Now we've come to the end of the road

Good gracious, who are these men among men? Who in all their right minds would attempt the jumping of such monstrous machines? Why chance the already packed snow if one should fall? And the most important question of all: Why didn't they do this in front of their wives? I don't have the answers to all of these questions (except the first one: I'm on the left and Travis is on the right), but I do know that such hasty decisions can be made by men at the drop of a hat. Here was our thinking: "Hey, that looked like a fun little hill." "Yeah, let's go jump it." "Cool." "I brought a camera." "Cool, that means I get to jump first." "Cool." **Proceed to the jumping.** We did manage to get some video of the events, but the battery ran out after Nate's dismal, er, wreck? No, it wasn't that bad to call it a wreck. It was a total wipeout. Not a wreck, but a wipeout. Sad day for us all because the rest of our sweet jumping went unchronicled (except for that marvelous recording device in our heads; here's to beating the both of you with my chin).

On to things that no one cares about. I sometimes walk around downtown between the various train stops. One sidewalk boasts this painted message:

Now, I've got nothing against trusting Jesus (in fact, I'm all for it), but I do have a problem with someone breaking the law in order to get others to do so. Is there really some self-righteous pundit sitting in their favorite pew on whatever Sabbath they keep that thinks that tagging a Salt Lake sidewalk has helped them "spread the message"? Come on! When Jesus wrote on the walks of his town he made sure that they were in the dirt! Easy to be read, just as easy to erase, therein being sure to render Caesar his due while rendering the Father's likewise. Graffiti is not the works that will get you into heaven, my friend.

Well, I'm done rambling. I sure do love it. I'm off to study more, because that is what I should have been doing all along. Word.