Just a short interlude...
Memories are a funny thing; when you really need to remember something, it's almost impossible to conjure up all of the details on your own. Usually, you can call someone who was actually there, but sometimes a person has to wait around for a smell, sight, or sound to jog their aging brain. This is actually the best case scenario. The worst case is when memories come back without permission. You could be sitting on your couch watching Law & Order, when all of the sudden (between a delicious bite of Pringles), a memory sneaks into your conscious mind, causing you to press the pause button during the tense scene between Ice-T and Doorman #1, because you're now choking on a piece of reconstituted, potato-like chip. So rude.
Usually, the sneak memory is pretty harmless and fleeting. But within the last couple of days, I've had to go to DEFCOM 1. I can't get this crap out of my immediate thoughts. It all started when I bought that can of tuna...Starkist was patient zero. And so began the not-so-complicated string of associations, beginning with that rather innocuous little can--like 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon...only with tuna.
Here's how the associations went: Says to self, "Hmm, I feel like making a tuna salad sandwich. I wonder if there's any dolphins in this can. Dolphins are rapists. So the wife on American Horror Story was raped by the rubber guy...meh. The house in the show looks like the place in St. Louis that Marie and I stayed a night in. I wonder if Marie is really a lesbian pirate? That reminds me of 'fat naked neighbor guy' in Portland that dangled himself (and his bits)--along with a can of tuna--out of his window every morning. I can't believe it wasn't obvious to him why his cat never returned."
Result: Brain now executes a very colorful montage of the many instances of unsolicited flashing/indecent exposures/genital puppet shows from over the years. I say unsolicited--and this is a very important distinction, as you well know.
I think I'll stick to egg salad.