Friday, February 09, 2007

A Bob's Life: A Modest Thing, but Thine Own

Reader JP asked a good question, or at least one I feel capable of answering this morning: "This will sound trivial but what is your typical day like? Do you write these before going to work? How do you divide your time during a typical day? It's kinda off the topic but I'm just curious."

It's a good question because it may open out to a more general discussion of how one one leads a spiritual life in this modern space age a go-go world of ours. But it also won't tax the stomach flu-weakened Gagdad system. I prematurely celebrated the passing gastric storm last night by pounding some chicken with black bean sauce with my customary gusto, but it turns out that my traumatized tummy was not fully prepared for this kind of commitment. It was not an outright rejection, mind you, but let us just say that General Chang's finest was accepted only with a marked ambivalence that lasted well into the night. A less rash and bold man would have started with oatmeal or jello. But such a timid man would not be a Coon, now would he?

My point is that when I am feeling less than on top of the Cosmos, my coon vision shrinks proportionately, but I am always capable of writing about myself. Such is the power of my narcissism that it is my last body system to shut down.

Now, as to this matter of my typical day. This might be a little tedious for most of you, so feel free to take the day off and come back tomorrow. It's much more than most Coons want or need to know.

Of course, everything changed with the arrival of Future Leader in April of 2005. But to be honest, everything changed with the pregnancy, which commenced on July 25, 2004 (unless you count Future Leader's lonely three days in the petri dish immediately prior to that, culminating in a very robust-looking blastocyst).

To be even more honest, it probably all changed with the decision to have a child after some 15 years of marriage with no such desire. As fate would have it, we both changed our minds simultaneously in the fall of 2002. In my case, these child-centered thoughts came as a great surprise. I won't go into all of the details, otherwise this post will be hijacked in a different direction. Suffice it to say that when these child-thoughts began barging into my head, they were as alien as if I were having impure thoughts about Brad Pitt. Very disorienting, don't you know. How can this be?

But immediately after that, in December of 2002, my sister-in-law tragically died, and that too changed everything. My wife was terribly depressed for awhile, so we didn't get back on the baby track until late 2003.

The reason why I bring up the baby business is that everything about the experience changed the orientation of my life. Up until that time, I pretty much lived in the moment. I meditated every day, read widely, and worked on the book when the inspiration struck.

But because we were a relatively older couple (I was 48 and Mrs. G was 43 when she became pregnant), I couldn't just enjoy the pregnancy in the usual way. Rather, I was very aware of the fact that the clock was ticking, and the older the mother, the more things can go wrong. I imagine that if you're 25 or 30, you can enjoy the pregnancy in a much more organic way, because you don't feel the pressure of the clock. But in my case, I just couldn't wait to get my hands on that baby. For two years I was walking around like Fat Bastard mumbling I want the baby!

Anything short of the baby was slightly unreal and abstract, which had the effect of making those two years somewhat unreal and abstract -- just a transitional period from point A to point C. Because of my spiritual practice, I was entirely unaccustomed to living in this future-oriented manner, and I just wanted to get it over with.

In one of those cosmic tri-incidences, the final version of my book was submitted the same month Mrs. G. became pregnant, which also turned out to be the same month I was diagnosed with adult onset type I diabetes. This also changed everything, not just by virtue of having the disease, which was not that big of a deal for me. What was a big deal was that I was now not just responsible for myself, but to Future Leader. It's weird enough having a child this late in life, weirder still when you suddenly have a disease that may significantly shorten your lifespan. Again, if it were just me, it wouldn't be that big a deal. But I owed it to him to stick around for as long as possible. I want to be around to see him drop out of high school.

So it is fair to say that my spiritual life receded into the background during this time. And then, after he was born in 2005, that again changed everything. For although Future Leader is an extraordinarily delightful and entertaining baby, he is not an easy baby -- something like a combination of Robin Williams and Harpo Marx on crack cocaine. As a result, every day since then has more or less been a matter of getting through the day by any means necessary, especially for Mrs. G., who left her career as a therapist, career transition coach, and writer to be a full time servant of His Majesty. Suffice it to say, the focus is back on the present, big time, but not in the old way, since the focus is on this little imposter instead of the real baby, me.

I know, I know, my typical day. I'm getting there.

We've worked it out so that Mrs. G. ministers to Future Leader should the need arise at night. For a long time -- until February of 2006 -- he was a terrible sleeper, which almost cost Mrs. G. her sanity, and by extension, Dear Leader his serenity. Things have been much better since then, but he still goes through his phases, like right now. In any event, once I wake up, I take over and allow Mrs. G. to sleep in for as long as she needs to avoid giving me a headache.

