107 Humans/Skills/Being Moronic

On the last Monday of October in offices everywhere someone will comment that it is getting dark really early in the evenings. Less depressingly they may note that it is good to see the mornings getting lighter. In reality Daylight Saving Time has played its trick on the thick. The evenings have been getting shorter since the Summer Solstice in mid June, and only the dense point it out 4 months later. It is the same mutton flaps that wearily whine ‘not too bad for a Tuesday’ when asked about their disposition. Or as the weekend approaches ‘TFI Friday!’ thus triggering the revolting association of bespectacled gingerness with forced fun.
Why are these people tolerated, indeed positively encouraged with weak laughter as they spout their astoundingly bereft observations? By rights their irritating catch phrases and tiresome mewling should induce cathartic violence leading to their death. However, they provide an invaluable service and are in fact a spiritual lubricant.
They shake us from our dream state and make us notice sunset and sunrise, stopping
us from trying to make sense of life by solving riddles but instead make us see life, in light streaming through clouds, trees and water, in wind waving in trees and hair, and in the imagined blood pouring from their imagined broken noses.