The products of our ingenuity surround us and construct the framework of the modern world. Smartphones. Computers. Cheese that sprays from a can. Each of these items evolved in response to an obvious human need.
But what of the Lazy Susan? What crisis faced a past generation and spurred the development of this miracle of rotational technology?
When last we journeyed through realms of perilous wonder, I unveiled my mad scheme to go back to college and get a degree. This summer I turned mad scheme into bold action, taking not just one, but x+5=7 algebra classes.
Each class condensed a semester’s worth of knowledge into a five-week period. While I was able to keep up with some fiction writing beneath that workload, unfortunately the blog languished this summer.
It’s the 21st century. Why can we not implant knowledge directly into our brains, Matrix-style?
One Saturday afternoon I sat in my office at work, toiling at my desk. Out in the hallway, a thing darted through the air past my door.
I looked up. What was that? Some kind of flying organism?
But having work I wanted to finish before going home, I shoved my curiosity aside and began toiling once more. And once more, the Thing in the Hallway™ darted past my door, this time in the other direction.
Much of my family is scattered across the country, so I haven’t been able to visit them as often as I’d like. When my grandmother arranged a gathering to celebrate my grandfather’s 90th birthday, I boarded a plane, looking forward to catching up with relatives I hadn’t seen in many years, including cousins I had never met before.
Last week I linked to a video in which a crafty octopus perpetrated a heist, stealing a video camera while it was still recording. I also ran a poll so the people could decide Octopus: Threat or Menace?
The poll is now closed and the results are in. As we can see, octopoids are our friends.
He is so pleased that today we’re going to explore some links that conform to an octopus theme.
This first link came over Twitter from Debra Eve and showcases the Octopus Table by Isaac Kraus. This amazing work of art weighs 500 lbs. and is perfect for tea with Cthulhu. Thanks for the link, Debra!
It writhes in haunted, timeless sleep among the graves of ancient ships. Shining empires crumble and fall and rise again from the ones before, sending their fleets across the sea, extending their reach beyond their shores.
Years ago, my friend Tom lived across the street. One day he constructed a plywood vault in his garage and sound-proofed the walls and ceiling with thick carpet, protecting the neighbors from the loud music we used to torture out of an array of musical instruments. Our circle of friends got along well with Tom’s mom, and we were allowed to hang out in the garage even when Tom wasn’t home.
Returning from an escapade late one evening, Tom and I approached the vault and found a note impaled to the door by a plastic dart, a desperate message scrawled by one of our friends:
“Good gravy! There’s a freaking possum or something inside. Watch out!”
The note puzzled us. It had to be a joke. Did a wild animal truly lurk beyond the threshold, waiting to descend upon us, savage our flesh, and infect us with vile pestilence?