Back in February I made my prediction about John McCain's potential running mate. I picked Governor Tim Pawlenty of Michigan.



Now there's this just in from Yahoo News...

http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/player/popup/index.php?cl=7785353  

We'll see.

Thanks to all of you who supported the Lisa and me with financial gifts and prayers. The event was a rousing success. 

Thanks for getting behind me in support of the OC AIDS Walk. The reason my wife and I walked this year is that we wanted to extend the loving hand of Jesus to those who are hurting because of this disease. We are grieved over the negative, stygmatized, judgmental attitudes that are so often given toward those who are suffering. If only all of Jesus' followers would live and love like him...oh, if only. And finally, God we pray for a cure. Heal our people, and heal our land. So let it be.

Here are some pictures.

 
One of the 350+ Walkers from our church. Her message is filled with such love, justice, and compassion.


 
This little girl made me go "Awwwww." Especially with my own little girl on the way in 2 months.



 
A tower of tie-dye.


 
So cute.


 
Some more cool shirt artwork.


 
The Lisa and I and our friends Paul, Crystal, and Cliff.
 
This guy rocks!


 
The Lisa and our friend Crystal.


 
And finally, the secret to those perfect lines on the baseball stadium field that seem so magically drawn. It's all in the lawnmower, baby!

The Lisa has Open House tonight, so I get to write for 4 hours or so.

Woot woot!

Today's writing music: Apocalypto soundtrack

Thirteen-year-old Brian Robeson knows the Secret. His mom is seeing another man, and his dad doesn't know. See . . . his parents are divorced -- his mom lives in the States, and his dad lives in Canada.

That's why Brian is on an airplane is flying to Canada. He's going to visit his father. But when something goes wrong aboard the small Cessna bushplane, Brian finds himself in the worst possible situation.

Crashed.

In the middle of the woods in Canada. A dead pilot. The only survivor is Brian.

The story that follows is pure adventure and growing up as Brian learns what he's made of. "You are your most valuable asset. Don't forget that. You are the best thing you have." In the face of wild animals, extreme weather, hunger, sickness, and all the doubting voices in his head, Brian discovers the beauty of the outdoors, the quiet noise of nature, and a deeper courage than he ever imagined he had.

HATCHET is dedicated to the students of Hershey Middle School and is certainly fit for middleschoolers, but readers of all ages will enjoy Brian's struggle with nature and himself and will root for him the whole way.

If this book review was helpful, please vote for it at Amazon. 

 

 I started writing again. 

Today's writing music: Blood Diamond soundtrack

Apparently, Hillary would "obliterate" Iran if they nuked Israel. 

Watch the video clip here >>>

 

Or the entire interview here >>> Watch Interview

April 2008

Jacqueline Woodson has written over 20 books for both children and young adults, including IF YOU COME SOFTLY, SHOW WAY, FEATHERS and the newly released AFTER TUPAC & D FOSTER. In this interview with Teenreads.com's Jonathan Stephens, Woodson explains why she chose to leave the narrator of her latest book nameless and describes which of her own personality traits have surfaced in her characters. She also reveals what she loves the most about writing stories, explains how her upbringing helped to shape her work ethic, and names the Tupac Shakur songs she finds most inspiring.

Teenreads.com: I've been looking forward to reviewing one of your novels ever since I saw you speak on a panel last year at the Los Angeles Times Book Festival. As you talked about your book, IF YOU COME SOFTLY, you had a certain depth about you that totally showed up in your latest novel, AFTER TUPAC & D FOSTER. So needless to say, I had a great time with your story.

Jacqueline Woodson: Thanks for the love. In the moments of writing, I feel deeply connected to the characters I'm creating. Just like in the book, D Foster seemed to come out of nowhere and suddenly appear in my head fully formed. I had a really great time writing her character. At one point early on, there's the pizza grease trailing down her arm and she's oblivious to it. It was great to revisit that kind of oblivion because it was so much of my teen years --- just being clueless about all these small things happening around me and then at the same time being hyper aware of other stuff.

TRC: So let's start off with the most important question: What's your favorite Tupac song? Is it "Dear Mama" from in the story, or some other song? 



Copyright 1997-2008, Teenreads.com. All rights reserved.

"Everyone's got a purpose and it's just that they gotta figure out what it is and then go have it."

That's what D says anyway.

D Foster is the girl who shows up on their block one day at the end of summer. She says she got off the bus in Queens because she liked the way the trees looked. That's the type of girl she is. She's also a roamer, roaming all over the place. Neeka and the unnamed narrator learn very quickly that D has something they don't have, something they're jealous for --- freedom.

The narrator and her single mother are trying to make ends meet. Her best friend Neeka grew up in a large churchy family with a set of issues all their own. Both of them come from a world where mothers are everything and fathers live in the distant background. But even though their families have rules and curfews, they have parents who seem to care, which is something D would trade all the roaming in the world for.

