We’ve cleaned up and re-packaged our CafePress t-shirt design shop.
Come and take a gander, won’t you?
Kai Ta Loipa – Relaunching Our Enterprises
Cereal Killer
It was recently brought to my attention that there are surprisingly few guides for proper cereal choices in this day and age. For something so seemingly mundane, it is no surprise that it eluded the pundits of the day. So since no pundits are currently available, I will take this task upon myself. Rule number one is to avoid any cereals that contain products grown in Iowa in the name. Examples are things like Corn Cobs, Wheat Chaff, Pig Rounds, and so forth. The best cereals appear to be those with sounds in the name, like Sugar Pops, Sound Puffs, Stewie Blasts, and Shots in the Dark.
But the truly fine cereals are the ones heavy laden with gimmick. A fine example comes to us from the galley of one Cap’n Crunch. Those of my generation must clearly remember the Oops, All Crunch Berries campaign. With the help of a learned colleague, I began musing on other possible Oops, All _____ gimmicks that might not be quite as successful. Possible examples include “Oops, All Raisins” Raisin Bran, “Oops, All Crunchies” Lucky Charms, and “Oops, All Corn” Corn Pops. And anything with “Froot” is absolutely worthwhile.
And as long as we are on the subject of the Cap’n, I believe there are certain questions that must be addressed. What is the nature of this man of the sea? His uniform indicates some sort of adherence to an established military. It is possible he serves in the navy of King Vitaman, but this remains unclear. From advertisements, he seems to sail under his own flag as he marauds about the high seas on his ship, the Guppy. His greatest rival is a pirate, John LaFoote, a French scoundrel who has been nipping at the Captain’s heels since the early 1960’s. So it would seem there are a number of possible explanations for this old salt. He may well be a pirate himself, a mere competitor of LaFoote. He may be much like Sir Francis Drake, a privateer in the employ of a wealthy nation that didn’t want to get its own hands dirty in the protection of the secret of Crunch, and in the ethnic cleansing of the Soggies. Cap’N Crunch was later charged for high crimes, most notably cutting the roofs of his consumers’ mouths.
-Steve McGladdery
Writer’s Block
I have been having difficulty focusing on my writing lately. Certain diversions like books, love, work, and fine weather have been pulling my mind in many different (well, four) directions. So rather than write something new for you, I have decided to write about the writing process itself. The following selection is semi-autobiographical, and details my particular writing process.
9:30 am. Wake up, make myself presentable (i.e., wear pants).
10 am. Put on some music, read from Chomsky
11:30 am. Sit and stare blankly at the laptop screen.
12 pm. Put on chef’s hat, prepare lunch of pasta and a strange side dish from the fridge. It is unidentifiable, but it tastes good and I can still see. So score.
12:20 pm. Stare blankly at laptop screen, hone Cosby impression.
12:45 pm. Put on a few episodes of The Simpsons for background noise.
1:05 pm. Grip the laptop tightly and stare intently at laptop screen in the hopes a brilliant idea might bore itself into the hard drive.
1:30 pm. Check email, browse monster.com
2:00 pm. Brainstorm on a blank sheet of paper.
2:10 pm. Destroy paper
2:12 pm. Take another stab at learning harmonica, while wishing for a chance at the banjo, hornpipe, or 80’s synthesizer.
2:40 pm. Challenge myself to a chess match.
2:41 pm. Accept challenge.
3:10 pm. Checkmate. I never saw it coming.
3:11 pm. Try to write, but who am I kidding.
3:35 pm. Leave for work.
10:45 pm. Return from work.
10:46 pm. Bourbon.
11 pm. Write ridiculous post.
11:30 pm. Bourbon.
1 am. Bed.
9:30 am. Repeat.
-Steve McGladdery
All Along the Clock Tower
I have seen some strange things in my life. I have seen an apparently irritated citizen slap a cab driver in an eastern city. I have seen a bird swoop under the water, nearly take the bait of my fishing line, and then emerge and fly off several feet away. I have seen three legged dogs and one eared cats. But perhaps the most unusual of these is this four faced clock in downtown Grand Rapids. I won’t say where it is, because I have no desire to defame a specific person’s property, but this clock has caused me trouble.
Back when I attended classes at GRCC, I would arrive downtown in the morning, take a look at this clock, and sigh in relief seeing that I am fifteen minutes early. I decide that perhaps I will stop for a cup of coffee or tea before I head to class. After turning the corner I glance back just to be sure, and I stare in absolute amazement. According to this side, I have two minutes before class begins. Just as often the opposite would happen. One side deceives me by saying I’m late. I can almost feel its mocking grin as I run down the road. I glance back suspiciously and see that the time is not quite the same as it was on the last face. Positively infuriating, and suitable inspiration to wear a watch from then on.
