Contact Kelli, temporary manager of Doug's "The Wondering Jew" |
2000-04-18 - 20:36:18 April 18, 2000 Ants Last night ventured out toward the Nebraska border to "Tent City," "Doubtful In Achievement," "Devil In Armor," O.K., O.K., sorry, Denver International Airport Trying to keep your speed near speed limit is like being a trembly cow, on a highway wide prairie amid a herd of stampeding buffaly. Life, Thy Name Is High Speed, gain two lengths in traffic at the risk of life and limb of everyone near. We get a laugh now and then when we go past a car pulled over, a policeman standing beside the car writing on his pad and seeing the look of agony on the drivers face their lips fluttering like clothes hung out to dry in the wind. The wife or I will turn and say, " But officer I couldn't have been going that fast." Once in awhile we recognize a car that broke The sound barrier as it whooshed by us, at the side of the road with a cop car and its Bubble Gum Machine Lights flashing frantically, slightly behind the stopped civvy car. If I am riding shotgun, I will turn and face out towards the stopped car ar and make sure my wide smile is well seen by the motorist in trouble. What an ornery and nefarious person I am Funny, in traffic all are at odds with the world. But when I am on foot approaching a doorway some one will hasten to open it. If it a set of double doors they will open both the outer door and inner door for me. People will stand aside to let me pass. If I happen to drop anything someone manages to step over, pick it up, and hand it to me with a smile and sometimes even making a friendly comment. If I am in the supermarket, reaching for a piece of fruit. . . . someone will which piece and reach back and hand it to me. I know I am bent, crooked and walk with a cane. I have run my one little quasi-scientific private experiment that I do. I will walk with a sour expression on my face, open my own doors, drip and pick up my own small objects, struggle to reach the back of the fruit bin on my own. I am invisible, I don't exist - - - occasionally being bumped becaused no one knows I occupy that space. lonely in a crowded world. The next step of my experiment, before I leave home the attitude adjustment exercise is completed before I go out our door. As I leave I repeat several times, "people are nice." As I walk a smile is on my face because I am happy, like the pleasant view and am pleased at the sight of so many nice people. It is really amazing the various types of people who cheerfully lend a a hand. Courtesy and kindness seem to have no costume, special height, weight width, any color, poor or rich. At times a suit with self important look will step forward amd open a door for me. The brotherhood of man extends to the sidewalk beside the parking lot, once into the lot people and vehicle entered, motor started the auto becomes a missle guidance suspected which somehow seems to be coming at me. People don't drive their car, they aim it in the general direction they want to go and then scratch their ear, apply makeup, jabber, jabber on their cell phones many times with an expression of rage on their face and if something happens to hold them up they automatically drop into the high gear of "Road Rage,"all reason abandoned, kill, kill, kill in their expression where sometimes death stops one side of the dispute. The person, so courteous in the store, will kill for an inch gain in traffic. How often have you seen an agressive driver recognize you as a friend or neighbor and return to being the kind person you have known for years. Schizophrenic Society Habits ?
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