Times have changed, and so has Springer. All the audience wants is beads. Any question that do get asked are just insults or 8th grade schtick.
So that kind of pissed me off. Then just before bedtime, I was sitting in the smoking room and Leno happened to be on. Another show I don't want. So Leno is out asking people about space travel. Here are the questions:
Which is closer, the Moon or Mars?Now I understand that if they showed people that got the answers right, that wouldn't be very interesting, but it does seem to me that people who hold down real jobs and go through the school system should have a basic grasp of the above information.
No, Louis Armstrong did not walk on the Moon. No, Mars is not closer to Earth than the Moon. No, George Bush's father did not launch the space program, and no, man did not walk on the moon for the first time LAST YEAR.
So that pissed me off.
Then I couldn't sleep and for some reasons kept thinking about the insurance and the incompetent pooch screw that that was, and that pissed me off.
And I woke up pissed off.
Let's face it. When God was handing out Modesty I was getting an extra helping of brains. I know this. I have railed against it, hidden it, denied it and to be honest, this diary (or whatever the hell this is) is the only place I talk about it. Last time I checked, my IQ was 165. Which makes it difficult for me to know whether or not kids are supposed to know this stuff about Armstrong and Kennedy or whether its just me.
People get suspicious of you when you're smart. Too smart for your own good. Probably so. Smart enough not to broadcast it in public. R. wanted to put the Mensa board of directors thing in my bio for the book and I told her not to because normal people don't like feeling their being talked down to.
In case anyone is uncomfortable with me talking about this stuff, let me just add:
KISS MY ASS
This is my journal. It's primary purpose is to allow me to express thoughts feelings and emotions I don't normally get to express. So deal.
Boy I'm feisty this morning, huh? Mainly because I feel like I should be yelling at the world 'Hey! Get a grip! Focus! We're all screwed unless we pull together!'
I don't bother though. I know all I'd hear back would be
"huh-uh-huh-huh he said 'screwed'"
"huh-uh-uh-huh-huh"
A., my son is coming in tonight. A., like J., is permanently grounded due to lack of interest in doing any damn thing at school. So I'm going to lock them in a room together this weekend with nothing but a Playstation and a bucket of sugar...
Enjoy your Friday...