Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Happy April Cognitively Impaired Day.

Last year I railed against the stupidity of April Fool's Day, using naughty words and angry language. I'm happy to report that I hate it even more this year. Not that anyone pulled any pranks on me, or that I've suffered some tragedy that made me mean. No, I'm just full of hate for stupid things.

Then again, that kind of fury has a tendency to spill over onto other things.

"HELLO, $@&*$@# SUN! HELLO, $*&@)# BIRDS! TIME TO START THE #$&)@(!% DAY!" is how I get out of bed.

"Surely THIS is your April Fool's joke," you say. "Fred, you are so full of sweetness and light, not to mention sunshine and lollipops, that you must be joshing. With jolly japes."

Well, thank you, Imaginary Reader Man, but no, I'm mad mad mad. Why am I so filled with bile?

Oh, I don't know. I feel like I'm surrounded by stupidity, yes. I feel like a goldfish in a bowl that's been completely neglected. You don't notice for a while that the environment is getting worse, until suddenly it's choking you to death. The stupidity is also coupled with an enormous sense of righteousness and entitlement, which makes it much harder to penetrate. I mean, I'm no genius, but at least I'm aware of that, and grateful for the good things in my life (when I'm not being mad).

Still, as a fellow I used to know liked to say, "You spot it, you got it." The things I hate most in others are the things I hate most in myself, in other words.

If that's true, than what I hate most in myself is willful ignorance, pettiness, selfishness, spite, and ingratitude. Mostly I hate using others as mere props to puff up my own ego, then. And I can believe that I possess these qualities in abundance.

So by hating all these people, I'm just projecting my self-hatred. It's an extroversion of my inner disgust. It's not everyone's fault for being disgusting; it's mine for projecting my own grossness.

It's one thing to say "Nobody's perfect" when someone behaves like an ass, but I think we usually don't mean it. We think we're pretty great, and definitely superior for being able to (condescendingly) forgive the ass. It's another to realize just how awful we are. How awful I am.

Not sure that this is reassuring, however. Why, if you people don't have me to set you straight, to provide a design for living by example, how are you ever going to get your acts together?

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