The Stories of DTS

100,000

This morning my '97 Saturn exceeded the 100,000 mile mark.  No marching band, no parade, no confetti, just a simple turn from 0 to 1 and from 9s to 0s.  Now I expect it to deteriorate rapidly. 

DTS Update...

Whoa, it's been a long time.  Before I disappeared I was getting about 50 hits a day to this here blog where I write of everything and nothing at the same time.  I don't know if that's a lot or a little, but it seemed pretty good to me.   During baseball playoffs, I was seeing about 80 folks here a day.  Then, I vanished like a fart in the wind -- that's what the warden said when Andy Dufresne escaped from Shawshank.  Of course, my disappearance didn't involve Rita Hayworth or a sewer of crap. 

No, I disappeared because my job changed and I got really busy.  A good kind of busy.  Very rewarding.  I was working more which cut into my leisure time, which is what Stories is.  Leisure.  I'm here to fill you in on what I didn't write. 

Making Good Time

When I drive across the state of Missouri I fixate on speed and miles.  I constantly calculate how many miles per hour I'm averaging and then try to beat it the next fifteen minutes.  I'm not a reckless driver or anything; I generally drive as fast as traffic will carry me.  Today on our trip from St. Louis to Kansas City I averaged 69.95 miles per hour (246 miles in 3:31).  That's door to door and includes the city streets filled with traffic signals and whatnot.  That, my friend, is making good time.

This is, hopefully, one of the very few ways I'm like Costanza.

Don't Spit in the Once Great Building

Today I found myself in the Andrew County Courthouse in Savannah, Missouri.  The stone building was erected around 1900 and is still impressive from the outside.  Inside is a different story.  The rooms have been cheaply divided to make more rooms, the scent of cigarette smoke is prevalent everywhere, and the floors are no longer flat.  The men's bathroom is in the basement, just like all bathrooms in old courthouses, and access is through saloon style doors.  With exposed pipes, no hot water, and the sound of constant dripping, it has the feel of a prison or an insane asylum.  There is, however, a nice sign that hangs above the urinals.  It reads:

Do Not Spit or Throw Anything in the Urinals.

That really classed up the place.  I was sure to abide by the sign so as not to sully the sad little room.  I guess it's expensive to keep these once impressive buildings in good condition, but I get a little sad when I witness the structural dilapidation first hand.   

More Poetry from the 12-Year-Old DTS

A few posts ago I wrote of a poetry notebook I’d written for seventh grade.  Here are a few more items from Poetry By Me.

Untitled

I was once so cold
It felt as if pins were stabbing me
It was the dead of winter and it hurt
I was only three years old
When I fell into the cold snow
My face felt like the icicles hanging from the roof.

Looks like someone was working on his similes. 

Quick Thought...

Just a quick thought while trying to figure out what became of my Anchorman post...

Will Chrysler be able to attribute any car sales to the Lee Iacocca/Snoop Dogg commercial?  Who thought that was a good idea?  It's no wonder American car makers are struggling.

12-Year-Old DTS

It’s kind of unsettling getting an unexpected peek into the retro-mirror.  I was minding my own business one day last week when my wife called to tell me she’d unearthed my 7th grade poetry project -- poems written by yours truly 21 long years ago.  A raw and unedited look at who I was.  Before I reveal a few of the poems, the 12-year-old DTS insists that I mention he got an "A."  Further, I would be remiss if I did not quote the teacher's commentary from the front page:

I really enjoyed this: it's thoughtful, sensitive, direct.  Save it and look at it years from now -- as you once were as a little 7th grader -- and how you have added even more wonderful things to yourself.

(I actually was a little 7th grader -- one of the shortest in the class.)  Let's see if I've added any more wonderful things, shall we?

Reasons I Haven't Written

I've been lax in my posting lately.  The reasons are manyfold:  work is using all my brainpower; Seinfeld's backed up on my DVR; daughter is close to crawling and I watch her all the time; reading a really cool book; I get kicked off Typepad four out of five times from my home computer; it's Africa-hot in my computer room; the Cardinals; Monk; Dora the Explorer; yardwork; social gatherings; work on the weekend; Six Feet Under; Laguna Beach; KC Filmmakers Jubilee stuff; the first twenty pages of a screenplay; the heat, oh my God, the heat; and basic old fashioned laziness. 

I just put a fan in the computer room.  That should take care of the problem.  Stay tuned....

I Got Nothing

Well, that's not exactly true.  I've got nothing ready to post.  I'm working on a book review and polishing a short story that I'd like you to read, so there will be something soon.  In the meantime, I shall direct your attention to:

Worst Album Covers Ever

Someone tipped me to this laugh-out-loud Pork Tornado character and his assembly of album covers that will make you wonder "who thought that was a good idea?"

Crane v. Antelope

Ever play that parlor game where two animals are selected and you debate which one would win in a fight to the death?  Tiger v. Alligator is a good one.  I've got to like the alligator because of its thick hide.  The tiger may be quicker, but the alligator is just too tough.  Cobra v. Pit Bull.  The cobra's bite is deadly, but the pit bull is so determined that once it gets its jaws wrapped around the cobra, the cobra is done for.  The cobra may get in a fatal blow, but it will die first and the pit bull will be crowned champion.  I bring this up because this past weekend I saw a crane fight an antelope at the St. Louis Zoo.  Sure, it's not exactly the dream contest envisioned in the aforementioned game, but it paired two unlikely contestants in a battle of wits, strength, pecking, and goring.

I was pushing my strollered two year old through the zoo when I saw the battle commence.  Mistaking for some friendly sparring, I said "hey, look at that, the crane and antelope are playing."  The crane would peck at the antelope, who would lunge at the retreating bird.  A little bob, a little weave, and then all of a sudden, anger, as they brayed, bleated, honked, and otherwise cursed each other's existence.  The crane's friend got involved.  Unfortunately for the crane, his friend was another crane.  The crane wasn't a bad fighter, but lacked any sort of finishing blow.  Plus, its spindly legs could do just so much dancing.  It wasn't long before the antelope had the crane down and was shoving it around with its long pointy horns.  Ugly.  So ugly that I zipped on out of there to avoid any more carnage.  As I left, the antelope had turned its attention to Mr. Other Crane and the zookeepers were jumping to action.

My son never knew what was actually going on because of his low vantage point and because he was obsessed with seeing the elephants by that point. 

Alas, if you're ever partaking in the Which Animal Would Win Game and someone mentions the speedy antelope v. the wily crane, you can say without a doubt that the antelope will emerge as the victor.