PayPal Questions

I have some questions about PayPal that I haven’t found answers to. Maybe someone can help me.

Most of the money converted from real dollars to PayPal funds isn’t withdrawn. When I sell things on eBay, I usually use the PayPal funds to buy other things rather than converting it back into dollars in my bank account. So, how much actual cash does PayPal have to have on hand in order to make the system work?

I’ve seen figures of $12 billion or more in transaction volumes performed on PayPal. But the real question is how much new money is being put into the system versus what is taken out. My sense of dealing with eBay and PayPal is that about 1/3 of what is added in a given year is taken out. This could be way off, but I tend to keep my PayPal money in PayPal for other transactions.

If this is true, then a couple of things:

1. PayPal is able to keep most of the cash converted to PayPal money.

2. What would keep PayPal executives or employees from just creating PayPal money and putting it into their own accounts to purchase whatever they desire?

3. PayPal is creating inflation by printing more money exactly the same way the Federal Reserve does.

4. How is PayPal regulated? Is it a bank? Credit Union?

I’m just wondering about this. Maybe someone can help me with some answers.

“There, but for the grace of God, goes John Bradford.”

In the middle of the 16th century, a Protestant, English roving chaplain named John Bradford had occasion to watch several criminals led to the gallows and executed. As the criminals were led up to the scaffold, Bradford uttered the famously quoted, albeit generically, saying. Bradford’s words are well known, but they are not well understood.

Without the God of the universe acting in particular on my own heart… Without Jehovah God opening my eyes to see the truth and opening my ears to hear and understand… Then I am like the disciples on the road to Emmaus. Who were blind, and although the Lord Jesus stood before them, walked the same dirt path, talked with them, even ate with them and discussed scripture with them, were unable to comprehend Him.

We are blind and stupid. We suppress the truth in unrighteousness. We are all criminals against God. We assert our own right to be like him, judging for ourselves what is right and wrong. We desire to be the determiner of our own destiny. We fight for the right to let our will be done. We are sinners. We deserve the gallows and much worse. There is no righteousness in us. It is filthy rags.

But, Christ opened my eyes, just like He opened the eyes of the disciples on that road. He changed me, revealed himself to me, and I in return could naught but bow my head and humbly submit to the King of Kings.

Without Him changing me in particular, I could never see Him. Once my eyes were opened I could not help but see Him. Without God’s particular grace towards me, I was lost. All that I am is because of His condescension towards me.

So you see… “There but for the grace of God goes Joe Graber.”

On January 31, 1555, John Bradford was burned at the stake as a heretic, in opposing the papacy, by the Roman Catholic Queen Mary. It was written that he endured the flame "as a fresh gale of wind in a hot summer's day, confirming by his death the truth of that doctrine he had so diligently and powerfully preached during his life."

I should note that William Bradford, who came to the New World aboard the Mayflower and was governor of that settlement for 30 years, was likely a relative of John Bradford.

Update: Upstairs Music

Ok! Ok! I couldn’t take it any more.

At 10:30 PM, I was trying to go to bed, but the beat of the music just went on and on. Finally, I got up, put on my jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. I put on my shoes and grabbed my stainless steel, 40 caliber, Taurus Millennium. I strode quickly and confidently outside. I almost couldn’t hear the music at first, but then when I got up the stairs and stood in front of the door. The beat was coming right through the door, and I hammered my fist against the door, the gun in my other.

The music instantly ceased. I waited impatiently. Finally, the door opened, and the little man stood before me. “Yes?”

“I’m from down stairs, and…well…we’re going to bed now.”

“Oh, we’ll turn it down.”

From behind him I hear, “Is it too loud?”

“We’ve been listening to it since 5 O’clock.”

“Ok”

“Thanks.”

Then, I went down and went to bed

-----------

I was thinking that I should apologize to them later… What do you think?

THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

Just a special little "thank you" to the homosexuals living in the apartment above us for playing their music really loud at certain times. Lord knows what sounds we'd hear if they didn't play the music. Ewww!

Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves. Know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates? But I trust that ye shall know that we are not reprobates. Now I pray to God that ye do no evil; not that we should appear approved, but that ye should do that which is honest, though we be as reprobates. For we can do nothing against the truth, but for the truth.
(2Co 13:5-8)

It is much easier, and much more appealing to our humanity to portray the appearance of something rather than create the true. For instance it is much easier to portray substance, either in business or personally than it is to create real substance. It is often much easier to give the appearance of knowledge or skills than it is to actually develop such skill or acquire such knowledge.

We went to a minor league sports game the other day, and the arena was posh with expertly designed decorations, exciting displays of fireworks and flame as well as all sorts of themed accoutrements. Before the game began, the setting was truly awe inspiring and gave a sense of magnificence. Unfortunately, the teams took the field, and we all quickly discovered that the home team was amateurish. They were severely beaten, pounded, rather rubble-ized. It was embarrassing. The truth took about 30 seconds to be discovered on the playing field.

We all attempt to generate appearances on a personal basis. We all, either consciously or sub-consciously, want others to think about us in a certain way. What way is it that you try to fool people about yourself? Most of us want others to believe that we are of the highest moral integrity. We want others to think that we are productive and generous. We want people to admire our wealth generation abilities, or perhaps our self control. There are a myriad of ways that we try to keep up appearances, as the British comedy television show lampoons so well.

Paul wrote to the Corinthians that we should pray to God that we would do no evil, not in order to keep up appearances but to be honest and live truthfully.

What is it that most children who are raised in the church and then leave say? They tired of the appearances, the hypocrites, the deception. We put on masks and become actors, but we don’t understand that everyone sees through it. It takes about 30 seconds of reality before everyone knows exactly who you are.

Roy Williams, the world’s leading advertising guru, says that my generation that the next want one thing…reality. We are disgusted with the hype, the flash, the perfect appearances. Give us reality. Maybe the church should listen. Glitz is out. Real is in.

Capitalism of the Socialists

I recently had the honor (hmph!) of covertly observing two men, one young and one old, conversing in a coffee shop.

The young man had a Verizon cell phone which he used several times during the hour or so I watched them. He had a brand new, top of the line HP laptop computer decorated with pretty stickers from coffee shops he frequents. He was wearing a suit coat and a dress shirt with terribly worn blue jeans. Birkenstocks adorned his mostly hidden feet. He had gelled his hair and took great pains to look a certain way with his necklace and $200 backpack computer case. The young man, a boy really, was reading Erich Fromm’s The Same Society published by Henry Holt and Company, Inc. He probably bought it from Barnes and Nobles. He was smoking Camels and drank tea made by the Lipton Company.

The older man, who left first, was using a sleek new Dell computer and wore a posh wind breaker. He wore a newer ball cap with some kind of symbol on it.

The young man noticed that the man had a socialist newspaper sitting next to him, and struck up a conversation. It turned out that they were both hard-core socialists who detested the modern capitalist state and all it represents. They opposed the war in Iraq and discussed what demonstrations they had been to. They discussed various socialist writers and lamented the demise of the socialist party in America.

Finally, the man said goodbye, packed his things, put on his Kenneth Cole sunglasses and made his way out of the coffee shop to his awaiting Subaru B9 Tribeca.

UPDATE!

We went to a professional sporting event last night, and, as truth is stranger than fiction, we ran into the older man from the coffee shop. This professed socialist critic of all that is capitalistic was scalping tickets in front of the stadium. He actually asked me to buy and then asked if I had tickets to sell. What a country! (Could I make this up?)

A Confederacy of Dunces

I recently finished reading John Kennedy Toole’s masterpiece, A Confederacy of Dunces. The comedy of the book is rivaled only by that in Catch 22, another all-time great novel.

I find myself identifying with the writer as he observes the asinine logic and twisted fates of those around him. Every character, Ignatius, Myrna Minkoff, Irene Reilly, the woman named Santa and the accidental police hero.

