I have a high IQ. How high is it?
My IQ is so high it gets nosebleeds all the time. It needs an oxygen mask. They don’t make step ladders that big.
My IQ is so high it has the munchies. It has a huge Grateful Dead collection with all the paraphernalia.
Nevertheless, just like stoned people everywhere, there are things I want to be able to do but can’t. It can be annoying. So, for example, I can get a doctorate in mathematics, but I can’t tango. If I were to try to tango, either my partner or I would have broken toes within two minutes of starting. I watch people tango and can’t ever figure the moves out. Why? It’s just geometry, right?
I can blame that failing on a lack of eye-foot coordination. Of course, I also lack eye-hand coordination, so I can’t play musical instruments, and I lack ear-mouth coordination, so I can’t learn to speak foreign languages. It’s a wonder I ever learned English as well as I have.
I can’t learn organic chemistry. It’s so frustrating. Why not? It’s just a lot of wave functions added on top of each other. What on Earth is my problem? It shouldn’t be any harder than keeping track of dead and living cats. You have two columns, one for dead cats and one for live cats, with percentages of each. Trivia. But I am always being told that I didn’t take osmosis into account or some such nonsense.
That brings to mind social ineptness. For example, I was just reading that Sen. Lindsey Graham said this: “Is there a Brutus in Russia? Is there a more successful Colonel Stauffenberg in the Russian military?” Then he went on to say, “The only way this [the Ukrainian invasion] ends is for somebody in Russia to take this guy out. You would be doing your country — and the world — a great service.”
“Is there a Brutus in Russia?” How often have you heard that asked? Is there something rotten in Denmark? Why do Charmin commercials feature cartoon bears?
If I had to respond to something like that in real time, on a face-to-face basis, I know my people skills would fail me. I mean, I’d want to say something like, “Hey, you know how that Brutus business ended up, don’t you? Julius died, and then there was about half a millennium of emperors after him all calling themselves ‘Caesar.’” But I know I couldn’t come up with that sort of response at the moment, because my social intelligence can’t do tricksy puzzles that fast.
Even Marjorie Taylor Greene had no difficulty telling Graham that his remarks were “unhinged.” Graham should listen to her — hers is the voice of the master.
Heaven help us when Ted Cruz and MTG sound sane.
I’m also not socially skilled with inanimate objects. Plumbing, electrical wiring, automotive problems, dirty floors — I try shaking sticks at them menacingly, I insult their gods and rain curses down upon them. Nothing works. I clearly don’t know how to relate to these kinds of guys. They don’t know what to make of me either, from what I see. I’m not that hard to relate to. Just remember I don’t eat sweets, so don’t “gift” me any pineapple pizza. Here’s how you can work that out: Pineapples are fruit. Fruit contains fructose. Fructose is a sort of sugar. Sugars are sweet.
Here’s another example of how my social intelligence is lacking: NASA has announced a deal where, for free, just for registering online, they will send your name around the moon in an upcoming unmanned lunar mission, and I can’t see the hook. I’m expected to want to sign up for this, why? The bragging rights? Really?
It reminds me how, back in 1967, when starting college at the University of Washington, it seemed like about a quarter of all the males on campus had shoulder-length hair and wore wire-rimmed glasses. It took a year for me to catch on. They all wanted to look like John Lennon.
Now people want their names sent around the moon because it’s the closest they’ll ever come to looking like an astronaut.
Just like I can’t keep up with tango moves, I can’t keep up with the endless variations of vanity dancing around me.
Read more of the Mar. 9-15, 2022 issue.