Traveling Stupidity or Stupidity Does Not Make a Good Eyewitness

May 14, 2008 by Keli.

It was pointed out to me that I seem to have a flair for finding stupidity wherever I go. It’s true. I’m always on the lookout for stupers (short, once more, for fundamentally stupid persons), but I do it for the sole purpose of assisting others, as well as myself, to avoid the commonplace annoyance and often overwhelming irritation resulting from inane encounters. After all, many illnesses and mental disorders are, I believe, an offshoot of persistent, unwelcome contact with complete and utter idiots. I sincerely hope I am helpful to my dear readers.

Over the past few days, the family and I traveled to Palm Springs as Son participated in a junior golf tournament. The hotel itself was wonderful, but the food….Lord have mercy!

Meals are important to me. Yes, I am demanding. I have this irrational desire that my food taste good, and that it meet certain specifications. Namely, to be cooked, if it’s not a fruit or vegetable or an entree that’s meant to be consumed raw. Hello? Do I look like a large, carnivores jungle cat to you? Trust me, I don’t.

I like my burgers, medium to medium-well done. Same with my steak. And I said exactly that to our server. Very courteously, of course. Here’s what I got:

My mother made the mistake of ordering a plain, old medium cooked steak.

Her order practically ambled across the table. She had it sent back to the kitchen three times. Finally, it came back looking like this:

When she complained to the server, the server said, “I stood by the chef while he cooked it.”

Stupers do not make reliable eyewitnesses.

Alas, both the cook and each one of our servers were part of an intricate plot to serve up the worst food imaginable and contrary to the customers’ orders. Maybe they were celebrating “Opposite Day,” part of some strange stuper ritual, yet to be made public.

We quietly made our grievances known to the kindly hotel staff who eyed us sympathetically, but without remorse.

On the way back home, I stopped at a bakery for a loaf of bread. Being in a hurry, I forgot to ask the person assisting me to slice the loaf before handing it to me. When I did so, she looked at me as if I’d insisted she set the place on fire.

“You didn’t ask to have it sliced,” she responded testily.

“Yes, I know,” I replied. “Would you please slice it now?”

While I waited for her to slice the freaking bread, and watched her huff and puff over it, I remembered something. Please humor me, as I wax philosophical-like. I recalled an ancient parable about an elderly monk who slowly made his way along a dirt road. Suddenly a large man, in a huge hurry, pushed past the monk and knocked the old man down as he raced by, without a glance back. As a younger monk helped the elder one up, the old monk shouted after the man, “May you be happy all the days of your life!”

The young monk said, “What are you saying? Didn’t you see what he just did to you?”

The older monk replied, “Do you think he’d have done that if he’d been happy?”

Which brings me to my question of the day: do you think stupers are happy? I say true happiness comes from helping others, nurturing a grateful heart and using the enormous power of thought and consideration, all of which surpass stupers’ capabilities.

I ignored the rudeness of the miserable bakery worker, realizing unhappiness created her attitude. Once again, stupers serve as fine examples of how not to behave.

Think first, last and always.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Monumental Stupidity, Positive stupidity, Professional Stupidity, Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 5 Comments »

Part 2 of “The True Meaning of No Trespassing”

May 13, 2008 by Keli.

Be back shortly with a new episode - “Traveling Stupidity” (what else?). Now for the conclusion of last time’s story:

Back to my last question from Part 1: why open the front door when I know that there are iron-tongued sermonizers (no, I did not make up that word) on the other side? Those of you who are thinking that I’d be better off ignoring them are absolutely right. I could have ignored them. But I did not want to live a life of fear, avoidance or annoyance, for that matter.

I resided in a neighborhood. I opened the door to girl scouts and school kids selling candy. If a neighbor wanted to stop by for a chat, I was game. However, I did not want to be held hostage by those who insisted I was going to Hell if I did not agree with their tilted doctrine.

The question here is not, “Must all people think alike?” That question is rhetorical. The real question is, “Must all people think?” Yes! Unless a person has harnessed his or her power of intuition to the degree of having a workable sixth sense, we all must think.

Imagine for a moment, a world where everyone exercised thought before speaking or acting. Kindly, meaningful thought. Then the sign, “No trespassing” would actually have significance. It would make sense. Instead of opening a closed gate just to drive to a stranger’s home to tell them that the world is coming to an end, that there is only one true religion and that, unless I join up, I’m going to be obliterated at Armageddon, perhaps a proselytizer could take a different approach. They could leave their lighthearted (I couldn’t resist) pamphlets for me to read at my leisure with a note thanking me for my time and consideration. Then I might actually read and maybe even learn something.

