Archive - December 2007


 

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       I’m an idea man.  Which only adds to my employability – which, by the way, absolutely skyrocketed upon the successful completion of my Philosophy degree.

       I get a lot of ideas.  For the website, short stories, novels, stuff to do with midgets.  You know, the usual.  The problem is my memory, which is so bad my neighbor with Alzheimer’s is always reminding me where I hid the extra key.  My memory problem is not a mystery.  It is undoubtedly caused by the brain damage I inflicted upon myself during my “Grey Period.”

       To combat this, I began carrying a small notebook around with me, thereby enabling me to jot down ideas when they came to me.  Because if I didn’t, they’d be gone forever.  Sadly, one has to have a pen handy to really utilize a notebook.  Plus, I get a lot of ideas when I’m driving.  And it’s not a great idea to take notes at 80 mph.  Now I have a digital voice recorder, and with the click of a button, POW!, my brilliance is preserved.  And from time to time, I transpose what’s on the recorder to a large, green notebook labeled “I-dears.”  (Aren’t I clever?)

       Every so often I go through the notebook and check for brilliance.  What I’ve come to discover, is that I often write down just enough to remind myself of my great idea.  At least, I thought I did.  What, in fact, I’m left with, is just a confusing pile of What The Fuck?

       Here are some doozies, unedited and unabridged:

 

-         “Oranges and the Crayon Superpack” 

   Yeah.  That’s friggin’ hilarious.

 

-         “Semantics”

   ‘Cuz everyone just adores semantics.

 

-         “Lawns”

   Uh, okay.

 

-         “Beer Commercials”

   Some of them are funny, okay.  But a column about them?  I can only assume I was having an off day.  Or was drunk.  Probably drunk.

 

-         “Cats as pets”

   Sure.  Wow.  I mean, I could write a whole book on that.  Oh wait, that’s right.  I’m NOT an aging spinster with an overgrown hatred for the man who jilted me and left a childless hag, embittered by years of jealously stemming from listening to that damn Margaret down the street prattle on about her precious little grandchildren.  Bitch.

 

-         “Xmas decorations and the neighborhood”

   Do not stare directly at this idea.  Its sheer brilliance may cause permanent retinal damage.

       So you see folks, even creative geniuses such as myself aren’t perfect – all the time.

       Gee.  That’s really all I’ve got on this.  I guess this wasn’t such a great idea either.  Maybe I’ll try harder next month.  Maybe.


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