March 13, 2008 by Keli.

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.

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in My very own stupidity, Neighborly Stupidity, Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 7 Comments »

February 7, 2008 by Keli.

One of the stickiest stuper (short for a patently stupid person) situations occurs when the meager mind lives in your neighborhood. Here’s an e-mail I received regarding this very matter (edited to remove profanity):

Dear Keli,

My neighbors are stupers who think (or don’t) that it’s ok for them to drive through my yard and use my driveway.

About ten people moved in the house next door a few months ago. At any given time, there are no less than nine cars in their yard. If their driveway is blocked and some one wants to leave, they have no problem driving through their yard, into my yard and out my driveway. They never do it when I’m around (at least they’re smart that way). But I’ve come home many times and seen mud tracks coming from their yard over into my yard and then down my cement driveway.

I read your post about anger and neighborly stupidity. Should I ask them politely as you suggested or can I just call the cops?

Really Sick of Idiots in Mississippi

If only we could all have the likes of Mister Rogers living next door to us. Ever so genial and courteous. Alas, it is not so. Here’s my response:

Dear Really Sick:

Calling the police should be a last resort, and only if you require protection or are considering legal action. Sounds like you are currently saddled with stupers who are taking advantage.

Neighbors are a fixture, for the most part. Therefore, it’s essential to maintain good rapport. You do, after all, see quite a bit of each other, even in passing. This is particularly true when it comes to those of the directly next door neighbor variety.

If you feel comfortable enough, you may want to talk civilly to them or write a letter. By civilly, I mean, do not threaten to plant land mines or trick wire the place. Be honest and let them know that you value privacy and an unsullied driveway. 

However, the simplest, most effective remedy requires a monetary expenditure…by you. To wit: a fence. Fences were invented for a very good reason. I suggest you put one up. If this is not cost efficient for you, try shrubbery or other plants. In fact, any type of border will do. Boulders or large rocks, for instance. Even clearly visible, metal stakes will do.

In your case, it appears a fence would be a worthwhile investment to keep stupers at bay.

Some people get stuck in thinking there’s only one way to solve a problem. Managing stupidity requires a bit of tact, planning and in neighborhood situations, clearly defining your borders for the stupers among us.

Great minds like to think.

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Neighborly Stupidity | 3 Comments »

October 14, 2007 by Keli.

Most neighborhoods contain the presence of at least one stuper (short for a nonsensically stupid person). Thinking back to my own varying ‘hoods, I find that this type of neighbor usually lived right next door to me.

There was the quintessential snoop who excelled in peering between the blinds of his second story window so often, there was a permanent crease in one corner that he took for granted as being a clever bonus provided by the manufacturer. I caught him frequently spying on me while I gardened in my yard. Once, I became frightfully worried when the blinds were still and his repeatedly darting figure missing. I trudged over to his front door only to have his Mrs. inform me that he was at the dentist’s. He resumed his reconnaissance activity upon his return, forty minutes later.

Then there was that odd older couple who positioned enormous clay pots housing large palms in a horizontal line at the foot of their driveway. Somehow, between sunset and sunrise, these pots managed to change locations, creeping closer to the street or spreading out in a sort of waltz-like sequence all over the driveway. I never actually saw anyone playing musical pots, but I did hear the wife’s high-pitched cries periodically in the dead of night.

Most recently, there was Gertie, a woman of about 60 or so with an indeterminate accent; in the mornings, she sounded British; by mid-day, decidedly Austrian, and by nightfall, she spoke a strange mixture of English spattered with guttural noises and Mandarin Chinese.

Gertie lived alone next door, with a rotating menagerie of animals. Derby, her pug, excelled in trotting over to our front lawn every afternoon and leaving a malodorous offering, prompting my husband to reciprocate. No, he didn’t actually use her lawn as a personal repository; he just removed the pug’s contribution and returned it to the lawn of its rightful owner. Whenever Gertie saw my husband make the deposit, she just smiled vapidly and nodded.

Gertie managed to kill off her rabbits, chickens and sheep, the demise of which she blamed on the forces of nature. She set her bunnies free to roam. Stray dogs found them delightful, but delicate, playmates. After emancipation, her chickens made a fine feast for raccoons, and Gertie attributed the loss of her sheep to coyotes. Never mind that no one had seen coyotes in the area for years and that these particular coyotes’ bellies were so full, they didn’t so much as take a nibble. I won’t discuss the fact that Gertie habitually forgot to give her sheep water.

