“I respect these men on their policies. But, I don’t respect them as they sit on their hands watching this woman being attacked mercilessly, time and again, on illegitimate grounds.

“Men no longer have a sense of chivalry. They watch Sarah Palin get attacked, and they just kind of whimper. They don’t say anything about it, and I found that incredibly offensive.

“I’ve noticed that the Republican establishment, the men that run the operation, have noticed since day one that Sarah Palin is under attack. They understand that she’s an existential threat to the left. But, she’s also an existential threat to these eunuchs who have run as men but aren’t men. And they look at Sarah Palin, and say, ‘You know what? We’re going to destroy her.’”

I mention this to discuss the stunning silence in which Brietbart’s minions and others have engaged in regard to this.

It warrants mention that many have spoken up, including Ace, Patrick Frey of Patterico, Darleen Click at Protein Wisdom, Paul Lemmen of An Ex-Con’s View, Darth Chipmunk, Lee Stranahan, Glenn Reynolds of Instapundit, Dan Collins at Conservative Commune, That Mr. G Guy, Bob Belvedere at The Camp of the Saints, William Jacobsen at Legal Insurrection, Doug Hagin and Edward Daley at The Daley Gator, Karen of The Lonely Conservative, Doubleplusundead, Peter Ingemi of DaTechGuy’s Blog, Lady Liberty 1885, Donald Douglas of American Power, BlazingCatFur, Ladd Ehlinger Jr., Carl of Israel Matzav, Kathy Shaidle of Five Feet of Fury, Kate of Small Dead Animals, Yid with Lid, Jimmie Bise of The Sundries Shack, The Tamminator at HillBuzz, Byron Preston at The PJ Tatler, Bingley at The Coalition of the Swilling, Susan Duclos at Wake Up America, Evil Blogger Lady, Nice Deb, Richard Fernandez at Belmont Club, Ken at Popehat, Zilla of the Resistance, Chris Muir of Day by Day, and Aaron of Allergic to Bull who has greatly suffered from legal abuses and threats in the same manner Stacy McCain is now enduring. There are others who’ve blogged and tweeted about this; I apologize for not including everyone.

Now, who’s not on this list?

For starters, Breitbart.com. Search their site. Although they have run stories about the individual in question, no mention has been made of the present situation except for this very odd non-entry (check out the URL). Where are you Dana Loesch (who, to her credit, has at least made some mention, albeit once and in passing, on Twitter about what’s going on), John Nolte and Kurt Schlichter? Dan Riehl has made some mention of the matter on his personal blog, but that’s been it.

Michelle Malkin? Not a word, either on her blog or her Twitchy site. [NOTE: This has changed subsequent to the original post. See below.]

Powerline? Nothing.

HotAir? Nothing. [NOTE: This has changed subsequent to the original post. See below.]

Right Wing News? Not that I can find.

The Daily Caller? Nothing.

RedState? Nothing.

I don’t get it.

Multiple leading conservative voices are attacked, one to the point where he and his family have been forced to go into hiding…

… and yet so many on the right have been totally silent.

I. Don’t. Get. It.

ADDENDUM: Thanks to Paul Lemmen, The Lonely Conservative, Dan Collins, Nice Deb, Datechguy’s Blog, Michelle Malkin, and Lady Liberty 1885 for the links.

UPDATE: Since the original post at 8:12 PM PDT on May 22nd, some of those who were previously silent have spoken up in support of the oppressed. Major kudos to Michelle Malkin and Ed Morrissey at HotAir for entering the fray.

Worth noting is a moment during the online applications portion. To liven, or if you prefer lighten, the mood during this daily soul vampire routine I like having music on. Today I chose Crumbächer, which through no fault of the band’s found me perilously close to (ahem) sinus trouble (ahem). This reaction came courtesy of last week, when Mrs. Dude and I traipsed down SoCal way to participate in the first of hopefully many Frontline Records Legacy Makers concerts. Yours truly led a workshop, did some live in-between sets interviews and announced the contest winner. And sold a couple of books. However, the best part of the evening aside from finally hearing Bloodgood live was meeting old friends newly made and spending time with lifelong friends of recent vintage, namely Dawn Wisner-Johnson of Crumbächer. The evening reminded me of how much I’d dearly love to do God’s language in some form, be it as performer, writer, journalist, radio or what have you, full-time for a living. Listening to Crumbächer this afternoon forcefully reminded me of this point, hence the emotion moment. I pray for it to be so one day, knowing that opportunities for such are extremely scarce. And so, pursuing full-time employment in my fields of expertise (social media, creative marketing, internal and external communications, client relations) continues, and will continue until I find work. As long as I can do the music part-time I’ll be a happy boy.

Anyway, I did notice the big brouhaha on Twitter about Mitt Romney voicing his preference to not go after President Obama personally, and later in the day the furor over a 1991 bio of Obama stating he was born in Kenya. My reaction to both was noting how each provided a terrific exercise opportunity. Nothing burns the calories like stifling yawns.

Not to put down politics and related matters’ importance. But when young children are savagely orphaned by their father’s own hand; when people are suffering and struggling with not only crippling disease but how to pay for their medical coverage; when people doing their best to do investigative, accurate journalistic work on behalf of conservatives struggle mightily to pay the bills (yes, there is more than one); when people are looking for work and trying to keep their finances together while doing what they can for others (that would be me); when so many are in dire need of love and support – y’know, it’s a little difficult to drum up outrage for today’s political outrage fueled by politician A refusing to throw raw meat into the audience by going attack dog against politician B. Or whether Obama’s misrepresentation was a lie, a mistake or somehow both. I’m all out of concern right now for anything not directly addressing hurting people or our tattered economy.

