Neanderpundit

Mr Porretto speaks about borebloging, about being a fool.

hell, i been a fool most of my life.

The planet needs fools. Fools may be the most essential state of the human condition. Imagine King Lear without the fool- it has no coherence.

Nothing pleases me more than making people laugh. And I’m unconcerned if they’re laughing at me; everyone’s life has some laughable moments, I just bring mine out in the open for all to see. Dignity, my friends, is highly overrated. I dance like a fucktard too, but it has never stopped me.

I’m a big, ugly guy. A remarkable number of highly attractive women have chosen to spend time in my presence, owing more to my sense of humor than to any other thing. Hell, the Ogwife chose to marry me, though she has to crawl between the sheets with this hairy behemoth each night.

If I’m making you laugh, and you read one of my more serious pieces, and it makes you think, I’ve accomplished more than all the finest philosophers on earth, because people will ignore a fine thinker out of hand, but couch a salient fact in a joke, and everyone will remember it. If it’s a GOOD joke, they’ll remember it all their lives.

I’ll never have the readership nor the skills of the Curmudgeon, I’ll never be anything but a fool.

Fools are important too.

Vman, Tanya and even Chris Muir are out talking about the Infamous Incident Involving The Venomous one. Visit Vman and click on the paypal button, if you have a few kroner to kontribute. Poor woman, I can’t imagine. And, don’t want to.

Inspired by this, from the blog d’ellison, I am reminded of an earlier time, a time when I was in the beginning of my machinist’s apprenticeship.

I had my first almost-new car, a late 70’s Chevy Caprice, and I learned after I bought it that it had been ordered, but not delivered, as an Indiana Police Interceptor. A very nice, and very fast car. The very first car I ever owned, for instance, with Air Conditioning. Power Windows (that worked!)

Anyway, on my way home from work one warm summer’s night, I’m sitting in the left turn lane waiting for my light to go green, and digging, so to speak, for gold.

See, the Coke Plant, where I worked, had such a dusty atmosphere that you constantly grew large, crusty hard boogers. That’s what boogers are for, by the way, they trap particles of crap from entering your lungs. The amount of fine coal dust I breathed was one of many reasons I left the place, I didn’t want to end up with Miner’s lung like so many of my co-workers had.

Anyway, I’m sitting in my Chevy, and I have my left index finger up my nose to the second knuckle (I’ve often thought, there’s your proof of the existence of a creator, everyone’s finger fits their own nose perfectly)and I extract something that, frankly, doesn’t look like it could have come out of my head.
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