I am taking April off from Disperser Tracks, from reading blogs, from Facebook, from Twitter, and from the Internet in general. I plan to return (virtually) live on May 1st.
Meanwhile, I scheduled a few posts (like this one) to go live during April . . . like a blog heartbeat of sorts.
I should mention, I am not monitoring comments. I will eventually read them in May, but if anyone has a question, the best bet is to send me an e-mail.
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We have not done so for some time now, but we used to visit antique stores pretty regularly. One of the things often seen are models of machines.
Small things, they are, sometimes no more than mere inches, but depicting literally eras of our history. The contribution of the machines they represent often cannot be measured or quantified except to say they helped change the world.
Not motorcycles, of course; they are just something middle aged jerks can use to annoy other folks.
Sometimes the machines are mere mechanisms requiring human power to operate.
Sometimes only parts of a machine are on display . . . but it still evokes memories, and still can bring a smile to one’s face.
Sometimes the whole machine is there, and it contains the actual memories for us.
R7 is one of my favorite songs, and it goes well with this next machine of sorts . . . one that humans have been slaves to for far too long.
Sometimes the machines have no moving parts . . . they are mere representations of grander things.
Finally, some machines remind us just how far we have come . . .
That’s it. This post has ended . . . except for the stuff below.
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. . . my FP ward . . . chieken shit.