My first Sunday in Colorado. I’m comfortably ensconced in the downstairs bedroom. I even watched TV (I found a documentary), woo-hoo cable TV in a different state. They have the 999 channel service and it was tiresome. No quality left of any description, not even PBS anymore. But I’m happy to have the option of being cranky here in Aurora. Return after noon, because I’m going on a sightseeing ride, thermometer permitting.
Today’s picture could not have been taken on a Sunday, but if you’re the sort to like this blog, you won’t mind. Alistair returned today but like myself, sacked right out—anything more than two days on the road gets my understanding. I took the eBike around the neighborhood, stopping for coffee at the places most familiar already, comparing all this to Florida.I finished reading “Santa Fe Rules”, which completely fooled me as to the suspects and eventual perp, but in a manner I hope isn’t about to become popular. It turns out there was a third sister. Please, Hollywood, don’t pursue that angle, which could only lead to quadruplets. Unless I have an evil twin, in which case of course you can make one more movie that milks that dry. I need the money and the publicity.
Alistair gave me directions to the downtown “arts” scene, though I should point out that arts is not as all-encompassing a term for me. I don’t like “falootin’” arts. Wine tasting, weird sculpture, art periods, to me = BORING. Note that artistic use of the keyboard to emphasize my point. It could almost, I said almost, be said that I’m not a fan of expensive art. Today’s episode is a fine example.
I’d heard of the show “Asleep At The Wheel”, a troupe of violinists. Primed up I was to go miles to see them until I learned it was an outdoor show, but charged $45 to sit in the shade. Folks, I’m a patron up to a point, that point currently being $25, so instead I took the sidecar to a franchise called “Old Chicago”. There I met the staff, but no women, and garnered directions to the nearest and best county Karaoke and live music venues in the area.
Old Chicago is more of a restaurant than a saloon, so I found a quiet corner to review everything from the trip to music to finances to plans. If you want to find it on a map, look at the corner of Iliff and Buckley, in Aurora, Colorado. The drinking area is a bit of a sports bar. I aupport sports and tax collection, insofar as the sense that they keep the hoodlums off the streets.
Marion and I talked about the present, we are generally familiar with each other’s pasts. Did you know, back in 1996, long before today’s most sophisticated users and teens ever heard of it, I used to e-mail Marion the odd surprise message from across her own living room. Think of it as paleotexting.
The first plan for next week is to visit downtown Denver. According to Alistair, there is a new section and an old section. Of the two, old sounds better if it includes bookstores, Internet cafes, and old movie theaters. We’ll all know soon enough. The sidecar popped a fuse this afternoon and immediately a truck stopped to help me push it off the street. Western hospitality. I guess I’m saying I’m having fun but am also busy enough.
Here is a riverbed that reminds me of Los Angeles. I wonder why? There is a drought in progress and this is the local watercourse. This creek or river is not yet identified. I’ve crossed it six or so times on the eBike and wonder what it is like in wet weather. Remember, I’m a long term student of the hydrologic cycle, not just the Honda cycle. I’ll be sinking some more bucks into that machine shortly.What did I learn today? I took in the news to see Russia has jailed some teens over a protest song and another Chinese lady has won the Miss World title. First let me say anyone who puts teenagers in jail for singing deserves the fate that befalls them. And beauty contests have become too eager to please. We are not supposed to notice the emergence of “winners” from countries offering large trade concessions. I never follow that so-called contest, but I watch their pubic relations disasters.
Have you seen the Chinese Miss World? No pix, get them yourself. The average age of the winners remains in the low twenties, although the contest is open to women up to age 27. But did you know that 16% of the titlists have been disqualified for being either married or pregnant? One lost the title, in 1973, for her “high profile dating”. That’s cute. Two were disqualified, not for posing nude as they claim, but for lying about posing nude which is a contest rule. Maybe they are trying to cheapen the contest, though at the other extreme, in 1954 the winner was chucked for being sixteen.
Beyond a doubt, I noticed that blondes win the crown at a far higher percentage than they exist in the population. It would not be hard to guess which of all the winners was the one most men would marry. Another thing, countries with zero international significance have never produced a winner. That includes Canada.
ADDENDUM
I remain undecided what to do for entertainment here. I have not yet found the local Karoake spots and most activities advertised are aimed at seniors. (Mahjong lessons, painting silk, and how to open e-mail. While we might be fast friends, trust me how little I would have in common with a room of people only beginning e-mail in the year 2012.) I’ve been here enough hours to know I feel noticeably weaker at this altitude, even if it is psychological.
The TV documentary mentioned above was a very pro-British account of the Bismarck battle. I chuckled to hear how even at this late date, so many historians still buy the propaganda that the Bismarck was the biggest and most powerful and that it was a Nazi ship. (Was the Hood a Whig or a Tory ship?)
But it borders on fantastic how the entire field of military history still claims it was luck that Spitfire found the Bismarck in the Norwegian fjord, and it was luck the Sheffield picked her up at twice the known radar range of the day. Or more luck that the Bismarck ran short of fuel by a single hit from the Prince of Wales. Or even more luck the Bismarck’s rudder was jammed by a single hit from a Swordfish torpedo. How about the alleged Sunderland spotting the Bismarck through the only patch of cloudless sky in the North Atlantic that day? Gotta love that one. I don’t buy it, not a word.
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