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Over the River …

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I had to get from my home in New Brighton to an appointment in Brooklyn Center and I didn’t have a car. Fortunately, yesterday was a gorgeous spring day and the prospect of being outside my little glass and steel box for the journey was both energizing and worrisome.

My concern had to do with the natural and man-made obstacles.

When I make this trip by car, it requires less than fifteen minutes of high speed travel on a busy Interstate Highway (694) and State Highway (100) and is as charmless as any metropolitan errand you’re likely to run, with the exception of the expansive view you get of beautiful Fridley as you head west over the hill just past Silver Lake Road. What you might also notice if you could spend some time studying that view is the Mississippi River and several major north-south thoroughfares running on either side of it – University Avenue to the east and I-94 to the west. Another barrier to east-west progress: the massive rail yards that stretch for miles from 694 south to 26th Street in Minneapolis. Looking at all those tracks on the map, I was reminded of a biology textbook close-up of the fibers of a major muscle. Figuring out how to get my little out-of-tune bicycle over all of that was daunting. At the very least I expected a harrowing ride with a close up view of a lot of stuff I’d rather not see.

But guess what? It was fun!

The first revelation was that Google maps has a bicycle icon in the “get directions” window that instantly plotted my trip for two wheels instead of four, giving me a bike-friendly path through the thicket. The eight mile trip I expected to take on busy, unfriendly streets became one that was largely taken on bike paths through some beautiful and interesting scenery. It really didn’t bother me that one-way, the journey took an hour.

Bike path skirting Columbia Golf Course in Minneapolis

Columbia Golf Course offers one of the more vertical rounds of golf you’ll play in the Twin Cities. The bike path around it also has some hills, so expect wind in your hair on the down slope and aching thighs going up. It was sunny and peaceful there yesterday afternoon with all the signs of summer on the way, including sunbathers, dogs and Frisbees.

One railroad crossing out of the way, with about 50 to go

Ah, the smell of creosote in the April sunshine! I love trains, especially when I can cross over or under them. This bridge was right alongside the golf course and reminded me that wood was once the only thing we had to hold up trains at crossings like this. It takes a lot of bracing to make this work!

Downtown through the railing of the bridge that got me safely over University Avenue

The interesting railing on this bridge was a surprising and welcome flourish, especially since it was in such an industrial area. With all the obstacles, I saw that this trip was quickly becoming a bridge tour, and I was happy to not be worrying about dodging the semi-trailers down below.

Glad I didn't have to wait for this train to pass!

The next bridge took me over the larger section of rail yards and was a relic – rusty iron and, on the walkway at least, crumbling concrete. Fortunately the rubble in the cars below came from elsewhere. At least I hope it did. One or two more loads of cement removed from this structure and there’d be nothing left to hold it up. The signs said “Walk Bikes Across Bridge” and I obeyed because I’m a habitual rule follower and I didn’t want to topple over the edge.

The Camden Bridge over a swollen Mississippi also took me over I-94

On the east side of the river I entered North Mississippi Regional Park, which I had never visited before. You can’t see it from the freeway but it stretches from the Camden Bridge up to I-694, and was the most surprising revelation of the trip. There’s a lot to see in here. I’ll be back!

Shingle Creek heads for the river

It doesn’t get as much publicity as Minnehaha, but Shingle Creek runs through northwest Minneapolis and gives the neighborhood its name. It has a waterfall too. You can get close from the bike path, and then follow it down to the Mississippi.

When have you enjoyed the journey more than the destination?

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Please Don’t Touch the Displays

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Today, officials at NASA will announce which three American museums will receive the decommissioned space shuttles Discovery, Atlantis and Endeavour. NASA is also giving away the shuttle prototype Enterprise, which is a test craft that never left the atmosphere so technically it’s a Thin Air Shuttle.

Museum exhibit looking for a place to land

If you run a museum that features things that fly, getting one of these babies would be a real coup. It would also bring a hefty financial obligation, since the cost of preparing a shuttle for display and getting it to your location is a cool 28.8 million dollars.

The people of Dayton, Ohio are excited because their town is in the running. The National Museum of the United States Air Force is at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, ten miles northeast of the city. Dayton has been actively campaigning for the honor and people there will be terribly disappointed if they’re passed over, though who hasn’t been passed over by the shuttle at one time or another?

