Napoleon Dynamite perhaps -- they were.
First came the burnished observation of the Zen teacher Rinzai ... reasserting with clarion certainty its d'oh: "Grasp and use, but never name." Bright and hot as oxyacetylene fire ... let's say no more of it.
And as its companion, present but unexplained, came the notion that it has been eons since I had some real ice cream ... real, homemade, untouched by swooning hands ... ice cream. Would I like it if I had it? I don't know, but suddenly I wanted to try it an find out ... but where can anyone get real ice cream these days? And no, I am not about to make it.
Fragments ... shards ... Napoleon Dynamite's ice cream... welcome to the dance.