boredom.

There are certain things about life that I don’t and may never understand—things like soul patches and pelvis fat and glitter and vampire-themed entertainment. But perhaps foremost of those things which I lack the mental dexterity to grasp is boredom. I’m not even certain that I’ve ever experienced the state of mind to which people refer when speaking of “boredom.” There is just too much stuff I want to do. There’s always a book to read, a song to write, a nearby napkin upon which I can doodle an offensively exaggerated portrait of whomever it is that I happen to be with, or a minute aspect of existence which begs to be analyzed in excruciating detail (fire, cake cups, hugs, et cetera).

But let’s say that all that stuff evaporated in a flash, was transported to another dimension from which it could not be reclaimed; I still wouldn’t be bored. I’d simply resort to my list of just-for-the-heck-of-it activities, which I’ve been accumulating for years. One such activity I occasionally utilize in the passing of time requires a trip to Wal-Mart. You think the old folk greeters at that particular big box establishment are all smiles and white hair and creepy questions about your kids, but in reality, they are the Walton’s last line of defense against shoplifting. So one way to spice up an otherwise drab afternoon is to, like I said, go to Wal-Mart. Once there, select any item (preferably something small and light). Pay at the register and insist on foregoing the plastic bag, but double check to take and safely stow your receipt in a trustworthy pocket. Once you’ve got the product in hand, place it under your shirt or in a pocket in such a way as to create an obvious bulge. Walk towards the exit. When the drooping and sun-spotted neck flesh of the greeter draws your sight, causing you to draw all sorts of silent comparisons to chicken skin, pan your view up a few inches to make eye contact with the greeter. But make sure that it's uncomfortable eye contact, the accidentally-shared-between-elementary-school-crushes type of hyper self-conscious eye contact. As soon as you feel confident that the greeter has noticed you, run. Break out into a full sprint. Pump those knees and flee as if from a burning building, without even stopping to get the cat. You can bet your socks that at that moment the greeter will put his at least seven-decade-old bones into motion in hot pursuit of what he perceives to be a shoplifter.

Now, I ask you, is there any situation so boring that an impromptu footrace with a senior citizen across the parking lot of a Wal-Mart wouldn’t effectively banish from you any lingering sense of tedium? I think not.

fire.

Whoever came up with the old axiom “you have to fight fire with fire” is an idiot, or at the very least, has never had any personal experience with fire. If your couch bursts into flames, the absolute worst thing you can do is start another fire and then hope that the second fire out-fires the first fire. I’m not even sure what bizarre sort of mind would expect such an improbable turn of events—definitely not the type of mind that we should trust to be creating the axioms that define our society and definitely not the type of person who should be allowed to own scented candles. What’s missing is a basic understanding of how fire works. See, even if the second fire did engulf and overcome the initial fire, now all you have on your hands is a fire that is doubly strong and even more threatening. Because now you have a fire that has developed a taste for fire. And if there’s one thing that sounds worse than fire, it’s a fire that has added cannibalism to its long list of sinister properties.

Still, maybe the principle behind the axiom is what the author was really after. Perhaps he or she was trying to say something more akin to “Fight Indian burns with Indian burns” or “Fight punches with punches”—a sort of inverse of the golden rule: what others do to harm you, you should do to harm them. It's a notion as rife with moral indifference as the classics “eye for an eye” or “finders keepers.” But obviously, such sayings aren’t really concerned with perpetuating brotherly love or cuddling or the 3 AM sharing of homemade baked goods and most embarrassing moments at slumber parties. No, these are results-oriented sayings. And I believe that if results was what the author was after, the “fight fire with fire” or “fight punches with punches” axiom falls a little bit short. If we could combine the two, then we’d have an axiom that really gets us somewhere. May I suggest the synthesis, the sum of which is far greater than its parts: “Fight punches with fire.” Now, the principle behind that axiom has got some legs. If abided by, I promise, no one will ever punch you twice. That’s results.