What are the priorities here? Is it caring about and for each other as so many say they do, and as the Scriptures so many claim to follow command believers to do? Or is it preoccupation with preening, posing and strutting across the stage, too busy begging for and/or demanding accolades from others to notice those in need? If it’s the latter, then there’s a problem; not the least of which is not recognizing there is a problem.

If our message is strict adherence to political ideology trumping all other considerations, including each other, we have no message save that of proclaiming our total indifference to each other and humanity as a whole. It is easy to say, “We propose these political solutions believing that a rising tide lifts all boats.” Fine. But unless conservatives are doing what they can now, themselves, to directly help others they are no better than liberals who push off human services to government agencies. They are spitting on people while convincing themselves they are watering the garden. They’re not.

Sometimes, it’s all white noise to me.

Defective youth, the writing’s on the wall
Decline of the West, see the fallout fall
Violence, banner of the tough
Politicians playing blind man’s bluff

Now what, whose deal?
What’s truth, what’s real?
Turn it down, turn it off
It’s all white noise to me

America’s missiles, a superpower blessed
A hungry child is crying, pretend it’s just a test
Russia’s got the gulag, Pretoria the bomb
Making sure the weak keep silent, move along

Now what, whose deal?
What’s truth, what’s real?
Turn it down, turn it off
It’s all white noise to me

Defective man, the writing’s on your heart
Reality of evil, tearing you apart
Hanging in the balance, you hear the Savior call
Make Him Lord of everything or see the nations fall

Now what, whose deal?
He’s truth, He’s real
Open up, start to feel
No more white noise for me

Police say four children returning home from school found their mother dead in the kitchen, and then paramedics found the father dead in what police are calling a murder suicide.

But when it touches a friend…

For as long as I can remember, Sherry was my brother’s friend, and she was one of the sweetest people in the world. Whenever Sherry called the house, she always took time to talk to me and never treated me like the annoying kid sister of her friend that I really was (I’m six years younger than my brother, which is a huge gap when the elder sibling is a teenager). Everyone who hung out in in my brother’s crowd loved her, and my parents loved her too.

Sherry’s children are now orphans, and they will have to live with the horror of what happened forever. The kids are being cared for by relatives now, and a trust fund has been set up to help them. What has happened to these kids is beyond what anyone should ever have to endure. The relatives who are grieving for Sherry are now the guardians of four severely traumatized kids and will be dealing with the consequences of this real life nightmare for many years to come; you can help to at alleviate one burden for them – money – by contributing any amount you can spare to the address below:

The Hayes Children Trust

P.O. Box 644

North Bellmore NY 11710

Please lift this family up in your prayers along with all of Sherry’s friends who are mourning their beloved friend, and please help to spread the word about the trust fund to help Sherry’s innocent children at this incredibly heart breaking and difficult time. Thank you.

Rest In Peace, Sherry. May God wrap his loving arms around your loved ones and give them comfort and strength.

Yesterday, as I was scouring the job boards looking for positions within my realm of work experience I came across one — a marketing position, to be precise, since that’s what I do along with social media and PR — for a cell phone and service provider, located in San Francisco, that aggressively promotes progressive/activist/various other code words for leftist agenda action items.

How could I resist?

Below is the actual cover letter I sent; this in addition to my resume:

Why should you hire me as your (position title)?

Three reasons:

1) I’m not you. By that I mean I’m not an activist. To me, progressive means progressive rock bands from the 1970s like Yes and Jethro Tull. I’m a registered Republican. I listen to Rush Limbaugh. My motto on foreign affairs is “peace through superior firepower.” I’m pretty much everything you detest and oppose.

Naturally, most of my dearest friends are as liberal as they come, or gay, or both.

You see, I’m not hidebound by my ideology. I believe in people. I believe in the common good. I believe in working together to promulgate equitable solutions. I don’t isolate. I don’t hate. I’m pretty much everything the standard progressive-held image of a conservative isn’t. I’d challenge you. Sharpen you. Focus you. I would make you better.

2) I’m very, very good at my job. Company slogans? Wrote ‘em. Marketing campaigns? Did everything from pre-planning to creative to market research to media buy to monitoring results. In multiple media formats — print, radio, television. All for maximum impact at minimum price tag.

3) I’m a nice guy, the kind you like to have around the office. I keep things loose and morale high with humor. When it’s time to get down to it I’m all business, always striving to improve everything over what I did last time. I encourage and build up people.

That’s why you should hire me. Because I’m not you. And I will make you better than you’ve ever imagined.

I’ll let you know if I ever hear back.

Some say he was an outlaw, that he roamed across the land,
With a band of unschooled ruffians and a few old fishermen,
No one knew just where he came from, or exactly what he’d done,
But they said it must be something bad that kept him on the run.

Some say he was a poet, that he’d stand upon the hill
And his voice could calm an angry crowd or make the waves stand still,
That he spoke in many parables that few could understand,
But the people sat for hours just to listen to this man.

Some say he was a sorcerer, a man of mystery,
He could walk upon the water, he could make a blind man see,
That he conjured wine at weddings and did tricks with fish and bread,
That he talked of being born again and raised people from the dead.

Some say a politician who spoke of being free,
He was followed by the masses on the shores of Galilee,
He spoke out against corruption and he bowed to no decree,
And they feared his strength and power so they nailed him to a tree.

