As omnipresent kiosk hawkers bleated about their as-seen-on-TV wares, I was reminded of a kid in the Philippines who once endeavored to sell me a hat, a pair of sunglasses, and a flower-sack shirt. He offered a great selection and I was in the market for trinkets, so I was inclined to listen to his sales pitch. I bought all sorts of souvenirs from that kid because I liked the way he yelled, “Remember me…from your hotel?!” Of course, a very favorable dollar-to-peso exchange rate may have played a factor, as well. Sadly, Mrs. Hippo never really appreciated the San Miguel hat I bought for her.
That kid was onto something that Americans are just starting to learn, though. You need to make eye contact and build a relationship to make a sale. I noticed several attempts to make eye contact with me yesterday at the shopping mall, but as I have spent far more than my fair share of time in the third world, only an advanced vendor ever catches my eye for a sales pitch. No eye contact. No relationship. No sale.
I did listen to a sales pitch recently, but that guy didn’t actually catch my eye. I was too savvy for that, but the local number on my caller ID box did manage to short circuit my defenses. I was caught off guard, so a fire department guy was able to ask me to save the poor burned children by going to a country music concert. He said several kids are burned every day and they all need my help. This sounded very tragic, indeed, and I started to feel sad before my mean inner hippo spoke up: wouldn’t the poor burned children be better off if I were to give them all the money and leave the concert promoters and the guy doing the calling off the payroll? I may be the most insensitive hippo in the world because I said I wasn’t going to give those poor burned children any money. Please don’t hate me if I don’t want to pay the overhead for professional fundraisers that leave the charity with only a small portion of the take.
I guess that is why I like the guy who begs beside the road. At least if you give to that guy, you know it is all going to the intended recipient. Although Oliver Twist and the Artful Dodger may have had to pay off their Fagin, I think we can safely assume the roadside beggars in this area are independents.
You may have noticed a new sort of e-criminal around lately. Several people have called recently to inform me that I have almost certainly won a Lincoln Navigator. They are persistent, but I remain unconvinced by their recorded messages. It is almost as if they are sending that recording out to a bunch of people in the hopes of finding an idiot or two.
Today, Mrs. Maureen Johnson, a widow of 73 years who happens to suffer from cancer “of the esophageal,” e-mailed me a solicitation of sorts. It turns out that prayer led Mrs. Johnson to offer me $3.9 million dollars for doing God’s work. Sadly, she was only able to come up with my e-mail address and could not discern my name in the message she received from her higher ups, so I am left to question the veracity of her claims of divine guidance.
Although all these people offered to fill my needs in some way or another, I suppose I have become just too cynical. I don’t believe the people at the mall really care about my needs at all. I think they may just want my money. The guy who called about those poor burned kids may have a personal motive of gain, as well, and I suspect Mrs. Johnson’s offer of $3.9 million dollars could have a few strings attached, too.
At the end of the day, I’ve begun to question offers that seem to be too good to be true, and I look askance at people who say they are only interested in my needs. Perhaps I am too cynical, but I think those people just want my money.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
I have everything a hippo could ever need, so it is usually a struggle for friends and family to find creative presents that will appropriately recognize the day of my birth. Of course, I have a few thoughts on the matter of a perfect birthday.
On my perfect day, someone would have cleared away all the clutter from the bathroom vanity. I would crawl out of bed and hobble to the bathroom only to be shocked by the starkness of the room. Curling irons, hair rollers, combs, brushes, make up and even dental floss would all have been swept away. I would brush my teeth with my electric toothbrush, which would have been left plugged up as the only item on the countertop. After a fully-charged tooth brushing experience, I would notice the floor. There would no dirty clothes, no old towels, and no shoes. In fact, the only thing on the floor would be a giant pack of toilet paper rolls for me to use as a desk for my iPad. The toilet paper dispenser would have a full roll of paper with the over-the-top feed I prefer, and the trash can would be completely empty.
At this point, I would be really intrigued by such a wonderful chain of positive improvements, but I would be greedy for more. A quick inspection of the shower would reveal that someone had replaced the shower curtain with one that hasn’t busted out a bunch of the hanger holes, and the stupid flower hangers that never worked would have been replaced by some sort of fancy nickel plated ball bearing devices that really work. Wow! Watch that curtain slide! Is that a new rod?! I think it is!
