A while back, I read on my news feed the 7 Signs You’re Drinking Too Much Coffee. The article listed these symptoms: you feel anxious, your stomach hurts, your heart is racing, you have diarrhea, you can’t sleep, you've got the jitters and you get headaches.

As usual, these types of lists always omit some symptoms. Here’s what the list omitted:

You buy coffee colors shirts, so the stains don’t show.
You plant coffee beans in your garden.
Your Starbuck’s bill is more than your electric bill.
You sprinkle ground coffee on your omelets.
You start carrying instant coffee and spoon for a quick pick-me-up instead of a snack.
You start looking for coffee flavoring in all your food.
You can smell a coffee shop one mile away.
Your teeth turn brown.
Use start using a needle to inject the coffee directly into your blood stream.
You think hospital coffee tastes good.
You buy coffee by the bushel
​
If you have any of these symptoms, you may need an intervention.
​

I like to watch TV. However, lately my favorite shows seem to have added so many sub-plots that it’s hard to keep them straight. There’s a sub-plot for each relationship.  Here’s an example of a detective show with too many sub-plots. Enjoy.

Too Many Sub-plots – A Short Story
 
Dick sat at his non-descript desk in the bull pen typing out his report on his latest bust. His partner, Tracy, sat in the desk next to his doing the same.

A tall blond walked over to Dick’s desk and sat on the edge of his desk. It was Joanna from Vice. She was a very successful undercover detective in vice because she looked and acted like a hooker. “Are you coming over tonight, handsome?” Joanna asked slyly.

“Yeah,” Dick answered. “As soon as I finish my report, I’ll be right over – thirty-minutes, tops.”

Joanna stood up. “Okay but don’t be too late or I’ll start without you. Oh, and bring your handcuffs.”

“Where are yours?” Dick asked.

Joanna smiled. “We’ll need two pair tonight, Sugar.” She exited the room with a little more sway than her usual strut. Dick and Tracy watched her until she turned into the hall with a pad of sticky notes stuck to her butt.

Dick glanced over to Tracy in time to see him advert his eyes back to his monitor. Dick returned to writing his report. Finally, he broke the sound of clicking key boards, “This isn’t fair.”

“What’s not fair?” Tracy asked, looking up.

“The whole justice system. Today we busted a meth lab and took in… what, half a mill in drugs and easily $100,000 in cash, and what do we get out of it? A pat on the back. It isn’t fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You know, in some companies, we’d get to keep ten percent.” They both returned to their keyboards.

After a few minutes, Tracy said, “Did you know there’s 3.5 million dollars in the evidence room? A couple of smart guys like us could figure a way to get it out.”

Dick sat back in his chair and looked at Tracy. “You’re right. We could figure out how to remove it without anyone noticing.”

“After work, let’s go get a drink and talk about it,” Tracy suggested.

“I can’t. I’ve got a date tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

Tracy laughed. “Going over to Joanna the Slut’s place?”

Dick stared at his partner. “Don’t call her that.”

“Everyone calls her that.”

“I don’t care. Don’t call her a ‘slut’ in my presence.”

Tracy threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, partner.”

Detective Columbo, another detective in Dick’s department, walked over and leaned on Dick’s desk. He looked Dick straight in the eyes. “This isn’t over, dick-head. We need to settle it. Let’s you and I go to the gym tonight and get in the ring – no holds barred.”

Dick smiled. “Can’t tonight, maybe tomorrow night.”

Columbo straighten up. “Oh yeah, you’re going out with Joanna the Slut tonight.”

Dick jump to his feet. He would’ve hit Columbo in the face if Tracy hadn’t jumped in between them. Tracy placed his hands on Columbo’s chest and gave him a slight shove. “Not now, guys and not here; tomorrow night at the gym. Now beat it, Columbo.”

Columbo pointed a finger at Dick. “I’m going to kill you.” He turned and stormed out.

