February 15, 2010 by Keli.

I attended the Northern Trust Open last weekend, and as you may imagine, Sunday’s crowd was overflowing. Some of you may be thinking, (those of you who do think), this could mean the stupers (short for ceaselessly stupid persons) were out in full force. You’d be right.

The weather was so perfect, the grounds immaculate, the company ideal, that I completely forgot about idiots until my son and I hatched a plan. We had trouble viewing the tee shots because of the crowd, so we forged two holes ahead of the lead group and patiently waited their arrival at the tee box. Brilliant, no? Son wanted to watch the swings, ball flights, etc. of the big guns, or clubs, in this case.

We waited. Others began to join us. Son said,

“I wish I could get a drink of water.”

Ever obliging, I remarked, “Go right ahead. I’ll save your spot.”

“There’s no way you can save it; way too many people are coming.”

“I’ll just use my famous space saver maneuver like this. Works every time.”

I placed my hands on my hips, elbows threateningly jutting outward, and began to rapidly rotate my upper body (lower half kept perfectly stationary). Unfortunately, I was thwarted by a stuper.

The second I turned sideways, she slipped in and next to me. I threw her my dirtiest look because I do not appreciate when one entire side of my body is needlessly and involuntarily pressed against that of another. She looked right back at me. Every time I looked at her, she stared blankly back.

For the next ten minutes, her shoulder was glued to my arm, the top of which she periodically laid her head to rest.  This, of course, occurred when she wasn’t blowing her nose or coughing in my direction. Any time I turned to look down at her, she stared back. No mercy.

When the fellow on the other side of Son left, Son took one step sideways to restore my space; I rejoiced and praised the Lord. However, the second I moved over, so did she, glued to my side as she was.

For those of you who are motivated to watch this in action, please play the video below. Forward to the 45 seconds mark, and watch the next ten seconds. You won’t see me due to the dedicated plump chap in the lime green shirt holding a microphone just behind golfer, Steve Stricker. The chap preserved my anonymity while entirely blocking my view. But you may witness the stuper of whom I speak. She is the one you can see clearly, next to the lime green shirt, bobbing her body to her right, where I was standing. Pay particular attention to her head action, as she routinely buffeted her head sideways to slam my shoulder. Alas, the video doesn’t show the actual lengthy series of head snappings which I was subjected to.

My remedy for this type of behavior is quite satisfying. In these situations, I swear quite freely… in a different, lesser known language; it’s liberating, no one is offended, it’s highly entertaining for myself and I won’t be removed from the premises. I periodically cried out,

“Goh! Borow gome sho! etc.”

All I got from these magical words was the same blank stare from the stuper. But I felt profoundly better. Works every time. Unless, of course, the stuper happens to originate from the country whose curse words you are borrowing.

Just think.

Keli

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 6 Comments »

November 7, 2009 by Keli.

As the sun is setting, say you happen to be walking along a desolate, sandy beach, with your favorite domestic animal companion: five-year-old German Shepherd, Greta Von Brinkerhoff. She’s proved herself loyal, intelligent and loving many times. You can’t help but notice Greta gazing longingly at the gently crashing waves, pausing now and then to stare up at you and pleadingly yelp. You, engaging in that telepathic understanding only a true dog lover and a few random dog whisperers possess, know she is asking for permission to test the waters.  You decide, “Why not?”

You watch, smiling, as Greta dog-paddles her way out and over the waves. Suddenly, Greta disappears beneath a particularly menacing wave, possibly set off by an underwater volcanic eruption (it could happen).

As you anxiously wait for Greta to resurface, you happen to notice Marty, a well known stuper (short for an objectionably stupid person) drowning not far from where Greta was last seen.

Here’s the burning question: Whom should you save? The sweet, loving, canine friend? Or the mentally and aquatically challenged, complete and utter idiot?

The answer is obvious to most of us and has been the topic of much discussion by morality experts such as radio Talk Show host Dennis Prager as well as radical animal activists such as PETA members.

Some points to ponder: yes, human life is sacred. But what about counterfeit human life? Are you more likely to throw away an authentic Benjamin or a phony? If the two bills accidentally fall into a trash bin, which one are you willing to dirty your hands over and nurse back to its crisp, unwrinkled self?

