INTROSPECTIVE INSOMNIA, ‘70s ANTENNA TV & MARCIA BRADY, SHALLOW THOUGHTS FROM THE DEEP END WITH MISS JULIE’S POOL BOY: This very Monday, only 3 days from children reporting for academic duty, Miss Julie’s Pool Boy disguised in his normal identity & while he should have been pondering the staff meeting he was attending instead of scrolling the socials, was pondering as Alexander pondered the Gordian Knot, the questions, “…is “s” or “c” the silent letter in scent?, “what are the odds of the Big 10 having 18 teams & Illinois being alphabetically first?, “are nap takers the real heroes because they have the courage to wake up & face every day twice, ”if a coyote in the wild tops out at 42 MPH & a roadrunner only at 20, why did Wile E. Coyote need all the rocketry from ACME?”, “who was the better center square, Alice of the Brady’s opening montage or Paul Lynde for the block on Hollywood Squares?”, “what else was in the room when Sid & Marty Kroft created Sigmund & the Sea Monsters & H.R. Pufnstuf?”, “why isn’t Jonny Quest the unquestioned G.O.A.T of Saturday morning?”, & “why did Mork & Joanie & Chachi get spinoffs but not Ralph & Potsie”?, on his way to recovery from too much morning coffee from too much insomnia from watching too much Olympics & too many commercials with a little bit country Marie Osmond without rock & roll Donny selling pills & ointment to make Pool Boy’s knees work better, realizing that he is two years past a birthday allowing MJPB to automatically add a finger in the digital chisenbop exam for potential pre-diabetes, & consider texting a subliminally suggestive word offered by a former Heisman winner to obtain complementary pills that will make the Pool Boy burn fat even though fat people are harder to kidnap & burn with testosterone, as he has watched these ads that made him long for commercials offering the greatest hits of Slim Whitman, Ferrante & Teicher tickling the ivories, or any vinyl offering for $7.99 by K-Tel of 16 of the hottest hits by 16 of the hottest artists, MJPB has had to come to grips with the following: despite having eligibility remaining, he’ll never QB on Saturday night in Baton Rouge’s Tiger Stadium or wear Tommy Casanova’s number 37 or the Pistol’s 23, the Pool Boy will never return punts on UT’s Shields-Watkins Field like Bobby Majors or be Ernie or Bernie in Stokely Athletic Center or be hailed by John Ward at either venue, that even though he can execute the hit & run & has a decent glove for a guy his age, he’ll never play 2nd base for St. Louis or Boston, he’ll never pair in the Celtic backcourt with JoJo & hit Hondo on the wing for a fast break layup or bounce pass into the low post for Big Red to launch his hook or be the white Converse wearing, slam dunking Dr. J. nor the Puma suede wearing Clyde & in addition to athletic shortcomings, no major newspaper byline or book deal, so no becoming the next Dan Jenkins, Jimmy Breslin, Jim Murray or Wright Thompson on the horizon & forcing poor Miss Julie to realize nearly 40 years too late that her trophy husband is of the participation variety, MJPB must deal with the fact that Marcia Brady, groovy, far out Marcia Brady, the girl that made him cross shag carpeting & turn channels from late afternoon reruns of the Mod Squad’s Peggy Lipton, Marcia that made Sgt. Troy & his Rat Patrol, Green Hornet, & Batman drop slots in MJPB’s personal Nielsen TV ratings, Marcia, the girl crush before the unrequited hope as MJPB has always been a fancier of hopeless causes, of being interviewed by Phyllis George on the NFL Today, Marcia, Marcia, Marcia Brady, whose falling for the suave lines of Fairview’s Jerry Rogers so he could steal Greg’s Westdale High playbook he overlooked, Marcia, who caused the Pool Boy to destroy a Monkees 8 track tape after she planted one on Davy Jones’ cheek, who, along with her 5 siblings survived on one bathroom with no commode in spite of Mike Brady being an architect & obviously as sorry a draftsman as the Pool Boy is a thinker & almost lost out on a record deal with her 4 younger sblings when older brother Greg went through his Johnny Bravo phase but reunited for a TV gig to pay for a silver platter (if your inner turntable just dropped its 33 ⅓ needle & “gonna keep on, keep on, keep on…” is the vinyl spinning in your head, you’re welcome), & got shafted by said older brother just because he was older when the attic became available for a bedroom, & who made an ill advised Happy Days appearance on a Milwaukee street corner & drew on Richie’s face with lipstick & that led to wayward choices & getting caught by Nancy Drew sans Hardy Boys, as Richie’s friend in Mayberry, Deputy Fife called it, “being a kleptominerac”, the girl that didn’t get enough air time in her bikini laden concern as brother Greg nearly drowned in the Hawaiian surf wearing Bobby’s voodoo laced tiki necklace, or when Alice threw out her back as the girls learned to hula, the girl that lost her shot on August 27, 1984 when MJPB met the girl that made him take the on ramp to life’s La via dell’Amore, Miss Julie & she encouraged his composition of this & other incredible, reminiscent of Kerouac with a scroll run on sentences, today it was verified by X, formerly known as the Twitter machine, that groovy, far out, Marcia Brady has been eligible for 3 years to call the Medicare hotline shilled by Captain Kirk, Joe Namath & JJ of Good Times, enter her zip code & possibly qualify for extra monthly benefits, today is celebrating her 68th birthday, & that is a fact that made the Pool Boy’s Monday lunch break less groovy, less far out, & deeply troubling…(the Pool Boy nor his hidden true identity own the photos of Marcia & Johnny & Sigmund, they are screenshots off a search engine)