At the horrible, no-good risk of sounding like Comic Book Guy, I feel compelled to tell you that I had a vision of something relating to The Simpsons in what could only be called a semblance of sleep night before last.

You see, there has been a cataclysmic ice storm where I live; a storm of such proportions that the Southern Baptist Governor of my State used the Apocalypse word. That's pretty damn close to Rapture, for a Southern Baptist, you know.

We were without electricity for over 2 whole days. It was mighty cold in this house with no heat. We have a fireplace, but I've never been fond of keeping firewood around which we never use. It just gets old and draws termites. But I would have paid a lot of money for a cord of wood Tuesday night. I wound up borrowing a chainsaw from a neighbor and cutting down some of the smaller trees in the back yard. (Don't worry, eco-freaks. I did not clear cut. Only trimmed.)

And, while we're on that subject: Do you Green Activists realize that it's the damn trees that cause all these problems when an ice storm hits? The crews come out on a pretty spring day and say, "We need to trim some of your trees, Ms. Planethugger." She starts screaming about the horror of it all and calls the mayor. Next thing you know, the crew leaves without doing their job. Now, the ice storm hits and that tree has not only fallen onto her house, pinning her to the floor like a frightened cockroach as the cold slowly paralyzes her. (Her last thought is, "Maybe that Global Warming stuff really is just a bunch of crap . . .") But that tree has also cut the power to our whole neighborhood. (No one really died in this manner; I was just fantasizing. Of course.)

So, we've all been huddled around this little fireplace and trying to figure out who was going to snap first. Luckily, we all made it. And I think we're ever the better for it. Except that now I'm sick as a dog from wading around in golf shoes on the ice foraging for firewood. Thus, the uneasy sleep I've been having. Thus, the revelation about The Simpsons. It involves Krusty Burger and Krusty the Klown.

I should tell you that I've been watching The Simpsons from the Beginning. By that, I mean when Tracey Ullman first showed a couple of shorts on her 30-minute comedy show. Even prior to that, I'd been reading Matt Groening's comics in the Chicago Reader for years. I really never expected him to come up with something as good as what the Simpsons became. I'm sure he had a lot of good help.

OK, I'll get to it. Here is what I will bet you: They wanted a McDonald's-like burger joint where Homer could take the family for fast food. They played around with funny names for a Burger Joint, and came up with something that would sound like Crusty Booger. (You know about those, don't you? Read picking your nose and pay attention to the Crustacean, if not.) So they named it Krusty Burger. And I'll bet you there would have been no Krusty the Clown without this little play on words.

Now, if there's a node about this already, please tell me. I searched as well as I know how, and Google doesn't seem to find this theory either.

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