Archive for July, 2007

What does “No Trespassing” really mean? (Part 1)

Tuesday, July 10th, 2007

Wouldn’t you agree that religion, spirituality, and a belief in the Divine can provide wondrous contentment?  Religion has the potential to fortify the soul…and hopefully, the mind.

I believe spirituality is a private matter, to be discussed in a proper venue where one is voluntarily present or among friends who have chosen to engage in a conversation of a religious nature. My front doorstep does not constitute a proper venue. Never-before-seen people do not constitute friends.

Anytime anyone aggressively promotes their religion while invading the privacy of another, it’s highly probable that sheer stupidity is at work.

Last week, I was on an important phone call in my home, minding my own business. It was one of those glorious mornings, where I found myself alone for a few hours to do as I pleased; my husband and kids were away.

Some background on my home: my driveway has a gate which is closed. Said driveway is just under 200 feet long and wraps around my house. You cannot see the house from the street. I live in a community of 52 homes; the entrance sports a large sign stating, “No trespassing. Must have owner’s approval.” What exactly does “no trespassing” mean?

My two dogs began to bark furiously. As I sat in my office, I saw a BMW SUV drive completely around my house and park somewhere near the front door. I figured a neighbor had an emergency of some kind. Placing my caller on hold, I stepped outside. Two people waited in the car while a woman stood next to the vehicle, held at bay by my extremely intelligent, 9 month old German Shepherd, Barbie. Dog #2 had found the visitors boring and left.

“The other dog is fine, but I don’t know about this one,” were her first words (the woman’s words, not Barbie’s).

No attempt to identify herself, explain why she needed to trespass or that she was in fact, a dreaded religious proselytizer (I just love that word and was hoping for an excuse to use it). I pointed to the gate and said in my best Darth Vader voice, “GO!”

Forget about the fact that Barbie could have bitten her (if she was that type of dog, which she’s not) or that, for all these trespassers knew, I was waiting with a sawed-off shotgun. No one wants to be accosted in their home. How about that “No trespassing” sign? Were these religious intruders illiterate, foreign or blind? No, they just thought…whoops! No thought. Therein lies the problem. The sign meant something to the reasoning mind. The meager mind just saw a blank sign.

My one word sent them scuttling away so fast, they completely forgot to leave me a ubiquitous “End of the World” pamplet. That was a first. In the past, these unannounced, headache-inducing-drop-bys truly disturbed my sense of equilibrium. 

When I lived in Los Angeles, these gate-crashing worshippers appeared on my front porch nearly everytime I opened the door. They came weekly; sometimes twice weekly. Word must have gotten out that I was in dire need of conversion.  It got so bad that the mere sight of a neatly dressed, average looking person on my doorstep sent me sobbing into the depths of my home. One poor man rang my doorbell sending me into hysterics the moment I laid eyes on him. He calmed me by managing to convince me that he’d merely stopped by to tell me my front sprinkler was broken, spewing water onto the street. 

You may be asking right about now, why open the door? The answer to this and more in my next entry.

Keep thinking,




Comment on “Comments”

Monday, July 9th, 2007

I’ve been getting questions on the “Comments” section: namely, how do you leave one?

Go to the bottom right of the post you wish to comment about. Place the mouse on the word “comment” and press. Then give your name (real or otherwise) and email address (I promise not to publish it); you may skip the part about website (unless you have one you’d like to include), and finally, the most complex part of this blog: the last box. It gives you two numbers to add. You really do add them together and place the sum in the box. Isn’t that incredible? Almost too simple. In fact, if my brilliant webmaster didn’t live with me, I’d still be trying to figure that one out. This minor math is to make sure you are a real, live, genuine, thinking human, and not a figment of my imagination or a piece of machinery.

Talk to you soon!


Relative stupidity

Saturday, July 7th, 2007

By this, I refer to the stupid relative, of which, single orphans aside, most of us have, whether by blood, marriage, adoption or guardianship. The worst part of this type of relationship is that it’s pretty much carved in concrete, albeit, at times, wet concrete. Even if you attempt to bow out, circumstances or milestones, such as weddings, graduations, funerals, holiday gatherings and non-refundable monetary disputes, may force a person into sharing space or being around the stupid relation.