Now, I try to wake up no later than 5:00AM in order to get started on a post, because Future Leader generally starts to stir as early as 6:00. This in itself is a big change for me, as I used to be unable to function without nine hours of sleep, whereas now I get by on seven. Occasionally I am able to wake up at 4:00, which is much better and always makes for a deeper and more well-written post.

Two other big changes are related to this. In the past I always thought of myself as a "night person." I was very slow to wake up in the morning, and the idea of bounding out of bed and trying to be creative would have been strictly inconceivable. Furthermore, I always thought of myself as the "inspirational" type, in that I only bothered writing when the occasional burst of creativity came over me. For example, during the course of working on my book, weeks would pass by without feeling inspired enough to write a thing.

But after I began blogging, I settled into this pattern of waking up early and, without any preparation, writing whatever came into my mind. About half the time, the seed of an idea is already present, and it is merely up to me to follow where it leads. As I have said before, nowadays I will often wake up with the post starting to write itself before I even get out of bed. In that case, I have to get up and "catch it" before it blows away.

Other times I literally start typing in search of the thread, with the faith that it is somewhere, and that I will be able to grasp it. You may notice sometimes that a post sort of meanders a bit until it suddenly takes off with a "zing." That's the sound of me catching the thread and suddenly being yanked into hyperspace.

Have you ever tried to remember a dream that is beyond the edge of consciousness? It feels something like that. You can't use effort to remember the dream. Rather, you have to sort of relax back into that state. Eventually you'll get a little thread of it -- an image or a feeling -- which will lead back to the dream. That's what the posts are like. Once I find the thread, then the rest tumbles down into place. Vertical recollection.

So the pressure is on as soon as I wake up, because I need to find that thread before the beast in the next room starts to stir. But long as I have the thread in hand, then -- much to my surprise -- I can continue working on it under the most adverse circumstances, with Future Leader crawling all over me and generally greeting the day in his characteristically enthusiastic manner, with inane Elmo in the background, and with the 24 second clock winding down.

Again, compared to my previous life, the ability to write anything under these circumstances is more or less indistinguishable from magic. It's something I never would have imagined.

So I work on my post between 5:00 and 8:00, but not continuously. There are a lot of disruptions. You may also be uninterested to know that, because of the diabetes, food intake is never far from my mind. I maintain a fairly strict and fanatical regimen in that regard, because it's just not worth it to ever have your blood sugar out of range.

The way I look at it, each and every day my body is on fire, and it is my job to put out the fire. I have a specific target where I want my blood sugar to be when I wake up, before each meal, within two hours after each meal, and before going to bed. I take a pretty radical approach, because I basically determined the minimum amount of carbohydrates (no less and no more) compatible with survival, and apportion it into six small meals per day, every three hours. It's a matter of trying to keep a constant blood sugar level, with no peaks and valleys. As far as anyone knows, this is the whole key to avoiding the long term complications of diabetes.

This may well be the best approach to dietary health in general. As it so happens, I converted to a Zone-like diet over a decade ago (I was never a fanatic about it, but just incorporated some of the general principles) and it made a dramatic difference on my mood and my cognitive abilities. With the Zone diet, insulin is considered the "master hormone," and the whole idea is to eliminate bad carbohydrates in order to regulate it, while increasing protein and healthy fats. As a matter of fact, one thing that strikes me about the whole climate change hoo-haw is that if experts can't even get the food pyramid right, why should we believe them about what the weather is going to be like in 50 years? I began following Zone principles back when dieticians counseled us to eat as many carbs as possible and to avoid fat, which has disastrous consequences. It is the reason why we have the epidemic of obesity and type II diabetes.

As I have gotten more deeply into blogging, my so-called career has become an increasingly bizarre nuisance to me. Needless to say, Raccoons are not envious creatures, but if they were, here is who I would envy: imagine being Charles Krauthammer or Tom Sowell, or even a lightweight like Tom Friedman or a dope like Paul Krugman. Their entire work life consists of producing a couple of measly columns a week! That's it! In my case, I produce a longer one every day before my work life even begins.

But such is man's fate. You know the drill -- "by the sweat of your brow you shall earn your bread," and all that. I suppose it's best for the writing to remain a hobby anyway, as it keeps it free from any commercial taint whatsoever. It truly is a joy, and the most intense and happy part of my day is when I'm sitting here in the pre-dawn silence and darkness, chasing after one of those little threads. It really has come to be the basis of my own spiritual life. Frankly, I don't know what I'd do without it.

