FLORIDA FINALLY GETS "FED UP"

"The Chronicles of Narnia-Part 1: Technical/Visual Aspects

With an estimated budget of $150 million, "The Chronicles of Narnia-The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe" is opening in theaters tomorrow--Disney's film adaptation of the C.S. Lewis' classic literary work. (As a point of reference, $30 million was spent on the production of Mel Gibson's "The Passion." So, what will 5 times the production budget yield in terms of special effects?)

Brother Steve Camp has posted an excellent article on his blog which gives us a pretty good insight into the faith of C.S. Lewis, as well as an article giving great recommendations on the proper expectations evangelicals should hold as they venture into the theater this weekend to view the movie. Hint: evangelicals should expect the same thing other moviegoers do......an evening of great entertainment. As an artist, in addition to entertainment value, I'm also interested in the composition and special effects of the film--the overall asthetics of what critics are claiming is destined to be the blockbuster of this Christmas season.

Without my viewing the film, to follow is the information I've been able to put together in regards to some of the special-effects aspects of the piece. (By the way, tomorrow I hope to post on the unique marketing aspect of the film).

Very impressive visually-from what I've seen in the movie trailers-is Aslan, the character of the lion, which is 100% computer-generated, and took 2 years to complete. The battle scene contains 5,000 computer-generated characters within the Narnian army alone, and 15,000 CG characters within the witch's army.The computer program "Massive" was employed to create the battle, a program created by Stephen Regelous. (The "Massive" program was used to create the mass legion of robots in "I, Robot," the battle scenes in "Lord of the Rings," the crowd scenes in the new theatrical release, "Kong," and the crowd in the gallery on that cute little "Kid Tiger Woods" commercial spot for Nike).

From an article written by Courtney Macavinta, and published on the wire.com website: "The computer-generated characters used in these scenes, called 'agents,' have minds of their own. 'Every agent has its own choices and a complete brain,' Regelous said. 'The most important thing about making realistic crowds is making realistic individuals.'In Massive, agents' brains -- which look like intricate flow charts -- define how they see and hear, how fast they run and how slowly they die.

Like real people, agents' body types, clothing and the weather influence their capabilities. Agents aren't robots, though. Each makes subtle responses to its surroundings with fuzzy logic rather than yes-no, on-off decisions. And every agent has thousands of brain nodes, such as their combat node, which has rules for their level of aggression.

When an animator places agents into a simulation, they're released to do what they will. It's not crowd control but anarchy. That's because each agent makes decisions from its (own) point of view." (Hmmm......now from what theological viewpoint is that statement coming? Just kidding.........not gonna go that route).

Sorry. Continuing with Regelous' comments from the Macavinta article: "Still, when properly genetically engineered, the right character will always win the fight. 'It's possible to rig fights, but it hasn't been done," Regelous said. "In the first test fight (for Lord of the Rings) we had 1,000 silver guys and 1,000 golden guys. We set off the simulation, and in the distance you could see several guys running for the hills.'" (That I would have loved to have been on hand to see).

Regelous went on to say, "I can't tell what's Massive and what's not anymore." (Okay, now that comment is just plain scary!)

Incidentally, if you would like to put this incredible software to work for you, Massive 2.0 is available for a mere $18,000 USD per permanent interactive license, plus $4,000 per year for updates and support. Pocketchange, right?

Larry Flynt Moving to the Right?

(From NewsMax current issue)

Larry Flynt: Hillary Turning Me Republican

Hustler magazine publisher Larry Flynt is so miffed at Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton that he's thinking of becoming a Republican. In August, the infamous pornographer donated $1,000 to Clinton, according to documents filed by the fonner first lady's Senate campaign committee. But less than a month later, the New York Democrat returned the check.

"It's unbelievable," Flynt told Newsday. "But I'm used to this kind of hypocrisy." "'I've been a lifelong Democrat," the famous smut peddler said. "But I guess I'm going to have to find a third party, or maybe some Republicans."

During then-President Bill Clinton's 1998 impeachment battle, Flynt aided the first couple with some third-party financial support: He offered $1 million to any witness who could provide sexual dirt on Republicans. Flynt's cash-for-trash investigation resulted in the resignation of House Speaker Robert Livingston on the eve of the president's impeachment by the House.

