Tuesday, May 19, 2015

I’ve been slumming the web again.

I hadn’t a thing to search for, but did have the time waiting for the ground to dry enough to work out doors.

I even went far enough to find suggestions to create and write about on a blog.

One of the suggestions was an ‘ever popular’ thing; lists.

Top this, top that, of tens and fifties.

I mulled that one over a bit and  rejected it. My imagination supported only one subject that hadn’t been compiled (and I’ll probably find it published soon).

So. Sitting there staring at the screen I mentally started my list:

  • Coon scat
  • Cow pies
  • Rabbit droppings
  • deer pellets
  • . . . .

You see how it goes. A hundred names for the same thing. Or what amounts to the same thing.

The idea of lists seems popular to be sure, I woke this morning with the idea stuck in my mind. Couldn’t shake it. I know that humans, especially women, prefer a general word that everyone knows refers to what one is talking about but has a certain gentility to it, not a succinct all descriptive noun.

So be it.

I thought about these lists for a bit mowing the back yard. I thought maybe a simple list of all the deaths of any NASCAR driver, on the track, in an actual race, not practice. Just in a race.

You know, what with all the hoopla about how dangerous the sport is, I though why not?

So I’m going to doo a little research on the web – after lunch, maybe even today. I don’t believe the list will be very long at all. Not really.


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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