April 10th, 2007


Here to Help

Are you not intelligent?

Do you find yourself using the term, 'Too intelligent for your own good,' as a way to put smarter people in their place?

I want you to know that I understand you. I, also, am plagued by intelligent people. I was there when we had that meeting where we decided that intelligent people were a problem. The room had blue carpet. Big glass windows. The sun was bright when we began. Oh, sure, a few others said that the problem was ours--but they, as was clearly shown by their ability to take notes, were pushing an indecent level of coherence and understanding themselves. We were forced to behead them. Sure, it took weeks to learn how to record off the TV, but fuck it, we weren't reading those manuals. Still, even with the blood stains, we reached important decisions for the world. We decided that intelligence was a flaw. That to be more intelligent than most people was, in fact, worse than being retarded. We knew how to care for retarded people. You put them in home. You lock the gate. You chemically castrate them. After that they can fuck and eat their feces to their heart's desire. But intelligent people...

Oh, how they irked that by that notion.

No to chains they would utter!

No to camps they would say!

No to chemical castration they would scream!

Clearly, some solutions were not easy to come by.

We laboured like we had thoughts. Long did we sit there with pens poised over paper that we had no plan to use. It was there, looking at this, this, attempted to be intelligent, to show that we could write, that we realised that the problem had always been that we trying to keep up with these people. It wasn't fair! Why had God blessed them but not us? Why should they force us to keep up with them? We were not stupid. We could have learnt anything. The problem was that it was effort. To be doctor? So many years of study! To fix my car--again, the time. To tell you what was good literature--oh, if I dedicated my time to that. But no. I'd rather do other things. I had a social life. Oh, I met such fine women. The clothes they wore. They clothes they took off. The children bore me! Oh, to be Catholic as well! It was a fine life.

Yet I digress.

I shouldn't, but I do. I have only recently learnt to write.

I do this because, somewhere, we--and I talk to all of us here--we have forgotten the trouble intelligence brings. It is not enough now to say that someone is too intelligent, that something is too well thought out, as we have been. It is not enough to continue to make intelligence a negative thing. We have reached the wall for that. We can no longer rely upon intelligent people to argue that both sides deserve to be heard. That is why, for a tiny price, I will sell you this beautiful hand drill. That's right. A hand drill. It comes with an instruction booklet. It shows you how to bait an intelligent person. To toss a book in front of them. Research has shown only one in five intelligent people will not bend down for the book! It also shows you how to make a compound and how to lace the pages with a sedative. How to tie knots that they cannot escape from. And finally, what to do with that brain you remove from them. I know that it might seem unpleasant, at first. I know that cooking a bit of brain strikes you all as a form cannibalism--but I ate my part, and look at me here, typing!

To become out enemy, we must be what we hate.

Send me $39.95.

Act quick!

Supplies are not limited, but choice intelligent people are.

Well, it made me laugh as I wrote it. What more can you ask for?
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Apparently I was in Perth, or so it was said--

--but the truth is, I'm much better looking, and more importantly, the only way I'd be caught on film in Perth would be in a coroner's lense.
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