YEARNING TO BREATH FREE
"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!"
Like the words in this poem written by Emma Lazarus, “The New Colossus”, millions heard this call long before the statue of Liberty raised her torch to guide them in New York harbor. I am among those millions of descendents of those who became a personal melting pot of those whose longing drove them to these shores. I hear their combined voices in my head with freedom’s genetic call implanted there. Their sacrifice is gain to them better to die free than to live in slavery. Which one of us has not heard it and been humbled by their devotion and courage to fight the big fights of those who are ever vigilant, whose names are written in stone throughout their beloved land.
From a distance of time I hear them call their voices dim quieted by the turmoil of the passing of the age. As I reflect upon the winds of change I fear for us that the longing to breathe free is no longer a fight to the death. What do we want in exchange for our lives? When did the voices in our blood go silent? When did we begin to want something less? Did we simply lose the ability to distinguish between right and wrong, to discern even a basic truth? When did we think we could trust our futures to anyone who promised us a rose garden? Was that with or without thorns?
The greatness of an ideal that we are the children of a higher power with a destiny to be great begins to fade . Are we always striving to be more than we are? We lose ourselves and our end will be to bow our knee to a lesser god who considers us to be the serfs in a second rate world.
I guarantee you that we shall suffer with a great sorrow of a great loss. Still, the voices of our heritage cannot be silenced but will continue to haunt us with that same longing that changed a world. Those who dared to cross the unknown oceans and fight the greatest powers in the earth armed only with a rag tag army live in us and cannot be excised from our remembrance. It was not only what they did but the spirit that drove them to do it. They trusted not in themselves but to eternal things like life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness in a land given to us by divine providence a haven from tyranny.
Again we have to choose. The forces that will to subvert justice our way of life continue their furtive efforts slip in morally, financially and religiously. Will we choose to be the children born of greatness? We are a people whose lineage spans the globe filled with the abundance of diversity or do we choose to be nameless illegitimate children wards of the state. Our adulterated inheritance derived from the poverty of our neglect? Like the Arpege perfume commercial from decades ago said, “Promise her anything but give her Arpege.” What is the substitute for our promise now?
LET THERE BE WIND
I have heard the radio ads repeating over and over again during the past weeks vying for the hearts and minds of Delaware citizens. The winner gets to provide Delaware’s energy needs for years to come. Will it be provided through the usual commodity markets at the prevailing price determined by a world market or by a wind farm generated off the Rehoboth shore? The battle is blazing through the air waves and I still have no idea what the final details are that they are fighting for. Blue Water Wind cites the long term benefits of continuous renewable power and Delmarva Power the inequities of Blue Water Wind‘s contract agreement with Delaware as opposed to deals offered to other states.
What exactly is the subject here?
Is it about bringing new energy technologies to Delaware or is it keeping our current power source supplier unchallenged to perform better for us. I know for me, I want the subject to be a lower power bill. I want to know that my family can stay warm in the winter, turn the lights on and not find the bill is suddenly double what it was last month for the same number of kilowatts. How many times is that going to happen? I know I do not want to rely on an uncertain future for our energy.
We have elected our representatives to understand the issues and to make good deals for us. One legislator stated recently that the state’s agencies were in for a “wake up call” at budget hearings since Delaware was in a money crunch. I am guessing that means Delaware’s citizens are going to have less services and higher taxes and that the “wake up” call is ours. Now, more than ever we need some certainty in energy costs.
So what is the deal that our representatives plan to make for us? If you read the University of Delaware and the Audubon Society studies about costal wind generation I wonder why the battle still rages. Off shore wind projects are reported to be a win wind situation for our small state. We need to start depending on ourselves and not leave things to others who don‘t care what we have to pay for energy. The deal is only as good as the contract, so write one. Instead of a green decision we can make a blue one.
He’s a Believer…
Television. Wow! What an invention. No, it is more than an invention like a toaster or an ipod. It is our personal universe on demand. I can stand by rain swollen rivers in East Africa, have an intimate conversation while sipping Colombian coffee with a famous person on a Sunday morning, vacation in Tibet while looking for the legendary Yeti or investigate a black hole without losing molecular cohesion. I have all of that without going through the metal detectors at the airport. What fun! Gosh, it is fun! And don’t we love it so?
