Thankfully, this column will fill in some of the blank space

Thankfully, this column will fill in some of the blanks on this page

Someone asked me the other day if I ever have trouble coming up with ideas for my next column.

The plain and simple answer is yes. I told this inquisitive person: "That's when you read about Missy Kitty."

Of course, I've been blank enough over the years to turn our fat and sassy cat into the most famous feline in these parts. And Missy Kitty knows it, too. When visitors come to our family-room door, Missy Kitty is often right there preening and conveying this message with her eyes and her body language:

"You can try to pet me if you want, but I'm really only interested in one thing. Did you bring food? If not, how do you think you can possibly make friends with a small, furry animal? Don't you know anything about cats? Purr."

But this is not a column about Missy Kitty. Therefore, you might assume that I have a topic in mind. You might further assume that I am not afflicted by that cold dread that hits many a scribbler of words: writer's block.

Well, you would be half right. I do have a topic in mind. Let's call it "What to Say About Drawing a Blank."

After several minutes of carefully considering this topic, it occurs to me that writers aren't the only folks who, at some time or another, have a mental block about what to do next.

Which explains a lot, particularly our Congress.

You see, those elected politicians aren't as misguided as they so often appear. No, they're doing something -- anything -- to avoid the appearance of having drawn a blank.

"So, Speaker Boehner, what's the plan for today?" asks an aide.

"Don't have a clue," comes the reply. "So I guess we'll have to repeal Obamacare. Again."

You see, for the GOP leadership in our nation's capital, Obamacare is the Foggy Bottom equivalent of a cat. If there were, indeed, cats roaming the offices of federal power, there would be fewer votes on Obamacare. I'm pretty sure of that.

It's not just our own elected officials who, when drawing a blank, wish they had a cute kitty handy.

Take Russia's Mr. Putin, for example. Somebody asks, early in the morning: "What's up today, Mr. President who was elected by a nearly 100 percent majority in a genuine democratic balloting process in which every eligible voter in our motherland chose you to be our leader -- and will do so again when it becomes absolutely necessary."

"Oh, I dunno," replies the wannabe most powerful man on the planet. Only he says it in Russian, which is only to be expected.

"I guess we need to invade something," says the Russian prez. You see, in Russia an invasion is the same as petting a kitty. But petting a kitty in Russia makes you look weak and mushy. So cats are out. Invasions are in. It takes a real macho guy to order tanks around.

Everyone faces a blank wall from time to time. Everyone.

Take the auto salesman who knows all these details about a car's transmission and torque and acceleration. Just ask him this question, while picking between two models in the showroom: "What's the downside to owning either of these vehicles?"

Blam! Blank wall time. Can't remember anything about faulty ignition switches, gas pedals that stick, air bags that blow up.

Some of you -- especially those of you who have never had to write a column on deadline -- may still be dubious about this writer's-block thing. You may be saying to yourself, "But, Joe, this is your last column before Christmas. Surely you could write something meaningful about this wondrous holiday."

Look, I've been writing columns for 50 years now. Do you think there is a possibility -- however remote -- that there is something original I could say about Christmas, or any other holiday, for that matter? No. It would be what we in the writing business call rehashing, which is the worst kind of writing anyone wants to read.

"Well, then," you might be muttering, "what about fruitcake? You may be the only person alive who likes fruitcake. Don't you have some sort of responsibility to say something about fruitcake at this particularly fruitcake time of year?"

Yes, I could say something about fruitcake, but it would be short and sweet (no pun intended): You know where to send them. And don't wait until they're all dried out, unless you intend to send along some brandy for a proper fruitcake resuscitation.

There you have it: my column about not being able to think of anything to write.

I leave you with this bit of wisdom: Beware of busybodies. They are the ones who woke up blank this morning and decided they had to do something anyway. You know the type.

Stay alert.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.