Of halibut and other things

      Been sick, been having computer problems, been baby sitting, haven't been blogging. But I got told tonight that when I don't blog, it worries people. So I'm blogging so you won't worry. I'm only thinking of you. What a considerate guy I am. Just a saint or something like a saint but with none of that inconvenient goodness and morality.
      Ahem.
      Recently someone asked me how I consistently came up with these hilarious, intelligent, wise, heart-warming, inspiring, cheery and witty posts. (I'm just quoting.) I will tell you right now that I am simply gifted. If you buy that, then I will also sell you some expired lottery tickets.
      Truthfully I suspect my output -- such as it is -- is connected to the warped way I look at the world. My mind is given to literal fantasies, if you can follow that, but if not, don't give up. An example follows so just calm down.
      For instance, suppose someone tells me that his or her heart raced like mad. For most people, that would simply mean that the person speaking was excited. But my mind instantly imagines a heart riding on a horse, the reins held by its little veins and arteries as it spurs its horse to the finish line. Then I have to wonder what it's wearing its spurs on. And what weirdo would make the spurs for a heart, anyway? And spurs need boots ...
      I can while away hours doing this, hours that I should be spending losing weight, cleaning my car, stalking Lucy Lawless, cataloguing my ear wax collection, etc., all the fairly normal activities of someone who was dropped on his head just a few too many times when he was a baby by his jealous siblings, but that is another story and is neither here nor there, but somewhere around Albuquerque.
      Another factor is that I like language, particularly funny words. Like halibut. Now, that is a funny word. Just say it over and over to yourself. Halibut, halibut, ha-li-but. Come on. You're not doing it. Halibut, halibut ... We're not going to continue until you do. Okay, that's better. Isn't that a great word? Next week at work, just say, "Good halibut," instead of "Good morning," and when people ask you how you are, just answer, "Perfectly halibut." Your whole day will be filled with humor, topped off by getting a nice, white coat that will button in an odd way.
      It also helps that we live in a funny world. Well, peculiar is probably the word I should use there, but funny works, too. You can find humor in most things non-Republican, and even Republicans have been known to crack a smile when an endangered species finally croaks. I find that you have to laugh at some things or you will spend all your time weeping and wailing. Frankly, sackcloth itches, and ashes only get in your eyes, and you can quote me if you are so inclined and wish to send me money since this post is copyrighted 2005.
      As for the number of ideas, those come because I read a lot and am interested in almost everything that you can legally be interested in. Right now, I am reading a book on hyperspace, a Southern Sisters murder mystery, a computer book, a book on Biblical archeology and a book on how to have a second date when the police got called on the first one. This gives me a lot of fodder for humor cannons.
      I am also somewhat a klutz in the way that President Clinton was somewhat a liar. I can trip over lint in the carpet and have even stumbled due to the pressure of air molecules. This leads to those wonderful experiences that make great stories afterwards -- Remember the time I fell on the large nun who has holding her pet cat and she threw it in the midst of all those pre-schoolers who were eating chocolate ice cream? -- but are painful when they happen.
      I also have the rare talent of being able to insert both of my feet in my mouth and occasionally have needed to borrow the feet of passing strangers just to fill up that cavernous space that persists in embarrassing me. And no, I will not print any examples. There are enough stories wandering around about me as is.
      And finally it helps that my family is made up of such strongly individualistic people. Not only do we march to a different drummer, but we have often marched to an entirely different band than the rest of the world, a band made up of flutes, kazoos, tubas and perhaps a halibut or two.