Technology is an amazing thing, isn't it? Just look at the advances technology has made over the years. We have picture within a picture television, which is good if you can focus on more than one thing at a time - like a fly. There are airbags in our cars to prevent us from injury, unless, of course, a sharp piece of metal punctures the airbag, during the crash, causing it to deflate and sending the steering wheel column out the back of your head. And there's the elevator. Many jokes have been written about the elevator, like, "The stock market has been up and down more than an elevator." Or, uh, okay, maybe that's the only joke.

Some elevators feature security cameras, many have digital floor readings and some are even voice activated. "Thirty-ninth floor. Please watch your step." I can only imagine that it will be just a matter of time before elevators, in tall buildings, will be featuring stewards handing out meals and showing in-flight movies. "Today's presentation will be 'The Towering Inferno.'"

One thing that hasn't changed about the elevator is Elevator Etiquette. People will get on an elevator, like voiceless mannequins, staring up at the numbers of the floors as they pass by and hoping that someone in the elevator doesn't speak to them.

Has Society become that rigid that we're afraid that someone is going to speak to us in an elevator? I say, "Yes." I also say, "Lighten up." We're all on this crazy planet together, so why not be a little less rigid and a little more pleasant? That's why I've developed the "Carl Megill Handbook of Elevator Etiquette in the New Millennium." Here are some fun things you can do on your next elevator ride.

1. Even if you are spoken to on an elevator, most elevator trips are only about thirty seconds long. It's not likely you are going to develop some lifelong relationship with that person. And, what topic would you most likely be discussing? The effects of American involvement in the Middle East? I don't think so. Most likely, you'll be discussing the age old favorite - the weather. Here's a simple conversation even you could initiate:

You: Nice day out there.

Them: Beautiful.

You: May rain tomorrow.

Them: I hope not.

You: Well, this is my floor.

Them: Have a nice day.

You: Take care.

Almost nauseating, isn't it? But, a real no-brainer. You've been courteous, informative and, yet, no threat of any future involvement with that person.

2. If you would like to make the conversation a little less impersonal and perhaps even get you a laugh, you can say something like, "Isn't it amazing that this elevator was made by the same guy who used to get drunk on Saturday nights and would lock himself up in the jail on 'The Andy Griffith Show?'"

3. If you're feeling daring the next time you are on a crowded elevator, get a sing-a-long going with the music being piped in from WDUL. Of course, it will be necessary for you to know the words to "Tie A Yellow Ribbon", "Somewhere My Love" and "Muskrat Love."

4. If you're really feeling daring, call the radio station from the handy, emergency telephone that the elevator supplies and have them dedicate a song to the group on the elevator. "Alright, this is Bobby Boring on WDUL dedicating the next number to those wacky folks on Elevator Number Three, in the Hitchcock Building. Here you go guys, it's the Fifth Dimension and 'Up, Up And Away.'"

5. Speaking of using the telephone, if everyone on the elevator has the time, hit the Emergency Button and let everyone have a chance to call someone and ask them if their refrigerator is running. It will loosen things up and make for a memorable ride for everyone.

If you follow these suggestions, this should make for a less rigid Society and a lot more fun for all. (Incidentally, if the building custodian should complain about the misuse of the elevator, the next time, use the emergency telephone to have a dozen pizzas sent to his house.)

When Alice Weatherspoon fancied a bit of fish for her tea, she didn't go to the fishmonger's or the chip shop, she went down to the river to catch her own. Mind you if the river warden were to catch her fishing without a license it would have cost her a pretty penny, the fines were ridiculous and could be as high as £2,500.

It would have been an easy job for Alice to get a license, but she refused too on principle. The Environment Agency issued the rod fishing licences and since she was a trout tickler and didn't own a rod, Alice refused to pay for a license. She learnt the art of trout tickling from her father when she was a girl. Her father had learned it from his father, who had turned to poaching as a means of feeding his family, during the strike of 26.

Well, last Friday Alice made her way down to the river Wear, bucket in hand, to catch a bit of fish and unlike Lampton she wasn't after a worm, she was after a nice pair of trout for her tea. Her mother had been a regular churchgoer and despite Alice's lack of interest in organised religion, she always had to have fish for her tea on a Friday.

Her favourite pitch was upstream from Penshaw, on a quiet stretch a few yards beyond the bridge that carries the A182 across the Wear Valley. On reaching the spot she half filled her bucket with water, rolled up her sleeve and lay on the bank with her arm in the water. An hour later her patience was rewarded as she scooped out the first trout and placed it in the bucket, twenty minutes later the second one joined the first and she was ready to leave.

