All Encompassing Stupidity

I sit here with my first bottle of root beer as I type this monologue. I swear to the Gods that have created Altoid sours; I have never consumed root beer before. My belly is behaving like a detergent commercial with suds bubbling in all conceivable directions as the outer layers try to absorb the fireworks in this deep chasm. I’m waiting for a render to finish. My coffee cup stares back at me blankly like an ex-girlfriend who was once upon a time a heartthrob and now has manifested as the squadron leader of team undead. Ah, the afternoon breezes outside floats across like jingles for an antibacterial soap with a really cute blonde thrown in for grease appeal. What has dish soap, antibacterial hand wash or for that matter my new Donald duck clock got to do with beautiful women? You might ask… If you haven’t yet clocked in, let me pose the question for you. While you scratch the silly, flaky scalp of your head wondering what it is, I will go on to explain a few things about life.

Life isn’t an Eskimo pie like Dennis Leary claims. It maybe so for the successful architect who walks around in Armani fatigues clutching the plans for his multi-million dollar ski resort project. For Neanderthals like you and me, life is the moment before sunrise when you wake up with your anatomical lunch bag groaning for a crumble coffee cake and finding that your pet pooch has left a pee stain on the rug that sketchily resembles the map of Mogadishu. From the point the alarm blares in your ears and you dance your way in your latent half-nakedness into the shower to fighting traffic and women on the free way, it’s just a warm up. I’m not a misogynist, but the concept of cell phone wielding women being thoroughbred drivers seems to be playing havoc with my ability to comprehend rocket science.

Now to the common folks, the carnage continues… I meet people. I like them, I love them and sometimes I want to maim them. Why such a caustic disposition, you might add? I’m no wise man. The last time I gave somebody good advice, he went home and tried to make a pet out of a plastic lobster. I don’t think he was successful. Especially when the cops arrived and slung him into the comfortable backseat of their patrol car for running around naked around the neighborhood claiming to be Archimedes. So, I tend to be middle of the road with my views. Then there are the Isaac Newtons and figs; our contemporaries who claim to know it all but can’t summarize why cats discuss economic issues with an English accent. Sometimes you may come across an individual whose intellect parallels the craftiness of a box of rubber bands and sometimes a lady who’s a heartbreaker but deserves to live with three broccoli sprouts when the world ends.