A Scotsman With A Grievance

The title for this blog comes from a P.G. Wodehouse quote: "It is never difficult to distinguish between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine." I happen to think that Wodehouse was one of the most brilliant writers of the last century and, once again, he has nailed it. I don't have pet peeves. I have full kennels of frustration.

But things have been going pretty well. I just got back from a trip to do a men's retreat in Northwestern Indiana. I left a yard half covered in snow and drove in horrible winds so I had to concentrate more than usual on my driving. Good thing I wasn't in a place where I could be distracted by scenery! I've always thought that I would like to die in Indiana. You see, the transition between life and death would hardly be noticeable. I won a contest once to spend a week in Indianapolis. Second prize was two weeks. (all right, my Indiana friends, I'm kidding!!! I love you. And your State? Beautiful! Especially the Wal-Mart in Delphi)

Good thing the political world is there to distract me. It seems the Republicans are somewhat like a bull who carries his own china shop with him. It's almost like I'm reading the longest suicide note in history. But do I really want to hand power to John Kerry? His face reminds me of a female llama who's been surprised in her bath. Some of Pelosi's speeches make me think I could drive an 18 wheeler between any of her points and never have to be concerned about scraping against a fact.

Besides, any government solution is usually worse than the problem it was meant to address. And hearings and committees? I think they are political dead-ends meant to lure ideas and facts deep into them where they can be quietly strangled.

Anybody else notice that Jesus was born AND died on a holiday? What are the odds of THAT?

I'm reading Alcorn's book on heaven. It's a good read but it makes me wonder if "church" couldn't be defined as a man who's never been to heaven preaching to a bunch of people who will never go there.

Well, nobody said living would be easy. However, every year you get a free trip around the sun. That's something, at least. I don't want to be a pessimist (my definition: a man who, when he smells flowers, looks about for a coffin) and I don't think I'm an optimist (my definition: an accordian player with a pager). Realism isn't really working for me, either. Yet, work enough realism into a statement and it becomes comedy, such as when Groucho Marx said, "I've had a wonderful evening -- but this wasn't it."

I could still be poor, and I'm not. I'm paycheck to paycheck, but at least they last that long. When we were kids our house was so small that when you entered the front door you were in the back yard. We couldn't afford toilet paper so we tied our pet hedgehog to a stick and told him to hold his breath. Instead of napkins, after dinner my parents would send us outside to play with the neighbors' woolly dog. To escape our poverty a couple of my relatives left the respectable world and went into crime. I have an uncle who has a wonderful gift of being able to find things before other people lose them.

But, my trip was good, the men were great, the snow's melted on my front lawn, my son is handsome, my daughter is stunning and talented, my wife is beautiful, and my congregation is the best. Now tell me, how in the world can I maintain a world class snit when God keeps ruining it by blessing me???