These first five come from sources worldwide. The next five are more personal:

1.

Amidst the riots and “occupations” around the world this year came this surreal Hollywood moment. A young guy kissing and comforting his girlfriend while the tension roils around them. Sadly the reason for this riot was a sporting event, but the emotional weight is the same. Mob mentality may be overwhelming, but the moment the person you love is injured… rage is replaced by the desire to comfort, cradle, and love.

2.

The President and his National Security Team watching Osama Bin Laden get killed via live Satellite link. The closest most of us will ever get to this is the film “Patriot Games”. From a nice, well-lit, and unremarkable office in DC, our country is overseeing a man getting tracked down and ended. Looking around the room… For some this is a moment of somber power. For others a realization of the importance of human life. And for a few, just another day at the office.

3.

Steve Jobs definitely lived up to his quote “put a dent in the Universe”. I write this blog on one of his computers. I use one of his phones. I work on one of his programs. But I’m most intrigued by his moments of humanity: He hired a biographer partially so his children would have a record and understanding of why he was so rarely home. And at his last Apple Keynote address, an obviously very frail man retreated backstage and laid his forehead against his wife. He was a visionary, yes… but I like that he was also human, flawed, loved, and loving.

4.

This is the funeral for Navy SEAL Jon Tumilson, who was one of 30 killed when their helicopter was shot down over Afghanistan. His dog, “Hawkeye” is laying close to his master for the last time. I realize I’m a softy dog owner, but this makes me cry. Hawkeye gets it, and yet, will never understand. Like all of us.

5.

The Egypt protests which gridlocked the country and eventually brought down President Mubarak had this surprising subplot. About 10% of the country are reportedly Christians. A suicide bombing attack at a Coptic Christian church had killed 23 Christians at the beginning of the year. And yet, during the protests, Christians encircled the praying and vulnerable Muslims to allow them to pray in peace and protection. How much would we change the world if these were the kind of actions Christians were known for? And how likely would it be for a potential bomber to blow up the same people who protected him while he prayed?

I don’t remember learning English. I’m sure I was full of questions about it, but I truly have no memories of asking about a word or learning a new phrase. For me, vocabulary exercises are linked to those specially hellish memories of classes which couldn’t end fast enough. Yet, now that we’re spending time parroting things for my son I’ve gained a new perspective on the enormous mountain of learning associated with English. In fact, maybe I need to learn something else because the scale can’t be larger than the jumbled mess of rules and exceptions which make up my native tongue.

The depth of English struck me today in two separate moments of vocabulary. In one, I joked with a co-worker and my little throw-away quip fell flat because of my word choice. I didn’t miss-speak or accidentally offend, but I used a word which required a split second of “wait, what does that mean?”. Jokes that miss large sections of your audience are only funny if you’re Eddie Izzard. I. Am. Not. So this turned into a brief conversation about the differences in our vocabularies. Of course, this was also comic gold.

How is it we can grow up in the same country, with the same language, and same basic educational system, yet glean such different ways to communicate? Word choice is as unique as our fingerprints. And there’s no telling what can spark you to mine the depths of your verbal vault.

This evening my wife began reading a new book for our small group. And there on the first page was a word she hadn’t seen before. Now if we’re all honest, any book that you makes you think will probably contain a word or two you aren’t that familiar with. For my wife, it just happened to be on the first page – which means she got it out of the way, and can now go on with enjoying the read.
Anyway…

The word was: “exegeted”. Some of you are now asking google what it means, and that’s fine. Others of you may do what I did:

“Oh, from the word Exegesis,” I said, and began to offer a marginal definition.

