It's True That I'm Better Than Most People But I'm Willing To Explain Why

For many years, I labored under the misconception that I was a unique and special person in this world. You can imagine my surprise when later on I discovered I actually WAS extraordinary, and it wasn't a misconception after all. No, I never take for granted that I'm one of the gifted ones. As I often said when I lived in the old lands, take nothing in this life for granted. And that goes for you plebian types out there as well. Because even though you are almost offensively inferior, you probably have something to be thankful for, though I have no earthly idea what that might be.

Now let's get back to the task at hand, which has to do with me being both unique and special. Early on in my life, these character traits resulted in me caring a lot that people spelled my name with a 'k', as in E-r-i-k. But since the entire population of earth have shown themselves to be spectacularly incapable of spelling this name with anything but a 'c', I thought it best to pick a different battle and move on. And I did, successfully. For instance, I no longer add, "and that's with a *K* ", after I introduce myself to someone. I've noticed I now have more friends, but I think that's probably coincidence. You might be saying to yourself right now, well Erik is a boring name no matter how it's spelled, why does he care so much about his sucky name, seeing as how it sucks so bad? My response to that is, your name is probably the dumbest thing of all time, and I probably couldn't even think of a more stupid name if I tried my hardest. But we will settle that score later on, make no mistake.

The thing I can't figure out, is how people I've worked with for 6 years can get my name wrong on such a consistent basis. When they send me an email, they have to spell it correctly at least once. Yet, it's as if they use up all their neurons for the "To:" field, and anything beyond that is asking too much. Perhaps k is a sacred letter, to be used only on special occasions. Maybe Armageddon? Whatever the case, business communication involving my name rarely seems to qualify as a special occasion. Example email from co-worker:

To: Erik
Subject: Hi Eric

Eric, Can you tell me how to work this unix computer? Just give me the main commands. It's a big computer and I'm too dumb to use it, not to mention it doesn't have a green start menu that I like to use on my Windows Millenium Edition at home. Okay Eric? Thank you Eric. Eric Eric Eric. I love Eric.

P.S. After I typed your name in the 'To:' field, my brain turned into a piece of PlayDoh. As a result, I can only execute low-level motor functions such as defecating and watching reality TV. Singing the alphabet song, for example, is strictly out of the question. Therefore, the letter K is like a distant memory. Thought you should now? no? know. Oh look, there it is.

Alright, they never say the part about loving me, but I know they're thinking it. And the rest of that example is practically word for word. Okay? Because truth be told, the K thing with my name is really all I've got going for me, and I don't understand why you want to take it away. You are petty, and spiteful.

I'm going to recount a touching personal experience of mine right now. This story is about self-discovery. But not the sexual kind, so tough luck, perverts.

At the gym I belong to, there is a separate, smallish room with a speed bag and two heavy bags. When you are in this room, you can see a door to yet another room. No one knows what lies beyond this second door, because of the legend of the demon-child who will rip your face off and steal your soul if you enter. Actually, that's not true. I've been in there several times, and I didn't see anyone like that. Mostly I just wanted you to stay alert. So in this second room there is an area in which to stretch one's lithe muscles, or just flail about randomly on the floor. Last week I was in the second room stretching, when I heard two individuals enter the boxing room. Judging by the ear-splitting racket, the younger man's goal was to destroy all of the equipment in 25 seconds or less. I believe he succeeded. Nonetheless, the stuff he was saying was pretty funny.

"Bam-Bam-Bam-Bam! watch watch, I'm Box-O, the King Boxer and I will box your lights out and then I will box your eyes out!--Duh-Da-Dah!! No one can beat me, I will crush you like a tiny beetle! You are a tiny beetle and I'm crushing you! If the two things were a beetle and something larger, I would be the larger thing that is crushing you!!"

I had to smile, because I think everyone can identify with sacrificing every last shred of their dignity for the sake of a laugh. No? Just me? That's cool. Anyway, it was really great, because he was acting funny in much the same way that I myself might act funny. You know how that goes, even if your sense of humor is total crap, you can bond with others who are similarly defective. That's why this post isn't very funny to you. My sense of humor is very advanced, almost TOO advanced.

