Countdown to August 7th

Bom dia meus amigos doidos,

In Portuguese that means, "Good morning my wacky friends." I'm going to let you all in on a little secret. Many of you have suspected it for a long time but now it's official--I have indeed lost my marbles. Actually, it's not my fault. It's the crazy people I hang around with. They are to blame.

I have a friend, Dr. David Hopkins, a Presbyterian guy who is a missionary with a "first peoples" focused ministry called C.H.I.E.F. That stands for "Christian Hope Indian Eskimo Fellowship" (http://www.chief.org). I only mention that he is a Presbyterian to let you know that had I been spending time with Baptists this whole thing probably wouldn't have happened. Many years ago my mother warned me about Presbyterians.

But I digress. We meet together every Wednesday noon in a pastors prayer group. We've been doing this for about 13 years so we've logged a lot of time together. One day Dave happened to mention that he had jumped out of an airplane a few years ago. When he turned 60 he and his fruitcake brother-in-law went out to an airstrip, paid money to get into an airplane, and then bailed out at 13,000 feet.

When I showed some interest in his story he got a funny look in his eye and asked me, "Would you ever be interested in doing that?" Being all macho and proud I said, "I'd love to!" never dreaming that this Presbyterian lunatic was actually serious. Anyway, this past Wednesday Dave asked me, "How about August 7th?" Surrounded by my other moonbat pastor friends what could I say but, "Bring it on!"

Long story short... On August 7th David "The Flying Presbyterian" Hopkins and I are going to pay money to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, risking life and limb for a cheap thrill. There you have it, my confession. By my calculations that gives me 15 days to get my house in order, though some of you have seen my house and know that it is going to take longer than that. Anyway, I thought you should know.

It's nice to have friends at a time like this. Our ground-hugging cowardly pastor friends say they plan to be at the Molalla airport that day with shovels and a large black plastic tarp to gather the pieces. Apparently their only concern is how they will by able to sort out the remains to get the right victim in the right box for burial. How encouraging!

When I broke the news to Ramel, my wife, I expected there would be more wailing and gnashing of teeth. She's got me a little concerned. She spent all day yesterday on the phone talking with insurance companies. What's that all about?

15 days and counting,
Mike