"And suddenly, as it died, another softer sound succeeded it. A sort of gulpy, gurgly, plobby, squishy, wofflesome sound, like a thousand eager men drinking soup in a foreign restaurant." --P. G. Wodehouse, Blandings Castle and Elsewhere, 1935
Driving out to the edge of town to get a replacement door for our car. Junkyard stretching for miles. Narrow path between. Silence. Then i start to notice all the burnt out hulks. All alike. All the same model as our Pinto. It's like some demon had been dispatched to blow them all up.
Any dark day is sinister in the City of Magnificent Splendors, for it means the chance that these clouds might twist & stretch into the makings of a ravaging tornado. There is a certain greenish light we learn to look for. Even though the last tornado occurrence was years ago, we still watch & wait.
"Suppose our leading scientists discovered that a meteor, hurtling toward the earth, was set to strike later this century; the governments of the world had less than ten years to divert or destroy it. How would news organizations cover this story? Even in an era of financial distress, they would throw teams of reporters at it and give them the resources needed to follow it in extraordinary depth and detail. After all, the race to stop the meteor would be the story of the century." --Eric Pooley
"There was a Dallas urban legend in the 1960s and 70s that led many to believe witches roamed the streets of the city after midnight. The most famous location for their satanic worship ceremonies was between two tall skyscrapers called the Stemmons Towers.
The Stemmons Towers are located along Stemmons Freeway, a major thoroughfare of the city. Probably every high school kid in Dallas in the late 60s and early 70s took at least one midnight cruise by the buildings. These cruises were usually reserved for teen initiations into drill team, drama club, etc. To the unsuspecting youths, as their vehicle slowly entered the business property, there indeed seemed to be a coven of witches gathered at the site. However, in the daylight, the coven was revealed to be a group of three dark, human-sized monolithic sculptures! A mini Stonehenge, if you will.
The Dallas urban legend of the three witches ran so rampant in 1970 that the Dallas Morning News ran a scary story about the false coven, complete with eerie photos of the statues. Unfortunately, the modernistic statues no longer exist. The rumor is that the owner of Stemmons Towers, due to the disruptions caused by all the nocturnal tourists to the property (especially on weekends), removed them in the 1980s." --Dallas Mythbusters ...More. And more.