This monthly Best Guest Question for God was submitted by my friend Martha on FB today: (thanks Martha!)
Dear God: ‘Why did you make so many really dumb people?’.
I always prefer to think of people acting dumb, not being dumb. Even the smarted person in the world can sometimes act as stupid as a bag of hammers (I really can lol. Ask the ex). Smart people can sometimes act as dumb a screen door on a submarine. About as geniussy as a cactus. About as bright as the guy who had the idea for putting wheels on tuna. I wonder where he ended up?
— potential sidetrack alert —
As my buddy Herm, the brilliant, vulgar, surprisingly anal (and sensitive? that was a shocker) carpenter and humorist – the one you see at Cumbies over in Medrith in the morning with the stubborn old blue van, giant untied Timberland boots and calf-high athletic socks from Wally’s, saying ‘fuck you’ or perhaps ‘blow me’ to someone unsuspecting; yeah, that’s my good friend and longtime co-worker Herm – as Herm is so fond of saying, ‘oh yeah, Dude, he was really a fuckin’ specimen, specimen-and-a-half…fuckin yuuuge bag o sweaty brilliance he was, bro’. ROTFL.
I confess, that under further review, perhaps I am a complete idiot, and here’s the evidence: I cackle like a an eager, innocent schoolgirl every time something like that – or, usually worse and completely NS for where-you-are – comes out of Herm’s mouth. I do. I admit it. If that makes me a jerk, well, have at it, I don’t care. I can’t change at this point. I actually couldn’t change 10 years ago. Or 20. (ask the ex, lol, she’ll tell ya).
So with Herm, if I’m in any kind of decent mood, I go ahead and play along, natch. That’s part of my job as the clever, sometimes annoying but ultimately lovable and flexible coworker: ( yo big guy, just wunnering if your lips are all dry and and cracked from sucking on Jerry’s 20 oz Estwing all night? I saw he left it on the bench for you yesterday with a little pink notecard. (lol) And yo, dude … I think there might be something on your cheek…. ) you get the idea.
However, before you judge us too harshly, which I admit seems likely now, I will say this in our defense; I’ll take one shot at defending me and the Hermstien. You see, this is the thing: This enormous, hairy, volatile, vulgar, generous soul and I get up early every day, and work extremely hard all the day long, summer or snow (I mean body hard, not brain hard), usually on some – again, as Herm would say, ‘some flat-assed, pucker-lipped brie-chompin Masshole’s’ -summer house, on one of the lakes that are numerous here; and we have a shitload of fun.
This would be a good time to introduce our first ECSJ (Every Carpenter’s Secret Joy). This one here is #37. (how I do love data) It is this: do all you customers and clients think we really live in our own humble, never-ever-finished, never-enough-cash, scrappy lil’ capes on the main road with half-finished paint job, the dried-up bushes, the dusty lawn, broken lawnmower, and the 1980’s Honda motorcyclcle out front? The one with my truck parked in the driveway? Hell, no. We don’t live there. We just sleep there with our wives and kids, if they haven’t left us yet. We actually live in these awesome lakeside resorts, banging nails all day, playing horseshoes at lunch, joking around, and fishing in the evenings, on every last one of the 342 days a year that the real owners aren’t using ’em.
Yup, that’s right. Year in, year out. Shhhhhhhh. Please. You think you live in a nice apartment? My daily rider is a mansion by Squam with a koi pond, handmade Philippine mahogany windows and a stone veneer. That’s where I spend all my days. Doing work that I absolutely love. Pssst – Don’t tell anyone. I’ll send Herm after you. Your girlfriend is not going to be happy with that scenario, trust me on that.
(and homeowners, just stop that: before you get all wiggy and squiggly inside, and have spontaneous and disturbing dark thoughts about the nail-bangers who rely on your checks: no, no, we don’t go through your undie drawers while you’re away. We don’t steal the forks (though we may use them delicately at lunch for our microwave mac-and-cheese, clean them carefully, and put them away – that we will do. But we don’t give a shit about your undies. And here’s the thing you should know – every last one of us prefers to stay outside all the time. We have to dress for it, duh? We usually don’t dress mainly for inside. We undress for inside. And besides, you can’t play horseshoes in the den, and our boots are always covered with mud.)
—- end sidetrack alert, return to story —
Yeah, we bust our ass all day. Who doesn’t? After all, we are all here because of the money. And most of us really are happier when you just let us make up our own minds, jam at our own pace, and just get the job done. Isn’t that the point? Anyway, I have worked with him and his brother Hank for years. Hank was not lucky enough to get same vulgar gene as Herm. He’s got the really nice, trustworthy and sound, big friendly grizzly bear gene. Fortunately, it still takes all kinds. Vive la différence!
It doesn’t matter how rich or well dressed or well schooled you are, none of us are immune to the vagaries of spontaneous and magnificent stupidity. It happens to all of us sometime (well, almost all, lol). For example, at the moment, I have no idea where my wallet is. Yup, with all my credit cards, IDs, and brand new debit card from MVSB inside. (not fake news at all, and of moderate concern on this Monday AM). However, around here, in winter, some of us rotate through a lot of clothes, and I haven’t yet searched every single pocket. I am also smart enough to know that it’s somewhere, and that I will eventually intersect with that somewhere in the near future, if I just keep moving – so there’s a ceiling on my anxiety. I’m still relatively chill about it. I have faith even in the face of such yuge-ass mystery.
Jasper has the same kind of faith. I think. He’s not certain yet on the boundaries of his understanding. But I will say this: he also has made a really dumb, self inflicted mistake once. He thought his memory might be wrong about where he buried his favorite bone – the one with the big chip on it, the one Dave worried Jasper had swallowed – the one with a little peanut butter left inside.
