The 80/20 Rule

Sorry about my post about Chuck. I have been listening to Tom Hopkins lately (incredible salesman and trainer). He said, "Don't complain about bad experiences or physical ailments. 80% of the people you complain to don't care and the other 20% are glad those things are happening to you."

Which percentage do you fall in?

#40

I noticed today that I have posted 40 times on this blog page (sad username mishap--go to the beginning for the whole scoop).
Crazy things happen when you turn 40. I remember when I had only posted 20 times. Those were good times. When I was a teenposter I used to write about things that don't matter...a lot has changed since then.
Now that I am an experienced blogger, I am coming to an age where I feel validated in offering my opinion (this is a big day for me). Most of my beef with other bloggers is that their blogs REEK with their opinions; as well as sentences like, "but that's what I think and if you don't like it you can sue me or go read someone else's blog." At least I think there are sentences like that on other blogs. Most of the time I can't stomach reading what their original thought was to make it to the disclaimer at the end of the post.
I have often wanted to opine on certain issues and give blanket advice before, but have always felt the check of fearing cliche. Today I turn 41. Today things change.

Don't worry, the same outrageous puns and pointless monologues will still be there. Let me give you a taste of the new flavor (the flavor is called saysrayberry):
A thought occurred to me today: Often people give advice not because they think you need to hear it, but because they want to say it. Edify the teacher by saying with your words and body language that it's a completely new idea you had never thought of before...

...but that's what I think and if you don't like it you can sue me or go read someone else's blog

The Rise of the Cupholders

Have you ever heard the phrase “reinvent the wheel”?
It can be used in several ways:

1 I don’t want to reinvent the wheel
2 I’m not trying to reinvent the wheel
3 Let’s not reinvent the wheel
4 Refabricate the block’s successor

I am actually NOT trying to invent the wheel again; but if I did, I would add cupholders.
Cupholders are the post-modern revolution. You can’t go ANYWHERE without one being relatively close to you. Hotels, houses, boats, strollers, vehicles, desks, couches, recliners, and younger siblings usually ALL possess the capacity to hold whatever beverage receptacle you might want them to. In fact, the empirical data is leaning (if data could lean) more and more towards a world being dominated and controlled by cupholders. Since this is the case, I plan on befriending them, in hopes of becoming a high ranking official in their new regime. My first attempt at this supplication was to have Suzuki add one to EVERY door of their vehicles (commercial), and by suggesting in my blog that they be added to the reinvented wheel.
Happy Holidays, everyone. Remember to throw as many smiles other people’s way as you do elbows in the mall.

North and South

I would like to highlight an err in reasoning on my part that occurred today.

"Is Wellington south of us?" asked one of my coworkers.

"Yes," I replied.


I try to be a thinker, and if I had to pick just one thing that separated thinkers from non-thinkers; it would be that thinkers think, and non-thinkers non-think. I have put alot of thought into thinking lately, and had many thoughtful, thought-provoking, well-thought out thoughts about what I think is a forgotten thought-process (I think). Thinkers never accept things at face-value (especially since most of them have acne, which dramatically reduces their face-value to about 27.3). I accepted this north/south issue at face-value. What was I thinking?

There is no correct answer when asked about the cardinal directions, meaning compass directions--not "Ya sed that red burd waz ware?" directions. Our north is someone else's south. So the next time I'm asked if Wellington is south of me, I'm going to be a thinker and answer their question with another question:

"Well, what is North? And what is South?"

Will they think I'm obnoxious?

Maybe, but at least I won't be lying to them.

"I can quote things," he said

I noticed recently that I am very observant.

Whoa, hang on, that makes it true, right? I know a self-validating hypothesis when I see one, and that one is so conspicuous it might as well be wearing hunter orange.

Speaking of hunter orange, I took a 12-point buck recently with a bow. Pictures and video are pending.
Peace out

MRI (Mostly Really Incarcerating)

I'm pretty sure I know what a piece of copy paper feels like.





