Where did all the money go?

 

You work for years toiling for a paycheck every Friday to pay the bills, buy some food, and get your kids clothing and at the end of it all, where did all the money go?

We live in a capitalistic society where we make things that people buy and then throw away to buy more things we make. Consumerism is in our blood and we must have more.

Peer pressure to be as good or better than the Jones starts early. What brand of shoes are those? Where do you live? What do you drive? Where do your kids go to school?

There is the constant motivation to buy more and buy the latest to keep up. Advertising convinced you to throw away that old refrigerator for the latest and greatest model. The same was true with automobiles, cigarettes, fashion and technology has made it worse. The same with most every product you fill your house with.

Look around.

Does that phone in your hand any better than you last phone? Does it ring? Can you talk in it? Does it text better? Still you had to have it.

There are not as many Yard Sales in this neighborhood but the online Marketplace shows us what we clutter our lives with.

Seems we have way too many bicycles. Like children’s clothing, the kids outgrow their bikes and unless you can pass them on to the next brood, it is sent to Goodwill or put online to try and reap some of the original cost.

Autos seem to be frequent post in the Marketplace. Someone bought a mobile machine and ran it until the maintenance was more trouble than it was worth so posts it online and maybe someone else can make it run a little longer. It is better than the scrape yard or rusting on the side of the road.

Electronics.

Seems everything that isn’t plastic (and some that are) run on electricity. Lamps, hair dryers, curling irons and a myriad of items that are must have at the time of purchase only to be replaced or put in a drawer and forgotten.

Take a look in the kitchen. All the appliances that make our life easier come with a cost. Most of what fills your cabinets and countertops are not the first version for some inviting ad showed you a better way to cook a chicken or carve a roast or brew a cup of coffee and you bought it. Don’t check the drawers for all the spoons, ladles, strainers and assorted tools of culinary mischief one can buy and only use once.

Check out your garage.

How many screwdrivers do you need? How many hammers are enough? Was that your first lawnmower? Even if you are not a handyman or mechanic there will be drawers of tools that were necessary at the time or looked keen when going through the hardware toy store. These will most likely wind up in a landfill than a yard sale because everyone has them and your kids don’t want them for they have the new ones.

Entertainment certainly has cost us. The little 8” B&W TV has turned into a home entertainment center with surround sound, a screen the size of the Paramount Theater and speakers that cost as much as autos to give you that sound only movies can provide. Entertainment migrated from the simple vinyl record player to the digital world and along the way we replaced every component with the latest and greatest version of what we heard on our 3” car speaker. Who wants an 8-track player?

What about all this other stuff?

There are campers, trailer, sheds, lumber, boats, musical gear and even underwear.

Want to know where all the money goes?

How many shower curtains have you bought? How many sheets? How many pajamas? How many socks? How many tires? How many microwaves? How many cameras? How many razors? How many combs?

The list goes on and on until you realize, that’s life. We purchase items that are disposable (either by necessity or whim) and if we can recoup some of the cost, we post it online hoping one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

Do we ever consider the value of the item or it’s lifetime when we add to our cart? After the usefulness of this item we have selected and used for our enjoyment, could it be repurposed for another use?

It doesn’t matter to you. You have already spent the money, but the item maybe of value to another?

I know where my money went. I see some of it every day. I also have accounts of wasteful decisions and treasured purchases. Many items are no longer within reach but the memory of the finding and retrieving another’s creation to enjoy and possibly learn from was worth the price.

When they drop you in the ground, you won’t be worth a plug nickel so it doesn’t matter.

Except to those who must dispose of it.

Multi-Tasking Malfunction

 

Most days are a routine. Wake up at the same time. Put on the same clothing. Ride the same routes. Meet the same faces. Purchase the same items. Listen to the same shows. Eat the same food. Read the same social media. Play the same music. Go to bed at the same time.

Yesterday was different.

The day started cloudy and rainy. Not the atmosphere to drag out of bed and welcome the day.

