Brain fog’s morning musings

Burt's Eye View

I am not at my mental best in the morning. Actually, I’ve never been at my mental best, but mornings rank even lesser best than my normal less best.

See what I mean? It’s morning. Even if a proper thought tries to latch onto my brain, it slides off in the shower suds and gurgles down the drain.

Here’s a sampling of actual brain-fogged morning musings:

* Finding a fountain of youth might be nice, but do I really want to be Archie? Archie and the gang have been teenagers since World War II. They’ve lived Groundhog’s Day lives since 1941 — Archie goes ga-ga over Betty and Veronica, Jughead devours dozens of hamburgers without gaining weight, and Reggie primps and pranks. And they all do so without developing wrinkles or arthritis.

What would happen if the next time parents or grandparents launched into that “kids today” speech, their teens would dig Archie out of the archives. It’s solid historical documentation that the old folks were just as nutty in high school back then as they are today.

* If I wore cucumbers on my ears, would my wife stop nibbling them?

On rare occasions, I’m inspired to perform acts of work at home. The occasions are so rare that my wife thinks it’s cute when I do. When something’s cute, apparently you must nibble its ears.

Not only does this make me squirm, it destroys whatever modicum of concentration I was able to muster. I’m left with an unfinished product and gnawed ears.

Why? She doesn’t nibble the cat’s ears. Is it because the cat’s ears are hairier than mine?

This must be the real reason why so many jobs require ear protection. What if I slathered them in VapoRub?

* Who figured out frying eggs?

“The chicken squeezed something out of its butt.”

“Let’s eat it. Hey, what are you doing? I meant let’s eat the chicken.”

“Oh. Sorry. You know, the dropping tastes pretty good.”

How far did the original knuckleheads carry this experiment of what to eat first, the critter or what it laid? “Blech! Fred, I vote we stick with the cow.”

* Was it an ancient art teacher lounging in a field of flowers who invented primary colors? Did he whiff too deeply on a rose, then say, “I bet if I had just three paint tubes — say, red, yellow and blue — I could mix every single one of these hues.”

Is that when the world changed from black and white to color?

* Why did my feet sprout to full length about 10 years before I did? I remember the day we junior high school boys lined up for physicals to play basketball. The doctor took his pen and traced through the gaps between my long toes. “Look,” he told the nurse. “He has Martian toes.” The doctor gave me medical clearance and a lifelong complex. Maybe Uncle Tommy was right. Maybe I really was hatched from a gooney bird.

Here’s another musing — perhaps it’s about time I learned to drink coffee. Maybe mornings wouldn’t be so weird. Then again, coffee, which tastes horrible, is made from beans. Chocolate, which I love, is made from beans. Therefore, hot cocoa would be just as effective and better tasting.

Either way, it dribbles down to flavored beans fading the fog from the old bean.

— Grumble good morning at Cole at or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.