I need to catch my breath because I need to report a robbery and I want to sound calm. “Mrs. Hippo! Get in here! We’ve been robbed!” Of course, she’d come running since it would be my birthday, and all. Upon arrival, she would hurriedly ask about the theft, and I would tell her that someone had stolen the hairball from our drain. And then we’d laugh and laugh. Ahh…Good times!
After showering, I’d move to my closet to find that all the normal hippo sizes would have been discarded from the racks. In their place, I would find only the extra large sizes I can wear comfortably. I would select a pair of pants and they would fit without any shallow breathing or pulled muscles. The pile of clothes in front of my underwear drawer would be gone somewhere and I would find a drawer completely full of my favorite underwear. I get my underwear at Target, by the way. Tee shirts and socks would also be easily acquired from similarly full drawers. My shirts would all be meticulously ironed – even if I decided to wear a tee shirt. Wrinkles would not sully my perfect day.
In the kitchen, the sink would be devoid of dirty dishes and the dishwasher would be empty. All the dishes would wait in the proper places. I would open the junk drawer and I would find my old Zippo lighter and the missing pineapple corer. By this time, I’d be getting a warm feeling deep down inside.
Of course, the dogs would have been to the groomer, so they wouldn’t stink and there would be no basset hair on the floor under the table. But it wouldn’t really matter since we’d kick them out back into the nicely manicured lawn. Someone has even cleared the edges and the bushes! Let’s head off to breakfast. I think I’ll order the pancake breakfast at IHOP. Sausage or bacon? Why, yes. I think I’ll have both!
After breakfast, I would logon to XBOX live and set a new high score for Geometry Wars 2 Pacifism and then I’d call Hippo Junior to tell him I’d toppled his score. Of course, he would wail and cry while I pretended not to be happy about kicking him to second place on the high scores list. Dave would logon to see my new stratospheric score and he would cry, as well, over his new third place standing. Ahhhh…
Then I’d open my presents. New highway pegs? Really?! You shouldn’t have! A backrest, too! I love you, Mrs. Hippo! Please tell me you didn’t also buy those dash pouches I’ve been wanting. You did?! This is really turning out to be a perfect birthday!
Well, a hippo can dream, can’t he?
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
Here is a quote you’ll probably recognize:
Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. (Matthew 7:1-2, NIV)
That biblical injunction to forgo judgment speaks to our tendency to judge others harshly while begging leniency for ourselves. I have no quarrel with the sentiment, but I can think of another reason we should not judge: We are terrible at it. We know too little of the hearts of our fellow men and women.
This week, I learned that a lifelong friend is a child molester. I’ve known this man since I was a child, myself, and I never had any suspicions of this sort. When we met, I was 10 years old, which I suppose placed me on the edge of his target group, but he never took advantage of his friendship with me. He was my parish priest. He taught me how to ring the bells at mass. He taught me how to hold the prayer book during the service. He taught me to be reverent around the altar.
So many wonderful things he taught to me, but demons must have been chipping away at his resolve behind the scenes. William Casey’s demons urged him to much more malignant activities. According to the local press, he eventually succumbed to some horrible demonic whisperings, and he admits it.
“Jesus called the children to him and said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.’” What a sad state of affairs when those who profess to represent Jesus on this earth forget to keep His love at the forefront of their minds! So many broken trusts…so many broken lives! How can we not judge this sort of news?!
I was going to rant against a celibate priesthood and quote Matthew 19:10-12, but I think I’ll leave that for another day. Today, I’ll just stick with the thought that we should not judge. We know neither the worst nor the best of the human heart. We’re not well suited to judgments, and we miss the mark more often than we come close. Instead, let’s pray for those who have been harmed by this scourge on our society. Let’s pray that victims will heal and that perpetrators will harm no others. Let’s pray for an end to child molestation. And let’s pray for the strength to live by God’s word while leaving judgment for the one who knows what He is doing.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
I own an iPad, an iMac, an iPhone, a Kindle, and an HP laptop. Since I can’t help but compare them to one another, I suppose I should jot down a few observations for my hippo fan base. The iPad is the newest horse in the stable, so I’ll use it as the central point of reference throughout this article.
The iPad beats the iPhone in many ways:
1) The display is much larger. I can actually see what I’m typing, and the on-screen keys are big enough to accommodate my fat fingers. The larger display is also great for movies and television shows. I’ve streamed Netflix to it, and I was happily impressed with the quality.