On a serious note, Ignatius does represent our personal duality of abhorrence and fascination with evil and moral turpitude. He loudly decries nudity, debauchery in every form, but he also partakes heavily in all of these. He is also propelled forward in life by an intense hatred towards Myrna Minkoff; yet he is oddly seeking her satisfaction. He detests the demon which he must feed.

The marriage of the Levy’s has degenerated to a battle of personal pleasures. Mrs. Levy adores bludgeoning her husband’s ego at every opportunity, and Mr. Levy retaliates by scorning and deserting her at every possibility. As usual the kids are caught in the middle as the parents battle for their affections.

The rollicking fun by which this story is unrolled is gut wrenching. Tears of laughter make the book difficult to read at times. Reading of the lumbering Ignatius in his half hotdog vender/ half pirate outfit pushing a paradise vending cart down the street , and the reaction of society women horrified at the sign “12 inches of paradise” taped to the front is just too much. Officer Mancuso’s daily disguises as he attempts to root out evil on the streets of New Orleans and his eventual relegation to a public restroom for weeks in search of a criminal is just tearful hilarity.

Ignatius’ filing system which he institutes at Levy pants is truly revolutionary. He was a man before his time!

Read the book. I guarantee you’ll love it.

I should note that the book was published 12 years after John Kennedy Toole’s death. Toole was depressed with his lack of literary success, and the book probably contains some of that depressed view of life, and he committed suicide at age 32. His mother pressed the book on Walker Percy for years, and he ended up championing its publication in 1980. Such a sad story.

Good People

The truth is that good people are hard to find. The further truth is that good people are impossible to find.

And Jesus said to him, Why do you call Me good? None is good except One, God.
(Luk 18:19)

Let me give you my list of proofs for the week:

1. I have used a printing company called 48 Hour Print (www.48hourprint.com) to print numerous, to numerous to list, publications. They used to do a pretty good job; however the last job (and the second from the last) was screwed up. I ordered the print job on March 1st because I needed it on the 8th for a show.

When I hadn’t received them on March 6th, I called and talked to a man who apologized. He said that he didn’t know why the job wasn’t printed yet because it was all ready. I should note that the place is called 48 Hour Print because they guarantee a 48 hour turn time. He promised me that they’d print the job that day and send it next day air on the 7th. I’d get it on the 8th. When I asked for his name so that I could talk to him in the future, he said that I could talk to any

So, it wasn’t here on the 8th. I called and talked to Laura at 48 Hour Print who told me the job hadn’t been printed (again…no reason), and that she had no evidence that I had even talked to someone on March 6th. She told me that the earliest I could get the printing was on March 13, after the show was over.

I’d be more than happy to post a response from 48 Hour Print; however, an apology is unacceptable. The job needed to be done, and the lies ensured that I didn’t make alternative plans. I guess at this point, everyone should know that this company lies to you, makes promises they don’t intend to keep, and dealing with them can seriously sabotage your business.

2. The following is a news article regarding a Christian Counseling center that our church has been distantly associated with.

March 7, 2006 - 6:25PM KALAMAZOO (NEWS 3) – New allegations are being levied against a Kalamazoo marriage counselor.

Steven Roskamp had his state license suspended in January after admitting having sexual contact with a patient during therapy sessions. Now, a second complaint has been filed against Roskamp, who worked at Desert Streams Christian Counseling. The new complaint, obtained by News 3 through a Freedom of Information request, outlines alleged relationships Roskamp had with two married women. Relationships that the state says amount to "negligence" and "incompetence."

Roskamp worked at Desert Streams for 14 years. He was fired last year after what the clinic's president calls "serious ethical and moral violations." In a statement, Doctor David Wagner says, "That one of our employees chose to disregard and violate all that Desert Streams stands for, grieves us deeply." Desert Streams notified the state and, in January, authorities suspended Roskamp's license.

The complaint says that between 2002 and 2004, Roskamp had sexual contact with a client. That they would "lie on top of each other" and that he would touch her, saying that he did so to "bring the strength of God as a male to female." A state investigator says the woman alleges that Roskamp also touched her more intimately.

