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Pogamen comments/discussion. I will NOT approve comments on regular posts any longer. Thanks!

From Pogamen---Posted 7/15/12

What's in a name, anyway? pogamen - pog is NOT an acronym for 'power of God'.
POG. Here's an oldie, but still goodie...
My initials? My bologna has a first name, it's O... oh - that's the middle letter.
Everyone takes these things so literal these days - black and white, no gray area.
In the beginning, there was a Pee, an Oh, or Gee! Can you name that tune?
POG. A retail acronym for plan-o-gram.
POG. Play Omega's Game. The only game Omega has ever known is war.
POG. A children's game (no longer popular).
POG. A mentally challenging game that I created - Pendulum Over Gravity. Just as the Earth has gravitational forces, so does any subject/object/topic possess gravitational forces (gravity of the situation). This is loosely connected to the reason we blog, but not the reason for choosing to post as pogamen.
My 'name' choice is extremely relevant and meaningful to the overall blogsite theme and topic when the Overseer's definition is disclosed. With His help, I have reconstructed a small portion of a story He told me a few years ago.
Here's a little background about the individuals in His story, with fictional names -
Matt - a Police Detective that inherited all Missing Persons case files in his city, with additional duties to assist major crimes (anything more than misdemeanor) in his precinct. He was fast-tracking for the next promotion. Successful.
Carol - Matt's supportive wife. Worked an administrative job in Human Relations Department for private business.
Sariah - Matt and Carol's precious 4-year-old. She's happy, outgoing, energetic, all the things that mark a healthy, happy, creative child.
Overseer - that is His preferred title. In reality, He is our God. There's others. He's the One, but not the Only. That's not this story.
He - Overseer/God
Me - pogamen
This is His story -
'''''''''''''''''
Matt and Carol enjoyed a recreational morning before the alarm clock buzzed at 5am. Matt arose to take a shower and get dressed; Carol woke Sariah and went to the kitchen to start breakfast. When Matt got to the kitchen, Carol was cooking the bacon and Sariah was eating a bowl of cereal.
Sariah - 'Daddy, Mommy says I can't have my picture on the milk. She says to ask you why. How come Tammy got her picture taken? She doesn't even have a Mommy. You always say I'm a beautiful princess. Please, Daddy! Can I be next?'
Matt - 'What? No. You don't want your picture on a milk carton. That's not something I'm going to allow. Choose something else. I thought we were going to put the milk back in the refrigerator before it got warm? Look. It left little curls in my coffee.'
Carol - 'It's almost empty anyway. I left it out to remind myself to have you pick up some milk on the way home this evening. Sariah, get dressed and bring me your hair ribbons and brush.'
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Once Matt was in his car, he became Police Matt. Papa Matt and Honey Matt were left at the curb. 
Matt shouting - 'Oh dear God, Mother Mary, and Jesus H. Christ! Isn't it enough that I work all day long to look for these unfortunate people? Isn't it enough that my mind is consumed with worry for their safety?' He slammed his hand on the steering wheel to stress the punctuation for his questions. In silence, he came to a stop at the red light, observing traffic in all directions. He accelerated through the green light and again, shouting, 'Oh dear God, Mother Mary, and Jesus H. Christ! Is it really necessary? Do I have to invite these children into my home? At my kitchen table? In front of my daughter? While she's eating her breakfast? Must I see my daughter compete for space on a milk carton like it was a beauty pageant?' Each question mark, again, hand-slam to the wheel for accentuation. Just then, Matt heard a deep, masculine voice that completely filled his head, yet felt as if it happened between seconds - POG. That's what he heard, loud and clear - one word, POG.
Matt settled in at work. The day was filled with meetings, and his mind was on only one thing - what is the meaning of POG? He prepared to leave about 4pm. He got a text message from his wife - just one word - 'milk'. His morning tirade was a thing of the past, over, finished. He messaged back - OK.
Matt, standing in front of the milk case - 'Oh dear God, Mother Mary, and Jesus H. Christ!'
A man stops and asks Matt, 'Do you have a problem, Mister?'
Matt demanding - 'You work here, in the dairy department?'
The man says 'Yes, is there something I can help you with?'
Matt - 'Yes, you can go get the Manager. I want to show him what you've done. All of this milk is placed the wrong way!'