I often wonder if this too good or too bad? How much viewing is too much? What happens if I view too much? Fortunately, no one has ever produced the definitive answer to those troubling questions. Does anyone want to do that? I have heard, mostly in jest, well maybe, that when something tastes too good, it has to be bad for you. What does change after viewing a thing so sweet? It is hard to imagine the experience so beneficial can be harmful. For instance, I can discuss the “string theory” concerning the Universe, albeit, not for long. I learned it on TV. Knowing so much is an oh-so-sweet indulgence and educational too.
Yet! A hint of a whisper of a thought enters my head and I am thinking that there could be a dark side somewhere. Could I have missed it while lost in the glory of seeing it all? Am I drugged by HD color overlaid by the mysteries of ancient worlds? Let’s face it, you and I are grown, responsible people. We know what is real. Yet, the thought persists that real is more a matter of perception and interpretation. Witnesses to crimes often report different information to authorities when describing the event. What do we believe these days? Why?
I remember an eon of time ago post WWII, which now seems as far back any of the other eon of the past, like the Jurassic when no one had a television. That was really not too long ago either. I told a kid at work that I had no television when I was a kid. I hope to never see that expression again. How we survived it I just do not know. Our days then must seem now like days as exciting as watching grass grow. Even so, there seemed to be something.
Although, something was prevalent then that is not experienced now. Something was an important part of the fabric of a time. It was nothing as noticeable as electricity that is really missed when it goes out. It comforted us to sleep at night with the doors unlocked and to invite strangers to dinner. We spent time with people we knew and trusted whose conversation was believable if not compelling. We were unaware of immense things like Islam, nuclear power, global warming, tofu or, even, hydrocarbons. Certainly, no one knew we had free-range chickens, pesticide free vegetables or single parent families. We were so young and no one tried to change that. We didn’t have to sift through the benefits of stress vs. body fat, or who manufactures the reddest, all day lip stick, or which political party has been highjacked by the devil the most?
It did not matter. Our world had people who loved us; who died protecting us, liked us and looked over us. These were not issues of the day. These were just the way things were. People seemed to somehow know the way and trusted in each other.
My Dad, Buddy, was a family man. He was handsome with a smile like Clark Gable including the ears, employed in an interesting profession and very trustworthy. You know, a father who made everything safe and who knew all the answers to the hard questions including math. He grew up on a family farm, survived smallpox, a world war serving in North Africa, the Korean conflict and still played golf every chance he got even if the ground was frozen or even if he was basically lame at the game. He knew about his game. It did not matter. He just loved the game.
Seemingly, without warning, something shifted and we were blindsided. We had no way of even knowing to look out for it. Sometime we must have blinked. No one could say when or why it happened. It just happened as an invisible piece of the cultural fabric slide out of time. A piece of culture blinked out and we never noticed we were in the dark. It definitely began beyond the acres of tall pines where each day was woven into a lifetime. It sounded like a faint whisper in the vast stillness. It was like the swish of a vacuum seal when a can of coffee is opened. It was just wrong. Houston, we have ignition, the explosion of a new age.
Daddy told us about the new age in his own matter-of-fact way without even knowing it. He came home one day announcing that he had watched TV in a downtown store window. He said to me that he knew the color of Perry Como’s hair. “Guess!” Now, for you people who never heard of the crooner compare him to Michael Buble', only older. Of course, I guessed his hair was black. Dad pronounced Perry’s hair to be blue. It was the darnest thing he had seen. In surprise, I protested with an it cannot be blue exclamation. He said he was sure. He actually saw his hair. What was not to believe? He saw Perry on TV himself. Blue? How did he see blue on a black and white TV? It was more like shades of gray. What is going on here? There he was facing me with that great smile. Daddy! There it was. Daddy was persuaded. Daddy was a believer. There was no doubt about it and it was not even HD.
Television. Wow! What an invention. No, it is more than an invention like a toaster or an ipod. It is our personal universe on demand. I can stand by rain swollen rivers in East Africa, have an intimate conversation while sipping Colombian coffee with a famous person on a Sunday morning, vacation in Tibet while looking for the legendary Yeti or investigate a black hole without losing molecular cohesion. I have all of that without going through the metal detectors at the airport. What fun! Gosh, it is fun! And don’t we love it so?