Count two, filed recently, involves a second woman. The complaint says the client had a dual relationship with Roskamp - social and professional. The client admitted developing intimate feelings for the counselor and that Roskamp did not refer the client to another therapist. Sessions continued in which the therapist asked the alleged victim questions about her sex life and he suggested ways she could make herself more inviting.

Roskamp's license has been suspended temporarily. A state panel still must decide whether to revoke his license permanently.


A strong grasp of the total depravity of man is essential to understanding life. Without the work of the Holy Spirit in suppressing our sinfulness, we can do nothing but sin.
Thank God for His provision, and Christ’s righteousness.

1984

In The Napoleon of Notting Hill, GK Chesterton writes about a futuristic king who as a joke turns each suburb of London into its own country. The new countries adopt formalities, royalty and quickly come to arms with each other. Adam Wayne, the provost of Notting Hill is most dedicated to the new ways that the king has established, and he beats all the other suburbs as they battle to put a road through the small, poor suburb.

The end result is a severe patriotism, and a real improvement in the way of life for the citizens.

At the end of the book Wayne learns for the first time that the king had established the countries as a joke, but that Wayne had pursued the end result whole heartedly. Chesterton seems to wonder if God hasn’t created the world as some kind of joke that we take just way to seriously.

This book was written in 1904 and referred to a world 80 years later, or 1984. Later Chesterton gave a struggling young writer named Eric Blair an opportunity to publish his first essay in GK’s Weekly. Blair wrote under he pen name George Orwell, and later wrote a futuristic book entitled 1984.

Cartoons

Which is the greater: the man who ignores the child taunting him, or the man who becomes enraged over the taunting?

Which is the greater god: the god whose followers carve him out of wood, paint him, prop him up and then bow to him or the god who is self existent?

Which is the greater god: the god who must be defended at all cost or the god who needs no defense?


The recent publication of cartoons depicting the Prophet Muhammad in blasphemous situations and ways has created a simple yet effective test to observe the strength of the god being worshipped. There are throngs of Islamic people protesting and enraged in their zeal to defend the Prophet. When even just the dignity or the civility of the Prophet is questioned or impugned, the followers find it necessary to take up arms and lay down lives in defense of the beloved Mohammad.

My God is greater, much greater, than I, and He is much more capable of defending himself than I could ever hope to realize, and therefore, He is not in need of my defense. I may grieve or be annoyed with blasphemies such as “The Last Temptation of Christ” or other equally disgusting rot coming from the entertainment community, but I don’t have to take up arms. God will jealously protect His name, and doesn’t rely on my feebleness to protect it.

I am reminded of the Huns’ sacking of Rome nearly 1500 years ago. As Attila entered the city the heathens made haste to their temples to protect their gods, and were rightly ridiculed by the Christians. Why? Because…

ANY GOD IN NEED OF MY PROTECTION IS UNWORTHY OF MY DEVOTION!

I took a puff on my cigar and blew it up into the cool air of the library. I glanced out the window at the snowy, crowded street in front and turned intently to my long time friend. "Jerome, we've been friends for a long time."

"That's why I came to you Fin. I just don't know what else to do. I'm kinda at my whit's end. If one or even two of these had hit, but all this at once...I really need some help."

I watched him, and we sat in silence for a decade it seemed. "Jerry, that's what friends are for, to help each other out, you know." Another long pregnant pause filled the air.

"See here Jerry, what I really could use to get back on my feet is a car. I need transport in order to attend to a job.” He nervously darted his eyes around the room, and his fingers played concerto’s on the handles of the stiff wooden chair. “So what is old chum?”

I drew heavy on the cigar, and let the smoke gently escape my mouth as I stared at him. “Fin, I’d love to help you out. I have an extra car, actually two extras, but I can’t let you have either of them…”

“Oh, of course not, Jerry! I’d just borrow one for a week…maybe two.”

“Emm… As I was saying… The Fiat is not available since it technically doesn’t belong to me.”

