This is going to sound crazy, I know, but before you judge me, remember: things that sound crazy often started out as things that didn’t sound crazy, just preposterous or stupid.
Or hey, maybe even crazy good, like chocolate chip brownies. Or the pizza delivery guy pulling into your driveway. Or not losing that much blood while being dragged off a United flight.
Keep in mind (if blown, keep in fanny pack) if your internal sound card is outdated — i.e., a Yamaha YM3812, aka OPL2, aka Felix the Flatulent — you’re going to misinterpret tons of auditory input. Like when a drunk collapses onto a bagpipe and you think you hear music. Or when a Zen master talks about the sound of one hand clapping and you think he said the sound of one hand clapping.
Remember also that more than 90 per cent of the craziness we hear daily is beamed in from the planet Mar-a-lago. But that’s not the craziest sound to which I refer. Here it comes. Brace yourself, or stand way over there if you don’t want to hear me.
Yes. Way over there. Right. Keep going. Right. Keep…Okay, stop. I said stop. STOP! DO YOU HAVE BEANS IN YOUR EARS?
Now I’ve lost my train of thought. My train…
Train, train, train. Train of fools.
Aretha Franklin, if I’m not mistaken. (Which I’m not.)
You idiot, you’re thinking of:
Chain, chain, chain. Chain of fools.
Hey, don’t tell me what I’m thinking. Jeezy weezy, it’s an easy mistake to make. Chain. Train.
Wow. I hope you never get old.
Anyhow, I was on the verge of saying something crazy sounding, and now I’ve forgotten it. I need a chocolate chip brownie immediately. Chocolate is good for you and it helps you think. I think. Unless I’m thinking of something else. Because sometimes after eating a whole plate of brownies I get the, uh, you know, the Leon Trotskys.
Man, how’d you like your name to be a synonym for…um…well…speaking of which, aren’t you glad you’re not a stink bug? Because if you were, I’d have to throw you in the toilet.
What do you mean I couldn’t lift you up? You’re a stink bug, remember? They weigh, like, nothing. And, unfortunately, nothing is what I remember about what I was going to say. Although, make no mistake, it’s not nothing. It’s something.
Speaking of which, something has been bothering me and I’m not sure exactly what it is. You probably can’t tell because I have a very high tolerance for bother. I can be bothered inside — as I am now — but never show it on the outside (unless I’m outside naked.)
People don’t like to play poker with me because my face is unreadable. They can’t tell if I have a royal flush or a pair of twelves. (I would play more poker if I didn’t have to keep rushing into the bathroom to peek at my notes about whether a flush beats a full house — or the importance of flushing when you have a full house.)
I’m pretty embarrassed about forgetting what I was going to say that sounds crazy. Maybe I’ll just relax a little, clear my mind of everything but stuff that sounds crazy. I’ve done it before and it works like crazy.
Speaking of which, aren’t you glad you’re not Leon Trotsky? Not just because he’s a Communist, but because he’s dead. Unless I’m thinking of somebody else who’s dead. Hmm. Lemme think. Who all is dead so far? This may take a minute.
©Patrick A. McGuire and A Hint of Light 2013-2017, all rights reserved.