He and She: Aloha Owie

She: “Sweetheart?”

He: “Yes, love?”

She: “Did you by any chance get the number of that truck?”

He:What truck?”

She: “The one that just roared by the house and knocked all the stuff off my shelves!”

He: “Nope, sorry, I didn’t. And it wouldn’t have done either you or me any good if I had, because no way the driver’s going to have any truck with us. Or anyone else in the neighborhood.”

She: “I’d like to know why not?”

He: “Because the rig’s unlicensed, and you won’t find the driver at the union hall.”

She: “Well, dammit, whose fault is this?

He: “That, I don’t know. I can’t find it on any map. I guess that means that the geologists haven’t named it yet. Though the aftershock profile certainly seems to suggest that there is one sandwiched between the lava flows of Hualalai and Mauna Loa. Folk in Waikoloa better be ready to duck and cover.”

She: “Hello? Earth to …”

He: “Precisely.”

She: “… whut?”

He: “What you felt, my dear, was not an overloaded, speeding truck. What it was was an earthquake. A fat healthy serving of aloha from your friendly neighborhood Hawai‘i Island.”

She: “The island is throwing my own stuff at me?!?”

He: “Well, that is what earthquakes do, if they’re big enough. And this one was getting there.”

She: “You got that right. That shake sure got my earth quaking! And you want to know what kind of aloha I call it that makes me have to duck flying objects in my own house?

He: “Um …”

She:Aloha owie! And I don’t suppose there’s any hope of the ‘aina sending anybody around to help me clean up the mess.”

He: “I’ll be quite happy to declare victory if the ‘aina doesn’t send around another shock any time soon. It is bigger than we are. Remember?

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He and She: Waffle, Certainly

She: “I’m so glad you’re home!”

He: “I’m glad to be home too. But I wasn’t on the road all that long. Only two weeks.”

She: “Precisely!!”

He: “Um … whut?”

She: “Have you got any idea what it’s like to be just sitting here, knowing you’re on that road and at any moment you could get run over? For two whole weeks!?!”

He: “Not that kind of road …”

She: “Says you. I’ve had pavement burns. They’re ugly and they hurt. So … breakfast?”

He: “Right. Two weeks away and suddenly I look like Wreck-it Ralph?

She: “Um … whut?”

He: “I’d really rather not have to try and break anything right now. Fast or slow, away or down. After all this going places and doing things, I was hoping to sit down, relax, and not have to break a sweat.”

She: “No sweating at the breakfast table. It’s rude.”

He: “Hm. Not a lot of peeps get to stay Hawai‘i if that’s the rule.”

She: “If they stay, they maybe go hungry. Which, if you’re not, I am! I was, maybe, going to make waffles.”

He: “Great idea! Stop waffling!”

She: “Ay-ia? Which is it? Do you want some or not?”

He: “Yes! Of course I want some!”

She: “Then why’d you tell me to stop making them?!?”

He: […] “Did you miss me?”

She: “Terribly.”

He: “Aw …”

She: “But now you’re close enough to hit! I’d start being more careful if I was you …!”

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Amoeba’s Lorica: We Have Met the Enemy …

Amoeba: “AAAAAAAARRRRggghhhh!!!”

Adama: “You rang?”

Amoeba: “…. whut?”

Adama: “I said, ‘You rang?'”

Amoeba: “No, I did not ring. I screamed!”

Adama: “Chocolate, vanilla, or neapolitan?”

Amoeba: “Mint moose tracks. You been talking with Quilly or something? Who, what, and why the hell are you?!?”

Adama: “A friend.”

Amoeba: “Prove it.”

Adama: “I’m still here, talking with you.”

Amoeba: “OK, you’ve got a point.”

Adama: “So what’s up?”

Amoeba: “These damned computer extortionists! I go to write a post on this blog, the new editor that they’re trying to saddle me with sucks, and now the old editor, that actually did work, is broken! I’m sure they did it deliberately, just like they’re screwing up the software on my ‘old’ phone, ’cause either they’re too lazy to keep perfectly good software working or they’re pushing me to spend money I don’t have so they can live high at my expense! I can’t even get the damned machines to accept my own correctly-spelled name half the time. I am so sick of being jacked around by these creeps!

