I saw a story about the things you need to be doing to improve your short and long term memory and I guess my own personal recipe differs somewhat.
The first thing they offer is chunking, or basically attaching significance to small groups of information to use as building blocks.
The first thing I offer is weed. I have been smoking for over five decades, and weed never made me forget, uh, uh, uh, oh yeah, anything.
The second brilliant example is repetition.
No shit.
This flow of psychic lava is mind-blowing in its idiocy and arrogance.
I admit to using repetition.
This MIT neuroscientist (wonder how much that degree cost?) stated a healthy diet helps.
Wow.
Deep.
My diet is bad, in spite of Karen’s attempts to get me to eat healthier.
Another piece of expert advice is to exercise regularly.
I do not.
I know I should, but right now my time is being spent on my music and I am actively writing, and soon (if our third drummer audition goes well), playing out in bars and clubs, and hopefully, if all goes as I see it so crystalline with eidetic imagery, we will be ready kick ass in southern Ohio starting in the first week of June..
For starters.
Hopefully, I can get at least some audio from tomorrow’s audition and I’ll post it in tomorrow night’s blog.
But the single thing that I do that is another fantastic way for me to screw with Karen, is I refuse to use Google.
Ever.
Really.
Oh, absolutely I will use it; just not around her.
Any question that she does not know, I will retrieve from the dusty halls of my brain, using only my stubborn refusal to accept a single hint as my cloak of darkness.
Pisses her off to no end.
And I always make sure to get in these memory-retrieval scenarios when she has no access to Google, or ANY information source.
Pan to me, with furrowed brow, and a fierce look of I-will-die-before-I-ask-for-help attitude.
Hey, in spite of any conflicting stories, I am not perfect.
Far from it.
None of us are.
But oh, the number of imperfections!
That whacky Lauren Boebert, the rotten tomato from Colorado, is part of the nightmare slumber party foursome of Marjorie Taylor Greene, Kari Lake, and last, but surely not least, Dipshit Huckabee Sanders.
Can you imagine them smoking ciggies, freezing each other’s bras, doing each other’s hair, and talking about hunky politicians?
Doesn’t exactly blow my dress up.
Oh, and one more thing.
Knock it off with the commercials that show two men kissing. We get it. They are together. They are holding hands.
That’s enough of a visual identification aid, thank you very much.
You never saw it written into any previous scripts where the married couple on screen kissed.
We knew they were married.
What’s the use?
In fifty years I’ll be dead and scattered, and some of you will be finding other crazy shit happening on the planet.
Stay well.