Some say he was the Son of God, a Man above all men,
That He came to be a servant and to set us free from sin,
And that’s Who I believe he is cause that’s Who I believe,
And I think we should get ready cause it’s time for us to leave.

These days, the term trolls is more commonly associated with those who hang out on the Internet for the seemingly sole purpose of harassing others and general haranguing than the word’s original association stemming from assorted ancient Norse and Scandinavian yarns about decidedly antisocial mythical creatures, although anyone familiar with the Norwegian black metal scene has good cause to doubt the mythical part. But back to the Internet variety.

It’s long been a source of contentious debate as to whether people should engage trolls in any fashion, with the general consensus being no. At least in a blog’s comments area this is the general rule of thumb. However, on Twitter the rule seems to be not only engage them, but repeat what they’ve said to you for everyone to see. This started, as near as I can tell, with the late Andrew Breitbart who routinely retweeted most every bit of vile bile hurled his way by assorted cretins. When questioned as to why he did this, his response was he was exposing the left for what it was by displaying its own words to dismiss any veneer of civility it might claim for itself.

That said, while Breitbart often interacted with the name callers and others, he seldom devoted much time to any given individual, content to level one or two blasts back and then move on. Instead of feeding trolls, he’d flamethrower them. Which, if you’re going to bother with these people at all, is the way to go, methinks. There’s a difference between exposing idiocy and engaging it. A huge difference.

Enter the troll dolls.

Now, troll dolls are usually adorable. The problem is they’re not genuinely getting anything done. There’s no need to expend any great amount of time, energy or effort in exposing trolls. We know they exist. They can neither be changed nor reasoned with. The sum total of their existence comes from being obnoxious online. So why engage them? Why stoop to their level? Aren’t we better than that?

Some, but not all, troll dolls are like trolls themselves in that their either live, or give every indication of living, online. Therein lies the problem. Twitter and the like can be great fun, but they’re not very good at giving someone a good night kiss.

Being a troll doll will score numerous brownie points online from fellow troll dolls. But if those brownie points are all someone is accumulating in life, they’re doing it wrong. Everyone needs to get out of the house once in a while, meeting and mingling with friends in person. If they’re single and none too keen on their status, they should at the least ask their circle of friends for recommendations, place themselves in reputable groups and organizations that offer the chance to meet new people or even look into a trustworthy dating service. The trolls will always be there. No one can change that. People who know better can change themselves for the better.

Remember how Jesus said, “The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me?” It’s the same deal with all people everywhere. Is someone with clear mind and heart not worth more than many trolls? No. They are worth more. And they should treat themselves, along with the finite amount of time they have available, accordingly.

Trolls should be left to forever live underneath bridges, forever railing against the wind for having the temerity to not ask their permission which way to blow. People who know better have a choice. They can walk across the bridge to a better tomorrow for themselves, and those with whom they associate in a genuine manner as opposed to arguing with idiots.

Online friendships and relationships are as real as ones conducted in person. But they can’t replace the joy of one on one, face to face contact and communication. Nothing can. Getting together with the online gang at special events two or three times a year ought to be, and can be, great fun. But at the end of two or three days, everyone packs up and goes home. It’s good to have a life and friends not solely part of the online world; people to hang out with whenever the mood strikes.

We all mean very well. Troll dolls mean very well. But when someone spends the bulk of their online time crossing swords with those who will never be swayed by reason, in the course of doing so neglecting or ignoring folk of like mind, heart and soul to theirs, they’re doing it wrong. And that’s a shame.

We all mean very well
Sometimes it’s hard to tell
We mean to live as brothers
To love and help each other
But the vision can be lost from time to time

With a well-meaning heart
We reach out for love
But still we drift apart
And seeking after pleasure
We can overlook the treasure
Our lives fall out of step and out of rhyme

If it’s hard to be yourself with me
If it’s hard to live in harmony
Then together let’s find the wall
Let’s break it down and watch it fall
Watch it fall
After all

We all mean very well
But there’s go to be a better way to dwell
Yes and this can be arranged
Oh but something must be changed
Something that lies deep within our hearts

If it’s hard to be at peace with me
If it’s hard to live in harmony
Then together let’s find the wall
Let’s break it down and watch it fall
Watch it fall
After all

We all mean very well
We all mean very well
Sometimes it doesn’t seem
That we will ever reach our dream
But we keep on trying
‘Cause we mean
Don’t we mean
Very well?

ADDENDUM: Not related to this post, but a huge thank you to Pat Austin, who writes the most excellent And So it Goes in Shreveport blog, for the kind words.

The Canadian rock band Saga. If you have to ask, you wouldn't understand.

Yesterday I mentioned in passing the Rolling Stones, currently rumored to be planning a sort-of tour with which to celebrate the band’s fiftieth anniversary. The Beach Boys are already on tour to celebrate their fiftieth anniversary.

With the exception of those who have discovered either their parents’ CDs or grandparents’ records, chances are good to excellent there aren’t a lot of kids out there who would get excited at the thought of the aforementioned artists coming to their town. How many Maroon 5 fanatics who lustily sing along with “Moves Like Jagger” while lusting after Adam Levine have the slightest notion who Mick Jagger is, let alone why anyone would want to move like him? (For the record, I linked to the video’s uncensored version so you parents out there will know what’s currently on your kid’s iPod. Adele this is not. But I digress.)