Turns out, that was an egregious error. That bone was right there exactly in that spot in the snow bank where he said it was. Ruby’s recent pee-fest near the spot probably had a jammin effect on his olfactory radar. (It can happen to the best smellers, and I was told as much before I acquired Jasper, who certainly ranks among the best. Plott Hound body and legs (click that link, and picture #6 was Jasper when I met him in Concord NH, April 2015, and explains, maybe a little bit, why I just had to take him home). But anyway, Plott or not, the boy has true voraciously curious lab nose cloned onto his otherwise Plottish frame. And the appetite of a lab too, it should be said.
Genetic mixing is the balls, ain’t it? The incredible benefits of customization! That’s what evolution is all about! Thanks Chucky D! (Your 3rd grade teacher said you were smart, and look at you now. A page and a half on Wikipedia!). And to think, fellow humans, that after all of Chucks wandering, and scurvy; all those watery miles, homo-sapial tenderness, and baskets full of exotic, confused pets – after all of that: there are actually people who want to go back. To something like then. From the first link:
‘Devolution, or backward evolution is the notion that species can revert into more “primitive” forms over time.’ lol. No shit they can. Sometimes it takes about 5 seconds. Sometimes I’ve actually made people do it, I think. The certainly seem to devolve into angry, writhing proto-beasts in front of my eyes, lol. This definitely happened to some of my GOP cohorts at the Union Leader comment section when encountering a sudden squall of peevish Dave-ish cockiness (where the hell did he get that thing, they ask incredulously?), genius and ridiculous humor. Some previous Republican foes have simply discorporated right there like some Ghost-bustered demon from shock of the onslaught. So be prepared.
Anyway, sometimes it does really seem, no matter what our friend Chuck surmised, that people are just dumb. (Here’s some good news, it can be cured by education). Characteristically, the scientist in me is naggingly curious, and can’t let it go. Mr Joe Billiant here, after a normal amount of pondering, still just can’t see a good reason for this phenomenon; I mean, so many dumb people. In a world where every bit of scientific information in the world is on your smartphone. And everyone in the world is looking at them all day.
Maybe that’s actually to my advantage. Maybe that’s why I’m baffled most of the time. I’m in the woods, hanging with trees and rocks all day. Wait a minute. Are that smarter than us too? I mean both of these quiet brothers are already less violent, less generally in-your-face, less invasive, way more useful, kinder, and more patient. Now they’re geniuses also? Holy shit, I love this.
Anyway, as a scientist, still, I got thinking. What do you do if you have too many dumb people in the world and the lag time on a decent education is 20 years? (Oh no, don’t tell me I stepped on another pile of scientific dog doo. Crap. Jasper’s never going to leave me alone. What can you possibly entertain all these dumb with? What movie do you show a zombie – night of the Living Dead? I’m starting to think we don’t have nearly as many dogs as we’re going to need. Although my friend Lacy from the company can’t say no to a rescue and usually has about 15 at her house. And a couple of pigs. She and Scoot have nearly been divorced 6 times. Most of their furniture is in hairy piles on the floor.
Anyway, as for martha’s question this AM, after a few minutes I was still seriously stumped, so I do what I usually do. I thought of some funny stuff to say instead. Here’s a little glimpse behind your new pal Dave’s busy, ridiculous, kaleidoscopic cerebral curtain. Shocking for newbies, I know. What do you think it’s like in here?
Dave’s silly answers for Martha:
‘Maybe labor is needed to screw all the wheels onto the trees for when we move them later?’
‘Maybe the world just has too many rocks, so someone needs to immediately break them into pieces with sledges, so others can immediately load them into wheelbarrows, while others immediately dig holes to bury them in? While someone later runs with a beach pail to get the sand to cover them with?’
‘Maybe God’s just super dumb himself and this really is his image? He’s just sitting up there drinking Bud Light, watching Nascar on the couch, scratching his balls, kicking the dog, pissing his pants a little, and yelling at the wife to get him another, bitch? Maybe that’s why?’
After a few moments, my mind began to real and spin with stupid, time wasting stuff like that … so I quit and punted to try and save some portion of my brain. I just made something up and winged it.
Dave’s actual answer on Martha’s FB:
(gotta explain: This is really just another thinly disguised DaveBomb for the TPrez. I try to plant lots of them lately because I believe I need to do my part to make him look as WRONG! as he really is. Howdy, Donnie! You look great today wink wink* (actually you look your regular daily version of hideous), but you still sound loud, angry, and insecure. Why? You’re the fucking TPrez, and you have more power than anyone else in the world. Can’t you ever just chill? It’s Sunday: go make a ceramic ashtray of your face, glaze it in 20 shades, break it over Melania’s head for dissing you, grab the maid by the pussy, take her back into your golden bedroom for 3 minutes, go make a sandwich with Golden mustard, turn on your 900 golden TVs, and STFU for one golden second. One blessed golden hour. One whole golden day? Too much to ask. Fucking 24/7 news cycle. Anyway, did I mention it was Sunday? Good thing I got the headphones in the house anyway, the neighbor usually starts blasting around 2:00.
Okay, finally, finally finally: Dave’s actually silly FB contribution today (see how much time he wastes?):
‘Hi Marta, He told you the ‘meek’ were going to inherit the earth – what’s the surprise? It’s not his problem we didn’t know that ‘Meek’ is actually a misread of the ancient Hebrew word ‘Greek’ – closely related – which turns out actually means, ‘rich, overfed, angry, warlike, narcissistic and hopelessly distracted by weird new writing tablet’. The lord doesn’t lie, M. He just has a killer sense of humor. Now get out of the way, all you poor people! You’re in my lane. lol’
ha ha ha later.. and now, voila……