There's nothing quite like walking through the suburbs of upper middle class america during a rain storm. It's not unlike, I'm sure, the fish feel when they peer through the portals of a first class cruise ship. Every window is lit up brightly by the LCD flatscreen televisions that warm each frontroom. The colorful screens, although mundane from the inside, are spectacles as seen from the corner of a dark and empty street. Outside, raindrops quietly sink through my T-shirt and the clouds rumble like an avalanche of sound. It's warm enough for the mosquitos to be out but cold enough to regret not having brought another layer. As I stare through the windows each neon color from jumps out to me, inviting me inside. Some bored child is watching cartoons, another much older child is dozing off to the evening news. Rock and Roll is dying in a foreign country and the men and women of middle upper class america are complacently watching there television sets in a secluded suburb that attracts the bare minimum of outsider traffic and I with my 100 pound Bernese Mountain Dog stand out in the empty street with three new mosquito bites. But who am I to criticize. I'll be returning to my 20 inch factory-made television (which was tactfully placed in the Back room of the house) as soon as I get home.