Stumbling into the kitchen to make a cup of dirty water the temperature indicator didn’t show any reason to not crawl back under the covers.

The online weather report didn’t show any relief from a cold clammy day. The yard certainly needed the rain, but sunshine is what motivates me.

Back to listening to radio reviews of elected politicians acting like children and remembrances of burning down Tulsa. Climb under the covers and maybe this dream will end?

After scrolling the World Wide Web for something more interesting than death and anger mixed with naked women and car crashes, the weather report showed a possibility of a break where I could ride between the drops.

Eagerly I prepared for my adventure into what is now a wet world. Feeding the family their breakfast that was now brunch, I saddled up under a gray sky.

There was a mist in the air but I thought it would stop.

I was wrong.

I turned the shorter route as the heavens opened up upon me. For those in your metal mobile machines who can roll up the windows and wait out the rain in secure comfort, when riding two wheels you are at the mercy of nature. Like being in the rain at the beach, you get wet.

Upon return, I discarded the damp clothing for warmer and drier sweats.

The rest of the day seemed to follow the regular routine under cloudy skies. Put out the buffet; check the iPad for connection to WiFi and the world outside the fence.

This day seems to be the day that Facebook wants to post advertising on timelines. Every other third post was an advertisement that I wasn’t interested in or wanted to scroll through so I did the ‘delete’ ad process over and over and over again.

As it started to get darker, I rescind myself to the big house with the warmth and light and multiple electronics. The usual routine was to plug in the iPad to the laptop to recharge, and then select the Reverbnation site to play all my tones so I could stay at #1.

While that was going on, I started to fill the sink with water to wash the dirty dishes that have been sitting in there for a couple of days.

Next, go into the other room and turn on that computer. Put in a CD to play old familiar hits no one has ever heard and open Facebook.

Remember Facebook was barraging me with advertisements I did not want to see and I was frantic in stopping the flow of commercial commerce to disturb my visions of kittens and puppies and stimulating thoughts.

At some point in time with this adventure, I had to get up and pee.

On my way to the loo, there was a new sound. It was the sound of a river flowing. It was a river flowing from the kitchen into the dining room.

Yikes-a-rama!!!

I splashed into the kitchen and turned off the culprit of this disaster.

Now I could test out all the mops I had purchased as I waded through the flood. Splash, splash, splash, and splash I sloshed up water into a bucket as if fighting the Sorcerer’s Apprentice.

Opened the back door and broom out waves of what was intended to be a cleansing of the utensils necessary to prepare food but was now washing the countertops and cabinets.

After several gallons were tossed out into the rain that returned, I backed off from the stupidity I could not justify. For years there has been much water on these floors but this was my first time at being malfunction multi-tasking. I had prided myself at completing task without causing a disaster, but today was not my day.

Maybe this is a sign of what is to come or maybe this was just getting distracted with email or some video?

Sleep on it while we dry out.

Upgrade Please

 

So I kept getting this annoying message on one of my computers that my three browsers were no longer being supported. Some websites looked the same and others had the message of ‘Since you didn’t upgrade your system when we warned you months ago, you are getting the trash beta version without all the bells and whistles’. Oh the pathos of it all. It seems this computer was still running Kitty Cats and now the latest systems were Mountains.

I used to be the whiz kid with all the latest toys and the latest groovy gizmos and now I was shamed for falling behind. At one point I knew how to take this box apart and put it back together again but have now declined to the occasional email message and scrolling through political abhorrent language, inappropriate memes and the frequent selfie.

The thought of taking the box into the shop and let them do the simple download to upgrade, with the fear of something going wrong, I procrastinated.

The other computers worked fine so I put the inevitable off until, one day when I was bored.

Google/ Apple/ Download OS upgrade.

Page after page of Forums, Help advice, Blogs and even YouTube instructions appeared. The first YouTube video I opened was by some foreign voice taking a screen video and showing all the wrong approaches. Another video showed all the messages that will come up if you just tell the computer to upgrade.

I’ve upgraded systems since they were on floppy disk, but now everything is connected to the cloud. Double-checking with the Apple Help site, I bit the bullet.