Now, a couple of outraged readers have raised a valid criticism, asking how I can possibly be a psychotherapist with all of my various prejudices? As a matter of fact, they're right. I can't anymore. I have more or less phased that out, with the exception of short term situations. Instead, I mainly work in forensic psychology, which involves lengthy, one-time clinical interviews lasting anywhere from three to eight hours, psych testing, reviewing voluminous medical files, and writing long and ponderous med-legal reports. As a result, I only have to leave the house two or three times a week, and do a lot of work (dictation and editing) right here in the Coon den.

If I am honest with myself, I simply cannot do psychoanalytic psychotherapy, which is the only type of therapy I am trained to do (and any other kind would just be too boring). Doing this kind of therapy requires a tremendous amount of self-discipline in order to maintain neutrality and not project oneself into the situation, and I just can't do that anymore. To be honest, I was never cut out to be a therapist to begin with, and I only ended up with a Ph.D. in psychology because of my unbridled curiosity, not because I was thinking of a career. I am much more suited to be a teacher, but that is a very different thing than being a therapist.

I remember a patient from a while back. He was a secular Jewish man who was getting involved in Cub Scouts with his nine year-old son. He was angrily complaining about the religious aspect, bitterly questioning why they had to ram this worthless religious BS down their throats. I remember another person who said that Yasser Arafat was one of his heroes. Or a female patient, a feminist child of the sixties, who, like a male "playboy," went from one unfulfilling sexual relationship to another, never questioning the basis of her feminist orthodoxy, to the point of being mildly suicidal due to the absence of meaning in her life. Or one who was obsessed with left wing politics and was full of the typical conspiratorial ideas about the right. His sickness was entirely embodied in his politics, but where to begin?

As I said, I just can't do it. I want to shake them, not do therapy on them. I don't know how ShrinkWrapped does it! He has discipline of steel.

Say, you folks must be awfully bored by now....

Anyway, I work seven days a week, so that I can knock off by mid-afternoon. If I am able to get any meaningful reading done, it is while Future Leader is napping between 1:00 and 3:00. Not too long after that, it's time for exercise, either weight lifting, yoga, mountain biking, or stationary bike. I also sometimes take the young 'un to the park in order to give Mrs. G. a little sanity break.

Somewhere between 5:00 and 6:00 I will have exactly two beers, preferably a dark ale. In addition to all the other health benefits, it turns out that it has a beneficial effect on my diabetes, as alcohol temporarily suppresses the liver's release of sugar. Everyone's diabetes is different, but in my case, I am lucky enough that if I don't drink my two beers, my blood sugar is higher in the morning, so I am truly blessed! Beer is a medical necessity for me.

This is also the time that I may be able to listen to some music. In my old life, I listened to music all the time, whereas now I have to do so when I can. At the same time, we play with Future Leader until he goes down at 7:30 or 8:00 -- if I am lucky, with a Dodger or Laker game in the background. Except when I'm sick, I put him down every night, rocking him to sleep with a bottle while softly singing whatever songs spontaneously pop into my head. I have never mentioned this embarassing factoid before, but I am a huge fan of the little-appreciated cult-genre of Sunshine Pop, which makes for very good lullabyes.

Are any other Coons aficionados of this guilty pleasure? Can I get an amen for the Yellow Balloon? The Sunshine Company? Spanky & Our Gang? The Millennium? And of course the immortal Godfather of the genre, Brian Wilson.

That's pretty much my life. I guess it doesn't look like much, but I like to think that what it lacks in breadth it makes up for in depth.

Well now the babies are all sleeping,
And the twilight's giving in,
She looks like you,
He looks like her,
And we all look like him.
Well maybe it's just a little thing,
The way I feel tonight,
A little joy, a little love, and a whole lot of light.

You got a real fine love,
You got a real fine love,
One I am unworthy of.
You got a real fine love, baby.
--Real Fine Love, John Hiatt


Paul G said...

Gagdad Bob said: I am truly blessed! Beer is a medical necessity for me.

Well, DUH!

Most of us discovered that fact about ourselves in high school, or at worst, college ;)

juliec said...

Speaking as one who is currently insulin resistant with a strong (three generations and counting) likelihood of developing full-blown type II diabetes, I always find it interesting to see how other people manage their diets and sugar levels.

