MSI Press Blog

  Excerpt from Porn and the Pandemic  by Joshua Shea My introduction to the world of journalism came as a high school senior in August 1993 when I was hired in the sports department of the Sun Journal in Lewiston, Maine.  With the exception of short breaks here and there, I have exclusively made my living as either a journalist or editor since then. I was never the journalist who dreamed of being dropped into a war zone or into the thick of a presidential race. I saw no reason to go to Fenway Park to cover a Boston Red Sox game. It seemed just as easy to watch the game on television and get the same quotes every other writer did in the post-game news conference. And while armed stand-offs may be exciting to read about or watch in a two-minute news clip, I’ve been to them in real life. It’s mostly sitting behind your car waiting for something exciting to happen. Spoiler: It never does. I found my niche in research. I went to my share of five-alarm fires, and there certainly is a morbid

  Since today is my birthday, this guest post seemed very apropos! DYING AND LIVING “Yet if we love one another, God dwells in us, and his love is brought to perfection in us.” --I John 4: 12     I watched Dad die. I was only seventeen at the time, too young to understand much of what was going on. My father had been diagnosed with throat cancer two years before, a disease common to heavy smokers and drinkers. He underwent brutal cobalt treatments and lost his voice. He was in constant pain, unrelieved by the medications. For the last three months of his life he was bedridden at home. Mom, my brothers, and I took turns sitting by his bedside, mostly in silence. He could not speak, and I did not know what to say. It was decided not to tell Dad he was dying, so he could keep up his hope. But he knew. The priest later told us how Dad spoke with him about his dying and not to tell us. So no one said anything about the elephant in the room. In the silence during my death wat

  excerpt from Joshuanism   by Tosto -  The post/Christian God A profound moment in my journey to seek and know God took place in an art gallery. I was in Seattle, visiting a friend of mine. I had some free time, and John had some free time, so I decided to fly out and kick it in the Emerald City for a few days. This was during the height of my Christian experience when I was still green behind the ears and miles away from questioning any of the marvelous things I believed. In fact, I was working at a church at the time, directing the music and worship ministry. The trip west was a welcome diversion. John and I were strolling through the gallery, surveying the local talent, when a curious painting caught my attention. John went over to ask the docent something, and I stood in front of the unusual painting, studying it deeply. The painting, you see, was titled God . But the painting itself was quite simple. The artist only used two colors: a purple sphere on a black background. That was

  The following excerpt comes from Soccer Is Fun without Parents by Peter Jonas.  The Screamer (Parent) The Screamer is loud, and you know them right away. They scream about the refs, the coaches, and most often, the players: “Get the ball!” “Big kick!” “Hustle Timmy, hustle!” Their voice typically carries into the next town, as if the louder they yell the better the kids play. It does not work that way, sorry. However, there is a direct correlation between how loud you yell and how embarrassed your kids are to be from the same family.   Have you ever thought about what the player thinks when parents are screaming at them? Here is someone twice as large as you, hollering at you all the time to perfectly complete tasks that you might not be skilled enough to perform. Talk about pressure! Freud would have a field day with the Screamer.    Sometimes it is not just one or two parents that do the unbelievable. Maybe the crowd mentality takes over and a group simply goes crazy. One beautiful