Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Spring Sprung or, Reptile Rapture

It is said that if you live long enough you’ll see everything that is worth seeing. . . .

Out in the yard a bit ago, as I picked up fallen palm fronds after the zephyr of last night, I saw our resident Indigo snake trying to escape me.  Normally, this pencil-thin thing, like a tiny, tiny blacksnake, will flee in a blink.  But today he seemed much too long and skinny and slow.  Turns out, he and another snake were attached down where baby snakes come from and he was dragging his lover behind him in his mad attempt to escape. So strange . . . yet funny.  It seemed indeed a two-headed snake, a head at both ends, front and rear.  And like those two enormous manta rays I saw pulled from the water up at Pensacola years ago, still locked in their embrace ("Travel Tales #1," 3.7.11), this too must have been some sizzling sex, sure.


Biking Bummer--A female cyclist was hit and killed the other day up in Sarasota.  Even though she was in a crosswalk at the time, the 74-year-old motorist didn’t see her . . . of course.   The report states that the cyclist “failed to notice the oncoming car.”  Unlike crosswalks in Europe which are sacrosanct and scrupulously obeyed, entering a crosswalk in America is like entering a kill zone.  If the biker above blithely entered the crosswalk without looking, then it proves to me that she was either 1) a visitor from Europe, or 2) had something other than life, liberty and the pursuit of safety on her mind.  Clearly, if the lady was a US citizen, then she was not using her noggin.  

I would almost bet that the most missed answer on American driver’s license exams is:

When approaching a marked crosswalk you should:

           a)    Slow down and stop if occupied.

           b)    Speed up and race through if occupied.

Judging by what I have seen from one end of the US to the other, “b” wins going away.

We have a couple of crosswalks down by the island roundabout and pedestrians always seem a bit confused when I slow the car to a stop and let them cross.  Generally, they seem a bit confused, act a little surprised, then embarrassed, but soon wave as if grateful. 


Too Much Time—In their attempts to keep as many subscribers on board as possible, the policy or our local fishwrap is to cater to every crazed reader out there by printing whatever cracked crap they send in, or so it seems.  Case in point:


What in the world is going on?  According to the obituaries in your paper nobody is dying anymore.  They’re “passing away.”  Where is “away”?  Lordy!  I have done my will, living will, health care surrogate, and all those other things we’re supposed to do to make it easier on our families when we die.  Now I find out we’re not going to die, we’re going away somewhere!  And what are we passing on the way there?  And do we have to do anything on the way?

Doris Crotchfield

Hmmm.  I have an idea.  When Doris kicks the can (hopefully, any day now) please, whoever is in charge, please do not “pass” her and her stupidity on to anyone anywhere; just let Doris die, as per her wish, then plant her dumb ass quick.


There’s That Music Again—Like some bizarre Twilight Zone episode, another local geezer has been claimed by a lurking body of water.  No canal this.  A 67-year-old woman from neighboring Venice was discovered floating face down in a pond the other day.  Since “no foul play is expected,” admit the cops, how did this woman just stroll into a shallow scum of water (along this hot, flat coast, there are no other kind of ponds), and drown?  Perhaps the water contains a mineral or nutrient that the body craves and these loons, with their minds mostly gone, are drawn to the water like iron to a magnet.  How else to explain it?  Repeat:  This happened in Venice, FLORIDA, not Venice, Italy.  Although we do have a lot of agua hereabouts it is not as though water is right, left, center, above, below, under, over, everywhere, and that people here fall from their balconies, porches, sidewalks, or blob scooters and drown as they might in omni-water Venice, Italy.  No, these people here have to make a serious effort to drown . . . and seriously drown they do.
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