Much is currently being made over how wonderful I am.
Sunday is Father’s Day, and I expect the requisite adulation from my son and wife. I’m due to have my performance review at work any day now, and anticipate a hearty “meets expectations” in most categories.
Even those who don’t know me seem to cherish me. Citibank writes me a letter offering a low-interest credit card, calling me “Dear Davis.” The order taker at the Chick-fil-A drive-thru looks forward to seeing me at the window.
The truth of the matter, though, is that I suck. And not just when I’m using a straw.
I have done many, many bad things during my nearly 58 years, things that I’m certainly too ashamed of to mention in a semi-public forum like this blog, where as many as 50 or so people might see them.
I am a self-centered sociopath with little capacity for empathy. I have few friends, for obvious reasons. I am cynical beyond reason, and manipulative beyond belief. I lie, I covet. Of the seven deadly sins, I regularly practice at least six of them. I’d have a perfect score if I was certain what “sloth” was and agile enough to do it (I think it involves climbing slowly through the treetops).
Also, I’m pretty sure I frequently smell bad.
Though awful, I’m not as bad as a Hitler or a bin-Laden or an Anthony Weiner. I’ve never intentionally killed nor injured anybody, though that’s more out of a fear of being beaten up than any great respect I have for human life. I’ve never cheated on my wife. I am not now, nor do I plan to become, a candidate for the Republican nomination to be president of the United States. I’m not that horrible.
The few positive traits that I do exhibit do little to mitigate my repulsiveness. Most are more like skills than they are character traits:
- I can draw a map of the world freehand, including the islands of Madagascar, Taiwan and Sri Lanka. (I’m a little sketchy on the Indonesian archipelago, capable of a decent rendering of Java and Celebes but then I just trail off into dots for many of the lesser islands).
- I’m double-jointed in the middle finger of my right hand, and can wiggle it in a bizarre fashion.
- I’ve been certified as able to type at 100 words per minute with a 98% accuracy rate (Source: TyperShark).
- I can take a nap and wake up at any predetermined time I like, without the help of an alarm clock.
- I can fast-forward through commercials on TiVo recordings — on triple speed, mind you — and stop exactly at the beginning of a show’s next segment.
- I can button a dress shirt faster than anyone I know.
- I have a very large head (hat size: 9-1/8) which some studies have shown indicate a high level of intelligence, though most of those have now been debunked.
Not exactly qualities to make me a superhero or role model.
Still, I’m going to do my best to suppress my self-awareness deep, deep inside me this weekend where it can fester, rot and eventually turn into methane, which I can safely vent. (Oh yeah — I also have a problem with flatulence). Hopefully, this will allow me to enjoy a guilt-free summer Saturday and a wonderful Father’s Day.