“Exa-Jesus”, my wife says to me. As in – Used to be the Son of God and then got tired of the hassle and passed the role on to someone else. The Savior Formerly Known as Christ. (Much to my chagrin… this is not the definition)

Which made me wonder… when did I learn the word “Exegesis”? Why on earth did I retain this word? And more importantly, how could I better use the brain-space being wasted by words which will only cross my path every dusty decade or so. After all… I’ve forgotten 80% of the math I ever learned. Which really doesn’t matter because my phone can calculate the return trajectory of Apollo 13 better than a room full of 1960s rocket scientists. But, somehow my brain has decided that words need to be pulled to the core while anything dealing with numbers can be marched to the exit.

I am a superfluous confluence of vernacular.

My apologies. Apparently this line of thinking has stirred the words in my brain like kicking an ant hill.

So this is the challenge awaiting my son… learning not only enough to communicate, but also tolerate his father’s outbursts of strange syllables. He’ll have to apologize to his friends for my vocabulary tourettes. Then help me figure out how old he is by counting on my fingers.

Ultimately, I’m just marveling how we all grow into such different aptitudes. How do the same core ingredients splinter into a cornucopia of varied skills and interests? My son learned perfect rhythm months ago but can’t say Hippo. So mostly, I’m hoping that all our instant access to definitions and new information will keep my brain sharp while it hones his into a marvel. Cause I’m still learning my first language.

-Note= No thesaurus was used (or injured) in the making of this article. All these words came out of my head, but spell-check nearly exploded trying to get them right.

For the first time I’m in a place where the majority of people have a strong faith, but it’s a faith different than my own. Texas was a bubble of Christian insulation. Los Angeles believed in everything and nothing simultaneously. But Utah, as everyone knows, is predominately LDS/Mormon. So I’m in the minority.

And I think I like being in the minority. It causes me to examine my own faith. To challenge what I believe with big questions. I’ve always grown in those times, even when it hurt.

So here I am learning from the Mormon believers around me. And while there’s a lot of misconceptions about the LDS church, there are also plenty of things which have given them a strange reputation. Yet no matter what you think of Mormons there’s one thing you’re never going to hear…

“Those Mormons are Assholes.”

Never gonna happen. In fact, I may be the first person in history to put that sentence together. Because Mormons have a reputation for being nice.  And I’ve felt welcomed, helped, and even surprised by the selflessness of many people around us in Utah.

But that’s just not true of Christians. We are the Assholes. Here we have a belief system based on one core principle – Love – and yet we can’t even maintain a reputation of being nice. God loved us. That resulted in Grace, which by definition is something undeserved, and we’re charged to love others. Which means we’re going to have to share some grace.

Yet, we aren’t. We’re too busy circling our wagons and hurling out arrows of intolerance, anger, fear and hatred at anyone who doesn’t share our beliefs and dares come within a hundred yards. We’re consumed with categorizing everyone that isn’t in our little club and concluding that we know their motives and purposes all without even having a conversation.

And in the club it’s just as cutthroat. Christians in Hollywood do everything they can to not help each other and would be perfectly happy to stab you in the back and step over you in the process. Churches push people out during their lowest moments, condemning them for whatever sin or failing they’ve committed. Anyone is expendable – only one public screwup away from being shunned. And the more highly regarded they are the more intolerable their failings. Because we all know those in leadership never have struggles or problems.

When I look at the life of Christ I see a guy who loved even when it made no sense. The people who enraged him were always the folks with spiritual access and thought to be in the “in” crowd. The farther you get from Him, the softer he got. He called the religious leaders a brood of vipers but cried out to his father to forgive the very people killing Him. He lived something which rarely gets mentioned – He knew that those who didn’t know God needed love and acceptance first and foremost. And love can lead a person to grace.

I don’t see love coming out of the Christian world. Some individual Christians, yes, but the group as a whole is a frightened cornered animal clawing out at the world. Everyone is out to get us. Every belief different from our own is trying to systematically unravel our world. There’s a prideful belief that we are on everyone else’s mind all the time and are being targeted with forethought.

So there’s no room for discussion. There’s no chance to sit down with people different from ourselves and have a conversation. Because who knows what would happen if we discovered that the person we so fear, or judge, or ostracize is actually just a flawed human like we are – trying desperately to make sense of their life.

