The Very First Time I Felt Like a Father

 

Whenever my destinations involve malls, cineplexes, supermarkets, etc…. rain or shine… my car usually winds up in the parking lot periphery to [1] avoid dings and dents on fenders / doors, [2] force myself to get a bit of exercise and [3] ensure that, upon exiting my parking space, my automatic transmission can be shifted into D rather than R.

You see, some automotive “genius” had thoughtlessly designed my car’s rear end to stick up so high in the air that it’s nearly impossible for a backing up driver to always see short in stature passersby.

With that in mind, what now follows is my parking lot, pedestrian safety related tale… a narrative with both an unexpected twist and a far deeper message…

Not too long ago… as I was hoofing it inward bound to a Whole Foods market… while still too distant to rush to the rescue… I spotted / heard an exuberant little boy… probably no more than a four-year-old… who was rushing straight into the path of an oncoming SUV.

The distracted driver had totally missed seeing the stop sign and just kept on carelessly barreling down the service drive, which ran past the storefront. Noticing, too, who I assumed to be the tyke’s (also distracted) mommy, I did all I could possibly do under the circumstances. In my last ditch attempt to attract her attention… maybe even the boy’s, too… I yelled as loudly as I could, “WATCH OUT!” Suddenly looking up to see the impending disaster, she rushed towards her son and snatched him out of harm’s way… just in the nick of time!

As I did my grocery shopping that afternoon, I realized I would’ve reacted in the same manner regardless of the imperiled person’s age… but… that this had involved someone so young… well everything began to register on a personal level I had never even considered before.

During my entire life as a non-parent (sixty plus years)… this was the very first time that I had truly felt like a father. Having helped prevent a youngster’s serious injury… maybe even saving his life… only served to prove how the parental instinct is programmed into us all.

And that’s why I now make my heartfelt appeal to my countrywomen and men, who presently misdirect their parental instinct to protect a 73 year-old man-child rather than the immigrant children he bullies and abuses.

Looking out for the well-being of children upstages / upends politics! Hell, it even transcends religion. We are talking about pure, parental instinct, here. And, as my above story amply points out, one need not even be an actual parent to feel these feelings.

All I can say is if… at the “mere” thought of wailing, sobbing, crying immigrant children… you cannot feel the anguish in your heart… well… humanity just might be heading towards a metaphorical, group cardiac arrest.

A cynic might even begin to wonder if “the patient” is even worth saving. Let’s hope that such world-weariness won’t impede a sorely needed, long overdue, full, societal recovery.

 

 

 

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“Mr. Worf… Fire!”

There are select Star Trek TV episodes that I will always re-watch… even though I’ve totally lost count of how many times I’ve previously seen them.

I know… I know… were Mr. Spock present, he would certainly point out…

“That’s totally illogical. You already know… by heart… these entire story-lines and their happy endings, too. You’ve gotten to the point where you can even blurt out character lines… oft verbatim… oft even in sync.”

At that point, I’d counter with…

“So… I’m an actor wannabe! So… I know their / “my” lines… what’s wrong with any of that? Besides, were not happy endings normally foregone conclusions even when these episodes were first run?”

But to set all debating aside…

Earlier, on Wednesday evening…. courtesy of the H & I (Heroes & Icons) Network… I got to relive Star Trek TNG’s 3rd season ending cliffhanger… The Best of Both Worlds (Part One). I courageously boarded Captain Jean-Luc Picard’s Enterprise 1701-D to help my crew mates engage and conquer the Borg… i.e., save humanity from assimilation / being reduced to mere automatons / drones.

BACKSTORY: Back in the day of home-taped VHS cassettes… I had tons of fun seamlessly, selectively editing into The Best of Both Worlds (Part Two), the Battle of Wolf 359 scene footage (culled from the debut episode of Star Trek Deep Space 9).

