Defining stupidity. A long overdue vent.

I'm the first to admit, I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. I started smoking when I was young and I know I should quit but I rationalize to myself that three cigs a day isn't nearly as bad as three packs a day. Stupid logic.  I've driven when I shouldn't have, and I've known I shouldn't have after the third glass of wine, but again, stupidity reigns when you're young and stupid. Thankfully I'm older now and less stupid and I don't even drive if I've had too much caffeine.

I've written letters in the absolute white heat of anger and hit *send* before I let myself cool off and think about what I really should have said. I've said and done stupid things, sometimes hurtful things, and wished I could take it all back or done it all over again. I have regrets. I have moments of absolute clarity when I can see and admit to all the stupid things I've said or done or tried to do. Everyday stupid things. We all do it. We can all admit to it at some point or another. And we all think we've had that one defining moment of absolute stupidity that we think nothing can possibly top.  That one moment when you look at your reflection in the mirror and say the words out loud:  you stupid ass, are you really THAT stupid?

But then…like a beacon of hope in the night, something happens that out-stupids your stupidest moment. You can look at that reflection and say: Hah. That was even stupider than what I did.

I had that moment last night. The epiphany of stupidities, so to speak. That dazzling, suspended moment in time when I realized that someone has done something so magnificently, unbelievably stupid that I know it can never be out-stupided.

Try this on for stupid-size.

Assume someone already known to be stupid wants to send a nasty letter to someone to cause trouble, to stir up old mistrusts and hard feelings, to cause doubt and turmoil and just generally cause hell to break loose….so he thinks AHH…I'll send an anonymous letter to her place of work instead of her home. Won't sign it. I'll wear gloves to foil CSI. I'll get a giraffe to spit on it so there's no DNA on the envelope. I'll use three different typewriters to type up the letter and I'll spell all the words right so for sure she won't know it's me….

Bingo, right? Brilliant? Mensa material?

So what does this epitome of brilliance do next? He writes the address on the outside of the envelope in big bold letters.  In his own handwriting.  In block letters that his own ten year old granddaughter looks at and says: hey, that's Grumpy's writing.

Duh.

I'm seriously thinking about writing a humorous book:  "How I lost 182lbs Overnight and Shed a Whole Whack of Stupidity in the Process."  Yup. You guessed it. The stupid ex husband has reached for that brass ring of ultimate stupidity and caught it.  He sent an *anonymous* letter in his own handwriting.

If anyone can top this for stupidity…I'd really like to hear about it.  The only one who has come close is the guy in the spitting contest who took a run from across the room out onto the balcony to see how far he could spit and ended up hurling himself over the railing and falling six storeys to his death.

Sending an *anonymous* letter in your own damned handwriting HAS to beat that.