I have injured my left knee...again. This makes number three in two years. I thought they fixed it last time when they ripped a pre-owned ACL out of some dead guy and gave it to me, but apparently not (Don't let my misfortune dissuade you from becoming a donor).
The best part about knee injuries happens right before the injury. You know, the part where you're scampering happily down the football field, thinking, "This is so fun and safe." Then all hell, in conjunction with their corresponding ligaments, breaks loose and you hit the dirt.
The inevitable MRI occurred earlier this week. I had forgotten how much I dislike MRI's. All the buzzing, clanking, whirring, snapping, and--at least in my case--screaming that accompanies the procedure makes you feel like you're driving a 2009 Chrysler...well...anything really.
Can anyone relate? If you've ever been locked inside a Xerox machine, you have a pretty good idea. It's hotter than two field mice doing it in a wool sock in July in there, and you don't even get mouse-babies out of the deal. You get a picture of smeared, staticky, steak shards. And after all this, the doctor will say, "Well, the initial examination has proven inconclusive as to your actual condition. We're going to need to do a CT scan..."
Forget that, man. I'm doing my own scans from now on. Anyone have a used copier I can borrow?

I can pay you in mouse-babies.

My Youtube channel

Hey folks, my new Flip camera has begun to yield some interesting videos, and there are many more to come.
Be sure to check it out occasionally
youtube.com/suzukityler

Some things never change

It never fails.


Just when you think Disappointment has beat you down to never rise again,
You are at what seems to be your penultimate failure,
You are about to throw up your arms and say, "Joy is lost. I am beaten."

It is at that crucial moment that the Lord, who is abounding in mercy, will send his messengers of Joy to remind you of a few things: He is still there, Joy is still a possibility, and you're not as bad off as you train your mind to think you are.
Last night this happened to me. His messengers were my best friends, Teddy and Samuel.
Ted, Sam, and I have been through alot. There are things about each of us that annoy the other two, but there are far more things we just can't get enough of. We all alternate being the funniest person in the room and then being the best laugher in the room.
In the good old days, we would hang out every night. Ping-pong, Tennis, FIFA, Basketball, Golf, Football, Writing, Careers (the board game), Parkour, Spelunking, Entrepenuership, and Cinematography are just a few of the hobbies that we have shared.
I had begun to think those days had melted away with our childhood, but old habits die hard.
"We gonna hang out tonight?" Teddy asked.
"Absolutely," I replied.
"Sweet. Meet me at Sam's house. You bring the cigars."

We ate ice cream, smoked cigars, and laughed until we were all so exhausted that we absolutely had to stop.

Thanks guys; I needed that.
Let's do it again soon

Suzuki of Wichita: Fun for All Ages!!

His best finish was 6th out of 10. I aspire to be this man.

Czech out the fish!

Okay, two things today.


1.
I have a friend who is a park ranger in Colorado. He told me during his time there three men have been eaten by bears (well, what else would you get eaten by in Colorado, a shark?). The men who got eaten were camping there on vacation; one was a Czech, and the other two were Italians. Apparently, a male and female bear of the grizzly persuasion broke (more like tore) into their tent in the middle of the night and ate them. My friend the park ranger told me that the female ate the Italians, but the Czech was in the male.

B.
I have a new gadget! The fish will chase your mouse around until you click some fish food on them. Well, I hope it's fish food, it could be bear food. Either way, just bear with me and czech out the fish!

Yesterday 20 cooporate execs from the American Suzuki Motor Coorporation came to our dealership to treat us to lunch and present us with a trophy. That's what they claimed, anyway. What they really came down for was to try and find out how we can sell more cars in Wichita, KS than anyone in any of their other 350 dealerships spread throughout the country. They followed our president around for a couple hours and took notes. THE PEOPLE WHO OWN AND RUN SUZUKI! TOOK NOTES!
Normally note-taking wouldn't excite me this much (exception: Last week when Tiger followed me around Echo Hills and took notes). However, these were not ordinary people like you and I; these were Japanese people. The only reason Japan has taken notes about anything in our country before was to AVOID recreating anything we do (I promise, I talked to Itchykawasakininja about it yesterday).
But then something even better happened: I went with my favorite coach to Emporia and played a round of golf in the best golfing weather possible.
Head of a multi-billion dollar industry vs. golfing with grandpa?

