Erik J. Erlandson wrote:

>  A Thinking Man -
>
>   It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then
>   to loosen up. Inevitably though, one thought led to another, and soon I was
>   more than just a social thinker.
>
>   I began to think alone - "to relax," I told myself - but I knew it wasn't
>   true.  Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was
>   thinking all the time.
>
>   I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix,
>   but I couldn't stop myself.
>
>   I began to avoid friends at lunch time so I could read Thoreau and Kafka. I
>   would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What is it exactly
>   we are doing here?"
>
>   Things weren't going so great at home either. One evening I had turned off
>   the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at
>   her mother's.
>
>   I soon had a reputation as a heavy thinker.  One day the boss called me in.
>   He said, "Skippy, I like you, and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking
>   has become a real problem. If you don't stop thinking on the job, you'll
have
>   to find another job." This gave me a lot to think about.
>
>   I came home early after my conversation with the boss.  "Honey, " I
> confessed,
>   "I've been thinking..."
>
>   "I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!"
>   "But Honey, surely it's not that serious."
>
>   "It is serious," she said, lower lip aquiver. "You think as much as college
>   professors, and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep on
>   thinking we won't have any money!"
>
>   "That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently, and she began to  cry. I'd
>   had enough. "I'm going to the library," I snarled as I stomped out the door.
>
>   I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche, with a PBS station
>   on the radio. I roared into the parking lot and ran up to the big glass
>   doors...they didn't open. The library was closed.
>
>   To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that
night.
>
>   As I sank to the ground clawing at the unfeeling glass, whimpering for
>   Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye. "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining
>   your life?" it asked. You probably recognize that line. It comes from the
>   standard Thinker's Anonymous poster.
>
>   Which is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA
>   meeting.  At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was
>   "Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the
>   last meeting.
>
>   I still have my job, and things are a lot better at home.  Life just
> seemed...
>   easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking.

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