Meanwhile, Box-O/King Boxer continues to remark on his various positive attributes:

"Duh-Da-Dah--I'm a champion! No one can hit this puncher bag as fast as me, I am also a lightning bolt! Do you dare challenge me? Who is it that challenges me?"

2nd voice (softly, wearily): "No one's challenging you, Christopher".

This response, to what I thought was a fairly humorous (and potentially valid) question, struck me as odd. So I got up and went into the other room, to ascertain the identity of spunky adolescent's grumpy companion, and maybe congratulate the young man on his comedic talent. It was then I realized that not only was he afflicted with the same sense of humor I was, he was also afflicted with Down's syndrome. Yes, I'm being serious.

Now there are a few ways to deal with this type of realization. The first is to question yourself, and your IQ. I had always assumed it was above 40, but now my childhood nickname "little 40" started to make more sense. But then I thought, you know what? It doesn't matter if people think I'm mentally disabled, as long as they laugh. They don't even have to laugh with me, even pointing and jeering derisively is okay. Laughter is what's important, not whether or not I know how to wipe myself.

V-Day Does Not Mean Violent Day Unless You Shun Me

Does anyone know what day it is? What? Did you say it's that one day where I rock the socks off all the single ladies within a 50-mile radius? Oh yeah, you're probably talking about Valentine's Day, or what the Spanish refer to as 'El Dia del Valentineroni'. I know that sounds a lot like 'pepperoni', but the two words are actually completely unrelated. Valentineroni is just a word I made up, and if you don't know what pepperoni is, that means you need to brush up on the reading skills, because seriously, 'pepperoni' is a ridiculously easy word. Now let's move on, this isn't a free English class for disabled people.

First, I apologize for the abundance of love-related posts lately. Do you want to read about hate and sorrow instead? Maybe since you have so much hate in your heart, you should just write a book about it and then sell it on the black hate market. Anyway, I'm very excited about this year, and I'm going to tell you why. I will start with the general reasons, and then I will begin to bring specifics to the table as well.

If you want me to be frank, Valentine's Day gives me the opportunity to show the ladies what I'm truly capable of. It might be a made-up corporation-driven holiday, but it's my time to shine, and I will buy the crap out of the local Hallmark if left alone for any length of time whatsoever. I mean it, I will go nutty in there. I will take a large rucksack and will not leave until I have enough chocolate to open a Hallmark kiosk directly outside of the original Hallmark. I will buy 16 giant teddy bears, cover them in pig's blood, and sneak them into my ex-girlfriend's bedroom, with a note that says "Could be you". Ok, just kidding. That's not cool.

The other main reason I like this special day is that it gives me a chance to let the ladies in my life know that we are meant to be together forever, until death. Even mysterious, accidental death. Along those lines, this one girl from the gym who I'm just getting to know, will probably be my main valentine this year. We haven't technically "spoken any words to each other" yet, but I will follow her out to the parking lot tonight and give her a surprise Valentine's hug. If that leads to something more, great. If not, she probably had a very satisfying life. Guys, I can't emphasize spontaneity enough. Keep it fresh! As in, don't wear the same thing every day you follow her to work. That's just plain stupid.

Ahh, El Dia del Valentinerondon. Watch for signs of beautiful cupid making his mark, and also for cops asking stupid questions that don't concern them.

Good Vibes Flow, Jihad Put On Hold

Finally, some good news from the Middle East. Disarmament talks with Iran continue to go smoothly, as indicated by one of today's international headlines: Iran Vows 'Burning Hell' for Any Aggressor.

The article also discussed flag-burning and subsequent marching. Then in a surprising twist, huge crowds began chanting, "Death to America", and "Death to Israel".

So I'm feeling a little blind-sided here--why the sudden hostility?? I think if more Iranians would simply give Baja Fresh and other popular American eateries a chance, we could turn this thing around. If you've never had a Burrito Pollo, Ultimo-style, how can you judge? Simple answer, you can't. Just as I've never stoned a woman to death for changing her underwear, many Iranians are still without DirecTV. As I understand it, many of them don't even realize that you can get Tivo and DirecTV to work together. That seems painfully rudimentary, yes.
But as I always say, strap 60 pounds of plastic explosives to your own body before you judge another. Also, "school bus bombing", and "terrorist" are examples of what my therapist refers to as "negative-imagery" words, and they just don't have a place in civil discourse.

