millennial short-story · millennials

Dronesville football club #17: a tech dog’s last gold rush time confession

Your honor, “anybody who watches three games of football in a row should be declared brain dead. ” (Erma Bombeck) I hereby submit that I be absolved from all liabilities/ claims if any from whichever parties in this hereafter report of the virtual football match case that took place on 30th December 2018 in a foreign gold field between Dronesville’s residents and foreigner ex-cannibals opponents.

My name is Gracie Dronesville, of indeterminable age being an orphan pup discarded at the entrance to Dronesville, profession guard dog, now mascot dog for the Dronesville Virtual Football Club. I agreed to a cameo appearance holographically but was instead compelled to watch the whole three games of football played by the worst ever teams I had witnessed in my entire doggie’s life! What a cruelty to a law abiding harmless domestic animal! I beg your pardon? Sorry, I need to rephrase the description of the teams? No personal attack? Noted your honor. Why were three games played? Because there was no undisputed score on either side! What did the referees do? Well, they were disqualified by the king within the first ten minutes. Why were the ladies referees disqualified? I imagine it’s something to do with their drawing all the attention from the men players your honor. Who were the replacement referees? As no-one else knew about the working of the virtual game the king decreed that the German-French Gen.Z kid and I the Dronesville’s dog stood in.

(Burst of uncontrollable laughter in the tech-know court followed by repeated sounds of the judge’s mallet)

You can’t hear me clearly your honor? That’s why I am standing here claiming medical, dental, cosmetic and psychological compensation! I have lost my two incisors and a third of my well-maintained coat in the most vicious game I have ever been! What? You cannot understand how I could have got physical damage in a virtual game? Haven’t you heard of the latest hyperloop capsule? What kind of tech-know court judge are you? I beg your pardon? I am sorry your honor for questioning your qualification. No you are not the problem. Point noted.

(More stifled sniggering and laughters)

Yes your honor I will hereafter continue succinctly. So after the cameo virtual appearance here I was minding my own business in the park patrolling as a good Dronesville dog does, and this drone with adaptive morphology capabilities allowing it to fold mid-flight suddenly appeared. I dashed into my compact hideout but it changed its shape to fly through the small space. It grasped me and transported me to the hyperloop station where they compressed and capsuled me into an instant pot. What? Not an instant pot or I should have said marinated me and cooked me if it was an instant pot? How am I to know the correct terminology? Anyway, to cut the story short they transmitted me instantly to the gold football field, I mean, the gold virtual football game room.

How was the game? Surely by looking at the sorry sight of this live canine specimen you would have easily deduced, good or bad, subject to your perspective on what they mean to you. You can’t deduce? You want opinion and not facts as evidenced by my physical and mental condition? Opinion it is. In my humble opinion the match was between unequals to the max. One team literally slaughtered the other. It was disastrous, a total wipeout. Nobody played by the rule. Pure anarchy. Cannibals!

Who? No, not the ex-cannibals, they played civilly by the book your honor. Who else? The spectators of course. Not our Dronesville’s nerd supporters of course. It’s the home team’s spectators. They decided to replace the players and hack the whole game. The flash mob. From where? we don’t know your honor. They just arrived from nowhere. Dressed like the real hunter-cannibals. They thought I was the game instead of the virtual football.

How did I escape? Your honor I have to give credit to my former owner, the Dronesville millennial nerd. He almost gave his life to save me from the instant pot. No, nobody was eaten. I was the only edible creature according to their modern custom nowadays. No he is not here to give witness today. The last I heard was that he has made his great escape soon after the near tragic event. They found an abandoned foldable robot in the gold dune with the AI voice assistant SiZu keeping to her right to remain silent.

Captain Romano? He got away safely during the flash mob’s invasion. Did he conspire with them in the first place? I don’t know your honor. Did my former owner, the millennial nerd get his gold? He got his share of gold alright. No penalty. The king had had such a hilarious time (and rumor was that he had an immensely monetarily rewarding time too as the game was successfully channeled with viral responses to his private online gaming network all over the globe) and was so pleased with the successful launching of his high tech game room that he decided to reward all foreign alas only human participants including the two honorary German-French referees cum gold investors and the Gen.Z mascot kid from his royal gold treasury.

