April 20, 2006

On a hot asphalted day, in rush-hour traffic at an awkward intersection, an over-large grocery truck attempting to back into its loading bay had been forced to stop mid-turn by an outgoing car, and had at once been trapped in oncoming traffic. By the time I happened upon the scene two lanes of traffic had been semi-blocked and the other four increasingly snarled by the increasingly frustrated attempts of drivers to merge and swerve around the obstacle.

I waited for the traffic light to change and the pattern to offer a partial break before I stepped out into the middle of one direction of lanes, bringing the cars to an easy stop by blocking them bodily -- nothing was moving all that fast at this point -- and with my free hand waved to a stop several lanes of oncoming traffic from the other direction. One not-tall person with no authority other than a grocery bag in hand standing in the middle of the street, personally creating a short-term complete obstacle so as to unsnarl a greater partial one. That was all.

There were no squealing brakes. I would not have risked that; and so I had waited just long enough for it to be unnecessary. Even among the lanes which might otherwise have gone unimpeded not one person honked, or gave me the finger, or tried to swerve around me, or showed any other sign of impatience.

In less than a minute the truck was stowed in the loading bay and the traffic congestion had vanished. All that had been needed was a little guidance and coordination.


Like life itself. Though who guides it?

That is the question.
We work like a horse.
We eat like a pig.
We like to play chicken.
You can get someone's goat.
We can be as slippery as a snake.
We get dog tired.
We can be as quiet as a mouse.
We can be as quick as a cat.
Some of us are as strong as an ox.
People try to buffalo others.
Some are as ugly as a toad.
We can be as gentle as a lamb.
Sometimes we are as happy as a lark.
Some of us drink like a fish.
We can be as proud as a peacock.
A few of us are as hairy as a gorilla.
You can get a frog in your throat.
We can be a lone wolf.
But I'm having a whale of a time!

You have a riveting web log
and undoubtedly must have
atypical & quiescent potential
for your intended readership.
May I suggest that you do
everything in your power to
honor your encyclopedic/omniscient
Designer/Architect as well
as your revering audience.
As soon as we acknowledge
this Supreme Designer/Architect,
Who has erected the beauteous
fabric of the universe, our minds
must necessarily be ravished with
wonder at this infinate goodness,
wisdom and power.

Please remember to never
restrict anyone's opportunities
for ascertaining uninterrupted
existence for their quintessence.

There is a time for everything,
a season for every activity
under heaven. A time to be
born and a time to die. A
time to plant and a time to
harvest. A time to kill and
a time to heal. A time to
tear down and a time to
rebuild. A time to cry and
a time to laugh. A time to
grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones
and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a
time to turn away. A time to
search and a time to lose.
A time to keep and a time to
throw away. A time to tear
and a time to mend. A time
to be quiet and a time to
speak up. A time to love
and a time to hate. A time
for war and a time for peace.

Best wishes for continued ascendancy,
Dr. Whoami

P.S. One thing of which I am sure is
that the common culture of my youth
is gone for good. It was hollowed out
by the rise of ethnic "identity politics,"
then splintered beyond hope of repair
by the emergence of the web-based
technologies that so maximized and
facilitated cultural choice as to make
the broad-based offerings of the old
mass media look bland and unchallenging
by comparison."

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