(Editor's note: I am happy to bring you the first of what I hope are many guest blog posts. This guest blog is written by a good friend who will be known a Chuck Norris. This codename has a variety of ties with his actual personality, not least of all that he hails from the great state of Texas. Anyways, without further adieu, I give you Chuck Norris.)
Hello. How has your day been going? Never mind that. Now I know we don't know each other, but I want to ask you something. Can you please try to remember this in the future? I mean, try to remember the first time you read this. I ask of this because I don't want you to forget. Not that I don't want you to forget me, but I don't want you to forget the first time you read this. I'm serious. Look at the time. What time is it? Is it 9:09 am? Is it 4:59 pm? Is it cold where you are at? Is it really quiet, or can you hear your obnoxious co-worker going on and on about their weekend trip to Kennebunkport, Maine. Hey, I don't have a problem with New England adventures and cold air coastlines. But when they are visited by and then told of by someone I don't care too much for, I find them hard to like at that moment. Now, if the trip had been revisited by a friend or someone whose company I enjoy, then perhaps I wouldn't say such things. After all, what are friends for?
Surely you can appreciate friends or the company you keep. See, the company you keep at one point or another, must have been a worthwhile endeavor. Can you remember the first time you met a good friend? Your neighbor? Your brother? Your sister? I'm beginning to sound like that guy in that five-hour energy drink commercial.
Well, let's see, where do I begin?
Let me tell you about the first time I met one of my good friends (editor's note: me!). I, well I was eating a really boring meal. And she, well she was reading F.Scott Fitzgerald , I think it was This Side of Paradise. I know it wasn't The Great Gatsby, for had it been, I would have been able to talk about Gatsby. Instead it was, "yeah I like Fitzgerald, but not as much as the one who wrote The Snows of Kilimanjaro. Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah." I'm sure if God were watching this unfold, he/she would have been asking, "What day is it? Sunday?" And one of his/her little helpers would have answered, "It's more like Monday."
It's not that listening to the bs or small talk that came out of my mouth wasn't a worthwhile exercise, but anyone reading F. Scott Fitzgerald in the school cafeteria would certainly be able to see right through my bs. And I know you may think BS is bad. But let us examine if by viewing BS from the bigger frame, we can see how much of a good or a bad thing BS might be.
What if BS never existed? Politiks and perhaps prose would be shown the door immediately. Sen. Joseph McCarthy and the red scare? Nope, as Edward Murrow would have said something much earlier. Christopher Columbus discovering what is now known as the West Indies? Nope, as the Queen would have rejected BS. She knew BS when she saw it. And the Trojan horse? Well, you can forget about that too. So you see, without BS, very important circumstances in our world's history would have been nullified. Instead, they are now vilified! Well somewhat. I don't think shooting the bs with a bound-to-be-friend acquaintance is so bad. I mean, it eventually led to in-depth conversations about life, liberty, and the pursuit of romance. She calls them "heart-to-hearts." But if held after having a few drinks, I call them reality checks (we can talk about reality checks at much later night).
But reality isn't so bad. Once you know that we are all in this together, then you know that BS can be quite fun. If you haven't done it, I urge you to try it. But beware, sophistication doesn't come overnight, and even the best of the best have slipped. Just ask Bill Clinton, Tiger Woods, and Winona Rider.