There comes a point in most artist’s career when it’s time to call it a day. Not all; some continue to create top-notch work well into their latter years. However, for many musicians the day comes when their craftsmanship begins deteriorating. Sometimes the inspiration and creative fire are no longer present. Sometimes people simply run out of ideas. Sometimes they’re no longer physically able to perform, play or sing as they once did. Sometimes people prematurely burn themselves out with too much time on the road and/or chemicals consumption. Whatever the reason may be, the times comes when they should stop. Unfortunately, very few do. The result is an exercise in sad nostalgia for what once was; a whispered “please go home” in lieu of a warmly welcomed visit.

This came to mind earlier today when contemplating how often the mainstream media, even the more neutral and/or conservative outlets, trot out the same tired and tiring faces whenever it’s analysis time. Election forecasting? Hey, look, it’s Karl Rove and Dick Morris (again)! Need a token liberal? Call Alan Colmes (again)! Cutting-edge controversy on tonight’s agenda? Cue Ann Coulter (again)! You get the idea.

It’s regrettable that in a world replete with high quality citizen journalists who routinely turn out superb original reporting and/or commentary we are routinely subjected to the same people as if by rote… which is probably the case. It’s easy to fill air time with the tried and true regardless of whether said tried and true is still relevant in terms of being connected to current events. It’s also lamentable that seemingly little, if any, effort is being made toward determining whether the same ol’ same ol’ are indeed still relevant, still connected to today’s movers and shakers. Or, for that matter, today’s headlines.

Certainly age is no disqualifier for speaking out. A veteran’s perspective is always welcome. This duly noted, there are so many voices out there deserving to be heard. It’d be nice to hear them. Yes, everyone can have their say online along with podcasting and/or live streaming audio (I can’t call it radio, because it’s not). But it’d be nice if the mainstream media would occasionally throw some love our way.

P.S. Something I seriously doubt is on your kid’s iPod even though it ought to be:

Good afternoon!
May I introduce myself?
With a story to be told you may need help
I know you were a headline for some time
But now you’re part of a motionless mime

Lights have dimmed and times have changed
And the world is watching a different stage
Don’t you think it’s time we had a younger face?
You can slip away with no disgrace
So tell me…

How long should we wait around
Don’t you understand, when you’re down we’re down?
The memory of a lasting fame
Is better fed on reruns, no shame
So tell me…

There’s one thing I must know
Tell me why you can’t let go
There’s one thing we must know
Tell me, why won’t you let go?

How long do you think we’ll last
Living with a continuous past
As you stare at us we say
“You’re looking less like me each day!”

And there’s one thing I must know
Tell me why you can’t let go
There’s one thing we must know
Tell me, why won’t you let go?

Tell me
Why can’t you let go?
Tell me
Why can’t we let go?

This came to mind earlier today when contemplating two seemingly disconnected events, one being the now concluded BlogCon in Charlotte and the other a blog post by Jennifer Dailing Waite detailing her frustration with, and anger toward, God over the daily sorrows she bears. She has very legitimate beefs: a father who passed away far too soon, her husband’s difficult and genuinely dangerous job others sneer at because he’s a government employee, a house that stubbornly refuses to sell leaving her and her family’s living arrangements in limbo, and a son mentally and emotionally kept away from her and everyone else as he’s locked up in autism’s mocking prison. It’s the latter that is sapping her strength and faith the most.

I call the two things disconnected because despite BlogCon being, at least in theory, all about promoting blogging and the blogging community while educating bloggers on how to do things better, a funny thing happened on the way to the forum. Based on tweets from those present, it was in fact an extended session of tongue baths, mutual admiration society sessions and as much partying as could be crammed into three nights and two days. Oh, and a lot of people claiming affiliation with Andrew Breitbart’s legacy.

Really?

As I mentioned the other day, although I never met nor spoke with Breitbart, based on numerous reports from those who did I have no doubt that had we ever met and actually conversed beyond a brief himynameis moment he would have taken the time to look up this modest little way station on the information superhighway and offered it, i.e. me, a hand up toward increased exposure. From his associates I’ve learned to expect no such thing. It’s a mixture of ironic and disappointing that the closest association I’ve ever had with anyone on Breitbart’s roster came when the Daily Beast linked to a post I wrote detailing Dana Loesch, in my opinion, behaving foolishly. There’s something about aggressively engaging your enemies yet not giving those on your side the time of day I’ve never quite fathomed. Perhaps it’s just me.

I’m hardly alone in this regard. There are many writers out there, truly superb writers, who deserve maximum exposure far, far more than I do yet never receive their just share. Either they don’t kiss the right ass (or don’t kiss at all), or they don’t go to the right parties… er, conferences, or what have you. Whatever the reason may be, they’re not welcome. As a result, the world to which we’re supposed to be communicating truth suffers.

Last night on Twitter, after having read one too many “look at me — SQUEE!” comments from BlogCom attendees I ranted: “I started blogging to express opinions, share information and communicate with people, not to join some eternal high school clique. Blogging’s purpose should be ‘what do you think of this idea, news, opinion or analysis.’ Not ‘look at MEEEEE!’ Blogging is supposed to be a non-hierarchical entity when people of like mind share with, and promote, each other based on common beliefs.” When I read Jennifer’s post this morning, these thoughts crystallized all the more.

There’s certainly nothing objectionable in people of like mind gathering together to share ideas and information along with enjoying one another’s company. And if some of us can’t go for financial reasons, or as in the case of Jennifer not able to leave family for a number of days, that’s life and there’s no sense in becoming angry. Hope everyone who is going has a great time; hopefully those of us not there will in time get a turn on the carousel. However, when what should be a group effort splinters into cliques making no effort to enrich the whole, there’s a problem. And no, pounding down brewskis in Stephen Kruiser’s hotel suite isn’t advancing the conservative cause or helping anyone not in attendance.