Also, having lived with drama in my younger days, it all gets rather boring after a while. It's often good to read about the mundane details of a depth-filled life. (My other daily read is Lileks).

Thanks for sharing.

USS Ben USN (Ret) said...

Dear Leader-
Thanks for sharing what your marriage, life, thoughts, future leader, schedule, job, etc., is like.

I can relate to the rocking and singing.
I preferred singing 'The Camptown Ladies', 'Oh Susanna', 'Rawhide', 'Against the Wind' whewee! Once that smell kicks in...
My wife caught me washing our oldest daughter's buttpie off in the kitchen sink.
It was easier, IMO.
However, my wife decided it wasn't a good idea, so I only used that method when I could get away with it.

Our daughters loved Our Gang (Little Rascals), Shirley Temple, and of course, Looney Tunes (lots of classical music in Looney Toons).
Particularly the Roadrunner and Coyote.
Underdog was good for poetry.
Three Stooges always captured their imagination.
Our children introduced me to Pinky and the Brain.
The premise of mutated mice 'taking over the world' is brilliant.

I'm ramblin' aren't I?
Future leaders will do that to you,
but I would never consider (for long) trading those moments for anything.

They grow up so fast Bob.

River Cocytus said...

Actually, I find nowadays that it is more interesting to read things that are true than things that are 'interesting'. Nothing is truer than what we really do every day. This is one reason why I enjoy reading Lileks; what people REALLY do is more interesting, because you know someone is actually doing it instead of just telling you that you ought to.

Bob, a simple phrase for your breadth/depth conundrum:

"Better is one day in Your courts, better is one day in Your house
better is one day is Your courts,
than thousands elsewhere."

I would not ask for immortality; for what are worth an innumerable days of quiet desperation or worthless striving? I would rather live 10 years with the Lord than 100 for myself. I think St. Therese understood this.

NoMo said...

Hmmm. Modesty, vulnerability, transparency, honesty, normalcy, just plain likeability. Not exactly what one expects from a cult leader. You've got some work to do Bob.

Thanks for the personal glimpse.

Joan of Argghh! said...

It's usually all about Bob as Dear Leader. Racoon of the Coons. Chief Navigator and Cosmic Bus Driver. So, it was nice to glimpse into the life of Bob, B.C. (Before Coons)

However, I'm grateful for the link to your wife's work, Bob! I had no idea, and it sounds like the very thing I should buy and read next. Thanks!

USS Ben USN (Ret) said...

Nomo said:
"Hmmm. Modesty, vulnerability, transparency, honesty, normalcy, just plain likeability. Not exactly what one expects from a cult leader. You've got some work to do Bob."

Ow contrair, Nomo.
This is a perfect plan to take over the world.
There is one minor problem...Dear Leader will only rule part-time.

Not really much of a problem though.
Dear Leader will simply delegate to one of us when he wants to take a break.

No one of consequence will complain because Bob is articulate and clean.
The masses can't resist that powerful combination!
Ha ha ha! Ha Ha Ha! BWAHAHAHAHAHA...HA...HA!!!

USS Ben USN (Ret) said...

A free beer in every pot!

It's the metaphysics stupid.

A Coon den on the hill.

Ask naught what Coons can do for you, rather ask what you can do for Coons.

Joan of Argghh! said...

Yo, Ben. You need to use the Mmmwuah-ha-ha-ha-HA! expression for the proper projection of unhinged power. The M is an M-portant factor in the onomotopoeia of this word. Don't ask me why. I think it portrays the idea of the laugh surging upward from the dark, evil, depths of egomaniacal narcissism long before the lips actually part into a creepy grin as the unbridled darkness escapes.

Don't ask me how I know so much about it. No need to thank me, either.


USS Ben USN (Ret) said...

Sorry. I never had a chance to go to evil medical school, or to become an evil mad scientist.

Of course nowadays, I would only need a liberal arts degree to become an evil mad scientist like

I guess I'm stuck with the kinder, gentler and compassionate evil laughs.

I'll leave the important evil laughing to you.
I'd rather use a gun anyway. :^)

secret agent man said...


This post conveys very well your essential decency and sincerity.

Your life curve is somewhat out of the ordinary, and since your prose is extemely engaging, this post might be publishable in the "Sun," a national magazine devoted to just this type of writing.

Why would you want to do that, you ask?

You write that you "were never cut out to be a therapist" and are more suited to teaching, but I think that perhaps your true calling is that of the minister/scholar/writer, like Emerson or even a Jonathan Edwards of the Puritan times.

