tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow

May 21, 2010
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Time, time, time. The Cloudy Messenger. That which escapes all of us. Flash indeed.

Most people no longer use a watch so the piece of music above, Leroy Anderson’s The Syncopated Clock (1944), sounds like a lulling relic of a playful time where brass was oiled, and tea came with DELICIOUS cookies. Push play. I could check my watch all day to that ish!

Pops gave me a pocket watch for my birthday this year. A huge antique train conductor’s watch. It’s like having a metal ice cream sandwich in your pocket. Like the ones from camp that came six to a plastic clamshell. Good god I want one, it’s so hot outside. And there’s a huge chain on this watch that gives it the authority of a mace. Watch is legit. Not built for skinny jeans. It’s for those who REALLY need to know what time it is.

I could have used that watch this past weekend when every mode of communication went to hell in one glossy-sleek-personal-hand-held-computing-basket.

My friend Officer Mike, in an act of complete and utter lunacy, decided to run a 50 mile ultra marathon from mile marker 51 to mile marker 1 in the Florida Keys. It takes people a little while to register this number. It was a FIFTY mile marathon. 50. Do not miss this irony. His friend Roly was also running, another officer. The Five-oh running the 50.

The Friday night before his iPhone died. Then during the race MY iPhone died. To top it off his iPod died as well. That’s three Apple products in less than 24 hours. Apple let us down indeed. What if there had been an emergency? What if I had needed advice from someone? What if the cops had needed cops? WHAT IF I HAD NEEDED TO KNOW WHAT FACKING TIME IT WAS???

Watches, due to cell phones, are pretty much becoming dinosaurs. Our machines are being boiled down to one. And Apple is pretty much trying to take over the world by shoving it down our willing throats, even though the long term effects are still “inconclusive” (read: “painful gooey brain bleeding death”). No matter. I can’t stop staring at the damned thing.

Apple indeed. That which Eve ate and look what happened to milady the mother of the Earth. Brought forth from that serpent, whatever shape ‘e may be. We allow the gloss to fool us. There’s a reason there’s a bite taken out. The second bite leads to the robot apocalypse. Obviously.

We cannot return to the time of The Syncopated Clock. We are now treading in sharky waters. Treading, and texting about it. Because everything looks sexier with an “i” in front of it. iKnow.

Tune in next week for more chicken flava. He eats green berets for breakfast. In the meantime become fan of Chicken Flava on Facebook or you could even follow him around the Twitter. Just remember to spread the word. And the word is “tumescent”.

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One Response to tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow

  1. May 24, 2010 at 4:00 pm

    time is a lawyer’s stock in trade.

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