how now brownpau
Brownpau’s Cost-Cutting Tips:
– In a city where you can’t get a decent takeout rice meal for less than P60, sidewalk vendors are a life-saver. Aling Pacita, across the road from my office, can give you a full meal of pork chop and pinakbet with rice for just P40. (But be sure to have your own plates in the office.)
– Why spend P80 for Starbucks coffee when you can just have a packet of Nescafe Frothe?
– Walking is fun!
Closing hymn at morning service today was “Call on the Master’s Name,” but there was a typo on the transparency, so the first line read, “Call on the Mater’s Name.”
*heretical Romanist giggle*
Going to the nearest Chowking to try those new Motong and Oriental Chicken noodles? Be prepared for a long, aggravating wait. Whether it’s braised beef, fried rice, or simple kangkong with Chinese bagoong, almost every Chowking branch is notorious for consistently slow, sloooow service. Between the time you order and the time the cooked food comes, you learn to get very familiar with every facet of the little plastic number they give you. And they have the temerity to put up those posters with a smiling Dingdong Dantes saying, “Thank you for waiting!”
Okay, here are the poll results on where you people put your hands while singing. It seems that the greatest number of you — 25% — can be seen holding hymnals. A close second at 23% comes the sinister and ominous action of resting your hands on the pew in front of you. Tied at third are the protective — almost defensive, wouldn’t you say? — action of folding arms over your chest, and the more happy-cheerful clapping of hands, 10% each. Only one person prefers to combine the lifting of one hand with one of the other actions, while, surprisingly, two of you keep your hands at strict attention. Awkward, don’t you think? As for the three of you who lift up both hands, I recommend lots of women’s deodorant. Rexona Cotton-Fresh. My favorite.
By the way, I am:
… 68% blogaholic.
… 52% geek.
… 9% raver.
… 26% goth.
… 10% punk.
My Hobbit name is Hob Goldworthy of Michel Delving.
My Pokename is Chutwo. I live in the snowy valleys of Kamchatka, and my diet consists mostly of grapes, TV dinners and beer. I can throw cosmic energy bolts and bricks. I breathe hot death and resist sledgehammers. I have a cell phone. My natural enemy is Voltcow.
My Jedi name is Ordpa Gapar, of the planet Verorab. Yes, my planet is named after a follow-up rabies vaccine.
My African name is Mahamid. (Although repeated tries also generated Shaft, Buckwheat, Shawasha, and Huggy Bear.)
My porn star name is X Diggler. (Again, repeated clicks gave me Dick Lustley, Seymour Caves, and Hard John Hunter.)
My reggae name is Bunny Natty.
My Hawaiian name is Paulo Olukoweka.
My Cyborg name means Positronic Artificial Unit Limited to Observation.
And of course, my Mr. T name is Fool.
Many evangelicals have probably seen those “Christian” books on Satanism and spiritual warfare entitled He Came to Set the Captives Free, Prepare for War, and Unbroken Curses, by a certain Rebecca Brown, M.D.. I often see the first two books used by Christians against self-styled Wiccans and Satanists, and the third one contains some rather paranoid accounts of demon-fixation, of an intensity I would consider rather unhealthy in any Christian’s life. (Take, for example, her assertion that one should not accept flower garlands upon arrival at Hawaii, as these are actually totems of “Hawaiian demon-god worship.” Or the strange idea that the curing of Satanic curses requires anointing with cooking oil.)
The matter is greatly cleared up in “The Bizarre Case of Dr. Rebecca Brown”, where we find some extremely pressing reasons to disbelieve her astounding claims and questionable theology. The evidence presented is unnerving:
That on numerous occasions Respondent stated to her patients that she was “chosen” by God as the only physician able to diagnose certain ailments and conditions which other physicians could not because the other physicians, including physicians from Ball Memorial Hospital in Muncie, Indiana and St. John’s Medical Center in Anderson, Indiana were, in fact, “demons, devils and other evil spirits” themselves.
Also submitted into evidence at the hearing were 11 photographs taken at St. Vincent showing bluish-yellow sores over most of Mrs. Edna Elaine Moses’ body apparently caused by repeated injections. The article goes on, “Several witnesses said they saw Dr. Bailey inject herself, Mrs. Moses and Mrs. Moses teenage daughter with Demerol and morphine. Great quantities of drugs were kept on hand, and the Bailey home was littered with used needles and syringes.”
