If you were here last Friday you would have seen the Shire in winter, but if you stopped by a mere 48 hours later you would have seen us bursting into summer. Like recounting a car wreck you are beholden to say at some point, "I'm not quite sure, it all happened so fast."
How mundane is the miracle of spring? I guess as blasé as endless videos of sleeping kittens. It's happened nine thousand and eleven times, if you believe some Christians, and as much as four million, three hundred and seventy seven thousand, nine hundred and evenenty two if you believe the blasphamous scientists, and yet we are still awestruck by a tree with pink blossoms.
You would think we'd have a handle on this by now. It is the 21st century and weather control, global temperature manipulation, should be old hat. There should be a conference in Geneva, or Budapest, where egg heads get together to plan out the weather patterns of the planet. However the technology is lacking and we can't do it yet.
For this stunting of human growth I point to the obvious villain of the story, the Snydley Whiplash fiend who has thwarted the peak of Human Development for over forty years.
We do yet have a trick up our sleeves, a bit of modern magic that has a mild yet comfort food style of fulfillment left to us. A trick most of us don't even know.
The power, the real power of our BLOGS!
Internet robots scour the vast fields of data whizzing the world and glean algorithmically the overall mood of the planet and condenses it down to a world focus group survey printed out on dot-matrick fan fold green and white paper. It is possible, right here, right now, that our thoughts will be conveyed to the movers and the shakers of the world our wants dreams and hopes and if they truly want to serve their constituents, do as we say in our BLOGS.
This is the actuality of if we wish hard enough it will happen.
Watch your next news conference and see if I'm right!