At the Museum of Flight in Seattle, they’ve already started building a place to house the orbiter they’ve not been given yet, which is either seat-of-the-pants audacious in the best tradition of barnstormers and test pilots, or flat-out foolhardy.

Other candidates include the Johnson Space Center, Chicago’s Adler Planetarium, the U.S. Space and Rocket Center in Huntsville, Alabama, and New York City’s Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum. Some of the contenders are not making a big promotional deal out their entry, possibly because they realize their chances of success are slim and nobody wants to be tagged as a “loser” in the museum world.

I have no such concern about my bid to bring a shuttle to the empty parking slot in my garage. Why, you ask? Building a suitable display for the only retired Space Shuttle on my street would keep me busy, for one thing. And when I was done I’d have a great central attraction to compliment the rest of my personal museum. The other day I went downstairs to retrieve something I can’t even remember the name of and was amazed at the range and scope of the things I have amassed, so I must be building a museum. What else could it be? Though I admit the collection is a bit unfocused.

I’m calling it the Museum of Invisible Objects because it is comprised of things I wanted to have out of my sight as soon as possible, which is what led directly to their installation in the basement galleries.

The largest expense in setting up my museum (after the 28.8 million for shuttle cleaning and delivery) would be the cost of building an escalator so visitors could be whisked from the garage directly into the Hall of Half-Read Books, where both hardback and paperback copies of classic stories and once new groundbreaking fiction are on display. There’s also a non-fiction area, where detailed explorations of things I once thought I wanted to know are carefully arranged in the order I abandoned them.

From there, it’s a short walk to the Obsolete Technology Collection, which includes a walk down Partly Functioning Inkjet Printer Alley, the amazing Inadequate Television Display and an amusing assortment of cassettes, 8 track tapes, LP’s, VHS tapes and laser discs I’m calling the Defunct Format Farm.

We’ll soften the lighting as people transition into the Sentimental Attachment Section where they can view the Enshrined Cute Baby Clothes and walk down the Boulevard of Broken Toys.

Then it’s directly to Ambition Row where they can see the Too-Scary-To-Use Table Saw and the Only-Tried-It-Once Power Washer.

As the tired but happy visitors move towards the exit they’ll pass through the wistful halls of the Period Furniture Farm, where they’ll have a chance to marvel at the things that used to be used to be in the main living area of this house, and in the homes of a number of my relatives.

And because it’s my basement, just before the stairs to the street there will be a whimsical display of bug carcasses under the heading, “Catalog of Things The Spiders Have Eaten”.

Late addition:

That Guy In The Hat sent in this item from his collection as a way to show us that, unlike me, he doesn’t just accumulate junk. Nice. Thanks, TGITH.

What’s on display in your personal museum?

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The Exploding Woodpecker Effect

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This e-mail arrived over the weekend from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden, who continues to struggle with the choices facing a young person as he completes yet another year of 10th grade at Wendell Wilkie High School.

Hello Mr. C.,

So last Friday Ms. Murgatroyd called in sick at the last minute and her first hour social studies class, which I’m in, had to go next door to sit with Mr. Eisenstien’s “Introduction to Conceptual Art” class while they called for a sub.

Mr. E. was real good about letting us come in. He said if we had work to do that was class-related we could take care of it quietly in the back of the room while he lectured. That was fine with me because I was kind of hoping I could catch up on some important reading assignments on the backs of my eyelids.

First hour sucks, but you know that.

Anyway, he was up there going on and on about abstract this and subversive that, and the choices people make and how artists have to find a way to be artists and still survive and blah blah blah. Not to criticize him or anything. It’s just that his lecture was making my head feel heavier and heavier – so heavy I was about to put it down on my desk and get to “work” – when suddenly he said he was going to show the class a Woody Woodpecker cartoon.

Mr. E said he had just read an article about this animator who really liked cool art and worked some of it into the assembly line drawing he was doing for a studio. He did it on the sly because high concept art wasn’t supposed to be part of his job and most people are common toads who don’t understand good stuff and wouldn’t cross the street to look at a decent painting with a strong point of view, but they’ll lap up stupid cartoons all day long.

That got me really interested, because I love cartoons. And Woody Woodpecker kicks butt, literally. Mr. E said you can see the abstract stuff in the explosions at 4:40 and 6:33 on this You Tube video.

So that got me to thinking about what I’m going to do with my life. Mr. E said a conceptual artist can be a social critic no matter what line of work he or she goes into – it’s all about the attitude you take and what you consider to be your “mission”.

