Milestone
This blog has reached a milestone. This post is #304. Yes, I agree that post #300 would have made a much better milestone, but I wasn’t really paying attention.
This blog has reached a milestone. This post is #304. Yes, I agree that post #300 would have made a much better milestone, but I wasn’t really paying attention.
Bridgekeeper: Stop. What… is your name?
Galahad: Sir Galahad of Camelot.
Bridgekeeper: What… is your quest?
Galahad: I seek the Grail.
Bridgekeeper: What… is your favourite colour?
Galahad: Blue. No, yel…
[Galahad is thrown over the edge]
Galahad: auuuuuuuugh.
I’ve come to the realization that I have entirely too many green shirts. I’m not sure when it happened. I’m not sure when it will stop. I simply have more green shirts than I should have.
If you were to ask me to name my favorite color, I’d say, “Blue.”
If you were to ask a second time, I might think a little bit more and say, “Blue. No, yel… auuuuuuuugh.”
Maybe I’m color blind. If so, I have entirely too many blue shirts.
As you may or may not know, the Democratic National Convention is in the process of nominating John Kerry as its candidate for President of the United States.
There are 15,000 media representatives covering the convention.
I am currently watching a NightLine report which itself is reporting on the media. It is a bit disheartening to realize that today is considered a slow news day. If you missed it, the Democratic National Convention is in the process of nominating John Kerry as its candidate for President of the United States. That’s not news. The convention is a scripted event without surprise or controversy. Does anyone really think that John Kerry won’t accept the nomination tomorrow? That would be some interesting news if he didn’t.
There are other stories. Some quite interesting. Some which will critically effect life as we know it. But there is a general lack of desire on the part of many of the news outlets to report on even the most obvious stories. Much of this lack of interest, I believe, is because the nature of modern news requires that any story be distilled into sound bites. Most of the real stories are too complex to fit into the normal news cycle.
It makes me a bit sad. I’m going back to watching the belly-button gazing of the media and the Democrats.
I want an iPod more than ever. Apple Computers announced today the fourth-generation of the popular music player. The major selling point for me is the 20GB model is now $100 cheaper. Also, a nice mix of new features, such as an improved interface, better battery life, song shuffle, and adjustable playback speed for audiobooks.
Oh, and if anyone wants to buy me the BMW to go with it, feel free to let me know. (A Z4 Roadster in blue, maybe?)
Also, NewsWeek has a nice article called iPod Nation.
A partial list of what I read on a regular basis. I’ve intentionally excluded blogs. See right-hand column for those.
National News
New York Times
ABC News
Google News
National Public Radio
BBC News
Texas News
Austin Chronicle
Austin Business journal
Dallas Morning News
Daily Texan
Texas Monthly
Texas Highways
Small-Town News
Fredericksburg Standard
Kerrville Daily Times
Marble Falls Highlander
Texas Newspapers
Paranoid-yet-often-accurate Sites
Cryptome
The Memory Hole
Writing
The Morning News
fray
Apple-Related Sites
Apple Insider
Crazy Apple Rumors
MacMinute
RAILhead Design
Think Secret
Apple
Outdoor Sites
Lonely Planet
One Day Hikes
My poor blog has been neglected this week.
I have been attempting to finish the story about Nathan and Emma but have been rather unsuccessful at getting to the end. I’ll complete it soon and post.
My photoblog has also been in limbo for the last couple of weeks. My apologies to the regular visitors. I will return to regularly scheduled posting in the near future.
I heard one of the policemen say, “We’re going to need Starflight.”
The medic turned and talked calmly into his radio. Five minutes later a medical helicopter descended to the roadway.
As the pilot eased the craft onto the pavement, the firemen and medics were pulling a man from what remained of a small convertible sports car. He looked to be only a few years younger than me. Late twenties. Early thirties.
I stood with the small crowd that had gathered. I felt so helpless. I offered a silent prayer. We talked amongst ourselves trying to comprehend how the three vehicles had come to rest where they were. From the damage to the front-end of the silver truck, it was obvious that it had broadsided the sports car. The entire passenger’s side of the car was gone. I can’t even say that it had been caved in; it was simply missing. The sports car must have been spun or pushed into the black car, which was sitting in the turn lane with its airbags deployed.
As I was driving home tonight, I came upon this wreck only moments after it had occurred in a busy intersection only a block from where I live.
As I turned the corner towards my apartment, I quickly looked over the scene. Three vehicles with severe damage to at least two. A man bleeding from his temple stumbling across the road. Two people rush alongside him to support him and sit him down on the curb. He buries his head in his hand. I see multiple people in every direction dialing 9-1-1 on their cell phones.
I turn the corner away from the accident and realize that I can’t, in good conscience, continue home. I turn around at the first opportunity, find a safe place to park, and make my way towards the accident. As I approach the road, I can see that the couple from the black car are already walking away with the support of several people and the man who was previously stumbling across the road is being helped. Until that moment, I had thought he was the driver of the sports car. I was thinking how lucky he was to have survived such a horrific accident. It was then that I saw the back of a head full of brown hair still sticking out of the convertible. I realized then that the man on the corner was the driver of the truck. When I saw him stumbling away from the car, he must have just reached the car he had broadsided. He was so distraught.
There wasn’t anything that I could do. A half-dozen or more people surrounded the convertible. Several tried to pry the driver’s side door open but were unable to. One leaned into the car. I could see that he was talking to the driver and supporting his head. I never knew whether the driver of the sports car was ever conscious.
The emergency crews arrived within minutes and started working. It took them what seemed like forever to get the car door unjammed. They braced the man with a backboard and lifted him clear of the car just as the Starflight helicopter touched down.
It took nearly 15 minutes before he was loaded onto the helicopter. I overheard one of the policemen saying that they didn’t expect him to make it. I heard someone say that he had been on the way to meet a friend at the movie theater.
I feel I should close this post with some lesson learned or some grand conclusion. I have been thinking about this for much of the evening tonight. I can think of a number of trite things to say, but all of them diminish in some way what I saw this evening. All I can do now is pray.
This afternoon I went kayaking for the first time in quite awhile. I rented from Texas Rowing on Town Lake.
I had a few thoughts while I was out on the river:
• This hurts. This hurts. This hurts.
• I wonder if the rowing center would mind if I attached a small motor on the next trip out.
• People who don’t know how to canoe really shouldn’t be canoeing. (I helped upright a rather submerged canoe because I’m a nice guy and all.)
• Travelling with the current is much easier than going against it.
• Paddling into the wind seems a bit counterproductive.
• My fingers prune up quite a bit when they are continuously wet for hours. I worry about other parts of my body pruning as well.
• Town Lake isn’t really a lake. It’s just called that because it’s dammed. And no, I don’t mean damned. It’s the last of seven dams along the Colorado River. The other six actually look like lakes. Town Lake just looks like a wide spot in the river.
• I’m not going to be able to lift my arms tomorrow.