My intent is not to belittle anyone’s religion. As stated in Part 1, I believe religion can provide a tremendous sense of comfort. It’s the aggressiveness associated with some faiths that I find needlessly offensive.

I responded fiercely to the gatecrashers because they took me by surprise, and I regressed to my old, intolerant self. Yes, even stupidity specialists have relapses. Once I stopped to assess the situation, I realized that I could have handled it in a positive manner.

Going door-to-door is a necessary prerequisite to living life for some people, however disagreeable I might find it. My resistance only made me upset. The periodic intrusion is acceptable; I needed to use a more compassionate reaction: to smile and say, “No, thank you.” This way we all live happily ever after, and stupidity slinks quietly away.

Think.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Religious stupidity | 2 Comments »

The True Meaning of “No Trespassing” to the Stupid Mind

May 8, 2008 by Keli.

I’ve been summoned to leave my post to study stupidity in sand and surf studded Southern California with sons and spouse, and to scrutinize the social significance of stupers (I really just wanted to test my powers of alliteration). Actually, I’m away for the next few days and leave you with a little something from the archives on religious stupidity:

Wouldn’t you agree that religion, spirituality, and a belief in the Divine can provide wondrous contentment? Religion has the potential to fortify the soul…and hopefully, the mind.

I believe spirituality is a private matter, to be discussed in a proper venue where one is voluntarily present or among friends who have chosen to engage in a conversation of a religious nature. My front doorstep does not constitute a proper venue. Never-before-seen people do not constitute friends.

Anytime anyone aggressively promotes their religion while invading the privacy of another, it’s highly probable that sheer stupidity is at work.

Last week, I was on an important phone call in my home, minding my own business. It was one of those glorious mornings, where I found myself alone for a few hours to do as I pleased; my husband and kids were away.

Some background on my home: my driveway has a gate which is closed. Said driveway is just under 200 feet long and wraps around my house. You cannot see the house from the street. I live in a community of 52 homes; the entrance sports a large sign stating, “No trespassing. Must have owner’s approval.” What exactly does “No Trespassing” mean?

My two dogs began to bark furiously. As I sat in my office, I saw a BMW SUV drive completely around my house and park somewhere near the front door. I figured a neighbor had an emergency of some kind. Placing my caller on hold, I stepped outside. Two people waited in the car while a woman stood next to the vehicle, held at bay by my extremely intelligent, nine-month-old German Shepherd, Barbie. Dog #2 had found the visitors boring and took a nap.

“The other dog is fine, but I don’t know about this one,” were her first words (the woman’s words, not Barbie’s).

No attempt to identify herself, explain why she needed to trespass or that she was in fact, a dreaded religious proselytizer. I pointed to the gate and said in my best Darth Vader voice, “GO!”

Forget about the fact that Barbie could have bitten her (if she was that type of dog, which she’s not) or that, for all these trespassers knew, I was waiting with a sawed-off shotgun. No one wants to be accosted in their home. How about that “No trespassing” sign? Were these religious intruders illiterate, foreign or blind? No, they just thought…whoops! No thought. Therein lies the problem. The sign meant something to the reasoning mind. The meager mind just saw a blank sign.

My one word sent them scuttling away so fast, they completely forgot to leave me a ubiquitous “End of the World” pamphlet. That was a first. In the past, these unannounced, headache-inducing-drop-bys truly disturbed my sense of equilibrium.

When I lived in Los Angeles, these gate-crashing worshipers appeared on my front porch nearly every time I opened the door. They came weekly; sometimes twice weekly. Word must have gotten out that I was in dire need of conversion. It got so bad that the mere sight of a neatly dressed, average looking person on my doorstep sent me sobbing into the depths of my home. One poor man rang my doorbell sending me into hysterics the moment I laid eyes on him. He calmed me by managing to convince me that he’d merely stopped by to tell me my front sprinkler was broken, spewing water onto the street.

You may be asking right about now, why open the door? The answer to this and more on Monday.

Keep thinking.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Religious stupidity | 4 Comments »

As Stupidity Turns (Part 2)

May 7, 2008 by Keli.

From last time: Husband (H) innocently attempts to place a classified ad in the local town paper, which was recently purchased by a conglomerate. He is completely thwarted in his efforts by stuper-in-charge-of-classifieds, Crappyanna (C), whose job it is, not only to overcharge all persons wishing to place an ad, but to make no sense whatsoever while doing so.

