I was washing dishes this afternoon staring out the window, and had one of those moments when a totally random memory from 30 years ago popped into my brain.

I know you did this when you were a kid.

Do you remember going through that phase when you were like 10 or 11 and maybe after watching a movie or tv show that showed someone with telekenesis, you just HAD to see if you were one of many people, hiding out THERE somewhere, who had been born with this amazing gift?

I don't know why this memory, out of all of the ones floating around in the goo in my brain, came to the surface. But there it was.

I remember sitting at our kitchen table, staring at a salt shaker for like 20 minutes trying all sorts of tricks with my mind to get that stupid thing to move. I tried to move other things, too, like pulling pictures off the wall or even trying to get something light like a paper napkin to move, even just a little.

I asked my wife about this and we both had a good laugh. She remembered doing the exact same thing. There's one other part to the memory too, and that is that we all had the neighbor or the cousin who didn't have telekenesis either, but always knew someone (if the experiences of my wife and I represent the norm, it was a cousin) that had telekenesis.

Of course our first reaction was always skepticism. No way, we'd say. But yes. The cousin would swear -- it was true.

Then why doesn't anybody know about it? we'd challenge. Why doesn't the World know?

And the answer was always the same. Apparently this person, at age 10 or 11, actually has the restraint to not use the ability, not even for fun.

Oh sure, every once in a while she might knock something off a teacher's desk or cause a bully in school to trip. But she also knows that wielding such an amazing power carries an unimaginable burden of responsibility. It isn't something to be taken lightly.

And I remember thinking 2 things:

I still think you're lying...

But then this second thought was right behind it...

I'll bet that's why I don't have the power. I wouldn't be able to control myself...

Back to blogging about work stuff…

So one of my least favorite kinds of customers was in today (we don’t, after all, NOT like our customers, ANY of our customers – we only have varying degrees of unabashed, unwavering enthusiasm for them.) And this customer is the one who, while wanting to renew a vehicle registration has decided, upon the spur of the moment, that she wants to order a vanity plate.

In our particular state, we call these personalized plates. You know the ones. GRAMPS, one might say, or ANNIE99 (Why 99? Are there actually that many other people named Annie out there that all the other numbers are taken?)

At best these license plates can be very clever, adding just the right amount of flair to augment a vehicle’s personality. Company vehicles seem to have an abundance of these – if you’re Joe the Builder, maybe you’d try JO BLDR, or something like that.

Anything to be a little different.

But at their worst the configurations are downright bizarre. If you’ve ever found yourself driving down the freeway, tailgating a Red Corvette at a hundred and twenty, trying to figure out just exactly WHAT the letters on that thing’s license plate are and what they’re supposed to mean, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I often wonder as I’m typing the registration information for the customer if they’ve actually thought through what they’re asking me to order for them...(MORBID? You really want that on your vehicle? And what does that do to your chances of getting out of a speeding ticket when you get pulled over and a cop sees that thing on your bumper???)

So anyway, this customer is in and decides she wants to order one. Again, as I’ve posted earlier, I’m going to change the scenario to keep myself from getting into trouble, here, not specifics about names or in this case, even license plates. But the conversation went something like this:

Me: And what did you want me to check?
Her: “GEORGE. I thought I’d order that for my husband for his birthday.”
Me: “Let’s see…”(typing, but knowing what’s coming.) “Yeah, that’s already taken. Was there something else I could check?
Her: (Spirit of incredulity) Are you SERIOUS? Somebody already thought of that?
Me: (thinking, thought of that? what, you’re husband’s the only…never mind) “Yeah, I’m sorry. “
Her: (Shock and Awe, here, only way to describe it): “I just can’t believe this.” (Lays checkbook down on the counter and stares out my front window, pondering.) “Wow! When I walked in here I just thought I’d be able to get it. Wait, what about GEORGE69? He turns 69 next month –“
Me: “Umm…”(thinking, you can’t seriously want that, but, hey, what to do?) Then I realize that’s too many characters and tell her so.

And the conversation goes on, a back-and-forth/trial and error/hit-and-continually miss barrage of every conceivable combination of license plates that could contain the name GEORGE and 1 other character (there are, after all, 7 characters available on a license plate, right?) What about GEORGE1, she’ll ask, or GEORGES? (last name Smith; apparently she doesn’t realize the average person would see GEORGES and wonder, how many Georges are in that family, anyway???)

