You know how Republicans go out of their way to refer to the "Democrat" party? Right. And you know they do it just to be annoying, right? Kind of like school children taunting one another with crude variations on their names. Anyway, forget all that stuff about nouns and adjectives; that's not why they're wrong. They're merely juvenile. You call it the "Democratic Party" because that's its name. Calling it anything else, especially on purpose, is ignorant and childish and entirely worth of today's Republican party. Go read this piece: Names: What's wrong with the "Democrat Party" | The Economist:
'via Blog this'
Two Days in August
There wasn't much to do back in 2011; we all agree on that. Oh, there were malls and taxicabs and alcoholic drinks sold in cans at the corner store, but none of that was sufficient to quell our thirst for adventure. We stayed inside most days, back in 2011, just to hide our boredom from the rest of the world.
And then the Internet truck came. The Internet truck! We had heard of such a thing, but we had never experienced it, and not having experienced it, it was completely beyond our imagination. But here it was, in all of its yellow and blue glory, slowly -- brazenly, even -- driving down the center of the street. The exact center, right over the double yellow line. The local police looked on in awe, never even considering pulling the thing over (was that even possible?) to give it a ticket or a good talking-to. No, the Internet truck ambled on its way, more show than anything else, and we were all left to marvel.
Just as quickly as it arrived it was gone, but it had left in its wake a marvelous present: The Internet. Now, we could see the rest of the world -- or at least that portion of it that was presented to us -- from the comfort of our own bedrooms and offices and living rooms and verandas, or even from the local public library. There were movies, movies right there on the Internet, free to watch, free with the click of a button! There were things to buy, articles to read, and -- best of all, according to Martha -- pictures of cats!
Yes, 2011 turned out to be a wonderful year in the end, and all was not lost.
And then the Internet truck came. The Internet truck! We had heard of such a thing, but we had never experienced it, and not having experienced it, it was completely beyond our imagination. But here it was, in all of its yellow and blue glory, slowly -- brazenly, even -- driving down the center of the street. The exact center, right over the double yellow line. The local police looked on in awe, never even considering pulling the thing over (was that even possible?) to give it a ticket or a good talking-to. No, the Internet truck ambled on its way, more show than anything else, and we were all left to marvel.
Just as quickly as it arrived it was gone, but it had left in its wake a marvelous present: The Internet. Now, we could see the rest of the world -- or at least that portion of it that was presented to us -- from the comfort of our own bedrooms and offices and living rooms and verandas, or even from the local public library. There were movies, movies right there on the Internet, free to watch, free with the click of a button! There were things to buy, articles to read, and -- best of all, according to Martha -- pictures of cats!
Yes, 2011 turned out to be a wonderful year in the end, and all was not lost.
It was a test of brine, a burst of thyme
All eyes were on the eastern horizon, for some reason, and it was the perfect opportunity for someone like me to indulge in a little mischief. Pick the pockets of those hapless souls, perhaps... easy to do since not a one of them was looking my way. No, every single one of them had their eyes focused to the east, waiting for something. I had no idea what it was and I didn't care. I had my own problems, had my own crises to deal with, and it wasn't going to help things one bit to get involved in this.
"There it is!" somebody yelled. A few people pointed skyward, and any heads that weren't already swung to that inclination made the adjustment.
"I can't see it. Can't see a damn thing," muttered an older gentleman in front of me. I scanned the skies for a brief moment, thinking that I might see whatever it was and let him know where to look, or what to look for -- I still had no idea what this was all about -- but all I could see was the sky, a few meandering clouds, and nothing else. Somewhere, somebody in the crowd started strumming a guitar, started to sing "This Land Is Your Land."
Hippies, no doubt. Throwbacks to a time when people actually sang folks songs, actually knew who Woodie Guthrie was. I gave up my momentary sky scan, bailed on the old guy, and walked north, along the wall of people looking east. I might as well have been inspecting the troops.
"There it is!" somebody yelled. A few people pointed skyward, and any heads that weren't already swung to that inclination made the adjustment.
"I can't see it. Can't see a damn thing," muttered an older gentleman in front of me. I scanned the skies for a brief moment, thinking that I might see whatever it was and let him know where to look, or what to look for -- I still had no idea what this was all about -- but all I could see was the sky, a few meandering clouds, and nothing else. Somewhere, somebody in the crowd started strumming a guitar, started to sing "This Land Is Your Land."
