Our base camp today is in Derisive, Ireland,
where legend has it that Bach would come to dry out 
whenever his taste for atonality would 
threaten to get the best of him.
This place is not to be confused with the nearby village of Irony, which we visited earlier this year,
(and I am still shocked over the mayor’s expressed astonishment that I used the town’s name as a springboard for metaphorical comment regarding the matter of incongruity!)
So, even though nothing here reminds me specifically of the subject that is the subject of these worldwide reports, as long as we’re apparently here for the day,
I guess I can come up with something
relevant to talk about.
 

An organization hired a man to run its 
Research & Development department, 
which included keeping records of all its operations.
At times the job could be quite challenging, 
and rewarding, and the man was obviously 
made for the position,
but overall, the work gradually became perfunctory,
and the man could discharge most of his daily duties
almost in his sleep.
But since all he was trained for was planning,
during the lengthy periods when there was nothing
specific to do in his sector
as he would drift into daydreams,
they were, understandably,
exclusively concerned with either 
imaginary schemes for the future, 
or reviews of past R & D activities.

I have no idea why I bring this story up
since there is certainly nothing surprising,
or of interest about the fact that 
the main habit of a rabbit is --  rabbit! 
 

You know, just over the channel in England 
is the city of Newcastle wherein locals have 
voiced bewilderment at people coming there, 
lignite laden. 
But I understand not why any of the above should 
concern us here?!?!
Why should a man trying to rid himself of a rash
have any interest in learning to identify faux rashes,
or sillier still,
being made to realize that what he has been calling a rash 
is in fact --   epidermis. ?!?!?!?!?!
 

Jeeze….I don’t know……..
we’re really gettin’ off the track here today…..

Okay, let’s try this:
There is a town just south of here where 
the fire department will definitely not show up 
IF they are summonsed.
The truth is that they NEVER show up,
but it is only when they are summonsed that
this fact becomes obvious.
…well --  I say, “obvious,”
what I should say is, “momentarily obvious”
for no sooner is the reality of this 
curious situation grasped by the townsfolk
than do they totally forget about it.
 
 
 

Over on the French coast is a man who 
believes he is dying,
but every time he thinks about it --  he feels better.
Doctors have no explanation for this --
since the man has never mentioned it.
Hell, the man has never even realized it himself!

Damn!  I wish there was something around this place that I could  write about that at least had some slight relevance to the matter of interest to us here! 
You know, it’s kinna ironic that I traveled this far 
just to find a dry hole.
I musta been out of my mind to come here!
      I don’t know WHAT the hell I was thinking!

Well --  damn!
I guess this time you’re gonna have to dig out 
something useful from this trip on your own.
 

Still --  as long as your sense of the ridiculous is properly placed, 
and your ability to utilize theatrical derisiveness is intact -- 
it’s good to have you along.

            JAN
 

P.S. don’t refuse to take wooden nickels.
First, look in a mirror over your shoulder,
and see that one of them is you.