Wednesday night as I watched the news about all the security precautions being taken in Detroit for Sunday’s Super Bowl, the thought occurred to me that if Osama bin Laden and his fellow terrorists want to see hell-come-to-breakfast on Monday they should do something stupid at the 40th Super Bowl.
Tuesday night while driving to a social gathering, I lived the immeasurable nano-moment George Carlin calls the “shortest interval of time:” that flashing moment between when the traffic light turns green and the guy (Carlin used a different term) behind you blows his horn. Our paths paralleled on the eastbound highway for less than a half-mile when the horn blower pulled his SUV off the highway to use an ATM machine.
The dog situation about which I have written earlier appears to have succumbed to a “mild solution.” A talk with the neighbor resulted in her promise to tether the animal when she lets him out in the morning (the city requires dogs to be on a leash or under control of the owner.)
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