When you put it like that, it makes total sense. I never thought of it in that way. It’s a good thing you did though – someone has to. You don’t leave any room for doubt. That’s what’s so great about this kind of thinking. There’s no room for doubt. It’s as if you politely knocked on doubt’s door, not barging in or anything, carefully pushing aside dirty socks and comic books. You just leaned through the crack and said, “hey buddy, it’s time for you to go. We’re at capacity. With the kids back from school and my in-laws staying in the guest room, our griddle can’t possibly accommodate all the pancakes that are now expected of us. You understand? I knew you would."
Because every day there are new problems, new issues, new news. I rarely know what to make of it - any of it. Unless it involves sandwiches or parking, I’m significantly out of my depth. But you won’t see me in the public library scouring ancient periodicals in a pitiless search for context. I’m not here to look into facts or research any further. Information is anathema to me. I want to know what to say and exactly how to say it. I don't need to know why. Please, tell me what to think.
Each morning I walk downstairs in one of my many expensive robes and check the steps for mail. It’s not a newspaper exactly. It’s a script. I could have opted for the email version but for something this long and complicated, you’re better off with a hard copy. I find it's easier to digest that way. The good thing is that my lines are already highlighted for me. Thanks?
Every subject you can imagine is in there, updated daily to adjust to whatever social mores have shifted in the dead of night. Sports, politics, world affairs, cooking, gardening - it doesn't matter. My lines are in there regardless. There's even stage direction. What a relief since I never seem to know what to do with my hands. Of course on some subjects, I don’t get any lines. They’re not for me. Beards, for instance. Without one, I can’t ever comment on their obvious itchiness. How they trap food and insects, how they deserve shampoo like the rest of you. How they've become a tired cliche, the last refuge of a man without ideas. Sorry. I checked the script. And the beard section is curiously blank.
By sundown I’m basically off-book and ready to have an intelligent conversation should one pop up in the hours between dinner and bedtime. The only trouble is, there’s a new script the next day that may negate much of what I previously committed to memory. But it’s all about doing the work, right?
Life is so much easier now that I have each conversation planned out. I don’t have to worry about ever saying the wrong thing or presenting the appearance of confusion. I couldn’t agree more with what you have to say before you even say it. It's quite freeing. You should try it. It sure beats thinking for yourself.
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