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Effortlessly Average

Sort of half-heartedly leading the charge into mediocrity since, oh, let's say around 1987 or so.

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Location: Roaming (additional charges may apply), Argentina

Proof that with internet access and a powerful laxative, even insipid people will blog; the place where your excellence and my mediocrity collide; where my Karma whips ass on your dogma.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Intelligence and the Concept of Mutuality

So despite my reputation, I was actually a good kid growing up. I didn't really get into a lot of trouble at school or within my neighborhood. The frustration my parents felt stemmed more from the zany ideas that would cause my body to act before my rational brain would gather the reins. I performed well in school - very well in fact - and was basically respectful and easy going toward my parents.

But don't let that confuse you. What kept me in line wasn't as much a healthy respect for authority as it was a healthy fear of the consequences. Yeah, yeah, I here you: where was the fear before I got sent to prison, right? Believe me, it's been throw into my face enough that I'll never forget -or likely receive an answer to- that same question in my own brain. And here's the lesser known lesson kids: even standing up and trying your level best to make it right won't save you from heartbreak later; some of the dearest people to your heart, despite offering forgiveness and understanding at the time, will nevertheless use it against you if they get angry enough years later.

Anyway, it wasn't that I never had mischievous thoughts. It's just that the reality is that I didn't want to suffer the humiliation of feeling like I'd disappointed those around me; those who thought of me as such a good -if somewhat overly impetuous- child, which is good since I virtually always got caught.

I may have done very well in school, yes, but I hated it as much as the next kid. Many a morning passed that I'd wish I could somehow get out of going.

I also believe in the principle of "mutuality," which states that any benefit should be mutual; each party should receive something from the agreement. Never is this more clearly proven than in teaching a child your actual name.

When my daughter was very young, my wife and I (back when she still loved me and I stupidly thought we'd grow old and wrinkled together) asked her if she knew our names, besides "mommy" and "daddy" that is.

"Yes," she nodded. "They're 'hon' and 'hey Kel'."

Of course this demonstrates the importance of teaching our children our names so that police, when finding a lost child don't hear "Mommy and Daddy" in response to the question: "what are your parents' names?"

Where is this going? How does it tie into the first half of this stupid post? Well just hang on a second and I'll tie them together. Like most my posts, you have to read all the way to the bottom before you understand why I even bothered. And sometimes it's a long way to go, fuckers. Something a certain poon-loving clown points out on a fairly consistent basis.

Anyway, where was I? Pardon me while I scroll up and get my train of thought back on the right track...

Yes, teaching your kids your actual name and the concept of mutuality.

See, we all like our young kids to know our name so they can aid in our finding them if they should ever become lost, like at Disneyland or an Insane Clown Posse concert. Wait... who am I kidding? No parent would let their kid out of their site at Disneyland, right? Besides, what is the admission to Disneyland nowadays? An I.R.A. statement and $150? I know! That's like... 45 lap dances or something. Well, actually it's not; I don't charge that much.

Anyway, what most people don't realize is that had my parents taught me their actual names, it would have not only helped them locate me at the Jimmi Hendrix Reefer-fest '70, but the mutual benefit would have allowed me to not get caught trying to skip school.

Oh I'd try to skip from time to time, but I'd get caught because while I not only lacked the creativity of a truly evil-genius mind, I apparently also lacked cognitive learning skills because the futility of my attempt never became obvious until after I was on the phone with the principal.

"I'd like to speak to the principle, please" I'd say with my heavily disguised voice (read, lowered deeply), speaking into the mouthpiece that was covered with a wash cloth. Incidentally, who but a child actually thinks covering a phone's mouthpiece with terrycloth will actually make your voice sound older? In reality you sound like a kid speaking into the phone from across the room.


"Please hold."

And I'd stand there listening to the dead silence that made you wonder if they'd hung up or you were still on hold. This was in the days prior to Hold Muzak, when we'd be entertained by Elton John's The Bitch is Back as performed by The Boston Pops.

Suddenly,
[click] "This is Mr. Combover, the principle. How may I help you?"

Still in my slow, chin-to-the-chest, lowest tone possible voice that makes children think they sound adult and women think they sound male: "Yes, Mr. Combover. Kelly won't be in school today. He's sick."

"What? You sound like you're really far away. Who is this?"

Nooooowwws where the concept of mutual benefit and teaching your kids your actual name ties together, people.

Slight pause... "Uh, it's... my dad."

And now you know why I never successfully skipped school as a kid. Clearly a moron such as myself needed all the learnin' he could get.

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