My wish

 That every time a politician lies

an appendage falls off –

 

Gives a whole new meaning to stump speech.

 

Sir Isaac

 I’ve heard it said that if a common house fly lands on a giant cruise ship out in the ocean, the weight of the fly actually affects the ship.  It sits lower in the water and goes slower.

I put a letter in the mailbox just moments ago, and when walking back up to the house I noticed a small lizard hanging onto the stucco.  I immediately began to wonder if when I got back into the house, I would see the beer in my glass tilted just a little, you know, due to the weight of the lizard hanging on one side of the house.

Some say, the weight of the fly is so insignificant, that it cannot be calculated into the equation.  Others suggest, I have had too many beers and that I should use my powers of thought for good, instead of trying to develop a new Newtonian philosophy.

(See Newton – not Fig)

Replay

 “Hats are wasted on a man with no head.”

 

“They couldn’t find the artist, so they hung the painting.”

“In Mexico we have a word for sushi – bait.”

 

 

The Weather Channel

 The weather person makes their predictions based on current conditions, and the things they can see heading our way. 

I think the lizards already know.  From my desk chair I see them climbing on the front of the house, and up and around the window screens.   They play, they do their push-ups, and every now and then they’ll leap from branch to shrub, or from house to flowerpot, and back again.

Before the first crack of thunder they have all disappeared.  Not a single lizard can be seen.  They must know.  They either all know, or they communicate with each other very quickly and very well.

I expect it’s the same with crows.   They wake me up in the early morning, hollering back and forth, and splashing around in the bird bath.  During the day I see them hopping around the yard picking out, what to them, must be tasty treats, bits of this and that, and of course catching the slower lizards.  They forage for their meals and play and just like the lizards, before the first raindrop hits, they are nowhere to be seen.

So I guess my question is…

Is the weather person looking at something called a Doppler, or are they simply watching the lizards?

Ashtray WI

 It won’t turn up on a Google search, and Rand McNally has never been there, but it is a very real and vibrant place.  The name, a translation from the Blackfoot Indians, means ashtray.  Ashtray, Wisconsin has gift shops, but no post cards.  They have drug stores that still have soda fountains, where you can get a chocolate milkshake or a Cherry Coke for a quarter.

The Ashtray Hardware is run by Fred BB Miller.  As a young child growing up in Ashtray, Fred was stung 43 times by a freak bumble bee attack.  When it was clear that Fred was out of danger from dying from the stings, his school chums gave him the nickname of Bumble Bee.  As Fred grew into adulthood, his nickname became shortened to BB.  There is a wall plaque behind the cash register showing the newspaper clipping of Fred with 43 welts on his face.

There is one laundry on Main Street, next to Hops Chinese Restaurant, but don’t call expecting Linda to recite the daily specials, as some of their menu options have changed.  

Just outside of town is a Cracker Barrell with a Ford dealership expected to take over the property kitty-corner.  Ashtray Chevrolet, north of the Interstate had no comment when questioned about Ford moving so close to town.  

Beside its somewhat hidden location, the other oddity about Ashtray is they do not have any local government.  There is no Mayor, no Counsel members, and no Police Chief.  They do have an all-volunteer fire department.  All members had to buy their own walkie-talkies and equipment.  There is one firehouse, two trucks, one of which is almost all paid for.

Only one volunteer firefighter has ever been fired.  Ned Lariby, was asked to resign after hearing a rumor of a housing boom, panicked and jumped into Engine #1, and crashed it into the massive Oak tree in town. 

Note:

A Native American historian from Cambridge University has determined the translation of the Blackfoot word for ashtray, really indicates an urn, or funeral vessel and not an ashtray, as previously thought. 

 

 

 

More of a honk than a squeak.

 I am sitting in a chair out in some field.  On my lap is a clipboard with several sheets of paper.  I am writing something.

Off in the distance I see you walking towards me.  I keep writing but every now and then I look up to check on your progress.  You are getting closer.

As you walk past me you are close enough to glance down to see what I am writing.  At that exact moment I am writing down the time.  It is 6:57 am.

As I watch you get further and further away, I can only imagine you are wondering why I am sitting out here writing down the time.

I am still writing, and it is just under an hour when I notice a second gentleman walking along your same trajectory.  As it is not a well-worn path through this field, I can only assume he is following you, perhaps trying to catch up to you.

Again, as he passes, he looks down at my clipboard to see what it is I am writing.  It is at this point that I find it reasonable to assume people are curious, for both men have looked to see what I am writing.

I didn’t immediately notice it, but this person did not continue on.  He stopped directly in front of me and is still watching as I write this.  This, of course, makes me self-conscious and so I stop writing.

Seeing I am bothered by his presence, he turns and walks on.  Now I am wondering just how much of what I have written did he actually read.  If he read enough, he now knows he is heading in the proper direction to catch up with the first person, and he is now aware that the first person pasted my location at exactly 6:57 am.

Am I now an accomplice?  Simply by being out here in this field have I placed the first man in danger?  Not having been instructed by some second party to sit out here I doubt I am some pawn, or that I have been duped.  This location and time were of my own doing.  I discussed it with no one.

If this is some elaborate scheme, I wonder how good I would be at describing each of the men that passed me.  I doubt I’d do very well.  The only thing that sticks out in my mind, and it is because he stopped right in front of me, were the second man’s shoes.  They were very large, even oversized, red clown shoes, with yellow laces.  And they squeaked with each step.

zc

After Dark

 The thing about the dark isn’t the unknown or the strange noises.

It’s not about your imagination running wild or your heightened sense of danger.

No – wait, yes, it is.  It’s all those things.

 

Forget what I just said.

We are the intruders

 There is an entirely different reality taking place within my peripheral vision. The majority of the things I think I see get dismissed as imagined, and yet I know what I saw.  There are people walking by, there are spirits traveling without ever touching the ground.  If I didn’t ignore all of this activity I would be forever saying excuse me, pardon me, hey watch it.  I believe there is more to this place than gets explained by science.  Our realm of understanding has obvious limits.  We are not privy to everything taking place in all rooms at the same time, and I doubt it is a code we can break, although technology has come close.  The invention of the camera has, on some occasions, given shape to things unseen prior to viewing the photograph.  Sound recordings have stepped into that other world, if only briefly. It is us intruding on them.  Perhaps during those times, we are the ones passing at the edge of their reality.

City Walk

 My mind comes along on walks with me.  It doesn’t seem to matter where, it could be a stroll through town or a hike out in the country – no matter where, there it is thinking its thoughts, rambling on and on about something.

I really should have it on a leash.  It has been known to snag an idea and just run with it.  Eventually it will find its way back, but who knows what it has picked up along the way, and suddenly I find myself back at the car and can’t remember anything I’ve seen.

One of these times I’m going to leave it at home and just go by myself.

We Never Close

 Although not shunned from the herd I have removed myself from Facebook and all social media avenues.  For me life takes place elsewhere. 

This blog is the only door I have left open.  I have placed mental synapses along the shelves in every room and visitors are free to walk about, even after hours.  The door is never locked.

Some day I'm hoping to add soft background music with little virtual dishes of snacks here and there for your enjoyment.

Hindered, however, by my own technological ineptitude I must wait for assistance before accomplishing that.

You'll find no ropes or stanchions, no security guards or surveillance cameras. 

Enjoy your stay.  Wander as far back in time as you like.

I'll wait here.