Flying Cars and Rainy Interstates

Mike hosts a special Thanksgiving episode on a rainy afternoon, reflecting on the stagnation of technology. Discussing Louisiana's geography, he notes the relatively recent connection of the state's north and south with Interstate 49.

Hello, this is Mike George coming at you on this special Thanksgiving edition of the broadcast. It’s a wonderful, relaxing day here in Alexandria, and I’m actually taking advantage of a bit of an anomaly: we have some rain in the forecast and thunder in the distance. It’s 16:00, so we’re entering that hour where everyone is either eating and getting fat, or the person cooking is super pissed off because they’ve been at it for thirty hours.

I’ve noticed that these lives have fallen into a bit of a pattern, or a 'shtick,' if you will. I start with the 'Crimson House' intro and always end with my George Carlin sign-off: 'take care of yourselves and take care of somebody else.' I’m honestly tired of complaining about how messed up the world is, but it’s 2022 and cars still aren't flying. We just have prettier versions of the same stupid technology from twenty years ago, with the exception of social media, which has been a tectonic shift that actually affects global elections.

It’s lovely out—exactly 20 degrees Celsius, or 70 in 'Fahrenheit land'—and I’m enjoying the rain since we’ve luckily avoided any major hurricanes this year. I’ve realized Alexandria sits in a sweet spot far enough north to be out of the line of fire for most storms. This geography is interesting because it led to the construction of Interstate 49, a relatively new critical link connecting north and south Louisiana that wasn't even part of the original interstate system. It’s wild to think of a major highway being built so recently; it’s like imagining my home state of Ohio without I-70 until the '90s.

We’ve even got an international audience today—someone from Uganda is watching! Welcome to the show, Moses; I’m a bit of an ignorant American, but I know Uganda is in Africa and, unfortunately, it’s not the safest place to be gay, so I hope you’re staying safe. Since people are seeing the link, I have to mention my nonprofit, Crimson Rouge Studios. It’s been a bit of a 'dud' or a 'premature birth' so far, but we’re planning a revival or a rebirth in 2023.

In the spirit of the relaxing rain, I’ve been thinking about the concept of silence. I’m reminded of a philosophy paper I read in high school about absolute silence and a friend’s famous quote: 'silence means be quiet.'

I also blinged up a photo of my mom using some blue foil because that’s her favorite color. It’s a picture of her when she was 36 years old, which is exactly the age I am now. Looking at it with my hair down, I realized for a second that I have the same outline and features she did at this age.

I’m about to move into the “smoking hour” with my gravity bong and my 'Sativa Daze' playlist. It’s fascinating to perform for an unknown audience, even if it's just one person, talking into the 'void' until the conversation decouples from time and becomes this monologue. On that note, I’m going to conclude this broadcast. From Uganda to the United States and everywhere in between, thank you for listening. This is Mike George from the Crimson House — take care of yourselves and take care of somebody else."