Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

This is more serious than that subject line suggests, Disney and the now-dissolved Reedy Creek development board made a deal to prevent Ron de Santis et al. from punishing Disney for being pro-LGBT and pro-sex education.

I am reminded of the rule against perpetuities, which I think I learned about from a Sarah Caudwell mystery novel.

I have a packet of sour cream and onion–flavored crickets.

No, I didn't seek this out. I was walking from the subway to work this morning, and along with the usual people hawking the free newspapers, there were some handing out packets, without saying anything. I asked one of them what he was giving out, and he handed me a small box (like the ones that Chicklets gum comes in) and a plastic card. The box contained the aforementioned crickets, which I may not bother trying, since I don't like sour cream and onion potato chips (teriyaki I'd try); the card has a code for free download of a television program that the people with the crickets are promoting. I spent a little while wondering how many places other than the exits to Penn Station--and in how many cities--they were doing this promotion. All you need is public sidewalks with plenty of pedestrian traffic.

On Monday, rysmiel and I walked out of the Metro and saw a couple of people sitting behind a table with a sign saying "Impeach Cheney First." Underneath that, it said they were followers of Lyndon LaRouche, so I just muttered "them" as we headed for dim sum. Then we passed the table again, on our way to Maple Delight for ice cream, and noticed more of their signage, which advocated defeating the Bush agenda by building a land bridge across Beringia. (They didn't use the word Beringia, or any geographic names, but the illustration was clearly of Alaska, Siberia, and the island arc connecting them.) My only guess for what they were doing in Montreal at all is that the Old Port draws a lot of tourists: the harpist busking opposite the cathedral had a US dollar bill at the bottom of her case under the coins.

Friday morning, exiting Penn Station on my way to work, I passed people with a sign that started by asserting that "9/11 was a smokescreen," then went on to add that "Cabot was here before Columbus" (not implausible, depending on exactly how you define "here"--Columbus never came as far north as New York), and advocate annexing the U.S. to Mexico. They had a URL, but I just walked past muttering the phrase that's in the title of this post, and don't plan on checking out their web site. (One of the local dailies had the front-page headline "barking mad," which I think triggered me to think of these people's lunacy in terms of that London reference.)

Not that the time matters, when I suspect the timeline has slipped.

Robot dogs, I can cope with. Robot dinosaurs, sure. Who wouldn't want a walking, talking pet dinosaur? (Okay, maybe not a full-size T. rex, but a living-room-size pet dinosaur might be the Perfect Toy.)

The problem is the robot flowers. No, you don't water them. I suspect that water would be worse for them than for the fake flowers at a coffee shop I used to to go, which looked fine until someone made the mistake of watering them, and wilted ever after.

Apparently, robot flowers want attention, and will wilt if neglected. I could probably cope with that: guilt without actual greenery. (Am I missing the point here?)

The problem is, if you're nice to a robot flower, it will sing to you.

Where am I, and how did I get here?