I’ve been trying to figure out what I would write for this blog post all morning. I surfed world news, found things like Guatemalan mobs taking to burning people alive as punishments for crimes, in this case a sixteen year-old girl for participating in the theft of a taxi driver’s money with her two accomplices, neither of which were caught. Apparently this is a common practice; strange that this is the first I’ve heard of it. You’d think that would have become front page news years ago! There is a story behind that, but we’ll only see it if our media wants us to.
While Texas is a deluge of rampant waterways, India’s roads are melting it’s so hot and dry. Something like twelve hundred people have already been baked alive like potatoes in an oven, most of them poor with nowhere to hide from our life-giving star, and its relentless heat, made worse by dry winds from arid regions to the northeast. Why? Climate change, you know, the science fictional global conspiracy that isn’t really happening? That same thing isn’t really happening in Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, California, the Mexican border, and elsewhere across the globe—it’s all a ruse to keep everyone from focusing on the real issue, the Ukraine bent on conquering Russia, and Russia’s desperate fight to hold them back.
Taking a break to meander about the kitchen while aimlessly looking for something I was craving to eat that I already knew wasn’t there, I continued to debate what to write about. Thankfully, life provided my son and I with front seats to a real reality show from our kitchen window as two kids walking past our house were approached by, we assume their family, in a maroon sedan with peeling paint. They pulled up in front of our house where the family rolled down the windows and proceeded to carry on an argument about something.
It was heated, and members got in and out the car, pulled out a gallon of water laying on the front passenger-side floorboard which they passed around throughout the conflict while they pointed fingers, yelled, and waved their hands around like baby birds strengthening their wings for their first flight. Since the air conditioner was going right next to us, we heard none of the conversation, but when it finally concluded, the two kids walked back up the street, and the rest of them all piled back in the car before the driver put it in reverse and retreated up the road, presumably to their house.
Basically, the whole family got in their car to drive five or six houses down, so they could finish whatever argument they began at home. Only in America, I thought as I watched them back up, are we so lazy we have to drive down the street to complete a family fight. After that, I looked at my son and said, “Put some dialogue to that!” We laughed as I walked back through the kitchen.