Far from the Truth

I was checking a message board for one of my classes. One of my brilliant classmates posted a message boasting that he had just taken an IQ test, received a pretty score, was a genius, and was pretty close to Einstein. However, based on the numbers he gave me and my psychology classes he wasn’t that close to Einstein’s, whose IQ wasn’t that high (relative to his amazing work). Also, the classmate wasn’t even in the next range down (gifted): he was only above average. Lastly, IQ tests don’t mean a whole lot, especially when this supposed genius didn’t even realize he posted the same exact message multiple times in a row. It must take an idiot to work the message board. He should go hang out with Hollow Boy. It’s not that they’re idiots, but that they’re pretending to be geniuses.

I however, have not been feeling like a genius lately. I got this very official looking card in the mail. It had a claim number on it and a phone number that I had to call (within 24 hours of receipt). Before thinking about it, I called the number and gave the claim number. I assumed it was a package for me, since I am expecting one soon. It was not a package, and actually I’m not really sure what it was. Apparently some organization has been sending out these cards, and they want people to go to these meetings. They get people to do this by offering prizes and such. It’s hard to tell, but it sounded like you got something for just showing up and had the possibility of getting more—which I don’t believe. I’m just not very interested in such things, but since I had already given the claim number, I was given a time and place. So now I can decide to go to this meeting and believe that they actually give away prizes and that they won’t try to kill me, or I can just forget about it. They say I have to bring the card with me and an ID, as if it’s a bar where youngsters are going to try to break in. I’m curious as to how they got my name and address and what type of scam they will hit me with. Maybe they’ll lock me in a room and do scientific experiments on me. I’ll end up with two more arms. Maybe they’ll try to sell me a credit card—the horror of it all! I should probably go just so I have something to write about in my poetry class. Maybe it’s dangerous, or worse and more likely, a big waste of time. I really have no idea what it is. I should have asked when I was on the phone, but there really wasn’t a time to. It’s too bad the groundhog can’t predict anything about the meeting.

Since it is Groundhog Day today, see what Phil has to say. Maybe Phil is a genius. It sounds like he went back into hiding.

I have also been hiding lately. In one of my English classes, I have one of those professors that you see in movies. He’s the size of a refrigerator and his voice is loud and precise. When he says the word novel, he says, “NAAAW-vel.” He randomly calls on students to answer difficult questions, and if you haven’t read the book enough to answer them you have to leave the room. There is a horrible amount of reading assigned in the class, and many students don’t finish it all on time; so for an hour each day, everybody sits in quiet fear. The thing is: he isn’t very good at remembering people’s names. He scans his attendance sheet and in this way, randomly picks out victims to call on. Fortunately for me, he accidentally crossed out my name at the beginning of the semester, mistakenly thinking I had dropped the class, and had to uncross it out. Uncrossing out ink doesn’t really work, though, and since there are other cross outs that belong to true dropped out students, he never remembers my name should be there. So while he scans through the list of names, I remain hidden.