Not even a contest; especially since he got me a Jamocha shake afterwards.
Oh, and I saw this massive spider on one of the greens:

Blessing my socks off

I haven’t posted in a while. Suzuki has me pretty busy, which is a change of pace. Ehh, it’s actually not a change of pace. It’s more like an addition of a pace, because I was pace-free in the oilfield. Now I’m hard pressed and am forced to pace myself to keep up the pace; all while trying to continually pick up the Pace™.
I have sold a few cars. Ehh, I actually haven’t sold any cars (just bear with me while I keep lying to you and then telling you the truth). These cars sell themselves; they are awesome. What a blessing to show people cars that I actually believe in under a system that is pressure-free (and fast-paced) and work with men that I genuinely enjoy and respect. #notetoself: Try to figure out why the top Suzuki dealership in the USA actually hired me#.
God has really been blessing my socks off. It’s fine, now, but towards the end of November and the beginning of December I’m going to need my socks, so He will need to bless something else off of me (Lord, might I submit sneezes as a possible option? Could you bless my sneezes off?)
Peace out

Training

Today I am training with a master: Randolph Warren. This man knows the Lord, knows people, knows cars, and knows how to work. I am ABSOLUTELY excited. He holds the all-time record for total cars sold in one month here at Suzuki (35.5). He also makes exponentially more phone calls and sends more personal letters than any other salesman.
To begin, he told me he had three questions:
First, What is my motivation for being here?
I said to pursue the will of the Lord in my career by developing life-changing relationships.

Secondly, he asked what HE could do to best help me.
I said I wanted him to teach me how to interact with people like he does (EVERYONE likes Randolph) and to teach me how to work 125% all day like he does.

That work ethic is why we never got to the third question; he is helping a customer.

I'm looking forward to being educated by the best car and people people in the business.

New Truth

After a rather thought-provoking conversation with a very good friend today, something has been revealed to my mind. I trust this friend to know me implicitly, and have given them absolute access to speak anything into my life that they feel would be appropriate. The topic of intelligence arose, and I petitioned a rating. After scoring pretty well on their scale, I felt good enough about myself to make one further interrogation. "Maybe," I said, "but do you think I am wise?" The answer is a breath of fresh air now, but seemed like a punch to the gut at the time.

They said they felt like I have a lot of wisdom, but (unfortunately) it's mostly stored-up wisdom.

I don't know if you understand the implications of that statement, so let me define it for you: Wisdom withheld begets increasing ignorance.
Before I go any farther I should point out that I in no way disagree with their analysis of my life. In fact, it's the most truthful observation anyone has made about me in quite a while (beside the statement someone made yesterday about my car looking like it was missing a front tooth). Like I said, this person really knows me.

So let's talk about wisdom.
Wisdom is not static. It's not the measles, meaning you don't just get it once and then you never have to worry about it again. Proverbs says, "Buy the truth and do not sell it..." That particular book of the Bible is awash with sayings about wisdom, but I really like that one.
I know, that verse doesn't even have the word 'wisdom' in it; however, I submit that truth and wisdom are cousins in meaning. Wisdom is an extension of the Truth with the addition of one crucial factor--action.

So, [readers], if you accept my words...
turning your ear to wisdom
and applying your heart to understanding,
and if you call out for insight
and cry aloud for understanding,
and if you look for it as for silver
and search for it as for hidden treasure,
then you will understand the fear of the LORD
and find the knowledge of God. Proverbs 2:1-5 NIV

Wisdom is what I plan on searching for today. Thank you, friend, you are very dear to me.
Have a great day, folks. It will be whatever you make it.

Korea's story

I recently visited the Kansas City chapter of my reading audience. Incidentally, KC is where approximately 50% of the six people that read this blog reside.
While I was there, I had the pleasure of meeting one of my most devout readers. Her name was Korea (name changed to protect the mostly innocent except for alcohol abuse), and she had subscribed to my RSS feed through Google Reader. Korea's patronage touched me more than any of my other followers, because it took them all of ten seconds to check my blog: Click, click, read, done.

Not so with Korea.

She sported a very old, very tired laptop that buzzed, clanked, and smoked more than Chitty Chitty Bang Bang filled with diesel. With her laptop, it takes approximately twenty minutes to get to Says Ray.
“Twenty MINUTES!” exclaims the average American. “Why, in twenty minutes I can check my email, check my reader, check the weather, check and double check my checking account, post on my blog, post on my wall, post up for a pick-and-roll, twit my tweets (heh, heh), youtube the “Mother’s Day” skit (do it), AND spend the remaining fifteen minutes at addictinggames.com.”

Poor Korea, she has only heard glorious stories about all those magical places. She can’t visit them on her computer. That would be as preposterous as visiting Canada in a 1986 Geo Metro, you can only go so far on the interstate (or internet) when you’re driving outdated machinery.
Korea, thank you for being here. I know you probably won’t read this until fiscal 2010, but your sacrifice means a great deal.