Picking up the bucket, she set off for home and had gone no more than 50 yards when the warden stepped out from behind a tree. In 10 years of fishing that stretch of river Alice had never even seen a warden, but she knew the type.

'Excuse me Madam, could I see your fishing license?' the man asked.

'And who might you be?'

'I am the river warden and you need a license to fish here.'

'That's alright then,' said Alice. 'I'm not fishing.'

'But, you have been Madam and that is an offence, and liable to a fine.'

'I didn't know that, but it's OK since I haven't been fishing.'

'If that's the case, Madam, why have you got two trout in that bucket?'

'Ah them, well, that one is Mavis and that one's Mary they're my pets and I bring them down to the river every day so they can get some exercise.'

'That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.'

'No it's not. What I do is, I tip the fish into the river down there, take a walk up there, until I get to the bridge, then I put the bucket in the water, tap the side with my stick and Mavis and Mary swim back into the bucket.'

'I don't believe a word of it,' said the warden. 'You must think I'm stupid.'

'Look, I'll prove it to you,' said Alice and she tipped the trout into the river.

'Right,' said the warden. ' Now, lets see you get the fish to swim back into the bucket.'

'What fish would that be?' Asked Alice innocently.

If this doesn't beat all, one week they, the Australian Government is telling Japan not to kill whales, and now they go and kill 400-kangaroos, don't they feel a little two-faced about this? If they were to kill them for soup or something, for the Aborigines, perhaps they could justify it, but because they want to keep insects alive and lizards you got to be on some Kangaroo high.

One week folks are killing whales, in the Anarchic, for whale steak, another week they are elephants for their tusks in the name of squeezing too many in to, too little a space, and the third week too many dogs in India, giving too many folks rabies, and they want to kill dogs, and now this, kangaroo via insects and lizards, what next? The animal human rights group must be putting on some miles these past two months.

But back to the premise, is not the Australian Government feeling a bit strange on this matter? Four-hundred kangaroos can make a lot of soup. They are kind though, they will not be shot to death, but a silent injection in the right place will put them to sleep so they never wake up. I would say they are a little kinder than the Japanese Whalers, although it is the same excuse, for the safety or betterment of mankind. We need to stop the pretense, and just be upfront, we like whale steaks, Elephant ivory, and hate nasty dogs, and kangaroos that make a nuisance of themselves.

I put this article under humor because it beats all, it is funny, but only in a logical way, that being, we tell others what to do with killing this and that, and then go home and kill whatever we want in the animal kingdom. It is like complaining about having a fly in your soup, and you get mad at the waitress for it, and go home and eat a dirty camel.

Today I talked to a wonderful dancer in Texas and we discussed a topic that comes up quite often amongst belly dancers. It kind of sneaks up and shows itself in conversation because for most dancers it is a very important part of their persona; style.

What does it mean to have style anyways? Most women have style before they learn how to belly dance. So where does it go after we start taking classes? I'm thinking it stays in the car or decides to stay at home.

I will hear so many dancers say they just don't know what their style is and they don't know how to get it. This is interesting to say the least because maybe we are talking about two kinds of style. So do we now have to have another style besides the one we leave at home? I'm thinking we like to make dance more complicated than it needs to be. It's almost like our style doesn't fit us when we dance so we have to create a new one. But I question this because "what's wrong with the old style"?

If we define style than we have to look at how we are as women and men in everyday life. Most women have a specific way they dress and certain mannerisms that make them stand out and unique. This doesn't go away just because we dance. As a matter of fact I believe our style is more enhanced with belly dancing because we have a new way to express ourselves. The difference here is that when we see dancers who are accomplished we see how comfortable they are performing. This enhances their style and it becomes more noticeable. So maybe as dancers we aren't giving our style it's due. It's almost like an old dress that becomes old only because we want a new dress. Hahhh.......I do this all the time so I know what I'm talking about.

Style is a confidence that we have when it comes to being women and men. If we compare our style to other peoples' style than this is when style gets left home or forgotten in the car. A long time ago I decided that no matter how far I would go in belly dancing that I would keep my sense of self, that part of me that made me look different. I kept my style all the way through 24 years of dance and I made sure that I was happy with my choices. But I know what a lot of you are thinking, that I am missing the boat and you are talking about how a person dances. No.........I didn't miss the boat, I just realized that style starts with how we feel about ourselves and usually this comes out in how we dress. When a dancer is up on stage performing and she is confident about herself and her dance than the end result is a comfortable glow that showcases her style. Style is really what you think about yourself,period.

