New Slogan: "Mitt Romney in a knit mitt hat, for you... for us."
I can’t wait for all this to be over. There is no reason that I should have any dreams about politics, let alone Mitt Romney.
In this dream, he was not wearing the above hat, which is a pity. But he did go into a rant about the auto industry here in Detroit.
So far, so goof.
The biggest part I remember is his big promise, and big blunder.
He promised to get James Patterson to stop writing so many books…
Just a "pattering" of his works.
…so Stephen King would write more.
King of the Fountain... Pen
You see, in my brain…
He confused Michigan with Maine.
(SIDENOTE: Patterson is not from Maine… he’s from New York. But that’s close.)
When I awakened from this subconscious adventure, I was left with echoes of one question:
Where the fuck did this dream come from?
The star of this nocturnal transmission:
Babs, Ever The Stalwart (not an anagram, but it looks like one)
I don’t watch The View, but I’m constantly aware of it. If it’s not featured on some random website, then Joe McHale skewers it somehow on The Soup. But I watch that show on Wednesdays. I didn’t have this dream anywhere near Wednesday…
Anybabawahwah, I should at least be flattered by my subconscious. It was her birthday and she was hosting a party, The 50 Most Invited People. I was one of the 50 most invited.
But so was one of my nondescript associates (it was someone I knew, but I don’t know who). This person’s idea for a birthday present was to buy her scratch off lottery tickets. This person’s reasoning:
You know, it’s a gift that could keep on giving.
I was wracking my brain
while sleeping. What do you get a woman like Barbara Walters for her birthday?
Then it hit me – donate to her favorite charity in her honor. What was her favorite charity, you ask?
You know... because of her tree thing.*
There dream exclusively featured Gabourey Sidibe, a.k.a. Precious (she will forever be tied to this role like Jon Heder is to Napoleon Dynamite).
She played on my softball team, and she brought
some an amazing talent. She had a fantastic bat that warranted unlimited homers over the fence.
Which worked out immensely well, seeing as how she had great difficulty running. We tried her at first, and we tried her in right field. But it just wasn’t working.
So then it occurred to us – deep, deep centerfield. It worked like a dream. She was a dream. It was… a dream.
I think she's even wearing high heels. You go girl.
I am enamored with Amber Heard:
The Gods Heard My Heart
And everyone loves Scarlett Johannson (except Ryan Reynolds, and maybe Sandra Bullock):
I should write her a Scarlett Letter...
Well, lucky me had a dream in which both of them appeared…
…except they only wanted to talk.
About the meaning of life.
In an abstract setting.
As they walked and discussed the infinite, the scene kept changing like a screensaver. Or a Salvatore Dali painting:
Not cool, subconscious... not cool...
This dream, I’m not proud of.
Family is supposed to come first. Always.
All of us (whoever the us was at least included my brother and my mother) were staying at an island beach resort, sort of like this one:
Ah, it's like a screensaver.
But then, as it often happens in dreams, sharks appeared. It was kind of like this:
(Not So) Artistic Representation
The sharks were of every variety, and they could also crawl on land! Like some kind of fish/mammal hybrid. (You’d think there was a word for some kind of creature that could exist on land and in the sea…)
A great white shark cornered my brother. It clamped down on his leg as he kicked at it and started dragging him away like an alligator would. My mother screamed for me to help him, which I immediately did – until I stopped myself. I hurried back inside to put this on the counter:
Yup. My brand new iPhone 4S.
I ultimately caught up to the shark before he could reach the water and saved my brother. So win-win.
(SIDENOTE: For the record, I called to apologize to my brother the next day.)
After waking from this dream, I thought:
It was the future in the Marvel Universe, and the Milky Way Galaxy was no longer known as that – it was now the Los Angeles Galaxy.
Be sure to visit the planet of Compton.
The heroes were wanted dead by their enemies, more than usual, so they placed themselves in giant cosmic cube (not the Cosmic Cube) in space, away from Earth. In fact, Earth was hidden in between folds of time. The Sentry was the hero in charge, and if you never heard of him, barely have I. (I don’t know how he ended up in my dream.)
Guess who this is?
Fed up with holing themselves up, a nearly invincible hero (Wolverine?) that has lived for 1000 years wants to rally against the forces keeping the heroes trapped in the cube.
He asks the leaders (including The Sentry) to reinstate the last wave of Iron Men (they’ve all been mechanical for a while now).
The Sentry is the only one to see the light, so he allows the mission.
This is the point when a phone call woke me up. So I should have mentioned my full statement:
I’ll admit – I’ve had some stinkers of ideas in my sleep, and I’ve had some brilliant money makers.
This dream idea might fall somewhere in the middle.
Basically, the premise of this new sport was this:
Soccer meets parkour
The game would be played in public areas – the more crowded the better. And the goals would be random things, like knock over this, or break that.
Here’s an example I’ve created that takes place at a comic book convention:
(Not Too Shabby) Artistic Representation
Oh yeah… I forgot to mention the name of the game:
(or OBSTOOTBALL in every other country)