Hey, Haven't I Seen You Somewhere?

As part of my new, fit, healthy life style I walk at lunchtime. It is a good way to add a few extra steps, and see some different things. I work right on the edge of Downtown, not too far from the arena district. There are a lot of businesses around there, and a lot of restaurants, and there are always a lot of people around.  It is filled with life and energy, and easy to get lost in the sea of humanity.

But, not so easy that I haven't noticed strange things, dark things happening on the periphery. Things that the average person may not see, or comprehend, things that only an experienced blogger with an eye trained in the art of observation would notice.

One of the things I've noticed is how many people are exactly the same. Not just remarkably similar, but identical copies. Or, possibly can move in ways that defy natural laws and human abilities.

For example, I'm walking south down North Front Street, and I see a person, dressed in a particular manner, carrying a particular purse, pack, bag, or satchel, walking north on North Front Street. No big thing, a lot of people like to walk up Front Street in the Arena District, though I am not sure why, all of the action is on High Street, just a wide, long block over. Including the Chicken Truck, serving chicken for lunch, and being actively advertised for by a giant dancing, singing chicken.*



But, then I go left on West Spring Street and am now heading east, and see the same person, wearing the same clothes, carrying the same accessory. Either that person is exactly like that other person, or that person pulled some enormous feat of speedy travel.**  The block at the intersection of Spring and Front is huge, and it takes almost 2,000 steps to get around (OK, I just guessed, I will check the actual  I will check the actual steps nest time I walk that way.  Isn't technology wonderful?). But, something is definitely amiss here.


The theoretical physicists, and the forensic biologists are working on the problem now.  But, Dr Dawg has a theory. Between the late 50s and the early 70s, coinciding roughly with the end of the baby boom, they ran out of molds, or forms, or whatever they use in the production of humans, and they had to start recycling. So, there are many people who are cut by the same die.  Which makes as much sense as anything, I suppose.

Either that, or maybe there are not nearly as many people as we thought in this town. It is just a few people moving around a lot, and pretty quickly, in an effort to win more federal money.

Either way it is a little creepy, right up there with a giant, singing, dancing chicken.  And people eat that stuff?


*I am pretty sure it is just a guy dressed in a chicken suit. Since we all know birds are direct line descendants of dinosaurs I am not really keen to get close enough to find out.

**We haven't ruled out time travel, yet, but we haven't quite figured out how to do that, and we are pretty smart.

Football, The Season of Our Discontent.

Football season kicks off soon and it is time to start preparing, time to take inventory of your favorite teams chances at winning "it all."  If they can't win it all they have had a terrible season, filled with heartache, drama, and blown calls, stupid referees, anyway.  Does your team have what it takes to be the team, bring home the title, vanquish their foes, destroy their opponents, and enjoy the confetti, and adulation that will pour down?   

Here are some things to look for.  Do they have "good moral?"  A team with bad moral might as well play on a field strewn with broken glass, and toxic waste.  It is one of the most important components of that elusive team "Chemistry."  There is no point in even trying without team "Chemistry."  Of course, some teams have taken "Chemistry" to levels that fall far outside the rules, in an effort to boost moral from mediocre, past good, and into stratospheric.  Too much moral building can be ruinous, and lead to extended "vacation days" for players. 

Another good sign would be the recognition that the team is prepared to "take it one game at a time."  This is so important, teams that try to violate this principal are doomed to lackluster performance, and a season that is remembered for insignificance, and defeat.  On rare occasion teams with many talented players, and a wealth of coaching experience can play two games at a time, provided the opponents are painfully incompetent, and helpless, but it is absolutely vital to inform the officials, so they can account for the wide variety of uniforms, and players present. 

Of course, no team can hope for even a moderate amount of success unless they have re-established their swagger.  You will know your team is headed in the proper direction as soon as a player boasts "we have our swagger back."   Unfortunately, for those freshly re-swaggered teams that normally leads to the addition of a "bulls eye on our back," which will enrage the opposing team to such an extent that your team "will get their best shot, every game."   Experts are still debating whether the bulls eye is beneficial or not. 

It goes without saying that no team can hope for even the tiniest amount of success without the requisite amount of "good speed."  Slow, tiresome, and ineffective, teams without "good speed" might as well play their whole season in one game, that is how astronomical the odds that are stacked against them.  It has been that way since the dawn of time, the ancient Sumerians knew "and thus it is prophesied, any team that ploddeth onto the playing field with poor speed is doomed from the coin toss."  It was really the secret to the success of the Great Khan, and his Mongolian armies.  In fact he is quoted as saying after destroying the Western Xia Dynasty, "you know, Brent (yes, Brent Musburger has been covering sports that long) we had "good success" today, because we had all of that "good speed" and they were slow like children, carrying bricks, through mud."  Not really, Genghis Khan did not give a lot of interviews, but his teams were fast, and angry, and ruthless, and fearless...  Really all of the things you want in your modern day football team. 

Now you have enough to assess your teams chances this year.  We will update you on the visual cues to watch for as the season progresses, if for example, the coach stumbles onto the field carrying bottle of Muscatel, and spends the whole game sleeping on one of the benches, using the sports page as a blanket, you know it might be a good year to catch up on those back issues of Popular Mechanics, maybe you can finally get around to building that self sustaining eco system in the basement, in case of apocalypse.  Don't worry that your wife, neighbors, children and co-workers think you are crazy, they are probably right, but it is better than watching your favorite football team self destruct on television. 

Morning commutes can be hectic.

Today's drive was a little hectic.  At 6:15 traffic is, generally speaking, pretty light, normally, really, just smooth sailing, mostly.  Not today.

It started right on the first freeway ramp.  In front of my car was a Chevy Silverado, bright red, a big gas guzzling pickup, you could tell it never hauled anything more freight worthy than groceries, a real pretty boy thing,  Poking along, screwing up the whole works.  He merged to the left, perfect time to pass him.  Accelerating until I was pulling ahead a little Mr. Sissy man pickup driver saw I was going around him and decided that was not the best way to start his day, and sped up.  Driving defensively, and not wanting to cause any accidents, I put my foot to the floor, and passed him doing 85 miles per hour (Miles are like kilometers, only longer, or not as long, I don't remember, and an hour is like a minute times 60)

It was a great feeling watching the schmuck sobbing in my rear view mirror, until a car flew past on the left and took the lead, then one on the right. nearly causing an accident, lunatics anyway.  Whipping into the middle lane I drafted (drafting is a racing term and it means, driving right behind someone so close in order to create, to gather, to generate, never mind what it means, it isn't important) behind a Honda Odyssey going 120 mph.  I was so close I managed to catch the last few minutes of Scooby Doo on the DVD screen.  Did you know the Creeper was really the butler?

I looked out the drivers side window and who was there?  That's right, Jeff Gordon in the number three car.  He flipped me the bird and went to pass the minivan.  I double clutched and shifted into a lower gear, which was hard, since I don't have any idea what that means and my car has an automatic transmission.  Swerving over I managed, barely to clip his rear bumper and send him careening into the ambulance, whose driver was using the lights and sirens in a foolish attempt to get to ahead of me.

Only two cars left to pass and the lead would be mine, and one of them was a school bus.  Victory is going to be so sweet.  But, as the school bus and I were jockeying for position a state patrolman cruised by and I decided he should probably have the honor.  Brave public servant that he is.