Chris Rodell's Blog, page 107
March 26, 2014
To counter Russia, US should invade . . .
(762 words)
After more than a month of careful deliberations involving the international situation, I’ve devised a cunning geo-political strategy in regards to current crises, one that will show American strength without risking the loss of essential blood and treasure.
Yes, it’s time to invade Canada.
Many experts are saying America needs to do something assertive to stand up to
After more than a month of careful deliberations involving the international situation, I’ve devised a cunning geo-political strategy in regards to current crises, one that will show American strength without risking the loss of essential blood and treasure.
Yes, it’s time to invade Canada.
Many experts are saying America needs to do something assertive to stand up to
March 25, 2014
Rabbit flies to Dallas and back for $44
(673 words)
This is bound to sound like a Bugs Bunny tale, but I swear it’s true: Rabbit flew to Dallas and back for just $44.
Rabbit’s a real colorful and animated guy, just not in the celluloid way you think of when you think of Bugs. He’s one of the six or seven United States postal carriers who frequent The Pond.
Why all these postal carriers wind up in this particular watering
This is bound to sound like a Bugs Bunny tale, but I swear it’s true: Rabbit flew to Dallas and back for just $44.
Rabbit’s a real colorful and animated guy, just not in the celluloid way you think of when you think of Bugs. He’s one of the six or seven United States postal carriers who frequent The Pond.
Why all these postal carriers wind up in this particular watering
March 24, 2014
Results of my weekend crashes, the computer and the car
(1,436 words)
Determined to overcome vexing computer problems, I made the hour-long drive into Pittsburgh Sunday morning with the expectation of returning home about $1,300 lighter. I figured I’d need to buy a new laptop.
Turns out I was half right.
I drove home about $1,300 lighter. But I didn’t get a new laptop.
And I spent a good portion of the last 24 hours wondering if I’d had
Determined to overcome vexing computer problems, I made the hour-long drive into Pittsburgh Sunday morning with the expectation of returning home about $1,300 lighter. I figured I’d need to buy a new laptop.
Turns out I was half right.
I drove home about $1,300 lighter. But I didn’t get a new laptop.
And I spent a good portion of the last 24 hours wondering if I’d had
March 22, 2014
Tech troubles & why I post when I do
I've long said being a freelance writer is like being adrift in a rubber raft in storm-tossed waters far out at sea. There is isolation and often grave concern.
And that being a freelance writer with tech problems is like being in that rubber raft and suddenly hearing an urgent hiss.
It's deflating in every sense of the word.
This week I'm hearing the hiss. It's my turn for computer
And that being a freelance writer with tech problems is like being in that rubber raft and suddenly hearing an urgent hiss.
It's deflating in every sense of the word.
This week I'm hearing the hiss. It's my turn for computer
March 19, 2014
When burning books is breaking news
(701 words)
No matter how many times the local newscasters fool me with their “BREAKING NEWS!” banner they still get the reaction they’re always after.
I tense up. I lean forward. I steel myself for news -- real news -- that in the next 90 seconds could alter my very existence.
Hostage situation? Terror threats? Are those land-mad bastards in eastern Ohio threatening to storm the
No matter how many times the local newscasters fool me with their “BREAKING NEWS!” banner they still get the reaction they’re always after.
I tense up. I lean forward. I steel myself for news -- real news -- that in the next 90 seconds could alter my very existence.
Hostage situation? Terror threats? Are those land-mad bastards in eastern Ohio threatening to storm the
March 18, 2014
Shout outs for three (sorta) silent movies
(742 words)
I try and keep people posted on our pop culture consumption by sharing my opinions of recent movies we’ve seen. But there are two movies we enjoyed very much at home about which I haven’t said a word.
It’s maybe because the movies barely say a word.
Yes, two of my favorite movies from the past few years are silent films.
The first is “The Artist,” released in ’11. It’s
I try and keep people posted on our pop culture consumption by sharing my opinions of recent movies we’ve seen. But there are two movies we enjoyed very much at home about which I haven’t said a word.
It’s maybe because the movies barely say a word.
Yes, two of my favorite movies from the past few years are silent films.
The first is “The Artist,” released in ’11. It’s
March 17, 2014
Wouldn't it be great if Flight 370 were found with everyone alive?
