guff

A Minute of Your Time

There are two kinds of people in the world:

The first kind will ramble on and on about any and all type or taste of opinion fodder, real or imagined, discussing at such length and in a fashion that can cause even the most tolerant of souls to begin weeping internally and desire to seek out the comfort of others who’ve been put through such a monstrous monological assault. These sorts of convo-terrorists clamour on in depth to their belief in astrology or a flat Earth theory or that auras represent a true power in the cosmos, though never quite certain how and where this cosmic power may actually emit from, or they bemoan with delight to the injured audience in their grasp as they lay out in excruciating detail the level of disgust they harbor for deforestation or global warming or world population levels or traffic cones, never once admitting to the possibility that their lack of education on the topic at hand, or that they hold no functional knowledge at all on the issue, makes them amongst the least likely to be consulted by anyone with even the smallest amount of interest in such things. And they’ll drone on warmingly about their childhood or their lost car keys or their last meal, all the time with absolutely no doubt in their minds you hang on to each word with the attitude of an admiring lover. They hold sway over very little yet with only their mouths pull just about anyone kicking and screaming into their conversational world.

The second kind will not.