At the event of his 80th birthday, George Burns (this happened after he was God, but before he died) declared that he felt the same at 80 as he did when he was 17, which tells us what a pathetic 17 year old he was, and then everyone in the audience laughed; it was back when jokes were funny and comedians focused on making people laugh.
After pondering and ruminating about the universe for a considerable amount of time, and waking up on my living room floor for the third time this week, I have come to the conclusion that I really need to do something better with my life. Or, maybe my life needs to do something better with me. Either way, one of us is letting the other down, and it needs to stop.
Whenever friends or family are leaving after visiting me, I always say to them, “drive careful.” I know it should be, drive carefully, but I like the casual informality the grammatical irregularity creates—be careful. Still, I wonder if as they are driving home, they ever think to themselves, “I could recklessly run that yellow light and arrive 20 seconds sooner, but I promised Doug that I would drive careful.” And then they stop, just as a concrete truck plows through the intersection. Certain death averted.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about time travel. If I were to invent only one thing in my lifetime, I want that one thing to be a time traveling machine. Unfortunately, I already know I don’t invent one, because the first thing I would do with it would be to go back in time and tell myself how I invented time travel. Non causality sucks the surprise out of things like that.
Babies are so stupid they poop in their pants. They don’t even try to make it to a toilet, they just sit there and poop themselves. Then they cry that they pooped themselves and expect an adult to clean them up. If you were to release 60,000 babies into a corn field, you could come back 28 days later and they would not have picked even a single cob; not one! They aren’t even good for farm labor. Stupid babies. Children of the Corn wasn’t a documentary, I guess.
—DG.
Inside Doug's Head 