Archive for March, 2008

Stupidity in Family Flicks

Monday, March 31st, 2008

It happened again. We were watching what I thought was an innocuous, PG-13 rated film when, within the first ten minutes, out popped the bare breasts and naked butts in action. I have nothing against the unclad and au natural…except when my children are watching the movie with me. Granted, they’re teens and practically all grown-up, but it’s uncomfortable, to say the least, for such conspicuous rompings to be viewed with the eyes of one’s offspring glued to the tube.

Early on, I researched movies before taking my children to the theater; however, sometimes it wasn’t the film itself that was objectionable, but the trailers. We once went to see a PG rated movie with a trailer that generously served up the word “sex.” I don’t mean one or two or ten times. I mean at least seventeen times in less than two minutes. This conflicted with my outdated notion that I should be the one to decide when to explain the birds and the bees to my kids.

In my “Mommy is God,” years, my hand acted as a shield over the innocent gaze of my children during unwelcome scenes. They’d patiently and trustingly await its removal. As they got older and intolerant of my handy screen, I switched tactics. I’d create a diversion by suddenly hurling myself off the chair during what should have been an R rated film scene or by feigning a heart attack. But they don’t fall for my old tricks anymore.

Last night, my older son suggested a movie. This one had to be turned off after only three minutes of head beatings, graphic stabbings and other hideous, all too realistic violence. We would have been better off locating the nearest gutter and pulling up a few chairs.

It’s becoming more and more challenging to find a film that has not been made by and/or for stupers (short, yet again, for remorselessly stupid persons). I’m convinced that today’s filmmakers are firm believers in the stupidity of the masses.

I don’t expect a flawless movie; I just want to watch a film, particularly with my kids, that required some thought to create. An intelligent film that’s compassionate, funny, encouraging, tender, cheerful, brave or at the very least interesting. Not depraved and idiotic. I can watch plenty of this latter stuff on the evening news, if I so choose.

What’s a parent to do about the rampant stupidity running amok in much of today’s movie fare?

  1. Make your own movies;
  2. Become fast friends with a movie mogul;
  3. Carefully screen films yourself or through a reputable site ( or; or
  4. Treat your children to classic films. Actors actually spoke in complete sentences back then, dressed well and had extraordinary manners by today’s standards. Anything starring any of the Hollywood legends from Gable to Poitier.

It can be frustrating trying to find a worthwhile movie to watch. They’re out there. But there’s also a ton of rubbish. Be choosy about what you subject your mind to and the minds of your children. Imagine what this world would be like if everyone actually exercised careful thought.

Think first, last and always.


Stupidity is an Exhibitionist

Saturday, March 29th, 2008

If one is alone in a room without benefit of a television, radio, telephone or other communication device, is this a guarantee of avoiding an encounter with a stuper (short for an arbitrarily stupid person)? Not necessarily.

My sister, Vanessa, is a real estate agent who owns a condo in a high rise building. Her building is actually one of two identical structures; building #2 connects to her #1 in an L shape. She rents out her place to a soon-to-be divorced guy.

Vanessa has a condo listed in building #2. These units are all light, airy, with plenty of large windows.

Last Sunday, Vanessa held an open house for her listed unit. She was early so she strolled over to the living room window to enjoy the city view. She happened to glance at building #1, one floor down, and realized that she could look directly into the kitchen of her place. She admired her lovely black granite counters.

Then she noticed a large candle burning brightly on the counter. As she continued gazing at her kitchen, a stuper walked over to the candle and blew on it. Not a soft, gentle blow one would normally use when blowing out a candle, but more like the kind a hollow headed sort may use to attempt to budge a full-size rowboat anchored in still water.

Instead of putting out the light, the mindless wonder succeeded in splattering hot candle wax all over the counter. Incidentally, the stuper was buck naked.

The stuper stared at the wax for awhile, as stupers are wont to do, then moved out of Vanessa’s sight. She quickly returned with a large, sharp knife and proceeded scraping the rapidly drying wax. Before Vanessa could open the window and scream,

“You’re scratching my freakin’ counters!”

the studist (short for a spontaneously stupid nudist) started covering the wax droppings with various nearby objects – salt and pepper shakers, a vase, teapot, the toaster – everything but the kitchen sink. After she rearranged the countertop, she left, presumably to get dressed.

