When I grow tired of serious thoughts about my life, the world, the state of the USA in the Olympics and how best to time running into that cute girl who works on the 22nd floor who never seems to leave at the same time of day, (she is elusive, I’ll give her that), my mind wanders off to more enjoyable spectacles.  I only wish that I could somehow document all these images and make them come alive with Martin Scorcese as my directing assistant.  I maintain that I thought up the idea for the Coca-Cola commercials in which each time someone buys a Coke out of a vending machine, there is a tiny world inside the machine which erupts with colorful activity to prep and usher the tasty beferage out and into the hands of its rightful consumer (thus the overwhelming size of Americans today – there are tiny societies inside vending machines sabotaging our hopes to get thinner).  There is an issue with how exactly the image is presented in my mind.

The Coke and its people as they sabotage American health with glee.

 

I just need contacts in my dreams.

 

It stands to reason that with all these excellent concepts costantly floating around in my head, I could make a lot of money as an advertising genius.  Shockingly, I don’t make a lot of money as an ad visionary.  I have two theories that explain why this is.

(1)  My first theory is that the devil himself holds a personal grudge against me for dissing him on Guitar Hero III.  I apologized profusely to the image of the horned, weeping Lucipher but I was not forgiven and thus the wrath of the powerful demon has driven my professional life into the ground.

(2)  My second theory is that since I am not involved in advertising professionally there is no legitimate way for me to make money off of my surreal profession.  This theory is a bit more probable thought the first one serves a significant purpose as well – to show you how far I’ve gotten in Guitar Hero III.

 

But there is always hope for a person with a wild and productive (can mine be considered productive?) imagination.  The work place is full of unimaginative, dull people who just go through the motions daily, with no real sense of what they’re accomplishing and never a thought as to how to optimize their tedious chores.  A visionary will always have a place in this world.  That’s what your [my] little-leage coach always told you [me] when your [my] stark lack of ability and talent kept you [me] in the girls’ league until even they surpassed you [me].

A lot like my success in tee-ball.

 

 

I suppose the key is to play to your strengths.  So what if the girls were better than you [me] in 2nd grade when you still played tee-ball?  So what if you [I] struck out most of the time despite the stationary ball?  (I swear when the wind picked up It was worse than a knuckle-ball.)  I bet no other kid on that team had visions of home runs [base hits] better than yours.  So maybe all we can take from having the girls eclipse us in tee-ball is that we now know that we’re not going to make it professionally.  But perhaps we learn what our strengths are, too.  Perhaps we meet a Martin Scorcese who can help us bring to life those majestic scenes of sensationalism as you round the bases toward home [get hit by a pitch and hobble down to first base].  Perhaps we can work on correcting that coloring issue with our fantasies.

 

After a nice episode of reminiscing on childhood nightmares, you can return to the issues that matter most – i.e. the gold medal count in Beijing right now (USA is down to China by a few) – and resume praying to the powers that be (Michael Phelps = the power that be dominating) for a swift and convenient USA comeback.

 

 

The powers that be.

The power that be crushed.