The mind is a factory. Manufacturing never stops. It runs a graveyard shift. It mostly makes stuff – literally manufactures it – that is an illusion. If this factory had a slogan it might be, The Human Mind, We Work Hard Every Day To Fill Your Head With Shit That’s Not True.
It didn’t take much to get the glider airborne. The wind was gusting and I was standing hundreds of feet above the ground so a simple forward arm movement and a gentle letting-go propelled the two-ounce balsa projectile on its way … on a flight through American history.
If you weren’t homeless or destitute or prone to dreaming about Kraft Singles, how long would you stand in line for free cheese? In Tillamook, Oregon it would appear to be a daily habit and thousands and thousands of our nation’s most lactose-tolerant will stand on line until, well, until the cows come home for what amounts to a sweaty little handful of cheese cubes. At first, it appears to be a sickness, the kind that makes fat people fatter, but then it suddenly becomes endearing and American and, finally, you realize that these free-cheese-cube-hander-outers should be celebrated as the shrewd cheddar pimps they truly are.