America’s Funniest Newspaper, est. 1985
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Forgetting

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I keep forgetting what I’m trying to remember and remembering what I’m trying to forget. It’s possible that if I could somehow reverse my brain I would be more alert, happier, and even possibly sane. Does this mean I need to swap my left brain for my right and vice versa? Or perhaps I should practice standing on my head more. Apparently standing on your head is an excellent way to get more blood flowing to your brain, only unfortunately whenever I do it either my feet go to sleep or I fall over backward, doing the sort of full body slam that would look good in one of those fake wrestling matches that many people love so much more than real wrestling matches.

The problem with real wrestling matches, you know the kind you might once have seen in a high school gym back when kids were allowed to come within six feet of each other, is that the kids are locked together, hardly moving, looking a lot like mating frogs or snails. Then every once in a while there is a spasm of activity and one of the kids ties the other into a pretzel and the referee immediately breaks it up and they start the frog mating dance all over. This is completely unlike fake wrestling matches like those staged by the World Wrestling Federation (whose owner is now Trump’s ambassador to Britain, or China, or maybe the Space Force). In those there are clearly denoted heroes and villains and a script with shouting and taunts and soliloquies, as well as plenty of branded merchandise and beer and oily steroid pumped he-men (and he-women) to grok.

So would you rather watch a couple of pimple-faced teenagers in protective head gear hold each other in a rugby scrum for three minutes and then have a panel of judges declare one of them the winner based on an obscure point system, or instead watch freaks of modern pharmaceutical science and Hollywood makeup body slam each other until one of them collapses in the spotlight while several of the winner’s buddies jump into the ring and pretend to stomp on the loser’s unmoving carcass, until actors dressed as police or samurai warriors come to break things up, or perhaps have a sword fight?

Seems like an awful lot of people no longer care about truth or justice or the American way. They just want someone to dish about the latest scandal, or view the latest video of naked celebrities that has broken the internet. Maybe they’re simply happy to go get a few tacos and bitch about all the Mexican immigrants who are back in the kitchen making them.

But I digress. Because what this column is supposed to be about is … wait I’ve forgotten. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? If it’s something I wanted to forget then it’s good, but if it’s something I was trying to remember …

What I’m trying to forget is how horrible the state of the country and the world is right now. What I’m trying to remember is the idea that briefly flashed through my brain about how it might be possible to fix it all. The problem is I am constantly reminded about crazy shit like QAnon and fire tornadoes and murder hornets to the point where these ideas and thoughts have worn neural pathways in my brain, kind of like grooves of a vinyl record, deeper and deeper so that the needle of my attention can’t seem to go anywhere else. What I need to do is put the record in the sun so that it’ll warp and then maybe the next time my needle-pointed mind starts to play the same old tune it’ll skip out of the groove and jump into hyperspace. What I really need to do is create new thoughts, new pathways in my brain that lead to some sort of more pleasant results, like instead of the asteroid hitting the planet and everyone dying it turns out to be a giant spaceship from an enlightened galaxy and it brakes right before it crashes into us and invites all the sane people to hop on board to be taken somewhere like California, except it’s an entire planet, only with fewer earthquakes and no traffic jams or bad movies being made into sequels, and an unlimited supply of fresh squeezed orange juice and a sun that doesn’t burn you or give you skin cancer after you’ve laid on the beach without 100 SPF sunblock on.

The best thing to do is to keep reimagining the future that you want to have instead of dwelling on the insanity of the present moment. Because it is only by imagining a better future that we will have any chance of creating one and of forgetting all the mistakes that we have made up to now. Remember that at any point the story can shift. Call for a new writer and producer and director, and a make-up artist while you’re at it. Let’s all try to look better, feel better, act better, and remember that we’re the only players on this stage and we have a chance to make this the greatest drama (or comedy, love story, or horror show) that there has ever been.

Oh, and please, for God’s sake (even if you don’t believe in God) don’t forget to VOTE!

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Ray Lesser
Ray Lesser
Sue, my wife, and I created The Funny Times in 1985. Before that I was born, learned to bowl, ate French Fries, and graduated from New College in Florida, which is now becoming infamous as the school that Ron DeSantis is trying to turn into a state-run factory for majors in Anti-Disneyism. Then I hitchhiked around the country, played music for drinks and tips, and spent many hours as a dishwasher and parking lot attendant while trying to write the Great American Novel.

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