As Christians, there is a joy that comes from sacrificing a great deal that cannot be equaled by that which comes easily. I know that Korea laughs harder than anyone else (or at least, laughs) when she reads Says Ray. I am not necessarily supporting a suffering theology, but I will say this:

From large oak trees come thousands of tiny nuts

I hope that quote really brought home the prodigal moral that I keep alluding to: Appreciate the gift God has given you in your computer; without it, you wouldn’t be able to read Says Ray.

LOVE STORY (Taylor Swift) meets VIVA LA VIDA (Coldplay) - Piano Cello - by Jon Schmidt

Okay, I'm not a Taylor Swift fan, but this is amazing.

Sweet Video

Hey guys, I'm up with the times; I have figured out how to link videos from Youtube.

This morning I was listening to KLOVE and I heard this song for the first time, "How He Loves," by the David Crowder Band.

It was awesome.

So awesome, in fact, that I have youtubed it (NOTE: remind me to submit the word "youtubed" as an infinitive verb to the Board of Made-up Words--BMW--later). There are a lot of other artists who have arranged it. This one I found particularly incredible, it is done by Jesus culture.
The first half of the video is stunning. This lady's voice is very dynamic. Very smooth, but still a lot of texture to it (the best combination, btw).
The last half got a little too emotional/demonstrative for my particular taste, but everybody has their own flavor.
Enjoy, and let me know what you think

How He Loves Us - Kim Walker / Jesus Culture

Am I me?

Ever had to deal with someone who makes their living dealing with hacked off people?

Case and point, EVERY single phone line customer support person you will ever talk to (someone once told me that ALL generalizations are false, so I NEVER do that anymore).

I tried to get my free credit report today, and I wish I had never picked up the phone. It seems that when they ask for your current address, you probably shouldn't tell them the truth in the following two situations:

1. You are a liar
2. You have moved

In my case, both apply; so I really should have seen that coming. Well, the address I told her didn't match the one from last year when I set up the account. So, "she" (I use the term loosely) said that she could not verify my identity at this time, since the current address I provided does not match the one that they have on file.

"Oh, no problem," said I, "I have moved since then. The new one is-"

-"Sir, since your identity could not be verified at this time. You are going to need to fax me a copy of your driver's license and a utility bill from your current address."

"You mean my recent address? Because my current address is-"

-"Sir, it has to be the current address we have on file."

"Okay, so you need my old current address."

"No, sir, your current address means the address you're living in now."

"Yes, ma'am, I'm aware of the definition of the word 'current.' Are you aware of the definition of the word 'changed?', because that's what my address has done. It has changed."

"Sir, I can tell you are a little frustrated about this situation, but let me assure you that here at ------- (name withheld to protect the ignorant), we strive to provide you with the best quality of service possible."

...
...

"So do none of your other customers ever change addresses?"

"Sir, at this time we are still unable to confirm your identity. What I am going to do now is transfer you to our corporate office, where you will be asked to verify your identity using your Driver's license number, date of birth, SSN, and current address."

"*sigh*"




This encounter has really got me thinking, though. I have thought about how much I appreciate not knowing any of those people personally, and how the invention of the telephone was a bad thing. One of the most disturbing thoughts caused by that conversation, however, was when considering the questionable nature of my identity.

Am I actually real?

Those people aren't quite sure about it, and most of them possess a lot of trans-cultural knowledge juxtaposed with at least several weeks of experience living here in the U.S.

Maybe I should be more cautious. For instance, next time I'm at Chipotle and el cashier asks me to sign the credit card slip I might just ask,

"Are you sure you want me to be the one to sign this? I'm not currently positive that I'm me."

Open mouth, Insert feat

When talking to me about my training accomplishments so far here at Suzuki, one of my team leaders remarked, "Well, that's a pretty big feat." So I then informed him that his mother had pretty big feet, in an effort to build a relationship.

Remind me to work less on building relationships.


He didn't get the joke, and then said if I was going to joke all day I should go work as a street clown (He didn't know that I have already looked into that field, but the benefits can't compare to what I had as a balloon animal maker). Next, he shot me in the face with his M1 Abrams Tank...




IT'S A JOKE! Ha ha, I was just experimenting with the use of exaggeration as a storytelling device. He never had a tank, and I have never been a balloon animal maker (but what I said about better benefits is true). I never even actually said that his mother had big feet. How ridiculous would that have been? He never even had a mother. His name is Anakin Skywalker-Dum Dum Dummm!!

I'm getting good at this storytelling stuff.

