THE FOOD COURT JESTERS

By Stanley L. Derickson

Copyright 2006

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author, except as provided by U.S.A. copyright laws. 

DISCLAIMER

As you view the titles of the different sections, please don't jump to the conclusion that I am being politically incorrect, even though I tend to do so to irritate those that insist upon it.  I am not in this case; I am just using titles that seem to describe that which has been observed.

What a wonderful end for the food court.  The builders and designers made a wonderful area to gaze out upon the wonders of our city.  Here I sit, by the window overlooking the top of the cleaner and shutterbug building with all the mechanical delights atop the buildings decorated in varying amounts of rust and debris.  What a terrible view from that wonderful area - looking out on the traffic, the roof tops, the bleak parking structure, the many and varied traffic lights and booms and what ever moves in the street below.  You can even see over to the top of the J.C. Penney building and its satellite dish, cooling tower for their air conditioning and other stuff associated with the roof of a commercial building. 

Possibly a big screen or two with still images of the coast, or the mountains would have been a better end to the court - something of taste since that is what we are here for.

One must wonder if the designer of such a nice court bothered to see where it was going to be positioned.  Could he have found a worse view to place at the disposal of the visitor?  Doubtful from what I know of the surrounding area.

There's the myriad of food establishments, the photo booth, the ATM machine and ooooodddles of tables and chairs ready for the day of cough, spit and mess which leads us to our first person, the food court cleaner upper. 

What a job!  Can you imagine having such a job?  Cleaning the tables off after the slops in the city are finished; oh what fun!  Many do not bother to take care of their own garbage, so the cleaner upper gets the privilege of taking care of that for them, then they get to wipe down the table to prepare it for the next slop in the city.  They often also have to clean the floor surrounding the table because the fray has been so intense on the working surface that items have been discharged from their prescribed area by inattentive consumers.

It must be wondered if the folks go in the back somewhere and run themselves through a decontamination chamber when finished for the day.  The filth and germs that they must be exposed to on any one day must be the equivalent of germ warfare.

Having been a janitor for a few years and having been subjected to my share of crimes against janitor - nothing like these poor folks must have to put up with. 

Poor folks, ahhhh, another point on their behalf, they often are the lower paid folks of our society, yet they come in day after day putting up with the publics dirt - they deserve the distinguished SERVICE cross for their efforts.

Then there are the smells and the sounds of the court.  There is nothing like the sizzling of the food as it is dropped into the deep fryer, the sound of cholesterol forming on the spot.  Ah, the cardiac people must just love that sound and the smell that goes with it that is blown court wide.

How better to catch your interest and money than to gorge your nostrils with the aroma of fried foods. 

The constant buzz of conversation isn't all that noticeable.  It is when one person raises their voice above the din that noise becomes evident.

Added to the drone of people talking you must also add the rustling of various wrappers that seem to require so much attention.  There are those that struggle to get into their food, you know the coffee lid that is the result of many months of research by the Brinks Company and the child proof package of chips that are a mass of crumbs by the time you get to them. 

These new packing techniques may preserver for longer periods of time, but it isn't due to their ability to preserve, but their ability to remain sealed, no matter the method of attack, nor the strength of the attacker.  There have been some packages that I have literally been unable to open, finding that scissors or knife were the only possible answer to the problem.

The sounds, the frustrations of wrappers are diminished by the aromas drifting through the area.  We shan’t speak of the aroma from the Cinnabon stand.  The FBI is investigating them for their improper use of aroma sales.  They ought to be required to contain their smell within a five foot radius of their establishment, or be fined in the most harshest of manner.

THE FIXTURES

Aside from the tables and chairs there is also every morning, as I stroll through the mall toward the food court, the six to eight people sitting at the same table at the same time.  Whether a business meeting, or just friends gathering for some sip and talk, they are if nothing else, regular in their gathering.

Little attention do they give to those scurrying by on their way to work, to shop or to coffee.  Concentrating on one another is their key, a key much of society could use to unlock the strangle hold which boring conversation has on real life.  They seem to actually be interested in one another's comments and accounts of the day past.

ARROGANCE IS BLISS

Head shaved clean, erect, stiff of speech and direct of approach he commands the counter as he orders his meal.  Always the same meal, always the same demeanor, and always the same newspaper - well with a different date and hopefully some different news and of course always the same food counter.

An ex-marine, an officer on leave, or someone that likes to shave his head, read a newspaper, and eat breakfast in quiet - it would be anyone’s guess, but indeed he seems to enjoy the ritual that is his.  Not that he is very different from the ambulance driver that arrives the same time each day, and orders the same meal, or the school bus driver that does the same.  Guess a lot of people are in a rut called life.

A “good morning,” after watching this ritual of his had drawn a kind and surprised smile with an actual response of “good morning” in return.  Amazing how a two word phrase can change the dynamic between two human beings that have before, been only observers of one another.  Possibly we could change this section's title to Mr. Not So Arrogant.

Two mornings in a row, "good morning" was a positive occasion.  Uhhh, three in a row, and four in a row, and the fifth day a real conversation!  Maybe that title should be Mr. Maybe He Isn't Arrogant, or simply Mr. Shaved Head, since arrogance doesn't seem to be his reality, but only someone else’s perception.

LATE FOR A VERY IMPORTANT DATE

Sitting alone in the corner with his back to the wall, clean shaven, both face and head, tie with dark suit, devouring, or is that inhaling, his breakfast as if he were late for a very important date - oh, he is on the move brief case in hand, he is neat and tidy with the tray of refuse, depositing it in the trash container with prompt deliberate moves, and away he goes, stooped as if he has the world on his shoulders, but scurrying along to arrive as scheduled.

Humm, two bald men in a row, do we have a male pattern here?  Bald men are supposed to make great marital partners, they are supposed to be more intelligent, but they are just as they are, without the stuff of glamour going about their day as if it were important to the world, and indeed, it may well be. 

INCOGNITO

He enters the court, spots the writer at his computer and targets him like a bomber locks onto a target with a laser beam.  With deep intent the man moves toward the writer, but at the last moment veers to the right and moves over to the window to peer out into the intersection.  A moment there to seem inconspicuous, a quick glance at the computer and off he goes to the restroom area, only to return and move on through the court as if nothing had occurred.  This guy was conspicuously inconspicuous, rather like the plain unmarked police car sitting across the street with coffee cups and donuts on the dashboard and in the mouth.  Indeed, nothing had occurred in reality, but one must wonder what there was going on in the mind, not to mention what secrets he might have been carrying in his red bag slung over his shoulder.

THE GUY NEXT DOOR

The man with the sunglasses on over his regular glasses, you know the shades that swing up out of the way so you can see, even though you cease to be cool for a moment or two.  Only this guy's swing up specs had a weak spring that wouldn't hold them in place, but rather drooped down in front of his eyes.  He was looking through half a shaded lens and half a regular lens, guess that is what you call half and half with your coffee.

