@Miller,
Miller wrote:
FIDO QUOTE:
Quote:You know as well as I, that what those people were arguing about was not window dressing or the placement of furnature...
No, they were fighting over what to name the baby.
Bull ****... You have been around long enough to know that it is never about what it seems to be about... Do you take every televison plot at face value??? If so, you must be incredibly entertained, and forever in search of a brain... I can't stand to read fiction... At one point in my life it was all I read, and I once wanted to write fiction and was an English Major at a major university... What is soon evident is that the number of plots is limited, and the number of anti-heroes is limited, and with this knowledge it becomes impossible to watch a television show, or movie without having the plot down in the first ten minutes... Then it is only a matter of skill... How well is the story developed... Is confusion and misdirection evident... Is plot intrigue, and intrigue plot??? Consider, that no useless information is included in a production...
What are the facts here... What did the writer of the story find essential to include: The killer was an unemployed Construction Worker... What were they??? Up and comers... People who had pursued education, or small business independence... Those people were always on different tracks, looking for the only one essential in any happy life: LOVE... But love is nearly impossible to maintain without income, and we working people get our identity from our work, and robbed of that, we are no bodies looking for something, love, self respect, identity... What are you??? You are what you do... Who are you???Who You are, is how you feel... Inevitably, unless a person has an abstract and objective sort of self consciousness that cannot be shaken by adversity, and set backs, then they must suffer the loss of a job like they must suffer the loss of a loved one... We grieve over such things, and we are a nation in grief...
The other day, it was miserable cold outside with a stiff paralyzing wind... I was busy, running late, picking up my daughter, and I passed by a young woman waiting for a bus with a baby in a basket... I did not help her, but considered my own small troubles, and drove on... The further I went, the more it hurt, and it put me in touch with myself, how shallow and uncaring I am...
For lack of a better word, it put me in touch with my own demoralization; and I trust that so many standing on the rim of life's great toilet waiting their turn to be sucked in come face to face with the same thing, that all the time they were succeeding, they looked on the poor and dispossessed with contempt which they cannot spare themselves in that same situation... Those people died of their contempt and immorality which they could not escape themselves, or free each other from- because it was their identity... People know when they have no redeeming qualities...
Some times lovers only have their love of success, their desire for material gain in common, and when another falls over board, they throw them a brick... The man was drowning, and she was trying to cut him loose, and save her self... He had other ideas...