"What ever happened to hydrogen beer?" I asked her.
She looked at me but didn't respond. Not a good sign.
I continued, "Today, I seriously considered dropping out of the tech business and enlisting as a police officer."
"I am a vampire and I have lived three hundred years," she said with an eerie blank stare.
"I no longer walk among the living, but rather hide among them, a predator, hungry for the lifeblood that will sustain my damned existence. I saw the birth of this country and its most hideous times. This century is comparatively gentle."
"What were the most hideous times, Ms. Goofy-Fang?"
"I've killed for less, Ted; watch it. But, to answer your question, the worst was the Civil War. I drank deeply in those bloody times. My favorite prey were the bystanders. The supposedly courtly ladies who would bring their picnics and their parasols and their opera glasses and watch the war. Their civil demeanors were thin excuses for their hunger to see blood. From their safe positions, they watched the fighting as if it were another sport. O, the hypocrisy tasted sweet in their hearts."
"No." I insisted.
I raised a finger, and explained it to her, perhaps a bit too pushy and defensive (and I'm very sorry about that, for all those present). "It's not hypocrisy or bloodlust that brought them to those hills. It was fear. They couldn't stay at home and wait when their lives were in the balance. They couldn't just wait for someone else's story - the story could be a lie, and in any case would not capture the whole of the truth. They needed to see it, to be there. When lives are on the line, it is too important to stay away and ignore it. That's why we watch accidents on the side of the road - not because we have a dark fascination with the suffering of others, but because we have to know. When it is this serious, we cannot trust the word of another. Especially if that other person is obviously lying, like saying that there's nothing to see. But more than that, we need to watch because we're scared. We're scared of death, and we don't want to turn away and ignore it. We need to watch it, or it will catch us unawares."
"Uh, Ted? Were you even there?"
"Shut up, Joanna."
If the following were local bands, which ones would you pay five dollars to see?
What kind of band would it be?
I say poetry causes papercuts. What do you have to say to that?
If you had a band, what would its name be? (Dean and Zen are exempt from this question.)