This morning I finished All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque. Everyone on the planet has heard of this classic, published 97 years ago, but I had never read it. It was an incredibly heavy book (emotionally heavy; the book itself is just 179 pages).
The story is based on Remarque's own horrendous physical and psychological ordeal in the trenches of France during World War One. The reader is truly left with a sense of how horrific and utterly senseless war really is. It should be required reading for every world leader.
But that assumes every world leader can read.
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| "The only good thing to come from war is camaraderie." |
On a lighter note, my part of this big world woke up to cotton candy fog this morning. "Thick as pea soup" as my mother used to say, although I don't remember her ever making pea soup, In fact, I'm not sure what pea soup even looks like. I'm guessing it is thick and green, which is nothing like fog.
A better descriptor would be "Thick as Campbell's mushroom soup." That's definitely better. Opaque and gray-ish. It resembles two-day old phlegm but it tastes great. Or should I say, M'm! M'm! Good!
But these murky mornings are welcome here. As we inch closer to spring, hour by hour, fog forms like the ghost of winter, slowly fading, melting, releasing its death grip. It actually feels satisfying to turn on the fog lights as one ventures out and about.
Speaking of, I drove my son to jazz band this morning; he has jazz practice every morning at 7:30 AM. I give him credit, because jazz is meant to be played at midnight, when you finally find the pocket and the atmosphere of a smokey nightclub is just right; capturing that groove right after breakfast is impossible, but you do what you have to do.
As I headed home, navigating the roundabouts, I approached a rusted out Dodge Durango from behind. I could see white lettering stenciled on the back window and being the curious type, I had to inch closer to see what it read:
"HELLA KIDS IN THIS BITCH" in capital letters (a fancy, dancing script to give it a classy touch).
I am too old to understand this vernacular, so I had to look it up. It turns out "hella" actually has its roots in 1970s and 1980s slang in the Bay Area of California. I'm not so sure about that because I grew up in the '70s and '80s, and I never heard of the word "hella" until No Doubt came out with a song called "Hella Good" around the turn of the 21st century.
I presume "hella" is an adverb; roughly meaning "really" or "very." If so, the phrase "hella kids" doesn't make a lot of sense to me. "Hella kids in this bitch" obscures the meaning even more. The "bitch" part could mean the Durango itself, or perhaps it refers to the driver of the Durango, who could be pregnant.
Regardless, the essence of the meaning, I am guessing, is a redneck/white ghetto interpretation of "Baby On Board."
Either way, I give Durango credit for spelling everything correctly, because the "t" is silent in "bitch," and it is frequently overlooked.
Hella well done, Durango.