Vanessa’s irritation was assuaged by the fact that she’d secured a hefty deposit from the tenant. What were the odds of Vanessa standing at the window the exact time that the stupidity occurred not only in a neighboring unit, but in her own place, no less?

Standing naked before a large curtainless window in plain sight of many similar windows does not necessarily make one a stuper. Trying feebly to cover up a careless deed does. Stupidity rarely goes unnoticed.



Stupidity’s Cookie Cutter Standard Revisited

Thursday, March 27th, 2008

I’m a little late in completing my latest post, so I leave you, dear readers, with a stupidity tale from my archives:

My mother asked me to interview her friend, Karen, who’d been victimized by a stuper (short again for a carelessly stupid person) while shopping in a trendy clothing boutique. Karen is a petite, slender, attractive lady in her late forties. Her fiance’s daughter was getting married, and Karen needed an elegant, yet understated dress. This particular shop, I know from personal experience, offers a wide array of lovely frocks.

Karen explained, “When I walked in, four ladies stood lined up at the counter staring at the front door. Three of them seemed pretty young, but the fourth one looked my age, so I asked her to help me. There were many gorgeous dresses. I couldn’t decide which ones to try on so I asked the employee to help me choose. She looked me up and down, then said, ‘You’re very short and squatty. We don’t have anything here for you. Try coming back next week when we get our new shipment.’ And she walked away, leaving me feeling fat and frumpy! She didn’t even try to help. I felt awful!”

Take my word, Karen is not “short and squatty.” She is 5′ 3 1/2″ tall and wears a size 6. And even if she was, the idiot’s job was to assist the customer, not offer a worthless opinion. Yet again an instance of a stuper speaking not only without thinking, but using the “cookie cutter standard” as well. Here’s how this standard works: Place an exact physical replica of yourself on top of another person. If it’s not a precise fit, that person doesn’t rate. Ignore them completely.

The only time a stuper does not use this cookie cutter standard is when there appears to be an immediate, direct benefit (money, jewelry, celebrity) -anything that obviously draws attention; subtlety does not work here.

This worker was 5′8″ tall. Karen was regarded as inferior since she was not an exact physical replica of the stupid employee. (Yes, many stupers suffer from sudden superiority complex for no apparent reason). Since Karen did not measure up (pun intended), she wasn’t worth assisting.

Karen continued, “I left and came back five hours later, but that employee was still there. So I gave up. I ended up going to the same boutique, in a different location and found the perfect dress.”

Does anyone have the right to call another person, “short and squatty” without provocation? Or even with provocation? No. Like stereotyping, this cookie cutter standard provides a way for a stuper to formulate an opinion, even though the opinion is ludicrous and nonsensical. Stupers use a quick, unfinished assessment. Be certain when trying to form an opinion of another person to take your time and expand your field of vision so that you view the whole picture, not one based solely on appearances. Or you might find yourself becoming a stuper too.

Think first, last, and always!


When Stupidity Works Out at the Gym

Monday, March 24th, 2008

Whenever possible, authentic humans consider the impact their actions may have on others. Stupers (short, once again, for systematically stupid persons) do not. Stupidity’s Code of Misconduct prohibits this. Stupers won’t even consider taking an action unless it’s sure to annoy others.

Evenings at the local YMCA are generally tranquil and uncrowded. My younger son (Son) likes to use the treadmill during this time. He did so just the other night.

There are eight such machines, four of which are hit directly by a cool, circulating fan. Son used one of these four treadmills. He was sandwiched between a thirty-something-year-old guy enjoying a rigorous run, and a stuper; all three got the benefit of the refreshing breeze from the fan.

The stuper wasn’t running, but strolling on her treadmill, while talking to someone next to her. The stuper stepped off her machine, walked over to the fan and turned it off; then she returned to her treadmill.

Son looked at the guy next to him and smiled, thinking the situation quite comical. The fellow looked back at him and didn’t attempt to crack a grin. Instead he displayed the picture of complete and total exasperation. The man stepped off in the middle of his run; he told the lady that he’d like to turn the fan back on. She said no, curtly explaining that the fan was no good for her allergies, and that’s why she turned it off.

The fellow asked her to move just a space or two, to any of four, unoccupied, fanless machines, but the stuper refused, saying she preferred the one she was on. The man finally gave up and just asked her to please turn it back on once she was done. She frowned and shook her head at his audacity. The man went to the fan and turned it back on. The stuper moved over to an exact replica of her treadmill, a few feet away, where fan issues were nonexistent. Exactly what she should have done in the first place, if she’d exercised a bit of thought.

