According to the New York Times, an estimated 700 evangelical churches in the U.S. have mixed martial arts ministries. Yes. Rub your eyes and read that again.
Category: Elbow
The category, Elbow, is for posts that make us laugh.
Poem: Age of Radicals
When I was a teenit was inconceivablethat I might find radicaltucked in the foldsof an old man’s face.Now in my forties(though with a boy’s libido)I see in the mirrorhow the first lines crackmy youthful veneer.From mid-day the dawn lightlooks the same as the dusk.Which explains why old fogiesspend so much time counting changeat the check…
Ethical Drug Cartels
Barry Schwartz suggests that we should not teach ethics courses because that puts ethical lessons into a box and divorces them from the practical context in which ethical problems arise.
Stupid Buddhist Joke of the Week
Every week I go to Friends of the Heart for a fix of mindfulness meditation, and half way through we break for some conversation. This week, Gwen, the woman who leads the sits, was commenting on the fact that we in the west have inherited the rationalist mind/body dualism whereas Buddhism treats mind and body as integrated. Then she told a joke:
A Taste of Mischief
“She looked back and felt a shiver as she caught sight of him in the throng. Their gazes locked across the crowded room. His expression alone sent another shiver through her. There was both challenge and promise in his eyes. It left no doubt. He had recognized her.”
Poem: Scratchings
The situation that forms the narrative for this poem struck me as funny and inherently Canadian. I thought I’d be spontaneous and order something I’d never had before. But when the waitress delivered the dish, I realized I couldn’t eat it. The problem is dermatitis herpetiformis, a gluten allergy that leads to mindbending itchiness.
Book Inscriptions
As a compulsive bibliophile, I like to browse through used book stores, yard sales and church rummage sales in search of the unusual, the rare, and the weird. For the most part, I’m interested in what lies between the covers.
Story: Meat
Every year, our street hosts a neighbourhood barbeque. We close off the cul-de-sac end of the street—down by the Jeffries—and set up two or three big grills for the meat. There’s a clown and games and face-painting for the kids, and there’s beer and fifty-fifty draws and Alice Kramden’s craft table for the grown-ups.
A Literary Snob Reads Ted Dekker’s Skin
I am a literary snob. There! I’ve put it out where everyone can see it. I”m not just a little snobbish; I’m steeped in the culture of snobbery. I am a complete and utter snob. When Plato talks about “forms” in the Republic, he uses me as an example of Platonic Snobbery. There I am, holding my nose up in the air, looking down at pulp fiction with the same disdain I hold for dog turds.
Overqualified, by Joey Comeau
Dear Mr. Comeau, Please accept my application for position of book reviewer. I thought I’d start with your epistolary novella, Overqualified, published by ECW Press here in Toronto. As you can see already, I have a basic grasp of the big words that literary types like to use when talking about the stuff that authors, you know, produce when they write stuff.
Story: Boundaries
I set out on my morning walk with the dog—the same routine as always (what other kind of routine is there?)—pee on the front lawn by the road (the dog, not me), first by the granite boulder on the east side of the lot, then by the pole that supports the basketball hoop on the west side of the lot. Up went the hind leg, then out came a stream of deep yellow fluid.
Book Marketing in Canada
I’ve always wanted to help a Canadian author hire a sex worker, and now you can help too.
Report To Russia
The other day, in a friendly argument with my father, I took the position that there is a greater cultural divide between him and me than between me and my children. My father is 27 years older than me and I am 27 years older than my son, yet (as I contended) I have a…
Story: Griefbot Inc.
So ya, man. Name? Hughes. Ya. Ted. So ya, man, I worked on the GB20 design team. You owe me. You owe me big time. In fact, you guys should be on your knees kissing the ground we walk on. We hit a veracity factor—nine point seven—unheard of. Most people—even the pros—most of them couldn’t tell the difference.
Story: The Incredible Shrinking Zombie
I had forgotten to take my meds again. I had an “Oh shit” sinking feeling in the bottom of my stomach when I found a full bottle of pills on the window sill above the kitchen sink and realized a whole month had passed me by and still I hadn’t opened it, not even once.