Notice that I’ve graduated to actual titles on my posts! Eh? You like! That’s ’cause I realized the numbers were getting larger and my ability to count them was diminishing. It’s this thing about double digits… take the number 10; well it seems to me that that number should be no larger than 1, because 1 + 0 = 1, 1 - 0 = 1, 1 X 0 = 0, and 1 / 0 = undefined (which I’m assuming is still not equal to 10). So what sort of math is being done here? If it’s math that is more advanced than addition, subtraction, multiplication, or division… aren’t we over-complicating our whole number system? How do we really expect our children to solve the world’s innumerable problems with a fiendishly complicated system like that? We don’t! That’s the honest answer. We perpetuate this fractured illogical agenda on our future generations in the hope that they will stumble and fall and therefore be ill equipped to render our most ingenious ideas asinine and juvenile. It’s the way we keep ourselves in the history books in the “this person got it right” category as opposed to the “the world was flat? ha!” category. We dumb down the future to preserve the today! And while on the topic of the dumbness of today I would like to say something about living in my mom’s basement.

Currently I am living in my mom’s basement. This is not good. We’ve all seen the movies, we’ve all laughed at the guy’s Star Wars memorabilia, we’ve all thought to ourselves: “if ever there were a segment of the population for whom it is acceptable to ridicule on any occasion in any circumstance, even at a funeral for a dead puppy, it is THIS segment.” We’ve all done it, and we were all justified to think those thoughts. However, I can no longer join you in the comfort of “we”, in the camaraderie of that shared mockery, because I am now in “that segment”; I have become (sad and lame as it is): “That Guy”. This, as I mentioned before, is not good.

Now, I could probably try to spin this for you and make you feel like there is some sort of reasonable defense for my actions, but I’m not going to, because if I were you, I would be laughing, and catching my breath, and laughing again– which takes up a lot of energy (the same sort of energy that I should be using to get a life). And any excuses I might make, would only lead to more laughing, and gasping, and laughing again; and you would be completely exhausted, and I would still be minus one life. So, there’s no real gain there. I’m going to let that strategy just disappear into the ether. I won’t waist your time. There are no justifications. I know it. You know it. Jesus knows it. Then “why”, you might ask, “are you bothering to mention this in the first place?” I’m glad you read that sentence. Well, the reason is simple: basement dreams.

Sure, “basement dreams” sound like the exact type of behavior you would expect “that guy” to exhibit– worth disparaging, and pathetic. But it’s only when you have actually experienced these dreams yourself that you can begin to appreciate the inner beauty of your own delusions. In my basement dreams I don’t live in a basement. I don’t worry about paying bills, or even making money. In my basement dreams, I’m on Johnny Carson every night (’cause I’m too good for Letterman or Leno), and every night Johnny asks me: “How the Hell’d you do it?”. And every night he tells me: “You’re gonna make it kid! You’ve got panache!” In my basement dreams, I still play sports, make up games, dream of growing up, fly to the moon, discover new tastes, fall in love, make new friends, visit people who have passed away, get advice from heroes, finger paint, learn the word “nintendo”, cry without shame, laugh at myself, enjoy my own skin, transform my mistakes, make music, forgive, find forgiveness, reach happiness, taste sorrow, tear down hopelessness, burst through depression and embrace the places in-between. In my basement dreams, being me is the greatest adventure you could ever dream. ‘Cause “That Guy” is the lucky one who dreams my basement dreams!

…now if I could just get out of this basement…