Whenever Newsletter 5-5

People sometimes ask where I get my ideas. I say that I beat them out of a clown that I keep locked in the basement. The real answer is: I'm not sure; they seem to barge in on their own.

I find, however, that it's possible to call them. I just get as far from earth as possible, preferably during happy hour, and then empty my skull of all the PIN codes and phone numbers and deadlines that never go away not for one moment even while YOU'RE AT THE MOVIES WITH YOUR WIFE.

Like I was saying, empty...

And then, if I stay open to funniness -- whatever that is -- the ideas sneak up from behind. Somebody will say "pipe," which rhymes with "wife," who sometimes wears dolphin shorts, and before you know it I've got a cartoon about serving tuna fish in the dentist's waiting room.

We believe that it's a form of schizophrenia.

If you're still confused, refer to Douglas Adams's instructions on how to fly: "You just sort of fall to the ground and miss."



I'm grateful that the ideas come on their own, but sometimes, when I sit down to The Pile, I wish that I could just beat them out of a clown.