Now for the conclusion:

H realized that C was a complete and utter idiot and that likely, the entire office was teeming with stupers (short, yet again, for terrifyingly stupid persons). The way he saw it, he had one of two choices: H could become unhinged and give in to his rapidly mounting frustration, fully dilated irritation and permit his head to commence spinning a la The Exorcist (insert theme song right here).

Perhaps then some pious, but bored soul from the Christian Science Reading Room across the street would lend a hand or maybe a member of the fire department around the corner would look into the window and realize that intervention was necessary. Or he could take option number two, which is what H did.

H: Let’s start all over again. Hi, my name is H. I want to place a one-day ad. Did I mention that I’m a private party?

C: But it says here you’re a….

H: I’m a freaking private party now!

C: $29.95

H: That’s still more than triple what I paid six months ago.

C: I don’t have a calculator with me.

H: Why is it $29.95?

C: Because you have seven lines.

H: What will it take before you charge less?

C: You can do five lines.

H: Okay. How much?

C: $27.95

Being married to a stupidity specialist, H has learned a few things. First, not to permit a stuper to cause annoyance, but rather search for humor in the irrational situation. If no humor can be located, realize that the stuper may be trying to tell you something.

H: Thank you for helping me to make up my mind. I know there’s a good reason for this. I don’t think I want to place this ad.

H left. He went to his office and placed a “Craig’s List ” ad on the Internet. The cost? Nothing. The gain? Within two days, the home was rented. Sometimes stupers do us a favor, unknowingly of course (what other way is there for them?). In this case, C pointed H in the right direction. Stupers do serve a purpose. All we have to do is take them and all their stupidity in stride.

Think and grow smart.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Professional Stupidity, Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 7 Comments »

As Stupidity Turns or The Stupidity Zone

May 5, 2008 by Keli.

Placing a simple ad in the classified section of a small town newspaper should be as easy as tying a shoelace, pumping gas, buying eggs at the market, ordering fries from a fast food chain….let’s face it: nothing is easy when a stuper (short once again, for a bewilderingly stupid person) is involved. The most minute task becomes convoluted and muddled when an idiot raises his empty head.

Once upon a time, five years ago to be exact, a quaint, little newspaper reported in my drowsy country town. This paper was chock full of grammatical errors and erroneous information, but such mistakes merely added to its charm in this day and age of spell-check and re-check. Townspeople gently shook their heads, smiled and sighed; after all there were worse things in life.

When residents wished to place ads, often a donation of a dozen food cans to a local charity sufficed as payment. Life was good.

Fast forward to current day. A conglomerate purchased said paper. Husband (H) wishes to place, what he mistakenly believes to be, a simple ad. He comes to rue the day.

H enters reception area of newspaper office.

H: Good morning! I’d like to place an ad for an unfurnished house for rent, please.

Receptionist: (rapidly blinks her eyes, presumably in a feeble effort to jump start the brain) We don’t have ads like that here.

H: (quickly realizes that he needs to speak in plain English) I’d like to place an ad under “Houses for rent.”

Receptionist: (shuffling through a mass of paperwork) I don’t have any forms here…

H:(ever efficient) No problem. I typed it all out for you, along with my personal info.

Receptionist: Well, the person who handles these ads isn’t here.

H either looks severely crestfallen or explosively maniacal because Receptionist quickly picks up the phone and calls Crappyanna. (Dear readers: the beauty of writing one’s own blog is that one may name and rename characters as one pleases as well as speak in the third person at will). Crappyanna (C) was in charge of classified advertising.

H explains his request to C and asks what the best rate would be for such an ad. Don’t blame H for asking these complex questions. He tends to err on the intellectual side. Naturally, C was stumped by the question. H asks how much an ad for one day would cost.

C: Fifty dollars.

H: FIFTY DOLLARS! My last ad cost $8.95!

C: That was a long time ago.

H: Please look it up on your records. My last ad was recent.

C: It was way back in ‘07.

H: That’s right. It was six months ago. Why is it so high now?

C: We’ve had a few increases. Plus, you’re a real estate broker.

H: Does it cost more if I’m in real estate?

C: (dumbfounded by the gravity of the question, is mute at the other end).

H: I know exactly what we should do…..

My dear, intelligent readers, please tune in on Wednesday for the conclusion of As Stupidity Turns.

Great minds like to think.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 7 Comments »

Take Cover When Stupidity Tries to Habla Español

May 2, 2008 by Keli.

