Dick Wulf's Tongue-in-Cheek Newsletter to Improve Relationships
slightly off-the-wall BUT better than graffiti

The Joy of Being Wrong Issue
© February 2001, Dick Wulf, Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA

"You're Wrong! . . . Isn't That Great?!" Enjoy the freedom of not having to know everything.

NOTE: This is supposed to be humorous so we can look at ourselves and have fun. We are all of us a bit off the mark. We can cry about it or have fun and laugh at ourselves. Laughing at ourselves and not taking ourselves too seriouosly allows us to view ourselves just seriously enough to change, but not so seriously as to inhibit our improvement by condemnation or defensiveness.

HOW TO REALLY ENJOY BEING WRONG

Hey, the days of having to be right to avoid all those nasty punishments your parents stored in the fridge -- are over!

Remember when you had to be right to prove to those pushy big brothers and sisters that you had as much right as them to take up space on the planet? Right! You needed to be right. Otherwise, they would laugh you out of the room, and you would have to retreat to sulk in some private place and plan revenge. And you'd call them "stupid dodos".

Well, with siblings, the horror might not be over yet. But, you can refuse to play the game. You can tell them that you are tired of them acting like they know more than you . . . when you know all about the buying habits of fiddler crabs in South Atlantis.

Did you marry a spouse who has to prove he or she is smarter than you? Oh, how sorry I am! That is a really sad story.

But, know-it-all spouses can be real fun! Just sit back and watch them. This is worth its weight in chuckles. Just enjoy them inside yourself. Most Know-It-Alls are very, very fragile. They can't stand being laughed at. So, just sit back and watch the show. Don't let them know you are enjoying yourself so much. If they get boring, just bring up one topic after another and watch them falling all over their fragile egos to prove to you their great worth as Professors of Everything.

But, don't let them drag you into such childish knowledge games. Maybe they can win at Trivial Pursuit. But can they describe the subway train system in South Atlantis or repeat what the tortoise said to the hare at the end of the race? No. So, they're not really so smart anyway.

Okay, so here's the deal. You're at your extended family's Easter dinner. And the question of how the Easter Bunny can lay eggs comes up. Of course, some family member has it all worked out. Do you know the fantastic freedom of being able to sit back and not know the answer to that ageless mystery?

The joy of being able to be wrong falls just below the joy of sex and way above the joy of cooking. Trust me. Would I mislead to you?

1. You can relax a bit. Instead of overusing your brain or stressing out, you can just say, "I don't know."
2. You don't have to look like the Village Idiot any more. You know the look - the one who has an answer for everything, who needs to control by being right, etc.
3. Saying, "Oh, I guess I was wrong." sure beats all the energy it takes to prove you were right . . . when you were not!
4. You don't need to read a 30-volume encyclopedia or read the 867,423 web sites on aardvarks before attending your monthly meeting of the Strange People Studying Strange Animals Club.
5. You can sleep easier, not having lied to the hilt through your teeth, making things up just so you can look smart.
6. You can wait until heaven (going there?) where you have forever to learn and know.

Dear Freud
Samantha Freud, that is.

Dear Freud,

If it's so good to admit you might be wrong, why do I feel so wrong when I say I might be wrong?

Always Right No More.

Dear Always Right No More,

Thanks for writing to me. You see, you have this war going on inside of you between the id's, the ego's and the superego's. The id's roam throughout your body wanting you to be right all the time, whether you are or not. They carry AK-47s. They scare the daylights out of you by telling you that if you admit what you don't know, you will be vulnerable and people will force THEIR way on you.

Counter this by commando ego's hiding behind body organs and wildly ricocheting bullets in all directions, not one bit afraid to make mistakes and readily admitting that they might be wrong. Looking like a bunch of kids enjoying themselves in a paintball war, they contrast starkly with the uptight id's who are all stiff with their need to be right.

And then there are the superego's who are not much help because they get stuck in phone booths changing into their flying outfits. Or their batmobiles overshoot their destinations. So, as usual, the superego's are not as powerful as they could be, bringing higher principles to bear on the "whose right? – whose wrong?" phenomenon.

So, USE YOUR HEAD, Always Right No More! Listen to those ego's. They're right. It's okay to be wrong on a regular basis. _____________________________________________________

Dear Freud,

Please tell us about your famous slip.

