Tuesday, January 13, 2009

The Imperfections of Brains




One of my favorite typographical errors is "Brain." I've seen it on correspondence occasionally when someone misspells "Brian." This error makes me laugh hysterically. I'd feel really special to get a letter addressed to "Dear Brain." I wonder if that's how zombies begin their missives?

Alas, without some legal expenses and explaining myself to my family, a psychiatrist and some clergy, I don't think I'll ever get a letter directed to me with "Dear Brain" on it. *Sigh*

Maybe if I was super-smart Bill Gates might send me a letter- something akin to the Nigerian price who's always trying so hard to get me to hold onto his money (Shhh, don't tell anyone that because it's a secret.) Now if Bill sent me a letter addressed "Dear Brain" offering me some cash, I might start thinking about helping him out.

Anyway, I do have a point. My brain is faulty. I have passed the faulty brain gene onto my unsuspecting offspring.

I think before they were conceived their souls floated out in the ether, following waves of Bach music while dancing on clouds, imagining what life would be like to be an Einstein or a Cheney (that guy has to be smart to have co-opted the office without GWB noticing). But WHAM. They came to me instead and I forget stuff all the time.

I can never remember my blood type, where I parked my car, where I left the phone, what's for dinner, why are these people wanting to be fed the stuff I can't remember to make, what happened the last 8 years, or why I can only get one leg into my jeans. The last part is a real mystery because Vodka is a low-fat food choice unless you add bacon grease.

Peter can't remember anything either and it's a curse- from me to him- but one that he somehow manages to use like a mental boomerang to whack me repeatedly in the right frontal lobe. His brain does engage every morning at 6:43 am- two minutes before the bus comes. He remembers all sorts of stuff- 4 dozen cookies, his George Washington report, the Trojan War diorama, the field trip to camp for a week and the $400 check he needs. This is surely an acquired skill because the stuff I forget, I rarely get back. I think he's really gifted to orchestrate his thoughts in one massive compendium of brain synapses at exactly 6:43 am EVERY DAY.

I blame the imperfections of his brain on his gene pool. Surely this makes him zombie proof?

14 comments:

Cynthia Pittmann said...

You give new meaning to the saying"I'm going to brain him" or is it, I'm going to Brian him? Enjoyed the post!

Unknown said...

Cynthia, I know a Brian who is no brain trust. He could stand to be "brained!"

Teri and her Stylish Adventure Cats said...

yes, that always makes me giggle, too. As does the Rouge River in Oregon...

Teri and the cats of Furrydance

Unknown said...

Teri, help me with that one. Is it Rouge vs Rogue? Ohio is a LONG way from Oregon!

♥ Braja said...

I prefer to consider these things as part of my unique personality.

and the word "disorder" has no place here...

Sparky said...

Ah, hah! So this ever increasing forgetfulness IS heredity?! I knew it wasn't me! Why, I have a perfect, uh, ... what where we talking about? [lol] Maybe someone should "brain" me ... <:o\ ♥ ∞

Teri and her Stylish Adventure Cats said...

It's the Rogue River, teehee. Mom's home has a river view of it and I spent lots of time rafting on it when I lived there. But you see it spelled the "red" way sometimes.

HeatherPride said...

That is a great post. It made me smile before 9 am, and that is practically a miracle! So what if you're forgetful, you're a miracle worker!

Shonda Little said...

The brain is a funny thing in deed. This is hilarious.

The Pink Cowboy said...

I enjoyed this post it reminds me of my own Brian.

Unknown said...

Thanks for the comments everyone! Glad we all got a laugh out of it. Nothing better than a spelling error.

I'm especially amused by the spam comment from Mr.Ateeq Rahman Khan. Mr. Khan, you didn't read my post carefully enough. I need a Dear Brain letter before I can respond to your urgent request that I give you all my personal information. Duh! If you send me the letter I might be willing to give you 50% of the cash you want me to hold. Don't get me angry because I know all about countries without extradiction treaties. And remember, only call me BRAIN.

Irish Gumbo said...

I had a brain once, but it demanded to change its name to "Brian", so I asked it to leave. And it called my bluff...

Hey, thank you for the follow on Irish Gumbo, welcome!
Peace, IG

Unknown said...

see if you can spot this one:

REG:
Ahh, yes. Well, I think I should point out first, Brian, in all fairness, that we are not in fact the rescue committee. However, I have been asked to read the following prepared statement on behalf of the Movement.

Uh, 'We, the People's Front of Judea, brackets, officials, end brackets, do hereby convey our sincere fraternal and sisterly greetings to you, Brian, on this, the occasion of your martyrdom.'
BRIAN:
What?
REG:
'Your death will stand as a landmark in the continuing struggle to liberate the parent land from the hands of the Roman Imperialist aggressors, excluding those concerned with drainage, medicine, roads, housing, education, viniculture, and any other Romans contributing to the welfare of Jews of both sexes and hermaphrodites. Signed on behalf of the P.F.J., etcetera.' And I'd just like to add, on a personal note, my own admiration for what you are doing for us, Brian, at what must be, after all, for you, a very difficult time.
BRIAN:
Reg! Well, what are you going to do?
REG:
Good-bye, Brian, and thanks.
FRANCIS:
Well done, Brian. Keep it up, lad.
LORETTA:
Terrific work, Brian.
P.F.J.:
[mumbling]
REG:
Yeah. Right. And...
P.F.J.: [singing]
For he's a jolly good fellow!
For he's a jolly good fellow!
For he's a jolly good fellow!
And so say all of us!
LORETTA:
And so say all of--
[clap clap clap]
BRIAN:
You bastards! You bastards!
CENTURION:
Where is Brian of Nazareth?!
BRIAN:
You sanctimonious bastards!
CENTURION:
I have an order for his release!
BRIAN:
You stupid bastards!
MR. CHEEKY:
Uh, I'm Brian of Nazareth.
BRIAN:
What?!
MR. CHEEKY:
Yeah, I-- I-- I'm Brian of Nazareth.
CENTURION:
Take him down!
BRIAN:
I'm Brian of Nazareth!
VICTIM #1:
Eh, I'm Brian!
MR. BIG NOSE:
I'm Brian!
VICTIM #2:
Look, I'm Brian!
BRIAN:
I'm Brian!
VICTIMS:
I'm Brian!
GREGORY:
I'm Brian, and so's my wife!
VICTIMS:
I'm Brian! I'm Brian!...
BRIAN:
I'm Brian of Nazareth!
CENTURION:
All right. Take him away and release him.
MR. CHEEKY:
No, I'm only joking. I'm not really Brian. No, I'm not Brian. I was only-- It was a joke. I'm only pulling your leg! It's a joke! I'm not him! I'm just having you on! Put me back! Bloody Romans! Can't take a joke!

Unknown said...

Dave- you can't stump me. Monty Python- Life of Brian. (Insert Applause here)