When Jim graduated, he found adjustment to the working world difficult.

It was a steamy Sunday night, and Jug, guzzling from a large Darwin stubby of tarblack bitter, was weaving by the chapel′s open door on the esplanade when the Lord shouted at the top of His Almighty lungs: “Jug Wilkins, it is required of you this night to be a juggernaut for God.”

If you are like that clueless 99% of humans, those I call “normaloids,” then let me suggest that you abandon this book and resume your pathetic, unthinking life!

But it wasn't till he was at Bethel that he began reading them in connection with all the old magazines they had there, and even a few of the anti-Witness books that managed to find their way into little obscure boxes and corners in the library.