A human is counterfeit when he/she has a perfectly functioning mind, yet not only abstains from using it, but blatantly displays his/her nonuse/idiocy in plain sight, thereby annoying, irritating, if not downright enraging, the rest of us. Think of five stupid people you know. Think of what makes them stupid. Here’s what Dr. Philip Brock, Harvard researcher, has to say,

“Well, I can think of twenty stupid people that I know,” said Brock. “The signs are all there: they don’t listen to me, don’t think about anybody but themselves, don’t understand what I’m saying, don’t get my jokes, like sports, haven’t seen the movies I’ve seen, et cetera.”

My guru, as well as many like him, says, “Let sympathy go out to all.” But are stupers part of the “all” category? Truly thought provoking.

Meanwhile, in my dog vs. stuper tale, chances are high that Greta will find a way to save herself and the drowning stuper. But if for some reason, instinctual perhaps, Greta decided to forgo saving the meager minded Marty, I would hope that I would sympathetically help and bring him to safety. Of course, I may be forced to beat the c*&p out of Marty afterward if he behaved stupidly, but never let it be said that I am unsympathetic.

Why not think?

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 6 Comments »

October 31, 2009 by Keli.

It’s Halloween, so I must share a spooky stuper (short for an alarmingly stupid person) tale, only it’s not a tale because it’s completely true. Caution: this is not for the feeble minded.

I currently share an office, as I await a move into a new building. My office-mate and I actually head different charitable-type, organizations. My calls are all of the confidential priest-penitent, shrink-nutcase, child-imaginary friend, privileged sort. But alas, for two freaking hours weekly, I am exposed to a stuper…the bookkeeper, Marian,  who not only stops what she’s doing to listen to my conversations, but maintains a running (or should I say tripping and stumbling?) commentary.

“Is that a misdemeanor?” Marian asks after one of my calls. Only in her voice, it sounds like this:

“IIIIIIs thaaaaaat aaaaaa missssdemeeeeeanorrrr?” And don’t forget to add the rise and fall of many octaves and pitches within that one question, and the fact that this is not my bookkeeper. If she was, she would have been fired the moment she opened her mouth. In fact, she never would have been hired.

On my very first day on the job, Marian said, without taking one breath and with the lilt that would make Mother Teresa want to smash a crystal vase over her head (Marian’s head, not the good mother’s, God rest her soul).

“I would not want to be you. Your job is so stressful. Everything’s a mess. This office is a disaster. The sky is falling. Elvis is dead. Are those Prada shoes?”

As you may imagine, I threw back my head, laughed heartily like the lumberjack after hungrily wolfing down the mile high stack of pancakes, and replied, “Yes.”

Fast forward six weeks. Marian’s ramblings continue, and I move into an adjacent office during the Marian hours. I had to. I grew tired of handcuffing myself to the oversize, industrial strength, heavy-duty copy machine (my desk didn’t do the trick) to refrain from beating Marian to a fine pulp.  But my move proved fruitless, as determined idiots are not easily put off. While I was on the phone, Marian popped her head in and asked in her slow, drawn out, totally moronic way,

“Don’t you hate it here?”

I stared at her blank, but sincere face, her jack o’lantern smile, and realized she was truly the original road-to-hell paver. I replied,

“I absolutely love it!”

I continued my call, and Marian slinked away.

Marian didn’t show up last week, and I stayed in my office. However, this is not my happy ending. Not yet anyway, because Marian is due back this coming week. Sure I’m considering wearing a red boxing glove with large broken-up brick pieces strategically placed inside, but I think instead, I will continue laughing at Marian. Not with her, but at her, as discourteous as that sounds. I’ve noticed people who appear happy put her in a state of shock for a minimum of three minutes. Three glorious minutes.

I will throw her Look Number 4 whenever I notice her on the verge of formulating a nosy question or worthless comment for me.

Fortunately, my office-mate is usually busy working. By the time she looks up to figure out what’s keeping Marian quiet, I’ll quickly change my expression to Look Number 7.

Works every time.

Don’t let a stuper ruin your day by magnifying obstacles and unpleasantries.

