Inside Doug's Head

It is never too late to become wise.

At a recent visit to the dentist for my decennial checkup, he asked me how often I flossed. “You mean that stupid kid’s dance with the flappy arm thing? Never, I never do that, ever.”

Shame set in immediately, for certainly it was a lie. Sometimes I do a little floss, especially if I have been drinking, which is often, or riding on the bus, which is rarely. For the dentist, take him for all in all, the answer should have been, “Occasionally.”

He made a sad face as he proceeded to explain to me what he meant by flossing, running little bits of waxed ligature between your teeth for the purposes of avoiding a lecture from your dentist.

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We should teach deaf people how to read braille so that they can become pen pals with blind people. Likewise, maybe we can teach blind people how to yell really loudly so they can “talk” to deaf people.

I’m not sure that those two concepts are exactly compatible with each other. Someone sends you a letter wishing you a happy birthday, and you respond by screaming, “THANKS!” at them.

If their deaf friend is a really long ways away, they could call them and yell into the phone. Do deaf people have phones? How do they know when their phone is ringing? Do they answer it every few minutes just in case someone is calling them? What if they answer and it’s their blind friend calling to wish them a happy birthday, but they don’t understand braille because they never learned it at their deaf school?

Happy Birthday!

The trouble with the world today is communication. Too much communication.

—DG

Have you ever woken up at 4:08am with an empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, and a beard full of jam and cream cheese in the other? Not actually two hands, but two perplexing things to deal with at the same time—like a fistful of peanut butter and a swarm of enraged bees circling overhead. The more you swat, the angrier and more coated in peanut butter the bees and things get.

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Apparently, as the stories were paraphrased to me by an illiterate wino (maybe she said widow? I wasn’t actually listening), Jesus cured the leopards, made the lame nerds cool, and defeated the high school swim team by walking to the finish line, but he never once offered to heal anyone’s hemorrhoids. Why is that? Shoulder shrug emoji.

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He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. I was born lacking physical coordination and knowing that the world is F’d in the A. One of us got the better deal.

—DG