Whenever I’m really trying to achieve something, I always exert an 100% effort. That’s my policy and I think it’s pretty fair, considering 100% is by definition a maximum. But 100% isn’t good enough for some people. It is frustrating to lose a game of one-on-one basketball because the moron I’m playing against gives it 110%, or lose out on a job because the other applicants are willing to put in 110%. How is exerting an 110% effort not considered cheating? I’m suspicious that it is even mathematically possible unless these people are doping.

You can’t say you’ll perform beyond what is humanly possible, because then numbers start to become meaningless. That’s why it’s no longer uncommon for a person to proclaim, “Hmm! On a scale of 1 to 10, these cupcakes rate a 12!” Sir, by the very scale you yourself provided that is not feasible. Stop living in a fantasy world and allow your appraisals of cupcakes to conform to the criteria by which they’re being measured. Until you understand how to do that you don’t even deserve a cupcake.

When people call in sick to work they’re always under the impression that they need to exaggerate the misery in their voice. Even if they’re genuinely sick, people instinctively like to play up their sickness so that nobody can be angry at them for skipping work. I’m telling you that this is not necessary. We’re adults and don’t need to prove to anybody that we’re really sick. Besides, nobody wants to hear how miserable you are. Whenever I call in sick, I try to be as upbeat as possible. “Hey! How’s it going, you guys? Haha, that’s great! So anyway, I’m feeling miserable! I think I’ll take the day off today. What’s that in the background, you ask? Oh, that’s just some loud music. Yeah, I’m just sitting here listening to some gangsta rap, too sick to really go to work. Well, anyway, I’ve got to run, I’m supposed to meet some people at the gym.”

Another audacious thing to do is to call in drunk. “Hey Mr. Johnson, just wanted to tell you that I can’t come in to work today. Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. I’m just absolutely obliterated. Thought I’d have a beer or two this morning, and the next thing I knew I’d gone through half a case. Trust me, you wouldn’t want me there today. I haven’t been this plastered in years. I’m probably just going to have to stay in bed all day and wait this thing out. Oh, by the way, you wife’s really hot.”

It is unacceptable when a street, upon coming to an intersection, takes a 90 degree turn, as if it were actually an automobile. This happens on Lake Lansing road in East Lansing: you reach a four-way intersection, and Lake Lansing goes ahead and makes a left-hand turn. Oh, no warning or anything. It’s no big deal. It’s just kind of like, “Oh, were you trying to stay on Lake Lansing? Then you probably shouldn’t have gone straight, because I’m over here now. The street you’re driving on now is Eat Shit boulevard.”

The sole purpose of a street is to go in a continuous line in an obliging manner. That is why we name streets—to follow them, not to be dicked around. If you turn left at an intersection, congratulations, you are now on another street. I don’t really care what you call it, but it cannot be the same goddamned street you just came from.

City planning commissioners have no conception of logic or dignity. I’ve seen an intersection where a street is somehow intersecting with itself—if you look at the two perpendicular green street signs that form a cross with one another there, they both display the same name. How is this even possible let alone not retarded? There are also streets that stop suddenly, as if they had a quick errand to run, before mysteriously continuing on a few miles away. Why are these streets so mental? You can’t just have streets do whatever the hell you want them to, and I’m sick of this absurd nonsense. It is for this reason that I now refuse to travel any other way than via railroad train.