Thanks to Penny, Gift and the staff at Thai Garden, to begin with.
The local and the universal.
While tracking meteoric dust streaking across clear, dark, star-filled nights, we pause…
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the hangout, where we stand and shoot the breeze, recalling with ease the moments we encountered the law rolling down the highway — expired tags, headlights out, speeding home after work — and pulling over for friends with badges.
Thanks to the guys at Advance Auto for that one.
And now, as we look back, thanking Brad at Bill Penney Toyota, Tony and Becky of Mowdy’s Old Fashion Apple Butter, the folks at Amis Mill Eatery, Cassie at the Apollo Cafe, Tasheria and Shermika at McDonald’s, and finally, Aaron and Rachel at Walmart, let’s take a breath…
Because here, in skills both rudimentary and complimentary, we spin around the floor at KCDC.
Harold, Joe, Naomi, Nicole, and Kelly instructing patiently.
We, the patients (sometimes patient), repeating, missing the beat but having fun, while high school football rules the battlefields and airwaves, repeating, stepping softly and loudly, sweating, perspiring, laughing, sitting, repeating.
A week before the Halloween party/contest/dance.
Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and back to Friday.
In the span of those 24×7 hours, we’ll see, well…we’ll see what we’ll see.
Tango, samba, rumba, foxtrot, waltz, swing, cha cha, salsa…
Ahh…
Almost sounds like the International Radio Operators or NATO Phonetic Alphabet, doesn’t it?
See why we go dancing? We can talk about our aerobic activity and pass secret codes in the open at the same time. Wished you’d thought of it first, didn’t you?
Never underestimate the power of dancing or leaving hints like accidental misspellings or hiding Morse code messages in the rhythm of typed speech.
I’m still a kid at heart, playing cowboys and Indians, knights rescuing damsels in distress, or capture the flag in this grownup body, but on a larger scale than in our neighbour’s backyard.
After all, what else have my friends got to do with our trillions, billions, millions and thousands of dollars wasting away in secret island hideouts?
Turn the whole solar system into an endless game of Dungeons and Dragons, Monopoly, Command-and-Conquer or Civilisations.
Isn’t that what you’re teaching your children?
I sure am.
Money is just a tool, a means of converting labour into investment credits, after all.
If you want to cure cancer, prevent disease, stop malnutrition, convert heathens or feed the poor, go right ahead.
Just don’t expect those who are in the middle of a game between monetised giants to play along with your wants and desires, unless you can find a way to make it interesting to them/us.
I have to keep reminding myself that we’re playing with live ammunition on continental scales because some days I forget they aren’t pop guns, paper boats, model rockets and remote-controlled toy airplanes, anymore.
In either case, the fun is still the same.
Sure, go ahead and pretend the stakes are higher. To the big boys and girls, though, the local and the universal are the same.
The game is everything. We’re just chess pieces that’ll all die sometime.
Remember, the rules change as the next set of players gets bored with the old rules and writes new ones to keep the game interesting.
There’s no conspiracy. There’s only those who are willing to play with the lives of billions and those whose lives are played. You always have the option of choosing which life you want to be.
See you in the next round we’re calling the Corporation vs. the People.
Choose wisely.
The rules are a little tricky this time – we’re adding an option for a select group of people to leave this planet and start a new game somewhere else, sacrificing a few thousand of us, maybe even millions, to make that option happen.
Sorry, but that’s just the way it has to be, giving all seven billion of us direct participation in the game we choose to play or get played.
Begin the beguine, as they say.
treetrunkdings 