Antarctic Dream

Last night I dreamt that Desi and I were on a vacation to Antarctica during the southern summer. I remember the flight down there beginning at night, but it was day when we arrived – the 24 hour day. We flew down to McMurdo. From there we decided to a bus to a tourist town that was sheltered by the wind by some mountains and had a good view of the ocean through a bay. There was a strange method for obtaining a bus ticket. When I went to the ticket window, the person behind the desk directed me to an arcade game. The arcade was a multi-game arcade and, buried amongst the game choices, was the option to buy a bus ticket. I selected it and used my credit card to complete the transaction. The bus ride seemed to take about an hour or two.

This town was built in a 1900s Alaskan Klondike style, even though no such town existed in history. There were tourists from all over the world visiting. Desi and I toured the town and saw some attractions, including science displays and wildlife. There was even an X-Games event with skateboards and bicycles happening by the bay, where small glaciers floated past.

As our visit was coming to an end, Desi and I began making our way back to the bus depot. As we started walking back from the X-Games event, I looked up at the mountains. I saw an avalanche rolling down the mountain. I pointed it out to Desi and pulled out my phone to snap a picture. We expected the avalanche to stop at the end of town. When I snapped my photo, the leading houses were already engulfed and the avalanche was travelling down the street right for us!

I grabbed Desi’s hand and we ran to the left, one street over, along the bay and in the direction of the bus depot. In crossing that street, it looked somewhat clear, until the avalanche burst through the boulevard pine trees about 5 blocks away. We ran another block, but Desi was slowing down because of her feet. I slowed down and stayed side by side with her, my hand on her waist to guide her faster. We crossed the next street and the avalanche was only 1 block away. A slurry of waistdeep snow was unstoppably coming for us. We made it to a 2.5 story house and Desi ran up the stairs when the snow began hitting my legs. I was holding up against the avalanche, but the snow kept getting higher and higher. Desi was crying and holding our her hand to me, but I yelled to her, “No! Get up the stairs!”

The snow finally stopped. I was along the house, only a few feet away from the stairs, in chest deep snow. I crawled to the stairs and entered the house. It was dark and I met Desi again in the stairwell. We embraced and comforted eachother, drying our tears. I took off some layers, kicked off the snow, and bundled up again. We exited the house to make our way to the bus station. The town was in a panic from the avalanche. When we arrived at the bus station, I had Desi wait in the outdoor warming area while I tried to get the tickets.

The bus station was crowded and the line was held up by someone not figuring out how to use the arcade bus ticket system. Luckily, most of the people already had their ticket, but I was really losing patience with this youngster trying to use the arcade and not figuring out how to get a ticket. Right when he was done, I moved to the front of the line, cutting someone off and saying, “Out of the way. By the time you figure this out, it’ll be dark. I can get my ticket fast and be out of here in no time.”

I was about to start a fight. These guys looked like there were from the X-Games, and he was backed up by his bros, so I made an offer, “Three bucks says I can get my ticket faster than you.” He took on my bet. What I failed to realize was that, while the other arcade was a 2-person player arcade, this one was 4-person arcade. The selection was grayed out unless all 4 kiosks were in use. The bros decided to select a snowmobiling game while I was trying to get the bus tickets. I was forced to play. When they won the snowmobiling race, complete with making electronic jumps and shortcuts, they got their tickets. By then, the terminal was empty because I had missed the bus and I had just lost the bet.

I returned to Desi. It had gotten dark outside, but I think it was because the sun had passed behind the mountains. The bus terminal was empty, but there was a sales person or manager up the block at the terminal where we arrived. Desi and I stole (ahem, borrowed) the bikes from the X-Game bros when they weren’t paying attention (playing another arcade game) and we peddled up the block to the other terminal.

Thus, I began haggling with the manager. There were going to be no more buses out of the town. The next option out was to take a hydrofoil, but that was heading in the wrong direction up the coast. I didn’t realize how late it truly was. I was going to miss my morning flight out of McMurdo. The flight out from the other destination, which was really the only option, was going to send me to Iceland, but I would need to figure out how to get home from there. This was the end of the Antarctic tourist season and, if I missed my flights, I risked spending the winter on this harsh continent. It was at that point that I woke up.

