Looking down on oneself is one thing, and if we look at the wives and children of successful men, we find it’s as normal as taking a hyperactive child to McDonald’s. “Why take them to McDonald’s,” you ask? Because fat food makes their little brains sleep. Anyway. Self-hatred. It is a necessity for some, and a luxury for others. For me it is like chocolate. It is there and available, but I’m only likely to crave it a couple times a year. And then I am usually let down.

Normally I wouldn’t ponder my own level of loathing in the privacy shroud that is Dank, yet some things have gone down lately that I am ashamed of. Also, today I ate lunch at this little place near Loyola and they played the same three Bob Marley songs on repeat for the entire half hour that I was there. According to my Rastafarian brother (and an ad-ravaged lyrics website), I’m the only one that can emancipate myself from mental slavery.

Emancipate myself from mental slavery.
Emancipate myself from mental slavery.
Emancipate myself from mental slavery.
Emancipate myself from mental slavery.
You get the idea.

I sail to your shore as an immigrant from the Land of Desire to Profit from Ilk. My stay on Ilk was short-lived, but my time there was eventful and fraught with indulgence and hedonism. I purposely didn’t care when the natives mistook me as their king and worshiped me.

When they sacrificed a Princess to me, I looked the other way.

I am sorry for the calendar I made that reflects various times the Ilk residents will attempt to profit from a controversial triple-homicide.

When they offered starving children golf swing tips, I pretended to be asleep.

I apologize to anyone that gives in to deceptive copy combined with the promise that God might care (it’s in there) about bettering a golf swing.

When they set the creature before me that they’d determined to be the “missing link” between humans and apes, I held a press conference and neither confirmed nor denied their findings.

I am regretful that the eyes are huge and burnt orange, and I am sorry that a pre-emptive strike wasn’t taken against this past, present, and future molester.

I do feel better. And I’m taking some solace in the fact that the next time a Looney Tunes character exclaims “Oh, the humanity!” I’ll be right there with ‘em.