Fasten Your Seatbelts, Place Your Tray Table and Seat Back in the Upright Position, Take Your Valium
People have asked me, lips curled and eyebrows arched, “What goes on inside that head of yours?” Honestly, I do not know; I have no answer. Neither does my psychiatrist. I have not yet had an MRI brain scan, so its existence cannot be confirmed. To quote the famous Curly Howard, “I’m tryin’ to think, but nothin’s happenin’!”
So, fasten your seatbelts, people; if you join this blog you are in for a wild ride!
Understand, I make no apologies...ever…like politicians and mass murderers (comparison intended), so don’t expect any. If you are offended, too bad. I do not intend to offend, but sometimes I simply can’t help myself…it just happens. In fact, if you are offended, just remember: I am good at offending; if I intend to offend it would have been much more, well, obviously offensive.
Frankly, I have pledged not to care; some people take offense to just about anything and everything, anyway. I do not necessarily intend the indelicate innuendo and sycophantic snarkiness and occasional poor taste…again, I cannot help it. In fact, when it does occur I revel in it. Trust me here, I do read and edit before I publish so, DISCLAIMER WARNING: ALL TYPOS ONCE PUBLISHED ARE CONSIDERED INTNETINOAL.
I do use certain abbreviations and substitutes such as “WTF” and “OMG” and “@#ck” and “b!%ch” on occasion, but like all great and illustrious writers I do so only when such language is pertinent to the particular discussion. Besides, swearing is the product of a small mind (see “brain scan” discussion above).
For example, the author Robert Southey in his immortal novel “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” Papa Bear exclaimed, “Who the !#c@k is that @!tch sleeping in my bed?”…or something to that effect. In fact, I had that same personal experience just the other night, but I digress. I shall save that for a future discussion. Suffice to say, unlike Papa Bear, I never got the lady’s name. This, obviously, is a typical contemporary Hollywood revision of the original script, and is not in keeping with Disney or Hallmark-channel standards. My standards may not compare favorably. My response? WGAS (Who Gives a $@#*).
Thank goodness weirdness is not accompanied by pain (well, okay self-mutilation, tattooing and lip piercing excepted). Were it, I would have long ago been committed to a half-way house. As it is, I am trapped in a half-wit house of my own devising. Once ensconced, you may find the exit (not clearly marked) or may be destined to live here indefinitely. Either way, you are welcome.
So, welcome to my world. Enter through the keyhole. Remember: before you enter touch something...leave your fingerprints, like the cop who touches your car when he pulls you over for speeding. Once inside, the trail is twisted, the atmosphere is acerbic, the time is warped, the directions are distorted. To quote my once good friend, “You’re weird. Increase your medication dose and call your psychiatrist.”
Take nothing seriously or for granted once you arrive. Discerning truth from fiction is your responsibility as I am often not sure where, exactly, the distinction lays. While here inside my brain, don’t touch the merchandise; if you break it, you buy it…I trust you have PayPal as no personal checks are accepted.
And, when you exit back thru the keyhole and into your own supposedly sane sphere of subsistence, don’t forget to wear your face-mask, sneeze in your own elbow (not someone else’s), and wash your hands (and your elbow) for twenty seconds…not necessarily in that order. Please…once your wild ride is concluded, unfasten your seatbelt so as not to appear an idiot. And, one final warning: You are cordially invited to visit my calvarial home, but like Piggly Wiggly, we’re out of toilet paper…so bring your own. Oh, yeah, and BYOB.
