Lock Your Doors

I've been forgetting to lock my doors lately. I had this idea brewing in my brain not unlike a shadow growing as its reason for existence gradually moves closer to a light source that, in my subconscious mind, I am programmed to automatically lock my doors. I don't have automatic door locks in my car. In a near perfect world, my locks will all be controlled electronically, transported in millions of tiny bits floating above our heads from some handheld device to a computer cleverly placed inside my car, which, when I give the command ("Computer, lock!"), the doors will lock. I'm alluding to something here of even greater depth that you may understand, even with your feeble mind. The device in this nigh-Utopian society of which I speak is probably some sort of app, and I'm guessing you can or could purchase it from the App Store.

The deadbolts and required hardware installed on my principal door are a completely different story. Even Commander William T Riker has to manually lock the door connecting his living quarters to the cruel reality that is the Enterprise. You've seen him do it, I've seen him do it, and by principals of mathematical induction, the entire populace that has, does, or will exist on this planet has seen him do it. So, as probabilistically you might deduce, there's not even a 1 in a googol (yes, that is correct) chance that my apartment in Hell has the capability to act upon voice commands. Perhaps I, as I entered into my apartment last night in a stupor of thought over not having locked the door to my vehicle, vocalized the words "Computer, lock!" expecting the door to automatically lock itself. It didn't. I woke up this morning, late--still deep in stupor--and being quite hasty reached for the door locks to discover that they were already disengaged!

This is a growing concern. I lack the capacity to assess the true reasoning behind my faulty doorlocking program. Maybe I do forget. Maybe I don't have a key. Maybe I have the wrong key! Bad, untrustworthy people needn't break into a place that is already unlocked, doors open wide for their enjoyment as they meander through, stealing valuables, reading personal, equally-unlocked journals that share all the author's secrets to whomever disregards personal privacy the most, leaving the place in shambles as they chortle and evil-sinister-laugh their way back out again. Even good people would be tempted if such an open door presented itself to them. And that is a discouraging thought.

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Some Stuff

I need to write a blog post.

• I like this blog a whole bunch. There, I said it.
• I'm a big fan of throwed rolls.
• That thought leads me to text people about throwed rolls.
• They asked me if my dinner was throwed at me tonight.
• Yes, I do realize I that's not a word. "Deal with it." That's what they told me anyway.
• Today, I used the phrase don't matter to me none without meaning to.
• Yesterday, I pronounced tomorrow as two-MAW-rah and Missouri as hell.
• Come to think of it, I always pronounce it that way. If the shoe fits...
• This always brings me back to food fights.

And I'll end with a music video one of my favorite songs by one of my long-ago favorite bands that features something cool at 3:47. If all you do is watch that part, I won't be offended. Bye.

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