In search of the perfect boob

Ken's Korner

By Ken Carpenter

I guess I better clarify one thing right off the bat. The boob in my title is an idiot, not an anatomical accessory. I didn't want anyone to think I was going to become a professional ogler. It may not have surprised some of you, but the pay is lousy so any ogling I do will be in secret.

My search is just for the common, everyday moron. Somebody who has exhibited the following symptoms: "a foolish or stupid utterance or deed."

That simple qualification means that virtually everybody in the world will take a turn at being the bonehead of whatever bunch they hang around with, at least for a few minutes at a time.

Naturally there are those who do it with regularity, and there are also some fleeting moments of boobery that will live forever. Often these are committed by an otherwise normal soul who is branded by one mistake for the rest of his life.

Only 42 percent of the American population can tell you what the three branches of the Federal Government are. On the other hand, 73 percent of Americans can name the Three Stooges. We love imbeciles, buffoons, dimwits, fools, and numskulls. Dummies are fun, until we get our turn to be one or until they get elected to the Federal Government.

I decided to see if I could search out a nincompoop in its natural habitat. It didn't figure to be too difficult, for the breed is hearty, numerous and diverse. They can survive anywhere, but they are shifty and can be masters of disguise.

"Never argue with an idiot. He will lower you to his level and beat you with experience."

Those words of wisdom can come in handy, but I had no intention of getting in a debate with a dullard. Observation was my sole intention.

I decided to wear the garb of a classic nerd-watcher; high black socks, brown loafers, plaid Bermudas, lime green Hawaiian shirt, Panama hat and dark glasses. I slipped a pocket protector, notepad and two Napolean Dynamite pens into my shirt pocket.

I decided to leave my camera at home, for a nitwit can be dangerous when provoked. The Three Stooges double-eye-poke is a deadly weapon.

My best bet on short notice seemed to be the frozen food section at the grocery store. Surely some plump-bellied dunce would swoop in for a case of corndogs. Most schmos like their food fat and easy.

A corndog or two didn't sound bad either, maybe I'd get some as part of my cover.

I pushed my cart slowly, swiveling my head as if perusing the lardy delights surrounding me. In fact, I was hunting for a goon.

Suddenly I heard a cry behind me.

"Jeez, will you get a load of that dork!"

Aha, victory was mine! A sharp-eyed bystander had spotted a meathead for me.

I whirled to see a boy at the end of the aisle pointing in my direction. Obviously the doofus was right behind me!

Quickly turning my head, I was disappointed to see that the lame-brain had escaped. Man, they may be dumb but they sure are fast.

Disheartened, I lost interest in my quest and grabbed a case of corndogs. Who would think that a geek shortage would arise just when I needed one…………

At that point I woke up, realizing that my dork hunt was just a dream. They say every dream means something. Could it be? No, tell me it's not so!

The dolts are us!