The man says, 'Mister, I am the Store Manager, and I am the person that stocked the milk backwards. You probably don't realize how expensive advertising really is. Take a look around. You can get a free litter scoop with this, or a free ice cream scoop with that. You can collect these points and redeem them for a trinket. Hardly anybody buys this until there's a BOGO Sale; then everyone wants a cart load. Now look at the milk again. It's the only advertising in the store that has any socially redeeming value whatsoever. I think that's backwards. I turned the milk around to help these people get more advertising bang for their bucks - a wall built with a missing child's face. You don't have to buy it to look at it. Read it. I feel really good about this; I'm even proud of myself for doing something about it. I'm going to make it store policy any time there's a child's picture on the milk cartons. After a long sigh, the Manager asked, 'What were you trying to tell me?'
Matt - 'Nothing. Carry on. Good job!' Matt stepped back, looked at the milk case, and thought, 'Oh dear God, Mother Mary, and Jesus H. Christ! What does all this mean?' He noticed all the variety in the milk case, something he was oblivious to until now. Then, he got an epiphany! POG! He took out his cell phone and speed dialed his wife...
Matt - 'Hi Hon. They're all out of our milk.'
Carol - 'That's strange.'
Matt - 'It's okay. There's plenty more where that came from. What do you want - plastic or glass?'
Carol - 'Is the plastic yellow or white?'
Matt - 'It makes a difference?'
Carol - 'Yes, but I don't have time right now to explain it. Do they have a half-gallon yellow plastic container of 2%?'
Matt - 'Hold on... No! What is going on here?'
Carol - 'It sounds like you're busy, too. Buy whatever they have and I'll pick some up tomorrow. Bye.'
''''''''''''''''''''''
Me - 'Huh. POG. Plastic or glass.'
Overseer - 'That's not the end of the story. I thought Matt could hear me. I thought we were having a two-way discussion.  When he accused his wife of leaving the milk out, I was apologizing for making her forget to put it back. I thought he was a prayerful man, always in his thoughts driven by rock-hard emotion, saying, 'Oh dear God, Mother Mary, and Jesus H. Christ!' But then, all he wanted to know was who the Mother F'er was that did this or that. I answered all of his questions. I'm the Mother F'er that inspired the milk carton ads. To paraphrase his words, I'm the Mother F'er who brought it to his daughter's attention. All along, I was agreeing with him. It shouldn't have to be this way, but it is. I'm the MF that was going to set his career on top. He heard only one word - POG. I mentioned it when I was talking about the cardboard bottle tops that came on glass bottles of milk. Every child had a toy if they had milk. I could understand Matt's complaints about having the ad in front of children, and I wouldn't have wanted missing children's pictures printed on pogs from glass bottles. Distasteful - it does not mix well with the rules for a game of pog. I let my feelings out a bit, I suppose, but that's all he heard - POG.'
Me - 'That's amazing, I've noticed something like that in a story I wrote.'
Overseer - 'I wanted to give you a happy ending story. That's the best I can do, considering the subject matter.'
Me - 'I'm ready to hear the rest of it whenever you're ready to tell it.'
Overseer - 'I don't want you to grow cold towards people over this stuff, but you must be careful not to put too much hope or trust with someone that can only hear their own thoughts.'
Me - 'I understand.'
Overseer - 'Now for the end of the story. It was, in fact, Tammy's picture on the milk carton.'
Me - [I dropped my cup of coffee.] 'I'm not cold over this, no matter how you look at it.'
Overseer - [A silent giggle like a bowl full of Jell-O.] 'Sariah was at her daycare playing in the yard. She wandered towards the fence and saw a little girl peeking into the yard. Sariah introduced herself and started talking about bits of everything. She asked the girl for her name. The girl said, 'Tammy.' Up until then, we thought the girl was mute, deaf, or in shock. It's the first word she is known to have spoken since her mother died a year earlier. She was taken by a stranger that lives next door to Sariah's daycare. Sariah couldn't read the name on the milk carton. We had pushed the limits with the abductor, and we were running out of time. We invested efforts to get the police dad to read the name and remember what his daughter said about Tammy...'
Me - 'Sometimes it works to just say it.'
Overseer - 'Game Over - Period.'
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As you can see, POG has multiple meanings. The 'power of God' resides in the second part of the word - 'Amen'.