Back in the days of irrational exuberance and before all your Spondulix was online and downloadable; Intuit came along with a little ditty called Quicken. Since we were young and the internets were dumb much of the accounts, spending, and bills required data entry rather than syncing with obtuse and arcane file formats from various financial institutions. Cash transactions required a receipt.
But since the household was hemorrhaging money, as all good job creating consumer households should, it was necessary to spend Saturday mornings trying to balance and track what was going where and why. It became clear that the only thing quick about this process was how it quickened the ex out the door weekend mornings due to the inevitable discovery of numerous and unmentioned charges that would miraculously appear on the snail mailed paper statements.
Recriminations and many a ruined weekend followed.
At the time the only thing Quicken quickened was a trip to divorce court and understanding of the quick bunny trail to financial ruin.
Now that everyone across the globe can pick your pocket with nary a reach around or how do you do, Quicken has fulfilled the catchy name’s promise.
But the question still remains. “Do you have a receipt for that?”
Folly is such a fun word. I mean who doesn’t enjoy a spirited game of Folly Ball. Looking forward to having a Folly Folly Christmas this year with Folly Ole St Nick.
St. Nick uses reindeer power as opposed to Fulton’s Folly which ushered in the age of our Fossil Fuel Folly of believing there is an infinite supply of things to burn on our decidedly and well mapped finite planet. What’s done is done but we are only follying ourselves thinking otherwise.
Of course McCain’s Folly (a.k.a. matriarch of the one time first family of Seward’s Folly) does not believe in such things, nor other things from her progeny’s prodigious folly of taking “Cheaper By The Dozen” as a guide to Folly Planning.
So in life one mans folly is another mans floor, and where there is folly there is money to be made. It is no folly to think that someone is making folding folly somewhere off of our Founding Fathers Folly’s and Foibles. The ofttimes suspected , never directly addressed Electoral Folly.
In closing allow me to digress to youthful budding folly becoming full bloom folly. As a young man at the office Folliday Party I learned of a particular moral weakness I have. Blow in my ear and I’ll folly you anywhere. She did, I did, and Holiday Folliness Abounded. Apparently I am not alone in my countrymen and women in my susceptibility to melting into a puddle of folly after getting my ear blown.
So as we Deck the halls with boughs of Folly lets all sing together….
The alternative living situation of Andy and Aunt Bea.
All was well in the world. A fare for all and no fair for anyone.
You knew it wasn’t real because at best it came to you on a twelve inch black and white screen. But you let it into your brain by looking at it. You were plugged in. You were in training for reality as brought to you by…
You already had been infected by the pink eye of reading and the earwig of radio. But now you were awash in other peoples alleged “realities” from across the country.
So where and when were these Mythicalvilles?
These realities were presented to sell you things safely quarantined on your twelve inch cathode ray tube. But you were young and much better at believing than seeing.
As opposed to things to go down in. Like flames. Is one perishing vehicle preferable to another?
Can you have one without the other? I have had things go down in flame. Projects. Ideas. Relationships. Businesses. So those goals, plans, intimacy, and money all went up in you know what.
I used to smoke. Then I decided that inhaling that stuff from leaves and whatnot going up in flames was a pretty pointless enterprise and sent much of my liquid capital you know where. So I stopped. Flames may be a little dramatic in a description of the mechanics of a cigarette since the result was mostly glowing embers after an initial flame. Did I mention relationships. Same script many of those follow.
Then there are fun things to go up in. Balloons. Elevators. Planes. Rockets.
Did somebody say rock it?
So where there are flames is there always that semi transparent to viscous, sometimes oily dark and visible, depending on the material being transformed into something different but the same, marked by it’s essence wafting into the atmosphere? Or can something just flame out of existence without leaving a trace?
Common sense tells us the inverse. Where there is smoke there is fire. But common sense has been wrong many times before. I need to take my quandary to a higher authority than mere common sense.
I will have to quiz Smokey The Bear next time I am wandering in the woods.