BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

…Or am I just happy to see you?

Remember your childhood? No… Not back that far. No need for poopy diapers around here. I fling enough poo for all of us.

I mean like back when you were about 8 to 10… Maybe slightly younger, but not too much. You know, kind of like around the age of kids in those sub sandwich commercials where they have all the adults running around but they have little kid kinda voices…

You haven’t seen those? Well damn… They’re actually kinda funny…

Hmmm… Well just stick with me here and maybe we can work this out.

Back when you were a kid, around 8 to 10, did your parents ever say, “Come on, Rusty (or whatever they called you). We’re going for a ride.” Then, drive for about two hours and eventually boot you out of the car on some lonely country road and then speed off?

Okay, okay so mine didn’t do that to me either.

So, how about this instead: Did they ever hustle you into the car, not telling you where you were going, then listen to you gripe for 20 minutes because you wanted to watch Lassie or The Lone Ranger instead of go somewhere that you didn’t even know where or what it was? And then, after you were really good and bored, and extra grumpy, and were just plain being a kid, they broke the news to you that you were on your way to get a new bike… Or a puppy… Or to see a movie you’d just been dying to see… Or Holiday Hill… Or White Castle… Or swimming… Or any one of a million things that would make a kid go ape-shit excited to the point where they wiggle right out of their Superman Underoos?

Well, unless you had a truly horrible childhood then you probably know what I’m talking about, at least on some level, be it big or small.  If you did have a truly horrible childhood, you have my sympathies…

So anyway, why the hell am I rambling about such inane silliness? Well, you see, sometimes it’s exactly like that for writers. We get started on a manuscript (hustled into the car). We write, and write, and write (gripe and get grouchy because we’d rather be looking at porn… Hey, the other shows have lost their appeal at this point)… and besides, even though the story is good, and the prose we have penned is gripping, the final destination is in the hands of the characters and they haven’t yet given up the secret info…

But then, just like our parents who had tortured us with clandestine car rides only to surprise us with serendipitous banana splits from Velvet Freeze,  our characters choose some arbitrary moment to reveal to us where we are going.

You know, like when we are folding the laundry and ruminating about where to take that next chapter.

And, just like the little kids we were then, we wiggle right out of our  Superman Underoos, giggle, pee ourselves, and get all kinds of cotton candy overload excited.

Yeah… Pretty cool, eh?

So… I guess now that I’ve peed my Superman Underoos I should change. Whaddaya think, Batman or Aquaman?

Of course, there’s always Wonder Woman… But those are really designated for when I’m looking at porn instead of writing…

More to come…

Murv

If you are a regular around here, you know that for the most part, Brainpan Leakage is a satire blog. If you aren’t a regular around here, you need only read the description of the blog, and you should be able to figure it out. However, in this day and age of instant gratification and lack of fact checking, something of which I am occasionally guilty myself, there are often kneejerk reactions to my ramblings here.

Of course, most of you are also well aware that like the proverbial morning cup of coffee and a healthy magazine read in the porcelain room, my day simply is not complete until I have offended someone. The earlier the better, IMHO. That way I can knock off work early and relax. And, as we’ve seen in the past, Wednesdays and Sundays whenever a new blog deploys are the most likely days for early dismissal from the salt mines.

That said, let’s get down to something good and offensive.

“What might that be?” you wonder.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” I say. “Blog comments.”

You see, while I do screen the blog comments for the purpose of keeping spam/blam from making it through, I have no problem approving just about anything, even if you disagree with me. Knock yourself out. If we all had the same opinion then the world would be a very boring place.

However, if you elect to do so, you need to bear in mind that I am just like a comic on stage. If you heckle me, I will heckle you right back.

Case in point… Several months ago I posted a blog that offended a young lady. I say lady because she’s female. For all I know she isn’t a lady at all, but I digress. At any rate, she posted a ridiculously pedantic diatribe on the public comment portion of the blog, taking me to task for being a closed-minded idiot, more or less. While she didn’t actually use the word idiot, as I recall, her intent was clear.

So, good on her. No problem. She took me to task in public, so I heckled her in public. Still, being the nice guy that I really and truly am, I heckled an “anonymous” individual. I didn’t name names, nor provide a link to her FB page, or any of the other things I could have done.

And what do you think happened? Yeah, that’s right. She worked herself up a big ol’ mad and sent me a scathing, nasty email. Now, not only was I a closed minded idiot, I was also a big doody-head for having the unmitigated gall to heckle her.

Do I care? No. I don’t. She obviously needs both an anger management class, and to, as my dear friend Doc Witt says, “shop for a sense of humor on eBay.”

So, the moral of the story?

Simple. You don’t get to call me names with impunity. You don’t get to “yell” at me because I posted something you don’t like on MY blog with impunity.

Just in case you don’t know the word impunity, I’ll save you the trip to dictionary.com – it means, “exempt from the detrimental effects, as of actions.”

So, what I’m saying is, if you feel the absolute need to do any of the above, more power to you. Just don’t act so damned surprised, hurt, put-out, emotionally scarred, and otherwise umbraged when I bite back.

In fact, you’d best be glad it’s me and not E K. She does way more than just bite…

More to come…

Murv