Peter was a poor hot-headed fisherman with a tendency to act before he thought.

Paul was a self-righteous murderer who believed he had all the answers.

I’m not sure they’d be welcomed in most Christian churches today. Certainly not in positions of leadership.

But look at Paul in Athens in Acts 17, talking with people of every belief other than his own. What’s he doing there? He’s discussing. He’s having a dialog.
Meanwhile our Religious Right is building barricades, pointing fingers, and making sure to label everyone as evil, bad, dangerous, and unwelcome in our little group.

It chills me as I realize something really sad. If I weren’t a Christian already I doubt I would become one. We’re not a group displaying anything worth joining. We aren’t present in the lives of those around us – we’re just pointing out all the things we don’t like about their existence.

We stand in a world drowning in despair, hatred and failure, while keeping the hope, love, and grace to ourselves. Instead of reaching out in love and acceptance to those who need it – which is every single person, by the way – we are focused on things we can’t control and don’t need to worry about.

It seems like everywhere I go Christians are talking about the news in concerned whispers. Shaking their heads in dismay and checking off boxes toward Armageddon. We’re supposed to be loving our neighbor. Being in the world, not of the world. Yet were too busy with intolerance and exclusion. All while looking skyward with a stopwatch as we brace for the world to burn.

I can think of no more hypocritical waste of time.

Why? Because if the world really is going to march through a one-night-only performance of Revelation then that means 1) there’s no stopping it, and 2) there’s nothing we can do about it. So worrying and preparing for it is a complete waste of time and energy. And… if God really is going to win in the end then there’s absolutely no reason for fear.

I believe that Jesus Christ was like no one else to ever live. And He died. And He rose. And there is nothing I can do to get to God… because by the sheer fact of calling Him God it means I am less than Him. So Christ is something vital.

I am nothing without Love. I am lost without Grace.

And so is every person I will come across in every day of my short life.

I know what I need to be worried about: I don’t love my wife enough. I don’t love my son enough. I don’t offer them a fraction of the grace I’ve been shown. Or the amount they show me. And the friends who fill my life. They build me up with love and grace over and over and I don’t return the favor… not nearly enough.

I want people to be surprised that I’m a Christian. I want to surpass what they expect of Christians. I want to be more accepting. More loving. More willing to help. I want to supplant that bad experience they had with a cold-shoulder church, or a legalistic friend, or the parent who modeled God as abusive and unreliable.

Of course… I’m going to fail at it… But it’s something to shoot for. Because I am no better than they are. In fact, I might be worse.

Jesus was a revolutionary because he defied expectations.

How amazing it would be to not associate Christians with “the end is near” talk show hosts or waving hateful banners at groups we don’t like.

What if people said “Christians are awesome. Christians are the most loving people I know…”

That would be a new revolution.

And the phenomenon has turned the corner from people famous for doing something we love, to people who are famous for just being famous.

Which leads me to my recent irksome line of questioning:

What is Ashton Kutcher known for? Why is this guy famous?

His Nikon commercials seem like the only thing on TV right now. But he’s not a famous photographer. And I don’t want to see another scenario of him as the handsome rule-breaking rouge who snaps amazing pictures with lingere models while using a camera the size of gum.

The role that made him famous was playing an attractive idiot on “that 70s Show”, a painful comedy about a decade which was better left in history. How is this a license to a career?

And now he’s in a new movie “Killers” where he plays a husband who forgot to tell his wife he’s actually a spy. I swear I’ve seen this movie a dozen times with different actors plus read it another ten or more as the first script from some newbie screenwriter. Personally, I liked this film best when it was called “True Lies”.

Arnold Schwarzenegger’s celebrity is the topic of a different post…

Somewhere along the way he starts the show, “Punk’d” which is essentially him getting paid to bully and embarrass others. Cause after high school what you really want to watch is the attractive guy still picking on everyone else… right?

