I thought I felt funny when I woke up this morning. It would be understandable, the air-conditioner that cools the bedrooms had died on Independence Day making sleep nearly impossible. The choices were to try to sleep in the recliner downstairs where it was cooler or try to tolerate the heat and sleep upstairs. The recliner lulls me to sleep with a false sense of comfort, but I wake up stiff and with obvious lack of circulation to my distal extremities. The weather outside had changed from a heat index of over one hundred to a shower and mid-seventies, so I opened every upstairs window and hoped for a breeze. I got humidity instead of a breeze. Sleep was almost impossible.
Last night although the air-conditioner was fixed, I had a lot on my mind, so it was later than normal when I fell asleep. It would not be unexpected to feel a little funny after such events. However, after a cup of coffee I realized I really didn’t feel funny.
I have no problem writing serious blogs, trying to be insightful and philosophical, but sometimes I just prefer to write something funny. Too bad I don’t feel like it. When I wrote a series of satire columns for Administrative Radiology I had a cast of characters and a stage to put them on. The column was placed in a fictional hospital called Pandemonium General and once I thought up a scenario the story was easy to write. I knew the characters’ personalities and foibles; when one writes a monthly column for nearly 20 years that’s bound to happen. I just started to write, explained the opening scene and the characters led me from there. Sometimes the columns would make me laugh as I wrote them.
But unfortunately, even though I thought I felt funny when I woke up, I don’t now.
They say a sculpture takes a block of stone and just removes all the pieces that don’t look like they’re part of the statue. A writer, on the other hand, is faced with a stack of blank paper (okay, a blank computer screen; work with me here, images are important!) but a writer can’t just remove everything that doesn’t look like a word.
Okay, maybe those who write the United States tax code do.
So, since I don’t feel funny my options are limited. I could write an essay on the how one of the smallest components in an air conditioner – the capacitor – is important enough to bring the entire system to its knees. I could expound on how that is a metaphor for life.
I don’t think so.
I could write a sonnet. However, given how the lack of air conditioning has affected my wife, I do not believe she would be receptive to such an effort. She’s seen my poetry – count it among your blessings that you have not.
I could write a treatise explaining the current economy and what it would take to correct it. That would be easy since no one has a clue as to what is going on or what will happen. I might even stumble on to something useful out of pure dumb luck. Unfortunately, I didn’t enjoy economics in college and the condition never improved. Besides, after the Laffer curve and the trickle-down effect I think all the funny parts have been taken.
So, in desperation…
Rush Limbaugh, Al Gore and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad walk into a bar.
The bartender looks up and says, “What is this, some kind of a joke?”