“The storm is here,” said the governor. Everyone looked out their windows and said, “Hey, he’s right!”
Bulletin, bulletin, bulletin! Bulletin, bulletin, bulletin! The sun did not come up this morning, huge cracks have appeared in the earth’s surface, and big rocks are falling out of the sky. Details twenty-five minutes from now on Action Central News, kids!
–George Carlin, Take-offs and Put-ons, 1967
First Harvey, now Irma. Leave it to a woman to be forced to pick up after a man, even though an unimaginable gulf exists between them. What else is new?
Speaking of news, we have embedded 42 reporters who are now reporting live from the hardest hit areas. You know where, right? The areas where everyone was ordered to evacuate. Luckily, reporters are not well known for listening to reason.
“Hey, boss. You know that hurricane that’s about to hit the mainland?”
All right. I admit it. I missed the July NWR deadline by an entire month. Did anyone miss me?
I think I hear Simon and Garfunkel playing “The Sounds of Silence.”
Talk about a frigid welcome – My readers weren’t the only entities giving me a cold shoulder recently. It was a record 80 degrees in Florida today. Any colder and I’ll be grabbing my coat.
Did you know I once lived in Houston, Texas? My daughter used to live in the area that Hurricane Harvey flooded. It’s notorious for that. She moved to Oklahoma, where it’s a lot safer. Now, she only has to worry about 2 mile wide tornadoes.
Harvey is going back into the gulf for another drink of water so he can pee on Houston some more. Who says mother nature isn’t vindictive?
What’s next? 80 degree weather in Yellow knife – in January? I wouldn’t put it past Earth to tilt on her axis so that Ecuador can take Antarctica’s place. There’s something just not right about having palm trees in Canada.
So now that I’m drinking soup…in August…in Florida…without air conditioning (because I hate it – no, the A/C, not the soup), I’ll tell you why I missed my deadline in July.
My work load doubled and August was on the calendar before I had a chance to enjoy July.
Before you ream me a new one just because I went from ½ time to ¾ time in the work force, I’ll remind you of a very important fact. I retired for 2 months and 8 of the longest days of my life waaaay back in December 2016. When I was asked to come back (my replacement didn’t work out) my boss asked, “How long do you want to work?”
I replied, “Until I die.”
So while you’re dreaming about gathering sand fleas on the seashore, my top priority is having enough money coming in to feed dogs and cats (they seem to expect that), eat, pay bills, and have something to do besides sit around waiting to die.
As a reminder that I have more than paid my dues in this club called life, when I was 15, this is how we sent text messages
You put the letter in an envelope and sent it out. In week or two, you received a reply. I guarantee it contained whole words written by people who were actually happy to hear from you.
This was my first computer — at the age of 34 during my 3rd year of college
If you went over 15 pages, the entire document disappeared, but it was better than the IBM selectric, where the “cut and paste” feature was an eraser and a bottle of liquid paper — if you were lucky. Otherwise, you had to type the entire page over again.
This was my first computer printer
Now I get to walk around seeing people talking into their Dick Tracy phones while they’re texting on their smart phone with a piece of plastic in their ear and another smart phone in their pocket in the rare event a call comes in from work.
It was envisioned by the author of Dick Tracy that one day the talking phone might be used for something that’s actually…useful, not chattering about how ridiculous Kardashians look in flip flops.
So…yes. I did miss my deadline. But if a deadline comes and goes – and nobody in the cyberforest is there to hear it fall — it obviously didn’t make an impact. Just to show you that I am capable of making a deadline when I’m supposed to, I’m publishing this 2 days early.
It just hit 77 degrees. Excuse me while I wander off to look for my coat.
I had so many ideas for a post, and I kept telling myself ‘I’ll write it soon, I’ll start it today, I’ll get it done’. What happened? Did some super urgent secret mission take me away from my plans? Was I abducted by aliens? Did some fantastical amazing event lead my astray? Nope. None of the above. I forgot. I will therefore perform self-flagellation in the form of this post. It’s my way of apology to you, the Nudge Wink community.
What was I saying? Oh yeah, Daleks! I recently posted about the appearance of a man taking his Dalek for a walk, and mentioned it was the fourth weirdest thing I’ve seen from the store window.
See, I didn’t make that up! And yes, it’s the fourth weirdest thing. I have seen weirder – or scarier, depending on your perspective. Don’t worry though, we have the Doctor!
Take that you stupid Dalek!
What might be stranger than a man taking his Dalek for a walk down the high street? Well, for one, there’s Snake Man! Not sadly, a man whose half-man, half-snake, but rather a man who was carrying some form of snake on his shoulders as he walked down the street. Quite what compelled him to take a snake for a walk, we will never know.
