“I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member.” ~Groucho Marx
If you’re not familiar with Mensa, then I’m pretty sure you don’t qualify to join the club. Mensa is the international high IQ (intelligence quotient) society with members in over 100 countries. “Membership in Mensa is open to persons who have attained a score within the upper two percent of the general population on an approved intelligence test that has been properly administered and supervised.”
So, me being me, if I don’t have membership in Mensa, I want membership in Mensa. I don’t even care that I would hate all the snooty high IQ people that say things like, “Tut tut,” as they hold their pinky out while sipping tea in front of a Monet at the Louvre. I have no idea if I’m intelligent enough, but they have it and I don’t, so I want it. If they had ebola I’d want that too. Don’t you hate when people put on airs about their exotic diseases?
Since you have to take a test to get into Mensa, I chose not to, but I wanted to go to their meeting to see what all the hullabaloo was about. (See? I said hullabaloo! I’m pretty sure that will go over well at the Mensa meeting.) I dressed in a tuxedo, because it’s hard to look stupid in a tuxedo.
I figured that if I looked smart I could just stroll on in. Seriously, who thinks there’s going to be security at the Mensa meeting.
“Excuse me sir, the wait staff entrance is in the back,” he said with a sneer.
Me excitedly: “Oh, I’m not a waiter. I’m here for the Mensa party!”
“It is not a “party.” (he said using finger quotes) And if you are a member, I’ll need to see your identification.
Me: Pulls out my driver’s license and hands it over. “That my friend is my license to ill.”
He holds it between his thumb and forefinger as if I’ve just handed him freshly created poo, or excrement as all the hoity toity Mensa members would say.
No, I need to see your Mensa membership card.
Me (trying to sound intelligent) : It hasn’t come in the mail yet. I’m new. Just passed the exhumination yesterday!
Exhumination? You dug up a dead body?
Me: (doubling down on my idiocy) Umm…Yes! I exhumed a body and brought it back to life. That’s how smart I am! Once the proctologists saw that, they said I was smart enough and gave me a weaver.
Proctologists? Don’t you mean the proctors gave you a waiver?
Me: Yes! Yes, that’s it exactly. They waved at me as I left the test. They said good bye and that I never needed to come back.
May I see it?
Me: See what?
Me: It’s in my other tuxedo
Then I’m afraid you can’t come in.
Me: Afraid? Why are you afraid? You should be more afraid if I did come in!
Me: (shouting as security drags me out) Don’t you know who I am? I’m The Phil Factor! You can’t do this to me! I have a blog and I’m gonna write about you! And it’s not going to be nice!
So here I am still rambling at all my favorite people where there’s no test to enter. If you were even mildly amused by this or any of the 1800 previous posts that I’ve written, would you take a moment to click HERE and vote for me for Funniest Blogger? Click that link and scroll about halfway down the page where you’ll get to the categories. Scroll to Funniest Blogger, find The Phil Factor in the list and click on it. There’s a lot of other great bloggers in the other categories, so make sure to vote for them too! Thank you for your support!
Have a great Saturday! ~Phil