Glen's Quotes Db (3181 total)

SIMPLE RULES FOR DATING MY DAUGHTER

Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package,
because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long
as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes
or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear
their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips.
Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are
complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this
issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your
underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not
object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact,
come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my
electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your
waist.

Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a
"barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it
comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five:
In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports,
politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only
information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to
have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from
you on this subject is "early."

Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date
other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter.
Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue
to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her
cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and
more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on
time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on
her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate
Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something
useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter:
Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden
stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within
eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing,
holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm
enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts,
or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped
up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be
avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are
okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged,
dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the
all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are
going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole
truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five
acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the
sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice
paddy outside of Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices
in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to
bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway, you should
exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter
password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter
home safely and early, then return to your car--there is no need for you
to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

Mr. Smith:
I'm Mr. Smith. I'm here to pick up my wife's test results.

Receptionist:
I'm sorry, sir, but there's been a bit of a mix-up and we have a problem.
When we sent the samples from your wife to the lab, the samples from
another Mrs. Smith were sent as well, and we are now uncertain which one
is your wife's. Frankly, that's either bad or terrible.

Mr. Smith:
What do you mean?

Receptionist:
Well, one Mrs. Smith has tested positive for Alzheimer's disease and the
other for AIDS. We can't tell which is your wife.

Mr. Smith:
That's terrible! Can't we do the test over?

Receptionist:
Normally, yes. But you have an HMO, and they won't pay for these
expensive tests more than once.

Mr. Smith:
Well, what am I supposed to do now?

Receptionist:
The doctor recommends that you drop your wife off in the middle of town.
If she finds her way home, don't sleep with her.

I was able to spend time with Dr. Schuller before my talk. (He told me not to preach, but to tell my failure stories to the crowd – that would encourage them he said!) It was a thrill to spend time with this seasoned veteran of the evangelism world. During lunch with Dr. Schuller he leaned over to me and said that he had followed the progression of servant evangelism with eagerness. He is excited about the idea and relates to the spirit of the concept. He then told me a secret that has guided him through many years of ministry highs and lows. He said when he gets stuck he converts that moment into a prayer – “God, give me an idea!”

Those were profound words that have echoed through my soul for the past several weeks. I have realized that that has been my prayer on many occasions whether I realized it at the time or not. I’ve gotten stuck in many ministry quagmires over the years. I’ve needed inspiration. God has come through time and again as I have prayed that simple prayer and waited upon him.

For example, we have had a desire to reach out to the college community around the University of Cincinnati. While there are many needs in the lives of these students, we wanted to grab their attention in a way that they would not soon forget. We prayed for an idea and got one. Give them toilet paper in Christ’s name. As we knock on apartment and dorm room doors the standard response is, “But I already have toilet paper.” To that we say, “Yes, but this is Christian toilet paper!” We usually have them at that.

John and Mary Pay a Visit
This morning there was a knock at my door. When I answered the door
I found a well groomed, nicely dressed couple. The man spoke first:

"Hi! I'm John, and this is Mary."

Mary: "Hi! We're here to invite you to come kiss Hank's ass with us."

Me: "Pardon me?! What are you talking about? Who's Hank, and why would I
want to kiss his ass?"

John: "If you kiss Hank's ass, he'll give you a million dollars; and if
you don't, he'll kick the shit out of you."

Me: "What? Is this some sort of bizarre mob shake-down?"

John: "Hank is a billionaire philanthropists. Hank built this town. Hank
owns this town. He can do what ever wants, and what he wants is to give you
a million dollars, but he can't until you kiss his ass."

Me: "That doesn't make any sense. Why..."

Mary: "Who are you to question Hank's gift? Don't you want a million
dollars? Isn't it worth a little kiss on the ass?"

Me: "Well maybe, if it's legit, but..."

John: "Then come kiss Hank's ass with us."

Me: "Do you kiss Hank's ass often?"

