Light Farming

Once again, I sit before the computer, staring into the electron stream that is emitting from my LCD (I don't need an old cathode ray tube to have electrons emit themselves at me, I put them into the LCD and then sit back and bake) wondering what the hell it was that I thought I was going to write about the next time I'm here.
Well screw that.
Tonight, I'm going into the lounge, sitting down in front of the Tube and watch the electrons ricochet around the room. Then I'll come back here with the most awesome story your head ever exploded because of.
Okay, I'm back. I want to tell you the story of the magical psychotic connection I have with the lovely wife of her best friend, Felicity. (Commas rock, like many things, they, and HIM, as well as that other guy I won't mention, anymore to say that HE IS THERE, watching you, with a big stick, with which to stoke the fire, and he likes to think he is important, because they can wreak havoc on sentences, and mess up the judicial system, like that guy, you know, with the thing)
Let me unwrap that last sentence and find where you failed.

1. I have a lovely wife.
2. She has a best friend.
3. My lovely wife's name is Felicity.
4. Her best friend is ME.

I don't have a psychotic connection with her. We share a psychic connection. Not a psychic fair psychic connection, a psychic psychic connection. You know, with connection from psyche to psyche. With one psyche residing in my mind and the other psyche in hers. If there is any psychotic connections, it is when she finds out what I've been thinking, and kicks my arse.

See? Magical.