Artificial Intelligence

Are you smart?

Do people think you’re smart?

Do you care if people think you’re smart?

Me?  I have my moments.  There’s plenty of stuff I know and more than plenty of stuff I don’t know – how to build things, what exactly is happening in Sudan, and how the cables behind my TV work for starters – I’m not quite sure if this signifies a real lack of intelligence or a lack of desire to acquire said intelligence, but there you have it.  My lack of smarts is limitless, really.  It’s questionable whether people think I’m smart or not – I mean, sometimes I do and say some pretty stupid things but overall I don’t think I’m the type of person that people say “she’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer” or “she’s one egg shy of a dozen” or “she’s dumber than a bag of hammers” about.  As an aside, aren’t those actually really cute - corny ways to say someone is dumbass stupid?  Anyway, I don’t think I’m there but I’m only now comfortable with the fact that if someone thinks I actually am not the crispiest chip in the bag (personal favourite) so be it.  My life isn’t really about constantly competing in a Smart-a-thon. I mean, who cares?

You know people like this, though, right?  People who may or may not be smart but go to great pains to show you they’re smart.  This wicked combination of condescension and annoyance wrapped in bravado is best saved for the United Nations Security Council if you ask me.  I mean, who cares?

Who cares where you went to school or what your high falutin hobby is or what high brow music you listen to, how high cultured you are or what book you're reading? 

Here’s me:  I went to UofT – big freakin’ deal.  Last week, I played Penguin Tag with grown adults in Improv class, watched 6 episodes of Fashion Police (which I religiously PVR), went to a Barry Manilow concert and started a new book.  So what am I going to tell you now – that I’m reading War and Peace to eradicate the cavalcade of dumb stuff I regularly partake in ?  Hardly.  I’m out and proud, baby: started a Harlequin romance. Is that not the best?  I mean, who can resist a title like “The Prodigal Texan” for $1.99 at the most charming second hand bookstore in Chatsworth (a town for me if there ever was one), Ontario?  Not me!  I can’t wait to start ripping into this thing.  What on Earth will happen to Jud and Miranda?  (Jud and Miranda!).

Think what you will.  I mean, who cares?