My Choices for Oscar's Best Picture of 2007

With the Oscars airing on Sunday night, I figured I'd tell you folks my favorite movies for last year. I made my choice for the movies that should of been nominated for best picture. Movie critics are always wrapping up the year with lists of their favorite and worst movies. I guess I can do the same. Funny thing is my favorite movie of the year is also on my list for the fourth worst movie of the year. Go figure.

Let's not beat around the bush. My favorite movie of the year was "Michael Clayton," starring that guy who used to be on ER. I noticed it's nominated for an Oscar for best picture, so I clearly have good taste in movies. Rounding out my list, in order of preference, is "Sweeney Todd," "Away From Her" and "The Golden Compass." If you haven't seen them, I recommend you check these movies out when they come to your video store.

Of course, I only saw four movies last year. So my list of worst movies, starting from the bottom up, is "Michael Clayton," "Sweeney Todd," "Away from Her" and, clearly the worst movie of the year, based on all of the ones I saw, is "The Golden Compass." If these come to your local video store, don't waste your money.

I'll be back with some new posts soon. I'm itching to tell you about a little fight me and some of the boys had, and how I tried to solve it. I also had the strangest encounter with someone from the International Brotherhood of Saints Alliance. Then, I still want to get around to tell you about Dee and her car keys.
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15 Things We'd Say in Church If We Were Honest

It's kinda funny to me how church is usually the last place people are honest. At Unity First, for example, you could walk in on a Sunday morning and ask someone how they're doing, and they'll tell you they're fine when really they've had one of the worst weeks of their lives. I suppose people have their reasons. Still, it got me to thinking about other ways we might be dishonest around church. So here's my list of 15 things that we'd say at church if we was really honest.

1. Where you're sitting, for the record, has been my pew for the past twelve years.

2. I meant to spend time praying for your surgery, but cable was showing a "House" marathon.

3. We respect all viewpoints. Now shut up.

4. All I had was a five, but I took change out of the plate.

5. Turn to the book of what?

6. And right after the men's prayer breakfast, we're going to hold the women's kitchen clean-up.

7. Volunteer in the nursery this morning? I'd rather have my teeth extracted with rusty pliers.

8. The parts of your sermon that kept me awake -- inspiring.

9. If I wanted you to question my decision, I wouldn't have said that God gave me a vision for this.

10. Of course the recliner's a piece of crap. That's why I'm donating it to the youth ministry.

11. See you next Easter.

12. Whoa! You got one ugly baby!

13. I'm not one to gossip but ... Hey, who am I kidding? Pull up a chair.

14. During the sermon, I like to see how many spelling errors I can find in the church bulletin.

15. Actually, this morning, the choir really sucked.

Feel free to share your thoughts on these or suggest some others that could have been on the list.
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No Matter How You Slice It, "Sweeney Todd" Soars

Blake Hampton is a deacon at Unity First. He's one of the few deacons, along with Larry and Ned, who meet with me for breakfast a couple times every week at Riley's Diner. Seems Blake found out I did a movie review on this blog and invited me to go with him to see a movie. I told him I'd go because I was thinking about reviewing another movie anyways. Seems like a pretty easy job.

Blake's an English teacher at the high school here in Unity. He directs all the school's spring musicals. Folks say they're pretty good, but I've never been one much for musicals. Had I been thinking, I would of asked what movie he wanted to see. Turns out it was "Sweeney Todd." So I'm stuck. I wouldn't mind musicals so much if they wouldn't have all that singing.

I don't get what it is that folks like about musicals. People just don't break out into song in real life. Why should they in a movie? Anyways, seems Sweeney Todd (Johnny Depp) is this barber who was sent away to prison on trumped-up charges. He's returning to London 15 or so years later to be reunited with his wife and daughter. I think he escaped, I wasn't really sure. Trouble is, he learns his wife poisoned herself and his infant daughter, now grown up, is being raised as the ward of the very man, Judge Turpin (Alan Rickman), who sent him to prison so he could get his paws on Sweeney's wife. You following all this?

