Speaking of Superpowers

Speaking Of Superpowers

For now, I am going to ignore the fact that I am not great at learning languages. It is exceedingly difficult for me. But I am going to circumvent that for today and talk about another skill. Full disclosure, I am typing this using one finger on my cell phone. I thought learning to type would be my ticket to success. For Randy not so much.

This is Why I Cannot Type

I was in 10th grade; I took a typing class. It was the first class in the morning. One must love the smell of white out at 8 o’clock in the morning. Those were contrasting times, and the click of a typewriter was not as nostalgicly romantic as today. Typing class with annoying however it was a skill we all thought we needed.

There was an egnimatic guy named Randy. who sat next to me, and he would type away and eventually he would fall asleep. He did this almost every day. His eyes were occasionally glassy and he smelled of pot. It did not bother me much. I imagine he stayed out late. He was QWERTY that way. The teacher wanted us to keep our back straight and support a decent posture. Randy, he slouched in his seat, and he always was fading into another dimension.

I was surprisingly good at baseball. Baseball was a superpower I wanted to have. One day late in baseball practice, I let a curve ball hang over the plate. The batter hit the ball with tremendous velocity, landing between my eyes. It was not a pretty site, as it put me in an ambulance for an all expenses paid escort to the hospital. That put me in the hospital for a while. Who knows if it destroyed my baseball superpower. That is beside the point. I was in the hospital for a few weeks. I never could make up the work in the typing class. So, I never really learned to type well, and I was never quite the same baseball player. This is conjecture, but I emerged fairly well. I will never know, how it reconfigured my brain. Something tells me it brought out my creative side.

My Resume

I was an excellent python programmer, excellent with databases but not a particularly good typist. Currently, I love to author stories, but I certainly do not like to type. I do need the lights on to type to find the keys. Computer programming has plenty of cut and paste. As I used to tell my students if there is a code similar, copy it and change it. There’s honor in working efficiently.

Randy

I assume Randy went to all the classes. I imagine he got a diploma. But Randy has a dark and distant past. We are all capable of big dreams. Randy became a big-time drug dealer in the coal regions of Pennsylvania. He was involved in some execution style murder and is serving time in jail.

This is an excerpt from the court records. I am not changing the names to protect the innocent because none of them are innocent. The story is uglier than the blood coming from my head after that ill fated hanging curveball. This is an actual cut and paste from the court case, ignoring passive voice and other grammatical transgressions. And I’m not about to type that all out.

The Evidence

The evidence upon which appellant's conviction rests is as follows. On July 14, 1982, a group of friends were gathered at the bungalow of Michael Slote, which was situated on the property of Slote's Nursery in Berks County. Present at the time were Michael Slote, Randy Haag, Van Peters, Michael Sands and the appellant, Howard Weisman. Another man, Bruce Ream, was in the bungalow also but was in his bedroom during most of the evening and did not participate in the capture and disposal of the victim, Good. The victim apparently was expected to arrive at Slote's bungalow in order to turn over to Slote and Haag the victim's Corvette and its ownership papers. The car was being offered by Good in satisfaction for money owed in connection with drug trafficking. Slote warned Good to come alone to the bungalow. Just before Good was expected, Slote told Haag, Peters, Sands and Weisman to hide in his (Slote's) bedroom so that Good would not be frightened or suspicious when he arrived. Slote also handed Sands a .22 caliber rifle and instructed Sands to hold it in case *65 Good was carrying a weapon. When Good arrived Slote led him back into his bedroom on the pretext that that was where he stored his drugs. Immediately Slote grabbed Good from behind, Haag grabbed the rifle from Sands and hit Good with it and began shouting at him. Appellant grabbed Good's feet and threw him to the floor. Sands and Peters restrained Good while Weisman got rope and tied him up. Tape was placed over Good's mouth. Haag took Good's wallet and ring. Then Weisman and Slote carried the bound and gagged victim downstairs to the basement. Meanwhile, Haag announced to the victim, "You're going swimming."

Yes , it was the same. Randy that sat beside me in typing class.. neither of us were very good at typing, but each of us thought it would move us forward in life. Who knows what he was typing on that Smith Corona.

He probably spends a lot of time typing letters to his friends at 85 words per minute.

Well, I pawned my Smith Corona

And I went to meet my man

He hangs out down on Alvarado Street

By the Pioneer chicken stand –

Warren Zevon

As I was typing this story, I had to start researching around to see if the story was true. Yes, I still cannot type. I do not blame the psycho killer who sat next to me in typing class. He is serving his time. And things worked out for the best. If everything went according to plan, what stories will we be having to tell.