The delicate art of finger-pointing

I abhor stupidity.

There really is nothing complex about it. I have a natural talent for rooting out stupidity and tomfoolery.

I am particularly adept at finding it in others. Yep... siblings, acquaintances, friends, talk-show hosts, newscasters, referees, contestants on reality TV, the general public... my foolishness meter knows no bounds.

I realized recently that my long-suppressed urge to pelt people who had fallen short of my standards of intelligence was beginning to overcome my outward facade of patience. In other words, my judgmental side was taking control.

I first noticed this losing battle the other day, when I was able to pick holes with Mother Teresa.

See, the thing is, folks do some really crazy stuff. Am I really so bad for assuming my purpose on earth is to let them know that their idiotic decisions have been noticed? I have the best intentions. It's not a fun job, but somebody has to do it.

The last election allowed me to perfect my fault-finding. On both sides of the aisle, in both camps, some of the talk was so anti-logical that I began to view some pairs of opposing pundits as twins separated at birth. How else can you explain two equally nonsensical yet divergent viewpoints?

By the time the actual election rolled by, it was easy pickings.

Any chance I had at going another route was thwarted by other interests. Take soccer, for instance. What is a reasonable guy like me to do when some joker blows the game on an obvious no-call? You see, this type of situation is made for me. I admit, I have had a non-productive conversation or two with refs before, but trust me: it was for their own good. Besides, my kid brother is a ref. Now if that is not an indictment on the entire profession, I don't know what is.

Nothing hones ones skills at pointing the finger like the microscopic study of imperfections known as "marriage." I found my true calling: I was definitely born to be fault compass for my wife. I could do it in my sleep. I could do it in her sleep. Any guilt I had was superseded by the need to be in God's will and show her what her numerous faults were.

And don't give me that nonsense of "when you point one finger at another, four point back at you." My mother made the mistake of telling us that when we were younger, and we actually studied it. In depth. Actually, it is possible to curl your fingers just right and ensure no fingers point back to you (seriously... try it). In any case, to be on the safe side, we developed a unique way to make sure we never made an error and "four-pointed" ourselves: we learned how to point with all fingers extended, palm down. Call us ridiculous, but it worked, and we pointed -- and continue to point -- away joyfully, to the everlasting chagrin of our mother.

I know all about specks and logs, and I firmly believed that specks were far easier -- and more fun -- to remove.

As I have gotten older (and hopefully closer to Him), I have become progressively aware that there is an ever-present hole in the fabric of my lifelong pursuit, and that is the realization that to score convincingly in the blame game, there is a need for perfection on my part. Sadly, I have not yet been able to figure out how to get that accomplished.

I believe that is a lesson God will have me/us learn. I personally have discovered that if I apply a fraction of the monumental angst I reserve for the social injustice I perceive to actually working to fix the problem, I could be a world-changer. Or, that the energy I assign to identifying deficiencies in others is better used to pray about my own. And that if I actually admitted to myself that I am the one who made out like a bandit on out marriage covenant, and worked to treat my wife like the Ruby she is, I'd be the type of husband she deserves ALL the time.

It is taking some getting used, pointing flat-palmed into the mirror, but it has been well worth it. Try it... trust me, it does work. I am an expert at this!