Sweeney's real name is Benjamin Barker. Sweeney wants revenge on the pervert judge for destroying his life and his family. As he tells Mrs. Lovett (Helena Bonham Carter), a woman who makes the worst meat pies in London, when she figures out Sweeney's real identity, "It's Todd now. Sweeney Todd. And he will have his revenge." Later, after savagely killing someone who threatens to unravel his plan for revenge, Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett cook up this plan where he kills some of his customers -- folks they figure aren't going to be missed -- and Mrs. Lovett grinds them up and bakes them into her meat pies. Her new recipe turns out to be a big hit with the customers.

Murdering their neighbors don't bother these two. Mrs. Lovett is glad to be rolling in the dough, and Sweeney doesn't care because his obsession for revenge has him figuring that no one deserves to live. They're either evil and deserve death, or they're oppressed by evil people and should welcome death as a release. All Sweeney cares about is waiting for his chance for revenge against the judge and his henchman.

I hate to get too spiritual on you, but "Sweeney Todd" got me to thinking about this story in the book of Judges. There was this guy named Jotham who's brother, Abimelech, had all seventy of his brothers killed. That's a far bigger body count than in "Sweeney Todd." Jotham was the only one to escape. You'd think he'd be itching for revenge. He sure had reason to. Instead, he told the people of Shechem, who helped Abimelech kill his brothers, that if their motives were pure, he wished them joy. But if their motives were evil, he hoped that fire would consume them. With that happy thought, he fled and went into hiding.

Three years went by. No fires consumed Abimelech or the people of Shechem. They must have been feeling pretty good about that. But it was after three years that God decided it was time to repay them for their wickedness. Abimelech was getting ready to light a tower on fire to kill all the men and women inside when a woman drops a large rock that cracks his skull real good. He must have saw it coming because he ordered one of his men to kill him so that it couldn't be said that he was killed by a woman. Classy to the end, ain't he?

Jotham recognized what Sweeney Todd couldn't see. God will repay people for their evil. It may not be in the time frame that we want, and it sure ain't our job to seek out revenge. In our own small ways, we can be a lot like Sweeney in our petty desires to hold grudges or wish the worst for others. When we want revenge on our terms, we will destroy ourselves and all that we love.

Even though it was a musical, I ended up liking "Sweeney Todd." The songs were real good, especially "Johanna," "Not While I'm Around" and "A Little Priest." The movie's rated R for good reason. There's lots of violent and bloody deaths once Sweeney begins his rampage. Still, it's strong message about obsessive revenge makes me give it four cups of coffee. Just don't any of you tell Blake that I liked it.


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College Kids Leaving Church and Seeking God

I was reading USA Today at Riley's, and one of the articles really caught my eye. It says college kids are becoming less and less likely to be going to church on a regular basis. I guess that wasn't no surprise to me. Something did surprise me, however, and that's got me to thinking that maybe our young people desire spiritual things but aren't finding it in our churches. What's that say about us?

You can check out the story yourself, but here's what it says in a nutshell. This study surveyed more than 14,000 of our kids when they was freshmen in college back in 2004, then turned around and surveyed them again when they was juniors last spring. Seems that more than four out of ten of them started out attending church real frequently. By the time they hit their junior year, barely one out of four were regular church-goers. That's close to half of them falling away.

The thing that was interesting was that these same kids became more concerned about helping others in difficulty. More than three out of five freshmen described it as either very important or essential. When they was juniors, however, more than three out of four them thought it was very important or essential, jumping up by more than 12 percent.

Same thing when it comes to how important it is to reduce pain and suffering in the world. As freshmen, more than half thought it was important. As juniors, two-thirds of them did. It jumped up by 12 percent again.

More than half the freshmen supported the notion of improving the human condition, but almost two-thirds of them felt this way as juniors, about a 10 percent hike.