He is so cool that he had his wife get his food for him as well.  Now, the shades are down at about five o'clock and he is very near totally cool.  If that spring is so weak, I wonder what happens in the wind, do they smack him in the forehead when the gusts catch the lenses?  Is that where the red spots over his eyes came from?  What lurks in the mind of a man when he dawns such paraphernalia to adorn himself on a very cloudy, dismal, rainy day?  Maybe it is the brightness of the court, or more exactly the brilliance of those occupying it at the moment.

THE QUINTESSENCELY CHALLENGED

There he sits, daily in his little world, typing on his little computer.  The computer with a small screen, similar in size to his mind where he finds the words to convey the muddle that most call a consciousness.

Encased in his wrinkled flannel shirt, his hands glide across the keyboard with those luscious drippings of his mind striking the keyboard that is his life.  Sipping from time to time from his Senior decaff from McDonald's he gazes briefly to see what other jesters are doing in the court.  A court where everyone passes now and then, but not always stopping to become the object of someone's interest and note.

If anyone were to crack the silence of his world there would be great shock, since the last time anyone interrupted his activity was several months ago when the little Spanish teenagers asked, "What cha doin on that thing?"  To which he so intellectually replied "Writin."

He stops now and then to rub his forehead with his fingers to roll the dirt and grease into little balls that fall in his lap, to be brushed away later.  Not much different than your forehead - try it, rub your forehead a little hard and see if you don't have the same malady of life.  Dirt is everywhere in this world, we just don't deal with all of it.  Isn't it fun to feel those little balls of stuff forming under your fingers?  Maybe we should have dirt rolling parties to give the janitors of the world something more to do.

The chemical makeup and consistency of this material is probably not all that unlike the material that MR. SCRATCH IT must clean out from his finger nails as he ends the scouring of his dead pan - we will see him a little later.

Don't sit there, ladies, and get disgusted with the disgusting traits of men, when women have the same strange foibles.  Cleaning wax from the ear, being one.  One woman was going at it so hard that it was thought she was going after diamonds the way she drove her long nail and forefinger into her ear, then as she withdrew it she gave it a mighty flick and the wax went flying into the air toward the lower level of the mall.  No wonder so many guys wear hats in the mall.

Sitting at a stop light recently a snazzy red sports car was noticed stopped beside.  Inside was a beautiful young blonde with all the assets of the car.  Finger in nose digging as if she had a Whopper stored up there for lunch.  Withdrawing lunch into her mouth it went - ladies don't talk about disgusting things men do, your fingers do as many strange things as those of men.

One would wonder why a stooped old man would know how to use a computer, but more to the point, why would he be writin with one?  People do find him of interest once in awhile, but mostly because of his computer.  It is small, it is neat, and it raises the curiosity of most everyone.  Not all stop to comment, but some that are inclined toward technology.

What's he doin on that thing?" -- writin fer his website.  Ah, the internet, that cesspool of information and materialistic abandon.  To gain useful information you must wade through the labyrinth of Google or Yahoo for an hour to gain a minute or two of information, yet it is a great resource for the one that does not like to pay the parking meter at the public library.

A DOUBLE CHEESEBURGER, FRIES, AND SHAKE PLEASE - OH, AND AN APPLE PIE AND MAKE THAT TWO DOUBLE CHEESEBURGERS AND A LARGE DIET COKE

We've all seen her, or it could well be him, the very overweight person that is at the mall to walk for exercise and weight control, that stops off for a Big Mac, fries and shake as a reward for the good effort of the day to become healthier.

There is the variation on this lady; she is the one that is embarrassed about the overeating, so she goes to the car to finish the meal.  She is lonely, but happy while consuming the downfall of her life.

These gals are the same as the guys of the same size and we all need to know that they are people under that exterior; you just have to go a little deeper to get there.  The person that is gravity challenged, often just can't say no to themselves, just as many of the other people in the world.  Their foible is food, while other people’s is someone of the opposite gender, or someone that has a bent toward materialism and heaps items of interest upon themselves whether they need it, want it, or can afford it.

Self control is not something that we have taught the recent generation and the size of the average clothing for sale is strong indicator of this fact. 

Oh, the title “A DOUBLE CHEESEBURGER, FRIES, AND SHAKE PLEASE - OH, AND AN APPLE PIE AND MAKE THAT TWO DOUBLE CHEESEBURGERS AND A LARGE DIET COKE” comes from the order that this large woman placed.  At least she drinks healthy.  Rather like the woman eating a snicker while looking for an exercise video to buy.

THE POINTLESSLY CHALLENGED

Note with interest the little old lady that is wearing an old print dress that is faded and worn.  If it is cold, an old scarf to cover the head and a coat that was out of fashion years ago, and over warn much earlier than that.  She rides the bus to the mall, walks through the court on her way somewhere important only to her.

At times she stops to read the newspaper left by someone that has coffeed and gone, or orders a burger to go with her on her trek to only she knows where.  Her shuffling stride denoting a life long battle with existence, her stooped back describing the weighty storms of life.

When she speaks, one can realize that within the exterior is a real person, a person with insight, with intellect, and most likely a lot of wisdom mixed with a reasonable education.  Why such a mix is packaged in such an unassuming wrapper is for the reader to fathom.

"Yep, Portland is going to get some snow tomorrow, but what of us, what will we get?"  "Probably nothing, we seem to be a little more protected." is the reply.  "What do you think of Bush's policy on foreign matters?" she asks to begin the discussion that strains the knowledge of the recipient of this woman's conversation.

It is more and more obvious that she is much more than just an old tattered woman, she has a good intellect and is quite interesting to talk with.

THE MELIORATELY CHALLENGED

You have seen him, the one with little to do, wondering from food station to food station bothering the help and cutting down on their productivity while he shatters his own.  Their supervisor must just love to sit and wonder what the man has done this morning, where he has been, why he is so clean and well kept.  What has he been doing, or not doing might be the real point.

Maintain is the thought of his job and maintain, he certainly does, he maintains an air of importance while disclosing his lack of character by lazing the day away in the court.

One must wonder why the bosses of America do not hold these folks accountable for their waste of time and talent.  It may relate to the lack of teaching in the area of accountability today.  Many have been taught that what they want to do is what they should do, and there is nothing wrong with that.  So, one would wonder why anyone works anymore when they are on the job.

THE COSMICALLY CHALLENGED (The center of the universe in shoes)

You've been run over by this person before, just as nearly everyone else in the mall.  They are the center of the universe moving swiftly through the rest of space.  Their trajectory is set by computer preciseness down the middle of the aisle, through the center of the court, and at times across all solid objects including the table at which you are seated.

