Tuesday, October 15, 2002

I don't know if it was that last eyeball thing, which may have proved too disturbing for some of the more normal viewers of this site, but I just haven't been able to remember anything to write down lately.

Well, that's kind of a cop-out, really. When I write these little blurbs on My Life as an American Gladiator, I don't have anything grandiose planned out. There are no flowcharts. There are no ratios. I know that's probably obvious from the level of discourse generally seen here, but anyway, that's how I do it.

Sometimes, I'll leave myself little notes about something I was thinking about, so that a month later I'll find a post-it note that says "Footloose Dies", like I just found here on my desk, or "Clown injection" or something equally nonsensical. Seems like lately I've even been forgetting to write out the post-it notes. Too lazy for scrawled, indecipherable notes. That's ennui for you.

I had one brilliant thought today that combined the concept of a salad bar with the "claw" game designed to enfuriate arcade-goers, but I am pretty sure that if I think about it any more it'll turn out to be not really a very good idea, so let's leave it at that. For starters, there's the sanitation issue. And how much bleu cheese dressing can you really pick up with one of those claw things anyway?

Not much.

So, in the interim, here's a post that's been sitting in the "drafts" section of Blogger Pro for just about 6 months:

You know what's tons of fun? If there's a guy behind you on the road who wants to go really really fast in his souped up Nissan, go really slow. They love that. This is especially amusing because you know that they have nowhere special to be. This was confirmed to me recently when just such an incident occurred, causing the other driver to eventually roar past me, tires squealing, spoiler bravely spoiling, and pull into the McDonald's parking lot that was perhaps fifty feet away. I pictured the driver's tiny proto-mind flashing with images of the sort you find on McDonald's registers: "Must have Filet-O-Fish! Must Have Filet-O-Fish! Ngggggh! VW going speed limit in front of me! Must crush! Filet-O-Fish!!!" and so on.

I always wonder what would happen if I was ever actually confronted by one of these car guys in the flesh. I think I could probably convince them that my car goes one thousand miles an hour, if I use a couple of big words that they haven't heard before.

Well, there you have it. A little snippy maybe, but that's all you get today. Until I can get this salad bar claw game thing fleshed out, that is.


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