(About a 5 minute read)
Certainly, it will come as no shock to long term readers of Café Philos that I, Paul Sunstone (Paul Sunstone <—- That’s me!), have only ever had one original idea in my whole life that most people might readily admit was “sensible”.
Indeed, most of my other original ideas have typically been described by my loyal readers using the language of train wrecks, natural catastrophes, and vibrator malfunctions.
Yet one — and perhaps only one — idea is clearly of sterling coinage, clearly “sensible” in any sense of sensible except the sense of sensible that means merely sensational in the sense of being sensations, that is. Got it? Good.
So, there I was just a few hours ago, spending my Monday evening in my usual manner. That is, I had opened the polished handmade wooden box that my friend Don once gave me in order for me to have something to keep my One Original Sensible Idea in. Just like I do every Monday evening.
Don had thoughtfully and kindly explained to me when he gave me the box, “This is to keep you from losing your One Original Sensible Idea. The gods know, the chances you will come up with a second sensible idea in your life time are appreciably less than the odds you have ever even once brought a woman to orgasm.”
So I profusely thanked Don for the box, then I wrote out my idea, and I put it in the box — the box I still keep to this day on my desk.
Monday. Monday not only means to me Nude Blogging Day. It not only means to me the night of the week that I make an effort to dine on savory fresh roadkill. But it also means the day I take out my One Original Sensible Idea and read and review it in order to ever keep it as fresh in my memory as that one time I saw Terri’s breasts by moonlight.
This time was no different except…
Except I decided to google my idea just to see if my name was properly associated with it just yet.
And that’s when SHE popped up!
A — as I now think of her — no-good, low-down, idea-thieving, idea-rustling, idea-poacher if I’ve ever seen one!
I guess you might be curious what she stole from me. I mean, stole besides the last shred and thread of my self-esteem — because I took a whole lot of pride in
seeing Terri’s breasts by moonlight my One Original Sensible Idea, I’ll have you know.
Gone now. My pride is all gone now. Torn from me like a cat’s scream always seems torn from the cat, ripped from it, severed much like you’d sever cat roadkill prior to serving it to your honorable guests as tasty sushi.
So here’s my idea — and IRONICALLY I am quoting Anaïs Nin’s words to express my idea!
“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”
Uhuh! What do you think of that? Can there be anything more blatantly criminal than literary plagiarism? People like Nin spoil it for all of us — it’s why we’ll never be able to entirely get rid of prisons.
“Lens”. That’s how I put the very same core thought. I said (and I am quoting here. In fact, this is me quoting, right now ———————>):
“We humans — if we choose to do do — can empathically see the world through the eyes of our friends, through the lenses of their minds.
“For each one of us often sees the world in unique ways — ways that can be far more subtle and hidden than our overt opinions about one thing or another: The opinions that are usually the only things we share with strangers.
“My approach, my way, my means to understanding something might be quite different from your way to understanding the same thing — even if we happen to arrive at the very same opinion about the thing.
“Yes, each friend is a world — a new world waiting for us to discover it. And that can be key to our staying fresh, staying flexible, and engaged in life…”
I went on for a bit, of course, but mostly to explain how my significantly out-sized three fulsome inches of quivering, peak-performing, woman joy-toy might understandably be seen as a “whole new world” to bliss-craving babes.
Yet, I don’t think I need to quote the remaining 26-page, scientifically accurate document about my throb-some meat-rocket for you to get the key point here:
THE CURSED IMMORAL WENCH STOLE MY IDEA!
Please pardon my passion, here. It’s difficult to be calm when thinking about what is arguably the current leading contender for the crime of the century.
I mean to put this in perspective, I came up with, I discovered, my One Original Sensible Idea over 30 years ago — long before I had even heard of Anaïs Nin, let alone been violated by her outrageous and irresponsible literary behavior!
But you know what really gets to me? I mean really gets to me?
It’s this: Nin’s quote is from her diaries for the years 1931 to 1934. Do you get it? Do you get the significance of those dates?
Those dates mean nothing less than Nin plagiarized me decades before I was even born. Not only was she so cruel that she gave me less chance than a drunk has of smelling a squirrel’s fart in a hurricane by plagiarizing me before I was born, but it is perfectly obvious that — for her to have plagiarized me that long ago — it had to have been premeditated.
Yup, nothing else is plausible. She got started way too long ago for it to have been a wholly spontaneous idea that just come to her one day out of the blue like a nice bit of fresh roadkill.
Premeditation. Makes me wonder how she ever managed to live with the shame of it.