Can anyone really be this obnoxious?  Well, yes, haven't you been run over by them enough to know?

The really scary part of this is when they travel in packs.  Five centers of the universe moving through the space time continuum toward you, what chance do you have?  Head for a doorway, jump over the rail to the floor on the lower level, or maybe just a quick turn around and rapid retreat.  Nothing can stop them, nothing can cause them harm, and they are on their path of destruction - pity anyone in their way.

There is a theory presented by some that these packs of centers are actually the cause of black holes.  The vortex behind them is sufficient to suck in whole shopping complexes.

HIGH SOCIETY, LOW VISIBILITY

Aloof, she is dressed to the nine - or maybe eleven hundred dollar level, gliding through the court on a mission.  The mission of getting through the court without being seen - it is the only way to get from the Escalade to the fancy dress shop, "How could they lay out this mall in such a degrading manner?"  "Why wouldn't they afford me the dignity of bypassing the gathering place of the masses?"  "Ah, finally through, I hope no one saw me, I hope they thought I was just a wisp of wind wafting through their lowly space."

The amazing part of this waft of air is that they can actually navigate the clutter of modern malls with their nose so in the air.  How do they see, how do they guide themselves, is it some radar built in, or maybe bouncing of sound waves like the dolphins.  No matter what, they move flawlessly from richness to richness without allowing poorness to infect their being.

With a cringe at the thought of what has just been endured, and of the coming return journey, she treks on through the mall toward the goal of that special purchase - a purchase so special any endurance must be endured.

QUALITY FAMILY TIME

Children are such fun to watch, they are full of surprises and they certainly show forth their families value system.

A couple sat down with their two children to eat.  Eating was not the video game that they were interested in.  They both had handheld game machines and were gaming like there was no lunch to bother them.

When one was bored they would exchange machines by tossing them on the table with a double ca-wham, and they would catch the game as it was almost to slide off the table - well usually, one time something distracted one of the children and the machine was treated to an unexpected trip to the floor and beyond as it slide under the next table.

"Lunch."  "What's that mom?"  "I don't have time I'm almost to level fifteen mom!"  "Put it down and eat!"  The reader can fill in the next fifteen sentences, as you have most likely heard them before, finally "AHHHHH mom you made me miss level eighteen!"  "You are such a _______ !"

Oh, there are also the adult gamers that are just as avid, just as isolated from their surroundings, just as obnoxious with their voices, and just as into themselves as the kids.  At least the kids have been trained differently - well maybe - well maybe not - well, ya, you are right, definitely not.

CHRISTMAS CHEER

When Santa is on his throne around Christmas time there are always lines of kids - well their parents are there as well, but I am correct when I use the collective "kids."  The pushing and the shoving and the hollering, and the cutting in line, and the other signs of decency and love are exhibited in full color - well red anyway, you can see a lot of that in the faces.

When the real kid finally achieves that which his folks have instilled in him as his goal, he is confronted by this huge guy with way too much hair all over his face - the guy that has entered into way too many pie eating contests, and hasn't read a fashion magazine in a hundred years.  Is this the ultimate in Christmas cheer?  May we hope there is more.

What does it say about society when it is the goal of so many to gain a picture of our child sitting on the knee of the biggest phony that our society has been able to invent, and especially when that phony is the key to great profit for those that pay him?

MENTALLY CHALLENGED

Well, that is what society tends to call them, but they are the ones that know how to enjoy life, they are the ones that know the simplicities of life and they are the ones that know whatever they get in the court is going to give them great joy.  Society labels it a disability but they feel it is their ability.

They are forward to a point and at times a little loud but they navigate life the same as the rest of us, just, most likely a little easier of mind.

THE CUPIDLY CHALLENGED

Often the singles don't like the singles bars and all those traps, so go to the mall fishing.  You can pick them out; everyone of the opposite sex is like a magnet of the opposite pole with their heads.  As the other person walks by the head swivels in place to watch the gorgeous go by.  The head soon returns to the forward position to discuss the person with the other heads that are just returning to position.

What good all this head pivoting does is questionable, but it seems to get them some meager exercise for their cardiac needs and a super jump start to their love life needs.

Oft, they perch in the court only to observe and discuss the prey like a couple of elk hunters watching a buck at a distance through binoculars.  Now and then there is a shot from the hunter, but often there is further hiking and climbing to gain closeness to the elusive buck.  The same with the man/woman hunter, they may leave their perch of safety and circle the quarry in the hope of getting closer without spooking them into a dead run for the exit.

If and when contact is made it is as if they both have reverted to school age.  They banter about nothing and achieve little else.  Possibly a date will ensue, but most likely they will part with pitter patter of the heart never to see one another again.

One must wonder, if there were to be a date, just how that would go.  After all there was the hunt, the stalk and the shoot to kill.  How can something that ends in the death of one of the parties, normally the buck, unless the hunter is totally inept, be a good pattern for finding a date for Saturday night.  Maybe that is why first dates are often such a disaster.

Note must be taken, however, the hunt, the stalk and the first date, do work at times.  Upon discharge from the service, it was time for marriage so this stalker returned to his happy growing up hunting grounds and bagged the first doe he dated.

THE NON CONFORMIST THAT DRESSES TO BE DIFFERENT, BUT LOOKS JUST LIKE ALL THE OTHER NON CONFORMISTS

The non conformist comes in a number of shades, but always is very similar to others in his shade.  There are those that call themselves Goth, while others call them other things.  There are the Grunge, the hippie carry overs and then there are the others that haven't figured out their name yet, but know they reject all that everyone else holds dear - even if they hold dear the things that they reject.

Gothites love to appear black and white, and wear enough makeup and black clothes to achieve this "look."  Not sure why they use silver studs in never ending pattern to detract from the black and white, maybe the silver passes for white due to their blood shot eyes.

Their demeanor is not that different from Slick on a Stick below, so that will be dispensed with as will any attempt to explain their philosophy of "I just want to look different" even though they look the same as their peers.  Yes, slight variations, but all are black and white, well sometimes their hair warrants a few variations.

Non conformists are so non-conforming they move through society in groups of those that subscribe to the same non conforming stipulations of life.  Maybe that means they are not conforming to society, but are conforming to their non conforming principles, which indeed, requires they be conforming.  Thus they are conforming non conformists that aren't conforming to society but are conforming to non-conforming principles so that they don't conform to others lifestyles.

Society should be thankful for the non-conforming that conforming non conformists do, so we aren't a society of conformists, even though the non-conformists conform and the conformists actually do not conform to the non-conformists non-conforming conformed principles.

