Who's the Loser?

It's frustrating to lose to losers. I'd like to be the stalwart Mavs fan but I really think we might have dug ourselves too big a hole this time. But what's most upsetting about that is knowing that Golden State will lose immediately in the next round and that they are such a bunch of punks. Every time they have fallen behind in a game this series they've started picking fights - with opposing players, coaches, officials. They don't lose well. And come to think of it, they don't win well either. Mostly I'm talking about Baron Davis, Stephen Jackson and Matt Barnes. (Monta Ellis might be a really stand-up guy but the antics of those three overshadow the whole team.) Last night, when it became apparent that they were going to lose, Jackson got himself ejected, purposely. That's a microcosm of how these guys behave. If the Mavs lose the series, you'll read quotes like, "We just didn't get it done." If the Warriors lose the series, you'll read quotes from Davis like, "I can't do it all," and quote from his teammates about officiating, and quotes from Don Nelson like, "Well, no skin off my back. I've got a house on Maui and a cooler of beer waiting for me."

A Walk In the Words

I’m finishing up A Walk In the Woods by Bill Bryson. It’s a delightful book. “Choke on your coffee funny,” quotes Washington Post Book World on the back cover. It’s the story of a middle-aged, overweight, decidedly civilized white guy who decides to hike the Appalachian Trail (yes, the 2,100 mile Georgia-to-Maine Appalachian Trail). The first half of the book had me rolling – literally laughing out loud and insisting that my family “sit down for a minute so I can read you this.” Bryson is a clever writer, and the stories are even more enjoyable if you’ve shared similar experiences with overpriced gear, over-worried camping companions, or over-zealous nocturnal campsite intruders. It really is a fun read.

But halfway through the book, Bryson reaches Front Royal, Virginia, the terminus of the first “half” of his journey. In fact, he never fully returns to the trail in earnest – hiking smidgens of the northern half in five-mile chunks on looping day hikes, rental car never far behind. As such, his narration never seems to find its trail legs again. Instead, he rants. He rants about evolution. He rants about the U.S. Forest Service. He rants about national parks. He rants about deforestation. He rants about the Civilian Service Corps. He rants about the Corps of Engineers. He rants about overdevelopment and he rants about underdevelopment. I don’t mean to suggest that the Forest Service (or any government body, for that matter) is above reproach. And I don’t mean to say that an author shouldn’t express his opinions now and then. I like getting to know what the author thinks. But after several rants, the reader starts to believe that, instead of thoughtful criticisms from which to learn, Bryson’s chapters spring more and more from the I- read- all- these- books- and- hiked- half- the- AT- and- by- golly- I’ve- got- to- write- something muse.

Hiking the AT is a monumental feat. According to Bryson, only 20 percent of those who set out to achieve it ever do. I can’t blame him for quitting. But I wish – for my reading’s sake – that he hadn’t. I suspect that if Bryson had finished the AT, he would have finished a completely enjoyable book. As it is, he’s written half a hilarious, warming, genuine, inspiring and human book. And half a rant. Read Part 1 of this book, then return it to the library and go for a hike.

Tough Love

One of the things I love most about my church is that people are real. I really don’t feel like anyone is putting on a show when they come to church. From the way they dress to their honesty about life, I think my church values genuine-ness (if that’s a word).

But it’s dawning on me that there can be a danger in genuine-ness. In saying things like, “I wish I was more passionate about ministry, but I’m just not there,” we sometimes move from honesty to mediocrity. I don’t mean to say that we should pretend to be passionate about something we’re not. That’s gross, and I really hate it. It’s easy to spot and it turns me waaaaay off. But often when I’m honest with a grace-filled brother about a struggle, regardless of how shocking or mundane the struggle may be, I get excuses from the brother rather than chastisement. The message seems to be, “You’re alright, man. We’ve all been there,” rather than, “That’s a bad place to be, man. That’s not where the Lord wants you and you need to get out.”

I know it’s really hard to chastise someone, especially if you’ve been guilty of the same sin in the past, but I think it’s necessary. Regarding ourselves as redeemed sinners doesn’t mean we should always keep our mouths shut because we’re sinners. It sometimes means we should remind our brother that he is redeemed. There are only a very few men in my life who have had the courage to talk to me that way. I respect them for it immensely.

