Odd Things Pop Into My Head When I Walk The Dogs
No, not like those creepy brain-worm things from Wrath Of Khan. I'm guess it's more accurate to say pop up in my head, like some damned existential toaster. For instance, this little gem, which welled up so fast and hard that I recited most of it out load before I realized I was talking to my dogs, and they were ignoring me. Anyway, here it is for posterity, with minimal editing.
You know what I like? Things that have their own time. How cool is that? Like "go time." It's go time! Action is immediately happening! It's time, and you're gonna go. Granted, you don't know where you're going, or what you'll be doing when you get there, but you're a man of action! Silly details like that don't bother you.
Or Miller time. It's Miller time! That sounds like a great time. I think there's something sort of cool about a beer so crappy, it can alter the very fabric of the Universe. The only thing better than Miller time would be "good beer time," but if that time ever appeared on my clock, I think my liver would leap right out of my body and crawl away under its own power. Like a rat from a sinking ship, my liver.
And then, there's the big daddy of them all, the time that makes all other times pale by comparison. That's right, I'm talking about Hammer time. Man, do you remember when it used to be Hammer time about four dozen times a day? Now it's only Hammer time when you're drunk and looking through your old cassettes, or in the last half-hour of a wedding DJ's set, or on one of those new radio stations with with no announcers that only play the most mortifying hit singles of your childhood.
Here's a question? What would happen if it was Miller time and Hammer time at the same time? I don't know the answer, but I suspect it's something horrifying. Maybe the producers of Fear Factor will try it one of these days, as long as they can find an approriate testicle for the contestants to eat while it happens.
You know what I like? Things that have their own time. How cool is that? Like "go time." It's go time! Action is immediately happening! It's time, and you're gonna go. Granted, you don't know where you're going, or what you'll be doing when you get there, but you're a man of action! Silly details like that don't bother you.
Or Miller time. It's Miller time! That sounds like a great time. I think there's something sort of cool about a beer so crappy, it can alter the very fabric of the Universe. The only thing better than Miller time would be "good beer time," but if that time ever appeared on my clock, I think my liver would leap right out of my body and crawl away under its own power. Like a rat from a sinking ship, my liver.
And then, there's the big daddy of them all, the time that makes all other times pale by comparison. That's right, I'm talking about Hammer time. Man, do you remember when it used to be Hammer time about four dozen times a day? Now it's only Hammer time when you're drunk and looking through your old cassettes, or in the last half-hour of a wedding DJ's set, or on one of those new radio stations with with no announcers that only play the most mortifying hit singles of your childhood.
Here's a question? What would happen if it was Miller time and Hammer time at the same time? I don't know the answer, but I suspect it's something horrifying. Maybe the producers of Fear Factor will try it one of these days, as long as they can find an approriate testicle for the contestants to eat while it happens.