Oh puhlease...

Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s intellect may not have paralleled that of John William Sidis, who eventually passed on to the Great Beyond via a brain hemorrhage, but Rousseau displayed indisputable genius when he said that ‘humans are born with natural malevolence.’ No matter what you do, people are bound to their innate wickedness. They’re only good to you for as long as you’re usable. In the intervals that you’re not, they try to pick on you, they gloat, and you’re coerced to listen until your temperature rises enough to destroy every one of the Zobel de Ayalas’ state-of-the-art thermometers, your eyes pop out, and you can’t hide the verity that you’re ready to vomit and extrude a vital organ in the process. Puhlease. I love my spleen more than I’ll ever love you – which I don’t. Figures. It would be fine if the gloating were factual, but your brain knows that the boasting is always phony, cheap, and obtuse, which makes it another eyeball-rolling episode.

As for me, I am exhausted of being forced to please people to whom I am already insensate, anyway. It’s pathetic to work your brain off solely to have something to brag when you’re face-to-face(?) with their revolting, polymer-based hides. Why do it when you don’t have to? Henceforth, I resolve to make full use of my towering brain for the benefit of the people with whom I don’t feel any friction and for myself. I’m usually very cordial and sociable, but I realize that interactions with people below a magnitudinous intellectual level like guess whose may stultify mental capabilities, so I’m having fewer if not completely nothing of those – these unusual moments are reserved for charity cases. If you’re not a charity case, and you just need me to listen to your trivial thoughts and to your gloating, then pardon me; I am far too brilliant to drain away, dealing with pus excrement like you.