Don't mind the zeerust, here's some nice retrofuture stuff

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"That hot dog did exactly what you asked it to do. You asked it to feed you, and it fed you. No more, no less." Garvey held out his hand. "Pass me a hot dog."

Cole pulled another one from the cooler and handed it across the flames. Garvey took the hot dog carefully in his hands and examined it. "This is a fine hot dog," he said. "The finest I've seen all day." Carefully he slid it onto the stick. He started humming. Soon Edwin hummed along. For ten minutes they hummed the melody over and over. All the while, Garvey patiently turned the hot dog over the coals, careful not to burn it. Finally, when the hot dog was a glistening, crispy brown, Garvey drew the stick back from the fire. "The song we hummed is a song of friendship," he explained.

"What are the words?" Cole asked.

"There are no words because each person makes up his own. That's how friendship is." As Garvey spoke, he rummaged through the cooler, pulling out salt and pepper, cheese, a plate, cups, and a tomato. He leaned a bun against a rock near the coals to let it toast lightly, then wrapped it around the hot dog.

"You going to eat that thing, or play with it all day?" Cole asked.

Garvey smiled and kept working. He cut the hot dog into three pieces on a plate and lightly shook on salt and pepper. Next he cut slices of cheese and tomato and put them on top. With a flair, he added a small circle of ketchup to each. Last, he poured three glasses of water. He handed one to Cole and one to Edwin. "This is a toast to friendship," he said, raising his glass.

After taking a drink, he handed Cole and Edwin each a piece of the hot dog he had prepared.

"That's your hot dog," said Cole. "Yes, it is, and I choose to share it," said Garvey. He began eating, savoring each bite. "Eat slowly," he said, raising his cup again to toast. "Here's to the future." After each bite, he raised his cup for a different toast. "Here's to good health." "Here's to the sun and the rain." "Here's to the earth and the sky."

When everybody had finished eating, Garvey turned to Cole. "How was my hot dog different from yours?"

Cole shrugged. "You shared yours and acted like it was a big deal."

Garvey nodded. "Yes, it was a big deal. It was a party. It was a feast. It was a sharing and a celebration. All because that is what I made it. Yours was simply food, because that is all you chose for it to be. All of life is a hot dog. Make of it what you will. I suggest you make your time here on the island a celebration." Cole scuffed at the dirt with his shoe. "What is there to celebrate?" he asked. "Discover yourself," Edwin said. "Celebrate being alive!"

A little bit of co-opting of native american vibe but some wise seeming stuff about rage, redemption, restorative justice, and breaking cycles of abuse.

my favorite thing i've learned in college is that way back in ancient china there was this poet/philosopher guy who wrote this whole pretentious poem about how enlightened he was that was like "the eight winds cannot move me" blahblahblah and he was really proud of it so he sent it to his friend who lived across the lake and then his friend sends it back and just writes "FART" (or the ancient Chinese equivalent) on it and he was SO MAD he travels across the lake to chew his friend out and when he gets there his friend says "wow. the eight winds cannot move you, but one fart sends you across the lake"

was thinking about that story, except instead of "the word FART" and "across the lake" it's "the most mildly challenging task" and "up to go get a drink of water or at least pace a bit"

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Historian of abolition here, history tells us how we got here, to put it succinctly "John Brown was hanged for treason and Robert E. Lee was not."

My high school had the arcade game "Vigilante" in the rec room, and for 30 years this "I'm a BIG" billboard has lived rent-free in my head:

(via this page that has a few other weird billboards from the game...)