Any normal, sane human being knows generally what to do in certain situations. Right? That's not an unreasonable conclusion, is it? Apparently, there are those people in this world who would literally lose their head somewhere if it wasn't attached. They suffer that seriously from an affliction known as the Dumb. Seriously. The. Dumb. It can affect those closest to you, your friends, families, coworkers.
As it stands, my mother is one of those unfortunate sufferers. She has had the Dumb for as long as I've been alive. It had grown worse over the years and it shows no sign of ebbing. Just when I think she might have brushed it off she blurts out something so painfully stupid I get an instant migraine. Like the time she insisted that she had ring worm on her back. Cause it was itchy and she had been to Africa. Right. (She didn't have it, by the way.) Or the time in my childhood when she insisted that coloring, or highlighting your hair is, and I quote, "from the devil". And she would say this while wearing that horrible eighties style makeup that Avon ladies insisted was cool. You know what I mean, the blue eyeshadow all the way up to your eyebrows usually accompanied by unnecessary blush application. So yeah, the clown thinks dyeing your hair is evil. She know dyes her own greying hair. Oh the irony.
In present day, my mother has decided to give the Dumb a permanent place in my life. What does that mean? She writes novels. Oh the horror, the travesty towards the written word. And I encouraged it. Why? Perhaps I was hoping to exorcise the Dumb from her psyche. Perhaps because it's almost worth the stunning moments of hilarity when I edit the monstrosities. Or perhaps I am at heart a sadist and a masochist. I enjoy tormenting myself and others with the Dumb.
The latest story that I am in the process of editing contains so much of the Dumb that it has started to infect my mind. I find myself unable to spell words that even a child should have no problems with. Like Saturday. I tried to spell it with an 'e'. There is no 'e' in Saturday. face palm And color. I tried to put an 'a' in color. What? This leads me to the conclusion that the Dumb is actually a communicable disease. I have to immunize myself by reading other things after every chapter I edit. Otherwise I fear the Dumb will consume me.
Now, the reason why I decided I needed to finally create a book for all the moments of the Dumb that I encounter was actually a very small moment in the current piece of the book I am editing. The main protagonist of the story, whom my friend and I have affectionately labeled Shelly Couch, is in a police station. There is an altercation outside the station and an officer enters the station having been shot. And Shelly Couch, arbiter of wisdom and genius extraordinaire, calls 911. From inside the police station. Oh. My. God. The Dumb, it kills. Mind you, this is a single paragraph from the entire novel. I think my brain just imploded from the stupid.
Just think of how stupid the average person is, and then realize half of them are even stupider! ~George Carlin
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