Obsessive Percussion

You’ve found a fabulous new idea/diet/activity. Hooray! I wish you all the best. It’s wonderful. You’re really onto something there. No, I’m not going to try it myself. No. I said no. I’m not interested.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the way you soak toilet paper in red wine to make those marvelous little papier mache Christmas ornaments. Oh, that wasn’t you. Sorry. Are you the transcendental chicken fucker? No? Well, phew. It’s hard to say anything good about that one, consenting adulthood aside.

Are you on the all-fajita diet? Do you polka to bamboo flute music? I’m sure it’s great for the glutes, but I’ll pass, thanks. Sorry your start-up doing hair extensions on Chihuahuas failed, blame the economy.

Look, I admire your focus and your discipline. See? I used positive words. But talking about it more isn’t going to get me to join you, nor will hitting the same points over and over again prove you right.

That’s what we do. We repeat ourselves because the truth is so obvious to us that we assume others must see it the way we do. That kind of obsessive percussion never works, but it happens all the time.

Trust your judgment. If someone is being recalcitrant and refuses to accept castor oil as the flavor of the future, don’t repeat yourself. Offer the same evidence that convinced you in the first place, or bake some castor oil flavored cupcakes and give them away. Just don’t give any to me. I told you before, I’m not interested.