I have twenty-two minutes to share my genius, which should be plenty o' time. So... go.
Any minute now.
Inspiration strikes like lightning. And I had two good ideas last week, which means I'm not due again until at least August. Twenty-two minutes, my butt!
With Michael Vick getting so much grief for his dog abuse, I wondered where the humane association's line is. Are we allowed to fish? Magnify some sunlight on ants? Can I rig some contraption with spikes and morningstars to caterpillars and let them duke it out on a branch? If I sharpen the wings of a moth and tie strings to their antenna, can I conduct live kite fights without fear of repurcussion? Or am I limited to M&M fights? (Sure, plenty of people crush two finger-candies to see which prevails; I stomp on a bag to weed out the wimps up front.)
What do you mean, that doesn't qualify as brilliance?
If you can keep parts of your brain focused by doing things wrong-handedly (brushing your teeth with your opposite hand, for example), how much can you improve your mental facilities by doing things with the rest of your anatomy? Is there any other explanation of why so many Einsteins on the highway drive with their knees? Screw multi-tasking; we're talking omni-tasking! Whereas I, the foolish genius of the bunch, am merely unitalented. Once I figure out what that is, I'm going to be rich.
Which is to say: my talent is not earning money.
I do have a knack for babbling, though. I still have half my twenty-two allotted minutes left to spend however I want. And if time is indeed the money as the cliche states, I'll put some away now, some more away each week, and build quite a pile of it. Compound interest should help me afford college tuition for at least one of the boys.
That's as Mensa as I'm getting today.
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