Common sense really isn't as common as you might think it should be. Especially when other people do things which stand out so obviously as belonging to the realm of the stupid. The thing is, I'm beginning to think the realm of the stupid is either a pretty big country or it is one hell of a densely occupied place. They come from all over to go there. Some must permanently reside, whilst others go for the occasional visit, particularly if they have drunk or done drugs or just had a bad day. However, we all have bad days and it doesn't mean you get a one way ticket to Stupid Ville. No, just a temporary afternoon return ticket. I have been there myself, only momentarily I'll add, but it does happen. I try to make my visits as infrequently as possible. By using my head. The grey cells go into automatic drive and the most basic silly errors are as few as possible. It's like learning to walk as a child. If you have lace up shoes on then before learning to walk you learn to do the laces up, it's obvious. If you don't then after two steps you end up sitting on your face. I'd rather try walking and falling on my knees knowing it wasn't my laces which had tripped me up. But it can't be helped, I can't act for other people, they will just have to carry on making their mistakes, as long as they own them and hopefully effect as few other people as possible.
The silly season continues with the new football season. Another wondrous time especially for those men who like to watch, eat, drink and live football. It has been marked a number of times over the past week or so when I have heard conversations about the latest teams. Footballers, managers, relegation and every other aspect of football has peeped it's ugly head above the parapet. As if there is nothing more interesting in life and of course all the conversations were by from men. It is without doubt for many a fanatical passion. It's a shame, especially when family men are more interested in the latest results of their team than their children, or wife. It is an inadequacy and perhaps a surrogate for something else. I don't know what else, but it must be. Maybe communication, maybe because every man who watches football hasn't really understood passion for life is what they should be more interested in. So I feel sorry to an extent to all those partners who have lost their man to the leather balled sport played by thugs but originated for gentlemen.
It's enough to make a bystander become a moron and search for answers in Stupid Ville. Damn I can't go, my ticket's out of date.
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