The Benefits of Being a Smart Ass

1. Literature and Bullshit: The Dynamic Duo

Today I bullshat my way through AP English 4. I'm very good at it, bullshitting. In fact, you could almost say I'm an expert at the art of bullshitting. Bullshit, or BS if you're one of the three people on earth who still feel inclined to abbreviate your curse words, just comes naturally to me, at least when I'm writing an essay for English.

People say: "Michael Carr, how do you make such high grades on your essays? Always 8's or 9's out of 9 (yes out of nine. Mrs. Steed teaches English, not Math)?" I tell them, it's all in how you carry yourself (on paper). See, I probably got you thinking I'm one of those geniuses who knows everything but is too lazy to apply himself, or even just an extremely witty gentleman, but I'm not.

No, you see, I'm a smart man. Yes, I'll freely admit that I am a very intelligent person (so modest as well), but I'm no genius. And yes, I am lazy, but even if I applied myself I wouldn't make the top grade. I guess I'll just have to be content with a 97 high school average, woe is me. But I regress my point.

The best way to make great grades in English class is to write a lot. See what the average page number count around the class is, and then make yours about a page and a half longer. Hell, do you think the teachers bother to read this shit past the second page? High school English teachers make around $30,000 a year, they're probably working nights at some mini mart down the street, like they'll bother to read your four page analysis on how the Cormac McCarthy uses the desert landscapes in All the Pretty Horses. Just make sure your first page is rockin' and you'll have no problem in life.

And always start your first paragraph out with something descriptive or shocking. Take my Candide essay, in which I express the wonders of a little place called Rape Town, a glorious place of sodomy and forced fornication. I put that in an Advance English course paper. And I got a nine (yes, a nine) out of nine. Woo hoo.

People always wonder what was going on in the writers of old's heads. What did Charles Dickens mean when he wrote about the broken wine basket in the streets of A Tale of Two Cities? Was Moby Dick a personification of Ahab's inner demons? Who gives a shit? Maybe Dickens was a drunk (probably, all writers have problems), maybe Moby Dick was just a big ass whale. I seriously doubt the writers created their novels to be analyzed by snooty English professors two hundred years after their deaths. And that's kinda sad too, when you think about it, that it's been two hundred years since a book's publication and we still can't figure out what the hell Dickens meant.

Maybe writers simply wanted their works to be enjoyed purely for the emotion, power, and substance of their works (which is kinda hard to do considering how much A Tale of Two Cities blows). Maybe they just wanted to make money off of their gifts for writing, the same way Stephanie Meyer or Christopher Paolini make money off their talents (or lack thereof). And the problem is that since so many of these books are continually analyzed, people idolize these bloated, out of touch, and often just plain bland, novels to the point that no modern work can ever hope to attain that level of credibility. Name five books within the past twenty years that you know are destined to become classics. No one? Which is a shame because if a book like The Road were to come out a hundred years ago the same weirdos who analyze Dickens and Austin (who spawned the equivalent of the Chick Flick in writing form) would be jacking off to its level of literary prowess as I speak.

2. Racism, Religion, and Effects of the Asshole Gene

A few days ago I shouted the words "Fucking Arab" at a store clerk at a local Valero gas station (don't get gas there, I'm pretty sure it's the home brewed stuff). Now, before you start lighting torches, let me just say that I didn't actually say the words. I just thought them. What I said was: "This is Bullshit." Much more appropriate.

Now let me explain, a few months ago I turned eighteen years old. Hooray, now I'm old enough to get drafted and be tried as an adult. But I can't gamble. Not in a casino. But I can buy lottery tickets, the essential form of gambling (Example 1: American Law). So I decided to drive to the store and buy my mom's lottery tickets for her, since she'd been feeling sick the last few days. My mom is the Russle Crowe of the Pick Three Lottery. The 'pattern-following, Beautiful Mind' Russel Crowe, not the 'special brand of telephone use' Russel Crowe.

