Tuesday, January 23, 2018
How many Presto Logs could a Woodchuck chuck if a Woodchuck didn't want to chop wood?
A woodchuck is simply a groundhog. But "How much ground would a groundhog hog if a groundhog could hog ground?" doesn't have the same ring to it as a woodchuck chucking wood. But since groundhogs or woodchucks don't appear to spend too much time at the gym, I'm thinking they wouldn't spend too much time chucking anything that required a lot of effort.
That's why I pose the philosophical question about how many Presto Logs would a woodchuck chuck. Because I figure if they were tasked with dealing with anything so they could stoke a fire, they'd head on down to the mini-mart and stock up on pre-formed Presto Logs.
These are, unfortunately, the types of things I think about these days. The alternative is dwelling on politics, nuclear holocaust and the many offenses we heap on each other because of our gender, race or personal hygiene habits. I'm thinking dwelling on woodchucks is less depressing then bemoaning the world going to shit.
Pardon my French (though I suppose I would have said Merde if I was speaking French or shiest if I was using my high school German...though Herr Haddock, my high school German teacher didn't really approve of us using German expletives though they are all I seem to recall other than asking where the library is in German).
My inability write about straight news is the primary reason I've never been able to cash in on my Journalism degree. I've just never found straight (or crooked) news interesting. In college I was the arts and entertainment editor on our school paper. I remember one time being called into the Editor's office and he shook his head as he pointed out all of the meaty stories that were breaking in that week's edition yet the only complaint call he'd received was about a story I'd written about turtles being murdered in one of biology labs of the science department. Needless to say, I didn't get to write the second part of that two-part expose that dealt with monkeys in the basement of that same building.
Though as it turns out, no one seems particularly into straight news (or the truth) these days. And being a Journalist ranks right up there with serial killer and septic tank cleaner as a profession. So it is probably just as well that I never actually worked at a newspaper. After all, I would never have gained the notoriety I have as a world-renowned blogger.
I love fake news.