Who was the final winner? What? So obvious. Here is the tip for the new year if you are thinking of changing profession: the richest people on earth are in tech.

Happy tech-know New Year 2019!

(Applause with standing ovation)

Monday December 31

Becky’s #timesquare photo challenge

millennial short-story · millennials

Dronesville football club #15: gold rush time bonanza2

Dronesville’s gold rush time

When the Gen.Z kid says, “Well, obvious isn’t it? Their spokesman said they were looking forward to exotic food”, she means us being the exotic food to the ex-cannibal footballers! This mere suggestion can dampen any gold prospector’s hope no matter how large the prospect is.

The two German-French amazons decide to intervene, “The football team will meet tomorrow morning at 6am and practice. You (pointing at me) will be the goalkeeper. Their king has decreed that the match will take place at 6pm sharp. If we win we will get the bounty of the gold football field.”

That night I think of my personal options:

Negative: I can run away. I can refuse to join the team. Positive: I can be man enough to face the opponents and save my nerd-friend who is being held captive by the ex-cannibal football club. I can win and carry off my bounty -a football field of gold! I practice my farewell speech in three modes: the winner (“Today the guns are silent. A great tragedy has ended. A great victory has been won.” ~General D. MacArthur), the great escapist (in mute mode) and lastly, the lament of a heroic martyr-to-be (wordless).

My AI voice assistant SiZu is in the positive option. She has linked up with my Dronesville’s Virtual Football Club! So that is how I am miraculously saved and backed by my whole team of veteran players, retired English and other teachers well trained and superbly equipped in the latest virtual world technology by my English boss. But how am I going to set up a virtual football system with nothing here in this middle-of-nowhere?

“Ahem, I won’t worry if I were you, son. I have taken care of that.” My physically absent dad suddenly breaks the silence through the implanted chip in the flat plasma robot strapped to my chest. “I have been working on a project with the king here and we have successfully installed the best of virtual technology comparable to the world’s top three nations now.” Dad is in his usual self-confident mode.

“But how can we persuade the ex-cannibals to play virtual football?” I am still in reversed gear.

“Hahaha, son, because you have brought back the pet goat safely, the king has agreed to a virtual match instead. After all he wants to test out the system for his own purpose too. You know, the goat is allergic to all of us men except the unknown thief, you and the king. The two ladies found it first but the king only allows a man to carry it to the palace. So they had to wait till you appeared on the scene. “

“But the other team does not know how to play yet…” No one can beat this nerd in being pessimistically thoughtful on all negative aspects.

“Piece of cake. Tomorrow you are rising at 6am and start coaching them until they are conversant.” So what the two German-French ladies refer to as practicing involves me solo coaching the opposite camp of ex-cannibal players! Can I resist and desist? “NO. ” SiZu answers. “You will do as your bosses command and expect.”

When have I started having pleural number of bosses? Who are they? “The English lord, your dad, the two German-French gold investors, the king and your grand-aunt and company in Dronesville…” SiZu lists them out one by one. The number of stakeholders is overwhelming. Well, I don’t mind now that I know we will not become a mixed platter of exotic food soon. (How I am later proven wrong in this estimation…)

(To be continued)

#Becky’s timesquare photo challenge

amateur nerd · millennial short-story · millennials · weekly photo challenge

2018 Dronesville’s nerd-bounty hunter

Writing a serialized story within a limited time span is challengingly rewarding, but no easy matter. The Dronesville’s story was initially started as a fun yet genuine attempt to communicate with my Gen.Z and above young relatives who live mostly in a virtual realm, being categorized into varying “generations” according to their digital ages. Where is this rather hilarious mythical yet somewhat plausibly futuristic place called Dronesville? Is there really a private chat group with nerdy cronies? Are the time-travel adventures real? Is there a troop of former teachers serious and passionate about learning the latest technologies and the virtual world? Finally, is there such a seemingly gullible self-centered-to-the-power-of-?-millennial character named, “me” (the narrator-protagonist)?

