Its No Fun Being a Genius


It is no fun being a genius.  Especially one that’s a little slow on the uptake.  That’s what confuses people about me.  Who said geniuses had to be quick witted?  Actually, my particular type of brilliance only shines when no one else is around.  Remember the 1999 movie “Mystery Men”?  One of the superheroes, Invisible Boy, could only become invisible if no one was looking.  I’m like that, except when others are around my brain is invisible.  There’s even a name for it: Esprit de l’escalier, the witty comment or snappy reply you wish you had said to someone earlier if you had only thought of it.  I always come up with a clever retort, but only three days later.

It’s like being the smartest computer in the world with a hamster in a wheel for a processor.  I always thought I could be a doctor or a lawyer, but they don’t give picture exams.  The only college classes I could excel in were in Philosophy, because all you have to do is argue.  If there’s anything I’ve learned by being married four times, it’s arguing.  Maybe that’s why I was married four times.  It only took me that many marriages to figure out how not to argue.  See?  I’ve always been burdened with molasses for brains.  It took me six kids to figure out what caused them.  The seventh was a scientific experiment to prove what I had learned.  Hey, no one ever told me.

You won’t believe how difficult it is to suffer from lethologica (the inability to recall a word that is on the tip of one’s tongue), hypophora (reasoning with oneself outloud) and chronic circumlocution (evasive or indirect language achieved by excessive wordiness).  If it weren’t for my being a genius I’d be in a hopeless state.  I’ve always envied intellectuals who can fly off at the lips without hesitation and make sense all at once.  But then again, I have an ability the average genius can’t begin to comprehend.  I fool people into believing I’m slow-witted, and when I’ve got them right where I want them (usually two counties away), I flash my superior brains and humiliate all the doubters into submission.

I’ve been honing this skill my entire life.  As a child I would lull my audience into believing I’d just finished reading “Hop On Pop” when I’d really polished off “War and Peace”.  Once I even hid Einstein’s Theory of Relativity inside a Superman comic book just so my parents would think I was turning my brain into mush.  My specialty, though, was and always has been the art of debate.  My mother once said I would argue with a fence post.  Well, that’s how I practiced.  Oh, anyone can banter a point back and forth.  It takes someone with real smarts, though, to make the other guy think they’re winning the argument when they’re really not.  There’s a name for this, too, believe it or not: Socratic Irony, feigning ignorance in a debate in order to win a point.  I’ve got that technique down pat.

But as I’ve mentioned already, it’s no fun being a genius with all the special talents I have, and all the mental insufficiencies I’ve had to overcome.  Look, I even have to disguise my face so people don’t notice that glint of brilliance in my eyes, the intelligent curve of my forehead and the brainy jutting of my jaw.  So, you’ve been warned, dear reader.  I may appear to enter a war of wits unarmed, but my back pockets are full of secret weapons.

About jaytharding
Christian Mystic-in-training, burgeoning Apologist, Writer, Poet, Philosopher, all-purpose curmudgeon Therefore, if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. 11 Corinthians 5:17

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