2) The battery appears to be light years ahead. I routinely use the iPad all day before recharging. The iPhone is an all day phone, but if you tinker with it all day, the battery will drain before sundown.
3) The iPad’s built-in speakers are pretty good. Headsets still sound best, but the speakers will do. On the iPhone, the built in speaker is not a viable alternative.
The iPhone takes the lead in several other areas:
1) The iPhone fits in a pocket, which cannot be said of the iPad.
2) The iPhone makes phone calls, which the iPad cannot do. The iPad might Skype soon.
3) The iPhone takes photos and videos; the iPad cannot.
4) The iPhone connects via 3G or Wifi, while my iPad is WiFi only.
5) The iPhone is a better platform for Doodle jump due to its smaller size.
The iPad compares favorably to the iMac and the HP laptop in a couple of important areas:
1) Applications for the iPad are inexpensive and vetted to some extent by the Apple App Store. Sure you can find a bunch of cheap or free utilities or games for regular computers, but installation is more of a project and viruses and malware seem to me to be more of a concern. The app store generates confidence so I worry less about the possibility of a worm that might wipe out my machine or my network while infecting all my friends. This is a big benefit.
2) The iPad is smaller than the desktop iMac or the laptop HP. You can take it with you with little effort. There is no need for a mouse and the battery is so good that you don’t need to worry with cords. Plus, if you were to bring the charging cord it is small and has none of the transformer heft of the laptop’s charger. The iMac is decidedly not mobile.
3) The iPad caches a lot of information, so when you are out of WiFi range, you can still browse available content via custom applications. For example, if I go to WSJ.com on the laptop, I may still read a page or two when I’m offline, but the WSF iPad applilcation caches all the content as of the last time it was opened. It is a neat feature. I have free apps for USA Today, WSJ, and NY Times, and they all work great!
But the “real” computers hold their own in other areas:
1) Anything that requires heavy typing, like blogging, is best done on a real keyboard. There is a keyboard option for the iPad, but I don’t have it, and I’m not sure a keyboard wouldn’t defeat the purpose.
2) Applications management is better on a computer that allows you to place things in folders. This is coming for OS 4, which will be available for iPhone in the summer and iPad in the fall.
3) If you simply must have Flash support, the iPad is not for you, but I’ve noticed iPad apps handling video without flash, so I don’t miss it most of the time.
Comparing the iPad to the Kindle is a bit of an unfair comparison because the iPad is so much more than a book reader, but I will compare a few areas:
1) Reading in low light is an iPad win. Reading in bright light is a Kindle win. Since I have both, I just need to trade with Mrs. Hippo whenever the conditions change.
2) Reading newspapers is better on the iPad. Bigger, more colorful screens allow more of a newspaper experience, and I’ve found I am actually reading the paper more than the book reader functions on either device.
3) I use the Kindle reader application on both the Kindle and the iPad. Amazon has done a great job of making their reader available on multiple devices, and I can actually read the same book on the Kindle, the laptop, the iPhone or the iPad. I haven’t downloaded a reader for the iMac, but I suppose there is one. The iPad book reader application looks nice, but I’m an Amazon shopper, and all my e-books are in the Kindle database, so I see no need to switch unless content becomes an issue. I will buy from Apple if Amazon doesn’t carry the title.
4) The battery is a draw, sort of…I’ve found the Kindle battery will last forever if you turn off the wireless feature. As a result, I only switch to wireless to download new books. The iPad stays connected all the time (while near a WiFi hotspot) and it does not seem to hurt its battery. Of course, with the Kindle off line, the battery is not a concern at all. It will last for weeks. The iPad in any mode will last a day, but not a week.
Overall, I’d have to say I love the iPad. It is convenient and fun to use. It does well what it does, and makes no pretentions in other areas. It doesn’t make calls or take pictures, but my camera doesn’t make calls either. The iPhone does both, but it is small and doesn’t do laundry. What’s up with that?
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
There are places in the world where you can view several states or countries from a single spot. I’ve been to some of them, but I have only the haziest of memories to show for my visits. To me, tourist attractions like that are never very remarkable. I can’t understand the fuss about one side of a map line versus another. I’ve been on so many sides of so many map lines that one place has become pretty much the same as the next.
