I have two sisters-in-law. Denice is thoughtful, kind and generous. Then there’s Naomi.
Naomi invited Denice, her husband and adult daughter to Thanksgiving dinner. Then just as quickly, Naomi dissed them. By “dissed” I mean disinvited them. Why? Because Naomi is a card-carrying stuper (short for a noxiously stupid person), and the brain of an idiot, as most of my dear readers have learned, is corroded, filled with selfish, contaminated thoughts. Naomi told Denice she decided to have a “low key” gathering including only her own parents. Naomi was unable to put her foot down without putting it in her mouth, a defect of most stupid minds.
Denice, being quite resourceful, did what any authentic human would do: invited some of her favorite people to share and enjoy her own Thanksgiving.
To ensure a stuper free holiday where we can focus on grateful, warm and loving thoughts, here are a few suggestions to keep stupers at bay when you can’t keep them away:
1. According to a study conducted by US researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, dietary nutrients found in a wide range of foods from infant formula to eggs increase brain synapses and improve cognitive abilities. Provide foods at your holiday feast that boost intelligence in hopes of instant mental stimulation for any idiots at your table. Toss in some infant formula in the gravy in lieu of butter or cream. No one needs to know. Throw in a trout and some beets and you can’t go wrong. Tell the stuper this is exactly what Madonna eats at her Thanksgiving table.
2. Bring pictures of your trip to the Rainforest to keep the stuper occupied for a period of time. Let them view the photos while watching Paris Hilton’s My New BFF and I guarantee you won’t see or hear the fascinated dimwit at all.
3. A bottle of red wine does wonders for keeping stupers under control. If wine seems to have little effect, try bourbon (making sure, of course, that the stuper does not operate a motor vehicle or any vehicle with wheels or springs).
4. Be thoughtful to counteract the negative waves of stupidity.
Happy Thanksgiving to all!
Keli
Keli@counterfeithumans.com
Self-sabotage is still another pitiable offshoot of stupidity. I don’t usually feature younger stupers (short, as most of you know, for irretrievably stupid persons), but in this case, an empty head in his early twenties engaged in an unfortunate series of idiotic acts, practically nose-diving into the Hall of Fame of Stupidity. Today, I share his latest feat.
At first, Dawain felt excited about his new position; then, as stupers are wont to do, he become increasingly fidgety and bored, despite continually having new responsibilities. To combat his boredom, he decided that he needed to modify his duties, and likely, having a vague, fuzzy notion of the Red Scare of the Fifties gleaned from eleventh grade history class, he took up finger pointing.
Dawain wrote an e-mail to the department manager, informing him that Dawain singlehandedly answered all calls while the rest of the lazy, good-for-nothing guys played poker, computer games, smoking and napping in between, all of which Dawain himself enjoyed.
Since the infancy of this blog, I’ve received a few complaints. Yes, I know; my dearest readers are muttering, how is that remotely possible? It just is. These choleric grumblings arrive in e-mail form, carrying a snarky, dismissive tone on their spam ridden backs. I’ve never met these disgruntled readers, yet I’ve managed to create a physical profile:
Should communication be impossible or not worthwhile, turn your back on stupidity and keep it turned. Don’t ever look back on the stuper unless you’re absolutely positive a heartwarming apology (as opposed to a pseudo apology – “I’m sorry if…”) is forthcoming, preferably accompanied by a token gift and several years’ worth of dark chocolate truffles for all the troubles caused by the idiot.
Unavoidable stupidity often turns up at the other end of the telephone line in the guise (or voice) of telemarketers. Ive posted about these pestilent stupers (short for radically stupid persons) before.
For the past six months on a timetable as regular as that of my rooster who crows at 1:45 am, 3:09 am, 4:55 am and again every four minutes commencing at 5:21 am until I roll out of bed for the morning feeding, Ive been receiving a recorded telephone call from the same party. Its an eerily calm female voice with a slightly sinister tone that warns,
I gathered the necessary information once more, which the rep gave readily and cheerfully. She also provided a Universal Do No Call Number, which I speedily dialed, only to hang up minutes later. The voice at the other end asked for one of my most closely guarded secrets. No, not my true identity or where I keep my fake necklace that strongly resembles the Hope Diamond and in fact, was once briefly confiscated by museum authorities as being the real thing, but my precious social security number. I was foiled. I hung up the telephone without completing my purpose of entering them on the Never Again Call Me list.
Patriotic Americans, unite! Let us ‘rally round the Flag, recognizing today as Veteran’s Day. (Dear readers, please stand during the remainder of this paragraph). Our veterans have earned the right to be recognized and praised. Their sacrifices are deeply appreciated. That said, Veteran’s Day is mere background for today’s somewhat thought-provoking, yet highly practical post.
So what does all this have to do with stupidity? Plenty. Namely that I have discovered a means of legitimizing these ordinary, common days that latch themselves for dear life to holidays. They deserve recognition. I submit “Stuper-Free Day” (stuper being short for indubitably stupid persons).
Why would these two virtual strangers step out of their way to help us? This is what authentic humans do. Whereas those of the counterfeit variety turn their heads and fix their gaze elsewhere or stomp their feet to let us know what trouble we cause, those that think know that helping one helps all.
Gatherings where large groups of people are present often prove fertile grounds for stupidity. Intermingling with idiots is virtually guaranteed in these settings. If stupers (short, as most of you know, for unaccountably stupid persons) even remotely detect the presence of a captive audience, watch out! They will blurt out particularly ridiculous and rude remarks to quench their insatiable thirst for attention. Captive audiences = stuper heaven, which means the rest of us may be placed in a holding cell in purgatory while the idiot is yammering.
“I’m not into tattoos myself, but I was pleasantly surprised at how well-spoken, poised and intelligent Henrik was. He told us about the history of tattoos and explained their place in the military, saying that soldiers traditionally wore tattoos to deflect the element of fear and show their toughness. After Henrik finished talking, an audience member stood up and said, quite pompously, ‘No disrespect intended, but disfiguring your body is going against God’s will. We’re on a slippery slope today as it is. Morality is shot; no one takes responsibility. In my day, the only ones with tattoos were pimps, whores and sailors.’ There was total silence afterward. Then Henrik responded, ‘I’m a veteran of the Marines, I’m a patriot and I agree about the slippery slope. But I’m not here to promote or speak against tattoos. I’m just providing information.’ Henrik looked really uncomfortable. Don’t you think the guy who slammed Henrik was a stuper?”
When a stuper starts out with, “No disrespect intended,” rest assured four freight trains full of disrespect are rapidly plunging your way. It’s best to hurl yourself into the nearest clump of thorn-free bushes. And lumping sailors with pimps and whores is like categorizing aspirin with heroin and cocaine. Please. Stupers with opinions can be hazardous.
H and I inoffensively drove down the ramp marked “Arrivals” to enter LAX. As is customary in potentially crime-laden areas where opportunistic hoodlums cram themselves into every nook and crevice, officers of the law carefully scrutinized all motorists exiting said ramp. A gatekeeper type cop stopped H, giving him a seething glance during which I casually observed two other officers waiting off to one side. I should have instantly noticed signs of this rapidly spreading disorder, but my mind drifted to whether I should have worn my black cashmere sweater instead of the fuchsia. As it was, I paid only abbreviated attention.
I have great respect for officers of the law. I am grateful for their presence and the vital protection services they offer. But truly, how helpful are overweight, physically unfit officers? How fast will they be against the hungry, lanky, yet often surprisingly limber criminal element?