When D first shows up, rapper Tupac Shakur hasn't been shot yet. To these three 12-year-old girls, he's an icon. He sings about the things they're living. They see him and listen to his lyrics, and it's like they're looking at themselves in the words. His art is real. He knows them and their lives and has something to say that means something, and he's supposed to be "for always." Like the best of friends are. Even when the bullets come.

Bullets are a certain kind of bad, but there are other things that hurt just as much, only in other ways. Like how D hasn't seen her real mother in a long time and has to live with her foster mom Flo until who knows when. Or how Neeka's oldest brother Tash is doing time in jail for something stupid. Or how the girls don't know much at all about D besides what she tells them. Which is all you can really know about a friend, isn't it? If they never tell you, how are you supposed to know? With how much time the girls spend together, you'd think they'd know all there is to know about each other --- family and friends, passions and fears, their history. But everyone has their secrets. Even D.

When it comes down to it, Jacqueline Woodson has packed a lot of tough topics into this airtight little story: throwaway kids, jail visits, homosexuality, Tupac's art, fatherlessness, and the hope some kids cling to that they might one day play professional sports. With so many big issues in the mix, it's amazing how smooth the story flows. It's no wonder that her books have earned so much praise --- Newbery Honor Medal, Caldecott Honor, ALA Best Book, National Book Award Finalist, Coretta Scott King Award and the L.A. Times Book Prize, among others.

As Tupac's lyrics did (and still do), Woodson's characters stand there, so familiar, and catch something in the hearts of her readers. Her writing aims high and hits deep. AFTER TUPAC & D FOSTER is another solid performance by a proven name in young adult literature. You won't want to miss it.

--- Reviewed by Jonathan Stephens

If this book review was helpful, please vote for it at Amazon. 

Copyright 1997-2008, Teenreads.com. All rights reserved.

The sickness hit my mother when I was born. A whole month of sickness. She couldn't remember anything. Amnesia and grand mal seizures and the cold, cold walls in her German hospital room.

This is what my father told me:

Your mother was sick, and the doctors, well, the doctors said she might not make it. I remember one night I was walking the hallways with you in my arms. I was holding you and talking to you. "It might just be you and me, son." My cheeks were wet with tears. "You might not ever get to meet your mother. She might not make it, little one."

Clark.

It is my father's name, and it is the name in the middle of me. Jonathan Clark Stephens. I have wondered if it would even be possible to separate him from me. From my personality. From my mind. From my memories. My life.

But my mother, she was almost taken. She is not a part of my name, and if she had been taken, I would not have anything left. Nothing but DNA and molecules, which are not so easy to hug and are the worst of storytellers.

Gallop Poll

"75% of Americans think they're above average." 

And if you're like me, you look at that statistic and your first thought is, "Ha! I always knew they were dumber than they thought they were."

And your second thought is "Hmmm..."

Just in case Jon Stewart's hilariously accurate political rant from yesterday's post wasn't enough for you, here is the music video of an up-and-coming group called the Flobots. If their name doesn't get your legs all wobbly, still go ahead and watch their video - "No Handlebars."



Here are the lyrics >>>

"No Handlebars"

I can ride my bike with no handlebars
No handlebars
No handlebars

I can ride my bike with no handlebars
No handlebars
No handlebars

Look at me, look at me
hands in the air like it's good to be
ALIVE
and I'm a famous rapper
even when the paths're all crookedy
I can show you how to do-si-do
I can show you how to scratch a record
I can take apart the remote control
And I can almost put it back together
I can tie a knot in a cherry stem
I can tell you about Leif Ericson
I know all the words to "De Colores"
And "I'm Proud to be an American"
Me and my friend saw a platypus
Me and my friend made a comic book
And guess how long it took
I can do anything that I want cuz, look:

I can keep rhythm with no metronome
No metronome
No metronome

I can see your face on the telephone
On the telephone
On the telephone

Look at me
Look at me
Just called to say that it's good to be
ALIVE
In such a small world
All curled up with a book to read
I can raise funds open up a thrift store
I can make a living off a magazine
I can design an engine sixty four
Miles to a gallon of gasoline
I can make new antibiotics
I can make computers survive aquatic conditions
I know how to run a business
And I can make you wanna buy a product
Movers shakers and producers
Me and my friends understand the future
I see the strings that control the systems
I can do anything with no assistance
I can change the nation with a microphone
With a microphone
With a microphone
I can split the atoms of a molecule
Of a molecule
Of a molecule

Look at me
Look at me
Driving and I won't stop
And it feels so good to be
Alive and on top
My reach is global
My tower secure
My cause is noble
My power is pure
I can hand out a million vaccinations
Or let'em all die in exasperation
Have'em all grilled leavin lacerations
Have'em all killed by assassination
I can make anybody go to prison
Just because I don't like'em and
I can do anything with no permission
I have it all under my command
I can guide a missile by satellite
By satellite
By satellite
and I can hit a target through a telescope
Through a telescope
Through a telescope
and I can end the planet in a holocaust
In a holocaust
In a holocaust
In a holocaust
In a holocaust
In a holocaust
In a holocaust

I can ride my bike with no handlebars
No handle bars
No handlebars

I can ride my bike with no handlebars
No handlebars
No handlebars

This bit by Jon Stewart on the Daily Show is downright genius.

