Forms of Life
Paging Dr. Frankenstein. According to an article in today’s NY Post, Yale scientists recently restored life to a pig’s brain four hours after its death. Its vessels revived and some cells regained activity and responded to drugs. It has been hailed as an amazing breakthrough that may lead to a redefinition of the line between life and death. Remarkable, indeed. Unfortunately, the piece did not explain how this may benefit mankind — or maybe I’m just too lame in terms of science to see it. It was my worst subject. Can’t resist the temptation: “It’s alive! It’s alive!”
News is at our fingertips 24/7 and reaches throughout the globe, which has continued to shrink metaphorically. World population keeps increasing. I always remind myself of those factors whenever it seems planet earth is on the verge of an apocalypse. The more people there are, the more nuts there will be, although the percentage may remain the same. Three current stories had me thinking these thoughts again: the guy who threw the child to near death at a mall; the lost, armed teenage female soul obsessed with Columbine who traveled to Colorado and wound up killing only herself; and the guy who entered St. Patrick’s Cathedral with cans of gasoline. Given these cases and the political climate, I don’t blame anyone who doesn’t watch or read the news.
So its on to obstruction and tax returns for leftists in their efforts to get President Trump. They are pathetic slimeballs and I hope non-partisan voters see through them.
It was an interesting session of the floating book shop. My thanks to the gentleman who donated about 30 books in Russian, and to the couple who for the third straight day handed over CDs both in Russian and English. A new wave collection resembled one I might have burned. Thanks also to Matt, who bought The Black Tower by P.D. James; and to the gentleman who purchased a Bibi Netanyahu bio; and to the elderly woman who clutched the Danielle Steel translation I handed her to her busom; and to the woman who selected Everybody’s Got Something by ABC’s Robin Roberts and Veronica Chambers. As that woman stepped away she spotted a credit card on the ground. She picked it up and handed it to me in case the owner returned looking for it. A few seconds later a young man of about 20 approached and demanded it. I said: “Tell me your name and it’s yours.” This was repeated several times. He is either a young fool or a thief with brass balls. He said he’s a rapper and showed me what looked like an expensive watch, which proved nothing. Sensing danger, I caved and handed it over grudgingly. At 68, I doubt I can beat a young man in a fight. And what if I did and he came back someday with a gun? I suppose that’s a racist thought. I don’t care. He didn’t look like a Hernandez, and I couldn’t tell if the first name, something like Elihya, was masculine or feminine. I just googled it and found a lot of folks with similar names, and none resembled the young fool. I came out the loser, feeling like a coward for not having stood my ground, feeling bad for the owner — if indeed it was not the young turk. He was cursing me as he walked away. If he hopes to be a successful hip hop artist, he’s gonna have to get a lot smarter. If he remains stupid and returns for revenge, please note that he’s at least five-ten and slim of build. The date is 4/18, in case surveillance cameras are needed, and the time was between eleven and twelve-thirty.
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