Signs of the Times, Issue No. 8 - 05/20/08

Through the darkness, he could see it. The proverbial line in the sand. It was getting closer and closer. He was leaving home, but at the same time, returning. The passage had been easier than he thought it would. Where was Border Patrol? Where were the checkpoints? The snipers? The land mines? Finally, he had made it back across the border. But as he crossed and turned his back to bid goodbye to the land he loved, an explosion. And more darkness. With this next Tuesday on the horizon, a ray of light burst back into his life.


Greetings to one and all once again on a beautiful Tuesday afternoon here in the blessed United States of America. How have you been? It has been a while now, hasn't it? Perhaps you may have noticed (and perhaps you didn't...), but last week you didn't get an email! "Why not?" some have asked. There is much to be discussed, and what a better way to kick things off than by answering your questions?!? On we go!


**QUESTION TIME!!**


Q. "No email [last week]? What's going on???"
- Danielle Jones

A. A thousand apologies, Danielle. It's not like I forgot. But hopefully the questions that follow "a continuacion," as they say in Spanish, will adequately illustrate my reasoning.


Q. "Mr. Christensen,
It has come to our attention that you in fact have left your country and gone to another country (not the Motherland otherwise known as Canada ). What the?!? You have left us for another? How can this be? We expect your next visit to a foreign land to be back here or we might have to confiscate your passport!!!!! A word to the wise as they say..."
- Inspector Do-Right (that's Dudley to you), Royal Canadian Mounted Police

A. I won't salute you because you should not be confused with a Junior Mountie. (Salute.) They're much more polite and would never threaten to revoke my passport. However, for as sneaky as I tried to be, apparently I was not elusive enough. The rumors are true - I've been in Mexico for a week! My family and I set sail on a whirlwind tour south of the border last week aboard the H.M.S. Carnival Elation. Honestly, I enjoyed it even more than I thought I would. But if you could send me a few of those informational pamphlets that you sent me like ten years ago and offer me snorkeling, a hypnotist, a week's worth of free buffet, sweet flea markets, trivia, dance parties, two nice pillows, and free cable, I'd definitely keep Canada in mind for the next year or two. Until then, VIVA MEXICO !! - The new Homeland of A-Town!


Q. "Aaron, my amigo, it has been a couple of days since I last saw you. I hear that you are a writer of literary things and a publisher of a small but very successful Newsletter. So for the benefit of your readers could you comment about the beauty of my homeland and what a fantastic taxi cab driver you had in Ensenada ? Also a comment about the bufadora would be nice. I also hear that you had a beautiful belt buckle that was the merchant was asking $150 for down to $15 and yet you didn't purchase it? What was that all about?!? See you again soon my amigo!"
- Jose

A. Thanks, Jose. You were a fantastic cab driver, indeed. I enjoyed my time with you. And because I enjoyed it so much, I'm about to do a few things for you.
First of all, a comment about the "Buffadora," or blow hole, which we got suckered into seeing in Ensenada . Well I thought it was nice. Not exactly what everybody hyped it up to be, since we all thought it was going to be like Old Faithful or something, but hey, 60-foot blasts of diagonal water isn't half bad. Maybe you should try to attract some more interesting entertainment, though. Nobody was really digging that old guy with the guitar.
It's time to debunk five Mexican myths:
-- Mexico is not as dirty as everyone says it is. It's actually very clean.
-- As Austin so astutely pointed out at dinner last night, "almost free" is not entirely true in most cases.
-- Coca-Cola does not cost ten American dollars.
-- Contrary to popular belief, when an American man says he doesn't have a girlfriend, it doesn't always mean he's gay.
-- And no, I don't want to by anything for my neighbor's wife.
And now here are three signs you have recently been to Mexico :
-- Like you said, it's true - somebody offers you a $150 belt buckle for 90% off and you have the guts to say no.
-- You know how heavy the Mexican flag in Ensenada is but don't know where they wash it.
-- The number of items you purchase in one week is less than or equal to the number of times you were asked for "weed" in one day.


Q. "Hey there Aaron! This is Nichole and Natasha from the sports bar at the Lido deck. You do remember us don't you? We have a question for your Newsletter. During our chance meeting at the bar during the Jazz-Lakers game, there were a couple of Laker fans in the otherwise sea of Jazz fans that were heckling us and talking trash until the 4th quarter. Where did those guys go for the 4th quarter, and why did they only come back after the 4th Quarter? Just wondering... By the way did we give you our phone numbers?"
- Nichole, and Natasha xoxo

