Dysfunctional people apparently inspire me. But I still don’t like them

IMG_4913So . . . today wasn’t exactly a prolific day for blogging.  I’d like to say it was because I was primarily engaged in a gainful career with lots and lots of little hopeful, rays of the ultraviolet variety.

But I wasn’t.  I spent eight hours in a schizophrenic, hyper-vigilant fog.  Babysitting the distilled genus of the opportunistic social carp.  Yet, even the worst moments of circling the inside of that paycheck-producing porcelain bowl provide me a few cool ideas.

One of those ideas is the appearance of my third-grade avatar, named Dunning Kreuger.  And while I should not give away the gag here, I will: he will be reviewing notoriously famous books, and maybe movies . . . and clearly . . .not understanding the true pathos contained therein.

Believe it or not, that idea came to me exactly when as I was being flipped off and told I am apparently 95 years old and need to commit a conjugal sin against myself.  I went right out, a half an hour later, and blogged it on my break yesterday.

Up until that moment, I simply thought it was an interpersonal conflict regarding authority. I discovered, though, there is a HUGE creative, inspirational vortex to be found within PS4-addled tantrums thrown by young men men permanently suspended in a mental third trimester.

Tomorrow, I’m hoping that someone throwing their food tray because there are no “seconds” will inspire me to write a voluminous trilogy on the socio-political ramifications of socialized medicine.  Maybe being called “Jack Frost” for the fiftieth time this week to the snotty chortles of a rabid pack of optics-savants-noticing-my-white-hair-and-will-obviously-be writing-for-Jimmy-Kimmel-in-two-weeks will finally be the flash point that pushes me seek out a literary agent and get the ball rolling.

And maybe that last bit is true.  Maybe I’ve finally had enough of being the striped-shirted,  oft-maligned referee of the Northern California bottom-feeder tournament.

I may not be better than them, but I AM–better than that. And I think it’s finally time to do something about it.

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