Today while shopping at Macy’s, I noticed a nice, young employee, very professional looking, ably assisting a couple (in their sixties or so) in the housewares department.

The employee calmly explained about the many different brands of pots and pans the store carried. He spoke English with just a hint of a Spanish accent. He appeared as though he could have originated from a Latin American country.

I happened to be in the same department and paid scant attention until I heard the lady that he was assisting speak loudly in her very own version of Spanish,

“Necisitoe comprarey uno…. ser-vice….. plat-ter,” (Translation: I’d like to buy a service platter)

I spelled the Spanish words phonetically so that you, dear readers (especially those of you who speak Spanish), can appreciate how off her pronunciation was. When she said “service platter,” she enunciated the words very slowly and with great relish. Did I mention that she spoke in decibels reserved for those standing on an auditorium stage, speaking to a large crowd without benefit of a microphone? The young employee was not deaf. And we were the only people in that section.

“Por favoray, donday estaw uno forko setto.” (Translation: please give me a set of forks)

At this point, she suddenly decided to end all remotely English words with a vowel sound, preferably the long o. What fascinated me was that although the employee continued to respond to her in perfect English and in a perfectly relaxed manner, the woman persisted in her irritating imitation of Spanish enhanced with smatterings of broken English.

“Tu conocey where-o the knife-os are-o?” (Translation: where are the knives?)

My own Spanish is halting and I wouldn’t dare try it on a Spanish speaking person without at least an apology, an explanation or a paper bag over my head. After all, I’ve got a reputation. But this lady wouldn’t give up. This stuper (short for an unstoppably stupid person) had plenty of spunk.

“Donday estaw any pop-corn-o ma-kers-o?” (Translation: Do you sell popcorn makers?)

As I left the department, the conversation continued with the employee, totally laid-back in his responses, and the woman, bent on brutalizing two of the country’s most popular languages, again leaving me with the age-old question that one must ask whenever encountering a nonsensical scene of stupidity: why?

Please think.

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 8 Comments »

Stubborn Stupidity

April 29, 2008 by Keli.

Isn’t stupidity a peculiar malady? It typically arrives out of nowhere, wrecks havoc and then nonchalantly departs, leaving the recipient with a bad aftertaste or much worse. It’s like getting smacked on the back of the head while in the middle of innocently reading a good book (the smack being the symbol for stupidity; the book, a symbol for life).

I have days, despite the fact that I am a renowned stupidity specialist to my 3.5 readers, where I become fixated on a past idiotic occurrence that leaves me asking over and over again, “Why?” Recently, I regressed back to a time many years ago when I suffered a run-in with a person of particularly stupid proportions.

When my older child was in pre-school, we pre-school moms decided to throw a baby shower for our sixty-year-old, exalted leader, Margie. Actually, Margie was the school director, and the forthcoming baby belonged to her daughter.

I found, quite possibly, the most adorable stuffed animal ever to grace a toy store, and one on which I formed an instant crush. It took all my self-control not to purchase the precious little dust collector for myself; I bought it as a present for Margie’s grandbaby’s shower.

That very afternoon, in the school parking lot, while awaiting the dismissal of our little guys and girls, a few of us moms discussed the gifts we’d purchased. I heard one parent, let’s call her Tammy Jean Mayhew of Rolling Hills Estates, describe the exact stuffed animal that I’d bought. When I told Tammy of my duplicate purchase, she squinted her eyes, crossed her arms tightly against her flat chest (don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against flat chests on men or women. Only on Tammy), and puffed out her cheeks, squirrel-like. Then she announced in a huff,

“I think you should march yourself right back to the store and return your’s!”

“Why?” I asked.

“I bought mine first!”

Of course, Tammy’s reasoning was unsound as well as irrelevant. But stupidity rarely makes a viable defense.

I noticed other mothers stepping backwards, away from the potential fray, and/or ducking behind the nearest mini-van. Meanwhile, I pondered how to handle such disagreeable derangement. Tammy stood there stubbornly, shoe-horn style chin sticking out threateningly, pointy nose jutting upwards. Had she somehow traded places with her four-year-old a la Freaky Friday?

I then did what any thinking, rational being would do in such circumstances. No, I didn’t kick her in the shin or squash half a grapefruit on her impertinent face. And I did not give in to my unnatural desire of pulling her rubbery chin just to see if it was stretchy as well as stubbly. Instead, I informed her,

“See you at the shower.”

And I gladly left.

I may have been a receiver of stupidity, but I was certainly not going to be a giver.