Flynt said President Clinton expressed his gratitude two years later, after the 2000 Democratic National Convention. "The president sent word to me, you know -ahh, he was thankful for my effort," he told the New York Observer.

Can you hear me screaming into my pillow??

MY THANKSGIVING ROLLERCOASTER

Whew! What an emotional, bittersweet Thanksgiving weekend. Fortunately, Thanksgiving Day itself was a wonderful time spent with my parents, my brother, and his family, at his home in Lawrenceville, GA. The rest of the weekend.......well........

I thought I could access the internet on my brother's computer; turns out, he doesn't have a computer at the present time! So, with the exception of brief internet access through a cell phone, my internet time was all but non-existent over the weekend. (I couldn't sign on to blogger, because I couldn't figure out how to enter the underline that I use in my screen name into the mobile phone's keypad!)

After the turkey and dressing was digested Thanksgiving evening, my brother insisted on showing me the new building and facilities at the church in which he is serving as youth pastor. I could elaborate on this further, but that probably would be better off as its own post. Suffice it to say that it is a very seeker-driven church, heavily influenced by Willow Creek, and complete with a coffee bistro in the foyer prior to Sunday morning worship services. (And I'm not exaggerating about the coffee shop!)

Saturday morning, the entire family drove to my elderly parents' home in Rome, Georgia, to help them complete their move from Rome to their new residence in Cleveland, TN. My 73-year-old mother's health is steadily deteriorating, and the move will put her near her two brothers, where she can visit and spend time with them. The house my parents are moving from happens to be the house I grew up in. We moved in that house when I was three years old, back in 1969, and I moved out of it when I was 27. Twenty-four years lived in one house can produce quite a few memories! My parents are selling the "homeplace."

(Rome was a great little town in which to spend your childhood. Lots of history and a rich heritage in a beautiful area of North Georgia).
So Saturday afternoon, after everyone was out of the house, and I lingered in the room that had served as my bedroom for so many years--that's when the emotions kicked in. I fought back tears as I confronted the fact that I'd most likely never see the inside of that room again. Late night phone calls with friends and suitors, artwork that I had worked on into the wee hours of the morning, sleepless nights as a young single spent hoping, wishing, praying for the "right one" to come along, all-nighters I pulled getting ready for major exams in college--so many memories came flooding back.

I remember as a child, the many nights spent reading about the Bobbsey Twins or Nancy Drew mysteries by the light of my old clock radio........long after my parents had sent me to bed and announced, "lights out." (You know, the old flip-digit style--like the one that woke Bill Murray's character every morning in "Groundhog Day).

Nights as a teenager, listening to Rex Smith croon me to sleep via his 8-track tape entitled, "Sooner or Later."


Anyway, my parents are moving back to the town that THEY grew up in--the town of their childhood. Guess I can't blame them for that.

I would appreciate your prayers for my mother and the health problems she is experiencing.

And, I hope your Thanksgiving was a special one.

Thanksgiving wishes

Wishing everyone a wonderful day of introspective reflection and thankfulness for the Lord's blessings and graciousness in our lives.

--Stephanie

(littlegal)

Click on "Thanksgiving Wishes" in the title above to enjoy a light-hearted, animated Thanksgiving greeting.

Wow-it's been a month since I posted?

Well, I have my new crown. What they can do in the area of dentistry these days is amazing!

Today's post is a version of "Computer Proverbs" I found while surfing (with a few of my own edits and additions). Enjoy!

COMPUTER PROVERBS

(A few choice proverbs from that PC philosopher, "Compucious")

* Home is where you hang your "@."

* The "E-mail" of the species is more dangerous than the "mail."

* A journey of a thousand sites begins with a single click.

* C:\ is the root of all directories.

*The modem is the message.

* Too many clicks spoil the browse.

* A "chat" has nine lives.

*Don't byte off more than you can view.

* What boots up must shut down.

* Know what to expect before you connect.

* Oh, what a tangled "website" we weave when first we practice.

*A user and his leisure time are soon parted.

* Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day, teach him to use the internet and he won't stop to eat for weeks.

