Illustration by Troy DeSahno

Sometimes even a poorly delivered message is still one worth hearing, and I wonder if the the saddest thing about the whole tragedy is that we didn’t get the message.

We like to think of ours as a nation made strong through the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness, but in reality we’re strong because of our unscathed ability to exploit, oppress, capitalize and conquer—all the while repressing any hint of remorse that might ever creep in (which I’m sure is slowly creating a collective psychological condition that will catch up with us when our nation hits mid-life).

It is those very national values to which these impassioned soldiers gave their lives opposing—hurling themselves and thousands others into the afterlife in a hail-mary attempt to send a message that would surely change me and you and our country and the entire western world.

I think it’d be redundant for me to say how wrong and awful and horrific and terrible their medium was.

Poorly delivered.

What I can’t stop thinking about today is that I have to admit that I’m not so different from them. The very mores of my own culture that they (and countless other fundamentalists around the world) despise are the same things that make me less than “proud to be an American.” I hate our misplaced, terrorizing commitment to the lie that we like to call “the American dream.”

So maybe I should do something big? To send a message to my brothers and sisters, my neighbors and countrymen? the world?

A Ha! Right there is the ever-so-fine line distinguishing my condition from these men… where they had been convinced through faith, philosophy and culture that the only way to get this message across was a monumental act of violence, I’ve been convinced through the very same influences that the only hope anyone will ever hear the truth is through monumental acts of peace.

So have we heard the message?

A few definitely have. You’ve seen it this past decade in young people and gen-x’ers and boomers and even octogenarians envigored with compassion for the weary, oppressed, fatherless and hopeless.

But as a whole… as a community, a nation.. I think the ringing in our ears left by the blast deafened us to what it was pleading.

We missed it.

When the foundations of these skyscrapers is now a “monument” of not one, but five new towers to prosperity?

Five new Asherah poles erected in all their phallic glory? America’s middle finger held high as a vertiable “eff you” to the rest of the world (or at least the parts to which we don’t owe money).

All the while we gather around them worshipping with orgies and infant sacrifices, praying to the gods for prosperity, prosperity, prosperity…

For in prosperity there is power. In power there is confidence. In confidence there is security. In security there is comfort.

And in comfort—we believe—we can finally achieve the pentultimate prize, the true American dream.

To die, fully reclined in our La-Z-Boy.

World Trade Center, limited edition giclee print is available in my shop.

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Illustration by Troy DeShano

I’m not much into sports these days.

I love to play and if I’m ever walking down the street and a spontaneous game of hoops or soccer or whatever breaks out I’m armed with sneakers just in case.

But not volleyball… I make a conscious detour whenever I’m by the waterfront for fear that I’d somehow be tricked into a game of beach volleyball and lose the small commodum of respect that I’ve got in our town.

Of course I can’t really remember the last time I got caught up in a round of street ball while walking through town, in fact it’s been years since I’ve even shot hoops at all.

However… I was once a teenager and playing sports and watching sports and obsessing about sports all the time. (All three of which I realized as an adult were ultimately about girls.. something that hasn’t really come up in therapy yet, but I’m sure will sooner or later).

When I and my buddies would be playing pick-up or school games or big-man hoops on the low rims there would always be that moment where one of us would have his back up against the wall.

You’d be down big or need just one more hoop to make it to 21 or maybe just sick of missing your last few shots..

And whichever one of us it was would inevitably look over at the others and whisper “I’m gonna turn into Scottie Pippen.”

And the subsequent fury was a sight to behold because he was going for it… no matter how big the opponent, how high the rim or how impossible the shot… he was filled with the spirit of our favorite wing-man like Prince Adam conjuring the power of Grayskull.

When Tim turned to Scottie Pippen he’d usually end up humiliating some poor defender with a killer crossover and an impossible whirling-dervish shot… my channeling generally resulted in my shot being swatted into the backcourt.

But at least I went for it.

So I just celebrated my 33rd birthday and I’m claiming this as the year of Scottie Pippen.

I have no idea what the next 12 months have for me.. but Today had better watch out.

because I just turned into Scottie Pippen

I’m gonna take Today’s bulls by the horn and slam on his Patrick Ewing face.

Eat it, Today.

Scottie Pippen Wallpapers

320×480 (older iPhone), 640×960 (iPhone4 & later), iPad, 1280×1024, 1680×1050, 1920×1080, 1920×1200, 2560×1440

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It must be fall because we’re eating a lot of soup.

Last week my wife fed two hungry construction workers with a big batch of broccoli cheese and another of butternut squash.

Since grocery-shopping happens rarely these days, creativity with garden vegetables (grown or gifted) is key in our house. On this day, all we had was some tomatoes, so the hunt for a good soup recipe began.

We found it very interesting that most recipes online for “homemade” tomato soup actually call for a can of tomato soup…

Wha??

Well we found one real recipe and it turned out pretty dang good. Especially with the homemade french bread.

Tomato soup is one of those things that I didn’t eat until I was an adult.

Over the past few years I’ve been making myself eat the foods that I don’t like but always thought that I should.

I didn’t eat olives until about 5 years ago and now they’re my favorite. Just thinking about olives makes me start slobberin.

When I was a kid I loved cottage cheese but hadn’t had it since then… until a couple weeks ago I made myself eat some.

Not too bad…

I can actually list quite a few foods that I considered pretty gross until I started eating them regularly that I now consider my favorites – coffee, grapefruit, stinky cheese, spinach, beer, sweet potatoes, asparagus, and more…

It’s like the more adventurous I get with my eating, the more I discover the things that satisfy me the most and bring me the most pleasure (and the surprise at how many of those things are healthy)

It’s kind of got me thinking about how many things in life we tell ourselves “I don’t like that.” Until we really give it a fair chance.

