Craig Tyson Adams

  The icy stare of cold indifference …Photo by  Wei Fukuyama  on  Unsplash   Thursday is a lawn mowing day around these parts. It’s the day before trash pickup, and I wanted to get the fresh cut grass taken care of, so that I won’t have to smell hot clippings in the can all week. The sun was out amid patchy clouds and a cool breeze is ruffling the palm leaves. That morning was perfect for landscaping. It felt like a scene from a Hollywood production about the best attributes of owning a lawnmower . That’s when it happened. I was just getting the weed wacker battery out of the charger; it was now up to full power and awaiting the assault on the wild and unruly grass. Trimming the yard was the first step. Once I finished trimming the yard, I got the abdominal punishing push mower out of the garage to finish the job. It meticulously caps off the blades, resulting in an even trim that appears good until I get in the pool and look at it from ground level. Then I see all the spots I’ve misse

  I KNEW THAT! It’s a cinch when you find a niche. There was a notice in the mail about the circus coming to town. Circuses aren’t what they used to be. They don’t have animal acts anymore. I’m still traumatized by a camel spitting in my eye when I was about ten years old. Mistreating animals isn’t optimal, and something had to be done. But, that takes away from young families not having the experience of something exotic for the kids. The dads still have exotic mammals to marvel at, but that’s a whole other story. Without the lions, tigers and bears, circuses now have to depend on human expositions. Acrobats, gymnasts, dancers and clowns are the attraction now. Leaping and jumping around in synchronicity and discipline is impressive, but cannot replace the uneasiness that happens when watching a trainer do the deadly dance with a wild beast. That’s one reason the traveling circus has become a relic of the past. Oh, there are still a few of them operating. A few strictly sideshow only

  OVERHEAD OPTICS? Or innocuous floating flimflammery There I was, standing on the beach in San Clemente , thinking that if the Earth was indeed flat, I’d be able to see Japan, when a binoculars-wearing local tourist exclaimed with an expletive that something aloft was amiss. Turning to decipher what he was declaring, “Balloon! It’s one of those #!&$% balloons that steals what’s ours only! With all we spend on the government, you’d think they could do something about them!” As I squinted into the vast wide open wild blue yonder, I couldn’t see anything. After letting the aforementioned sky sentry know my eyes were lacking the wherewithal to make out any strange, out of the ordinary shapes, spherical or otherwise, he let me know his opinion by questioning my ability to see. “Here, take these things,” he said, handing me the binoculars. “Now look up over there about where my finger is.” I took the field glasses and looked in the direction he was pointing. After a moment of visual adj

  Or how the FBI helped clean the house There I was, standing in my front yard, minding my own business and wondering what the neighbors were up to. When suddenly a black sedan followed by a phalanx of black SUVs squealed around the corner and pulled up in front of residences on my block and stopped. The doors of the darkly colored caravan flung open and various aviator sunglasses wearing authority looking types disembarked and gathered in a group in the middle of the street. Like a team, they huddled as they gathered instructions on how to proceed in the pre-planned and rehearsed maneuvers that were, from the looks of things, to begin imminently. Once they broke, they fanned out over the neighborhood, scooting up walkways, trampling flower beds and divoting lawns. The concerted knocking on doors and ringing of doorbells began in what sounded like a cacophony of chaotic symphonic hullabaloo. Bewildered denizens answered some doors and well-dressed fanatics forcibly opened others zealo

  HOW TO BEST MANEUVER A HOOVER When a clean room looms When it comes right down to it, the instrument of debris consumption has never improved. Oh sure, a cyclone of suction that draws the material particulates into a canister has replaced the bags of yore. No longer does the operator of the machine for floor-sweeping have to deal with the potential of explosive dusty mayhem when removing the itchy eyeball producing pouch of corralled crud. A plume of various wastrel detritus would erupt into the face of the vacuum user and the surrounding local areas. The effect would render the face of the bag extractor to be covered in airborne sandy lint. Previously pleasant facial features were now reduced to scowling, frowning, and evermore increasing creases. It might even elicit a cough or sneeze or two. It was with this in mind that I began thinking of the one time, the tale of a supernatural traveling Hoover sales agent. A legend that was born amongst the smoking area cognoscenti elite of my

  It was early morning when the janitor crew made it to the snowbank from Moose Creek, where they had to clean up after the previous nights festivities. “This is the dumbest place to have a pole dancing festival thing. Whoever thought of this has a screw loose.” the head of the crew said.  The idea came from 22-year-old Roman Bombardo of Fairfield, New Jersey. One night, Roman and a couple of his friends were in a local strip club when he had an idea. “I was thinking ‘Where would be the place that would have the best place to have a pole dancing bar?’ The most unique location possible. They already have them on islands and in cities and stuff. Where would be a place we could promote? My buddy Pate said Poland. I thought, nah, that’s too big. Then it hit me. The North Pole! I bet nobody thought of that before!” That set the wheels in motion. The plan to fund his new project was simple. Roman had just gotten a multi-million dollar inheritance coupled with a settlement from an insurance c

  MORE HAMS THAN A SUPERMARKET An arrested stage of development One way to get out of your comfort zone is getting up on stage. Go to your local community theatre and risk embarrassing yourself by auditioning. By the time you’re finished, the fear will be gone and relief will replace it. You’ll be relieved because your dentist and the town veterinarian are there as well. It’s amazing to find that everyone where you live thinks they can act. It’s true! Some are born comedians, even though they don’t mean to be. Others are trying to be funny, but play out as dull as standing in line. Everyone has a role! The shows that I have been in have set the theatre back 100 years, in that they would’ve played well a hundred years ago. They were melodramas placed back when the city I lived in, San Juan Capistrano, was a sleepy village established by a catholic mission that had a vineyard to keep the villagers happy. A friend of mine, Leonard Wigmore, wrote and directed the show. Wiggy was the local

BIRDS ARE FOWL It’s for the birds There’s a fight going on in Florida about what the official state bird should be. It doesn’t matter what the details are. What matters is the question of why does there have to be a state bird in the first place? State birds don’t bring in revenue. I get that there are people obsessed with birds. They might travel to the state to see the bird. Bird watchers might spend a few bucks on gas and motels. They’ll buy food and maybe some bird seed. But, other than that, the money brought in by state birds is negligible. It’s not like the birds can go out and sell advertising or make contributions to political campaigns. Why make a fuss about state birds? Now I could understand if the state bird was some sort of a dirty bird that had a poor reputation. Crows used to wake me up at daybreak. It was needless and annoying. I’d go out and throw rocks at them until they surmised I couldn’t hit them.  They’d just caw until my shoulder yelled at me more than they did.

  Well, it seems like everything today is a crisis. We can interpret every insignificant blip of action as a matter of life and death. Something that could be construed as a slight against someone personally can be blown out of proportion. It seems like we used to be tougher . People were a bit more understanding that accidents could happen. There was a common understanding that not everything could be adequate, much less perfect. There were going to be flaws. Human beings can, and will, make mistakes. That was recognized and understood. Things weren’t always going to go smoothly. Today is a different story.  Instant gratification is the rule by which this society seems to operate. Technology has made expectations immediate. If something doesn’t work or if behavior doesn’t match demand, then many gnashing of teeth occurs. It’s like when you order something from a fast-food restaurant and then get the order wrong. How hard can it be? It’s damn near automated. Even when you go inside a