My Battle with the Idiot
My battle with the Idiot
For quite some time now I’ve been at swords with someone who, if he was not outright my best friend, he certainly held a position of honour at my roundtable.
For most of my life I just assumed that our objectives were aligned. That the learning, the striving of navigating through the fog of rank ignorance was in rough harmony.
This has turned out to be not the case. I’ve sensed it for quite some time as the ebb and flow of give and take was starting to seem one sided. Now it’s manifestly apparent that my erstwhile friend is no longer a trusted teammate.
Does he wish me harm? No. it’s not as obvious as that and because of that it’s worse. This charming fellow only desires that I have a good time.
He knows I’m correct but doesn’t care. I know he’s fabulously wrong headed but somehow end up occasionally agreeing with his schemes.
Specious, but surprisingly agreeable rhetorical thrusts of “life’s short” and “you only live once” can often find their mark when your guard is down. It’s difficult to be on alert all the time. Many of us are just trying to get on with our day and because of that we are often distracted, and like a curly mustached magician, he invisibly directs our attention to what his needs require.
It’s almost embarrassing to share with you some of his persuasive manipulations, as they are so obvious but, at the time they sure sounded like fun.
Bag of chips lurking in the pantry? Can’t let those go to waste as they might go stale in the next 5 years.
Silky peaches? Let’s devour the whole basket. Not going to be in season forever!
A small glass of vin blanc? Pansy. When’s the last time you had a proper brain grenade martini?
Though I call him an idiot, he is no fool. Any aptitudinal gift or hard-won street smarts that I’ve developed and burnished with time, he possesses in abundance and wields with an effortless manner.
Often, I have seen him off the field of contest and smugly embraced the satisfaction of banishing him forever. But in time; back he comes like a supplicant at the Sun King’s court, all knee bendy and ring kissy and as cold hearted as I attempt to be, I can’t help but remember that I’ve had some of the best times of my life with this fellow and invite the cad back in.
I wonder how many of you dear readers have a friend like that? I betcha it’s lots of us.
I have come to terms with this so-called friend of mine and don’t see much of him anymore but occasionally when I pass a mirror, there he is, flashing a shit eating grin and with a playful arch of an eyebrow asks, “Hey man, what are you up to this weekend?”
D. Miller -Sudbury