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...
This is how I know I’m getting older: One day last week the fellas at work and I were getting ready to break for lunch, and the subject briefly came up. If you could have any superpower in the world, what would it be?
I’m not interested in flying anymore. What I want, in terms of superpowers, is very simple: I want to single out one car at a time, and it’s okay with me if it has to be within fifty feet or so…I want to be able to point at it…and instantly jam any and all sound-producing electronic devices within that car into complete silence.
“Wesley” (not his real name) sarcastically intoned that maybe I’d like to wave a magic wand and wish little kids off my lawn, too. That’s Wes for you, he likes to sarcastically intone things. I’ll get there, I’m sure. But for now, that’s all the superpower I want. Point at something, and suddenly, from that direction only, there is silence. Not just with the mind-numbing “boom boom boom” coming from convertibles with the tops down, but television sets too. I don’t even wish to thwart the will of anybody else, necessarily. I’m referring to commercials that cut in on the program I, myself, chose to watch. Ever have that happen? Like, you crank the volume up to about 60 or 70 so you can hear what people are saying — I dunno, maybe, revealing the “real killer” during a thriller/mystery — and some ass comes on and spends thirty seconds bludgeoning you into coming down to his used car lot at MAXIMUM volume.
As in…the walls shake.
Here you are, getting a migraine and/or giving one to your neighbors, listening to some dickhead from whom you didn’t want to hear in the first place.
As I get older, I get more sensitive to this. I don’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with these foot-long gray hairs coming out of my ears. Or, maybe my age is only part of the problem; maybe it’s environmental. Maybe the signals really are getting louder. Cars, radio, television.
Waitaminnit — kids aren’t electronic, are they. No. So, we don’t want my superpower to have anything to do with electronic devices. Just noise. Like, I’m the Invisible Girl, just not as good-looking, and I can throw down a “cone of silence” on things. Not block bullets, not project force fields, not turn myself invisible. Just throw that sound-proof bubble around one thing or another. That’s all. I’d give up immortality, immunity, rapid healing, super-strength, all that just to wave my hand at something and — poof.
It’d be great. One thing, though…rapidity would be key. I don’t want it to be like waiting for a badly fragmented computer to boot up. I’d want to stop people in mid-syllable; I get those migraines pretty quick. And I’d want to be conspicuous. None of that “Bewitched” nose-twitching thing. The boom-box or car or whelp makes noise, Morgan waves his hand, and — we can get back to the conversation we were having.
Ever do that with your car radio? I’m sure everyone has. The guy comes on, gives you the phone number at super-speed…does it again…does it a third time…does it a fourth time…gets ready to do it yet again and you mutter “aw, shaddap” and snap the thing off. It’s a great feeling. You can’t help but fantasize that the radio people are choosing that exact instant to monitor who’s listening and noticing that you chose that exact instant to tune out, and ultimately decided to fire whoever was responsible. Yes, it’s a highly unlikely and extravagant daydream. But I’m not the first person who ever had it, and I’m sure I’m not the last.
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Morgan, buddy, I now have absolutely no doubt:
You could be my brother.
I have the excact same fantasy. Ok, maybe not excact. But it’s darned close. Since I know it’s a fantasy and will never really happen, mine involves a shoulder-fired rocket launcher. 😉
But yours is probably ultimately better. Nobody actually dies. That’s the one drawback of mine, and it’s a pretty big one, I must admit.
As long as it’s conspicuous and instant, I’m in with you.
BOOM CAR + Flourish from my arm(s) = Shut the F*** up!
- philmon | 09/24/2007 @ 22:02[…] I gotta learn to keep my mouth shut. For years, in these pages I have been bitching away about loud teevee commercials. And now, I am to let not my brow be troubled, because Congress will […]
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