So, are you a special kind of stupid?

Well, isn't this really a most interesting question for me today? The truth is that as I get older the less I give a damn about whether or not I make a fool out of myself. In fact, one could argue that all one need to do is spend a couple of hours scouring the annals of YouTube and what you gather when all is said and done is, "Boy, there are a lot of stupid people, and a lot of stupid things that get posted. But, boy do they get the views."

And of course, when it comes to YouTube, stupid can be a bit profitable in the right conditions.

So of course being that I am a bit of a money hungry boob, being a boob and maybe having the opportunity to get paid for it as well definitely appeals to me. Besides, this is sort of like that thought you have when you walk out onto a dance floor waving your arms, kicking your feet, and really doing anything remotely like dancing and thinking, "No one will ever know who I am. I will never see these people again."

Sometimes, unfortunately, you do eventually run into some of these people. D'oh!

But life is short, right? And you only live once. And at the end of the day I come at this with one thought in mind these days—years ago I may have thought differently about it—who cares what anyone thinks at the end of the day?

Does it really matter?

Look, so much of our lives is devoted to making impressions for everyone else. We hold things back because we fear what others may think. We are reserved because we are sure we will make fools of ourselves. We fear that others may be laughing at us instead of with us, and in some strange way we think that matters.

And then there are the "prudes." For example, the other day while vacationing in Cancun some "friends" of ours in our party would not play along with a clown that showed up at our table for tips making hats and other "balloon gifts" at our table at Señor Frog's in Playa Del Carmen in Mexico. He was wanting to make a pair of balloon tits—yep, you heard me right—for one of the "ladies" in our party. She quickly shut that down.

Poor sport, and way too uptight if you ask me. Try to live a bit because if you don't everyone just thinks you're too good for fun, and too full of yourself and your "prowess" in life to let loose a little bit.

As the old saying goes in life; there is time for composure and there is a time for just saying fuck it. Let's have a good time and everyone else be damned.

Am I am musician? No. But I do write my own songs. I even went as far as to release an album on iTunes, Pink Flamingoes (misspelled on purpose), and some might say this is the ultimate example of boobery. But do I care?

Not hardly.

In some strange corner of the world there are fans who like what I am doing even if it is not radio quality, or even good by most people's standards? Can I sing? Some say yes. Others say no. But here again who cares what anyone else thinks? Look, Michael Jackson was an amazing dancer and an even more amazing singer, but ask a number of people in certain circles about Michael Jackson and he was simply a tool and a weirdo and couldn't dance or sing.

By the way, there are a ton of closet Michael Jackson fans out there. You can include me in that group folks.

So I make my own songs and I post them to YouTube, on iTunes and other music store sites like Spotify and Amazon Music, and I share those and cover songs like Green Day's Boulevard of Broken Dreams and The Breeder's Safari on places like SoundCloud. And I think to myself, am I a great guitar player? No. Am I a great song writer? No. Can I sing like Justin Bieber or Michael Jackson? Not hardly. Probably more like Neil Young or maybe some of the failed try-outs on that old prime-time show American Idol. Probably more like them. Probably way more like them than I care to admit.

But again. Do I care? Nope. I am just a boob having fun. Does this make me a special kind of stupid? I don't know. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't. But what I do know is that even of the bulk of stuff like this I have ever posted, I am still not as out there as some of the people and things I have seen posted.

By the way, in the above video I am reminded of something my grandfather always used to say about Joe Cocker. "I like his music, I just can't stand to watch him sing it."

Of course I said somewhere before in this little post something about just having fun. At least I think I did. Perhaps I need to scroll up. But even if I didn't that is what this is all about. Just having fun. Making a boob out of yourself and sharing it and not caring what anyone thinks about that and just having fun. Because when the lights go out that is all you have. What you left behind. What you did while you were here. And let's face it, being reserved? What's the fun in that? Again, you only live once. When the lights go out for the final time you just want to have said, "I did what I wanted to. And 10 years after I am gone, even ten weeks after I am gone no one will remember. So who cares? What does it matter?"

I'd rather go out saying I had fun and did what I wanted to, everything else be damned, than be thinking—if you can think when you are dead—I wish I would have done this or that.

One thing definitely stands out for me and that is that when I was in high school—or even grade school for that matter—it was always about everyone else. It was always about what everyone else thought about what you did. When I was a kid I longed to be a writer, and one thing struck me about the whole writer thing.

Many writers use pen names.

Not so much because we don't like our own names, but because creative people in general like to be a bit anonymous. We are uber critical of what we do. It's in the nature of anything artistic. And so we hide behind different names, different personas...

But eventually all who come to the light do as well come out of the shadows.

Again I address the question of whether or not I am a special kind of stupid? I say no. No I am not not. I am simply a guy doing my thing, enjoying what little time I have on this planet and in this life, and finally coming to the realization that at the end of the day I do not need to be good. I do not need to be ultra talented. I do not need to be perfect. I do not need to be accepted by my inner circle. I can be laughed at and that's okay. I can be talked about behind my back by certain groups and individuals and that's okay. I can not be afraid to do what I want, to be who I am, to follow my own dreams and desires, to let loose and not care, and just be...

Who I am.

I am Jim Bauer. This is my life. This is my personality. This is my thing. Like it or love it. Hate it or laugh at it. I don't care.

Am I a special kind of stupid? Nah. A special kind of stupid is being too worried about being something you are not. A special kind of stupid is becoming something other than you want to be. A special kind of stupid is dying having never experienced the true essence of yourself.