A chill is in the air, daylight grows thin, and I have chores to finish before the first snow. Ready or not, here it comes!
I’m more ambitious this fall, inspired by local and world events. Something is telling me to think big. Huge, even.
The beautiful reveal: I’ve just broken ground on my own Triumphal Arch at the end of our driveway in West Lebanon. This is strictly between you and me — don’t tip off the fake-news media (CNN is banned from my yard) or the building inspector.
I’m not crazy; I’m scaling it down from the 250 feet of American glory that will rise up in Washington D.C., but mine will have eagles, Lady Columbia, Tom Brady and the Super Bowl trophy, a battleship or two, a NASCAR racer (maybe No. 43 for Richard Petty), Lebron James dunking, Dolly Parton singing, the Don’t Tread on Me snake, the Spirit of St. Louis plane, Conestoga wagons, George Washington and the cherry tree, Lake America and the Gulf of America and, from my childhood, Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett. Maybe Lassie dashing off to get help — for America, perhaps.
Too much?
You can never have too much splendor.
Yes, there will be room for sponsors — I’m thinking a million dollars each, and I’m thinking cash. Names will be embossed with gold leaf. While I can’t promise citizenship to V.I.P. donors, they will receive a nifty “I Love LEB” T-shirt that will be the envy of friends in Turkmenistan, Dubai or that island off Albania that Jared Kushner hopes to turn into a luxury eco resort (what the world needs now).
I’m getting pushback against snipers and drones, which have been added to the Washington D.C., proof-of-concept project. “It’s a security issue,” I told my wife Dede who, to tell you the truth, could be more supportive, as in totally, absolutely, 1,000%, like Natalie Harp of White House fame. “It seems more than a little bit loopy,” said my top personal adviser.
Well, as far as I can recall, all the colossal ideas of history seemed daft, and only 97% of them were.
The Lebanon Zoning Board might object, but time’s a wastin’ and we can’t wait for permits. What can city officials do, take me to the Supreme Court?
Hopefully, neighbors won’t object to the continuous loop of “God Bless the U.S.A” and occasional fireworks. They’ve always been pretty tolerant. It’s not as if I’ll be out there with a leaf blower at 6 in the morning.
The other major project is my D-I-Y mini data center. People despise and fear the mega AI warehouses that will improve lives in ways we can only imagine — or crush us like bugs.
I don’t have the “bandwidth” to evaluate them, seeing as how they use billions of ziggawatts of energy and are as big as something like 400 football fields. I don’t trust anything bigger than one football field, maybe two, and things I don’t understand rarely work out in my favor, like the small print in car warranties.
But a personal data center under my control is something else. Would I win “Jeopardy!” nightly? Is ruling the world off the table?
I gathered some old copies of Popular Mechanics, which assured me I could do anything if I set my mind to it, like rewiring lamps, installing car brakes, or building a rooftop attack laser to bring down suspicious space satellites.
Admittedly, any of those would challenge my “science” or “engineering” abilities, which are limited in areas beyond deploying duct tape or silicone spray.
But I have a free ChatGPT account, and I can use it to bend artificial intelligence to my will. It will guide me in the process. Brilliant!
We’ll employ the back bedroom. It has a good amount of wall outlets, so that’s promising. I also have extension cords and power strips, almost an alarming amount.
Beyond that, the way forward gets a little fuzzy, but I’m sure American ingenuity and can-do spirit will pull me through. I’ll need that artificial intelligence, since my own has gotten me only this far, where it takes a couple of hours and vigorous cussing to set up a television set.
Of course, there are still practical autumn needs to manage. I must devote time to raking leaves, storing lawn furniture, and finding winter gear in places that seemed “obvious” or “fool-proof” a year ago when I put them away.
But what I really want to concentrate on is legacy, not the lawn.
I have always thought of myself as a big-picture guy, someone with interesting ideas rather than the skills to fix a screen door. Both are needed in this world; let’s use our human brains while we still can.
The writer lives in West Lebanon. He can be reached at dan.mackie@yahoo.com.
