In our 48 years on this planet

We have learned a few things. For example, never take human growth hormone while wearing a football helmet. Second, never give a bear LSD, especially if you happen to be sharing a motel room with him in Thunder Bay, Canada.

When we were younger, we specialized in boneheaded moves. But we've noticed that over the course of years these same boneheaded moves have become "amusing family anecdotes." Stick around long enough, and you will see yesteryear's outrage become this year's farce.

Then again, we have always known this. Disaster always trumps happiness, because in recollection it provokes hilarity. Nobody remembers a happy vacation. Whereas if you go swimming and encounter one of those horrifying fish that darts into your urethra and opens up like an umbrella, you're set for life.

We don't really remember any of the cars we've owned with the exception of the BMW we handed over to a guy we knew only as Danny the Homeless Mechanic, who promptly stole the car and hightailed it to Florida, where he left it sitting by the side of the road in a hurricane with the sunroof open. That incident, which tortured us for so long, is now one of our favorite stories.

This is the simple explanation for our love of failure. It's bankable. Nobody remembers a success. All of the ocean liners that never sank are a pimple on the ass of the glorious Titanic. If you were on it, you could count on free drinks for life. Or you drowned. Either way, you were a small player in a great debacle, and that's a wonderful thing to be.

Praise fiasco. It's the only thing that makes life worth living.

Danny, should you happen to be reading this, thanks for the memories.

Comments

[peteski]

not only am I the same arg,
and married to german,
but "Praise Fiasco" is my super hero name.