Dick’s boss, Lois Lane, stood in the doorway to her office. “Dick.” Both Tracy and Dick looked up and made eye contact. “Not you, dick-head, the other Dick,” Lois said. She signaled for Dick to come into her office. When Dick came into his office, Lois said, “Close the door and sit down.” She shuffled through some pages and finally looked up at Dick. “Where’s the report on today’s bust?”

“I’m working on it, Chief. I’ll e-mail it to you in twenty minutes.”

Lois nodded. “Do you need over-time?”

“No, No. I got it. Besides, I have a date tonight.”

Lois chuckled. “Going out with Joanna the Slut again?”

Dick didn’t answer; he just glared.

Lois shook her head. “Look, I understand. You work hard, you play hard. It’s been a long day and you need your pipes cleaned. Go for it. Go ahead and just file the report. Print out a hard copy for me.”

Dick cocked his head. “Is that why you called me in here? What’s on your mind?”

Lois shook her head. “You always were the perceptive one. Internal Affairs is reopening the case from last year about the teenager you shot.”

“Who’s heading up the investigation?” Dick asked.

“Sherlock Holmes.”

Dick shook his head. “He’s been after me very since I accidently ran over that kid my rookie year. That shooting is a closed case. It was a clean shot.”

“You fired nineteen rounds into the perp. You stopped to reload a second clip.”

Dick stood up and shouted, “He was jaywalking!” He took a deep breath and composed himself, flopping down in the chair. “He could have been hit by a truck. I probably saved his life when I shot him.”

Lois shook her head. “It would have been better if you had killed him. He sued the department and the city settled out of court for five million dollars. I think Sherlock wants to recoup some of the money from your pension. That’s brings up a good point; You shot him nineteen times and he still crawled away.”

“I could have killed him if I wanted to.”

Tracy stuck his head in the door. “Dick, you better come out and see this. Your daughter is here asking for you.”

“Damn it!” Lois shouted. “I closed that door for a reason.”

Tracy stepped inside the office. “Sorry, Chief. It’s an emergency.” Dick stood up and marched out of Clark’s office followed by Tracy.

Dick’s daughter, Mystique, stood by Dick’s desk; young, pretty, wearing a too short and tight mini-skirt and sporting a black eye.

Dick stopped in his tracks. “WTF? Who hit you?” Mystique wasn’t crying, but Dick could tell by the way she clinched her jaw she was pissed.

Mystique chuckled.  “My so-called boyfriend did this.”

Dick clinched his fists. “I’ll kill him. Where is he?”

Mystique held up her hands to stop her father. “You have to chill, dad. I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself. I’ll handle this. I just came by to borrow a gun.”

Tracy reached down to his ankle and pulled out a small pistol. “Here. Use mine. It’s unregistered and the serial number’s filed off.” He stepped forward and handed it to Mystique.

“Thanks,” she said, “I’ll return it tomorrow.” She kissed Tracy on the mouth. Her left hand stayed on his buttocks a little too long. She turned and kissed her father on the cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you tonight.”

Dick shook his head. “Sorry, hon. I’ve a date. I might not be home tonight.”

Mystique laughed. “Oh, Joanna the Slut again? Oh well, I shouldn’t talk. Have fun. See you at the fight.”

Dick was puzzled. “What fight?”

Mystique stopped in the doorway. “I heard you and Columbo are scheduled to fight tomorrow after work. It’s about time you two kissed and made up.”

Dick could feel his face redden. “Is nothing a secret around here?” He watched his daughter walk out; her mini skirt revealing a little too much cheek. He turned around and saw Tracy watching her. When he glared at him, Tracy looked down and slithered over to his desk. In ten minutes, Dick was finished and headed for the door.

“Give my love to Joanna,” Tracy shouted.

It was now dark. As Dick walked toward his car, he heard a voice out of the darkness. “Dick, wait up.” It was one of his confidential informants, Moriarty. Moriarty closed the distance between them. “Hey, we need to talk.”

“WTF, Moriarty? I said never to talk to me here or in public.”