But they’re all taken. Eventually, like so many others (and I swear, absolutely PROMISE this has happened almost more times than I count) she’ll end up just forgetting the whole thing. Ten minutes of my time, HER time, and the precious time of the three people waiting in line behind her all down the drain.

I don’t judge, though. As a government employee, I’m not here to judge. Sure, I’ll tell the story to every friend and family member who’s willing to hear the tale and have a good laugh, but don’t ask me to judge whether or not your license plate choice is a good one. Or if it makes sense. How would you read this, people will ask me? What do you think?

Always my response: Don’t ask me, It’s going on the back of your vehicle.

"Monetary Woes; or, $2 Worth of Headache"

Taco Bell Server Guy, we salute you…without your efforts, your style, your moxie, I wouldn’t have this entertainment to share with the World.

I can only think to quote Bill Murray from the film, “Quick Change”: You could have given us help, but you’ve given us so much more…

----- Forwarded Message -----
From: jjstrod Sent: Thu, 26 Feb 2009 02:19:11 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: Fwd: The $2.00 Bill
-----Original Message-----
From: Paul
Sent: Wed, 18 Feb 2009 5:27 pm Subject: The $2.00 Bill

Here you are buddy. Put this is your blog and smoke it.....(I don't even know what that means).

Enjoy.


I think we need to quit saving our $2 bills and bring them out in public. The younger generation doesn't even know they exist.

STORY: On my way home from work, I stopped at Taco Bell for a quick bite to eat. In my billfold are a $50 bill and a $2 bill. I figure that with a $2 bill, I can get something to eat and not have to worry about anyone getting irritated at me for trying to break a $50 bill.

Me: "Hi, I'd like one seven-layer burrito please, to go."
Server: "That'll be $1.04. Eat in?"
Me: "No, it's to go."

At this point, I open my billfold and hand him the $2 bill. He looks at it kind of funny.
Server: "Uh, hang on a sec, I'll be right back."

He goes to talk to his manager, who is still within my earshot. The following conversation occurs between the two of them:

Server: "Hey, you ever see a $2 bill?"
Manager: "No. A what?"
Server: "A $2 bill. This guy just gave it to me."
Manager: "Ask for something else. There's no such thing as a $2 bill."
Server: "Yeah, thought so."

He comes back to me and says, "We don't take these. Do you have anything else?"
Me: "Just this fifty. You don't take $2 bills? Why?"
Server: "I don't know."
Me: "See here where it says legal tender?"
Server: "Yeah."
Me: "So, why won't you take it?"
Server: "Well, hang on a sec."

He goes back to his manager, who has been watching me like I'm a shoplifter, and says to him, "He says I have to take it."
Manager: "Doesn't he have anything else?"
Server: "Yeah, a fifty. I'll get it and you can open the safe and get change."
Manager: "I'm not opening the safe with him in here."
Server: "What should I do?"
Manager: "Tell him to come back later when he has real money."
Server: "I can't tell him that! You tell him."
Manager: "Just tell him."
Server: "No way! This is weird. I'm going in back."

The manager approaches me and says, "I'm sorry, but we don't take big bills this time of night."
Me: "It's only seven o'clock! Well then, here's a two dollar bill."
Manager: "We don't take those, either."
Me: "Why not?"
Manager: "I think you know why."
Me: "No really, tell me why."
Manager: "Please leave before I call mall security."
Me: "Excuse me?"
Manager: "Please leave before I call mall security."
Me: "What on earth for?"
Manager: "Please, sir."
Me: "Uh, go ahead, call them."
Manager: "Would you please just leave?"
Me: "No."
Manager: "Fine -- have it your way then."
Me: "Hey, that's Burger King, isn't it?"

At this point, he backs away from me and calls mall security on the phone around the corner. I have two people staring at me from the dining area, and I begin laughing out loud, just for effect. A few minutes later this 45-year-oldish guy comes in.

Guard: "Yeah, Mike, what's up?"
Manager (whispering): "This guy is trying to give me some (pause) funny money."
Guard: "No kidding! What?"
Manager: "Get this. A two dollar bill."
Guard (incredulous): "Why would a guy fake a two dollar bill?"
Manager: "I don't know. He's kinda weird. He says the only other thing he has is a fifty."
Guard: "Oh, so the fifty's fake!"
Manager: "No, the two dollar bill is."
Guard: "Why would he fake a two dollar bill?"
Manager: "I don't know! Can you talk to him, and get him out of here?"
Guard: "Yeah."

