In world news, Japan experienced the strongest earthquake in history, strife and war continue in Libya, and a poor farming family in Perry County lost seven children to a fire, and the Westboro Baptist Church is threatening to attend the funeral. There is plenty of sad news to remind me how trivial most things are.
That said, we've watched yet another amazing documentary: Inside Job, directed by Charles Ferguson, the one that won this year's Oscar for Best Documentary. It's riveting, darkly fascinating stuff that is guaranteed to make its viewers very angry, and it ends with the disturbing revelation that those who caused the 2008 meltdown are still in power, and no real progress has been made to bring back the regulations that were in place before the 1980's. Everyone should see this, especially young adults. I hope some of them are paying attention.
On a daily basis, though, most of us are paying closer attention to our own little pieces of the universe, which is quite natural. My own itsy bitsy speck of space-time is rather boring, which leads to the following work-a-day observation.
Coolerwoman doesn't usually come into our branch, but we've all heard about her. She's got a shopping cart with a cooler in it, but she hasn't necessarily been grocery shopping. What's in the cooler? An urn. An urn with her late husband's ashes inside. He's been gone for quite some time, at least several years. Why does she carry it everywhere she goes? Didn't spend enough time with him while he was able to walk around himself? Afraid some other woman's gonna steal her man? Is she thinking that any day might be the magical day that she's meant to spread him around?
Dunno. It's just in my SHAKE IT ALL AROUND box.
What's in my IN box? I'm reading a very different kind of mystery. I think it's a mystery. I'll try to explain Funeral for a Dog next week. I can say that I am enjoying the style very much, and am really looking forward to figuring out what, exactly, is eating Dirk Svensson...
In my OUT box, a $110.50 ticket for failure to stop at that stop sign down the street from me. Damn. Last night, as it grew dark, I was sitting in the living room, just about to turn on the lights, when suddenly the room appeared to be lit up by a disco ball and a loud siren was going off. Someone heading towards our house was being apprehended. We don't have drugs in this neighborhood, oh no, we have--stop signs. Three in particular, at the three-way down the road, and you'd best know that, if you intend to visit these parts.
So, how was your week?