Holy Smokes!

I used to live in an apartment facility called Wood-way.  If you are like me, the name conjures up a deep wooded place, but as with most apartment and housing developments the names have absolutely nothing to do with the place.  Most are called exotic or charming names but are in fact actually boring...   Maple Manor, The Citrus Grove, Blue Fountain Terrace, Glen Lake View Country Deer Oak Manor Acres Estates...


I once read about an Irish Property developer that a was constantly bothered by bunch of hippies, so he named the area "Pogue Mahone Court." For those of you who don't speak Gaelic it means "Kiss my A$$ court" 


I better change the subject quick or people are going to be saying "Don't read the Red Beard's blog.  All he talks about is housing developments..."


Anyways Woodway is not in the woods but next to Hwy 540.  Its loud and annoying...
It used to be falling apart and forclosed on till a ministry called Lightbearers bought it.  I believe they just wanted it as a capitol raising endeavor because, you see, the ministry raises money and helps train college students to do overseas missions.  They would use the rent money that people would pay to fund overseas missions in the 1040 window. 


However, when all the folks in a 50 mile radius who have a heart for missions found out about this place they all moved there.  Would you want your money to go to the coffers of some scruffy, fat guy in a tank top who is always smoking cigars and yelling at people or to help starving children in Africa? I knew I could win you over...


Because of the tenants, I knew living there were tons of incredible men.  Not War heroes and Spartans, but men who were incredible fathers, servants, leaders, and who lived life investing in eternal things, not just seeking their own gratification in life.  I dearly wanted to spend time with these men to learn from them and ask question. Then a quote of the dear Clive Staples Lewis came to mind that goes something on the lines of "I know of no better time than a pipe and a pint with a brother."  I said, "Clive ole boy, I couldn't hardly agree more.  Being a writer and a theologian he has other quotes on the same issues. 

"A pipe gives a wise man time to think and a fool something to stick in his mouth." - C.S. Lewis

This quote, combined with that of our founding father Ben Franklin, "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy," I started an evening club on Sunday Nights.


  I invited these admirable men that I sought to glean wisdom from to come to my porch from 9-? to have a brew, Smoke some Tobacco, & debate, discuss, and share our thoughts on theology and apologetics.  We named this meeting "Holy Smokes"


In fact I do believe I was following in the steps of Lewis himself:

While the discussion was definitely not limited to this, the conversation mostly revolved around God's grace, his providence, and his elect.  Sometimes the discussions would get heated, and more often than naught we would drift far from the intended conversation to zombies, war, and time travel.  


This also give us time to bounce ideas off each other.  Talk about girls and the pursuit of girls and other things pertaining to girls and girls.  






Now My job is to travel the nation and speak to college students about God's heart for every tribe, tongue, and nation as heaven will in fact look like as in Revelation 7:9 and the other 1500 times God mentions it in his word...

 As to not offend the teetotalers & above all, to be beyond reproach, I have to abstain from all forms of alcohol and tobacco products. Although I would be lying to say that I don't miss it, I count it a worthy sacrifice to get others involved in what God is involved in:  Redeeming all nations for himself!  

I do miss a good tall beer in a chilled glass and the feel of my warm pipe after a bowl Blue Note Tobacco but I will gladly give them up (for now) for the sake of the kingdom. 


And I am sure my mother is happy about that...


How do you feel about alcohol and tobacco?

What I like to do when I eat

In my efforts to be a man and be prepared, I always always ALWAYS (if I can help it) have 4 things on me: My wallet, my cell Phone, a pocket knife of some sort (I have many), and a Pilot V5 Precise Rolling Ball Pen.

 This was voted the best Pen of all time, by a highly skilled, amazing panel of people.  The Panel was made up of me, myself, and I.  The group as a whole was unanimous in our decision.  The pen was selected for the following reasons:

1. Its not a silly Gel Pen (G2!).  You know who uses gel pens? Little girls. Thats right, I said it...
2. It has a wonderful cap!  No leaky in the pocket of the pantsy. And when you pull the cap off, you just feel like something big is about to go down...
3. It writes on almost any surface.  Paper, your hand (for instant notes), and napkins

I love to eat.  You can tell just by looking at me.  Sometimes it seems though thats all that we do on the Traveling Team.  What do all eateries have? Napkins!  What do I love to do in my spare time? Draw! 
See where I'm going with this...


Weighing in at a weight of 23 g/m² we have your standard 2-ply, 100% recylced fiber napkin (or serviette as they say in Australia) marked with a menagerie of many miscellaneous monsters and... sasquatches...


This is what I like to do when I eat: 

My first Poem

Well, I have a blog, as you can tell. 

For my ceremonial first post I have decided to share my first grand poem with you.  What kind of Poem? 

You know those ones where emotion and deep intellect just ooze from the lines and you feel so sophisticated and enlightened by reading? Yeah, this is not like those.  In fact, I am not the biggest fan that style.  I like the poetry like that of my favorite author: Dr. Seuss.  His simple and fancy free style just brings me joy, as now just as much as I was a child.  In fact, the first book I read in my life was Hop on Pop.  What a classic...

One of the things that I enjoy doing on my job is writing poetry in my head while I am driving.  I will explain my job later...

I expect that I shall post several poems on this blog as a creative outlet, so LOOK OUT!  

With out further ado, here is Bazoo... 

BaZoo!

a poem by Nathaniel Allen

There once was a town with no name, that was noble and true

Till one afternoon came a man, a man named BaZoo

"Now who was this BaZoo?" this inquiry asks you?

He was a wonderer, a bard, who played the kazoo!

He came to the town with good intentions, you see

Just to play his kazoo and sing merrily

But this instrument of hum was not all he carried

But a very large bag of ripe Queen Anne cherries

BaZoo was a fruit-man, took some where ever he go

Fruit was his favorite thing, but little did he know

Up in the mountains of this rocky top town

Fruit was undiscovered and not to be found

BaZoo'd never been there, on this bright sunny day

But he was off to the town square and started to play

A jolly old tune for the entire town to enjoy

And every family was there, every man, woman, and boy

So the Rocky top village heard for hours on end

The ballads of BaZoo, their new kazoo playing friend

And just as the very last hymn was to be hummed

Into the scene popped a cherry, and you'll never guess where from:

Out of BaZoo's pocket and onto the ground

In front of the families, in front of the town

Then there was just a moment of silence, of wonder and awe

The town just looked, they starred, and they saw

The fruitiest red thing they ever did see

 And they gawked at the Cherry with excitement and glee

But the moment of silence and still didn't last for the town,

For every last man, child, and grandma had dived on the ground

They pushed and they foughted and prodded and prudded

But this shiny last cherry, to the town, it had alluded

"I found it!"

 "Its mine!"

 Did each citizen confess

As each searched very frantic in the tangled up mess

When each person was caught, and could not move-around

BaZoo lifted his foot and stamped on the ground

With shock and a gasp, the town looked under his boot

And there, smashed to pieces, was the once shiny red fruit

Enraged, no longer caught, the town knew what to do

They grabbed him and hurt him and broke his kazoo

Exiled from there, BaZoo held his head in shame

Never to return to the town with no name

Months later, feeling betrayed the town never did see

Where the smashed fruit once was now grew a great tree

Not just any tree grew in that very furrow

But the biggest Queen Anne cherry tree that every did grow!

Realizing what they'd done, the town filled with guilt and with shame

But everyone wanted to make it right, everyone in the town with no name

So this once cherry-less town knew just what to do

In memory and in honor they named their town BaZoo!