I first started the Dronesville’s story about a amateur or would-be nerd (in reality treasure bounty hunter young man) and his adventures on 2016-07-09 titled: eye in sky: no, it’s not a drone.dronexit#1.  The series consists of 26 episodes, ended 2016-08-13 with to reach or not to reach (Dronexit#26)

Dronesville’s gigantic eyeball in the skyh

After that I followed with another series: Dronesville adventure#1 Gigantic eyeball on 2016-08-20. The series ended with Dronesville adventure #22: rounded up last but not least on 2017-10-30.

The current series was started on 2017-11-04 with this: Dronesville football club #1: He starts over a new dream.I have taken a year plus to decide how to end this. Here is the latest episode: Dronesville football club #14: bonanza time 1-gold, gold everywhere.

My question now is: What shall I do next with the Dronesville nerd-bounty hunter? I will end this series about the gold football field bounty in the last four days of 2018. After that, what next? Two years have passed and many new technological inventions have been produced and marketed. My drones and AI robotics are no longer a novelty. The good news is the stories and antics of human beings are always fresh and interesting. New adventures are to be explored in 2019 of course. Will the protagonist meet a better prospect? Well, one thing for sure is: he will always launch each course with a big bang! Yes, and the Dronesville’s dog will have her time-slot too!

Becky’s #timesquare photo challenge

amateur nerd · millennial short-story · millennials

Dronesville football club #14: bonanza time 1-gold, gold everywhere

gold gold everywhere

I started this journey to Timbuktu to meet an impossible goal and am still doggedly persisting in my pursuit to save a fellow nerd-friend from being devoured by a football club of former cannibals who happen to own a gold football field in the desert. In the last episode I reported that “I am in a sort of place that you never seem to come to the end of, and it was full of unexpected places.”

The last time with any Indy-Jones-like action was when I jumped out of my prison window and landed on an incredibly timely acrobatic horse and we galloped happily into the sunset.

The rest is history. The horse (AI programmed) takes me through the desert with a speed comparable to a hyperloop transmitter (or so I imagine) and drops me off at a huge building that looks like a dune of golden sand.

“It is not sand. ” My AI voice assistant, SiZu, has reactivated herself and corrects my thought. “Touch it.” She issues a command.

“What? It is gold!” I cannot help but let my thought be verbalized aloud, my two hands glistening after dipping into the sea of gold dunes.

“Of course it is mere gold. You expect diamond? Hard luck.” Two Tuareg men and one boy appear from nowhere and one man speak impatiently, “Hurry in. The local ruler is waiting!” They are the two and half German-French fellow travelers I met earlier! One straps onto my back the run-away royal goat which appears to have been recently freshly groomed, “Here, you better be useful. Don’t even dream of asking how we escaped and repossessed this trophy.” The librarian amazon casts a look on me that spells big trouble if I dare open my mouth to make one wee sound.

We walk into a cleverly concealed door in the dune like building and enter a long tunnel. I cannot detect any visible lighting equipment, but there seems to be a supply of natural daylight from an invisible source. The gold walls glitter and beckon me to imagine I am Alibaba in the forty thieves’ treasure cave. But I say nothing. “Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something”, SiZu warns, “Plato”.

“But in truth, should I meet with gold or spices in great quantity, I shall remain till I collect as much as possible, and for this purpose I am proceeding solely in quest of them. Christopher Columbus.” I respond in my thought.

One thing I cannot understand is why the two rather superior women involve me? They are highly probably after the same gold. Why bother with adding one additional “accomplice” to their scheme? I have recognized that since the gold is so apparent everywhere there is no need to use my special “hidden-gold-detection” talent.

“You just wait and see. You are invaluable!” SiZu begs to differ. LOL. But soon it turns out that her prediction is accurate! “There is something the two women cannot be. No matter how superior they are compared to you, they would not be considered a man in the heart of the ruler.”

The tunnel leads to a gigantic hall paved floor-to-floor, wall-to-wall and ceiling-to-ceiling with gold. I suddenly feel my stomach rumbling and my knee buckling under the strain of hunger figuratively speaking. I have to swallow hard to stop my mouth from drooling.