Security Guard walks over to me and....
Guard: "Mike here tells me you have some fake bills you're trying to use."
Me: "Uh, no."
Guard: "Lemme see 'em."
Me: "Why?"
Guard: "Do you want me to get the cops in here?"

At this point I am ready to say, "Sure, please!" but I want to eat, so I say,
"I'm just trying to buy a burrito and pay for it with this two dollar bill."

I put the bill up near his face, and he flinches like I'm taking a swing at him. He takes the bill, turns it over a few times in his hands, and he says, "Hey, Mike, what's wrong with this bill?"
Manager: "It's fake."
Guard: "It doesn't look fake to me."
Manager: "But it's a two dollar bill."
Guard: "Yeah? "
Manager: "Well, there's no such thing, is there?"

The security guard and I both look at him like he's an idiot, and it dawns on the guy that he has no clue.

So, it turns out that my burrito was free, and he threw in a small drink and some of those cinnamon thingies, too. Made me want to get a whole stack of two dollar bills just to see what happens when I try to buy stuff.
If I got the right group of people, I could probably end up in jail.
You get free food there, too…

Could You Survive in Middle Class?

That question is asked in a book I just finished "What Every Church Member Should Know About Poverty" by Bill Ehlig and Ruby K. Payne Ph.D. (Bill doesn't seem to get a title; maybe I'll give him one -- so let's say Bill Ehlig, smart guy. Anyway--) It comes about a third of the way through the book, before going into further explanation of how difficult it is t0 get someone out of poverty; the poor, the middle class and the wealthy all look at money differently, they all have different experiences and all have different skill sets. Nothing earth-shattering there.

But then this list was given, as a kind of self-test for how well each of us might do if we were forced to live outside of our comfort zones. There's no scoring, or anything, you're just supposed to look at this list and see by checking off the items whether or not you think you could survive in this other subculture. Going down the list of middle-class skill-set items, I found many things that were familiar. Several were a little eye-opening as well (putting my kids in soccer or little league? is that a skill? I guess if you haven't done it before--) and it made me really think about how blessed I am to have the money I do, and to not have had some of the experiences the poor have gone through.

Then as I read through "Could You Survive In Poverty?" -- well, I was pretty much speechless. Clearly there's a violence in America that we don't (okay, I don't) realize, PEOPLE, children, women and men, have to experience every day. And they're our neighbors.

So without further discussion, I'll list them in this order: middle-class, wealthy, and poverty. Check these out:

Could you survive in the Middle Class?

--I know how to get my children into Little League, piano lessons, soccer, etc.
--I know how to properly set a table.
--I know which stores are most likely to carry the clothing brands my family wears.
--My children know the best name brands in clothing.
--I know how to order in a nice restaurant.
--I know how to use a credit card, checking account, and savings account -- and I understand an annuity. I understand term life insurance, disability insurance, and 20/80 medical insurance as well as house insurance, flood insurance, and replacement insurance.
--I talk to my children about going to college.
--I know how to get one of the best interest rates on my new-car loan.
--I understand the difference among the principal, interest, and escrow statements on my house payment.
--I know how to help my children with their homework and do not hesitate to call the school if I need additional information.
--I know how to decorate the house for the different holidays.
--I know how to get a library card.
--I know how to use most of the tools in the garage.
--I repair items in my house almost immediately when they break or know a repair service and call it.

Next: Could You Survive in Wealth society?
--I can read a menu in French, English and another language.
--I have several favorite restaurants in different countries of the world.
--During the holidays, I know how to hire a decorator to identify the appropriate themes and items with which to decorate the house.
--I know who my preferred financial advisor, legal service, designer, domestic-employment service, and hairdresser are.
--I have at least two residences that are staffed and maintained.
--I know how to ensure confidentiality and loyalty from my domestic staff.
--I have at least two or three "screens" that keep people whom I do not wish to see away from me.
--I fly in my own plane or the company plane.
--I know how to enroll my children in the preferred private schools.
--I know how to host the parties that "key" people attend.
--I am on the boards of at least two charities.
--I know the hidden rules of the Junior League.
--I support or buy the work of a particular artist.
--I know how to read a corporate financial statement and analyze my own financial statements.

And last: Could You Survive in Poverty?