Not long ago, I met with an older, wiser man and talked to him about my walk with the Lord. I mentioned my mediocrity when it comes to reverence for the Word. (I believe we were discussing Isaiah 66:1-2) and I said something like, “Come on. Who really lives like that? We’re all just people.” That’s when he stopped and looked at me with his head a little cocked to the side and said, “No, Ryan. There are a lot of people who live like that. I know several people who love God’s word passionately and hide it in their hearts.”

That comment has sort-of given me permission to be passionate – and a little eccentric – about getting the Word into my heart.

Dinner Conversation

A transcript of a conversation I had tonight while trying to make small talk with my three-year-old over dinner:

Daddy: So, Bethany, you had a big day. You went to the gym, then to the store, then played on the swings, then had lunch, then rode your tricycle. What was your favorite part?

BG: The gym.

Daddy: Really? Not the swings? Why do you like the gym so much?

BG: Because they spit.

Daddy: Who spits?

BG (sheepishly): Zachary. (Her brother)

Daddy: Zachary spits? Where does he spit?

BG: Right on the carpet. Can I have some more fish sticks?

Churning It Out

Since the day I graduated from college, the one thing that I have prayed most often for is productivity. I pray to bear fruit. I pray for a productive day at work, a productive week, a productive career. I pray for help in getting things done, reaching goals, achieving, clearing to-do lists. I pray for ministries to be productive and efficient in their benevolence and proclamation. I pray for our kids to learn things, reach milestones, become more self-sufficient and productive.

More importantly, I feel less valuable and more frustrated with life when I’m not productive. If I can stay on top of work assignments, working out, ministry, family time, etc. then I feel like I’m doing what the Lord wants. I’m producing. I’m getting things done. But when interruptions, setbacks or delays occur, it frustrates me.

This morning could not have been less productive. I got zero done. I gave up and went to a park with the kids. Even that didn’t count as “checking off” quality time from my list since the kids didn’t have that great a time and Zach barfed while riding on my shoulders (yeah – get that picture in your head.)

I guess my point is, I wonder if I’m too worried about getting things done. Life isn’t an assembly line.

Old Deuteronomy

Deuteronomy 4:15-24 is about idols - it's Moses warning Israel not to worship idols when they cross over into Canaan without him. and then in verse 24 - after all the idol talk (ba-dump-bum) - he says, "For the Lord your God is a consuming fire."

I've never thought of that consuming fire reference in juxtaposition with idolatry. But it makes sense. God wants to consume me. He wants me to be consumed with his glory. Like the way I get when I get a new gadget or hobby - he wants me to be distracted by Him, my thoughts captivated by him (2 Cor. 10:5 in a new light) so that no earthly thing consumes more thought or threatens to be an idol. And so that earthly blessings, when they do come, are gifts to be grateful for - moments of blessing - not achievements to be proud of or desires finally fulfilled. Instead, if I've been consumed with God, then all earthly blessings are just langiappe - happy accidents, serendipitous blessings - not hard-fought medals that don't last. And so I can focus my hard-fighting on things that do last.

Simple Prayer

Read the Lord's Prayer from Peterson's paraphrase:

Our Father in heaven,
Reveal who you are.
Set the world right,
Do what's best -
as above, so below.
Keep us alive with three square meals.
Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others.
Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.
You're in charge!
You can do anything you want!
You're ablaze with beauty!
Yes. Yes. Yes.

Try reading it for what it says without comparing it to the version you know.
I don't have anything too insightful about this except for...holy crap, it's simple! Man, my mission on Earth is way more simple than I make it. Mary has chosen the better way...

Connecting

Christine and I went to a dinner party last night and realized how much we've changed in the last decade. We hardly knew anyone at this party, but they were all very friendly and we really enjoyed ourselves. The biggest thing we noticed about the crowd is how much they talked about the Lord. It was natural for them to talk about what he has done. They quoted scripture. They remembered prayers. We used to be like that. I remember parties in college - someone would always find a guitar, retreat to a back room somewhere, and pretty soon there would be 30 kids packed into someone's bedroom singing. It was spontaneous and it was natural. Since then, it has never been natural for us or our friends. We talk about sports alot. Kids. Work. Illnesses. Church. Not God. Certainly not "God's been showing me...". And I can't remember someone cracked open the Word at one of our parties. Last night, I kind of thought spontaneous worship might happen, but we fell just short. No guitar in sight.

