Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Friday, February 24, 2006

The Mashed Potato Standard

When my youngest son was 6, he developed a deep and abiding interest in the Titanic that bordered on obsession. His bookshelf was crammed with books on Titanic and he collected more at every opportunity. His most prized possession was a submersible model of the fabled ship that magically broke apart as it sunk (sucker cost me fifty bucks on ebay).

He was thoroughly entranced by the movie. He would watch the part about the sinking over and over. I questioned the wisdom of allowing such a macabre pastime, but his fascination could not be squelched. He seemed to comprehend the scale and scope of the tragedy in a way that belied his six tender years.

He could tell you the date, time, and location of the sinking, and how fast it took the majestic ship to finally disappear into the frigid water. He knew the names of the captain and crew, and some of the passengers. He knew countless obscure facts and every day he committed more to memory.

In his estimation, anyone who didn’t know as much as he did about Titanic, simply was not worthy of his time or his favor.

Wouldn't it be nice if we as adults had such a straightforward and uncomplicated barometer for judging other people? I've always considered myself a pretty good judge of character, but recently, I've had reason to question that.

So I think from now on, I will only associate with people who like mashed potatoes. I really like mashed potatoes.


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