Time to wake up, wanker
Strangely enough, this week found me bemoaning what should be an absolute joyous [non?]occurence: no more math class. What could bring this about, I may ask rhetorically/annoyingly? To paraphrase, I'm retarded. Up until now, my utter abhorrence of Satan's language has only resulted in the demonizing of and death threats to any and all cultist numerical advocates (Ms. Osberg, 3rd grade- this means you!), but this hate has never been reciprocated in the form of bad grades.
So imagine my delight upon uncovering my test grade of... prepare yourself... a whopping 42%! So I guess I'll drop the class so as not to soil my precious GPA. Sunshine, rainbows, unbridled joy! As it was the lowest grade in the class, you have to feel some pity for anybody making a 43, cause I mean, they made a 43 (!) and STILL couldn't claim the much-coveted Dunce cap. Sucks for them!
After some denial, I eventually conceded that I am, in fact, quite retarded. As Socrates probably never said, "only a wise man knows when he is a fool," which, according to the triumphant swagger of ignorant bliss I had upon completing (and surely acing) the test, qualifies me for foolishness. On second thought, that quote pretty much dooms anyone acting retarded to being fools, regardless of their ignorance/knowledge of the fact. This entails that there is only one objective reality, a paradigm I don't adhere to, so fuck you, Socrates!
So, back to my acceptance of this sad fact. I can no longer trust myself to act on my thoughts, as they are tainted with stupidity and (probably) a sinful, animal lust. This distrust has already forced me to eat a cold dinner of wheat-thins, cheese, and jellybeans, as I could not fully unravel the mysteries of our new microwave. (Neither could my sister, incidentally, but that only affords me a measure of what I have fallen to).
Anyways, I plan to treat this new-found mental simplicity like a perpetual bender. This means I can say or do anything that enters my head, always armed with the excuse that I'm mentally handicapped, or drunk, or both, so don't mind me. First on the agenda:
I will not marry anyone that doesn't put the cap back on the toothpaste. I'd probably fuck her, though.
That is all for now, but you have been warned.
So imagine my delight upon uncovering my test grade of... prepare yourself... a whopping 42%! So I guess I'll drop the class so as not to soil my precious GPA. Sunshine, rainbows, unbridled joy! As it was the lowest grade in the class, you have to feel some pity for anybody making a 43, cause I mean, they made a 43 (!) and STILL couldn't claim the much-coveted Dunce cap. Sucks for them!
After some denial, I eventually conceded that I am, in fact, quite retarded. As Socrates probably never said, "only a wise man knows when he is a fool," which, according to the triumphant swagger of ignorant bliss I had upon completing (and surely acing) the test, qualifies me for foolishness. On second thought, that quote pretty much dooms anyone acting retarded to being fools, regardless of their ignorance/knowledge of the fact. This entails that there is only one objective reality, a paradigm I don't adhere to, so fuck you, Socrates!
So, back to my acceptance of this sad fact. I can no longer trust myself to act on my thoughts, as they are tainted with stupidity and (probably) a sinful, animal lust. This distrust has already forced me to eat a cold dinner of wheat-thins, cheese, and jellybeans, as I could not fully unravel the mysteries of our new microwave. (Neither could my sister, incidentally, but that only affords me a measure of what I have fallen to).
Anyways, I plan to treat this new-found mental simplicity like a perpetual bender. This means I can say or do anything that enters my head, always armed with the excuse that I'm mentally handicapped, or drunk, or both, so don't mind me. First on the agenda:
I will not marry anyone that doesn't put the cap back on the toothpaste. I'd probably fuck her, though.
That is all for now, but you have been warned.