Coffeehouse Chronicles ...and The Genius of Sam One and the Tears of Commander McCroc

Hey Chroniclers, ya got yer cup? Good. You're gonna need it.

Well, Sam One was at it again.

As you know, Sam One is technologically divergent. Some people don't trust technology. Sam One doesn't trust technology that's already working.

Apparently, he didn't trust his phone to properly capture the moment, so he brought along his camera and took the same pictures with that too. Then he had the film developed. After that, he used his phone to take pictures of the pictures he'd taken with his camera.

Let me repeat that.

Sam One took photos with his phone.

Then he took the same photos with his camera.

Then he developed the film.

Then he used his phone to take pictures of the developed photos.

Then he sent those photos of the photos to us... with his phone.

The very device he didn't trust in the first place.

You can't make this stuff up.

As best as I can figure, Sam One was trying to prove his camera is smarter than his smartphone. Because if the camera is smarter than the smartphone, and Sam One trusts the camera, then Sam One must be smarter than the smartphone too.

Therefore:

Camera > Smartphone

Sam One trusts Camera

Sam One > Smartphone

Sam One = Genius

At least that's the math he's using.

I just don't have the heart to tell him.

I know you all miss Cmdr. McCroc.

We all miss Cmdr. McCroc.

It's been a while since I'd seen him, so imagine my surprise when the phone rang, and there he was on the other end.

"Cmdr.! Where've you been?"

"Never mind that. I've got an assignment for you."

Now we're talking.

"Yes sir! What do you need? RV stuff? I'm ready."

"I'll pick you up in twenty."

Naturally, I was standing at the curb fifteen minutes later. I didn't want the Cmdr. doubting my enthusiasm. Whatever mission he had planned, I was ready.

Five minutes after that, he finally arrived.

He pointed at the passenger seat.

"Get in."

That was it.

No briefing.

No details.

No explanation.

The Cmdr was on a mission.

I climbed in, and we rolled silently through the darkened streets and mysterious back alleys of Chino.

Top secret stuff.

The Cmdr. stared straight ahead the whole time. Not a word.

As we pulled into the RV service lot, however, his expression got even darker.

"What's wrong, sir?"

"This guy is always trying to empty my pockets."

"Who? Marco? He's a nice guy."

The Cmdr. scoffed so hard I thought he might pull a muscle.

We walked inside.

"Hiya, fellas!" Marco shouted.

"Hey, Marco!" I said.

The Cmdr. scoffed again.

Marco took one look at him and grinned.

"Hey McCroc, did you bring your black card?"

Good grief, Marco. Go easy on the old man. But Marco was in rare form.

"Go see Shelly. She's waiting for you."

Now that made Marco smile.

Because Shelly is his secret weapon.

Shelly can make a grown man cry with nothing more than a clipboard and an invoice.

And sure enough, Marco was right.

A short while later, the Cmdr. emerged from Shelly's office with tears in his eyes and his pockets turned completely inside out.

Mission accomplished.

For somebody.

I drove the Cmdr.'s RV while he followed behind in silence.

I think he's still trying to figure out how he's going to explain the bill to Mrs. Scrubbles. Or more accurately, why it always costs three times more than he thought it would.

Hopefully he'll be in a better mood next week.

That's right. The Cmdr. and I will be smoking and joking for a full week, and there will undoubtedly be enough material for several Chronicles.

And if the Hose Jockey and Mrs. Hose Jockey can make it out too?

Well then. Then, We've got ourselves a party.

I can already tell it's going to be a good week.

Until then, Chroniclers, you know what to do.

Drink 'em if ya got 'em!

#coffeehousechronicles