I often wonder if this too good or too bad? How much viewing is too much? What happens if I view too much? Fortunately, no one has ever produced the definitive answer to those troubling questions. Does anyone want to do that? I have heard, mostly in jest, well maybe, that when something tastes too good, it has to be bad for you. What does change after viewing a thing so sweet? It is hard to imagine the experience so beneficial can be harmful. For instance, I can discuss the “string theory” concerning the Universe, albeit, not for long. I learned it on TV. Knowing so much is an oh-so-sweet indulgence and educational too.
Yet! A hint of a whisper of a thought enters my head and I am thinking that there could be a dark side somewhere. Could I have missed it while lost in the glory of seeing it all? Am I drugged by HD color overlaid by the mysteries of ancient worlds? Let’s face it, you and I are grown, responsible people. We know what is real. Yet, the thought persists that real is more a matter of perception and interpretation. Witnesses to crimes often report different information to authorities when describing the event. What do we believe these days? Why?
I remember an eon of time ago post WWII, which now seems as far back any of the other eon of the past, like the Jurassic when no one had a television. That was really not too long ago either. I told a kid at work that I had no television when I was a kid. I hope to never see that expression again. How we survived it I just do not know. Our days then must seem now like days as exciting as watching grass grow. Even so, there seemed to be something.
Although, something was prevalent then that is not experienced now. Something was an important part of the fabric of a time. It was nothing as noticeable as electricity that is really missed when it goes out. It comforted us to sleep at night with the doors unlocked and to invite strangers to dinner. We spent time with people we knew and trusted whose conversation was believable if not compelling. We were unaware of immense things like Islam, nuclear power, global warming, tofu or, even, hydrocarbons. Certainly, no one knew we had free-range chickens, pesticide free vegetables or single parent families. We were so young and no one tried to change that. We didn’t have to sift through the benefits of stress vs. body fat, or who manufactures the reddest, all day lip stick, or which political party has been highjacked by the devil the most?
It did not matter. Our world had people who loved us; who died protecting us, liked us and looked over us. These were not issues of the day. These were just the way things were. People seemed to somehow know the way and trusted in each other.
My Dad, Buddy, was a family man. He was handsome with a smile like Clark Gable including the ears, employed in an interesting profession and very trustworthy. You know, a father who made everything safe and who knew all the answers to the hard questions including math. He grew up on a family farm, survived smallpox, a world war serving in North Africa, the Korean conflict and still played golf every chance he got even if the ground was frozen or even if he was basically lame at the game. He knew about his game. It did not matter. He just loved the game.
Seemingly, without warning, something shifted and we were blindsided. We had no way of even knowing to look out for it. Sometime we must have blinked. No one could say when or why it happened. It just happened as an invisible piece of the cultural fabric slide out of time. A piece of culture blinked out and we never noticed we were in the dark. It definitely began beyond the acres of tall pines where each day was woven into a lifetime. It sounded like a faint whisper in the vast stillness. It was like the swish of a vacuum seal when a can of coffee is opened. It was just wrong. Houston, we have ignition, the explosion of a new age.
Daddy told us about the new age in his own matter-of-fact way without even knowing it. He came home one day announcing that he had watched TV in a downtown store window. He said to me that he knew the color of Perry Como’s hair. “Guess!” Now, for you people who never heard of the crooner compare him to Michael Buble', only older. Of course, I guessed his hair was black. Dad pronounced Perry’s hair to be blue. It was the darnest thing he had seen. In surprise, I protested with an it cannot be blue exclamation. He said he was sure. He actually saw his hair. What was not to believe? He saw Perry on TV himself. Blue? How did he see blue on a black and white TV? It was more like shades of gray. What is going on here? There he was facing me with that great smile. Daddy! There it was. Daddy was persuaded. Daddy was a believer. There was no doubt about it and it was not even HD.
The Accidental Enemy of the State
A person may wonder, albeit, in those rare moments between 2 a.m. and 5 a.m., when the convergence of time, space and traffic regulations hopelessly entraps ones self in the twilight zone of traffic court. Well, in retro spec, I tend to reserve that special time to wonder about other things, like why can I see all the really huge spider webs in my yard so clearly in the moonlight.
