The problem with America isn’t that we’re stupid. It’s that we’re stupid inconsistently.
Life’s Absurd Contradictions Start With Government Irony
Take Virginia’s “Don’t Tread on Me” license plate. They are available for an extra fee to the government. You can literally pay the state to publicly announce that you don’t want the state involved in your life. It’s like buying a “Leave Me Alone” membership card from a stalker. The Revolutionary War snake is coiled and ready to strike, but only after processing your $20 administrative fee and waiting 4-6 weeks for delivery. Nothing says “rugged individualism” quite like filling out Form DMV-1776B in triplicate.
We claim dolphins are the second-smartest species on Earth, yet they can’t navigate a Bud Light six-pack holder without emergency intervention from marine biologists. We’ve mythologized these aquatic clicking tubes into philosophical savants based entirely on the fact that they smile all the time and occasionally save surfers. But put a piece of plastic in the ocean and suddenly Flipper needs a rescue team. You know who never gets their nose stuck in six-pack holders? Raccoons.* Actual trash pandas who live in garbage, and they’ve still got better problem-solving skills than our supposed oceanic intellectuals.
The Absurd Logic of Cultural Priorities
And let’s talk about cosplay for a moment. Every year, thousands of Americans dress up as superheroes, anime characters, and Star Wars extras. But has anyone, ever, gone to a convention dressed as the Hamburglar? As Mayor McCheese? As Grimace, that inexplicable purple taste bud whose entire existence was a fever dream marketed to children? We’ve collectively decided that a sexy Pikachu is acceptable but a sexy McNugget Buddy is somehow crossing a line. Our cultural priorities are showing, and they’re wearing cat ears.
Speaking of cultural mysteries, I’ve discovered the secret to a lasting marriage: strategic misdirection. I leave clown shoes by the bed so my wife thinks I fucked a clown. It’s important to keep the relationship exciting. She’ll never suspect the truth—that I’m actually just that disorganized and once attended a bankruptcy sale at a circus supply store. But the paranoia? The mental image? That’s the gift that keeps on giving. She looks at me differently now. There’s suspicion in her eyes. Respect, maybe. Definitely confusion. It’s the same look dolphins get right before they swim face-first into plastic.
More Contradictions: The Alphabet’s Identity Crisis
And spare a thought for the letter Z. You make it to the end of the alphabet, you survive being consistently last in every school roll call and alphabetical list, and just when you think you’ve carved out your own linguistic niche, here comes X. Stealing your job. Taking your buzz. Your zip becomes xip… well, no, it doesn’t, but X is trying. X is aggressively expanding its portfolio into edgy branding, mysterious variables, and trying to sound cool in words like “xylophone” where it absolutely doesn’t belong. Poor Z is over there in the corner, zoning out, getting zero respect, watching X mark the spot while wondering what the hell happened to its career.
We are a nation of contradictions wrapped in cognitive dissonance, deep-fried in irony, and served with a side of ranch. We pay for freedom. We worship idiots in the ocean. We ignore fast-food cosplay opportunities. We gaslight our spouses with footwear. And we let letters bully each other in the alphabet.
Life’s Ultimate Contradiction: The Ranch Dressing Revelation
But then we die and none of it matters. Unless we come back again and hopefully learn that none of it matters. And if we don’t learn that, we come back again to learn that none of it matters. But sometimes we don’t learn and we come back again to learn that none of it matters.
And when we finally learn that none of it matters, we come back as lettuce and learn that we would rather be coated with bleu cheese dressing than ranch.
The dolphins will figure it out eventually. Probably right after we do.
*I am not sure if this is true or not… but after 37 seconds of “doing my own research,” I couldn’t find that it was untrue either. So I am using it, damnit.
Key Takeaways
America’s problems stem from inconsistent stupidity rather than a lack of intelligence.
The article humorously highlights contradictions in American culture, such as paying for ‘freedom’ while seeking government approval.
Pop culture priorities reveal absurdities; for instance, dressing as superheroes is popular while iconic fast-food characters remain overlooked.
Relationships thrive on playful deceit, illustrated through funny examples, including clown shoes to spark suspicion.
Ultimately, life is absurd and fleeting, where none of it matters, perhaps best expressed by a preference for bleu cheese over ranch dressing.
Brian Gerard (Lewandowski) writes books critics call "aggressively adequate"—better than "aggressively terrible" but somehow more concerning. He once traded a MetroCard for a pitchfork on a subway platform and now uses it exclusively for dramatic pointing. He lives on a farm outside Charlottesville, Virginia with three disappointed potted plants, a judgmental pig named Trouble McFussbucket, and a wife who smiles politely at his life choices.
His first manuscript was composed entirely of punctuation marks and confused sketches. He's since published "Not Bukowski" (poems that don't rhyme) and "Slop and Swell from a Festering Mind" (essays so concerning that bookstores check on his wellbeing). He once spent three hours photographing a rare bird that turned out to be a plastic bag, and he's the only person banned from church bake sales for "weaponized brownies." Inheriting absurdism from Vonnegut and Adams, sprawling narratives from Irving, and weaponized failure from Moore, he writes about conflicted everymen struggling through supernatural chaos.
