Now I Can Rest Easy

Now we can all take a load off. Chuck Norris, yes, the Texas Ranger himself, has finally weighed in with his pick for the presidential race. Whew! That's a load off...

They Really Shouldn't Have...

This is just wrong!

Sweat-Flavored Soda on the Way

Guilty Pleasure Delight

Okay, so I've been sort of lax with this whole desert island gem/guilty pleasure posting thing that I'm sure all four of you were anxiously waiting to read each day. I apologize. It's entirely my fault and there's really nothing I can say. But, suffice it to say, I'm going to try and do better. Consider this post a step toward redemption.

Anyway, I'm going to shift things a little bit here, just because I can, and share a bit of a guilty pleasure that I've partaken of ever since I was a wee little lad. For the unaware, although I'm pretty sure that those who may stumble upon this are already aware, I grew up in the South. On top of that, I grew up in a family that was really proud it was from the South. My folks were and are die-hard civil war buffs who can expound upon just about every battle, every general, and every nook and cranny that holds the remotest possible interest from that hallowed time. We were southern cooking folk, indulging in bacon, fried chicken, and the like as a holy ritual. We were Hee Haw and Dukes of Hazzard folk, and to tell the truth, I still long to take a ride in the General Lee. And to top it all off, we fell, really as a family, for the charms of one bumbling yet lovable Ernest P. Worrell.

If the name doesn't strike an immediate chord in your mind, you've apparently grown up somewhere else. For us, Ernest was the best of slapstick low-brow comedy, with hilarity ensuing in films like Ernest Goes to Camp, Ernest Goes to Jail, and the holiday favorite, Ernest Saves Christmas. Jim Varney's "Aw shucks" hilarity and pratfalls made this ole' southern boy laugh many a time and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Now, having grown and matured and developed a taste for cinematic features that are perhaps a bit more avant garde, perhaps a bit more respected, I realize that I really shouldn't like Ernest. But I can't help it. I'm only broken hearted that there'll be no more from Ernest since the untimely passing of Jim Varney in 2000.

But, Ernest will forever live on in my thoughts and memories as a great character. So, I present to you yet another one of my guilty pleasures, Mr. Ernest P. Worrell:

This is Priceless!

You just can't appreciate this until you've read the story!

Man Breaks Into Home Over Porn Screams!

A Face You Can Trust?

For those of you who may be unaware, I have been a white, Caucasian male my entire life. On top of that, I've grown into a rather big guy. I stand somewhere around 6' 3-4", and weigh in at, well, let's just suffice it to say that I fill out my frame pretty good. Over the past several years, I've opted for a bit of a full goatee to fill out my face and hide my babyface. During this time, I've never, at least in my estimation, been discrimated against or really even looked at twice. On this past Monday that all changed.

Prior readers will recall that I currently languish in the world that is known as Christian retail. The good Lord has seen fit in His immense grace to provide me a position that provides for minimal interaction with customers but, on occasion, this protocol must be breached and I find myself asked to answer some questions or carry a large box out to an elderly lady's car. Traditonally, while this is not my most favorite time of the day, I'm okay with it. This leads me to Monday.

I was sitting at my desk, watching the clock at the bottom right-hand corner of my screen, willing the digital numbers to change more quickly, and I found myself summoned to our customer service area to help carry a package to someone's car. "No problem," I thought to myself and slowly, sleepily ambled over to the appropriate region of the store. I saw two older gentlemen standing at the counter, a medium-sized box before them. Almost immediately upon my entering their view, one of the gentlemen wrapped his arms around the box and said, "Let me see how heavy this is...Oh, it's no problem! I can carry this out!" I shrugged, smiled my assent, and headed back to watching the digits shift.

Not long after, the young associate who had summoned me walked back to my corner and shared, "That was weird, huh? They were going on and on about the one guy's arm not being able to carry it out and the other guy having some condition but when they saw you...!" I've got to say, this was a first. Sure I'm a big guy. Yes, I have the goatee which can tend to be a bit unruly. And yes, I'd neglected to shave for a few, okay, four days prior. But I work for a Christian bookstore! I was only left to sit and ponder. Was it me? Was it them? Hmmm....

Secret Confessions

Okay, I have a brief confession to make. I suppose it's not so much a confession as it is a secret desire. Don't worry kids! This is totally PG but it's something that I've thought quite a bit about, the sadness of which will strike you later. Ready? Okay, here goes:

You know those machines that you find in your local grocery stores or pharmacies? The one's that they have their for you to check your blood pressure because you're bored out of your mind while you wait for your prescription to be filled? Okay, have you ever just happened to be in the store as people were sitting down in them? Keep in mind the instructions listed on the machine. "Do no talk during the procedure." "Do not move during the procedure." "Do not breathe during the procedure." Okay, maybe the last one's a stretch but you get the drift. So, these people are locked into these modern-day torture devices, and I do mean locked in, and you happen upon them. Even better, you happen upon them from behind. Now, my secret desire is this: To just run up from behind them and scare the living crap out of them, old or young. I want to freak people out.

Is this sick? Um, probably. Would it be funny? Um, yes. Will I do it? I'll never tell...