The content changes, but the function is the same: experience, think, write, teach, and embody God. Your writing is your outreach ministry and it is for that reason that you might seek wider publicity, such as the Sun.

To pick bones with the dangerously deluded (like Jonathan Edwards in his sermon "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God")is also a useful function of your ministry but would need a different outlet--alas, the Sun is a leftist organ, albeit still spiritual.

Even the lefties have their spiritually (in the form of Buddism, usually) but God is God, and the venue, if it reaches eyes, is valid. For submission info, go to

Mmmwuah-ha-ha-ha-HA! said...

Being an Evil Overlord seems to be a good career choice. It pays well, there are all sorts of perks and you can set your own hours. However every Evil Overlord I've read about in books or seen in movies invariably gets overthrown and destroyed in the end. I've noticed that no matter whether they are barbarian lords, deranged wizards, mad scientists or alien invaders, they always seem to make the same basic mistakes every single time. With that in mind, allow me to present...

The Top 100 Things I'd Do
If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord

Mmmwuah-ha-ha-ha-HA! said...

Just for Ben, who prefers a gun to evil laughter...

Mmmwuah-ha-ha-ha-HA! said...

Hm, it looks like I need to learn to use HTML tags properly before I'll be able to conquer the world as evil overlord.

Drats, foiled again!

USS Ben USN (Ret) said...

I appreciate your efforts to provide a link (even though it doesn't work).
I may enter it manually, if I can build up enough gumption.

What we really need is raccoons with frickin' lasers on their heads.
I hear they are hard to get out of season.

ximeze said...

Secret said: "Your writing is your outreach ministry and it is for that reason that you might seek wider publicity..."

As a Dedicated Coon Cult Member my first reaction is: NIET!

Dear Leader is for COONS, not for every Bozowithamouth.

Sharp surge of possessiveness felt.

Help me out here Siblings Under The Pelt:

* are we somehow duty bound, ethically, to share the CoonCult?
* true, Coonpupa are out there, waiting, likely ungnowing anything like OC is available.
* do not also have a duty keep idiots out?
* is that just my InnerCoonWarrior speaking? Protect/Defend/Demolish
* troll bashing IS fun, but they can be SOOOOO tiresome

Of course this is DL's call & I kinda miss really juicy trolls, but........

Jacob C said...

Sunshine pop lives on, Bob. Here and there and everywhere, no matter how the purveyors of heartbreak and solemnity try to extinguish it - I had a friend, in the music biz once upon a time, whose career was literally killed by the wave of Angst Rock that rolled out of the Pacific Northwest. It was a tsunami of Sturm und Drang, a tidal wave that carried many great musicians on its crest, but left many more washed up, with no audience willing to listen. At least she wasn't bitter about it - like I am, now that I know how much good music was damned to obscurity thanks to Kurt Cobain. Nobody else of my acquaintance, for example, knows who the Apples in Stereo are/were, and with a very few exceptions we all stopped listening to They Might Be Giants a long time ago. It's great music, but it's just too damn HAPPY-sounding for any of the angstmongers to pay more than momentary attention to.

ms. e said...

Bob - Sounds like a swell set-up. May your well never run dry or your frig lack dark ale.

~I have a few questions.
Who does the grocery shopping?
Any chance of posting a photo of your coon den?
Do you wear Levis or Wranglers?

~I canceled my subscription to The Sun Magazine in 1999 - I found myself losing interest in "interesting" true? confessions and wanting to slap some people around. ("I'd rather be in hell with Jesus" -who said that?) Shortly after-words, I found and still visit occasionally.

~I appreciate your introducing us to Mrs. G's book. I have two daughter-in-laws who are each getting a copy for Valentine's Day.

~My entries for sunshine music lovers:
"Hush-A-Bye" - The Mystics - 1959
"Up, Up, and Away" - The 5th Dimension - 1967

will said...

purports to be all sun-shiney, but is NOT:

those wretched Vermont Teddy Bear commercials.

just make them STOP.

ms. e said...


These little bandits will positively steal your heart.

Smoov said...

In the musically-oriented threads a while back I was somewhat puzzled that the Beach Boys never rated a mention from Bob (unless I missed it). Pet Sounds is a masterpiece, and Brian Wilson is truly a genius.

