The Voices In My Head

I hear voices. They narrate my actions, comment on my wins and losses. Not all day long, here and there when I’m doing something or going somewhere. I hear the cadence, the rhythm, words and phrases. I wonder what they would say about whatever I’m doing. Is it just me?

For example, recently I had some clean-up to do in the backyard. Fortunately, I wasn’t alone. This is Erin Andrews, sideline reporter for Fox. While I worked, she informed my imaginary audience…

I spoke to Coach Hurley coming out of the garage just now. While he’s disappointed with the first half results, it’s not a lack of effort. Yes, there are plenty of acorns and leaves to vacuum in the pool area. Texas Oaks are relentless. But he’s confident in his Toros, both sweeper and blower, especially in the corners by the fence. One more thing, Jim and Greg: Hurley says he’s not surprised by the squirrel activity, the shards of nuts left behind. They planned for that, but they just didn’t execute. Back to you.

Maybe it is just me. Maybe I’m the only one with imaginary narration. But maybe not.

On my way to Collin College last week, I was running a bit behind. Right there on the 121 frontage, Dick Vitale, the hyper-frenetic raspy voice of NCAA basketball intruded on my commute. (If you need defintions/explanations, refer to this.)

Don’t count Hurley out yet, bay-bee! A five star recruit from Illinois to Collin College, he’s gone from Diaper Dandy to MVP in two years! A true surf and turfer! He may be behind in this knee-knocker, but Mr. Wrangler and Mr. Ford-150 can’t block his shot! Ohhh! Ohhh! It’s a double lane change through the greenie! Quick right and weave past the semi, he’s the Isolation Man, bay-bee! You give Hurley an sliver of light, a crease on the raceway, and you can’t stop the man! Here he goes! Past the Buick, past the RAV, past his Silverado brother! I told you, he’s a PTPer, prime time player! Into the parking lot a minute early! Dipsy-doo, dunkaroo he brought home the W! He’s Secretariat in a Chevy, bay-bee! Listen to the Cameron Crazies! I can give you the X’s and O’s, but in crunch time, don’t bet against Hurley! Boo-yah!

In case you’re wondering, it’s not always sports. I mean, that’s the most obvious, but sometimes it’s the soothing, melodious voice of someone like Emma Thompson. More accurately, it’s Emma as Karen Eiffel narrating Harold Crick’s life in the movie “Stranger Than Fiction.” (Here’s a clip if you’re unfamiliar with the movie.) Sometimes, she takes the time to narrate me.

The other day, minding my own business, I walked into Well’s Fargo. In that brilliant British accent, Emma/Karen started speaking, though I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who heard her.

As Mike entered the lobby, he was assaulted by the smell of popcorn. Myriad questions filled his brain. Could Bryant, his favorite teller, have taken an early lunch? And if he did, why would he eat popcorn? Or maybe the bank was featuring some sort of promotion in lieu of a toaster giveaway. Mike ran his tongue over his teeth and sighed deeply when he realized the salty goodness of popcorn would be offset by the inevitable shards of kernals lodged in his bicuspid food traps. Taking a step forward, the squeak from his brand new Nike Monarchs alerted Albert, Bryant’s replacement teller. Punctuated with a tilted red bowtie and bifocals, Albert peered past his adding machine, his forced smile revealing the anxiety of his first day on the job. Hurley wondered if this was simply the next chapter of his life: missed popcorn lunches and apprentice tellers.

Which brings me to lunch today. While I’m sitting in Jason’s Deli waiting for my sandwich, an uninvited Ben Shapiro suddenly began commenting on the underpaid workers behind the counter. I was unprepared for the intellectual commentary, the fast patter of logic analyzing the moment. (Here’s a quick Shapiro take on atheism if you’re unfamiliar with his work.)

It’s not complicated, folks. I’m not anti-labor. In fact, just the opposite. In a free market economy, workers are just that. They are free. Free to stay or free to leave. Raising minimum wage to $20 per hour is a pyrrhic solution. It is completely bereft of merit. Adam Smith understood what the socialist students at Yale and Berkley cannot seem to grasp. Ask citizens of failed economic states like Venezuela or Cuba or Vietnam about their daily lives. The objective reality is runaway inflation cripples the average family. Answer this question: do people in Cuba have better food because of socialism? Unequivocally, the answer is no. Simply stated, the quality of my turkey sandwich will not improve by raising the minimum wage. (Okay, I added the last line; I have no idea if Ben likes turkey.)

Unplanned, the voices just come and go. It’s not always those voices I admire or respect or even like. Frankly, I wish I had a lot more Denzel or Morgan Freeman or Liam Neeson or Emma, maybe even Grover. Those folks rock. For some reason, it just doesn’t work that way.

What if I get Christopher Walken or Ursula the Sea Witch when I take the garbage out later? Yikes.