Let the people know my wisdom
Smoke out on the horizon today. Been a while. Didn't guess the distance right, it was much farther off than I'd thought, maybe eight miles instead of four. Tuned in to the EMS dispatch stream to see what was up. Came to it late and couldn't figure out exactly what was going on, but it was a fire, and no one was injured. Might have been a mulch farm. In any event, it is cold and quiet and boring right here.
Tape only lasts so long.
On the way back from Olney this morning I turned up a delightfully hideous piece of "art" in the trash on Broad Street in West Oak Lane. A couple of sailing ships done in that heavy waxy line style that I like, in blazing orange. There are holes punched in parts of it that were filled with semi-transparent red plexiglass with christmas lights behind them. I did not realize this until I examined it closely back at the shop, and the discovery led to much merriment. Jess proclaimed "The're writin' traysure maps in dere!" in regards to the prospect of lit ship windows. Alas, some scurvy rat had cut the electrical chord. Plus all the lights had slid down to the bottom of the frame. Tape only last so long.
I almost didn't capture this prize; as pulled to the curb to seize the booty i spied in my rear view a fellow trash enthusiast parking just a few cars back. "You had the same idea I did," i called to him as we both approached the trash pile. We examined the short stack of framed miscellanea and came to the agreement that the ships would sail with me, and the city scape and the flowers with the mirrored border and another unremarkable landscape would go with him. I don't reckon our ships will e'er pass each other again, but in case they do, I will put fresh tape on my lantern's christmas lights so that we might not collide.
Remember, treasure is in the posession of the beholder of a car big enough to stow the cargo. Nine tenths of law professors will agree that the trash belongs to the driver, whether he puts an envelope with his name on it under the garbage or not.
Tape only lasts so long.
On the way back from Olney this morning I turned up a delightfully hideous piece of "art" in the trash on Broad Street in West Oak Lane. A couple of sailing ships done in that heavy waxy line style that I like, in blazing orange. There are holes punched in parts of it that were filled with semi-transparent red plexiglass with christmas lights behind them. I did not realize this until I examined it closely back at the shop, and the discovery led to much merriment. Jess proclaimed "The're writin' traysure maps in dere!" in regards to the prospect of lit ship windows. Alas, some scurvy rat had cut the electrical chord. Plus all the lights had slid down to the bottom of the frame. Tape only last so long.
I almost didn't capture this prize; as pulled to the curb to seize the booty i spied in my rear view a fellow trash enthusiast parking just a few cars back. "You had the same idea I did," i called to him as we both approached the trash pile. We examined the short stack of framed miscellanea and came to the agreement that the ships would sail with me, and the city scape and the flowers with the mirrored border and another unremarkable landscape would go with him. I don't reckon our ships will e'er pass each other again, but in case they do, I will put fresh tape on my lantern's christmas lights so that we might not collide.
Remember, treasure is in the posession of the beholder of a car big enough to stow the cargo. Nine tenths of law professors will agree that the trash belongs to the driver, whether he puts an envelope with his name on it under the garbage or not.