Hippies, no doubt. Throwbacks to a time when people actually sang folks songs, actually knew who Woodie Guthrie was. I gave up my momentary sky scan, bailed on the old guy, and walked north, along the wall of people looking east. I might as well have been inspecting the troops.
As I passed behind a women in a long, flowing peasant dress, she stepped backwards, almost directly into my path. She scanned the ground around her for a moment and then spotted me.
"Excuse me, but I could use some help here. I dropped my... um... well, my opera glasses. Sort of a miniature binocular on a stick."
"Really?" I said. "Because I was walking up the path behind you and didn't hear anything hit the ground."
"Oh, no, I'm sure I dropped it. I was holding it in one hand and decided to take a look with my bare eyes to see if I could find anything, and that's when it tipped out of my hands and fell. It must be here somewhere..."
She continued to scan the ground as she talked. "Really, they should trim the grass once in a while. It would make things an awful lot... well, hello! Look what we have here!"
She bent over and retrieved the item in question, one pair of opera glasses, and held it up for me to see.
"If opera glasses fall in the woods," I asked, "does anyone hear them?"
"Probably not, especially if the woods are really fields of grass. But thank you for stopping, anyway!"
"No problem," I said. "But I do have a question for you. What is everyone looking for?"
"World peace," she said. "Either that or a flying saucer from Alpha Centauri. The Crab Nebula, maybe, or something like that. Most of them came to look for a UFO, but I came for a date."
I frowned involuntarily. Date? She wasn't with anyone, and I couldn't imagine a woman her age cruising the crowd for someone to pick up. But that could have been my own personal prejudice. I'm sure single people of all ages have to look somewhere, and a crowd of UFO-seekers was as likely a place as any to meet someone.
She saw my look and quickly explained herself. "He was supposed to meet me here. One of those online things. I figured the worst that would happen would be that I'd find myself on a windswept coastline enjoying the sun, and that's about what I'm doing."
UFOs. I suppose they might come swooping in over the Atlantic ocean, in formation, ready to do whatever it is that UFOs do, but I was heartened by the knowledge that so many people were here to greet them. Or tell them to go back home. It wasn't clear what anyone's purpose was, other than to scan the skies.
"Well, good luck to you, wind sweeping and all," I said. "And the same to you," she replied, and I resumed my journey. "...and miles to go before I sleep," I thought. Something like that. Robert Frost isn't my strong suit.
"Excuse me, but I could use some help here. I dropped my... um... well, my opera glasses. Sort of a miniature binocular on a stick."
"Really?" I said. "Because I was walking up the path behind you and didn't hear anything hit the ground."
"Oh, no, I'm sure I dropped it. I was holding it in one hand and decided to take a look with my bare eyes to see if I could find anything, and that's when it tipped out of my hands and fell. It must be here somewhere..."
She continued to scan the ground as she talked. "Really, they should trim the grass once in a while. It would make things an awful lot... well, hello! Look what we have here!"
She bent over and retrieved the item in question, one pair of opera glasses, and held it up for me to see.
"If opera glasses fall in the woods," I asked, "does anyone hear them?"
"Probably not, especially if the woods are really fields of grass. But thank you for stopping, anyway!"
"No problem," I said. "But I do have a question for you. What is everyone looking for?"
"World peace," she said. "Either that or a flying saucer from Alpha Centauri. The Crab Nebula, maybe, or something like that. Most of them came to look for a UFO, but I came for a date."
I frowned involuntarily. Date? She wasn't with anyone, and I couldn't imagine a woman her age cruising the crowd for someone to pick up. But that could have been my own personal prejudice. I'm sure single people of all ages have to look somewhere, and a crowd of UFO-seekers was as likely a place as any to meet someone.
She saw my look and quickly explained herself. "He was supposed to meet me here. One of those online things. I figured the worst that would happen would be that I'd find myself on a windswept coastline enjoying the sun, and that's about what I'm doing."
UFOs. I suppose they might come swooping in over the Atlantic ocean, in formation, ready to do whatever it is that UFOs do, but I was heartened by the knowledge that so many people were here to greet them. Or tell them to go back home. It wasn't clear what anyone's purpose was, other than to scan the skies.
"Well, good luck to you, wind sweeping and all," I said. "And the same to you," she replied, and I resumed my journey. "...and miles to go before I sleep," I thought. Something like that. Robert Frost isn't my strong suit.
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