So I enter the store and ask the clerk behind the counter where the lottery ticket stand is. He points to the back, so I go and pick out my numbers. The time is 9:30 when I finish and go to the front. The lottery stays open till 10:00. It is required by state law (no joke, tax dollars at work) to stay open until 10:00. When I get to the counter the guy says "Oh, I so sorry, I close up early. Can't put your lottery through. Too bad."

I just stare at him. He knew I went back there to get tickets. I fucking asked him where the damn booth was. Yet he still closes thirty minutes early. And why?

"I want to go home early. Too much work leaving it open."

Are you fucking kidding me? Really? You're honestly telling me you broke state law and closed up early, thus losing a customer, because you wanted to 'go home early'? So, what, your shift ends at 9:30? Where the hell do you plan on going? So I told him: "This is bullshit." Then I left the store.

But I couldn't help thinking the words "Fucking Arab."

Now I am not racist in any form. My best friend's name is Harry Moosavi. He's Persian (technically from Iran, but Persia just sounds so much cooler). My other friend Brandy Tate is black as...well, I best avoid any more slurs. But the point is, even though I didn't mean it, I thought it.

You see, deep down I think all of mankind inadvertently hates one another, and unintentionally tries to make each other suffer? How else would you explain war? Politics? Ben Affleck's career? We simply hate each other, at least in some form or fashion. It's why married couples start three day long arguments over who used the fucking dishtowel last.

My friend Birmingham, real uptight conservative Christian dude, tells me he believes in hell and of course he imagines it as a lake of fire and all that biblical crap. But of course I know that hell is Earth itself (this is the only way I could get through to Birmingham, by relating our current lifestyle to biblical events thousands of years past). It's where God tossed that disrespecting mofo Lucifer down. And who could blame him? With the world being surrounded by people like Adolf Hitler, Ann Coulter, Andy Dick, and Anne Rice (look at that, all A's, wonder what that's about?) it's clear that good old Satan's paying his dues.

So, to my point, one shouldn't stress the idea of whether or not mankind is evil, or whether or not you or I am an asshole, but instead realize that we must avoid the temptations of assholeism and instead vow to be non-assholes. We're assholes by nature and only by suppressing the Asshole Gene (an actual trait that can be suppressed, as opposed to diabetes or alcoholism) can we become decent human beings.

So if you're walking down the street and a guy accidentally bumps into you and you feel the need to follow him for several blocks before breaking both (look, now we're into the B's) his legs and tying him up in front of a television set showing re-runs of Gossip Girl, just take a deep breath and realize that it's just the Asshole Gene flaring up. Go buy one of those stress releasers balls shaped like George Bush (available only in America) and squeeze the shit out of it.

3. The Man Response or Why Men are such Dicks
(the serious chapter)

The Man Response is the most common side effect of the Asshole Gene. The Man Response, named so because I couldn't think of anything better to call it, is an uncontrollable urge that afflicts the male population, forcing them to perform vile or immature acts during moments of important social interactions. The Man Response manifests itself through both physical and verbal actions.

Verbal actions often occur when the human male comes remotely close to expressing genuine emotion (which is why we try to grab our date's tits during Leonardo DiCaprio's death in Titanic). Most verbal responses include socially unacceptable forms of communication such as laughing during funerals, derogatory sexual comments intended to impress the opposite sex that instead result in harrassment suits (ie. is that a mirror in your pocket? because I can totally see myself in your pants), and unflattering jokes regarding sexual preference, slavery, and Jesus Christ's crucifixion (ie. when he got off that cross he was more 'hole-y' than ever).

Physical reaction, the far more noticeable and damaging aspect of the Man Response, manifests itself through discharges of weaponry, overly dramatic fist pumping, subtle sexual innuendo (winking/growling), and a more 'forward' manner of sexual innuendo (pelvic thrusts/dry humping).