Personally, my mission is to get a job where I watch cartoons all day long.
Do you think I should be a super-cool conceptual artist, or just an art teacher like Mr. E?

Your pal,
Bubby

I told Bubby to be clear about the real job of teaching. Even though Mr. E. showed his class a Woody Woodpecker cartoon, that doesn’t mean he “watches cartoons all day long”. Far from it. And in any case it’s a bad idea to disparage someone’s line of work. Being “just an art teacher” is not a step down from being “a super-cool conceptual artist”. But I am glad that something happened at school to get him thinking – and excited about the future.

What was your favorite subject in school?

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Bear Removed From Tree

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I received a rambling, late night message from a friend who lives far outside the city. Obviously he has a lot of time on his hands, even though he doesn’t have hands.
This has been translated from the original Ursus Textish.

Bart - The Bear Who Found a Cell Phone

Hey, Bart here.

Pretty warm here today. I noticed the people are coming out of hibernation.

Doesn’t take very long before they head into the woods to start chopping down trees, pitching tents, starting campfires, and checking their e-mail. Good thing we’ve got solid coverage out here. I’ve been spending a lot of time looking at YouTube. Pretty cool, but not enough bears (yet).

Anyway, it’s good to have some real company. I like to sit in the dark and listen to the voices. You can kinda figure out what’s going on if you pay attention. So tell your friends this is a great time to go camping. The whole forest is coming to life, but the berries aren’t out yet, so when you come, bring lunchmeat and chips in paper bags. Be sure to leave the bags sitting on the ground outside your tent.

At the edge of the clearing would be even better.

Heard some campers talking last night about something big getting shut down or turned off because some people got backed into a corner and couldn’t find a way out, even though they knew it would be very, very bad to keep on being stubborn. Then later, the way they were talking made it sound like the problem got solved (until next time). All it took was a little pressure and some letting go. We bears know all about that, believe me.

Every so often a bear gets stuck in a tree in some really busy neighborhood. You start walking, you listen to the voices in your own head telling you what to do and suddenly things start looking a little weird. You know you took a wrong turn back a ways and you don’t want to be there and you start to wonder if you can walk out the way you came in. But then somebody sees you and starts shouting this and that about a bear and you get scared and confused and you don’t know where to go, and then there’s this tree, so you climb it. And then what? You can’t just come down and saunter off. It’s a big mess and there are so many ways it can end wrong.

I’m not saying this is personal experience, though it might have happened to me once near Alexandria. It’s possible that a tranquilizer gun was used, and maybe a trampoline was put under the tree to break my fall. My memory’s a bit foggy, but I do recall this – pain in leg, feeling dizzy, one big bounce and almost another, then flashing lights, the police van and a sore neck. Lesson? It’s always good to have spotters when you’re playing with a trampoline.

Word in the woods is that another one of my kind got into that exact situation in Virginia Beach, VA just yesterday. You don’t have to watch the whole thing, but catch the first few seconds because you’ll get to see something you usually don’t – a bear in a harness!

Looks kinda like fun to me. And scary. Anyway, I guess the lesson is that there are always ways to get out of an awkward spot if you’re willing to let go of a little bit of your dignity.

Happy spring!

Your friend,
Bart

Afraid of heights?

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The Essential Expendables

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It appears the government shutdown faceoff has come to its final day, as expected.

In a meeting last night the Republican leader of the House and the Democratic leader of the Senate could not even agree on whether they had agreed about anything. Senator Reid thought they at least had a deal on the numbers, but Representative Boehner was pretty certain they didn’t.

This does not bode well.

In preparation for the shutdown, government workers began getting furlough notices yesterday. Some received letters telling them that they are too important to the nation to be allowed to stay home and they will be expected to report for duty without pay, starting next week. There’s a letter worthy of committing to your personal archives – file it next to the one you got from that person you were dating in college when they said they no longer loved you, but could you still take care of their cat over Easter break?

It is unthinkable that those serving in war zones and their families back home will be asked to accept this arrangement given the sacrifices they have already made, so expect at least one more vote today to take care of them. For the rest of the essential expendables, get ready for a simultaneous embrace / stiff-arm. We can only hope those workers responsible for keeping the space station astronauts alive will do their jobs and not complain. Ditto for whoever puts food in the Interior Department fish tank. And please, don’t make too big a show of your devotion to duty – it interferes with the narrative that says public workers are overcompensated wastrels.

