New expectations.
But first, a word from our sponsor:
Civilization Ho!
It had to happen. Sooner or later. I’m sure I made note of this in a previous entry, but when I opened up the mail today, there was a key, and that meant the post box had a package. While it’s no means complete, I do have CD copies of a couple of the older Firesign Theater recordings now.
Which, unfortunately, added many minutes to my preparation to get out the door, as I had to clear some space on the little iPod, delete some songs, rip the three CDs, transfer the content over to the iPod, and then I was good to go.
Weird bit of personal history, one summer, I had a tape recorder on loan, with about three or four hours of the aforementioned Firesign Theater’s material. Three or four albums, maybe more. You know, famous for such titles as Don’t Crush that Dwarf, hand me the pliers, Waiting for the electrician or someone like him, and I think we’re all Bozos on this bus.
Look: Firesign Theater is not for everyone. In my mind, as I was hearing at all again after a many years, it sounded like an old radio program. One of the albums is only two cuts, and as an album, that made sense, labeled, “This side” and “The other side.” Loses something on CD, or worse, as digital music.
The content, as I was meandering along, I kept smiling, almost biting, almost deep, references that cut across more than one layer, from pop culture to literature, to history, it reminded me of certain authors I’ve read. It more than “spoken word,” but less than a video. Born in a time when video wasn’t yet a medium, still a small.
In conclusion:
I was digging along through the reefer log, and I kept getting new links to the web journal, and then there’s an expectation that goes with that kind of linking. Like, expecting a well-written and coherent post every day. If I could do that? I’d do it. but some days, it’s just not like that at all.
Either there’s not a lot going on, or that’s not a lot that I care to write about. Nothing that grips my attention.
I’ve consistently turned out a weekly column for over a decade now. Always fresh, no repeats. In the grander scheme, I don’t have to worry about a planet repeat for what, 26,000 years?
The problem is, even with the kind words and new inbound traffic, some days, there’s just not a lot to say.
One day last weekend, I stumbled into a demonstration and march of some sort. At first, I going to deal with the folks with certain degree of respect, as I watched several aged gentlemen, resplendent in dark purple sashes, parade along. I think one emblem flying from a flag had a cross and a sword.
Then I got to look at the rest of the banners – anti-abortion rally.
While I respect their organization, and while I respect their right to have a demonstration, I’m certainly uninterested in their cause. It’s not about apathy on my part, it’s about what should – and shouldn’t – be legislated.
There’s a very dark vein of humor that runs through this question, too, the very idea that a government can tell a woman what to do with her body, and how that’s, to me, just wrong. Not even ours to legislate, especially, considering that the “legislative body” is more male than female. I’m just surprised that more (rational) people don’t see it this way. Not ours (as males) to dictate.
But that’s my black humor, too. I never said I was right, just that it’s my way of seeing the question.