“I know, dude, don’t get flamed. I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important.” Dick paused to listen. “Word on the street is you and Tracy going to drain the evidence room.”

Dick was stunned. “Where did you hear that?”

“I’ve my sources. That’s why I’m a good CI. Is it true?”

“It’s in the planning stage.”

Moriarty placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Well, if you need help, I’m here for you, dude. I also heard you and Columba are going to rubble tomorrow night.”

Dick raised his voice. “Damn it! Are there no secrets anymore? So… what are the odds?”
“Three to one in Columbo’s favor.”

“WTF? I’ll murder that guy.” Dick took out his wallet and fished out a twenty. “Put $20 on me to win.”

“Come on, dude. Only a twenty? Your daughter put up $30 on Columbo.”

“I guess there is no loyalty. I always thought blood was thicker.”

Moriarty laughed. “Well, I guess we’ll see tomorrow. By the way, Chief Lane bet $50 on Columbo.”

Dick looked up at Lois’ window and saw the light was out. He pulled out another $10 and gave it to Moriarty. “Now get out of my sight before I arrest you for gambling.”

Moriarty disappeared into the shadows. From the shadows he yelled, “Give my love to Joanna the Slut.”

THE END

​This snippet has so many sub-plots I have forgotten the original plot. Too any cooks spoil the broth. The same goes for sub-plots.

Here’s another of my favorite short stories. Enjoy!

If Thoughts Could Kill

Angelina allowed herself a small snicker as the focus of her ire came down for breakfast. God, I hate him, she thought. Look at that idiot. Little does he know that I am going to kill him next week. I can’t stand the sight of him.  
  
“Good morning, dear,” Ravi said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “How’d you sleep last night?” I wish she died in her sleep. That would make everything easier, he thought. I must kill her next week. He sat down at the table opposite her.    

Angelina handed Ravi the half-and-half. “Fine. And you?”

Ravi blew on the surface of his coffee, a habit that Angelina found extremely annoying, and took one sip. Blood began to drip from his nostrils. As he reached up to touch his face, foam began to pour out of his mouth. He looked at Angelina with those narrow beady eyes as his head hit the table with a thud. Then his head rolled off the table, across the kitchen floor and into the dog’s dish where Peppy, the greyhound, began to lick his face.    

“Like a baby.” Ravi grabbed the bagel knife, reached across the table and stabbed Angelina’s hand, pinning it to the table. Pulling a pistol from the back of his waistband, he shot Angelina between the eyes. He smiled as the back of her head blew out like a smashed watermelon. Blood spouted out the top of her head and down onto the flannel nightgown that he hated. “Do you have plans this weekend?”    

“No, not really.” Angelina poured another cup of coffee. Yes, you bastard, Angelina thought. While you’re banging your slutty mistress across town, I be buying some antifreeze for your coffee. Then I’ll  stop off at the gun shop and pick up the pistol that has been on hold during my background. I also want to find your old hunting knife.    

“Me neither.” Ravi sipped his coffee again. I wish I had a slutty mistress across town so I could spend the day banging her while you waste money on another facial. He finished his coffee and stood up. “Well, I am going to get dressed and do some yard work.”    

“You do that, dear. I think I’ll go into town and get a facial.” What an idiot. He is worth millions but wears the same pair of underwear for years. I can’t wait to kill him.   
 
“Have fun. Pick up something for dinner.” As Ravi walked out of the kitchen, the kitchen exploded in a ball of fire. Apparently, someone left the gas on in the oven.    

“Ciao,” Angelina answered. As Ravi reached the top of the stairs, the top step gave way. He grabbed the railing which also gave way. He fell over the side and landed on his head in the living room. His eyes were open and glued to the TV. The thought of it made Angelina smile.   
 
“Angie, I can’t find my lucky underwear.” What a bitch. I bet she threw them out.    

