Psychobabble 5
The Inevitability of Zen in a Psychobabblic Theme
 
By Gustavo Belotta and Simeon Johnson
 

 If a giraffe fell in the woods, and no one was there to hear it, would it make a sound?  I think that the sound it would make would be something like "OOOOOOOOHHHHHH SHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIITTTT!"  Somehow this relates to cartoons, except that cartoons are funny.  A broken giraffe is not funny.  A broken giraffe is a sad thing.  And yet we laugh.  We think cartoon characters are funny when they're being electrocuted.  There they are in that ninety degree angle that cartoon characters adopt when they're being electrocuted, volts surging through their cartoony veins, and we laugh...we laugh.  Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a cartoon person?  It would be really cool, except for the fact that you wouldn't be real.  It would be even better to be in a B-Movie because I've noticed that B-Movies are a lot like parallel parking:  The closer you try to get yourself to the curb, the farther off into the middle of the street you seem to be.  Not that the middle of the street is a bad place, but you will get into an accident and I don't have insurance.  That's what we need, "Oh Shit!" insurance so when you really screw up, no matter how badly, you will always be covered.  I think that it would make life much more simple, not having to worry about the "Oh Shit" type stuff that happens on a daily basis.  For example, you walk into a room and the girl you are currently romantically interested in is there but you are with a girl that you are also romantically interested in.  You feel torn and have an indecisive moment where you wonder 'what am I going to do?'  Worse yet, you don't see the first girl until after you pass her and you think that she thinks that you ignored her on purpose.  "Oh Shit" insurance will automatically kick into effect.  A doctor would instantly arrive and give you a certified paper saying you have reocurring amnesia or some other type of thingy.  Another aspect of the "Oh Shit" insurance would be for those times when you stick your big foot into your oversized mouth.  A wee bit of Scotch tape materializes out of thin air to plug up the gaping pie-hole in your head.  Like when you see a woman and she has a slight bulge in the tum tum and you say "so, how far along are you?"  That piece of tape will come slamming into your faux pas spewing orifice because hey, she's not pregnant!
 There's insurance for everything these days, from life insurance to car insurance to cartoon insurance, insurance from lightening and tornadoes, but what happens when U.F.O.'s come landing on your front lawn, threatening to laminate every first born male child?  What then, Mutual of Omaha?  What then, Farmers Insurance Group?  What then Royball and State Farm and all the others who take our money by the wagon-loads, "just in case?"  What happens when the hand of God swoops down and swats little Timmy up against the side of the house?  Who the hell's going to clean that up?  And what about the whole Armageddon thing?  Does life insurance cover that?  And what the hell is this whole "life insurance" thingy all about, anyway?  Does it insure that you will live?  Until when?  Why, until you die, of course.  So why isn't there death insurance?  Hasn't anyone taken the afterlife into consideration?  It could be called afterlife insurance.  I'll bet you a roll of griptape that that concept would sell bigtime!  Just think of how many suckers there are out there who would fork over an extra five to ten bucks a month "just in case."  It's a money making investment.  Speaking of vests, I just happen to be wearing a vest at this precise moment.  Oh, not right now, but at 3:57 a.m. on December 5.  Also, I'm wearing a revealing little teddy, but I won't tell you much about that, except that it matches my vest and I've gotten quite a few proposals in this little number.  Hot hot hot.  Muy macho!
 I've often wanted to experiment with internal organs, but I haven't got the guts.  A reverse biology beam would be a neat weapon for the military to try to invent.  Imagine all of our countries greatest enemies forced to put the the stuff they shat back up through the orifice they originally shat it out through.  They would probably stop their terrorist attacks just from the sheer threat of the Reverso-Ray.  If it was developed as a personal defense weapon, imagine how crime-free our streets would be.  How could a mugger look his victim in the eye after being subjected to the awesome power of this device?  If I were put in charge of the governmental department of weapon doohickeys, I think I could come up with some pretty interesting stuff.  You scoff, perhaps, but if Jimmy Carter made it in Washington D.C., why not I?  I believe that I've got the right kind of sick mentality to design these devices, if not for destructive purposes, then to keep our 7 11's free from enemy attack.  At the very least I could get them into the Victoria's Secret Christmas catalog.  Everyone needs a hobby.  A horse is a horse, of course, of course, unless you refer to a hobby horse, that is of course unless the horse is a purple hobby horse.  And if you were in the habit of associating with Techincolor barnyard animals, would that make you a purple cowpoke?  What the hell is a cowpoke, anyway?  Do we really want to know?  They don't call a shephard a sheep-poke, that's a given.
Two by two they climb the ark
One by one they disembark
All save one of each wear slain
To go in Noah's Ark Chow Mein

 Hey everybody, it's Dinkle Time!  Yes, it's that time in the story where we Dinkle about incessantly.  And today you're in for a special treat, the Dinkle Lightening Round!  Our first contestant is a school marm from Rock Ridge, Alabama, whose sole purpose in life is to be on one cheesy game show before she dies, Elly Jo Bob Randy Reese Cet Mae, come on down!  And her challenger is a Bio-engineering mechanic for a major international Computex think tank.  His hobbies include calculating the last digits of pie in his head, rewriting encyclopedias and translating them into 40 major dead languages of the world, and he's the little bundle of joy of the producer of this very show, please give a very warm Dinkle Time welcome to Gary Dinkle Junior.  Question number one.  This one goes to Gary.  Gary, your question is:  What is the name of the Dinkle family cat?  You have 5 seconds to answer.  Yes, Bootsy is indeed the correct response and Gary earns 100 dollars.  The next question goes to Elly Jo.  Elly Jo, your question is:  How many eyes does a potato have?  Time's up, I'm sorry, Gary?  That is absolutely right and Gary earns another 100 dollars.  We have to break for a word from our sponsors now and we'll return.  Don't change that dial, because when we come back, we'll have more of the same.
 CLICK.
 Television rots your brain.  But then again, candy rots your teeth.  Is there something going on between those two that we should know about?  Maybe my plans for Television Candy would be a bad idea.  But hey, who would ever believe that I was capable of a good one?  Does anyone have a good one or are they just different ones?  And if I kept referring to ones long enough, you would completely forget what the ones were to begin with, and if I just kept on writing, eventually I would end up at the beginning, and the next question I would ask would probably be something really weird and trivial like If a giraffe fell in the woods, and there was no one there to hear it, would it make a sound?

Hugs and kisses with love and sarcasm.
The Psychobabbler
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
CopyrightŠ 1993ish, 1994, 1998 Psychoknot Press
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