Death Be Not Colorful


MoTW—“The Dead Next Door”

Nothing really going on I guess. I guess I have the thrill of hearing
the word “filibuster” mentioned over and over again on the news. That’s
a thrill. Maybe some newscaster somewhere will go insane having to say
that word over and over again and turn on their co-anchor and other
support on live air. Chaos and blood will ensue and a brand new world
order will rise up striking fear into those who refuse to comply to the
new mandates. A beatific leader will appear holding a gold sceptre in
one hand and a copy of “Catcher in the Rye” in the other while riding on
a white stallion. His first words will be “The time is NOW!” and those
who have true understanding will understand the true meaning of those
words while those that don’t will be smote down by a huge flaming tire
iron. The battle will be fierce but quick yet so fierce and quick that
most will not notice, but those that do will have a better understanding
of what is what and that which will ever be.

I was asked by the better half if I wanted to drive to a certain
somewhere to look at the colorful leaves since fall is here and all.

“Uh, no.” I replied.

“Why not?” she asked. “Don’t you want to check out the beautiful colors
of the changing leaves?”

“Not really. They’re dying leaves. What’s so special about that?”

“I think they’re beautiful. There are so many different colors and it’s
absolutely gorgeous.”

This got me to thinking and I asked if it would be the same with, say,
grandparents. Imagine that as they were slowly dying they started to
change color. Sure, it might be pretty colors and all, but would they
really appreciate it if a bunch a people were to stop by just to look at
their beautiful hues? I wouldn’t think so. I assume the leaves feel the
same way. They’re dying yet nobody is there to help. Instead they’re
just there to gaze in gap-mouthed wonder.

I don’t think she thought I made a valid point because she called me an
idiot and wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the day. But that’s okay
because she wouldn’t understand since she has never seen “Monty Python’s
The Meaning of Life”. She also doesn’t know about that guy
on the horse who will be the cause of some serious smoting but I’ll make
sure to tell her when I feel the time is right or whenever I go to her
next family gathering.

COMING NEXT: Elongation of a crate

Stephen Johnson

The idea of building a website with Bob came from Stephen in the days of message boards and chat rooms. We settled on the name and the rest is history. Retired since he hit the ripe age of 25, he spends most his time doing odd-jobs around the house and digging thru trash bins for "stuff that's still good." Stephen has contributed several short stories and hosted the "Lunatic Ravings" column since the beginning (1999). The idea of writing weekly columns came from Stephen before blogs or blog sites ever existed. So, I guess that makes him THE FIRST BLOGGER IN THE WORLD!!!

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