Life Among The Savages, Part 2.

Often in the days before I began my travels to the earth’s most distant and often inhospitable regions, I had heard preposterous tales of the remote and mysterious Land of R______, and could not determine if the nation was the victim of serial embellishment by scores of seafaring glory-hounds, or merely the product of drunkards’ fancy. And later, once my wandering had started in earnest and my own home was a distant hazy memory, the tale of R_______ grew no more consistent. The stories were sensational, hyperbolic, and seemed to describe forty different countries rather than one. The people of R_______ had eyes on the back of their heads, or nestled in the palms of their left hands, or they each carried lizards on their shoulders that saw for them. They were nine feet tall with blue skin, or four feet tall with silver skin, or of exactly average height with skin of beige or taupe, depending on the quality of light at the time.

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Life Among The Savages, Part 1.

I was shipwrecked, and nearly drowned; I was swallowed by dense tropical forest, and nearly consumed; I was trapped among spires of jagged, sun-beaten rock, climbing ever upward because behind me, below me were the murderous seas and insatiable jungle. I climbed and scaled and split my feet and hands on the stony shards until I reached a plateau, where I stopped, and fell, and lay on my back, a rack of a man draped in rags and tatters. I could not pull enough air into my lungs.

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A Commencement Address.

Why are you here?

I hear you chuckle, and am fractionally gratified by it. You have heard me start off this address by hacking up a tired old philosophical joke, kicking off this inspirational oration with a twist of a Great Question (capitalized).

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Mayor Boom-Boom.

Martin Powell barges into the mayor’s office, Mavis close behind. The mayor, on the couch and flanked by cheerleaders, allows his head to loll forward and acknowledge Powell’s entrance and Mavis’ distress, greeting both with a dopey yet charismatic smile. The mayor’s face is scratched and abraded, but retains a significant portion of the handsomeness it possessed when he entered office.

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Sabbatiaccidentalisticexplicatidative.

You missed the first few syllables, but yes, it’s definitely a sentence and yes, YES, it definitely could be about you. If only you spoke Portuguese, or even Brazilian Portuguese. One of the Portugueses. She sounds cute, so it only matters half as much. A voice for radio and a face to match, maybe, if you’re lucky. And we know — you’re lucky.

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Thus Spake Dog, or Ecce Rob.

I’m going to yell something, Rob thought, so he did. “Big hair in the morning!” He spread his arms out wide and grinned a wide grin as he yelled it. And Carter turned away from the television, a soccer match, the players so tiny, so crisp, so ineffectual on that big green field full of moirĂ© patterns. The artful mowing of the field. Carter squinted, Carter squinted a lot. “What?” Carter said. She propped up her head on her right hand, fingers tangled in the hair around her ear, smothered by it. In her left hand she held what looked like a violin bow. He made a mental note to ask her about it. “My hair?” Carter said, and didn’t look happy.

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Forgotten Television: Ernst.

In the spring of 1974, NBC’s rotating showcase of evening crime dramas, the NBC Wednesday Mystery Movie, suffered from flagging ratings. None of Wednesday’s quirky prime-time sleuths had connected with audiences the way Sunday night’s Columbo, McCloud or MacMillan & Wife had (with the qualified exception of Banacek), and viewer interest was evaporating. The network needed a colorful new quasi-detective, as quickly as possible.

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Those Goldurned, Dadgummed Good Ol’ Days.

A panorama of browns and beige! Sepia, as far as the eye can see! Everything awash in aged colors, positively drenched in them! Everything looked like it fell from a tree a month ago! We’d seen colors in those fancy Chinese rugs and we didn’t want them! They rattled the blood and unbalanced your electric field! Ask Tesla! Go ahead, you ask him! I know he’s dead!

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