Download file ZVX$1#&* to your hard drive.

First log onto Apple to let them know who you are with that secret handshake, then wait. And wait. It took about 20 minutes to download the compressed stuffed upgrade that will solve all my problems. Go to another computer and check the email to see if there was another message about prostrate cancer cures or secret discounts for seniors.

Ok, double click on the upgrade file and….

Log onto the computer and tell it you are the administrator with your secret code before it will accept the upgrade. I used to get messages all the time that someone from far away had decided I needed an upgrade and was doing just that and all I had to do is reboot. Who says Big Business isn’t looking out for you?

Now a message telling me how long it was going to take to complete the task and the famous timeline while the mouse pointer turned into a twirling baton. Time to have another drink and go back to the other email to see if those Russian girls responded.

Time moves slowly when you upgrade.

We all have upgraded. We’ve upgraded from that clunker car your uncle gave you to that sweet ride you have now. We’ve upgraded from the little black and white screen to the massive wall covering high definition we are glued to. We’ve upgraded from that little refrigerator with the ice trays that needed to be defrosted to the double door stainless steel closet for leftovers. We’ve upgraded from tie-dye to double-knit to gaudy flowered shirts to elastic sweats. We’ve upgraded from perms to hair coloring to hats.  Have you upgraded your marriage?

Ding! Times up!!

Not yet? The computer still needs to reboot to put everything in its proper place.

This is the REAL test. Will the old chips and motherboard accept the new high-test version of an operating system?

Ding!

User login password all looks good. Then the series of ‘Would you like to use the new features’ windows open for my quiz. No, I don’t want to talk to Siri or connect to my iPad or (none Apple) cell phone.

Finally the desktop appears and everything looks the same. The software alias on the dock seems to have a shadow now, but that is just bling. Open a few folders and check the sounds and seems normal.

Now to test the software?

Much of my software is ancient versions because they work fine and I don’t see any features in the upgrades that are worth the cost. Photoshop, Illustrator, Email, Google, Facebook (without the annoying message), Blogspot, Soundcloud, Reverbnation, Audacity, MSOffice (version 2008)…all seem to work. Excel seems a bit funky so I tried to open large files in Apple Numbers and that seems to work. I might need to resave files in that format?

My scanner didn’t seem to understand the connection anymore, so I took it to another computer (that also had the driver) and it still was lost. Went to the website (as we all do) to see if there was an upgrade to the driver. Rats! No such luck. There were a couple of solution suggestions that I tried and only got more annoying email than a connection to a perfectly good scanner.

I’ve got a printer/scanner/fax box I had to purchase in the last upgrade because the printer I had didn’t come with an upgrade (see a pattern?). It had been acting up recently but I don’t print much anymore, but why not try the scanner. A few trial and errors and eureka! The image appears above.

So instead of buying a new computer, I’ve moved this computer into the 21^st century. The thought of buying a new laptop with the new M1 chip has crossed my mind but all the stores are closed. Like most of my purchases I would like knowledgeable, reputable person who can answer my questions as I test it out before lying down my cash. To me, a computer is a big purchase item and if something goes wrong I want to be able to take it back and get it fixed (@ no charge). I’ll keep considering a fourth computer.

That is the story of converting my old operating system to an acceptable one for the world to not complain about. It doesn’t have the latest screen resolution to watch YouTube clips or the speediest processor for download streaming, but it holds up well enough.

No! I haven’t upgraded to Big Sur…. Yet

Parking

There was a report the other day about changing parking requirements on apartment construction that is going on everywhere. So I did a little research.

Seems there is suppose to be 1 parking spot for every 1,000 ft. of apartment space. I couldn’t find the city requirement and didn’t want to read all the studies, reports, committees, environmental testing and all the rest that goes into getting approval for building a three story high rise apartment, but here are some questions.

