When I was a kid, the father of a good friend of mine called me "Hyperbole." Thankfully, it wasn't a nickname that stuck, but it tells you something about me. So does the fact that one of my most beloved high school teacher called me "Smug." I was so moved by this, that I used my eraser to create a hand-high S, M, U and G on my green spiral freshman English notebook. And one of my favorite former colleagues told me I like to "spike the football," i.e., celebrate my own right-ness.
I can't really disagree. And I can't believe people don't hate me for it, though I like to think that I pepper my know-it-all-ism with pleasant amusements. But in this, like many things, I could be kidding myself.
Anyway, I began today with a Super Bowl superlative -- that it is the biggest sporting event on the planet. And I immediately got static from my Canadian/Iranian citizen of the world in the cubicle next door, who spoke up for non-American football, a k a soccer. Another colleague agreed with her, and the two of them don't agree on much, so I knew I'd probably gone too far.
But, me being me, I had to look it up. God bless Google. What I learned was that the Super Bowl IS No. 1. But before I could spike the football, I saw the rest of the story: That's only true in non World Cup years. And interestingly, 98 percent of Super Bowl viewers are in North America (with a much more broad base for World Cup coverage). Us against the world.
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No one hates you for being smug. They do, however, hate you for being smugly proud of being smug.
Seriously -- you wrote it with pride on your notebook? Did you know what it meant??
On another note, if your children are alive when you get home, you should be extremely pleased. They have not been what you would call well-behaved today.
And finally, have you noticed that we don't really talk about anything anymore? We just blog, comment, blog, comment. Dr. Phil would be so disappointed.
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