Needless to say, if I had spent more time thinking, such a convergence that fingered me heading north bound on Route 13 through Dover by K-Mart would not have led to my current epiphany. Incidentally, my thoughts mused about what effect blue light may have played in the situation but I dismissed it as too Star Treky. I have to admit, the light was yellow when I heard the sirens, which I thought to be a fire engine (emergency vehicle) and began to look for it. I did wonder if the sudden flash was for me? You can already imagine how this will play in the air conditioned, cool of the traffic courtroom.
The U.S. Mail brought the intimidating, full color photos of my documented guilt - just the facts. I did not dispute that I was there or the state’s due diligence in enforcing the law, yet, I could not reconcile the events, which seemed like seconds. What are the true facts? I know in advertising a photo is worth a thousand words so how many words is a video worth? How many words is a video with sound worth? I decided that sounds were contributory factors and should, at the very least, be known so I contested the charge by mailing the form to Connecticut, H-u-m-m-m-m, how far reaching is this? Now, I can almost hear the Star Trek intro music.
I appeared as commanded with nine other people some of who seemed to understand the process much better than I did since only 4 people showed up. Some actually knew how to ask for conveniences like continuances. Of course, we were commanded to fill out the form on the proverbial clipboard, which was already pre-filled for us. That was easy. Following that an unanimated City PD Officer with a humorous name appeared and asked in a monotone voice, “Who’s here for the red traffic light cam?” Two of us raised our hands and I wondered where the others were. He asked if we had seen the video and I answered no but I have the photos. He just looked at the floor and asked the young girl to come first. In the mean time, a lady arrives and reads the pre-filled form laughing as she speaks the words like evidence and witnesses under her breath. A couple from PA arrived. This was their second trip to Dover over the matter and they were discussing getting lost for the second time in Dover with the Bailiff. He seemed to like us. By the time the PA couple left the wife was sobbing. The young girl emerged some time later visibly shaken and worried. She was wringing her hands as she discussed the rain and her tire pressure.
I was next. I viewed the video with sheer amazement finding a new respect for the appearance of things as portrayed by technology. The officer displayed it on the wall with great vigor and made that program sing. I looked like I was traveling at light speed. He was obviously proud and I could almost discern a slight excitement on his part. My car raced backwards and forewords as if propelled by a mouse on warp drive. Each time the video stopped at an enlarged view if my license plate. Each time the officer asked if I recognized it. Jiminy Cricket, no people skills here. That was that. He said I could stay for court that would last until 12:00 noon (It is 9:00a.m. now.) or just pay the fine including court costs. Court costs? Mentally I calculated the time I will miss from work if I stayed.
This all seemed too contrived. He had the game down and enjoyed manipulating the court. Of course, a discussion ensued after which he announced to the judge that I did not know what I wanted. From the waiting room I protested that I wanted a trial. Any respect for the local PD officer was gone. His opinion about us perps was perfectly clear. I now demand my day and word in court for my $35.00 in court costs. Red alert, no pun intended, sounded and the enemy was engaged.
The Trial
All the while people had been sitting in the back of the tiny courtroom un-introduced where they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Possibly they were acquainted with each other and enjoying a brief respite from their regular jobs. Only four people actually showed up for trial. We sat through the ordinary court startup business. At this point the Judge stated that I was first on the docket and proceeded to hear the one guilty plea. I should correct myself. The court was careful to call our pleas as responsible since this is a civil court. I was next on the docket so I guess I would not have to hang out until noon after all.
I am next. I am fortified by a sense of righteousness. An unforgivable slight to a woman is for a man to say that she does not know what she wants and in public too boot. Now, I wanted more than ever. I wanted justice or was it righteousness or plain satisfaction. At least, he is going to earn his wages today. The same unanimated City PD Officer was the prosecutor, witness, and court manager. He diligently apprehended the perps electronically from his desk in the City PD, reported them to the Red Light Traffic Cam company in another state, called the witnesses for the prosecution and presented the trial to the court. H-u-m-m-m-m, I think. This is too tidy.
A person may wonder, albeit, in those rare moments between 2 a.m. and 5 a.m., when the convergence of time, space and traffic regulations hopelessly entraps ones self in the twilight zone of traffic court. Well, in retro spec, I tend to reserve that special time to wonder about other things, like why can I see all the really huge spider webs in my yard so clearly in the moonlight.
