Tag Archives: blathering idiot

March 6, 2011 · 1:45 pm

The blathering idiot, taxes, and heaven

The blathering idiot was sitting at the kitchen table doing his taxes, when in a fit of confusion and boredom at the inane complexity of a form, he fell asleep.

When he woke up, he was in heaven. He knew this was the case because the disciple Matthew greeted him. The blathering idiot sat up and looked around. Heaven was not like anything he imaged. The primary thing that struck him about it was how rundown it appeared. The pearly gates looked rusty and slightly out of plumb. They didn’t close tightly. Some things that looked like trash tumbled from heavenly prominence to heavenly prominence, making slight rustling sounds like empty plastic shopping bags. Even the angels’ wings looked sooty and their gowns looked frayed and not quite as dazzling as whitest of whites sound be. One angel was even wearing a frayed t-shirt that read “Angels are people too.” Infrastructure neglect was everywhere.

Matthew had a sad and besmirched look on his face. “We cannot get God to pay attention to heaven. He says he is constantly fighting an endless war with Satan, and sending hurricanes to New Orleans and earthquakes to Haiti and such to punish people for their wicked ways, even if they are already long dead. He says he has no time to keep up heaven. But we have a plan and it involves you.”

The blathering idiot listened to the plan. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but if the blathering idiot succeeded, he could stay in heaven if he wanted.

“And if I don’t succeed?” the blathering idiot asked.

Matthew, the former tax collector, frowned, and then slowly shook his head.

The blathering idiot practiced over and over what he was going to say, and when he was ready, Matthew and some angels, including the one with the t-shirt, dressed him in the most scary costume they could think of, and then they sent him to see God.

The blathering idiot in heaven

"Well, Almighty, our records still show you owe back taxes for several million years."

After a brief introduction, the blathering idiot launched into his script: “Well, Almighty, our records still show you owe back taxes for several million years. And we are about to put a lean on your property.”

Shortly after that, or so it felt like, the blathering idiot woke up, an IRS form stuck to the side of his face.

Once he removed it, he glanced around. The world looked like he was back exactly where he had always been, back where he was before his trip to heaven. The blathering idiot didn’t know if that was good or bad, if that meant he had succeeded or not. He once again read over the form that had been stuck to his cheek, and he continued to wonder.

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February 26, 2011 · 8:36 pm

The blathering idiot launders his own heart

The blathering idiot sat in the coin-operated launder mat watching his clothes dry. It had been a tough time since Valentine’s Day. He had forgotten to get his girl friend anything: no card, no flowers, no gift no matter how inexpensive, and though she was willing to forgive him, she said they needed to talk, and they would do so on the day he brought his laundry over.

The blathering idiot knew what talk meant. It meant that he, the blathering idiot, would need to make amends. He came prepared to offer everything: two-dozen flowers, three cards, an expensive dinner, an entire weekend watching “chick flicks.” Only thing she had to do was tell him what she wanted.

What she wanted from him was something he hadn’t anticipated. She simply said he wasn’t being romantic enough in the relationship and what did he intend to do about it?

The blathering idiot thought about it.

His girl friend waited.

Blathering Idiot at the launder mat

“If I wore my heart on my sleeve, would you launder it?”

The blathering idiot thought some more. He was prepared to give her what she asked for, what she said she deserved, even what she demanded. She only had to say it. He wasn’t, however, prepared to give her an answer.

He stared at his pile of dirty laundry, hoping for inspiration.

Finally, he remembered that she’d often told him that while she wore her heart on her sleeve, he seemed to keep his tucked away somewhere, so he said something he thought was witty, something he thought would break the tension, something that might make her laugh and then they would forget about the question.

He said, “If I wore my heart on my sleeve, would you launder it?”

For the foreseeable future, the blathering idiot was laundering his own heart at a coin-operated place of his choosing.

He found no inspiration as he watched his shirts tumble dry.

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February 20, 2011 · 8:43 pm

The Blathering Idiot and the Box of Everlasting Life

The blathering idiot saw the ad on the Internet, click on it, and was transported to a web site where the promoted product promised to…

Build a new, high-efficiency body:
Say NO to Memory loss
Say NO to Arthritis
Say NO to Pain
Say NO to short lives of 75 years max
Say NO to Ugliness.

