There’s a red schoolhouse along Route 9 between Concord and Portsmouth. During the day four dark windows overlook an empty gravel parking lot with a yellow sign that reads, “Singles Dance Friday Night 8pm.” The dance has taken place for at least a hundred years, the townies say. Generations have depended on this place to […]
Update 2009: It cut off.
Is today’s world more visual than yesterday’s? Does TV, DVD, the internet, etc. make our current lives more visual than those of the past? What does visual mean? Don’t we see as much as ever? Eyes open 16 hours a day? Does it matter what we see? Is it about what we see, or how we perceive? Does this mean […]
Empathetic to the daily grind. Wait, there is no daily grind here. It’s school. Some people pretend there’s something difficult about being required to read and write, but they have it wrong. Reading and writing are two long-protected pillars of knowledge. Skills for the fortunate, and now we’re taking our turn in the never ending […]
There’s hope yet for that worn edge of life that trips us up from time to time. We slip down an extra stair and wonder if that’s really where we’re supposed to stay. Then someone comes along and lends a hand. Shows some compassion. Tells us what we’ve been wanting to hear. There’s a story […]
Update 2009: It cuts off.
I learned about a new reality show today in Civil Procedure called “jury selection.” It’s kind of like that old show, Survivor, where they vote people off the island except the elimination of contestants (potential jurors) is based on stereotypes and perceived biases that pertain mostly to race, religion, wealth, and employment. God bless zealous […]
Update 2009: It cuts off.
I’m going to stop writing on this blog for a while. There are other things I need to focus on. The pictures will continue to update, as will the homepage from time to time.
Chris has an 8am meeting with new clients at Pebble Beach, but he’s new in town and completely lost on the Monterey Peninsula. In the midst of his cursing and thrashing about within the cockpit of his car, he turned on the built in emergency phone system called OnStar. A woman’s voice came from nowhere, which startled Chris and caused him to veer off the road and into a mailbox.
“My name is Linda. Are you OK, Mr. Rogers??
Chris, mistaking Linda for the voice of God reprimanding him for all of the sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll he experimented with in college, started to cry.
“Please, Linda-God. Have mercy on my soul. I promise I’ll be good.?
“Mr. Rogers, this is OnStar. Look at your dashboard. See the OnStar button??
“Oh, hah. Yeah. While you’re on the phone, can you give me directions from wherever I am to the nearest hospital and then to Pebble Beach??
Inevitably, as often happens with these new fangled OnStar devices, Chris, despite following the directions exactly and making u-turns as instructed, found himself completely lost. In fact, he wasn’t just lost. He had come to rest in the Monterey Peninsula ghetto. Yes, there is such a thing.
So, no hospital. No golf. Probably, no new clients. And now he’s lost in the ghetto. Worse yet is that he just noticed that the no-flat tires on his Cadillac didn’t make it their guaranteed 50 miles.
I think it’s quite obvious what happens next. His car breaks down. He is forced to strip from his golf clothes and is beaten with his driver by a 12 year old.