I hope they don’t find any plane wreckage today. Or tomorrow. Or anytime, really, in the next year or so.
And I hope when they finally do find something, I hope it’s a message in an empty wine bottle.
And I hope the message says something like, “We’re the passenger and crew of Malaysian Air 370. Below we’ve listed our coordinates. Urgent: Please send more wine!”
Wouldn’t it be great for just once in this world of woe to be confounded by a surprising blast of really good news?
Right now, everyone’s just confounded. Any day now I expect to read that Malaysian transportation officials have expanded the search area to include Kepler-22b.
That the search has been compared to finding a needle in a haystack seems erroneous. We can’t even find the haystack.
And we’re subjected to a daily drumbeat of speculative doom and grim conspiracy theory.
The plane was blown up. The pilot deliberately tanked it in the ocean. It was highjacked.
I guess you’d lose your cable news aviation commentator job if you went live and said, “Well, no one really knows what happened and I’m hoping maybe they landed on some lush tropical island so splendid they decided it’d be fun to just hang out for a while.”
That’s sort of what happened on “Lost,” the equal parts compelling/equal parts looney ABC show that ran from 2004-10.
The show featured a flight of mostly strangers who’d been en route from Sydney to Los Angeles when it disappeared. Many of the survivors wound up on a floating island where they romanced one another while dodging various malevolent entities including a smoke monster, an Arctic polar bear and mad scientists from the Dharma Initiative.
Of course, I consider that hysterical nonsense and wonder how come I can’t get my straight-forward novel published.
Maybe I should re-write the damn thing so someone who looks like Evangeline Lilly could play the bedridden last baby boomer.
But the show was very popular. It ended when -- Spoiler Alert! -- everyone with any sense quit watching because it became too outlandishly preposterous.
I do recall it had some sort of happy ending and I admire it for that.
That’s why I’m hoping against hope we’re all surprised by a happy ending for Flight 370.
Happy endings just seem all too rare.
We need more of them.
Do you remember the Quecreek mine rescue? It was July 24-28, 2002, during a dark American epoch. These nine coal miners got flooded out deep down about an hour from where we live. I snagged some assignments to do spot news.
I remember the commentators were universally grim there, too.
“Oh, they’re probably already dead. It’s a catastrophic result. The hopes are too slim to consider.”
Yet all nine miners got out alive.
I remember interviewing one of the rescued miners. I asked what he thought about for those 77 hours in the subterranean gloom. Did he pray? What did he think about?
I’ll never forget his answer: “I thought if I ever make it out of this hole alive I’m going to spend the rest of my life getting stoned immaculate.”
He’d been back above ground for just 24 hours and he was well on his merry way.
I should call that guy. I’d like to hear his stoner opinion on when it’s okay to hope in the face of utter hopelessness.
Because we every once-in-a-while need to see the doors of impossibility get flung wide open.
We need the Make-a-Wish kid to beat the odds and live a long and happy life. We need to be inspired. We need to see the long-time loser baseball team come back from three games down to win Game 7 of the World Series.
“Let’s go Bucs!”
We need to be reminded we live in a world where miracles do happen.
Of course, it looks highly unlikely any of that’s going to happen here with Flight 370.
The bitter pessimists are likely right. There’s no chance. This one’s not coming back.
But, oh, my, wouldn’t it be a fine and happy day if it did?
And I hope when they finally do find something, I hope it’s a message in an empty wine bottle.
And I hope the message says something like, “We’re the passenger and crew of Malaysian Air 370. Below we’ve listed our coordinates. Urgent: Please send more wine!”
Wouldn’t it be great for just once in this world of woe to be confounded by a surprising blast of really good news?
Right now, everyone’s just confounded. Any day now I expect to read that Malaysian transportation officials have expanded the search area to include Kepler-22b.
That the search has been compared to finding a needle in a haystack seems erroneous. We can’t even find the haystack.
And we’re subjected to a daily drumbeat of speculative doom and grim conspiracy theory.
The plane was blown up. The pilot deliberately tanked it in the ocean. It was highjacked.
I guess you’d lose your cable news aviation commentator job if you went live and said, “Well, no one really knows what happened and I’m hoping maybe they landed on some lush tropical island so splendid they decided it’d be fun to just hang out for a while.”
That’s sort of what happened on “Lost,” the equal parts compelling/equal parts looney ABC show that ran from 2004-10.
