I had a great dream. I had my own personal secretary, keeper of my secrets if I have any.

I really need one. You have no idea how much work, business, correspondence, ectoplasm, sorting, sorties, I have each week. I'm up to my ears in stuff to do.

Hiring strangers can be plagued with mishap, though.

Condition for employment: must strongly agree with me on important and unimportant issues. I can't think of anything worse than a secretary who thinks you are a nincompoop and that you are misguided on all theories and critical issues of life, or worse yet, one who plans to undermine, sabotage, and set you up for a fall. Does anyone need to pay money for this?

I'd prefer he or she was neat, or at least smelled pretty good and didn't come drunk to work. It would be heaven if my Secretary was funny and liked to make tea for me a couple of times a day. It would be helpful to know a few things about how life really works and had a lot of interests and hobbies. It would be delightful if my secretary had a mania for cooking up secret delicious recipes to test on me and did the occasional doodle or work of art.

Search In Progress.

If I said that I am now the ruler of the world that would be an example of megalomania. A megalomaniac is serious.

Poetic license seems to be similar except everyone is supposed to know you aren't serious. Could I tell you my dreams without you charging me with lunacy? Can I set sail on the ship of words?

If you kiss the Blarney Stone, you are supposed to receive the gift of eloquence. However, it is more likely to be the gift of gab, which isn't the same thing as talking your leg off. This last expression was the way I heard it growing up, but it probably is taken from talk the hind legs off a donkey, and if you consider that someone was telling you that a certain person could talk your leg off, smiling at you, well, think about it. I dislike the expression because, save for one letter, it says taking your leg off, and that opens up an entirely different can of worms.

Does it seem that people use these salty old expressions less these days and are more literal?

Returning to the subject of me being in charge of everything, forget that I said I owned the moon and that, for a good price, I could sell some very nice lots. Joke. But why would I have to explain that? The best things in life are free. There's another song that says "The best things in life are free, but you can keep them for the birds and bees." Take your pick.

If I ruled the world, "there'd be music, sweet music, there'd be music everywhere".

They forget to make me the ruler of the world, but they will soon remember to do so. I'm sure.

Why? Because I would put music in the workplace. Make that will. And it would not be just stupid elevator music. I'm going to insist and encourage that Pod and related devices and satellite music and music of the planets and a planetarium is included in the cafeteria with shows continually in the workplace.

OK, not insist, because that would discriminate against music haters. But they could have News of the Weird or Grouch Anonymous or whatever tickled their fancy. It would be imperative to have their fancy tickled.

I know, I know, people will say that will cut production, causing people to goof off and not get their work done. Poppycock. Walrus gumboot.

Things are not exactly bodelicious right now. People have some issues about the workplace. As if a happy worker is in need of some discipline because everyone knows that a work environment must be rigid and unyielding and definitely not fun or enjoyable or even endurable.

Managers are hired and promoted on their ability to ramrod the help, avert their uprisings, quell their dispositions, snuff their foments, stamp out their lunch clubs and various other managerial skills, turn off their sex machines, squelch their woofers, warp their tweeters. Take the rock out of their rock out. Scissors cut paper and take out those ear buds now or you will be fired.

After lunch, and this is sans music, the staff quietly bend over their PCs like drugged prairie dogs or like the entire castle full of people in Sleeping Beauty and quietly slip into some type of trance state. Do you call that productive? How could music cause any less productivity?

The only flaw in the design plan would be if your ears had implant transponders or a type of broadcasting unit, while others, unknown to you, had receivers in their ears, and "your" brand of music makes them crazy. But, that's crazy. Stop the craziness. There is no need to return to the drawing board. Let's get the lead out. Let's get the rocks out.

My theory is that people suffer from lack of jolly and forbidden be-bop from not getting to rock out at work, and in some cases, not getting to rock out ever.

You can guess I'm not from Gen X, possibly not even from this planet if you can believe some of the talk that goes on, but that's another subject.

The filling station where I gas up has some of the peppiest music around. Maybe it's targeted to people with gas cards, but whatever. I look forward to going there. As soon as I step out of the car I can feel my brain function change to relaxed and happier.

OK, it's a crazy dream. Have fun, enjoy work, be more creative...at work? Is this some kind of interstellar galactic plot?

No.