Burt Prelutsky

My wife wanted to see Carrie Fisher’s one-woman show, so there we were the other night in the mezzanine of the Geffen Playhouse, while on stage Princess Leia, of “Star Wars” fame, bellyached about the hardships of growing up as the privileged daughter of Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds.

After a while, my mind, as it is wont to do when I’m forced to sit in one spot for too long, began to wander. And once my mind gets it into its mind to stretch its chubby little legs, there’s no telling where it will wind up.

For instance, what idiot came up with the notion that sending a kid to his bedroom was the appropriate punishment if he behaved like a brat? The average kid’s bedroom is a modern day Garden of Eden, but with lots more toys and gadgets, and one less snake. While I can’t swear to it, I have a hunch that the idea was first hatched by that eminent child psychologist, Dr. Brer Rabbit.

Somewhere between Ms. Fisher’s complaining about step-fathers numbers two and three, I decided that any college football player who scores a touchdown and then strikes that corny Heisman Trophy pose in the end zone should automatically be out of the running for the award.

Carrie was just beginning to make jokes about the awful hairdo she was saddled with in “Star Wars” when I found myself thinking that it’s probably the perks, and not the job itself, that makes being a U.S. senator the slightest bit bearable. I mean, I’ve worked in enough offices to know that all it takes is one creep in the work place to put a pall on even the best of jobs. Well, imagine, if you will, what it must be like to spend day after day, year after year, with such long-winded gas bags as Schumer, Kerry, Boxer, Clinton, Biden and Byrd!

Just as Carrie started dumping on one of her ex-husbands, Paul Simon, I found myself thinking that if only Albert Einstein hadn’t beaten me to it, I would have inevitably come up with Prelutsky’s theory of relativity. Quite frankly, I don’t know how it was that the professor got so much mileage out of his discovery. Maybe Einstein just had a better P.R. person than we realized. I mean, time is obviously relative. Any kid knows that days stretch on interminably in the week leading up to Christmas. For this they hand out Nobel Prizes?!

Or take doctors, for example. I bet time just zips along for those guys. However, if you’re cooling your heels in the waiting room or, worse yet, sitting in an examining room in a paper gown, cooling your tush, time crawls along like an arthritic snail. Time has actually been known to come to a complete standstill during certain Will Ferrell movies, and even to move backwards when you’re waiting for some knucklehead to finally pull out of a parking space at the local mall.