I was perusing the DrudgeReport today when I came across a story in which a professional agitator/activist working for the left wing organization, Moveon.org, went to a Rand Paul rally and attempted to agitate Paul by holding a mocking placard.(Paul is a conservative libertarian who is the son of libertarian demigod and Texas Rep. Ron Paul) All this person got was a a knock to the head and the opportunity to file an assault charge, for their stupendous effort at agitating.(Apparently, this person took literally Frederick Douglass' admonition to a young freedman to "agitate, agitate, agitate". )
The story itself--while absurd--is hardly unique in politics. A great many ridiculous beings inhabit the world of politics and have so since...well. forever. But the aforementioned story provides an excellent example of what I call "useless beings". I would say unproductive, but they are producing something--fodder for sardonic wits who just love to pillar cretins like this woman.
Now, some will strenuously argue that agitators or activists are necessary because they are the ones fighting for the rights of the poor, minorities, etc, etc. We would not have the advances that we have in civil rights, environmental policy, and many other areas if not for the agitation of activists.
This is true, but those were the golden days of activism. Now, it is a bunch of sanctimonious, arrogant, affluent, persons who agitate for issues that are far less clear than what the Freedom Riders or Suffragettes fought for.
Such people are worse than useless for not only do they not contribute much of value to society,but they increase the rancor and hostility of political dialogue in the United States.They do this by engaging in provocative acts that are meant to draw angry responses. This in turn creates a poisoned atmosphere for rational political discourse.
The only thing these are agitators success at are irritating people.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
The Story of a Boy (continued)
The boy would eventually graduate from high school and college. He would take a job with an local employer, working as a manual laborer shortly after taking the ceremonial walk at his college graduation.
It was a a graduation that occur under a dark moment in his life for shortly before the boy had suffered the passing of his beloved grandfather. It was a joyous occasion that was tinged with feelings of great sadness and regret that the departed patriarch who had put so much time into caring for the boy when he was young, could not be present for the boy's greatest achievement. The boy would walk the aisle with an aching heart for he had lost one of the few people he had in his corner.
He knew that he had not been the best of grandsons--especially so during his grandfather's final years--and that would be a regret that would never leave him. He had failed to give what had been given to him. What hurt most was that the boy could never tell his grandfather sorry, never could explain how much he meant to him, never could he tell him much how he loved him. The only thing he could do was to make sure that he was as dedicated to his father as his father and grandfather were dedicated to each other.
Another person would not be present for the boy's college graduation--the woman who gave berth to him so many years before. But unlike the innumerable other times she was not there for him, her absence was not of her choosing. She had passed away in his sophomore year in college from cancer.
She had been diagnosed the year before with cancer, so her death was not unexpected. The boy knew it was coming--and visited twice in the year granted to her.The reader must think low of the boy, for how cold is it for a boy to only see his dying mother twice? How could a boy feel so little that he would only see her two times as she lay dying?
When the boy reflected on these events in later years, he would feel some guilt over that final year, but at the time he did not feel anything. He was numb. He would come to know the feeling of complete emptiness as he sat and stared at the little green box that contained her ashes.He could only sit in mute indifference as the procession of mourners mourned the loss of a woman who gave little to those who should have meant most.
How could he feel anything for a vagabond who abandoned him at an early age to pursue dreams of a musical career? How could he feel anything, but bitterness towards a person who essentially ignored him for most of his life?
What tears he had were shed for the opportunity she squandered to be a person of substance. That was the real tragedy here, he thought to himself. She had two children who would have loved her--a love that would mean far more than the love of some music producer or adoring crowd who love you one minute, than toss you aside for the next big thing a minute later.But apparently, the undying love of her babies meant nothing to her in comparison to the love of music executives. Unfortunately for her, she never received their love.
"The tragedy here was not her death, but her wanton disregard of what matters most to mothers in this world--their children. Her life was not a waste in terms of personal accomplishments, but in her personal relationship with those who should have been of paramount importance." said the boy as he later pondered his birth mother's legacy.
The boy could not help but learn a lesson in how to live your life after analyzing his very different reactions to the deaths of his mother and grandfather. Their respective passings taught him that family comes first before anything. A career is nice to have, but such a thing pales in importance when an issue of family is involved.Sacrifice for family is a glorious thing, while sacrifice for a career is the act of a person of a dubious moral nature.
