Blowing in the Wind

Since I’m a data addict I have various alerts shot straight to my phone by tireless perl scripts in my basement. This morning as I drove downtown one of these informed me of high wind warnings in the area.

Like FEMA receiving a report of a Hurricane headed for the homeland I carefully filed this away and did nothing. I forgot that it was recycling day.

Later upon returning home I turned up my street to find it strewn with hundreds of pieces of paper. Each recycling container along the street was methodically pealing one sheet after another off the top and donating it to the party.

So I parked the care and began to pick up. It was like flying monkeys had attacked my neighbors identities. Credit card offers, bank statements, gas bills, magazines, catalogs. Mother nature the identity thief.

The curse of being a data addict is that random bits of knowledge bubble up and clutter your head so you can’t stay focused on task. So as I picked up all my neighbor’s bits I found my self stuck on the last bit of the last verse.

Yes, ‘n’ how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn’t see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind,
The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

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