Woods & Wooden Blocks

Just a few bits of weekend cuteness...

BG's halo glows along the trail.

Zach wanders off the trail.

That's a snake face.

Photoshop is fun.

"Daddy, it's taller than me!"

Dissenting Opinion

I have now given five hours of my life to Jack Bauer in hopes that he'll be my next favorite superhero. This is going to tick (tock) off some rabid 24 fans I know but...um...I want a little more for my five hour investment.

Actually, Jack is ok. I like Jack. I mean, yeah, he BIT a guy to death in the first episode but c'mon. We've all been there, right? And of course the show is impossibly impossible, but I can suspend reality for a bit. The parts of 24 that really leave me rolling my eyes are not the Jack parts but all the rest. I know I may be nit-picking but here are a few I noticed...

1. The president is negotiating a hostage situation. Really? Does that really happen? And even if it does, do I want that to happen? Don't we want the politician to sign things and leave hostage negotiations to crew-cut, flint-faced, colonels and generals who are just mean as snakes?

2. So not only is the President of the US negotiating a hostage situation, HE GIVES IN! He surrenders an agent of the U.S. military in exchange for a promise of information about terrorist attacks. Puh-lease! The U.S. does not negotiate with terrorists. That's how we roll. And we certainly don't do it with a covert agent who just got out of a Chinese prison, may be mentally unstable, is almost certainly pissed at his country, and has all kinds of secrets just waiting to be shared or tortured out of him! All this president is good for is gritting his teeth, bulging his temples, and speaking in a forceful whisper that makes us think he's really distraught over caving in to terrorists.

3. Have you noticed that Chloe can burrow through 53 million data records, reposition 14 satellites, hack into IBM's website, and investigate a terrorist's family history in, like 12 seconds. But then sometimes she'll be asked to open Microsoft Word and she'll say, "I'm really busy here!" Also, she looks like a Who from Whoville.

4. And speaking of technology, all of the laptops at CTU are Macs. Dumb. I like Macs. But my vote for the most outlandish thing to happen in the first five hours this season is not a nuke going off in LA. It's iBooks booting up in a government office.

Certainly the show is fun to watch, and I know, those are trifling things when there's a world to save out there. But those are the things I notice. I'll give it a few more weeks.

Sanders out.

Contentment

Finally finished Desiring God this morning. I've heard more than one person say that this is a book that every Christian should read. You know what? They were all right. One of the refrains Piper repeats throughout the book is this:

God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him.

It strikes me that my sin is due, in large part, to my unbelief in the sufficiency of Christ. It is Christ whom I have short-sold most. As much as learning submission or fear, maybe it's about learning to have faith in his supremacy and sufficiency. To be content with him in all things at all times. Not to struggle and scheme my way to things that seem satisfying, but to relax in the One who is.

Epiphany

You know all that stuff your pastor told you about how worshiping when you're NOT in church improves your worship when you are? He was right. I experienced it again today. I got to spend a lot of time in the Word today and tonight's service seemed as close to old-school-fall-on-your-face-grateful-for-every-breath worship as I've experienced in a long time.

P.S. Speaking of the Word, here's a verse to kick you in the I'm-a-mature-Christian teeth:

I have not departed from the commands of his lips;
I have treasured the words of his mouth more than my daily bread.
-Job 23:12

Hopeful Christmas

If love is the virtue of Easter, hope is the star of Christmas. It strikes me this year that without Christmas there is no hope. No hope for mankind. No hope for meaning. No hope for civilization. My pastor said something like this last week: without Christmas there are no Presbyterian or Methodist hospitals. There are no Baptist missionaries. There are no Catholic schools. Without Christmas, there are no trucks drilling wells for clean drinking water in Sudan. There is no World Vision or Samaritan’s Purse or Union Gospel Mission feeding warm Christmas meals to cold and lonely homeless downtown. Without Christmas, there is no hope. There are certainly other virtues of Christmas. Peace. Joy. But neither can exist without hope. There can be no joy where there is no hope. There can be hope from which joy has yet to follow. But where hope is dead, so is the soul in which peace, joy and the like take shape. This has been a rather mirth-less Christmas for my family. But in one sense, it has been an unusually hopeful one. The infant king gives me hope that my sin is not permanent. That our poverty isn’t important. That our soul-less, peace-less, comfortable lives aren’t the only way. There was a baby like our babies born to a single teenage mother with more problems than ours and laid in a smelly box of hay. And somehow that lays the foundation of hope on which the Lord can build faith, joy, and love. Merry Christmas.

