Metaphors, Nightmares, Trucks at the Packing Plant

(Whenever my wife reads one of my pieces and says, “I’m not sure you should post this one — people may not know you’re kidding around,” I realize I may have hit for extra bases, perhaps even put one out of the park. Then again, it’s likely that I never left the locker room. Let’s begin.)

I imagine myself as somewhat similar to one of those Chilean miners, emerging above ground after being trapped in a pitch-black tunnel.

At last, I inhale fresh air; the light stuns me. Continue reading

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Cheetahs, Tacos, A Search For The Divine

I chat with my 6-year-old grandson, Bodhi Valhalla King, as we examine a “cruise ship” he constructs with short lengths of 1×2 pine.

We eat triple cream Brie with spoons. It’s 3 p.m., and I’m deep into another major league 70/30 vodka tonic; Bo sips a blend of sparkling water and Italian lime juice, on the rocks.

I respond to his question about the bite pressure of the cheetah.

“I don’t know the answer,” I say. “We’ll have to look it up.”

“God knows the answer,” says Bo. “God knows everything. He doesn’t have to look anything up.”

What is an Epicurean to do? Even one who picks Voltaire’s pocket, thinking that doubt is uncomfortable, but certainty absurd. Continue reading

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Buy Your Tickets Now, Blockbuster Pending

I fritter away precious hours dog paddling through the murk in the Web Swamp, checking out You Tube videos featuring performances by the young Lennon Sisters, and examining black and white pornographic photos snapped in the late 19th and early 20thcenturies.

It’s a typical day to this point.

I watch the Lennon Sisters sing How Much is That Doggie in the Window, Zippedeedoodah, and Mockingbird Hill. I watch the Mockingbird Hill video three times.

“Tra-la-la tweedlee dee dee it gives me a thrill…”

At the third viewing I experience vague warmth in my nether region as memories bubble to my aged surface. Continue reading

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Live Forever — No Zombies Need Apply

According to a note in Harper’s Magazine, a study was done at Oxford to determine a date on which the number of dead people on Facebook might outnumber the Facers who remain somewhat alive — somewhat alive because, if you indulge in more than 30 minutes of social media time per day, it is questionable if you live fully.

Half alive, I go to Google and seek more info.

Sure enough, according to researchers laboring on the small isle whose residents once decimated and dominated countries and cultures around the globe, the number of dead people on Facebook will outnumber the living by 2070. If Facebook grows at its present rate, say the nerdy necromaniacs at the Oxford Internet Institute, Facebook could include at least 4.9 billion no-longer-here members by 2100. Continue reading

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