Validation!

Ok, good news.  I am not crazy.  I am not just saying that because a Facebook quiz was able to validate my lucidity.  Nope!  I am sober as a judge.  See, when I grew up, there used to be crazy people, all kinds.  Not anymore, everyone just has a disorder.  Don’t believe me?

People used to have ‘road rage’.  And… we used to call them ‘assholes’.  No more.  They simply have ‘Intermittent Explosive Disorder’.  I told you about this back in June of ’06.

Wait, there’s more!  Did you know that there are people who cut off their limbs?  Yes, perfectly good limbs getting cut off my their owners.  Nutjob?  Wack case?  David Caruso?  Nope… another disorder.  I wrote about several of these over the years.  It was a series I call ‘ a good smackin’.  My bitch was this this > personal accountability is gone.  We are a society of victims.

Me?  Not a victim.  I rose above our blame culture to take accountability!  I was courageous enough to point out what a bunch of sally’s you all were.  Really, I was a hero in this arena.  That is, until last Friday.  You know if you have read more than one post from me, or spent more than one week with me, I hate mornings.  Secretly, I thought it was me being lazy.  I think my family thinks that too.  I know my wife thinks so.  Well, now I got a disorder too.

That may be because evening people show increased motor cortex and spinal cord excitability in the evening, about 9 p.m., meaning they had maximal central nervous system drive at that time, Lagerquist said.

Morning people, on the other hand, never achieve this level of central nervous system drive because the excitability of the motor cortex does not coincide with the excitability of the spinal cord. In other words, these two measures never peak at the same time, he said. Early birds’ brains were most excitable at 9 a.m. and slowly decreased throughout the day.

See, what this means is that you peak at 9 am.  That’s it, you are done for the day.  Each passing minute after 9 am, you become even dumber.  Impressive.  Insightful.  Explains a lot, don’t it?

Yet, with me…  nearly every second you encounter me… I am getting better.  As the day grows on, I am getting smarter and stronger every minute.  You might be thinking my awesomeness can barely be contained, and you would be correct.  It’s fun being correct, isn’t it?  You should try it more often.  I wake up every day and remind myself how great it is being right.  American, I am your gift… and you are welcome.

What I really need is a disorder name.  Everyone gets one.  People with Road Rage have Intermittant Explosive Disorder.  Your kid isn’t a hyper spaz, she just has adhd.   Your brother didn’t chop his arm off after eating way too much acid, he has Apotemnophilia.  You may not be a lazy good for nothing emotional waste of space…  scientists say you may just be a ‘teenager’.

See, once I get a name for my disorder… I am then a protected class.  What does that mean?  It means if you wake me up I will sue your ass!  I also think it means I can come into work whenever I feel like it, racist.

The good news is that I will clearly not beat your ass.  Apparently, you are fierce like a lion at 9 am.  Me?  Not so much.  Come 9 pm, though, I am outside your house and ready to box.  You better not be in bed, pussy!

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