Tagged: trucks

Are You Doing What They Tell You? Review of Mad Max, by George Miller

Are you doing what they tell you? Or are you doing what you want?

That’s it, ladies and gentlemen. That’s the takeaway. That’s Miller’s point. That’s the lesson learned.

In a word, “Don’t do what they tell you.”

Why not? Because if you’re doing what they tell you before the world goes mad, then you will definitely do what they tell you after the world goes mad. Make no mistake, though, the world will go mad. And we won’t all get to be Max or Furiosa.

So in Mad Max: Fury Road there’s an enormous skull thing carved out of a rock face. We’re shown this shrine in the first few minutes of the film. As awesome as the rest of the movie was, and it was awesome, I couldn’t stop thinking about how the megalomaniacs in charge of the barbarian hordes convinced anyone to create that sculpture. I mean the world’s gone to shit already. Why keep up the symbols? Who would even possess the skill and dexterity to create such a large piece of pseudo-art?

But then I think of my time in the service and also in the oil fields. Men are capable of wondrous deeds. Moreover, people love when those in power direct their attention on them. Even I have fallen prey to basking in the limelight of a boss’s approval despite knowing it was unwarranted or wholly irrelevant. And in those moments I can see Mr. Bossman saying, “I want a skull thing,” and men answering, “Where?”

No more, I say.

The more I write, the more conversations I have with close friends and family about things that were previously hidden. Maybe it’s just my family and friends, but if this blog’s content and conversations have taught me any overarching lesson that I would take to the streets Malcolm X-style, it’s that there is no reason–not-a-one–to work a crummy job. If you’re in debt, get your finances in order, stay until you can quit, then quit. If you’re not in debt, quit today. Forty hours a week–wait, who we kiddin’?–fifty hours a week is too many hours each week to spend doing anything other than what you want to do.

Or you can carve the skull thing.

In the end, Mad Max: Fury Road is great fun for adults. Watch it and don’t forget to enjoy yourself.

The Miniature Van

People don’t remember that twenty years ago the first minivans had two bench seats.  And just one sliding door.  And no TV screens.  Worse yet, the speed limits were slower.  Road trips, coast-to-coast family vacations took longer.  It was quite miserable having to spend time with your family.

Only then came bucket seats.  And CD players.  And space.  And younger brothers.  Soon, everyone sat in their own seat.

But there were occasionally short moments, usually right after a sack lunch at a rest area, when the trip would become bearable.  And in those moments, the family played car games that involved talking to each other.  Single words became phrases and phrases became conversations.  Conversations, of course, became love.  And love blossomed into memories.

A simple, yet fun, way to prolong the sugar high was a game where players had to name cities which began with the last letter of the previous city.  Bismark, led to Kansas City, which led to Yorkshire, to Edmonton and so on and so forth.

Anyone who has played this game can remember that after a few rounds, everyone seemed always to get stuck on cities that ended in “y”.  Not the youngest brother.  Receiving New York City, he quickly returned Yukon.  Oklahoma City became Yonkers, and Sioux City led to Yorba Linda.  Wait, what?  Yorba Linda?  How did Sam know Yorba Linda?

As one, father, mother, sister, and brother all turned back to see how he was doing it.

Looking up towards the silence, young Sam feigned ignorance to the rules of the game as he closed the giant road atlas and its alphabetical index.

That reminds me.  The first minivans didn’t have GPS either.