The place is filled with people who look important, possibly senior officials and military personnels who line up on both sides as we walk through to reach a golden throne. The occupant of the chair squints his eyes and look hard at me, or rather at my back and then he cries out loudly and runs down the steps to hug and kiss me, or rather, the goat on my back. He removes the strap gently, carries and rocks his pet the way some of us treat our pet puppies.

At his command the two women and a girl disguised as Tuareg men and boy and I are led to a glittering banquet hall to have our big meal. “Why did you two ask me to carry that pet goat?” I just have to ask. The Gen. Z kid answers on their behalf, “Simple. You are the only man. ” Because the king has decreed that his pet goat can only be carried/transported by a man. Apparently it was stolen one day by a petty thief who found it strayed outside and sold it to the market. That was how it got into the flock of fifty goats on top of our bus which crashed in the desert.

“BTW, we have located your nerd-friend, the football captain Romano and his team-mates, the ex-cannibals. They haven’t eaten him yet.” The Gen.Z announces.

“What?!” This news brings me to the brink of tears. I have come this far on a heroic-altruistic (half, at least) mission and now the two foreign women are going to clinch the success from me. Not fair!

“They won’t release him unless we have a football match with them. ” The kid then adds, “And beat them in the match.” She stares hard at my hands and declares, “We need a dexterous reliable goalkeeper. Are you any good other than texting?”

“What happens if we lose?” I swallow hard and ask (or whimper at a crucial yet perilous time like this).

The kid rolls her eyes and says as a matter of fact, “Well, obvious isn’t it? Their spokesman said they were looking forward to exotic food.”

(To be continued)

#timesquare (Becky’s photo challenge for December)

millennial short-story · millennials

Marketing Fishes in Sahara (Dronesville Gold Football Club)

“I don’t read long blog posts that look daunting. When the content is broken up with images, videos, bullet points, bolded font or other visual breaks, I am more likely to read the post.” (A millennial reader sends this to my private chat group, presumably copy and paste from somewhere about millennial marketing. )

A long-suffering crony asks: Why did you wait so long to continue this report after the last dispatch? 

Dronesville fish

Answer: This blogger is still hunting the Sahara for relevant images, videos, bullet points, other visual breaks…etc.

Question/statement: Marketing Fishes in Sahara? Irrelevant title!  

Answer: Good spot. See, I net one fish (you) at least!

Long-suffering crony: Cough (to expel air noisily from the lungs, usually to expel fluids that resonate during breathing) * or Duh (interjection used to express actual or feigned ignorance or stupidity, also used derisively to indicate that something just stated is all too obvious or self-evident).*

*the explanations are for the benefit of my senior readers from Dronesville. 😉

cluttered mind

amateur nerd · millennial short-story · millennials · weekly photo challenge

Dronesville football club #11: you know where I am, out of…or inside?

a window sceneOut of This World or inside? I cannot tell. But you can guess where I am if you can see this picture. As far as I am concerned I am nowhere near my hotly pursued Timbuktu football field of gold after our entourage is captured by the rebel troop while on our way to re-capture the royal goat which according to the two French-Germans disguised as Tuareg women has significant influence on our common destiny (presumably continued survival in the desert). No, my whip and sword bearing Indy dad has not come just in time (unlike the movie) to deliver me from captivity no matter how many times I cry dad in my digitally-wired brain. No, the voice assistant SiZu does not regain her voice after going into silent mode. Alas, summoning all the brilliant nerdy visual, audio and whatever data from my grey cells has not programmed a plausible algorithm that can solve the present predicament.

Judging from the predominant color blue outside my window I seem to be in Morocco? But this cannot be! The camel-speed rebel troop could not have traveled this far from where we have been unless by some unknown science fiction enabled space transference or teleport or hyperloop or whatever technology advancement you can imagine.

