Ballad of the Hybrid

Eco-car: Why are you so weird? A battery in the boot? A push button to start ya? That ain’t the way I was reared. It’s a song — an opening line to one I’ve been writing. It came to me as I was driving about in a Toyota Prius, one of those so-called hybrids that are revolutionizing the automotive world. I rented one while in Missouri last week to defend my thesis. I had imagined a thesis defense would be like standing atop a castle gate during a barbarian siege. It was nowhere near so dramatic. I hadn’t meant to rent a Prius — it was assigned to me when I showed up at the rental car counter at the airport. It had some kind of super-electric regenerating blah-blah-blah steam-driven, weed-eating, carbonated soda pop engine that ran both on gas and the energy it stored in the batteries out back.

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A Dear Mom Letter for Computer Deficiencies Everywhere

Dear mom, It pains me to say this, but I felt something had to be done. I have to get this off my chest. I just can’t go on anymore holding this inside — bottling it up and trying to keep the cork from bursting out. Remember, I think you’ve been an amazing parent and never did anything to hurt me (although, giving me those hot toddies when I was a kid to help my bronchitis was definitely questionable.) So let me get this out: You cannot call me on the phone anymore to ask for help working out issues with your computer. You just can’t. I know it’s complicated stuff to grasp. But it’s killing me. It’s growing a field of gray hair in uneven patches atop my head. It’s making tense muscles in my neck snap under the strain. I blew a blood vessel in my eye the other night. I might have to seek counseling. In short: I just can’t do it anymore.

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A Leaking Roof Returns to Roost

“I see you up there,”I shouted. “Don’t think I don’t see you.” I was staring up at the ceiling. In the middle of the night. Pointing. POINTING! I must have looked like a madman. Luckily everyone else in the house had gone to sleep. Not even the dog was up to worry about me … my sanity. The dog would have had me hauled off to the loony farm. She can dial a phone. But I wasn’t crazy. I saw it. A glimmer. A peak. A little spot. A tiny trickle. A drip. Yes, a drip. The leak was back. It had been so long since I had seen it. All winter. All summer. Back to last spring, and maybe earlier. In some ways it was like seeing an old friend — reassuring and comforting — until you remember the last time you saw this particular individual he drank all your beer, insulted your wife, turned your house upside down and ultimately relieved himself on your living room floor.

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