Why I Am Better Than You.

The title says it all. I don’t want to burst your bubble and void everything your mommy and daddy told you. The truth needs to come out. I need to be direct with you common people and finally explain why I am better than you. Am I being funny? Maybe. Is this true and based on fact and not just my opinion? No. If that were true then the title of this post would be, Why I think I am better than you. It clearly states that I am better than you and there is no sense in trying to think otherwise. You mean nothing to me and if you want to matter in this crazy world, I suggest you stop being you and be me. Unfortunately, that there is impossible. Tough luck. Have fun being you.

I am better than you. There is no denying that. I don’t need to make a list of reasons why I am better. That’s silly. If I wanted to make a list, I would add more rules to my endless rules to being my wife. But you’re here because you either think you’re better than me or you want to see why you mean nothing to me and wonder how on Earth this guy is better than me. Let me explain this simple fact to you.

I have no imperfections. I am a work of art that even stops God in his tracks. He tried to replicate me again but that didn’t work. Trying to clone me and make another perfect being is laughable. While I am out being perfect and basking in the glory of perfection, you’re busy making pot holders and macaroni art work. Sadly, even that turns out horribly. Your art work is even below the not-so-great acting capabilities of the dreadful, Steve Guttenberg.

You’d think being perfect would be hard but it isn’t. I don’t know what hard work is. Not that I am lazy or avoid lifting a finger, it’s because work comes easy to me. Work is just daily living. You punch your 9 to 5 and complain about your boss and how bad your job is. I on the other hand do none of that. I don’t have to work because doing so puts other to shame. It really doesn’t boost the company morale when I am the employee of the month for years. I am blessed with this gift of perfection. I wish I could foul up once. I wish I could be like you and have that gut feeling as to why I am stuck on this Earth to live a life of shame and remorse. I wish I could feel pity for you but I can’t. Feeling pity for someone is weak and I am not weak. I am strong. I have will power that is unthinkable. I may have said that I am the work of God but frankly, God is the work of me.

That’s right, people. I am going there. I am a God. I am not thee God. Saying that I am God would be blasphemous. I’m not going to Hell for pretending to be him. Why would I even try to pretend to be the God!? He’s faulty. They say God is perfect. They said he can do no wrong. Explain this. He made you and if you’re going to be known as the creator of all mankind, you wouldn’t make a shitty product. God made us in his image. Sorry to say, God. You may have made Earth and all the galaxies around us but you’re one thing to me. You’re definitely a 10 footer.

I hope this is all sinking in. I hope this isn’t upsetting you. I just feel like it’s important that you and other people know the truth. Why go about life being fed lies? Your parents are the culprits. They tell you that you’re perfect and everyone loves you. But those are lies. Vicious lies that were fed to them and now they replant the seed in your head to keep this charade of false hope alive. You need to read this again and print it off. Always return to my words and tell your kids that they aren’t perfect. Tell them that God isn’t either. Have them strive to be almost like me. Don’t let them live a lie and spend the rest of their life thinking they can be great. Crush those dreams like your crushed their belief in Santa and the Easter Bunny.

It’s hard being perfect. I wish I could share my secret and even let others join but I can’t. Being perfect is a one man show. There isn’t room for others. You will never amount to my perfectness. I am a gold winner and the rest of the world is silver and bronze. I win all the time. Second place is Greek to me. Losing is not in my vocabulary. I can go on and on with this. To be frank with you and to make it very clear, you suck. I am perfect. I am that gold star on the attendance chart. I am that A+ all the Chinese families love to see. I am that boyfriend your mother and father want you to date. I make flawless diamonds look like Cubic Zirconium.

I think this is why I don’t want to get married and why I have so many rules to being my wife. Why would I marry a woman who is beneath me? God can’t make two perfect things. God’s first mistake in life was making woman. That right there explains why God isn’t perfect. I didn’t make woman. I know better. I know when there’s a problem and that problem has 2 boobs and an opinion that they think matters. I’ll forever be alone. I am cool with that. I am perfectly fine with knowing that I will not marry and breed. My perfect seed and your tainted and sorry excuse for an egg will never meet up. A little bit of me and a little bit of you won’t make another perfect baby. We’ll curse this world with another Dane Cook and we know that no one wants that.

I hope this clears everything up. I hope this explains why I am perfect and you’re just the after thought God had after he made me. I wish you all the best after I am gone. I don’t know when that will be but when it is, I hope that someone reasonably perfect will take over and make them feel a little more important. Will it be you?

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I like food. I like the smell of cinnamon.

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