Excuse the Typos, my Nubs are acting up and it's dark as winter in here

God I wish I could say smart things instead of mean little trivial things, like I do.

They get these smart guys to go on the shows and they say, this is an expert in such and such and then the expert comes on and he's all blah blah blah unless it's about women's things, then it's a girl and she does the same voice but it's higher and with less authority.

At least to my ear.

Let's get a man in here to talk about the menses, his low timbre is reassuring to me down into my heart and below where the soul lives.

God I wish I could say the smart things instead of explain the things that I do.

I'd like to be the one who says, "Want to hear an interesting thing about quarks?"

And you're all, "Why, yes, of course." because what else can you say to something like that?  There's no elegant way to turn down a question about quarks and you probably already knew this because of your advanced linguistics and minor degree in physics.  It's all minor degrees with you, nothing major.  It's that way with me, too, it's why I like you as well as I do and we speak halting French or Spanish to one another.

So then they tell you and in fact, it's the most interesting thing you've ever heard about a quark and also the least interesting thing and it goes on and on and after the few shortest sentences your brain is going on about how you ate too much for breakfast again or that this weekend you're going to do something fun, unlike the last weekend when all you did was sit on the couch hoping a new job would come along or that Tiger Woods would finally call until the smart stop on and oning and you say, "That makes sense."

I never would have invented the wheel, it's just not very practical if you look at a wheel.  Just sitting there.  Maybe it's rolling, but who gives a fuck, nobody cares about one rolling wheel.  But you know the guy that invented it just sat there and pointed at it like everyone should understand the genius behind it.  And he was smiling, oh, sure.  He was grinning like he'd just done some grand thing and everyone would laud him and his name would be on the anals.  All of the anals.  From New York to Upper New York.  And beyond.

My neighbor might have figured it out, but he's an asshole, and who wants that?  I'd rather not have a wheel than be a regular asshole.  Casual asshole I can live with, but not regular.

You should see his tools.  All lined up.  Clean.  His workbench, too.  Nothing aside.

He'd have made a wheel, but not me.

I'd certainly have invented prostitution, though.  That's a concept I can get my head around.

I'd be happy to give you 8 sheckles and the rest of this ham for a blow job.

I'd be happy to give you a place to stay for your gentle company.

I'd be glad to give you a place to stay and food for sex whenever I want.

I'd be fine to give you a place to stay and spending money and food for sex whenever you want.

Fuck.

I would have invented marriage.

I wish I could say smart things.