(to be continued)
It was a a graduation that occur under a dark moment in his life for shortly before the boy had suffered the passing of his beloved grandfather. It was a joyous occasion that was tinged with feelings of great sadness and regret that the departed patriarch who had put so much time into caring for the boy when he was young, could not be present for the boy's greatest achievement. The boy would walk the aisle with an aching heart for he had lost one of the few people he had in his corner.
He knew that he had not been the best of grandsons--especially so during his grandfather's final years--and that would be a regret that would never leave him. He had failed to give what had been given to him. What hurt most was that the boy could never tell his grandfather sorry, never could explain how much he meant to him, never could he tell him much how he loved him. The only thing he could do was to make sure that he was as dedicated to his father as his father and grandfather were dedicated to each other.
Another person would not be present for the boy's college graduation--the woman who gave berth to him so many years before. But unlike the innumerable other times she was not there for him, her absence was not of her choosing. She had passed away in his sophomore year in college from cancer.
She had been diagnosed the year before with cancer, so her death was not unexpected. The boy knew it was coming--and visited twice in the year granted to her.The reader must think low of the boy, for how cold is it for a boy to only see his dying mother twice? How could a boy feel so little that he would only see her two times as she lay dying?
When the boy reflected on these events in later years, he would feel some guilt over that final year, but at the time he did not feel anything. He was numb. He would come to know the feeling of complete emptiness as he sat and stared at the little green box that contained her ashes.He could only sit in mute indifference as the procession of mourners mourned the loss of a woman who gave little to those who should have meant most.
How could he feel anything for a vagabond who abandoned him at an early age to pursue dreams of a musical career? How could he feel anything, but bitterness towards a person who essentially ignored him for most of his life?
What tears he had were shed for the opportunity she squandered to be a person of substance. That was the real tragedy here, he thought to himself. She had two children who would have loved her--a love that would mean far more than the love of some music producer or adoring crowd who love you one minute, than toss you aside for the next big thing a minute later.But apparently, the undying love of her babies meant nothing to her in comparison to the love of music executives. Unfortunately for her, she never received their love.
"The tragedy here was not her death, but her wanton disregard of what matters most to mothers in this world--their children. Her life was not a waste in terms of personal accomplishments, but in her personal relationship with those who should have been of paramount importance." said the boy as he later pondered his birth mother's legacy.
The boy could not help but learn a lesson in how to live your life after analyzing his very different reactions to the deaths of his mother and grandfather. Their respective passings taught him that family comes first before anything. A career is nice to have, but such a thing pales in importance when an issue of family is involved.Sacrifice for family is a glorious thing, while sacrifice for a career is the act of a person of a dubious moral nature.
(to be continued)
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
The Story of a Boy
The tale I am about to share is about a boy. It is a tale about a boy who is normal in almost every conceivable way save for one important aspect--he had no mother.
No mother you say? How is such a thing possible? How can a person be born, but have no mother? Tis true in this case. This boy never had a mother.
He never felt the loving embrace of mom after a nasty fall or hear her comforting words after a bad day at school. He never created a drawing for her on Mother's Day nor did he save his pennies so he could buy her a nice birthday gift. She was not there for Thanksgiving, Christmas, his birthday, or any holiday. She was not there for his highs or for his lows. The spot reserved in all boys hearts for their mother was vacant in his for he had no mother.
The curious case of the motherless boy begins in the spring of 1977. The boy is born to parents of middle class backgrounds. Both were educated, hard working people who displayed artistic talent. But only one was selfless. Only one would understand and embrace the responsibility of parenthood. It was not She.
Less than two years after the berth of the boy, the couple would divorce with the boy temporally left in the care of the woman who gave berth to him. But within a short time, the woman who gave the boy life would threaten to give the child up for adoption if the father did not take the boy. The father did what he knew he had to do--take the child and raise the boy himself.
And that he did, but not without much assistance from his father. The grandfather of the boy would be there for both the father and son, through thick and through thin. But it was not a great burden for he lived his life in service to his family. When the father would later fall ill, it would be the 70 year-old grandfather who would lay on the floor next to his son so he could take care of his boy. Men of such extraordinary quality as he are the rarest of species.