Just think.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 7 Comments »

October 20, 2009 by Keli.

So I’m sitting in the dentist’s office awaiting my turn while focusing all my powers of concentration on translating an article in the Latin edition of People magazine to figure out which major cast member is leaving Ugly Betty when I hear,

“How many dentists work here?”

I look up to find one other person sitting across from me in the waiting room.

“Three,” I reply and before I resume my translation of People, I glance at the reception area. The receptionist smiles brightly at me, while another employee mutters to herself and rigorously shakes her head over the appointment book. I turn back to my magazine.

After a few moments I hear,

“Does Rita still work here?”

I again look up. The same person gazes at me expectantly, while sitting on the edge of her seat. This begs two questions: First, who does she think I am?

The Oracle of Delphi? A one woman detective agency? And no, I was not wearing a trench coat, a Fedora, smoking a pipe or holding a magnifying glass.

Second, who the hell is Rita?

As you may recall from your Ancient World Cultures class, oracles were known in ancient Greece as persons of wise counsel or prophetic opinions. The best part? They often spoke in the form of enigmatic statements. Exactly what is necessary to deflect and throw off a stuper (short for an unapologetically stupid person).

I respond, “The spiral world of stars are populated universes.”

I figure that ought to keep her busy until I’m out of here.

She’s quiet for a few minutes, then sputters, “I was just wondering.”

Glorious silence follows in the waiting room.

Too often, we are accosted by ludicrous questions. All the more incentive for us to memorize an enigmatic sentence or two to carry around for just such purposes.

“We could learn a lot from crayons” or “I don’t believe in mathematics” are two such examples (thank you, Albert Einstein, for the latter quote).

Just think.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 8 Comments »

October 5, 2009 by Keli.

While attending a meeting in Los Angeles a few days ago, I sat in a comfortable leather chair around a huge round table. There were about fifty of us seated plus about thirty audience members. As is customary at such proceedings, all present were firmly advised to quiet down their cell phones to avoid unnecessary interruptions and to eliminate the need to waste time spotlighting stupers (short for unflappably stupid persons). Alas, stupers love the spotlight!

Sure enough, about eight minutes into the meeting, a cellular phone rang. Then another and several severely embarrassed audience members skulked out apologetically, red-faced,  heads hanging low and muttering,

“I could have sworn I turned the damn thing off…”  “I told Mom not to call…” and “Thank God Hugh Jackman’s not around…”

These interruptions were brief, without fanfare and quickly forgotten.

Then a stuper’s phone rang. In case there was any doubt as to whom this cell phone belonged, the unmoved idiot casually stood up and answered it loudly enough to drown out those around the table speaking.

“HELLO? YEAH? WELL….”

The moderator stood up and asked the offender to step outside. Without missing a beat and still chatting loudly, the moron stepped through the open doorway, threw out her anchor and planted herself 2.2 inches just outside the room.  She continued her conversation. My chair allowed me a clear view of the stuper. I eyed her in mixed disgust and fascination.

She was slim and though likely in her sixties, dressed like a twenty-year-old (this was southern California after all) in stilettos, a tight-fitting, black and white, hounds-tooth pattern pants and…. my eyes suddenly skipped over her blouse and went straight to her hair. It was short, dyed in a shade of burnt to a crisp roasted chestnut, with two carefully curled and placed, possibly even glued, thick strands of hair in “C” or thin crescent shapes across the hollow of each cheek, curving up toward each eye. But that was not the strangest part; this was: the entire time she spoke, a jaw breaker type object rotated around the inside of her cheek. It was as if she housed a chubby gremlin in each cheek, circling the innards of one, and then the other. Needless to say, I was driven to distraction by this spectacle. It took every iota of my self-control to refocus on the meeting.

Meanwhile, the stuper was unstoppable. The moderator followed her outside, gesturing wildly to grab the idiot’s attention, but the stuper would have none of it. Finally, the conversation ended as did the display of idiocy and the counterfeit human retook her seat, to the moderator’s immense relief.

