Proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that people are capable, and will ask an almost stranger almost anything – this one is for you, baby.
I was asked, by an inquisitive and incredibly self-needy person of the opposite sex, (I assume) one of the more innocuous questions ever to be heard or to even have an answer considered in this, our western civilization.
“How come you haven’t written about or included me as an important personage in any of your past blog(s)?”
“You’re on my list,” I replied, “just as soon as I run out of folks to ridicule.”
She began to laugh uncontrollably, with a wild verve she reserved for herself and used on the rare occasion anyone may have been interested in her welfare, or even what she had to say. The fact I had responded, led to her misconstruing my lack of interest as me succumbing to the wiles of a misguided, and perhaps depraved, actress. As is my constant want, my transparency was forthright and emotionless; sort of like a politician answering an interviewer’s questions.
“What could I possibly say about you that would be of interest to any of my readers?” I asked.
She responded, “I can’t answer that one because I find your blog uninteresting.”
Suddenly, a new and fresh idea was upon me; she would become the center of interest whenever, if ever, da harv (he’s the guy in charge of thought provocations) ran short, or found himself needy of a person, place, or thing to ridicule – almost an impossibility!
In case you’re having difficulty understanding what I’m saying, let me bring you up to date.
This woman or man, actress or actor, asks a question when, in actuality, they really couldn’t care less about having their question answered. I guess my assertion applies to men and women in all strata of life, as we know it to exist.
Some of you might even understand my apparent gripe, if I used my wife’s cat (noun) as an example. He will answer or ignore any name you (meaning me) choose to call him. “Simba,” his baptized nom de plume, serves as a supposed recognition-drawing device, but I usually call him “Bert” (“Burt”). In any event, like I said before, he comes when he feels like it. Make no mistake, when he does arrive it’s never because he’s being attentive. There are two reasons “Bert” comes in when you call him: either he’s hungry, or the weather is inclement.
NOTE: In the event “Bert” doesn’t answer to a specified food call, dawn or dusk, it isn’t because he’s sick, or in love (he’s been fixed – sexual meanderings are an impossibility), but it is most likely that a bird has had a heart attack and dropped dead directly in front of him. Unlike his Mother, who was an athletic animal, “Bert” has rarely been seen running.
When a cat calls out (heavy duty meowing), they are for certain listening to or for a response, not necessarily preparing their next – and less than purposeful – question. The meowing will not subside until they get what they want. On the other hand, when an actor or actress keeps up a non-listener type of needy, or needless perfunctory assault on my failing sanity, I have no choice but to take a page from “Bert’s” book. I quickly remedy a thespian’s meowing by simply turning down the sound control pot. I continue looking at them from behind my well-secured double glass enclosure, all the time physically keeping any form of my internal delight disguised by what appears to be attentiveness.
Thank you “Bert.” Without knowing it, I have the benefit of my own mentor within the confines of our “villa on da hilla.”