I decided to befriend Gertie. Why? Firstly, in the interest of science. She could provide ample research material for my stupidity studies, and secondly, in the interest of science (did I just say that?). I thought I could convince her to allow me to run a few experiments on her. I could douse her with a bucket of ice water to see if dormant brain cells could be stimulated. And I’d just read in The Great Compendium of Acupuncture and Moxibustion by Zhen Jiu Da Cheng, that “mental stupidity and dull-wittedness” may be alleviated if 76 needles are placed in precise areas around the skull. Now, I know many of you dear readers believe I make these things up. I don’t. I find that the truth is far more fantastical than anything I can possibly conjure about stupidity.

I went over to Gertie’s house and proceeded to engage in small talk. I can’t tell you what we discussed, as I really wasn’t listening. I bided my time so that I could request her cooperation in my science project. As she rattled on, it suddenly occurred to me that there might exist those stupers for which there is no hope. Perhaps no amount of dousing with ice water would help. Maybe poking the skull with needles would be futile. How would I recognize a case of hopeless stupidity?

Gertie was saying, “Yes, my corral has been empty since my sheep died. I think (Readers: please note that there is a red alert anytime a stuper uses the word think), I just may get a horse. I’ve never had one before.”

I snapped out of my reverie. “Yes, you did, a few years ago.”

Gertie regarded me, completely baffled and repeated, “I never had a horse.”

Okay, this is where I flip out, take the stuper by the shoulders and shake her for at least fifteen minutes, while keeping a close watch on her bobbing head, to see if I can get any brain activity at all. Or I just quietly slip away. I did the latter. I went home and opened my photo album. This is what I found:

This is a picture I took of my lovely children playing with one of our goat kids, but what’s most important is what appears in the background. Isn’t that a horse on Gertie’s property posing for my snapshot? In fact, it was her horse.

I then realized that Gertie was a hopeless stuper. No amount of dousing or acupuncture could possibly revive her. Sometimes, there’s only so much a stupidity specialist can do.

Think.

Keli
Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Neighborly Stupidity | 11 Comments »

August 2, 2007 by Keli.

Heavily pregnant, all 180 pounds of me sat, sipping soup, in my uncovered patio. Wearing a potato sack style dress and sporting a Ma Kettle inspired housewife bun, I looked about as fetching as a beached walrus.

As I sipped, my skin began to prickle; I sensed I was being watched. I quickly snapped up my triple decker chin in time to see the next door neighbor dart away from his second story window. This window peered directly onto our patio. Unsure whether he was insane or inane, I relocated to my kitchen.

I had met this neighbor, Randy, only once a few months ago. At that time, he’d recently moved in and made a point of telling me what a friendly fellow he was and that four of the neighbors were already his best friends. O…kay.

Fast forward six months. My husband and I decided to remodel our home. We filed paperwork with the City Planning Department, who then sent all who lived nearby proper notice. I decided to visit the next door neighbors and show them exactly what we planned in case they had questions or concerns.

I knocked on Randy’s door, baby in tow. Wife, Josie, let me in. Randy sat in a chair, ignoring me while I talked of our remodel. Josie, too, gave me the silent treatment. I should have taken that as a warning signal. When stupers (yes, dear readers, short for those incredibly stupid persons) are quiet for a prolonged period (say 7 seconds or more), something is definitely amiss.

I asked if I could show them our plans. I might as well have asked permission to burn down their house.  Randy started raving about why I had not shown him the plans prior to filing with the City.

“I had to learn about it from the City?”  “You are so rude!” “You didn’t even have the common decency to talk it over with me first!”

And, he added, all the other neighbors felt just as he did. Did you notice that stupers often designate themselves as spokespersons for the general public? That’s because they lack imagination or thought. Consequently, they believe everyone sees things as they do. That is, they view the world through a straw. I’d talked to most of the neighbors, and to me, they’d seemed happy with our design.

Despite being a young mother with baby, Randy showed me no mercy. I quietly left before one of us broke down in tears. I hoped my son would not be scarred for life by the ridiculously scandalous scene.

