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"New Dad Brain"
posted April 13, 2013 @8:44p
Last night I had the strangest dream.

Well... not exactly the strangest. The time I worked for my Uncle Jim mining for orange juice, sitting on the side of tiny railroad cars that were filled to the brim with freshly-dug juice… that was pretty strange. I really just wanted to reference a song from the 80s more than anything else. And you’ll see why.

So in this dream, I was in NYC, in the Theater District. Not quite in the middle of Times Square, but pretty close, with all the lights and hustle and bustle. There was a prominent window display being used to promote a new song. The display was elaborate – televisions, colored streamers, wind machine – and it included the actual artist performing the new song.

It was Boy George.

But not Boy George from the 80s. It was an older Boy George, in a pin-striped suit and derby hat, aged currently to our present period of time, as Cosmo Kramer might put it.

Pregnancy Brain. If you're a parent, parent-to-be, or close to somebody with a child, you've heard of it. According to, it's a real thing.

But New Dad Brain? Or - as I would call it in my thick, backwoods, hillbilly accent - Dad-gone Brain?

Nobody warned me about this.

Or... maybe they did, and I've just forgotten? Who knows.

Driving home last night - just after having listened to an interview with my doctor-mad-scientist-researcher brother on NPR (or NPR member station, I'm not sure), here I am... trying to remember how to turn my bright lights on.

Is it this lever? Nope. That's my windshield wipers. This knob? Nope. Now my radio's louder. This one? Nope. Now my lights are off.

"New car?" you ask. Nope.

Thankfully, I kept the car on the road. And on the fourth try, BINGO! Bright lights. Mama would be proud... if she hadn't just heard one of my brothers on the radio.
Like everybody else, I assume, sometimes my facts aren’t exactly straight in my dreams. Maybe it’s that I can’t remember chords or lyrics to songs I’m performing. Or maybe George Jefferson is my father rather than my actual, real Dad (yes, this has happened).

So rather than being credited to Duran Duran, in this case of dream-warped facts, “Rio” was a Boy George/Culture Club song (as a reminder: “her name is Rio, and she dances on the sand”).

The new song was titled “Gio”. And he had sampled most of “Rio”, making it a complete rip-off of the earlier version. In fact, the chorus started EXACTLY the same way: “her name is…” But then he’d over-dubbed, in almost a loud speaking voice, “GIO”. He wasn’t even singing the chorus, but just dancing and repeating “GIO” when the time came. “Her name is [GIO!], and she dances on the sand…”

It was a sad, pathetic scene, even in dreamland.

We can’t recreate and relive the past, or “go home”, as they say; but that doesn’t mean we can’t create an awesome present.

Something way better than “Rio”.


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