I get a kick out of those old, futuristic science fiction stories about what the years would bring and how things would logically extend.
Now here we are, somehow inhabiting that very future and the predictions are not even close.
In “The Time Machine,” H.G. Wells imagined that an underground society would evolve from experiencing the bomb shelters of WWII and the pages of ancient books would crumble leaving the population illiterate, as if there would never be a Kindle Fire.
In “1984,” George Orwell projected a dictatorial stranglehold on society which would declare the absolute truth inherent in two plus two equaling five, if decreed by Big Brother, which may actually vaguely describe a variation of the Republican economic plan without any of the organizational qualities of absolute dictatorship. And what about the 1927 Harry Warner warning, “Who the hell wants to hear actors talk?”
I often attend, with my guitar in hand, the barn bonanza at Kellish Farms in Pompey, an open-mic variety show on Thursday nights. You can bring guests and attempt to explain what they are about to witness, but there’s rally no way to tell.
Sort of like the North Pole for misfit musicians, the venue offers a different menu of melodies, harmonies and sometime discordant anomalies every week. You don’t know if you’re going to get a Johnny Cash impersonator, a barbershop quartet, a mandolin virtuoso, experimental Vishnu poetry accompanied by a tune-challenged guitar or an A Cappella Norwegian folk song sung by a world traveled minstrel with bronchitis and a mysterious head trauma.
It seems, in spite of logic or perhaps intrinsic in a more sublime rationality, strange things happen.
Wake up people. Obama won, so hide your guns, polish your old peace sign and move on.
Although I never saw the Giants’ Super Bowl win coming, or the fact that there would still be commercials on cable TV for hundreds of unwatchable shows, I do know one thing — winter is coming. Just like the moon follows the sun, Tuesday follows Monday and the chicken or the egg, winter follows the fall.