Sleep. The great equalizer.
The rich, the poor, the middle-class, the homeless, the chimney sweeps: they all sleep.
Sure, rich people might dream about setting famous paintings on fire and decapitating gypsies; while poor people have nightmares about gigantic lobsters chasing them through the streets with a heard of cows in wheelchairs grading math tests in the background. Also, rich people sleep in nice beds filled with the feathers of dodo birds and pterodactyls while poor people sleep on boards with rusty nails and bits of broken glass. But, for the most part, we're all the same in sleep.
I for one, love sleep. The world frowns on sleeping all day and only waking up to down some ludes and protein bars. Something about not contributing to society.
Everyone I know is always happier when they're asleep.
Most of my dreams involve me having the power of flight. However, it is generally not true flight, but just the ability to run and jump really far and high and kinda hover.
Supposedly dreams about flying mean
this. Since I have trouble staying in flight in my dreams it means that I have trouble controlling my circumstances or people are standing in my way or some other hobnobbery. So you better quit standing in my way or I'll be pissed off.
This weird thing happened today. I was pulling out of my parking space at the mall, and then some lady yelled at me. I rolled down my window and I was like, "What?" and she said in her super-bitch hick-ass country accent,
"Why dontcha hit mai bumperrr next time!" Everyone knows that I'm the greatest driver and I was atleast many feet away from her car at any point. The fact that I have a big sticker on my back windshield that says
"Starfleet Academy" reaffirms the fact that I am elite. This wench probably spent too much time in bowling alleys and with her legs spread in her uncle's tool shed to have ever been educated on the powers of Starfleet. She had this old bag with her that musta been her mom. The offender resembled an overstuffed scarecrow and she had a haircut typical to the really cheap trailer park prostitutes. I said, "Are you out of your mind?" Then she stared at me with this stupid frown and scowl that could only be pulled off by your most historic hillbillies.
Then I drove away. It was only a few minutes later that the shock of the situation wore off and my emotions morphed into pure unadulterated rage. Unfortunately, it was way too late to do anything at that point. Kinda like when George only thought of the awesome comeback,
"Well the jerk store called and they're running out of you!" hours after he needed it.
I don't know if it's just people in the south, or if most normal people are dumb as hell. Everytime I go to someplace like Wal-Mart, I'm surrounded by people that shouldn't be let out of a cage, much less allowed to procreate.
I think people are stupid everywhere, but the southern hick accent just seems to highlight it more. The slow drawl and hillbilly pronunciations of certain vowels and syllables and some of the redneck vernacular just automatically equate to stupidity and lack of education when heard. British accents sound sophisticated and intelligent while Southern accents sound moronic and low-class.
Here's an example of how a Brit and a Hick would talk about doing the same numbskull thing, but they come off so differently.
Redneck:
"Hey man let's tie our tallywhackers to that there ceilin' fan then we'll drank some RC cola and shave the cat's ass."Brit:
"Hello old chap, why don't we attach our penises to the overhead fan? Perhaps afterwards we could enjoy some off-brand soda and groom the feline's hindquarters?"
Oh well. On another vein entirely...
It's amazing the power of memory. I was sitting and enjoying the 1812 Overture when it reached the well known epic climax. This stirred such memories of the ending of Caddyshack that I became choked up with excitement. Keep in mind that Caddyshack is one of the 80's comedies that was a mainstay of my early years.
We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.
Post a Comment