Sometimes, during quiet periods, when the external noises don’t quite drown out the voices in my head, I start wondering about things. Not the great questions, like ‘why are we here’, and ‘what is the meaning of life’, which by the way was answered, satisfactorily or not, in Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life, in case you were curious. My ponderings usually concern matters that are slightly less portentous, though, I should note that there are some who believe that what I call thought processes are nothing more than the random misfiring of badly aligned neurons.
Case in point:
Me, “Hey you know what’s really strange about I Dream of Jeannie?”
Mary, patiently, “The old TV show?”
“Yeah. So, Jeannie is like a two thousand year old genie, and she’s been in that bottle all that time. Genii are only found in Middle Eastern cultures, so why is she a blonde?”
“Wait. A show about an astronaut who is marooned on a desert island, where he finds a bottle that contains a genie, who is female, and Caucasian by the way, and takes her home to live with him, and even though she is clad in the Sixties equivalent of sexy lingerie all the damn time, they never, ever have sex, and she also grants magical wishes that in every single episode result in trouble for said astronaut, and the one thing that bothers you is ‘why is she a blonde?”
“Well, yes. Why?”
You know, we seem to have a lot of conversations that end like that.