It's a Mystery

I find it fascinating that people don’t find the things I find fascinating, fascinating. 

There are people in the world that don’t know that you can tell the bed of a buck deer from the bed of a doe deer by where the puddle of morning pee is—bucks pee in the middle and does on the side, think about relative anatomy.  

There are people in the world that don’t care about what causes a mountain stream to follow a particular course down the hillside or bother to look at how the glaciers created it’s path. They don’t want to know why a songbird one tenth its size can chase a bald eagle away. There are people that don’t like poetry or music or foolishness. 

How is it that people can be so different from me? 

I mean from where I’m sitting I have everything figured out. Exactly. Except of course for the stuff I haven’t figured out yet. But why do people not see that I’m completely right? Well, right on the stuff I’m right on? 

Ok, so maybe I’m not right all the time, but still why are people so different? Don’t we all spring from the same source in some ravine somewhere in Africa? Yeah, maybe wandering around and evolving in small groups for 200,000 years could have created some differences but geez! This much difference?

I mean why is it when I tell people I drink the water out of the tunafish can everyone goes, “Eeeewwwww!” Come on, I can’t be the only one? Can I? 

Aside: After I had done that the first time my wife came home and kissed me, then in an outraged voice said, “What the hell have you been doing?! I said, “Drinking the water out of the tunafish can.” She said, “Bullshit! . . ." Then, "No, wait, no one could make that up.”

There was this movie called Shakespeare in Love. Great movie. It had this recurring line—whenever someone asked the theater owner something he couldn’t answer he would say, “It’s a mystery.” 

I agree. It’s a mystery.