Enlightenment redefined

I think I’ve finally figured it out. The number of times I yell at or curse some lummox on the road for not using his/her turn signal corresponds precisely to the number of times that I fail to use mine.


There are many things you’ll never hear. The following exchange might well be one of them.

Fred: Say Bill, has anyone ever heard anything from old Gus?

Bill: Funny you should ask, Fred. Why just a couple of weeks ago, I heard that Gus achieved total enlightenment.

Fred: Wow. You don’t say.

Bill: Yep. Total, complete illumination.

Fred: Waddyaknow.

Bill: People say it changed him pretty good.

Fred: I’ll bet Gladys isn’t very happy about it.


The next time you’re watching television, and the Ronco knife infomercial comes on, and you’re asking yourself, “Who are the dim bulbs out there in TV land who actually buy this shit?” well, I’m here to stand up and fess up; I recently (gulp) became one of Ron’s people. I know. Sorta scary. But please, don’t judge me harshly. Just realize, like the old folk song says, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.”

Oh sure, you think you’re bulletproof. Untouchable. Impervious. I know, I know. I thought the same. I mean, as soon as that trash came on, I was goin’ for the remote, makin’ a move for maybe some beach volleyball or a Vincent Price flick, but then, just before I could click off, Ron’s happy-face henchman pulled out one of the bigger knives in the arsenal (like the “party” blade) and started sawin’ a brick or some damned thing in half with it. Well, something happened for me. With me. All I know is, within a few seconds, I was putting down the remote and reaching for the phone. I suppose I never realized how many rocks and bricks I’ve got here at home that really would be a lot better off if they got cut in half.

It’s obvious that the hour of day when I got Rondozed was significant. Let’s face it, we humanoids just do not think well at 2:30 in the morning. You’re not watching tube at that hour unless you’re messed up, doped up, broke up or a combination thereof. Infomercials are actually a stroke of programming genius, a wicked invention where ferocious, sustained marketing collides with mushy, damaged psychologies. In other words, the perfect video strategy by which one can assault the wallets of idiots watching the idiot box.