I SHALL WEAR A PORCELAIN CROWN

About a year ago, I made a mistake. I bit down on a piece of hard candy--you know, the kind that you're supposed to allow to dissolve in your mouth--Jolly Rancher, starlight mints, that kind of thing? Ever since I was a child, I've never been able to eat hard candy without biting it and chewing it up instead of simply sucking on it. I'm not exactly sure why, but let's just say I don't think I'll ever know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop! I guess I'm just too impatient. Well, after 39+ years of biting down on hard candy, I finally cracked a molar about a year ago. Ever since, the crack has gotten larger and larger, and the pain stronger and stronger. Finally, it got to be too much to bear, and I broke down and went to visit my dentist this morning (who, I learned today, was featured on one of the Nashville episodes of "The Simple Life"--now I understand why this crown is costing over a thousand buckeroos--my dentist has become a celebrity!)

When I arrived, at 10 a.m., they put me in the dental chair, and told me that I would be able to watch a movie during the procedure. I chose, "Return to Me," which is, as they say, a "chick flick." The dentist came in and gave me four shots in my gum around the molar with one of these,












which was attached to one of these.

This is called a "harpoon-type" syringe..........fitting description, huh? (I believe the needle should be called a knitting needle)! These can be quite intimidating if you are not expecting to see them.

Then, the dentist left and said he'd be back after the injections took effect. Less than three minutes later, I'm feeling like I'm going to pass out. I assumed it was due to the fact that I hadn't eaten this morning (dumb move). The dental assistant told me it was the epinephrine in the anesthestic, which causes some patients' hearts to pound. Epinephrine is commonly known as adrenaline. That's right, the hormone "adrenaline" is one of the ingredients in novacaine. (No wonder some folks totally freak out in the dental chair and opt for nitrous oxide!) As you may be aware, adrenaline is the "fight or flight" hormone, and when it gets into the blood stream, it forces the heart to beat hard and fast. (Since I had just finished off a 20 ounce bottle of Coca Cola, I just knew the combination of caffeine and novacaine was going to be a deadly one for me). Well, the feeling quickly subsided, so I positioned my headphones, and I settled in to watch my theatrical selection. So, here comes the theme song, Dean Martin's romantic and relaxing, "Return to Me":

"Return to me
Oh my dear I am so lonely
Hurry back, hurry back
Oh my love hurry back
I am yours

Return to me
For my heart wants you only
Hurry home, hurry home
Won't you please hurry home
To my heart"

This has almost lulled me to sleep, when the dentist comes back in. "Well, are you starting to feel numb?" I'm thinking, "What'd you say? I can't hear you--you put me in headphones, remember?" So, I remove the headphones, and he takes out a dental scaler (pick):

"I'm going to poke your gum with this-you tell me if you can feel it, okay?" Gotcha. Any feeling-I'll let you know. He pricks it, and I can feel the tiniest little twinge of pain. "I felt it," I announced. "Okay, I'm going to give you a little more and see if we can get you a little bit more numb." So, he gives me another injection with his "harpoon." After a few minutes, I can't feel my throat, and I feel like I can't swallow. "Great," I'm thinking, "what if my nose gets stopped up, and then I can't breathe?" My entire bottom set of teeth is numb, my tongue is numb, and my throat is numb. Okay, now I'm paralyzed." About 10 minutes later, he returns to try again with the dental pick. I still feel his poking and prodding. I explain to him that when I had my wisdom teeth extracted, the dentist had to give me two doses of anesthesia. I'm very resistant to letting go of control of a situation, (which is an area of my life that I am still growing in). So he says he's going to give me some "juice" because that will take care of numbing in about 2 or three minutes. (One more time with the "whale impaler"). Six injections for one tooth, friends!

This finally does the trick, and for 30 minutes as he drills, tiny pieces of enamel and a silver filling I had are flying all over the place-landing in my eye, bouncing off his protective glasses--(I thought I was in a high school woodshop class)! Finally, they got it to the point they wanted, and applied the temporary crown. So, for three weeks, while the lab is making my permanent porcelain crown,

I get to wear a silver crown on my molar similar to this . (I suddenly feel inspired to write a rap tune).

By the way, the injections didn't bother me, and the procedure was virtually pain-free. But when the anesthetic began to wear off, I felt as though someone had sucker-punched me right in the jaw. Believe me, I no longer bite hard candy. I've learned my lesson well. Take it from me--just let your candy melt in your mouth (or only indulge in chocolate--which is my favorite, anyway!)

