Buy the ticket, take the ride

We've all heard various people say over the course of their life, "There's no such thing as a free lunch." Free. As in no cost, gratis, gratuitous, complimentary, costless. Cost nothing.

The other day I invited Nga to visit the Bookworm, an excellent well stocked bookstore in Ha Noi.

We found a couple of books. She loves politics and history and picked up one by Obama. My choice was The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz. He'd been on my list and a used copy had just arrived.

Outside as we were leaving Nga spotted a a box of books on a table. "What's this?" she asked. The owner said, "They are free."

"Really! May I take them all? My school library needs more English books."

"Yes."

A heavy thunderstorm had saturated the books. I was loading them into plastic bags and spotted a dog eared paint splattered thin bent spine rag of a book near the bottom of the pile. I picked it up and the cover stuck to my hand because of the water damage. It was an abstract paint job with black and yellow smeared with white. Pure Jackson Pollack.

I could make out part of the title, "Fear and Loath.... by Hunter S. Thom...."I smiled. An excellent find. Perfect renewal of wild rambling Rolling Stone adventures.

As Hunter said, "True Gonzo reporting needs the talent of a master journalist, the eye of an artist/photographer, and the heavy balls of an actor." He established the style and standard. Often parodied, never duplicated.

A gratis spirit.

Metta.

Applied Appliance English

Good afternoon students. My name is Mr. On. It rhymes with song, gong, long gone.

It is 17:10 p.m. If it was 18:01 p.m. I would say good evening, however it is still afternoon. It is late in the day. Class will meet twice a week for two hours. Show up on time, do your assignments and be prepared. Nothing more, nothing less.

We are gathered here today in the glorious People's Appliance Factory #8 to begin our basic, simple English lessons.

Your supervisor informs me you are here both by choice and chance. You have the choice and this is your chance. Am I clear? Do you understand me? Choice and chance.

Now, I know most of you have been working since early morning in the factory. It is the end of another long mind numbing tedious grueling day on the killing floor.

English has brought us together. We face unique and amazing challenges to acquire a foreign language. To use said language with meaning. To hopefully become fluent. It will require your undivided attention, focus and electrical energy.

We will practice speaking, reading, listening and writing. These are the four basic skills. Reading and listening are foundations in your learning process. Learning occurs in the context of task-based activities. In other words you learn by doing. You do and you understand, as the Chinese say, said, did, done.

We will cover, in exhaustive detail, four important appliances and their English connections.

They are: washing machines, air conditioners, vacuum cleaners and microwave ovens!

These machines are now an important part of everyone's life. You know this because it is your job to put them together. It's like English, putting words together makes a simple sentence. Some have meaning and some are gibberish.

Please open your creative notebook. Using a simple writing tool I would like you to consider the following questions. Please answer them using your basic English.

Why am I here? Am I a machine, a tool? What exactly is a machine? What is my motivation to learn English?

Your supervisor has instructed me to motivate you. She expects me to motivate you to complete the assigned tasks and arrive on time. Her management style instructed me to use fear as a form of discipline with you. We are all well aware how the power and threat of fear motivates humans.

Fear of starvation. Fear of poverty. Fear of failure. Fear of not meeting social expectations. Fear of ______.

Thank you for your attention. See you next week when we discuss parts and functions of a washing machine. 

Metta.

The Mavericks Ride Out of Town

The story winds down. Once and only once there was maverick from Arizona. His name was Johnny Mach 1.

He came from Tombstone, an ancient deserted tourist relic town filled with unemployed actors and weather beaten facades. He believed in the confluence of universal string theories in infinity. 

Johnny was old, senile, tired, washed up, washed down, hung out to dry and known to have a quick trigger haired temper. He was actually a Machiavellian maverick focusing on using brute power and doing immoral things to maintain his power.

His motto was, "Shoot first and ask questions later."

He'd escaped from a nursing home and rode off into the sunset dragging a screaming Bush behind him. "You haven't heard the last of me!" It was his last howdy-doodle dandy. 

Then, one day along life's dusty trail of tears he met The Ice Queen, a maverick named Sarah from the State of Confusion north of the lower 48 as she was proud to tell everyone who bothered to listen to her ranting ways. She lived in an igloo. She was the inarticulate queen of the permafrost tundra and badly needed articulation lessons.

She, like old Johnny, believed in Greed, Fear and their offspring. Because he came from A and she came from A they were together in AA. They were in a long recovery program. They prayed together. At AA meetings they stumbled, stuttered and whipped their flag wrapped nags. They assembled their collective naive stupidity and spewed forth vague verbiage designed to attract insecure and desperate people.

And then, the 4th of November loomed on their immediate horizon. It was bigger than a mushroom cloud and more powerful than a radioactive bolt of lightning illuminating the crumbling empire, the decaying civilization and broken financial capitals. 

"It looks like this is the end of the trail," Johnny cried.

Sarah comforted him. "Now little Johnny, let's not forget the good times we had riding the range, and shifting the cow shit left, right and center. Destiny's a funny little creature, you betcha."

"You gotta point there," said Johnny with a final salute. "An old fart with a young pop tart did ok, I guess."

"Yeah, whatever," Sarah sighed. "I'll be back in the saddle before you can say, 'Drill, baby drill."

"Yeah, the thrill is gone."

Metta.