Life is a Tambourine!

No it's not, but it got your attention anyway, didn't it? You little mysterious, imaginary little ghosts reading my blog.

What liberation it is not to always take life so seriously. It's just life after all, folks. I don't know what everyone is so up in arms about. But they're awfully serious. They, they, they. They won't eat pastries. They neurotically check their hair in the mirror . . . because hair is an especially serious matter. They worry about their taxes. A lot. And the planning of vacations that must be tackled with great seriousness in order to set about the business of the divide-and-conquer tourism routine. They worry about reproducing, about creating little serious replicas like themselves. They frown at a lunch time beer and shiver at the thought of other similar kinds of weaknesses. They . . . well, they are American, no doubt. They won't buy cream and believe in margarine. They honk their horns in petulant ire whenever someone has the audacity to circumvent the flow of their structured little (and I mean little) universe. I could write a book about what's wrong with the way people drive, and it would be based on the premise that people take life too seriously, which you THINK would be a good thing behind the wheel, but not so, because all of that seriousness is kind of like a poison coalescing in the body that eventually metabolizes into misery, and it is that resultant misery that makes people impossible toddlers masquerading as responsible adults on the road. There, I said it.

But not to be too serious. That's my goal today, because there's nothing like Monday in corporate America to wipe the smiles off the faces of even the most jovial among us. Oh look here comes someone with a face like a jack-o-lantern. Better go . . .