I enjoyed today's peek behind the curtain. I too am a Lileks fan, however I read Bob for different reasons than I read Lileks. Lileks is funny, humane and a great writer. But he's ultimately not particularly profound. Same with Charles Johnson, Glenn Reynolds, etc. Great bloggers for various reasons, but ultimately not deep or particularly spiritual thinkers.

Bob is... well there really isn't much else out there that compares. This site can change lives for the better. The only people I can think of who are somewhat in Bob's league (though again, very different in many respects) are Lee Harris and David Warren. Neither of them deliver the sustained, high-wattage illumination we get here. There is only one Bob. Too bad so very few know of him...

Smoov said...

Since Bob broached the "guilty pleasures" topic, I have to confess I can't get that Lily Allen ditty "Smile" out of my head (unless it is to be replaced immediately by her other ditty, LDN). The "guilty" part is that I really like those songs!

She may be a precocious little "mockney" tramp, but she's just so... fascinating.

(Somebody warn me if they see Dupree sneaking up behind me...)


Jacob C said...

Let me restate my previous case in other words: We have come to a point in our culture where very silly things are taken very seriously, and vice versa, because we obsess over being SERIOUS 24 hours a day. Leftists don't laugh as much - because life is too IMPORTANT to make room for a sense of humor. Life's too short to bother with having fun.

Who was it that said: "Matters of great import should be taken lightly." Whoever it was, he was right - without a sense of humor, life becomes as leaden and monotonous, and shaded with undertones of aimless tension, as the music of the early 1990s. Look at that trash and you'll see where having no capacity for fun gets you. Meanwhile, I'll be over here listening to The Apples (In Stereo), the Pooh Sticks and my Beach Boys collection, and having a good time.

NoMo said...

On Music - I don't make many recommendations, but any Patti Griffin fans should not miss her latest (just released) "Children Running Through". I just picked it up and its right up there with her usual excellence.

a father said...

Someday I want to hear (read) your contemplation on the spiritual imperative to have children.

GLASR said...

HA! The trickeration of a cult master. So good, so normal, loves his wife, children and beer! Next he'll tell us he has a dog AND a cat! Crosses, even a real job - "follow me little furry ones, you too can have it all." heh heh HEH!

Thanks Dr. Godwin, no better connectivity cement. Speaking of beer, it's time for a Miller High Life to wash down a bacon(Elvis)sandwich - with gobs of real mayonnaise! mmmmmmmmmmm good! ;~)

robinstarfish said...

take one normal day
add bob and future leader
drink and squirt from nose

hoarhey said...

I see you conveniently forgot to mention the fleet of Rolls Royces and the compound in Oregon. ;)

will said...

mrs e., actually the Vermont Teddy Bear is a fine American tradition, a noble product. Those ham-handed and innuendoed commercials, however, debase them, which is a shame.

hoarhey - the Bhags wasn't really a cult leader a la jim jones or manson. He was actually OK until he went bonkers, probably from steroids that he had been ingesting for years (for his very severe asthma). Some of the people around the Bhags, however, were godawful - it's my impression that when he started slipping away into bonkersville, they just ran riot.

Van said...

Except for the fact that I don't do the same stuff, that's just what I do every day!

I'm now in the 6,570 day of my two day plan to take over the WORLD!!!
Mmmwuah-ha-ha!!!-Mmmwuah-ha-Mmmwuah-ha-Mmmwuah-ha-ha-ha-HA! ha-ha-HA! -Mmmwuah-ha-ha-ha-HA!!!!

(Two beers? EVERY Day?)Mmmwuah-ha-ha-ha-HA!

hoarhey said...

I'm not very familiar with his history before coming to the U.S.. Five years is an awfully short time for that community to spin out of control if it wasn't headed in the wrong direction to begin with. It appears, from what I've read, to have become a doomsday cult which was going to put the world back together following a nuclear halocaust. But that could possibly just be speculation as the organization seems to have been running on fumes by that point.

walt said...

Daily beer? I knew there was a reason I worship here!

I heard this out-take on the radio a couple of days ago -

Woman's voice: "Would you like BEER, or everlasting tranquility, and happiness?"
Homer Simpson's voice: "What brand is it?"

Ricky Raccoon said...

I’m a little off the current thread here but… it recently occurred to me that the term ‘miracle of birth’ implies more than what I originally thought it did. Before the birth of my only child I understood this to mean how scientifically complex is the creation of another human being. But now I think the expression means much more that. At least to me now. Also the miracle is how it can change people. It changed me in so many ways similar to Dr Bob’s and in other ways so personal that I never would have ever imagined were possible and certainly not expected.