All of us, every day, function in close proximity to The Stupid. I capitalized the term to illustrate the privileged position that The Stupid occupy in our society. The power of The Stupid was revealed to me today; by virtue of their inability to process information, The Stupid are empowered to ignore completely any sound argument the Non-Stupid put forth to them. I discovered this in today, when I broke my rule of never engaging The Stupid in logical discussion. The Stupid and I went round and round in a sick dance in which I repeated my argument (ten times!) in every way I could possibly think to make him understand, and he repeated his argument in exactly the same way - ten times. By the end, I was irritated to the point of striking him. He had broken me, and made me just as Stupid as he.
Categories of Stupid:
1.The Wily Stupid - Like the one I dealt with today, they will pull you into their web of Stupidity and make you one of them.
2.The Hateful Stupid - These are malicious. Even when they don't understand what mean thing they have said/done, they do understand that they are being harmful in some way.
3.The Drunken Stupid - Most of us have been this.
4..The Happy Stupid - They are happy to be stupid and to know that you think that they're stupid.
5.George W. Bush
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Sunday, June 17, 2007
The Secret 2, Electric Bugaloo
The Secret advises You (author's caps, not mine) to speak only your desires aloud, and the Universe (their caps, again) will respond.
Try the fun things I've been doing for a couple days now:
Announce aloud, "I eat whatever I want and am my ideal weight," in between mouthfuls of chimichanga.
Announce to your partner frequently, "See that clear lane of traffic/green light/image of St. Francis of Assissi in tire grease? I manifested that."
Assert that everything you want is on its way. When someone asks "When?", remind him or her that the Universe doesn't recognize time. This works especially well if you work at the post office or DPS.
Try the fun things I've been doing for a couple days now:
Announce aloud, "I eat whatever I want and am my ideal weight," in between mouthfuls of chimichanga.
Announce to your partner frequently, "See that clear lane of traffic/green light/image of St. Francis of Assissi in tire grease? I manifested that."
Assert that everything you want is on its way. When someone asks "When?", remind him or her that the Universe doesn't recognize time. This works especially well if you work at the post office or DPS.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
The Secret
The Secret, a self-empowerment book that's being flung about in book circles and touted as nothing short of miraculous, was gifted to me. Not to be left out of a trend, I've been trying out some of the suggestions. One passage suggests that, before sleep, I replay all the events of the day and, "If any events or moments did not got the way you wanted, replay them in your mind in a way that thrills you." Here are some events from my day that I thought might could use a rewrite:
1. In an effort to get through a restaurant meal with a tired 4-year old, I would not have succumbed to the hot judgment of the woman at the adjacent table and her three silent children and, when my daughter refused to stop dancing in the aisle and eat her damn burrito, I might have given her a little pat on the head, rather than dragging her into the bathroom and threatening to burn all of her toys.
2. During a Rockwellian moment of drinking coffee and humoring my mother by reading aloud from Robert Pinsky's America's Favorite Poems, I would not have taken her bait and entered in a heated argument about home decor. In this conflict, I implied that the four paintings she demanded I hang in the living room were painted by a no-name ass clown and would serve the decor best if they were mounted in the following locations: beneath the litter box, in one of the toilet tanks, on the ceiling of the guest bathroom, and on the topmost branch of the tree in the backyard, respectively. I haven't thought of an alternate ending for this one.
1. In an effort to get through a restaurant meal with a tired 4-year old, I would not have succumbed to the hot judgment of the woman at the adjacent table and her three silent children and, when my daughter refused to stop dancing in the aisle and eat her damn burrito, I might have given her a little pat on the head, rather than dragging her into the bathroom and threatening to burn all of her toys.
2. During a Rockwellian moment of drinking coffee and humoring my mother by reading aloud from Robert Pinsky's America's Favorite Poems, I would not have taken her bait and entered in a heated argument about home decor. In this conflict, I implied that the four paintings she demanded I hang in the living room were painted by a no-name ass clown and would serve the decor best if they were mounted in the following locations: beneath the litter box, in one of the toilet tanks, on the ceiling of the guest bathroom, and on the topmost branch of the tree in the backyard, respectively. I haven't thought of an alternate ending for this one.
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