An imaginary reader writes:
"Why has there not been an update this month? Why are the "Song of the Day"s starting to sound even worse. In other words ... Where's my cookie?!"
I know I said that this isn't a blog, and it isn't - honest, but I'm about to get bloggy with it for a bit here so hang on to your hats.
You may recall me saying "I'm finally going to stay in one place for a while," well it looks like I'm on the move again. As many readers may or may not know, I happen to enjoy cooking. I happen to enjoy cooking a lot and I'm somewhat qualified so when I got a call from the Chef at a fine dining establishment at which I'd really been wanting to work...
Well, suffice to say I couldn't say 'no' and I've been back in the kitchen for the past three weeks ( or is it four... hmmm ...). So if you're ever eating at the best restaurant in Peterborough, Ontario be sure to tell them Professor Sinister sent you and have a confused look on me -- free of charge.
What this boils down to is that I've been struggling to get song of the day together for the past month. I actually entered a special songwriting meditative state for a week, sometimes writing and recording upwards of seven songs a day for a while just to get ahead enough to be able to travel and work without having to worry about doing new songs.
I'm still recording them, but it's beginning to look highly unlikely that I'll be able to keep up with the demand of one per day, and since I am no longer recording in my studio the sound quality may suffer (even more than it already does). You might hear all kinds of outside noises creeping in as I endeavour to find a quiet corner in which to record.
For those who are unfamiliar with my common "Where's my cookie?" reference I now present to you a really bad joke...
THE "WHERE'S MY COOKIE JOKE" -- AS HEARD AT MANY A SLEEPOVER, SCOUT CAMP, AND IN TREEHOUSES WORLDWIDE
A man went to his Doctor and said "Doc, you've gotta help me. I keep eating and eating but I'm still losing weight, and there's this strange pain in my stomach." The doctor had him get undressed and after poking and prodding him in a very medical sort of way he seemed to make up his mind.
"Ah," said his doctor, nodding knowingly, "You have a case of ass worm"
The man was confused and he didn't know what to do, so the as the doctor opened a fresh bag of chocolate chip cookies he reassured him,
"It's treatable... bend over"
So the man bent over and the doctor shoved a chocolate chip cookie up the man's ass.
"I want you to come back here at the same time tomorrow," said the doctor looking at his watch, "and we'll continue the treatment. Remember -- you need to be here by 10:13 tomorrow morning.
The man was a little confused, but he did as his doctor instructed and was in the office, pants down, at 10:13 the next day. The doctor shoved a chocolate chip cookie up the man's ass "You must return again tomorrow".
This continued for a number of weeks, until one day the man arrived and the doctor announced "Today is your final treatment."
As usual, the man dropped trou, but this time he had his ass up against the table and the doctor stood behind him with a large hammer. 10:13 came and went. "What now?" asked the man,
10:14 ... 10:15 ... and then it happened. A worm popped it's head out of the man's ass.
"Where's my cookie?!" it demanded.
... and the doctor hit it with the hammer.
So there it is. Not that I have a hammer or anything, but I've always thought that people could learn a lot about the way the world works from that little joke.