So while our kids are drifting away from church, they're getting more in tune with making a difference in this world. Some of you may be wondering what questions about "improving the human condition" and "reducing pain and suffering" have to do with going to church. If you're asking that, I'm telling you that's exactly the problem. Maybe our college kids are waking up to the fact that most churches are too busy trying to figure out how to build up their attendance by attracting more middle-class folks and higher and how to move to neighborhoods and parts of our cities that will attract folks with more money.

In Matthew 25:31-46, Jesus says the one thing that separates the sheep from the goats, those who are His children from those who aren't, is how we take care of the least of these. The hungry. The thirsty. The stranger. The naked. The sick. The prisoners.

For as long as I can remember, I've heard preachers and other folks carry on about how our young folks are too tempted by the world when they go away to college. All that temptation is more than they can handle and so they never come back, they say. Maybe the real truth is by leaving our churches, our kids are drawing closer to God.
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Larry's Petition is for the Birds in Several Ways

It's a Monday morning in Riley's Diner. Me and several deacons from Unity First always get together for breakfast on Mondays and Thursdays. I'm normally the first one here. It gives me time to chat with the people who work here, like Millie, who makes these heavenly muffins, and Riley, who owns the place, and Jake-O, this young fellow who's a short-order cook for Riley, and Dee, one of the waitresses, a feisty gal that I'll tell you more about next time.

Anyways, I'm hoping Larry's gonna be the first one here because I really gotta talk to the guy. He's one of our younger deacons, only in his forties, and can get angry -- he calls it righteously indignant -- over the craziest things. Anyone that doesn't agree with him has gotta radical liberal agenda. That's what he gets from listening to too much Bill O'Reilly.

The thing is, after Unity First's morning worship service, I go out to my car and spot this flier on the windshield. It's from Larry. He's rustling up signatures for another petition drive. As if the last one wasn't embarrassing enough. Anyways, it turns out Larry's the first one to show this morning. He joins me at the same two tables we always push together. I don't know how soon before the other guys'll start to wander in so I don't want to pussyfoot around.

I pull the flier, folded up, from my shirt pocket and hold it up for his inspection. "Mind telling me about this petition drive you got going?"

"You gonna sign it?" he asks, waving over to Dee to bring him a cup of coffee. You can't miss Dee. She's got this big head of strawberry red hair. From a distance, you'd swear her head was on fire. She looks like a chubby Olympic torch.

"Depends," I tell him. "You remember the other ones, don't you? You sure the guys at your work aren't yanking your chain again?"

"This one's different."

"They made up that story about someone planning to open a tavern with an all-night daycare center. Instead of thinking about it, you went to the next city council meeting to raise a stink. And it ended up in the paper."

"I checked it out myself this time," Larry said as Dee filled up his coffee mug.

"Like the time you started that petition drive to complain about the movie theater?" I held my cup out to Dee for a freshening-up and asked her to bring over some more cream packets. You can never have too much cream.

"Honest mistake. That's all," Larry said. "I thought they was gonna start showing those dirty sex movies."

"Until you found out 'X-Men' wasn't a dirty movie."

"I thought it was the rating. You can't be too careful with those Hollywood liberals forcing their values on us. Godless heathens."

I picked up Larry's flier and waved it at him again. "Tell me what this one's all about."

"The city council's gonna vote on putting up one of them wildlife sanctuaries on the south side of town. They say they're actually proud of it. Frankly, Unity's no place for these folks to feel free and come flaunt their wild ways."

"Larry, I don't think this wildlife sanctuary is what you're thinking. It's this place for all kinds of weird birds."

"Those pervs are some kind of weird, all right," Larry said. He ripped the tops off a couple of sugar packets and poured the contents into his coffee. "And not only that. They say it's a place for children. Family friendly, they're saying. Can you imagine? We gotta protect our kids."

"When I say weird birds, I'm talking about fowl."