“Doesn’t belong to you?! Jerry, I was with you when you bought it.” Fin’s face glowed red as he choked out the words.

“Fin, I promised the car to the salvage yard down the street when I’m done with it. I’m helping out that worthy institution by allowing them to have it when I am done and no longer have any use for the car.”

Finnigan just stared at me, but I had to attend to the ash. Finally, he quietly, and with great enunciation, said, “Do you feel some special satisfaction at giving them what is useless to you? That is quite a sacrifice.”

My head was down, and I was trying to relight the cigar when he spoke. I glared at him from over my glasses. “No. My real satisfaction is that I willed the other one, the Rolls, to them upon my death.”

“Doesn’t your son want it?”

“Of course, but I’m giving it to the business there at the end of the block. They’ve been good to me.”

“No your not, Jerry.”

“Not what?”

“Jerry, you’re not giving the car away. You’re stealing your son’s inheritance and giving that away.”

I ushered Fin out, and as I watched him walk away down the street I thought that some people can really be self centered.

The Man Who Was Thursday

I just finished reading G.K. Chesterton's "The Man Who Was Thursday", and as usual Chesterton is maddeningly funny in the story.

A young man, a recently recruited police detective, named Syme infiltrates the anarchist underground in Europe. There were seven members of the central committee led by an intimidating figure who went by the codename "Sunday." Each of the other members, invariably, used the names of the days of the week as undercover aliases. Syme took the position of Thursday.

In the end, it is eventually discovered that each and every member of the central committee is in fact a police detective bent of infiltrating the organization. The notion of an anarchist organization is actually antithetical and rather humorous in and of itself, but the process of getting to the point is hilarious. In the end it is found that Sunday himself is the police recruiter who sent them in pursuit of himself.

The story takes a wild turn as Sunday ends up being a metaphor for God and we are those who he recruits to pursue himself. Each man pursued Sunday alone; however, they were all pursuing him together.

Syme explains why each man must struggle, working out his own salvation:

So that each man fighting for order may be as brave and good a man as the dynamiter (referring to a nonexistent suicide bomber). So that the real lie of Satan may be flung back in the face of this blasphemer, so that by tears and torture we may earn the right to say to this man, “You lie!” No agonies can be too great to buy the right to say to this accuser, “We also have suffered.”

Dinner

We arrived for dinner at Shnauzers Bar and Grille in Schoolcraft at about 8:00 pm and consequently had to wait for a table. The only others waiting were a young family…obviously a mom, dad and two young boys, one in school and one not yet. We talked for a little while. Mom had just taken a really hard test for nursing school and they were going out to celebrate. They were all excited, and mom was glad to get her nose out of a book for the first time in a quite a while.

They were seated just shortly before us, and we we watched them celebrate. Dad was just a normal looking balding guy, prematurely, who just seemed sincere and responsible. He was just nice enough to not be weird. Mom was in her twenties or early thirties and was quite attractive even though it was obvious that she was a mother. The kids were fairly well behaved, but they were still boys.

While we watched, Jen, my wife, blurts out that we could pay for their meal. I don't reply, but I just mulled it over for a while as I watch them. Jen and I just split a small order of nachos, and while Jen had a large Blue Moon white wheat beer, I had a small Samuel Adams Cherry Wheat.

Our waiter, a young and slightly immature kid named Jamie who picked on the waitress Jamie constantly, came and asked us if we needed anything else. I asked him to do something for me on the sly, and pointed out the table real undercover like. I told him to bring me their bill and tell them nothing.

He brought it back, but said their waitress wants to know what and when to tell them. I reply that they should wait until the family is finished and then just tell them that it's all taken care of. I paid the bill and we left.

We returned the next day, and waitress who waited on the family the night before waited on us. She said they were astonished and didn't know what to think. They really couldn't believe it. I'll admit that I did feel some little bit of self satisfaction.

I thought later that this would be a great evangelism tool, but we prefer other less productive and cheaper evangelism systems.