The boy would grow to love and revere his father and grandfather, but not without many, many years of struggle. The father in particular would deal with the emotional wreckage that the absence of the boy's birth mother would cause. Anger, hurt, intense self doubt, confusion...these feelings would beget emotional outbursts that lead to physical confrontations at school and home.
The boy fought not only other children, but the pain that he felt deep inside him. He knew not why he felt so, just that he had always had these feelings. "Why do I feel this way?" he would ask himself.Why did he always feel so angry, so bitter, so worthless?
The father was equally perplexed, but for a different reason. He simply was at wit's end at how to control the uncontrollable fury of his little boy. He would have given anything to alleviate his child's pain, but this was beyond his control. He took the child to therapists who said that his boy had above average intelligence, but had serious emotional problems as a result of the absence of the boy's mother.
The father did what he could only do and that was to ameliorate the problem as best he could through further counseling and medication for the boy. In time, this would prove the wise choice for with maturity the explosive outbursts of rage steadily decreased. The boy would become a man.
(to be continued)
No mother you say? How is such a thing possible? How can a person be born, but have no mother? Tis true in this case. This boy never had a mother.
He never felt the loving embrace of mom after a nasty fall or hear her comforting words after a bad day at school. He never created a drawing for her on Mother's Day nor did he save his pennies so he could buy her a nice birthday gift. She was not there for Thanksgiving, Christmas, his birthday, or any holiday. She was not there for his highs or for his lows. The spot reserved in all boys hearts for their mother was vacant in his for he had no mother.
The curious case of the motherless boy begins in the spring of 1977. The boy is born to parents of middle class backgrounds. Both were educated, hard working people who displayed artistic talent. But only one was selfless. Only one would understand and embrace the responsibility of parenthood. It was not She.
Less than two years after the berth of the boy, the couple would divorce with the boy temporally left in the care of the woman who gave berth to him. But within a short time, the woman who gave the boy life would threaten to give the child up for adoption if the father did not take the boy. The father did what he knew he had to do--take the child and raise the boy himself.
And that he did, but not without much assistance from his father. The grandfather of the boy would be there for both the father and son, through thick and through thin. But it was not a great burden for he lived his life in service to his family. When the father would later fall ill, it would be the 70 year-old grandfather who would lay on the floor next to his son so he could take care of his boy. Men of such extraordinary quality as he are the rarest of species.
The boy would grow to love and revere his father and grandfather, but not without many, many years of struggle. The father in particular would deal with the emotional wreckage that the absence of the boy's birth mother would cause. Anger, hurt, intense self doubt, confusion...these feelings would beget emotional outbursts that lead to physical confrontations at school and home.
The boy fought not only other children, but the pain that he felt deep inside him. He knew not why he felt so, just that he had always had these feelings. "Why do I feel this way?" he would ask himself.Why did he always feel so angry, so bitter, so worthless?
The father was equally perplexed, but for a different reason. He simply was at wit's end at how to control the uncontrollable fury of his little boy. He would have given anything to alleviate his child's pain, but this was beyond his control. He took the child to therapists who said that his boy had above average intelligence, but had serious emotional problems as a result of the absence of the boy's mother.
The father did what he could only do and that was to ameliorate the problem as best he could through further counseling and medication for the boy. In time, this would prove the wise choice for with maturity the explosive outbursts of rage steadily decreased. The boy would become a man.
(to be continued)
Monday, October 18, 2010
A positive state of mind
Positive thoughts fuel positive actions or so I am told. I am not positive about that belief myself. I just know a friend who is positively convinced that a positive state of mind is a positive.
Is it so? I do not know.
Should I stroll through this life with a giant smile on my face, preaching the virtue of thinking positive? Should I wear a band on my wrist that reads WWSSD?(What Would Stuart Smalley Do?)Should I set aside some time for a daily affirmation?
After pondering this question I have come to this conclusion: Yes, yes, yes! YES WE CAN---er,that may not be the best slogan to cite right now. But the truth is the same--positive thinking is the way to go. Conduct a test on the state of my mind and it will surely comeback as POSITIVE for positive thinking!
But how shall I maintain this marvelous state of mind?How shall I resist the call of the Sirens of Discontent and Cynicism?
The solution is simple.I shall think of unicorns, cotton candy, and puppy dogs. That will most assuredly keep me thinking positive thoughts. I shall also watch Miley Cyrus videos as well as the latest Sandra Bullock romantic comedy.Does that not sound swell?!