“I threw them out, dear. I’ll buy you some new ones while I’m in town.” I gotta kill him next week.
​    
Ravi shook his head. I have gotta kill her next week.

THE END

​I read with interest an article from The Motley Fool by Maurie Backman, “10 Reasons You're Not Getting Promoted.” The ten reasons included: a negative attitude, showing up late or leaving early, using vulgar or inappropriate language, too many sick days, gossiping, wasting time on social media, being messy, wasting time chatting with coworkers and taking too many personal calls. Sometimes you can guess the reason as when the boss’ son gets promoted over you. The article missed the real reasons you aren’t getting that big promotion. Here they are:

1. Your fraternity or sorority just made the news for some stupid stunt.
2. Your boss just discovered that funny video of you drunk and falling into a wedding cake.
3. HR discovered that you didn’t actually graduate form Trump University.
4. The boss’ secretary showed HR the sext message you sent her.
5. You asked the boss for a date.
6. You brought your AK47 to work.
7. You won’t use the same drug dealer that the rest of the office uses.
8. You used the copy machine for pornography without permission.
9. HR discovered that hilarious video of the office party you posted on Youtube.
10. You showed too much interest in the boss’ son/daughter
11. You said the boss’ idea was stupid.

 
Of course, you may never know the truth. All you can do is to give your very best effort and kiss up to the boss.

​It seems there’s a news item two or three times a week about road rage. I don’t think road rage can be stopped, but it can be controlled. Data gathered by SafeMotorist.com indicates that 66% of recent traffic fatalities can be linked to aggressive driving. Of course, not all aggressive driving is a result of road rage. However, 37% of those fatalities were found to be caused by a firearm. According to a study by the AAA nearly 80% of drivers expressed significant anger, aggression or road rage while driving at least once in the past year. Not all anger ends up in road rage.
 
 Anger is a is a natural emotion, a common response to frustrating or threatening experiences or when a person thinks he has been injured or mistreated. Mix anger, driving and maybe alcohol and you have a dangerous cocktail. However, it can be controlled. Instead of stopping road rage, we can render it harmless. I think I have found the perfect control mechanism—paint balls.
 
Every driver, on a volunteer basis, of course, would be issued a paint ball gun with a special color of paint. If we use the colors found in a crayon box minus white, there are 63 colors. When a driver feels road rage, the driver can shoot the offending driver who may shoot back. If the car is the same color as the paint, the driver will have to aim for a tire or window. When the police see a car with more than five colors, they would issue a citation for reckless driving.
 
We should try this out in cities like Los Angeles or New York City for a beta trial. If all goes well, the technique can be adopted nationwide.

​Millions of people are unable to enjoy the comedy of life, because they are humorously challenged. Often, they suffer in silence, ashamed to admit that they don’t get the joke. Everyone should learn to recognize the symptoms and to help those unfortunate people who have trouble laughing. Friends do not let friends miss out on the joke. This is a curable and preventable illness. Maybe you are one of those who suffer in silence. Ask yourself these questions:
1. When someone tells a joke, do you stand there saying, “I don’t get it.” while everyone else is laughing?
2. Does everyone stop laughing and change the subject whenever you join the group?
3. Do you laugh at inappropriate times while others aren’t laughing?
4. Do you think that Saturday Night Live is a news program?
5. Do you take sarcasm as a serious statement?
6. Are you unable to laugh at yourself as well as others?
7. Do you think that Bob Hope was the Secretary of State and that Bill Clinton was a comedian?
8. Are you unable to laugh and make milk come out of your nose?
9. Do you feel pain when someone tickles your funny bone?
10. Do you think that this article is serious?

​If you answered yes to any of these questions, you may be humorously challenged to some degree. Not to fear, the cure is simple, but may take years. To cure yourself from being humorously challenged, start by reading my blog at http://www.monteranderson-author.com. Once you are able to smile at my comments, start reading cartoons in the newspaper. (If you don’t know what a newspaper is, contact me privately.) Once you understand the cartoons, you may try going to a comedy club and signing up for other humorous blogs. With a little effort, you may be cured after a few years.

