(Photo by Taitopia Render on Unsplash)
(not my actual office, but the aura of chaos is about right)
This blog exists for two unapologetic reasons.
- I like to write.
- I like it when people read what I write.
That alone should tell you more about me than any polite bio ever will.
Here you’ll find an irreverent, sometimes uncomfortable look at life and the tidy little rules we’ve invented to control it — rambling rants and riffs on education, media, politics, philosophy, theology, and all the messy intersections in between.
Consider this a brief note in advance: these articles may feel like you’re peeking into a mind working things out in real time. When I was younger, my search for definitive answers kept leading instead to more questions, which is, of course, how seeking knowledge usually works.
I wish I’d grasped that sooner. But that door only opens through a lot of time, some trial, and a great many errors.
What you’ll find here isn’t a roadmap, but the rambling notes of a wandering journeyman who’s finally at ease with the fact that learning never ends — no matter how many letters of achievement we tack onto the ends of our names.
I’m a retired associate professor with degrees in theology, so I’ve spent years questioning assumptions, examining sacred cows, and analyzing topics many people tend to avoid. Teaching has always come first, alongside research, administrative work, and community service.
My professional focus sits at the intersection of anthropology, culture, and modern communication. I’m interested in what we communicate, why we communicate the way we do, and how the tools we use to communicate shape those messages.
Before landing in academia, I ran through the media gauntlet: advertising, broadcasting, journalism, marketing, public relations, print, and writing. I’m a media guy with theology degrees. Apparently that’s a dangerous combination (so I’ve been told).
Consider this fair warning: you’re going to find some disturbingly interesting pieces here. If you like watching the bear get poked, stick around. You’ve got a ticket for a front-row seat.
If you’re a bear and I’ve unknowingly poked you, my apologies in advance. Sometimes it’s best to poke first and ask forgiveness later.
I like staying ahead of the curve.
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