But look at this magnolia.
The Bronx, 4-20-2014
Surely, people dance more and fall in love more and get outside more and smile more.
This is a great thing.
But it increases other externalized behaviors. THE CRAZIES are OUT, TOO!
And don't get me wrong, I like the crazies. They're people, too, they're just a little crazier.
I saw three guys in some sort of guitar trio on the subway break out into a power struggle, with one guy accusing the other guy of going all gangster. It felt like something was about to go down. And yeah, someone threw a punch and the brawl went into full swing. I got off at the next stop and changed cars. Who knows who has a gun these days?
In the next car, a man spoke gibberish and sang loud and asked for money loud and blamed people loud for his misfortune. All of this, in a sort of growling howling, a cry against injustice. He was not dangerous. He was just exceptionally unhappy.
He was easy, compared to the prim guy sitting next to me, ninety degrees, with an instrument in a case between his legs...it looked trumpety. He had on ear buds. He smelled of a perfume spill at a Macy's counter. If you didn't have sinus trouble before meeting this guy, you will be needing an E.N.T. almost immediately after. So as the homeless man was wailing, and the entire inside of my skull was contracting in olfactory disgust like a beaked mollusk around an echinoderm, the smelly trumpeter, ear buds in, started in with his volcalise. Quiet, at first. But pretending the ear buds blocked his inability to hear himself so he could sing louder than he should, or he really could not hear himself so he just sang louder than he should, I eventually had to jump up and escape down the way. Monster.
I was like a man being controlled in an obnoxious live-action app game where foul asteroids or color blobs of hell were trying to kill me and I simply had to get out of the way.
I survived, of course. And clearly ready for more, when the final thing happened in the village, when a woman, in crazy black mules not made for running, ran past me just a few feet to the building we were both going to so she could stick her key in and not have to wait for me to pass?--or something, and then we both got in the same elevator and she was about to start a fight or a good cry or a big gas ball, or miss an appointment, who knows?--I decided to get out a floor early and just walk the last flight up.
Be gone crazy early bulbs!
Of course, I love them all and wouldn't have traded it for anything. They're just crazy. And there is nothing holding them back now. They are coming at you and you better bob and weave. No complacency as the daffodils send out their yellow warning signs. When summer comes, and the crazy rompers all get turned up to boil, the fun thing will be to watch whose carapace turns a bright red, who gets overcooked and who, simply, wafts away in a bloof of steam.
1. A bus ticket to Nanuet, New York where you can go shopping at one of the many malls or centers.
2. A bus ticket from Nanuet, NY to Paramus, NJ where you can get all the things they didn't have in Nanuet.
3. Dinner with Chris Christie at one of the finest restaurants in Toms River, NJ called "Shut Up & Eat." And four Altoids.
4. A fur coat made from high quality fake fur. Underwear not included.
5. Two nights at the Post Ranch Inn in Big Sur. With chocolate and seriously trendy California wine. Morning and evening massages. A muzzle for the guy in the man-moo who won't stop talking about fair market quinoa and the supremacy of bisexuality.
6. Four nights at The Pierre Hotel on East 61st Street in Manhattan. Dinner at Per Se. Lunch at Per Se. You and a rodeo clown get to round up all the horses in Manhattan and drive them out to Pennsylvania to cheering fans. Ellen Degeneres has you on her show as a hero.
7. A two bedroom apartment in the Seventh Arrondissement in Paris. Right across from the best petit-dejeuner place you've ever been to and now you get to chow there any morning you like. With a bidet, a concierge and the occasional visit by the Queen of Belgium.
8. Six highly trainable STD-free whores of your choosing, for six months for six hours every day (1 hour each. Why do I always have to do the math?)
9. The other part of the Ukraine that Russia didn't take.
10. An Israeli-Palestinian resolution, which will require the colonization of Mars.
11. Everyone else's money that you haven't yet taken. And you don't have to worry about air quality.
12. The seeable-to-the-naked-eye universe. And everyone tells you you deserve it.
13. And Lucky Thirteen: Everything else that hasn't yet been claimed. Plus, anything you can invent as long as it is within reason. Surely, you'll have at least one 3-D printer for that job. And a dog. You'll need a dog.
Not that it ever makes sense to approach things logically with "the other side"---
But my big question is: Why would scientists the world over all get together and in a wacky consortium of deceit for some unknown gain, lie about climate change?
Why would they lie? Do they all want to keep their jobs or something? Who is employing them? Bosses above them who want, like crazy, for climate change to happen because these higher-ups are all jonesing so bad for nuclear energy?
If they are lying, then maybe, too, the moon landing never happened?
Floods and earthquakes and tornadoes and hurricanes and erratic weather, sure, these don't mean, necessarily, that we have destroyed the climate. Fine. But there are all these other measurements that are being taken. Ice cores. And water levels. And comparative temperatures. Why would they lie about those?
Could it really be collective hysteria that is making this all happen? That it isn't true? That a bunch of people just really want to take down the oil industry so they just keep lying through their teeth?
Lastly, by simply logic, wouldn't it make sense that now, since 25% of CO2 in the atmosphere is man made, that it would be a good idea to scale that back?
Okay, now really lastly, what's in it for you, other side, that makes you want to believe that all these people are lying?