The Desecration of the Edmund Fitzgerald

In the foreground of my motel room at the King Copper Motel is the vandalized and disgraced wreckage of the model of the Edmund Fitzgerald. The tragedy of this vessel extends beyond the grave; beyond its fateful October/November night that destined the crew to a frigid, watery grave. Indeed, ’twas the eve of the 7th Annual Lake Superior Day Festival on 21 July, 2019, when a band of rebellious youth set upon the Edmund Fitzgerald model with such savagery, that barely a surface was spared by certain acrylic doom. Great globs of painted gibberish assailed the hull until the model vessel succumbed to its blasphemous fate.

According to the local placard, the Edmund Fitzgerald is scheduled to be restored next year, but one can’t help but wonder if future generations of adolescent predators will prey upon the poor Edmund Fitzgerald, a vessel whose misfortune is the stuff of legends.

A New Poem For The Statue of Liberty

Given that the Trump administration is interested in redefining, changing or replacing the poem on the Statue of Liberty, I thought I would take a moment and try a re-write or The New Colossus into The American Colossus. Here’s how it goes –


The American Colossus
By McScarry


A rusted woman of fabled fame
Stands with her back against the land
Whose promises and dreams so grand
Lie behind sunset gates; whose flame
Is the trembled flicker, and her name
Rejector of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Spies worldwide suspicion; her cold eyes command
The razor-wire wall of callous blame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your worthless serfs!” cries she,
“Give me your rich, First-class enter the door,
You gilded few, with wealth and profits, see
The riches and resources of our teeming shore.
Send these, the pampered, aristocratic to me,
Concern not over the pauper or poor.”

Statue of Liberty Poem

Given recent events in the United States, I felt it important to post the Statue of Liberty poem before it changes.

The New Colossus
by Emma Lazarus (11/2/1883)

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

My Phone Has Something to Say #2

My computer died at work today, so I’m browsing WordPress on my phone. I think I’ll hand the keyboard over to the phone AI and see what he has to say today –

I have to say that this is not enough evidence for me to get into that conversation. I just want to make sure that through surgery I can get another car. When I was in school, I had a few transportation plans and my voice was very difficult to deal with.

The best way to get a personally qualified person is to recover your heart from your bedroom. Our anniversary is not a camel. We have to stop worrying about what happens when we grow a new generation of children.

To quote the president, “Damn, this is why I love my popcorn!” He loves you and your attention. Hopefully, we can get a new commercial whaling solution for the head’s on the ground. The only way to get that is to recover from a Statistical failure of all those childhood problems.

My Phone AI Has Something to Say #1

I don’t know what it is about the suggest-a-word function on my phone, but it always says hilarious things when I let it loose. Things like, “But the chances of a new commercial are not as intense as the Japanese shogunate in Britain,” and “I have a big bag of water for them and they don’t need any extra protection from the cartel.”

I believe the time has come for my phone AI to tell us a story –

Once again, no matter whose party he gets, he would steal all the liberals. The answer to buying these stocks was not just the patches of money in the middle finger. It was the only way to get the pussy.

I just got to work. The company never made a decision. My sister from another family was the only other person involved in this challenge. I know that I’m forgetting my own father’s story, but it is not the best thing ever.

Why did he get the generic answer when he grew his own money? What’s the scoop with me and my sister in this glacier?

But it’s irrelevant. The company never made it. Now I can tell them that when they look at the Midtown suburbs, they can’t afford to pay for what I have.

Pizza That Was Meant To Be

I was faced with a dilemma tonight. I went to the Hut for dinner before class. I ordered a pasta and a pizza off their $5 menu, thinking I would get a personal-sized pizza. Instead, I got a medium.

I only ate a few slices, but I felt bad wasting a pizza, so I boxed it up. There was no refrigerator on campus, so I stored my pizza in the outdoor freezer for 3 hours.

After class, I debated taking the pizza home. 3 hours is a long time. Maybe squirrels got into it? I still felt bad throwing it away, so I took it with me. I figured I wouldn’t make such a scene, carrying a pizza box on the #5 bus.

Well, the #5 bus stop was closed, so I caught the train. While on the train platform, a person came up to me and asked for a slice. I said it was frozen, but they were welcome to it. They accepted. It makes me happy to know that there was a purpose to this pizza after all.

It’s also a reminder to never waste. The people who are starving are not always in India or Ethiopia. Sometimes, the person who is starving is in your own town ❤