Should I take a chance and jump out so I can summon all my superb physical prowess for a great escape? Or should I stay put and watch strange men in long flowing gold gowns and head gears putting gold golf balls outside on a gold golf field that is out of this desert world? Neither is my dad responding to my transmission, nor is my English Lord mission impossible boss rising to the occasion by his suave and cool James Bond-style physical appearance to solve the puzzle. The worst is the fact that my travel companions (being ladies) are held in a different cell. And this young innocent nerd-blogger (though undoubtedly has been uniquely gifted in hunting down treasure) have run out of authoritative voices to tell me what to choose in matters of escape. So, how about you, my fellow nerds out there or in there as I may be out instead of inside your world, giving me some sound advice? To jump or not to jump? That is the pertinent question. (To be continued)

Note to nerds: I get into this conundrum because one of you is in danger of being eaten alive by the football club members of former cannibals. And I am supposed to save him. So stop laughing and start working.


Here is the unedited original picture I take from a window at random.

a window scene 2

amateur nerd · English perspective · millennial short-story · millennials · social messaging journal for future · weekly photo challenge

Dronesville football club #4: more algorithm routes to success

More routes of Experimental successes.

dronesville sale pitch“Why are you posting two-dimensional card board people? LOL.” The issue concerning my writing style has been mocked at by a well-meaning but perhaps ignorant unread crony. Another superficial or action-oriented millennial character has the audacity to demand, “Give us Indiana Jones! Pirate of the Caribbean!” I admit I too am loyal fan of them on rainy days when tired of practicing for my next impossible goal of joining the Swiss Top Secret Drum Corps.

But honestly, haven’t you all read the great Asimov’s Foundation? The characters are card board mouthpieces. I shall continue to relentlessly emulate IA (acronym for Isaac Asimov for the uninitiated) at best or JE (Johnny England) at worst. Ahem, an anonymous outsider(?) asks, “Surely you have something significant to REPORT on those flights, don’t you?” The word REPORT arouses my suspicion. I suspect either an IRS agent or a prospecting rival is after the same gold. Who knows he or she might be on the same flights? Not to worry, sooner or later the chap will be ferreted out.

To satisfy my family inquisitor, the retired English teacher grand-aunt, here is the official report: The flights are sardined (sandwiched, warns my former English teacher) with the usual generic flavored travelers and the rest, enigmatic (or rather, anemic as my English teacher remarks) card-board individuals, like me, with inadequate dimensions for profiling to match any algorithm. After many requests ranging from polite gentleman’s perfect dictions to whimpering but futile attempts to attract attention and get food from apathetic “flight attendants” whom I suspect are preset with AI algorithm to repel chaps like me, this innocent victimized human resolutely and stoically sleeps as in hunger strike for a good cause until the first stop where he gorges himself and thereafter snores with Top Secret drum beats in bliss as his digestive and sleep systems synchronize harmoniously.

One young(?) smartly dressed man/woman sells inedible stuff (his/her best-seller book) and this captivated audience carries on sleeping while hearing high-pitched verbose bombastic presentation on how to make a million in one year. Two women of indeterminable ages in front nibble on loud exotic tidbits congratulating each other on having each opportunely made a fortune selling refrigerators, washing and drying machines and air-conditioners to a tropical third world country with regular power failure.

(This reminds one of the report (blog) of 1971 Mali being donated shinny electric IBM typewriters and papers proudly on display to Western visitors by a local governor. They were greeted with the impressive sight of an array of local women sitting on concrete floor behind typewriters which were unplugged because there was no electric power. The governor had a large wall safe opened showing that it was filled with reams of typing papers.*)

A man in his forties but dresses like a teenager wearing a baseball cap whispers succinct bullet points how he buys cheap run down hotels in developing countries, refurbishes with cheap materials and re-sells them for a large margin and is now magnanimously inviting sleeping business partners. To top it all, the “flight attendants” with precise AI do their multitasking entertaining and creative sale pitch.

By the time this humble law abiding citizen of the world finally reaches the capital city he already germinates and masters in his super nerd mind twenty apps for his target potential clients (with sale pitch to each in eight seconds, the maximum current attention span of the Generation Z) on how to become a millionaire in algorithmic ways or at worst give sale pitch on any otherwise boring uneventful long flights.

