Dotty Parker

on the road again

I was driving home from visiting the Queen today. The drive is a few hours and I was alone and the radio wasn't playing anything particularly singable, so my mind started wandering.

For example. Why don't they make black kleenex? If it got in the dryer, it wouldn't leave white linty clumps and if a person stuffed his or her bra with kleenex they could better approximate the color required. Who wants to wear that little black dress when the white kleenex might give away the whole trick?

I drove by the Beechnut factory. I don't know if they make the baby food or the gum. Why would they make both? It's not like the market is the same. Gum chewers tend not to eat baby food and babies tend not to chew gum. A quandary.

On my way to the Queen's house and on the way back from it, I saw hitch-hikers. I don't stop. I stopped once for a female student from Cornell; I figured I'd be able to shove her out the door more easily than it would be to push out a guy. Perhaps that's the exception that proves the rule. Still, are there more hitch-hikers on the crappy days? The really cold or wet or windy or sweltering days? Do they come out then for reasons known only to themselves? Do I notice them more when I'm very glad to be in my climate controlled car? And why do they look all skanked out? Gaunt, greyed faces; dry, crusty lips; big eyes staring out of hollowed out sockets; their hair hanging down in gushes of oil; clothing inadequate for the cold weather, but large and oddly shaped enough to hide a knife or gun; tank tops and jeans in the summer and a backpack full of enriched uranium. Maybe not full. I believe I vote a big NO on the whole hitch-hiker issue. Hitch-hiking: to be avoided.