Why do people think they get to tell you who you are? Some people are so stupid that they believe tolerating their horrible life experiences—which are oftentimes the ramifications of their stupidity—gives them an advantage over people who are smart enough to avoid similar experiences. Other stupid people are predisposed to believing their own slow-witted speculations because their low mental capacity only allows them to process superficial or insignificant information. And more stupid people just don’t like to see others with confidence, so they do everything in their power to discourage confident people. We all encounter stupid people on a regular basis, right? You’re going to hate this next question, but how stupid are you? If “everybody’s stupid”, that means no one is excluded. How often do people discuss stupidity as knowledgably and respectfully as they talk about intelligence? And what’s the difference between calling someone stupid and referring to them as unintelligent? A lot can be said about the way we interact with each other, and even more can be said about the way we perceive interactions. The implications withdrawn from any particular statement or action could spell disaster or be a blessing. Mental capacity and emotional maturity go hand and hand. And in my opinion, the more intelligent you are, the better you’re able to manage all your emotions. Intelligent people learn rapidly, apply what they learn effectively, have the ability to interpret things accurately, and all that enables them to obtain the correct implications from interactions. The reason stupid people make so many detrimental decisions is because they aren’t able to discern why beneficial decisions are better for them. Plus, stupid people almost always misconceive implications. So, when I ask you how stupid you are, I’m asking you if your discernment empowers your capacity for distinguishing detriment from benefit. Are you able to receive offense with poise and discipline—like someone with high emotional intelligence? Or do you reject offense with hostility and indiscipline—like a stupid motherfucker? “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” is a saying that implies that words aren’t liable to do as much harm as physical violence. But even those with minimal discernment know that’s bullshit! When people are insecure, they internalize insults and misinterpret implications because they’re already overwhelmed by self-doubt and uncertainty. What’s more, even negative people don’t appreciate negativity. In simpler terms, being insecure and stupid makes everything seem offensive, and stupid people do stupid things when their emotions override whatever little discernment they have. The idea that perception is reality suggests that people can only acknowledge and understand what they perceive, even if said perception is rooted in unawareness and misinterpretation. If you don’t constantly question your own judgement and challenge your initial thoughts by seeking concluded and indisputable information, you’re inclined to exist in a steady state of ignorance that will keep you uninformed and unaware. Intelligent people are habitual information seekers—we thrive on the acquisition of knowledge. The more you’re aware of, the more you’ll understand, and the more accurate your perceptions will be. Stupidity can be temporary as long as you possess the intrinsic capacity to comprehend what’s best for you. When you think about it, there’s only so much information that’s pertinent to the masses. If you know what’s best for you—meaning the things that will keep you alive, healthy, and thriving—then you have enough information to form the basis of intelligence. From there, you live and you learn. For instance, if you know that violence and belligerence can get you killed or incarcerated, and you’re aware of how death and incarceration are disruptive to happiness and prosperity, then you understand that doing everything you can to avoid those things is beneficial. Being intelligent is not that difficult, but you have to be intelligent to understand that.
So, a lot of crazy shit happens to me. There are true stories that I will never share specifically because they’re unbelievable, especially considering that I’m such a private person and many of my experiences don’t involve a lot of people. But I’m going to share this story, which is totally true, and I don’t want you guys to judge me for being honest. A’ight, so I was at Walmart one day last month, walking with my shopping cart as I was browsing the isles. Note, I usually pull the buggy behind me instead of pushing it because I don’t really like touching the handle of the buggy due to the innumerable amount of different, germy-ass hands that grip those motherfuckers. As I was strolling through the store, I walked past two black females, and one of the females attempted to make eye contact with me, but I ignored that bitch. When I was done shopping, I walked to self-checkout and waited in line. While I was standing there, I heard a female walk behind me and state, “He thought he got away from me.” Initially, I didn’t think she was referring to me at all. But as I stood there, a lady who was facing me from the checkout station behind the soda refrigerator cleared her throat—as if she was trying to get someone’s attention—and awkwardly waved at someone behind me. Again, I didn’t think that had anything to do with me. When I got to the checkout station, I could see the black female who was standing behind me watching me scan my groceries. I had my card skimmed last year, by two black females at a Kroger grocery store in a different city, and I