DB Tests: The Dumbness Quotient

The other day I ran across a list of Grade 9 math questions that was in one of the papers that I read. The writer found the questions challenging, so he threw out 4 or 5 questions for his readers to solve. Now to be fair, I do have a math background and the answers to the questions were pretty easy. I smirked and snorted as the questions were passed down the table to my wife. She laughingly grabbed the paper and started reading the questions. Her laughter gave way to titters and then to a furrowed brow. It was then that it dawned on me that she was struggling with the math and that I had stepped unhesitatingly into a looming pile of trouble. This was not smart of me at all. I tried to back track as best I could, but I knew it was game over as she raised her dark eyes toward me. “What makes you think you are so smart?” She questioned. I should have just packed my bags and said my goodbyes. There was no way out. So I made the smart move and apologized. This demonstrates the difference between intelligence and being smart. Smart is knowing when to do the right thing.

Measuring intelligence has always been a goal of scientists and sociologists as someway to establish a pecking order of organized thought processes. It gives them a concrete base to establish and give credence to whom they think are the humans with the most to offer society when it comes to thinking things out. Unfortunately, many of us tend to agree with them. We seem to equate brilliant thinking with attaining a high I.Q. score. Now, there may be some correlation between the two, whether a higher I.Q. demonstrates the ability to think outside of convention thought patterns and therefore allows the viewer to see things in a different perspective or having the ability to sift through more information and pinpoint the matters that are most significant. But that is not my point. I.Q. tests may be a wonderful way to evaluate the brain, but a terrible way to evaluate “smart”.

I was discussing this with a friend of mine and the name of Howard Gardner came up. In 1983, Gardner introduced his new theory of Multiple Intelligence’s. He stated that our usual Intelligence Quotient tests usually just rely on primarily verbal, logical/mathematical and some spatial skills. He theorized that there were many different levels of intelligence including visual/spacial, bodily/kinetic, musical, interpersonal, intrapersonal and most recently naturalist, spiritual and existential. This certainly makes sense to me as I have always thought there was a big difference between “book” smarts and “real life” smarts. So it seems to me, that in the Ying and Yang sensibilities of this world, there must therefore be an opposite to his theory, a kind of Multiple Dumbness Quotient. So, I now present my theory.

My proposed multiple levels of dumbness are;

The Uh huh Level: This is when the subject only stares at you without emotion and says, “uh huh” after everything you say to them. An example might be, “Ralph! You hair is on fire!” and Ralph replies, “Uh huh.”

The NIMBY Level: If it doesn’t exist in their own back yard, it doesn’t exist. If it can’t be touched and felt... it ain’t. This include any esoteric ideas about anything. Well, except God because they know that God is without a doubt, real.

The Sealed Path Level. Clearly is the most frustrating to most normal people. This is when even in light of the most overwhelming proof of something, the person at this level of dumbness will still fail to change their thinking. Two and two will never be four, even if you hold your fingers up to them and count really slowly.

The Disco/Kinetic Level: I am sure we all know people like this and bear the scars of their frenzied motions. No matter how out of wack with rhythm they are, in their mind they are as graceful as Astaire. This applies to not only dancing, but skating or any other physical activity that requires any sort of co-ordination.

The Death/Risk Level: Otherwise known as the How Dumb Can You Be Rule. You jump off a bridge with a rubber band around your feet. You jump off a cliff with some cloth in your hand a see how far you can fall before throwing your cloth in the air to stop you. These people have all lost the rationale of, “you risk your life, you lose your life”. Of course, something will go wrong, it always does. Death is not very picky. He will certainly select dummies as quickly as anyone else.

And last but certainly not least; The Beyond Comprehension Level of Dumbness: I was watching an A&E show about tornado's. They were interviewing people who had been through the trauma of a tornado and survived to tell the tale afterward. Most of us have heard survivors say that sound of a tornado is similar to the sound of a train rushing by. Well, one gentleman from the deep south, disputed this comparison, I’ll try to quote as best I can, “Didn’t sound like no train to me... there weren’t no woo woo’s. Just the sound of wind.”

