Much is being made these days about who is mentally stable and who is not.  Personally, I never thought it much of an issue. Some of my best friends are mentally unstable and doing a bang up job of it.  I have old school chums that I haven’t seen in years, who if I wandered into the tavern they were at, would pick up on the conversation from long ago, as if I had only visited the men’s room.  Mentally unstable? Of course, it is their magnetism, it’s what makes them who they are. I would no sooner change the degree of a person’s mental capacity than I would the color of their hair.  If the mentally unconventional person, reaches a seat of power and decision making, all the more fun and uncertainty. What boring Boris, would want to live in an environment of foregone conclusions and predictable circumstance.  Certainly not I. Give me the excitement of waking up on the morn, craving the enlightenment of the new day. Uncertain if my wife is preparing sausage and eggs or has relapsed to her naked morning jog through the neighborhood stealing newspapers from every porch.  

 

There has been an ongoing crusade through the years to march us into the doldrums of normalcy, boredom and the basic tiredness of life.   This is what the pretentious among us see as an appropriate lifestyle. To these snobs I say, let your junior college diplomas be damned. We the unstable will follow the unstable through the very gates of hell.  The normal have their place of course, so long as they don’t get underfoot.

What, Me Worry?

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