YUM!

ON ADOPTION

GIVEN UP, GIVEN A CHANCE

As an adoptee, one thought that I really want to convey on the topic of adoption is this: I believe adoptive parents should try and maintain a balance between being too protective of their adoptive child, and accepting the reality that an adoptive child feels differently about themselves than do children of natural parents. It is a delicate balance to maintain, to be sure, and not an easy balance to achieve.

No matter how much love is shown to the adoptive child, or how much the parents try to show their adoptees that they belong in their family, the reality is, there is no getting around this feeling, (however slight), in the back of the adoptee's mind that that they just don't quite fit in. (By the way, not all adoptive parents choose to let their adoptive children know they were adopted, but I've known I was adopted for as long as I can remember).

Because of this feeling of not quite fitting in, some adoptive parents try to overcompensate for the fact that they didn't actually give birth to the child by holding on too tight to them. For example, my mother always told me how special I was because she "chose" me. She was always very overprotective of me. I rarely was permitted to sleepover at friends' houses, until I was a teenager, and then it was rare. Once I began dating or going out with friends, my curfew was 10 p.m. As I became older, it was moved up to 11 p.m., but it remained 11 p.m. until I left home. She worried about us all of the time. I was never allowed to attend a church camp, and my brother only went once. She was very reluctant to let either of us grow up and give us wings.

My thinking is that she felt that it had been so hard for her to be able to have two children to raise, that she didn't want to risk losing us, so she kept us on a short leash, so to speak. So, adoptive parents should realize that it is natural for an adoptee to occasionally experience feelings of inadequacies, a sense of not belonging, or moments of wondering, "what if (I hadn't been adopted by this couple)," but parents should not foster the feelings by babying the child or smothering them with affection.

Just one example of an instance where feelings of not fitting in could occur is in the area of Science classes at school. I recall several school years in which we would have a unit of study on "Hereditary traits." The study of these units can be very uncomfortable, and even a nightmare for some adopted children. Imagine a homework assignment in which you are to research the history of brown eyes within your family tree. The next morning, when you're called upon to share your findings, you either report no findings, or you just share the history of your adoptive parents, and pretend like you are just like every other student, while deep down, you feel as though you're keeping a secret from rest of the class.

Parents should just accept that these feelings are present, and do their best to help the child assimilate into their environment without feeling as though they have to convince the child that they are somehow "better" (for lack of a better term) than their peers, simply because they were chosen by their adoptive parents. What I'm trying to say is, resist the urge to treat them differently, even though, in reality, the child may feel as though they are somehow different. When the child is treated differently by the parents, it serves only to reinforce these feelings.

Family gatherings are also potential occasions for feelings of not belonging, especially if there are a lot of cousins in the mix. When I was a child, we would all gather at my grandparents' house for Christmas. My adoptive father has four brothers, and two sisters. From those families, I have (9) cousins, none of which were adopted. They all knew that my brother and I were adopted, and although the other children very rarely treated us any differently, there were times when I would question, "Are they thinking, 'You're not REALLY my cousin,'" or "Are they whispering about me behind my back?" (or other such nonsense). When you get older, these feelings seem to subside, but during childhood, they can seem like mountains. Perhaps if I had felt comfortable enough to talk these feelings over with my parents, they wouldn't have seemed so insurmountable. But I never discussed them, for fear that my parents wouldn't understand. I was afraid that they would feel as though they were failing, somehow.

This is why adoptive parenting is NOT for the faint-hearted. It should be entered into after much prayer, fasting, and seeking God. I feel it is far better for Christians to adopt than non-believers, because Christians better understand the dynamics of the relationship between our Heavenly Father and us, his "adoptees." (Ephesians 1:5)

BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES, MATIES..............
.................she's here!
The effects of Katrina are expected to be far-reaching.

Even here, in Middle Tennessee, schools have been cancelled for tomorrow, (due to "inclement weather") and Wednesday is being played by ear!

Let's keep everyone in the path of this storm in our prayers, as well as the families who have already lost loved ones due to the storm.

A PSALM OF TELEVISION

Now, I love television as much as the next person--maybe even more. But I have to admit that there is such a thing as watching too much television. Am I guilty? Most likely!!

