old. Nearly the age I am now. Five years earlier he had co-created a game that was about to take the country by storm. His name was Gary Gygax.

As part of my parents’ attempt at “improving my character” and “teaching me responsibility” they would sign me up for school fund-raising projects, sending me around our neighborhood and to other family members selling things. Gift cards. Wrapping paper. Yeah . . . a nine-year-old boy selling wrapping paper and gift cards.

Anyway, you probably remember these projects: as you sold more product you were eligible for better and better prizes from which you could choose. Most of the prizes were the cheap kind of crap you would find at a carnival, but every so often there was a nugget of wonderfulness mixed in with the turds. I got my first telescope this way--a telescope I had and used until just before I got married.

And then there was a little red box.

I still remember coming home from school and finding the package waiting for me.

I can still remember sitting in the basement, in front of our giant console television (remember: this was the Seventies, so EVERYBODY’S televisions were giant consoles). Opening the box and seeing the red box inside, the fierce dragon snarling from the box cover, where it lay across its hoarded gold. The red of the box contrasted with the dark green-and-blue shag carpeting on the floor.

Like so many others of that age, and many, many others since, an early introduction to Tolkein had instilled in me a fascination for dragons and dwarves, orcs and warriors.

I can still remember opening the box and finding the book, a map, some odd plastic dice, and a crayon. You were supposed to rub the crayon over the dice to fill in the numbers. I never did--and I still have the dice to prove it.

I was nine and about to embark on a journey that would change my life.

Thank you, Gary.

Soon after that came the lead figures. Yes, lead. Every box had huge warnings not to eat the little warriors and monsters. Like I ever would, but even then, Lawyers Reigned Supreme. Even dragons couldn’t slay their Timely Advice. DO NOT EAT THE LEAD, they decreed. I would sit in the basement, in my older brother’s old room, and slapped dabs of old oil-based model paint (Testors, I believe) all over these models. Gargoyles. Genies. Centaurs, pegasi, and unicorns. A few warriors, especially dwarves. I liked dwarves. I even had a monster called a Drider: picture a centaur, but instead of a horse’s body, it had the body of a giant tarantula.

I still have those figures. The tarantula body is painted gold. One of the gargoyles wields a bloody sword.

Remember: DO NOT EAT THE LEAD.

One of my closest childhood friends joined me in the journey. I met him at school. He cracked wise and I punched him in the back of the head.

Hard.

He still claims he has neck and back trouble because of my punch. I doubt that.

But still, we became instant friends.

He wove some tales and took me on some adventures that I will never forget.

Thank you, Gary.

From that red box, we soon moved to a generic sci-fi game, quickly remodeling it and creating new rules so that our characters could wield “laser swords” and use power eerily similar to the Force. From there we migrated to super-powered characters, destroying whole city blocks with our Battles Versus Evil.

From there, we went to building automobiles with machine guns and tank weapons built into their frames. We were installing electric power plants in cars before the Prius was even a sparkle in some demented auto-worker’s eye.

We fell out of touch after that, but I still played --by myself, when necessary-- and then with a small group of friends in High School. We advanced to building and commanding starships for Star Fleet and journeying through Time and Space in our own versions of the Tardis.

Then Graduation happened, and I put these games away for a while as I started college; they stayed put away because I never found anyone on campus to play with me.

My parents were never too approving of the games. They were happy to see the games put away. There were too many rumored news stories about how evil these games were, how they would adversely affect a growing child’s mind, psyche, emotions, social skills, etc.

Well, I think I’m pretty well-adjusted right now, thank you.

(As well-adjusted as ANYONE can be after law school, that is.)

I learned how to spar verbally, how to express myself, and developed my imagination, reasoning skills, logic skills, and how to channel my emotions.

You don’t think that helped me in college? In law school? In Practice?

Dang straight.

The point is this: that little red box helped spawn an idea, that little red box helped a newly-birthed industry take hold and grow. Without that little red box, all of those other journeys may never have taken place.

And where would I be? I honestly don’t know.

A few years ago, several years out of law school as I left my last clerkship and was trapped in a lousy, dead-end job with a little pissant general practice firm. A married friend of ours came up one day and asked if I’d ever gamed. If I’d ever had that little red box.

And my life changed again.

Thank you, Gary.

I was able to stand up, leave the firm, and walk into a better position. I gained a host of new, good friends. Several of whom are like brothers. I started painting figures again, to relax and blow off steam. I dare say, I’m a pretty fair painter now, although I still like looking at the sloppy, messy attempts from nearly thirty years ago. They’re a bit of nostalgia. I've got a large collection of painted figures now and an even larger collection of unpainted figures. Lots of dwarves. I still like dwarves.

Just don’t eat the lead.

But they're not lead anymore.

I'd still say not to eat them, though.

I’ve met several others in my profession who are gamers, either present or past. Friendships have been strengthened through the common experience. It’s a bond that has significantly helped some negotiations, to be honest. And thereby helped my clients.

Thank you, Gary.

I’ve started writing again, something I haven’t done since I started law school. I have several novels in the works right now, something else that helps me blow off steam after a long hellish day at the office.

Thank you, Gary.

A few years ago, we moved my mother-in-law out of her house. In doing so, I found numerous boxes with my LW’s stuff in them, stuff we’d never moved out after the wedding.

In one of those boxes, I found a little red box. The same little red box.

The numbers on her dice were colored in, though.

The miniatures were unpainted.

Even a dwarf.

Heh.

I learned something about my LW: she was (or had been) one of "US." Something we had in common that we’d never realized. Something else that we can talk about and enjoy. I’ve even gamed with her since then, until the Horde grew too large and unmanageable from the gaming table.

Someday I may introduce the Horde to the modern version of the little red box.

Thank you, Gary.

I told you I was a geek.

Thank you, Gary.


***

Excuse me now, I've failed my Will Save, and I'm tearing up a bit.

So I'll just kneel here for a while, leaning on my warhammer, and contemplete the unseen bier in front of me. Much like the film version of Gimli kneeling before Balin's tomb, but without the wailing.

Thank you, Gary.

I never knew him, but I owe a lot of who I am to him.

Thank you, Gary.

And rest well.

It's Life, Jim, but not as we know it....

OK. We've already established that I AM A GEEK. I proudly proclaim it.

And this just strengthens my convictions!





Accrding to the stats on the test, I scored a 149 for trekkiness. Out of 20,977 unique test takers, 3% scored higher, and 97% scored lower. The average raw score is 101.9.

Ahead Warp Factor 4!

SNL

So... I must confess. I have not watched Saturday Night Live in decades. Honestly. To me, the Phil Hartman, John Lovitz, et al. crowd were the last good days of SNL. After that, it seemed to become too crass and just plain un-funny.

Remember Happy Fun Ball? Every time I hear a pharmaceutical commercial on television I think of Happy Fun Ball. ("Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.")

But the "modern era" SNL has just lacked ... something.

As I was surfing channels last Saturday however, I came across a SNL Short that had me snorting milk from my nose.

Sorry for that visual.



I'd love to hear what you think. Was this as funny as I thought? or was I just extra tired?