The non conformist actually is not conforming to society, but they are not conforming to the non conforming principles of other non conforming groups that are not conforming to society.  If all non conforming groups could get together and unite under one grand non-conforming set of principles we could divide society into a dual class world.  You know, ying and yang, light and dark, good and evil, but as it is they are all under their separate shades of non-conformity and ultimately society being non-conforming toward non conformity, are we not all just a bunch of non-conformists conforming to our own principles - you know - conformists at heart?

SLICK ON A STICK

This one will be quite familiar to all.  This is the "Mr. Cool" in all his decked out coooolness, ball cap on with the bill to the side, low dragging britches and 10 X tee shirt that covers the tow chain link to his billfold or whatever is in the pocket, and of course with a Tootsie pop hanging out of his mouth.

The proper word for the way he walks escapes me, strut doesn't fit, nor does runway walk.  Maybe slipgering would cover it, you know kind of sliding but kind of staggering along as if the top half were controlled by the strings of a puppeteer and the lower half is attempting to navigate ice covered with grease to keep up with the top half.  It is almost as if the Tootsie Pop stick is anchored in space and his body is dangling from the end.  Hope he doesn't fall off; it would be quite painful to see that body settle into a pile on the floor.

As Slick enters the court he looks to see if all are bowing at his sudden presence, but quickly comes to realize not all are noticing him adequately.  This calls for an even grander entrance, slipgering over to a prominent table, a quick swing of the chair, just high enough to land with a thunk to draw maximum attention, and then with a swing of the hips he lands in the chair with the proper energy to make it slide a foot or two, and he settles into his usual posture.  Slumped, legs outstretched for total obnoxious blocking of the space between tables, one arm slung far over the back of the chair as if hanging on so he doesn't slip out onto the floor making him the fool.

What slick is about is hard to tell.  He isn't slick unless about the hair, and he isn't cool, just rather comical to the observer.

ABODELESS

They are everywhere.  They are sloppy, their shirt is usually hanging out, their coat is often disheveled, and their head covered by a long stocking cap that covers their head and ears.  The pants are baggy and the hair unkempt, as is the face. 

Now, there should be a note taken here, there are many that answer this description but the homeless are marked by the piece of cardboard tucked carefully under their arm and often wrapped in plastic to protect it for the pan handling to come in the rain.

They hang in the warmth of the court as long as they can without being asked to move on.  Usually when there are few customers they are allowed to sit and rest and absorb the warmth.  At times they have enough to pick up a sandwich at one of the vendors and they enjoy it just as anyone else would, maybe even a little more.

A nap might be on their agenda if they can sneak it in without being noticed.  If they tuck their scarf under their chin, they can appear to be awake and alert unless someone ventures by for a closer check.

Then there are the homeless by circumstance, not choice.  They are often about the same without the panhandling cardboard.  They probably start their day with the others at the rescue mission.  The panhandlers can be distinguished from the homeless by the Starbucks coffee in their hand, and newspaper under their arm as they walk to the mission for their free breakfast.

One must wonder why the mission doesn't step down on the freeloaders that can afford coffee and newspaper, but then they are in the business of sharing Christ, not worrying about who might deserve and who might not.

It has been reported that the average panhandler makes more than most make at their full time job.  There must be something wrong with a society that rewards mediocrity so generously, while not assisting those that could really use a little assist.

THE HOME LESS

The home less are those that are at the mall more.  Should you run into one of these you will know them because you saw them yesterday and the day before that and the day before that - come to think of it, that makes you a home less person as well.

The person that you see time and again as you observe those on the court is one which enjoys the confines of the court, or maybe they work nearby and have no choice in being present.  Whatever the reason, they either feel they are always there under duress, or that they are there to enjoy their leisurely life.

Many older people grace the court, whether out of boredom or maybe loneliness, or maybe even because they enjoy watching people and their quirky habits.

THE KEEP IN SHAPE CROWD

The exerciser comes in all shapes, conditions and amounts of commitment.  You can see them show up on Monday morning, maybe again Tuesday, but if they are there on Wednesday and Thursday you will have to mark them with commitment.

Having biked the same route for several years over a three mile circuit, there have been walkers, joggers, dog walkers, runners, bikers and all sorts of groups out for their exercise.  Few last more than a few days, others a week, but seldom anyone that lasts for an extended period of time.

Those dedicated few are the ones you see over and over sailing through the court.  They are also, usually the thin folks that look like they are healthy and happy with what they are doing.  Maybe it relates to that "sailing" through the court and not stopping for greasy unhealthy foods.

If you see someone walking up to the court at a good clip, but slows to savor the aroma and sights, you can be sure their commitment is not yet as big as their desire to sit down for a sandwich and shake.

The exerciser with spouse normally walks side by side, even hand in hand, but we won't discuss which one is doing the most of the talking.

May we comment and commend the commitment to the spouse which exercises with their partner even though their ear is exercised as much as their feet.

May the malls of America be praised along with all the negative evaluations of their value to society, in that they have always welcomed walkers to their establishment.  Yes, we know that the walkers often shop, but the mall operators allow those few that are there for pure exercise to ply their trade to the freshly waxed floors without complaint.

The exerciser with purpose may be a rare breed but he is to be noted for his zealous commitment to routine.  They are there rain or shine; they are there even if they have a cold, though bigger ailments do tend to side track them from their appointed rounds.

Their path is noted in their minds and they know what they must do to gain that thrill of satisfying their desire to stay healthy.

Often you can set your clock by their appearance/disappearance, and reappearance/re-disappearance, and often their additional - well the point is made, they do what they need to do, unlike those couch potatoes that claim to exercise by pumping the buttons on the remote and lifting those sodas high.

The exerciser with friend - you can spot them, one is always a tad ahead of the other, not for long however for the other is not to be out done by the other.  They will jockey for position as if horses headed toward the finish line.

The fact that they have left strolling and passed walking and have entered into run mode escapes them since they are so devoted to the outcome - the win.

The exerciser with lack of logic - the one that sits down after the stiff walk and has a burger and fries - well maybe even a shake and pie.

Our society has recently placed a value on being somewhat fit.  We all might not be fit as a fiddle, but many today want to be more fit than at present.  The heavy are walking for loss, the older are walking for mobility, the younger are just walking between stores, but we are all finding that walking is good for us.

There are many that walk for medical reasons; they may need to exercise their heart, they may have to exercise a new joint replacement or a surgery, but many are walking for gain in the area of health.

Yes, many are slow, so be patient, and go around at first opportunity.  If you cannot get around please don't be rude, but request to pass.

Walkers come in all sorts.  There is the one with the cane that never quite sets the cane to floor, there's the earphone folks that enjoy their tunes instead of the pure boredom of a walk.

There are those that swing their arms as if they are going to punch someone in the stomach, those that let their arms dangle as if they are the arms of a dead octopus, and those that have weights to increase their walking benefit.