Just Wondering

Dear Just Wondering,

Oh, that! I can't believe you're bringing that up for public discussion.

Well, it's too revealing. The slip gives away all my secrets.

How about you? How about all of your Freudian Slips?

INTERVIEW WITH RUSH LIMBERGER, POLITICAL KNOW-IT-ALL SUPREME

Do you really know everything? Have you ever been wrong?

Actually, knowing it all brings big bucks. Everyone, and I mean everyone, wants to think they have the right answers. I was blessed by God. He gave me a big mouth. And, I've got great material. All staunch Dems and Reps think they've got everything figured out. I just fake it - unfortunately, they don't.

But, truthfully, I just fake it. In real life I'm a humble guy. Even a few of my neighbors like me. I wouldn't want the stress of having to be right 24 / 7.

WARNING

I might be wrong

in some of the things said

in this newsletter.

So what?!

CLASSIFIEDS

IN THE NEWS

LOCAL MAN WITH HIGH FEVER GOES HEALTHY, GETS ARRESTED.

CONTRARY, MISSOURI

Residents of this small town in the heartland can't believe it. Elmo Zottlebanger, renown all-time loser, was a wild, raving happy man in the waiting room of the Hospital Emergency Room on Thursday. Why? He didn't need to be right!

Suffering from an extremely high fever, Zottlebanger was rushed by his wife Alberta to the hospital.

Seems Elmo brewed his own culture for making hooch. Consuming some of the fermentation, he became ill and realized he used a dangerously fatal bacterium to make the beer.

Those who have kept up with the goings on here in Contrary know Elmo as one of those incurable know-it-alls. Sure that he was going to die, Elmo immediately began charging up his credit cards with online gambling. One last super-binge at the Big Winner Casino (www.fool.com) wouldn't hurt.

Evidently Elmo thought no one would have to pay off his credit cards once he was six feet under.

But, Alberta knew better. When she caught him building up the family debt

to unimagined heights, she lowered the boom. Actually, she hit him so hard with the family pet, a toilet plunger named Stinky, that Elmo's head went right through his computer screen, gashing his head and ending his wild night with the one-armed bandits.

Blood spurting out of a head no one in this community believed contained any life whatsoever, it was obvious to Alberta that her dying husband needed to go to the Emergency Room to get patched up so he could die of the fever.

The doctors sewed up his head, being careful not to damage the barely visible brain. Then they analyzed the fever.

Turns out the bacteria Elmo was so sure were fatal . . . were only drunk. Recently doctors have learned that drunken bacterium in the body can cause high body temperature.

It was then that the local miracle happened. Elmo, who openly prides himself on always being right, was, perhaps for the first time in his life, overjoyed that he had been wrong.

In fact, being wrong in the face of death was so liberating that Elmo jumped out of his hospital bed, ran into the ER waiting room and began kissing everyone in sight.

"It was a wild scene." reported Agnes Peabody, who was constipated beyond description (we don't even want to go there!) when Elmo rushed out and kissed her. Peabody exclaimed, "It scared the living *#@*& out of me. But, honey, it also scared the problem out of me. Frightening as it was, it saved me lots of money. Do you know how much HMOs don't pay for?"

Anyway, it could have been a joyous evening, but Mr. Zottlebanger also kissed a woman in the waiting room whose husband had been suspecting his wife of having an affair with Elmo. He wacked Zottlebanger so hard that the bacteria sobered up and Elmo's brief freedom from knowing everything went right out the bloody window.

Doctors speculate that the woozy one-celled inebriates, experiencing the dangers of wild partying, vomited a vile substance that unfortunately re-united Elmo's neural synapses and returned him to his usual obnoxious self-certainty.

Furthermore, the adultery-suspected wife stabbed her accusing husband with the knitting needle she brought for the lifetime wait in the emergency room. When police came to administer justice, she was heard screaming, "No one accuses me of having an affair with that Elmo Zottlebanger! Jack Nicholson maybe. But not that #*%&!" (Sorry, can't write it out in a public newspaper.)

Police agreed with her and jailed her husband along with Elmo, who is still protesting that he is right. Poor guy!