i found the slew of weekend nonsense far grimmer
than usual, so i thought i might check in, or something
like that...
Dealing in, (with, and amongst), Morons, be this in fun, (as in making fun of, or making oneself one of them), is a fine art, that does carry many risks.
A fine line that I do not believe anyone can master, even as World Champion. Simply because such fine line is almost invisible between making fun of, or becoming one (sometimes in the process).
Much like Formula motor racing, you see, to be a champion one be amongst the fastest, and taking all kinds of risks, but always driving with immense finesse who few can even begin to comprehend, let alone perform...
Dominating raw brute power (of the engine), in flimsy little chassis, that while strong, (if driven in "the racing line"), become weaklings, the instant you make a mistake, (indeed, they can become fiery and deadly traps).
Likewise, in threading the waters of moronia you can not help but from time to time face, the extremes of idiocy. At such point, one must respond in kind, and in the proper dose.
Frankly I find Poet, a skillful driver in the moronia countryside, where if required the proper dose of acrid and caustic medicine can be applied. Imo one must not be fearful of such method.
Likewise, I find flick, as good a driver, indeed a poet, which I admire, as for my poetic abilities, are as good as those of a cosmonaut, which I am not.
Enjoy the weekend, I must go and do useful things, such as playing golf.
Later.
Z. |
