Hey, Transformers fans, don’t get your knickers in a knot. Take two of the blue ones and mellow out. I know his name is Optimus, I’m trying to make a point here.
I have a confession to make. The cynicism and sarcasm that fuels this little slice of interwebs pie is more than just schitck. Sure, I use it to garner laughs and jab the establishment; and occasionally I amp up the ridiculous for the reader’s sake. However, the sad truth is I am honing a craft that is hardwired in my DNA.
I don’t prepare to write this blog by cranking up the Ironic Hipster playlist and slipping into something more jaded from the Louis CK collection. I’m not channeling Eeyore to harshen up my sunny exterior. It comes to me naturally. You, fair reader, may love the outcome but I’m starting to feel a little hypocritical. I’m supposed to be “giving an account for the hope that is in me.”
I’ve gotta make sure my flare for satire isn’t tarnishing the sterling reputation of my Savior. No one is going to ask for an account of my hope if it is buried under a suspicious eye and a sharp tongue. They may laugh but they’re not going to buy my motivational DVDs.
Now before you go and get all sweaty palms and start pacing like the day the Spice Girls broke up, read on. I’m not changing anything here. I just need to make sure my life reflects the rebirth that has occurred in it for those who see me in 3D.
Is optimism your prime objective? Do you ever get too cynical or sarcastic? Is the Hope evident to others so you have the chance to give an account?