I’ll be the first to admit I’m not playing with a full deck—mine’s missing the eight of clubs and the queen of diamonds, though besides that intact, but for the crease-mark which is a dead giveaway–I mean in the Wild West you’d have been d-e-a-d—on the backside of the club of nines. Yes, you heard me right, the club of nines—that flagrant violation of the anatomy of logic was fully intended to throw you out of the metaphor, toss you out you precisely like a bouncer might toss your numb-dumb self after you tried to show the young lady at the bar that tattoo removal wasn’t nearly as involved as it’s made out to be so long as one has a sharp object on hand, like a what…a Gurkha? A toenail clipper? A cheddar? You tried to skin off a chick’s tattoo with a block of cheese that you’d been carrying around in the inner seam of your coat for? A year? What brought the bouncer round, the mold or your mouth?
I’m veering back and forth here, slaloming amidst metaphors and figures of speech which are then extended as though they are literal descriptions, all of this purposefully, I hope. What I want to get at is Robert Sapolsky’s really cool and thought-provoking argument in his New York Times Opinionator column of the other day, “This is Your Brain on Metaphors.” Continue reading