Saturday, July 14, 2012
The Dispatch From Escalatorville: Hello, lamp post, whatcha' knowin'?
I was witness to the following about a dozen years ago in the town of Seattle, Washington (heard of it?):
Walking down one of the steepish roads from First Hill toward the downtown "zone" - I saw a large man in a wheelchair headed up the same stretch of thoroughfare - on the opposite side of the street. My buddy, Jeremy Puma was with me, he can verify this tale if you ask him.
We watched the obese, wheeled, gentleman slowly make his way toward the top of the next block. It took a moment for me to notice the tiny fellow behind the chair - the Professor Marvel to a plump, non-pedestrian Oz. There he was, pushing a man easily twice his size up a 40 degree angle - his face doused in perspiration.
The couple got about halfway up the block when the minuscule pusher took a rest - essentially locking his legs while leaning on the back of the wheelchair - catching some fresh air while simply not moving for a few moments. He shook the sweat from his head and took a few deep breaths. At that point, two younger girls of eastern descent, in traditional garb, whom had been walking a bit behind the non-aerodynamic duo, hastened their pace and approached the pusher-man.
"Do you need any help?" The girls eagerly asked.
(Ed. Note: A thought to assist had also occurred to Mister Puma and myself, however the girls got to them first)
The look on the smaller man's face clearly, wordlessly, gave the answer - he would definitely appreciate assistance...
"THAT'S A'RIGHT," growled the voice from the chair. "WE'RE FINE. Let's Go."
The look on the pusher's face indicated he was indeed ready to "let go." To let go and laugh maniacally as he watched his tormentor roll backwards through the coffee bars, hair boutiques, and designer restaurants that populate the downtown streets of Jet City.
Nonetheless, he gathered his strength (as well as his wits), took a deep breath, and pressed on.
I'm sure this story is a metaphor for something, but I'm just telling you what I saw.
Thus explaining 'Baba O'reilly'
'OHM' - spelled upside down, is 'WHO'
Our Gift to You
Free Band Name Of This Issue: The Vanishing Meek (think of the possibilities!)
Music Is A Hell of A Drug
Usually, I don't cotton to the super loud and obnoxious neo-funk that blares from the car of a workspace neighbor as he pulls into the back of our respective stores shared parking lot. However, the other day, he entered blasting the original Rick James classic ' SuperFreak ' - and all previous melodic sins were momentarily forgiven.
The Dispatch From Escalatorville
Z.F. Lively, Proprietor/Not A Dance Instructor (no matter what he tells you)
firstname.lastname@example.org for lyric sheets to unwritten songs