Stupid people always complain about how hard it is to discover something or invent something or remember what time Gilmore Girls is on. And smart people, I’m told, watch PBS and listen to NPR. If they were so smart, they’d like things cool enough to have more than three letters. Like pot.
Now I’m not a smart man, but I’m not dumb either. I’m a fricking genius. It’s hard to explain in words exactly how smart I am without spelling those words entirely with tiny equations and graduation caps. You know how Einstein was so smart that he couldn’t figure out something as simple as his grocery bill? Yeah, well, I’m so smart that I sometimes forget how to wear pants (State of California v. Matt Loker, Docket #40560-2).
And like Einstein, I have a lot of hair. I also invent things. What’s his greatest invention? E = MC2? That’s not an invention, that’s just a word. And a shitty word at that. It doesn’t even have “-exual” in it. He also postulated light quanta, which isn’t nearly as comprehensive as my explanation of the photoelectric effect: a snowboarding midget with a sign strapped to his helmet that says “learning.” Score another Nobel Prize for Berkeley. Also, I’m alive and Albert’s not. Couldn’t invent a cure for DEAD, could ya?
Since I’ve just used a rigorous scientific method to prove that I’m better than Einstein, let us now laud some of my inventions and theories.
The Theory of Making Any Movie Great: I know this seems simple now, but mind you it was first proposed in 1999, when scientists thought that a great script was the key to a great movie. Fools. All you need is a combination of the following things: bikini carwashes, fast cars (possibly talking), Bill Murray, people getting hit in the groin, attendant groin-bonking sound effects, and Jennifer Connelly. Man, she’s so hot she makes the sun want to beat off. Oh yeah, and you need monkeys. Lots of monkeys. Did I just write the greatest movie ever? The answer is yes I did.
The Machine That Gives Me Harvey Weinstein’s Phone Number: I have to pitch him this script I wrote called Requiem for a Chimp.
The Theory of Anti-Knowledge: You know how some things are really stupid? No, I’m not talking about kids with extra chromosomes. I’m talking about how some things are so stupid that once you hear them you actually forget shit you used to know. Well, that’s what I have termed “anti-knowledge.” For example, listening to Bill O’Reilly talk about the state of rap music will cause you to not remember where your car keys are. If you were to watch a Michael Bay movie for ten minutes, then boom, there goes long division. And say you’re driving in your car, and you have one of those LCD flip-down screens. You turn it on and watch WWE Monday Night Slam! wrestling. You know what happens then? You forget how to drive, soil your pants, and crash into a laboratory filled with cancer researchers. Wrestling takes that much intelligence out of the world.
So in conclusion, welcome to a new school year, and more importantly, a new year of the Squelch. Stop by our meetings some time and say hi. Look for me. I’ll be the one either proving a complex mathematical theorem or making cock jokes.
