Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
American Digest: And I like this from "The Blog That Nobody Reads", because it is -- mostly -- about me. What can I say? I'm on an ego trip today. It won't last.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Dr. Melissa Clouthier: Morgan Freeberg at House of Eratosthenes (pftthats a mouthful) honors big boned women in skimpy clothing. The picture there is priceless--keep scrolling down.
Exile in Portales: Via Gerard: Morgan Freeberg, a guy with a lot to say. And he speaks The Truth...and it's fascinating stuff. Worth a read, or three. Or six.
Just Muttering: Two nice pieces at House of Eratosthenes, one about a perhaps unintended effect of the Enron mess, and one on the Gore-y environ-movie.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
The Virginian: I know this post will offend some people, but the author makes some good points.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
Speaking of hall monitors…I’ve been noticing this for awhile, out on the bike trails. In fact, last summer it happened to me again and CylarZ was right there next to me.
There is a certain type of walk-jogger out there. People say “all of so-and-so looks alike” — in this case it’s really true. It might be just one person following me around the county. Maybe a specter that’s haunting me. But, I think it’s multiple people who happen to resemble each other very closely…she’s in her fifties, give or take, has an awkward hair-do that isn’t feminine at all. Kind of like Lois Lane back in the Silver Age, or Hillary Clinton just after the Hillary-Healthcare debacle. She doesn’t seem to care about her appeal to the opposite sex, but has tanned her skin until it has the complexion of Naugahyde.
When normal people cross each other on a bike trail, they tend to make some sort of positive gesture to strangers. Kind of a “here we are, out here, huh?” sort of a thing. It’s just a continuation of something that’s been going on for hundreds of years…probably. This woman-specter, I notice, uses these fleeting few seconds to mumble some sort of rule at me.
Sometimes, it is an established rule that I have flouted deliberately because common sense dictated that an exception would be safer for all concerned. Other times, the rule is not so well established. On the one incident I cited above, it was about which side of the trail should be occupied by bicyclists vs. pedestrians, and it was doubly silly, because if Naugahyde-lady merely bothered to turn around and see what was approaching us, she would have realized the problem: Everybody has their own interpretation of the rules. In the end, if you’re on a bike or some other piece of equipment that can approach the 15 m.p.h. speed limit, and you see a thicker glut of pedestrians approaching, you just have to check your speed and then move about in whichever direction makes the best sense. It’s actually the dogma-driven adherents to “written” rules who make the situation more dangerous.
But, the mentality is remarkable. Would I use the few fleeting seconds of possible communication, between myself and a total stranger, to bring a rule to their attention? Oh definitely, I could see a scenario in which I might do that, or at least, consider doing that. But it would be an exceptional case.
These Naugahyde-Lois-Lane-haircut types seem to be embracing it as a way of life. And over the last decade or so, I have noticed the situation comes up more frequently. Also, that my breaking or following rules seems to have less and less to do with it.
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They all look alike to me….
I’m pretty sure it’s the permanent scowl/”shocked” eyes, and flared nostrils branded on their faces by muscle memory.
Not ONLY did they NOT get a pony on demand, but SOMEBODY ripped a beer and hard boiled eggs w/hot sauce fart, and got away with it, WITHOUT OWNERSHIP , at the tea party table with Barbie and Babar. It begins in grade school.
“You know, if you keep making that face, it’ll be frozen that way….”, no matter the ravage’s of time, elective surgery, obviously “uncomfortable” smile, or new “power” hairstyle.
But, you know, never judge a book by it’s demands that you NOT enjoy life better than the author could ever possibly imagine.
- CaptDMO | 07/17/2014 @ 08:56[…] you should listen to your Mom. Maybe your shrewish yard-duty teacher too. Hall monitors and those possessing the mentality, I’m not so sure about […]
- House of Eratosthenes | 08/03/2014 @ 09:04