Ain't positive thinking grand? It is if you are one of those people who sell millions of books to the mediocre and unhappy. Their bank accounts benefit positively from their preaching of positive thinking.
I am positive that such people are con artists, but then that assessment is the product of a cynical mind. Booooooooooooo! Think only positive thoughts! WWSSD?!
Yes sir, I am all about positive thinking now! Positivity is my state of mind. Nothing else, but positive thoughts and actions. I shall extend to the frustration of life and the rudeness of people the same greeting--a cheerful smile! Can you not you feel the positivity flowing through the screen as you read these words?
Now it is time to go my friends. I am overdue for some positive reinforcement. But fret not, I shall be back for some more positive thinking!
Sunday, October 17, 2010
A Debate for the Ages
This is the recorded transcript of a debate that occurred in an alternate universe. What is at stake is the office of major for the City of Saline. The two candidates are Republican John Burke and Democrat Douglas Morningstar II. The host is Alex Teijido. The setting is the gymnasium of the old Saline High School.Teijido is standing at a table that is directly in front of the two candidates.
Teijido: Hello. Welcome to the mayoral debate for the City of Saline.The two candidates are here this evening to discuss their respective plans for the city. To my left is Democrat Douglas Morningstar II and to my right is Republican John Burke. Hello gentlemen.
Morningstar: Hello
Burke:Blah.
Teijido:The format of this debate will be as follows: I ask a question and then each candidate will have 30 seconds to answer. There will be 15 seconds reserved for a rebuttal. Are you ready gentlemen?
Both:Yes/blah.
Teijido: First question goes to Mr. Burke. What will do to fix the roads east of town?
Burke:Ba, ba, bah, ba, ba blah.
Morningstar: What did he say? I cannot understand a word he said.
Teijido:He said and I quote "I will place a 2 cent surcharge on pornography sold at Habeeb's Mecca of Porn. That will generate enough revenue to pay for the desperately needed repairs.This will also have the affect of discouraging the purchase of obscene material in our fair town."
Morningstar:I didn't hear that. All I heard was gibberish.
Teijido:Mr.Morningstar, please answer the question.
Morningstar: My plan would increase property taxes by one half percent. The revenue generated would more than pay for the roads while not placing a burden on our local business owners as my opponents plan would.
Burke:Bla, blah, BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!(Burke menacingly points towards Morningstar)
Morningstar:I have no idea what you just said.
Teijido:He called you a big, dumb, ape, who he is inclined to beat the shit out of.
Morningstar:What?!Tell that goofy bastard that I'll beat his ass. I have subdued many a man in my time.
Teijido:So we've heard.
Morningstar:(looks askance at Teijido) What? Now you are going to talk shit? You are supposed to be an impartial moderator.
Teijido:Frankly Mr. Morningstar, after hearing of your many late night liaisons with people of both sexes I have developed a significant level of antipathy for you. You simply are not fit to be leader of this great city. The city that was born out of a great trial of blood in the Battle of Saline. The city where the legendary(speaks in a hushed tone) Jack Crabtree strolled the sidelines of our magnificent football field, leading Saline to many victories. Saline, the city that----(Teijido is interrupted by Morningstar)
Morningstar:To be brutally honest with you Mr. Teijido, I don't think a man who goes by the name "Lexx Bubble" is qualified to judge anyone. Your own indiscretions with Joe Jargul make me quake with anger at your hypocrisy.
Burke is joined on stage by his campaign manager, Sarah McCracken and chief advisor, Marcus Neeno. Morningstar is joined by his campaign manager and boyfriend Don Price.
Teijido: What I do in my life is irrelevant for I am not running for public office. You are.
Price:(to Morningstar) Douglas, we should leave. This has gotton out of control. This atmosphere is much too hostile for us.(he starts to pull Morningstar off stage.)
Burke: Bla. bla, bla, BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! SNUCK BLA, LALA!(Burke face reddens with rage and he starts to walk towards Morningstar and Price.)
Morningstar: (to Burke)You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up!(Morningstar clenches fists and gets into a fighting posture)
McCracken:(yelling)Stop it! What would Mr. Crabtree think?
Morningstar:(to McCracken) Who cares what that fat bastard thinks?