People Are People

I keep repeating this idea to myself and others lately so maybe it’s blog-worthy. It’s pretty simple, really: People are just people. It’s amazing how often people forget that. We get so worked up over our differences (and we’re seeing that a lot with elections approaching) but we’re all pretty much the same, aren’t we? We’re all broken and precious. We’re all beautiful messes. And even though some people might behave badly, can I say that I’m better than them?

I knew a guy in college named Ron Shamberger. He was the nicest guy you could hope to meet. I didn’t know him well, but I knew him well enough to say, “Hi.” Talk to him over a PBJ at Noon Bible Study at the Baptist Student Union, that kind of thing. He always smiled and shook your hand. Always pitched in his 50 cents for a crummy PBJ. He was one of hundreds of normal, clean-cut, middle-class, college students I knew. Just like everybody else.

One night, Ron broke into his girlfriend’s apartment and shot her in her bed. He carried her body to his car and started to put it in the trunk. Then he saw a gas can and had a better idea. He carried her and the gas up to her apartment and torched the place. He drove around for a while and then went to his college pastor’s house in the middle of the night, knocked on the door, and confessed. Ron was put to death by the state of Texas a few years ago.

I understand that certain categories of people are more likely to behave in certain ways than others. Poor people are more likely to vote Democratic. Republicans are more likely to own guns. But I keep having to remind people I know that PEOPLE ARE JUST PEOPLE. I think that's my new slogan - people are just people. If I grew up in South Philly, I'd be more likely to vote Democratic. If I grew up in Corsicana, Texas, I'd be more likely to own a gun.

Sure, we’re all born with different passions, different temperaments. But we’re pretty much the same. Even those of us who are “new creations in Christ Jesus” are befuddled by the same human nature as the rest of our human brethren. Beautiful messes. Dirty and shimmering.

Consider this: If it had been the Kenyans – and not the English and Spaniards – who got the wild hair to explore the world and imperialize our continent; and it had been the white people whom those Kenyans later brought to America and enslaved; and it had been the white people who marched and rallied and suffered and persevered through the Civil Rights Movement, then it would be the white portion of our population today that would more often grapple with issues of fatherless families, violence, white-on-white crime, and poverty. If you don’t believe that – if you think somehow that people of the white race would have “pulled themselves up by their bootstraps” after emancipation or Brown v. Board of Education – then you’re six kinds of screwed up.

How about another scenario? Let’s say that the prophet who rose in the seventh century wasn’t named Muhammad but Maurice. Let’s say that the Ottomans, rather than losing their empire, kept their peace and their edge in math and science. Let’s say that Greece’s influence moved east instead of west. Let’s say that Europe became home to Islam while the Middle East underwent an enlightenment. If you think for one second that the fair-skinned Francs wouldn’t be blowing each other up and causing a lot of tension in the world community today, you’re not thinking at all.

People are just people.

I really think much of the Middle Eastern culture is barbaric. (I know, not a PC viewpoint.) But I don’t think it’s because Jordanians or Syrians are, in their mettle – in their genes, barbaric. I think if you plucked a young Iranian out of his home when he’s young and put him in my hometown, he’s much more likely NOT to grow up to wage jihad. (I know. He could kill his girlfriend. But Ron was a statistical anomaly that only proves my point.) On the other hand, if you took me out of my white, middle class home and dropped me into Fallujah as a baby, I would be just as likely as the next kid in the mosque to blow up a bus.

In the words of Depeche Mode: People are people so why should it be you and I should get along so awfully?

Partying Like A Rock Star

I had the chance to hang out with Caedmon's Call this weekend - actually just a few members of the band - Todd Bragg, Jeff Miller and Andy Osenga. There were also four other people with us - Mandy Mann (who has been opening for Caedmon's), her beau named Kevin, a sound tech named Jacob, and a guy I talked to very little named Josh (I think). Oh yeah, and Steve Hayes, the reason I got to do this in the first place! (Yeah, I know, my blog is getting to be all Steve, all the time. I wish I knew how to quit him.)

