An Epistle According to jb

This piece might seem picayune on my part – I’ll accept that as a valid criticism, but you know me, I usually am found where angels fear to tread, so this is a easy one for me.  Heh!

I am not particularly enamored with the GOPe leanings of his colleagues at his site,  but I like Rod Dreher, and his thinking in his book The Benedict Option – although I believe his thesis would go quite wobbly, as he himself has wondered in other columns, with American Evangelicals.  I also have a beef with his seeming historical ignorance or revisionism of the nature of the Reformation, me being a Confessional Lutheran and all.  I will address that in a coming post still under cranial construction.

But using his very positive post about the Pences today he writes the following, which seems to be – to me – a disconnect.  Now, even moreso in that he has gained fame, his marriage would seem to need even more of what the Pences practice.  Yet he writes:

“Again, this is not a set of precautions I, as a Christian, would take, or feel it necessary to take, but I admire the Pences for the seriousness with which they take their marriage vows. Mike Pence is willing to be thought a countercultural weirdo for the sake of doing right by his wife, his kids, and his God. That’s totally admirable in my book.”

Those precautions Dreher would not take (although if you notice, he qualifies that by being a Christian), are in reality, not precautions, but necessities!  Even the average Joe who gives a rip about his marriage and family would want to consider emulating the Pences, but how much moreso by  a man in the public’s eye, and thus, under its scrutiny?

Anyone who has even glanced over here knows what my career was, and still is.  I am a Lutheran Confessional Pastor, Em. (“Emeritus is really a misnomer!).  I am not reticent about saying so whatsoever.  I love it!  But hells bells, Bubba, if the average Joe understands and practices this, how much more Dreher – and he has traveled Evangelicalism personally, swam the Tiber to Rome, and now has swum the Bosporus and is of the Orthodox faith, writing of matters theological.  The Pences’ precautions ought to be writ large on the opposite wall of Dreher’s office!

I, along with every Brethren of the Cloth I know, take great pains to avoid the hint of wrong-doing or potential scandal, even if unimaginable to me and the Brethren.  I have never counseled a woman alone, with my office door closed, or anywhere else where we might be seen together (a restaurant, for instance).  It’s not merely bad form, it could be career ending!  Young widows had to come to the office.  Older widows or single women I would visit their home, but I would take my wife.  And yet, even with all the precautions, I was occasionally propositioned.  I understand sin and its nature, and the old but true prayer – “Help me to avoid the near occasion of sin! – is quite legitimate!

So my secretaries might hear us talking, but they wouldn’t understand the words.  Besides, Marion and Marcia, the secretaries I did have, were sworn to secrecy anyway as a job condition.  But both of them more than understood.  It helped both of them had great marriages.  They instinctively understood.

I know Mr. Dreher will probably never read these words, and thus, not change his exceptions taken to the protective approach the Pences or countless other Christian couples take, but his fame and reputation rest on his faith and the legitimacy of his words, and were I him, I would take no chances.  There are many public figures, within the Church and without, who have been flattened by false accusation.  They get enough of them anyway, without adding additional potential fuel to the fire.

Thus endeth the Epistle.  🙂


Collar OFF!

I am taking off my weird shirt with the collar –  this STILL really pisses me off!  I know of two men right this moment, myself being one, who would gladly trade their present suffering and mourning for the opportunity the husband in the story had to nurse his wife to health, and he chose to exploit it and had recourse to have it legally denied to even the woman’s family!  Money and sex will do that to a man!  I would love to see a true-to-life movie undertaken by Mel Gibson on that one!

I was in the USSSP (United Soviet Socialist State of St. Petersburg) as all of that went down.  The court judge (Lord, forgive me that I have held on to hate this long!) I would personally hang from a lamp-post – right beside the hubby!  To his limited credit, Gubnor John Ellis (JEB!) tried to intervene and get higher Courts involved, but the higher courts scurried out of sight like Florida cockroaches in the bright lights of the case.  The judge ruled out every option – all being quite logical, and ruled to allow a slowly recovering woman, wife and daughter to die – a starving – state-sanctioned murder.  It was inconceivable!  I was apoplectic, as the judge’s final ruling stood and the woman was starved to death!  And naturally, the judge had state goons guarding her door and the hospital, so the family could not spirit her off.