Speaking of narratives, the storytelling goes into high gear today just in time for our weekend entertainment. By Monday morning we should have a pretty good idea whose version of the tale has more box office appeal – the Republican melodrama about irresponsible Democrats blowing the family paycheck down at the local tavern to buy rounds for their lazy cronies while the homestead is being repossessed, or the Democratic thriller about Republican and Tea Party anarchists hijacking a government train packed with poor orphans headed to camp and de-railing it into the mouth of an exploding volcano.

These are two classic scenarios that come pre-loaded with heartless villains, helpless victims and possibly some last minute heroics. The problem? Though we’ve seen each storyline a hundred times, there’s a chance half the country will go to see one movie and half will enjoy the other.

Then what? Popcorn, anyone? Or is dad still saying “no concessions”?

What’s your favorite cliffhanger?

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Birthday of the Blues

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Today is Billie Holiday’s birthday. She started her famously untidy life in Baltimore on April 7th, 1915 as Eleanora Fagan. It didn’t last long. She died at 44.

It’s hard to imagine how anyone could begin with more obstacles to face – poverty and racism for starters with physical abuse and drug addiction down the road. With no status and no advantages she managed to create a lasting body of work and fundamentally changed the way people sing songs. Billie Holiday performed sold-out shows at Carnegie Hall and was also arrested on drug charges in a hospital bed during her final illness. Saying she had highs and lows doesn’t even begin to describe it.

What strikes me is how casually the world would have overlooked her, as countless millions born into similar circumstances have been. It is completely whimsical that we got to hear her voice at all – it could so easily have gone another way. Jazz impresario John Hammond went to a club to listen to a different singer but heard Billie Holiday instead. She caught a break and made a lasting impression, and as a result people will be listening to Billie Holiday long after the rest of us are forgotten.

Here she is with her voice weirdly out of synch to the video – so close your eyes if you have to. I’m guessing this is what the experts mean when they say she sang like a horn player, trading solos with the guys in the band.

So I guess we learn from this that talent can be found an appreciated in spite of adversity, though in the case of Billie Holiday you can’t say adversity was overcome. Her amazing emergence makes me think of a talk I heard a few weeks ago that had to do with the way diamonds are formed and brought to the surface. They are incredibly hard to find even if you know the conditions are right for diamonds to exist. There could be a diamond strike under your house, or under the parking lot across the street, but not necessarily both.

Ever stumble across an amazing, totally unexpected find?

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Info Leak Fouls Online Waters

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Former reputable journalist Bud Buck is now set up as a news aggregator, re-writing and putting his personal spin on stories that were initiated elsewhere. It’s a form of imaginary journalism, somewhat like blogging, but Bud pretends he’s more legitimate by earnestly quoting the people whose voices he hears inside his head.

I’ve been deleting most of his e-mails of late, but this one was too interesting to pass up:

Massive E-mail Address Spill Threatens to Spoil Internet for Everyone
by Bud Buck

The cyber-theft of a record number of names and e-mail addresses has caused customers of some of America’s largest and most respected companies to treat certain e-mails with suspicion and even disdain. And it may have the long-term effect of changing the supportive, trusting atmosphere of Americans’ online experience.

While no account, social security or other vital numbers were compromised, online security experts warn that this incident could lead to an increase in the number of fake targeted e-mails that attempt to draw important personal information out of gullible customers. Privacy consultants recommend that people ignore any such request.

But if that attitude takes hold, it could lead to a sudden change in behavior by those who thoughtlessly and regularly share too much information.

“That’s it,” said Susan Owlish, a schoolteacher. “I loved the internet because it offered what felt like a warm embrace from companies that I previously thought of as aloof and uncaring. These criminals are going to ruin a beautiful relationship that was developing between me and Vast Bank, which holds all my checking, savings and retirement money in accounts that now total something more than 200 thousand dollars!”

“I just normally assume any e-mail that asks for my checking account number comes from somebody who really needs it,” said Derek Bloomer, a freelance writer. “I mean, that’s a lot of seemingly random digits to deal with. My number, 9456-000159, is so boring I have to look it up every time I need it. So what’s the harm in sharing it? If I can’t remember what the number is, won’t they forget it too?”

Bloomer admitted that he would be more suspicious of such e-mails in the future, but he also questioned the veracity of the entire address-theft story.

