BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I’m sure you’ve noticed that shit has gone wonky in the world. More specifically, the United States – not that they are particularly united these days, unless you count the fact that 48 of them are pretty much stuck together by simple geographic necessity.

At any rate, let me flash back a bit…

Back during my late teens there was this movie. It was a bit of a spin on the Moon Landing Conspiracy nuts and it was called Capricorn One. (Warning, Spoilers) The basic gist of the movie is that at the last minute the government realizes that their mission to Mars will fail due to a defect in the space capsule, so just before launch they yank the astronauts, played by James Brolin, O. J. “If I Did It” Simpson, and Sam Waterston. They cart them off to a secret, hidden facility, where they have a mockup of the capsule, the lander, the martian landscape, and the whole nine yards. They fill them in on the story and convince them to act out the rest of the mission as if everything is fine – all in the interest of not embarrassing their nation. And so, they go along with it, for a while… Their compliance sort of changes when during the return flight the capsule fails, burns up, and that’s the end of that. Now the government has no choice but to off these guys and bury them somewhere, then hold a big public memorial for these fallen heroes who never actually left the Earth’s atmosphere. So, instead of saying, “Okay, I’ll take a bullet for the cause” they escape and strike out across the desert. Of course, the gubmint chases after them.

Enter Eliot Gould – intrepid reporter. He has figured out something is up and he has traveled out in search of where this secret base might be (he was tipped off by Rossi from Lou Grant… No, seriously, he was)… At any rate, after some serious acrobatic flying by Telly Savalas (Yeah, Kojak was a crop duster, who knew?) they rescue James Brolin (O.J. and Sam got offed by the federales) and deliver him to his own public funeral, right there in front of the TV cameras and everything, effectively toppling the house of cards built by the bad, eebil gubmint.

It was actually a good story, and not a bad movie. I even bought it on DVD many years later and have watched it a couple of times since that summer of my teens when two dollar matinees were the norm, and an air conditioned Wherenberg Theater was the place to be to escape the heat.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that today.

I’m pretty sure you could literally have this exact scenario occur and nothing would topple… Just look at our current election cycle. There’s a racist, misogynistic liar getting busted left and right – by himself, on tape – and he still has rabid followers who are convinced that it’s all just a plot to take down their guy. What’s worse, there are a lot of them.

Maybe that one way trip to Mars they were advertising a while back isn’t such a bad idea after all…

More to come…

Murv

Why did The Redhead cross the creek?

For Tacos, duh.

Just keep reading. It’ll make sense…eventually.

So, when you have a dog a good portion of your life becomes filled with holding a leash in one hand and a knotted up Shop ‘n’ Save bag full of canine poo logs in the other.

When you are married to Evil Kat, THE redheaded nature goddess (when she’s not being all redheaded dominatrix goddess) you go on death marches. Hmmm… Come to think of it, with those death marches she’s pretty much still being a redheaded dominatrix goddess, just sans stilettos and whips…

But anyway… Put the two together and what do you get? Yeah… Taking the dog on a death march and picking up poop – or sometimes just carrying empty bags because the dog has the presence of mind to go off into the woods 30 feet off the trail and dump her load there in the underbrush. Probably because she’s trying to escape the death march.

We’ll get to the tacos in a minute. I promise.

Because, it’s important to PRETECT the land

So, this unseasonably warm February 28th morning Her Supreme Worship was dead set on taking one of those death marches through a local conservation area. Sending the Teen off to The Ethical Society (it’s both wonderful and nerve wracking for a parent when a teen gets his or her driver’s license) we set out to conquer the mountain that is the object of her death march. Why? Because we’d been there before, and in reality, we had actually conquered said mountain. However, there was a Holy Grail which she had yet to trample – that being the creek. More specifically, the creek crossing at Taco Trail.

See, I told you we’d get to the tacos.

Now, in all seriousness, Taco Trail is actual Taconic Trail, but the sign we came across on our first excursion there had been defaced – much as many other signs in the area – and it read Taco– Trail, therefore it shall forever be known as the trail of crunchy Tex Mex goodness in our minds.

But, it doesn’t end there. During the death march Her Worship kept looking for places to ford the creek. When I pointed out that there was a bridge in sight she would simply say, “Too easy.” This compelled me to comment that her single-minded dedication to achieving a goal was admirable, but that not everyone shared her goal. Then the dog jumped in the creek and went to the other side and The Redhead just looked at me with a smug, “You were saying?” sort of expression. Finally, I asked why it was so important to cross the creek. Her answer? Yes, you guessed it, “Because it’s there.”

So, long story short, we ended up crossing the creek. Oddly enough, I’m the only one who got wet shoes out of the deal, mostly because The Redhead almost fell and I jumped to catch her – because I knew it would be MY fault if she splashed. That’s just how it works with redheads. And, upon crossing, we were at the trail head of crunchy goodness. Taco Trail… And, I have to say, it was well worth the walk.

To top it off, five miles later we climbed into the truck and started for home. Along the way we stopped and bought a sack full of tacos.

MRS