He has two new, offbeat novels waiting foran agent or a publisher: "Truth Tastes Like Pennies" and "Elliot Nessie." He remains unconvinced that birds aren't surveillance drones.
The Contradictions Will Continue Until Morale Improves
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Estimated reading time: 4 minutes
The problem with America isn’t that we’re stupid. It’s that we’re stupid inconsistently.
Life’s Absurd Contradictions Start With Government Irony
Take Virginia’s “Don’t Tread on Me” license plate. They are available for an extra fee to the government. You can literally pay the state to publicly announce that you don’t want the state involved in your life. It’s like buying a “Leave Me Alone” membership card from a stalker. The Revolutionary War snake is coiled and ready to strike, but only after processing your $20 administrative fee and waiting 4-6 weeks for delivery. Nothing says “rugged individualism” quite like filling out Form DMV-1776B in triplicate.
We claim dolphins are the second-smartest species on Earth, yet they can’t navigate a Bud Light six-pack holder without emergency intervention from marine biologists. We’ve mythologized these aquatic clicking tubes into philosophical savants based entirely on the fact that they smile all the time and occasionally save surfers. But put a piece of plastic in the ocean and suddenly Flipper needs a rescue team. You know who never gets their nose stuck in six-pack holders? Raccoons.* Actual trash pandas who live in garbage, and they’ve still got better problem-solving skills than our supposed oceanic intellectuals.
The Absurd Logic of Cultural Priorities
And let’s talk about cosplay for a moment. Every year, thousands of Americans dress up as superheroes, anime characters, and Star Wars extras. But has anyone, ever, gone to a convention dressed as the Hamburglar? As Mayor McCheese? As Grimace, that inexplicable purple taste bud whose entire existence was a fever dream marketed to children? We’ve collectively decided that a sexy Pikachu is acceptable but a sexy McNugget Buddy is somehow crossing a line. Our cultural priorities are showing, and they’re wearing cat ears.
Speaking of cultural mysteries, I’ve discovered the secret to a lasting marriage: strategic misdirection. I leave clown shoes by the bed so my wife thinks I fucked a clown. It’s important to keep the relationship exciting. She’ll never suspect the truth—that I’m actually just that disorganized and once attended a bankruptcy sale at a circus supply store. But the paranoia? The mental image? That’s the gift that keeps on giving. She looks at me differently now. There’s suspicion in her eyes. Respect, maybe. Definitely confusion. It’s the same look dolphins get right before they swim face-first into plastic.
More Contradictions: The Alphabet’s Identity Crisis
And spare a thought for the letter Z. You make it to the end of the alphabet, you survive being consistently last in every school roll call and alphabetical list, and just when you think you’ve carved out your own linguistic niche, here comes X. Stealing your job. Taking your buzz. Your zip becomes xip… well, no, it doesn’t, but X is trying. X is aggressively expanding its portfolio into edgy branding, mysterious variables, and trying to sound cool in words like “xylophone” where it absolutely doesn’t belong. Poor Z is over there in the corner, zoning out, getting zero respect, watching X mark the spot while wondering what the hell happened to its career.
We are a nation of contradictions wrapped in cognitive dissonance, deep-fried in irony, and served with a side of ranch. We pay for freedom. We worship idiots in the ocean. We ignore fast-food cosplay opportunities. We gaslight our spouses with footwear. And we let letters bully each other in the alphabet.
Life’s Ultimate Contradiction: The Ranch Dressing Revelation
But then we die and none of it matters. Unless we come back again and hopefully learn that none of it matters. And if we don’t learn that, we come back again to learn that none of it matters. But sometimes we don’t learn and we come back again to learn that none of it matters.
And when we finally learn that none of it matters, we come back as lettuce and learn that we would rather be coated with bleu cheese dressing than ranch.
Ranch is for weasels.
The dolphins will figure it out eventually. Probably right after we do.
*I am not sure if this is true or not… but after 37 seconds of “doing my own research,” I couldn’t find that it was untrue either. So I am using it, damnit.
Key Takeaways
Related Links
See my Amazon author page and buy my books.
His first manuscript was composed entirely of punctuation marks and confused sketches. He's since published "Not Bukowski" (poems that don't rhyme) and "Slop and Swell from a Festering Mind" (essays so concerning that bookstores check on his wellbeing). He once spent three hours photographing a rare bird that turned out to be a plastic bag, and he's the only person banned from church bake sales for "weaponized brownies." Inheriting absurdism from Vonnegut and Adams, sprawling narratives from Irving, and weaponized failure from Moore, he writes about conflicted everymen struggling through supernatural chaos.
He has two new, offbeat novels waiting foran agent or a publisher: "Truth Tastes Like Pennies" and "Elliot Nessie."
He remains unconvinced that birds aren't surveillance drones.
More biographic lies...err...info.
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