Now the whole of the Nation had one language of 0s and 1s and an interconnected Cloud. As the Women and the Men moved into the digital they found a platform on the web and settled there.

They said to each other, “Come, let’s build Profiles and share them thoroughly.” Then they said, “Come, let’s build ourselves an Internet with robust Social Networks so as to build a Web that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be so alone over the face of the whole earth.”

But the Powers That Be (PTB) came to see the Web that the men and women were building. The PTB said “If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they play will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other.”

So the Powers That Be scattered all new Fake Newspeak all over their Web and they stopped building it further.

A walk a near mile in the Cold

And so I told them this morning…From near a top North Eastman Avenue to Belvedere Junior High down below is a mile long walk that I made each and every day no matter how cold the morning or how East LA hot the afternoon. I never ever once complained and I never made my parents late.

PS: The Administrative Team here at Casa Torres also serving as council to the mentioned patriarch cannot confirm the voracity of the claims the aforementioned is making. Mr. Torres has been hereby warned about his over seasoning of facts as it pertains to lecturing his offspring on cold mornings. We (the Administrative Team) apologize to any and all who may have been miffed by Mr. Torres

About the Kidz these Days

I have gotten into a bit of a bad habit lately. 

Like all old people that have come before me I’ve been finding myself carping about today’s youth when in a social setting. Typically, all the adults about me will agree when I point out how lazy they’ve gotten. 
How they don’t have the same work ethic we had. How entitled they are or how disconnected they can be with one another because they stare at phones all day. I judge them on their trends. The music they listen that doesn’t resemble the good stuff I used be into. Their shorthand is difficult for me to grasp and I’ve given conspiratorial sermons on how Emojis are the Newspeak that Orwell warned us about. From that stand point of having something easy to complain about this young group is an easy mark. 
The reality is that these kids aren’t really any different than the troubled and worried young man I used to be. The society they are inheriting is complex and difficult and many will achieve great things in spite of it. Many of them will bring much joy to the world and perhaps fix the messes my generation created. 
They’ll work hard because they’ll have to. 
They’ll figure out connections with one another because they’ll have to. 
They’ll earn their keep because they’ll have to. 
So…I’m going to start giving these guys a break and try to keep up with what’s hip-happening now…feel free to join me.

When We Young

Knowing Glances and Off to Bed

I saw her eyes and knew. 
Our little ones were still wide awake and nowhere near sleepy so a quick choice had to be made. It was a no brainer as I beckoned her into our bedroom. She had to take a moment to ready herself and so I took her bathroom break as an opportunity to peel bed sheets away and get the nest ready. When she opened the door to greet me I read her signals and didn

Stay Sweet and Not As Smelly

It saddens me a little sometimes when I do drop off and in the course of the morning circuit I have to return to the Elementary School after dropping off the older one at his campus just a few blocks away. 
Whenever I can quickly contrast the difference between the ages at each school I awe at how much these little people change in a short amount of time. The little dramas they concoct at the younger grades are more male belief than the concerns the bigger ones face that could have actual consequences. The tiny ones are still in awe of us so-called-adults whereas the pre-teens keep us at a safe distance. 
I sometimes wish they didn

Locked Out of Heaven

The kid sank deeper into the back seat with worry. At the wheel, the father was making wild gestures with his face and the most rapid articulations with his arms. There was sincere pleading from the concerned tyke but they were being ignored. The other more experienced kid in the passenger seat sat in resolved silence. “This will pass like it always does” he muttered to himself. Finally at the drop off the younger kiddo fumbled fast to unlock the backdoor and escape to her campus and away from the mad-energy. 
To outsiders, once the car door opened the deafening beat of Bruno Mar’s Locked Out of Heaven wailed out and the dad inside kept on Car-Dancing with Muppet like precision. 
The child still within the vehicle and the one that had escaped exchanged glances…first a glare then pity.