“Why aren’t they telling us exactly how many names were stolen?” he asked. “I want to know if I just lost my first and last names, or my three middle names as well – Arthur Westly Cornrow. And do they know about my inheritance?”

Derek Arthur Westly Cornrow Bloomer also wondered out loud if the whole story might be just another kind of a scam. And there are signs that this sort of distrust may be spreading among those who are habitually free with their own details and with the private information of others.

“I used to believe everything I saw on my computer screen,” said bus driver Lorna Bunion. “After all, it was in print, and I grew up with great respect for the printed word thanks to my parents, Robert and Sophie Bunion, who are rare book collectors living at 8823 Johnson Circle in a small house without deadbolt locks. I was also raised with a great respect for gold and other precious metals, but I probably shouldn’t tell you why.”

And so, the chill descends.

This is Bud Buck!

How do you decide what to delete, and what to read?

Songs

Song and Dance

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It could very well turn out this Friday that the never ending struggle for control in Washington will express itself in a federal government shutdown of uncertain duration.

The key factor in any political battle like this is, of course, who gets blamed for it.

This is the same old song and dance, so naturally it made me think of an old song and dance from the Broadway musical of the mid ’60’s that starred Angela Lansbury for so many years – Mame!

Yes, it’s an extremely dated reference that would be lost on anyone under the age of 50, but here’s a special ironic bonus – the original book, play and musical had a strong depression era theme of resilience in the face of financial catastrophe!

Video of the signature song as performed by Ms. Lansbury isn’t available on You Tube, but here’s a case where a fan valiantly tried to match the official soundtrack with some jumpy images of the show.

I hope there’s enough there to remind you of Jerry Herman’s catchy tune so you can sing along with new lyrics for the 112th Congress, as all its members attempt to leave people on the other side of the aisle holding the bag.

You caused the government to shut down. Blame!
The major industry in this town. Blame!
Our Medicare’s suspended,
And Medicaid is out of money too!
There’s nothing in our pockets
except a governmental IOU.

There’s just one thing we have to assign. Blame!
It must be yours ‘cause it can’t be mine. Blame!
There’s no recourse and nothing to
do except connect this to a name.
We’re handing you the title, gents.
Making this yours is vital, gents.
You’ve taken our entitlements! Blame!

You’ve cut things far too close to the bone. Blame!
You’ve spent too much. It’s time to atone. Blame!
Our brilliant plan will fix it
Unless you thwart us like you always do.
We can’t be held responsible
‘long as we can pin this mess on you!

There’s nothing left that we can discuss. Blame!
Let’s point our fingers, sputter and cuss. Blame!
We’ve shaped a simple narrative
Making you the villain in this game.
Consider yourself battled with …
Our hearts and brains are addled with …
We’ll see that you get saddled with … Blame!

Is it ever polite to point?

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Sleep for America

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A few weeks ago we heard from Dr. Cozy Futon of Physicians for Bedrest, promoting the idea that sleep is an important activity and that Americans should do it with pride. Baboons were supportive of the idea, though the readers of this blog are hardly in the mainstream when it comes to prevailing attitudes about unconsciousness.

I think it’s fair to say that America is suspicious of those who get sufficient sleep. We wonder about their work ethic and their taste for fun.

Last month the National Sleep Foundation released the results of a poll indicating that almost two thirds of those surveyed report their sleep needs aren’t being met during the week, and virtually everyone questioned reported involvement with some sort of electronic communications technology in the hour before bedtime.

Coincidence? I’ll text you at midnight with my answer.

But evidence is building of a growing appreciation of the value of sleep, and even that the tide is turning with regard to the cool factor of afternoon naps. Professional basketball players in the NBA are said to be unreachable at 3pm most days for reasons that would make sleep researchers glad.

Marketing wizard and Big Idea Man Spin Williams feels the shift and sees an opportunity. Here’s a tidbit from the most recent newsletter to come out of The Meeting That Never Ends:

Where is the activism for better sleep? They do a great job at The National Sleep Foundation, but we at TMTNE agree that better sleep promotion needs an energetic boost, and should go 24/7.

The problem – people don’t have enough respect for sleep because you rarely see anyone else doing it. And when you do, it’s happening on a park bench, an airport gate or a city bus and it is not attractive.

Our idea – establish a corps of healthy, enthusiastic, great looking people who will go into public places and Sleep For America! They’ll sleep in the malls, at office parties, in factories and at sporting events. The bigger and more important the venue, the better!