It is an absolutely amazing political commentary and smackdown of politics as usual.

Watch and enjoy.

 

I've been scavenger hunting today for everything CATCHER. You have read the novel, right? 

If not, read the novel in cartoon format now.   >>>   Cartoon - part 1   | Cartoon - part 2 

J.D. Salinger said he wanted plain covers with no designs or photos because he didn't want someone to pick up his book because of the cover. 

Salinger might have hugged someone over these covers. 


Salinger might have sacked someone over these covers.
 

The following are various pictures and lyrics and mp3s related to the novel, in case any other teacher in the world might ever teach the novel and like some realia (that's a big time teacher word for "other media forms").

Check all this out...

p.1 - David Copperfield | Original Text that CATCHER Mocks - the mocking opening of the novel
p.2 - Military School Ads 
p.2 - Valley Forge Military Academy (A.K.A. "Pencey Prep") | The tribute band named after Holden's school
p.2 - Wooster School (A.K.A. Whooton School)
p.53 - Gladstone Bags - the very expensive luggage Holden carries around
p.61 - Edmont Hotel - The hotel Holden stayed at in NYC
p.73 - Stork Club - A club where famous people hang out
p.74 - Gary Cooper - The star Holden lied to the 3 blondes about seeing in the Lavender Room
p.105 - Grand Central Station - The train station Holden slept in and stored his bags
p.114 - Broadway - The strip of playhouses Holden went with Sally
p.115 - Comin' Thro the Rye by Robert Burns Lyrics | Comin' Thro the Rye .mp3 - The song Holden heard a boy whistling on the street
p.119 - American Museum of Natural History - Holden was here
p.124 - Saturday Evening Post Cover 1947 - the style of Post covers at the time of the novel's conception
p.125 - Radio City Music Hall - Holden saw a movie here with Sally
p.129 - Rockefeller Center Ice Skating - Holden went skating here with Sally
p.137 - Radio City - Rockettes - Holden went back here after dumping Sally
p.141 - Seton Hotel & Wicker Bar - where Holden met up with an old Carl Luce
p.154 - Central Park | Where do the ducks go? - what Holden asks the taxi driver
p.156 - Holden's Parents' Apartment Building - the most likely building for Holden's parents to have lived in - Holden sneaks in here to see Phoebe
p.202 - Metropolitan Museum of Art - Holden wastes time here waiting for Phoebe
p.209 - Central Park Zoo - Holden goes here with Phoebe
p.210-211 - Central Park Carrousel | "Oh, Marie" .mp3 | "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" .mp3 - Holden watches Phoebe on the Carrousel while these songs play

 

If you want to know the truth, Mr. Salinger, your novel isn't quite the phoniest work of art ever written. Thanks for the ride.

Alien vs. Predator

Spaceballs

________________________________


Movies the Lisa Recommends During Pregnancy

Look Who's Talking 

How the brain works.

Here's a closeup image of a human brain cell under extreme magnification. The image is legitimate and spectacular. 

I love these images of cellular-level structures. I saw one the other day of a human zygote at conception, the little colored sperm embedded in the egg. Stunning!



So let's talk honestly here. We humans are pretty dagblam intelligent creatures. I mean, we invented Ziploc and Skinny Cows, for crying out loud!  

So if our human brains -- all those neurons firing across synapses to create memories and pain and muscle movement and senses and oh so much more complexity -- supposedly evolved through a time-constrained series of random helpful mutations, then why the heck can't we figure our brains out?

Is random chance that much smarter than human intelligence?

If you ask me, macroevolution requires as much faith as belief in an intelligent creator.

If not more.

YOU BE THE JUDGE: Which candidates does Yahoo lean toward?

Here's their latest picture of McCain:



And their latest picture of Clinton:



There was not an Obama article today. Or maybe they just had a tough time finding an embarrassing picture? And maybe no picture is better than a good picture? I mean, take a gander below at Obama's pictures...it's hard to make him look bad.

HOWEVER! 
Yahoo does have permanent pictures posted for each candidate's campaign.
Here they are:

     McCain             Paul             Clinton         Obama


Interesting. Can you say "Spin" much? 

So how about we even the playing field here a bit. (Hover over each picture to see the source)

Hillary Clinton



Barack Obama
 
 

John McCain

 

The first April shower 
comes as a surprise.
We do not expect such beauty 
around these parts.
The dirty air and gray skies 
simply won't have it.
But the speckled windows 
have other praises to sing.
I choose not to hit 
the wiper handle.
"Let the droplets live!" 
I think.
The taillights refract their red glow 
through the globs of windshield water.
The green traffic lights fight for space 
in the red droplets.
Then dancing beads funnel together and 
race up the windshield toward the roof.
Smooth dark trails meander
through minefields of 
colorful pocked explosions.
Beauty in waterdrops.
Southern California rain.