Thursday, August 18, 2011

A Propos of Absolutely Nothing

According to, we are in the immediate path of a severe thunderstorm right now. Either that, or we are going to be assaulted by traffic lights from the sky.

But the power just flickered and with our utility of record that can only mean one thing: It is raining just outside Gdansk.

The power has had the unnatural propensity to cut out at the most bizarre hours. One reasonably expects something to go wrong during strong summer storms, blizzards, the occasional glancing remnant of a hurricane or St. Bastille day. But we've kept the lights on during all of the aforementioned while on a clear, warm afternoon in July, the damn thing cuts out for eight hours!

I should be training right now. Running a circuit in the park to give good account of myself next month (in a couple of weeks.) Severe storm warning is tonight's excuse. Monday was grocery shopping, Tuesday a late appointment, yesterday the lawn needed to be cut. So I'll do the race pushing a Toro at a brisk pace. Dare to pass and I'll narrow the competitive field, so to speak.

Who, and I mean WHO leaves comments on news stories? Is there a great under-employed horde of web surfers out there with nothing better to do than to comment on everything from current national politics to the local blueberry pie eating contest? And are they all gramatically challenged? This is just symbollic of the denigration of our forums of expression. In days past, if I had to listen to the poorly constructed, ill informed, prejudicial grammatical diarrea of a complete boor, I could at least fall back on the cocktail party it was being presented at.

I was going to write a post in the style of a letter from God. What with the storm approaching and indeed here now, I thought I could slide in a couple of good ones about not assuming a storm signalling My anger. That in fact, if you listened to all I listen to in a day, you'd get this kind of manifestation of irritable bowel. But I was also going to slide in a couple of notes about not listening to anyone who claimed they knew God's intent or spoke God's word. That God really manifested Himself in other ways, like in a rainbow that a child is awed by, or a kitten, or in a sunset that inspires an old man to return to his ailing wife and comfort her last hours. Then, in a reflexive philosophical jerk, I realized that "God" was going to advise you not to listen to me.

I hate when I'm that deep. Thank goodness I don't comment on news posts.

Bunny on.


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