"It is foul, ain't it?" He's stirring his teaspoon so hard I'm thinking he's gonna break the coffee cup. "Makes me wanna puke."

"Little birdies, Larry. I'm talking about birdies. With wings." To make my point, I start flapping my arms up and down. Dee gives me a strange look as she's carrying an order to Coop, this bearded trucker guy who pops in every week or so when his route allows. "This wildlife sanctuary is supposed to be a place for a bunch of them rare birds."

Larry starts to turn pale. The truth is finally sinking in.

"Larry, your heart's in the right place, but you just can't believe the first thing you hear or read. You gotta check out rumors and such talk. Use the mind God's given you. Lots of people say and believe things without finding out the facts." I'm getting through to Larry, but I can't help feeling sorry for the guy.

"Don't worry about it. Most of the folks at Unity are pretty good-natured. They aren't gonna make fun of you."

"I'm not so worried about that," Larry said. He pulls the petition out of his back pocket. "I just don't know what I'm gonna do with these 142 signatures."
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"Golden Compass" Points Out Religion's Dangers

I've been reading all this hubbub about "The Golden Compass" and why good Christian folk shouldn't go see it, let alone take their kids to it. Telling me that I can't see something has always sparked my curiosity. I decided to see what the big fuss was all about.

Seems some people have been calling the movie, which is based on some fantasy book, an attack on Christianity. If you take your kids to it, they say, it's the fastest boarding ticket on the train to atheism. After watching "The Golden Compass" with my own eyes, I can tell you it's a fun movie to take your kids or grandkids to. It's also got a message, which is gonna fly right over your little ones' heads faster than aeronaut Lee Scoresby's balloon ship. It's a message that's gonna be a threat to anybody who's got some measure of power in Christian circles and don't want to see that power questioned.

The story's about this spunky girl named Lyra Belacqua (Dakota Blue Richards). She's being raised by her uncle in this university, and she don't like anyone telling her what she can or can't do. I liked her right away. She lives on a world that's parallel to ours, but everyone there has their souls living outside their bodies. They're called "daemons," and they look like animals and you can chat with them.

There's also this organization called The Magisterium. They fear "free thinkers and heretics" and want to prevent folks from falling under the influence of Dust, this sparkly stuff that gives them the ability to exercise their free will. Somehow, adults' daemons channel this Dust to them. With the help of Mrs. Coulter (Nicole Kidman), The Magisterium is kidnapping kids and experimenting on them to find a way to separate them from their daemons and "protect our children from the corrupting influence of Dust," Mrs. Coulter explains.

Lyra learns that The Magisterium is behind the kidnappings and decides to rescue these kids. She's been given this golden compass, an alethiometer, that tells the truth to the person who knows how to ask it questions. Turns out, Lyra is one of the few people able to use it.

Borrowing one character's description, "The Golden Compass" is about "a war over free will." The sad truth is that there will always be those people in the church who want to control the agenda. They claim they speak for God. They claim they know what's best for everybody else. Ask questions, and you're a heretic.

They are represented in "The Golden Compass" by The Magisterium. It's an organization that "keeps things working by telling people what to do." Their motives are good, Mrs. Coulter tells Lyra, because The Magisterium tells people "what to do in a kindly way to keep them out of danger."

Some critics of the movie say that it's anti-Christianity. Frankly, I don't see it. If anything, "The Golden Compass" has aimed both its barrels at manmade religion, which is all about control and holding on to power. True Christianity ain't like that. It's about people seeking the guidance and direction of the Holy Spirit, and that's something that power-obsessed Christians fear, just like The Magisterium feared the effects of Dust on people's lives.

Bottom line is this movie is a fun adventure that your little ones will love, and it's got a message and thoughtful story that adults will enjoy. That's why I'm giving "The Golden Compass" my highest rating -- four cups of coffee.





