Don't Bring Me Down

That's what I keep having to tell myself over and over these days. I'm only a thread away from full tilt bozo, and I am trying to convince myself that it is best to stay this side of the line.

When TV works and I decide to watch it I'm able to keep up with the Jack in the box saga. Jack, the Ronald McDonald of Jack in the box, was hit by a bus and is in a coma. He/she/it is a humanoid figure with a giant ping pong ball head. It appears to have shattered like an egg. I'm concerned for his recovery and I never even set foot in one of his fast food emporiums, let alone ventured into the drive through. I've seen it in movies. Usually the drive through is the butt of a joke. Poor Jack.

So, helpless as I am to cure the comatose Jack, I contemplate locating his fictitious hospital so I can camp out holding a candle in pious vigil. It would give meaning to my life. Perhaps Jack is but a metaphor for my own existence. Or something.