The Man Response is basically the whole reason for why men act like arrogant, rude bastards. Like men, basically. While this response is mainly confined to trivial acts like pissing in your boss's coffee or getting your friend drunk in Vegas and marrying him off to the first desperate cocktail waitress you meet (yes, in the grand scheme of man responses, this is considered frivolous), there are occasions when the ego born from the man response blows out of control. It's well documented how Hitler lost out to a Jewish painter in a prestigious art school contest. Sometimes jealousy and the Man Response just don't go hand in hand.

In order to control the overwhelming urge to hit mailboxes with aluminum baseball bats and scratch themselves in public, men release their primal urges through several beneficial methods including athletic competitions, good old-fashioned bro love, and carefully concentrated doses of Bruce Campbell. How else do you explain the popularity of watching sports and why so many men go stir crazy over Superbowl parties? It's not like we actually enjoy the games. Baseball and football are about as exciting as watching shit (literal shit) dry. If I wanted to waste four hours of my life watching losers stand in the same place while occasionally releasing bursts of wild, erratic movement, I'd go sit my ass in Central Park. At least then something exciting might occur (like a mugging. trust me, they're fun to watch). Even the players understand how fucking boring baseball, football, and soccer is. They're smarter than we give them credit. Think about it, they get paid millions of dollars to work out. That doesn't even require decent schooling! People claim that athletes are overpaid, but when you think about it, they do more for the community than qualified doctors. They help stem the imminent chaos that the Man Response brings. Just like Bruce Campbell.

I'm sure there is some sort of Woman Response, though I've yet to diagnose it. If it exists, however, I'm sure it involves some sort of menstruation.

4. Benefits of Being a Smart Ass

In case you haven't figured out by now, I'm a smart ass. You see, most people tend to have a negative view of people who take up this prestigious mantle that is the Smart Ass status. We all know the negative effects of being a smart ass, lack of sex, lack of friends, lack of life (if you smart off to wrong guy), but few realize how truly beneficial being a smart ass can be.

Being a smart ass is the perfect way to manage and control the preformentioned Asshole Gene. By being a smart ass and adopting a sarcastic or condescending style of humor (humor at the expense of others. ha!) you can express how you really feel about someone while pretending to being a jokester. If you're a smart ass who becomes good friends with a black person, feel free to spread as many racist jokes as you can. It's fun! Try it! They know you're joking, you know you're joking (unless you're just an asshole) See, I call my friend Harry a terrorist all the time. He in turn calls me honky and reveals the infamous 'terrorist eyes' (a slightly raised head with eyes widened. if you're from the middle east try it, you'll be in Guantanamo before you know it) which always get huge laughs at airport security stations.

You see, being a smart ass allows you to vent your Asshole Gene through carefully concentrated bursts of racism, crude humor, and just plain derogatory statements, without the threat of possible legal actions being taken against you. How else do you think Chris Rock and David Letterman make livings as comedians (well, Dave's always been an asshole, but you understand).

Smartassery does not completely quash the Asshole Gene, however. My good friend Josh Gossel, whale of a man, is what state penitentiary lifers call 'a Bubba', and though my jokes about his weight were always delivered in a brotherly fashion, my gene could not deny the evidence that Josh was, in fact, a fat ass.

The problem with being a smart ass, or just being smart in general, is people tend to view intelligence as pretentiousness, which in itself is pretty damn entertaining. But because of this little misinterpretation of such a healthy medical treatment, more and more people are choosing to abandon their smart ass ways. The way of the smart ass is, essentially, becoming extinct.

People wonder why there are so many assholes in this world. Well folks, it's because less and less people are choosing to lead lives of smartassery. Without the smart asses of the world, we are surely doomed to a world of assholeism.

So take my message to heart, dear readers. Heed my words. Go out into the world and become smart asses! Our very way of life depends upon it. Go!

(end with dramatic fist pump)