Saturday, November 22, 2014

Out of Time

Now parking meters consist of machines, two to a block, where you stick in money and get a slip which goes on your dashboard and indicates how much time you have. Think of the pressure here. Five people behind you waiting impatiently while you fumble with change or a credit card.
What if a near sighted Nazi meter person misreads the time on your slip and issues a ticket?  What happened to the old meters? Are they piling up in landfills?
Out of time is a nasty concept, especially when certain body parts seem to be fading in usefulness. What happens when my hips give out? Are women attracted to limping men? I think not. What if I can't scratch myself anymore due to outmoded fingers? Who will scratch me and at what cost? Will there be parameters on location?
I'm going to start scratching myself to get an idea how badly my fingers are working.

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