There are those that aim directly at you and try to make you change your trajectory, there are those that cannot quite walk a straight line - give them a wider birth than most lest you become a barrier to their wonderings.

Our mall has the full cooperation of the local cardiac care unit one might think from the many older people that are walking.  The mall opens at ten, but the place is abuzz by eight or earlier with the talking, the shuffling, and the laughter of those that really enjoy this torture called exercise.

There are the “tie the shirt around the waist,” there are the waistless that tend toward suspenders, there are the get out of my wayers that seem to be on a mission from heaven at the direct orders of God - you best get out of their way, or you will hear the thunder from above, or so it would seem from their faces.

There are the brisk walkers that can pass you three times before you make the circuit around the mall once, there are those that are so slow they require a walker - cannot figure out why they call them walkers, they should be called slowers due to what they accomplish.

There is the, one hand on the hip trying to keep things in alignment so they won't return home with more pain than when they left, there are trios and duos that all swing their arms to extreme.  We might call these the cement mixers of life.  Get caught up in their slip stream and you will be chopped liver in a flick of the wrist.

There are the women that all dress alike, there are those that look like they forgot to dress, and there are those that dress as though they were out for a walk - imagine that.

They seem to come in pairs or trios of like shape and or age and condition.  Guess misery does enjoy company.

If you get bored with watching people, you can sit in view of the pet store window - watch the cats and puppies - they have some personality and don't mind being themselves, rather than putting on airs for the observers.

Well, one more walker, that young person that ventures into the realm of the old, the one that came to the mall early, thinking that the stores would be open.

Imagine the horror of a young person being a hundred foot into a mall before the stores are open and finding you are in the presence of a few hundred post sixtyites that are bent on running you over.

What does the poor person do?  Do they turn and run with all of the embarrassment that goes with that?  Do they continue on as if they don't realize what is happening to them?  Do they just pick up the pace and hope that nobody notices that they are here - ya right - not a chance, those old folks are already onto the mistake and are buzzing under their breath about the young person’s severe misfortune.

Maybe they could duck into the restroom and hide till the mall opens - that would work but is not too good an idea - maybe if they just keep walking something will come to them - like the pain of their situation, the embarrassment that they are suffering from, or the greatness of their opportunity to interact with the rest of society - uhhhh, well, uhhhh, maybe not.  Who knows they may run into Houdini and he will make them disappear.

There is the exerciser carrying an oxygen tank on her back.  There is the exerciser that probably is a little young for all this exercise stuff, but knows what is coming and wants to get a running start on things - well a walking start at least.

There are those that make one circuit of the mall with relative ease, those that don't make it with relative ease, those that go around twice, those that go around three times and those that are just plain showing off with all their exercise - nobody needs that much walking unless they have two hearts.  Well maybe that guy was exercising for his wife as well.

There are the large tables full of people that seem to know each other so well, other tables where the questions indicate they have just met.

Could this be a social place, a place where people can meet, get to know, understand one another?  The thought of that seems fairly hard to believe in our divided society.

There are the old timers that look like they couldn't set the clock on a VCR listening to their tunes on their Ipods - hope they know that there is supposed to be music coming out of those things in their ears.  Many have cell phones swinging from their hips.  One thing is sure; the older generation has embraced the technological revolution and is enjoying the computer age with their children.

One of the large drawbacks to this arena is that you overhear way too many conversations about things you don't want to hear about.  That is about all one can stand for one morning.  No one wants to hear about what the doctor took out of that lady, nor do they want to hear what came out of that guy when he punctured his stomach.  Why oh why do these old people talk about such disgusting things over breakfast or coffee?

While we are speaking of the pet store windows there is a little lesson of life that might be appropriate.  The sign that looks like this "DO NOT TAP ON THE WINDOW" is translated from the English into English as " DO TAP ON THE WINDOW" - evidently the "NOT" is dropped in the translation due to the prohibition in English to anything in the negative - wouldn't want to stunt anyone’s self image, would we.

There goes that gal with the sweater and cell phone she is using for a weight in one hand - that makes three times around the mall - showing off no doubt, nobody needs that much exercise.

One is left to wonder how powerful that left hand and arm are going to be with all that exercise on the one side and not the other.  Sure wouldn't want to see her left jab, if I see her coming I think I will try to stand on her right side at all times.

The old folks come and go, they walk, they sit and talk, they go home to whatever they do - there goes the old Ipod guy for the second time around and that younger oriental guy is on his fourth time - wow, wonder what terrible job he is putting off going to.

There are heavy, there are light, there are white, Spanish, oriental and all sorts.  There are seemingly rich, there are poor and all shades between.  There are bald, there are haired, there are blonde, there are brown, there are gray, there are - well every shade of purple you could want if you wait long enough.

There are the two cup people that ask for two cups so they won't burn their fingers carrying their hot coffee to their assigned seat for the morning, and there are those that tuff it out with one cup - those that seek to build up their threshold of pain.  What would this generation of seniors do without McDonald's to feed their coffee habit?

Mr. Coffee corporation must be near extinct by now with the food courts of America clogged with their previous customers.

OKAY OKAY

Okay, so the computer is put away, slung over the stooped shoulder and he has joined the maddening crowd trying to keep pace with the guy up front that was putting on a great show of prowess while feeling his failing heart tightening with each and ever more aggressive step.  It might serve him right if he had a little jolt for making the rest of us gasp for every breath.

Is all this really worth a few extra months or years at the end of life?  Must be, or the millions wouldn't be doing it.

So what if this exerciser joins the throng as they file past all the spectators?  If I want to act like an army ant streaming along with the mass from one un-useful point to another less useful point what's it to you the spectator. 

Feels kind of like being on one of the PBS nature shows where the army ants are streaming across the screen while all the couch potatoes are sitting in their comfortable chairs wishing they had an ounce of that energy being shown before them.  The ants are marching with most specific purpose and those observing are doing so because they have nothing else to do.  That is what you call retirement.  It is sitting, drinking coffee, observing and making comment on others.  No, it isn't gravity that is holding you to that chair it is a poor decision to sit rather than rise to the occasion.

It might be wondered just how you tell if someone in the long trail of folks has just joined the group.  Rather easy if it is raining outside - their sneekers screech much louder.  However if there is no rain, look for the ones that are quite upright, swinging their arms briskly with each step.  Oh, and also they will still have their tongues in their mouth.  They don't yet have to pant and/or wipe the sweat from their lips.

THE SPOILERS

Ah, Grandma and/or grandpa out with the grand kid for a visit to the mall; that is dangerous to be sure.   That seems to be spoiling on the move.  

S and H green stamps were the talk of the middle class a number of years ago.  They were collected and traded for all sorts of good products.

