For those of you who care, this is the first in a series discussing the game design of Carcassonne. Good stuff…if you care.

If not, then it’s still good, but you won’t care.

I’m listening to Mark Driscoll’s series on Ecclesiastes. He is pointing out that Solomon tried all the earthly ways to be happy and concludes that they failed. This made me think about something. When Solomon asked for wisdom, God also gave him riches and power and long life. I wonder if, instead of God merely zapping Solomon with wisdom, that He gave these other things to Solomon as a way to teach him more wisdom. After all, could Solomon have written the book of Ecclesiastes if he had been poor? Probably not.

This came up in a conversation last night with my wife Crystal.

“Web design is like painting a room in your house. Programming is like teaching your dog to paint a room in your house.”

Last night I was template hacking, as I mentioned in a previous post. What I did not mention was the sheer rush that I experienced when everything finally came together.

You need to understand that I view programming as achieving victory over the computer. When God created the world, He spoke into the void, bringing order from chaos. In a lesser way, I see programming as a similar act: speaking code into the chaos of a computer. Can you tell that I work in IT?

There’s an interesting arc that people pass through as they relate to computers. First there are the “computer illiterate” who don’t trust those infernal contraptions. These people are sure that computers are malevolent beings that are waiting for any excuse to wreak havoc on humanity.

Then there are “computer users”. These are people who have to use computers as part of their daily work. These folk generally think that computers are occasionally frustrating but generally functional machines that enable human beings to accomplish any number of tasks.

Then there are those few who have decided to work with computers, like programmers and systems administrators. These “computer professionals” don’t trust those infernal contraptions, and are sure that computers are malevolent beings that are waiting for any excuse to wreak havoc on humanity. The only different between the “professional” and the “illiterate” is that the computer professional knows that any computer bent on world domination would crash before it ever succeeded. Yes, even if it were a Mac.

There’s a litany in my department at work, when a helpdesk call comes back to my department. Either my co-worker Stephen or myself will get the call, which is usually some annoying problem that refuses to stay fixed. After the call, you say the litany. The one who received the call says, “I hate computers.” And the other one replies, “Me too.”

It’s liturgy. It must be done.

Honestly, I think that most IT professionals got into the business, simply because they hate computers and get a vicarious thrill about beating them into submission.

I know I do.

Thanks to my gracious host, I now have my own template. I used my old template as a jumping off point, but now I can massage the look-and-feel of my blog as I wish. Please notice the “Recent Comments” section and the “Pages” section.

I will probably have more tweaks as I go forward.

Some quotes from “The Pornography Culture” by David Hart:

We are already, as it happens, a casually and chronically pornographic society. We dress young girls in clothes so scant and meretricious that honest harlots are all but bereft of any distinctive method for catching a lonely man’s eye.

One of the high achievements of Western civilization, after all, was in finding so many ways to celebrate, elevate, and admire the feminine; while remaining hierarchical and protective in its understanding of women, of course, Christendom also cultivated—as perhaps no other civilization ever has—a solicitude for and a deference towards women born out of a genuine reverence for their natural and supernatural dignity.

We are devoted to—indeed, in a sense, we worship—the will; and we are hardly the first people willing to offer up our children to our god.

But perhaps the COPA [Child Online Protection Act] decision can provide some of us, at least, with a certain salutary sense of alienation: it is good to be reminded from time to time—good for persons like me, with certain pre-modern prejudices—that our relations with the liberal democratic order can be cordial to a degree, but are at best provisional and fleeting, and can never constitute a firm alliance; that here we have no continuing city; that we belong to a kingdom not of this world; and that, while we are bound to love our country, we are forbidden to regard it as our true home.

I wrote this story with the help of my son, Isaac, who was three at the time. I asked him questions about the story, he told me how he wanted it to go, and then I wrote it down. As I recall, almost all the details were of his devising. Yes, that includes the bit about the bones.

I happened to be going through my file of writings and saw this, so I thought that I would share.

Samuel and the Battle of Monster Castle

By Seth and Isaac Ben-Ezra

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived the people of Block City. Now, Block City was a very sad city, because a hideous monster was terrorizing them. It would fly in the middle of the night and stomp on their homes and burn their gardens with fire from its mouth. And, worst of all, it would eat their children. The army tried to fight the monster, but it was no good. Swords would just bounce off its metal skin, and it would grab the soldiers with its thousand tentacles and fly away with them to its castle far away in the middle of Deadman’s Swamp. And so the people were very scared and sad, and they prayed that someone would come rescue them.