There is a life lesson here. Just as it is with clocks, never place your trust in a person who appears to have more than one face. You never know when they might be deceiving you.
-Steve McGladdery
Sola Scriptura
Note: Longer English translations are from the Old King James Bible. Renderings of Greek words are my own.
In his second letter to Timothy, St Paul writes, “All Scripture is God-breathed” (2 Tim 3:16 OKJ). The Greek word employed here, ‘θεόπνευστος,’ can also mean “inspired by God.” This is a concept that has troubled many theologians, because the means or process of inspiration is never described. In this way the nature of Scripture is not unlike the nature of Christ Himself. Christ was born into human flesh, both true God and true man at the same time. Similarly, Scripture comes directly from the mind of God, revealed to his servants, not “by the will of man, but holy men of God spoke as they were moved by the Holy Spirit” (2 Peter 1:21). At the same time, it is by necessity presented in human language, within the framework of human history. So it is both inspired by God and written by men.
Many will follow false teaching and false prophets. Many more still will twist and pollute the Holy Word of God to their own selfish ends. But the Lord promises his Spirit will guide those who seek Truth, and promises to expose and punish all false prophets (Jer. 23:9-40). We know not how, but the Word of the Lord was delivered to His people through the prophets, and later these words were put into writing by men, through Divine inspiration. After Christ’s death and resurrection, this Holy Word was then offered to all men, once more inspired by the Holy Spirit through His apostles, so that all men might hear and be saved (Eph. 3: 2-6). While it is a powerful Divine mystery, it should still not shock us that God is able to act through human thought and human language to convey His message.
Throughout Scripture, we frequently see our Lord in his role as master of history, acting through the means of the world to achieve extraordinary things. As the children of Israel were escaping from the Egyptian host, the Lord by means of “a strong east wind” divided the Red Sea so that they might escape for good (Ex 14:21-29). They were delivered from their slavery by the hand of God, just as later they would be delivered by Him from their Babylonian exile.
God comes to us through these pages in simple, straight forward language. There is no heretical “Gnostic” revelation that lies outside human apprehension. There is no secret code. There is only the simple language right there on the page. Granted, while the words are there, sometimes the content is beyond us. John opens his Gospel by declaring the Son of God has taken on human flesh. This is beyond what we can understand with out own intellect. But it is wise not to become discouraged. Even Peter had difficulty understanding things Paul had written (2 Peter 3:16). As His children we must have faith that God’s promise is sufficient for us. We must place our trust in the Lord, even if we cannot grasp every passage.
A number of people doubt that all of Scripture comes directly from the Lord. Many Christians, for example, find it difficult to believe that God would have any interest in informing us that, “Nimrod was a mighty hunter” (Gen. 10:9). I will admit that I don’t see the exact significance of this information. Then I suppose it doesn’t require any sort of Vertical significance to be God’s Word. But all Scripture is God-breathed. God the Creator takes an interest in everything He created. He is present in these words, though not limited to them. It is only one way among many that He reveals Himself to us. Those who need to be accused by the Law are accused. And those who need to be lifted up by the Gospel are lifted up. God bestows His Spirit on all who read these words. Sins are condemned, promises are bountifully given, and the Good News of salvation through Christ our Lord is cheerfully proclaimed.
-Steve McGladdery
Confection Confession
As the Easter season comes to a close, we all continue to celebrate the resurrection of our Lord by filling ourselves with all manner of sugary confections. But many people do not realize that there are many more fun and exciting things that can be done with these tasty treats aside from merely eating them, enjoying the sugar rush, and collapsing on the floor three hours later. Consider the Peep. It’s a simple enough item. A marshmallow bird coated in sugar. Brilliant. It seemed only logical to me to roast them around a camp fire one evening up north. Naturally I was worried at first, as I am with all of my food-based experiments. But let me tell you, even I enjoy the occasional flash of spectacular inspiration. It was fantastic. Not only does the marshmallow roast, but the sugar coating caramelizes and hardens, turning an already enjoyable treat into an unstoppable force of excellence. For the betting community, you might also enjoy “jousting peeps.” This is where you place two peeps facing each other inside your microwave. Insert a toothpick into the front of each one. Then activate the microwave. As the peeps expand, the toothpicks will move with them. The first peep to pop its opponent is the victor. See diagram A1.1
Another staple of any traditional Eastertide is the chocolate bunny. One thing I like to do is recreate famous civil war battles, with each bunny representing a different brigade. Naturally I dress them appropriately. But that might not be for everyone. You can also get your hands on a number of G.I Joe’s and/or Ninja Turtles and put on your own production of Harvey. Here’s one I absolutely recommend: If it’s hollow, fill it with more chocolate. Or hot fudge. Make sure to have an ambulance on stand by. Other options: Race them, breed them, juggle them, train them to kill.
