Here's Your Sign

I want to be a good person.  I want to be kind, gentle, and caring.  But evidentially, God wanted something different for me.  He blessed me with the gift of sarcasm, as well as a huge dose of appreciation of the asinine.  I don’t have patience for adults.  Children, absolutely.  When you reach majority, you better engage your brain.

Bill Engvall has a comedy routine called Here’s Your Sign, in which stupid people are given signs to identify themselves to the rest of the world.  People who come up to you, as you try to balance armloads of store bags with merchandise, and say, “Been shopping?”  I enjoy his humor.  My newest “here’s your sign” show is this “team” of Bigfoot hunters, searching from their vehicles pelting through the woods.  “Do you think they are afraid of the cars?”  People are idiots.  Not because they believe in Bigfoot.  Because they are hunting for a reclusive, shy, wild creature FROM A CAR.  Bigfoot could happen.  Finding it at night from a noisy, brightly lit vehicle, not so much. 

Ah, the base asininity (yes it is a word) of the human condition.  But who has a greater reach on the asinine scale-those pretending to hunt for Bigfoot, or those of us watching it?  I hate it when logic bites me in the tuckus.