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MIKE’S Little World

I find it interesting that folks are obsessed with the real HIM. What’s interesting about it is the different reactions I am receiving from the blogger. Some folks read it and don’t tell me. Perhaps they do not want to admit it or maybe they just don’t care. Then some other folks grill me outright (“who is HE,” “you must tell me,” etc.) while some other folks assume they know who HE is (“Well, I know the HE is….”) Today I had a most interesting encounter with a fellow I shall call “Mike” (name changed to protect the innocent, er rather, in this case, “very guilty”)

So Mike reads the blog and just naturally assumes the HE in the read is HIM. Yes, Mike assumes this entire blog is written about MIKE. Granted Mike is one of those egotistical “programmer types” that I usually end up working with but this was just so blatent and so, well, GROSS. MIKE is nothing like HIM. If Mike and HE were in the same room, it would be like the end of the universe because matter and anti-matter would actually collide. Or something.

If you don’t believe me, let’s compare them. Mike has a big ego and gets upset when he is not the center of attention. He is competitive to the point of me calling him “cut-throat” to his face and him not objecting. HE is not like that at all. Humble and softspoken are words I frequently use to describe HIM. The word “humility” comes to mind.

Enough about that. Next up we have the photography aspect of it. HE is an excellent photographer, with his own darkroom and all, but he likes to think of himself as “learning” (“HE’s always learning” is what HE’ll always say). Mike bought a new camera and thinks he’s Ansel Adams (“Mike” if you are reading this, you are not, and probably never will become a good photographer.) Mike does not realize that art comes from the soul and that, to be a great artist, you have to push ego aside. Course, I dunno how he’d move something that big without his BIG, gas guzzeling truck. Which brings me to my next point. Mike drives a big, dumb truck and grew up in Texas. Never left the state until he turned 25 or some such thing. HE is from California and has travelled around the globe. Been to every country and is as polite in Tibet as he is in Topeka. So much for sophistication and, well, manners, eh, Mike?

Mike speaks a little Spanish (so poorly, you’d hardly recognize it) and things that he is a “cunning linguist” (oh, there’s a rotten joke Mike would just LOVE). HE says he doesn’t speak any foreign languages all that well, Spanish or any other, but I’ve heard him and HE’s passable. HE’d get a beer in San Miguel or some such place without getting laughed at. Plus HE speaks Pali and HE tried to study Mandarin. Mike probably thinks Mandarin is a type of orange (if he even could recognize a fruit, or refer to one without talking about a, ahem, “homo” as he calls them.)

Next up we have looks. Mike is, well, a geek. Sometimes he tries to dress up but he still looks like a geek. Has goofy hair that he never combs. But, that doesn’t matter because you can’t really see past his ego. HE has soft, curly sandy hair that frames his face. And a strong chin. Speaking of chins, not only does Mike have a few extra, but he likes to get drunk and beat people up (punch them in the chin, actually.) HE drinks, sometimes to the point of excess, but the difference is like, well, imagine empty Bud light cans littering the yard. Ok, stop. Now imagine the most perfectly blended margarita with just the right amount of salt and the proper company with which to enjoy in some Mexican colonial city. See the difference? Mike wouldn’t. He’d just get drunk and pass wind in public because, well, that’s how he is.

Mike says he likes to garden but doesn’t actually grow anything. HE has a small city garden and says he tries to grow all his own veggies. Mike claims that he is a good cook but that, “he just doesn’t like to cook.” Yeah right, stand back, don’t mind the smoke in the oven. It goes with the mirrors, right, Mike? HE studied culinary arts in France for a spell but says, “Well, I’m not the best cook in town but I do up a mean torte.” I don’t even think Mike knows what a torte is. Oh, and I have another favorite. HE likes to play chess in open air cafes. Real chess, with real pieces, preferrably a unique or artistic chess set (maybe one he painted himself or perhaps and old civil war variety.) HE twirls the pieces in his hands gently as he ponders his next moves. Mike played chess on yahoo a few times, met a stripper and stopped playing chess because he wanted to, ahem, “get laid.” Way to go, Mike. I guess you found a different type of twirl.

So, Mike, if you are brazen enough to read this: you are not HIM. You never will be. Just because you bought a camera doesn’t mean you can take great pictures. Just because you write code for a living doesn’t mean you are intelligent, sophisticated, charming, witty, and, oh yeah, you are NOT God’s gift to this green earth. Everybody knows you cannot cook, you suck at chess, you don’t have a creative bone in your body, and you drive an ugly-ass truck. Do us all a favor, grow up, get over it, and don’t expect me to bow down at your feet because, well, you can’t hold a candle to HIM. Mike, the only thing exceeding the size of your ego is your vanity, your insecurity, your hubris, your lack of testicular fortitude, and your inability in anything other than being able to fool a compiler enough into thinking you can program a bit.

And, speaking of vanity, how does that song go, “you’re so vain…you probably think this [blog] is about you…..”

Gee, Mike, I guess you win again. I did write about you in my blog. It’s all about YOU, isn’t it?

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in “Carol’s Little World” signing off.


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