I also recommend Cadbury egg omelets. You might also consider rounding up your leftover jelly beans, firing them at high temperatures, and then hammering them into a rather breathtaking mosaic. Oh, and even though it’s not really an Easter food, some time try putting pop tarts into an old toaster, and holding down the lever so that they continue to be heated. Do this outside, and be as far away from it as you can. In short order, flames will shoot out of the toaster a good three feet in the air. (CAUTION: Fire is hot, and has potential to burn you if you touch it. Kai Ta Loipa is hereby not liable if you’re an idiot.)
-Steve McGladdery
Pierre Loti
So I know all you inside the Internet have been missing me. I have been kickin’ it St. Jerome style in a cave for the last couple of months: writing my thesis with a talking lion. (Someday I will write a Jeromian sitcom, but that is a different story. “Lion, you never take the trash out of the cave!”) Regardless, I turned in the thesis. The feeling of release is, as is frequently said around here at Harvard, like birthing a hairy overweight child. Except, what they don’t tell you about are the subsequent intellectual stretchmarks and the delusion that anything must be beautiful on the other side of being in thesis labor. I thought, for example, that post-thesis life would be like wandering through sun filled meadows, gently creasing singing flowers with Disney-esque bubble eyes and eating honey until I fall asleep. Alas, I’m not a bear, but a student who postponed doing other things in the interest of my thesis and now all that stuff is hunting me like a pissed off bookie. Complicating this post-trauma trauma is that fact that Mother Boston has, like Fenrir, eaten the sun or something. No use frolicking WHEN IT’S STILL RAINING SNOW. Yes, I said raining snow, that intermediate meteorological state probably invented by Al Gore, where winter has neither the balls to be frozen, nor the exuberance to splash sunshine all over my face. Eww. At any rate, it’s like a weepy soap opera, where you long for commercial breaks that never come. (American Sartre.)
But should you worry for my health, gentle readers, I am soon to be rejuvenated. I’m leaving for fair Istanbul tomorrow night (with a stop over in Amsterdam if anyone needs a hooker on the way back). The tulips will be in bloom in front of Topkapi Palace, and I will be laying in them in the displaced ecstasy of spring-finally-come-damn-you, until of course a macho Turkish man locks me in that tower for Christian princesses. Even then, I’ll be happy. For one, it’s in the middle of the Bosphorus and so you can hear submarines from Russia headed for Mediterranean adventures. Second, and related to the first, is that this very tower appears in The World is Not Enough as the hiding place for the nuclear submarine of the crazy Russian villain with a bullet in his medulla oblongata. Which is how I intend to feel: no pain.
Anyway, if anyone needs meatballs, unfiltered cigarettes, harem girls, Turkish delight or chest hair, let me know. I will hook you up. Like Pierre Loti, famous 19th century French spy to “Constantinople.” How I get it all back in my luggage is nobody’s business but the Turks…
Come Fly With Me
The other day I received an unusual e-mail that was related to my ongoing job search. To fully understand why this happened, I will first say that in my Monster.com profile, I indicate that I have some moderate familiarity with Greek and Hebrew. They did not allow me to specify ancient Greek or ancient Hebrew, but since I am immensely proud of my work with those ancient languages I pretty much tell anyone who will listen. And some who won’t listen. But I digress.
The message I received was an urgent e-mail from a certain airline looking for flight attendants. I thought sure, plenty of travel, probably descent pay and benefits. Why not? But as I read on, I noticed that they were specifically looking for flight attendants who spoke Hebrew. After some consideration, I came to the conclusion that they probably didn’t mean Old Testament Hebrew. I figured that unless they catered to rabbis, I would be of no use to them. But then I, along with a couple close friends, began to speculate on what an ancient Hebrew flight would be like.
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this is your High Priest speaking. Any minute now we’ll be taken skyward in a whirlwind of fire, so please fasten your seat belts. We’ll be traveling at an altitude of 50,000 cubits, and should be reaching our destination on the third hour of the fifth day. Meal service will begin in a moment; we will be serving unleavened bread and the flesh of an unblemished lamb, and it is meant to be enjoyed with staff in hand and belt fastened. If you do not want a meal, smear lamb’s blood on the overhead compartment and the flight attendant will pass over your row.
