I always quote, especially to cashiers who screw up my change, "The one constant in the universe is mathematics", because no matter where you are.., here in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan or on the far off planet, Kepler-10c, two plus two will ALWAYS equal four.
Another constant, at least on this planet, (I can't speak for Kepler-10b or 10c) is the fact that young boys seem to have the adept ability to find a virtual treasure trove of skin magazines in forests. Practically, every television show and/or podcast, that I've seen or listened to lately, makes reference to finding a stack of Playboy magazines in a nearby forest. This strikes a cord with me, as the very same thing happened to me when I was a young boy.
Growing up, I lived (practically) a stone's throw from the city limits. From my kitchen window, I could see the western end of the city, creeping towards our farm. The sight was obscured partially by a small collection of trees that dissected the wheat field between us and them. Me and the neighbour kid, Darren, would often ride our bikes into the city, headed to the mall with a hand full of change for the arcade, always cutting through the trees to pierce the outer skin of the growing metropolis. Located smack dab in the middle of the trees, was a small clearing where high school kids often conglomerated to party and listen to music. Quite often on a late Friday or Saturday night, you could see the light of a bonfire breaching the dense forest and rocking melodic beats could be heard in the distance, followed by panic and roaring engines as the police came to break up the festivities.
On one of the return trips from our excursions into the city, Darren and I stopped in the open area to look around. During our inquisitive search, we located and ultimately divvied up a stack of pornographic magazines. Apparently, in addition to drinking, gossiping and listening to music, people also enjoyed looking at porn.
I can't remember where I kept my stash, but it was likely under the bed. I don't know why all kids think the narrow space under the bed is impervious to mother's ever suspicious gaze, but that seems to be another constant in the universe. Even the villains on television seem to believe that hiding the murder weapon under the bed will thwart the police. Stupid kids.
They were Penthouse magazines that we found. I guess Playboy offered too many articles for the youth at hand. I did, however, find and procure a box of Playboys on a solo trip. That was kinda cool, but as I recall it was hard..., or difficult, rather, to balance the heavy box on my handle bars as I rode my bicycle home across the bumpy terrain. The reward did outweigh the hassle, though, I admit I never read any of the articles.
No matter where you are in the universe and no matter what magazine you're gawking at, two plus two will always equal four. And FYI, not that any of you care, I had the magazine on the left of the photo above with the girl in the green dress (Sherilynn Fenn of Twin Peaks).
Another constant, at least on this planet, (I can't speak for Kepler-10b or 10c) is the fact that young boys seem to have the adept ability to find a virtual treasure trove of skin magazines in forests. Practically, every television show and/or podcast, that I've seen or listened to lately, makes reference to finding a stack of Playboy magazines in a nearby forest. This strikes a cord with me, as the very same thing happened to me when I was a young boy.
Growing up, I lived (practically) a stone's throw from the city limits. From my kitchen window, I could see the western end of the city, creeping towards our farm. The sight was obscured partially by a small collection of trees that dissected the wheat field between us and them. Me and the neighbour kid, Darren, would often ride our bikes into the city, headed to the mall with a hand full of change for the arcade, always cutting through the trees to pierce the outer skin of the growing metropolis. Located smack dab in the middle of the trees, was a small clearing where high school kids often conglomerated to party and listen to music. Quite often on a late Friday or Saturday night, you could see the light of a bonfire breaching the dense forest and rocking melodic beats could be heard in the distance, followed by panic and roaring engines as the police came to break up the festivities.
On one of the return trips from our excursions into the city, Darren and I stopped in the open area to look around. During our inquisitive search, we located and ultimately divvied up a stack of pornographic magazines. Apparently, in addition to drinking, gossiping and listening to music, people also enjoyed looking at porn.
I can't remember where I kept my stash, but it was likely under the bed. I don't know why all kids think the narrow space under the bed is impervious to mother's ever suspicious gaze, but that seems to be another constant in the universe. Even the villains on television seem to believe that hiding the murder weapon under the bed will thwart the police. Stupid kids.
They were Penthouse magazines that we found. I guess Playboy offered too many articles for the youth at hand. I did, however, find and procure a box of Playboys on a solo trip. That was kinda cool, but as I recall it was hard..., or difficult, rather, to balance the heavy box on my handle bars as I rode my bicycle home across the bumpy terrain. The reward did outweigh the hassle, though, I admit I never read any of the articles.
No matter where you are in the universe and no matter what magazine you're gawking at, two plus two will always equal four. And FYI, not that any of you care, I had the magazine on the left of the photo above with the girl in the green dress (Sherilynn Fenn of Twin Peaks).
