My Point...And I Do Have One

teeth, rubber chickens, and other joke items with a shillelagh. If you don’t own a shillelagh, then either borrow one from a policeman or rent one.
    Set your clothes dryer for an hour, sit on top, and “ride ’em cowboy!”
    Pinch the flap between your neck and your waist.
    When your neighbors aren’t home, sneak into their house, fix yourself a drink, then see if they have anything weird in their closets. If they’re gone long, take a nap on their new couch.
    Eat pancakes and keep eating them until your headache goes away.
    Go to the nearest high school and take the SATs again.
    Pretend to be Swedish for a whole day. This might not cure your headache, but it’s bound to be a lot of fun, by yimminy.
    Sit as close to your television as you possibly can and watch any Ernest movie. Either that or go to an ABBA concert. It’s your choice.
    I think that I have proved conclusively that I am not in any way, shape, or form in the medical profession. If you persist in thinking otherwise, then there is a good chance that you are, if not completely insane, more than halfway there. And don’t go giving me any of that “Laughter is the best medicine” business. If I get strep throat, I’d much rather take penicillin than watch a lot of Benny Hill reruns.

the last
chapter

    I really feel that this is a complete, well-rounded, fleshed-out piece of work—an eclectic book. A little something for everyone in the family to enjoy. And if it were up to me, I’d say “The End,” but it seems that contractually I have not fulfilled my duty—the lawyers have reminded me that the book must be at least 60,000—that’s sixty
thousand
—words.
    “Wow,” you say. Or maybe not—maybe some of you said “wow” or simply thought it in your head. Those of you who did not react at all surely have no concept of the pressure to write that many words, for that is a
whole
lot of words.
    In conclusion (and, just between you and me, in order to get the law off my back), I’d like to say a few things that perhaps I neglected or merely didn’t expand on or go into detail about. For instance, I have enjoyed writing this book over the past year. It’s been a learning experience that I shall never forget. My one regret is that I don’t know how to type so I did not use a computer. I have written the entire book in longhand, and I’m not positive, but I believe my right arm is now considerably larger than the left—because I am right-handed.
    Sometimes I think much faster than I write, therefore … Hey, is
therefore
one word or two? I think it should be two even if it’s one word because it is actually two words joined together—it’s certainly long enough to be counted as two words. Anyway, sometimes I’ve misspelled words because I can’t write as fast as I think, and I have worried that my publisher will think I am stupid—although spelling should not represent the level of intelligence of a human being.
    I prefer to use the term
human being
not because it is two words, but because I like it better than person—that is just my personal taste. I do use the word
person
as well, but I just sometimes prefer
human being
. What does that mean, anyway? I understand saying he is a human—but a
human being?
I also enjoy using the words
homo sapiens
, from time to time. It’s funny how many words there are for people (see, there’s another one right there).
People
is a term or word used for more than one person. But still we say. There were a whole bunch of people.” Why? You know what I’m saying: if people is already plural, why do we need to say a whole bunch? I’m not saying you, the reader, do that. But surely some people do. I know I have used the phrase before many times.
    I just glanced out the window—what a beautiful day it is today. It’s so clear I can see the mountains. I live in the Hollywood Hills, and sometimes Los Angeles is so smoggy that I can’t see the mountains. But today it’s so clear I can see them.
    I’m sitting at my desk with my computer next to me—almost mocking me. I do have a computer to store all of my writing on disk. I just type so slowly that I can’t write this book on it. I rarely sit at my desk and write. I have written most of this book on airplanes, in hotel rooms, in coffeehouses, in bed, in the kitchen—everywhere but at my desk. Sitting at a desk reminds me too much of school. I hated school. I’m so glad to be out. But when I look back on it, I wish I had paid attention