Of what use is a BlogCon, or RightOnline or what have you, to those not in attendance? Do they encourage attendees to reach out to those not there, letting them know blogging by people of like minds is an inclusive entity? Or are the fortunate hotel and convention center dwellers so busy consuming red meat and ego strokes in-between photo ops and pounding down shots they forget there is a community outside their door?

What it comes down to is that all people matter and many of them have something worthwhile to say, not just the ones who can afford a ticket to the party. When you’re feeling like mus adulteri Dei because you’re at wits and faith’s end, it’s difficult to not wonder if it’d kill people to put the drink down long enough to reach out to you. We may be rat bastards, but we still like to look at the city of lights and dream of one day being welcomed by its residents. So how about it?

The beautiful people, all send their excuses:
(Real estate and sex lives, livestock and ex-wives)

But the poor are coming, the lame are running
In their sleazy clothes and orthopedic shoes
There’s a harelip spokesman shouting out the news

“Come to the banquet at the world’s end!”

There’s a string ensemble, and the King’s court jester
Telling parables and big jokes, to mongoloids and old folks

The blind are seeing, the dead are breathing
And the mummies dance in geriatric style
The amputees are rolling down the aisles

“Come to the banquet at the world’s end!”

Candlelight and party hats, duck and pheasant under glass
Aluminum walkers, thin white canes, caviar and pink champagne
The bride and the groom waltz on
Club foot lane at the banquet at the world’s end
The banquet at the world’s end
The banquet at the world’s end

Say the beautiful people (the poor are coming)
“We’ll live with the lights out (the lame are running)
Leave us alone now because (the blind are seeing)
Hell feels like home now” (the dead are breathing)

Meanwhile…

But the poor are coming, the lame are running
In their sleazy clothes and orthopedic shoes
There’s a harelip spokesman shouting out the news

“Come to the banquet at the world’s end!”
“Come to the banquet at the world’s end!”
“Come to the banquet at the world’s end!”

Said all that to say this. One of Patheos’ Catholic blogs is Standing on My Head by Father Dwight Longenecker. In a recent post he ripped and ridiculed not only Christian rock itself, but the very notion of it being suitable for ministerial, let alone liturgical use.

Shall we examine his foolishness… er, rationale?

A friend of mine used to quip, “When you’re talking about Christian music it’s pretty safe to substitute ‘bad’ for ‘Christian’.

A friend of mine used to say the moon is a gigantic dusty grapefruit. I didn’t believe him either. But at least he wasn’t a smug, sanctimonious ass.

Who hasn’t had to endure a Christian rock band or sit through a worship with some aging trendy strumming a guitar and inflicting folk music or light rock on everyone?

Gee. I’ve endured many a Christian rock band. I recall many of them giving altar calls at the end. I recall many, many people coming forward to give or recommit their lives to Christ as a result of those altar calls. One of those people was… me. As to worship, I also recall many a moment of folk or light rock bringing many people into a deeper relationship with Jesus, encouraging them to follow Him more closely and be better servants to one another and the world. One of those people was… me. Somehow I doubt Fr. Longenecker has ever been to an actual Christian rock concert or heard quality contemporary worship/praise music. Which, despite his upcoming assertions to the contrary, does exist. In droves.

Why is it that so often Christian music is so awful?

Because the modern church, with few exceptions, has done such an abominable job of finding, nurturing, supporting, and promoting artists? Naah, couldn’t possibly be that.

I think there are a couple of reasons. The first is that the musicians and their audience mistake a worthy message for talent.

Uh, no. If that was the case, every everything every Christian record label releases would sell. It doesn’t. People do both care and have the wisdom to discern what’s worth a listen.

Then they get a martyr complex if they’re criticized. “You’re obviously not very spiritual if you can’t enjoy my music!

Wrong again. I don’t mind if people don’t enjoy my music or that of the artists I like. Where I do call into question someone’s spiritual discernment is when they apply their cultural bias and personal preference to their alleged discernment. Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s not good and therefore cannot possibly be used by God. I know people who think Pink Floyd is the worst garbage on the planet. Does that make it so? No. So don’t waste my time bringing your petty preferences, inflated with pseudo-spiritual tripe, into any discussion of art’s value or quality. Like what you like; dislike what you dislike. But don’t drag God into it.

The second problem is that the audience are often either totally uncritical or they haven’t the ability to criticize intelligently. Too often the audience actually like the crap that is being dished up.

We’ve addressed this already. Telling people they’re mindless drones for their musical tastes isn’t exactly what I’d consider a strong opening to winning over hearts and minds. Or winning souls for Christ. Or drawing those who already know Him closer.

The third factor is that market forces are usually not in play. Market forces often have a surprisingly sharp and salutary critical effect. Market forces weed out the junk, but in the Christian market they’re doing it for love, not money, so no one is telling them to get off the stage ’cause it won’t sell.

Already addressed this as well. But hey, keep flailing away at that deceased equine if it makes you happy.

These are all the practical problems. There is, however, a deeper problem. Christian popular music is almost always pretty bad,

Feldercarb. (Look it up.)

but the problem with most “Christian” music is that it is secular music with Christian words.