I suggest that instead of asking audience members to turn off cell phones, seats should be wired so that if any electronic devices emit a noise,(I certainly hope pacemakers are silent), the offender carrying the device will automatically receive an electric shock, say of about 50 milliampere (mA). Keep in mind 1mA is equal to the minimum current a human can feel and 100 mA is lethal if passed through sensitive portions of the body. 50 mA is a good compromise, don’t you think?

Think first, last and always.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity, Miscellaneous | 7 Comments »

September 30, 2009 by Keli.

I have recently discovered that asking too many questions can turn a stuper (short for a disarmingly stupid person) away. And not a moment too soon.

I’m sure most of my readers are well aware of the reputation that many members of the legal profession shoulder: money grabbing, heartless, wily misanthropes who care nothing for the client. This may or may not be true, depending on the individual attorney, but I must remind you that for every idiot attorney, there is an idiot client.

I work for a charitable organization which attracts all sorts of people, including those that refuse to think. Nancy called me needing help with her landlord. A simple enough problem, no? Not when Nancy is a Class AAA+ stuper.

I try to get the facts out of my callers; directing them to dispense with the extraneous, ridiculous, cringeworthy details mostly of a derogatory nature. Nancy began her tale,

“I live in an eight unit apartment complex with a bunch of crackheads. And it isn’t even good crack.”

Which, of course, begs the question, how does Nancy know the crack’s no good? She continued,

 ”I told the landlord I can’t take it anymore. The fumes sent me to the emergency room. And now I have asthma. And there’s banging on the walls. And the building is filled with gays. I’m the only female and I am constantly discriminated against. The Mexican gardeners make too much noise with their ()*#$*%& blowers. Why are all *&$&^*% Mexicans gardeners? The manager is a black homo and he’s the worst. Then there are the Asians and the Jews… I have it all on videotape.”

You get the gist of it. After about five minutes, there was no race, ethnicity, religion or gender that she failed to insult. Okay, she kept the Tibetans out of the equation. Meanwhile, I pondered hanging up on her, passing her on to some more deserving soul or breaking into song with the aim of encouraging her to grossly underestimate my abilities.

Instead, I asked her a few questions. How long she’d lived there, when did her troubles start, what does 1+1 equal, and finally,

“Do you have medical records of your visit to the Emergency Room?”

This was Nancy’s response,

“Lady, you ask too many questions! I’m going to Los Angeles to get me a real lawyer!”

Immensely relieved, I thanked her profusely, but she’d already hung up.

Now when a potentially whacked up client calls me (they are extremely easy to spot because they have zero self-control once they begin blabbering), I interrogate them to distraction. This way stupers are instantly revealed and shoved aside so I can focus on the clients that sincerely need help.

Keep thinking.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Professional Stupidity, Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 6 Comments »

September 20, 2009 by Keli.

The police in my town have embarked on a sting operation. You know, the kind where a law enforcement officer poses as a cooperative member of the public so said officer may be victimized by lawbreakers who will then be immediately apprehended, possibly even wrestled to the ground, jolted with a stun gun and placed in shackles, to protect the real, wide-eyed public. Unfortunately, as you may have guessed, this operation was run by stupers (short, yet again, for unimaginatively stupid persons).

Keep in mind that the place where I live is not exactly a hotbed of criminal activity. The population hovers at around 4000, and the most heinous crime here (besides stupidity) consists of driving with a suspended license. Oh sure, there was that one alleged crime boss/racketeer/mafia kingpin, but the FBI caught him and put him away for life plus 120 years, and all of his crimes occurred in the Los Angeles area. No actual bodies were found anywhere on his spread in my town.

This highly complex decoy operation involved police in plainclothes strolling across a street using a crosswalk. The police cited six drivers in one day during this crackdown; villainous motorists who failed to yield to pretend pedestrians trying to cross the street.

“This is a disturbing number of potential tragedies…” stated Lt. Julie McCann, posing as the City Police Chief. Then she threatened, “We will have more of these covert operations in the future.”

First of all, once something is published in the newspaper, which is where I read the above quote, covert becomes overt. Secondly, when was the last time, intelligent readers may be wondering, that there occurred a tragedy on this road or any street for that matter in my town, concerning a pedestrian? Let’s see…there was that time a woman, using the crosswalk, fell out of her wheelchair after her Yorkshire terrier went haywire on his leash and chased after an unsuspecting postal worker using the same crosswalk. Yorkies can be ruthless that way.

