Al-Qaeda Redux, Bi-focals, Aloha Rehearsal, Milkshakes, The Old Man, etc.

·         I’m not saying that Al-Qaeda was never on the run, I’m just saying that it appears that they’re circling back.

 

·         I asked the lady at the convenience store if their hyper-caf coffee was gluten free, which I thought was kind of funny and might make her chuckle.  Instead, she looked a little worried and answered, “I’m sorry, Sir.  I’ll have to ask the manager.”  I felt bad about that one.

 

·         Whenever I need my bi-focals upgraded, I ask the optometrist to jack the script up a couple notches from what I actually need.  That way, I always feel like I’ve had a couple beers, and as a bonus I seem to be able to see a couple seconds into the future.  So far it’s worked out pretty well, but my co-workers are getting sick of me always saying, “I knew you were going to say that.”

 

·         Elvis Presley fan-geeks who are also YouTube geeks know that the rehearsal version of the “Aloha, From Hawaii” concert (1973) is better than the broadcast version.  That fact serves no purpose, really, but I thought I’d pass it along.

 

·         Everyone knows that pedestrians have the right-of-way.  Oddly though, I’ve noticed that for some reason there are pedestrians who test that right flagrantly, despite the fact that everyone also knows that most motorists mostly aren’t paying attention period, much less to pedestrians.  To me, that’s a risky and dangerous exercise of one rights.

 

·         Although I’m sure it’s unlikely, I bet at some point a couple of guys who were drinking milkshakes ended up in a fist fight.  It’s hard to look tough while you’re sucking ice cream through a straw.  That stand-off leading up to first swings had to be a pathetic sight.

 

·         Other than a benign spanking when I was really little, my old man never hit me.  But somehow he successfully instilled the golden rules in me as being the reasonable and correct way to behave as a human.  He also managed to instill in me the clear and present danger that it could turn out badly for me if I ever pushed my luck with him.  Although the threat was only ever implied, generally speaking, it kept me on the straight and narrow until my own internal right-vs.-wrong compass eventually kicked in.  But I do remember as a teenager making a wise-ass and rude comment to my mom, which resulted in her rightfully slapping my face.  I also vividly remember my dad, standing behind her, looking at me over her shoulder with a smile on his face as I was processing the sting of her slap.  His look told me in that moment, “if you think you’re up to it boy, let’s dance.”  Miss him, much.