Got You Under My Skin

Show open from the Pathway Studios

The hosts open the episode live from the Pathway Studios in Johnston Proper. A produced intro voiceover plays, then the hosts greet the audience and warm up with jokes about Facebook complaints and gas-station coffee.

Facebook complaints and gas-station coffee

A host riffs on Facebook as the source of all his complaints, then another host recounts buying an overpriced QuickTrip coffee. The group jokes about being unable to detect fine flavor distinctions in coffee, comparing it to scotch, cigars, and the bourbon world.

Mike's quest to become a bourbon drinker

Mike (addressed by name in the surrounding discussion) recounts, in a long comic story, trying to become a man who can drink bourbon without flinching after watching the TV show Justified. He describes a ten-minute consultation with a liquor-store clerk, buying a $5 mini bottle of Jack Daniel's, taking one sip at home, and giving up. The hosts roast him: his body rejects the poison, and TV makes drinking look cooler than it is.

Cowboy spurs, saloon fantasies, and a paper-bag bourbon plan

The bourbon bit continues: Boova (addressed as 'Bovo') offers to bring Mike smooth bourbon, and the group spins out cowboy fantasies involving saloon doors, spurs in San Antonio, and the movie Roadhouse. A participant offers Jägermeister instead. The plan settles on Boova delivering expensive bourbon in a paper bag while wearing a trench coat, and a Facebook poll: 'Should Mike drink good bourbon?'

Wisconsin company offers employees implanted microchips

• Would you get an RFID microchip implanted in your hand for workplace convenience?

Ben (addressed by name in the episode) reads a Washington Post story: Three Square Market, a Wisconsin vending-machine software company, is offering employees optional RFID chip implants between thumb and forefinger to open doors, pay for purchases, and log into computers. Boova (asked by name) calls it pointless — a badge and password do the same job — and the hosts doubt the 'no GPS tracking' claim. Nick Harris, an in-studio participant, pushes a deeper conspiracy: the chips are the start of DNA tampering and people 'playing the role of God.'

Nick Harris's conspiracy corner: DNA, cell phones, robot mosquitoes

Nick Harris expands his theory: implanted chips will have unknown long-term effects, like cell phones supposedly crippling users over time, and claims 'robot mosquitoes' are being released in California. The hosts push back hard — the hospital already has your blood, and a forced-vaccination robot mosquito is a different claim than anything in the news — while admitting they share his unease about people 'playing God.'

The robot-mosquito correction: Verily's sterile-mosquito program

Asked to produce a source, Nick Harris can't. Ben reads the actual story: Verily (a Google company) built an automated lab breeding infertile mosquitoes infected with the sterilizing Wolbachia bacteria, so females lay eggs that never hatch — a mosquito-eradication effort, not robot mosquitoes injecting serums. The hosts agree the biology-tampering itself is still 'playing God,' but note it bears no resemblance to the conspiracy version.

Passwords, concrete blocks, and the coffee man

The group debates whether typing passwords a hundred times a day makes office workers lazy compared to concrete laborers — landing on mutual respect and different wirings. Ben then shares his break-room philosophy: after years of fuming at whoever took the last coffee without brewing more, he decided 'I'm the coffee man' and just makes it himself, which simplified his life.

Chip comedy and the war on office bathroom fixtures

The microchip thread turns to comedy: the pompous chip-waver at the vending machine, the day the reader breaks and everyone's doing wax-on-wax-off at the door, and the janitor who rules during a power outage because he has hard keys. That opens a long riff on office bathrooms — automatic faucets and towel dispensers nobody can operate, a gushing sink fixed with a sticky note reading 'maintenance has been cold,' and Mike washing his hands in a caustic parts washer.

An Episcopal bishop tries to sell his church to townhouse developers

• Does a three-year suspension fit a bishop trying to sell his congregation's property without permission?

Ben reads the news: a disciplinary panel recommended suspending California bishop J. John Bruno for three years after he tried to sell St. James the Great in Newport Beach to a townhouse developer without the congregation's permission. The hosts argue the punishment doesn't fit the crime — 'you're gone' under job standards, God's standards, and 1 Corinthians 5 — and mock the panel's bureaucratic language about refraining 'from the exercise of the gifts of the ministry.'

The Chinese underground church laughs at us; the lawsuit hypothetical

• Should a church fight a large lawsuit for years or sell the building, pay it off, and get back to gospel work?

Mike brings a Francis Chan video: Chinese underground believers laughed out loud hearing how the American church works. The hosts connect it to the Bruno story — the church spends its energy on buildings and discipline panels instead of loving people. Ben then poses a hypothetical: if someone sued the church for $10 million over a parking-lot fall, would you fight it for three years or sell the building, pay the man, and go do gospel work? The consensus: every hour in court is an hour not spent telling someone about Jesus.

A new frame: how does the good news change the world?

• How does the good news of Jesus tangibly impact health care for a citizenry?
• How does the gospel change how we approach hot-button problems like immigration and abortion?

After a break, Ben (addressed by name) pitches a recurring series for the show: instead of debating politics, ask how the good news of Jesus tangibly changes real-world problems — health care, immigration, abortion, any issue. The gospel isn't just 'sit and wait for Jesus to return'; it changes how we see people and solve problems. He asks listeners to respond on Twitter or Facebook with tangible ways the gospel addresses health care, promising to compile and discuss the answers.

Dear LFTP: the son-in-law who orders like a king

• Our son-in-law orders the most expensive items whenever we take them out to dinner. Do we grin and bear it, or say something?

Mike (addressed by name just before reading) reads a Dear LFTP letter from parents bothered that their son-in-law Brody orders the most expensive item, drinks, an upgraded salad, and dessert whenever they take the couple out. The hosts debate hospitality versus being taken advantage of: be lavish when you offer, but you're not obligated to fund foolishness. They roleplay the confrontation ('if you were paying, would you order the same?'), read the 'Secular' answer (bringing it up won't be well received), and land on having the direct conversation — if you love him, tell him; a parent who won't say it doesn't love him.

Closing: Tim Timmons in Oskaloosa, Dan back from Zimbabwe

Closing banter: Boova's promised paper-bag bourbon delivery, his birthday bottle of Rebel Yell, and joking about low website traffic and mysterious Facebook page views. Announcements: Tim Timmons plays Oskaloosa on August 5 and the hosts plan to go; Dan Hudson returns next week from a trip to Zimbabwe, which should feed the new 'good news changes the world' conversation. Sign-off: 'Be faithful in the means. God will handle the ends.'