This was rank euthansia!  And despite the protests of millions protesting there and around the world, countless Church bodies, ethicists, what have you, the deed got done.  They killed her!  Seeing the article this morning just fanned all those long-thought-dead flames within me to become a roaring blaze yet again.  That was the first day I began to think America had died, and we have just been singing long hymns at the funeral since!

Okay, rant over, collar back on, but zero repentance for the continued rage.  None, nada, zilch.  I’ll gladly reprise Jacob’s role of “wrestling with the Lord until daybreak” in my hate over that event!  And now . . .




A very, very good Lutheran friend with whom I chat daily, and who was filled with consolation and compassion I’ve seen in but a few precious individuals – chatting with me for hours and for days and days after Sweet Mama Lou passed, sent me this hilarious jewel.  One, I say hilarious because it caused me to blow beer,  I hate that kind of waste, but it was worth it.  Two – it was downright hilarious, and made more so, because I was there, too . . . twice!  The tale?

Okay.  I especially need the break after those last two posts, and the one to come, although that one, not so much angst.  But my stories also put me in a homiletical mood, and some come close to fitting the full bill at times.So, off we go.I was teaching my twice yearly Pastor Information Class in Champaign for some newbies thinking joining, perhaps. The guy I am speaking of – a rabid brand new, freshly minted calvinist, was part of the class.  His sweetie – his girlfriend/fiance was raised LCMS, and wanted to come back after like a 10 year absence.  I said okay, but I wanted her to take my class and be  confirmed (which she had not been).

So she brought her newly minted boyfriend/fiance.  He was exactly like the faux article above, except he never bit me.  Hilarity ensued . . . for 16 weeks.

He was one tough nut to crack.  He knew his Scripture (newbie calvinists always do!).  He knew his stuff, although I often finished his quotes for him.  He got frustrated one night and asked me how I could do that?  I told him – “Ten years ago, I was right where you are – brand new to calvinism and full of the spirit and willing to convert the world!”

He stared at me – finally quiet for once, and he asked me – “What happened.  How did become a Lutheran Pastor wearing the odd shirt?”

I said:  “Easy – I attended a Lutheran church with new my wife, and was all over the Pastor in his Pastor’s Class.  Except, like I do with you, he knew calvinism better than I did, and I was so impressed with him I shut up, became a Lutheran, went to Seminary, and here I am.”

“So, it might be wise to kinda listen, ’cause I’ve already been there, done what you did, and its the wrong path in the end, Dude.  If you listen in class better, you’ll understand why.”

His better half was giggling as he sat there with his mouth hanging open.  I then offered: “I’ll make a deal with you.  Since I have a two-hour class here, you can hand write 5 questions for me, and quote all of your best sources.  I promise either to answer them in the flow of the class that night, or you can stay afterward.  And tonight, I’ll give you three free ones after class.  Fair enough?”

<diVHe kinda nodded, still shocked.  After I had closing prayer, I told the class they were free to go, our friend here has a few questions for me.  No one budged.  They wanted to hear it all.  So they stayed, and not being a stupid man, I got in an extra half hour or so.  And, he was confirmed, took the Blessed Eucharist he had ridiculed 16 weeks earlier, became a weekly regular and eventually I married them.  They sat in the second pew.

Because no one sits in the front pew of a Lutheran Church.
+          +          +
Having put that into words, I then remembered a story from the very same class.  What happened with another pupil along the way might have influenced my really fired up guy  But I know it changed the life of the young woman, under 40, very pretty, but her body already gnarled up because of her ALS   She was a kinda agnostic, almost hippie girl who had gone to at Burning Man from its initial year in ’86 – long before it became so normal –  so commercial, and was just a hippy camp out in the desert.  Her values floated around nebulously, but her sister, one of my members, had talked to her so often about me and the Church, so she decided to try my class and find out for herself.
So there she was along with my calvinst newbie, his lady, and the rest of the potential newbies (think I had almost 20 that time around).
So after covering matters introductory and allowing the class to get a few classes under it’s belt, I struck!  Holy Week would be the week after they finished and those who wished, were Confirmed and became members.
So – I went int detail for two classes – Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, the cleansing of the temples, His fiery sermons directed at the Pharisees – everything up to Holy Thursday.  The I started with that – especially about the Eucharist and His betrayal, the trial(s), and finally the crowds condemnation of him through Pilate, that He be crucified.  I did my pastoral best to build the tension, the forgiveness of the Gospel everywhere (by then my young active newbie calvinist was really listening!) and then, Sunday Morning.
The young woman (She was only mid-30’s – I’ll call her “Sue – not her real name which I can’t for the life of me remember), quietly asked me: “Pastor I know all about the forgiveness and blessings you are always talking about, but what about me?  I am going to die soon, painfully.  What does the Resurrection say to me?”
The three tables were set up in a horseshoe fashion, and she was seated in her wheelchair dead middle on the connecting table at the one end.  I stood in front of Sue like no one else was in the room, explained to her how the Resurrection was crucial – because Jesus rose, so must we!  And how everything brought us to the morning of the Resurrection of Jesus.  You could have heard a pin drop on the carpet.  I was NOT being melodramatic when I fell to my knees right in front of her, took her hand in mine, and said through my tears and with my voice cracking:
“My dear, dear Sue – ‘The Resurrection is the living, beating heart of the entire Christian faith, and believing it means one day the Risen Lord WILL, because He rose from the dead – will send his angels to take you home to him.  And He will take your hand as I have, lead you into the full glory his Heavenly Kingdom and say to YOU – personally – ‘Young woman, I say to you, rise and walk!'”
“And you will, forever!”

