BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

In order for this to make sense, I really have to start with a couple of definitions…

Rhetorical Question: a question asked solely to produce an effect or to make an assertion and not to elicit a reply.

Pedantic: overly concerned with minute details or formalisms

Remember those. They might not make sense right away, but they should if you just keep reading… In theory, anyway…

So, here’s the thing – many years ago I read a Sci-Fi novel… yes, actually I have read many Sci-Fi novels, but this one in particular has something to do with my inane rambling today… Unfortunately, I don’t recall the title of this  book, but I do remember the gist of the story. Basically, due to the constant expansion of the universe and the fact that we are simply traveling through it, our solar system emerged from some manner of interstellar radiation cloud that was acting as a damper on our brains. In short, it was making us stupid. So, as Earth moved out of the cloud, people with sub-par IQ’s became what our current definition of “normal” seems to be, those with “normal” IQ’s became geniuses, and those who were already geniuses made a sudden leap to a level that made Einstein and Marilyn Vos Savant look like toddlers.

Well, apparently this wasn’t Sci-Fi after all, as it seems we have started to move out of the “Stupid Zone”. Unfortunately, it also seems my head is still  hanging out in the clouds, so to speak.

Allow me to wax poetic as to why I think this…

Lately, it seems as if a good number of folks have become absolute, raving geniuses, whereas I have remained utterly stupid. I say this because they are pointing it out to me constantly. And, at the same time they turned into these super geniuses, they were also infected with the “pedantic virus” and are now suffering from debilitating cases of pedanticoritis. (Yes, I just made that up…)

Now, I am sure you are wondering just what the evidence may be that has led me to this bizarre conclusion?

Simple. The humble rhetorical question.

I ask them. I ask them all the time. I tweet them, I use them as status updates on BookFace and Myspank. What’s more, I ask really off-the-wall rhetorical questions. Things like, “why don’t grapefruit taste like grapes?” or “did you ever notice hot dogs don’t actually contain any dog?” – Things so outrageous as to not even beg an answer. The only way to make the joke any more obvious would be to put flashing lights around it with a giant arrow and sign that reads, “EAT AT JOkES.” (Hopefully everyone got that…)

So what is my point here? Again, simple. People are answering me.

Now, if folks were answering me with equally as silly answers it would be one thing, but instead they are answering me with serious, in-depth, incredibly ostentatious explanations. What’s worse, more than a few of them have adopted “What, are you stupid or something?” attitudes to go along with them.

I suppose if I was up on stage at a comedy club, then maybe folks would get “it”. But in all honesty I’m not so sure they would…

Which brings me to this…  Even though it would seem that my head is still floating around in the “Stupid Cloud” while everyone else has moved on to the land of “Brainiac”, I figure it’s only fair for me to point out something that may have been missed.

I’m nowhere near as stupid as I look.

Yeah. I know. Hard to believe isn’t it? I mean, after all, I look like a big, goofy moron. But in reality the opposite is true. I actually have some highly developed skills, which may be considered archaic by some, but still serve me well. Things like the ability to operate a Dictionary… Encyclopedias… Reference books… (don’t tell anyone, but I actually know where several branches of the public library are located.) And, when I’m really feeling lazy, I look up things on the Internet, cross reference the sources, and voila… And, if that’s not enough, I really and truly can count to ten without using my fingers. Amazing, I know, but I really can. Just ask E K. She’s literally witnessed this incredible feat.

And, just in case you might not have noticed, I tend to joke a lot… And by a lot I mean A LOT…

So, the next time you happen across my FB page, a random tweet, or even run into me at a bookstore and I say something like, “You know, I wonder if pine cones are just baby pineapples?” you’d probably be better off to not offer an explanation as to why they aren’t.

Why? Because I will just point and make fun of you. Believe it or not, there’s a very good chance that I’ll be better at it than you are…

More to come…

Murv

Sometimes we simply can’t see the forest for the trees.

Yeah, I know that’s a cliche, but it rings true on a daily basis – especially as we age. I suppose it’s because we become mired in our own personal view of the world, often times forgetting to spritz a bit of cleaner on the windows of our minds.

That’s when kids come in handy. They don’t yet carry a mortgage on one of those “glass houses” in the overpopulated suburb of Myopia where most of us tend to reside as adults. And, every now and then they will fire up some metaphorical dog-poo on your doorstep that causes you to open the door and see things for what they really are.

Flaming poo, obviously, but let’s not digress…

You see, awhile back the O-spring smacked us with one of her verbal firepoo bombs…

E K was helping the munchkin with what can best be described as a guided meditation. You see, she was pretty much in the midst of a growth spurt and was experiencing “growing pains” in her legs. We all had them. It’s just part of the process. Of course, O-spring is a bit on the sensitive side so she perceived these as not so much a “nuisance pain” as flat out torture.

Now, E K and I have nothing against pharmaceuticals – as long as they are necessary. But, we aren’t the kind of folks who believe in popping a pain pill or antibiotic at the slightest twinge or sniffle. Therefore, instead of loading the kid up on Acetaminophen or some such, the Evil Redhead switched into mommy mode and was trying to soothe the short person by helping her get her mind off the ache.

During the “guided mediation” however, O-spring continued to talk and complain about the growing pains. Finally, E K told her she needed to stop talking and concentrate on meditating to make the hurt go away.

The kid fell silent for a couple of minutes and everything seemed to be working out when she finally spoke up once again. Apparently, she had been giving this whole meditation thing some serious thought.

“Mommy,” she asked. “How can I meditate if I can’t talk? I have to be able to say Om… Om… Om…”

You know, you just can’t argue with logic like that. Well, you could, but we’re talking about a 9 year old (at the time)… Do you really think you’d be able to win?

More to come…

Murv