Dilly-Dally Drive
I have been dawdling myself silly. Those in the know, know that it’s been over three months since I completed a step in my humor learnings (I Can Learn To Be Funny?). Why? The next assignment sounds easy: take a photo, write a funny caption for it. Unfortunately there’s a block in my mental parts the size of Connecticut, hermetically sealing off “photograph” and “caption” into separate hemispheres. The Corpus Callosum Bridge linking ’em is closed indefinitely for repairs, causing a three-mile metaphor pile up. I don’t know what I’m saying here, but I plan to get back in gear and put the pedal to the metal. Anyone lend me $50 for gas?
(Speaking of corpus collosum: you ever read about split-brain injuries in the book, The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat by neurologist Oliver Sacks? Fascinating stuff.)
(Speaking of corpus collosum: you ever read about split-brain injuries in the book, The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat by neurologist Oliver Sacks? Fascinating stuff.)
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