Tuesday, December 21
Tumbleweeds 4.0
Two -- no, three, wait: four! -- more notes about tumbleweeds:
1: Driving home last night, after the most recent wind-driven invasion of tumbleweeds, it looked like a war zone out in the parking. The broken and destroyed carcasses of tumbleweeds were strewn about, sad, pitiful, piled in corners next to vans, stuck dragging under the passenger side doors of cars leaving the parking lot, broken in two or three amid the empty parking spots. Little tan sticks flattened on the pavement. It was a brutal attack, and while it appeared from the fourth floor the T'weeds were putting up a good fight, down there on the ground it was oh-so-clear the cars won. Oh, how the cars won. The humanity -- wait - oh the tumbleweedity!
2: So then I drive somberly home, lamenting the defeat of the great Wyoming and Montana Tumbleweed Army, and to cheer myself up we're watching The Simpsons, and wouldn't you know it Homer has abandoned Springfield and taken the family out to be a farmer and, when nothing grows, gets Lenny to mail him some P and he spreads the plutonium all over the unproductive land, over the tomato and tobacco seeds he's planted, and at first nothing grows but the glow, and as he stands in his overalls waiting for the tomacco plants to grow, a tumbleweed rolls through. That's two Simpsons' tumbleweed sightings right after tumbleweed storms in two weeks. Weird, huh?
3: What is it with me and tumbleweeds? I swear I've never obsessed about them before. And yet… there're so strange bouncing along, minding their own business, seeking their own journey, causing observers to wonder where they come from and how can there always be so many more coming up the hill, and seeing so many advance on the work complex is weirdly wonderful, a touch of nature in the corporate campus.
4: And my apparent neo-obsession is not to be confused in any way with these Tumbleweeds.
1: Driving home last night, after the most recent wind-driven invasion of tumbleweeds, it looked like a war zone out in the parking. The broken and destroyed carcasses of tumbleweeds were strewn about, sad, pitiful, piled in corners next to vans, stuck dragging under the passenger side doors of cars leaving the parking lot, broken in two or three amid the empty parking spots. Little tan sticks flattened on the pavement. It was a brutal attack, and while it appeared from the fourth floor the T'weeds were putting up a good fight, down there on the ground it was oh-so-clear the cars won. Oh, how the cars won. The humanity -- wait - oh the tumbleweedity!
2: So then I drive somberly home, lamenting the defeat of the great Wyoming and Montana Tumbleweed Army, and to cheer myself up we're watching The Simpsons, and wouldn't you know it Homer has abandoned Springfield and taken the family out to be a farmer and, when nothing grows, gets Lenny to mail him some P and he spreads the plutonium all over the unproductive land, over the tomato and tobacco seeds he's planted, and at first nothing grows but the glow, and as he stands in his overalls waiting for the tomacco plants to grow, a tumbleweed rolls through. That's two Simpsons' tumbleweed sightings right after tumbleweed storms in two weeks. Weird, huh?
3: What is it with me and tumbleweeds? I swear I've never obsessed about them before. And yet… there're so strange bouncing along, minding their own business, seeking their own journey, causing observers to wonder where they come from and how can there always be so many more coming up the hill, and seeing so many advance on the work complex is weirdly wonderful, a touch of nature in the corporate campus.
4: And my apparent neo-obsession is not to be confused in any way with these Tumbleweeds.
