[After much soul searching I’ve discovered in myself that I want to be popular (and that I have excellent oral hygiene.) Yup, there once was a time that I convinced myself that I didn’t want to be popular, I hated popular people, all and all I was an anti-popular kind of sort. Now I see that everyone wants to be popular. The guy in second period that everyone thinks smells wants to be popular. The tall guy who wears only Mossimo gear wants to be a player. The chick that doesn’t wash her hair thinks she looks sophisticated. Everyone wants to be popular. I am not currently popular. Yet somehow I want to be. I do not want to be popular in the traditional aspect. I do not want to be the GAP shopper (Good Will Super Store). I do not want to be the guy with the cool car (‘87 Oldsmobile) I do not want to be the jock who devotes all of his time to a sport (I claim the title of the fourth best badminton player in the free world.) No, I want to be popular on my own terms. How does one become a central figure without fitting into the preestablished mold? Well, it is a known fact that all serial killers are popular. Ted Bundy had over 100 chicks offer him their hands in marriage. He had his own made for TV movie and is the theme for countless books. He was even considered a SEX Symbol. The Son of Sam mass murderer is at least as popular as current New York mayor Guilleni. The Green River Killer is still given prime air time in newscasts. Look at Charles Manson. He has a cult following, countless internet sites, songs recorded by Guns N Roses, and all he had to do was kill 9 people and write words in blood. Yup, serial killers are perhaps the most popular people of the 20th century. Dictators all are popular in the country in they reside. They are often regarded as the most celebrated figures in history. Adolph Hitler never had to spend a Friday evening organizing his compact disc collection. Joseph Stalin didn’t worry about not finding an attractive female counterpart; women were on him like maggots on the approximate 40 million folk he killed. Even old Abe Lincoln gets a holiday and all he did was throw out the Constitution and throw the country into civil war. His face is on the freakin’ penny. It is clear that dictators are extremely popular. The final way to be popular doing your own thing is too die. Look at Vincent Van Gough. Here is some terrible artist who can’t draw, can’t really sculpt, no ear, and yet his paintings now sell for upwards of 50 million dollars. Why?, because he died. I bet that Jimmy Carter can’t wait until he dies because then he might get the Memorial everyone knows he thinks he deserves. Remember when Nixon died? He was given the nicest eulogies by all the television commentators. Just because he died. So the way I figure is all I need to do is be murdered by the
administrators because of something I wrote. All the students who currently hate my guts would feel that the appropriate thing to do is cry. All will exclaim “I knew he was just joking around. He was such a nice guy. Why does it always happen to the good ones?” Indeed, dying is a tough way to be popular, but obviously worth it. It is clear that I will be popular. Everyone wants to be, I will be. Just watch out all young women as you walk alone out to your cars. Heck, it worked for Bundy.]