It’s important for authentic humans to gain control over a stupid situation. This doesn’t mean grabbing the stuper by the shoulders and giving the idiot a good shake until the brain is revived or a slight case of whiplash occurs. This does mean remaining in reasonable control of one’s emotions and thoughts rather than allowing them to control us, as stupers are accustomed to doing. 

Think for yourself.


Stupidity Butchers Words and Names

Saturday, March 22nd, 2008

Dawn of Twisted Sister Blog fame suggested that I write a post about word mis-pronouncers; coincidentally, I’ve been the victim of several name slaughterers in just the past few days. People who inadvertently mispronounce simple names and words are indeed stupers (short for uncommonly stupid persons), especially when the mispronunciation occurs after they ask how to pronounce the name. They ask; then proceed to mangle the innocent name to the worst of their ability.

My name is not actually Keli as some of my dear readers know, but it’s a simple, four-letter, two-syllable, easy-on-the-eyes and ears name that the average person with a semi or fully functioning mind should be capable of pronouncing. It’s similar to Lisa. How many different ways are there to say the name Lisa? Is it ever Lye-sa? Ly-si-a? Lehsa (short e)? How about Linsa? My first name is mispronounced so freakin’ often, I’m surprised I haven’t suffered an identity crises.

This is not a matter of “You say potato (long a), I say potato (short a). This is a matter of the intellectually impoverished mind’s inability to correctly pronounce a name immediately after being given detailed instruction on just how to say it.

I made two phone calls yesterday: one to the local YMCA billing department and the other to a large retailer. I told both representatives my name a few times. I spoke slowly and clearly. Both repeated it correctly, then proceeded to mangle it a minimum of six times afterwards.

I do not exert energy correcting people who commit this error anymore. It’s a means of spotting stupers.

If a word is complex or one that’s seldom seen or heard, okay. Foreign words (including Latin) may be forgivably mispronounced also.

In college, I remember a fellow student answering the Prof’s question, using “Illinoise” in his response, instead of Illinois. Everyone laughed, including the Professor and other students. I did not laugh. This poor student was being grilled by the instructor and was nervous. I’m certain he did not repeat that error. However, if he did indeed continue referring to the state as “Illinoise,” and English was his first language, then the lad was a genuine counterfeit human (I finally get to use an oxymoron).

Dawn’s stuper said “portpolio” for portfolio. Dawn says she used to correct him, but gave up. Barring medical issues or perhaps a genetic disorder, this type of willful mispronunciation is yet another inexplicable character flaw of a stuper.

Just think.


Stupidity Works Here

Wednesday, March 19th, 2008

It is a well known fact in these here parts that I live in, that a certain large, well-known, family-run grocery store rarely has more than three customers in it at any given time. Holidays may draw in about a half a dozen wide-eyed shoppers. But the store is so devoid of customers that there’s an echo if anyone speaks above a whisper. And for good reason. A majority of its employees are stupers (short for uncannily stupid persons).

Husband (H) decided he wanted to buy roast beef for sandwiches. The only place that sells the meat he prefers happens to be the very market that’s mostly inhabited by idiots. He hadn’t purchased this beef in nearly two years. Ever the optimist, H believes that time can change things. Maybe the stupers had been replaced.

If only.

H went straight to the Deli counter. A worker finished up with a customer and then immediately decided to take her break. H was fine with that. He smiled, waited patiently, until another employee appeared.

“Hi!” said cheerful H.

The employee grunted.

“May I have a pound of the roast beef, thinly sliced for sandwiches?”

The employee grunted again and removed the roast beef. He then proceeded slicing, using a shiny, new, professional meat slicing machine.

What does “thinly sliced” mean to my dear, intelligent readers? Does it mean each piece should resemble a thick New York steak? Because H said his pound of meat only had six slices in it, each the width of a thumbnail.

“Can you please give me a different pound?” H requested. “I’d really like it thinner. You know, so it breaks off in your hand. I hope you can use the ones you’ve already sliced elsewhere.”

The employee grunted once more and began slicing again. This time he sliced a whopping four slices.

