Sorbet...

I've been riffling through my historical Rolodex of ghastly events, trying to comfort myself by remembering times that were worse and crazier than this one. I can come up with a few that were grizzlier and probably more dangerous, but my ruminations will have to wait. I've got information burn-out. Instead, what I need is a taste of lemon sorbet to cleanse my taste buds, and remove the greasy, too-rich flavors of celebrity gossip, dirty politics, and idiots-at- large.

For my virtual sorbet, I need a stupid and frivolous topic, a Seinfeldian one dealing with some microscopic issue that irritates but doesn't matter squat in the cosmic scheme. So, drawing a line in the guacamole dip, I've bravely decided to tackle the Blogger profile. Specifically, I'm taking issue with the Random Question that's included. 

If you click on my profile, you'll discover I'm a Leo, that I deeply love movies of the 70's and the novels of Robert Stone. But you'll also hit the Random Question, which asks:  The first time you had your shoes taken off - how surprised were you to see that you still had toes? And I reply whatever I reply: something about being born without toes, which is a blatant lie. I have toes! What isn't apparent is that there's no way to bypass the Random Question in filling out or updating the profile page. You can go through a boatload of different questions, though, in trying to find one that's not written in broken English or isn't flatly insane.

I object to the Random Question because it's pointless, it gives the reader no good information about me, and I have no talent in coming up with cute answers. Like a lot of people who spend time drenched in language, I'm terrible at word games. I guess a near-relative to this lack of talent is the truism that people with a good sense of humor rarely tell jokes. Following the Buddhist precept that no experience is pure, I've tried to figure out why the Random Question is a good idea.

The only answer I can think of is that, like a Zen koan, it could bust the brain out of its preconceived hamster wheel. But it's a pretty weak argument, especially for us more seasoned types who have already seen most ideas, fads, and fashions traipse past our jaundiced gaze time and time again. None of the Random Questions I've been presented with make me feel other than cross and sleepy. 

So, why are you persisting with this dopey exercise, Blogger? Answ. It's cool.  

Okay. I see. I've written a story with no possible resolution, which reminds me of last night's episode of Law and Order. It ended with a Lady or The Tiger-style finale, which is not allowed in The Magic Kingdom of Stories. All tales must have an ending, otherwise they're not stories, they're Life. More on that topic sometime.

I feel some better. Maybe I'll tackle a chewier idea tomorrow. Maybe not. Being a light-weight has its perks, insubstantial though they are. 

Just call me Angel Cake, and I'll come runnin'.