He staggered through the bushes onto the beach, his eyes rolled back and mouth horribly agape. Dropping to his knees before the waves, he clenched his fists and teeth and shook his arms in the air. For a moment his neck sagged to one side, bowing to the ocean. Then, in a culmination of despair he screamed at the water, "I crawled out of you, now tell me what I should do!"
3.18.2005
2.23.2005
While recently enjoying a Denver sandwich on rye at the counter of my most haunted dining establishment, the music that oozed just over the audible limen was suddenly interrupted. First, a shrill tone that lasted a second or two came from the hidden speakers. A few bursts of coarse buzzing followed. The emergency broadcast system was performing a test, or was it?
I let my mind wander over how people in the restaurant may have reacted if the EBS had a cataclysmic bulletin to deliver. I imagined people gasping, panicking, praying, and diving under tables. But, the message went on to relieve the minds of all listeners that this was, assuredly, only a test. I think so, that is. Positive the EBS bulletin was just doing its usual thing, my attention strayed from it.
The opening dischorded melody of these radio and television broadcast tests is instantly recognizable to any American. It's probably never caused alarm in anyone. But, what does an actual emergency broadcast sound like? If they plan to use the same set of tones and buzzes, it's as if these tests we've been hearing are saying, "National emergency! Just kidding!"
Assume the same sound effects are used for all ESB breaks. If there ever is an actual emergency, or even just a phony one, during every test thereafter people will be diving under tables and accepting Christ as their savior.