Dingo the Dissident

THE BLOG OF DISQUIET : Qweir Notions in the Armpit of Diogenes by DINGO the DISSIDENT binge-thinker since February 2008.
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Wednesday, 24 February 2021

A correspondent asks

me, out of the blue, if I play chess.
I reply:

I can think logistically
but I can’t think strategically,
so I’m hopeless at chess
(though I like the horse and the turret).
I'm no good at draughts, but not so bad
at an African game
involving cups and pebbles or seeds.
I didn't mind coming last in
the once-a-year egg-and-spoon race, 

which probably nobody plays any more, 
not even sport-retards like me.
Scrabble is fun (I still have my old board
with wooden tiles) so long as I play
with someone like me who
wants to make words and is not fixated
on winning - and, of course, not on-line.
If, in another fun game, my opponent, poor soul, 
would prefer me to slide down a snake 
and not climb up any ladders - well,
it's up to the die or the dice, but I'd happily cheat
to help him/her to win.  I'm a Born Loser
(downwardly-mobile, hence
an unintentional survivor)
and lack that horrible hominid attribute
competitiveness for competitiveness' sake.



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