--I know which churches and sections of town have the best rummage sales.
--I know which rummage sales have "bag sales" and when.
--I know which grocery stores' garbage bins can be accessed for thrown-away food.
--I know how to get someone out of jail.
--I know how to get a gun, even if I have a police record.
--I know how to keep my clothes from being stolen at the Laundromat.
--I know what problems to look for in a used car.
--I know how to live without a checking account.
--I know how to live without electricity and a phone.
--I know how to use a knife as scissors.
--I can entertain a group of friends with my personality and my stories.
--I know what to do when I don't have enough money to pay the bills.
--I know how to move in half a day.
--I know how to get and use food stamps or an electronic card for benefits.
--I know where the free medical clinics are.
--I am very good at trading and bartering.
--I can get by without a car.

Interested to see if anyone has comments...

The truth is that many who claim to be transformed by Christ's love are deeply, even murderously, intolerant of criticism. While we may want to ascribe this to human nature, it is clear that such hatred draws considerable support from the Bible. How do I know this? The most disturbed of my correspondents always cite chapter and verse. --Sam Harris, "Letter to a Christian Nation"




Last night, I finished reading "Letter to a Christian Nation" by Sam Harris. If the title sounds familiar, you may remember this was the book that came out about 2 1/2 years ago from an atheist (should that word be capitalized? hmm...) as a laundry list essentially explaining why in his view, religion is for idiots.

I don't think I'm overstating his position. He doesn't only have a problem with the Christian god; he has a bone to pick with every religion as they all seem to ask followers to swallow their belief system hook, line, and sinker even when those beliefs seem to fly in the face of what science has proven to be true.

The book was physically difficult for me to read. Literally. I found a knot tightening in my stomach as I turned the pages and at several points had to take my eyes off the words and clear my mind for a minute before I could continue. Just to keep from giving myself a headache.

At the same time it's a book that needs to be read, and the unfortunate thing is that it will never be read by those who might benefit from it most. The average fundamentalist (of any religion) would get about 5 pages into it and after being insulted for about the 20th time would probably throw it in the trash.

But if it was read, the reader would get the perspective of someone who sees, unapologetically, how idiotic, self-centered, uneducated, biased, rude, self-seeking and destructive religion can be.

So, wow, this makes me sound really down on the whole idea of trying to discover who God is which I'm really not. What I gained from the book was this: I find myself now with another voice in my head as I'm reading or studying what people have written about religion, the viewpoint of the diehard skeptic whispering in my ear, pointing over my shoulder, asking incredulously "do you seriously believe that?"

Do I?

As a lifelong church attender (so far, anyway) I need that voice. Not that I'm trying to justify what I believe to anyone. But now that I'm past the initial feeling of being insulted, I find it forces me, moment by moment, to really think about what I'm reading rather than just memorizing or taking for granted something is true. Even with stuff from the Bible itself; I feel compelled to challenge, to test, to ask.

I ended, though, less than thrilled with Harris' writing. For one thing, he makes it very clear that he's never going to agree with almost any assertion you try to make about God (he doesn't believe in God) or religion (clearly a force doing more evil than good) which leaves you wondering why on Earth did he write this??? He isn't just disillusioned with religion or the religious; he's embittered. And at the end of the book, he makes a half-hearted attempt to slip in the fact that maybe one day, atheists and religious followers might agree to disagree, and maybe the World could become a better place: "Clearly, it is time we learned to meet our emotional needs without embracing the preposterous. We must find ways to invoke the power of ritual and to mark those transitions in every human life that demand profundity...without lying to ourselves about the nature of reality."

Does talking to me like I'm a six year old help anyone?

And what he says about Mother Teresa creates an even bigger barrier to meaningful discussion. Citing Christopher Hitchens, he quotes this:

"(Mother Teresa) was not a friend of the poor. She was a friend of poverty. She said that suffering was a gift from God..."

It leaves me only wanting to walk away from any discussion he might be trying to generate. How can you insult someone so willing to give her life in service to the 'least of these'? Aren't you missing the bigger picture that you're trying to get others to see??

But the book won't be read, ultimately, by most fundamentalists. In an ironic way that's a shame. Because between the lines of insults and degradations, Harris also points out the numerous times Christianity (and several other religions) has engaged in blatant hypocrisy and this deserves to be heard. He's giving the unbiased perspective of an outsider, and we ALL deserve to be held accountable for our actions.

Another Paradox

“You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.”
-- Annie Lamott

I love our pastor.

Of the people I've heard preach during my lifetime, Pastor Mark -- my current pastor -- would definitely rank as one of my favorite three.

Regular church attenders have no doubt heard pastors of all kinds -- the mediocre, the preachers who speak the standard 3-point sermon, those who preach things that actually aren't true. Even the gimmicky and the flashy.