CCCC (Cash for Clunkers Comes to a Close)

Today has been SUPER busy. Cash for Clunkers ends Monday, so
GET IN DEBT NOW PEOPLE, YOU'RE GOING TO MISS YOUR BIG CHANCE TO GO INTO SLAVERY!

A Tale of Two Toothbrushes

Guys, be warned...

This is how marriage goes: You marry the woman of your dreams, at least in my case, and at that time you own a perfectly good toothbrush. This toothbrush is only yours, and only you use it. This toothbrush belongs to no one else, and no one else uses it.
Then, the woman of your dreams moves in with you (unless you move in with her and her parents, in which case you probably have an electric toothbrush [and you probably keep your floss in your pocket protector]).
From time to time, she will use your toothbrush. This is cute at first ("Ahh, I have a wife. I have a wife and she's using my toothbrush #* Sigh *# ).
Then, she will almost exclusively use your toothbrush. This becomes not cute ("Why can't she use her own crummy toothbrush?")
What happens next is a little hard to explain calmly. I don't know if you surmised this or not, but this has actually happened to me; I'm actually drawing on personal experience here. Next, you get out of the shower to find her toothbrush-the toothbrush meant for her personal use-in the trash can beside your toilet (the fact that it's in this particular trash can is very important because of the symbolic statement it makes: "Personal ownership and rules don't mean crap to me").
After that, usually the next day, you won't be able to find your toothbrush at all. This won't offend you as much as the toilet brush (rim shot), because at this point you're just surprised that she left any of your razors in the medicine cabinet.
And so, my friends, you give the woman of your dreams a call and she says, "Oh, yeah I took our toothbrush to work with me today. Maybe you could just pick up a new one for you today?"

She's so sweet; how could you say no? After all, you will get a new toothbrush out of the deal...maybe.

Psalm 19:14 (parentheses mine)

May the words of my mouth (even the words that I only consider saying)
and the meditation of my heart (whatever source I choose to abide in and eat from)
be pleasing in your sight, (and let me see just how pleasing I am to you, Lord, and how your heart stirs with an unending desire to have all of mine)
O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer (You, who have led me to a strong, secure place where I am free to rest in and be saved by you all throughout today).

Sign Here...

I began a new job yesterday. I am now employed by the nation's most successful Suzuki dealership (No, it's better than being the world's tallest midget).
Wow, there is a lot of information to get down. I wouldn't want to tell someone their Xl7 Sport only had standard ABS brakes with EBD if they were actually getting ACC, ESP with TCS and EBD for the same price.

I can't wait until I'm comfortable enough at selling cars to do the "Sign Here" sketch that I heard a long time ago:

Car Salesman: Good afternoon, sir! How may I help you?
Customer: Well, I would like to buy a car.
Car Salesman: Alright, sign here.
Customer: But I haven't even told you what kind of car I want yet!
Car Salesman: You want a great deal, low mileage, affordable price, and classy style. Sign here...

Classic, his tone of voice makes the whole thing even better.
Matzeltopf

91st PGA Championship

I'm at my in-laws watching Y. E. Yang and Tiger duke it out at Hazletine. Wow, what a battle. If you don't think this is exciting, you are probably a gamer

i.e...


Gamer 1: Hey, Todd, guess what? I was playing Tiger Woods 09 on my XBox 360 yesterday, and shot 36 under par on the front nine at TPC Sawgrass. I probably couldn't have done that normally, but I recalibrated my system with a performance enhanced turbo-charged V-twin Hemi micro power converter, which allows me to get approximately 5GigatetraHertz more RAMS per millisecond, so...

Gamer 2: That's nothing, I got online and hacked some codes, so I posted a 37 under yesterday. By the way, how lame is Tiger Woods? Only 8 under so far at Hazletine. What a jerk, he just needs to hold L2 down a little longer and then tap A+X+Y to consolidate those eagle putts...


I rest my case.

I can't believe what Yang is doing, though. Leading by 1 stroke with only one very difficult hole left to play. I'm calling it early; Tiger wins, but I don't know how he will do it. I wish he had a better attitude and would shake off Buddhism, but I love the idea of a superhero. Go get 'em, Tiger.

The amazing human body

Don't worry, there are no pictures of me in a speedo at the end of this post (or anywhere). My wife's grandma (no, none of her either) just had heart surgery yesterday. She was scheduled for a bypass and a valve replacement, but ended up only getting the bypass. The surgeon opened up alot more than he thought he would, though, so now grandma has blood flowing out everywhere (it's a good thing).