Anyway, this post is just to say that the rock stars and roadies I went out with Friday night are the most unassuming, friendly, and fun-loving people you could expect to meet. They included me in the conversation when it would have been really easy to talk about "inside" stuff. We sat around a table and we didn't discuss theology or the emerging church or world hunger or the plight of the Dalits. We talked about our kids and goofy new names for bands. They're a fun group and it's easy to see why they've had such a long-lasting and effective ministry.

Baptists Fighting Over Tongues

I'm glad the Star-T covers SWBTS so closely. I'm not so glad that this is what we give them to cover. Luckily, the most onerous fact in the article isn't revealed until the 19th paragraph:

Two months ago, McKissic was invited to speak at the seminary's weekly chapel service. He told students that he first privately prayed in tongues in a dormitory when he was a student at the seminary in 1981. He also criticized the Southern Baptist Convention's International Mission Board for adopting a policy excluding missionary candidates who acknowledge that they speak in tongues.

Incredible.

Here's the first part of the article:

FORT WORTH -- Trustees at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary adopted a resolution Tuesday that clearly states the institution will not tolerate the promotion of the practice of speaking in tongues.

The resolution comes almost two months after the Rev. Dwight McKissic of Arlington said during a chapel service that he sometimes speaks in tongues when he prays.

That prompted Southwestern President Paige Patterson to issue a statement
that the video of McKissic's sermon would not be posted online or saved in the archives of the seminary, as are the sermons of all other chapel speakers.

Patterson submitted the resolution to trustees during their meeting Tuesday. It states: "Southwestern will not knowingly endorse in any way, advertise, or commend the conclusions of the contemporary charismatic movement including private prayer language. Neither will Southwestern knowingly employ professors or administrators who promote such practices."

The resolution was adopted 36-1.

McKissic, a new trustee, cast the dissenting vote.

Howling Review

My friend Steve turned me on to a new band and I think I'm in love! Black Rebel Motorcycle Club makes the meanest, coolest, rockinest music I've heard in a while. I heartily recommend their album "Howl".

If you judge by the packaging, it seems like this band is trying way too hard. I mean how many words that say "we're cool" can you put in a band name? Likewise, the album notes try really hard to have lots of rocker angst written in Kerouacian prose. I think they took the same approach to some of their lyrics which seem to be pretty dense. But even if I never figure out what the songs are about, the music is worth the purchase. Lots of jangling guitar, breathless harmonica and organ - everything a rock album should have. Think young Bob Dylan music but with the voice of....um....well....someone better.

I have one nagging question about this band though....who's black? And who's a rebel? Do those words modify the club? Is it a club of black riders of rebel motorcycle? Or a club or riders of black Honda Rebel motorcycles? Or a club of motorcycle riders who happen to be black and rebellious? So confusing...

Where can I get a sandwich board....

This story about street preachers ran in today's Fort Worth Star-Telegram (full story below). It made me think some thoughts in my thinking brain. So here they are:

• The brand of evangelicals who engage in street-preaching, door-to-door evangelism, etc. are always talking about "going on the offensive" and the like. Who are they offending? Who is it they're playing offense against? If it's Satan and his lies to poor and hurting souls they might meet on the street, then I can think of more effective ways to combat the lies.
• Having said that, I like street preachers. At least I like the ones who seem to do it as a form of self-expression. I like the guy who stands on the corner and plays the saxophone. So I like the guy who stands there and spits out what he's passionate about.
• I don't like the idea of street-preacher boot camp though.
• At first, I wanted to title this post "Crazy Christians" (yes, that's a Studio 60 reference) and decry another group of Christians embarrassing themselves in the public eye. But you know what? I'm tired of trying to police/disparage every group of fuzzy-headed evangelicals whose hearts are in the right place even if their heads aren't. So come on, street preachers. Meet me in Sundance Square and I'll listen to your rant and buy you a beer.

Preachers to 'invade' Fort Worth, Dallas

The Associated Press

DALLAS - A Texas-based ministry group plans to flood entertainment districts in Dallas and Fort Worth on Saturday with 500 street preachers trying to spread their faith, an event the group's president calls a "city invasion."

