I don't have time to be making "special moments."

Special moments are for special people, or for people who care. They are also for clowns. Clowns are neither special nor do they care, except the cubic ones. Cube-shaped clowns are special, but only because they are cubic.

If you cube a clown, you still only have one clown. In fact, no matter what power you give a clown, you will still only have one clown. Neither does a clown's specialness, if it is so blessed as to possess specialness, increase if you force an increase up its exponent.

And that brings us to today's topic. Special moments have a smell like ...

... laziness. And laziness does have a smell, thank you very much: it smells like a stale martini with a cigarette butt in it.

People who have time to make special moments clearly haven't enough to do to keep them busy. Because so many of us are overworked to the point that the only spare time we have is consumed by our occasional blogging responsibilities, it is clear that people who have time to make special moments are not pulling their own weight.

Therefore, people who make special moments should be forced to lose weight. The only effective diet plan known to mankind is "The Biggest Loser Diet," wherein one must sweat profusely and make disturbing faces while grunting and then submit to a candid interview about the experience.

All this may be accomplished through a number of different means: exercise, eating a zealous curry, self-flagellation, attending a ballet performed by midget clowns, etc. People who make special moments should be forced to do one of these dieting rituals repeatedly until they have reduced their own weight to a measure they can pull.

I went through my neighborhood last week and collected donations to send to the producers of "The Biggest Loser" for the purchase of a new scale. Clearly, they are very poor, perhaps due to the cost of renting midget clowns.

Midget clowns are the most expensive because midgets are rarer than average-sized people and so there are proportionally fewer midget clowns than average-sized clowns. Midget clowns are also funnier -- if you happen to be the kind that thinks that clowns are funny.

The scale on the biggest loser is obviously a very low-tech, budget device, but for those of you who haven't grasped the obvious, let me draw your attention to the unusually long time it takes for the stupid thing to register the weight of the Loser standing on it. Clearly, it was designed by an engineering grad student desparate for a thesis topic, who entitled her research, "Chaos and Quantum Determination through Probability and Random Selection." Let me summarize the work: instead of performing calculations to determine the quantity you are measuring, make up a range of numbers the quantity is likely to fall in and keep guessing until you guess the target quantity. Or, to summarize, don't waste your time actually working, just guess, and spend the time instead in making your defense a special moment for your advisors.

A lounge lizard is a man who hangs out in hotel bars, hitting on women who will support his hotel bar habit, and who grows scales. Lounge lizards are artists. They make a living at making special moments. They don't pull any of their weight. In fact, on a Biggest Loser Diet, they would cease to be and a hole would open in space-time and we'd all fall through and float around in the Big Nothing, known to evolutionists as "the primordial soup."

The primordial soup was a mildly spicey curry dish. At some point, lightening from Space ignited the soup and a special moment happened and an Armani acid spontaneously formed and coalesced with other Armani acids to form a percale pant and jacket. This product of the first special moment didn't last long, thank goodness and was rapidly consumed by bacteria that had in the meantime been created by God.

The marks of that first special moment, though, could not be erased, and are recorded in the genetic material of all living things and led to the Fall of Man in the Garden of Eden. Today, they are manifested most acutely in the evolution of the zoot suit, lounge lizards, and cube-shaped clowns.

Some people call the green thing floating in a martini an "olive." I call it a cigarette butt, because of the effect it has on the flavor of the martini. You find martinis and cigarette butts in great quantity in hotel bars, where you will also be likely to find a nest of lounge lizards and an occasional zoot suit or midget clown.

And this is the reason I don't have time to be making special moments.