What is taking my waiter so long? How dare he make me wait more than a minute for my beverage? Some low-level servant with an IQ of 70.
Who does he think he is? God? Nonsense. Not that I possess any spiritual belief ⎯ ‘cause I don’t.
But if I did, I have to think God would be just like me. Handsome. Successful. Intelligent. Great in bed.
All the qualities that a man must possess to make it in this dog-eat-dog world we call home.
My long-awaited bourbon has finally made it safely to my table. Better late than never, I guess.
Yeah, keep smiling, loser. You just blew your tip. Even if he could muster up the energy to produce a lucid thought, he’d probably trip over his own tongue as the words tumbled crudely out of his imbecilic mouth.
What has happened to society? I should have been born in a different century. I could see myself as a king ⎯ whose every waking moment would be worshipped by the wrecked filth that populates the country.
Everybody would love me. Chanting my name in ever-lasting admiration, as I sustain their dull, pathetic existence, with just enough hope to keep my economy flowing ⎯ acknowledging that I can snatch their aspirations away at any moment. Shattering their subsistence to pieces.
As I look around this place we call a society, I’m reminded on a daily basis that people are rotten excuses for human beings. I can’t even refrain from laughing when I think of the fact that I’m grouped in with these parasites.
Human beings ⎯ Jesus. It’s a shame that dinosaurs went out the way they did. This planet would have been better off if humans never existed.
Then “Dopey the Waiter” wouldn’t be able to screw up my order. Or make me wait two minutes for a refill.
How could I possibly go on living ⎯ knowing that no one on Earth can measure up to my level of awesomeness? Not to mention my radiating good looks and corporate success.
Did I mention those two things already? Who cares ⎯ it’s worth mentioning again.
My mother keeps insisting I find a woman and settle down. The sheer thought of it makes my stomach churn, when I look around and see the ghastly display of the female form.
Women today have a limited arsenal. They’re either too thin, too bony, too muscular ⎯ or in most instances grossly overweight. When you couple that with the fact that no woman I’ve ever encountered can match a man’s intelligence ⎯ especially mine ⎯ that pretty much narrows my search for the perfect mate to: “non-existent.”
Now, I know what you're thinking: I’m too picky. Or a bit of a narcissist.
But hey, I know what I want, and I know who I am.
A narcissist is simply a vulgar term used to describe someone who fantasies about being great. Or having a perfect life, or the perfect features. But in my case, that’s simply not true.
If there’s anything I’ve learned from religion it’s that God is perfect in every way.
And you know what?
So am I.