An Air of Sanctimony

Sanctimony drives me nutty.

My daughter will never wear an air of sanctimony. You know, like the one I wear. The very one that makes me write this blog. Here's my hate mail to myself.

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Dear ME,

You are a sanctimonious prick. I don't know why you think you're smarter than everyone else. I don't know why you think you're better. I'm sure you'll deride me for being clichéd but here's your picture in the dictionary next to the definition of "sanctimony."


SANCTIMONY n. Feigned piety or righteousness; hypocritical devoutness or high-mindedness.


You of all people should know that you don't really have control of your mind and that most of your decisions are based on emotional impulses and not pure ratiocination. * And who are you to judge feelings?

I'm just saying.

It's strange that you think your choices are better when your life is as much of a pile of doodoo as anyone else's. Who cares if some people put stupid clothes on their kids? Isn't that their prerogative? Aren't those things just material and ergo immaterial to what's really material?

Why don't you go take another online IQ test.

Yours truly,
ME

* This "idea of the moment" in neuroscience is sure to be passé in a few years. Or maybe seconds. But, at least in the immediate** future, you will look clever if you mention it at dinner parties.

** Immediate means now. This instant. Too late.