My conscience – a tale of two Goofys

I think everyone has a voice of reason and caution as well as one of temptation and frivolity, I know I do. I call these voices my Goofys. Good Goofy stands on my right shoulder and whispers words of wisdom into my good ear. Bad Goofy crouches on my left shoulder and makes his suggestions from there.

My Bad Goofy is a character – he is the root of my poor decisions. He makes the case for the negative side of the conundrums I face, and he can be very convincing. Give him a voice and he can make an argument in favor of a really bad choice. He has been able to make me eat that piece of cake while I’m on a diet, to skip a workout in favor of another cup of coffee, to take just a puff when I was trying to quit smoking – he is not my friend.

Good Goofy has best interests at heart – mine and everyone else’s. He has integrity and honesty at his core. He’d never swear, cheat or speed – he is a great guy. Unfortunately he is not as astute as Bad Goofy when it comes to arguing. His ace in the hole is where he lives – my right shoulder is a tad higher than my left, my right ear has better hearing and my left hand doesn’t flick quite as well as my right. Bad Goofy has to be much louder and light on his feet – my right hand can flick decisively and quickly.

People think I’m a little strange when I flick an invisible bug off my left shoulder – I don’t share the Goofy strategy with everyone. It helps me when I’m being tempted; a physical action seems to up the anti in a war of wills. The flick doesn’t always work – Bad Goofy is very athletic – he can dangle within ear shot and shout his arguments from half way down my back – he’s hard to flick from there.

Good Goofy is soft spoken and polite – he never gets flicked but he does get drowned out. He is the guy with the scruples. He’s a little boring and isn’t a lot of fun at parties. He doesn’t drink, eat cake or step out of line. He would never have had to quit smoking because he never would have started. He cleans up after Bad Goofy all the time. Left to his own devises, Bad Goofy would be in jail. He is a tough talking renegade. He is a bad influence. But he can be a lot of fun.

The Goofys and I are all 64; we’re a little less agile, a little more subdued. Bad Goofy seems to have mellowed a bit with age – he is less likely to make a case for a big mess. Good Goofy argues with a weary “not this shit again” attitude and Bad Goofy seems to take him more seriously and backs down. Perhaps Good should have taken a page from Bad’s book earlier in the game – fought fire with fire.

Growing older has weird benefits – the three of us are wiser, more in tune with each other and less likely to let shit, good or bad, stand in our way. Good Goofy doesn’t worry as much about being acceptable, Bad Goofy doesn’t have the energy to party like he used to and I have given up trying to wrestle with the two of them. I’m letting myself be heard, with frivolous caution.