They now have an S and H points website for the same purpose for online shopping.  Sending the address to three kids that probably did not know what the green stamps were, the message was included, if they did not know, to ask an older person.

The daughter that a certain grandpa had spoiled rotten replied, "Oh, I know what those are, they are little green stickers that your grand father lets you stick all over the end of the kitchen cabinets."

Yep, you know exactly how spoiled someone was by a certain other someone - not pointing fingers mind you, just making an observation.

The miracle of these grandparents slowly making their way through the mall is that the grandkids don't mind the slow pace, indeed, they seem to enjoy it - maybe parents should take note.  It might even be that the slow pace is the more comfortable pace for the grandkids, rather than the parental swift step that most modern parents prefer.

THE CHAIN GANG

The food court business would fold in a heap if it weren't for their employees.  Most are low paid folks that for one reason or another can't find a better paying job.

Some are managers and they fair much better than the rest, however the focus here is not on income, but their plight.

They are required by law to get coffee and lunch breaks, but consider for a moment, what that means for the low paid employee.

If they are going to eat, they are going to eat where they work where hopefully they get a meager discount on their purchases.  Or the wiser in diet probably brings something healthy from home so that they can be healthy in their low paid domain.

If they are taking a break, it probably isn't long enough to go do anything, it isn't long enough to get out of the area for a real break, so they sit down in the eating area with a book or some other mind number to pass their all too brief respite from boredom.

So, when you see that person sitting alone, with a slightly elongated face, realize they have their own set of disappointments at the moment.

Having worked long in retail there has been many a break taken in a cramped break room where the talk is about all that stuff that you are supposed to be able to take a break from.

It might be of note to observe the Chain Gang in action - in the court, not behind the counter, though behind the counter could be educational at times as well.  In the court they are on the same turf as anyone else.  They are as varied as the exercisers, different looks, different purposes and  different personas.

There are the tired; they can be picked out by their natural slump into the chair and/or onto the table in front of them.  Fatigue exhibits itself where it will and they allow it full control when they have a moment or two.

Some read, but most just negate.  They discuss the negatives of men, they discuss the negatives of women, they discuss the negatives of the company that supports them, and they discuss the negatives of just about everyone and everything in their minds path.

If only they could legislate, they would clean up the mess of government.  They could negate everything but themselves and the world would be a better place. 

Negating is the favored pass time of many in our society, and the society to a point feeds the negate.  After all what is there in corporate America that is positive.  What in government is positive, well if you aren't on one of the dozens of federal, state, and local programs that allow the recipients to fleece America. 

The real question is whether the negates get rid of the positates, or if the positates just counteract the negates.  Doubt we will ever know.

POLIFERATING MUTANTS

Easy to catch a glimpse of if you are an odd duck watcher.  They are the ones with the plastic appendage evolving from their ear.  It may be black, silver, purple, or most any color, the focus is the appendage itself. 

Seldom can anything be done once produced by the person, they are not removable without certain withdrawal and frustration.  As long as it is attached they are calm and focused on the growth itself, and little else - total comfort when giving attention to the evolving addition to their body.

It takes their mind off the petty things of life such as friends, family, girl/boyfriend, spouse or most anyone in sight. 

They are even being reported in churches across the country where quiet has always been the desired condition of things.

No more, the quiet is not required as long as the person is capable of feeding the habit within.  Cell phones ring constantly in churches and hospitals and libraries across the land. 

Is the person surprised?  Embarrassed?  Never, why would they be, this is as natural as Darwin's theory itself.

Churches have begun placing signs and notices to please turn them off.  It isn't just the ringing that is an irritant, it is the fact that people are answering and talking during the services.

This appendage must go; it is curtailing people’s rights on every hand.  Surgical removal and rehab time should be required by law if these patients can't control their evolutionary advances.

I think Webster had it wrong when he defined appendage as "Something added to a principal or greater thing, though not necessary to it, as a portico to a house."

This growth is not quite fit for that definition because it is necessary, it is totally necessary to the survival of the principal.  To remove this appendage would cause the principal terrible withdrawal symptoms that could be quite serious.

ATTACK TURTLES

Sitting in the corner, attempting to be invisible, collar pulled up, and cap pulled down, hands in pockets, neck scrunched low between the shoulders - the turtle is in his shell. 

Defenses are up, the strategies set - look mean and others will leave you alone is the hoped for result of this stance.

What lurks in the mind of one so cut off from society?  How do they spend their moments in the court - without nourishment, without liquid refreshment, how can they exist much longer.

Watch out, someone is approaching that one in the corner - uuuuh ouch that snap from the mouth caught the intruder off guard and they went skurrying away as if in great pain.

Ah, the shoulders are back in defensive mode, the eyes are back to guard sweeps awaiting the next attack from the world they fear.  One must wonder if he is sitting on a nest of newly laid eggs for his bride.  He defends that little space as if it were really his.  If and when there is movement from the nest it is slow and easy to show that there is no panic of nature, but confidence in transference from nest to appointed target.

GAMES PEOPLE PLAY

The new mothers of America knew not of discipline at home, so there was no discipline in their lives, thus they are young mothers chasing undisciplined kids.

Mom was at a meeting at Subway with daughter on the go; - the daughter wanted a toy from the machine out of the area and near the door.  Thrice mom retrieved her daughter from the toy machine.  Then she dug in her purse for some coins for the machine.  Guess this was another variation on the ONE - TWO -- THREE --- line of discipline - we all know it, this is where the parent counts to three before going after the child that is not listening, or out of earshot of "THREE" - guess this kid has her mom trained well to react to "THREE" on command.

Heard a mother in a store - as the child disappeared around the corner ONE - TWO -- THREE ---      FFFFOOOUUURRR ----  FFFFOOOUUURRR ----  she repeated, we are not sure what the counting is for, in the later case it may have been getting up enough energy and ambition to set out on a dead run trying to find the kid.

Anyway, back to the mom with kid on the go.  The game being over and the kid getting the toy, and in about one minute being bored with the toy, the child started to push the "chair away from the table game," where mom pushes it back and kid pushes another out, and mom pushes the other one back and kid pushes another one out and mom pushes the second other one back and so the exercise program goes.

One of the grand gifts of Humanism to our nation is the lack of discipline in our citizens.  They can do anything they want, they don't have a set standard, so there is nothing wrong with what they want to do - discipline - what is that?  The cry of the older generation aimed at the younger, but the younger generation has ruined their ears with loud music, so they never hear the plea that is broadcast across our land.

Just the kind of interest one wants when meeting with someone else.

