Alane and I drove to the tax office this afternoon to sign our paperwork and render unto Kucinich that which apparently is Kucinich's. Another big financial hit. Oh well: if my pain makes the free-riders happier, then consider me a party animal...

Anyway, as we drove I was playing my really cool Beady Belle CD and the track for "Big Balloon" came on. With lyrics like "I am a fluttering helium balloon... I am a big balloon (I'm a balloon)" Alane thinks it is a ridiculous song. As for me, I never gave it much thought.

Never gave it much thought? Has the morass of female jazz vocals softened my brain? After three or four years of hearing that song it finally struck me:

I am... A BIG BABOON (I'm a baboon)

I sang this, gleefully, right along with the music, and for emphasis I dragged my knuckles across the top of the emergency brake handle -- accentuating my simian musical nature.

And I laughed. Actually I convulsed. Good fortune gave me a red light at the corner of Prospect and Albion, allowing me to catch my breath and wipe my eyes as Alane dryly advised me that other drivers were looking at me with alarm.

I didn't care. I was... a big baboon.

And speaking of alarm, you should have seen the looks on Da Chimpz' faces when I told them the only candy they're allowed to eat from now on is circus peanuts. Easter baskets? They'll be full of circus peanuts. They're going to grow up needing therapy.