Needless to say, if I had spent more time thinking, such a convergence that fingered me heading north bound on Route 13 through Dover by K-Mart would not have led to my current epiphany. Incidentally, my thoughts mused about what effect blue light may have played in the situation but I dismissed it as too Star Treky. I have to admit, the light was yellow when I heard the sirens, which I thought to be a fire engine (emergency vehicle) and began to look for it. I did wonder if the sudden flash was for me? You can already imagine how this will play in the air conditioned, cool of the traffic courtroom.
The U.S. Mail brought the intimidating, full color photos of my documented guilt - just the facts. I did not dispute that I was there or the state’s due diligence in enforcing the law, yet, I could not reconcile the events, which seemed like seconds. What are the true facts? I know in advertising a photo is worth a thousand words so how many words is a video worth? How many words is a video with sound worth? I decided that sounds were contributory factors and should, at the very least, be known so I contested the charge by mailing the form to Connecticut, H-u-m-m-m-m, how far reaching is this? Now, I can almost hear the Star Trek intro music.
I appeared as commanded with nine other people some of who seemed to understand the process much better than I did since only 4 people showed up. Some actually knew how to ask for conveniences like continuances. Of course, we were commanded to fill out the form on the proverbial clipboard, which was already pre-filled for us. That was easy. Following that an unanimated City PD Officer with a humorous name appeared and asked in a monotone voice, “Who’s here for the red traffic light cam?” Two of us raised our hands and I wondered where the others were. He asked if we had seen the video and I answered no but I have the photos. He just looked at the floor and asked the young girl to come first. In the mean time, a lady arrives and reads the pre-filled form laughing as she speaks the words like evidence and witnesses under her breath. A couple from PA arrived. This was their second trip to Dover over the matter and they were discussing getting lost for the second time in Dover with the Bailiff. He seemed to like us. By the time the PA couple left the wife was sobbing. The young girl emerged some time later visibly shaken and worried. She was wringing her hands as she discussed the rain and her tire pressure.
I was next. I viewed the video with sheer amazement finding a new respect for the appearance of things as portrayed by technology. The officer displayed it on the wall with great vigor and made that program sing. I looked like I was traveling at light speed. He was obviously proud and I could almost discern a slight excitement on his part. My car raced backwards and forewords as if propelled by a mouse on warp drive. Each time the video stopped at an enlarged view if my license plate. Each time the officer asked if I recognized it. Jiminy Cricket, no people skills here. That was that. He said I could stay for court that would last until 12:00 noon (It is 9:00a.m. now.) or just pay the fine including court costs. Court costs? Mentally I calculated the time I will miss from work if I stayed.
This all seemed too contrived. He had the game down and enjoyed manipulating the court. Of course, a discussion ensued after which he announced to the judge that I did not know what I wanted. From the waiting room I protested that I wanted a trial. Any respect for the local PD officer was gone. His opinion about us perps was perfectly clear. I now demand my day and word in court for my $35.00 in court costs. Red alert, no pun intended, sounded and the enemy was engaged.
The Trial
All the while people had been sitting in the back of the tiny courtroom un-introduced where they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Possibly they were acquainted with each other and enjoying a brief respite from their regular jobs. Only four people actually showed up for trial. We sat through the ordinary court startup business. At this point the Judge stated that I was first on the docket and proceeded to hear the one guilty plea. I should correct myself. The court was careful to call our pleas as responsible since this is a civil court. I was next on the docket so I guess I would not have to hang out until noon after all.
I am next. I am fortified by a sense of righteousness. An unforgivable slight to a woman is for a man to say that she does not know what she wants and in public too boot. Now, I wanted more than ever. I wanted justice or was it righteousness or plain satisfaction. At least, he is going to earn his wages today. The same unanimated City PD Officer was the prosecutor, witness, and court manager. He diligently apprehended the perps electronically from his desk in the City PD, reported them to the Red Light Traffic Cam company in another state, called the witnesses for the prosecution and presented the trial to the court. H-u-m-m-m-m, I think. This is too tidy.
The Judge
The Judge was cool and intense. She spoke in a no nonsense, direct manner. I saw that her role was confined to paragraphs in Title 21 of the Delaware Code as she explained the limits of Title 21. I wondered if she had a copy of the Title 21 Cliff Notes version to explain the reasoning she used to construct her opinions. I need one.
The Judge asked if I had a lawyer, I answered that I did not while fervently wishing that I did. I am now my own lawyer unfortunately. Fortunately, I am passively prepared with way too much TV, Law and Order, et. al., so I know how to say things like, “Let me rephrase that question”. Yes, I did say that.