The human body is incredible. God is amazing. All the membranes, arteries, veins, systems, and structures that comprise it are their own proof of how they were made. There is no other explanation for the human body than a brilliant Creator. Something equally incredible are surgeons.

Surgeons have to think on their feet, and must be very smart and amazing. At least that's what ours told us about himself. I don't know if you have ever known a surgeon, but they feel like we should know about how much work they went to to get where they are. Understandable. A typical paragraph from our guy would go like this,

"Well I had just finished closing the primary fibrugatolatory artery, when all the sudden I noticed lymphatic acid, hydrochloric acid, AND battery acid leaking from the upper bicuspidal root of the lower atrium. Well, we surgeons have to think on our feet, because we're very clever. So that's exactly what I did. I thought on my feet. Thought right on 'em. I just stood there and thought, thought, thought. I thought about my college experience and all the work I have done to elevate myself to this ultra-human position. I thought about my garage full of imported cars. I thought about the fact that my marriage and bank account seems to be indirectly proportional, and how I'm really okay with that. And finally I thought to ask another surgeon to come in and tell me what I should do with your grandma. Yes, sirree, not many people could think on their feet like that."

Five hundred years in school and they get a sense of entitlement, but I think it could be taken too far.

What happens when people in other fields start feeling the same sense of entitlement?

Billy the bus driver: "Hey, kids we'll be a little late for school today, the bus is broken. But let me tell you about how we bus drivers have to think on our feet."

Bob the trash man: "Yeah, I noticed a banana peel had fallen out of your bag, so I had to think on my feet..."

Clark the janitor: "Well sir, I just wasn't quite tall enough to change the bulb sitting down, so I had to think on my feet..."

Billy Bob Clark the redneck: "Yep. I aint been known te do mech thinkin', and the wife says my feets stink better'n a hawg bein fed a mess a beans, heh heh heh. Yall know what I mean? Man, dem hawgs make the wurst stanks, heh heh..."




Happy Successful Heart Surgery Day, Grandma, love you.

My Apologies to...

So today I read what I posted yesterday, and it really read different than I wanted it to. It really just came across as me making fun of/complaining about my wife.


As I said; not what I intended

Let me issue a public apology:




To whom it may concern,

Roses are red, violets are blue, vomit is green, and now you're sick too.
(that wasn't part of the apology, just a poetic interlude)

Okay, here we go:



To whom it may concern,

Six smart sharp sharks stood still surely saying sorry so say something similarly serendipitous.

hmm...I'm having a little trouble with this apology thing



One more try:





To whom it may concern,

I am truly sorry that my wife dances like a three-legged giraffe and eats like a pig.

Sincerely,

Says Ray



There, now my conscience is cleared.

Dancing Queen

I'm sitting at my cousin's house, trying to keep my wife from shaking her groove thing too much, which has turned into my full time job since the advent of my marriage career.

My wife loves to dance.

For most husbands, this is a problem for one primary reason:

1. They have to dance with their wife, which is boring, because if they don't, their wife will dance by herself; thereby garnering the attention of other, ahemm, men.

Fortunately for me, Molly isn't coordinated. So I can let her dance all she wants, and none of the other men notice.

Don't get me wrong, she is attractive when she does some things. Chipotle, for instance. Watching her complain and gripe at the workers so they will give her three more grains of rice just before she shovels that 1.45 lb meal into her face with no regard for making such a mess of herself she might be mistaken for a car wreck victim really makes my heart implode with love.

It's ironic, though, that I was first attracted to her dancing...

Monetization

So Says Ray has gone commercial.

I have sold my artistry to the highest bidder.

There are ads on my blog now, and I receive money by people reading my blog. Welcome to literary whoredom. So I have crunched the numbers, and considering there are at least seven, and probably more (like eight) people that read Says Ray, I should make about $1.75/year JUST FROM POSTING!!

Incredible, I know.

Molly and I have been praying for God to deliver us financially, but we never expected anything this big. Praise the Lord, I am now a professional blogger.

Typical Typings

Hey folks, we're in this thing together

I'm interested in what makes you, the reader, tick

Do you...appreciate...ellipsis?   ...?

D0 you have any desire for me to talk about anything a little more close to your heart, such as cholesterol?

Do you rumba?   (then pick a rumba from one to ten)

Do you respond to questions?

Let me know what you're thinking...

