I do a lot of stupid things. For example, I'm trying to give away free copies of my novel A Half Life of One over on my other blog. To obtain a free copy all you have to do is e-mail me. To date no-one has. Recently I began to wonder why. I mean, to write a book that doesn't sell is one thing. But to write a book that you can't even give away might be considered a tiny tragedy. God's way of telling you not to give up the day job, perhaps.
I checked the site again yesterday to see if I could figure out the reason for this surge of apathy. Maybe I wasn't marketing the book vigorously enough? Maybe I need to have a proper cover for the book? Perhaps a two-for-one offer? Or maybe I didn't have my e-mail address on the site? Oh. I didn't.
How stupid can you get? That stupid, right?
Like I said, I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. I often feel stupid. I am stupid.
What interests me, though, is: is it a crime to be stupid? We can't all be intelligent. And yet "stupid people" seems to me to be a pejorative term. Clever people look down on us. We are inferior. I don't think that's fair. It's not our fault we're stupid. And most of us have tried to improve ourselves through education and hard work. But still we remain ineluctably stupid. One sandwich short of a picnic. A plank. A bampot. A tosser. Asinine. Obtuse. Dense.
Why does nobody like us? I guess if I knew the answer to that question I wouldn't be quite so stupid after all.
And if I wasn't quite so stupid I wouldn't still harbour dreams of becoming a writer.