WASTED WITS: All I Really Need To Know I Learned After High School

Robert Fulghum’s wildly successful little poem, “All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten,” put everyone back in touch with his or her inner child and became fodder for thousands of water-cooler discussions.

But we’re not buying it.

I didn’t know shit about shit when I was in kindergarten. I barely survived it. Among other things, I learned that I have a genetic compulsion that makes me talk in line. I learned that my bladder had a small holding capacity, which made the teacher hate my guts for constantly raising my hand to go pee. I learned that my attraction to female classmates was greater than my love for coloring but less than my love for baseball. I learned that I was capable of stealing buttery rolls from my classmates’ trays. And I often did. I don’t know why.

But, I didn’t REALLY learn what life is all about until after high school.

Looking back at Fulghum’s feel-good gift to stressed-out suburbanites, I feel a need to set the record straight. So take off your rose-colored glasses and enjoy, as Wasted Wits keeps it real with:

	This may be fine when you’re talking Crayons but it takes on a whole new meaning in divorce court, where the lawyers will tell you how much to “share.” On the subject of sharing, I remember very detailed discussions with other guys I knew, and I was unpleasantly surprised to discover that I also shared my ex-girlfriend. She was such a friendly girl.
	I’ve given this one a lot of thought and, if you want to fail at every single thing you attempt after high school, then yes… by all means, play fair.
	If you reached adulthood still believing this one, then you were probably home-schooled and didn’t attend high school. It’s just a fact of life that some people need to be hit. Even a kindergartener knows that. You don’t hit women, of course, but you should pound any guy with a “hit-me” face. Guys know what I mean. Those “hit-me-face” guys are out there. Go hit one.
	This one is meaningless until after high school because after high school we adults will have the nearly-impossible task of finding an item that will stress us out till our last breath: our car keys. You kindergarteners don’t remember what you did with your yellow truck? Go play with that green one over there and quit your crying while I look for my car keys.
	After being hounded by your mother for years to clean up your own mess, one day you’ll pledge, “I do” in a formal ceremony, standing by a woman who will take the reins from your mother and continue the abuse. Of course, you could shut her up by simply cleaning up your own mess. But that will never occur to you. Ever.
	I have to agree with this one… unless you find someone’s stash of porn. It doesn’t matter if you find it in the Lincoln bedroom, you will take it. Trust me.
	This one is good, but then… STOP HURTING THEM! “I’m sorry” loses its impact after repeated uses and makes you look rather pathetic. In kindergarten, if you tell a kid you’re sorry, you’re probably gonna get hit… or be labeled a “wuss.” Friends, it’s a jungle out there and weakness will get your ass beat, even in kindergarten.
	It’s a known fact that kids are walking Petri dishes so this one is solid advice for the little nose miners. Come to think of it… after high school, you’ll be whacking your Willy quite a bit during those romantic dry spells so, go ahead and keep washing your hands before you eat. And keep those hands off my stuff.
	Those crazy kindergarteners, bless their hearts, frequently forget this one but it’s only because they have things to do and places to be. So, yeah, you little bastards, by all means, flush that toilet! However, in adulthood, checking your stool is sort of a self-health exam… color, density… that kind of thing. All of those medical thoughts could easily make you forget to flush. But if that turd wraps around the circumference of the bowl, or is the size of a man’s leg, then flush at your own peril… and wear your galoshes.
	So is a salad. Warm cookies and milk are good for you if you want to grow up checking your blood sugar three times a day and playing Santa Claus at Christmas time.
	Kindergarteners sure don’t know what the hell this means. And neither do I.
	Even kindergarteners think this one is too basic. And after high school, you’ll be so busy trying to get laid, you’ll forget to learn and think… unless it’s learning and thinking about getting laid.
	This is a great idea for the kiddies and still a pretty darned good idea for anyone drawing unemployment… or considering a career in Musical Theater.
	Kindergarteners only want to play with their toys and they have no idea what work is. However, after high school, you and I will work. We’ll work and work and work until, one day, we’re wearing a diaper again and playing with our own stool. Hey, this is life.
	Finally, some sound advice! In kindergarten, we take frequent naps, due to the short time elapsed since our birth. Eventually, we will take frequent naps due to the short time left until our death. Any naps taken in between will be to avoid the “Honey-do” list.
	More sound advice. That endless black ribbon out there shows no mercy to child or man; you’re as likely to wind up imbedded in the grill of a Chevy Impala as you are to be hitchhiking into the disgusting psychosexual fantasy world of some traveling alcoholic businessman. Yes, please do watch out for traffic.
	I’ve tried this one downtown and frankly, my fellow human beings were less than enthusiastic about it. I also tried it with kindergarten-age children, and their parents were even less receptive to the idea. Maybe it’s the handholding.
	Being aware of wonder is to be filled with curious awe and amazement… unless Fulghum was talking about Stevie Wonder, who, by the way, also fills me with curious awe and amazement. A naked woman gives me that same feeling too. Kindergarteners wonder about things like: Why do I hear the ocean in a seashell? What makes the sun shine? Where do babies come from? I know the answer to those questions. I could be the leader of a group of kindergarteners. But I don’t know everything. I do, however, have a few of my own questions of wonder: Why do women always ask us what we’re thinking and then expect us to be able to read their mind? Why is a new car suddenly worth twenty percent less, the moment we drive it off the lot? Why are great things often compared to sliced bread? How can a TV show and the Grand Canyon both be described as, “awesome?” If beauty is on the inside, why are lottery winners more attractive than the lottery losers? Why is it that, after you get a haircut, people will walk up to you and tell you, “You got a haircut.” Finally, is it really possible to waste your wits? Aren’t your wits useful in almost any situation and therefore not wasted? Your time is another matter though… and, unfortunately, you just wasted it.