One day, after the monster had attacked them, a boy named Samuel spoke up. “I will go fight the monster.” But the people tried to stop him. “Oh no, Samuel, you are much too little.” But Samuel said, “God is taking care of me, so I will fight the monster.” So Samuel got his sword, the sword that his father had given him, and he left the city to find the monster’s house.

But first, he had to cross Deadman’s Swamp. Now, Samuel knew that Deadman’s Swamp was filled with evil skeleton monsters that would eat him if they caught him. But he was very brave and prayed to Jesus before entering the dark swamp.

It was very smelly. Gas bubbles would pop, making the swamp stink. Samuel could hear the skeleton monsters laughing at him from the darkness around him. So he drew his sword, which glowed dimly in the darkness. (After all, aren’t all swords magical swords?) Samuel could barely see the shadows of the skeleton monsters, moving all around him. He was very scared, but he knew that Jesus was taking care of him.

Suddenly, disaster struck. Samuel tripped over a tree root and fell face-first into the stinky mud. In a flash, the skeleton monsters were on him. Bony fingers clutched at him as he tried to get up. He tried to draw his sword but the skeleton monsters held him fast. Cackling, they flew through the air, gripping Samuel tightly.

“Put me down!” Samuel begged. But the skeleton monster only laughed at him. “We will never let you go,” they whispered through bony jaws.

“Where are you taking me?” asked Samuel, now very afraid.

“We are taking you to our master, the ruler of Monster Castle,” hissed one of the skeleton monsters. “When we get you there, our master will eat you.”

Soon, Samuel could see something glowing red in the darkness ahead of them. It was a huge castle, lit by a moat of lava that surrounded it. Its gate was formed from the open jaws of a long-dead monster, gaping wide. Two lighted windows stared at them as they approached. The skeleton monsters flew through the gate, and the jaws slammed shut behind them. Samuel was trapped.

The skeleton monsters dropped Samuel on the floor of a huge room. One of them cackled with glee. “Now, our master will eat you up!” They flew away, rattling and clattering through the dark night sky.

Samuel looked around but could not see anything because the room was so dark. The skeleton monsters had forgotten to take his sword, so he drew it carefully. When the sword began to glow, he gasped. The floor was covered with the bones of the children that the monster had eaten.

Suddenly, Samuel heard the sound of mighty wings flapping in the darkness and heavy breathing. The monster had come to eat him! Samuel turned around and around, trying to see the monster, but he couldn’t. All he could see were all of the bones. And still he could hear the beating of the monster’s huge wings.

Then, he heard the monster say, “Now, children, it is time for dinner!” Something flew out of the darkness at Samuel. As Samuel dodged out of the way, he saw that it was a smaller monster. The evil monster had children, too!

Another little monster flew into sight and dove at Samuel, breathing fire. Samuel rolled to the side, barely avoiding being burned alive. The bones on the floor caught on fire. Now Samuel could see.

Leaping to his feet, he swung his sword at the nearest monster. The sharp blade cut through the monster’s wings, knocking it to the ground. It whimpered and scurried away. But then the second monster rammed into Samuel from behind. He fell on his face, cutting his chin. The monster was grabbing him with its tentacles and trying to eat him. Samuel was very scared, but he knew that Jesus was taking care of him. So he took his sword and, reaching over his shoulder, stabbed to the monster in the mouth. It screamed and let Samuel go. It flopped about on the ground in pain and finally died.

The fire has spread, and so Samuel could see the huge monster on the other side of the room. Its single good eye glistened red in the light of the raging fire. With a bellow, it charged at Samuel. Reaching down, Samuel tried to pull his sword free, but it was stuck in the body of the child monster. With a mighty roar, the monster scooped up Samuel in his tentacles and swallowed him with one giant gulp.

Samuel was very, very scared. But he knew that Jesus was taking care of him.

All of a sudden, the monster didn’t feel very good. The mud that covered Samuel was making it sick to its stomach. Then, with a mighty heave, the monster threw up. Samuel flew out of his mouth, covered in nasty monster vomit.