MR. RIGHT

The long hair with a long beard desires to seat himself in the middle of three table and chair sets.  Of course the tables that are on either side of his are not set correctly so he first sets the chair next to the spare at his table just ten inches away, then adjusts the table adequately, then the opposing chair so that all is right - well almost - a short push of the table allows him to position the far chair just right in relation to the wall, but the table movement has moved the first chair so he readjusts it, then moves on to the other outside table.  The first chair, then the table, then the other chair just so by the wall, well again the table isn't just right, so a slight adjustment, and the other chair and now it is time to adjust the hair in the mirror of the photo booth.

Ah finally, food is acquired and the seating is perfect and he is able to eat - oh no, there is a food court worker in the area adjusting seats, and tables, and she is heading toward his newly arranged area.  What will occur, will she mess up his master piece or think it adequate for the day?

NOOOOOOOOO, she adjusted one of the chairs!  Oh my the horror.  Yet, he continues to eat - no, she is out of the immediate area and he is on his feet - he is there to save the day, he marches right over to that chair and sets it aright!  Now, he can eat in peace.  We won't go into the way he unfolded his napkin and laid it just so and placed one piece of food in the center, ate it, placed another piece of food in the center, ate it - need we continue?  Nope.

Oh, she is back, she is now in my area adjusting seats and tables - oh good she left mine alone, was afraid she was going to jam a chair into my knee and wake me from this bad dream.

Hummm, now my table and chairs are slightly off from the rest of the court.  Only I sit at a crooked table.  Only my perfectionism bothers me, but I am refraining.  I have vowed that I will finish my coffee, fold up my computer and walk away having not straightened it - why bother, with two perfectionists within eyesight, the imperfect won't be allowed to continue very long before the universe is set back into sync.

Still wonder why all his hair grows out of the top and bottom of his head and mine just grows around the horizontal plane.  Some things just aren't meant to be known - the great unknowable, that which escapes our scientific community or maybe just a case of misdirected or totally lost follicles.  Maybe since mine are male follicles, they were just to proud to stop for directions or something.

TWO CUP WAITER

This man is obviously waiting for someone, he has two cups of coffee, a tall for himself and a short for the yet to appear friend.

He calmly reads the newspaper while he waits.  The assumption might be made by some that this is the wise and very smart husband of the woman in the dress store that is strolling around from rack to rack piling on the items to take to the dressing room to try on and reject.

Yes, wise this man is, and when she doesn't return, he gets her coffee before it gets cold - smart as his years indicate.

THOSE THAT THROW TRASH AWAY SHOULD BE PAID

Finishing his meal the man dutifully gathers his trash, marches to the trash bin and contributes to the greening of America - but he waits - there in front of the trash can he waits looking at the door as if he is awaiting the hand imprinted on the door throwing the cup away to tip him for his contribution.

He has something in his hand - it is more trash - maybe he retained it hoping for an encouragement from the bin to continue in his good works - into the trash with my trash, if you aren't going to bless me for my work, I will do my good works anyway - so there you have my all!

OH NO!

Is that - it looks like - oh no - yes it is - maybe not - oh, yes it is her!  What can I do, I don't want to talk to her, she hates my guts, did she see me?  Not yet.  Ah, she sat down before she saw me and probably won't look this way - well she might - should I leave - should I move - I really don't want to talk to her.  She probably wouldn't come over to talk anyway - well she probably would, she is that sort of person - force the issue even though she really dislikes me.

Only one thing to do - fold up my computer and walk calmly and coolly in the other direction and get out of the mall before she decides to take a walk and happens to run into me - keep it cool, don't hurry, don't look back, just calmly move toward the mall and find an exit.

Ah, in the mall - safe, I can just go through here to the exit, she will never come this way, and even if she does, she doesn't walk fast so will never catch up to me - close call, but safe.

US-POD

Walking to the mall entrance someone is following making weird noises, turning to see, a disheveled teen with his hand to his ear was bouncing off the pavement like a basketball in the hands of a pro.  Not a hearing aid, not an ear ache, not a cell phone - he'd be louder if it was a phone, no this is something different.  Ah, it is a radio, he is singing along with Mitch - or Dogface, or Slime Pit, or Dented Car - whoever is on the radio.

Guess he can't afford ear buds, or maybe he is on a campaign to save hearing - well maybe they are in his hair and he just can't find them right now, at any rate, listening to his tunes the old fashioned way, with a speaker - the closer he came the louder it was - some of the radio program could even be heard through the brief gasps for air caused by his singing and the stairs.

CRIPPLED

Arising from the confines of the crammed family table area a slight young woman struggled to free herself from the group.  The struggle was assumed to have been from the tight quarters, but as she moved into free space it was evident there was something quite wrong with the woman.  She was struggling to walk as if she were the recipient of some major disease. 

She struggled to keep her balance as her body lunged forward and then backward as she moved along her desired path.  Head bobbing forward and back in opposition to the rest of her frame - what a site of discomfort and loss of control.

The deficiency of this woman's gait was of interest - what could cause such a gait?  I haven't seen such distress in a gait since I saw a car run through a wrought iron gate on the news.

As she stumbled past our table the cause of her turkey trot was evident.  She was walking on a pair of very high boots.  The sole of the footwear made the old term platform shoe seem like a one story building along side these high risers.  Discomfort, awkwardness, unsightliness, and the shoe shop probably made her pay for them on top of all the other problems they caused her.

What a business, having to sell a woman shoes that are going to make her look like a geek, while charging way to high a price and making her feel good about her appearance as well; all before they get out the door without buying the things.  That is a high pressure job.

One must wonder what the woman tells herself to compensate for what she sees in the mirror or in the windows as she shops.  How does she convince herself that walking like a stork with bad blisters on its feet is cool.  This woman needs to go into car sales, she could sell anything to anyone without a doubt.

Amazing how some women think it is so cool to look like they are crippled with some deadly disease.  Not much different than all those people with a cigarette hanging out of their mouth while they commit suicide, thinking they are waaay cool.

AUTOMATIC SKIRT

A new way to skirt around exercising!

Inventiveness, or just the luck of the purchase of a skirt that was too small, which we do not know, but what we do know is this, the woman has hit upon the invention of the century.  It will revolutionize walking as a sport, as an exercise method and as a part of life. 

This woman has hit upon the most effective of tools for the average walker.  There is no more need for you to adjust your gate, there is no more need to measure your step, and there is no need to further your walking skills.  This skirt will become the envy of every walker in America.

The woman exerciser wears an ankle length skirt that has a small circumference at the walking end - we wouldn't want to comment on the holding up end that would be social commentary.  As she walks the skirt strains at the ankle with each step.  It is as if she has designed this skirt to assist her in her exercise.  With each step, as her front foot reaches its full length and begins to settle onto the floor the skirt jerks her other foot out from under her to begin its travel forward.  At the time it reaches its fullest extent the other foot will have been yanked off the floor to allow the walking to continue.