But I do know of one special place. Once upon a time, on a small farm where I once lived, I could watch persimmons grow from my front yard. I can’t remember my code for the money machine, but that view has earned a place in my memory. Those persimmons grew on a large, independent tree. Planted alone among countless Fescue blades pushing through a loamy soil near the crest of a hill, that tree was the only landmark in a field of green. It marked the edge of our property.
Cattle seemed to appreciate this gift as much as I. A symbiotic relationship ensued as cows and tree traded shade and snacks for camaraderie and closeness. If it was summer and the cattle were lowing, you could be sure they were lowing under their persimmon tree. Offering shade, all the persimmons a cow could eat, and a sturdy trunk for scratching persimmon squirts from cowhide, that tree was central to a bovine nirvana of sorts.
Persimmon trees are generally tall and leafy, and this one was no exception. By placing this tree in the middle of a field and surrounding it with good bovine brethren, God produced a scene bordering on the majestic. As far as I know, the tree still stands, but I think the cows were evicted when they put the place up for sale this last time. The cows can’t afford it, and neither can I.
Perhaps cows and hippos were not meant to own farms, but I hope that tree is allowed to stand for a while longer—even though it saddens me to think of it standing there with no cows for company.
As you may know, persimmons provide motivation for those who would pucker up, but their taste rarely fosters a mood of amour, so the effect is generally wasted. If I could, though, I would eat a persimmon right now. I’d close my eyes and hear once again the sound of my uncle’s cows. I’d see the tree swaying in the breeze of a humid summer day. And as I felt my lips begin to pucker, I’d whisper a soft, low whistle at the beauty of our world. I think I might take a ride this spring to see my tree once more before the hay comes in. I hope there are some cows nearby.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
I know I created an escalation of our cold war when I disabled comments on your favorite SPAM target, but I think your scatter gun barrage of 44 SPAMs in 1 day was way over the top! Don’t you understand the concept of incremental escalation?! I take a small step, you are supposed to take A SMALL STEP! Now, you’ve forced me to disable all comments on all articles after 14 days. This of course, will restrict you to a few newer targets. Let’s see how you like that? Also, I can lower that number if I need to do so. Trust me…If you hit me 44 more times tomorrow, the ratcheting sounds you hear will the ruination of all posting without logging in. Now, you wouldn’t want that would you? Please. Don’t ruin it for everybody!
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
I have recently been reading and meditating about Jesus’ temptation in the desert, so I was intrigued to hear those same verses read in church this morning. Luke 4:1-13 formed the foundation for the sermon. It was as if God was working through my pastor and the church service to help me understand the questions I’ve been pondering. What a blessing this morning’s service was for me!
As you may know, Jesus was tempted in the Desert. This is important because it is yet another proof of Jesus’ divinity. We know Jesus was divine, at least in part, because of his temptations in the desert. A mortal man could never completely resist temptation the way Jesus did—not just in the desert, but throughout the course of his life—so Jesus was clearly much more than a mortal man. His victories over sin, temptation, nature, and death all point to his divinity just as my inability to triumph over those elements in my life proves my own fundamental “hipponess.”
They say Depeche Mode’s “personal Jesus” is supposed to be a metaphor for whatever makes you happy. I suppose I’ve foiled the metaphor because my own personal Jesus is Jesus. The guy who showed us how to live all those years ago gives me strength and makes me happy today. He showed us that it is possible to inhabit a physical shell and still focus on a divine purpose. Jesus resisted Satan’s temptations, and so can we. It isn’t easy, but Jesus showed us it can be done.
- In a vast emptiness, Satan sought to satisfy Jesus’ need for sustenance. Jesus declined his aide.
- In a great wilderness, Satan sought to provide self actualization. Again, Jesus said, “no.”
- And in a barren desert, when Satan sought to make a deal, Jesus refused to exalt himself.
Through a rather keen understanding of Maslow, Satan appeals to a full spectrum of very human “needs,” but when we turn our eyes to Jesus, we often see those “needs” exposed as “wants.” And why do we want them? A big reason for so many wants in my life is the barrage of suggestions from Satan. He understands what I want and he brings that knowledge to bear on me all the time.
I drive around town and I see billboards of scantily clad people in great shape. Don’t I want to be in great shape? Don’t I want to be with a scantily clad person who is in great shape? It is hard to think about anything else when temptation is staring me in the face. And what better use could there be for my time than to focus on myself. Surely I deserve these things!
