By Edwin Cooney
I don’t know about you, but I’m often confused as to what
makes you or me lovable or, for that matter, unlovable! Just when I think I’ve got a handle on
it, someone throws me a curve that screws everything up. So, as I often do, I turned this puzzle
over to my buddies Lunkhead and Dunderhead the other night at my local watering
hole.
“Hey, you guys!” I exclaimed as I took my usual place
between them at the bar. “Since you almost never agree on anything, what makes
you love each other as much as you obviously do? Now, before you start denying that you love one another,
keep in mind that you’re always together and seldom, if ever, do you let what
one of you thinks or believes go unacknowledged. That spells L.O.V.E. in my book,” I said, taking a large sip
of my favorite Irish ale.
“Okay,” said Dunderhead as he swallowed a handful of
peanuts. "I’ll admit that I love Lunkhead, self-righteous, arrogant and
sharp-tongued as he is, in the same way I love the poor he always denigrates. They can’t help it if they’re poor and
he can hardly help it if he’s what I’ve just described. I’m just a bleeding heart do-gooder as
he’ll tell you!”
“Bull-puckey!” sneered Lunkhead. “You love me because deep
in your heart you realize how politically, sociologically and spiritually
screwed up you really are, and somewhere in your subconscious you’re looking
for wise guidance,” he growled, biting down on the dead cigar in his teeth.
“Ah!" I put in, “So you both admit that you love each
other out of an inbred desire to assist one another. Is that really it?”
“I didn’t say that I love Dunderhead,” insisted Lunkhead. “I
only acknowledged that he loves me because even Dunderhead has to occasionally
be sensible. I’m certainly fond of him but I can’t say I love him. Just because I bailed him out of jail
during the recent “Occupy Wall Street” demonstrations in Oakland, just because
I have him over to my house for all major holidays and for his birthday, just
because I named my new dog "Dunderhead," just because I choke up
sometimes when he gets so many political, social, and spiritual matters
backwards -- it doesn’t mean that I love him.” Lunkhead glanced the other way
so neither of us could see the expression on his face.
“Nuts,” Dunderhead shot back, "you love me because you
know I’ll save your bacon when you’re in trouble with your wife. After all, who came over to your house
and helped you with the housework when you lost that college basketball bet you
had with her? Who took pity on you
and paid for all your drinks when she made you wear those donkey ears four
years ago when Obama won the election?
Who furnished you with an alibi when some of your right-wing friends
were pressuring you to join their assault weapons club?”
“Okay, Lunkhead,” I challenged, “What force from within you
lies at the root of all the sharing and caring you demonstrate on behalf of
Dunderhead?”
Nearly a full minute passed as Lunkhead’s swizzle stick
toyed with the ice in his newly poured scotch. Then he said, almost reluctantly but with considerable
gravity, “What’s always drawn me to Dunderhead is his capacity to really listen
to me or anyone else he is talking to.
You can almost see him listening.
He seldom interrupts anyone regardless of the acidity of his eventual
reply. He makes me feel powerful
even when he disagrees with me and he disagrees with me most of the time just
as I do with him. I don’t know
anybody quite like Dunderhead when it comes to acknowledging people. His way of comprehending my messages at
least temporarily bridges our differences often enough so that my message seems
to hit home with him.”
“Ah,” I asked, “but isn’t your realization that he hears
what you are saying and acknowledges your sincerity overshadowed by the fact
that he doesn’t endorse your way of looking at things?”
“Sometimes, but not usually,” Lunkhead said. “If there were
only one absolute truth in our society or in the world, there’d be no need for
human liberty since there’d be no fundamental differences between people. Arguing with Dunderhead is far more
pleasurable than sitting around agreeing with my conservative friends. Dunderhead offers argument and that usually
energizes my thoughts -- and since my thoughts are usually superior to
Dunderhead’s, I automatically am powerful enough to do my own reinforcing. Dunderhead merely proclaims his
liberal nonsense which is wonderful fodder for argument -- and God knows I love
to argue!” Lunkhead asserted.
Suddenly, Lunkhead motioned the bartender for his bill
rather than for another drink.
“Sorry, fellows,” Lunkhead said, “I’ve gotta get home to
feed Dunderhead. Unlike this
Dunderhead, my dog Dunderhead acknowledges only one thing -- and that’s food!”
As Lunkhead proceeded toward the door, Dunderhead observed
largely to himself, “Food, love, love, food. How about that? The ultimate source of all power! I wonder what makes that so
significant?!"
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
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