Mary: "Oh yes, all the time..."

Me: "And has he given you a million dollars?"

John: "Well no, you don't actually get the money until you leave town."

Me: "So why don't you just leave town now?"

Mary: "You can't leave until Hank tells you to, or you don't get the money,
and he kicks the shit out of you."

Me: "Do you know anyone who kissed Hank's ass, left town, and got the
million dollars?"

John: "My mother kissed Hank's ass for years. She left town last year, and
I'm sure she got the money."

Me: "Haven't you talked to her since then?"

John: "Of course not, Hank doesn't allow it."

Me: "So what makes you think he'll actually give you the money if you've
never talked to anyone who got the money?"

Mary: "Well, he gives you a little bit before you leave. Maybe you'll get a
raise, maybe you'll win a small lotto, maybe you'll just find a twenty
dollar bill on the street."

Me: "What's that got to do with Hank?"

John: "Hank has certain 'connections.' "

Me: "I'm sorry, but this sounds like some sort of bizarre con game."

John: "But it's a million dollars, can you really take the chance? And
remember, if you don't kiss Hank's ass he'll kick the shit of you."

Me: "Maybe if I could see Hank, talk to him, get the details straight from
him..."

Mary: "No one sees Hank, no one talks to Hank."

Me: "Then how do you kiss his ass?"

John: "Sometimes we just blow him a kiss, and think of his ass. Other times
we kiss Karl's ass, and he passes it on."

Me: "Who's Karl?"

Mary: "A friend of ours. He's the one who taught us all about kissing Hank's
ass. All we had to do was take him out to dinner a few times."

Me: "And you just took his word for it when he said there was a Hank, that
Hank wanted you to kiss his ass, and that Hank would reward you?"

John: "Oh no! Karl's got a letter Hank sent him years ago explaining the
whole thing. Here's a copy; see for your self."

John handed me a photocopy of a handwritten memo on "From the desk of Karl"
letterhead. There were eleven items listed:



From the desk of: KARL
1. Kiss Hank's ass and he'll give you a million
dollars when you leave town.
2. Use alcohol in moderation.
3. Kick the shit out of people who aren't like you.
4. Eat right.
5. Hank dictated this list himself.
6. The moon is made of green cheese.
7. Everything Hank says is right.
8. Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.
9. Don't drink.
10. Eat your wieners on buns, no condiments.
11. Kiss Hank's ass or he'll kick the shit out of you.



Me: "This would appear to be written on Karl's Letterhead."

Mary: "Hank didn't have any paper."

Me: "I have a hunch that if we checked we'd find this is Karl's handwriting."

John: "Of course, Hank dictated it."

Me: "I thought you said no one gets to see Hank?"

Mary: "Not now, but years ago he would talk to some people."

Me: "I thought you said he was a philanthropist. What sort of philanthropist
kicks the shit out of people just because they're different?"

Mary: "It's what Hank wants, and Hank's always right."

Me: "How do you figure that?"

Mary: "Item 7 says 'Everything Hanks says is right.' That's good enough for
me!"

Me: "Maybe your friend Karl just made the whole thing up."

John: "No way! Item 5 says 'Hank dictated this list himself.' Besides, item
2 says 'Use alcohol in moderation,' Item 4 says 'Eat right,' and item 8 says
'Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.' Everyone knows those things
are right, so the rest must be true too."

Me: "But 9 says 'Don't Drink,' which doesn't quite go with item 2, and 6
says 'The moon is made of green cheese,' which is just plain wrong."

John: "There's no contradiction between 9 and 2, 9 just clarifies 2. As far
as 6 goes, you've never been to the moon, so you can't say for sure."

Me: "Scientists have pretty firmly established that the moon is made of
rock..."

Mary: "But they don't know if the rock came from the Earth, or from outer of
space, so it could just as easily be green cheese."

Me: "I'm not really an expert, but I think the theory that the Moon came
from the Earth has been discounted. Besides, not knowing where the rock came
from doesn't make it cheese."