This is an old city. It was incorporated in 1742 and became an independent city after the recent unpleasantness. Factories and warehouses were built along the river and housing was constructed on the plateau above the water. Some lived above their business and parking was reserved for wagons. Some lived further away with bigger plots of land for parking carriages, wagons and horses. Row housing stacked on top of each other offered little space for livestock (the mobility of the day) except around back.

As automobiles appeared there was no place to park them. If there were room on the curb, one auto would take up the agreed border space in front of each address.  Public transportation of trolleys and later buses were the most popular method for downtown.

Then the highway system was built and everyone wanted to car to drive across the land. Suburbia struck with the white flight and tiny houses were popping up on old farmland. Part of the draw to the suburbs was driveways and garages. With all that parking space, families could buy more than one car.

Strip malls appeared along the highway system so people wouldn’t have to go downtown to the two department stores and search for a parking space. The malls were constructed on massive blacktops with white stripes to indicate parking spaces for all the customers. There might be a half-mile walk to the store but there was plenty of space for everyone. The problem was remembering where the car was parked?

Then the invention of the high-rise apartment/condo became a style. These were great for college dorms and no additional property were necessary to use than removal of one or two old buildings. The problem was where to park?

Some architects designed underground parking that would hopefully drain in the rain and have enough lighting for security. Other designs attached a multi-rise parking deck for the occupants. Having a space available to park would be another fee.

Back to where I started, when I read the city was considering fewer parking space be required for apartment building due to easy access to public transport and bike lanes, I wondered? Would there be fewer cars on the rode? Would fewer cars (and trucks) be purchased due to no space to park them?

On my little plot of land in one of the first suburbs there is space to park two small cars or one giant limo in front of my house. Unfortunately my neighbors have all purchased at least two cars and most now have a truck. Their mobile machines are scattered on both sides of the streets without room to squeeze in a pizza delivery or Amazon truck.

Maybe the city will allow me to rent out the space? 

Stimulating Thoughts

My family didn’t have a vast library of books when I was growing up. Of course there were Bibles. A Bible in every room. Everyone had a Bible. They would be dusted off on Sunday, and then put back on the shelf, never referenced. There were two or three around the house but nothing that caught my attention. No great novels or any pressure to read. The ‘Golden Books’ had big print, bright illustrations and simple stories.

I could be parked at the magazine rack when mom went to the grocery. I would look at the comic books but only saw them as a printed movie with little people in boxes. I never had any heroes or following of a style (until college and the ‘underground’ comics). I couldn’t figure out in a war which side would Superman fight on? Batman would drive wildly through the city streets with his boy muse wearing a black costume. Why wouldn’t he be pulled over by police? If his parents were worth $80 billion, why were they walking city streets at night to be shot by a mugger? 

There were a few magazines around. “Boy’s Life” (for scouting), “Life” (for the pictures) and “The Reader’s Digest”. Short stories were easy to read and put down.

In “The Reader’s Digest” was a section called ‘Stimulating Thoughts’. These were usually a short quote from a famous author or political leader. My mother would cut them out and put them on the refrigerator with magnets.

The one I remembered being repeated was “Silence if Golden, Speech is Silver”. I never heard any explanation of what that meant. I figured, to my kid brain, that children are to be seen and not heard. I didn’t get it silk-screened on a tee-shirt.

There were other quotations that everyone memorized.

 

Everyday in school, we all stood, placed our right hand over our hearts and pledged alliance to old glory.

 

Through the years, new ‘stimulating thoughts’ appeared on posters, plaques, license plates and even gravestones.

 

Some even show up on money.

 

After a year of diversity, global pandemic, climate change and probable destruction of humanity, I started thinning out those who only post snarky and vicious comments on social media.

Now logging on to the Internet presents me with photos of kittens and puppies and children and lots of ‘stimulating thoughts’. 

Genocide vs. Holocaust

 

Genocide is the deliberate killing of a large number of people from a particular nation or ethnic group with the aim of destroying that nation or group

 

Holocaust is destruction or slaughter on a mass scale, especially caused by fire or nuclear war.

