ELIM CIVOLUDAR'S MEMOIRS: THE ABSURDITY OF HUMAN STUPIDITY

The hum of the airplane engines droned in the background as I stared at my phone screen, scrolling through the latest headlines. The cabin lights flickered momentarily, casting a dim glow over the passengers around me. I sipped my drink, settled back into my seat, and then there was.

"FIFA decided to ban prayer on the football field."

Oh, the joy of witnessing humanity's collective plunge into madness from 30,000 feet in the air. We've finally embraced our true calling: stupidity. 

Yes, folks, this truly sets us apart from other creatures. After years of pondering, I finally figured it out. Bravo, humans, bravo!

I've seen my fair share of foolishness in my life - and let's be honest, I've dabbled in a bit of idiocy myself - but I always told myself it was harmless fun. Not anymore. Now, I can't even delude myself with that comfort.

What was the straw that broke the camel's back? Can you imagine?

In all my years, I have never seen a player stop mid-game, roll out a prayer mat, and start chanting. Sure, a hand to the sky here, a cross there, maybe a little spit on the grass - but prayer? Never. So, what's the genius behind this rule? Is it to keep things neutral and secular, or just another attempt to fix a non-existent problem?

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head as I imagined its sheer absurdity.

A player scores a game-winning goal in the last minutes of a match. The crowd goes wild. In sheer joy, the player raises his hands to the sky. Suddenly, the referee's whistle pierces through the cheers like a slap in the face.

The bewildered player rushes to the referee, his face twisted in confusion and frustration. "What did I do wrong?!" he shouts.

"Praying on the field is prohibited! Off you go!" The banker replies—I mean referee (he is a professional banker) - all stern and self-righteous.

The player, Antonio De Goncalves Dos Santos, familiar to the fans as Pico De Torture Alejandro "Guapo," tries to explain: "I wasn't praying! I was dedicating the goal to my grandmother, Mercedes Guadalupe Maria! She died in poverty, and this was for her! I don't even know how to pray properly! I know she is watching me now."

"Well, tough luck," the referee retorts, showing him a red card. "She can't watch you play from up there! It is forbidden! Off the field!"

I glanced around the plane cabin. Most passengers were dozing off or watching their screens, oblivious to the pure nonsense unfolding on mine. The mental image of that stadium, once roaring in celebration but now stunned into silence, played out vividly in my mind. Fans who moments ago were cheering now looked on in shock. Commentators fumbled for words, trying to make sense of this bizarre turn of events. "Is this really what football has become?" one would mutter, barely audible.

His teammates, their excitement evaporated, stood frozen, their joy replaced by confusion and anger. The captain tries to reason with the referee, but the unyielding official clings to the ridiculous new rule like a life raft in the sea of incompetence. In the stands, the once vibrant banners and flags now seemed to mock the absurdity. A young boy wearing his hero's jersey would turn to his father and ask why the player had to leave.

"It's a new rule," the father would reply, shaking his head in disbelief. "But it makes no sense."

The media, ever eager for controversy, would churn out headlines and debates, and social media would explode with outrage. Has football lost its soul? Has the governing body become so disconnected from reality?

Meanwhile, the player would sit dejected in the locker room, the joy of his goal overshadowed by the absurd punishment. He'd think of his grandmother, her sacrifices, and the pride she would have felt. His tribute, meant to honor her, now feels like a cruel joke.

The game resumes, but the energy is different, tainted by the referee's decision. The flow looks disrupted, players are hesitant, and fans are subdued. It's as if a dark cloud has descended, a stark reminder of the growing gap between the spirit of the game and the ridiculous rules imposed by those in power.

I exhaled sharply, the plane hitting a slight pocket of turbulence. Why not just ban the referee? They're the real menace. They interrupt the beautiful game at every turn. If we need referees, they should command respect and a hint of fear, not prance around like ballet dancers.

Imagine a game where the referee isn't just a whistle-blowing party pooper. They would be a presence on the field that commands authority and respect. Players would know that arguing is futile if the referees looked like MMA fighters. Contrast this with our current situation - referees interfering unnecessarily, halting the game's natural flow. When you see him wearing black (yes, what is with referees wearing black jerseys? It's like immediately they send a message: "Someone is set to cry today, and it's not me.”), you know he's going to ruin the game at some point. Their arbitrary decisions frustrate players and fans, turning a dynamic event into a tedious stop-start affair.

I scrolled further down, the articles merging into a sea of foolishness. In conclusion, if we must have referees, let them be wise custodians of the game, enhancing the experience for everyone. The referee is there for 90 minutes. Make the best of them for all of us. Keep politicians out of our beloved game before they ruin it with their endless need to fix what does not look broken. If politicians played football to solve conflicts, we would no longer have wars.

Stupidity - that unbeatable, ever-present force of nature. It's like gravity, only more persistent and way more annoying. You can't escape it. It's lurking around every corner, from the bustling city streets to the serene silence of a library. Yes, even in the esteemed halls of government and the warm embrace of a family home, stupidity reigns supreme. Social barriers? Economic divides? Cultural differences? Intellectual levels?

Pfft, those are no match for the all-encompassing reach of stupidity. It's an equal-opportunity offender, touching every life with its magical touch. 

Are you trying to conquer stupidity? Oh, that's rich. It's like trying to sweep the ocean back with a broom. Good luck with that. Educate all you want, enlighten to your heart's content, but stupidity? It's like a cockroach in a nuclear apocalypse - it thrives, adapts, and finds new ways to amaze us with its sheer resilience. It's the Hydra of human folly. Cut off one head, and two more sprout up, ready to dazzle you with their brilliance.

And, of course, there will always be those enlightened souls who, upon reading this very text - dripping with common sense and clarity - will proudly proclaim, "This is stupid!" And they have a point.

Need proof of stupidity's limitless nature? Just turn on the news. Watch as well-educated individuals fall for scams so obvious it's painful, or politicians make decisions based on ignorance rather than informed judgment. Observe the everyday person clinging to disproven beliefs with the tenacity of a pit bull. These aren't isolated incidents, folks. They're daily reminders of how deeply stupidity exists in the fabric of human behavior.

I turned off my phone and sighed, staring at the endless clouds. Somewhere down below, the world continued its never-ending dance of absurdity. And isn't that just the cherry on top?