John: "Aha! You just admitted that scientists make mistakes, but we know
Hank is always right!"

Me: "We do?"

Mary: "Of course we do, Item 5 says so."

Me: "You're saying Hank's always right because the list says so, the list is
right because Hank dictated it, and we know that Hank dictated it because
the list says so. That's circular logic. That's no different than saying
'Hank's right because he says he's right.'"

John: "Now you're getting it! It's so rewarding to see someone come around
to Hank's way of thinking!"

Me: "But... oh, never mind. What's the deal with wieners?"

Mary blushes. John says: "Wieners, in buns, no condiments. It's Hank's way.
Anything else is wrong."

Me: "What if I don't have a bun?"

John: "No bun, no wiener. A wiener without a bun is wrong."

Me: "No relish? No Mustard?"

Mary looks positively stricken. John shouts: "There's no need for such
language! Condiments of any kind are wrong!"

Me: "So a big pile of sauerkraut with some wieners chopped up in it would be
out of the question?"

Mary sticks her fingers in her ears: "I am not listening to this. La la la
la la la la la."

John: "That's disgusting. Only some sort of evil deviant would eat that..."

Me: "It's good! I eat it all the time."

Mary faints. John catches her: "Well, if I'd known you where one of those, I
wouldn't have wasted my time. When Hank kicks the shit out of you, I'll be
there counting my money and laughing. I'll kiss Hank's ass for you, you
bunless cut-wienered kraut-eater."

With this, John dragged Mary to their waiting car, and sped off.

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Paula and I were on the road this holiday weekend (yesterday was Labor Day), and we just got back. We had very limited internet access and couldn't get to your email. Sorry about that. Also, belated happy birthday!

Thanks for forwarding me that story about Hank. I've never seen it before. I think I'll archive it and use it for a sermon illustration someday.

Here's my take on it: it's a mean-spirited mockery (although cleverly done). The author draws a few bogus parallels and then builds his whole story on them. Basically, the story portrays John and Mary as stupid believers who believe in an absurd system that they've never thought critically about and then leaves you to deduce that all belief systems are equivalent and that all believers are identically stupid.

Your colleague was obviously trying to be provocative, and so I conclude that he/she is either scared of faith or has been embittered by previous encounters with Christians. Just show him/her love.

If the email was sent to you directly, I wouldn't really engage in dissecting the story with your friend--the deck is stacked against you. All the conclusions your friend will draw are built into the assumptions that underlie the whole story. Instead, show your friend love and have a reasonable answer for his or her honest questions whenever they come up.

If the email was sent as a broadcast email, I might handle it differently. Silence might be taken as acquiescence. What I would do would depend greatly on the context.

In any event, if he/she really wants to talk about it, focus on the assumptions and illegitimate parallels. In other words, explain how what you believe is different from what John and Mary believe.

For example, the whole point of the gospel is that someone has come back from "out of town" to tell us about Hank. His name was Jesus, and that's what makes the resurrection so remarkable. (Incidentally, it's not really fair to compare the afterlife with going on a trip out of town. Death is fundamentally different than a road trip.)

It's also not legitimate to compare Hank (who would need to be a tangible human being) with God (who is by definition invisible and intangible). It's not as though there are no logical reasons to believe that God exists. There are several, and I personally find them compelling. We've talked about some of these at Chi Alpha.

Most importantly, the idea of a forced choice between "kissing Hank's ass" and "Hank kicking the shit out of you" as a parallel to heaven and hell is just plain silly. It misses the point entirely. If we love God (as evidenced by our life here on earth), we get to be with God. That's heaven--living in the presence of God forever. If we don't want to be with God (as evidenced by a lack of desire to connect with God on earth) then we get what we want. That's hell, being isolated from God forever.

I could go on, but this story was somewhat of a rhetorical trick.

Was that what you had in mind, or did you want me to address it on a different level?

I hope it didn't rattle you any.

Your friend,

Glen