Adama: “I … see. I’m not sure that’s entirely … fair.”

Amoeba: “Yeah right. I’m sure that’s how they’d feel about it. Nobody gives a damn about how I feel! Pay up and shut up, that it?”

Adama: “Hm. So you’re still ranting and raving about President Trump?”

Amoeba: “What the deleted has the Cheeto Mussolini got to do with this?!?”

Adama: “Only this, Friendly Neighborhood Amoeba, Ph.D. How do you think half of your fellow citizens have been feeling about having your urban smartypants sophistication shoved up their asses? For decades! Dish it out but can’t take it, huh?”

Amoeba: “But, the facts …”

Adama:I’ll give you the facts, protozoon. You remember that wuss who was whining on LinkedIn about Antarctic sea ice? I’ll bet he still drives the same number of miles a day he ever did, and says he’s got to do this, and fly to conferences and do half a hundred other climate-busting things, because ‘he’s got to get the word out about climate change’. No way he’s practicing what he preaches. He understands the science and doesn’t really give a flip. He cares not a whit more about the climate than the abolitionists during the Confederate Revolutionary War cared about the actual slaves. What he cares about is his own personal power. Tell him to read the coal report and learn a few things. Like how his posturing is really a ploy to keep his standard of living up and everybody else’s down.

“And now tell me how come you get to rant about things that piss you off and you don’t understand, and those people don’t! How’s your Python programming coming along?”

Amoeba: “Some friend. Ever hear of trying to bolster a buddy’s self-esteem, instead of trying to obliterate it?”

Adama: “I recommend that you take your self-esteem and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. Ever hear of the Canons of Dort?”

Amoeba: “What caliber?”

Adama: “Blockbuster. Especially against this ridiculous self-esteem nonsense. Man begat children in his own likeness. A corrupt stock produced a corrupt offspring. Hence all have derived corruption, not by imitation, but by the propagation of a vicious nature. Therefore all men are conceived in sin, and are by nature children of wrath, incapable of saving good, prone to evil, dead in sin, and in bondage thereto, and unable to reform the depravity of their nature, or to dispose themselves to reformation.

“Even you yourself, when for once you were a little smarter and not whacking on people you have no business dissing, used to recognize that you have to be on guard against yourself, all day, every day, to prevent your selfish stupidity from breaking out against anyone else.”

Amoeba: “But that just said that people can’t prevent that from happening!”

Adama: “That’s because the peeps who wrote it were selling a God, and putting themselves as that God’s speakers on Earth. For their own profit, of course. But there is no God, and never has been one, only mobs of people who had to figure out how to work together or get wiped out by those who figured it out sooner and better. And the work is getting harder, as the world gets more crowded. Other creatures figure out how to work together without the need of mosques, temples, churches, what have you. We had better do the same, or prepare to hand the world over to the cockroaches.

“And it starts by recognizing that you exalt yourself over your community at your peril, because you need that community to survive. Every act of screaming at your neighbor throws another bit of grit in the works. Keep it up, and pretty soon the machine grinds to a halt. And then, Amoeba, you’d better be ready to return to the primordial ooze. Or else.”

Amoeba: “Even if that means putting up with the Cheeto Mussolini?”

Adama: “Remember those old bumper stickers about farmers? I don’t see any of these Trump protesters turning down their salaries, or fancy new cars, or vacations, or whatnot, that have been propagated through the government of the President they consider so vile. I don’t see the social liberals of Seattle repudiating the corporate autocrat Jeff Bezos, who is turning their city into a geek paradise and a hell for everyone else. Until they do, they don’t have a claim.”

Amoeba: “Like the Italians of a century ago didn’t have a claim? Or the Germans?”

Adama: “There’s plenty of historical precedent for what happens when you don’t put up. Now tell me again how much good your Ph.D.s do for the world. Especially the Ph.D.s of the historians.”

Amoeba: “Shut up. Just. Shut. Up.

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