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Claude’s Fear of a Little Dirt Keeps Him at Bay

I just finished having breakfast with the boys at Riley’s Diner not long ago, and I had to run a few errands. My first stop was the old Scrub-A-Dub-Dub, Unity’s do-it-yourself carwash about a half-mile down the road from Riley’s.

I don’t go here to wash my car. Real guys don’t use places like the Scrub-A-Dub-Dub. We wash our cars in our driveways, with a bucket, a sponge and a plastic bottle of Joy dishwashing soap, the way God intended it to be done. We don’t need high-powered hoses from the ceiling that dispense your soap, wax and tire cleaner all with a few clicks of a knob. I’m just here for the quarters.

I been collecting them state quarters for some time now. Pretty soon I’ll have all fifty, and one day the whole mess of them will be worth at least twelve dollars and fifty cents. The fastest way for me to get a hold of stack of quarters is to head to the Scrub-A-Dub-Dub and drop a twenty into the change machine. For some reason, the attendant don’t cotton to this. So I try to pull into one of the bays on the far end while he’s busy helping customers on the other. I’m nothing if not considerate.

So I’m hurrying back to my car with my pants pockets filled with quarters, wishing I had buckled my belt a notch tighter, when I hear this voice come out of Bay Four.

“Hey, Brother Carl, you wash your car here, too?” Turned out it was Claude Aycock, one of our deacons at Unity First. He’s standing in the bay next to a sparkly clean deep blue Lincoln Town Car. Looks like the newest model as far as I can tell. Claude’s manager of the parts and service department at Nova Ford here in town, so he gets a break when he buys a new car there.

“Nah, I just like to collect them state quarters, and this is a great place to grab a bunch of change quick,” I tell Claude, “as long as the attendant don’t see me. Used to go to Handy Randy’s, but the manager won’t let me make change anymore.”

“So that’s why your picture’s posted behind the service desk,” Claude said. “I thought maybe you was taking more than one newspaper out of the machine again.”

“That was all a misunderstanding. I never saw anything that said you couldn’t take more than one. Anyways, I finally started coming here because you wouldn’t believe how long it took me to find the right quarters buying one pack of Doublemint at a time. I don’t even care for gum.”

Claude was using a chamois to wipe some lingering water spots from his windshield. “Never knew you was a numismatist.”

“I have trouble sleeping now and then, but what’s that gotta do with collecting quarters?” Claude didn’t respond so I plowed on. “So why’re you hanging around here? Your car looks all clean.”

“That’s just the thing,” Claude said. “It’s perfect. Never looked better. If I drive it back to work, it’ll just get all dirty.”

“All cars get dirty, Claude.”

“But the Lincoln Town Car, it’s a good car. Actually, it’s more than good. It’s about the greatest car ever made,” Claude said. “I want everyone to own one. And not just because I get a referral bonus. If people see the dirt, they may think the whole car’s inferior.”

I was growing a bit agitated here. “Just because you get some dirt on your car don’t mean people think the manufacturer makes a bad product. People know that sooner or later, a car’s gonna get dirty.”

“Think of all those people, driving around aimlessly in their cars and not knowing all the benefits that the Lincoln Town Car has to offer,” Claude said. “To think they might look at this car and decide not to buy one because of some dirt, it’s more than I can bear.”

“Claude, for breakfast this morning, did your wife sprinkle an extra scoop of stupid on your cereal? When your car gets dirty, you wash it. People know this life’s full of dirt. What really turns them off is when others try to hide the dirt. Pretending it’s not there and acting like everything’s real perfect.”

I felt like I could make my point better with an object lesson so I scooped up a handful of dirt and flung it on the hood. If Claude could of moved fast enough, I think he would of thrown himself in front of it, sacrificing himself.

“Now leave that mud where it is, and go drive around with pride.”

It was about this time that I realized that when I stood back up, my pants – weighted down with all them quarters – decided to stay down. So there I was, standing there in my boxers. The green ones with the golf clubs on them. On display for all to see.

“So, Claude, want some Doublemint?”
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