Yup, reposting these too because I can and thy make good reads. First up is the creative nonfiction story named after a shirt I own that details my worst mistakes. Stupidity, How’s That Working For Ya? Whenever I watch the news or read an online article about a guy who calls the people he just robbed asking if they could return his wallet because he dropped it while robbing the house, or the redneck who gets a DUI for driving his lawnmower on the freeway, I am amazed at how utterly incompetent humans can be. I find it almost laughable when someone wins a Darwin Award, an award given to a person who dies as a result of stupid behavior, because those stupid genes are now removed from the gene pool. One such example was a man who attempted beastiality with a raccoon only to have the mammal bite his dick off causing him to bleed to death. Idiot. Even to this day while I mock and scoff at these dumbasses for being such morons, I myself am regrettably still human, though I hate to admit such an abhorrent fact. I too have committed unforgivable acts of stupidity, though the occurrences are relatively few and far between because I’m a fairly competent creature. Each time I was left wounded either physically, mentally, or emotionally and my pride always hurt because I should have been smarter than that. I tell all now about my greatest follies. Laugh if necessary, I deserve as much for misplacing my precious intelligence. My first significant lapse in judgment came in the summer of 1999 while I was playing my Pokémon Blue Version. After seven months or so, I had nearly beaten the game. I had successfully beaten the Elite Four, the final bosses of the game, and all I had left to do was “Catch ‘em All” as the slogan went. My Pokédex completion at the time was 125 owned and 149 seen out of the total 150 monsters. While I waited for my brother to get home so he could trade me an Electabuzz, which was exclusive to the Red Version, for my Magmar, the Blue Version exclusive counterpart, I made the atrocious blunder of starting a new game because I was bored and wanted to bide time until my sibling returned to me. I could have easily started leveling my Dragonair into a Dragonite, but I thought it wise to play the game from the beginning. It comes as no surprise to me now that the next time I picked up my game the only Pokémon I had was a level 7 Bulbasaur. My level 77 Blastoise, my Mewtwo, my Articuno, the Porygon my cousin Eric gave me… DELETED! All of that hard work over the last few months… DELETED! All for what? For a few moments of boredom? How could I? The worst part was I knew the risks of starting a new game with a previous file in existence! Most Game Boy games at the time were simplistic in that you had to play from beginning to end nonstop or use a password to get back to the last level you were on. Pokémon was revolutionary in that you could save directly to the cartridge just like any other consol Role Playing Game. But that’s what made the save file fragile. Start a new game and do anything that auto saves the game, like use a PC like I did, and… DELETE! to the old data. I was crushed that all of my hard work had been erased from existence never to be restored. While today I’d be disappointed and angry at myself for such a careless mistake, Pokémon was my first videogame and I was ten. For me, it was the end of the world. When I finally got over my loss, I made do with what I had left. I started anew, recaptured all of my monsters, raised their power to greater levels, and ultimately defeated the Elite Four once again. Even after catching all 150, it was a hollow victory. The game lacked that magical feel it had the first time around. Suspense and surprise were lost. More thought out strategy and planning beat out winging it in new situations. It would be five more years before brainlessness overcame me again. As a Freshman in high school at the age of fifteen, I was fit as could be. I was rarely sick, and when I was it was only for a day or two. One particular 24 hour cold however, struck pretty hard at the worst possible time. I ended up being absent the day a very important project was due in my Biology class. When I returned the next day fully restored I had my paper with me but I never turned it in. Why would I do something so incompetent? Because my teacher never asked for it. This foolish little freshman was waiting for a freaking invitation to hand in the damn assignment that was due the previous class! Well eventually my teacher did ask for it because she was missing the grade on it. My grade on the assignment: 0% because of how damn late it was! My grade for the third quarter: the first letter of the first word that came out of my mouth when I saw my report card. Let’s just say that word wasn’t awesome, bitchin, or cool. Queue me drawing an invisible nonexistent katana from its sheath and impaling myself through the chest. I was enraged at myself for such insolence! I had been pulling a solid “B” until this mindless stunt. Luckily I did well enough the fourth quarter and on the final to come out with a final grade of a “B” when it should have been an “A”! It was the greatest insult to my intelligence ever! Well one of them anyway. Two years later I was lounging in my chair in the basement balled up in the fetal position for a nap. When I woke up I was feeling particularly lazy and didn’t want to get up. Obviously my brain was still asleep, because I got the bright idea to roll out of the chair and fall to the floor. I acted on that stupid impulse only to land on my right knee. I was taking Physics that year so why not do the math? Distance: about a foot off the ground. Mass: roughly 135lbs. directed to one single small point. Acceleration: gravity. Pain: indefinite. It started out as a quick twinge that shot through my body. “Ow!” I yelled. And then it became unbearable. “OOOOWWWW!!!” I screamed. “What’s wrong?” my mom called down to me from upstairs. As soon as I could form words past the agony, I shouted back “I fell asleep in my chair and fell out when I rolled over landing on my knee. Fetch me an ice pack!” It was a lie, but I wasn’t about to admit that I did this on purpose only for her to confirm what I already knew. I was a dumbass moron for attempting this stunt. What did I think was going to happen? That I was just going to laugh it off and call it a day? Please. This pain was my body’s way of telling me that I was a freaking idiot who should never intentionally do something that might hurt. Especially something that could have broken my leg or prevented me from walking normally again! Well I got my ice pack, but it still took several days for my knee to stop hurting. Hell, even to this day if I sleep wrong or misstep I have that unpleasant sensation run up and down my right leg. Every time I do something incompetent I mock myself by asking “Stupidity, how’s that working for ya?” The answer is always “Not well, perhaps I should quit.” I am proud to say that I have been smart for the last four years and I intend on keeping it that way. I have learned from my past errors while striving not to make any new ones. At least no one knows about any of this stuff. Oh wait… Damn.