The overland/overwater journey is another report. (To be continued)

*Credit of this passage about IBM typewriters in a place without electricity goes to:

For those interested in drum: (Top Secret Drum Corps Edinburgh Military Tattoo 2009)

millennial short-story · millennials · social messaging journal for future · tech news · weekly photo challenge

Dronesville adventure #17: computer’s cold calculating logic, human perspective, a model mother

“The standard story about computers, generally, is that they lack many of our more appealing human qualities but are really good at cold calculating logic. You’d think that combining the two — using computers to emphasize our most coldly rational and greedy qualities, and then using markets to aggregate those computers’ individually hyper-rational behavior — would work really well. I guess it does; that’s why people keep doing it.” (Matt Levine) As I narrated in my previous blog there was a loud bang and it seemed the end of the word had arrived. I hear confusion and loud rather ungentlemanly murmuring,

“What?! Fire crackers? Come on, be real, this is not ______(another big global nation like the USA) yet!!!” I cannot detect who says by their voices and accents. All sound American to me with the exception of my English lord Sir______ of course. Someone says, “That settles it, I am leaving. I am not sitting around listening to some promotion of cheap trade-off.” Soon I hear chairs and tables being shuffled around and impatient footsteps of those leaving the scene. Distant sounds of engines of expensive automobiles too.

Who is speaking today? I wonder. Then I hear this cold voicing of a nerd/millennial’s quote on the stage. I cannot see the speaker. Is it a machine or is it a human? I wonder. He sounds ordinary alright, like you and me, or any cool millennial. I recognize the quote from Bloomberg View on Money Stuff, an email I subscribe to. Whoever is standing on the stage is a nerd from the future like me who happens to be around for no particular reason. But he continues quoting the whole article. Rather like the aliens who have landed speaking to the earthlings in seemingly same and yet incomprehensible language. I never realize how unreal we may sound to those who live in mere twenty years ago. How much has the world gone through from 1996 to 2016. Even a seven year old can become an adult taking care of number one (me) now. LOL.

Because I do not see the speaker and do not know his personal traits: race, skin color, nationality, physique, stature, weight, height, hair color, hairdo, dressing, facial, hand gestures, posture, overall mannerism etc I have to cast aside my personal prejudices (which I admit I still have), like William Blake declared, “For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.” I am not saying that the above nerd speaker’s quote (on computer etc) is great because it’s just an article I pick by random to illustrate a point about human perspective.

The sudden invisibility of all people around me has made me looked inward and outward beyond the narrow chinks of my cavern. Suddenly I see something right before me, a dried flattened earwig lying on the table as I turn over an invisible place mat. The poor earwig must have been there for ages. I recall an article in the Manchester Guardian on 6th March 1917, a hundred years ago, “Female Earwig a Model Mother”:
Quote: “It was the earwigs that I specially noticed, and I was almost sorry for them, for, like birds, they were sitting on their eggs. I had to stop occasionally to watch a half-awake mother earwig, if I did not happen to have damaged her with my spade. She turned up an expostulating and threatening tail, metaphorically rubbed her eyes, dazzled by the unexpected light, and then began to fuss round, striving to gather together those precious eggs. She is a model mother amongst insects, and when the tiny larva – very like her in general appearance – are hatched she looks after them in quite a correct manner, while the babes seem to recognise their nurse and crowd round her like much more highly developed animals, even crawling upon her back for a ride.”Unquote. What a wonderful mother!.

When I no longer encumber my eyes and mind with the things I tend to see physically, I see and recall stuff that may be rare and precious. Like treasure hunting in a realm I rarely visit. Guess this new vast empty space enhances focus on stuff that matters at the right time and right place.

In a way, it this NOT what Symbiosis MEANS? Human, other creatures, and even computers past and present co-existing.

late 19th century: modern Latin, from Greek sumbiōsis ‘a living together,’ from sumbioun ‘live together,’ from sumbios ‘companion.’
BTW: “LOL, see how _____ suddenly becomes SOOO…INTROSPECTIVE!” My nerd cronies have lampooned at my previous blog ranting mercilessly in their latest comment in our private chat board. Well, this one will divert you guys so you go digging out the Money article and see what it is all about.

A MARKETPLACE KINGDOM SOUND · finance for millenials · millennials · undeserved favor

Money Mastery for 2017

A MARKETPLACE KINGDOM SOUND -What we need in 2017!

