Why Do Birds Suddenly Appear Every Time I Want To Catch Snowflakes On My Tongue?

While I waste even more time in getting back to obviously engrossing tales of my past life, I thought I would take a moment and address some questions that my extremely loyal readers might have been asking of me.  These questions are completely fabricated but I’m sure that my ever-increasing fanbase will be asking them in the far future.  In any case, I thought I would head the bull off at the pass before the posse comes around the mountain when she comes before the pre-hatched eggs are counted when the cows come home, if you don’t mind me mixing my metaphors, and answer these pre-asked questions.

 

Q: “Who in the hell do you think you are?”

 

A: This is a valid question and I’m glad you brought this salient point up.  First off, I have never been to hell per se, if I may use that Latin phrase to impress you, but I have been to New Ulm, Minnesota.  Residents of New Ulm will realize that this town is not like hell, but closer to a purgatorial limbo of inertness that is also devoid of joy.  However as I am not from there, I hope this evades your question.  Beyond that I believe that I am a reincarnated David Soul, whenever he passes away of course.

 

Q:“Why do you think you deserve the accolades that you’ve manufactured for yourself?”

 

A:  I believe that it is every single person’s right to achieve the goals that they made up for themselves no matter how vapid they or the goals may be.  For instance, if your goal is to wake up in the morning and see how many times you can spell the word “confluctuate” correctly, despite the fictional nature of the word itself, then Godspeed.  I think you should be getting an award of some sort for this achievement.  A plaque or a banner or even a trophy that depicts a banner on a plaque would all be wonderful examples that show off your notoriety.

 

Q: “Do you think anyone actually cares about whatever it is you write?”

 

A:  Well, of course not.  I don’t think anyone truly cares.  Sure, they might love every single syllable or adore every minor thought or concept.  They might even want to elope with some unfinished thought of mine, run to Mexico, and get hitched in Puerto Vallarta, but I think this is all beyond caring.  Also let’s get one thing perfectly clear: my team of writers comes from every corner of the globe.  Of course as globes do not have corners, I don’t know where they actually came from.

 

A: “What is the Marianas Trench?”

 

Q:  Oh, I see what you did there, pretending you’re on Jeopardy! and thinking I wouldn’t notice.  For shame!  Okay, I’ll bite and question in the form of an answer: The only place on earth that plummets farther and deeper than Al Gore’s credibility is this place.  Actually you could pick anything and put it in that space between “than” and “is” in that last sentence.  Here are some selections: “Macaulay Culkin’s career”, “Justin Bieber’s sobriety”, and “the Chicago Cubs”.  But hey, have some fun with it on your own!  And you’re welcome!

 

Q: “If you were trapped in an elevator with Pee Wee Herman, Herman Munster, Ethel Merman, and Hermann Göring, who would you consider eating first in order to survive?”

 

A:  If I had a quarter for every single time this question has arisen over the course of my lifetime, I’d have at least 22½ cents.  I should think the answer is pretty obvious: Pee Wee Herman.  The other three have been dead for quite some time and I shouldn’t think there would be many edible parts left to choose from.  Still this is a fantastic question and I’m extremely glad that you asked it yet again.

 

Q: “Do you have a favorite song from the Eagles?”

 

A:  My first answer would be “Hey buddy, go **** yourself” but that comes off sounding rather harsh and inappropriate for such a family friendly blog such as this.  No, I don’t have a favorite song from the Eagles.  You see I like rock music and the Eagles are a rock band for people that don’t actually like rock music.  Oh, they think they do.  But even the presence of just one of the many Eagles greatest hits albums will denote that they hate rock music with an ever-burning passion that they are unaware of as of yet.  Pray for them.

 

Oddly enough, I like Don Henley’s solo stuff more.  I think Glenn Frey and Joe Walsh are very listenable as well.  It’s just when they come together with the other guy that no one remembers and charge $300 a ticket in order for some sad schlub losers to gather together to pretend to enjoy “Witchy Woman” more than they actually do, a part of my soul withers and dies.  But hey, you go and cry during “Desperado” all you want.  Don’t mind me.  I’ll be just fine, you heartless bastards.

 

Q: “How do you think you can recover from the previous two paragraphs?  Don’t you think you’ve ruined any attempt at goodwill by taking such a harsh irrational stance against something as trivial as the Eagles?”

 

A: Such prescient questions!  And I have decided to answer both of them by taking the rather obvious tack of denial combined with more denial with a hint of delusion.

 

 

With that being said, or rather that being not said, I shall bid all of you adieu.  Thank you for your questions.  Also thank you for allowing me to answer them in my own incomprehensible fashion.  I know that you’ve enjoyed it and I’ve enjoyed you enjoying this experience as well.  Remember that if you’ve enjoyed this half as much as I have, I have enjoyed this twice as much as you!  And once again, you’re welcome!