An acute sense of propriety is demonstrated by always knowing the wrong thing to say

If you always listen carefully when people speak to you, you will likely be very bored most of the time. If you are a member of that strange segment of the population that thinks, you will notice something during this-- maybe.

Have you noticed that some people seem to always say the right things? Right meaning situation appropriate, they've obviously had many conversations before. They never send you on a mental detour to that blocked off street where lone desperado papers and cans jiggle and sway in the wind. These conversational afficianados are one side of the spectrum of propriety. They either understand or intuit what other people are feeling and expect. They demonstrate an acute sense of propriety.

In the middle of the spectrum there are several types which are much to complicated for this humble mind to describe. I urge you to strike out into the jungle that awaits you on the other side and get into one of those conversations to learn more. In brief, some people either are not aware of situational propriety, or they just don't give a shit. Those freewheeling bastards. The latter, not the former. The former will get things right on some occasions. Maybe they just don't have much experience? I never understood them, myself.

And on the other strange, strange side of the sense of propriety spectrum are those who demonstrate their understanding and intuition by constantly saying the wrong thing. Isn't that weeeyahd? It so totally is. Why the hell would someone do such a thing? Isn't it the common goal of all people to relate to one another so that they are able build bonds of friendship which help create community which helps us do other stuff?

These strange wrong thing sayers are an enigma to most of the world. Do they think they are getting something over on us? However off puting and strange their comments and responses seem, isn't it at the same time rather amazing that they are constantly able to gauge people and situations so that can say the exact wrong thing! And with such consistency. Are they just bored? Why do they choose this strange mode of communication that sends folks-- even the most seasoned conversational afficianados-- on a trip down the street of many detours. It's a strange thing kids.

Chasing the Invisible Animal: The Continuing saga of the Sombodies -- Part 2

Sweat was beading on my forehead. Inside a rumbling crept up from my small bowel, causing my neck to tighten and strain. My head involuntarily jerked to one side. A sinister smirk appeared on my face, though not one of good feeling. I felt like letting loose with an inarticulate, primal growl that spoke only of the fact that I couldn't speak. I felt like early man. The non-lingual one that would bash his woman on the head while pounding his chest. I am australopythicus.

I had only come across two or three somebodies in my time, face to face that is. They all seemed to have an air, or odor about them. Not a smell, but a sense feeling. The French call it a certain I don't know what. I had tried to be one for awhile, attempting feats of will and strength that most men would crumble when faced with. But that was in the past. Hard work is for suckers. I knew it was time to live it up. It was time to put on those stunna shades and get electric man.

So here I am face to face, only a click away... And it comes... Pictures numbering in the high two figures... Somebodies... Those who chase elusive, the platinum plated-- the Invisible Animal.

But wait...

Wait just one goddamn fucking minute. What the fuck is this? Who the fuck are these fucking people? I know him. I know her. And that guy, I've seen him around before. A feeling of shock was setting in. I was walking among them the whole time? I literally walked the path of the great ones? We shared the same earth? This can't be right. There is no way.

Everything I thought I knew has vanished. Up is now sideways, and sideways doesn't even exist. Its all whats in front of me. Apparently these are the leaders of the new age.

But wait a minute. That guy, a somebody, he doesn't do anything. Why is he a somebody? He isn't particularly intelligent, he is not a great athlete. He doesn't affect the economy in any big or small nations to a noticeable degree. His voice is not heard by those in power. He can't walk into any bar in America and get his drinks paid for out of respect. Come to think of it, the only thing he does, and does well is drink beer. Oh and shots, he can take shots like no other. And that girl right there, yeah the somebody. She doesn't create fashion. She considers herself a beacon of style but she only ingests what was shown to her. She doesn't make the food for the children. She eats fathers givings. Do they have some sort of spiritual awareness that monks search for? That must be it. That dude! That's the one! The guy. He knows it too. When he's fucked up on the chic substances he totally knows that he could probably climb Everest, or write one really awesome movie, or lay down some killer riffs on the Strat' but seriously who has time for that. In between getting fucked up and all the bitches and myspace and the gadgets-- oh the time saving hip and hot gadgets! I mean, achievement is cool but who really has the time?

Now, the sweat is drying. The confusion is starting to wear off. Clouds overhead are moving slowly, almost rhythmically, I'm noticing a pattern here... suddenly my head is very clear. I'm beginning to understand something....