My Dumb Broken Brain

If you’re not familiar with the online reporting of Ashley Feinberg, (1) go follow her on Twitter right now, and (2) you should also subscribe to Trashberg, her new newsletter.

In the latest installment of Trashberg, Feinberg goes into a deep-dive into the Instagram shenanigans of Cally Gingrich, wife of former Speaker of the House and current Burlap Sack of Instant Mashed Potatoes Posing as a Human, Newt Gingrich.

In this analysis, Feinberg describes “The Cally”, the Gingrichii’s signature pose:

This is not something Cally dreamed up recently. According to my research, she began perfecting this shot as early as 2014. And when viewed within the larger context of her Instagram, the reappearance of this particular arrangement is easy to overlook. Each one is separated by shots of the Pope, Newt’s dinner, all the things Cally holds dear. But take notice of the repetition just once, and The Cally quickly become all you can see. Your dreams become an endless scroll of plastered smiles on smooth Callies and sweaty-faced Newts, boring into your innermost self as you pray for relief.

But, please, don’t take my word for it. Observe.

Readers are then treated to a number of examples of The Cally in action, and, then, a GIF combining all The Cally images. And, watching that GIF, my brain — my dumb, stupid brain — could only think of one thing.

Life, Y'Know?

How I Know I’m An Idiot, Volume 1

Every so often, a thought gets into my head that makes me realize that for all the times I’ve been told that I’m a pretty smart person, I may, in fact, be the biggest idiot on the face of the planet.

It’s not that I am lacking in any real intelligence, per se – I mean, granted, it took me longer than it had any right to take for me to learn that no matter how you phrase it, adding “3” to “4” will always equal “7” – it’s just that sometimes something painfully obvious to the rest of the world may very well have been missed by me for years.

And, in case you’re doubting me, here’s the one that hit me this morning:

At the end of every Sleepy’s Mattress commercial, they play the same stupid jingle – “We’re the mattress professionals, doing it right… Trust Sleepy’s for the rest of your life”. It’s completely annoying, and will be stuck in your head until you finally smash your face into a wall. (That may be just me, though. YMMV, naturally.)

The thought that went through my head since I first heard that jingle until yesterday:

Man, Sleepy’s expects some serious loyalty from their customers… “Trust us for the remainder of your days”? What is this, some religion? How freakin’ stupid!

Then again, how often do people really buy new mattresses? I’ve had two in my lifetime, and the second one was only necessary because I wanted to move into a queen-sized bed. Hang on, let me check on the internet.

Interlude: I spend 2 minutes researching mattresses, then somehow move to night caps, then night shirts, then remember that Marshall on “How I Met Your Mother” wore night shirts, which lead to watching 8 hours of “How I Met Your Mother” on Netflix. Then, remembering what I went online for in the first place, went to Yahoo! Answers.

Holy crap! Apparently, there’s people who will keep their mattress for 40 years! I mean, if you live until you’re 80, then there’s a good chance that you could have a mattress from Sleepy’s for the rest of our life! That’s freakin’ crazy!

The thought that hit me this morning:

Oh, they mean “the best rest of your life”. That makes a lot more sense, I guess.

So there you have it: I’m a dope. And in case you still don’t believe me, I can promise to continue recording my spontaneous cases of stupid here for you all to marvel at as they occur.