There's something we can cover the Bare Floor of Unproductivity with, to wit: the Carpet of Maniacal Over-Achievement.
ALLOW ME TO EXPLAIN
Over-achievers are made, not born. Any jackass can be born a genius. I mean, look at me. I'm a genius by any measure, and the only way I can accomplish anything is to trick myself into remembering to do it at an earlier date than this sentence will never end, will it damn. Ahem. Over-achievers are made in one of two ways:
One day a fellow wakes up and realizes that his time on the Earth is limited, and he either figures out a way to get off the Earth or he decides to devote his limited time to something more useful than Television. Unless he has a successful television show, which is good enough.
One night a fellow has imbibed so much intoxicant that he moves from mere drunkenness to a higher state of being. If you've never inhabited this glorious land, you haven't been intoxicated enough. It takes practice and dedication to reach this sacred land, but not for nothing do I call it the Field of Memes. Suddenly you see everything, connected, a memeplex of didactive discource calling your name.
"David, David," she says "David, Write Us Down, Use Us As You Will, Excessive Capitalization Is Allowed."
I fell to my knees and said "Yes, Miss, I WILL! And I'll do it with style."
Fine, technically it wasn't "one of two ways" but rather "both nigh-concurrently separated by naught but a single night's sleep between a great party and a terrible hangover."
This is a picture of the terrifying world before child labor laws were enforced in any meaningful way.
"Don't step on the carpet, little girl, 'lessen you want I should sell it to you."
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