How great looking should they be? For obvious reasons, each SFA volunteer, men and women both, should be a genuine knockout! They should also be thoroughly screened to verify that they don’t snore, snort, talk excessively while unconscious, or drool. By snoozing prettily in public, these sleep models will change our thinking about the appeal of not being awake.

They should also not carry any cash.

But just imagine an America where sleep is respected, and getting a sufficient amount of rest is a sign of winning in the game of life. Once Sleep For America gets established, we can organize group sleeping events, culminating in an annual sleep-in called the Stupor Bowl!

How about it? Are YOU willing to Sleep For America?

The public safety downside of Spin’s idea is daunting, though I admire his optimism about changing behavior and his excessive faith in the general public. Role models can make a difference, though their leadership should come naturally from the good things they are already doing, rather than as an assignment.

What would be your most comfortable role model role?

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Worst Case Scenario

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I was standing in front of the house the other afternoon, reaching for a string of Christmas lights that had become dislodged from the roof, when I heard the familiar sound of jangling metal behind me – Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty was briskly walking up the driveway, a massive collection of keys slapping the side of his leg as he shouted:

BSOR: Halt! Don’t touch that! You could suffer a terrible injury!

Me: What makes you say that?

BSOR: Power cords are dangerous. Glass is perilous. And ice is potentially lethal! Any one of these alone can deliver massive amounts of pain and suffering!

He had a point. The lights were the kind with the large glass bulbs. And I admit it – I was standing on an icy patch.

BSOR: Also, I know you’re thinking about getting out the ladder.

I hate it when he does this. I WAS thinking about the ladder.

BSOR: Gravity plus electricity plus glass plus the absence of friction at ground level. That’s what you get when you give in to the crazy pressure society puts on all of us to remove holiday lighting displays before the conditions are completely safe!

Me: But it’s April! You can’t say I’ve given in to pressure to take down the lights too early when the holiday was over three months ago!

BSOR: Why the rush? I always dismantle my festive display starting at 5 pm on the Fourth of July. By then the snow has melted, the footing is good, and there’s plenty of daylight left to finish the job. Plus, because of all the illegal fireworks being launched throughout the day I know the local emergency rooms are staffed and supplied with everything they need to treat horrific injuries should something go terribly wrong for me.

Me: Wow, you really have thought this through, completely!

BSOR: And if I wind up being hospitalized that evening, I can make good use of the moments when I’m conscious to scold the other patients around me for playing with explosives!

Me: So you really do visualize all the possibilities and expect the worst!

BSOR: I have a good imagination.

Me: Well I can’t wait until the Fourth of July to take down these decorations. This particular string of lights has detached itself from the house and is swinging by the front door. I could get sued if somebody gets whipped in the face when they come to … I don’t know … deliver the paper?

BSOR: Is that the best you can do? I’ve seen the guy who delivers your paper and he doesn’t get anywhere near your house. He throws the paper at your front door from a moving car in the street. A much more likely scenario is that the person standing by this swinging string of lights would be some sort of sales agent. Or a police officer, come to issue you a citation for having a dangerously detached festive display!

Me: Gosh, I hadn’t thought of that.

BSOR: Or worse, your Congressman, come door knocking! They’re lawyers, you know!

Me: That’s not too likely.

BSOR: And what if one of the bulbs breaks and he gets whipped in the face by the cord AND the jagged edge of shattered glass!

Me: Ugh.

BSOR: And after the glassy shards of your busted lights embed themselves his skin, the string of lights gets wrapped around his neck and he slips on the ice and falls off your front stoop but the string isn’t long enough to allow his feet to touch the ground?

Me: That’s gruesome.

BSOR: And don’t forget – this is still plugged in. Sparks could be flying everywhere and it might take down the grid!

Me: That’s implausible.

BSOR: All the commotion might even draw radiation through the wires from that damaged nuclear power plant in Japan!

Me: Ludicrous.

BSOR: Maybe it’s ludicrous to you and me, but this is a member of Congress we’re talking about now, right? In their imaginations, anything is possible. The National Guard would be deployed. This whole neighborhood would have to be quarantined for thousands of years, and you’d go to jail for at least that long, just because you HAD to take the lights down today!

Me: Everything you just described is completely and utterly impossible.

BSOR: And you are surprisingly weak when it comes to picturing the worst thing that could happen.

Me: I know. That’s why I’m able to sleep at night.

Do you expect the best, or the worst?