DECAPITATED CHICKEN AT BIG MOMMA'S

Am I an illusion? Has my consciousness tricked me into believing there’s a persistent “I” who travels through space and time and exists independent of my body, my blood, my cells? Sometimes it makes perfect sense to believe so, but how can I “believe” anything unless I believe there’s a me to believe things? These are the kinds of thoughts that plague my Sundays, after the week has propelled itself through the hours of fuss and busyness that make up the work week and the faux lifestyle-activity of the playday and arrives at this silent but deadly time, when the sparsity of distractions allows my mind to become the devil’s playground again. I read an interesting article recently by some guy--”some guy”, that’s all the data that my brain librarian allows me to store, the stacks being chock full of lyrics to sixties sitcom theme songs and the complete roster of the 1956 Brooklyn Dodgers and the like--in which he created a scenario in which you imagine yourself to be one of triplets, and by some disbelief-suspending process, your cells were one by one replacing similar cells in your siblings, until half of them are in one and half in the other. Where are “you” then? Have you disappeared? Do you have a presence in two simultaneous consciousnesses? This is not quite as frivolous a notion as it sounds: scientists, for god knows what reason, have succeeded in implanting portions of one lesser creature’s brain into another’s. While this would seem to be further proof that the term “mad scientist” is well-earned, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the work is being funded by McDonald’s, with the goal of creating cows that lay hamburgers like a chicken. See? This is how Sunday torments me while the rest of you go about your day of rest watching the Redskins or riding your little bikes or whipping up some veal piccatta. I’m happy for you--no really, I am--it would be so petty of me to hate you. And I am not a petty man, no sir, I think this blog post is ample evidence of that.

And for those of you who read this far to discover the story behind the decapitated chicken at Big Momma's, my apologies.