Some of us thinkers, despite valiant efforts to the contrary, may periodically slip into temporary states of stupidity. Inadvertent stupidity, one might call it, where we may say and do things that could immediately demote us to stuper (short, once more, for a dreadfully stupid person) status. Even me. Mind you, such bouts are increasingly rare for me, thanks to my herculean efforts to remain perpetually aware of all my actions and words.
If any of my dear readers should find themselves the accidental perpetrator of an inane word or deed, I can assure and reassure you that there is help. Here are a few simple tips for lifting yourself out of a stuper funk:
- Apologize without hesitation for your guffaw. This creates unhesitating sympathy in your victim, making it clear to all that you are not a repeat offender since you caught yourself, if not on time, at least quickly thereafter and tried to make amends.
- If it’s too late for apologies (meaning you left the scene of your idiocy and afterward realized you behaved like an imbecile), befriend an intelligent person. Study after study shows the company we keep impacts us greatly. If you hang out with a smart crowd, one whose members continuously use their minds in a positive fashion, some of it’s likely to rub off on you.
- Take thinking up as a hobby. If you treat thinking as a hobby, like knitting or turning PCs into miniature greenhouses to better understand global warming, you can gradually expand thinking time so that it overtakes all else and soon is so ingrained that it becomes a natural occurrence. Second nature, if you will, which is as it should be. Stupidity will cease to exist for you.
- If you missed out on making the world a better place by behaving stupidly, worry not. Transcend your dumb deed or words by doing good for some one else, thereby continuing to improve the human condition and making up for your idiocy. It’s a balancing act of sorts.
In this way, bona fide thinkers may continue with their mission of ridding the world of stupers (or at least ignoring them).
Just think.
Keli
Keli@counterfeithumans.com
I’d like to wish all of my dear readers the Merriest Christmas and the happiest of holidays!
May you exercise only clear, calm, positive, happy thoughts each of your days so that together we can stifle the stupid among us and maintain our collective sanity. We have so much potential and such a powerful tool in the machinery of our incredible minds, it would be a pity to squander any of it.
I’ve been blissfully enjoying stuper (short for an uncontrollably stupid person) free days lately. I’d like to believe it’s because I’ve become so expert, so fine-tuned to their inane ways and so staggeringly tolerant, that I have achieved the immunity that I’ve longed for. Then I received an e-mail from my cousin, Pauline, about an idiot relation. Immediately, my lukewarm blood boiled to molten lava temperatures. I virtually had to take an ice bath before I could sit and write this post, as a cool head and hand are required to be most effective (a cool hand to deter the possibility of strangulation of the stuper involved).
‘Twas a fortnight before Christmas when all through the city, lots of people were stirring with no sign of stupidity….
In this day of excess, superficiality and perpetual need, it was sobering and comforting to find a person in her twenties not longing for the latest designer purse or diamond earrings to show off to her friends (note to self: do you really need to have that Ferrari Scaglietti?). The best part about Marcia is that every time I see her, she looks and acts like the happiest person on earth. This is not to say that wanting things is wrong or makes for unhappiness. It’s imperative not to be consumed by wanting or we may become shortsighted, even blinded, missing opportunities to seize happiness.
When attending a large, boisterous Christmas party, it’s positively guaranteed that a stuper (short for a prodigiously stupid person) will be seated at your otherwise cheery table. And so it was for this seasoned, stupidity specialist.
I sat between H and the delightfully pleasant Carter. Carter’s expression, demeanor and words oozed sincere kindness. Next to him sat his wife, Kimmie. Inflexible, blunt and tarnished, Kimmie had all the charm of a used kitchen knife that’s been relocated to the garden shed and used for stabbing stubborn bags of topsoil and chubby, slow-moving gophers. I don’t like gophers.
When I answered yes to the last query, Kimmie practically went into labor. “THEY BOTH LIVE AT HOME?”
assured instant pain if the stuper so much as looked my way. The rest of the evening was passed in glorious silence by Kimmie.
Lately, I’ve found myself pondering vital, life-altering issues such as: which came first, 
Once, in his role as junior golf dad and leader of the local league, he was requested by a private golf club official to clean up the course after his team finished playing. I happened to be within earshot of Mr. Z. After the official left, Mr Z. announced,
I saw Mr Z at the gas station a few weeks ago. He stood a full ten feet away from me, squinting his beady, crow-like eyes in my direction. Perhaps he did harbor a shred of 
No, I’ve not been taken captive by a roving band of wild stupers (short for unshakably stupid persons) or fallen into a deep pothole in an effort to hurl myself out of the way of a moronic motorist. I’m just a bit behind in meeting deadlines and will be posting within the next few days. Simultaneously, I’m studying the concept of reformed stupers – do they exist or are they merely the stuff and nonsense of my imagination? We shall find out in my next installment.