Denial

Today's topic is graphically represented by the following rebus:


You get bonus points if you can puzzle it out, and extra extra credit if your initial reaction to my opening sentence wasn't "Hey now, that there ain't Uncle Rebus, cuz he bees the codger-type dude what tells the story of Br'er Rabbit and such, not some mutant fish-supermodel-infrastructure project!"

I'm sure I'm not the only one who experienced DDFAS (Dream Displacement Focus Anomaly Syndrome), where you're lying in bed thinking about tomorrow's blog and have your thoughts pretty well organized...but then sometime during the night have a dream about a radioactive PeeWee Herman rampaging through Manhattan, Kansas, destroying all in his path as revenge for the crimes against humanity perpetrated by Kansas State University. And when you wake up, all that's left in your mind are images of purple rubble, a profound hope for a brighter future, and an odd desire to expose yourself to Gamma rays. Your blog ideas have vanished along with the night.

But that didn't happen last night. My thoughts were just as clear when I woke up this morning as they were when I drifted off to dreamland. I suspect it's because I had self-medicated to mitigate the discomfort that may have come from the above-mentioned rebus affliction, or possibly from this:



I treated my forearm and elbow area with "Burning Hot Sports Creme", which is a generic version of the IcyHot/BenGay class of treatments that probably have no real healing affect, but smell so strongly that you give yourself a powerful placebo effect just to justify stinking up your entire bedroom. But whether it's imaginary or menthol-based, I have to say that my arm feels minutely better this morning.

[OK, I'll spell them out for the Alec Baldwin fans out there: Carpal Tunnel and Tennis Elbow. See? It's obvious!]

I'm not sure whether it's all the computer work and mousing I do, or whether I've overstressed my elbow joint by crushing my son on the tennis court each weekend, but my right arm has been pretty tight lately. And for some reason, I've been curling my hand up under my pillow when I sleep, and waking up with tingly-numb fingers, too. I've been this way for months, but have ignored it, figuring that all I needed was some time away from the keyboard, and a few more yoga classes to get everything put back together.

Alas, I have not yet won Lotto, and therefore see no recourse but to continue to show up for work. It's tragic, I know, but until those government-influenced ping pong balls recognize that their highest mission is to free me up to pursue a life of leisure and luxury, I seem destined to remain bound to the work-a-day world. Sigh.

Of course, I suppose the other option would be for the readers of this blog to pitch in to donate a total of million dollars to the cause. That would mean that each of you would only need to contribute a mere $500K, and I could stop slaving away for da man, and could keep you entertained with all the latest Urkel-related news and musings. Give it some thought, please. Thanks.

Anyway, the naptha-fueled thoughts that wandered through my brain last night were these: Hasn't the Blue Man Group stumbled onto the perfect way to keep salaries under control? Talk about each member being easily replaceable! If one of them decides to ask for more money, the Head Blue Man just has to say, "Dude, I can dump paint on any old goober off the street, stick him in your spot, and nobody will ever know the difference. You work for minimum wage, or you're outta here!"

Just try holding out from training camp, generic-wad! And there'd be no need for a trading deadline, either...everyone is interchangeable. It's a brilliant idea!

Of course, it wouldn't work if people had to talk, say, like in the movies or on the radio. Which brings me to the other topic I was thinking about: Why haven't we seen Michael Dorn lately?

Oh, I can understand why Will Wheaton and Denise Crosby disappeared after Star Trek-TNG; they were pretty annoying. But Mr. Dorn is a good-looking fellow with a great voice and a dominating screen presence -- Why are people like Jude Law, Matthew McConaughy, and Jake Gyllenhall working when they completely suck?

All I can figure is that the Sci-Fi convention circuit is more fun and more lucrative than being an active screen star. So I guess if that's true, then I can't blame Worf for giving up thespianism. But if they ever do a biopic called "The Bo Jackson Story", I can't think of anyone better to star in it, can you?

We'll keep our fingers crossed. In the meantime, please remember to take frequent mouse breaks, have a great day!