But, to get back to my main topic…

Never has there ever been a finer example of Sci-Fi screenplay writing and episode scheduling. After all, with Part One originally airing on June 18, 1990 and Part Two on September 24, 1990, we, the TNG geeks wound up anxiously waiting to discover whether the Federation or the Borg had prevailed. True, we were already expecting a happy ending… but there was still one unanswered  Q: Would it take one episode or more to achieve plot closure? Hell… the writers could’ve easily transformed this Man vs. Machine conflict into an entire season… and I think their opting out from that was a mistake.

Even though Part Two’s airing is tomorrow night… 19 hours and 30 minutes from my posting time… the wait will still feel much longer. Even so… as it was in the Distant Past… I can still feel the anticipation in the Here & Now! Thanks H & I!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A (Shared?) Healthy Core Belief (1 Quick Limerick #092)

 

Whether we’re centrist or left or right polar,
Be our views secular or holy roller,
We know there’s NO real excuse,
For Donald Trump’s child abuse,
Enforced by ICE and each border patroller.

 

 

 

 

Fake Prez Lays An Egg! Society Chickens Out?

 

Animal rights activists… rightfully so…insist that the Egg Industry should raise their egg producing chickens in a humane, cage-free setting.

Human rights activists… rightfully so… insist that the fake prez should raise his detainee immigrant children in a humane, cage-free setting.

Yet, it would appear that far too many, within American society, are more likely to accept cage-free chickens than cage-free kids!

Why can’t we have both?

 

 

Interstellar Goodwill Ambassadors’ Messages…

As we just saw in that above clip, Interstellar Goodwill Ambassador Klaatu attempts First Contact by bravely facing down Earthlings, who are armed to the teeth with primitive, yet deadly weaponry. Needless to say… things do not go well…

With these clips in mind, I now assume the role of the Interstellar Goodwill Ambassador to deliver my own message…

 

In the interest of interstellar amity, I’d like to address all extraterrestrials wherever you may hail from. Please keep in mind the inherent dangers in making First Contact… especially when it comes down to us Earthlings. Even if you’re only on a hiding in the bluff, anthropological mission, you could still be in grave danger.

One of our famous writers, Mark Twain, once said, “Never argue with an idiot. They will drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.” And I’d ditto Mr. Twain’s schrewd counsel whenever we assess Earth’s demented demographic, too.

You say you’re not here to argue with anyone? Guess again! To better illustrate just how bad terrestrials’ ‘tudes can get, we’ve got a book called a Thesaurus, that’s loaded with synonyms that further describe our argumentative nature… e.g., quarrelsome, disputatious, captious, contrary, cantankerous, contentious; belligerent, bellicose, combative, antagonistic, truculent, pugnacious.

Does any of that get you to worrying about the success of your missions? It should! Could any of this lead to interstellar / interplanetary warfare? What do you think?

Granted, you do out-think and outgun us. But… in far too many instances… and as I’ve already alluded to… too many of the Earthlings you encounter will OUTCRAZY you. And OUTCRAZY can be a dicey situation… one that could suddenly tip the tactical advantage against you.

To e.g. that, traipse gingerly through our bullets flying everywhere / every day Wild West Wasteland. You’ll be facing down pop up war zones… impromptu battlefields… where you’ll be besieged by ravenous for the limelight, sociopathic domestic and international terrorists. Or, in your case, that’d make them interstellar terrorists. Remember, their fusillades of bullets and IEDs can easily mangle your bodies / be as deadly as your deathrays are to us. Hell, they might even attempt ramming vehicles or even hijacked jets into your spacecraft.

As for you guys saying, “Take me to your leader”? Don’t be fools! Do not… repeat… DO NOT even consider such a summit. A yuge part of that OUTCRAZINESS is the xenophobia driven intolerance exhibited by this world’s heads up their asses, heads of state.

To e.g. that, wrap your minds around the unfortunate present-day, anti-alien attitude that targets terrestrial aliens… terrestrial aliens, mind you… especially here, within the United States. This is but a mere dress rehearsal for how they’d horrifically abuse you.