I do so wish stupers were capable of focusing their attention on more important matters. Especially those idiots involved in law enforcement. How about trying to catch drunk drivers? Or speeders?

“Now that school is open again, we must protect those using the crosswalk…” stated Police Chief McCann.

Um, there were no schools near the targeted crosswalk. (Excuse me while I lay my head face down, but resting on a forearm, and bang one clenched fist on my desk).

Stupers have trouble focusing on the real issues or matters at hand. You know, the vital topics that actually require care, thought, focus and the utmost attention. Instead, morons prefer to waste time blithering and taking needless or nonsensical action. To make sure none of us fall into this idiotic category, make sure you focus on progress: progressing your mind to make yourself a better, more intelligent being every day. If you need tips on how to do this, please contact me.

Keep thinking.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Professional Stupidity, Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 5 Comments »

September 3, 2009 by Keli.

Do you ever feel that you’re one of the last humans left on earth, or at least in your neighborhood, who actively uses his/her mind now and then? When you look around you in the post office or supermarket, do you feel surrounded by swarms* of stupers (short for concretely stupid persons)? I’m happy to report I haven’t felt this way lately. Perhaps I have finally reached the sunlit, always blue sky, summit where idiots no longer have any impact. I may have finally earned my Stupidity Specialist stripes.

Alas, such is not the case for local Pastor Ernie, who lives in my town. I caught him, chin resting forlornly on the Good Book, practically in tears the other day, thanks to the stupid among us. Pastor Ernie is usually a stalwart, jolly fellow, but not when he’s assaulted by a stuper swarm.

Pastor Ernie recently bought a home. A townhome to be exact. The place had a mailbox located among sixty-two other identical mailboxes in the subdivision, all numbered, with locks. The Pastor asked the Homeowners’ Association (HA) to provide him with a key to his box. It took them a few days, but they finally gave him a key. However, they neglected to inform him which of the boxes the key opened. Why? Because they didn’t know.  They rudely reminded the Pastor,

“That’s not our job.”

He continued asking the HA for help. They ignored him, claiming they did their part. They suggested he lay in wait for the Postal worker.

“But I work during the day.”

They shrugged and continued doing nothing.

Pastor Ernie called the Management Company. They said that they were located four hours away, and even if they did make the trip, it could take them days to arrive, as they were very busy. Plus, just what did the Pastor expect them to do? He told me,

“I just wanted to pick up my mail. I didn’t mind waiting, but everyone was so rude about it.”

Finally, Providence intervened in the form of the Pastor’s twenty-four-year old friend, Sam. Sam scanned the boxes and randomly pointed to one. Pastor Ernie inserted the key, and it opened, no thanks to stupidity.

What did the Pastor have to say about idiots?

“For the faults of the many, don’t judge the whole.”

I assured him that we never judge the whole. Just the tried and true idiots.

*Bees are not the only creatures to travel in swarms; locusts, flies and even earthquakes move in swarms. A swarm is an aggregation of insects, geological phenomena and stupers, usually in motion, that typically cause annoyance and irritation, according to Webster’s Dictionary.

Don’t stop thinking!

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 5 Comments »

August 29, 2009 by Keli.

I’ve been spending a lot of time at UCLA lately with Son #2, as he prepares to start college. I’m happy to report, we have yet to run into any stupers (short for mercilessly stupid persons).  That is…until yesterday.

As we canvassed the huge campus (I easily walked six miles from the residence hall to the book store; well, it was actually one mile, but it sure felt like six with the hills and valleys we crossed), I eyed a clean-cut fellow, a bit too old to be a student, as he appeared to be hovering around the ripe old age of thirty, dressed in a sport jacket and slacks roaming about. He looked quasi official, as if he might be capable of offering needed information. Feeling a bit frustrated, as we’d just circled the maze-like, Math Science building three times in search of Room 121 B, I was about to ask the fellow for directions when he suddenly approached two young women walking toward him.

“Hey! I know you,” He enthusiastically told one of the ladies.

“Really?” She smiled and waited for him to shed some light.

