An English In Kentucky


















Thursday February 20th 2014  Tim Candler


     I have over time learned that odds are not much will have changed beyond the end of the lane. But, being without an internet connection for thirty six hours reminds me how the internet has so wormed its way into my being,  that I have to ask, "has it fundamentally changed me."  Or at least, "has it become so much a part of my understanding that without it, I become restless and engulfed by an ennui that mostly takes the form of staring at a little red light and asking various deities what it is that I might have done to so offend them, and please not to force me to wear a funny hat and cheer at an organized sporting event?"  And here,  I am a person who can remember the hiss of Tilley lamp, the gathering of muscle to give a kerosene refrigerator a damn good shake so it might better recall its function, and these thing, not because I was born prior to Edison or Tesla, rather due to accident of birth. 

      I am also one of those who might have marched with Ned Ludd in support of  hand craft and against mechanization. I am not even certain I like tractors, because I suspect they are cheating or cowardly.  Pretty certain too I would have registered some sort of objection to the Acts of Enclosure, because I have absolutely nothing good to say about the Duchess of Southerland, and still sometimes find myself allergic to the sight of Sheep. And  too, I consider the usurpation of traditional lands by timber interests in such places as Borneo and the Amazon to be an act of barbarism.  I also have a problem with a television interview, the back drop to which was a night time cityscape in North Carolina or somewhere, which was ablaze with the electric light, and everyone warm and smug and well fed in their moaning about coal spills which are poisoning the water table and earth quakes that may have been caused by fracking that damaged either a Wal-Mart or a Prison in Oklahoma.


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