Was Randy perverse? Or stupid? I believe he was perversely stupid. His nosiness which caused him to spy on me was idiotic. A pregnant woman eating soup on her patio? Maybe he was trying to determine if it was canned or homemade soup. Had he merely been glancing at me while lost in thought, there would have been no reason for him to take cover once discovered. He was perverse for giving into a primitive curious impulse, for his lack of self-control and his sudden power-trip tantrum. His meager mind made him stupid; his idle curiosity added a touch of perversity.

After all was said and done, I understood perfectly. I was the victim of a stuper’s revenge. For Randy, it was important to be liked by all. When I caught him…well, acting like himself, he couldn’t handle it. Randy wanted me to feel the sense of humiliation he felt when caught spying. Remember, unbelievable as it may seem, many stupers have egos. I caught him redhanded as he acted stupidly. He wanted me to feel the degradation of stupidity too. But, there’s only one person who can make me feel stupid: me.

Meager minds take refuge in idle curiosity. So I didn’t take Randy’s spying seriously. He was merely indulging his vacancy of thought. Idle minds don’t know what they want or need. So out of lack of something more constructive to do, Randy spied.

We did not remodel our home. About six months later, we moved a few miles away.

Not long after, I sat in a cafe, sipping tea. I got that prickly sensation again. Sure enough, Randy stood nearby. I looked up and encountered the discomfort of a stuper who has no idea how to react. What did I do? I greeted him like an ill-gotten neighbor who I was grateful I didn’t live next door to any more. I was pleasant. Randy, believing I had completely forgotten our stupid encounters, (since stupers suffer rapid onset of amnesia, they believe everyone else does too), immediately thought us best friends. Thankfully, more than a decade has passed, and I haven’t seen him since.

Remember, our character is defined by our reactions. Be careful how you react lest you be classified as a stuper. 

Don’t stop thinking!

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Neighborly Stupidity | No Comments »

July 17, 2007 by Keli.

Several years ago, we adopted our Australian Shepherd, Rio, from a local shelter. One year old Rio was of the anxious, energetic, vociferous variety of canine. He had taken great pains to hone his gift of gab, and had, what you may call, a “sending bark.” Meaning it sounded like someone held a bullhorn to his mouth. He needed training which we underwent vigorously (so what if he failed obedience school?), and soon he settled into our family nicely.

Then we decided to adopt a goat. The day we brought her home, Rio went berserk. For about 24 minutes, he barked non-stop. This took place on a weekday at about 10:11 am. At the same time, gardeners mowed, horses whinnied, and children yelled in gleeful play. It was not exactly the quiet hour in the ‘hood. Little did I know that a neighbor thought it high time to write us a memorable letter. She left it in our mailbox.   

This letter was of the nasty, angry, “what the hell’s the matter with you?” sort. She poured forth every possible complaint about the flagrant display of noise which we willfully permitted. We were rude, thoughtless, inconsiderate, and out-of-control. Next time she’d call the police and our dog would be confiscated. By the way, the letter was unsigned.

I was furious. With a little detective work, I discovered who she was (it helped that another neighbor kept one eye on the street at all times). I wrote back a note in kind, accusing her of a lack of understanding, rudeness and unmitigated cowardice in hiding behind the mask of anonymity.

After I thought for a few minutes, I ripped up both letters. She made me angry. Was I trying to see just how high I could raise her ire? How much sense did that make? We weren’t bulls in a ring. Not me, anyhow. 

I wrote the kindest letter back to her that I could muster. I apologized profusely explaining that Rio was a rescue dog and needed plenty of help and patience. I added that, had we not adopted him, he would have been the dearly, departed Rio (truly). I tried to paint her a clear picture of where she was aiming her fury.

I received a second note from her immediately. Guess what? She was a changed person. She apologized for her haste and told me how wonderful it was that I communicated with her. She promised to be more understanding. And this time, she signed her letter. We never had a problem with her again.

Anytime a person reacts before seeking understanding of a matter, sheer stupidity has played a starring role. Character is defined by one’s reaction to a situation. If I had sent my original letter, you know what category I would have fallen in: the stupid one. My anger would have festered, making me unhappy; further furious correspondence would have likely taken place, and there would have been no mercy from this neighbor had Rio engaged in another barkfest.

Ten years later, and all is well. A little thought can go a long way.

Keep thinking!

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Neighborly Stupidity, Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | No Comments »