I think I have figured out something very important.

This message is for anyone who lives in or around Memphis: It's no secret that you are plagued with horrible head-splitting, eye-popping, year 'round sinus malfunctions. This isn't pretty, but I have finally figured out why.

When I moved here three or four years ago, I scoffed at the idea of me ever having allergy attacks or sinus problems of any kind. Walking around in a daze with a crumpled tissue in each pocket like Lisa Lubner from the good ole days of SNL – that just wasn't me. Except for the nerd part. The closest I ever came to having any type of reaction to a flowering tree was an emotion or strong thought of "Hey look at that pretty tree with flowers on it." I was never moved to tears by tiny, alien pollen particles attaching their UFO's to the linings deep within a human head. As God is my witness, I actually don't even believe I had sinuses before I moved here.

But now, oh dear Lord... I am tragically allergic to the toxic wastedump engrossing most of the real estate inside my own head. This has played out like an Invasion of the Body Snatchers. It's a horror movie, and while everything that flowers has died down for a couple of weeks – and until the toxic mold spores take over – I'm here to scream it out to you. I have this moment of control over my own brain and its tattered thoughts. Much like Charlton Heston and his discovery of soylent green, I am here to plead with you, listen to me, and maybe something can be done. Because I know why we're all plagued with the internal head rot:

Memphis is cursed with an ancient Egyptian curse.

That sentence could have been a lot better, but I can't breathe. See? It's cutting off the bloodflow to my brain.

You know, Memphis is famous for its bad drivers, and it's clear that most of them are over-medicated. Tavist-D, Benadryl, Ny-Quil, NightTrain... it's all the same. Running yellow lights, t-boning cars left and right... the Egyptian gods are eternally mad at this city being named Memphis. And don't even get them started on West Memphis, Arkansas.

When I first moved here, I thought people were just laid-back. Then I realized that wasn't the case at all. Some people are just non-functional members of society, and the rest seem to have brain damage from the constant internal pressure within their own heads. And now, I fully understand this silent killer with its blinding epidemic-like qualities because that is what has happened to me. I thought I could fight it off. Much like the tomb raiders in the early 1900's thought they could fight off the deadly fumes from the bat guano placed inside tombs to pretty much kill anyone who opened the door later. Death by Sinuses. It's brilliant. I thought I could fight it, but I can't. I may have to move, but I can't remember how, and I'm not even sure where I parked my car. There are only certain times of the year when I can finish a sentence without saying "What the hell was I talking about?"

It's The Curse, I tell you. The Curse of the Dummies. The curse is making us all dumb. See how dumb I am now? Look how funny the word "dumb" looks. Why is it "dummies" and not "dumbies"? What's for lunch? What the hell was I talking about? Oh yes...

All I can say is that I have figured it out, and here I leave it for posterity, possibly useless and never read. Much like some type of ancient heiroglyphic warning scrawled out on a tomb wall before someone passed out underneath it in a heap of old, ripped up Commercial Appeal newspapers used as makeshift blankets and then hankies (since the person obviously never could concentrate at work anymore, was fired and forced to live under a flowering tree until they died slowly, broke, alone, congested and swollen in places).

I said it, I believe it, and now someone please help us. Please tell us how to appease the gods... Please, Egyptian Curse Gods, forgive the fools responsible for building a big, glass sports arena in the shape of a pyramid. We're sorry that the Worldwide Wrestling Federation has desecrated your symbol of life, perfection, knowledge, and communal effort. How could we have known that wrestling wasn't a true fad? Yes, we do remember Jerry Lawlor and Andy Kaufman. Quite well, actually. But that was at our colisseum, not at the Pyramid... okay, and yes, we understand that Arkansas is right next door. Okay, uncle, I give, you win. But please have pity on us, spare our poor sinus cavities. Because the food here is quite good, and the view of a river sunset seems to be worth the head rot. Or, that could just be dementia talking.