The Insanity of Sweet Slumber

Liz asks: Was it all a dream?

This afternoon I woke up with two thoughts piercing my tiny brain. If I don't write them down now, they will be gone forever. We will discuss the merits of that later.

The first thought I had was a joke. I had made this up during my REM sleep and apparently my subconscious thought it was hilarious. It's not. It doesn't even make sense. I'm sorry you have elected to read this. You may think less of me in the morning.

"If a rooster and a waterfall got into a fight, who would win?"
"The rooster. Cocks could care less if the other person was wet or not."

Now, to call that A JOKE is to abuse the concept of what a joke is. But in all sincerity, when I was rousing from sleep around 1:00 this afternoon, I woke up thinking, "My God. This must be what it's like to be Dave Chappel." I thought for a few dazed moments that I had just dreamt the funniest joke EVER in the history of man.

I'm not proud of myself.

The second, almost simultaneous thought, was an address to Killer. Like many of you, he enters my dreams too. I have a challenge for you, Killer of Killer Rants! By Thursday of this coming week, will you please write a post that contains somewhere in it these words:

It was at that moment, while everyone shifted uncomfortably, that Killer came to the sad realization that there was no laugh track to accompany his comment.

In my waking moments, I saw Killer as part of a Far Side cartoon where that was the only statement on the page. Complete the image, please?

I have my own idea, but it involves a rooster and a waterfall and I think we'd all appreciate me keeping that to myself.