Left alone and forgotten, inane situations, such as this one, generally resolve themselves. The shower went swimmingly and afterwards, I received a lovely thank-you note from Margie. In it, she stated how lucky her new grandchild was going to be to have two identical, darling stuffed animals. One would stay at Margie’s house, and the other at her daughter’s.

The less contact and thought we give to stupidity, the better off we are. It gives us more time to focus on creating our own positive, enlightening thoughts which is what I should have been doing instead of recalling Tammy’s inanity.

Keep thinking.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 6 Comments »

What is Stupidity Really Saying?

April 27, 2008 by Keli.

We all get this. Sometimes more often than we care to. None of us are immune to the two Cs: the common cold and criticism. For purposes of this blog, the latter C is defined as: the irritating habit of the feeble minded to attempt to improperly judge and define the merits of another person.

It’s a well known fact that stupers (short, yet again, for fearlessly stupid persons) excel in criticizing others. Is there any validity or meaning to their ludicrous and often hurtful critiques? In a word: hardly.

First, take note that such baseless criticism is really just a silent plea by the stuper. Read between the lines and you’ll realize what they’re saying: “Don’t focus on me or you’ll discover my many idiocies. Let’s talk about you. You’re far more interesting and intelligent than I could ever dream of being.”

In a major effort to divert attention away from their non-functioning selves, stupers become trigger happy, taking aim at the attributes of others, often mistakenly turning them into faults. It’s a sort of stuper self-defense mechanism.

There’s also a secondary meaning to this cracked criticism. I recall the tale of a minister almost a century ago who weekly warned his congregation against the generic sins along with one lesser known, moral violation that he took to be equally unholy: the purchase of a fur coat. He regularly decried fur wearers, insisting they were doomed to damnation. But what was he really saying?

“I want a fur coat.”

Often the criticism is not of others, but of something missing in the stuper’s own seemingly impaired life or just a simple insecurity. How many times have you shared an idea you felt passionate about only to have it immediately dismissed or criticized? Chances are that the person who offered such a reaction was a stuper. Stupers criticize not only because they’re incompetent, but because the object of the incapable critique may possess a talent, toy, a working mind or some other prize the stuper does not have.

The best way to manage careless criticism is to consider the source. Is the unappreciated critic incompetent? Jealous? Or just plain ridiculous? If so, just listen; thank them if you’re so inclined and move on. Learn from the criticism if at all possible, but do not return the favor by criticizing others.

Criticizing others is a dangerous thing, not so much because you may make mistakes about them, but because you may be revealing the truth about yourself. ~ Harold Medina

Think for yourself.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Plain Old Fashioned Stupidity | 5 Comments »

Movie Review: A Plumm Summer

April 24, 2008 by Keli.

Stupidity takes a break today, thanks to Marjorie and Melissa of MotherTalk, along with Abbey from Mom Central, who have kindly given me the opportunity to review a soon-to-be-released-this-very-weekend film, A Plumm Summer.

Genial and reassuring, this unexpectedly engrossing movie sprinkles enough charm to completely win over both children and adults in equal measure. Given the dearth of family fare, A Plumm Summer should drum up plenty of business.

This fact inspired picture takes place forty years ago in rural Montana where beloved superstar puppet, Froggy Doo (think Elmo of Sesame Street fame), and best buddy magician, Happy Herb (superbly portrayed by an earnest, completely believable, Henry Winkler), have captivated audiences of all ages for generations. Alas, Froggy Doo is kidnapped during a live performance, and so begins the mystery that forms the plot in A Plumm Summer. Who took Froggy Doo?

Five-year-old Rocky (who effortlessly steals every scene he appears in) is greatly distressed to hear of the abduction, and he’s not the only one; the whole town is stunned. Rocky’s adolescent older brother, Elliot, a quiet, somewhat awkward boy, longing for the love of his alcoholic dad, agrees to help Rocky locate the missing TV idol. Elliot is immediately established as a weakling who can’t even jump off a diving board in the community pool. This makes him subject to the mockery of his shortsighted peers. To Elliot’s delight, he’s soon assisted by the smart and sensitive new girl in town; they happily discover that they both have a penchant for teenage detective novels. This comes in quite handy in unraveling the mystery.