Everyone was in tears, me the worse I think, except for her weeping out loud.  Just remembered that because of the other story.

That was some class!  Those two were both miracles that happened right before my eyes!  She, like my crazy calvinist, and the whole class, were confirmed, became members, and took the Blessed Sacrament on Palm Sunday.  She always put her wheelchair just next to the second pew, because, well, as I said earlier –

No one, not even Newbies, sit in the front pew of a Lutheran Church!

And Not So Novel Thoughts


St. Paul had his thorn in the flesh, to keep him humble.

America has its thorn – And half of America likes the thorn!

Chelsea Hubbell got her Woman’s Achievement Award last week.  Unfortunately, there was no list of the achievement(s) that produced such an award (fill in your joke here _______ .

With it came all the breathtaking oohs and ahs about her possibly working her way to the Presidency.  Surely God’s good nature has been stretched to its limit with that family!  But . . .

In what sounds ominous, and certainly not being issued forth by any “mayoral” candidate, came issuance from the bear who has emerged from her cave of hibernation, and back at it twice in one day.

First, this.  The continued call to arms.  The far left mantra is now hers.

Then this.  Even far more worrisome.  She is utterly incapable of the courtesies of having held high office, and respecting those who have won.  I am not paranoid per se, but with this family?  Can’t help but think these were shots across the bow.

I know – I know – she has a shitload of charges about to drop squash her like a bug, hopefully.  The obstacles are immense.  But I have always remembered, it’s not the way we think about matters, that matters.

It’s the way she thinks!

She has felt anointed to the highest office since forever.  She is surveying the landscape, and while Donald IS doing what he said, Congress is still filled with the same GOPe hacks led by the same GOPe hacks and they seem unable to pull the trigger on the . . . (shoot, I almost got poetical and exceedingly “white-privileged” and racisssss!) . . . the ACA; they still haven’t gotten rid of her favorite hack Comey, and they have obvious lost their minds thinking that a turn-coat like Ryan could lead he House.

She’s looking, saying to herself – “Not too bad!”  I own the Deep State . . . hell, I’m one of them!  If words ever got out about ALL of the shit I pulled off . . . but it never will; we’ve corrupted every GOPe candidate, and even shook Reagan’s tree a good bit.  Ryan?  McConnell?  Every bit as they as malleable as they were when Obama ruled the roost”

“In this landscape – who better but me?”

Call me paranoid.  I don’t care.  I have been watching this family’s show since Billy BJ was guv.  They have no thorns in the flesh, except – not ruling the rest of us.  And, money is now no issue for her.

Wiser heads may counter – understood.  But as for me and my house . . .

Novel Thought

Again, being on the VA leaves me without a dog in the hunt in the health care debacle.

However, a question keeps bugging me.  Why in Heaven or hell do folks thinking gummint is anything but a potential problem in healthcare?

Let the gummint repeal Obama Care, and leave the free market be.

Let gummint separate the indigent, the poor, and existing/catastrophic conditions, and put them on Medicaid.  Many times hospitals end up doing so for the poor right at the hospital anyway.  Remove them from the insurance pool.  They have become ping pong balls in all of this thus far, anyway.  Give illegals a cursory check-up before they get on the planes back home.  That would be infinitely cheaper than the ACA, and likewise whatever is on the back burners in Congress.