 

Holocaust is the mass murder of Jewish people under the German Nazi regime during the period 1941–5. More than 6 million European Jews, as well as members of other persecuted groups such as Romani and gay people, were murdered at concentration camps such as Auschwitz.

 

Massacre an indiscriminate and brutal slaughter of people.

 

Slaughter is the killing of animals for food or trophy.

 

Butchery, carnage, murder, holocaust, slaying, destruction, extermination, liquidation, annihilation are all good descriptions of human behavior.

 

No matter what term you use. We (as a species) enjoy taking life from another.

 

Other neighbors of this blue marble will take another’s life for survival, but we (homo sapiens) do it for the joy of watching another die.

 

What possible belief would cause a line of people with weapon line up against another line of people with weapons and clash to do harm, mayhem and death to one another?

 

The newsreels present the daily body count and we wait for the social media videos of the carnage. It is just like a video game or the latest movie spectacular with explosions and flashes of light and quick takes of one angle to another then the sad crying over the body parts then turning to seek revenge. It is a never-ending battle.

 

Hunting and fishing are licensed and legal murder. If they can’t talk to you then it is acceptable to come across another who is doing you no harm and kill them. Put the trophy up on the wall.

 

So the daily news tells of mass murders and the public reaction is appalling. Light the candles, say the prayers and tomorrow will be another body count.

 

This is buffalo skulls collected to be used for fertilizer. We did this.

My People

 

I keep hearing this term in interviews. “My People are…” or “Our People have been…” and I wonder?

Who are “Your People”?

Most of these phrases seem to be about black injustice but they are also heard from what is defined as ‘white supremacist’ relating to their heritage.

So who are these people you associate with.

In my ongoing struggle to understand labels we place upon ourselves to indentify our individual persona, I ask who these people are?

If ‘Your People’ are oppressed people do we divided them into color or race or gender?

If ‘Your People’ symbolize the Black Lives Matters movement, then what of the brown or the red? They certainly have a record of oppression over the years.

If ‘Your People’ are suppressed, what about the Jews? They certainly haven’t been treated well through the centuries.

Who are ‘Your People’?

Are they black or brown or tan or female or male or bi or trans or queer or tall or short or redhead or blue eyed or left-handed or disabled or lawyers or doctors or hobos or sex workers or waste removers or CEO’s or Republicans or Democrats or Atheist or Catholics or firemen or firewomen or fireperson or taxi drivers or uber drivers or truck drivers or Army or Navy or Air Force or Marine or Space Force or renters or homeowners or incarcerated or intoxicated or married or divorced or single moms or mentally ill or obsessed with the pill or getting your shot or thinking you’re hot or digging in dirt or wearing t-shirts or walking your dog or liking eggnog or sleeping in bed or already dead?

Are ‘Your People’ Mister or Misses or Madams or Nanas or members of the club or living in a trailer park or playing softball with the company team or busing for tips or gathering around the nativity or praising the Statue of Liberty or buying a gun for your protection or researching deals for extended erections or dyeing your hair so no one can tell or splattered in smelly stuff so people won’t smell or laying in a hospital to receive your score or having a potato chip and then having some more?

Who are ‘My People’?

Hummmm?

I used to think ‘My People’ were family. Those who had the same last name and ate at the same dinner table were ‘My People’. There have been more with the same name that came before me so I guess they were all part of ‘My People’ as long as they were in the registry.

Beyond the bloodline, I must figure who I associate with?

I seem to tend to people who are creative. Writers and artist and musicians who express themselves in thought provoking words and visions and sounds seem to be ‘My People’.

I lean toward those who appreciate the dirt we walk on and speak kindly to other strangers. I gravitate to interesting conversations those open doors to new ideas and concepts. I enjoy the company of those who make me laugh. I cherish those who can sit silently with me.

Jury Duty

 

Have you ever had ‘jury duty’?

Probably have been called because it is part of being an American. Other than voting, being called to ‘jury duty’ is an inalienable right to be judged by a group of peers or those who is equal to another in abilities, qualifications, age, background, and social status.

