Thoughts from the Handicap Stall

Oh, hey you. I know you. You are the leading expert on all things political, racial, and sports doping related since reading Quartz this morning, aren’t  you?

Well, I’m gonna tell you about a bigger issue than all of those.


Here is a test: think of the last pencil you used. Was it wooden? Nope. It wasn’t. It was mechanical. You know how I know?

Because they aren’t making any more wooden pencils. There are exactly NO more trees in existence that have yellow bark and graphite cores to turn into pencils. We used them all up before we even realized it. I know because I googled it.

Still feel smart, smartypants? hmm?



Cavemen don’t dictate my actions or thought processes.

Have you ever heard people blame cavemen for their actions? I have recently…

“We’re biologically hard-wired to care about our social standing because back in our cave-man days, without social acceptance, we would have starved to death had we been rejected by the group.”

Really? Really, Blogger?

When I was 2, I stubbed my toe. Now I watch where I step because I don’t want my toes to hurt. It wasn’t because cavemen would starve if they kept stubbing their toes when they tried to catch a cavechicken.

We care about our social standing because we are foolish, and find our sense of worth in what others think and say of us.

Don’t blame cavemen for your misplaced sense of self-worth.


Joketax: While the caveman was reeling from stubbing his toe on a big big rock, he heard one cavechiken say to the other cavechicken, “I never hear from my friends who move to Buffalo.”