Activate your dormant codes for advanced human ability and appearance.
Override the death code based on the carbon grid.
Make dominant your crystalline grid.
Make your DNA perfect again.

“I will show you how to self-heal,” Dr. Ben T. Err said. “My secret product formula, Dunthat, helps you create a new advanced physical form!”

Err then went on to talk about his advanced studies as an, Iridologist, Nutritionist, and Herbologist.

Best If Used By label on bottle

Best If Used By...


“Order today and learn how to upgrade your cellular character by releasing density, carbon congestion, primitive DNA, and by moving to crystalline dominance the natural way.”

The blathering idiot placed an order, which eventually arrived. When he opened the box, it contained a DVD, an instruction booklet, and a series of containers containing a series of products, all very herbal looking. And on the bottom of each container there was a sticker that read: “Best if used by” and a date. They all had the same date and that date had already passed.

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February 5, 2011 · 7:15 pm

The blathering idiot’s dream

The blathering idiot was visiting his shrink one day and started talking about his attempts to write and why he wasn’t successful. The shrink asked why he, the blathering idiot, thought he wasn’t yet published in a magazine like The New Yorker?

The blathering idiot said, “I asked myself that question almost every morning when I looked in the mirror. ‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall,’ I said, ‘will The New Yorker come my way?’

The blathering idiot's dream

Doc, I asked myself that question every morning when I looked in the mirror.

“And one day a New Yorker was delivered to my house by mistake, and from then on, I quit asking. I don’t even look in that mirror any more, for fear it might read my thoughts and make something else come true in its twisted way.

“But I fear it may have already happened, for I once asked it to make me wealthy beyond my wildest dreams … and from then on I didn’t dream any more.”

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January 21, 2011 · 10:35 pm

The Org Over Easy

The blathering idiot sat in the diner trying to figure out the organization of the company that had hired him and where he fit into things. He had the organizational chart “Org chart” of the company and the menu of the diner out on his table. He also had a glass of water that he had already spilled once and was still wiping up when the waitress approached.

She asked the blathering idiot what he wanted for breakfast.

“Org Over Easy,” the blathering idiot said.

She stared over the top of her glasses at him and canted her hip slightly. “Sir, that’s not on the menu.”

“Yes, it is. Over Easy or Sunny Side Up.”

“Org?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed. “That won’t be available until 8 o’clock.”

The Org Over Easy

The Org Over Easy

“Eight o’clock. That’s outlandish.”

“And they’ll be a Sir charge.”

“A surcharge?!” The blathering idiot felt the heat rising to his ears. That always happened when he got embarrassed or angry. He felt a little of both now.

“Yes, sir, a charge on top of our normal Over Easy price.”

“Why?”

“Because orgs are always hard to get over easy.”

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January 17, 2011 · 9:22 pm

And you know something…

There were things the blathering idiot understood and there were things he didn’t. Sometimes, he tried to understand the things he didn’t. One day, he tried to understand why man was here. What was human kinds purpose on this earth? Were we here to glorify a god or gods? Were we here to glorify gold? Were we here to learn all we could learn and then leave it behind when we die? Were we here to love and laugh, or suffer and cry?

I not only don't know why we're here

"And you know something else. I not only don't know why we're here, I'm sure I don't want to know."

He even asked the bartender, who offered him one or two words, but mostly grinned and grunted noncommittally. The bartender tried changing the subject by asking a sports question or two, but the blathering idiot would not change the subject, even when the bartender changed the channel on the TV and turned up the sound.

The blathering idiot tried and tried to tease an answer out of the question. Finally, after having written for an hour on bar napkins and then thrown away all the answers he’d come up with, he picked up his root beer, took a swig, and proclaimed to the bartender while tapping on the bar, “And you know something else. I not only don’t know why we’re here, I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

He wasn’t sure, but the blathering idiot thought the bartender was happy with that answer.

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January 16, 2011 · 2:33 pm

Reform, it’s not what you think

It was a cold day and the wind was blowing. The Blathering Idiot and his friend, Gary, were walking to take place in a protest against some change they knew little about but felt had to be protest because somebody on the radio had told them so.

The Blathering Idiot turned to his friend and said, “You know, Gary, the biggest problem with reform is that it requires you to think.”

Gary paused for a minute, then said, “I hadn’t thought about that.”

