Thursday, August 2, 2012

Simply Because it was on My Mind Today

Did you even notice how some people won't accept responsibility? I'm not trying to sound like Andy Rooney. He didn't copyright those words. A lot of people say, "Did you ever notice...?" Like Jerry Seinfeld, for instance. But I'm not trying to emulate either one. I don't have the eyebrows. Or the horse face, flared nostrils, and big teeth.

Some people would not accept responsibility if it came with a cash award and a gold-plated statue. Everything is always somebody else's fault. I call them the "If...then...I guess" people.

"Well, IF you think I hurt your arm when I twisted it behind your back and it popped and the x-rays showed a fracture so the doctor put you in a cast, THEN I GUESS I'm sorry."

Not that my arm is in a cast or anything. That's simply an example of the lengths people go to in avoiding responsibility. I might just as well have used the examples of missing bowling shirts turning up overnight on the back of the couch, or mysterious drippy stains on the carpet, or a missing twenty dollar bill that reappeared facing the other way, or a cracked glass in the curio cabinet, or sticky residue on the kitchen linoleum. All of which may or may not have occurred in my residence this summer.

Apparently, I've been Ambiening myself all over the place, wreaking havoc and not remembering it. Or staging crime scenes for the fun of accusing others so I can put on my judge, jury, and executioner hats. Who knew I was so fond of chapeaus? Maybe these were acts of Chester Drawers, the resident basement entity. Or some maximum security prisoners tunneled out of the local lock-up to prank a gal in Backroads, just to hear her whine.

I say that Responsibility should stop having so much class. Stop showing up on the doorstep with an engraved invitation and a dozen roses and a bottle of champagne with a real cork, asking for the pleasure of one's company.

Responsibility needs to start biting people on the butt. Preferably, after having his teeth sharpened into vampire fangs.


  1. Time for a vacation! Why did you not go somewhere away from all of this? You need a break before work! Really! This is not healthy!

  2. Sounds like NOT ME resides at your house, too.

  3. According to the cartoonist who did "Hi and Lois," the guilty one DOES have a name. It's "Idunno."

  4. Okay, I'll take the blame for whatever. But if you show up on my doorstep please be sure your shotgun isn't loaded.

  5. I'm voting for the maximum security prisoners in the tunnel under your house "Hmm, I knew I should've taken that left turn at Albuquerque."

    They had to borrow the bowling shirt to clean up the sticky mess on the kitchen floor and the drippy stains on the carpet when they took the twenty down to the gas station to buy slurpys. But when the clerk was convinced to give them their snacks free after they held a shiv at this throat, they returned the twenty and the shirt, but bumped into the curio cabinet with their shovel handle on the way out. If they knew you'd catch on then I guess they are sorry.

  6. knancy,
    I prefer a staycation. I had one for four days, when Hick took the boys to Branson. It was blissful. Not that I can remember it now. That was three weeks ago.

    NOT ME needs to fork over the rent before I toss him out on his ear. Or send him back to your house, two pounds lighter.

    Idunno has many aliases. Including, but not limited to: One-a Them Boys, Maybe You, and Imustadoneit Youalwaysblameme.

    How did you know I had my own shotgun? It was a mystery to me, too, until one of my teenage stepsons told me. "Dad says that last one he bought was for you."

    Don't worry. I don't know how to use it. Couldn't pick it out of a lineup, even. But that doesn't mean I won't tote it with me door to door!

    Okay, it's not like a game of Clue.

    Too bad this wasn't a contest, because you would be the winner of the Most Plausible Explanation For One Of Val's Scenarios trophy. It's a beauty, too. Like The Thinker, but whittled out of a Paul Bunyanesque corn cob.

    But, alas. It wasn't a contest. Too bad, so sad. You exercised all those brain cells for nothing. Gray matter push-ups. Towel off and chug a swig of Gatorade.

    I take full responsibility for hosting an unannounced contest. Nobody's gonna take a bite out of MY butt.