Tempest Penumbra

I once saw this episode of Ren and Stimpy where they found the mountain of lost left socks. I can’t really remember what all else happened in the episode that led them to the mountain of lost left socks but, it was then established that this was a universal problem among the human race that socks do indeed go missing, mysteriously even, to who knows where other than the mythical mountain of lost left socks.  A lot of times it’s in the wash. I have personally placed even numbers of socks, confirming the count multiple times to still come out with a missing sock. Static sometimes dispositions them to a endoparasitoidal existence clinging to a towel or sweater but, in most cases it just simply vanishes. As a little side note. In my personal walk in life there is no left or right sock. They are universal in placement but, I know there are people out there who designate socks as left or right so I will not judge. My grandfather was one of those. So, while packing for vacation the whole ...

I don’t exactly fancy myself to be a mechanic. I do believe that I probably know more than most people, especially considering that most people don’t even know how to change a tire or put oil in a car but, most of what I know about the subject has been from setting on the side of the road broke down.  Most things in modern vehicles though I struggle with where on older vehicles I did not. Changing an alternator for instance. Very recently I changed the alternator in my wife’s van, and utterly failed at the task even though I was standing right at the finish line but, this story isn’t about alternators or working on cars, directly. This story is about Kenny. (Names in this story will mostly not be changed to protect the guilty.) For a brief time I lived in Indiana mostly as a vagrant, job hopping, migratory type glorified couch decoration staying with friends and family. People talk about Mexicans migrating to the states to work and how they will all pile up in the same house, well,...