Stupid: It's the New Black

Ok, it's time to set aside your feigned indifference and admit once and for all that you've always wanted to be glamorous and exciting like me. We should probably establish up front that this will never happen. After all, I'm called Amazing Cheastypants for a reason. Not everybody can be this deliriously magnificent, and it's better if you just admit that at the outset to avoid too much disappointment further on down the road.

But don't despair! You may never cause the air to sparkle as you move through a room, ride a diamond-studded bicycle powered largely by my passion, leave trails of laughter and joy behind you everywhere you go, or bounce in sheer glory about the world, followed closely by acres and acres of bouncy beautiful hair. But I am here today to share with you some tips that can help you along on your personal quest to amazingness. For instance, here's something that's been enlivening my life and making me more amazing lately: arrant idiocy.

Oh, I hear your snorts of disbelief, your huffs of indignation. "Idiocy!" you cry out. "That's not glamorous or amazing at all!" Au contraire, mon frere. Not only is idiocy glamorous and amazing, it also enlivens a person's existence in ways I had heretofore failed to appreciate. It elevates the heart rate, sends endorphins coursing through my body, spreads joy and laughter to people around me. In short, it's quite the thrill ride, a roller coaster of unpredictable fun. In recent weeks idiocy has become a central pillar of my life, in fact, and I find myself all the richer for it.

For example, the other day I had an hour or so to kill before heading to the airport to catch my flight. What to do, what to do, I mused. I'd already done laundry, swept, mopped, cleaned, and even conditioned the leather couch. Ah! I thought. I shall organize my photographs and made back-ups of all my data. Hmmm, this pesky iPhoto program is running sort of slow. Perhaps I should clean off some space on the hard drive. Oh, what's this in my Pictures folder - extra duplicates of photos I don't need? Brilliant! I shall delete them all. Ah, that feels nice. Ooh, I know, now I'll empty my Trash folder! Wow, that's an awful lot of trash... awful... lot... of... OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP! STTOOOOOOPPPPPP!!!!

Too late. My iPhoto library is housed, as it is on all Mac computers, in the "Pictures" folder, which means that in a moment of startling idiocy, I deleted my entire iPhoto library, and then emptied the trash. I should note here that the vast majority of my research was in my iPhoto library. VAST. MAJORITY. ALL MY PICTURES.

Now I can hear you scoffing. "Huh!" you chuff. "That doesn't sound like fun at all!" And again, I must correct you. It was worth perpetrating that unfathomably idiotic act for the adrenaline rush alone, which was, since we're speaking of it, AMAZING. I'm pretty sure my heart rate quadrupled in 2 nanoseconds, and I doubt my blood pressure ever has been that high before, or will be ever again. And then, THEN, the relief when I realized, after about 20 minutes of mad scrambling about and flailing of limbs, that I could find somebody who could fix this was, well, let's just call it a "watery" sensation.

And let's not forget the endorphin rush that comes from separating oneself from vast chunks of money! It's like shoppers high, deluxe; a pair of new shoes and a genuine designer handbag, times seven. I was still flying so high on relief that when the guy at Austin Mac Repair told me it'd "only" cost $300 to retrieve the data I nearly jumped out of a window, flapped my arms and sang, "I can fly, I can fly, I can fly!"

Ah, I can see you are coming around to seeing it my way, no? Yes, this is very good, but wait, there's more! Have you yet considered the amount of personal satisfaction I engender in every person to whom I tell this tale? Every person that laughs and sympathizes, but thinks privately, "Wow, I'm glad I would never do something that idiotic," feels better about themselves instantly! Every historian that thinks with smug satisfaction of all their multiplicity of backed-up files, well. I've just made their day.

Then, of course, once my equilibrium had stabilized after the mad dash through every emotion on the planet, I realized that I already had backed up the vast majority of that vast majority of documents, and presto, change-o. I felt amazing. Then I laughed at myself for being such an idiot that I'd forgotten that I'd already made back-ups, and there you go! Another endorphin rush.

See? Idiocy. It's not just for morons anymore. Try it yourself, and see how idiocy can enliven, even, dare I say it, amazen your life.