Sure I’ve been quiet the last couple of months, but I’ve been kind of busy with a Superman movie marathon, which of course always turns into a search for a ladder and a jump from the roof to see if you can fly. Sometimes, of course, this also turns into a broken hand, which would explain perfectly why I haven’t been typing. Superman. It’s Superman’s fault.
No, I wish my hand was broken and that was my excuse, or maybe I don’t, because that would be stupid to admit on the Internet that you jumped off your roof thinking you could fly like Superman, then fell to the ground and broke your hand. Hold on, that isn’t worded right, is it? Kind of makes it sound like trying to fly like Superman is okay, but only stupid to talk about if you get hurt, and that isn’t what I meant at all, although I’m not exactly sure what it is I meant, come to think of it.
Here’s the truth of the thing: I think I used to know how to fly, but because I haven’t done it for so long, I’ve forgotten. That’s right. I just don’t remember how. So of course it’d be stupid to jump off the roof and think it’d just all come back to me as I plummeted down to earth, which is really maybe the biggest exaggeration yet on this page. The plummeting part, I mean. The truth is, I’m a six foot tall man living in a single story ranch house, which puts the edge of the roof at what, nine feet? That’s like falling three feet, if I end up hanging by the gutter by my hands, which I might. It’s entirely possible. No, to plummet off the roof of 1960’s ranch house, you’d have to be just a tiny baby or something, in which case the distance would be measured in baby-feet (which is a similar idea to the whole dog years concept), making the edge of my roof much, much higher. But let’s not get into that right now, if you don’t mind. I’m trying to stay focused here and say what’s on my mind, and as you are maybe beginning to see, not having much luck with it. Matter of fact, I might go so far as to say I’m having no luck whatsoever with staying focused. I think like flying, I may have forgotten how to focus, which is kind of a serious matter. More serious than flying even, I’d venture to say, although flying (if I’m remembering correctly) is loads more fun than staying focused. Although I could be wrong.
So what was I saying? Oh yea, the movie marathon. You know, other than being forced to say that Superman III is undoubtedly one of the worst movies ever made, I really only came away from the experience with one other question. Just when exactly was Margot Kidder America’s sweetheart, because honestly, I don’t remember that ever happening.