McCracken:How dare you speak of Mr. Crabtree so! He is the soul of our city! He is the yeast that has made our city rise!
Morningstar:(gives McCracken a look of disbelief) What th-----(at that moment Morningstar is rocked by a devastating tackle from Burke.A loud smack and thud is heard as flesh hits flesh and ground)
Burke is standing over Morningstar in triumph as Morningstar lays sprawled out and motionless.Price is kneeling at Morningstar's side, crying and imploring Morningstar to get up.
Teijido: Hello. Welcome to the mayoral debate for the City of Saline.The two candidates are here this evening to discuss their respective plans for the city. To my left is Democrat Douglas Morningstar II and to my right is Republican John Burke. Hello gentlemen.
Morningstar: Hello
Burke:Blah.
Teijido:The format of this debate will be as follows: I ask a question and then each candidate will have 30 seconds to answer. There will be 15 seconds reserved for a rebuttal. Are you ready gentlemen?
Both:Yes/blah.
Teijido: First question goes to Mr. Burke. What will do to fix the roads east of town?
Burke:Ba, ba, bah, ba, ba blah.
Morningstar: What did he say? I cannot understand a word he said.
Teijido:He said and I quote "I will place a 2 cent surcharge on pornography sold at Habeeb's Mecca of Porn. That will generate enough revenue to pay for the desperately needed repairs.This will also have the affect of discouraging the purchase of obscene material in our fair town."
Morningstar:I didn't hear that. All I heard was gibberish.
Teijido:Mr.Morningstar, please answer the question.
Morningstar: My plan would increase property taxes by one half percent. The revenue generated would more than pay for the roads while not placing a burden on our local business owners as my opponents plan would.
Burke:Bla, blah, BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!(Burke menacingly points towards Morningstar)
Morningstar:I have no idea what you just said.
Teijido:He called you a big, dumb, ape, who he is inclined to beat the shit out of.
Morningstar:What?!Tell that goofy bastard that I'll beat his ass. I have subdued many a man in my time.
Teijido:So we've heard.
Morningstar:(looks askance at Teijido) What? Now you are going to talk shit? You are supposed to be an impartial moderator.
Teijido:Frankly Mr. Morningstar, after hearing of your many late night liaisons with people of both sexes I have developed a significant level of antipathy for you. You simply are not fit to be leader of this great city. The city that was born out of a great trial of blood in the Battle of Saline. The city where the legendary(speaks in a hushed tone) Jack Crabtree strolled the sidelines of our magnificent football field, leading Saline to many victories. Saline, the city that----(Teijido is interrupted by Morningstar)
Morningstar:To be brutally honest with you Mr. Teijido, I don't think a man who goes by the name "Lexx Bubble" is qualified to judge anyone. Your own indiscretions with Joe Jargul make me quake with anger at your hypocrisy.
Burke is joined on stage by his campaign manager, Sarah McCracken and chief advisor, Marcus Neeno. Morningstar is joined by his campaign manager and boyfriend Don Price.
Teijido: What I do in my life is irrelevant for I am not running for public office. You are.
Price:(to Morningstar) Douglas, we should leave. This has gotton out of control. This atmosphere is much too hostile for us.(he starts to pull Morningstar off stage.)
Burke: Bla. bla, bla, BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! SNUCK BLA, LALA!(Burke face reddens with rage and he starts to walk towards Morningstar and Price.)
Morningstar: (to Burke)You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up!(Morningstar clenches fists and gets into a fighting posture)
McCracken:(yelling)Stop it! What would Mr. Crabtree think?
Morningstar:(to McCracken) Who cares what that fat bastard thinks?
McCracken:How dare you speak of Mr. Crabtree so! He is the soul of our city! He is the yeast that has made our city rise!
Morningstar:(gives McCracken a look of disbelief) What th-----(at that moment Morningstar is rocked by a devastating tackle from Burke.A loud smack and thud is heard as flesh hits flesh and ground)
Burke is standing over Morningstar in triumph as Morningstar lays sprawled out and motionless.Price is kneeling at Morningstar's side, crying and imploring Morningstar to get up.
Burke: Ba, ba, BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!(Burke beats chest and does a Polynesian war dance called "The Haka".)
