At some point during a conversation I was having with a thirty-something father of two, this was said:

You know that guy who writes all those games, Tom Clancy? Man! That guy must be rich.

Apparently, the gentleman hadn’t heard that Tom Clancy actually writes novels and did not, in fact, program Splinter Cell. He was so sure of himself, if I hadn’t known any better I might have believed him. Luckily, I’m not a barely functional retard, a fact that has proven to be fairly useful in my day-to-day life. One thing my brain can do that maybe our very own Tard Clancy couldn’t is realize that putting a fork in an electrical socket is not a good idea, at least after the third or fourth time. However, he is a far bigger man than I am, so he could probably handled the voltage surging through his body, where as I would instantaneously disintegrate. His shear size also explains why I’m saying all of this on the Internet and not to his face.

If I said all of this directly to him and he pummeled me with his gargantuan fists, who would be the moron there? You’re probably think that I would be the moron, but I’d have to disagree. After I show up to court with my face looking like an oozing bruised fruit and sue him, forcing his kids into welfare dependency, I think that would officially making him the moron. Again.

I guess, the real losers here are, as usual, the kids. Whatever happens, their dad is still a moron.