Which sometimes means making yourself eat it until you develop a taste for it.

(I’ve been doing this with hip-hop lately)

You might think you hate camping or dancing or travel or excercise or the stock market or church  or reading or facebook or foreign movies or action movies or quiet or noise or politics or charity or sushi or swimming or sex or football or Carrot Top or close proximity to teenagers or roller coasters or tomato soup.

But the truth is those may be some of your most favorite things in the world (you just don’t know it yet)

It might take some force-feeding for a while—real commitment and discipline to giving something new a chance…

But adventurous living may lead to discovering the most delectable and healthy experiences you never knew you loved so much.

Comment: What is something you once hated that you now love?

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This photo and story would probably be more moving if Steve had died in the war. He didn’t die. He’s still alive. I’m glad.

My earliest Weezer-related memories are with Steve.

I remember digging the tape (the one I dubbed from the CD on my boombox) out of the console in the Monte Carlo and handing it to Steve in the passenger seat and saying “you have to hear this!”

He was a little hesitant becuause at the time he was trudging through some of his personal theology, trying to figure out if the standards of our church (which condemned any music with a rock beat) were true and his own…

But he acquiesced and three bars into “Undone” he was sold.

A few songs into it and he added “YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!” between lines of the “Surf Wax America” chorus that we were able to scream emphatically during the encore of that first Weezer concert seven years later (and every time that song is played to this day).

(back in the day, Weezer would end every show with “Surf Wax”)

A few months after that concert, Steve signed up for the Air Force.

I can’t really say too much about that because I wasn’t there.

But I can say that over the past decade the bond between us has grown stronger, even though we see each other rarely and talk infrequently.

Because our own personal battles and encounters with death have unified us.

Suffering unites.

Our suffering unites us with a bond stronger than childhood memories, stronger than teenage adventures.

Even stronger than Weezer.

(Cool story: Steve got a hang-in-there email from Weezer bassist and Marines veteran Scott Shriner while he was in the Middle East)

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• Rivers - I’m Your Daddy
• Herbie Weiderman & our First Weezer Concert
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Over the last 600 years, Jesus’s skin has grown fairer and fairer.

(I can’t be 100% certain, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have that Michael Jackson thing)

Today it’s pretty rare to see anyone’s vision of Jesus that doesn’t look like he’s originally from Wisconsin.

I’ve always wanted to make a serious mock-umentary (is that an oxymoron?) about Jesus and his humanity.

I’m working on a client project now that has at it’s center a mission to create a dialogue around racism and its effects in order that the conversation (especially the listening) might lead to understanding for some and healing for others.

In the midst of it I’m wondering how “White Jesus” has affected those of non-Caucasian decent.

How has it affected you?

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I started paying attention to Wyclef Jean when I spotted Bob Dylan in one of his videos.

I really started paying attention when I heard about his charity and social development programs in Haiti.

Here is one man that cares about Haiti.

He may not be great at business or with personal finances…

His non-profit has definitely had some growing pains.

But he cared when no one else did.

One of the poorest and most desperate nations in the world is just outside the U.S.

It has been there for a long time.

Hurting for a really long time.

Nobody cared.

And though it’s been encouraging and inspiring to see individuals and communities across the U.S. contribute to healing Haiti right now…

It’s sad to realize what it took for us to even begin to care.

Check out Wyclef’s song “President” in the player and don’t forget to stay up-to-date with Strong Odors by becoming a fan on Facebook and following on Twitter.

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Bothersome

• The Superbowl
• The Bachelor/Biggest Loser/American Idol/Golden Globes/etc
• Jay Leno
• Twitter
• iPad

Interesting

• Health Care
• Romans 12
• Haiti Aid
• Grain Edit
• Destination Truth
• Animoto

Obsessed

• Worst Cooks in America
• Lost
• Vampire Weekend
• (500) Days of Summer
• Super Mario Wii
• Independent Lens
• Unitasking

Don’t forget to follow Strong Odors!

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Every time New Year’s Eve rolls around I think, “Phew… I’m happy that year is over…”

“Now on to the next… it’s gonna be great!”

Only to find a few weeks later the new year is just as tough as the last.

So what can you expect for 2010?

Here’s a promise: It’s gonna suck.

It’ll bring pain and turmoil and misery and broken hearts.

Personal failures and bad business decisions.

Conflict and war.

Death.

Because a year can’t be so perfect.

But a day… a day can be great.

and a moment… a moment can be transcendent.

It could be a baby’s first smile or a big flash of lightning or a dog’s looking up into your eyes from your lap…

It could be a Radiohead song or a pepperoni pizza or that first sip of beer (or coffee)…

It could be an embrace or silence or the sea…

Whatever those moments are, they remind us that we are spiritual beings… that the pain and death is physical and temporary.

And if you learn to embrace each one of these moments…

then there is  hope.

That this year might just be better than the last.

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The happiest people I’ve ever met in my life are people who were struggling in some way.

—Pete Seeger

If you can find a way to see the documentary Pete Seeger: The Power of Song, it just might change your life.

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Lost someone today.

You could lose half a day if you happened to sit down in the room with Tom. He loved theology and loved sharing his discoveries even more… Nothing really made him happier than talking about new things he was learning (regardless of whether you cared to sit and listen).

As he leaves mortality behind, I can’t help but wonder at the discoveries in store for him.

My brother Thunderbeard has been blogging about (among other things) the weeks leading up to his dad’s death.

Finding a way to emotionally understand their edgy past and courageously seek some sort of resolve in their relationship has been inspirational reading for me and spiritually nourishing for him.

Feel free to share a story about Tom in the comments and be sure to check out Thunderbeard. He’s my brother and I love him and my heart’s aching for him today.

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