The Witnesses
Well this is it. The State now calls its witnesses for the prosecution or is it witnesses for the responsibility in civil court? So much to know; no time.
The Officer asked Mr. Red Light Traffic Cam owner about the system. The Company man excitedly discussed the traffic cam’s logic, scope and seamless operation with technical terms that Mr. Spock would adore. Even the Judge stopped him with impromptu questions occasionally. Then it happened. We all heard it. I experienced a moment of disbelief followed by a mental explanation of, “Oh for God’s sake…”
The Judge leaned forward and said, “Neural Net? What exactly is that?” Mr. Red Light Traffic Cam explained the consolidated beam that when activated scans the intersection based on the neural net operation of his software product. You must forgive me. This recall may be not completely accurate. The shock of the situation is at fault as my brain processed the full impact of his words.
In Dover, Delaware at various points along U.S. 13, a disembodied Mr. Data is employed by DELDOT to monitor the Red Light Cams in traffic enforcement. Mr. Red Light Traffic Cam said that with more self-satisfaction and pride than can be possible in a human being. Well, where do we go from here apart form waiting for a sign from God? Lightning? Pillar of fire?
I am asked to cross-examine the witness by the Judge. I got the distinct impression that no perp had done this before disputing the integrity if traffic software. No eye contact. I offered a long question where the Judge asked me to use a direct question. This is where I said, “Let me rephrase that question.” I only need to point out that sound was not recorded on the Red Light Traffic Cam video. Sound is evidence. Mr. Red Light Traffic Cam sat with his hands on the arms of his chair and looked at the floor to his right, as he said, NO. Body language is everything.
The next witness was Mr. DELDOT. I was surprised since I was sure DELDOT had nothing to do with the Red Light Traffic Cams. Possibly, that is a misunderstanding on my part. He just reinforced the evidence that the traffic system was perfect.
The City PD Officer droned on about chain of custody and the process that seemed to be somewhat irrelevant when considering the evidence of color photo, color video, and of course Neural Net technology. The Judge asked him if his testimony was to support the chain of custody where he said yes. I wondered about the detail on the subject as he related that one Officer who worked for him at the PD viewed the electronic evidence at inception tuning it over to the Red Light Traffic Cam company. This detailed relation of the chain of custody was unexpected at this point in the trial. The nature of the Officer’s testimony caused me to wonder if it was possible to alter those electronic images or if someone has altered the images somewhere, thereby, causing this belabored and unexpected defense of the custodial evidence.
Of course you and I know that the process was predetermined from the beginning in a situation where the one and only witness at the crime scene is considered to be the perp. The Judge stated that my defense did not, basically, hold water. Well, am I surprised? No. I am flattered that the judge called my statements a defense. What I said was not a defense allowable in Title 21. Mine was to ask where is all of the evidence and the impartiality of the process? The only defense could have been a failure of the State’s evidentiary collection, which was not at issue. My first contention is that where the State uses surveillance as a tool to apprehend unlawful behavior, maybe that electronic evidence should be comprehensive. My second contention is that the configurations of the traffic lights allow drivers the time to react within capabilities to traffic light changes in a personal and public safety. The yellow light lasts for 4 seconds. 4 seconds?
The law is one thing. For the most part it benefits all of us a citizens and allows us to live in peace and safety. Behind our laws is a vast collection of rules and regulations which explains the law and, more so, volumes of administrative practice which explains the how-to. Is that practice based on science like how fast does the human brain respond to changes in situations? 4 seconds? We live in a technological world, which often confounds those of us who are not directly involved with it. Faced with evidence collected by a system that employs Mr. Data’s neural net where the accused cannot be his own witness in his own defense yet is examined by a prosecutor seems just plain wrong.
So, you say what is your point? As a lifetime bureaucrat, I refuse to go gently into that good night and if you want my money you need to prove your case. Smoke and mirrors proves nothing except to make me suspicious. For all of us, go through the process always. It will only cost you the price of an average dinner. You have to pay anyway so you may as well be entertained. You may be surprised by how things work.
At LastWith that off my chest, I can safely go back to those seemingly unanswered nature questions in the early mornings. Just to clear up any question about insomnia, I go to work early. Until the next time, watch out.
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