Anyway, on the surface, such a political climate would seem to indicate the upcoming death and suffering of thousands. Actually, it seems like that under the surface, too. But in a way, the cards are now on the table. Everyone knows where they stand. And coming to terms with the idea of smelling your own burning flesh as you die in an oil fire is certainly half the battle. Indeed, I am forced to respect Iranian President Mohammad Khatami for his candid statements. It would have been very duplicitous of him to imply there would be no rotting in the bowels of hell for the Americans, if that was in fact his ultimate plan.

Consider the following admonition:

"The holy fire of heaven shall be unleashed upon the infidel pigs, but it will likely be spotty, and without consistency. More of a drizzling hell-fire, really. We will defend with our very lives this sanctified land, unless you guys are really serious, in which case we could take it or leave it. In this scenario, I can only guarantee great discomfort for the imperialists. They will definitely taste a small percentage, if not the full fury of, Allah's vengeful sword. I must add that noogies and wet-willies are still well-within the realm of possibility."

See? If he said that, you would have to doubt his sincerity. As it stands, I know he's not playing around. Honesty and trust are the basic foundations of any functional relationship, even a baby knows that. I think the important part is to show that we care, and maybe give high-ranking clergy gift certificates to Best Buy. I think they would really like that, it might take the edge off their burning desire to blow up small children. But how can we know until we try?

Let's give peace a chance.

If you don't want to read the whole 14-word article, this guy (Scott Rodgers) chucks an Egg McMuffin at the McDonald's manager.

Rodgers' attorney said he did not throw the sandwich, but "rather returned it quickly."

That's awesome. A similar thing happened to me over the weekend. This man made me very angry, so instead of shooting him, I just gave him a bullet really fast. There was an officer of the law in front of my car trying to prevent me from driving away. Instead of running him over and risking criminal charges, I kept a cool head and quickly gave him my hood and part of my right fender. So everything should be cool. It pays to think fast!

Life And Romance: Both Solved In One Post?

What with all the turmoil and strife in other parts of the world, not to mention a fair share of problemos here in the homeland, I think it's time to just relax and ignore most of it. American Idol starts this week, and I don't know about you, but I can't afford to fall behind on that. I could give you some song and dance about how great it is to serve others, but I think I'll opt for the truth, instead--and the truth is I provide a pretty valuable public service just by scribbling crap down and posting it on this website.

Some people are involved in cancer research, or dedicate all their time to disabled children, so whoopee for them. I'm sure it gives them 'fulfillment', or something similarly boring. But when all is said and done, it's about scoring with the ladies, and I think you know that. I'm more than pulling my weight in that department, in case it wasn't obvious, but some of you fellas could probably use a little assistance. I will now decode some of the more common phrases you may encounter in your quest for romance, which should significantly increase your chances of landing fine tail.

If you hear a woman described as a 'party' girl, that can mean a variety of things, all of them good. Like, I-didn't-know-that-was-possible good. If a girl is 'fun-loving', that can mean a lot of things too, all of them boring. I'd say cut your losses early and switch targets if a woman describes herself like that. If a woman 'gets angry', that means she is on her period. But keep that last one under your hat, the truth is hard for some broads to take. Alright, those tips alone should keep you knee-deep in estrogen for the next six months, for better or worse. But it doesn't cost me anything to help you out, so I'll share yet another piece of relationship wisdom.

If during the course of conversation, a girl confesses to being 'mentally unstable', you'll probably want to stick around. Out of context, yes, that's a terrifying phrase. Yet some of the hottest, most insecure women are mentally unstable. Does that all of a sudden make them less attractive? Of course it doesn't. Lower self-esteem means less work for you, and the hotness level? That's right junior, it's the same. Now what sane person walks away from that?? Not you, if you ever want me to give you advice again.

Ok, as usual, my work is done. If you have any questions, re-read the third paragraph about never blaming a woman's menstrual cycle. I could not be more serious about that.