So, I was sitting there in my official thinking mode when suddenly I’m thinking two thoughts simultaneously at once. It’s a premium feature I opted for the last time I had my thinking mode in for an oil change. (What the hey, I had a 25 % off coupon).
I figured simulti-thinking would be a great exercise for staying young and sharp and the kind of man who is rich in ways other than having lots of foldos.
For example, consider the richness of having friends. If I had any, they also would be the non-foldo type, because I’ve already asked a number of well-off foldonians to befold me, but so far, none has welcomed me to the foldo.
Speaking of double-thought mode, it seems especially appropriate as we now seem to be living in a dualistic society.
Consciously or not, we reduce everything to just two possibilities – good or bad; black or white; Bud Lite or Bud Lite Lime; neurons or morons; sociopathic or patheosochic; cool or puh-leeeze; Lebron James or Lebron James; DH or no DH; dead or undead; gots foldos, or no gots foldos.
But that’s neither here nor there. Or, as traditionalists might say, that’s neither here.
Anyway thought number one: I saw a photograph of a moose and started thinking about a mouse. Why? I noticed that big, honking mooses have stubby little tails. More like a chocolate eclair or a botched moosehood implant.
Yet mouses, small and not as photogenic — nor as appropriate for taxidermy — have decent-sized tails. Doesn’t that seem completely backwards? Shouldn’t mooses have the big tails and mouses the fake or alternative tails?
You have to wonder: Was that an art thing? Perhaps a production error during the seven days of creation? Or was it more a post-production issue, such as the embarrassing llama incident — thankfully caught in enough time to prevent llambs and llions from happening, although too late for Illinois.
While juggling that mindbender, I started wondering simultaneously about something completely different. For some reason I thought of the word deceased. Probably prompted by my recent reading of Steinbeck’s “Of Moose and Men,” in which a guy carries a moose around in his cargo pocket and the moose ends up getting deceased to death.
Don’t know why I didn’t notice this before but the word deceased, which essentially means croaked, contains two conflicting elements.
The first is ceased, which seems to imply all you need to know about an end to something, as in a stilled heart or a deflated football, or a kicked keg of Blatz.
But then we have the prefix de — which translates very lloosely to not or nil or nopeski. In other words ceased should mean “croakers” and de-ceased should mean “Hey, look who’s back.”
Oddly, a third thought then intruded — rare, but covered under my warranty. I think it happened because I woke up that morning feeling very out of sorts.
I guess all that thinking about deceased mooses and meeses made me feel guilty. I mean, with all the serious crap going down in this country, shouldn’t I knock off the comedy and think more serious multi-thoughts like Bowling Green? Sweden? WTF?
Oddly – did I already say oddly? Well, this is oddlier — here’s what came next from my dual exhausts:
First, I’d be willing to bet that at some point in recorded history somebody, somewhere, woke up feeling out of sorts because he was out of shorts?
I found the second thought even more life-affirming: As the Big Banger, who created the llama and everything else continues to show us, there is no end to the comedy.
©Patrick A. McGuire and A Hint of Light 2013-2017, all rights reserved.