Tell the insurance companies and the entire medical industry – hospitals and specialists – to ease up with the perpetual increases and already and sky-high prices, or there will be intervention!

And let gummint and both industries begin take an honest assessment of the medical cooperatives that have been forming.  Sean talked about one today.  They can hold the power of the purse over everyone in both industries.

I once asked a member in one of my churches who is a hospital business manager, after I got exort … err … billed $800 bucks for a 30 second look by the nurse with a tongue depressor, who saw the streptococcus all over my son’s throat, and gave us two of the antibiotic pill, with a script for the same, in an empty ER that still took 20 minute to get to my son.

She mentioned the higher charge for ER. “Okay, I’ll give you that much, I suppose, but 800 bucks?  There wasn’t even a throat swab – just a 30 second peek, five minutes to chase down a physician for the script, and that was it.

She said: “Pastor, hospitals are caught betwixt and between in all of this.  We do have costs, and it used to be we would bill the insurance company, and they would normally say ‘Ok’ and send us our money.  Then, they began to cut into our charges to the point it they began halving them.  So we upped our charges to get what we needed.  Then it became less than half in many instances, so our only response was to raise our charges high enough to get what we have to have.  And it has started to become a sort of war of wills, and I spend many hours on the phone with adjusters trying to reason with them, but to little or no avail.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.  It is a vicious circle.”

Did obamacare and gummint intervention help?  Laughable – it exacerbated every aspect of the racket, and gave a free rein to the insurance industry (They loved the ACA!), and it all has become an even worse bavarian fuster cluck since.

The cooperatives being formed (there is Christian one in Houston that is growing and doing quite well).  The one Sean mentioned today was $50 a month per individual.  These coops will do what no gummint plan will do, and they dicker with the medical, pharmacological, and insurance industries for their customers.

The free market works just fine when gummint gets out of it!  If we have to put up with medicaid and the like that is enough.  Any further interference from gummint smacks of socialism, and we should be done with it.

Pass that one sentence bill repealing ACA and the problems  and conditions it required (or caused), and let the market work.

Then get down to taxes and the Wall and I suppose, funding 2017 since Congress seems incapable of creating or maintaining its own budget.  Harp on these things and open an investigation into the Fed.

That by itself would require much beer and popcorn!  coolno

Way-Back Machine

As I usually do on a Sunday afternoon, a time devoid of any news of consequence, I was tooling around the Net, and some of my preferred reading sites.  I was at Z’s joint, always a good read, but he had a short blurb today about upgrading his system and how his regular comments were on the fritz and he was stuck with WordPress’ comments, which serve a blogger until he gets either Net-known, or notorious, or both, and then, readership and comments skyrocket and you have to look at your system and server differently.  Not my problem yet here at my humble site.  But I was on the verge once with another site I had years ago.

Anywhere . . . I was going somewhere with this . . . oh yeah – so since Z had no real normal content up I hadn’t already read, I took a look at his blogroll.  Clicked on the first one.  Such a placement on another’s site usually gets you more look-sees.  Anyway, the feller over there at A Nod to the Gods – apparently another “Jeff” like yours truly – shows a great and extended appreciation of the beauty of God’s Creation as the site opens and unfolds.  That part wouldn’t go over real good with college snowflakes these days, but I refer them to this to soothe their offended egos.

So I get to his piece, and it immediately puts the reader into his version of Mr. Peabody’s efforts, my title implies – and sends us back to the days of yore when no one locked their doors, students served as their own crossing guards, children were allowed to be children but always with a healthy dose of parental efforts at teaching proper respect from the earliest of the ages. something that has seemingly become woefully forgotten or lost in this day and age, very sad to say.  And, he set this old timer to reminiscing.

What I miss . . . it wasn’t so much the absolute shellacking Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale and Dem Bums administered in taking the Yanks down in 4 straight in the ’63 Series, or Koufax bettering that effort against the Twins in ’65, or even my dearly beloved Yax and my Sox finally getting to the World Series in ’67.  I didn’t think I would ever live to see them win the WS, as ’86 almost crushed Sox Nation for good, but ‘o4, 07 and ’13 have the Nation crowing from the rafters these years!  All of that was not the really good stuff.  The events of 1968 gave us all a hint of the future, but we were blissfully stuck in another life that took reality as it came, and really did make a good run with it.

