Carl don't know football...
February 9, 2011
I love reading Carl Trueman. He makes me laugh. He makes me think. But it is clear that my project to 'Americanize' him are failing badly. Carl's latest post at Ref21 betrays a fundamental lack of understanding regarding the game of football (and by "football" I mean the real sport played by large men, not the game with skinny guys kicking a round ball back and forth).
That said, Carl still comes up with great lines like, "trousering too much dosh." I have no idea what that means but it is deliciously British.
However, after Carl's near unforgivable slandering of football he proceeds to tamper around with my heart a bit. I hate when he does that...
That said, Carl still comes up with great lines like, "trousering too much dosh." I have no idea what that means but it is deliciously British.
However, after Carl's near unforgivable slandering of football he proceeds to tamper around with my heart a bit. I hate when he does that...
Why the obsession with the commercials? Yes, some of them are funny; but is it not sad that it appears that the cleverest minds, and so much money, are focused on such things? And that the population spend so much time talking about them? Do these people have no lives? No homes and families to go to? We worry (or at least some of us still do) about explicit violence and pornography on television -- but what about the pornography of acquisition, the million brain-changing signals from the flat screen in the corner that tell us that we are what we buy, and that happiness is just one or two purchases away?
Finally, how many Christians would never turn out for a Sunday evening worship service because they had their fix on Sunday mornings, but would rearrange all manner of things to make sure they could see the Superbowl? Watching overpaid spandex-clad blimps playing catch, then running for, oh my, at least 5 seconds and six yards before taking a five minute breather, and as a result trousering too much dosh -- or meeting with the living God who gave his Son for us, hearing his word proclaimed, and humbly bowing before him in adoration -- not much of a choice is it, really? The spandex and hilarious commercials win every time.
