So, I was thinking about John Mayer today. Not because he is the Center of the Universe – although reports from many people seem to substantiate that he does indeed believe the world revolves around him. Only because I heard his name on the car radio. Something about a musician named “Shooter” who tweetered (yes, I know that’s not a word – yet) a comment that did not extol his virtues. And I thought, “Hmm. It would be really cool to see what would happen if John Mayer was stuck in an elevator when Hurricane Sandy rocked New York. If I were writing a sitcom, who else would I plop into this potentially explosive situation ? Oh, yes. Donald Trump. And that collision of egos would probably result in a nuclear reaction that would either decimate the entire state of New York, or generate enough electricity to keep New York going for the next century.”
And then I thought, “Would even Hurricane Sandy have had enough force to blow off Donald Trump’s hair? More importantly, is there any way in the world to destroy that ghastly coif? And, if not, what would it take to convince Donald Trump to actually volunteer to shave his scalp?”
This led me to the next disturbing cogitation,”Why am I so obsessed with Donald Trump’s hair? I’m pretty sure I have blogged about it more than a couple of times now. This is not the kind of legacy I want to leave. When I die, and I finally become famous, I do not want people to look back at my blog archives and speculate about my interest in Donald Trump’s hair.”
And then I arrived at my Early Voting Location, and the line was 50 people out the door in the hot sun and there was clearly no parking available, so I just continued driving.
So, now, people will say that I was an irresponsible, non-voting citizen consumed by thoughts of Donald’s Trump’s ridiculous mop of a mane.
And Jon Stewart. Let’s make that clear. If you are looking for trends in my posts, I mention Jon Stewart a heckuva lot more than Trump.
So, allow me to spell it out for you, Future Biographer of Mrs. Cap’n Firepants: I loved Jon Stewart, hated Donald Trump’s hair, was somewhat doubtful about John Mayer as a person (but liked his music), and made a half-hearted attempt to vote even though she suspected her husband’s vote was going to cancel hers out. (The last item may change to “she braved Heck and High Water to make an ill-fated stand” if I find a way to vote on the actual Election Day.) Oh, and I never heard of this musician named “Shooter”.
See? There’s nothing to analyze here. No secrets or hidden agendas. I’m just plain ole Mrs. Cap’n Firepants, who just happens to have random thoughts about Donald Trump’s hair on a semi-regular basis.