What really struck me about his piece was the lack of need then, and the necessity these days, of cops in the school.  My Dad was a reserve cop, and I used to sit with him in Chief Manning’s living room as the two of talked shop, and then the inevitable BBQ something for good measure.  The sure suicide of me getting out of line or disrespectful of teachers and elders, took me but a second to consider and discard.  So much so I still call adults Mr. or Mrs. or Ma’am no matter their age without a thought, product of my days of yore now long gone.  I’ll wake up tomorrow having turned 64 at 6:25am.

And discipline at school or a need for cops?  Pshaw!  The two biggest in the student body, both football players, were the sons of ex-marines.  They broke up every fight the teachers might not catch.  Of course, we who were stopped by them didn’t mind their thunk on our noggin, not nearly as much as the dean’s paddle who always got you on an upswing that caught even a skinny guy like me on the really fleshy part of both butt cheeks.  If you took your whacks manfully and didn’t complain – no call hone was made.  I only got them twice – 3 whacks each offense (at least I was winning my fights!) – but my folks never even knew it happened, which as any ancient (one of my contemporaries) will tell you, was a very good thing back then.  Ya see, if Dad had known about my whacks, I would have gotten, invariably, his version of “homework” each of those nights for embarrassing his parental efforts.  Nah – I made sure Dad never knew or gave him reason to think he was a bad Dad.  Proverbs 9:10 says. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom!” – and as a theologian, I agree.  But God also gave us parents, and Dad ran a very close second to the Lord.  I tried my best to test neither the Lord nor Dad.

But back to school discipline.  The hulks from the football team kept general mayhem at bay among the young males loaded with testosterone and no brains, and then, it was pretty much only fist-fights and wrestling – without gloves or headgear.

However, there were always a few clowns who had to “test the system.”  And as if on cue, we had 5 individuals on staff and administration, one Army vet who was also the Dean of Men, two ex- Marines, one former college wrestler, and the world’s only Samuel T. Marshall.  I shall get to him in a minute.

One of the ex Marines – Coach William (no student ever called him that or Bill until AFTER graduation) Davenport, was a 6’4″ very muscular ex-Marine “Top” – who was the head coach of football and Men’s baseball, and who ran us in baseball like we were his football players, or his Marines.  As an aside – Coach Schultz, his successor after Davenport just stuck to football, wasn’t any better.  He was the other Marine on staff.  Coach Buick – the wrestler – was my freshman coach.  He was likewise tough, but he had me ready to step in to varsity shortstop right out of 8th grade after the graduation of a four year all-conference shortstop – Mark Zammit.  I honored my coaches by accomplishing the very same feat.  But all of them taught us discipline first, and then – how to play baseball for real.

So – a real student disruption?  Usually the bad guys could be settled down by the teacher saying he or she was calling one of the three men to deal with the offender.  Then, it only ended up with the Army vet Dean, doling out his stinging whacks.

Now when it came to gym class, there was one unwritten rule that excluded the Dean and the three aforementioned coaches.  In little notes written inside gym lockers from former students, to those in the then present who were in the know – do not for the life of you or those around potentially becoming what the military calls collateral damages – do not ever piss off Head Coach Samuel T. Marshall.  His name was uttered with reverence and awe, even by the most muscular bad-asses in gym classes.  I thought my Dad was second behind the Lord in being feared, but the real second place holder – for 4 years – was Coach Marshal, who, we only quietly joked among ourselves, had to be called “Coach” by his wife and kids.

He was an black ex-football player, went to and played for a white college in the south so you KNEW he had paid his dues; was a feared lineman and got his degree in only 3 years, and turned down a pro offer because he wanted to finish his Masters, and do what he loved most – teach boys at the most turbulent time of a young man’s life, when one is seeming mindless and over-fueled by hormones.  Looking back, he was a tremendous role model for us.  But he was held in the proper fear by all.

It helped greatly that he was 6’7″ and played at about 275 lbs.  He added 100 over the years, but that only made him look that much more fearsome.  I wasn’t there, but it was a monster legend that he had once picked up two of his 185 -200 lb. football players, one in either hand, for botching a play in practice, and then, horror of horrors and the real crime they commited – talking back to Co-atch, as Samuel T. Called himself.  That legend itself, and also knowing the entire gym floor faced his open office window and the lockers were across the hall next door to his office, made for no young man in my time being sent to the Dean.  Ya see, Co-atch ALSO had paddling privileges.  No one ever seemed to want to test those waters.  Jocks have only straps on the butt, and the gym shorts then were notorious hin!