BlatheringIdiot_Reform

"You know, Gary, the biggest problem with reform is that it requries you to think."

They stopped and looked at each other. First one minute passed. Then another, and another, each looking at the other.

“I think we’ve discovered something profound,” Gary said.

Finally, they decided to turn around and go back home, where at least they could think in a warm place.

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January 9, 2011 · 11:29 am

The Job Application

A new year had begun, and the blathering idiot resolved to find a job.

Help Wanted sign

The blathering idiot applies for a job

He saw a Help Wanted sign in the window of a building and went inside to apply.

He sat at the table with the form and did his best to fill it out. The first line said: Name.

He wrote: I have one.

Sex.

He wrote: Yes

Place of birth.

He wrote: A hospital, though I don’t remember the exact event. This is what I have been told.

Put your hometown here:

It won’t fit.

References:

Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary, Gregg’s Reference Manual, Chicago Manual of Style.

What attracted you to this position?

The sign in the window.

Salary expectations:

To get paid regularly.

What sort of challenges are you looking for?

I am not looking for challenges. I am looking for a job.

When he was finished, the blathering idiot looked over the questionnaire one last time. There was one question he had skipped, and he still did not have an answer for it. He looked at it again, first staring at it and then looking away. He felt he should write something, but what?

The blathering idiot was about to give up and return the form incomplete, when it struck him what he should write. He had seen this exact wording on similar pages in other documents. He had never fully understood what it meant until now.

The question was: Use the blank side of this form to provide any additional information.

To which the blathering idiot wrote: This side intentionally left blank.

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January 2, 2011 · 3:02 pm

The All-American Chef

For Christmas, the blathering idiot received a BBQ mitt and a cooking apron. Across the front of the apron, above three embroidered stars was the phrase, also embroidered and in all capital letters: ALL AMERICAN CHEF.

The blathering idiot was happy to receive such a gift. He prided himself on his outdoor grilling skills, and after all an All American Chef should have all-American tools to help him create his all-American dishes. He tried on the mitt: it fit great with plenty of room. The apron was adjustable and the red color pleasantly suited him.

Though the weather was a winter cool, he decided to grill out. What better way to show off that he was an ALL AMERICAN CHEF? He pulled out his grill, poured in the charcoal briquettes, and was ready to start the fire.

All American Mitt and apron made in China

All American mitt and apron made in China

But before he started, the blathering idiot wanted to make sure he took good care of this apron and mitt, so he turned over the tag to see how to care for these new tools. After all, a good chef always takes care of his tools. And in all caps, he read that his ALL AMERICAN CHEF mitt and apron had been MADE IN CHINA.

The blathering idiot didn’t feel so ALL AMERICAN any more.

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December 10, 2010 · 4:35 pm

One size fits

The blathering idiot bought a ball cap at the store. It had the symbol and colors of his favorite team. He was proud of the cap and what it stood for. He felt he was part of something larger than himself.
Then he took the cap off and looked under the lip and saw a tag that read: One Size fits most.

The blathering idiot was upset. He had thought for sure that he had bought the deluxe model of this type of cap. It had cost him enough, and it even said “Limited Deluxe Edition” on another tag under the lip.

There was only one thing the blathering idiot could do: He immediately went to that store and demanded that they fix his purchase.

When ask what the problem was, the blathering idiot stammered: “The cap. It doesn’t fit all.”
The clerk, thinking the blathering idiot meant “at all,” asked him to try it on. The cap fit perfectly.
The blathering idiot immediately jumped to his feet, knocking the hat off.

“I am not in the all,” he said, and then he demanded to see the store manager.

Eventually, when the store manager came out to see him, the blathering idiot was clearly irritated. He shoved the tag up almost into the manager’s nose.

“This tag,” the blathering idiot said, “says one size fits most. It should say one size fits all.”

“But it won’t fit all,” the manager said. Then he asked, “Does it fit you?”

“That’s not the point. I paid for a one-size-fits-all hat of my favorite team, and instead I get a one-size-fit-most hat.”

After trying a few more times to convince the blathering idiot that as long as the hat fit, there shouldn’t be a problem, the manager reluctantly refunded the blathering idiot’s money.

As he left the store, the blathering idiot muttered, “How can I belong to something larger than myself when nothing is no longer one-size-fits all? What’s this world coming to?”

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