We call them the lucky ones. They seem to go through life without a hitch. They have perfect attendance and teeth. They do 4 years of college without diversion or perversion or depravity, get a nice job and a house and 2.5 kids, a dog and a ritzy car. How in the heck do you get a .5 kid I don't know. There is something about statistical average persons, the real super humans we all are striving to match up to.
Me, I envy them and sneer at them. I live in the cracks between dreams, with allowances, exceptions, quick fixes, rescues, interventions, set asides, and wits. I use my wits and survival skills. That is when I'm made aware by the statistical average man I'm in a rut. A crack, a crack I have slipped through to where my head is no longer visible to the general public. That is, the paper trail they use to keep tabs on us and the pedigree of the super human race the statistical average man. Oh he is real, he exists alright. When they do the numbers he stands up tall as big as life. He is the conglomerate of every positive thing in our society. He is admired by every seeking forward reaching creature on the planet. Damned be you if you diss them.
The super ones aren't perfect or so it is said, 99.999% pure + or -.001%. I am always confronted with the plus side one who is a little more than perfect. I just have to ask why. Why are the ruts, the cracks so crowded. Why so few of us stay on top. Momentary elevation of persons become the idol of us all. So and so made it. Then in retrospect, where is so and so today? Did they become one with the super humans of the statistical average? Or did they fall back through the cracks, or into the ruts where the rest of us live?
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