Now excuse me for putting my neck on the line, but that is just beyond comprehension dumb.

Medival Times

A number of years ago we decided a weekend away in Toronto would be the perfect family getaway. We got a suite in heart downtown and pulled out all the stops. Dinner at fancy restaurants, shopping, swimming, with the crown jewel of the trip being an evening at Medieval Times. I am sure that most of you have at least heard of this event, but for those who haven’t, it is an evening that takes place in the 15th century Spain. We, as Lords of the Realm, eat a meal (without any utensils) and watch as our favorite knights at first perform games while atop their steads and then as the story progresses an ultimate battle of jousting and swordplay. It was jaw dropping, eye-popping, slam on your butt stunning and that was just how I reacted when the ticket teller told me how much the admission was for 5 adults. We paid what in real terms equaled our car payment for that month and made our way into one other lineup. There seemed to be lineups for everything. As we shuffled forward, we were assigned which knight we would be cheering for, ours, it turned out was the Red Knight. We all had a cape draped over us, a goofy hat placed on our heads and a picture was snapped standing beside the Queen.(felt strangely like I was graduating again). It was there when my picture was taken with the comely Queen that she turned and addressed me as, “m’lord”. I smiled over at my wife who simply wore an expression on her face that said, “Don’t get used to it”. Before I knew it, the cape whisked off and I was propelled in to the antechamber, where we encountered more lineups. It was good to see that their attention to accuracy and detail was well illustrated with 15th century Spain having draught beer. However, the kids were more thankful that 15th century Spain had Cherry Pepsi.

We were all led into the dining hall and arena area. It was quite the sight, smoke drifting over the floor and lights flashing and music blaring. As we settled in for the show we were introduced to our Serf and Wench and we were told to treat them as our slaves for the evening. I especially enjoyed booming out a, “Wench!! More ale!!” Glancing at my wife, I discovered that same don’t-get-used-to-it expression on her face. Turning to her Serf, she said somewhat sultry, “Slave, bring me my wine.” He blubbered something and ran off to grant ‘m’lady’ her wish. I tried the same look she gave me but she trumped that with a “I could get used to this” expression.

Food was dropped of at our bench as we listened to the introductions of the knights, and we were encouraged to cheer them loudly and often. Our main dish of ribs and half a chicken were presented and all of us tore into it with hands pulling and teeth gnashing. It is quite difficult to cheer on command when you have a mouthful of food. Looking at my son, he did look the part with a drumstick in one hand and a rib in the other, his face smeared with food as he cheered madly for our knight as he raced around the arena on his agile Arabian. Unfortunately, our son eats that way at any regular restaurant. I won’t go into the whole story but it was really an event an incredible night of adventure.

We had heard earlier in the day that among the seven other Medieval Times throughout North America at least one person dies as a result of the show. I just assume they are talking about the knights and not the heart attack victims at the ticket booths. The sparks really do fly as the metal meets metal, one miscalculation and you can easily see how people could get hurt. But as with everything, the evening had to end at some time. Alas, our knight didn’t make it all the way through, he was stab through the stomach and was eliminated in the rounds of competition. It was the other one who made it through the knight (sorry, I couldn’t help myself).

On the drive home one of our daughters thought it would be great to have a Medieval Times in Kingston, unfortunately all this did was bring up talk of consumer base and how our urban demographics would not lend itself to supporting such a tourist blah, blah, blah. Can you imagine how long a two and a half hour drive can be when talking urban geography? Here I was stuck in the middle and I was the one who opted out of high school geography and took Latin instead. It was finally resolved that if we utilized only one knight and instead of a plush arena, we would use the downtown core. We could just arm one of our “local colorful characters” from downtown, give them an empty gift wrapping tube left over from Christmas. Hail him, Sir Wackalot (please don’t take that the wrong way) and let him loose downtown. It may not be the real thing, but it sure would be a lot of fun to watch from a sidewalk patio.