Packt like sardines in a 3G box
July 9th, 2008Sitting in LAX tethered to a power outlet, I’m going to let the virtual keypad’s corrective spelling do its thing. At Cliff’s suggetion I took the scenic route here. I went north to go south and avoided congestion in the process. Again I have an hour plus of downtime in an airport, but it’s a good thing; I’m sure we’re still at orange threat despite the wiretap green light bill
passing today. Want to bet we are orange for the rest of W’s term? Politics is probably a bad topic, as it is at the sagebrush. What a longhorn is doing in Calabasas makes no matter to me. Rambling on, I was behind a Buddhist monk in the security line. As I waited patiently, he asked me to go on ahead. Damn, I should have known better than to try to be emptier than him. Now I am marveling at the hustle and bustle, the quest for relevance within shortening attention spans, and the undoubtable commoditization of power outlets and networks. We joked today about giant cellphones in the 80s, and how children will not only find vinyl records incredible but also CDs, and possibly even the metaphor of a keyboard. My dad is so old he knows touch typing. He even remembers white out. Oh. And I fibbed about the corrective typing. Fixed about 5 errors manually. “have yourself a good time its nothing at all”.
With increasing time zone delirium,
Your humble narrator