H looked up in corners of the ceiling; he peered in the breadbox, and searched behind the gourmet crackers sitting at one end of the counter. He was hoping he was part of a revamped, covert Candid Camera type program. Then he asked the employee,

“Do those look thin to you?”

The employee grunted.

H paused and thought that maybe the guy couldn’t speak English. But he understood the request. Then he considered that the worker could be mentally handicapped, so he took the first group of six slices and went to the cashier.

The bill was $9.25. H gave the cashier a ten dollar bill plus a quarter. The cashier told him he’d overpaid. H said,

“I know; that’s so you can give me a dollar back.”

The cashier eyed him suspiciously and called for a manager. The manager arrived and asked, ‘What seems to be the problem, Sir?’

H explained that he paid a quarter extra so he could get a dollar back, without change.

“We don’t do that kind of thing here,” the manager said and left.

Husband paid his ten dollars and received $1.75 in return. He had somehow managed to get a dollar back. After all, this was a stuper store. H left the extra dollar and headed for the exit, certain that mass confusion would ensue over the mysterious dollar bill.

H then leaned against the front wall of the market, right next to the entrance and laughed nonstop for about eight minutes. No one noticed him.

Keep thinking.


Stupidity Assumes Stupidity or Stupid is as Stupid Does

Monday, March 17th, 2008

I’ve been away from the computer these past few days cavorting in Southern California while chaperoning three young gentlemen junior golfers, one of which was my own, to the Los Angeles City Junior Open. Ever on the lookout for instances of everyday stupidity, I came across a veritable potpourri; a few tidbits will be shared here today with my dear readers.

I’m often asked if being a poor speller is a sign of the stuper (short again for an undisguisedly stupid person). The answer is no…unless one succeeds in committing permanent or semi-permanent spelling slips of a public nature; meaning the spelling mistakes sit comfortably for all to view with no attempt at correction.

Repeated, poor spelling is akin to going into an important job interview dressed like a farmer hot on the trail of wild hogs. Only the pitchfork is missing. It’s sloppy.

Even excellent spellers make mistakes when writing in haste or exhaustion or while under the spell of rapid onset amnesia (ROM). But should a person misspell, and advertise said error on a large sign, that is then planted securely into the ground, thanks to the wonders of quick drying cement, and strategically placed in front of members of the general public, then one is a definite stuper.

Unfortunately, I did not have a camera with me this past weekend. But I spotted a huge sign designed by a stuper on the very first tee of an enormous public golf course. The sign advised players to maintain a rapid pace of play so as not to slow down golfers playing behind them. Leisurely golfers would be penalized. Then at the bottom of this sign was stated, in bold, large letters:


More examples of poor spelling for public scrutiny:

Perhaps the blunders above can be blamed on the lack of satellite spell check or dictionaries placed in nearby, convenient locations.

My second skirmish with stupidity occurred while I walked the course, watching my son play. Some golf parents, dads especially, assume the rest of the non-playing, civilized world knows little, to nothing, about the game of golf. After I told one such father that I didn’t play the game myself, he instantly assumed I was an ignoramus. He accompanied me on four holes, giving me all sorts of golf advice, and then said,

“Tiger Wood’s playing a tournament today, with…. O’Hearn or O’Hara…the name doesn’t matter because it’s no one you’ve heard of anyway.”

I gently told him it was in fact, Sean O’ Hair, one of my favorite, young players. The father gave me a blank look and abandoned me for the snack bar.

Stupers don’t ask, don’t research, don’t bother; they just assume. It’s your decision whether you wish to correct them or not. Sometimes, it’s not worth the effort. But if it give you a sense of satisfaction, then by all means, correct the fool.



An Acute Attack of Stupidity at the Mailbox or Aimless Stupidity

Thursday, March 13th, 2008

Yesterday, this stupidity specialist found herself in a foul temper. Blame it on a series of small, but unfortunate events. My sweet listening skills, which I have finely tuned, in order to more carefully observe, record, research and analyze the ludicrous and annoying antics of stupers (short for inexcusably stupid persons) got me into trouble.

The final such event sent me over the edge. Roving stupidity grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and demanded my attention, as I innocently walked out to my mailbox.

Spying a ready-made audience, a neighbor stopped by in his car to chat and rapidly proceeded to unload enough personal rubbish to qualify my front yard as a landfill large enough to accommodate four states. I was bombarded by his parents’ health issues, his very own derogatory remarks and truckloads of downright sniveling. This aimless, rambling stupidity drained all semblance of patience out of me within an incredibly short time span.

