Tag Archives: Conversation

Bye Bye Boys

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There’s a certain timbre in the coffee shop this morning. Porcelain colliding with wood, with more porcelain. Hushed voices. Whispers mixing with the steam of hot coffee rising.

As I glance back over my shoulder, I think of 2017. I see a mental billboard – a roadside advertisement featuring the famous bad boys. The lineup of naked egos exposed in their full self-glorification. 

Some courting felonies, some hoping for misdemeanors.

 

It was a year of cause and belated effect.

It was the truth of existence in operation, and a multitude of us watched with consciousness and remembrance of our own battles with the many flavors of abuse.

It was the year that Newton’s third law was made apparent to all.

It was a moment of satisfaction for me.

And to those celebrated offenders, I say:  “Bye Bye Boys. You’ve had your day. Now it’s time to go away.”

 

For all the unknown, the unexposed – may you wrestle with you consciences, have tea with your demons, and learn your lessons profoundly. Police Mystery Man

I am cordially indifferent to your individual plights.

 

I have only one sorrowful loss in this whole mess:  Garrison Keillor. He’s been my inspiration and a source of cynical, wickedly humorous Americana entertainment since 1980.

I’m angry that his fictional small-town tales and homey music have been removed from the terrestrial radio waves and the intergalactic currents.

Radio theatre is a dying art, as is impromptu storytelling.  I want the best to remain for as long as possible.

So desperate was I to find a replacement, I searched Podcasts and settled on “Welcome To Night Vale.” It seemed like a strong contender until I reached the episode of the three vomiting dogs.

Too rude, crude, and unattractively graphic for my taste. I unsubscribed.

Now, I’m back to the eloquent emptiness Garrison left behind.

And my anger deepens. I don’t know if it’s directed more at him or at Minnesota Public Radio. It’s a selfish and selective anger – Yes.

I want my small-town fantasy safely back on the radio each week, while I want him to scurry along and correct his wrongdoing.

Just get it right, Mr. Keillor. You’re an Anglican, a man of fair faith and intelligent virtue.

Just get it right with the Lord and get back on the airwaves.

Please.

From all of us at the coffee shop .  .  . we thirst for your witty gossip, disguised as provincial-minded chatter, to stimulate our decaffeinated minds.

One smart conversation begets another. And soon we can again have a community of cafe culture that enlivens the imagination.

I raise my cup of mocha chai to you. I need this gift restored.

 

 

The Grind

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Mocha Muse has its very own newspaper, The Grind. It may contain a quote, a poem, song lyrics, snippets of overheard conversation or fascinating facts about creativity/life. So, leather sofa in Home Interiorsnuggle into the sofa, unfold the paper and reach for your morning cup of coffee.

Here’s the twenty-sixth issue. . . just click on newspaper to enlarge, then continue to click until text is readable for you!

 

 

 

Thanks to: Mitch Hedberg

Little Beans of Wisdom

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Little Beans of Wisdom - Mocha Muse

HOW MIGHT BLABDROIDS AFFECT COFFEE SHOP CONVERSATION?

If you didn’t happen to catch the Robot Petting Zoo at this year’s South by Southwest interactive festival, you may have missed this little cutie:

Blabdroid

He’s a tiny cardboard robot that can perch in the palm of your hand or snuggle up next to your coffee cup. Formally, he’s known as a BlabDroid and was designed as a documentary filmmaker. The designers used him to approach random strangers on the street and ask them a few very intimate questions.

Surprisingly, the answers elicited were very candid. In part, the researchers believe, because of the robot’s high cuteness quotient, and, because people seem to be more comfortable revealing themselves to inanimate objects.

Adorable though he may be, BlabDroid asks tough questions: “Tell me something that you’ve never told a stranger before,” he says.

With his irresistible smile and simple cardboard packaging, his architect, Alexander Reben, tells us that: “In a relationship with a robot, where you’re being very vulnerable, the other actor in that situation has to be as vulnerable as you,” he says. “So if the robot is small, tiny, made out of cardboard, you kind of feel like you can open up to him more because he’s very familiar and you feel like you’re in control of that situation.”

Recently, Reben linked up with a nonprofit organization that assembles volunteers in the tech industry to be available when a disaster hits. The goal is to deploy BlabDroid to communicate with survivors.

“When you just got through a difficult situation where you may not want to talk to other people about what’s happening, like if you have a fun character come in, it’s not as serious as coming to a psychologist,” Reben says.

An honorable resource for humanity, but, I can’t help wondering if we’ll soon be cuddling up with our BlabDroids and a cup of mocha java at the local coffee shop .  .  . chatting privately with our robots rather than with each other.

Sources: Laura Sydell on Morning Edition/NPR and Chris Morris at The Fortune Daily

March 18, 2015