Here is one such ridiculous relative example taken from my own personal experience:

My infant son, only five days old, tiny, pink and cuddly, simply beautiful, lies sleeping in his bassinet, wrapped snugly in a yellow blanket. An in-law stops by to see him.

“Does he have jaundice?” she casually asks with about as much concern as one discussing the life cycle of the turnip.

Freeze frame. First I laugh lightly, too happy to let the words jar me.
However, later, when her question settles uncomfortably in place, I feel annoyed; in fact, at this very moment, recalling the scene, I still feel mildly irritated.

Words that were said over a dozen years ago!

In all fairness to this in-law, her husband is a podiatrist, so perhaps by virtue of co-habitating with a doctor, she felt sufficiently learned to make an immediate diagnosis (inaccurate as it was), and possibly considered that she was doing me a favor. Or perhaps the yellow blanket threw her off and caused her to misdiagnose.

What should I have said or done?

A. Slapped her silly;
B. Demanded to see her medical degree;
C. Replaced the yellow blankie with a blue one to see if it changed her diagnosis; or
D. None of the above


This stuper (short for stupid person) came from an antiquated, narrow-minded culture where boys were revered over girls for their gender instead of valued equally. She only had daughters. Perhaps it was stupidity’s cousin, envy, speaking through her.

The correct answer is D. By refusing to respond to her insensitive remark, I did not acknowledge it, and consequently, refused to permit this stupid relative to have any sort of impact on me. Just being a stuper was punishment enough.

Besides, there were witnesses present.

Free at last!

Thursday, July 5th, 2007

Yes! I am free at last!

I used to get so exasperated. My frustration knew no bounds. Excuse me while I shreik into my handy sound muffler… my pillow. Hold your ears!

Okay, much better. May I continue? Annoyance and irritation held me captive. They danced circles around me so that I could hardly move. All because of unwelcome contact with certain types of people. You know the types I mean. You’ve met them. They’re everywhere. They speak without thinking. Act without purpose. Invading your space. Making life miserable with their inane chatter and outlandish deeds. Barely a day passes for any of us without our being accosted by this all too common, age old plague: sheer stupidity.

This blog is dedicated to revealing positive ways of overcoming encounters with stupid persons (stupers, for short). Stupers are people who are completely unaware of, feel no regret for, or care about their deficiency in brainpower. The penthouse is vacant! I am referring to here and now, everyday stupidity. Personal brushes with meager minds. I felt compelled to start this blog to serve as comfort to those of you, like myself, who’ve been held hostage by the hollow headed once too often.

I am going to provide you with case histories and anecdotes about successfully conquering stupidity. After years of experiencing, observing, researching and experimenting with many varieties of stupers, I’ve found answers. And for the very first time, I’m going to share my personal files right here, with you.

I hope that you, dear blog readers, will kindly email me at and share your own tales of the stupid. Please tell me how you handled the ridiculous encounter (or didn’t). And if you don’t mind, I might include your stories here so we may learn from, and help, each other. If you do mind, we’ll chat privately. After all, who needs public recognition? By the way, did I mention that I’ve almost completed a book about how to best manage stupidity? Guess what it’s called? “Counterfeit Humans: How to Maintain Sanity Over Everyday Stupidity.” I will include excerpts now and then, and would love to hear from you and find out what you think. I want to hear from authentic humans. Those that can think and do. It’s such a red-letter day for me when I come across thinking, breathing people that I am beside myself with joy. (Insert deep sigh of contentment).

So what’s here for you? This is the place where stupidity is revealed, processed, disengaged, then discarded….by being resolved in the best possible way. Merciless idiocy need not be a part of daily life.

Please don’t leave me here all alone. I know you’re out there. My goal is for my BFRs (Blog Friends and Readers) to be stupidity free too.

Thank you for reading. 

Until next time, keep thinking.

All my best,

Keli Garson