Brain Farts Brain Fart brain farts brain fart brain-fart brain-farts brainfart brainfarts LEO Louisville Eccentric Observer parody lampoon satire Louisville Kentucky Kevin Gibson kgramone@aol.com kgramone humor
Brain Farts was a weekly humor column that ran in the Louisville Eccentric Observer (LEO) from mid-2000 until the summer of 2002. It was, well, eccentric. And occasionally satirical. And sardonic. Some liked it, some hated it; some just didn't get it, and that's OK. There were times when I didn't get it either. I've compiled here some of the archives from Brain Farts for the enjoyment of friends, family and anyone else who happens by. I also have written some new Brain Farts, and added some links and other trivialities that you shouldn't be too concerned with.
Unless you're as bored as I am.
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Brain Farts: Power in Marketing |
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By Kevin Gibson |
Seymour stared intently into
the television screen. He could scarcely believe his eyes and ears.
"Dogs don't know it's not bacon!" the voice commanded. Sure enough, a
strange-looking dog made it clear to his psychiatrist that he, indeed, could not
tell this Beggin' Strips product from actual breakfast strips of pork meat.
He then considered his own mutt, Ralph, which sat there licking its own foot in
an almost obsessive fashion.
"Ralph, is it true?"
The dog looked up, wagged its tail three times, then went back to licking.
When Seymour returned from the store with the bag of Beggin' Strips, he made
sure he hid it from Ralph's view. Ralph, in his glee over the return of his
owner after the exhaustive 10-minute separation, didn't seem to notice Seymour
carrying a bag in his hand.
Seymour carefully prepared each item as if it were for himself -- just a dab of
vegetable oil, real margarine, fresh juice. Once he was finished, he placed it
all on a fine plate and served it to Ralph on the kitchen tiles.
Ralph only briefly considered the neatly fried eggs, two pieces of crisp toast,
side of juice and tender strips of "bacon" before he dived in and began to
feast. The eggs went first, followed quickly by the "bacon," then the toast. The
juice was more difficult, as his tongue could reach only so far into the glass.
He lapped up as much as he could, then flopped down on the floor for a nap. His
belly felt full, warm and wonderful.
"It's true!" Seymour exclaimed. "My god, it's true!"
He knelt next to Ralph, who emitted a long sigh. "Boy, don't you understand?
It's irony. When the man said, 'Dogs don't know it's not bacon,' he was being
intentionally ironic as a way of making people want to buy the product for their
pets.
"And yet -- now you've proved it true."
Seymour walked into the living room and slumped down onto the couch. The way he
felt, it wouldn't have mattered if he slid down into the cracks between the
cushions and was never seen again.
"They've brainwashed my dog," he whispered. "Who's next? What trusting,
unsuspecting soul will be the next target? Will it be me?"
He pondered for a moment. No, not him. He was on to their game. They would go
after someone who hadn't a clue -- someone who couldn't possibly comprehend such
a devious plot to control our minds. Then it hit him.
He quickly picked up the phone and dialed. "C'mon," he said as he heard the
gentle clicking of the ringing on the other end. "Pick up. Pick up!"
"Hello?" said the voice on the other end of the line.
"Grandma?" Seymour said. "Have you had breakfast yet?"
Contact the writer at kgramone@aol.com.
Ask him what he's having for lunch.