While life and people are often predictably unpredictable, there are some things among the human race that are consistently common and cut right across cultural, political and geographical lines.
One such thing is brussel sprouts. Notice that, regardless of race, gender, culture or location on the globe, the reaction to eating a brussel sprout is always the same:
One such thing is man’s innate desire to….be a moron. It’s what we do, and we’re very good at it. Make no mistake about it…males posess much more of the Moron Factor, but females are not immune to it. They just display it in different ways, such as:
- Marrying a guy that, during the dating process, proves to have a very high Moron Factor.
- Using tears after doing something especially moronic seems to not only lessen her Moron Factor consequences, but also make the male counterpart more aware of his Moron Factor for giving said female a hard time about her (what he thought was obvious but is now not so sure) Moron Factor. (This in no way has anything to do with the three times my wife rear-ended other vehicles and I got mad at her for not telling me until I found the damage three weeks later. Love you honey…smooch smooch).
- Hooking up with a guy who is not only not in the same league as she is, but doesn’t even deserve to share the same personal space as her (I hope my wife doesn’t read this, because reminding her of this causes her to bang her head on her computer and I just got it fixed.) Case in point:
Hello? Need I say more??
The Moron Factor does seem to especially take center stage among males when mechanical contraptions are involved. What is it that causes us to do stupid things with machines? Why are we drawn to use machines in ways in which they were not initially designed? What causes us to do stupid stuff with said machines, often knowing that it will result in getting seriously killed?
Easy. Because we cannot resist. See, scientists have proven that the Moron Factor is directly related to a medical condition called “Seriosis Dain Bramage-itis“. This medical condition causes the following to take place:
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Nerve impulses from Brain infected with Seriousis Dain Bramage-itis creates self-destructive mental images to run through said brain. Often these impulses are triggered by visually sighting a mechanical contraption.
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Nerve impulses bypass the cognitive-reasoning center of the brain. This sub-condition of Seriousis Dain Bramage-itis is called “Lako Commonsensitis“.
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Nerve impulses travel directly to the motor-skill center of the brain, causing the various bodily limbs to begin acting on the mental images which triggered said impulses. Soon the act is being carried out.
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As the act is carried out, the Lako Commonsensitis brain center is triggered, causing the following verbal pattern to be manifested in the vocal cords:
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!!!!
Take, for example, the following video. Notice that the Lako Commonsensitis is not outwardly manifested until well after the video taping is completed:
Because this is a human condition that is often seen in Americans, one can assume this condition is largely a “Stupid American” condition. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is simply because of the relative ease with which we Americans are able to obtain various mechanical devices that we have made a rather large name for ourselves, Moronity-Speaking.
The truth of the matter is that the Moron Factor, and the medical conditions behind it, are alive and well in every corner of the world. While American’s might strap rockets onto 1963 Chevrolet Impalas and drive them at 373 mph towards a canyon wall (which seemed to be plenty far away until, well, traveling 373 mph), our Turkish friends strap said rockets onto 1963 Schwinn-copy bicycles. While not traveling at 373 mph, 88 mph is plenty fast on a bike with half it’s wheel spokes missing. In other words, the Moron Factor knows no enemies. It’s all simply relative.
Still don’t believe me? Enjoy this video and you’ll see what I mean:
Yes, the Moron Factor, whether exhibited by males or females, is readily displayed on a daily basis and, I dare say, probably in your own life in such frequency. You cannot escape it. Simply embrace it. I have.
It’s good to be me. It’s my wife I feel sorry for.