Then he marries Demi Moore, creating the first account of two strange phenomenons: 1) He marries the only woman in Hollywood who somehow becomes more attractive with age. 2) He married a woman whose daughter’s dreamed of dating him until mom stole him away.

Oh… and he decides his life is interesting enough to should challenge CNN to a duel. Who can get the first 1million followers on Twitter? Let me restate that… He essentially said “Hey massive news provider – I bet you more people will want to know what I’m doing than hear what’s going on in the entire world.”

And he won.

What does that Twitter feed read like:

Nikon brought the dump truck of cash today. Told them to put it next to last weeks pile. – 1 day ago

Played practical jokes on three more people. Made one of them cry on camera. It was awesome. – 12 hrs ago

Shot another Nikon commercial. Laughing and joking with beautiful women is so tiring. At least they pay with dump trucks. – 4 hrs ago

Had sex with Demi Moore. Took a picture with my Nikon camera. No, you can’t see it. – 1 hr ago

I just got paid to mention Nikon in my last tweet. Oh look, I mentioned them again. – 58 mins ago

Nikon. – 47 mins ago

Considering challenging Jesus to a Twitter duel. I bet I’ve got more followers than him. – 2 min ago

Now I know you’re probably shaking your head and saying “You’re just jealous”. You’re damn right I’m jealous. I can’t get a job and this guy seems to get paid for… well… I’m not even sure exactly. But every time the Nikon commercial sears my eyeballs I know I’ve been punk’d.

He’s probably a nice guy too. And a hard worker.

But he’s everywhere, for no good reason. So, that settles it, I gotta stop watching TV. Go out and do something so I don’t see his face.

Maybe I’ll buy a Nikon.

Damn you Ashton.

Here’s the short version: A 20 year old girl in Detroit has been put on probation at her job. Why? Well, she’s a waitress at Hooter’s and she’s getting a bit fat for her shiny orange shorts.

And this made the news. Redefining the “fluff piece”. Ah-hem.

As I fight back an onslaught of ever dirtier jokes I suggest you watch the CNN video for yourself. Then, I suspect you’ll see what I did:

First off, I agree with Hooter’s on this one. Their entire business and perception is based on a physical standard. The Dallas Cowboy’s cheerleaders are a good example to cite, even though the average Hooter’s girl is as likely to make the Cheerleaders as I am to become the first long haired man on the moon.

You go to Hooter’s to have your waitress bend over the table and show you things that aren’t on the menu. And for those of you giving the classic line “But, wait… the food’s awesome. My wife loves to go for their Hot Wings.” Sit down and shut up. I’m not buying it for a second. And if your wife does like to go, she’s enjoying making catty remarks at the same waitress you keep asking for a refill.

Hooter’s is not about the food. It’s more like a soft-core stripclub with an extensive menu. And if you’re going to come in for a bucket of hotwings and a cooler of beer the last thing you want to do is have a tubby waitress waddle over and cause lunch to come back up.

And the company gave her the tools to address the problem. A free gym membership. That’s a perk. It’s on the job training. Literally. Think of it this way, if you suddenly forgot how to do something vital to your job would you accept a free opportunity to relearn and keep your job? Of course you would.
I’m sure she was thinner when she was hired. If you don’t want to stay slim to keep your job… here’s a hint… don’t work at a place where the shorts double as napkins.

But this is not even the strangest part of this “news” story.

Everyone is quick to mention her height and weight. But, it’s not about the numbers, it’s about how the body carries it. And one quick look at this girl and I’m instantly thinking… please find bigger shorts.

Yet, I feel for her when she talks about losing her role “in the Hooter’s family”. Forget the fact that it must be a family petri-dish of dysfunction for a moment and ponder this: She was told all this in her two year review. That means she’s had this job since she was 18. And she’s teary-eyed at the thought of no longer sliding beer across tables while sporting polyester daisy-dukes? May I suggest you aim higher… reach for, well… reach for the sidewalk I guess cause this is a road to nowhere.