To further e.g. that, let me introduce you to “our” small minded, small handed, (ostensibly) small endowed “leader” who makes up for his feelings of abject inadequacy by rattling his phallic symbol nuclear missiles. When we factor in his demented notions of creating a Space Force… well… that’s when we’ve got to believe he’s lusting to first target you guys and next launch those nukes. You just gotta know, too, that he also yearns to get off while blasting off those suckers. In that sort of enraptured state, he’d be on (mushroom) cloud nine!

Need I go on?

A final word to the wise… if you’re still planning on a close encounter of any kind… please… whatever you do… you must ensure topflight maintenance of your flying saucers / starships! Prior to and during your visits to Earth, run precautionary, daily diagnostics of your propulsion systems / star drives, cloaking devices, shield generators and communication devices. As for your engines, when you shift them into reverse, you had better be able to net velocities that are on par with your forward speeds. In other words, you must be able to get out trouble as fast as you get into it. Believe me… to deal with Earth, in any way, is to get into trouble… spelled with a capital T.

You’d be well advised to reprogram your robot, too… I believe his name is Gort. To get fully into CYA mode, you must ensure that no Earthling ever tries to boss him around… order him to stand down by uttering…

“Klaatu barada nikto! Klaatu barada nikto! Klaatu barada nikto!”

While I do offer you the olive branch of peace… many other Earthlings would choose to use it to beat you to a pulp… or worse… as suggested in, yet, another deadly First Contact dramatization…

Why can’t the argumentative, quarrelsome, disputatious, captious, contrary, cantankerous, contentious; belligerent, bellicose, combative, antagonistic, truculent, pugnacious people of our world stand down and get along with each other… inclusive of aliens… be they terrestrial or extraterrestrial… i.e., the way the following happily-ever-after-ending plays out…

 

 

Not “Even if it Takes a Million Years!”

As I began amassing my record collection as a Sixties era teenager, my “inner scientist” began to wonder what the life expectancy of vinyl LPs might actually be.

That’s why I started logging each album’s purchase date.

That’s how I know that I bought my copy of the Who’s Who’s Next album on this very 18th day of August… way back in 1971.

Right from the initial playback, I had become immediately, immensely impressed by songsmiths Pete Townshend and John Entwistle’s lyrical / musical sensibilities and the entire band’s mastery of their instruments. Everyone having turned in such a stellar performance… well…

To me… this day in history became akin to a “where were you when moment”. As such, I still harbor enduring, fond, vivid recollections of that long ago day.

On this Sunday afternoon, It only seemed right to recreate that moment… i.e., by playing back Who’s Next in its entirety. I carefully dusted all the grooves with a preener and then revved up my turntable. All was going well until Side 1’s closing moments when, all the sudden, the stylus encountered an ungroovy groove problem… which caused the needle to get stuck in one place.

I found myself chuckling at the irony of a how a track titled, Song Is Over, could not possibly end… not “Even if it takes a million years”. <— Attribution: Townshend lyrics from this very song.

Well… it took an LED flashlight’s brilliant beam and high powered magnifying glass to eventually track down and correct this tracking problem… yet… part of me wanted to leave this unfixed. More about that in a moment.

Keep in mind that, up until today, this particular, well cared for vinyl record had a half century’s worth of absolutely no previous tracking issues. So, how, pray tell, had that suddenly become a problem?

Keep in mind, too, that I’ve oft used “the song is over” as a metaphor to concede hopelessly irresolvable problems.

My awareness of these facts caused me to sense something far deeper than groove deep was in play.

Whether we choose to drag religion into this… or not… would you not agree that there’s a lesson to be learned from that stuck stylus, which flat-out refused to let the song end? The sweet song of a meaningful, happy, healthy life must never end.

We can only hope that all who regularly travel life’s high road will harbor such resolve within their heads and hearts… and apply such stick-to-itiveness while working towards the betterment of our global society.