Many many years ago while explaining his intention to move to more tropical climes than our native Michigan, Big Brother said, “Intelligent life can’t exist below the freezing point of water.” I’ve never entirely agreed: I personally believe it can, but perhaps it would rationally choose not to.
But this morning while randomly surfing around waiting for the coffee to kick in, I came upon a picture that reminded me of something suggesting that maybe the presence of liquid water isn’t the only criterion for Intelligent Life habitat…
When I was a young man, circumstance drove me west. I went to trade school in Oklahoma, which seemed to me to be pretty darned West: There were cattle ranches and Indians and bowlegged illiterate guys with Skoal cans and goat-roper hats. Little did I know.
For my sins, a post-school employment opportunity landed me in the Texas panhandle. Imagine pulling back a motel room curtain one bright Sunday morning and finding yourself on the set of High Plains Drifter.
I used to joke that the only good thing about it was that you could tell what next week’s weather would be just by looking out at the horizon. With time I grew to love it – it turns out I’m just that kind of guy – but even after all these years I do recall what a shock it was at first.
And it turns out that the people who lived there, among all their other – many – traits that would twist a SJW’s knickers, were absolutely addicted to fireworks, and the sparkier the better. Since the entire landscape consisted of dry grass and tumbleweed, a less appropriate pastime cannot be imagined. And on the evening of my first July 4 in the Panhandle…
It turns out that July 4 is always a big night for the local fire departments of the Texas panhandle. It’s just sort of a … thing there.
Funny, what memories a simple random picture can bring back. I kind of got into bottle rockets myself, back then. And yes, I’ve stomped out my share of infant grassfires.