How curmudgeons regularly save the world!

How curmudgeons regularly save the world!

Since I’m a bit burned out on writing today, I’m running far too many political campaigns, and the rabble has completely lost their minds, I thought I’d run the March 14, 2020 passage from the impending “Diary of a Curmudgeon” today!

We all really could use a laugh right now! Enjoy!


March 14, 2020

With the coronavirus officially in Illinois full bloom, I think it’s a good time to let you in on one of the most fascinating, but least well-known of the considerable curmudgeonly traits! We regularly save the rest of your sorry extrovert asses!

Don’t laugh! It’s true!

Somewhere along the way, Mother Nature realized even She couldn’t breed the inherent stupidity out of all of us, so she imbued 15 percent of humanity with the kind of curmudgeonly skillset that allows us to circumvent the disasters that rest of the rabble willingly walking right into.

Put more simply, whenever regular folks insist on engaging in the type of stupid shit that generally gets them killed, we manage to survive. Here’s a perfect example! For the full effect, pretend you’re standing around the office water cooler:

Coworker #1: Did Jim call in sick today?

Coworker #2: I don’t know, but he didn’t come in this morning. He certainly hasn’t been himself lately.

Coworker #3:  Hey Jim! You’re late! (Walking towards Jim)

Coworker #2:  What’s with the fatigues Jim. It isn’t casual Friday!

(This is the point at which the curmudgeons start surreptitiously inching towards

the rear exit.)

Coworker #1:  Why are you carrying that rifle Jim? Is it hunting season already?

I’m sure I don’t have to explain the rest! The extroverts become workplace statistics while the curmudgeons are all safe at home watching the live coverage on TV.

According to Elaine Aron, author of ‘The Highly Sensitive Person,’ (another name for curmudgeons), my eternally wary compatriots and I are an evolutionary adaption intended to preserve and re-propagate the species in the event of a potential extinction threatening catastrophe.

Forman Kiss My Ass

Aron explained the 15 percent curmudgeon gene spans all species, which certainly explains Australian cattle dogs! But I digress.

Citing an experiment in which they set up traps in a large aquarium, she noted that the “normal” fish swam right into the hazards while the 15 percent wouldn’t go near ‘em. Had those traps been lethal, only the curmudgeon fish would’ve survived.

On a grander scale, way back in 70,000 BCE, this planet endured the most devastating volcanic eruption since the dawn of man. “Toba” on the island of Sumatra went off blasting 650 square miles of vaporized rock into the atmosphere eventually covering the globe in six centimetres of ash.

The eruption was two orders of magnitude greater than the 1816 Mount Tambora event that led to the infamous “Year Without a Summer.”

The Toba eruption caused global temperatures to plunge 20-plus degrees destroying the African savannas and  essentially wiping out the food supply. So, for hundreds, or perhaps thousands, of years, the Homo Sapiens’ population dwindled until there were just 40 to 1,000 breeding pairs left.

And I can unequivocally guarantee you that at least one of the individuals in each of those couples was a curmudgeon, likely the husband.

Because while all the extroverts hung around the village square doing strange dances, making human sacrifices, and begging their gods to bring back the sun, the curmudgeons said, “F**k this shit! Let’s go where the food is!” and they did, and they survived!

But now, with almost seven billion extroverts infesting the planet instigating atrocities like reality shows, Crocs, the Kardashians, Tide pod challenges, ‘Baby Shark,’ lip implants, Twitter, and a Trump presidency, we’ve come to deeply regret our pivotal role in saving the species.

Sadly, as those great philosophers The Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose once intoned, “It’s too late to turn back now.”

Apparently, even curmudgeons can make the occasional blunder. Have I mentioned the hoverboard? And I’m not sure I can live with the fact that my ilk is repeatedly responsible for the rest of your survival, but I suppose that’s why we have alcohol and therapists.

So, here’s a thought! Before you go to bed tonight, take the time to thank a curmudgeon for your very existence. We’ll probably be offended that you had the nerve to approach us and remind us of our greatest blunder, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t the right thing to do.

Just don’t get too carried away with it!

We wouldn’t want to have to deal with all the medals and trophies because we’d run out of mantel space which would mean buying a new house and we really hate to move. Then there’d be calls from the President and all manner of world leaders, the expectation of speeches, folks asking for autographs, and the selfies, all of which would add up to a curmudgeon’s first circle of hell.

On second thought, I’ll just assume you’re thanking us and say “You’re welcome” on behalf of curmudgeons everywhere.

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