A weird thought I had the other day, what if dogs exploded spontaneously when they died? All of their other positive traits like loyalty would still be the same, except they just blow up upon their demise. Not a huge explosion, just enough to blow out all the windows in your living room. The stress in the vet’s waiting room would surely rise another notch. “Mrs. Johnson? If you could just bring your dog around the counter, the doctor is ready to see… Hold it. Has he stopped breathing? Clear the room! Everyone duck!” <poof> “No need to worry, folks. It was just a shih-tzu.” Would a dog still be man’s best friend, or would we hunt them all down and destroy them? Most likely, it would end up being a highly-rated hunting show on the Outdoor Channel.
A lot of people say, “There’s no point in learning algebra since you’ll never use it again your entire life.” Normally, I would agree with that statement. Then I started wondering about how big a one-pound monarch butterfly would be. What if it turned out to be the size of a compact car? Would people be scared of them? Would the wind just totally flip them around uncontrollably? Would butterfly collectors need harpoons to pin them up behind sliding glass patio doors? Then I realized I would need algebra to figure out the answer. Unfortunately, like most people, I don’t understand algebra; so I guess I’ll never know. (To be honest, I did just try to figure it out. According to my calculations, a one-pound butterfly would have a two-hundred-foot plus wingspan. I’m pretty sure that’s not right, but it’s fun to imagine an insect with wings wider than a B-52 bomber.)
You know what would be really cool? If instead of falling down from the sky, what if snow and rain seeped up from the ground? It would just be another calm sunny day, when out of nowhere the grass starts getting wet. I think it would be interesting to watch puddles form magically in the gutters and snowbanks slowly rise out of the lawn. You wouldn’t need to worry about a lack of visibility while driving anymore, so your car wouldn’t need wipers. The best part would be that since it’s now impossible to predict the weather, we could get rid of all the annoying thunderstorm warnings that take up a third of the screen during our favorite shows. Seriously, if you’re watching TV, you’re most likely near a window and would know if bad weather was coming. And if you aren’t near a window, you’re in the basement which is where you would go during a bad storm anyway. Why do so many things in life make no sense?
Something else to add to my list of things I don’t know but refuse to look up on Google: do peanuts grow on a tree or under the ground? I’m guessing you have to dig them up, but I like the idea of walking down a road in the deep South, whistling a little tune, and every once in awhile just reaching up and snagging a peanut from a branch overhead. At least, that’s how I hope it works.
Neal Armstrong must have been the toughest dad to have while growing up. No matter how great a father’s day gift you gave him, you just know in the back of his head he’s thinking, “Nice, but not as cool as landing on the moon.”
On the news recently, there was a television report about a commercial airliner that had experienced some horrendous turbulence while in flight. As I expected, someone had whipped out their iPhone and recorded the flight attendants and loose baggage being tossed around violently. This got me to thinking. In that sort of situation, the possibility of me dying would have to be pretty high. Do I really want a video of my own death floating around out there on the internet? I would just as soon my family remember me the way I am now, and not me hysterically pleading with God to take someone else instead.
I saw a taped performance of Bruce Springsteen the other day, and I realized something while watching him sing/scream into the microphone. This is his job. At that moment, when he was counting off, “1-2-3-4,” in the middle of “Born to Run,” he was at work. And I thought how great would it be to have a job where at times you gave your absolute all – emotionally, physically, spiritually. A profession where you could let it rip from the absolute depth of your creative soul and totally bare your inner-most self. I suppose I could try at my workplace, but I’m afraid I would just end up being maced.