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The Significance of Nothing Significant

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I have a particular interest in the non-burning issues of the day. Every newspaper and periodical contains what appear to be quite learned texts on the significance of the world’s goings-on, and I confess that I have nothing of substance to offer on any these. So I am reduced to commenting on the mundane events of very little consequence. I find these, however, far more satisfying.

I have good friends who are politicians who, unlike myself, seem to have an abundance of great thoughts to share. I have found that alone each is a most normal and enjoyable human being, but when two or more politicians come together a dark change occurs and a pall immediately covers the room. Faces become serious and voices strident as they eagerly huddle together en caucus. I have wondered if this is the motivation for engaging in politics since I know of no other career in which individuals may “caucus” (at least openly or legally, depending of course on the jurisdiction). I suspect it must be quite exciting.

By any comparison, the great issues of my life are simple. I am unable to understand why my spouse requires that I always leave the toilet seat in the “down” position, this creating a most unequal division of labor. I am unable to understand why life starts to go by faster just when it becomes harder to keep up with it. And although I have determined I am still only 25 (but unfortunately look like hell), why do I have problems getting others to believe this?

I wonder why I continue to be so impatient with those who disagree with me, although it seems perfectly reasonable considering that they are wrong. This may be why I avoid engaging in deep thoughts.

These days I find the greatest pleasures in the company of my most loyal and noble St. Bernard along with his overweight and bratty Lab companion, both of whom never leave my side. I worry sometimes that this is because there is something terribly wrong with me that they sense, but so far I see no signs of my imminent collapse…I think.

I take perverse joy in hearing of the child-raising travails of my offspring (being no more than they deserve considering what they put me through). There is something immeasurably fulfilling in hearing that my three-year-old grandson pooped in the Shop-Vac last night for no known reason.

Each of these makes me smile. I am blessed to have such an insignificant funny life…

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About Timothy McMahon

Author, Traveler, Photographer
  • Congratulations on starting your new feature! It’s a splendid concept, and I look forward to upcoming entries.

    However, I have doubts. Being unfamiliar with either your book or your weblog, I rely for first impressions entirely on what appears here at Blogcritics. And I’m struck by your preoccupation with poop.

    Your joint author bio identifies Katie as “proud mom of ‘the belly button boys’ (rated PG for ‘pooping gull’) @ poopinggull.”

    The 81-word description of your feature proclaims, “If you’ve ever had a seagull poop on your head you’ll love THIS FUNNY LIFE.”

    And in today’s introductory entry you write, “There is something immeasurably fulfilling in hearing that my three-year-old grandson pooped in the Shop-Vac last night for no known reason.”

    I do hope Blogcritics readers can look forward to accounts from your “insignificant funny life” that celebrate something besides your side-splitting encounters with poop.