Do you ever have a revelation right as you’re falling asleep? Where something just kind of hits you and then a second later you’re out? For instance, the other night I was drifting off when it struck me that I really don’t want to be killed by a crocodile. The whole ripping and tearing and drowning, I’m just not interested.
These little eureka moments on the threshold of sleep, somnolent epiphanies perhaps, usually disappear, replaced the next morning by a feeling of loss, like something was in your grasp and then faded away. But not always. Just like my Archimedes moment with the crocodiles the other evening, this morning I woke up with a similar sensation. Let me explain.
Last night I went to bed a little confused after reading Jeff’s post. I mean, he knows I like girls and I wondered why he would make insinuations about my sexuality. It just didn’t make sense to me. I know it had nothing to do with what I posted the other day because it’s obvious that I’m just trying to help him with a very real problem. But as I sank into sleep with these thoughts orbiting around my head, awareness suddenly exploded like a supernova.
Let me take you back a little. Those of you who read this blog regularly or know Jeff well undoubtedly also know that he is infatuated with Asia. The art, the languages, the religions, the peoples. There is no aspect he does not love.
But, if you follow pop culture, you realize that within this arena there are barely understood subcultures, fringes on which things happen that are often hard to fathom. And if you watch 30 Rock or read the New York Times you have become acquainted with possibly the most incomprehensible subculture.
Having watched this episode of 30 Rock just the other day, it’s no surprise that both the show and the article were on my mind as I went to bed. And when that mixed together in my head with a comment that a reader made the other day about substituting a blow-up doll in place of a girlfriend for Jeff, well, I had my eureka moment.
Yes, that’s right. I could barely believe it myself but all signs point to Jeff being in a long-term relationship with some sort of body pillow. The lack of a girlfriend. The callously strewn about accusations. The down feathers that always seem to be stuck in his hair. All are signs pointing toward the inescapable truth.
Now, I am unable to comment on the veracity of reports that this body pillow sports an Albert Pujols jersey. And I almost certainly do not believe the recent rumor that this pillow may actually be Jeff’s common-law wife. That being said, it would explain a lot.
Really, though, I’m here to be a friend and that’s why I just want to say, “Jeff. It’s all right. You can come clean. You’re among friends and we support you.” So, how about it Mr. Lung? Wouldn’t you feel better being able to live your life out here in the open with the rest of us?
It’s still early in Spring Training but so far the Cardinals are
looking as rough as you thought they might. Similarly, the great
non-white hope of the Republican party, Bobby Jindal, faltered
astonishingly in his first nationwide address the other night, drawing
unfavorable comparisons with Kenneth the Page, a character on 30 Rock.
If you had to make one of these two the next President and the other
one would then become the new GM of the Cardinals, which way would you
Let me tell you a story…
There once was a Republican. He wasn’t white. He was the governor of Louisiana. As if that wasn’t exciting enough, one day, after the non-white president from Chicago by way of Kansas, Indonesia and Hawaii gave a stirring speech to a bunch of cranky, old white guys, this clever governor from Louisiana (let’s call him Bobby Jindal) gave a sing-songy speech soiled with serendipitous condescension better fit for an audience of preschoolers. But this Republican had guile. He had wit. He had an unparalleled pep of awkward confidence. In fact, he was so bold that he touted the strengths of the Republican party in the same breath as mentioning Hurricane Katrina.
Okay, so that story means very little in the grand scheme of things, right? I understand the need to put a fresh, young, non-white face on the identity of the GOP, but shouldn’t someone be responsible for helping Jindal become that — mold him, teach him, brief him — rather than just throwing him into an awkward circumstance unprepared?
As Mr. Krause mentioned, Jindal is now drawing comparisons to NBC’s 30 Rock character, Kenneth the Page, and for good reason. They are both scrawny, bubbly, out-of-touch persons who tend to smile and giggle a lot while making everyone around them extremely uncomfortable.
Verily! Republicans have a long way to go…
But the question was asked: if I had to make one of these characters the next president and one the new GM of the Cardinals, which way would I arrange them?
First off, Kenneth the Page, while quite similar to Jindal in speech and performance, might be more accurately compared to our last president, GW Bush. Both seem aloof, unregulated and the benefactors of nepotism. Based on that, I would throw the ball to Jindal, hope for the best and not read a newspaper for four years.
Meanwhile, after being brutally victimized by John Mozeliak’s micromanaging to the tune of hope, wait and see baseball, how much worse could Kenneth the Page really be in the Cardinals front office?
Not since the early 90s have I been so void of confidence going into the season. Mozeliak is putting a lot of pressure on the young kids and if they cannot perform, Redbird fans (me included) will be found in sewers and sinkholes all across this nation muttering expletives to themselves and wishing for a new GM.
If Kenneth the Page is available, we’ll take him.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.