Do you wish you had Jeff Goldblum's hair

It's interesting the way events unfold. As previously mentioned, for the past week or so Georgia has more closely resembled the rainy season in Vietnam instead of its usual easing from summer to autumn. After close consultation with the weather radar courtesy of the interwebs, it does appear that most of the heavy rain has fallen, and the flooding has peaked or crested or whatever it is flood waters do when they can rise no more. The sun has even managed to rear its forgotten head most days this week. So good on ya, golden orb of the sky.

Photographic evidence, and common sense, to the contrary, Six Flags continues to insist they will be open this weekend. That's good news for the 40 or 50 customers they'll no doubt have. However, I sort of figure most people in the Atlanta area are more concerned with trying to get rid of that pool in their living room that God just delivered. Going wild on the Mindbender just doesn't seem that important right now. If by chance some locals aren't so distracted, I'd question the parenting prowess of any who would send their child to a dilapidated amusement part, already expecting in its death throes, that just happened to have spent the better part of the week totally submerged. What could possibly go wrong?

But in the middle of all this rain, the big story around here was that the local barbecue pit burned. To the world outside, I realize this sounds trivial. Yes, the messiah is busy ridding the world of nuclear weapons, hatred and general uncoolness, and your beloved correspondent is moaning about not getting to eat roasted swine flesh. Fair enough, but out in the hinterlands, losing a local business has far more real-life impact. The only way my little burg is going to be struck down by a nuke, targeted by terrorists or invaded by the Ruskies (Red Dawn to the contrary) is if some crackpot somewhere goes horribly off course. Where I'm going to eat lunch on Thursday, on the other hand, is about as real as realpolitik can get.

As a result, there's been much handwringing and gnashing of teeth the past week as we all try to figure out just what to do for lunch. One of the many advantages of the modern world is the restaurant. I've no interest in sitting in a field/stand/pond for hours on end hoping that my next meal hops/flies/swims my way. Apologies to the Nuge, but the extent of hunting and gathering I prefer to do for most meals is hunting the menu for and gathering my tray with.

I realize that in olden times I would have probably been among the first to succumb to starvation, but the upside is that I'd have been so thin, the others wouldn't have bothered eating me. Oh, sure those rugged frontiersmen could fell a buffalo at 300 yards, but polio could stop them dead in the tracks. Today, we've got Ted's Montana Grill serving bison burgers and polio is all but eradicated. Who's laughing now, pioneers?

And even the barbecue pit has a happy ending. Since the lunch rush had just ended, the fire was quickly discovered and brought under control that the building was not destroyed. More importantly, no one was injured. And some slaughterhouse gave a few pigs a last-minute commute.

Of course, that also meant that some slaughterhouse workers lost their jobs and probably the trucking company lost some business. Maybe there is something to the Chaos Theory after all. I just hope there's not another butterfly flapping away on the other side of the world for a few weeks.