A jury hears the evidence from the prosecution and the defense and then after being instructed by a judge to be impartial go into a room to deliberate.  

One will be elected foreman to count the votes of ‘yea’ or ‘nay’. If everyone agrees, the jury presents a verdict to the judge and can then dismissed and go home.

I’ve been called to ‘jury duty’ a couple of times.

Employers have to let you off work to serve ‘jury duty’. It is the law.

There are ways to get out of ‘jury duty’ but why not participate? Like voting, it doesn’t hurt and you feel better after your service to your country (or county or township).

The first time I got a notice for ‘jury duty’ my instructions were to go to the local courtroom waiting area where other inductees were to be seated and wait until called upon. The holding pen was a large room with lots of chairs and folks from every variation of society. There was no television but some old magazines to read to pass the time. This was before cell phones and WiFi.

The bailiff would be the master of ceremonies. We were all given numbers and a roll call was taken. Seems if you don’t show up for ‘jury duty’ you are in contempt of the court and are in big trouble.

Depending on the number of cases that day, a couple of dozen numbers were called and told to appear outside of a courtroom. Some officer of the law would single file show you to some seats to await the next step in this activity.

The court official calls out numbers and one by one we enter the jury box until all the chairs are filled. This is where the fun begins.

The two lawyers look at the potential audience to their performance and with little other than appearance decide to give thumbs up or thumbs down to you. You don’t apply for this job with a resume.

After the final dozen are settled upon the judge dismisses all the rest to go back to work or whatever they do. They still get paid for just showing up.

Yes, you get paid. I’m not sure that the payment was worth an enticement to attend the party, but lunches are free and you get to go home with pocket change.

Seems now a days, everyone is going to court. Acting badly or over indulging to become a public nuisance you get a ticket to appear at court or hauled away in the paddy wagon.

Courtrooms are spectacular examples of how much we give the law reverence. A bench upon a pedestal surrounded by flags and clerks who run about shuffling papers is at one end of the room. Two tables for the lawyers face the bench. The jury booth is to the side to equally watch all the action. It is the best seat in the house. Behind the lawyers is usually a fence and rows of pews for reporters, family members and people who are just bored and want to watch the judicial system in action.

When I was first called to step into the box for viewing, I figured I’d be rejected by my appearance. I was wrong. The little old housewife was rejected. The guy in the three-piece grey suit was rejected.

Finally there were twelve of us that the lawyers agreed could be the ‘peers’ of the defendant and the game was on.

The reason for us to be called was the ‘accusation’ that this black guy had raped this white girl. I kid you not. Why not start off at the top?

We didn’t know the guy. We didn’t know the girl. We didn’t know the lawyers (except for Michael Morechower, a flamboyant lawyer of the time).

So here is how it went as I remember.

The prosecutor brought the young woman to the stand. She wept her testimony of leaving a club to get some cigarettes and meeting this guy who persuaded her to get into his car and go behind a nearby theater to perform a sexual act and then go to his apartment to perform more sexual encounters until the next day when he took her back to the same location.

There were no other witnesses or testimony.

The defense did not call the defendant to the stand.

The two lawyers concluded their summation and the judge directed us into a jury room to deliberate. This is where it becomes interesting.

I don’t remember the genders or races of the dirty dozen, but we immediately had one who wanted to be the foreman and passed out slips for us all to vote ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on. Convict this guy we were just introduced to with a story told by another person we know nothing about with a couple of lawyers trying to persuade us to vote ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

However we choose won’t affect us. We walk out of the courtroom and back into our daily life. The contestants in this game could lose money, reputation, employment opportunity or imprisonment. ‘Jury duty’ is a survey that has life altering consequences.

Don’t remember any racial slurs or sexual innuendos but there was a definite air of conviction and quick conclusion to this ‘jury duty’ in the room.

The mind wanders to ‘what the chuck?’ and thumbs down on some schmock who messed up and got caught or a possible sexual predator that we can stop now with imprisonment.

The first vote was quick. Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Not Guilty.