I haven’t felt the need to post these warnings, but in light of the current topic, I thought I had better.

WARNING! Reading this blog may cause laughter which might result in a pulled stomach muscles, injured funny bones, coffee or milk to pour from the nose, and self-inflicted wounds caused by slapping knees or foreheads.

WARNING! Reading my blog may cause eyestrain, deep thoughts (rare), raised eyebrows, furrowing of the forehead, gnashing of teeth, and shaking of the head.
If you think you have any of these symptoms, return to my blog for another dose.

Consider yourself warned.

I read with interest an article about the seven most common myths about the brain. In their latest ASAP Science video, Mitchell Moffit and Gregory Brown explain why they aren't true. I’ll just summarize the article. The myths are:
1. A bigger brain is better (smarter). Not true.
2. Alcohol kills brain cells. Not true, thank goodness.
3. Drugs create "holes" in your brain. Not true. Again, thank goodness.
4. The brain has 100 billion cells. Not true. The brain has only 86 billion brain cells. I get light headed thinking about it.
5. People use only 10% of your brain. Not true (unless you’re a politician).
6. People are either "left-brained" or "right-brained." Not true.
7. People have only five senses: sight, smell, taste, hearing, and touch. Also, not true. People also have a sense of balance, temperature, time, pain and proprioception (the body awareness that helps us not walk into things all the time). Makes sense to me.

I believe that Moffit and Brown missed a few myths. As a public services, I will present them here:

1. A “No Brainer.” Not true. If someone is a no brainer, meaning they have no brain, then they are a zombie. At least, I don’t think zombies have brains.

2. “Blow your mind” or be “mind blowing.” Again, not true. If something blows your mind, once again, you become a zombie.

3. “Mind altering” or “mind expanding.” Not true. You brain is what it is. Once you become an adult, it is fully grown. It may shrink as you grow old but won’t expand. “Mime” altering is something else entirely.

4. Eating cold ice cream will make your “brain freeze”. Not true. Frostbite, maybe. Opening the top of your head on a cold day will freeze your brain. This shouldn’t be confused with being “cool headed”.

5. Your brain can get a “brain cramp” or a “brain fart” “Not true. Muscles cramp, not brains. Brains can’t fart either. The correct term should be “senior moment’ which can occur at any age.

6. Some people have only “half a brain”. Okay, this one might be true, especially if you are a politician. This phenomenon can be observed on the news all the time.

7. “A penny for your thoughts.” Due to inflation, the true cost is 26.5 cents for a thought. People who work for a penny a thought are under paid. This is especially true for writers and bloggers like me.

​8. Someone can get “inside your head” or “mess with your head.” Not true, unless they’re a surgeon. Alcohol can get into your head and mess with your head but not people. If you really want to mess with someone’s head just ask, “You’re not going to wear that, are you?”
 
9. “Shit for brains”. Not true. There has never been a record of anyone having do-do for brains. Sometimes though, you have to wonder.
 
10. “Bird brained” Also not true. Birds have their own brains and they are smaller than human brains. People who eat like a bird still have normal or semi-normal brains.
 
11. “Brain dump” This is a real thing. I used this in college. When I studied for a test and crammed my head full of data, it would crowd out other useful knowledge. After the test, I would do a “brain dump” and immediately make room for more information. To this day, I can’t remember what I learned.
 
12. “Changing your mind”. I wish but not true. You keep the brain you were born with until you die. Hopefully, sometime in the future, we might be able to trade our minds for a better one, or at least upgrade. 

13. “Pick your brain”. No can do. Your brain isn’t like your nose or belly button. You can’t pick it.   

14. “Your mind’s eye”. Not true. The brain has no eyes separate from the ones in the front of your head. 

15. “Laughing your head off”. Once again, there’s no record of anyone laughing their head off. 

​I hope this public service has helped to dispel some of the myths surrounding the brain.