Speaking of NoWhere… how sad is your day if a Hooter’s on the outskirts of Detroit, Michigan sounds like fun?

But all of this pales in comparison to my favorite moment: If the company wants to impose a standard for its employees, fine. However, may I suggest that the manager of the restaurant not look like a planet. It’s impossible for me to take you seriously as a critic of other people’s appearance when you’ve got your own gravitational pull.

Terribly insensitive of me? Yes. Absolutely. But if we’re gonna talk standards, it should apply across the board. I don’t care how good the wings are.

I say take the gym membership, and turn yourself into a chiseled specimen. Then take your new look and boosted confidence out and find a new job.

But I digress.

From the rubble of one of the world’s poorest countries came a story which seemed to perfectly highlight the haves and have-nots of the tragedy. And both the absurdity, and wonder, of our national obsession with technology.

An iPhone saved a man’s life in Haiti.

No, this is not an Apple commercial. At least, not yet. THIS STORY is true.

A documentary filmmaker got trapped in the rubble of his hotel. The destruction caused a head injury and a compound fracture. He was going into shock.

But he had a First-Aid app on his iPhone, and was able to both diagnose and treat himself. Without this app, it is unlikely he would have survived the days until he was pulled from the rubble.

I’m awed by the power we now hold in our hands. The access to information once buried in libraries or found in the highest realms of expertise is now quite literally at the tip of our fingers.

And then I’m embarrassed. Because my first thought was “what app was that?”. Yet I know I’m not alone because the article spelled out the title and publisher of the exact program he used. I resist the urge to download it immediately… and then wonder how much of a purchasing spike this app received because of this news coverage.

How long before the company advertises this product as “proven to save lives”. Or will they embrace that shadiest of practices… linking a purchase to a tragedy under the guise of donation. “Send a dollar to Haiti with every purchase”.

Never mind where the rest of the purchase price goes…

So I’m stuck in a quandary. I love my iPhone. But, with all its cool apple-ness and my instant weather and tweet-ability… it is, at it’s core, a platform to help me consume. I can have just a little bit more. Know just a little bit more. Find just a little bit more.

With more than 1 Billion Apps downloaded to date, iTunes starts to seem like the smartest drug dealer in the world. We keep coming back for more because it’s helping us live better, and it might even save our lives!

But that 1 Billion represents a lot more money than has gone to Haiti, or any tragedy. Which makes me wonder… Since the iPhone is now saving lives, lets just send a big box to the next tragedy-thrashed area and wish them the best of luck!

Just picture it = iREDCROSS. iFEMA.

Never mind the people who survived 2 weeks in the rubble drinking leaking bath water and proving real miracles do happen. Thanks to our smart phones and on-line app stores, every tragedy can be repackaged as a reason to purchase something new.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go download that First-Aid app. I live in earthquake country, remember. And come to think of it, my iPhone needs to be charged.

Two men with deeply held religious beliefs illegally traveled into other countries to spread their messages. Neither succeeded, but both made news. And though the news coverage has been very different, I can’t shake the feeling that their stories are almost exactly the same.

First off we have the guy on the Northwest flight, Umar, who tried to blow up 300 fellow passengers as they landed in Detroit. A part of me thinks that some people would actually rather light their underwear on fire than land in Detroit, but I digress. His bomb failed, passengers tackled him for the chance to be on Larry King, and now he’s in a tiny cell while his picture is on every TV in the land.

This is an all too familiar story in the US news media. A Muslim extremist, an Al Qaeda plot, Presidential exclamations, and near constant news blathering about “What went wrong”. In short, be afraid, run for your life, cower under the stairs, but whatever you do… don’t turn off your 24hr news station!

Next we have the story of Robert Park, a Korean-American man who snuck into North Korea on Christmas Eve with “A letter” for Kim Jong Il. Frankly he’d be more likely to get a letter to Santa, but this reality did not deter him. He was promptly captured and imprisoned in a country where the US can’t talk you out.