Shyte, we were more worried about our coaching and teaching staff that we would have ever been about a police officer on campus.  So I came through high school relatively unscathed as did most every young male, and I was even able to secure a scholarship for baseball.  But having pre-enrolled in the AF a few months before my June ’71 graduation – so I could get free college benefits – I was already a committed man after graduation.  You had up to a year “free time,” but then the AF called in its chips and off you went to Basic.  I hung out doing this and that with jobs and cars and girls, but I gave in after 6 months.  Wouldn’t you know it, after the physical abuse of Basic, my career field demanded yet another year of “School.”  Only then, screwing up meant a Dishonorable, and no one wanted that – it followed you in civilian life to college and job applications.

Ya know, being forced into retrospection this other Jeff has brought upon me today, I wouldn’t change a minute of it – not one minute.   Hat-tip to him for catching my attention and allowing me to re-live some great memories through words.  Had a blast!  Thanks, Dude!





Okie Dokes

Having logged 64 years on this old globe and having experienced most everything out there, except those no right thinking (emphasis on right), soul should or would do, I am contemplating strongly a bit of a change around the old joint here.  I figure to do the following, with preface.

I am no newbie to the Net.  I got into a political site back (Usenet? – I do not remember, although the discussion were quite intense) in the late 90’s, when the net was slow as an inchworm, and I had only used the computer as a word-processor prior to that.  But by 2002, I had a (then) top of the line Toshiba, and I joined the blogging phenomenon. It was just after The God-Father of Blogging – Glenn Reynolds at in 2001 cranked up his still strong and running site, and one of my current buddies’ dailies.  I  used to read him when he was linked by another site, but I never quite caught his flow – Bill Quick and his Daily  Bill personally gave the phenomenon its name – The Blogosphere.  It stuck big time.  And he’s is a mandatory daily stop.  Warning!  He’s no shrinking violet, to say the least.

A further aside which will make sense in a minute or so – I have never had my hair give into gray hair.  My beard turned snow-white at 50, as did my Dad’s and his Dad.  But my hair, even now at 64, has kept its auburn red color, with almost no grey around the temples.  But back then, I was several years beyond my divorce, was proudly running my own home rehab biz in collaboration with an agency that bought not so very good houses. and then  sub-contracted me and my buddy Joe to re-do completely them for resale and then rent.  So I grew the locks long – a bit longer than a foot below my lowest collar.  And despite it being relatively straight, though very trainable as I now keep it, it gets a bit of a curl and grows thick when left to do so.  My mother would run her hands through it and lament that it was a shame the men in the family had the gorgeous hair.  So it seemed apt to have a theme song that mirrored the name of my site – Long-Haired Country Boy.  A number of the God-Father’s (Reynolds) “blog children” visited each day, as it featured quick blurbs and links to all sort of news.  My blog handle(s) the same as today – pb or jb.  Other sites linked often and one popular site got the word to others posting at his own joint, saying – “I have no idea where jb finds all the shyte (he spelled it differently) he does, but his is a must-stop site everyday.”  I guess it still shows up not too, too far below all the Charlie Daniels’ links at Google, if you are inclined to such boredom looking.

Back then it was about driving numbers, but several personal developments put that idea to rest.  I tried a couple other, each trying a different format, but after a week or two even I didn’t like them.  Of course I stayed online, with a (now) 17-18 year old handle.  I took it to gmail because MS treated hotmail like a poor step-child and it simply deteriorated to such a degree it wouldn’t let me in to my own mail.  So, I gave it up.

But in 2011, I started this site, tenuously at first and for awhile, but got it going pretty good.  I liked WordPress, I was posting relatively often, but I started to get kind of goofy – carrying on about stuff – political and theological – that I grew to dislike.

So last year, I deleted all, but kept the site alive, and began to go in the direction I intended for it to go originally.  Now (for awhile, actually), I have been considering an addition, not really a change.  I am still going to have my longer political and theological posts – especially sermons when I get in that mood; but also, on a more daily basis, I am going back to the format I used on LHCB.  I’ll give it an honest shot day-to-day and see what I think, first of all.  If I can draw a few serious readers, word will get around.  I’ll take if from there after that.

So that’s the long and the short of it.  I’ll probably give the whole idea a test drive for the next week or three (or maybe less).  See how it goes.  Hope my doing so doesn’t upset the schedules of my 3.4 readers.  Heh!

Pax – jb