A Small Defenestration of my "Talent"

I didn't see anything interesting today. It's odd, because I find myself interested in SOMETHING every day.

Now, you would think that in the absence of interesting external stimuli, a creative mind such as mine (if you can call it that) would simply manufacture something interesting. For example, I might imagine that a police car cut me off on the way to work and screeched to a halt, disgorging thirty nine rubberized ballerinas with badges and night sticks.



You would further suppose that I would go on to imagine that each of them flung their night sticks into the air where they underwent a metamorphosis into a hundred copies of Amazing Spider-Man #129 (First appearance of The Punnisher) printed on the head of a pin by a VERY patient calligrapher with a facial tick and poor euclidean geometry.

After a while, my mind would then generate a spontaneous concert of duets by Donnie Ozmond and Ozzy Osbourne, performing the haunting love songs of WHAM! in Gregorian Chant.  Naturally, the concert would be open only to direct descendants of the Katzenjammer Kids and their flamingos.

A huge success, the concert would eventually have been adapted into a mini-series on HBO, but re-imagined as a combination Western / Astrophysics Seminar starring Delta Burke and Delroy Lindo as a wacky husband and wife marionette team masquerading as secret agents and saving the world from the National Automobile Dealers Association.

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I guess what I'm saying is that my imagination appears to be at a low ebb today.  Otherwise I could envision things like Ancient Egyptian professional wrestlers eating pie dipped in Pepto Bismol to save time.

I would conjure magical defenestrators who kindly clean up the tattered remains of fish suppers dropped from great heights.

I'd be able to fantasize about ping pong championships played on the moon where the competitors are so far apart they can't even see each other and the fans have to sit in orbiting bleachers with hot dog vendors with nine arms and a prehensile eye stalk growing from between their toes.

I might even be of a mind to fixate on the possibility of rust-colored windmills being sold at auction to fund an internal affairs investigation into corruption in the Cheeze-Whiz commodities market which has funded the processed-cheese-food-Illuminati for thousands of years and has only now been exposed for the inhumane dandilion-waterboarding monsters that they are; regularly knitting sweaters from non-hypo-allergenic yarn and maliciously donating them to Rambo impersonators with tragically sensitive skin.

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But like I said, today I got nuthin'.  Sorry.




-Sage Words