On the surface, Park’s story is completely different because he’s a Christian missionary. His goal was to enter North Korea illegally and deliver a letter asking one of the craziest dictators in the world to open his borders in the name of Jesus Christ.

I read both stories the same day. And I found them equally sad.

Whatever you believe… forcing it on someone else doesn’t change hearts. No one ever got forced into changing their belief system. People have lied over and over to save their skins, but what you believe is a personal thing beyond the control of governments, laws, tortures, and killings.

Yet, somewhere along the way both these guys got convinced of the exact same thing: “If I sneak into this country and deliver this message then things will change. A difference will be made. I will get a reward in the next life and others will find the right path on earth.”

For one, the message was a bomb. For the other, a letter. But it doesn’t change the fact both are just pointless extreme actions which won’t do anything but entrench people further.

If the bomb had gone off would the US have pulled its military from Muslim nations?

If the letter got read by Kim Jong Il would he have wiped away a tear and repented from his ego-manacle ways?

Um. No.

So we’re left with extremist poster children for two different religions.

Another Muslim with so little self-worth and so much belief in a one man Jihad changing the world, that he’s willing to kill himself and others. And people can point and say “See, they all just want to kill us, women, children, everyone. Muslims are all waiting on their moment to be evil …”

Another Christian convinced that his belief is not only right, but so undeniable that if he could only be heard then change would come. And people can point and say “See, another Christian shoving their belief in our face like we’re all unthinking jungle folks rooting around in our filth until he came along. Christians aren’t loving, they’re naïve and offensive.”

And no one changes. Or grows. Or opens their minds. Or makes a new friend that isn’t just like them. With examples like this, why would they?

Which ultimately brings me to another thought.

We’re all just playground children pointing fingers to figure out who’s at fault. The security system. Al Qaeda. Kim Jong Il. The system. The West. The East. There’s no shortage of groups to blame these days. It’s us verses them, and “THEM” has become easy to find.

How different would things be if we were worrying about ourselves instead of everyone else. No keeping up with the Joneses , or staring at the neighbors through our binoculars. You do your thing. I’ll do mine.

And maybe… just maybe… we’ll have dinner together some time. Our kids will all play as a group so we can realize they are all just – kids. If things get really crazy we might become friends. Which is really better for everyone cause you’re less likely to force your beliefs or your bombing runs on your friends.

You see, at any given moment I am only one nudge away from complete and utter geekdom for all things NASA and space. I know random facts about the Mercury, Venus, and Apollo programs. I can name the men that died in the Apollo 1 fire. I knew about Apollo 13 before the movie. Space fascinates me in a unique way because it is both the great unknown and the great equalizer. Get us off our little blue ball and we are all exactly the same.

That’s my favorite thing about old Sci-Fi movies, or even Star Trek; the moment earthlings have to deal with other races, the whole concept of disagreeing over skin color or national origin just becomes silly. Space Conquest is a global victory.

But I digress. Just as we have.

President Obama posed with the Apollo 11 Astronauts and no one seemed to notice the irony. President Kennedy challenged the nation to explore space at the same time Martin Luther King Jr. challenged blacks and whites to live as equals. Now, 40 years later, President Obama represents the new high point of MLKs dream, yet the high point of our space exploration remains stalled and remembering the good old days.

Wasn’t the world supposed to look like “the Jetsons” by now? Shouldn’t the moon landing have been the beginning of something? And yet, the farthest man has ever explored was accomplished, got boring, and was scrapped before I was even born.

Yes, I know we were “racing” the Soviets. But Armstrong wasn’t standing on the moon saying “I claim this moon for America”, or “That’s it, we won, beat that you commie bastard!”. Instead the entire world watched. And marveled. Not because it was America, but because that was a man up there. A human, breathing air and looking back at all of us.