A. Funny story - So there we were on the Elation last Wednesday night with nowhere to watch the Jazz game. For a few brief moments, our eyes were glued to the ticker at the bottom of an ESPN Deportes screen, but that ticker was only there for about as long as I was in the casino last week. (Um... not very long...) By the end of the night, a few Jazz faithful were still there hoping to catch a glimpse of Deron Williams with his arm raised in victory or Kobe Bryant in a body cast, huddled around our only source of information, the sole Laker fan and his cell phone. We didn't like the outcome very much, but at least the guy was not too over-the-top about us losing game five. Fast forward to Friday night. The locale is the same - a smoke free sports bar at the back of an on-board restaurant. There's not an empty bar stool and the seldom-ordered drink is either a gin and tonic, a Sprite, or a Caffeine free Diet Coke. The Mormons are in town, baby. I felt bad for the bartender, so I slipped him a Washington after all was said and done. He didn't get much business because everybody was too busy making fun of Derek Fisher to think about drinking. We met two girls there (and when I say "we," I refer to the typical tandem of Austin and myself) who were from Salt Lake City . Didn't get their numbers, or even their names, for that matter, so "Nichole" and "Natasha," huh? News to me. At 6:00 (meaning directly behind me, not the time, of course), there was a heavy-set man of Latino descent, from the looks of it, in a red polo shirt and two sisters (not his sisters... whatever) hanging around him so he looked cooler that everybody else. He was a Lakers fan. One of the three or four in semi-attendance over the night. The barstools were all occupied by Jazz fans and even the LA-oriented man behind the counter pretended to cheer for Utah . It was a good night to be Mormon, in other words. We won't speak much of the first twenty-four minutes. We'll speak more of the last 12. If you want to hear me really complain, check out my new post on www.facebook.com. The fact of the matter is this. Hot Shot says he wants to see our faces at the end of the game when the Jazz are out of the playoffs. We told him that was fine and kept mocking the Lakers nevertheless. I feel like the Jazz didn't lose the game. When we needed to stick it to 'em, we did. When it really counted, we pulled through. And the refs jipped us once again. Kobe ended the game with only four official fouls. Austin and I counted six. We also feel that four of his free throws should never have been taken for the same reason. Boozer shouldn't have fouled out because his foul on Pao Gasol when Gasol was inside the half-circle shouldn't have been called against him. Oh well, we didn't end up needing him in the end anyway. So the Jazz are down by a couple with a few minutes left in the game and we start making a run... and old Hot Shot boy disappears in typical Laker fashion. We ended up losing the game by three due to a few last-minute threes that didn't fall. Closer than most Laker fans thought it would end up being, I say. And out of nowhere, Hot Shot shows up, claiming that he left to buy his wife a Bingo ticket... Bingo ticket... MY EYE!! Yeah right. He was just sweating bullets thinking the Jazz would pull it off and we'd be heading back to LA for game seven. That's what I think, anyway. Sick. I blame the refs completely for the loss. Say what you will, but go back and watch that fourth quarter with me and I will prove to you that this is all a conspiracy. We'll be back next year, my friends. We will keep dreaming. And when we wake up, you better hope we're asleep...


Remember, you, too, can send me your very own questions by emailing me at tarheelglory19@yahoo.com.


Moving on, moving on. I finally finished Harry Potter 7 last week. On a thirteen hour car ride, there's plenty of time for eight hours of the Big H.P.! I've been thinking long and hard about this series - the only real thing I ever read, other than the sports section and the Standard Works. Thus, I've had a few predictions in mind dating back to the third book, more or less. Before I started the book, I made a list of fifteen or twenty predictions and, without revealing too much, I think only about two or three of them were right. Was I surprised by the ending? A little bit. Was I satisfied? Yes. I thought it was good, with a few very minor exceptions (ask me later if you want to discuss). Now, for a little interactivity, I want to have a tag team match. I shall now propose to you two teams of super-ness and I want you all to email me with your decision as to who you think would win. Good vs. Evil. Heroes vs. Villains. This is it - the ultimate test of might and dominion. Your choices are: Team A - Harry Potter, Luke Skywalker, Mario of video game fame, and Professor Charles Xavier from X-Men versus Team B - Voldemort, Darth Vader, Bowser, and Magneto (also from X-Men). There are many strengths here, many weaknesses, and it should truly be an interesting fight. As stated previously, please email me your thoughts, explanations, and more importantly, your votes. The winners will be revealed next week.

While I was on the cruise, I spotted something interesting. I was walking along the deck passed a bunch of sun bathers and I saw some lady, probably in her thirties or forties, reading a biography of musician Jack Johnson. It wasn't a very long book.


And finally, due to the fact that I can't get anybody to do the Two-Minute Instant Message with me, I want to complain about one more thing. This morning I was driving to work and lo, and behold, a jogger on the left side of the street. There was a truck coming in the opposite direction and, in an effort to avoid hitting her, I guess, the truck swerves a little to the left, putting it squarely in front of me. Luckily, the truck had plenty of time to get back into its lane before the impending crisis that lay ahead. Bike lanes, people. In North Carolina , we didn't have bike lanes. We had "shoulders." And they aren't nearly as broad as mine are. I came within inches of my sweet life out there. Cars never swerved. So for me to see a jogger easily inside the white line by at least a foot or two and then to have a truck move five feet into my lane, not only endangering my life, but also the livelihood of the Silver Bullet, as my car has been called... frustrates me. Why do we have these things if bikers aren't going to use them and if drivers thing that pedestrians are in peril? I motion that bike lanes should be more efficiently used and appreciated by motorists and otherwise-transported civilians.


The Shoutout of the Week goes to Curtis Gardner, my mission "uncle" and the man who kept me alive in the mission field for the first month and a half. I owe this man virtually my life, my posterity, and all my worldly possessions. May he use them wisely and for the benefit of under-privileged cancer survivors.


That's about it for this week. Off you go. Back to your couches. Whip out your telephones and start dialing those numbers. We all know you secretly love David Archuleta.

Until next Time,

Move It! Sell It! And Leave the Door Open!

Aaron