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blogger dreams: bring me the head of eugene volokh!

When I fell asleep last night, Eugene Volokh was on Fox. I'm not sure what he was talking about, as my eyes were rolling in back of my head from exhaustion at that point, but whatever it was, my brain was still receiving Eugene's signal as I slept because I dreamed about him.

Poor Eugene was just a head. He was rolling around my kitchen floor, trying to discuss Jayson Blair with my kids. But they would hear none of it. They just wanted to play basketball with the head of Eugene Volokh.

We took the head and went outside, all the while Eugene going on and on about Jayson Blair and something about Scott Ritter. Once outside, we met Meryl Yourish and one of my bosses, who was wearing his judge's robe. He took Eugene's head away from us, tucked it under his robe and said "Look, I'm Roseanne Barr!"

I apologize to Mr. Volokh for dreaming about his head. I meant nothing by it.

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Comments

I suggest you immediately apologize to Mr. Volokh, while he is still un-armed. Remind him that head-body disconnections have a long and honored place in New York folklore, Rip Van Winkle and all.

Then you can dream his body back to him and return him to California. No bad.

I keep having this dream about a guy in a deserted rural area in New Zealand who's sold a basement conversion featuring a wall full of ears, through which he can hear exactly what certain people are hearing at any one time.

This is of course relevant psychologically because, ummm, I don't get enough sleep and work as a lead singer, with all its attendant substance abuse issues, I guess.

Here ends the lesson.

Ok, I held in the giggles until the Roseanne part. I can't do any more than that.