But now we’re going around the world apologizing. Or policing everybody else. Instead of a superpower racing to the moon, we’re a supernanny passing out discipline and crackers.

No one loves a hall monitor. We’re inspired by the rebel kid showing off with danger and conquest.

America may be the last remaining “SuperPower”, but we don’t act like it. We look back at the great things we used to do like an old man pondering a misbegotten youth. We say how great we were to do something generations ago, but don’t take it as inspiration.

New excitement has sprung up about going back to the moon. And when the Apollo 11 guys were asked how they felt about NASA returning they spoke as true adventurers “We’ve already been to the moon. Why aren’t we going to Mars instead?”

But these adventurers are now grandfathers. Old and frail. And as if to accentuate the point, Walter Cronkite died just before this celebration. The man who talked the nation through the death of President Kennedy. The newscaster who took off his glasses to wipe tears from his eyes as Armstrong walked on the moon. The world watched, and Walter Cronkite marveled along with us. It was a new world, one where men really did visit other planets!

Now that world is literally dying. Remembering days gone by instead of reveling in days and conquests to come. Individuals have done amazing things since. But nations stopped trying to expand man’s horizons and now just try to keep the peace.

I can’t help but think it’s awfully peaceful in Space.

A giant leap indeed. I hope someday we leap even further.

I spent my formative years in England, living in a tiny village twenty miles from London in the late seventies and early eighties. These were bad decades for cars world wide, and England was filled with non-descript rolling boxes. The damp streets were full of the small, bland, and unremarkable, with few bright spots or unique variations to stir my early automotive obsession. So as I learned to ride my bike down these sleepy streets I never paid attention to the cars. Except for one.

At the end of one especially quiet cul-de-sac sat a blue and white ’57 chevy. At least that’s what my dad said it was. To me it could have been an attacking spacecraft. The fins and the chrome. The two-tone. To my young eyes it looked brand new and the fins seemed sharp enough to take off my arm. My dad explained that the shiny name across the trunk was pronounced “Shevro-Lay” not “Chevro-LET”. French, he told me, but the car was American. That made no sense to my little mind, but the message was clear… This car represented the U.S.A.

Many times in the years to follow I rode down that cul-de-sac just to see if the big Chevy was parked outside. It was my touchstone, a visible link to America. It told me I was from a country that wanted to make a statement and get noticed. A people who were stylish and cool. I was an American kid overseas, and I liked feeling connected to that world an ocean away.

Many General Motors products lay in my future. My 1982 Pontiac Firebird, the “Knight Rider” body style, with an anemic four cylinder. It was a terrible car, displaying many of the traits which drove people away from American cars in the ‘80s. But I loved it. To me, it was a supercar. Then there was a string of Caprice Classics, bought and obsessed over by my father who found them to be reliable and luxurious holy-grails on wheels. Even today, my wife and I own a GMC Yukon, which has been a godsend for countless ski-trips and days of film production.

But the magic has been gone a long time, maybe since those sharp edged chrome monsters of the late fifties. I don’t lust after American cars more than anything else. The days of a unique offering which only GM builds have been gone since… well… maybe the EV1. But few lusted after that car either.

Car design is now a sea of sameness. Every four door seems to look a bit like the Honda Accord. And even the most exotic sports cars have cupholders and Bluetooth as selling features. In short, car companies chase the middle ground in search of the largest sales demographic. No different than any other business, and all the same as each other.

In recent years, I began to have hope. GM started to make trucks with interiors from this century. Good build quality and reliability. And cars in the pipeline which compete in every class. I even became a proponent of Pontiac, the excitement brand was back! But we all know how that will end.

So now, with the Volt on the horizon, and good looking, true enthusiast cars like the Camaro and Solstice Coupe just getting to showrooms… the General gets swallowed by the Government. The tragic fact in all this is the truly competitive quality of current GM product. But there’s a lingering reputation problem, we still think this is GM from the 1980s. So no one’s buying.

