Repetition has a bad rep. Mark Twain made fun of it: “Let’s say I was in Congress, and let’s say I was a liar. But I repeat myself.”
Old people like me repeat old stories and bore the young. Even repeatedly seeing a favorite episode of Seinfeld gets old after a while.
In truth, though, without repetition we’d never make it. Imagine what would happen if the grocery store aisles were switched around every day just to avoid boredom.
Would you rather have a surgeon who’s done your operation repeated times or one who’s doing it for the first time?
The last I looked, every room in the house had four corners, and I don’t want to be confused by seven or nine.
Genetic repetition means that very few of us are born without noses or elbows. Surely that’s a good thing.
Sometimes repetition is bad. The quarterback Joe Montana once appeared on “Saturday Night Live” and said, “I’ve just had a concussion on the gridiron, but it hasn’t affected me one bit.” And then he said, “I’ve just had a concussion on the gridiron, but it hasn’t affected me one bit.” Then he said it again.
OK: some repetition is bad.
This is Tom McBride, and that’s my Perspective, and, oh, that’s my Perspective.