Price:Dougie, get up. Please get up!We have reservations for dinner at Che Nous with your brother and Jean Luc .(the only response Morningstar offers is a groan of pain)
Teijido: Serves the twink right. He was due his comeuppance.(Teijido turns and leaves)
Price angrily glares at Teijido. Teijido, Burke and Burke's entourage leave the stage--save for Neeno who offers a departing comment.
Neeno: Nick Snick BOW! Chairmen Bao demands perfection!
Price is utterly perplexed by this comment. He can only stare as Neeno saunters away with his hands in his pocket, whistling the theme song to "Growing Pains".The crowd disperses leaving Morningstar unconscious and Price in shock at what just happened.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Friday night blues
It is a cool, crisp, fall Friday evening and I have no where to go.I do not have a party to attend nor a buddy--they are either working or out on a date-- to go to a bar with. The movie I want to see started right as I left work. In short, I have nothing to do and I hate it.
All I have at my disposal is my television, a net book, and my mind. On the screen is the show "Sons of Anarchy" --a splendid show by the way--and on my mind is on the Michigan game tomorrow. No lady to call, no group of friends to meet up with, just....myself.
What a terrible waste of a fall Friday. It is bad enough that I am sitting home on a Friday, but this evening is a superb example of the splendor of a Michigan fall. To sit inside while others revel in this glorious weather is tragic.
How shall I prevent the re-occurrence of such a tragedy? Make more friends? Acquire a girlfriend? Both? Who knows where the answer lies. I just know that it cannot happen again.
All I have at my disposal is my television, a net book, and my mind. On the screen is the show "Sons of Anarchy" --a splendid show by the way--and on my mind is on the Michigan game tomorrow. No lady to call, no group of friends to meet up with, just....myself.
What a terrible waste of a fall Friday. It is bad enough that I am sitting home on a Friday, but this evening is a superb example of the splendor of a Michigan fall. To sit inside while others revel in this glorious weather is tragic.
How shall I prevent the re-occurrence of such a tragedy? Make more friends? Acquire a girlfriend? Both? Who knows where the answer lies. I just know that it cannot happen again.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Talking sense to the senseless
It is a fool who tries to engage an idiot in an intelligent conversation.For how can one expect a person who uses their head solely to rest a hat upon, to be able to develop in said head, thought provoking ideas that lead to healthy debates?
How can one expect an intelligent exchange of ideas from a person who cannot grasp that the blaring sirens of the police and emergency vehicles always have the right of way--even during a movie shoot?
Many a hour I have spent trying to talk to the simpletons I work with. Many a hour has been expended in an futile attempt to reason with blockheads who absolutely refuse to use their cognitive faculties.
Why do I never learn? Why do I keep trying to talk sense to the insensible?Am I insane? If you believe that the definition of insanity is to try the same thing over and over again and expect a different result, than I just may be crazy.
These are not bad people--for the most part. They are hard working, honest folks, who do not spend much try exercising their brains. Thinking for them starts and ends with the most parochial of concerns.There is nothing wrong with that. It just means that their intellect is very limited when it comes to thinking through an issue or problem.
This entry makes me look like an arrogant douche and I really don't care. The lack of regard I have for my co-workers intelligence does not mean I think myself superior overall to these people. Not at all. Where I am strong, they are weak. Conversely, where I am weak they are strong. It all balances out in the end.
But gosh, their stupidity irritates me sometimes.
How can one expect an intelligent exchange of ideas from a person who cannot grasp that the blaring sirens of the police and emergency vehicles always have the right of way--even during a movie shoot?
Many a hour I have spent trying to talk to the simpletons I work with. Many a hour has been expended in an futile attempt to reason with blockheads who absolutely refuse to use their cognitive faculties.
Why do I never learn? Why do I keep trying to talk sense to the insensible?Am I insane? If you believe that the definition of insanity is to try the same thing over and over again and expect a different result, than I just may be crazy.
These are not bad people--for the most part. They are hard working, honest folks, who do not spend much try exercising their brains. Thinking for them starts and ends with the most parochial of concerns.There is nothing wrong with that. It just means that their intellect is very limited when it comes to thinking through an issue or problem.
This entry makes me look like an arrogant douche and I really don't care. The lack of regard I have for my co-workers intelligence does not mean I think myself superior overall to these people. Not at all. Where I am strong, they are weak. Conversely, where I am weak they are strong. It all balances out in the end.
But gosh, their stupidity irritates me sometimes.
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