No, really, I'm a banjo...

In 1905, Albert Einstein had what has come to be known as his "Miracle Year" wherein he formulated the theories which fundamentally altered mankind's understanding of our physical world. In that year he reached the fulcrum of his life, that point where all his past experiences met a burst of creative energy and propelled the man and his ideas into the scientific community and eventually into public consciousness where he has resided ever since; his face, name, theories now iconic and synonomous with genius.

As we enter December, I believe my 2008 mirrors Einstein's 1905.

The only difference being that my field of study is the mediocre joke.

Call it Jokology, Funnistics, Punishmentalism or simply sophomoric humor, it has, in short, been nothing less than my life's work. I have devoted myself almost completely, which is to say partially, to the study, pursuit and practice of the most average, inane and puerile forms of comedy on earth.

Now, before you today, on this blog, you have discovered the key to the lock that hides the secrets which explain the punchlines and otherwise sets the table for a feast of fickle blathering...quod erat demonstrandum.

To help those keeping score at home I will introduce a few of the players in this vast (several thousand page-long) prank. We have, of course, The Cat, integral as he is in the plotline of both The Magic Circus (which, scene by scene, will follow this already too long introduction) as well as The Return of the Superbas http://returnofthesuperbas.blogspot.com/. Indeed, he jumps from one to the other with feline grace and a dash of treachery assisted by The Eagle, residing in his mountain aerie, directing movements of lesser beings like Zeus playing chess against a midget playing checkers (more on the midget later [hint: foreshadowing]).

Deeply embedded in The Magic Circus is a plotline reminiscent of Gone Postal http://rantdigseek.blogspot.com/ told; however, in the style of a multi-episode Korean drama, think All My Children except with rodents and amphibians engaged in international intrigue. Gone Postal is a political thriller with the sensibilities of The Daily Show. It's main character is Johnny Boston, a hapless Hitchcokian accidental hero, kind of like a drunk James Bond, eg he plays Blackjack not Baccarat, even though linguistically the latter would be more appropriate.

I wish I could tell you this will all make sense soon. It mightn't. Many of you won't get it. This is the nature of the mediocre joke. Such is life. I'll try to link to appropriate references, and as soon as I figure out this whole hyperlinking thing which I'm sure is quite simple but since it is 5:41 in the AM I don't really want to bother, that may help things run more smoothly. Then again it may not. So, without further adieu I give you The Magic Circus, et al.

Oh, one more thing...I'm a compulsive lyre...