I've been reading some books on how to rewire my brain.
I'm anxious. Can I really trust myself to properly rewire my brain all on my own? Shouldn't I at least have an electrician's licence? Or at least experiment with someone else's brain first. How about my wife?
Judging from how I do with household chores, I should be really careful. Last summer I installed a ceiling fan and every time I turn it on, our neighbour's Tesla drives itself out East to attend a lobster festival.
Be very careful with the book above. It doesn't have even one picture of a fuse box.
Rewiring the brain is a minefield of problems. What if I electrocute myself? I know a guy who tried fixing his toaster while it was still plugged in. He now refers to his entire family as Anthony Weiner.
I'm not completely ignorant on things electric. I know that before you mess with electrons, you should turn the power off. I'm not sure how to do that to my brain, other than to fall asleep or watch old episodes of Manimal.
Do you know how complicated the brain is? I mean, Einstein had one. What if I cross a wire? I could end up with the IQ of a crock pot. I'd be much more useful, I guess. But would I be less anxious? – oh shit sorry, I messed up your stew.
One early adopter of brain renovation tried rewiring his amygdala but accidentally shorted his libido and could never get another erection. Or was it a permanent erection? Can't remember. It was a closed coffin, anyway.
Well, I'll give it a go. If it doesn't work, I guess you'll see me on Yonge Street selling curtain rods.
