The Face of Vanity in a Sea of Mediocrity

I find it almost impossible to believe that no one wants to pay tribute to the beauty and the majesty that is “me”. No one is rushing up to shower me in gold coins and chocolates and rose petals. How is this even possible? I am clearly one of the finer specimens of the human species that has ever walked the Earth, and I deserve to be treated as such.

I don’t have all the muscles in the world, it is true. But there’s a thing as having “too many muscles” and being “too finally toned”, isn’t there? At a certain point it just becomes ridiculous and ostentatious, doesn’t it?

I also must admit that I am not the most intelligent person in the world. I do not have the highest IQ. I am also not the most cultured or well read. I have never visited Cape Town, South Africa, and I have still not read “The Brothers Karamazov”. But a certain point, can the argument not be made that someone can be “overly intelligent, cultured, and well read”? I mean, talk about obnoxious. Talk about bringing down the energy in the room, trying to make everyone else look bad. It’s just sort of tasteless after a while, isn’t it? The same goes for money and possessions. At a certain point you can just have too much of it, and it’s like “enough already, we get it”. Such a sure fire way to bring the energy down in the room.

I am clearly one of the finest specimens in life not in spite of, but because of my so-called “mediocrity”. You say “mediocre” and I say “absolutely perfect in all my balance and symmetry”. I think it just has to be said that of all the balanced and normal people out there, I am undoubtedly the most perfect example of a balanced and normal person. I am so normal and so perfect and so balanced it is just unbelievable. There are times that even I can’t believe it.

Do you know the wild thing? No one seems to notice or respect how perfect and normal and balanced I am. It’s unbelievable. It has been driving me nuts the more I think about it, and the more obsessed I become about it the less balanced I become. Which makes me go even crazier, because I have always taken pride in my exquisite sense of balance. So it’s just so nuts, all of it, every part of it. 

And another thing: you can tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk. Would it be any other way? The ladies adore me, and this is only right. This is how it should be. I am a perfect and normal and balanced specimen of a man, after all.

But here’s the thing that’s been bugging me about that:  it’s becoming clear to me that they don’t seem to be giving me the love and attention for the right reasons. I’ve come to believe that all the ladies love me because of how crazy I make them go in bed, instead of loving me because of how impossibly perfect I am. This seems to be a fundamental issue for me. While crazy good sex all day long just naturally comes with the package when spending time with Yours Truly, it shouldn’t even come close to how perfect, normal, and balanced I am. I mean, come on.

This lack of appreciation, validation – heck, even just acknowledgment – has come to bother me so much that I think I’m just going to have to do something about it. I could shout at people in the streets about how amazing I am, but I don’t think this would be very effective in the long term.

I am tossing around a few ideas. One of them is to rent a billboard along the highway that reads “Howie McMahon is perfect, normal, and balanced!” with a picture of my smiling face to the side. Another idea I’m tossing around is writing a book about how wonderful I am, and it will be split up into three parts: the first part about how perfect I am, the second part about how normal I am, and the third part about how balanced I am. I’m tossing around a few title ideas for the book, but my favorites so far are “The Pleasures and Powers of Perfection” and “Why I Am Clearly the Best: A Case Study”.

One idea that has really stuck with me is erecting a statue of myself in the town square. Perhaps there could be a meditative waterfall and pool nearby, and a garden with all of the best kinds of flowers. The statue would be in my likeness (perhaps adding an inch to my height and taking away 20 pounds), and it would be me dressed in my best tailor-made suit, beaming from ear to ear and giving two thumbs up. There will be a plaque in front of the statue that reads “In Commemoration of Howie McMahon – the Most Perfect, Normal, and Balanced Person Ever”. What a sight that would be. What an amazing sight. The only problem would be how long it would take to clear the area, grow the garden, build a pool, and of course, construct and perfect the statue. Because the statue has to be absolute perfect. It has to be the most perfect, normal, and balanced statue ever. It would only be fitting, seeing as it is a commemorative statue for the most perfect, normal, and balanced human being to ever live.

I’m going with the statue idea, I think. That seems to have the most lasting impact. Then again, maybe I’ll implement all three ideas, but the statue is a non-negotiable.

Because I have to get the word out. I have to make sure as many people as possible know just how perfect, normal, and balanced I am.

I have to spread the good news.