Strange Land
So far, so good in terms of loss of life to Hurricane Ida. May that continue.
Snippets from a foxbusiness.com article by Megan Henney, edited by yours truly: Since the beginning of 2018, California has seen 265 companies relocate their headquarters outside of the state — 74 of which left in the first six months of 2021… the state’s population declined by 182,083 people — the first time the annual statistic has been a minus since 1900. Officials blame Covid. Others say the state is too expensive, too regulated and too heavily taxed, both for companies and for the workers they hire. “California here I go…”
I’m not piling on to the Afghanistan negativism. What good does it do?
Here’s an excerpt from a short story, Actor-Activist, that’s part of the Billionths of a Lifetime collection. It’s a few minutes read leading to its conclusion. A celebrity is riding in the back of a limo:
Tinto dialed his phone and was connected to a talk show host on the west coast. By the time the interview was finished, the car was on the Long Island Expressway, which was bumper to bumper. The phone again played the theme from The Exorcist. He muttered angrily.
“Die,” he said into the receiver, and shut off the phone.
He surveyed traffic. “You’d think people would’ve learned to use mass transit by now.”
“I’m glad you ain’t,” said Dan, chuckling.
Tinto shot him an icy look, as if he suspected he’d been mocked.
Soon the way was less congested.
“Get in the H.O.V lane,” said Tinto.
“Better believe it.”
When they turned off the highway they hit another snag, as a protest rally was
underway.
“I’ll never get home,” Tinto grumbled.
“Maybe you should get out and say a few words. It’s right up your alley.”
Again Tinto sensed he was being mocked. He wondered if the driver was playing dumb, then dismissed the thought, as acting was his department, and he would see right through any that wasn’t genuine. He was about to say something when his attention was drawn to a small band of silent counter-protestors, some of whom were in fatigues, including one in a wheelchair. Several held placards. One read: “Have you heard about 9/11? It was in all the papers.”
“Stop,” he said, reading the signs, making a face. “Not one of those thoughts justifies the invasion of a sovereign nation.”
“Maybe they think that’s where we should be drawin’ the line.”
“They’re blind.”
“Actually, one of ’em is.”
There was a seeing-eye dog at the side of a tall black man.
“What a waste. It’s a crime what the administration does with the poor and
uneducated.”
“I was in the first Gulf War. I didn’t see no dummies. Everybody was smarter than me, though that ain’t sayin’ much.”
“I thought the government was supposed to take care of vets. What’re you doing driving a limo?”
“It’s my second job. I want my wife to be home if the kids need ‘er. I work data entry in gold futures.”
“Another bunch of thieves.”
Dan shrugged. “They’re good to me. They drive a hard bargain — just like you did on the phone before.”
“If they were really good to you, you wouldn’t have to work a second job.”
“I’d probably do it, anyway. You can never have too much money when you got kids, unless you’re a movie star or a ballplayer.”
“Then you have too much,” said Tinto wistfully. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“I’d love to have that problem. Still, I like bein’ a chauffeur, even when I hafta drive jerks around — and, believe me, you get a lot of ’em. I could tell you stories about at’letes and entertainers that’d make you think twice about ever watchin’ ’em again.”
Tinto was beside himself, certain he was being ridiculed indirectly. Only the belief that the driver lacked the faculty to be clever kept him from retaliating.
Finally they reached the estate.
“Wow, some house. What a country.”
Tinto would swear the comment was ironic. “Do you have a problem with me, Don?”
The driver’s reaction was one of such genuine surprise that Tinto let the issue slide. He would save confrontation for those in the spotlight, for those whose unmasking would benefit the movement, not some small fry who could barely express himself.
He opened the security gate by remote control. It locked once the limousine rolled past it.
Fortunately the floating book shop was in the spot that gets the most shade, which took some of the sting out of the humidity. My thanks to Alice, who insisted on paying for I, Alex Cross by James Patterson even though she returned a book she’d bought Friday; and to Candy, a southern girl who loves hot weather, who purchased the original uncut version of Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein; and to Ira, who took home a huge Life pictorial; and to the three gentlemen who each bought a book in Russian.
“Do you grok?”
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