“A flight attendant will be coming by with a beverage rock in a moment, please feel free to strike it with the rod of your choice depending on preference. A quick word to our coach passengers, please refrain from entering the sacred tabernacle divided from you by the curtain. Or first class. At such an intrusion, you will be struck down immediately. Also, please deactivate all electronic devices. Such an offense would cause the anger of the pilot to wax hot against you, and result in your immediate exile. Those of you still boarding, please enter two by two.”
Also, it has been brought to my attention that there is a Steve McGladdery who made the British news for joyriding in an ambulance. If you don’t believe me, Google it. All I will say is that you can’t prove it was me.
-Steve McGladdery
Greek Things: Spell Check Has a Stroke
Just about every student is at least vaguely familiar with the story of the Greeks sacking Priam’s proud city. It was a lengthy siege that ended with Odysseus’ plan to infiltrate the city in a giant wooden vessel shaped like a Trojan. But many are somewhat unfamiliar with the Epic Cycle, which was essentially a collection of Homeric fan fiction. Even less well known than the existence of these epics is their content. Along with the successful sacking of Troy as well as all the homecomings, readers will also find the various and little known failed plans to breach the city’s walls. The giant horse was by no means the first plan.
When a direct assault proved ineffective, it was left to the Achaean lords to devise another means of gaining access. In the Aethiopis, Agamemnon has the idea that if they cannot get past the wall, then perhaps they can go over it. So in a grand display of Ancient Greek ingenuity, he invents something that most scholars agree was some early form of the pogo stick. The heroes gain as much momentum as they can across the plain, and in a final effort make a great bounce toward the city. It seems they needed either more spring or less city, because they collide with the wall with a comical noise1. The Achaeans were beaten, but not defeated. Because not long after, Odysseus received his long awaited delivery from representatives of the island “Akmeos.” In his autobiography, Heinrich Schliemann expounds on an episode from the Ilias Mikra in which Odysseus dons sandals apparently enhanced with some sort of rocket propulsion. He and his men construct a wooden ramp, and off he goes. Having been launched by his rocket sandals, Odysseus soon realizes the ramp sent him pointed right at the wall. Holding up the appropriate “Yipes” sign2, Odysseus prepares for the poet’s elegant description of the result: On Odysseus-shaped crater in Troy’s proud battlements.
Most of the other failed attempts come to us from the Iliou Persis. It included such events as Agamemnon disguising himself as a harem girl in order to charm his way in, Nestor pretending to be delivering pizzas and/or singing telegrams, and the armies of Achaea surrounding the city and singing “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall,” all the way through3. Having been defeated on all of these reckless attempts, Odysseus then planned for something much more subtle.
“Hey, Priam!”
“…What is it?”
“We have a present for you.”
“Really? What did you bring for me?”
(Slyly) “Ohh, I don’t know…you’ll have to come out and see it.”
“Can’t you just tell me?”
“No, you have to come out and see it. Trust me, it’s great.”
Naturally it failed. There was also an attempt to deliver Diomedes inside a giant birthday cake, but when the Trojans discussed the matter and discovered it wasn’t anyone’s birthday, they were suspicious. They brought it inside slowly and cautiously. Things seemed to be going well for the Greeks, but then the Trojans decided to cut the cake. It loses something in translation, but all scholars are struck by the image of a frosting-covered Diomedes running for the gate. Apparently they could hear his screams clear across the city.
I hope this discussion has been illuminating for you. Many stories have been told, and many have been lost, but one thing is certain: Giant horses and rocket sandals last forever.
1Splat.
2Uipos
3This was the earliest form of disco.
Poor Steve, 2007: An Almanack for the Year of Christ 2007
First, I offer my congratulations. You are reading Kai Ta Loipa, and nobody can stop you. Second, I humbly present to you the following list of proverbs, Steveisms, and food for thought. They are more or less designed only for your enjoyment, and any actual wisdom or utility is purely coincidental.
You can squat on a pitbull, but it won’t get you any rhubarb pie.
A dog on a tractor casts no shadow.
He who laughs last is slowest.
No meal is balanced without “cheez” and “froot.”
Beer is fleeting, but the toilet trough will always refill.
It’s not over until the referee goes missing.
The right of way belongs to the largest engine.
A snake with a parachute will spit on the weasel.
Out of the bed and onto the floor, 50 yard dash to the bathroom door.
Over the gums and through the lips, look out stomach…here we go.
When walking down the highway of life, try not to get stabbed by hitchhikers.
All I ask is a tall ship, and a regulation shuffle board court on the main deck.
The wise man does not leap frog over a porcupine.
A fast burning fuse looks very much like a slow burning fuse. Use caution.
If it ain’t broke, you’re not trying.
-Steve McGladdery. (That’s not a proverb. That’s my name.)