Slowly, Samuel dragged himself to his feet and wiped the dripping nastiness from his eyes. On the other side of the room, he could see the huge monster stagger to its feet. The fire had burned out in the middle of the room, and the two of them were surrounded in a ring of flame. Samuel called out to the monster, “Come and fight me, you evil monster. You may be strong and fast. You may be covered in metal and breathe fire. But Jesus is with me, and I will kill you.”

The monster roared in defiance and breathed fire at the brave boy. But Samuel threw himself to the side, avoiding the fiery blast. Then he was up on his feet and running toward the monster. Reaching down, he scooped up a blackened bone from the floor of the room. Tentacles reached toward him, but he slipped past them. The monster howled in frustration and bent down its head to bite at Samuel with its mouth. Samuel leaped onto the monster’s nose and, with a scream of fury, stabbed the bone into the monster’s one remaining eye.

The monster screamed, jerking its head back. Samuel fell to the ash-covered floor and scurried away from the thrashing monster. His leg hurt and so he could not get up. Crawling as quickly as he could, he made his way toward his sword, which was still stuck in the child monster. He grasped the hilt and pulled. Slowly he drew the sword free. The monster was in agony on the other side of the room, bellowing and screaming. Blood was running from its eye and falling like black tears onto the floor of the room. The flames were burning even higher now, and Samuel could see everything clearly.

Then Samuel saw a chunk of rock falling from the ceiling. The monster was doing so much damage to the room that it was beginning to collapse. Larger pieces began raining down. Samuel tried to limp towards the door, but his injured leg gave out and he fell. Turning, he saw a huge piece of ceiling fall onto the monster’s head, crushing it. So the monster died.

But Samuel did not see how he could escape, either. The ceiling was collapsing far too quickly, and he knew that he would not be able to crawl to the door before it was too late. So he curled into a ball and prayed to Jesus that He would come take him quickly. A single tear fell from his eye as he thought of all the life that he would miss, but he knew that, even now, Jesus was taking care of him.

Suddenly, he felt something grab his ankle and pull. He was dragged from the room just as the ceiling finally collapsed. He was alive! He croaked, “Thank you, Jesus.” Then he opened his eyes and gasped in alarm.

Before him was another monster, covered in metal, with a thousand tentacles. Samuel tried to raise his sword.

“Oh no,” said the monster. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. That evil monster that you just killed was keeping me a prisoner. You have rescued me! Thank you very much, mighty hero.”

Samuel was confused. “You are not evil?”

“Oh, most definitely not!” the monster said. “I only eat grass. It was that evil monster out there that ate children. And he kept me locked up here because I tried to stop him once. So now I am free!”

Samuel was happy, but he was very tired. “Can you help me?” he asked.

“Of course I can,” the monster said. “What do you need?”

Just then, Samuel heard the clatter of bones coming from the corridor outside the room. It was the skeleton monsters! “Can you take me home?” he asked.

The monster picked him up gently with two of its tentacles. “I will fly you all the way home.” With a leap it was in the air. Soon it was soaring out of Monster Castle. As Samuel looked back, he could see the sun rising over the horizon. As the first light of day touched the castle, it gave a mighty lurch. Then, it began to crumble and collapse, falling into the lava moat that surrounded it. Soon, there was nothing left of the castle but a smoldering ruin.

And Samuel smiled, because through it all, he knew that Jesus had been taking care of him.

And now, children, you can be assured that Samuel returned safely to Block City, and that he and the good monster had many adventures together, but those are stories for another night. So for now, children, rest your eyes, and remember that, no matter what you face, Jesus is taking care of you.

I’m thinking that there’s got to be some way to play games via blog. Specifically, I’m thinking that there’s got to be a way to design an interesting game that is played on a blog. In other words, the blog is the game environment. This would be different than using a blog for play-by-mail or some such thing, which probably wouldn’t be all that efficient anyways.

So, I’ll be mulling this over. But, in the meantime, any ideas?

Those of you who know me know that I’m a very competitive person.  Yes, more competitive than you.  So, perhaps it will not be a surprise when I say that I was disappointed to discover that Gabrielle and Raquel have more posts in their blog than I do.  Apparently I’ve been slacking, and I’ll just have to do better.