was wondering if it was about to happen again. However, I now have a wallet with RFID-blocking technology and the Walmart that I was shopping at always keeps someone in the checkout area, so there’s no way someone could place a skimming device on one the card terminals. Anyway, I finished scanning my groceries and walked to my car to load them in the trunk. When I got home, I noticed that a box of apple fritters that I purchased had been opened, but I knew I checked the packaging before I placed them in my buggy. And I kept the fritters at the top of the buggy, in the little rack near the handle, so I know they didn’t get smashed by anything heavy. Also, there was nothing in the trunk of my car that could have split open the packaging. And I didn’t notice the damaged packaging when I was scanning the items because I was moving fast as a courtesy to the shoppers in line. Well, it turns out that the weirdo bitch who was standing behind me tampered with my groceries as I was standing in line, presumably to get my attention, and I was none the wiser. After I thought about it, when I was walking to the checkout area, there was a guy who approached the line seconds after me, but he only had two items, so I let him go ahead of me. As he was looking at the items near the line, he looked back at my buggy and kind of smirked, and I thought he amused by all the items I had in the buggy. But he was looking at the bitch behind me fucking with my groceries, and I guess he thought I knew the bitch. Plus, remember the lady that cleared her throat and waved. Needless to say, one of the stupidest things I’ve done lately is assume that my groceries are safe in a buggy that’s right by my side while I’m standing in the checkout line of a crowed Walmart Supercenter! And once again, I’m not—at least in my eyes—the level of attractive that should have bitches following me in a store and damaging my groceries just because I walked past the bitch and didn’t acknowledge her. Y’all, if you’re not new here then you know I’m not religious, but I swear to God this is a true story! Something is wrong with people, believe that.
I’m such an observant person that I block out a lot of shit because I have a tendency to overanalyze things. Part of me doesn’t want to share the aforementioned story because it’s kind of crazy, but another part of me knows that it will serve as a reminder that America’s mental health crisis is severe and significant. Whether you believe me or not, you likely appreciate that either I’m cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs or the bitch who fucked with my apple fritters is insane in the membrane. Regardless, please accept that it’s not safe out there! Shit happens whether we’re prepared for it, expecting it, aware of it, or care about it. With the stories that I’ve told in previous posts, and this one, it seems like I’m a magnet for insanity, right? I don’t know why I didn’t turn around when the lady cleared her throat and tried to flag down the weird bitch, but I generally just don’t give a fuck about people and their interactions with others. Had the lady said, “Hey, do you know the bitch fucking with your apple fritters?”, I would have gladly turned around and told that bitch how weird she is. But I was focused on getting out of the store. And as if private investigators tailing me isn’t enough! I promise that my mental health is in tip top shape, so let me proceed with a demonstration of logic. If I weren’t of sound mind, would I have the intellectual acuity to recognize how unbelievable the truth can be? A slightly like-minded fellow by the name of Mark Twain once averred that “truth is stranger than fiction, but it’s because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities—Truth isn’t.” Now, that isn’t entirely sensible, but at least a portion of it is logical. The fact is, Fiction is only obliged to stick to the story teller’s imagination. Fiction is a lie, right? And because a lie can’t tell itself, Mark was wrong to insinuate that liars are obligated to tell probable lies. If I wanted to make up some shit, I would paint myself in a less vulnerable light. As someone who prides myself on apprehending the peril presented by parlous people, obviously exposing my mistakes and miscarriages of judgement call said pride into question, correct? But it’s my obligation to honesty that promotes my commitment to rejecting the telling of fictional tales on a blog that’s in my namesake. When this is all said and done, I don’t want to be someone with a bunch of wasted potential and valueless talent. And I desire to be respected and glorified for my integrity. As I’ve reframed religiously, people shouldn’t be ashamed or afraid of their inexorable imperfection. When people are insecure, they fib to flee the fact that they’ll forever fail to fulfill folks’ fancy for faultless friends and foes. In many instances, your allies don’t want to see you fail because they expect more from you, and your adversaries don’t want to see you fail unless you falter. But the more steps you take, the more likely you are to slip, trip, stumble, fall, or even break a leg. Anyone who expects you to function flawlessly is a fevered fan of fiction, because flawlessness is fantastical. Sincerely, I fuck up! But if I didn’t fuck up, you wouldn’t luck up on such spellbinding stories, lasting lessons, candid confessions, and illustrations of indubitable intelligence. And if you didn’t fuck up, I wouldn’t have any stories to tell, or lessons to give, or confessions to make, or illustrations to display, because truth is stranger than fiction. And the truth is, everybody’s stupid! Peace.