And what, pray tell, makes music secular or sacred? The style? The sound? Are you telling me God’s such an impotent wuss He can’t use whatever variation of His language — for music is God’s language — He pleases for His purpose? What emasculated God are you following? Not the one I know and in my stumbling, bumbling way serve.

In any decent art style and substance are supposed to match up. The meaning and the media are supposed to harmonize.

Which far more often than not they do. Except to those with open mouths and closed minds.

Most “Christian” music is taken from the secular world. Whether it is the music of Broadway musicals, Country Western, Las Vegas ballad crooners or light rock or heavy rock and roll it’s secular not sacred.

Again… it’s music. Music in and of itself is neither sacred nor secular. Did Paul Simon’s “American Tune,” which is an adaptation of an excerpt we know as “O Sacred Head Now Wounded” from J.S. Bach’s “St. Matthew Passion,” which is itself an adaptation of Hans Leo Hassler’s love song “Mein G’müt Ist Mir Verwirret” turn what started life as a secular tune, turned into a sacred one by Bach, back into a secular song? Really?

When you then add sacred words to the secular music there is a natural disconnect.

To people who serve a whipped puppy masquerading as God Almighty, yes. Or if you prefer, to those who are so petrified of themselves they can’t handle life, thus run and hide and cry out for the bad people and/or things to go away. I’m hardly the strongest person you’ll ever meet when it’s sin-resisting time, but I don’t need musical burqas to protect me from the beat menace.

That’s why so much Christian music (even when it is well written and well performed)

You said there wasn’t any. Make up your mind, will you?

doesn’t really work.

Feldercarb on a stick.

Oh sure, people might like it.

How dare they!

They might even have nice feelings about Jesus by listening to it,

What? People enjoying the notion of there being a loving Savior? Obviously a Satanic trap.

but the secular music was designed to produce certain types of feelings,

So? God can’t use it? Do we really need to repeat how small your God is?

and why should those warm sentimental feelings or hard emotional feelings be linked with worship?

Uh… because we’re human.

We might like listening to Christian country Western or a sweet Broadway type ballad about Jeezus or we might get all hyped up listening to Christian rock, but is it worship? Is it really inspiring us to draw closer to God? Is it really deepening our spiritual life or is it just music we like which makes us feel good and it makes us feel even better because it talks about Jeezus too?

Let’s think back a bit about something mentioned above that takes place during so many of those “awful” Christian rock concerts. Altar calls. Exhortation toward Bible study, fellowship and discipleship. Obviously thin disguises for warm fuzzies. But back to reality. You see, Fr. Longenecker, maybe — just maybe — in spite of your sarcasm in regard to and loathing of contemporary Christian music, God uses it anyway. The evidence is all around you. Too bad you’ve chosen to close your eyes to His work.

Forgive me for being cynical,

Don’t push your luck.

but think about it.

I have. Which apparently puts me one up on you.

The worst example is Christian Rock music.

And here we go…

At the risk of sounding too puritanical,

Reality isn’t really a risk, sir.

rock and roll music was, from the beginning highly sexualized, laden with rebellious, heavy and nasty rhythms

Nasty? What is this, a Janet Jackson revue?

linked with the drug culture–designed to alter consciousness and demolish self restraint. The acid rock and heavy rock was also obviously

Obviously.

linked with an occult and demonic sub culture.

And because a few losers played the devil game, stealing God’s language, we’re supposed to concede? Uh-uh. We’re stealing it back.

So you want to put cozy Christian words to all that?

Try listening to the Rez Band song again, then get back to me on that “cozy” thing.

To my mind that’s like putting a gospel tract inside a porn magazine.

Why not? We’re supposed to be reaching sinners, aren’t we?

The same criticism applies when the musical style is not quite so bad as acid rock. You name the popular secular style–the music wasn’t written to deepen prayer, lead to worship or open the soul to the sacred. It was designed to produce shallow emotions about love and romance at best, and lust and sex at worst.

Because we as Christians have been so shallow we’ve let the world run wild. We haven’t promoted our artists. We’ve held them back at best, actively ridiculed and opposed them at worst. We have made ourselves culturally irrelevant. We have paralyzed ourselves into being afraid of our own shadow. We have abandoned the things of God and settled for perpetual self-appointed second class status. That’s why we’re losing.

Pope Benedict XVI comments on this in his book The Spirit of the Liturgy. He acknowledges that down through the ages this has been a recurring problem in the church. Sometimes the hymn writers put Christian words to beer drinking songs. At other times they adopted the popular operatic style. Now they adopt light rock, hard rock, and virtually every other secular style.

Yeah, it was really rude of our forefathers to try and use God’s language for its intended purpose.

The antidote is to be more aware and appreciative of sacred music.

We are. You’re not.

There is a kind of music that on its own–even without words–is designed to open the mind and heart to the sacred.

Yes. It’s called “whatever God wants to use.”

Gregorian chant and sacred polyphony which evolved from it–is the music of worship.

I happen to love Gregorian chant. But it is not the only arrow in God’s musical quiver:

Especially in the liturgy this is the music which we are supposed to use because the music lends itself to worship.

As does most everything else when you let God be God and stop trying to squeeze Him into your box of what He can and cannot do.

It opens the heart and mind to a new dimension and reveals the spiritual aspect to our lives in a way that secular music with Christian words does not.

I’m sure this would be true… if there was such a thing as secular music.

That’s what sacred music is. What is required is catechesis about this music and an effort to appreciate it. Truly sacred music is an acquired taste. It takes some effort. It also takes some effort to produce it at a good and worthy level.

