Am I Draft Worthy?

I took the Wonderlic Test yesterday at a job interview. A brief explanation for the uninitiated: the Wonderlic is an intelligence test that consists of 50 increasingly difficult questions. The challenge is that you're only given 12 minutes to take the test. This is the same test given to NFL prospects at the draft combine.

The questions were basic word associations, and I would have gotten through more than 35 if my mind hadn't wandered for the first couple of minutes . . . Am I smarter than an Ivy League kicker? Does my knowing the difference between idea and ideal -- an actual question --have any bearing on whether or not I can read a cover 2 defense? (I throw too many interceptions in Madden 2006, so I guess not) What would it cost a company to get Mel Kiper, Jr. to grade the test and talk about my draft stock? And how would Mel do if he had to take it?

The big question, though, was this: how would I do on other standard draft tests? Not well. I can't bench press 225 pounds more than once. I would finish a 40-yard dash stride for stride with linemen who outweigh me by 90 pounds. And I would definitely sprain both ankles on any and all agility drills. I once sprained my ankle while walking down the street. I wish I was kidding.

OK, so I've established that I don't have a future in the NFL. My boy Mel would absolutely agree. What does this have to do with a job I may or may not get offered? Nothing at all. As usual, I have no point.

Nickname Reference Page

Since I won't be referring to people by name, here are relevant nicknames of my friends along with brief descriptions. This page will be updated as new folks are included in posts/stories.

Bogus - Friend since high school and Mormon convert. Once inspired the funniest question my mother ever asked: "Dave, Bogus likes girls . . . right?" Now happily married. To a woman.

Buddies - College roommate and fraternity brother. My football tutor. Alternate nickname: Uncle Fuzzy

Coco - A good friend from IU. My age, but married with three kids. Surreal.

Don Juan - High school buddy. Parlayed band geekdom into a teaching career. Pays rent to his mom.

The HCN - Short for the Hot Canadian Nurse. She's my girlfriend, and you can't have any details. It's one of the rules.

JB - College roommate. Former boss. Former landlord. Cub fan. And yet, we still get along.

Mayor - Kalamazoo Kid and a literal redheaded stepchild. Takes video games too seriously. Way too seriously. Two things on his body are larger than normal. It wouldn't be polite to mention what they are. But they're real, and they're spectacular.

Nappy - Appropriately named Kalamazoo Kid. Has a penchant for less than classy women. Alternate nickname: Beer Goggles Fabio, because drunk girls won't leave him alone.

P$ - Current roommate. Shares my love of two-dollar words. I'm openly jealous of his hair.

Pookie - 5'5" and round. The elder statesman of the Kalamazoo Kids. Any mention of him as "my Kraut-Mick friend" is a Godfather reference, and not an ethnic slur. I promise.

Scarface - Kalamazoo Kid. The best-looking man I know. It's a little disturbing. Completely deaf in his left ear. You can shout into it and he won't even flinch. I know because I try it almost every time I see him. I'm easily amused.

Solid - Former coworker and old roommate. Likes the sauce, loves the ladies. Especially the ladies who love the sauce.

Church, Huxley, and the Communist Manifesto

Did Marx have a point? Is religion the opiate of the masses?

The answer, as is often the case, depends on the interpretation of the question. But before we delve into that, just a few words on what led me to the question. My church here in Chicago has been renovating the evening service, and the worship director chose to name it "Soma." A fine choice, since soma is the Greek word for "body." My initial thought, though, wasn't the Greek association (and not just because I don't know the first bit of Greek). Instead, as any fan of Aldous Huxley knows, soma was the name of the sedative given to the citizenry in "Brave New World." Religion as sedative. That's just how my mind works.

Now, in an effort to relieve myself of these thoughts, I'm going to explore the question in some depth. If by "religion," one means all organized systems of belief, then my answer is a qualified yes. Religion tends to alter our consciousness and view of the world. It placates the downtrodden. And in many cases, it can give comfort by numbing the pain of this world with promises of future enlightenment or paradise.

There is a fly in the ointment, though. Marx's famous statement only holds true if, as he believed, religion is nonsense. What happens, though, if one religion is true? I am a Christian, and Christianity is nothing like an opiate. An opiate dulls the senses and induces relaxation to the point of apathy. Christianity, on the other hand, calls believers to act boldly out of love for everyone. It goes without saying that some bold Christian actions have been indefensible; however, we are not discussing the actions of sinful people. We are focusing on what should happen in the Christian life. As C.S. Lewis puts it, people who mature in their Christian faith become "more fully themselves." They are humble, kind, good, generous, and joyful. Hardly the characteristics of the denizens of a steepled opium den.

OK, but that's Christianity in high-minded theory. Does Christianity in practice act as an opiate? My friend Coco once quipped, "just because somebody's a Christian, that doesn't give them an excuse to detach their frontal lobe." Sometimes, even people who believe in the Truth use it to relieve themselves of the pressures of critical thought. This intellectual laziness is often couched in euphemisms like "feeling God's presence" and "making an emotional connection." While these are important aspects of faith, they don't exist exclusive of knowledge. What's more, a lack of knowledge of the Truth often leads to beliefs that run contrary to the Bible. But is that truly the religion acting as an opiate? I say no. Rather, sinful nature rears its ugly head in the form of laziness.

I've never put much stock in Marx. I'm happy to conclude here that his thoughts on religion were just as flawed as his economic system.

12-step Program Introductions

My name is Dave, and I'm . . .

a Christian man

an obsessive White Sox fan. Really. There are only 16 of us left. We should start an actual support group. 12 steps might not be enough. In fact, this is enough to warrant its own blog.

a slightly less obsessive IU Hoops fan. At least I have rabid, state-wide fan base with me on this one.

a Bears/IU Football/Bulls fan, but only on "healthy" levels. When I say "healthy," I mean the feminine definition. I can miss a few games without breaking out in hives, and the games don't affect the quality of my day. Plenty of men would say that means I'm not much of a fan, and I'd agree with them. But let's not split hairs.

a sports radio addict.

an undiscovered jazz singer. Yep, I croon. If you're reading this and happen to own a jazz club, please pay me to sing.

a rageaholoic. I just can't live without rageahol! OK, that's not true. But I do love The Simpsons. And Family Guy. And Bugs Bunny. And the Cartoon Network show with the talking meatball and goateed french fries. I have no shame about being 26 and liking cartoons.

a grammar dork. Dangling prepositions bug the hell out of me. My family hates this.

overqualified for unemployment, but underqualified for really good (read: high-paying) jobs.

funnier than this post probably makes me seem.

If you're wondering why you should care about any of these things, I can't really blame you. This is really just a first brief foray into writing, and I'm not sure if any of these things will come up again in this blog. Except sports. Count on reading about sports again. I'll try to post relatively regularly, but mostly I'll just be using this forum to jot down thoughts, opinions, rants, and funny stories. Here's hoping that this is interesting and fun, even if it's just for me.