I not only became increasingly impatient as this neighbor spoke, but angered by the sheer volume of his complaints and irrelevant personal opinions. My dear readers may have learned by now, that patience is an antidote to stupidity as well as to anger, irritation and a minor bout with walking pneumonia. But I momentarily forgot this.

We are all searching for peace of mind. We try to buy this elusive commodity through multitasking, streamlining, scheduling, and purchasing products to rev up our lives, as well as going out of our way to avoid idiots. Often this search does the opposite. It deflates our ability to handle situations that require cool thinking and self-control.

Once in a while (a great while, mind you), when I crave attention, I bemoan living an interrupted life. For instance, when I’m writing an article, the phone rings, the religious proselytizers perch on my doorstep for the winter, a neighbor decides to test his new chainsaw right outside my window, and images left over from encounters with stupers return to pester me. I finally put off working until I can find a more suitable time.

My point? Our patience is perpetually tested. If we’re going to experience the seemingly elusive peace of mind, patience is a necessity. It’s a vital component to living a sane, stuper-free life.

By patience, I don’t mean putting up with infuriating things or annoying persons, but rather controlling our irritation, rage or other unpleasant emotion. If we can hone patience, stuper situations would occur less frequently and without annoyance.

With patience, comes clarity of thought; with clarity of thought, comes self-control; with self-control, we function more effectively. With all these things, comes peace of mind.

Treat stupidity as scenery along the road of life, not always pleasing to the senses, and sometimes downright stinky, not unlike a mile high manure pile, but still entertaining.

Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes do against cold. ~ Leonardo da Vinci

Think first, last and always.


One in A Million Friend Award

Thursday, March 13th, 2008


When I first joined the Blogosphere, some eight months ago, one of my first, very supportive blogging friends was the talented Dawn from Twisted Sister. Her compliments and words of support meant a lot. Today she has honored me by bestowing, The One in a Million Friend Award which I very much appreciate. It’s a lovely feeling to know that someone out there thought of you in such a nice way.

Thank you, Dawn!

Stupidity in Scientific Studies

Monday, March 10th, 2008

As many of you know by now, stupers are absolute and utter idiots. The term “stuper” is the conjugation, or coming together, of the terms, stupid and person; hence, stuper is the abbreviation for an unsympathetically stupid person.

Stupers possess no wisdom, sensitivity, shrewdness or deep thought. They’re the ones who regularly and persistently make inane comments and act in ways certain to cause annoyance to others. If there was a Richter scale that measured stupidity, the magnitude of their idiocy would be equal to an earthquake that wiped out not only Japan, but the entire continent of Asia, as well as parts of North Africa and the lower Mediterranean.

Now to my point: scientific studies are sometimes conducted with the assistance of rats, mice and other animals who display intelligence. Intelligence that could very well surpass that of the average, or even above average, stuper.

I think most of us would better maintain our sanity if stupers were put to good use in these studies, replacing the rats and mice, who I’m certain, have better things to do (unlike stupers). Therefore, I propose that scientists substitute stupers for these little critters, whenever possible. I’ve even designed a study for which I think stupers would be perfectly suited:

Phase 1 – Instead of placing mice in cages with exercise wheels and toys, place stupers in rooms with puzzles and books. Once they’ve mastered completing two puzzles and one book, they move on to the next level.

Phase 2 – Here, each stuper is monitored by a scientist who engages the meager mind in conversation that requires the exercise of listening capabilities and exhibition of thought. Should the stuper fail to listen and answer a question properly, he/she is given a slight shock. Not enough to require hospitalization, but the equivalent of a pinch on one’s bottom, such as one might receive while shopping in the open air market in Puerto Vallarta (I speak from personal experience).

Phase 3 – Once Phase 2 is successfully conquered, the stuper is placed in a public setting, such as on a city sidewalk or a Walmart, and closely observed over a two-day period. If the stuper slips back into stupidity, the experiment must be started over again. And therein lies the flaw in utilizing stupers in any experiment. A rat or mouse finds a way to get off the perpetually turning wheel. Alas, this is not true for stupers. Stupidity is a way of life.

This means that the rest of us must continue to exercise vigilant thought and awareness, at least until I can come up with an experiment that will successfully re-train stupers.

Thinking is a choice.