The plot deliciously thickens with many twists and turns. Throw in a slew of suspects including the boys’ good-for-nothing father, Happy Herb himself and even Happy Herb’s attention deprived wife. Add two clueless, bumbling FBI agents called in by J Edgar Hoover after a ransom note surfaces, and you’ve got an entertaining detective yarn packed with nonstop action, comedy and adventure. One of my favorite moments occurs when Rocky uses a pay phone to call a prime suspect. Rocky’s very able impersonation of Froggy Doo is enough to send the alleged perpertrator into a frenzy.

By the end of the movie, everyone has learned a lot more than just who kidnapped Froggy Doo.

I couldn’t help but be completely drawn into this unique and delightful retro film that unabashedly arouses the child in all of us. It easily hearkens back to the original Disney films, when Walt was still around.

There are no special effects or CG; just top-notch character development that gently unfolds, crafty directing, fine acting and amiable storytelling. Did I mention the engaging soundtrack? The breath-taking scenery? The fact that parents don’t need to attempt to play octopus during the movie by covering children’s eyes and ears or diverting their attention during indelicate moments because there are no offensive scenes? This movie is a breath of fresh film making.

A Plumm Summer is a kid, family and missing puppet movie of the first order. It opens this coming weekend (April 25, 26 & 27) in select cities (in California, Alabama, Minnesota and Montana). It’s worth checking out.

Many thanks again to Abbey from Mom Central for my personal viewing copy!

Keep thinking!

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Movie Reviews | 3 Comments »

Stupidity While Driving Does Not Necessarily = A Ticket

April 22, 2008 by Keli.

We all have stuper (short, yet again, for an astoundingly stupid person) moments, perhaps even while operating a motor vehicle. In my own driving history, I’ve sometimes surpassed (just barely, mind you) the speed limit or possibly broken a few inconsiderable laws, such as driving over a curb while searching for my lost cat or easing through a stop sign that looked all but abandoned. I wasn’t exactly breaking any regulations. Not really by all that much, anyway. For all of us, these stuper moments may invite contact with members of the police force.

I’ve been driving for quite a while, and I’ve been pulled over at least a half a dozen times. Only once have I actually received a ticket. Not that I didn’t necessarily deserve more, but I believe that proper, respectable, pleasant and courteous interaction with officers of the law can lead to a happy and mutual parting of company without involving any costs due and payable by the driver.

My first time involved an officer following me home after I drove the car up and down a curb that got in the way of my search and rescue maneuvers. I’d been looking for my missing, elderly cat, which, it turned out, was dozing behind the washing machine. I firmly, but politely, explained the reason for my flustered driving, and the kindly officer bowed graciously and left me alone without any parting paperwork.

My sole ticket was the result of my speeding in the fast lane on the freeway (where else?). When the nice officer pulled me over, I immediately apologized. I had nothing to hide; I knew I was driving over the limit and told him so. I truthfully explained that it was my first day at a new job; I was nervous as well as distracted. He asked me how fast I thought I was going. I knew then that the time for negotiation had arrived. I knocked off ten miles from my actual speed. He agreed and handed me my ticket. And that was thankfully that.

Another time, an officer insisted I rolled through a stop sign without fully stopping. I respectfully asked him how that could possibly be true? No mother with two young children in the car would ever behave so rashly, and in truth, I was fairly certain that I had stopped completely and legally. The officer, who must have noticed that I seemed the responsible sort, merely gave me a warning and allowed me a free pass.

Lest you think (as I have often heard in the past by disgruntled males) that I am let off for being a woman, just the other day, my husband (H) was also given a free pass when pulled over for speeding on the highway. H admitted to going 70 mph in a 55 mph zone and apologized to the officer, explaining that there was a great tune on the radio, no cars around, and that he somehow lost himself in the beauty of the moment. Noting that the officer had little sympathy at that point, H suddenly realized he’d met the man before.

“Don’t you remember me?” H asked. “You helped me once when I had a problem with my car. You told me that you like motorcycles. So do I!”

The officer did remember. And so began a lovely friendship, and the issuance, thankfully, of a mere warning to H to pay more attention next time.

Should you find yourself engaged in a stuper driving moment, my dear readers, involving the unwelcome appearance of a law enforcement officer, get a firm grip on yourself. Don’t give in to stupidity. Realize that a stuper would most likely become annoyed or argumentative when asked to pull over by police for a potential driving violation. Instead, keep your wits about you. Communicate as honestly as you deem feasible and without incrimination. And always act courteously. It doesn’t hurt to smile at the officer who probably doesn’t receive many during the course of his/her day.

Think first, last and always.

Keli

Keli@counterfeithumans.com

Posted in Vehicular Stupidity | 6 Comments »