A Kingdom Wealth Perspective

Can or should Christians make money and become wealthy? A friend introduced me to information and teachings which answer these questions. The teaching is good. This is the first time I hear of such clear and credible and convincing Biblical based very practical financial investment guide on whether Christians should become wealthy and most importantly HOW TO DO IT. The teaching is from someone who has made it. His name is Billy Epperhart.

Here are some of his sayings:
Making Sense of Making Money for Making a Difference

View original post 272 more words

amateur nerd · millennials · tech news · weekly photo challenge

a space craft named New Horizons (haiku, NASA, Bob Dylan)

new-horizons-launchNew Horizon embedded in silence
ten long years evade my lens
questioning perchance (~a haiku from this nerd to spacecraft)

Here is an excerpt from the acceptance speech of the latest Nobel laureate in Literature, Bob Dylan:
“When I started writing songs as a teenager, and even as I started to achieve some renown for my abilities, my aspirations for these songs only went so far. I thought they could be heard in coffee houses or bars, maybe later in places like Carnegie Hall, the London Palladium. If I was really dreaming big, maybe I could imagine getting to make a record and then hearing my songs on the radio. That was really the big prize in my mind. Making records and hearing your songs on the radio meant that you were reaching a big audience and that you might get to keep doing what you had set out to do…Not once have I ever had the time to ask myself, “Are my songs literature?””

~~~~~~~Some information and thoughts about New Horizons (spacecraft)
Here is the latest news on Oct. 27, 2016: about a spacecraft named “New Horizons” (which was launched in 2006) “New Horizons Returns Last Bits of 2015 Flyby Data to Earth”:
NASA’s New Horizons mission reached a major milestone this week when the last bits of science data from the Pluto flyby – stored on the spacecraft’s digital recorders since July 2015 – arrived safely on Earth. Having traveled from the New Horizons spacecraft over 3.4 billion miles, or 5.5 billion kilometers (five hours, eight minutes at light speed), the final item… arrived at mission operations…in Canberra, Australia.
“The Pluto system data that New Horizons collected has amazed us over and over again with the beauty and complexity of Pluto and its system of moons,” said Alan Stern, New Horizons principal investigator from Southwest Research Institute in Boulder, Colorado…Because it had only one shot at its target, New Horizons was designed to gather as much data as it could, as quickly as it could…and began returning the vast amount of remaining stored data in September 2015.
“We have our pot of gold,” said Mission Operations Manager Alice Bowman, of APL.
(online resources mainly from National Aeronautics and Space Administration)

But why did it take more than a year for New Horizons to send back all of the data from the Pluto encounter?…
Pluto was discovered by Clyde Tombaugh in 1930, and was originally treated as the ninth planet from the Sun. After 1992, following the discovery of several objects of similar size in the Kuiper belt, Pluto has been reclassified as a member of the new “dwarf planet” category.
On July 14, 2015, the New Horizons spacecraft became the first spacecraft to fly by Pluto. Whilst Pluto was reclassified in 2006, this nerd likes to imagine that when the space craft New Horizons was launched Pluto was still the ninth planet from the sun.
New Horizons took ten years to reach a space close enough to carry out its mission, while flying pass Pluto (2006-2015). By then the status of Pluto has changed to a mere dwarf planet. (Even the stars can change status when we go further and look closer. Or rather it’s us who change and not the stars?)
I try to imagine the final words exchanged during their brief and first encounter after ten long years between New Horizons (the lone and persevering spacecraft which flew the ten years for a singular purpose to meet with the ninth planet) and Pluto, now a dwarf planet: “Well, the times they are changing…”

This is the first stanza of a 1964 song. It is a classic from possibly many nerds’ grandparents’ time. Title: “Times they are changing” (Bob Dylan)
Come gather ’round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth savin’
Then you better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’

Nerd’s note about the photo:
I did a search online and found this spacecraft with a name for the weekly photo challenge. I couldn’t take an original picture as I am ten years late of course. The credit of the launch photo goes to the NASA at the following link which please visit for more serious stuff: (