This afternoon I realized that in my mind I was singing some randomly-selected lyrics from the song “Master of the House” from Les Miserables to the tune of the chorus of “Dinah won’t you blow your horn,” like this:
[Dinah won’t you blow] Charge ’em for the mice
[Dinah won’t you blow] Extra for the lice
[Dinah won’t you blow your ho-o-orn] Two percent for looking in the mirror twice
[Dinah won’t you blow] Kidney of a horse
[Dinah won’t you blow] Liver of a cat
[Dinah won’t you blow your horn] Filling up the sausages with this and that
My mind did have to rush the words “this and that” to fit them in the final syllable, but rather than being deterred by that extra little challenge, my mind only seemed inspired to focus harder.
They say that we only use a fraction of our mind’s ability, and that our minds could accomplish astonishing things if only we could find a way to give them free reign. But I think that my mind, at least, is better off bridled.
(Bunny brain-optimization device borrowed from here.)