Daily Discussion with BQB – Intelligence is a Curse

Happy Friday, 3.5 readers.

BQB here.  Do you ever wish you weren’t so smart?  I do.  All the time.

I’m surrounded by dumb people.  They never worry about anything.  I worry about everything because I’m so smart that my information filled brain realizes all of the potential bad things that could happen in any given situation.

Plus, I’m always down on myself because I feel like I failed, that I should have used my intelligence to do bigger, better things.

Do you know who doesn’t get down on themselves for failure?  Dumb people.  Know why?  They’re dumb.  You can’t realize you failed if you’re too dumb to figure out what success is.

Seriously.  Sometimes I think it would be easier to be a dummy.  Just watch TV and not worry about anything because there isn’t anything in my brain telling me to be worried or sad that I’m not super successful.

Then again, maybe I’m not that smart.  After all, I do work at Beige Corporation and moonlight as the proprietor of a blog that is only seen by 3.5 readers.  Perhaps I took a wrong turn an Albuquerque.

Crap.  No, I don’t really want to be a dummy.  Now I’m questioning my intelligence though.  I mean, if I’m so smart, why haven’t I figured out how to get 30.5 million readers by now?

I also feel like dumb people hate smart people.  Know why?  Being around them makes them feel, in a weird way, smart.  You know what a dumb person’s favorite pastime is?  Pointing out whenever a dumb person does something dumb.

You ever accidentally forget to tie your shoelace around a dumb person?  You know what they always say?  “What?  They don’t teach you how to tie shoelaces in college? Har dee har har!”

Shut up, dumb person.  No, they don’t teach you how to tie your shoe laces in college.

Alright.  This rant is getting dumb.  Peace out, 3.5 readers.  And if you think your intelligence is a curse, tell me about it in the comments.

Also, I’m just kidding.  I don’t think my intelligence is a curse.  I think I have just been held back by a world that is too dumb to realize my genius.  It’s ok though.  It makes me feel superior.

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3 thoughts on “Daily Discussion with BQB – Intelligence is a Curse

  1. I don’t know about intelligence. I was too stupid for school. When I went there aged 5, I could read, write, do arithmetic and I knew electromagnetic theory (my father, a scientist, taught me). But I didn’t do it the way the school did, and that made me stupid as far as the school was concerned. As for this electro- elecki – science stuff thing, it wasn’t on the curriculum and what idiot knows it anyway, aged 5? Proof of my stupidity. Lest this seem too hyperbolic, I have the letters they exchanged with my father over it. Worse, I was using the WRONG HAND, my left. Oops. Had to be fixed at ALL cost. And so I was pulverised, smashed, hammered and broken into trying to use the GOOD HAND. Except it didn’t work. All that happened was that I (apparently) CHOSE to get induced dyslexia from their efforts. My fault again – now I was not just so stupid that I knew all the stuff they were going to teach, before they taught it, I was backwards as well! All my fault, and I deserved the ingenious and relentless punishments the teachers took such huge pleasure in inflicting upon me, including having my head rammed into a bookshelf one time by a teacher and told that if I then moved a muscle, I’d have some fate delivered to me that would make be LONG for death. See how stupid I was? I wish I’d been smarter, I would have known enough to play dumb, and then they’d have left me alone…

    • Yikes! Maybe you have the makings of a tell all book here.

      • I’ve blogged about it a few times – here, mainly: https://mjwrightnz.wordpress.com/2014/09/19/the-story-of-my-old-school-yard/ – and I have the file my father kept of the letters he exchanged, minutes of visits he made and so forth (including a note stating that the headmadster refused to record anything in writing, and a letter from one teacher trying to deny that he’d sent a gang of kids chasing me all the way home so I could be hauled back to be punished some more, after school. Probably worth a page or two in the autobiography I’ll write when I become rich and famous (was that a flying pig I just saw past my window…?)

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