I Disprove Jung's theory of collective consciousness.
A long time ago, I dreamed I was talking to someone in Russian, and when I woke up I was sure I was able to tap into the world's collective consciousness, and that I knew Russian just as subconsciously I knew everything else anyone has ever known. But then, last night I dreamed I was making a purchase over the phone (sad dreams I have), and I picked up my card and started reading my Visa number: "One, eight, zero--" and then I woke up with horror. A Visa number always begins with a four! Which means my dreams didn't prove anything, and that it was probably not even close to Russian; just some gibberish with a funny accent. Ah, well.
I drive around and get stuck in traffic.
It's okay, as long as I have a camera and a Dunkin' coffee.
I consume too much caffeine. Which means that if I go to sleep at 2am and I'm too wired to read, I shouldn't say to myself, "Maybe I'll watch that," referring to The Hills Have Eyes. I join the family just after the mutants made them crash their car. I see some shadows in the back and hear some whispers, and I say, "I don't have to watch that. I can watch some frickin' Anderson Cooper instead." But just like the characters just can't stop themselves from being curious, I continue watching. Then I see some more of them, like the mutant girl and her dad chewing on a bone, and again, I yearn for Anderson Cooper's reassuring voice. Right now, I'd even settle for a "This Week At War" marathon. But I keep on watching. The father goes into the gas station and sees the guy in the outhouse, who says he's sorry and then blows his head off, and I know the father is surrounded because they're whispering all around him, and I'm completely shaking like a little girl by that point and I look at the remote and I finally decide, "I'm not going to watch any more of this shit," and with trembling hands I reach for the remote, and meanwhile the father hears the mutants and he starts shooting at the darkness, and I'm thinking, "You're going to run out of bullets, fool!" And finally I get the remote and I want to change a channel but I'm so shaky that I press the Info button instead, and I scream, and you know they're getting closer, and I'm an idiot, and I'll never watch anything but romantic comedies from now on. Then I finally press the right button. Thank you, AC360, thank you, Sanjay Gupta, thank you, Wolf, thank you, Larry, and most of all, thank you Duracell batteries. I hope the father got out of it alright. I learn that no matter where you sit, Pennsylvania is always a bit to your right.
The Way The South Was Won (By A Yankee)
My friend Sally hails from a prominent southern family. In her father's Charleston home hangs a portrait of her relative fondly referred to as 'The Major.' ...