Let's be realistic here because we aren't going to go and get another one of us. It would be very spooky if we could do this and I personally don't think the world is ready for another me. So maybe style evolves as our dancing evolves. This is a good thing because we are in a world that is constantly changing. And besides that I like the fact that I can get a new dress now and than. But the difference is that no matter what I wear I know who I am and I don't leave my style at home or in the car, I take my style with me everywhere I go.

I tell you, my oldest daughter is something else. Last summer she would wake up at the crack of dawn and ride her bike to the mall. It was only a short distance away and she would ride with friends so it wasn't so much a safety concern I was having, but rather how uncomfortable I felt about her hanging out at the mall all day and not doing something more constructive with her time.

When she started coming home with new shoes, Ipods and various trinkets, I really began to worry and confronted her one night demanding she explain how she was acquiring these things on a five dollar a week allowance.

To my surprise, she calmly stated that she didn't "hang" around the mall all day. She was actually hunting for diamonds in the parking lot, both there and at the Wal-Mart nearby.

My daughter is the only person on this planet who can leave me speechless and as I stood there, unprepared for this explanation, she said in her most grown-up voice, "Perhaps I should explain."

She then proceeded to give me a science lesson coupled with deductive reasoning and I have to say I was once again left speechless.

She told me that changes in temperature have an effect on most material things, especially metal. Different metals have different rates at which they respond to these changes. This is the basis of how old mechanical thermostats work.

A length of coiled metal is attached to a bulb containing mercury and winds and unwinds back and forth as it expands and contracts according to room temperature, making and breaking electrical connections thus controlling the heating and cooling equipment.

On a hot summer day most folks, especially those that can afford to do so and therefore can also afford to wear a lot of jewelry, run their car AC at full blast whenever they go somewhere...that includes malls, shopping centers and so forth.

When they get out of their cars and step into the summer heat magnified by a black asphalt parking lot, the metal in their jewelry rapidly expands and diamonds sometimes pop out of their settings.

Now I have certainly lost my fair share of diamonds, albeit very, very small ones nearly invisible to the naked eye, but my daughter figured this was possibly how I, and therefore many others, inexplicably lost diamonds and jewels, (she also claims to have figured out where the lost sock in the dryer disappears to).

Anyway, after a little practice, my daughter told me it's relatively easy to discern a diamonds sparkle to that of the glass sparkles of your basic mall parking lot. She smiled a devilish smile and said that is what keeps them hidden in plain sight!

In exchange for a small commission, her best friend's older brother then takes the diamonds to the pawn shop and gets what he can for them. The money is divided equally amongst the prospectors and they spend the rest of the day shopping.

I was floored! How dare she not turn these jewels over to her poor single mother who, by the way, just adores diamonds! A pawn shop...are you kidding me?

I asked her if she had considered the feelings of the people who lost these diamonds and perhaps she should have turned them over to the mall's lost and found department.

She then asked me if I had ever gone to the mall's lost and found department looking for any of my lost diamonds and I admitted I had never thought to do so, until now.

She looked at me with a measure of satisfaction and said the mall folks would probably just take them for themselves anyway and she would be considered an accessory to a crime at that point. I was too tired to argue her reasoning and too proud of her constructive thinking to punish her.

I asked her just how many diamonds had she found to afford all of the clothes and shoes and electronic gadgets she had acquired over the summer.

She explained that a lot of what they found were fake stones with no real value. However, after exploring eBay awhile, she realized people would buy just about anything unique and unusual.

Cubic Zirconia is anything but unusual, but a Cubic Zirconia with a captured magic spirit in it that will bring fortune and fame into your life is quite the find. A little creative writing and a made up Great Aunt who had practiced the dark arts, and poof, you now have a stone with value that desperate people are only to eager to buy.

The shocked look on my face made her quickly recant her story and she claimed to be pulling her momma's leg, but I don't know. I worry about my daughter sometimes. I hope she knows where that very thin line between creativity and dishonesty lies. Actually, I'm quite certain she knows exactly where it lies and I should be more concerned with how often she has consciously chosen to cross it.

I had a long talk with her about all this, but to be honest with you, I now find myself parking as far out in the parking lot as possible now, diamond hunting on my way into Macy's!