It's supposed to be 95 degrees today. Which means it will be closer to 100. Gah.
I was thinking about Independence Day, and not the Will Smith movie.
After what our ancestors fought for, either as a Revolutionary War soldier or a later immigrant who struggled to survive in a new land, what exactly are we independent of right now?
Just one come-hither-and-pay-up gesture from the Chinese and we're doomed. I don't call that independent.
As someone who owes a great deal of money to her mortgage company and has recently added an enormous debt to that, I don't feel independent.
Yeah, yeah, I get it. No man is an island, blah blah blah.
But I don't think the American War for Independence was fought so an American government could so rampantly pick my pocket instead of a British government doing the same.
Pleasantville picks my pocket to send other peoples' children to inferior public schools. The State of New Jersey picks my pocket to give money to townships far, far away. The Federal government picks my pocket to support retired Congressmen and women.
No. I don't feel so independent. Ask me when I'm living off the grid someplace, making enough money to survive but not enough money to tax. Maybe then I'll feel independent.
Showing posts with label pleasantville. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pleasantville. Show all posts
Sunday, July 04, 2010
Monday, June 16, 2008
Here There Be Monsters
I would like to think that Pleasantville, where I live, is a haven and a sure port in any storm. However. One look at the national sex offender data base proves that there are several bad men around where I live. One, in fact, lives on my street, although not my block. So there are, sadly, bad men in Pleasantville.
Yesterday morning, I was on my way out to see "Kung Fu Panda". (I'm sorry. I have a weak spot for Jack Black. Is that wrong?) It was about 9:30 on a sunny Sunday morning and as I tootled along the road leading out of the little enclave where I live, a guy in a silver Nissan zoomed out of his driveway. I slowed and then stopped as he pulled out and turned the car along the road.
He pulled over to the right and then stopped. I stopped, too, because I figured he had a reason for stopping. Then he stuck his hand out the window and waved me on.
Oh, I thought, he's probably just re-arranging the cars in his driveway. When you've got three cars in the family and a one car driveway, it makes for some re-arranging.
So blithely I passed him, only to see him follow me so closely that in my rearview mirror, all I could see was his windshield and the silhouette of his head.
My heart rate skyrocketed. Dude, I thought, it's Sunday morning. There's no road rage in Pleasantville, especially on a quiet Sunday morning.
I slowed and tried to pull over, but he seemed to go even faster and made for the right side of the road. There was no place to pull over. The road out leads through an apartment complex and cars lined the street.
I came up to a stop sign and looked both ways before revving my car through the stop sign and to the right, where you would usually only go if you lived there. It's a dead end with lots of little cul de sacs behind the buildings. I zipped into one of these, relieved that he wasn't following me. I figured if he did, I'd just lay on the horn while calling 911. It would piss off enough people to come to their windows and see what was going on.
After I waited a couple of seconds, I peeked around the corner. He was still at the stop sign. He waited. And waited. And then he turned left.
I know he was just an asshole taking out his frustrations on me, but I have to tell you, I've had more than my share of that. I thought of the people in that house. I thought of the man they live with and I felt sorry for them.
Eventually, I pulled out of the apartment complex and went a different way to the theater. Although I wanted to think I shook it off, I know it cast an ugly shadow over my day. It went deep so fast I barely had time to register it.
The movie was great. I laughed out loud.
But on the way home, I went past the house where I saw him pull out. I know where he lives. And I know his license number if this particular little monster gives me trouble again. The next time, I'll be quicker with 911.
Yet I hate knowing it. I hate knowing there are monsters in Pleasantville. I've ignored it for a long time or was in denial of it. My little enclave is safe and stable. But there are monsters here, large and small. This is a little one. The large ones end up as a story in the newspaper, featuring headlines like "Daughter of NJ Poet Laureate Murdered by Lover", "17 year old shot in drug dispute" and so on.
I hate that that guy did this to me on a Sunday morning. On such a peaceful, lovely weekend. And my mind keeps going back to his poor family. Is this another headline in the making?
Yesterday morning, I was on my way out to see "Kung Fu Panda". (I'm sorry. I have a weak spot for Jack Black. Is that wrong?) It was about 9:30 on a sunny Sunday morning and as I tootled along the road leading out of the little enclave where I live, a guy in a silver Nissan zoomed out of his driveway. I slowed and then stopped as he pulled out and turned the car along the road.
He pulled over to the right and then stopped. I stopped, too, because I figured he had a reason for stopping. Then he stuck his hand out the window and waved me on.
Oh, I thought, he's probably just re-arranging the cars in his driveway. When you've got three cars in the family and a one car driveway, it makes for some re-arranging.
So blithely I passed him, only to see him follow me so closely that in my rearview mirror, all I could see was his windshield and the silhouette of his head.
My heart rate skyrocketed. Dude, I thought, it's Sunday morning. There's no road rage in Pleasantville, especially on a quiet Sunday morning.
I slowed and tried to pull over, but he seemed to go even faster and made for the right side of the road. There was no place to pull over. The road out leads through an apartment complex and cars lined the street.
I came up to a stop sign and looked both ways before revving my car through the stop sign and to the right, where you would usually only go if you lived there. It's a dead end with lots of little cul de sacs behind the buildings. I zipped into one of these, relieved that he wasn't following me. I figured if he did, I'd just lay on the horn while calling 911. It would piss off enough people to come to their windows and see what was going on.
After I waited a couple of seconds, I peeked around the corner. He was still at the stop sign. He waited. And waited. And then he turned left.
I know he was just an asshole taking out his frustrations on me, but I have to tell you, I've had more than my share of that. I thought of the people in that house. I thought of the man they live with and I felt sorry for them.
Eventually, I pulled out of the apartment complex and went a different way to the theater. Although I wanted to think I shook it off, I know it cast an ugly shadow over my day. It went deep so fast I barely had time to register it.
The movie was great. I laughed out loud.
But on the way home, I went past the house where I saw him pull out. I know where he lives. And I know his license number if this particular little monster gives me trouble again. The next time, I'll be quicker with 911.
Yet I hate knowing it. I hate knowing there are monsters in Pleasantville. I've ignored it for a long time or was in denial of it. My little enclave is safe and stable. But there are monsters here, large and small. This is a little one. The large ones end up as a story in the newspaper, featuring headlines like "Daughter of NJ Poet Laureate Murdered by Lover", "17 year old shot in drug dispute" and so on.
I hate that that guy did this to me on a Sunday morning. On such a peaceful, lovely weekend. And my mind keeps going back to his poor family. Is this another headline in the making?
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