I answered today’s prompt only because I had something positive to tell. That was definitely the last time.

Watch tomorrow’s prompt be something like “How old were you when you saw “The Wizard of Oz” or something else nobody could possibly remember.

I was four. A powerful thunderstorm hit and the power, and of course, the lights went out. Thunder scared me more than the talking apple tree had. Which is exactly the scene playing when the transformer got struck by lightning. Back then, utility poles had steel rungs on them to aid linemen in climbing. On reflection, maybe they were really a way to get down if the BG&E guy lost his ladder. I don’t know because from the ground, even adults couldn’t reach the first of the pole rungs.

You see? See how easy it is? There’s better things to talk about besides the prompts. Uh, wait. I forgot that I was talking about an imaginary prompt! But if I do see it (The Wizard of Oz age question) anytime soon, I will certainly need a week’s time in hospital psychiatrique.

How about we discuss the urgent need for payphones? They’re gone. Really gone. I haven’t seen one in years. What’re you supposed to do if your car breaks down and your phone dies? Hitchhike? I don’t think so. When I think about it enough, my brain hurts. Technology has given us too much, but it’s taken a lot more away. You know how many people can read a printed map? Better yet, do you know how many people don’t even know highway maps ever existed?

I remember federal highways paved with concrete slabs, separated by asphalt or tar expansion protectors. You know, to account for temperature extremes. So it didn’t crack. Which, of course, it did anyway. And those joints were raised, so travel was bumpy and noisy.

But there was still something special about travel back then. It was exciting. Vacations meant the beach, or seeing grandparents, or visiting important historic locations and exploring. Guys wore  tortoise shell sunglasses while girls wore horn-rimmed horrors that should have been illegal. And rest stops. Those were cool. People took a piss or dumped the kids’ pukepot in the restrooms. Picnic tables had people eating packed sandwiches and fried chicken, drinking Coca-Cola in green glass bottles from the vending machines, and Stuckey’s was still around. Payphones were everywhere, some even in call boxes on the lonely stretches of highways where you could call free for help from call boxes.

Neon signs, full service gas stations, and wondrous, huge billboards sat off the highway on hills just outside of a treeline. These giant signs bore images and logos that tempted one’s stomach, made kids beg to stop at some place like South of the Border or an amusement park.

Fast food restaurants and diners that have long since vanished did rush trading, and even nudist camps were in vogue for a time (here in America, you wouldn’t dare go near one today).

Today, you can never, if you were born after 1970, imagine what those days were like. Even nature has responded to our rapid population growth and technical “progress” because here, it shouldn’t be impossible for me to see bluejays, red-wing blackbirds, starlings, orioles, cat birds, and more. When I was a kid, I even saw Swifts. The skies and trees were full of beautiful songbirds. The noise they made while roosting, a bit loud then, is a thing I sorely miss. The robins arrive earlier each year. Then, by late July, I don’t see any.

By the end of the 70s, the roadside attractions and Stuckey’s billboards were no more. Tobacco and liquor ads replaced most of them, and historic tourist attractions had been bulldozed and replaced by high-rise buildings, industrial parks, Marriott hotels, and the big three, McDonald’s, Wendy’s and Burger King.

Not long after, that competition had shut down most Howard Johnson motor lodges and all of the restaurants. Not that I cared back then. Now I realize that big monopolies have turned into mega-conglomerates and that no competition means consumers get raked over the coals, and things like quality and safety don’t exist except in small businesses. There aren’t many of those left.

Tech and monopoly laws have failed. I had transistor radios for years. Now you can get music apps on your iPhone. So much used and disposed of modern tech has already gone into recyclers and landfills that the recyclers dump the refuse in huge locations that are now highly toxic. In landfills, it’s what they call “E-Waste” and it’s bad news. Mercury, arsenic, and lead leach into the ground, almost surely to find a way into ground water, then to watersheds. These materials are deadly to wildlife and us. Less than a quarter of E-Waste is recycled. But then, recycling anything is next to impossible and constitutes a really sick joke played on everyone who thinks it works.

Back in the days of concrete roads and Coca-Cola in green (glass) bottles and Stuckey’s billboards, we all knew less. We smelled the air, and trust that it wasn’t described as “fresh” in a realistic fashion. We saw the smog as we approached the city. We smelled the exhaust from V-8 engines that burned leaded gas. And we saw the water. Chesapeake Bay often smelled worse than the fish kills in July. We fucked everything up. Our solution was sham clean air and water legislation that had some effectiveness, but today is useless. Washington will let those go.

Boeing was featured Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, and I can’t say it surprised me that Boeing is a scary conglomerate (with the Lockheed Martin merger) that should make people think twice about flying because Boeing lies, scams, and makes shitty planes that are racking up a body count. The power and indifference of all conglomerate entities mean that lives hold no value to CEOs and board members:

“What’s that, sir? You say a door blew out on your flight from San Diego to Raleigh? No, sir, you must be mistaken; that aircraft has already taken off again from Raleigh to Boston. I’m sorry, did you say two flight attendants and a child got sucked out? I’ve had no reports like that, I assure you. No, sir, we don’t refund for completed trips. Excuse me? A lawsuit, you say? Good luck with that, sir. Have a nice day.”

I look back. Yes, I get nostalgic despite my abuse while growing up, but then again, I see where we are now.

And I really wish time machines were real.

But maybe not. We’d just travel to the past and leave garbage and heavy metal E-Waste everywhere.

Traveling isn’t fun anymore. It’s dangerous and a hassle. Traffic backs up and stalls. Accidents are everywhere. Anyone silly enough to ride a murder cycle in today’s traffic has a better chance of being killed on two wheels than Evel Knievel at Ceasar’s Palace. And he came close enough.

So, trains, planes, and automobiles are probably best avoided on July 4th holiday. But why travel at all? You can forget keeping the kids busy because you got them iPads for Christmas. You can relax and make money at home live-streaming on YouTube while taking Patreon donations and selling Chinese merch with your channel name on shitty T-shirts and coffee mugs that are probably painted with lead paint, because you’re a thing now, a rock star, and until folks get tired of you, you’re gonna make so much money that two thirds of it will be needed to pay taxes.

Just tell me, what’re you gonna do when you’re not a star anymore? When the views total less than 200 and Patreon brings in a hot 40 bucks? Ah, tell me.

Tech. Bloody tech. Remastered copies of The Wizard of Oz. Wifi. So much tech from Asia that now we have acramantulas and other Harry Potter nightmare creatures coming in with the cargo: business is war.

If you had to spend the weekend without power, could you survive? How about for a week? Wanna try a month? Everything’s at our fingertips. Everything can be delivered. You don’t even have to type. Just speak into the mic on your phone, and it will be translated. We’re softer and more lazy than ever, and we’re in big trouble if things go south. But for now, just keep live-streaming. I won’t donate via Patreon or use Discord (a more apropos name for a thing than I’ve ever heard), and I don’t buy merch. But from time to time, I’ll watch. Until you’re not a star anymore.