I hope the company emerges stronger. And in years to come I hope some eye-popping cars come out with “Chevrolet” on the back. I would be nice to point one out to my own child, instead of explaining them alongside Tucker, and Packard, and Dusenburg.

And if you’re looking, it’s the right time for an amazing deal. Maybe for something which will wind up as historic as the old ’57.

Ever since 9/11 and 24hour news channels with scrolling text, we as Americans are constantly being told the latest thing to fear. And ideally, we shouldn’t fear it, but dread it in a way that consumes our every thought and conversation. Keep the news on in the background. Track the source of your fear.

Which brings me back to Swine flu, which is doing a great job of proving the point. It has not and will not (by the looks of current reports) reach “pandemic” levels. When there’s Seven-Billion people in the world you’ve got to wipe out millions to be a full blown global crisis. Keep in mind that means 7 Million people is only .1%! Swine flu hasn’t even infected 1,000 people yet – worldwide! If Swine Flu is a pandemic, then what is real flu? Or Cancer? Or the common cold? Uber-pandemic?

But Swine-Flu-Fear… that has reached pandemic levels. Especially in this country, the fear is paralyzing people and undermining lives. While speaking to a friend this week he described his wife as “obsessed with Swine Flu”. Here in their nice neighborhood in Los Angeles… And she’s not alone as LA Emergency Rooms have been so overrun with frightened people that they’ve had to set up Triage tents.

Traige tents – The kind of thing you find in war-zones and disaster areas. But here in Sunny LA they’ve been filled with people who coughed some time this morning, or ate pork last week. I wish I was kidding.

And in the ultimate confluence of technology and paranoia – the iTunes store will soon offer a “Swine Flu Tracker” App for your iPhone.

That is if you don’t want to follow the Flu via Twitter. How does that work exactly? Does the Flu itself own an iPhone? Are the airborne particles forming into thumbs and typing “now floating toward an unsuspecting spring-breaker!”.

It’s more likely you’ll die this year from driving while using your cell phone than be infected with Swine Flu. And yet, there are people who are going to want that iPhone app, and freak when the Flu “tweets” about an infection change.

Now, if someone died in a car wreck while checking their iPhone for a Swine Flu update – that would be something.

Swine Flu is just a headline. The mortality rate is very low, and yet it’s the number one news story.

Consider the fact that regular, good-old-fashion, “human flu” has killed thousands this year. Complications from flu generally kill more than 35,000 people in the US each year. If Swine-Flu is Pandemic – then the normal flu is a planet killer!!! If you survived flu season you should get a T-Shirt and the chance to tell your gripping story of survival.

But yes,… but all means, let’s panic. It’s now what America does best and Swine Flu is our latest fixation…

… oh, wait… I can’t call it Swine Flu, can I? Because the pork industry is afraid that people will stop eating pork. Did you catch that? They fear for their business. Even though you can’t catch flu from eating pork any more than you could catch normal flu from eating person.

(This blog does not endorse the eating of person. Don’t be ridiculous. – But it must be stated to undermine America’s #2 biggest pastime – Calling Lawyers. We do however heartily endorse the eating of pig. Especially in BBQ sauce.)

So now the Federal Government refers to this disease as “H1N1”, cause that rolls off the tongue and no one will possibly assume it has anything to do with pigs.

And we’re exporting our absurdity. Israel has declared they don’t want to call it Swine flu because the name is offensive to Jews and Muslims. That’s like saying small-pox is offensive to little people.

But we better change it, cause we’re afraid someone will get offended.

Come back after the commercial break and we’ll tell you ten more reasons to be terrified.

Here’s an idea:
Turn off the TV. Take a deep breath. Sit quietly if you have to. And if you really want to mix things up… go outside!

Fear never accomplished anything. Fear makes us cower in the corner too paralyzed to move and survive. Fear stops our thinking. Fear is a death all it’s own. Where’s the warning for that?