My MOROSE BRAIN has been giving me trouble for the past day
or so. Actually, I think it dates back
to late last week, when a very important record I had going came to an end,
while another continued right on. Both
records represent personal worsts, and if the results had been opposite for
each, I would not now be wrestling with Morose Brain. Nevertheless, my brain doesn’t much care for
any of you right now, although you still have my undying affections. Let’s meet tomorrow night at Cole’s and we
will all sing the good songs and get roaring happy.
For now, I will re-post one of the better nights my brain
gave me within the last year, just so you know my Regular Brain is still in
there. That’s right, what follows is a
product of my regular brain. Want to
learn more, ladies? Be at Cole’s
tomorrow night at 9:00!
"So last night I had a great Dawn of the Dead dream.
It started with the Zombie Apocalypse, at night, on the
manicured front lawns of a suburban neighborhood. I wasn’t one of the Zombies, which is unusual
for my dreams. Usually, whether it’s a
vampire dream or a ghost dream, or whatever, I am the thing it is about. Revealing, huh?
Anyway, this time it was Zombie Apocalypse, and I was one of
the live ones who were running away. I
was trying my best to remember everything I learned about surviving the Zombie
Apocalypse from Dawn of the Dead. I
would probably have done better if I tried to remember the lessons from
Zombieland. They were more useful. But I belong to certain generation, and our
Zombies were slow and went to the mall.
We ran across these suburban lawns, fleeing the Zombies in
the dark, and dodged into this super modern house. We wanted to hide from the Zombies, but the
house was so modern that it had floor to ceiling windows in every room. Even when we went to the basement there was a
sliding glass door that looked out onto the back yard. So the Zombies were all pounding on the
windows and breaking through. We had to
make a run for it.
An Old Lady Zombie almost caught me, but I got away. Revealing, huh!?!?
Then it was morning, and me and This Other Guy got on
mountain bikes and went out exploring.
In MY dreams Zombies only feed at night. They were Vampire Zombies! Me and This Other Guy went down to the old
high school parking lot and rode the mountain bikes around. There was a long set of stairs and we rode
down them. It was really fun, and My
Brain really ratcheted up the whole dream-falling sensation for max
effect. It was pretty awesome.
Then My Brain decided to return to the Zombie theme.
We were all in the kitchen, cooking spaghetti sauce (not
surprising because I made some exquisite red sauce for supper last night. Ate it over Gnocchi with a tasty Chardonnay
that FozSis sent me. That’s right, you
arrogant pigs! I drank Chardonnay with
red sauce. Just try and stop me!).
Well, we were cooking and the Old Lady Zombie was starting
to get really affectionate with me. She
wanted to sniff my arm. That didn’t seem
right to me on a couple of levels. But
then there was this fastidious Jerko Guy (like Dr. Smith on Lost in Space) who
was all “Oh, you have to let the Zombie smell your arm because you have to
respect your elders.” I said “Listen,
Jerko. You’re the one who let the Zombie
in the kitchen.” And then I listed a
couple of other things about him that I didn’t like.
Then I did this:
I said, “Hey, Bob, shoot this guy,” and Bob took out a gun
and shot the guy in the head. There were
pretty good special effects on that one, I’m telling you. Then Bob turned back to the red sauce and
kept stirring. You have to do that or it
burns. Revealing, huh!?!?
Then I had a moral conundrum. Why did I order Bob to kill the live guy, and
leave the Old Lady Zombie upright?
1. Do Zombies outrank fastidious assholes?
2. Do I really respect my elders?
3. Am I so starved for affection that even Old Lady Zombies
seem pretty hot, provided they show some interest?
Only one of these statements is true, and I think you know
which one it is.
Finally, go to Cole’s.
I need to know what you think of me."
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