That’s just the tip of the iceberg. The true “Dr. Brown” seems to have been mentally unbalanced and dangerously unstable, posing a severe threat both to herself, her patients, and those who read her books.
After church today, I joined my family at The Rockwell Power Plant, to greet my youngest brother happy birthday. (Happy 14th, Javi!) We then returned home (family home, not my apartment home) to check up on Mom’s new Persian kittens. (AAAWWW!!!!) As I was about to head home (apartment home, that is), Mom — just returned from a trip to mainland China — dropped a bag of strange-looking Chinese goodies into my hands.
Me: Uh, Mom, what’s this?
Mom: Dikiam.
Me: How do you eat it?
Mom: You unwrap it, put it in your mouth, and eat it.
Me: Oh.
Bible study group last night focused on Matthew 2, the Visit of the Magi, and one thing took my notice: If God is against the use of astrology for divination (Deut 4.19), why are these Zoroastrian astrologers from the East such key players in the Nativity story?
Of course, the classic interpretation is that the Messiah’s Saviorship was not just for the Jews, but for all the world as well, even the pagan Gentiles of that day. But another thought struck me: though the Magi were led to Christ by the study of the stars, it was after they had brought their gifts and worship to the Infant that God guided them directly, warning them in a dream to return to their country by a different route. Is that not telling? It’s entirely conceivable that God can guide people to Christ by an external route, as the Magi were guided by a miraculous “star,” but once you have worshipped at Jesus’ feet and acknowledged Him as Lord, there will be no need of stars and astrology; God speaks to you directly in the Word made flesh, and that is far, far more than enough.
I just got “dropped” by a jeepney. The driver wouldn’t stop on the first or second “Para,” so I had to yell angrily at him. Then, as I was getting off from the back and muttering to myself, he abruptly accelerated before my boot had touched the ground, depositing me unceremoniously on the rough asphalt. As the uncouth churl rushed off, I picked myself up, threw my bag to the ground in a huff, and engraved his license plate number in my memory: PYM-329.
Well, there’s not a whole lot I can do now but be indignant, but at least I can warn other people. Parañaque-dwellers along Sucat Road, if you see that specific jeepney, give him a nice loud honk for me.
I’ve been asked a few times about the cartoon character I use in my Comments template. I wasn’t too sure myself, as I had gotten the duck off a random piece of stationery marked “PEKKLE,” so I looked it up. The duck is Sanrio’s Ahiru No Pekkle. Here’s his Google category, and here’s a fansite. Enjoy.
“It’s not a religion, it’s a relationship!” goes the evangelical platitude
Indeed, indeed! It’s a saying we Baptists are especially fond of using, to illustrate how Christ’s salvation of a person transcends the stodgy ritualism of tradition. And yet, is there really a biblical precedent to say such?
This is a hot issue with many local cults, who often meet the Christian’s “personal relationship” with the retort that such words never appear in the Bible, and must therefore be wrong. According to them, in fact, it would seem more biblical that God’s Saviorship is extended to the church as a whole body. (Of course, this being a cultic prooftext, the “church” in question is that and only that which has been founded by Eli Soriano / Felix Manalo / Joseph Smith / etc.)
Fellow Christians saved solely by God’s grace, how do you respond to that? Having been saved through the spilling of Jesus’ blood on the cross, I have no doubt in my spirit that I share an intimate personal relationship with Him. Naturally, we are indwelt by His Spirit, and we speak with our Lord in prayer as sons to a Father. How could that be recognized as anything other than a personal relationship? And yet, I prefer to be cautious against too liberally throwing about the platitude of “a personal relationship with Christ” before first stressing the primacy of our salvation through His propitiatory sacrifice.
(One interesting but slightly tangential point: Iglesia ni Kristo and Ang Dating Daan cultists claim that a personal relationship with Christ is false because He “is not a person,” but just a heavenly being dwelling in the flesh. However, they simultaneously deny that Christ is one in being with the Father, and is merely a “lesser god,” or “Almighty god” — small ‘g’ — as Eli Soriano puts it. However, when pressed to expound on exactly what kind of relationship it becomes if not personal, most of these cultists are at a loss to continue, and instead resort to personal attacks. Well, if it isn’t personal, what the heck kind of relationship can it be? The cultic method of killing off both Christ’s humanity and deity leaves them with nothing but an empty shell of a religion which works only to mislead the ignorant.)
Let me reiterate the question: what biblical precedent is there to claim a “personal relationship” with Christ?