Darrel Rundus, founder and president of The Great News Network, said he hopes this first large-scale event will serve as a test run for future invasions across the country.

"Its a roll-up-your-sleeves, get-in-the-trenches, big-time battle in the street for souls," Rundus said. "We have an army of evangelists out there invading the city for Christ."
Street preaching, never entirely embraced by traditional evangelical churches, has been gaining in popularity, said David Allen, the dean of the theology school at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth.

Most evangelicals take their biblical cue from a passage in the Book of Matthew known as The Great Commission, Allen said. In it, Jesus Christ tells followers to "make disciples of all nations ... and teach them to obey everything that I have commanded."

Evangelical Christians interpret the passage differently, and pastors from traditional churches say there are more effective and less threatening means than hitting the streets.

"The common perception people have of street preachers is someone out there who is on the kook fringe of things," Allen said. "You think of someone who wears a sandwich sign that says, 'The world will end tomorrow.' "

That confrontational style turns people away, said Jim Lemons, pastor of the River Oaks Baptist Church near Fort Worth. He does not encourage church members to conduct open-air preaching but prefers "servant-style evangelism," such as volunteering in soup kitchens or homeless shelters.

"I think there are ways to make a bigger impact, a more lasting impact than yelling for 15 or 30 seconds on a street corner," Lemons said. "If I were not a believer and I were accosted, I would say, 'I don't want anything to do with that group or with what that religion believes.'"
Rundus acknowledged the image problem but says his group teaches a non-confrontational approach.

Rundus has spent the past two years building a network he thinks will make a nationwide event possible. He has 133 local leaders around the country who organize groups of street preachers. His group has organized 16 "evangelical boot camps" that he said has attracted about 100 participants apiece from around the world.

Among the most important lessons: Preaching locales must be public property and popular. The group typically favors entertainment districts, such as the Deep Ellum neighborhood in Dallas or Sundance Square in Fort Worth.

At the boot camp, would-be street preachers learn to overcome fears of public speaking, to engage people in conversation and to preach in an "inoffensive and Biblical way," Rundus said.
David Bird, a veterinarian and a leader in North Carolina, came to Texas this week for the invasion. Street preaching is the "last thing in the world I ever thought I'd be doing," he said.

But Bird has been doing just that for about two years, using lessons from Rundus boot camps.

He will begin conversations by handing out a pamphlet made to look like U.S. currency. The pamphlet appears to be a $1 million bill, but it has Biblical passages on it.

If a pedestrian appears interested, Bird will ask what he calls the million-dollar question: "If you died tonight, where would you spend eternity?"

The Great News Network instructs preachers to then discuss the 10 Commandments, asking listeners if they've ever lied, stolen, cursed or lusted, making them unsuitable for heaven.

"If just one persons life was changed, then it's worth it all," Bird said.

Local leaders will ultimately determine whether Rundus ministry group is able to make its city invasion work on a national level.

"Its time for Christians to stop going on retreats," Rundus said, "and start going on the advance."

Soul Patch

I’m limping back into the blogosphere and so I must resort to using some fodder from my personal life rather than the more universal themes like Aggie Football that I normally employ. So in weighing the twin evils of not blogging at all and blogging about what I had for breakfast, I’m venturing forth with these two personal revelations:

1. I’m learning more about myself lately. I’m being revealed to myself through my job, my friendships (or lack of friendships), some new acquaintances, my sin, some reading, and a not-too-careful look at the way I spend my thoughts and deeds. Here’s one of many things I’ve discovered about myself: I desperately need to be soulful. I need to see beauty or art, hear music, play music, read something written with feeling, write something compelling. I need this daily. I don’t think most people feel this need. Most people look at me like a freak when I say something about it. But without those experiences, my soul gets dry and flaky and takes my mind with it.


2. I sent my manuscript off today to the first agent who has asked to read the whole thing.

Mark Ye This Day, Scurvy Dogs!

It has been almost a MONTH since my last post. My muse has returned but she is wounded deeply. It will take some time and a lot of nurturing for her to regain her strength. In fact, posting anything today is really rushing matters. But I couldn't let the day pass without reminding everyone of its importance. Today is National Talk Like A Pirate Day! Please mark the observance with the proper amount of reverence, mirth and grog. Also, be sure to check out the "How to Speak Pirate Video" about halfway down on this page.