Buying Jesus a Drink (G)
The bartender was washing his glasses, when an elderly Irishman came in. With great difficulty, the Irishman hoisted his bad leg over the barstool, pulled himself up painfully, and asked for a sip of Irish whiskey. The Irishman looked down the bar and said, "Is that Jesus down there?" The bartender nodded, so the Irishman told him to give Jesus an Irish whiskey, too.
The next patron to come in was an ailing Italian with a hunched back, who moved very slowly. He shuffled up to the barstool and asked for a glass of Chianti. He also looked down the bar and asked if that was Jesus sitting at the end of the bar. The bartender nodded, so the Italian said to give him a glass of Chianti, too.
The third patron to enter the bar was a redneck, who swaggered into the bar and hollered, "Barkeep, set me up a cold one! Hey, is that God's Boy down there?" The barkeep nodded, so the redneck told him to give Jesus a cold one, too.
As Jesus got up to leave, he walked over to the Irishman and touched him and said, "For your kindness, you are healed!" The Irishman felt the strength come back to his leg, so he got up and danced a jig out the door.
Jesus touched the Italian and said, "For your kindness, you are healed!"
The Italian felt his back straighten, so he raised his hands above his head and did a flip out the door.
Jesus walked toward the redneck, but the redneck jumped back and exclaimed, "Don't touch me! I'm drawing disability!"
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Mundane Journeys through an Amazing World
begins with Interstate 80. Not the most engaging topic, I know, but when you think about it, I-80 runs all the way across the North American continent linking San Francisco and New York. It's not just a ribbon of asphalt, it's a portal to far away, almost magical places.
My visits to major cities like Tokyo, London and Washington DC have been business affairs. I haven't rode a lot of roller coasters or ridden in open air buses, but I have visited with senators, bought yams from the back of a truck and barely escaped complete embarrassment when I was introduced to Matt Wiener in Vegas.
As I wrote the book I realized that over the years exotic, distant places have become more like the mundane places I've called home. But, as it turns out, there really aren't any mundane places, only mundane ways of looking at things.
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