Head case
Don't try to get inside my head. It's a dangerous place. An LA freeway populated with Boston drivers. You'll get run over in there. Blindsided. It's fraught with danger, I tell you. There are hundreds of brain cells inside my head whose job it is to fully understand what the word fraught means and whether it could be used in an expression other than “fraught with _____.” That's how compartmentalized it is inside my cranium! There is an entire section of my brain that has for years been contemplating whether life would be worth living without french fries (right brain, philosophy section, subsection fast food). And another section, over in R & D, looking at new methods for pushing out those annoying songs that you can't stop humming once you've heard them. Last week these cells were experimenting with dispatching the Elton John song “Philadelphia Freedom” by visualizing Tammy Fay Baker naked and singing the lyrics in the shower, mascara streaming down her face. Unfortunately, involuntary convulsions ensued and the experiment had to be abruptly halted. That's the kind of danger you face if you start messing around inside my skull. Then there are the rogue brain cells. Those are the ones you really need to watch out for. The ones with their own crazy agenda. Just yesterday a small group of maybe ten brain cells somehow worked its way front and center in my consciousness demanding to know more about that brown spot that is developing in the front lawn. I don't have time for this, I told them. And I didn't! At that very moment I was working with the right brain, organizational section, subsection excessive children's toys cluttering the basement, on a management plan involving a bonfire. But there was no denying the brown spot commando cells. Next thing I knew I was out in my yard contemplating the application of green spray paint to cover up this blight. Sex. Just mention the word and every cell in every brain on the planet is brushing its teeth and combing its hair. I have about a bazillion brain cells dedicated to fear, each with its own cause. Very vocal, these guys. What about avian flu? Should we be worried about avian flu? Nah, the research is still... How about now? Like I was trying to tell you... Well, how about now? And so it goes with fear. At this very moment, it's quiet in my brain. Morning's are often like this. Peaceful. Calm. Without all the cerebral static, I can actually start making sense of things, one issue at a time. The committee on french fries just presented its final report. Apparently life is worth living without certain varieties of french fried potatoes. The committee pointed to those seasoned curly fries as an example. However, fresh homemade shoestring fries served piping hot with plenty of salt, those are to die for. Case closed. So, what’s next? What about avian flu? Oh boy.
8:45:53 AM 
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