My pastor is none of these. The way I've best heard his preaching described is this: "All I can say is when he speaks on Sunday, God shows up." My friend Jason said that, and I think it's a great description. Pastor Mark has his own preaching style, his own mannerisms, but none of these really matter. What counts is that the congregation he's speaking to hears truth in a fresh, bold new way, one that is thankfully uncomfortable, sometimes difficult, but always true.

Today's sermon started with an explanation of how we all see things through a set of lenses, a set of perspectives, unique to each of us but nevertheless a list we're all born with. Not necessarily a particularly novel idea, but even so a great reminder that in case you've forgotten, we have our own biases that paint the way we see the World. I am white, from an evangelical conservative background, middle-class (by American standards), a Midwesterner, etc. All of these are comfortable boxes to stay in, and all are what I believe I am called to try to escape from, for whatever period of time necessary, if I am to live to my fullest potential. The actual sermon was on evangelism -- bringing the message of the Gospel to the World -- and to do this, we are required to understand the perspective of the person we're trying to help (if we don't do this, who are we really helping?)

Anyway, what does any of this have to do with paradox? My pastor opened his sermon today with a list of pre-set conditions that he was born with. Many were the same as mine, of course. So the paradox for me here is this: he's the only pastor I've ever had (in 40 years!) who was willing to be so personal about himself, so honest and vulnerable, in this way.

And he's the best pastor, hands-down, I've ever had.

And I love that fact! That the pastor I admire most is the one who's been most willing to say 'I'm as imperfect as any of you'; but truthfully, I've had other pastors who did even that -- so what's different?

Mark makes it personal. It's one thing to throw out quotes from the Bible about everyone sinning (aren't pastors supposed to say that, after all? to put everyone at ease?) and it's quite another to say 'these people were my parents, and they were good, decent people, but their perspective, the way THEY were raised, gave me a different colored lens I now have to look through for the rest of my life.' He had a whole demonstration I won't get into here, so I'll just say it was powerful.

It's that way with Mark's preaching a lot. I especially like the weeks he takes the church to task for its hypocrisy, but it's never been in a way that makes people think he isn't guilty of the same sin himself, or that he hasn't been part of the same problem. It's a little difficult to explain without actually hearing it, so if you're ever interested you can listen online at: http://www.springarborfm.org/

I know this won't be my only post dealing with the paradox, but that's it for now --

All of this makes me wonder how many lenses are painting our vision that we don't even know are there...

Bigger Things: Epiphany from reading Paul

"Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers..." -- Voltaire


I just finished several chapters from "Blue Like Jazz" and I feel like I have to put the work stuff aside and start writing about what's been percolating in my brain -- if I don't, I know I'll forget what has me so excited so here it is --

The epiphany that's formed over the last few days comes from reading three different sources; "Blue Like Jazz" which, as I said, I'm halfway through; Rob Bell's "Velvet Elvis", amazing book, easy read if you're interested, which I read about 2 years ago; and Paul's first letter to the Corinthians, chapter 13.

What we need often in our lives, what the Church needs more and more of, is questions, not answers.

And better questions.

And that is of course a great paradox because if we as the Church, and as individual congregations in local churches, and even as individual followers, believers, seekers -- are willing to say we need more questions, it means we have fewer answers.

And we're more vulnerable, more submissive.

Because that admission means the nature of the World and our role in it is being continually discovered and revealed as something more and more and more complex, and paradoxically, I think, more wondrous than we previously knew.

And it means we're continually finding we're wrong, in certain ways, about what we knew before; on the one hand, we're paring down the parts of our understanding that were imperfect, leaving less; we're also adding more material, more knowledge, to sift through.

But isn't this what science continually shows us? Take the recent discovery made in Latin America -- the vertebrae of what is now thought to be the largest snake that ever lived on Earth, something about 43 feet long and as big around as a trash barrel.

The discovery of the snake itself isn't what's most amazing to scientists, though it is astounding (if this thing ate what snakes now eat -- a reasonable assumption -- that would mean it could devour crocodiles whole!) The bigger picture is that having a reptile, a cold-blooded animal, of that size in that region would mean the tropics were most likely much warmer than previously thought; by only a few degrees, but still a big enough difference to pose a significant challenge to the previous understanding scientists had of what the tropics were like millions of years ago...

And this kind of challenge, this change, is what I continually see happening in the lives of individuals and, in some cases, in church congregations.

