Why Heads are Round

'Why’re heads round?' Well I tell y’. An' believe you me, son, I done some thinkin’ on this one, too. Lots of it. Havin’ plenny o’ time for consumption, not to mention digestion, o’ suchlike deliberations.

I figger it’s like this. Now you’s probly too young to remember, but when I was jus’ a pup that’s when all this newfangled video stuff it first started takin’ holt o’ folks’s minds—back when folks use’ta sit’n talk ‘n not hav’ta be starin’ at some damn TV screen or cell phone or—….yeah, or sittin’ there a’whistlin’ or hummin’ little bits’n pieces o’ music which no one else cain’t hear. Yeah, like that.

Anyway, like I’s sayin’, first game I recall was one called Pong. Don’t know why they didn’t just call it Ping Pong, for that’s what it was, ‘ssentially, anyways, just ‘lectronical instead’a…….well, you know what I mean…….’stead’a….well…..’stead’a real-world-like.

So, like I’s saying, this here Pong, two folks play it jus’ like the real-world Ping Pong, only you play with this here little joysticky thingumabob, look’n like a little gear shifter knob thing, which controls your….well, controls your un-real-world Ping Pong paddle. Now, if a fella’ got some time in on that Pong game he could do all sorts o’ tricks, like putting spin on it an’ other such tricks an’ what all else I don’t even recall, bein’ about 35 years ago now since I goofed with one o’ them Pong contraptions.

Anyways, one thing ‘bout that Pong game was it had a few idiot-syncro…things, so to speak. And one o’ them idiot-syncrothings was that if you could get that Ping Pong ball goin’ straight back’n forth between the paddles, well, y’could just leave it be an’ go get yourself a koolaid or a beer or have a cigarette or smoke doob— ….yeah, a joint. Or hell, a fella could go ‘n watch hisself a movie ‘n fly back ‘n forth to Jupiter!

Don’t matter when he come back, that little Pong ball’ll be still a’boppin’ back’n forth, bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk, here to eternity, 'r so I guess. Leastwise ‘ntil the ‘lectricity goes off.

So, anyways, ‘f’I’can ever get back to what I was gettin’ at: I figger that’s why our heads are round, instead of square. Y’see if they was square, an a fella started thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’, say somethin’ philosophicalwise, an that there fella he runs up against some condrum or some such mental difficulty, well that thought, if his head was square, mind you, boxlike, so to speak, well, that thought it’d just begin to bounce back’n forth against the inside ‘o that fella’s percranial an’ it’d just keep goin’ bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk, n’ that fella, less’n somebody or somethin’ come along to jog him outta that there stuck position, well, I figger he’d probably jus’ stand there ‘n drool ‘n wither away ‘n die, ‘ventually, anywise. Course a lion ‘r a tiger ‘r a bear ‘r somesuch other hungry critter’d more’n likely come along an’ see that fella standin’ there a'bonkin'n a’droolin’ and that there hungry critter'd just have themselve an easy dinner. An o'course that would’n do. Leastways not for homeo-sapients family, on the whole, least not accordin’ to that there Darwin fella anyways.

So, theerywise, in order to keep that from happenin’, I figger: heads is round!

Well, truth be told, strictly speakin' o'course, fact is, they ain’t even round. They’s only sorta round. Oblong, if you will. An’ when you take inta ‘count all the little bumps’n flat spots'n unregularities on a fella's---or fellette's---head, as the case may be, well, then I 'spect there ain’t much of chance o’ that philocondrum problem ever gettin’ the chance to opportune itself stuck in one o’ them idiot-syncro things ‘n goin’ on forever’n ever: bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-bonk-like.

Anyways, that’s why heads is round. Or so I reckon. Likely as not, anyways, ‘n I ain’t never heard noth’n which might prove me wrong.

Course I seen a few folks who do just seem to stand there ‘n drool, so to speak. But I ‘spect their troubles’s less about unendin’ thoughts as it is about lack of thoughts......‘f‘ya know what I mean.
“Course, that’s a whole nuther thing, on which I done spent no small amount ‘o time myself a’bonkin back’n forth on. So to speak.

't's gettin' late though, 'n that theery’ll have to wait for more awakeful ears.

Night.