The TV is my shepherd, I shall not want,
it makes me lie down on the sofa.
It leads me away from the scriptures,
it destroys my soul!
It leads me in the paths of sex and violence for the sponsors' sake.
Yea, though I walk in the shadow of my Christian responsibilities,
There will be no interruptions--
For the TV is with me.
Its satellite and remote control, they comfort me.
It prepares a commercial before me in the presence of my carnality;
It anoints my head with humanism, my coveting runneth over.
Surely laziness and ignorance shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house watching TV to the end.

A COMPARISON OF RELIGIOUS THEORIES
(it's tongue-in-cheek, folks)

Krishna - He who plays with the most toys wins.

Catholicism - He who denies himself the most toys wins.

Anglican - They were our toys first.

Greek Orthodox - No, they were OURS first.

Polytheism - There are many toy makers.

Evolutionism - The toys made themselves.

Baptist - We have played with this toy this way for years, and we are not going to change.

Church of Christ Scientist - We are the toys.

ECB'ers (this one is for the "Camponthis" blog readers)-If you don't repeal this tax on all toys, we will stage a boycott of the toys, and see that you are not re-elected.

Amish - Toys with batteries are surely a sin.

Taoism - The doll is as important as the dump truck.

Paganism - Forget the rulebook. Let's play!

Hinduism - He who plays with bags of plastic farm animals loses.

7th Day Adventist - He who plays with his toys on Saturday loses.

Church of Christ - He whose toys make music loses.

Jehovah's Witnesses - He who sells the most toys door-to-door wins.

Pentecostalism - He whose toys can talk wins.

Existentialism - Toys are a figment of your imagination.

Non-denominationalism - We don't care where the toys came from, let's just play with them.

Atheism - There is no toy maker.

Agnosticism - It is not possible to know whether toys make a bit of difference.

Mormonism - Every boy can have as many toys as he wants.

Church of Scientology - ToysRUs

Presbyterian- These toys were chosen for you to play with and these were chosen for me to play with.

Apostolic Faith/UPC (Oneness Movement) - There is only one toy, and it is in our church.

Crystal Cathedral - There are no bad toys, and no bad toy players.

Methodist - Toys are toys are toys.

Assembly of God -It doesn't matter how you play with the toys as long as more people join in with you.

Name-it-Claim-it - I have toys. I have toys. I have toys. I have toys. I have toys. I have toys. I have toys.

Word of Faith - Send me $100 and I will tell you "How you TOO can have more toys."

MODERN DAY PRAYERS

Lord help me to relax about insignificant details beginning tomorrow at precisely 7:41:23 am CST.

God help me to consider people's feelings, even if most of them ARE hypersensitive.

God help me to take responsibility for my own actions, even though they're usually NOT my fault.

God, help me to not try to RUN everything. But, if You need some help, please feel free to ASK me!

Lord, help me to be more laid back, and help me to do it EXACTLY right.

God help me to take things more seriously, especially laughter, parties, and dancing.

God give me patience, and I mean right NOW!

Lord help me not be a perfectionist. (Did I spell that correctly?)

God, help me to finish everything I sta

God, help me to keep my mind on one th -- Look, a bird -- ing at a time.

God help me to do only what I can, and trust you for the rest. And would you mind putting that in writing?

Lord keep me open to others' ideas, WRONG though they may be.

Lord help me be less independent, but let me do it my way.

Lord help me follow established procedures today. On second thought, I'll settle for a few minutes.

Lord, help me slow down andnotrushthroughwhatIdo.

Amen.

(Some of) What I Did on Vacation


Lookout Mountain United Methodist Church at dusk.

Vacation: July 26 - July 29, 2005. First off, I have a question: When did vacations become such hard work? Was it when I became an adult? I don't remember having to work so hard to have a good time when I was on vacation as a child. I don't remember even noticing or caring how hot the temperature is, or what the humidity and perspiration was doing to my hair, etc. Oh well, I suppose that's part of the magic of childhood. Since this was an abbreviated vacation, I ended up spending a large portion of the time exploring the Lookout Mountain/Chattanooga area of East Tennessee. (See photos I took below). The area is rich in Civil War history. The defeat of the Confederate army in this area allowed Sherman to continue his march into North Georgia, through Atlanta, and eventually to the sea in Savannah, GA. In 1890, Arthur MacArthur, (yes, that was really his name), father of General Douglas MacArthur, received the Medal of Honor for his Civil War service at Missionary Ridge in Chattanooga.

