I watch, with great interest, as 33 Chilean miners emerge from their underground prison of 72 days. Bravo! What a great event …and one applauds all of the efforts by several countries including the Chile and the U.S. to pull off the great rescue.

That said, maybe it’s just me, but I was thinking “…that the rescue device does go both ways”. Now that we’ve gotten the original miners out, maybe there ought to be some kind of ‘exchange program’ with Mother Earth, as it were.

I’ve put together a list of 33 candidates with whom we could replace the miners. And while I won’t reveal who all is on my list, you’d recognize most of the names (except, maybe, for a couple of my relatives). I also figure that you’ve likely got your own list. Some of the professions represented on my list include politicians, members of the Fourth Estate (especially the electronic), a few professional athletes and entertainers, all of the televangelists, mortgage companies, the people who run the big banks, and new and used  car salesmen. (I remain convinced that ‘used and new car sales’ is the Eighth Deadly Sin).

It used to be my suggestion that we should put all of these people in the middle of the ocean, in a boat with no oars. However, we’re in a recession -a bad one- and row boats cost money. Besides the world now has a perfectly empty but good hole in the ground in Chile that by all accounts will go unused. Now that the miners have been rescued , why let a perfectly good hole in the ground go unoccupied… especially when we’ve got so many good candidates for the exchange? Waste not want not, I always say.

The owners of the mine in addition to the Chilean government indicate that the mine will be closed forever, never to be used again.  Hmmmn, time’s a wastin’. We need to get ‘the exchange workin.’ “Closed forever, huh?”  Gosh, this could be perfect timing.

Just say’in.

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Will Cantrell

Will Cantrell

Will Cantrell (a pseudonym) is a writer, storyteller, and explorer of the milieu of everyday life. An aging Baby Boomer, a Georgia Tech grad, and a retired banker, Cantrell regularly chronicles what he swears are 'mostly true'  'everyman' adventures. Of late, he's written about haircuts, computer viruses, Polar Vortexes, identity theft, ketchup, doppelgangers, bifocals, ‘Streetification’, cursive handwriting, planning his own funeral and other gnarly things that caused him to scratch his head in an increasingly more and more crazy-ass world.   As for Will himself, the legend is at an early age he wandered South, got lost, and like most other self-respecting males, was loathe to ask for directions. The best solution, young Will mused, “was just to stay put”. All these years later, he still hasn't found his way but remains  a son of the New South. He was recently sighted somewhere close to I-285, lost, bumfuzzled and mumbling something about “...writing' his way home.” Of course, there are a lot of folks who think that “Cantrell ain't wrapped too tight” but hope that he keeps writing about his adventures as he finds his way back to the main highway.