The show featured a flight of mostly strangers who’d been en route from Sydney to Los Angeles when it disappeared. Many of the survivors wound up on a floating island where they romanced one another while dodging various malevolent entities including a smoke monster, an Arctic polar bear and mad scientists from the Dharma Initiative.
Of course, I consider that hysterical nonsense and wonder how come I can’t get my straight-forward novel published.
Maybe I should re-write the damn thing so someone who looks like Evangeline Lilly could play the bedridden last baby boomer.
But the show was very popular. It ended when -- Spoiler Alert! -- everyone with any sense quit watching because it became too outlandishly preposterous.
I do recall it had some sort of happy ending and I admire it for that.
That’s why I’m hoping against hope we’re all surprised by a happy ending for Flight 370.
Happy endings just seem all too rare.
We need more of them.
Do you remember the Quecreek mine rescue? It was July 24-28, 2002, during a dark American epoch. These nine coal miners got flooded out deep down about an hour from where we live. I snagged some assignments to do spot news.
I remember the commentators were universally grim there, too.
“Oh, they’re probably already dead. It’s a catastrophic result. The hopes are too slim to consider.”
Yet all nine miners got out alive.
I remember interviewing one of the rescued miners. I asked what he thought about for those 77 hours in the subterranean gloom. Did he pray? What did he think about?
I’ll never forget his answer: “I thought if I ever make it out of this hole alive I’m going to spend the rest of my life getting stoned immaculate.”
He’d been back above ground for just 24 hours and he was well on his merry way.
I should call that guy. I’d like to hear his stoner opinion on when it’s okay to hope in the face of utter hopelessness.
Because we every once-in-a-while need to see the doors of impossibility get flung wide open.
We need the Make-a-Wish kid to beat the odds and live a long and happy life. We need to be inspired. We need to see the long-time loser baseball team come back from three games down to win Game 7 of the World Series.
“Let’s go Bucs!”
We need to be reminded we live in a world where miracles do happen.
Of course, it looks highly unlikely any of that’s going to happen here with Flight 370.
The bitter pessimists are likely right. There’s no chance. This one’s not coming back.
But, oh, my, wouldn’t it be a fine and happy day if it did?
Wouldn't it be great if Flight 370 were found with everyone alive?
(698 words)
I hope they don’t find any plane wreckage today. Or tomorrow. Or anytime, really, in the next year or so.
And I hope when they finally do find something, I hope it’s a message in an empty wine bottle.
And I hope the message says something like, “We’re the passenger and crew of Malaysian Air 370. Below we’ve listed our coordinates. Urgent: Please send more wine!”
I hope they don’t find any plane wreckage today. Or tomorrow. Or anytime, really, in the next year or so.
And I hope when they finally do find something, I hope it’s a message in an empty wine bottle.
And I hope the message says something like, “We’re the passenger and crew of Malaysian Air 370. Below we’ve listed our coordinates. Urgent: Please send more wine!”
March 16, 2014
Sunday encore! "Weather Man is my Superhero!"
From the odd story surge of the week comes “Weather Man is my Superhero!” The news that there was interest in this 2009 came from out of the blue. Which makes sense because that’s from whence most weather stories emanate.
I’m very pleased when a group of strangers stumbles onto one of these early posts. This one’s decent. Check it out.
(734 words)
Our 8-year-old was backseat babbling
I’m very pleased when a group of strangers stumbles onto one of these early posts. This one’s decent. Check it out.
(734 words)
Our 8-year-old was backseat babbling
March 15, 2014
Thumbs up to professional shoe salesmen!
(731 words)
The dapper shoe salesman had given my feet a full fitting, checked the arches and answered all my questions about flex, durability and waterproofness. Now it was his turn to ask me a question.
“Well, what do you think? Do you want the $89 pair or the Goretex Merrells, our top seller, for $140?”
The man, a veteran shoes salesman, didn’t really have to ask. He already knew.
The dapper shoe salesman had given my feet a full fitting, checked the arches and answered all my questions about flex, durability and waterproofness. Now it was his turn to ask me a question.
“Well, what do you think? Do you want the $89 pair or the Goretex Merrells, our top seller, for $140?”
The man, a veteran shoes salesman, didn’t really have to ask. He already knew.
