Early reporting network about Mercury Madness?
At the movies:
What’s wrong with most chain movies theaters? That’s an obvious point. But as a counter-point, one local place that I know of has interesting trailers, and the real movie will sometimes start at the stated time. Weird idea, I’m sure. It’ll never be a commercial success.
Trends:
My site, how you probably got here the first time, it’s the backbone. Provides this framework for the “web log called Xenon.” The site’s been through a number of changes, but there are proto-blog efforts duly recorded, and the weekly audio update is well into its second year, which, by extension and analysis, makes this place look like a very-forward trend-setting site.
More on Mercury:
Family story, along the lines of oral history? I was going to save this one because it perfectly illustrated a communications problem, and it also about how facts getting mutilated over time, and how recorded history, truth and its weird cousin fiction, how all that works.
The story is about an aunt of mine. A large woman of epic proportions, and epic sense of family, and an epic family, too. The story, after several years, was all about how she rolled her car into a ditch, late at night. Specific brand of vehicle, along with specific model.
What had happened, her youngest child was commuting from points east to someplace in the south, for college. About 60 miles from home, his vehicle had started to burn oil.
“Cracked a ring, broken, I think, or just leaking really bad.”
Cracked piston ring to a rolled vehicle in bar ditch? I’m failing to see the connection.
“Had to stop every 10 miles and put in a quart of oil, that’s all.”
Now, the truth in the story? He did pull the heads on the motor in a single weekend, got the rings fixed (i.e., new piston rings, hone the cylinders, new gaskets, reseat the parts and so on), and slapped the motor back together in less than 48 hours. Engineer, you know? So he did get it up and running again. But it wasn’t roadside surgery, and no car was ever in the ditch.
Family lore is like that.
Different aunt passed over yesterday morning. I’m not sure about the details. It’s not what triggered this train of thought, though. However, the notice did spook me a little.
Not at the movies:
I decided, at the last minute, to go ahead and brave a walk even though it looked like rain. I asked the mail person if it was going to rain.
“Nah, just a little thunder, won’t rain, been like this all week.”
As I was rounding the corner on the way to Sandy’s, for the Thursday special, a really brief squall pelted me. For a moment, it felt like it was cool out. Rain stopped before I even finished my burger.
On the way home, I noticed a spot in the creek that had been cleared. In pool, hanging out by a log, there was a gang of little bass. I forgot whatever was on my mind, and the game was afoot:
Cherhcez les poissons:
Bass, the fish that loves to fight. Got three of them smaller ones, then a couple of slightly larger fellers:
