The Art Of Inappropriate Behavior Or The Layman's Guide To Shallowness

PREFACE

Okay, they’re making me write a preface, so listen up, I’m already running out of patience.  As you’ll come to learn, it’s not a virtue I’m overly endowed with.  Some hoity-toity executive sitting in a cubicle somewhere thinks you need a short explanation about the book, so you won’t be sorry you bought it about halfway through.  I don’t want to hear a bunch of pissing and moaning about how you didn’t get your money’s worth, either.  Frankly, buyer’s remorse doesn’t concern me in the least. 

Let's face it.  As a species, humans are not all that damn smart.  Oh, we like to think we are, but we're really not.  So, given the fact that most of us are inclined to over-estimate our abilities, let's do the rational thing (for once) and come to grips with our shortcomings, if for no other reason, it'll look good to someone who might be gullible enough to believe we're sincere. 

If it happens to be a potential mate, the advice in this book might get you a sympathy hand-job, at the very least.   A word of warning, though; if he/she is simple enough to fall for your insincere line of crap and reaches for your zipper in the car, chances are he/she's never going to be inclined to show up with fourth row center Baryshnikov tickets or for the opening night performance of La Boheme at Lincoln Center. 

So, if the "higher callings" are your cup of tea, it'd be best to consider this little soiree (pleasurable though it may be) a blaring warning siren.  Run, do not walk, to the nearest restroom, clean your privates (gargle if necessary) and disappear.  If you should actually make it to The Golden Arches for that cozy little candlelight supper you’ve no doubt promised her, try to locate a table on the side of the restaurant away from the bathrooms.  It's always easier to get to your car by exiting through the side door, especially if she's unable to monitor your escape route. 

Excuse me.  I got a little sidetracked.  That's one of the occupational hazards of being extremely shallow.  Expression of coherent thought without the aid of anecdotes is difficult.  If you've read this far without nodding off, you’re probably either developmentally challenged or picked up the book and having read the title, are hoping there’ll be some dirty pictures.  Either way, it's okay.  You’re among friends. I understand.  I started writing this almost three years ago.  Other things came up.  That's the way it goes sometimes.  If I were inclined to worry about uncontrollable events, I might offer you some advice, but being shallow prohibits it.  I hope you understand, although I really don't give a damn.  Deal with it. 

I never thought I'd ever write a how-to book.  You see, I'm not good at anything.  I can't draw or paint and if I tried to tinker, the results would inevitably include an extremely expensive helicopter ride on Life-Flight.  Also, I don’t compete in games of skill such as golf or bowling because I suck at those, too, and I’m a lousy loser.  My wife forbids me to fight unless it's with her.  Again, I refer you to the helicopter ride.

It's also not coincidence that I have time enough to write this.  I don't have lots of friends competing for my advice or companionship.  After you throw a beer bottle through someone's big screen TV, he tends to get a little grouchy.  Like it's my fault that the damn refs kept screwing the Broncos.  But, I'm starting to get off-track again.  Damn!         

Anyway, I've broken it down into chapters, so you'll be able to get the necessary information without having to wade through stuff you don't realize you need.  In fact, if you are so anal retentive that you'd sit down and read the whole damn book from start to finish, you're probably not the target audience The Suits have designated, anyway. 

I don't mean to be judgmental, but perseverance of that sort really pisses me off.  Ask yourself this question:  Do I really care what this idiot says or don't I?  If you can honestly say that you do, you just flunked.  You’ve now demonstrated that you simply are not shallow, have no hopes of ever being shallow and probably shouldn’t have been allowed to buy this book (sorry… no refunds). 

You see, I realize that since you don't understand why I'm writing this, you're probably a chump.  Kindly give it to the neighbor across the street, the one who keeps getting drunk and parking on your lawn.  He'll appreciate it and you'll get your rocks off thinking that you've done something nice that will make him feel so bad, maybe he'll learn to find his own driveway.              

He won't.  Have a nice day.