Death to Americans: The Musical

As a diabetic, I occasionally suffer from low Blood Sugar levels.  Basically, the concentration of glucose in my blood gets too low (either from not eating enough food or from doing too much insulin), and I start acting loopy.  During severe low blood sugars, I've actually hallucinated and thought I was having conversations with angels.  Usually, though, I just say some weird things.

Or think in unusual ways.  And we're not talking about the thoughts that hit drunk people, or stoned people, although I guess there are certain similarities.  See, my mind is still working at normal strength... it's just drawing different conclusions, and making different priorities.  Often, it becomes super-focused on one point, and lingers on that to the exclusion of everything else.  Like the time I went to a Future Shop to help pick out an iPod, and suffered a low blood sugar level that convinced me that speaking up about any sort of iPod would ruin the impartiality of the sale.

I say this because, the other day, I woke up thinking I should write a book.  In my head, I knew that this would be a great book.  Barack Obama would love my work, and I would get invited to a White House dinner.  CNN, upset at the book's title, would focus on this over the actual content, and Obama would get all sorts of Flak.  Ditto from FOX news, except even worse.  See, the book I wanted to write was about foreign relations with the U.S. from the perspective of a Canadian.  And it was called Death To Americans.

Never mind that I know very little about politics.  Or that I've never been in the United States.  Or that I'm not particularly interested in foreign affairs.  At 6 in the morning, I was convinced I had to write this book.  And I kept collecting notes in my head.

First, I decided that I'm not much of a non-fiction writer, so I'd have to make the whole thing an allegory.  I'd have to add characters, illustrating my thesis statement clearly.  Naturally, one of the characters would have to be a Black American in a position of power, so Barack would still want to invite me to the White House.

Second, I realized that books are overdone, these days.  Everyone has a book.  And a book with an incendiary title is nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  No, if I wanted to really get my point across, I'd have to try a different format.  What would be a new and novel way to present a politically-charged thesis on U.S. foreign relations?

I've got it!  A Musical!

It was during my composition of the musical's first song, a happy march called "Hello.  Death To Americans!" that I realized something was wrong.  I sat up in bed, and thought to myself, Am I having a low blood sugar?

I didn't feel low.  But that doesn't mean anything.  But then, I don't usually start writing musicals at six a.m.  I should probably check.

So, I got out of bed, did the finger prick test, and got a reading of 2.7. 

The average for the common man is aroud 5 to 7.  For a diabetic, it should be between 6 to 8.  I start feeling the effects of a "low" around 4.0.  Unconsciousness can happen anywhere below 3.0.  Death happens around 1.0 (I think). 

So, I grabbed some candies I keep for just such a situation, made myself some peanut-butter toast, and finished off the milk, waiting for my sugar level to reach normal again.  And, once it was, I started thinking a bit more clearly.

Death To Americans:  The Musical, is a really bad idea.

Too bad, though.  I really wanted to meet Mr. Obama.