Obtuseness can keep you from getting land.
Originally I forgot to handle this one, so I guess this is an update. But first:
I'm one of those warped people who finds inspiration in the dictionary [See! Here it is!] so let's start there:
Obtuseness:Acuteness is an antonym. Why is that here?
Noun 1. obtuseness - the quality of being slow to understand
dullness, dulness
stupidity - a poor ability to understand or to profit from experience
oscitance, oscitancy - drowsiness and dullness manifested by yawning
2. obtuseness - the quality of lacking a sharp edge or point
bluntness, dullness, dulness - without sharpness of edge or point
acuteness - the quality of having a sharp edge or point
Well, let's see. How do you get land? Maybe by talking to a realtor? By checking out Platt Books and calling the owner(s)?! Sheesh! Oh, yeah! Save some freakin' money for a down payment too, eh!
Obtuseness can keep you from getting laud.
No shit, Sherlock.
Obtuseness can keep you from getting lard.
Everybody cooked with shortening and corn oil in the sixties and seventies. They were more modern. Put modern in "scare quotes." A lot of things are still cooked that way. Now, olive oil tastes good and is good for you, but I had my first pie crust cooked with lard about 4 years into my marriage, and let me tell you, it's an eye opening experience.
Of course, if you mean adipose tissue, well, that's just silly.
If we stretch the "operate" symbol a bit we could have "Obtuseness can keep you from getting lashed." But that's truly ridiculous. Obtuse people always get the lash, and deservedly so.
Obtuseness can keep you from getting laid.
OK, I'm not fooling anybody, you know that's what I really meant.
Nietzsche said, "There is altogether too much beer in the German soul!" I'm not German, but I know what he meant. That screwed up a few liaisons for me as well. I'm sure that's what he was talking about. But Obtuseness! Stone-cold-sober failure-to-get-the-hint! Guilty as charged, your honor!
My big brother, who's apparently not around to defend himself these days, so it's safe to attack him, told me that he learned all about women from reading mom's Redbook magazine. So right at the verge of puberty I picked one up and read what was probably the first article ever written about date rape.
I was traumatized.
I immediately vowed never to touch a girl anywhere without explicit permission and just to play it safe, I wouldn't even give off vibes that that was what I really wanted. (Even though it was. Very much so.) All this was intensified by my Fundamentalist Christian upbringing.
Since Loki is actually the One True God, I was actually kind of a hot guy between the ages of 16 and 23, inclusive, despite the idiotic helmet hair, though you have to subtract the period of The First Beard. I had broad shoulders, thick pecs, strong, muscular thighs, a well-curved... Well, you get the idea. But this trauma I experience at age 11 made it absolutely impossible for me to take a freakin' hint.
I was married for about three years when it suddenly occurred to me that I was the only human being on the planet who had read that damn article.
About the same time, I decided that it would be a good idea for me to go over all my memories, even the most painful ones, in order to bring back the near-photographic memory I had in high-school. You can imagine that I then discovered a whole new class of embarassments to relive.
Oh, well.
Rosalie was born when I was 33, and it was like life went from black and white to living color. And all that old crap became foolishness.
It wasn't immaculate conception, by the way.