PlEaSe CoMmENt

Vacation

My family found itself in Arkansas again this summer. Not that we were lost, of course, but it seems like this is our second home. My grandparents started coming to Bull Shoals lake forty nine years ago, and we are still here, breeding like rabbits and fitting in all too well with the locals ("Hey cousin so-and-so, zip up your pants").

One of my favorite things about vacation is the freedom one can experience from devices. Cell phones are the main device of which I type. My cell phone never leaves my side at home, and since the advent of the bluetooth, it literally is with me so much it's growing out of my ear. 

Here there is a no shoes no shirt no teeth no direct ancestry no cell phone no problem policy, and I love it. Catch fish, shoot fish, trap fish, stew fish; those are your only jobs.

Unless you're a woman, obviously, then you have a lot of jobs. I'm convinced that even though my mother has driven down every year with us and stayed in the same cabins and rode on the same boats; she hasn't had an actual vacation since before she was married (and since she was married at 17, her last vacation was an eighth grade summer camp).

I taught my younger sister's boyfriend how to scuba dive today. He did great. He's a good guy; they'll probably get married. I'm good with it.

It's after 1 AnteMeridian, and my wife is sleeping. I think I'm going to leave you guys and go join her...goodnight.

B A N A N A S

Apparently my mother-in-law is into etymology, ha, what a word. Allow me to digress...

Etymology or Entomology? That is the question. An insect by any other nominal origin would smell just as sweet, so what's the big deal?
Whenever people ask me which means which, I say that they both mean the same thing:

The length of time you study either is directly inproportional to your chance of finding a mate.


Okay, now I will regress (gross)...

My Mother-in-law recently created a new phrase. Now, this is something she does all the time, but this time she was sober (Ha, just kidding [not really]). Anyway, a coworker and she were shooting the breeze (that one is already taken). You know, chewing the fat, conversin', chatting, blowing some air, at the old water cooler in the sky (eh, getting worse). TALKING, basically.
Her coworker mentions something that my MIL--which means Mother In Law (to some people)--has done all her life, to which MIL replied,

"Yeah, well I've chased that banana around the block a few times."


Huh...now,

Etymologically speaking (aren't we all?), she might have had several common phrases in her mind at the same time:

I've chased that all my life (which would have been a little vague)
I've been around the block a few times (which would have been self-proclaimed prostitution)
I go 'round and 'round about that (which is better than prostitution, but it still seems infantile)
I really enjoy bananas (which had nothing to do with their conversation, but could have been useful information if her coworker found out she had a potassium deficiency)

So, my theory is that in an effort to save time and to relay vital emergency health information, MIL said, "Yeah, well I've chased that banana around the block a few times."

Makes sense...that is one smart lady. Good luck, MIL, I think now it's clear as mud to all of us that when pigs fly, we won't burn our bridges behind us or count our chickens before the apples fall far from the tree, and you will still be chasing your banana around the block.

In a Trance...

I got a new cell phone. It's a Samsung (he did, indeed) Trance. I had the same Motorola for about two.five years before that, so for the last couple days I have been as excited as a Ferrell child finding out they get a birthday party.
When I was doing research, which is by no means an activity that I have been stereotyped with doing to excess, I came across this shiny phone. I read the first line of the phone description:

"The Samsung Trance is designed for the person with an ear for music and an eye for style. It-"

Research over, I found my perfect phone.

It comes equipped with all sorts of gizmos and do-hickeys (on second thought, kids, let's call them "don't-hickeys"). My favorite is the text-readout feature. When someone texts me now, I hear a beep in my bluetooth, followed by a female computer voice reading me the text. This is all well and good, but as soon as my wife and friends found out that it did this, they started sending me inappropriate text messages. Eh, what are you gonna do?
I told a friend that I have purchased a perverted bluetooth since it keeps saying such awful things in my ear, but she reminded me I actually purchased a perverted social circle.
I would like a refund, but you can't return circles if they're square (hmm...)

Speaking of Bad Blueteeth, that reminds me to talk about Oxymoralliterations.

Oxymoralliterations are alliterations that are also oxymoron's. I.E.: Hysterical Hysterectomy, Enjoyable Enima, Loveable Layoff, Beautiful Breakup, and Spectacular Sternum Snappage.

Please, text me any others you can think of, along with any other inappropriate comments. They will be read to me whether I want to hear them or not.

Well, I just found out God wants my life to go in a direction that I hadn't expected...the same direction.