It isn't that truth has changed; it doesn't mean there isn't absolute truth. Rather, as Paul wrote in Corinthians, our vision is incomplete and being continually revealed: "Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully..." (I Cor. 13:12)

The challenge I see in being human, in having rational thought, isn't to realize we'll never really find truth; rather, it's that we're continually discovering truth from different angles, seeing different sides, like we're exploring a mountain that we suddenly find is actually a chain of mountains, which we later discover is on one of many continents. And just when we're really excited about finally 'getting it', someone flies in on a spaceship and says, 'yeah, but wait until you see what's up there!' and points to the sky... it only gets bigger.

Does this mean that what we experienced when we made the first climb up the first wall of the first mountain wasn't true? Of course not -- rather, that the fun, the challenge, and the necessity of knowing God doesn't lie in climbing the first ledge and stopping to look down at what you've achieved, though in some sense, even that step is crucial; instead, we have to find solace in the journey of finding the God who created it all and has more in store for us than we could possibly see at first sight.



All of which I write to say this: I enjoy, I need, I pray for, better questions and fewer answers; fewer because I think I need better answers, not more of them. This reminds me of 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance', another great read, though longer than the others; we often ask each other 'What's new?' What we really need to know is: what's best???

Names -- or another way you're driving me nuts...

America, you're trying too hard.

I know the rest of the World says we work too hard, we don't relax enough. We eat faster meals, work longer hours, and vacation less than virtually every other developed country in the World.

So with that in mind, why on Earth is it so difficult to give your children normal names?

Why don't you work harder at that?

Maybe you're trying too hard...

Why am I writing about this, you ask? Government offices are the one place nearly every single person in a given geographical area has to visit over a specified time period. For example, in Michigan, driver licenses (yes, they're called DRIVER licenses, not DRIVER'S licenses, more about that in another post) and state-issued ID cards are renewed every 4 years; everybody needs state-issued ID to cash checks, buy liquor or cigarettes, buy car insurance, etc. so Voila -- every one of you reading this, if you live in Michigan will most likely be in one of my Department's offices in the not-too-distant future...

Meaning, of course, I and my employees get to see every name out there.

On first examination of the question, you might think I'm talking about the truly outlandish names that people seem to 'invent' -- Picabo, for instance, or Sunbeam. Or people named after U.S. states.

These can be bad (and I could publish one entire post listing my favorites, very possibly getting myself fired.) But they aren't what I usually find as the most offensive, and for 2 good reasons.

For one thing, there's always the possibility that the risk may pay off in the reward; how cool would it be the kid in class named 'California' Jones? Or 'Arizona' Jackson? (Dude, I knew that kid -- he was awesome, every chick wanted him...) Of course there's big-time risk in this territory, too; a kid named Oregon ain't ever making it as President, folks, and who'd hire a lawyer named Connecticut? But still...I guess I have a certain respect for the bravery here; Dakota, after all, took some time to come into fashion, but once it caught on it took off like wildfire.

Second, a kid that gets a truly crappy made-up name will realize it after he hits his teenage years. And 2 questions will come up; a) why'd my parents give me this crappy name? and b) how do I change my name? And getting a name legally changed isn't rocket science, and for the long-term payoff it isn't even that expensive (about $200 in Michigan, if you're wondering.)

So setting all this aside, what names do I really hate?

What I shake my head at in disbelief is someone with a name like Jiahn (this one specifically, I've created for this blog -- no real names here, no chance of getting me fired.) You couldn't just spell the name JOHN -- that would be too normal, not dramatic enough, no flair. Which means that little Johnny --sorry, JIAHNNY -- will get to spend the rest of his life working at Starbucks with an illegible name tag, some very confused customers (is he foreign? does he speak English as his first language?) and an irate manager who's first impression of him was less than super.

The First of Many?

Well, you found me.

Apparently, I seem to think I have something valuable enough, or at least entertaining enough, to publish in yet another blog for the World to read -- as if there weren't enough already.

Yet here you are.

MY reason for being here is pretty straightforward. Working as the manager of a local DMV branch -- we call it something different in Michigan, but aren't all those government offices pretty much the same? -- I find myself not only fortunate enough to actually have a decent paying job with benefits (a rarity right now in our great state) but also lucky enough to have one of those jobs that people seem to find interesting.

And I'm fortunate enough to have the free time to read and study a variety of literature, mostly philosophy and religion stuff....

So after hearing for the umpteenth time from my wife, my friends, and numerous family members that "you know, you really ought to write this stuff down," well you get the idea.
So that's why I'm here. What's your excuse?