Light Bulbs
Jennifer Flaten

I am performing my usual morning routine, slurping diet Pepsi and reading the newspaper. I love starting my day with a clear picture of all the latest mayhem. Once that is out of the way, I finish it off with a look at the comics.

These days you have to finish it with a look at something funny; otherwise, you end up with your head in an oven. My morning reading is heavy on the local news, later I will follow up with all the real news; you know celebrity gossip. Life isn’t worth living if I don’t know what Lady Gaga wore to the MTV movie awards.

Perusing an article about the local art scene, yeah, yeah, art scene Wisconsin I know oxymoron right. I find out my fair city wants to install a new piece of art in front of the courthouse. Hmm, the choices are a ginormous metal flower, a funky Lad Justice, bronze columns and a tuning fork.

Wait, a what: a tuning fork a giant silver tuning fork that will and this has to be the best part, hum with the wind. Yes, as you can tell I am one of “those” people, the kind of people who like their art to look like whatever it is supposed to be. I will never understand the appeal of a piece of art made by rolling monkeys in paint.

Obviously, my finger is not on the pulse of the art community. I certainly don‘t have a clue about what makes good art. Yet, that isn’t going to stop me from making fun of it.

My favorite part of the article is the quote from a member of the art community who explains that art is “uplifting.” Yes, I can certainly imagine some poor bastard down at the courthouse to pay his speeding ticket feeling uplifted by the sight of a 30-foot brass Lady Justice. Did I mention that Lady Justice is perched atop a geodesic dome?

Yep, uplifting, I suspect, for her, anyway. Just as I am moving on to the crossword puzzle, I hear a pop. I look around, oh a light bulb in the chandelier popped. Hey, in a house with three kids and assorted animals the source of odd noises isn’t always apparent.

You don’t know how many times I’ve said, “So, that’s what that noise was,” when I thought, for sure, that it sounded like the cat throwing up. It was actually the washing machine throwing up.

Where are the light bulbs? Where did I not leave the light bulb? I find the light bulbs, in the back of the supply closet, beneath ten pounds of other stuff. You know how everyone hates Styrofoam. Sure, it takes 2,000 years to decompose, but it keeps your light bulbs safe.

As I am screwing in my light bulb, I remember an article I just read, in the newspaper. I know again, with the paper; what can I say, I am a creature of habit. The local paper is slightly, if only slightly, more credible then the Internet. So, I tend to believe the paper.

According to the article soon, regular light bulbs will be outdated. For the record, I saw the light bulb article on line too. Yep, the government officials, who apparently don’t have enough to do, have decided to regulate light bulbs. Honestly, they need to back off. If I want to use a damn 75 watt, light bulb that is none of their business.

I definitely don’t think I am going to bring about the collapse of modern civilization by not using a LED bulb. Just so, you know, I already have the space cleared out in my basement to hoard light bulbs. No, you can’t have any. 

Instead of monitoring my light bulb use, maybe the government should monitor the use of monkeys in artwork