He finally said, “Do you have a friend called ‘Potato?’”

“Uh, no, ” she replied, made a face and started to walk away.

“Are you sure?” he insisted.

“I think I’d remember a friend named Potato.”

“Weren’t you at that party last Sunday night at Fran’s?” He called after her.

And so on, with Son, me and the woman’s companion the hapless audience members, as the guy continued to fumble along, insisting he knew the girl. If there is a Guinness World Book of Records for worst pick-up lines, this would make a strong entry.

I once knew a boy called “Cucumber,” but that was in the third grade, and his nickname was pinned on him thanks to a buzz haircut and a sallow complexion which made him resemble a freshly picked cucumber. Fortunately, “Cucumber” grew out of that name a short time later.

Pick-up lines do not work. Recent research backs this up. A study by psychologists at Scotland’s University of Edinburgh put a host of pickup lines to the test on 205 undergraduates, who rated whether they would be likely to continue the conversation. The results, as my intelligent readers may imagine, were unfavorable. According to this same study, the types of lines that do work are tinged with helpfulness, generosity, cultural literacy and sincerity. Any other varieties of lines are typically uttered by stupers.

Son and I ultimately found the classroom we sought in another smaller, unmarked structure across from the Math Science building. Clearly the configuration of classes at this University is designed to keep idiots away.

Just think.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 5 Comments »

August 19, 2009 by Keli.

Stupers (short for convincingly stupid persons) have an annoying knack for getting in our way. They trip us up; then, while we lay sprawled on our bellies, they plant a shoddy foot on our weary backs, trying to keep us from getting back up, as Erica demonstrates in her letter to me below:

Dear Keli:

I have a problem at work. It’s the customers. Not all of them. Only the really stupid ones. The shop I work in (it’s an antique store) closes daily at 5:30. Lately, right between 5:25 and 5:30, idiots arrive, act like they’re actually going to purchase something, spend about 30 minutes browsing, don’t buy anything and then leave. I’m fifty-four years old. I get tired after standing on my feet all day. Don’t they know we’re exhausted and want to go home? It’s not like I don’t tell them. I do. But these dumb customers just don’t care! I feel obligated to stay, mainly because I can’t get them out. What do I do? I want to keep my job, but I also want to keep the sanity. I would appreciate any suggestions.

Amanda F.

This is quite coincidental, as Husband (H) mentioned that his hair stylist/cutter had one appointment left at the end of the day (this was last Friday). This appointment was supposed to be right after H. But the client called at the end of H’s cut to say she was just leaving home, and she’d be a bit late. The problem was the client lived thirty-five minutes away. H left amid murmurs of mutiny and threats of sending menacing text messages to the client. I’m not sure if H’s hair handler actually sent the messages or waited, but I can tell you how my mother successfully gets stupers out of the store where she works…most of the time.

Mom has a similar job in a retail shop; she is on her feet daily. Come 7:55, the money in the store is counted, merchandise that needs to be put away is and the employees are ready to go. Sure enough, customers breeze in at about 7:57 and decide to leisurely look around. At 8:00 pm sharp, Mom shuts off the music and the lights, then stands at the door, keys rattling. This is usually successful, except when she is confronted by exceptionally stubborn stupers.

“Then we usually end up waiting,” she told me with a deep sigh.

Here’s what I suggest: Be a stuper yourself. I don’t mean give in and stop all trace of thought, especially while operating a motor vehicle. I mean imitate a stuper. Since idiots do suffer from ROA (Rapid Onset Amnesia), you must also. Forget that the customers are in the store. Lock up the doors…with the customers inside. Make a big show of it (i.e., “I’m going to turn on the alarm now and set the guard dogs loose because I’m outta here!” for starters), and leave. Go to the nearest coffee shop and enjoy a latte or a cup of green tea and a giant snickerdoodle (you don’t have to eat it all at once).

Then return to the shop. Unlock the door. Act really surprised to find customers lurking about in there. Ignore the one who claims she is having a panic attack or, if that’s not your style, throw her the paper bag your cookie came in. Threaten to call the cops, but do be kind and allow the idiot customers to beg their way out of it. They should be really ready to leave by this time.

Think.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 7 Comments »