She should seal the patent rights on this skirt.  Think of the money she could make, she could be rich, she could then hire someone to exercise for her and she could stay at home counting her fortune, or go shopping and spend it.

She could make an add on band that would velcro to the skirt so you could go walking, rip off the strap and go from exercise to shopping in a moment.  What a boon for the shopping malls of America.  They could buy these straps by the thousands and hand them out at the door.  Think of the added shoppers to a mall with this automated exercise program.

They could even rent them by the hour, and let people turn them in at any cash register.  The extra revenue would be a real assist to the bottom line, while helping the waist line of America.

ALRIGHT!

Seven men enter the area, the six pack in front and Mr. Cool bringing up the rear.  Swinging the hips, swinging the arms as if to draw the maximum attention, he bopped in behind the rest.  The six stepped to the counter while he held himself reservedly at a distance, as if trying to disassociate himself from the rest.  He, was not going to eat, even though the pack had gathered for that specific purpose.

Aside from Mr. Cool, it was observed, that there was one pre-teen boy with the group, while the rest appeared to be in their thirties.  His smile was obvious to the most casual observer, and it did not diminish in the time spent eating breakfast.

What would cause such a smile.  A little obvious maybe, but most likely because he, a kid, was with six men on a mission.  They were having that "bonding" experience that sports types yearn for and he was in on the whole thing. 

Outside there were three pickups with three trailers containing several All Terrain Vehicles parked in a line as if to soon be off to the races.  No wonder the smile was from one side of the face to the other - with the guys and not only that, with the guys to go ATVing.  Can't get better than that.

Would be of interest to see if Mr. Cool was the cleanest of the pack when they return to town. 

Can't imagine him allowing any mud to cover up any of the glory shining forth from his being.

DOUBLE DIPPING

Several standing in the line at Subway, some waiting to order, others in the process of telling the assistants what they want on their sandwiches.  A little, slight old lady, marches right in to the front of the line and begins to order, ignoring all in the cue as if she hasn't a clue.  As she is in the process of her order she moves in and around the others that are patiently putting up with her rudeness.  She completes the transaction and walks to the drink bar to draw her favorite beverage.

"MAAM, MAAM, MAAM, I think you have two sandwiches," crys the young lady that was trying to get a sandwich for her break.  She approaches the old lady and relieves her of the sandwich she did not order and did not pay for - theft?  Nah, just one of the foibles of the elderly.  Rudeness and senility rolled into one, and you can bet there are many of her family that love her in spite of herself.

CHAW THANG

Sitting under the stairs on a bench, drenched in black, sat the chaw thang chawing the cud of a months ration of bubble gum.  Her mouth was opening so wide that if her tongue had been made up with as much black makeup as her eyes she would surely have disappeared into blackness behind the hole.

The flashing of the silver studs on the leather jacket between closings of the mouth would be the only indication that anything was there.  What a weapon this would be for the Army on a black, moonless night.  The movement of someone at will between buildings - the bright flashes of light from the diamond studs would blind them to the fact that anyone was there.  Infiltration of the enemy lines would be assured.

Her hair was standing straight up in front, as if a barrier to anything that might venture close.  What it was a barrier against is debatable.  Some might suggest it was a barrier from evil sources of society, or possibly a barrier to gather and strain germs as the filter swept through the mall.  Those space dust gathering satellites may well be based on this design, they too gather in all sorts of varied and strange items of space.

Is it possible that this is actually something designed by mall maintenance to sweep the air of all bacteriological and viral agents?  That sweeping, filtering hair on top to glean filth from the higher reaches while that opening and closing chasm filtering air across that sticky mass of gum - maybe this is what that new sticky Swifer is based on, I hope the Swifer company hasn't infringed on any patent rights.

Can you imagine the jaws on this lady, after chewing that mass for days on end.  She could be the human replacement for the jaws of life.  Imagine, no more mechanical problems to deal with, just feed it a Big Mac now and then and you would have a perpetual machine to save lives from the wrecked cars of America.

Who says evolution isn't going on today.  I've never seen a mouth open so wide, this could only be the result of several generations of chaw thangs developing that chasm to devour more and more gum.  The gum makers of America must be recording record profits, we just hope that the bubble gum industries bubble of financial success doesn't pop - what a mess that would be to clean up!  Not even a new and improved model of the Swifer could handle that one!

Since there is so much energy expended in opening and closing this jaw, we might suspect that there is little energy left to walk and move about the habitat.  The next generations of chaw thangs may well develop with smaller and smaller legs as nature prepares this creature for sedentary chawing rather than mobile chawing.  It makes sense to cultivate this generational change.  The mall owners would rather just sit these things in the corner and allow the air to move around them rather than having these big black objects moving in and out among the shoppers.

Can you think of the law suits the malls would face if a shopper happened to get caught up in one of these chaw thangs?  It would most surely be instant dismemberment if not suffocation from landing in that blob of gum face first.

SCRATCH IT

No, not the lottery in Oregon, nor the scratch and smell of yesteryear advertising,  but the head scratching of centuries that has been developed into an art form.  This man has been developing his scratching pattern for many years - it is quite evident.  He is a man with a mission, he is a man with a head to scratch, and he has a mess to create on the table below.

He begins at the very left front of his hairline, fairly far down on his forehead.  What a stock of hair this man is carrying; he could transplant a dozen like me and never miss a bit of his forest.  This may be why he has developed the unique pattern, so that he doesn't miss any area of dandruff ridden scalp.

As he scratches his way along he moves very slowly and carefully to the rear.  As he reaches the point where there is hair going down the side of his head he widens his field of movement to include the sides lest any point be missed. 

Already the pattern is appearing on the table below, that smattering of white flack with the occasional shaft of hair - a DNA samplers heaven this table would be.

Slowly, methodically the scratching continues as he works toward the ear.  Now the pattern is altered to comply with the shape of the ear, not even a deviation to catch the hair in the ear, just the head for now.  As the hand moves slowly, side to side, back and forth, the mission is well under way.

His head moves in rhythm with the fingernails as the two work together in this process, the process to make a pattern on the table.  The work going on is as serious as that of a group of sand painters, laying out their intricate pattern upon the surface before them.  The difference being that they, when finished blow their design away into the dust of the surrounding area, while the pattern from the dandruff painter will await the wet cloth of the maintenance woman that will certainly come later.

Ah, so good to finish a side and move directly across the base of the head to the other side to begin the relief of the itches waiting to be scratched.  Methodically, back and forth moves this well oiled machine, slowly and surely up the back of the head relieving the anticipation of nerve endings as it goes.

The action continues, slowing only for the occasional pimple that takes an extra pass or to before it is popped and relieved of its contents to lubricate the continued scratching and scraping of the nails against the scalp.