Saturday, November 05, 2005

Imagine you are an idiot.

A popular, somewhat charismatic, social butterfly, but an idiot nevertheless. You don’t need to think because you have surrounded yourself with a lot of smart and evil buddies who will tell you what to do and what to say. All you need to do is read out loud and smirk once in a while. They’ll take care of everything. And that, they have done. You don’t really have to know anything about nothing and nothing about anything as long as you are popular with the frat boys and sorority girls.

One crisp November day you wake up and you hear that there was a poll taken by your local newspaper. In it they say that you ain’t popular no more. That 68% of the people don’t like you no more. They think you suck and they think you ain’t kosher. Of course you might be a bit concerned. So you ask your smart evil buddies what’s up with that. They tell you not to worry because everything is taken care of. They tell you to go get ready for your trip to Argentina, that they love you there, pat you on the back, and give you a box of animal crackers to munch on.

Walking down the hall, you notice the people that hang out in your big house seem kinda’ down. You offer them some cookies, then tell them a joke, but they don’t laugh. You ask them “what’s wrong sour pusses?” They tell you your best buds are messing up everything and they are making everyone look like lying bastards. You sing “liar liar pants on fire!” but they don’t cheer up. You say “fine, be that way.” They tell you your best bud has to go or else there’s gonna be big trouble. You see a shiny object at the end of the hall and are mesmerized by it. You go towards the shiny light telling yourself “I am popular, I am popular, I don’t suck, everything is gonna be OK…”