The idea of a court case is to prove the defendant is guilty ‘without a doubt’.

I knew the area the girl had described. I had live a block away from where the incident was to allegedly happened. I had attended the club she talked about. I knew the neighborhood.

I also wondered the people she was with didn’t testify? They didn’t go looking for their friend? Was there a cigarette machine in the club?

I wondered if this fellow she met in the parking lot of a 7-11 didn’t threaten her with a weapon, why did she get in the car with him? Why did she continue to his apartment? Why did she wait later to report the ‘crime’?

The immediate reactions were a simple black guy vs white girl and he was guilty. Everyone just wanted to throw in the cards and move on.

My only question was if this was your daughter? What if that was your son?

We debated about the weather, the cramped room, being taken away from the normal routine to be worrying about two kids who ‘may’ or ‘may not’ committed a crime.

After several hours we took another count. Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Guilty, Not Guilty, Guilty, Not Guilty.

We went back to the judge to say we couldn’t decide and he sent up back to our room. Convincing 12 people to agree on anything is difficult, particularly when you have southern bias built in.

Finally the judge said we could leave for the night and come back in the morning and continue.

It was late for the buses and I didn’t have my bike so I asked if anyone was going west. Walking home at that hour was possible but not my first choice.

One of the jurors offered me a ride and we drove down the street where the alleged crime was committed. We didn’t discuss the case but both noted the location.

The next morning with coffee and doughnuts, we proceeded to take another count. Not Guilty, Guilty, Not Guilty, Not Guilty, Guilty, Not Guilty, Not Guilty, Not Guilty, Not Guilty, Not Guilty, Guilty, Not Guilty.

After an hour we all agreed. Not Guilty.

The judged thanked us for our service and we were released for another couple of years until our number came up again.

Don’t know what happened to the girl or the guy because the newspaper only publishes guilty verdicts.

I attended a jury duty request and was never picked. I attended a jury duty request where after the prosecutor presented their case, the judge excused the jury. When we were called back to the courtroom the judge apologized for our time since the prosecutor had not prepared and dismissed the charges.

Seems to be everything you do requires a lawyer. There is enough crime presented in the media with opinions instead of facts that any jury would have a difficult time to be objective with a verdict.

Best not to break the law to find out.

Eat The Dead

 

Why don’t we eat those who no longer live in their bodies?

We take live animals and slaughter them for their body parts to keep us alive, so why should we recycle the dead?

It would bring a new meaning to “We are having Aunt Ethel for dinner tonight”.

Instead we have these elaborate ceremonies of morning before we dispose of the body.

One thing is for certain. When we stop functioning as a living being, we’d best be put somewhere before we start to stink.

It seems we waste enough food but still go hungry. Why not add our body parts to the menu?

Do you ever ask the source of the liver on your plate when it is covered in onions. Fry it up and slap in on a roll and no one will avoid an additional order of fries.

Now while you are gagging on the ‘yuck’ factor of cannibalism, consider the starving children of the world. You pay tons of cash for planeloads of starches and processed foods while there is fresh meat to be had everyday.

If this idea were ever to take off (out of environmental foresight or survival necessary) an entire industry of preparation, cleaning, priming, praying and disposal of bodies would come to an end.

Think of the land saved for growth of forest instead of coffins and headstones. There would be no long line of black cars driving slowly to a hole in the ground. Tissues could be transitioned to toilet paper.

Those who have passed over (as they say) or gone to the great beyond can still be remembered.

A bit of Barese ragù, Bolognese, Neapolitan ragù, or Ragù alla salsiccia would make any meal mighty tasty served over rice or noodles. Served with a La Rioja Alta Vina Alberdi Reserva 2015 and your loved ones will be cherished for some time.

In the end, they will be recycled back into the land.

I, myself, have already signed the papers to have my carcass donated to science. Those folks in white lab coats and surgical mask (that are now so popular) can slice and dice to teach examples of what happens if you live this lifestyle. If they decide to put me on a spit for a weekend tailgate party is fine with me. I’m not going be needing it anymore.