Thursday, July 10, 2008

Under the Kryptonian Sun

As I drove through smoke filled country roads this morning on my way to work with the windows down (No air conditioning, so to keep myself from becoming a smoked Ham, I have the windows open) I went over the perks of having a world populated with super heroes as opposed to what we have now. A world populated with... well, whatever they are, a good portion aren't super heroes. There are notable exceptions, such as the fire fighters out there battling a blaze in 100+ degree temps, in full protective suits, going 60+ hour shifts without rest, so I can sit here on my but in relative comfort and jabber at you on this blog. However, wouldn't it be nice if Superman could show up, just long enough to help them with the containment? Just for a short burst of time of course, because if he stays any longer god only knows who'd follow him onto our beloved little speck of space rock.

By the time I got to work, I'd pretty much set the entire line of though aside since I had work to pay attention to, and lately I need all my concentration just for that. Smoke clogged brain cells don't work very well. After work, I went out and goofed off with a friend/co-worker. Dinner was had at a place called the Macaroni Grill, and afterwards we sat a talked for a while. On the way back to my car, I happened to look up and see this big fat red orb sitting gravid in the sky. My God! When did Mars get that close?! Then I realized I was looking at the sun filtered through many many layers of smoke and ozone. Its Red. Like the sun on Superman's home world. I couldn't help grinning a bit at this given my earlier train of thought. If Supes charges like a battery under our yellow sun, what effect would a red sun have on us? I can hardly wait to see the results. On a side note, in the Superman mythos I don't believe a red sun does a darn thing for us puny humans, but hey, we're not in the DC universe, so those rules don't apply. Hmm.

So, above is the best picture I could get of Curly. She's awfully camera shy, and it didn't help that my idiot dog was running the chicks around in circles. The other chickens have figured out that if they immediately scatter in every conceivable direction once released from confinement (i.e. The Chicken Coop), my dog (aka the herding dog through and through) doesn't bother them for the most part. Although she does what my Mom refers to as "Exploding a Chicken", in which a certain inattentive hen is stalked, and then nosed violently. Result? A squawking, flying, feather ball of indignant surprise sailing into the air under its own power. I swear to god the dog stands there grinning with undisguised glee when she successfully punches another chicken's button.  The new arrivals on the other hand have NOT discovered the usefulness of running solo, or in smaller groups. My dog LOVES the fact that '7' chickens move in a group when she pushes with her presence. She never uses her teeth, but just runs around them trying to move them, which is very successful with our new cast of "the Young and the Ignorant." Someday they'll get a clue. I hope.

Well, once again I've run over the finishing line of midnight, and I'm just plain worn out. So, I will bid you all a goodnight and crash for my appointed sleepy time. Night. :)

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