Anatomy of a Moron

(Henderson, Nevada, Oct. 31, 2024. Mike Blake/Reuters)

Samuel Johnson had it wrong. The true measure of a man is not how he treats others. Those people who can “do him absolutely no good.” Nor does it have to do with how he treats animals, whether through petting or fetching. It’s also unrelated to a man's general attitude or demeanor. A man cannot be measured by superficial things like etiquette. Whether he chews with his mouth open or keeps his hat on indoors. These capricious codes of conduct have very little bearing on the life and success of a man. Especially one squarely in the public eye; a pesky stye inflaming society to act. 

The true measure of a man is the distance between his eyebrows and his hairline. In other words, it’s the size of his forehead. For the forehead is the blank canvas a man draws on for inspiration. Fabula rasa. Long before the first cavemen ever decided to grab a second helping of bone marrow, he had to rely on his wits. Because the only thing Neanderthals ever had over homo sapiens were their foreheads. Thick, lustrous and lengthy. Strong enough to stop a charging mammoth. 

It’s never been about what’s inside your head that matters. You don't stare into someone's eyes to see their soul. You focus on their forehead until one of you passes out from exhaustion.

 

Early sailors would rub sextants across their wrinkles for a chance at dry land. They couldn't calculate longitude back then, so why not? The forehead remains an ancient map, giving us a peek into the future. Or, maybe, just maybe, the way to the nearest federal penitentiary.