Fantasy Football, Driverless Cars

First to celebrate!

But first, what not to celebrate?

Not to celebrate: fantasy football and autonomous vehicles otherwise known as driverless cars.

I can hear the first question being asked:

“What do you do with your time, Brooks?”

“O, thanks for asking. I’m a fantasy football player.”

And then to be driven somewhere in a driverless car, while presumably sitting in the backseat as the backseat driver, is to forfeit every right one has to be a human passenger.

I dislike Fantasy football, in which a certain gladiatorial aspect takes on the colors of the opponents while wearing the jerseys of the team comprised of carefully culled Superstars as seen on TV.

And the real problem with driverless cars is not so much that they’re crammed down our throats day after day, roaming the streets like the robots they are, but that they appear to lack the essential qualities of human error.

Otherwise, I’m a glorious celebrant of the rest of our world—minus fantasy football and driverless cars—a lover of acrylic paint and good clean drinking water, blueberries grown on a farm, a woman’s right to choose and a man’s right to play football without fantasy, and the many other gifts bestowed upon us.

Tomas Transtromer, great poet: “We milked the cosmos and survived.”

Not a Fantasy dahlia, the real thing, driven by soil, water, and sunshine. San Francisco, CA.