I watch television and at commercial time, they often suggest I need a new car. Don’t I want a fancy new car?! What better use for my money could there possibly be than to indulge myself? Besides, my truck has something wrong with it. It is embarrassing! When I start it, a big puff of smoke comes out of the tailpipe, and the repair place was unable to fix it. Doesn’t Jesus want me to appear prosperous?
I see so many opportunities to take the easy path, the personally gratifying lane, the self-centered approach. Every one of my temptations seems to share a common theme: Keep yourself at the center of things and keep Jesus on the periphery. But Jesus kept his eyes on the things that mattered! He did not think about himself. He thought about His Father in Heaven, and he thought about all of us. If I can follow His example, perhaps I can resist a few of the temptations Satan will place in my path.
This week, I think I’ll try something a little different: I will keep my eyes on Jesus, and I will “reach out and touch faith.”
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
Congratulations, Russian Spammers! I give up! Uncle!
If your continuous onslaught of SPAM was intended to get a response, here you have it. I have just disabled comments on the venerable Hippo Bone Hair Sticks article. I know how you have loved attaching your advertisements to it, so this must be a sad day in Russia. You have attempted to hawk all manner of offensive products, using the power of the comment button, but the ride is over. I cannot continue to sort through your drivel every day. I am a busy hippo!
When a post’s comments begin to approach a dozen a day from random Russian IP addresses, I suppose it must be time to do something about it. It has not been all bad, though. The degree of gibberish in those “comments” has provided me with hours of entertainment. While I click the “mark as SPAM” button, I have often thought of the machine that must certainly be behind so many poorly written vehicles for Cialis ads.
I’m nearly certain my HBHS post is on some Russian SPAM-this-site page. I have looked for the source, but it is more elusive than the Holy Grail. I found the home of world peace, Atlantis, and the fountain of youth along the way, but I never did find the source of all that SPAM. I don’t know how they do it, but do it they do. They are committed to hitting that page. Well, they were. Not any more!
No longer will our Hippo Bone Hair Sticks post be beleaguered by Russian and Russian-English platitudes with the objective of finding a platform for a hidden link. Hippo Bone Hair Sticks is officially closed to new comments. It saddens me to think of all of you honest readers out there, who have been carefully crafting responses to that post, lo these many months. No doubt, you were just about ready to finally post your perfectly crafted, insightful comments on that classic posting. I am sorry, but this will not be possible. The Russians have ruined it for everyone.
I wonder which post will become the new SPAM target.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
If I were in charge of the Olympics, things would be different!
For one thing, figure skating would be a head-to-head competition. Olympians would skate against each other and the clock. They could each set their own music and tempo, but both songs would blare against each other as they skated. Fans could buy special Mister Hippo earplugs to watch the event, which would otherwise be unbearable due to the ever increasing volumes between the teams. Allowing them to skate on the same ice, at the same time, using the exact same routine would speed things up wonderfully, but there would still be artistic/style points because everyone knows fast art is good art.
Some events would be forced participation from the population at large. None of this hand picking volunteers for no-skill events. For example, the bobsled and the luge would be for untrained amateurs. Each international team would get to pick the competitors for one other team, drawn at random. A few weeks before the event, they’d find a pack of fat slobs, drag them to the top of the hills, and push them down. First one down wins! Tell me you wouldn’t watch that!
I sort of like the biathalon as it is, but I’d give the skiers paintball guns instead of those things they have now. This would free them up to shoot each other in the face. Once a competitor can no longer see, it becomes much more challenging for him to ski and shoot straight. Tell me you wouldn’t watch.
What about that sweeping the ice thing? Shouldn’t that just be random recruits from the stands? I think that would be a lot better and more fun to watch. Just get someone who looks like he knows how to mop a floor and stick him out there. Again, the other team gets to pick your competitors, so it might make sense to include a few plants in the audience. I like the idea of a bunch of Spy-Vs.-Spy activity where each side is trying to guess what the other side is going to do.
I might add a few other competitions, as well. In times like these, where the snow is mostly slush, I’d have slush stomping, which would most certainly be a crowd pleaser. I’d leave the speed skaters alone—except I’d eliminate all the interference rules. I’d also leave mogul skiing alone. That seems just about perfect to me already. Those girls sure can make their knees jump, can’t they?
The Olympics are pretty good, but I would have to make a few of these changes if I were in charge.
Sincerely,
Mister Hippo
