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Sunday, March 1st 2009

10:02 AM

Journals, Oil Lamps, and Creepy Preacher-Looking Guys

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  • Music: Kiss FM
It's early Sunday afternoon, I'm caught up on writing reviews, and I'm reading a book that's sort of boring, while listening to a Casey Kasem top 40 countdown from the 80s on Sirius XM satellite radio, so I thought I'd update my journal, which hasn't happened in a month of blue moons. Wow! Wasn't that the longest sentence in the history of sentence writing? No? Oh, well, I tried--I'm rebellious that way.

I got to thinking about keeping a journal online and realized it's really not the best place to keep one, especially if you want future great-great-great grandchildren to read them. What? Did you really think the Internet was going to exist forever? We might have some form of Internet in the far far future when flying cars are buzzing around like annoying mosquitoes the size of cows, but I kinda think what wehave now will become obsolete like oil lamps. Sure, oil lamps still exist. I think you can even buy them at Wal-Mart--a super duper store in the south that sells everything at a low low price--but they're only used when absolutely no electricity can be found anywhere, and then they're only used if no one can find last year's Christmas candles. Or everyone just goes to bed. Hey, there are fun things you can do in the dark---um, okay, lets not go off on that tangent.

When I was a little girl my mom used oil lamps all the time--we had no electricity a lot. At one point, in the early 70s, we were living in a dull, dark green, van while Daddy built a house--or, well, more like a shack for shelter--out of whatever pieces of wood he could find lying around or drag out of the mountains, usually with a bunch of complaining children helping.

While we lived in the van, my mom would often be awakened in the night by an old man, wearing a dark suit and a preacher's hat, staring in the van's window at us. I imagine she'd seen the movie Poltergeist one too many times and was having nightmares, but I don't think that movie came out until much later--besides we didn't own a TV--duh, what would we do with one and no electricity to plug it into? But, then again, my great uncle Claude used to see the same guy staring in a window at him, and I don't think uncle Claude owned a television either in his small, silver camper--we Lackey's weren't big on houses back then. So, who was the creepy, preacher-looking guy? A serial killer scared off by a family of six piled into a van snoring the night away? I kinda doubt it was anyone coming to save our souls.

Anyway, I've gotten way off topic. Where was I? Oil lamps, the Internet, and journal writing. Yes, all of those things will still exist in the far far future when we have floating cities, because we bred too much and ran out of earth space, but they will most likely only be found in some underground city where the paranoid, conspiracy-theorist are hiding from the government and extraterrestrials and who will only use non-traceable methods of sending out messages to other underground cities who own obsolete computers with Internet service. Holes, much, in my theory?

I cannot wait! Maybe Sam (founder of Wal-Mart in case you don't have a clue--yes, we're on first name bases--I shop there a lot) will build an entire store beneath the earth, which will sell oil lamps and journals--and TVs so I can watch scary movies about old guys dressed in dark suits and preacher hats. When I get scared, I'll just light an oil lamp, turn off the TV, and write something scary in my journal. Read closely, and you'll see the uselessness in that theory too. And,if I'm really lucky, I'll forgo the oil lamp and have fun in the dark--no, not with Sam. Besides, I think he died way back in 1992, and I'm on first name bases with a ghost. Back to topic. Ah, yes, fun in the dark--something that remains forever the same, limited only by your imagination.

At least, underground at night, creepy preacher-looking guys won't be able to stare at me while I sleep. Unless, of course, he follows me underground like the ghost of Sam Walton ...
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