JANUARY 5, 2025 – I can’t speak for you in your world, but in mine I go around thinking I’m . . . adequately smart. For example, I know that the gas pedal is to the right of the brake pedal—even in Britain, India and other former members of the British Commonwealth, though I had to look that up just to make sure. You never know about those Brits, and I’ve never had an occasion to drive in their former empire, so I wouldn’t have firsthand knowledge of the placement of brake and gas. I also know that exterior doors on all public buildings in the U.S. open outward.[1] Other things I’m (mostly) smart about: icy sidewalks are dangerous—though I’ve had my slip-ups in remembering that—and daylight during winter months is shorter than in the summer; just because a nickel (remember coins?) was bigger than a dime didn’t mean the dime was worth less, and speaking of money, unless you’re talking illicit drugs, most dough these days isn’t in the form of cold cash.
In the more “cerebral” but still practical realm, I know that according to current rules of formal usage, every sentence still involves a capital letter at the beginning and a period, question mark or exclamation mark at the end.
When it comes to the bigger picture, despite the jacked-up prices of eggs (due mostly to reduced supply because of bird flu, not Biden), the cost of a brand-new MacBook Pro with infinitely more power and memory was 67% less than our family’s first desktop computer—a Dell 386 purchased 30 years ago.
These are just a few examples of the many ways in which I think (I’m smart), therefore I am (smart). Oops! Somehow a slight variation of Reneé Descarte’s famous philosophical pronouncement crept into my thoughts.
I could proffer more evidence of my “walking around smarts,” but far from proving much, my list of another dozen or two examples would likely cause you to review your own smarts and lead you to realize that your cerebrum has far greater bandwidth than mine. I’m not sure my self-esteem could handle that truth, so I’ll stop bragging while I’m ahead—in the outside lane at the start of a one-lap race around a 400-meter track.
While I’m enjoying my short-lived lead, I’ll let you in a closely-guarded (dumb sounding tongue in slightly more intelligent-appearing cheek) secret: in addition to being “adequately smart” in the conduct of daily tasks and routines, I know how to look smart: I smile and laugh when someone is telling a joke I don’t understand but never when someone is speaking in a serious tone about something that’s above my mere “adequate” intelligence; moreover, in the latter case, I assume a slight frown, raise one eyebrow and nod in feigned acknowledgment.
Okay, now that I’ve partially bared my soul, let me describe a recent incident in which I was made to feel dumber than a rock and psychotically angry that I could be so stupid. All over an even stupider vacuum cleaner!
The incident nearly put me in solitary confinement without the hope of medication, psycho-therapy, group activities or outside exercise privileges. The worst of it, however, was fear; fear that if people knew just how far below “adequately smart” I truly am, they’d take my keys away—along with my new MacBook Pro, not to mention the vacuum cleaner. I could live without the vacuum, but without the Pro, there’d be no more amateur blog posts: Who wants to read the ramblings of an insane dummy?
“So . . .” as my wife introduces her frequent question directed at me, “Why did you [do something that stupid]?” Here’s how it came down—the incident, as well as my self-esteem . . . (Cont.)
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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
[1] This does not hold true for other countries I’ve visited. The reason that doors should open outward is to allow for faster emergency evacuation—in case a mass shooting is underway inside, for example (or less likely in America, it seems, the place catches fire). If the doors opened inward, a bottleneck would form, giving the AR-15-wielding insane person added time to mow down innocent lives.