So when are you going to put in the effort, Father?

The problem in most mainstream Catholic parishes is that they’ve had nothing but crap music in church for as long as anyone can remember. The people actually think its okay because they have never heard anything else. They take on board the blend of muzak, Broadway tunes, folk music and light rock thinking that this is all there is. Then if they ever do hear Gregorian chant or sacred polyphony they hold their ears and say, “Geesh, why does Father want to bring in all that gloomy music? We’re outta here.” Alas. Its true.

Yeah, sucks when people want to live in the twenty-first century. Again, I love Gregorian chant and traditional hymns. They’re wonderful. But they don’t always work. Our God is a mighty God. Why, then, attempt to tie Him down as to what He can use? Let God be God. He’s much better at it than anyone else.

Does this mean that Christians should listen to nothing but Gregorian chant and sacred polyphony? Is that all we should ever use in the liturgy? The purists would say so.

I’m very happy for them having discovered backwards time travel and all.

But I’m of the opinion that we have to work with what we’ve got. We have to meet people where they are and move on from there.

Which you are doing in this article exactly how, reverend?

Chant and polyphony are the foundations of the music we should use. In addition to this we have the library  of sacred hymns (and there’s enough there to warrant another blog post completely) the worthy ones of which will serve to complement the words and actions of the sacred liturgy.

Fr. Longenecker… please go away. And don’t come back until you’ve gained some wisdom.

Again you announce while you whirl and bounce
Intentions to pounce on the beat menace
No woman or man could ever withstand
The devious plans of the beat menace

Come to lay you low, we’ve come to vex your soul

Feeling the heat, hell at your feet
Don’t even speak of the beat menace
Something to take away your innocence
Someone to blame it on

Helps you to defeat
Dancing in the street

Come to lay you low, we’ve come to vex you

Resolved in your mind- the nature of crime
Is to swallow the line of the beat menace
Imagination’s on the rise again
So hide your heart away
Dust off the fears and guilts and lies again
The beat is here to stay
Your satellite can reach that Eskimo
He buys a suit and tie
Re-styles his hair like girls in Tupelo
And sings “Sweet Bye And Bye”
He’s meeting all your strange requirements
He thinks you can’t be fooled
He’ll get the rules and laws and sacraments
By sending checks to you

We’ve come to bring you low

(Crossposted at The Conservatory.)

We started corresponding fairly regularly. Ellen was a member of the MSM herself, writing about NASCAR for ESPN and her hometown newspaper. Bit by bit we told each other fragments of our life story, hers being of such interest I asked her for permission to talk about it in my blog. It took a few months to arrange, but finally we spent some time on the phone, from which I wrote my post. Please go read it. Hers was an amazing story of perseverance and faith in the face of many trials.

Now, back then bloggers and reporters were supposed to get along about as well as cats and dogs. Not a whole lot has changed in that regard that I know of. But Ellen and I… well, despite the miles between us and our different experiences, and despite how ofttimes months would transpire in-between us dropping each other a line, we got along famously. She was smart, spunky and sassy; a genuine delight to know.

She wrote me in February of 2011 with some bad news. Leukemia. I wrote about it, ironically for my own mainstream media gig. We started keeping in touch as often as she could while she battled against what was trying to steal her from this planet.

In February of this year I heard from her again, asking if I knew anyone going to the Daytona 500 with whom she might be able to share a room (unfortunately I didn’t). She said she was doing well, feeling good and for the first time in her life gaining weight when it was a good thing to be doing. I was happy. It sounded like the Ellen I knew, and it sounded like she had beaten the leukemia.

She hadn’t.

Ellen passed away earlier this month.

Something she wrote bears repeating:

My goals have changed since my diagnosis of acute myelogenous leukemia (AML) in July 2010. While I’d still like to write a book, it will certainly include things I had no knowledge of when I initially wrote up my profile — “to write a book on my experiences with my son’s death due to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome; my daughter’s bout with bacterial meningitis at the age of 13 months and subsequent deafness; the cochlear implant she had surgically inserted in Charlotte, N.C., at the age of 5; my oldest son’s Asperger Syndrome; my dad’s Alzheimer’s; and some other very interesting turns of life I’ve come through, including the excitement of covering NASCAR for the York Dispatch..”

I ‘m still trying to approach it all with an attitude of gratitude

She did.

In conclusion, a word for my fellow conservatives. Just as not everyone who collects unemployment is a shiftless slacker sponging off the public dole, and not every government employee is a lazy clockwatcher counting down the days until they can draw a fatcat pension, not every traditional media reporter is a talentless, clueless leftist tool. At least some of them are very good at their job, taking it seriously and doing their best every time to be accurate and fair. And at least some of them are good people.

Very, very good people.

God speed, Ellen. By His grace we will meet again.

Many’s the time I’ve been mistaken
And many times confused

I’ve finished my online job applications routine for the day. A total of six. My goal is no fewer than three a day, every day, and thus far I’ve stuck to it since the day last August when I was laid off. Thus, at minimum I’ve filled out no fewer than 744 applications, with the actual number doubtless far higher as most days I’ve done five or more. Out of which I’ve had, as best as I can recall, less than a dozen first interviews, three second interviews, one third interview… and nothing beyond that. Unless you count the dozens of “we’ll get back to you by such-and-such date” that almost invariably translate into said date apparently not present on the promiser’s calendar.

