Irene was the only little girl in her whole extended family, and everyone loved giving her girly gifts. Three of her uncles liked to give her certain gifts every birthday. Uncle John always gave her a flower, uncle Jack always gave her a box of candy, and uncle Jerry always gave her a hair ribbon. They always gave together, and in secret. The night before her birthday, the three would meet together in the dead of night with their presents, and together leave them on her doorstep. Irene would awake each birthday morning to find such presents, much to her delight. But she didn’t know who they were from and naturally assumed that it was one giver, not three.
As they coordinated the drop off each year, the conspirators would communicate, and they took to referring to themselves as “Flocanrib.” They would say things like “When is Flocanrib meeting next Tuesday?” and “Can Flocanrib do it again this year?”
When she was little, Irene thought of the source of her yearly presents as her birthday fairy “Presenty.” But later, she thought it must be a single human being – she imagined, a relative – still called, in her mind, “Presenty.” One day, when she was in high school, her birthday came, but the presents did not. They never resumed, and Irene still wondered who Presenty was; she was eager to thank this person. Continue reading »

The news came by state radio, state newspaper, and state television. Great Leader Kim Il-Sung had make a startling announcement.

“Melissa, you’re my only true love,” whispered the mother.
This time, the second and final part of our tale. (
Here’s a bit of fresh fiction, possibly part of a future paper or book some day. Of course, there is purpose behind the madness. (See 2.2.2
As I mentioned
As I finished my B.A. in Philosophy at Biola, I decided on graduate school, but only applied to some southern California schools. I think because of our church involvement – we were in a fairly close knit small Vineyard church plant – I didn’t want to move far.

A number of people are curious about my own views on the Trinity. My encyclopedia entry is studiously neutral, and like most philosophers I never expose more to enemy fire than is necessary. If the argument at hand doesn’t depend on claim X, I’m probably not going to mention X, even if I think X is true and important. This is more than bum-protection – though it is that; this kind of discipline helps discussions to proceed cleanly on topic, without distractions. And it keeps the posing and grandstanding to a minimum. Yet others can perceive this way of writing, understandably, as evasive.

