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Most sensible people would probably concede, pay the ticket and try harder next time. Not me. Finally, Aug. 2 at 8:50 a.m., the charges were dismissed. I was a free man. But the way it happened was a bit intriguing.
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Boy it's hot outside. That's why I'm inside now. People keep talking about beating the heat. You've got to be kidding. You couldn't even beat the heat with a large frying pan. To avoid one silly cliché, I've decided to live by another — if you can't beat it, join it. Here's a short list of things to do to join the heat:
Start a fire — You can burn a lot faster, and burn a lot more for that matter. The folks at Woodstock 99 decided to light a few bonfires, loot shops and get really, really angry. Unfortunately, Willie Nelson escaped with few burns.
Bad things happen.
There's nothing anyone can do; they just happen. This past week, we saw our fair share of incidents. Nationally, a man whose life has been in a continual spotlight died in a plane crash. Locally, a young woman was found dead after being missing since July 4.
Tragedies strike at all times, mostly when least expected. There are numerous levels of tragedies, yet they all come back to one thing — loss. Losing something or someone can be devastating. But eventually, the void becomes a part of you, while you try fervently to concentrate on other things.
In today's society, there are two groups of people — ones who get paid to cut grass and ones who cut grass only because it's their duty to the country. Actually there's a third, smaller group of people, composed mostly of apartment dwellers, kids and travel agents. But they, too, have either had to cut the grass or will in the future.
Nomads have wandered through cities during the last two weeks, sold their goods and departed for lands of milk and honey.
They don't leave a trail, but their wares do – usually ashes, perhaps a foul-smelling odor but always a glowing experience.
Fireworks salespeople have rigorous lives. I recently caught up with one such seller, Smokin' Joe Romancandle. What follows is his normal day:
6 a.m. Wakes up, sings the "Star-Spangled Banner," eats a Pop-Tart and brushes his teeth.
From the Archive
People who use instant messenger services occasionally receive chat requests from people they don't have on their buddy list. Usually these messages are from random people or lost friends and mean no harm. Every once in awhile, though, a message will pop up from your IM stalker.
Just in case, you might want to start stashing a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in your freezer. For now, the U.S. courts denied Smuckers a patent on its PB&J pastries, but you never know what will happen the next time out.
This might be too grandiose of an idea, but I thought
I would try to explain the U.S. vs. Microsoft case in
one tiny column. So if you have been following the case
closely and do not need an explanation, feel free to
take this opportunity to play the
Lucky Dollars game.
For those of you still with me (I hope it's at least
After tallying the results of my informal questionnaire two weeks ago, I stumbled onto some startling results.
People actually read my column!
I certainly had High Hopes for writing more on this website last year. I suppose it's easiest to blame it on the pandemic, but that wouldn't be completely accurate.