Yes and I’ve often felt forsaken
And certainly misused

It’s interesting, although that may not be the most accurate word, how people react when they learn I’m on unemployment. I’ve lost track of how many snide “get a job” snarks I’ve heard from people on the right, people who at least in theory should be my allies, as if my current unemployment can either be magically whisked away or is a clear case of me being a hardcore slacker mooching off the public dole. If this is slacking, I’d like to know what aggressively pursuing employment looks like. No, folks, I’m not enjoying this. Not at all. I’d much rather be working, making money and also stimulating the economy by having at least some to spend. I too would like the new iPad, being able to go on vacation, and buy the occasional CD. Really, I would. So to those who’ve chided me on Twitter and elsewhere, kindly go blow a rabid porcupine.

Oh but I’m all right I’m all right
I’m just weary to my bones

One of the things I’ve learned during this time of searching for work is how it’s both more work than actual work and vastly less rewarding to boot. It sounds odd to say that unemployment is exhausting, but if you’re doing what you can to end it, it is exhausting on all levels. Which can be dangerous.

Still you don’t expect to be bright and bon vivant
So far away from home
So far away from home

It is frustrating, clearly seeing the goal yet finding it so elusive. It’s hard to keep your spirits up, remaining hopeful while simultaneously not getting your hopes up as it’s certain they will be dashed. I’ve stopped expecting people to call back when they’ve said they would, or for them to call back at all. Still, the employment equivalent of Dear John letters sting. As does the silence.

I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered
I don’t have a friend who feels at ease

As the bills mount, there are moments of throat-tightening fear. It’s easy to say that I’m a believer, God will take care of things, consider the lilies of the field and all that. It was easy enough for me to say to others when I was at least semi-comfortable and secure. Now that I’m not, the prayers have become more desperate, more pleading, more angry. I freely confess there have been several instances when I’ve questioned God’s love or even His existence. These moments seldom last long, but they are intense. I still cry out to Jesus, but I wouldn’t object to hearing back from Him more often. And I know I’m not alone in this.

I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered
Or driven to its knees

Sometimes, and far more often than not privately, I hear from fellow conservatives in similar straits. I’ve occasionally muttered how the only two sins left in America are having sex with a child and uttering a racial epithet; everyone else is forgivable with the right kind of apology and a dash of victimization as justification tossed in. I’m thinking the need has arisen to add a third: being an unemployed conservative. As mentioned above, sympathy and support are scarce commodities. Thankfully there are many good and great people who can and do stand beside you no matter what. However, there are just as many if not more who’d rather jeer. Should the tables ever turn, may God guide me to not do unto others as they have done unto me. I add that while I have no doubt that had I ever met and talked with the late Andrew Breitbart he would have in some manner directly helped me, not with a handout but with a hand up, his followers are an entirely different story.

Oh but it’s all right it’s all right
For we’ve lived so well so long

Still, while things are bad they could be far worse. We’re not too far behind on the bills, and we have not yet been forced to start selling things off to make ends meet. I still have my modest guitar collection, and we can still eat out once in a while. Provided it’s from the dollar menu at McDonald’s, but hey.

Still when I think of the road we’re traveling on
I wonder what’s gone wrong
I can’t help it I wonder what’s gone wrong

Something is very wrong in this country. The Democrats practice class warfare and have no hesitation maintaining an entitlement lower class in exchange for continuing to hold the reins of power. The Republicans preach free market, but have yet to fully deliver on a promise of improved employment prospects for those seeking a return to self-sufficiency. These are rough times.

And I dreamed I was dying
I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down on me
Smiled reassuringly

There have been moments of despair, but thankfully I have not succumbed to them. I know I’m good enough to do the work for which I’m applying. I know I have a solid track record of accomplishments. I know I have the skills. Despite it all, I have kept a realistic perspective of my strengths and weaknesses. Could there be improvement? Of course. But neither am I without resources. I can be a valued asset to an employer, and I’m doing my best to present this to them.

And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying

I do fear for this country’s direction. Our economy remains weak and stagnant; the debt is crushing us all, and we lack both clarity and purpose in our relationships with other nations. Or, for that matter, ourselves. The media is forever throwing squirrels out to chase in lieu of reporting the actual state of affairs, racial divides are deepening, and screeches of political correctness and purity have replaced public discourse and the necessary compromises for government to function.

Oh we come on a ship they call the Mayflower
We come on a ship that sailed the moon

We as a nation are losing touch with our greatness, our willingness to embrace hardships and danger in order to achieve our goals. We are so rich, yet we have made ourselves poor by not encouraging and exhorting each other to higher levels. We can do better. We must do better.

We come in the age’s most uncertain hours
And sing an American tune

Yet, there is no other country in which I’d rather live. I’d rather press on where there is at least a hope of rejoining the workforce than a European quasi-socialist system where the government facilitates perpetual dependence on itself. That’s no way to live.

Ah and it’s all right it’s all right it’s all right
You can’t be forever blessed

I’ve certainly learned that once these days are over and I’m back on the job, I will never take it for granted. I’ve also learned the vital need of showing proper respect for, and offering encouragement along with whatever assistance I can provide to, others in the boat I’m now rowing. Compassion and kindness are crucial. Only those who have been through the fire can speak with authority to those still engulfed in flames. Once my fire is out, may I rush back in with water for those being burned.

Still tomorrow’s gonna be another working day
And I’m trying to get some rest
That’s all I’m trying
To get some rest

I could use some rest. Please, Lord, bring it quickly.

ADDENDUM: Thanks to Doug Ross, Paul Lemmen and Bill Quick for the links.