Could this sudden rash of posts have anything to do with getting my post count up?  Of course not!  How could you think such a thing of me?

 

…is like a new toy.  You have to play with it.  But will it get worn out too soon?  I hope not.

 

How’s that for a post title?  Simple, yet somehow to the point.

I’d like to move soon.  We have been trying to get into the same neighborhood with the Lansberrys for a couple of years, and it just hasn’t seemed to work.  Now, finally, the Lansberrys have made the move into the neighborhood, and hopefully it will be our turn soon. 

I don’t like the chaos of moving.  Indeed, I hate real estate transactions.  I feel the need to have a place to call “home”, and moving means that “home” is in transition.  I don’t like that.  It messes with my emotional state.

Still, I wish that it were soon.  Partly, this is because I’d like it to be over with.  But another part of it is that I feel closer to the Main Street area than where I currently live on McClure Avenue.  Maybe it’s because we’ve put so much thought into this upcoming move.  Maybe it’s because I’m looking forward to living within walking distance of One World Cafe (one of my favorite places in Peoria).  Maybe it’s because I feel like the next stage of my life is awaiting me there.  Maybe it’s just that we’re starting to outgrow our current house, and I’d like to get into a larger one.

I know that I need to be patient, that God has His timing in place.  Still, it’s hard sometimes to drive through that neighborhood, thinking that, maybe soon, it will be home.

 

…is that it doesn’t have an extended “Publishing….” screen like Blogspot.  That means I’m more inclined to write another short post after posting something, instead of viewing each post as an extended article.

I have this sense that this post will be disappointing to both of my loyal readers.  After all, I’m really just planning on rambling for a bit about nothing in particular until I decide to go to bed.

Gabrielle and Raquel moved their blog today, which is good.  Of course, that means I’m thinking about blogs and writing, which means that I’m here, writing.

This Sunday is my one-year anniversary in the blogosphere.  That’s right; as of Sunday, I’ve been blogging for one year.  I’m guessing that I beat the average time that most folks blog.  Of course, there’s a simple reason for that.  It’s because it’s hard to think of things that are worthwhile to say.  Or, rather, that I think are worthwhile to say.  Because, after all, it’s all about me.

I generally don’t give myself to rambling “this is what happened to me today” posts, because, honestly, I don’t think that most people care.  Of course, most people probably don’t care about the “meaningful” things that I write, but I’m guessing that, relatively speaking, more people are interested in hearing about “important” things then the fact that we finished allocating at work today.

By the way, we finished allocating at work today.

See?  Not really all that exciting.  But, let’s face the truth here.  Much of our lives are uninteresting.  This isn’t a bad thing, mind you.  The infamous Chinese curse (”may you live in interesting times”) testifies to that.  The times in my life that were most interesting were also rather difficult.

But I have this desire to write in my blog, but I can’t think of anything particularly profound to say.  Rather, I don’t really feel like summoning the emotional energy to do so.  After all, I could write about the Mayans, or what the Aztecs taught me about the war in Iraq, or about John le Carre’s spy literature, or…I don’t know.  Something other than this ramble.

But I’m not.  Instead, I’m rambling.

But maybe that’s okay, you know?  Maybe part of the goal of all this writing is to get closer to other people.  Maybe the point is to try to stay connected with those around me, both physically and in spirit.  And maybe, sometimes that means just rambling a bit.

I certainly hope so.  Otherwise this has all been a waste of time.  All of it.

 

My friend Bryan Evans is running for State Treasurer on the Constitution Party ticket. He is an honorable, responsible man who would be a credit to our state in public office.

Today we celebrated my daughter’s eighth birthday (which was yesterday). As part of the festivities, we went to The Spotted Cow in Peoria Heights. For those of you who don’t know, The Spotted Cow is a local ice cream parlor with three locations around Peoria. Their claim to fame is that they make their own ice cream on the premises. Once you get past the regular flavors, like vanilla or mint chocolate chip, you can also find such flavors as “spumoni” or “cherry chocolate”. The price is fairly reasonable, too. The Spotted Cow sells ice cream by the ounce, rather than the cone, so you are harged for the actual amount of ice cream that you are receiving. This seems fair to me.

If you enjoy ice cream, then support a local businessman and check out The Spotted Cow.

For those of you who don’t live here…you’ll just have to suffer.