I picked up two really interesting souvenirs while visiting the battlefield park on Lookout Mountain--authentic reproductions of the Confederate Soldier's Prayer Book, (scanned image above) and the Union Soldier's Prayer Book, both from 1861, in the same form as the booklets the Civil War soldiers carried with them during the war. Inside both pocket-sized booklets are prayers, scriptures to meditate upon, and beautiful hymns like "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross," and "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name." It is encouraging for me to know that these songs were being sung by American troops while in battle on the very soil that we as Christians do spiritual battle every day.




Sky Bridge-Rock City


View of Lookout Mountain from downtown Chattanooga.


A trio of goslings cool off during a swim across the lake.


PCA's Convenant College--atop Lookout Mountain, GA


Young "Austin." A virtuoso in the making.......pacifier included.
(Opie Taylor?)


Is this duck impersonating Don King?


"Castle in the Clouds"--Georgia's Covenant College

My obligatory photo of infamous Rock City.

OF SOILED CLOTHES AND SOILED HEARTS

Flashback: It's Summer, 1977, and I'm about 11 years old. I'm playing in my grandparents' yard in east Tennessee with three of my younger cousins: Stephen, Cheri, and Paul. We've all grown bored with "hide-and-seek" and are looking to do something a little more adventurous. Spotting a 4-foot high mound of dirt, which my grandfather uses for landscaping, I shout, "Let's take turns sliding down the dirt!" The four of us scramble to form a line on the back side of the mound. I bring up the rear, because I don't want to soil my clothes, unless the adventure seems to be worth it.

My cousins slide down, one at a time, and seem to be having a jolly good time. Just as I climb to the top of the mound to take my turn, my grandmother's voice comes shrieking from the 2nd-story bedroom window overlooking our "slide": "Hey! You kids stop that right now! You march right upstairs and wait for me outside the bathroom!" Uh-oh.........the "bathroom..........." At this point, the four of us know that the jig is up, and we are doomed. We slowly trudge up the flight of stairs from the basement, sensing our impending punishment. I'm thinking, "But I didn't even get to slide!" My grandmother appears at the top of the stairs, and promptly begins her lecture: "You should be ashamed of yourselves--playing in the dirt, ruining your clothes! Now your poor mothers will have to wash those filthy clothes. Line up right here..........you're going to be punished."

So, one at a time, we bravely take our turns getting spanked--with a switch, so I guess we were actually thrashed. (Unfortunately, I do get to take my turn at this activity). Obstinate creatures we were, we tried to pretend that it didn't hurt us, so she lined us up a second time, and repeated her correction.

Fast forward: It's 2005--28 years after the "dirt mound" incident. My grandmother is no longer with us; I'm certain that she's in heaven, maybe even helping the angels keep their robes clean and white. Though I never got to experience the "fun" of sliding down that old mound of dirt, my grandmother knew my motives. She knew my intent, and she knew my heart--just like our Heavenly Father does. If we hadn't gotten caught, I would have slid and gotten dirty myself.

We so easily fall into the seasonal folly of sin, and come out with our spiritual clothes dirty and in need of a Holy laundering, don't we? Sure, it's fun at the time, but look how soiled and dirty we become. And, how often we find ourselves doing yet another load of spiritual dirty laundry on our knees in repentance.

With fondness, I now remember the lesson I learned that day. Oh, the second spanking hurt, but the pain has long been forgotten, although the lesson lingers. Beware the folly that taints your heart. By the way, never again have I even considered sliding down a mound of dirt. (I'm a grown-up now, and would look pretty silly participating in such activities. [Besides, these days, my 70+year old mother would most likely tell me to go wash my own playclothes!])

I signed up for blogger.com just to post a comment on someone else's blog. But now that I think about it, perhaps I will, on occasion, have some wisdom to impart to the masses. At the very least, I could probably provide some humor to help lighten your load on at least a weekly basis. Perhaps I'll even share some of my poetry/lyrics once in a while. Stay tuned......