I applied for a job, had an interview, but God doesn't want me to leave the ministry I'm in right now. Praise God for putting me where He wants me.

Molly cried for me, so I didn't have to do that. That was very nice of her, I wasn't looking forward to it, and ONE of us had to. Unfortunately, that left me with no way to vent my disappointment. So I did what any red-blooded American man would do when he needs to unwind: I went to my cousin's house and watched Maggie the Ferocious Beast with my five year old cousins. If I might quote the beast, as said to Hamilton,

"Great Googely-Moogely," God is good.

Poem

One evening I cooked for my wife

but it turned into far too much strife

You see, to be a good cook

you must read cooking books

and no sooner would I read one than die



I bought some potatoes for $2.50 each

Microwaveable, and just within reach

I thought to myself,

"Why are these on the shelf?

They clearly are the far better buy."



I took my discovery home to begin

cooking and lighting candles for when

She would walk through the door

See no table for four

but only one for her and I

My dreams didn't come to fruition

Because I didn't pay the tuition

To the school of "Yes, you can

be a cook and a straight man"

which is a joke that is meant to be dry

Well the story ends sadly my friends

Like you really expected a different end

They took longer to make than the kind that you bake

and 245% more expensive won't fly

But what is the point of this story?

Should it have been told by Corrie?

No, it does have a purpose:

Women should serve us

because men suck at cooking; no lie

I lose

Today I played 18 holes of frisbee golf and 18 holes of regular golf, all in the Rocky Mountains. You have never thrown a disc until you have thrown it across a mountain stream. You have never hit a golf ball until you have hit it off a mountain tee box (I realize that both those statements are debateable, but this is my blog).
I played the best golf today that I have for months (+5 in disc, +6 in regular), but guess what? My brother and father-in-law also played the best they have for months, so I lost the bets.

I hate losing

I win

Molly and I leave for Colorado tomorrow night; hiking vacation with her family. On the day we get back from that, we head out for Arkansas.
Molly and I have good fun together. She beat me again at our garage-sale board game (Careers R by Parker Brothers) that we got for a dollar--that's a lot of money to pay for the consistent disappointment that it's brought me. I say the jokes on her, because I keep losing at the game that symbolizes life success, and she's my wife. Put that into real life, and WHO LOSES NOW?!?

I love winning.

Stephen takes the plunge

I have a lot of respect for this young man, as he is quickly surpassing me in athleticism. This
particular jump was about twenty feet and I thought made him look a little like spiderman.

Relax

Ahh, Sundays...

Following a refreshing morning at church, Molly (my wife) and I went to her parents house.
We are still there. The back door and front window are open, letting the wind outside create a soft jet stream through the house.
I fell asleep to a golf tournament (The HP Byron Nelson, fyi) and woke up to the closing moments of the Indianapolis 500. Now, all of my life I have made fun of the Indy and races like it, but after watching it I really think I should stop joking. Yes, I have a different, more serious perspective now: I should go to ESPN and protest the coverage. No, I'm kidding. I'm sure ESPN has a great reason for scheduling NASCAR events. Like maybe the Garden Plain Middle School's annual 6th grade Special Olympics for Turtles with disabilities (The GPMSA6GSOTD TM) got cancelled due to weather?

It's a beautiful day. Later I think I'll play a board game and eat some good food with my family.

Welcome

Hello, I'm glad you're here.
I don't know how you got here, but I do know how I got here:

Grade school story writer, high school newspaper "humor" columnist, and now, College Internet Blogger.


Wow, it's sad to see one's literary depreciation summed up in a series of three nouns; I guess we can't all get better over time.
It's not that blogging is trashy, it's just that grade school is a magical time for young writers (notice that I specify young grade school writers, as opposed to those who start their education later in life). It is ideal because when kids write stories about dragons and guns--or damsels and ponies--they don't believe they are making it up; it is absolutely real to them.
I miss that time in life. Unfortunately, now I'm grown up, educated, unmagical, etc. Now when I write a story about the gun-wielding dragon who rescues a damsel while riding a pony, I know it's not true. That could never happen in Kansas, because princesses live in England and dragons live in caves in the Netherlands--much too far away to make a sighting possible.

I got locked out of my first blog, http://says-ray.blogspot.com/. Blogspot said something about it being absolutely too funny and they were getting so many hits because of it that they had entirely too much income and needed me to stop posting...or maybe I messed up my login information. Anyway, if you want to read this blog's prologue, there you go.
Enjoy, peace out.