Brain Shrapnel

Some days I have so many thoughts in my head that my brain explodes.  Like today:

I predict one day someone will invent a game called ‘Taser Tag’ and it will be more popular than video games and text messaging is today. 

Once Taser Tag takes the country by storm, childhood obesity will be on the decline. 

Taser Tag could very well be the hope and savior for future generations. 

Trendy two-words phrases that make my skin crawl: Reach out, drill down, peace out, cool beans, my bad, no problem, gluten free and man cave.  No particular reason; just can’t stand hearing them.  Oh, that reminds me.  One more: Go Dawgs.    

The definition of ‘bipolar’ should be broadened to include ‘someone who has lived in both the North and South Poles.’  Then again, other than Santa and his elves no one has ever lived in the North Pole so it’s probably a moot point. 

I know someone who thinks a matter of no practical value is a ‘mute’ point as opposed to a ‘moot’ point.  I tried setting him straight a couple of times but when I realized it was a moot point I just let it go.   He never listened to me anyway; he always pretended to be mute. 

Have you ever looked at something in a store for a really long time, decided not to buy it and once you got home thought about it so much that you ultimately went back and bought it? 

I saw a book published in 1879 at an antique store the other day.  I should have bought it the first time I saw it.  This happened a couple of months ago only that time it was a one-foot tall ceramic clown I saw in a second-hand store.  I went back and bought it because it was only $4 and destined to be a great conversation piece in the future.  That and--I could tell this just by looking at it—the clown is possessed by an evil spirit.

I went back and bought the book published in 1879 (Dr. William Swinton’s New Word-Analysis, if you’re interested) after all.  Here’s a sample: doc’tor: doct + or = one who teaches: hence, one who has taken the highest degree in a university authorizing him to practice and teach.  Scintillating, no?

Speaking of doctors, a while back I suspected I had a hernia.  ‘Go see the doctor,’ said my wife.  ‘All he’ll do is refer me to a specialist,’ said I.  I went to the doctor who said ‘I suspect you have a hernia.  I’m going to refer you to a surgeon.’  I got the bill in the mail for those six minutes I spent with the good doctor: $245 (thank the good Lord for co-pays) was charged to my insurance company.   For six minutes.  I know people who work over 300 times longer than six minutes in a week serving up overpriced java who bring home less than $245.  Yes I’m venting and I can’t even tell in which direction.   

My friend’s three-year old daughter told me she asked Santa for a Barbie pedal car so she could drive from her house (in Atlanta) to see her grandmother in Florida.  I told her if that happened she’d be 10 when she got there. 

I stopped eating red meat in 2010.  Recently I’ve discovered I’m lactose intolerant.  Now cows are dead to me. 

I graduated from high school in 1973 and to this day have not needed to know the square root of a number for any reason whatsoever.  Except for helping my sons with their homework, of course.

I predict one day touch football will be played with Tasers.  It would certainly remove all doubt whether the player carrying the football was actually ‘touched’ or not.  

If you’re helping your children with their homework, don’t mention that learning about square roots is a waste of time.  They will use that logic on any and all things they’re asked to learn for as long as they’re in school.

My grandson told me I wasn’t old because my face wasn’t bumpy and I didn’t walk with a cane.  Then I found out he referred to a Britney Spears’ song as ‘dinosaur old.’  I just hope he never hears me singing along to Smoke on the Water.  

The most frightening book I’ve ever read is Helter Skelter by Vincent Bugliosi.  It chronicles the story of Charles Manson and his ‘family.’  What Charles Manson did—and the reasons he did what he did—will chill you to the bone.  Will reading it make you have nightmares?  Count on it.   

What you DO need to learn in school: Reading, writing, arithmetic and tattoos are forever (so choose wisely, if you’re so inclined). 

Although they rhyme and their spelling is very similar, a quandary and a laundry are nothing at all alike. 

It’s a law in Italy that pizza is cut into six pieces.  Apparently a long time ago a prominent Italian gentleman said he wanted his pizza cut into six pieces because he couldn’t possibly eat eight.  The rest is history.

There will never be a Domino’s, Papa John’s or Pizza Hut in Italy.  Besides the foreboding six-versus-eight slice dilemma, pizza delivery hasn’t even been invented over there yet.

Professional baseball players—the ones making a gazillion dollars a year to play a game—should be Tasered when they strike out.  The same applies to professional basketball players when they miss a free throw and professional football players when they fumble.  If they’re getting paid a gazillion dollars a year they should damn well earn it.  I’d make a comment about professional soccer and hockey players as well but I have no earthly idea what their comparable shortcomings are called.

 

Owners of professional sports teams paying players a gazillion dollars a year are idiots.  This is NOT up for debate simply because it is a fact.  Also because it’s difficult to debate with an idiot. 

I would pay a gazillion dollars to Taser Dallas Cowboy owner Jerry Jones.  I would also need a bajillion year loan at a very low interest rate.        

The square root of nine is three.  If you’re interested, that is.  If not consider it moot.   

Let’s recap what we learned today:

·      Piece: p-I-e-c-e.  Receipt: r-e-c-E-i-p-t.  (The ‘I before e except after c rule’ laid out for you in simple English.  Cut and stick on your refrigerator with a magnet.  Preferably a magnet with a clever saying like ‘I LOVE SCIENCE.’)

·      If you didn’t catch what I did right there you would probably lose a debate with Jerry Jones. 

·      Don’t expect to find a Walmart on the North Pole.  Or a Benihana. 

·      A mute point and a moot point are basically the same thing.  Or perhaps they’re nothing at all alike.  Sorry; don’t care/lost interest. 

·      If you choose to tattoo the name of your steady girlfriend or boyfriend on your body in junior high, you might consider putting it on your ass rather than your cheek.  (Rats; let me start again.)  If you choose to tattoo the name of your steady girlfriend or boyfriend on your body in junior high, you might consider putting it on your cheek rather than your face.  (Dammit, you know what I’m trying to say.)