I failed the bar exam my first try. I mistakenly thought I was such a genius, I didn’t need to study. Plus, I was paranoid that some undeserving law student would slip in and takeover my first real, highly important and much coveted job in the movie industry if I took time off to study.
I worked for a company boasting a solid group of Stanford Law School graduates who were oh-how-they-knew-it smart. I’d attended a small, private law school. I felt not so smart. The very day the bar exam results were unveiled, this is what I heard in the company conference room, when all were present, coming from a nasally, whiny voice befitting a dwarfish, three legged, blind rat with a cane, dark shades and thinning fur, limping around in search of her next morsel. The voice, if one can call it that, was completely devoid of warmth or charm, and belonged to a witchy attorney, Rodent, Rhoda, who was one of the Stanford grads (no, I am not bitter),
“So. Did you pass?”
I considered raising my dejected self up and lying through my clenched teeth, but I couldn’t do it. I blurted out the truth to which she responded with a hideous, I-knew-it smile.
I received many apologies for Rhoda’s behavior that day, from all the attorneys except Rhoda. I did pass the exam the second time after I took a short leave and was promised by my angelic boss that she would place her foot in the door until my return.
Revenge came later when two very agreeable, pleasant lawyers (not an oxymoron) and myself went to an ultra hip restaurant for lunch, as entertainment attorneys are wont to do now and then. Rhoda, at the last minute, invited herself to tag along. As you may imagine, inviting herself was Rhoda’s only means of leaving the office now and then, short of business meetings when her presence was absolutely required. At twenty-seven, Rhoda was only a year or so older than the rest of us, but you’d never know it. I don’t want to say that she was unattractive, because it was more than that. Misery, greed, selfishness and unbridled ambition can twist around a person’s features.
Rhoda may have made a point of using me as her subject of humiliation, but on our lunch day, it was her turn. And I didn’t lift a finger or say a word. While the rest of us were carded as we entered the restaurant (you ladies out there can especially appreciate the significance of this small, but enormously complimentary action), the Maitre d’ told Rhoda that he didn’t need to see her ID. She was obviously older than the rest of us. Rhoda was none too happy.
Don’t believe for a minute that stupers ever get away with their sometimes cruel and always idiotic deeds and words. It always returns to hit them smack in the back of the head. The proper response to insulting stupidity depends on you. If you should offer an insult in exchange for one, how would it make you feel afterward? Small, like your head is where your ankles used to be? In that case, an insult is not in order. However, if you feel the insult will put a stop to future acts of stupidity or possibly jolt the dolt into thinking, then by all means, indulge.
We shouldn’t expect too much from the meager mind. In fact, we shouldn’t expect anything. This would make it far easier to accept the presence of stupidity.
Keep thinking.
Keli
Keli@counterfeithumans.com
Yes, your kids are cute for the most part, particularly when they’re walking demurely by your side or are out cold in the stroller; but, they are not even remotely cute when they are running their sticky hands and grimy fingers through a barrel full of rolled oats, or licking and tasting gummy bears in a bulk bin of a grocery store. It’s true these bins are a highly appealing attraction for the toddler crowd, especially with the loosely attached plastic ladle for easy scooping, but really, as a parent, it’s your job to take control of your tot. Otherwise, you’ll promptly be labeled a stuper (short for a preposterously stupid person). Not an easy label to remove once it’s pinned on securely.
As a rule, stupers should not be allowed in the bulk section of the supermarket. This goes for all idiot customers who brazenly dine out from the bulk bin, never 
Good fences make good neighbors came about when a stuper neighbor got on Robert Frost’s last, already rapidly fraying nerve, forcing him to erect a semi-permanent stone barrier to keep the neighbor and his ilk out and then trudge home and pen a poem about it.
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. A closed mouth catches no flies. Every time he opens his mouth, he puts his foot in it. Yes, a stuper seeped under the skin of the originator of each of these sayings.
It grieves me to know that there is an environmental pollutant that is grossly overlooked by all and far more hazardous than global warming. Forget CO2 emissions, Brittney Spears’ perfume or oil spills. The biggest environmental pollutant is stupidity. And there currently exist no regulations regarding the restriction of idiocy (or the perfume). All the more reason for us thinking, breathing humans to vigilantly keep our wits about us.
How many of us need to be reminded that our current economy is shaky? If you don’t listen to the news or read the headlines, all you have to do is hit the streets to hear: “bleak,” “…despite the economy…” “tough times,” “gloomy,” “colossal waste of money,” “unemployment high,” and “Paris Hilton is to blame.”
This Club invites guest speakers; this meeting happened to have the Director of an International Film Festival present, Javier Valdez. Javier had gratefully moved to the United States from the bowels of South America, leaving an impoverished life and stupers behind, or so he thought. After the Club President ended his mournful speech, Javier stood. He announced,
We can’t control forces outside of ourselves. Witness the economy or any run-in with an idiot stuper (redundant for added emphasis). But we can control our attitudes and reactions. Have you noticed that, often, when you feel, I mean deeply feel, enthusiastic, upbeat, and/or happy, you’re met with more of the same? Anything else is a waste of our precious energy. Don’t give in to the stupid among us. Don’t allow them to dictate how you should feel. And yes, Paris Hilton is to blame.
Every morning, Sandy walks her large, black Labrador, unleashed, to the edge of our property where the driveway is located; then they both do a U-turn and return home. We live five houses away, so it’s not really a long enough walk to qualify as “exercise.” But it is precisely long enough for the Lab to do its doody, a massive pile of #2, right at the foot of our driveway. Right underfoot, if you will.
Always start out with courteous communication. Try and set an example for the stuper; something to jump-start the drowsy mind. If that doesn’t work, redepositing the poop in the path of the dog’s owner may be in order to properly assist the stuper in becoming fully aware of the problem.
– They excel in tailgating the unfortunate vehicle in front closely enough to make other motorists believe the stuper driver is being towed by the front car’s driver. This is prevalent when rain is accompanied by fog;
While rocket scientists ponder space and time travel, this stupidity specialist ponders yet another terrifyingly common character trait of the stuper (short, yet again, for a revoltingly stupid person). Namely, the woeful inability to return phone calls.
If she is bound and gagged for any length of time, therein lies another valid reason not to make the call. A blow on the head is a good one too, as is a coma.