There’s the Shouter – we watched him go back and forth, over and over again, whilst hurling abuse at the local pub across the road. Quite what the pub had done to him, I don’t know. He is in fact one of several shouters – ranging from the harmless, to the ones that might be genuinely dangerous, which leads me on to the weirdest/scariest thing I’ve witnessed outside the store window – the Knife Idiots.
Yep, the other day a pair of… well, I can’t call them adults because their behaviour was anything but – a pair of creatures decided the sensible way to resolve their conflict was to stand outside the pub waving blades at each other whilst screaming obscenities. It lurched between being sadly amusing and downright terrifying – though the wave of the blades was half-hearted and it was all a display of pointless, desperate bravado. Hands up if you’re impressed by that…
The Dalek was smarter, and it was possibly an empty shell.
For the record, where I work is not actually a bad area, it just has miscreants, like anywhere would. It just seems that half of them enjoy displaying their strange or unruly behaviour outside my shop window.
It can be a struggle being a curmudgeon, but sometimes they make it awfully easy for me. Take for example the “news” story I recently read which implied that there was some consideration for making gaming an Olympic sport. To clarify, the term “gaming” does not refer to the games which already award medals to the best players/teams in a given sport. Sports such as handball, synchronized swimming and curling are already well established Olympic fare.
The gaming to which the article refers is the video form. In fairness, I should disclose that the “article” to which I am referring is barely more than click bait in its depth and quality. I scanned through two or three paragraphs worth. Someone from the gaming community was going to meet with someone from the Olympic community to talk about the possibility of gaming being recognized as an Olympic sport. It’s possible that this whole subject has been inflated just to rile up old coots like me.
As a kid, I looked up to my Olympic heroes. American athletes went up against villains with consonant-laden names from places like the Soviet Union and East Germany. They played sports that most of us only saw once every four years. Those two countries don’t even exist anymore and one of our old Olympic idols has recently gotten breast implants, a reality show and changed his name to Caitlyn. Excuse me if I get a little pissy that the Olympics may soon be giving out medals for having the high score for Donkey Kong.
Proponents of video games will contend that world champions have incredibly fast reflexes and dexterity. I don’t mean to brag, but I manage to guzzle 20 ounces of steaming coffee every morning, often while behind the wheel in New Jersey commuter traffic. I seldom spill (much of) it on my shirt. While I humbly admit that my reflexes and dexterity must be pretty damn good, I don’t need an award. Going through my workday without a giant brown stain down the front of my shirt is satisfaction enough.
The possibilities raise more questions than answers:
Will there eventually come a day when actual Olympic sports are replaced by their virtual counterparts?
How many times have we heard commentators remark about changing conditions on a ski slope or had asterisks next to finishing times because it was wind aided?
When was the last time you heard someone complain about divots on Wii Golf?
Will the perfection of the digital arenas take the place of the faulty state of the real world?
What’s the point of these questions?
How long will it take before the Uzbekistan team gets exposed for using cheat codes during their historic bronze medal performance in the “Grand Theft Auto – Chump City” consolation match against a tough Netherlands squad?
Perhaps the day will even come when it’s a novelty for athletes to compete on actual grass in actual weather in actual sports. Old farts like me will be long gone by then of course. I hope someone digs this gem out from the bowels of the internet and I get the credit I deserve for this spiffy bit of predicting. No need for a parade or anything, though a posthumous medal would be nice.
Ah. The big city. There’s no place like it, amirite?!
I’m currently working on a theory that seeks to explain the vast breadth of experiences found in the big city right down to the smallest nooks and crannies. I think I’ve found a model that does just that.
We decided to leave our house. We piled into the car. Seven turns and six miles later we were at Powell’s Books. We left our car in a truly frightening multi-level parking garage and made our way inside. An elevator whisked us up to the third floor. I shuffled over to the farthest corner and stood in front of books about architecture. I pretended to be interested. Suddenly, invading my space, someone crowded in. Yes, I was attempting to physically exist in the sole location in the Cosmos where they wanted to be. I was bad.
For those of you who missed me last month…you are all very sweet 🙂
And for those of you who didn’t – go take a hike, you’re banned for life!
(Sure hope there is more of the former and less of the latter).
OK, so I decided to take a impromptu break last month…(excuse me for a moment while I go take another break to look up what impromptu means…Ah yes, good, splendid, that makes sense, even if my sentences are borderline incohesive nonsense).
Now then, where was I? Yes, I decided to take a brief sabbatical to recharge my creative batteries and as it so happens, something came up in the news this week that brought into perspective what I thought I should be focus on for this article.